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Issue 62.1 of the Review for Religious, 2003. ; Life Together Ignatian Heritage Spiritual Fiber Personal Witness QUARTERLY 62.1 2003 Review for Religious helps people respond and be faithful to God's universal call to holiness by making available to them the spiritual legacies that flow from the cbarisms of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tk? n, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. 0 L~VING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Adv#ory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla sJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 62.1 2003 Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem Robert P. Maloney CM speaks of the critical need in religious life today for superiors who are real animators of their communities, and presents five moments that are essential for healthy local communities. 17 The Spirituality of CICLSAL's "Starting Afresh" Charles M. Mangan reviews a recent document from the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life, Starting .qfresb front Christ, which treats the primacy of the spiritual life for all consecrated persons. 27 38 Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises William P. O'Brien SJ presents a model of the inner dynamic in people making the thirty-day retreat as a progression of dialectical shifts, and he shows how the text of the Ignatian Exercises follows this progression. Ignatian Women Past and Future Joan L. Roccasalvo CSJ writes about women who participated in the early apostolic works of the Society of Jesus. She then looks at four groups of women religious with an Ignatian spirituality and offers suggestions for renewal in the face of today's religious-life issues. Review for Religious 63 Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man A. Paul Dominic SJ explores the phrase "Son of man," used by Jesus to refer to himself, and sees implications for us Christians. 72 Perseverance: The Courage to Persist Dennis J. Billy CSSR describes perseverance in religious life as a daily activity requiring both a personal and communal commitment to the vows and community life. 83 When One Flower Blooms It is Spring Everywhere Catherine M. Hennessy MSC discovers in the diagnosis of Parkinson's disease a summons to grow in faith, trusting one's entire self to God, a journey without a timeline. 90 Solidarity with Afridan Women Religious Annmarie Sanders IHM finds that a research trip to investi-gate the educational needs of African women religious opens new insights into the mysterious power of intercessory prayer as an expression of solidarity, 4 Prisms 96 Canonical Counsel: Discretionary Dismissal 103 Book Reviews o2.1 200~ You now have in your hand the first quar-terly issue of Review for Religious. You may not have noticed the difference. Perhaps you did note that the usual dating by months was miss-ing on the cover and inside too. Instead of January-February 2003 on the cover, there is only the word Quarterly, with the designation 62.1, followed by 2003. With our worldwide dis-tribution between the northern and southern hemispheres, it seemed good not to identify our quarterly issues by seasons since there could be only confusion about whose summer and whose winter was being named. Each issue will be iden-tified throughout by its volume (e.g. 62) and its own particular number (e.g.1) and, of course, the year. The quarterly issues will be mailed in January, April, July, and October. Each issue will maintain the same quality articles by our contributors. But we hope that you will find a greater reading ease because of the slight change in our type size and its leading. The number of pages in each issue remains the same. Where we as editors intend to experiment and hope to get your response is in the two sup-plements that are included in your subscription price for the year 2003--the first identified with the Lent/Easter seasons and the second with the Advent/Christmas seasons. The supplements Review for Religious will be 32-page issues, with articles more relevant to the identified liturgical seasons. Each article in the supplement issue will be followed by some suggestions for your own prayer and reflection, stimulants for conversations between two or more, and perhaps a brief prayer or Christian heritage citation that will stir your own interaction. Rather than leaving a reader passive, we hope to encourage a greater personal involvement with an article and even more easily prompt a community discussion. We look for readers' reaction and response back to us as editors. If these experiments provided in the supplement issues receive shaping and support by your responses, we will eventually include them in the article presentations in the ordinary quarterly issues of the journal. In each supplement we will pro-vide a postcard for easy response. But you can also write, fax (314-977-7362), email (review@slu.edu), or log on to our web page (www.reviewforreligious.org). We ask that you do give us your response. The first supplement will be mailed in March and the second in November. Review for Religious has provided articles of infor-marion, pastoral help, and reflective inspiration through-out its history during the past century. As. we are in the beginning years of this new millennium, we desire to sustain and even enhance that long tradition. But now, through our supplement experiment, we seek to serve you, our readers, with a journal that more easily accom-modates the dialogue so necessary for our Catholic life-- dialogue with our God, dialogue within Ourselves, and dialogue with one another. As Pope Paul VI said, our way of being church is .today the way of dialogue. The editors of the Review desire that this journal continues to play an integral part in our being church. We hope that you will enter into the dialogue with us. ¯David L. Fleming SJ ~" 62.1 200:t ROBERT P. MALONEY Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem High above the mountain ranges of the Western United States glides the California condor, the largest bird in North America. With its wingspan of nine feet, it soars to an altitude of three miles~ swooping down from time to time to feed on red meat and salmon with a healthy appetite. Black body, bare head, red knees, this majestic bird has flown over the mountains and valleys of California, Nevada, and Arizona for millennia. But by 1990 only twenty-three remained, six in California and seventeen near the Grand Canyon in Arizona.It was an endan-gered species. Every species needs its own peculiar eco-logical system in order to survive. When that system is rich, the species thrives. As its ecosys-tem deteriorates, the species gradually dimin-ishes and may become extinct. Millions of Robert P. Maloney ClVl, superior general of the Congregation of the Mission, is a frequent contributor to this journal. He resides at Congregazione della Missione; Via dei Capasso, 30; 00164 Roma, Italy. Review for Religio us species that once inhabited the planet earth are now extinct. So too will it be one day for the human race. Will its ecosystem be destroyed by a violent cataclysm of human making, a massive bomb? Will it be destroyed when a g!ant asteroid crashes into the planet? Will it be destroyed by a suffocating pollution? Who knows? And religious life? Or the life of particular congre-gations of sisters, brothers, and priests? Nature teaches us the simple lesson that they will grow and flourish only if the ecosystem found and developed by their founders centuries ago, and renewed from time to time, remains salubrious. Otherwise they will decline and perhaps one day disappear. The Builders of the Ecosystem Today the word animation is used again and again. It means to give life, breath, soul, spirit. The documents of most contemporary communities state that superiors (or coordinators, supervisors, or whatever word is used to designate them) in a worldwide congregation, or in a province, or in a local house are called to be animators among the men or women with whom they live. This is no easy task. In fact, it is an enormous challenge. Two pieces of data highlight for me the critical nature of this challenge; one is existential, the other juridical and anthropological. The existential datum. Over the last several years, about three hundred members of my congregation between the ages of thirty-five and fifty have passed through a three-month ongoing formation program in Paris. They have come there from more than fifty coun-tries on all the continents. The priest who has been in charge of the program from the beginning has told me that the concern they have most frequently expressed is an uneasiness about community living. They sense that something is lacking in our life together. In the last three ,7 62.1 2003 Maloney * Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem If the superior is good at the job, the chances are that the local community will be very much alive. decades, most of our provinces have taken significant steps forward in the renewal of our apostolic life. Little by little we have focused more clearly on the poor and on our missionary nature. But many in the program ask: Have we found the right formula for our life together? Does community provide the faith support, the solidar-ity in action, the encouragement, the understanding, the home that many today--especially the young--seek when they join an apostolic society? This uneasiness, expressed by many, is the challenging existential datum that I find myself pondering. The second datum is juridical/anthropological, and it too is enormously challenging. Article 129 of the con-stitutions of my own con-gregation, which is similar to articles in ma.ny other constitutions, says: "The Congregation forms itself particularly in the individ-ual local communities." Even apart from juridical considerations, that is where congregations really live and .grow--in the local community. That is where we are either happy, or unhappy, where w.e either pray or do not pray, where we either feel support or do not feel it. That is where we either enjoy one another's company or flee from it, where we either plan and act in solidarity in serving the poor or where we merely park for the night at a convenient motel in order to go out again in the morning as a lone-ranger type of apostle. This juridical/anthropological datum raises the urgent question: Can we create in our local communities a healthy ecosystem where our members live, grow, and even thrive? Review for Religious But there is more to this second datum. The same article states: "The superior, as the center of unity and animator of the life of the local community, should pro-mote the ministries of the house and, with the commu-nity, should be concerned for the personal development and activity of each confrere." This paragraph states the importance of the local superior's role. He or she is a key animator in the local community, an energizer of its life and activity. Of course, superiors do not stand alone. Others share this responsibility. But, if the superior is good at the job, the chances are that the local community will be very much alive. And, if he or she is bad at it, the local community will have considerable difficulty finding the anima, the breath, that it needs in order to live healthily. What can we realistically hope for in regard to local superiors and local communities? I hope, first of all, that congregations will devise more effective ways for local superiors, along with those in their houses, to build up ecosystems where members will thrive. Surely, local com-munities are not all alike. Some are large. Some are small. Some revolve around a single work. Some embrace mul-tiple works. Given such variety, local superiors need to ¯ have specific tools for building healthy local ecosystems. That raises a critical problem and stirs up a second hope in me. The constitutions of most congregations propose a community plan for the life and activity of the local community. It is a covenant, so to speak. We com-mit ourselves to support each other in our apostolic labors, our life together, our prayer, our vows, our ongo-ing education--our very life. But I have the impression that many local communities--and this is the problem-- do not take the formulation, implementation, evalua-tion, and regular revision of a community plan seriously. During my visits to the provinces as superior general, I often note that local community plans are badly made9 62.1 2003 Maloney * Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem ¯ or are merely the daily order. This is also a frequent comment in the reports that provincials send me about their visits to local houses. So my second hope is this: that more and more members of congregations will take local .community planning seriously, and that local supe-riors will learn to do so too. Five Crucial Community Moments It is always important to speak about community con-cretely. Dietrich Bonhoeffer once said: "The person who loves his dream of community more than the real com-munity itself destroys community.''1 Community exists when we live it concretely and vitally. Let me dwell briefly on five significant elements in the ecosystem of community living. They are, so to speak, the air, the water, the sun, the fire, and the soil of local communities. Meals. It might seem strange that I begin with eating, though of course the principal communal act that Jesus left his followers was precisely a meal. My focus, how-ever, is not on food (though St. Vincent de Paul, my congregation's founder, encouraged treasurers to pro-vide good wine and good bread).2 My focus is on com-mon meals as a primary sign of union. When asked what are the most striking memories of their families, count-less people describe long festive dinners at Christmas or Easter in which people sat around the table telling sto-ries, or a time together on vacation when everyone ate together, and relaxed, sang, played games, and talked until late into the night. Of course, not every meal can be that way. But meals are a prime time for good human communication. They are times when our tradition is deepened because we hear stories from the past and speak of wonderful men and women whom we have known. They are times when our .tradition ia developed because new people express new insights and new ways of responding to the same values in the service of the poor. Review for Religious Decades ago reading at table occupied religious dur-ing meals. Today meals are an opportunity for genuine, interested table talk. But at times communities eat rapidly, with sparse conversation. In some houses it is hard to get everyone together even for a single meal a day. Crucial in the conversation that characterizes meals is attentive listening. As members of communities, we must be deeply interested in one another, in our back-grounds, our histories, our gifts, the projects that set us on fire. Few things are worse than having an excit-ing experience to relate, bringing it up at table, and finding no one eager to hear it. I regret to say that this happens often. Not long ago I felt agitated by what seemed an injustice done to a priest by a bishop. I tried to tell my story to two people. Both were preoc-cupied with other things that day. When I was a short way into my story, one after the other interrupted to tell his own story. I had to conclude that it was my turn to listen, and I never got my story out that day. Of course, the Eucharistic meal plays a most signif-icant role in our lives. It is a time for attentive listening to the word of God, for genuine stiaring in faith, and for union in the life of the Lord. Some of my striking memories in community have been wonderful Eucharistic celebrations. That brings me to a second key element in an invigoratingcommunity ecosystem. Prayer. Here let me mention two distinctive moments. Common liturgical prayer should be prepared well and celebrated beautifully and meditatively. When this is the case, it is a significant time for us to be in contact with God, with one another, and with young Crucial in the conversation that characterizes meals is attentive listening. I! 62 1 2003 Maloney ¯ BuiMing a Healthy Community Ecosystem people who hunger to.pray with us. It can be a time when we cry out: It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to make music to your name, O most High, to proclaim your love in the morning and your truth in the watches of the night. (Ps 92:2-3) Of course, if our prayer is routine, ill-prepared, and dis-tracted, it is of little value. Then, as a great saint once put it, it is like "barking dogs" in the presence of God. But, done well in the tradition of the church, l~turgical prayer is something beautiful for God and attractive to the .par-ticipants, especially today's young people in their thirst for an experience of prayer. Meditative prayer can seem a rather solitary exercise, but it is crucial that community members support one another in reflecting on God's word and in contemplat-ing God's presence. Over the years I have felt that sup-port very much. I. am encouraged when I find myself meditating with my brothers and sisters. If the liturgy is "the summit toward which the activity of the church is directed" (Sacrosanctum conciliurn, §10), meditative prayer is an important foundation stone. It strengthens 'our faith, and so, of course, communities members should encourage each other in it. Members of small communities often say that it is almost impossible for them to pray together because they are so few and are busy with multiple works. I am in utter disagreement with their conclusion. I realize, of course, that the prayer of a small community cannot be the same as that of a large community. But even in small communities we must pray together. If we do not find the time to do so, we are lost. Faith sharing is one of the contemporary forms that the traditional "repetition of prayer" is taking. It can be a powerful moment in building community if the mem- Review for Religious bers share their faith with great simplicity. Faith sharing is not meant to be a homily prepared ahead of time, nor is it meant to be a release for one's pent-up anxieties. Rather, it is a spontaneous expression of our hopes, our doubts, our joys, our pain as we live and pray before the Lord. If we wrestle with life and share our sense of who we are and what we seem called to be and do in the light of the gospel, I am confident that we will come to know and appreciate one another mucl~ more deeply. Fun. If prayer is the human heart searching for God, humor helps us to realize that God is unpredictable, as are most of us, his creatures. Humor is linked to our perception of incongruity. There is much that is incon-gruous in our lives, if only we can see it with a little bit of distance. It is very important to have fun in community. Fun fosters harmony, preventing us from being overly serious about ourselves. Important as it is that the community work together, it is also important that we relax together and laugh from time to time, that we enjoy one another's company. In this way we will see different aspects of each other's personality too. Thomas Aquinas says a striking thing about playful-ness: "Unmitigated seriousness betokens a lack of virtue, because it wholly despises play which is as necessary for a good human life as is rest." A local community should be creative in organizing times of diversion. I lived in a house where once a week, at night, we watched a video-tape of a movie together. Actually, we now do this from time to time in our general curia. We agree on the film ahead of time. Somebody prepares a few snacks, and we sit around and talk about it afterwards. I love it, and so does everybody else. Nobody has to come, but every-body does. I lived in a community in Panama wher~ we came together from separate mission houses every Monday in 62.1 2003 Maloney * Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem order to pray together, hold a meeting, and then enjoy the rest of the day in each other's company. Almost nobody on the mission ever missed that day. There are many other possibilities, but it is very important that we enjoy one another's company, laugh, relax, and at times simply have fun. Meetings. Even though meetings are sometimes a scourge in our lives, or, as many have suggested, one of the contemporary forms of mortification, they are nonetheless a very important community moment. They are a time when important communication takes place. They should be a moment in which everyone feels included and in which people feel a common responsi-bility for the values being shared and the decisions being made. I suggest that two meetings are of particular impor-tance. The first is the meeting for formulating the local community plan. Unfortunately, as I have already men-tioned, many communities still do this poorly, making it an occasion for deciding on an order of day, rather than a time for creativity. They are slow to exercise the flexi-bility that their constitutions provide. But the meeting for formulating the local community plan can be pre-cisely the time in which the ecosystem that I am describ-ing can be created, developed, enriched, and covenanted. The second is the meeting for evaluation, for revision de vie. We seek ongoing communal conversion within community. Evaluation times are times to reflect, hon-estly and peacefully, on our mission and our lifestyle. At such meetings people can offer suggestions for the growth of a local community. Often the key is balance, the ability to integrate various values: mission, prayer, life together. In our lives simple dialogue is essential, drawing out from one another our feelings and thoughts, posing helpful questions; giving one's own reaction with-out being either defensive or aggressive. Review for Religious Apostolate. The apostolates of religious communities have a communal dimension. In our era characterized by individualism, it is crucial that local superiors plan in common with the members of their houses, evaluate in common, and animate the members of the community to work as a team as much as possible. There are few things that tie us together more than cooperating in an exciting common apostolic project. It is wonderful when, in a healthy sense, we are all proud of what we do in a mis-sion or seminary or parish or school or soup kitchen or social-justice program. There are many ways of showing apostolic solidarity. Do we listen to what our brothers or sisters have done during the day when, com-ing home tired, they want to chat with us in the evening? Do we let them share with us the challenges they meet in their aposto- ¯ lates? Do we pray for and with our brothers and sis-ters in their apostolates? Can local communities truly be called "apostolic communities"? Or are they just workers' residences? Common interest in the work of each local community member is a powerful unifying force. A final word. Not every community w!ll renew itself and attain the ideals envisioned by the constitutions of the institute. A provincial and his council have the dif-ficult task of working toward the gradual renewal of the local communities. As they do that, I suggest that younger members be assigned only to communities that engage in a serious process of renewal. It is those com-munities that carry the seeds of future life. A province with three communities where the members live life The key is balance, the ability to integrate various values: mission, prayer, life together. 62.1 2003 Maloney ¯ Building a Healthy Community Ecosystem vitally has a real future. A province with twenty com-munities where the members just survive is not likely to survive. Unless a province builds genuinely participa-tive communities, it dies. And the California condor? I am happy to report that in the last decade its number has increased from twenty-three to a hundred and twenty (a good-sized province!). Those who love this majestic bird redeveloped an ecosys-tem where it could live and even thrive. I hope we can do the same thing in our local communities. Notes Dietrich Bonhoeff~r. Life Together (London, 1954), p. 15. SV llI, 505. SV refers to the 14-volume French edition of St. Vincent's works, edited by Pierre Coste (Paris: Gabalda, 1920-1925). Friday It's the day of the cross. A crucifix hangs on my bedroom wall, gore masked by silver paint, beams sanded smooth. Even in euphemized translation void of smell and moan of death the message is clean Dressing my unpierced body and combing hair unnettled with thorns, I look through the crosshairs of the coming hours and reflect on the risk of murmuring "Thy will be done." Patricia Schnapp RSM Review for Religious CHARLES M. MANGAN The Spirituality of CICLSAL's "Starting Afresh" (~'~! tarting Afresh from Christ: A Renewed Commitment to Consecrated Life in the Third Millennium" is the recent instruction, dated 19 May 2002, published by the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL). This fifty-seven-page document, originally written in Italian, stems from the congregation's plenary session on 25-28 September 2001 in Vatican City. Mindful of the 25 March 1996 apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata of Pope John Paul II and of his vision for the Third Christian Millennium as enunciated in his 6 January 2001 apostolic letter Novo millennio ineunte, the members of the plenary did not intend "to produce another doctrinal document, but rather to help consecrated life enter into the great pastoral guidelines of the Holy Father with the contributon of his authority and of charismatic service to unity and to the universal mission of the church" (§4). Charles M. Mangan is a priest of the Diocese of Sioux Falls and an official in the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life. His address is Villa Stritch; Via della Nocetta, 63; 00164 Roma, Italy. 17 62.1 2003 Mangan ¯ The Spirituality of "Starting Afresh" "Starting Afresh from Christ" presents many aspects of consecrated life, but it focuses "primarily on spirituality." Although onewill find references to the importance of the spiritual life for consecrated men and women throughout this text, one entire part, among four, is exclusively dedicated to the topic. This essay briefly discusses that part's seminal points concerning the primacy of spiritua!ity in the consecrated life. Part 3 is tided "Spiritual Life in the First Place" (§§20-32). From this let us identify five essential dimensions regarding spirituality for consecrated persons. A Receptivity to the Holy Spirit's Stirrings Just as the founders and foundresses of religious institutes yielded to the mysterious intimations of the Holy Spirit, so today's consecrated persons must be marked by their incredible docility to him, permitting themselves "to be led by the Spirit to a constantly renewed discovery of God and of his Word, to a burning love for God and for humanity, and to a new understanding of the charism which has been given" (§20). Those founders and foundresses enjoyed an initial experience of the Paraclete that is to be preserved and ever deepened by contemporary consecrated persons. The Holy Spirit's actions are always fresh and creative. Consecrated men and women, by their openness to him, are drawn into a profound intimacy with the Lord. An "intense sp!rituality" really means living according to the Holy Spirit. If consecrated life is to have the "spiritual rebirth" that it needs, then the spiritual life must occupy the foremost position in each institute and in the heart of each consecrated man and woman. How does a consecrated person live spiritually? By attending to the evangelical counsels, imitating the inner life of love and communion of the Blessed Trinity, adhering to the charism of the institute as contained in its Review for Religious constitutions, and embracing the church's teaching regarding consecrated life, especially Vita consecrata. A deeper spirituality then emerges, one "which is more ecclesial and communitarian, more demanding and mature in mutual support in striving for holiness, more generous in apostolic choices." Indeed, a profound spirituality demonstrated by consecrated men and women will be of particular benefit to the Mystical Body of Christ because of its ability to edi~ and summon others to a more authentic spiritual life. The movement of the Holy Spirit in the consecrated life effects genuine communion bervceen the members, allowing them then to share what they have received in their mission to the people of God. Jesus Christ, the Sole Point of Departure "To start afresh from Christ" signifies that consecrated persons, led by the Holy Spirit, recommit themselves to the critical path of conversion and renewal. The Apostles accepted this way twenty centuries ago. Only by conversion and renewal is one made available for the announcement of the kingdom of God. While one's sinfulness must humbly be acknowledged, it need not be an insuperable deterrent to following Jesus. He has bestowed his call on consecrated persons, all of whom require his abundant grace to respond generously. Consecrated life, to quote Vita consecrata, is "a living memorial of Jesus' way of living and acting as the incarnate Word in relation to the Father and in relation to the brethren" (§22). Christ is the center and source of all that consecrated persons are and do. The consecrated life does not exist without the evangelical counsels, which enable religious to love the Lord and embrace his will; the communitarian life, in which Jesus assembles his friends around himself and bestows on them his lasting presence; the mission, which obligates consecrated persons to seek 19 62.1 200~ Mangan ¯ The Spirituality of"Starting Afresh" Christ in others and convey his overwhelming love and mercy to them. If consecrated men and women do not realize God's love for them, their efforts will be useless. He has loved first. All love is a response to his love. Courage is essential in the genuine living of poverty, chastity, and obedience, the absence of which takes the wind out of the sails of consecrated life. The Holy Father earlier challenged all consecrated persons to let themselves be guided always by the contemplation of Christ's face. This contemplation is possible particularly in (1) his word and sacraments, primarily the Holy Eucharist; (2) the church, gathered in his name; (3) all people, especially the poor, the suffering, and the needy; (4) each event of life. Holiness is the result of the encounter with Jesus. Religious can recognize the Master only if they are steeped in faith. The "habitual reading" of the word of God, prayer, and acts of charity are demanded if religious are to know Jesus. A "lived spirituality," frequent pondering of their institute's charism, and prayerful investigation into the sources employed by their founder or foundress provide welcome vigor to the spiritual life of consecrated persons. The Centrality of God's Word As the Holy Father has observed, "the first source of all spirituality" is the Word of God. Without reading the Scriptures, consecrated persons will not obtain sanctity. Founders and foundresses, convinced of this, were captivated and inspired by the word. The consecrated men and women of our era likewise must be. Happily, there has been a renewal in love for and contact with the word within communities of consecrated persons. They must continually ponder Sacred Scripture, especially the Gospels. By referring often to their Rule and Review for Religious constitutions, consecrated persons find the "particular interpretation of the gospel given by the founder and foundresses as the result of a particular prompting of the Spirit, and it helps the members of the institute to live concretely according to the word of God" (§24). When consecrated persons are formed by the Lord's word, they develop into "servants of the Word in the task of evangelization." Prayer and contemplation have a specific rapport with the word of God. They furnish the ambient for receiving the word, and they themselves spring from that very Word. How tragic if a consecrated person tries to live without the Word! "As a consequence life itself loses meaning, the faces of brothers and sisters are obscured and it becomes impossible to recognize the face of God in them, historical events remain ambiguous and deprived of hope, ~and apostolic and charitable mission become nothing more than widespread activity" (§2 5). Contemplation, which originates in communion and friendship with Christ, brings forth vocations to the consecrated life. Pope John Paul II contends that the "first task" of consecrated men and women is contemplation. There are myriad forms of prayer and contemplation. One community will differ from another in this respect. Yet the Liturgy of the Hours and the Mass are paramount regardless of the institute. When consecrated persons go to Mass and recite the Liturgy of the Hours, God is adored, these consecrated men and women are blessed in their endeavor, and others who Contemplation, which originates in ¯ communion and friendship with Christ, brings forth vocations to the consecrated life. 2I 62.1 2003 Mangan ¯ The Spirituality of "Starting Afresb" notice are touched. Each consecrated person must daily set aside time "to enter deeply into silent conversation" with Jesus. Consecrated persons share who they are and what they have with the Lord, who in turn enlightens them so that they may progress along the path to everlasting life. Faithfulness to prayer is not always easy for the consecrated person. "At times fidelity to personal and liturgical prayer will require a true effort not to allow oneself to be swallowed up in frenetic activism." Christ, who inspires prayer, will bring forth good fruit from those consecrated persons who strive to communicate well and often with him. Eucharist as Privileged Locus for Meeting Jesus, and the Need for Asceticism and Penance The Mass is the renewal of the paschal mystery-- Christ's passion, death, and resurrection. There is for consecrated persons no substitute for the daily Mass and extended adoration of the Holy Eucharist. In the Mass we are doubly fed. We receive God's Word proclaimed in the Sacred. Scriptures and his very Body and Blood under the appearances of bread and wine. Nourished by the hand of the Good Shepherd through the daily Mass, consecrated men and women become more capable of praising him as he deserves, strengthening the bonds of communion, and participating in the apostolic mission to the world. "We all need the daily viaticum of encounterwith the.Lord in order to bring, everyday life into sacred time which is made present in celebration of the Lord's Memorial" (§26). What happens in the lives of consecrated persons because of their connection to the Eucharist? They become further conformed to Christ. As he offered himself to his Father, so consecrated persons offer themselves and are themselves offered by Jesus to his Father in paradise. The fortifying of communion and Review for" Religious mission that occurs because of the Eucharist is impossible without "mutual forgiveness and the commitment to love one another." Imbued with the spirit of the Eucharist, consecrated persons forgive and are attentive to the needs of their neighbors. Each Mass is an opportunity for consecrated persons to renew their commitment of service to their brothers and sisters. It is in the Eucharist that "the community of consecrated persons., becomes a witness of communion and a prophetic sign of solidarity for a divided and wounded society. In fact, the spirituality of communion, so necessary to establish the dialogue of charity needed in today's world, is born in the Eucharist." What Jesus did on Calvary was no less than give his life, which was "the greatest expression of his love--and the Eucharist relives the mystery of this moment" (§27). By the practice of asceticism, consecrated men and women demonstrate their wish to be united to the Son of God. Self-denial, which is to be "consonant with our times," associates consecrated persons to Christ. Then they seek his suffering face, as they do when they console the sick, the imprisoned, the poor, and sinners. The outreach rendered by consecrated persons has encouraged those they have assisted to have recourse to the sacrament of reconciliation. Consecrated men and women, too, must regularly avail themselves of confession. Given the new moral and spiritual poverties of our age, consecrated personsare to do as Jesus would: aid the needy in their trials and "take upon themselves the pain and the sin of the world, consuming them in love." Communion: Sine Qua Non for Consecrated Life The "spirituality of communion" compels consecrated persons to do all. they can to start or continue a dialogue rooted in charity. Attempts to spread communion by consecrated men and women are to encompass all 23 62.1 2003 Mangan ¯ The Spirituality of "Starting Afresh" peoples, but especially those who reside in locations oppressed by ethnic hatred or violence. For consecrated persons, communion begins in their contemplation of the Blessed Trinity dwelling within the human soul. All persons, then, are seen as brothers and sisters worthy of love and respect. Consecrated persons offer their friendship and compassion, desiring to share in the sufferings of the burdened. Communion is the extension of consecrated persons to those outside of their community, but it also has an intra dimension within their community. "The divine and human value of being together freely in friendship and sharing even moments of relaxation and recreation together as disciples gathered around Christ the Teacher is being rediscovered" (§29). Communion among different communities of the same institute is also vital. Vita consecrata, Novo millennio ineunte, and "Fraternal Life in Community," the 2 February 1994 instruction issued by CICLSAL, are helpful in understanding the notion and application of communion. Every endeavor to sustain communion among institutes should be fostered. A "joint search for common ways of serving the church" (§30) ensures that a crippling isolation need not hold sway. The following of Jesus Christ by consecrated persons is to be enjoyed together among various institutes. Consecrated men and women gain much from being exposed to the solid "ecclesial movements" that have recently blossomed in the church. An exchange between institutes and these movements benefits each. Consecrated men and women are to collaborate and experience communion with the laity. This cooperation is multifaceted. "Monastic and contemplative institutes can offer the laity a relationship that is primarily spiritual and the necessary spaces for silence and prayer. Institutes committed to the apostolate can involve them in forms of pastoral collaboration. Members of secular institutes, lay Review for Religious or clerical, relate to other members of the faithful at the level of everyday life" (§31). There is a host of secular orders, third orders, and lay associations that enable the laity to live to some degree "the charismatic ideals" of religious institutes. Formation of consecrated persons and the laity will facilitate these projects and permit them to continue. The long-anticipated renewal of consecrated life will reap the fruits of this cooperation. "In this new climate of ecclesial communion, priests, religious, and the laity, far from ignoring each other or coming together only for a common activity, can once again find the just relationships of communion and a renewed experience of evangelical communion and mutual charismatic esteem resulting in a complemen-tarity which respects the differences." Communion is a mere chimera if the bishops, including the bishop of Rome, are left out of the equation. We marvel at the genuine sentiment of "feeling with the church" that marked the lives of the founders and foundresses of institutes. "It is impossible to contemplate the face of God without seeing it shining in that of the church. To love Christ is to love the church in her persons and institutions" (§32). In this period of frequent and even public dissent from the church's teachings, consecrated men and women must be the exception. They are to be "convinced and joyful spokespersons before all" of the magisterium's proclamation of the truth. Consecrated persons are to Consecrated men and women gain much from being exposed to the solid " ecclesial movements" that have recently blossomed in the church. 2~ 62.1 2003 Mangan * The Spirituality of "Starting Afresh" give their allegiance of mind and heart to the magisterium. Consecrated persons enjoy the liberty to make known to their bishops and to the diocesan clergy with whom. they work their opinions and proposals. The church's charismatic and hierarchical elements upbuild each other. Starting Afresh from Christ is a restatement at the beginning of this millennium of the cherished principles of consecrated life. The spiritual life is keenly stressed because of its inarguable primacy for all consecrated men and women. May consecrated persons, imitating the Blessed Virgin Mary, in whom "all the charisms of consecrated life are mirrored and renewed" (§46), increase in their ardor for the face of Christ and his church and start afresh to serve, in true communion and charity, their brothers and sisters. Starting Afresh from Christ: A Renewed Commitment to Consecrated Life in the Third Millennium was published by the Libreria Editrice Vaticana in Vatican City and may be found on the Vatican website (www.vatican.va). See also Origins 32, no. 8 (4July 2002). 26A Plea Lord, I want to be the lamb you cuddle to your cheek; the one you rescue from tight places, that very one you seek whose senseless straying your vast love pursues; whose wounds you bind, heal. The one, if ever lost, you rush to find. Avis Kunca Kubick Review for Religious WILLIAM P. O'BRIEN Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises In the summer of 2000, I participated in a spir-itual- direction practicum with Jane Ferdon Op and George Murphy SJ at the Jesuit School of Theology in Berkeley, California. George and Jane teach a contemplative approach to spiri-tual direction, by which the director seeks to help the directee focus on and remain with expe-riences of God.~ That fall I put this approach into practice, offering individual spiritual direc-tion and, the following summer, giving person-ally directed eight-day retreats at Jesuit Retreat House in Los Altos, California. Later that sum-mer I accepted an invitation to join a team to direct the thirty-day Spiritual Exercises at Milford Spiritual Center in Milford, Ohio. Although eager for the experience, I worried that the contemplative approach might not work for the long retreat, with its thoroughly out-lined series of meditations. To my wonder and William P. O'Brien SJ is doing graduate study in spiritual-ity at the Jesuit School of Theblogy at Berkeley. His address is 2535 Le Conte Avenue; Berkeley, California 94709. o2.1 2003 O'Brien ¯ Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises~ delight, I found that, because God moves people in ways the Exercises follow and promote, the contemplative approach does indeed work in that context. Other direc-tors have had similar experiences.2 Reflecting on this, I have come up with a simplified model for understanding the interior movement in peo-ple making the long retreat. In the first part of this essay, I examine a progression of dialectical shifts. Then I show that the text of the Exercises, follows such a progression. In light of these findings, I propose that the enterprise of spiritual direction calls the retreat director to trust God more deeply as the true master of souls. Quotations of the Exercises are from the Ivens translation.3 Interior Movement as Dialectic The human soul in contact with God tends to behave in characteristic movements of negation and affirmation. This may lead to either spiritual desolation or spiritual consolation, depending upon how the retreatant responds, but there is always an invitation to know God more deeply.4 As people grow in relationship with God, they find themselves more focused on others and conse-quently less on themselves. In this process we can distinguish five progressive moments as the heart receives God's love.5 The first is when the self deeply realizes that it exists rather than not existing. The second is when the existing self, believ-ing itself bad, sees itself as good. The third is when the good self, recognizing its sinfulness, finds itself forgiven. The fourth is when the forgiven self, feeling conflicted, hears itself called. And the fifth is when the called self, now deeply aware of its limitation, experiences itself accepted by God. Each new moment incorporates the resolution from the preceding moment. Thus, for exam-ple, before the self can deeply recognize its sinfulness, it already must have seen its basic goodness.6 The deepest Review for Religious union with God implies the other four moments. In other words, to discover the depth of negation and affir-mation in our lives constitutes spiritual growth. People may wonder here whether these interior moments represent a historical or logical reality, and whether the progression happens necessarily. First, because people can recog-nize these moments in themselves and in others, we can say that they are pat-terns in their life histories and therefore have a histor-ical character. Furthermore, because each new moment presupposes the preceding one and tends to develop into the next, we can see a certain logic here. But, because the movement has to do with making choices freely and with developing personal relationships, we cannot speak of any histori-cal necessity in the progres-sion. In other words, although reflecting on the dynamic can help us recognize interior movements in a retreatant, we cannot predict those movements. And, while the pro-gressive moments seem to have an internal logic, nei-ther can we deduce the moments necessarily as we might draw a conclusion from premises. The interior life oper-ates through psychological, social, and biological realities, not abstract ideas. But the strongest evidence that the progression does not develop in a necessary fashion is that retreatants often revisit moments they appear to have resolved. Some retreatants one day have a strong sense of their own sin- While we cannot know for sure where God will lead any of us, we can recognize general patterns and thus a common ¯ spiritual dynamic in the .unique histories of particular retreatants. 62.1 2003 O'Brien ¯ Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises fulness and God's forgiveness, only to return a little later to those same issues. Others make the long retreat a number of times, apparently engaging the same pro-gression over and over again. From these cases it appears that we cannot claim to have finished with a moment once and for all, and that most retreatants move moment to moment according to a more or less natural develop-ment. Many variables influence their movements, includ-ing circumstances, free will, and the intention of the Spirit, And so, while we cannot know for sure where God will lead any of us, we can recognize general pat-terns and thus a common spiritual dynamic in the unique histories of particular retreatants. Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises We have considered how the soul in touch with God appears to move dialectically according to an interior spiritual dynamic. Those giving the long retreat can facil-itate this movement by paying attention to the charac-teristic patterns of the Spirit's work in retreatants and as the Spiritual Exercises describe and track them. To ini-tiate this process, directors might give retreatants some time to reflect on God's presence, beginning with a recognition of their desires--if only the desire to make the retreat) Some instruction in prayer methods may help: centering prayer, lectio divina, consciousness exa-men, and so forth. Directors also may want to share with retreatants the Annotations from the beginning of the text (§§1-20), as Ignatius suggests,s Through this reflec-tion retreatants typically begin to recognize both the gift quality of their lives and God's personal love for them-- the first two moments of the dialectic wherein they real-ize that they exist and see themselves as good. Retreatants seem to receive these initial graces more as movements of the affect than as the acquisition of ideas, which is to say they sense that their lives come as free gifts and they Review for Religious feel loved by God. Directors should encourage these movements in any way possible, perhaps by sharing some scripture passages or the text of the First Principle and Foundation (§23). As retreatants grow in awareness of God's love for them, they often notice that certain internal factors block their acceptance of this love. In Quest for Sanctity Gerald Grosh includes among these factors an adherence to legalistic principles, an acquiescence to addictive impulses, and a propensity to think badly of oneself.9 The challenge for directors now involves recognizing these blockages and help!ng retreatants negotiate them by focusing on the presence of God. Retreatants take more or less time to accept God's love and the gift quality of their lives, and some may never do so. In any case, directors must keep in mind that the Spirit directs the retreat and controls the giving of graces. To work against the Spirit by moving to some Other moment of the dynamic or some other part of the Exercises generally results in confusion and frustration for all involved. Having received these initial graces, sometimes as dramatic and consoling experiences, retreatants often begin to consider on their own how they have responded to God's love and gift of life. At this point they may sense in themselves a tendency to move away from God--the tendency we call sin. We can think of sin as the shadow that each of us casts in the light of God's love. Awareness of this shadow signals movement into what Ignatius calls the First Week of the Exercises, where the various med-itations serve to develop this awareness of and contri-tion for personal sin. The grace of this week thus appears in recognizing oneself as a loved sinner--that God con-tinues to affirm us despite our propensity to turn away.~° Awareness exercises such as examens of conscience and consciousness can help in this process (§§24-43). 62.1 2003 O'Brien * Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises At this point in the Exercises, Ignatius introduces the four-part prayer method by which retreatants express their intention for the prayer period at hand (§46), con-sider the setting of the meditation they plan to make (§47), ask for the particular grace they desire (§481, and engage in heart-to-heart communication with God and the other figures who appear to the imagination (§§53-54). He then presents the familiar content of five exercises to follow: the history of sin--among the angels (§50), among the first humans (§51), and of any particular person (§52); a meditation on one's own sins (§§55-61); a repetition of the previous exercise and a "colloquy" with Mary, Jesus, and God the Father (§§62-63); a more general summary exercise (§64); and the meditation on hell (§§65-71). These five exercises engage retreatants sequentially, help-ing them focus first on their egocentrism before leading them to consider their idolatry and their way of treating others as things, to meditate on their core sin, to recog-nize their fundamental need for salvation, and finally to dwell on the spontaneous sense of gratitude they feel for having received that salvation as a free gift. The impor-tance of the meditations thus lies in the inner experience they track rather than in their content, and directors may use material as seems appropriate.11 Finding themselves saved (forgiven) humbles retreatants and helps them see themselves as loved sin-ners, which marks the third moment of the dialectic. In this feeling of humility lies the key to the movement out of the First and into the Second Week, as gratitude stirs the retreatants to know the One who saved them. They often experience this desire as a call to which they respond with timidity and reluctance, feeling their inter-nal conflict. Resolution of this conflict marks the fourth movement of the dialectic, which the meditation on the Call of the King develops (§§91-98). To expand the desire to know their Savior, retreatants may find it helpful to Review for Religious .meditate on the early life of Jesus: incarnation and annun-ciation (8§101-109), nativity (88110-117), presentation and flight into Egypt (8132), finding in the temple (8134), Nazareth and baptism--even up to the temptation, as this seems in keeping with their sensibilities. The retreatants' attraction to Jesus naturally grows as they consider him in his poverty, transparency, and vul-nerability. But, as they come to know and identify with him, they may notice that an attraction within themselves to riches, honor, and pride forestalls deeper intimacy. This awareness of personal limitation begins to resolve itself in the fifth moment as they feel ever more deeply God's acceptance of them as they are. The preference for the way of Jesus thus represents not sim-ply an external "doctrine" (8145), but the retreatants' own intuition into themselves and the One who saved them. The Two Standards meditation follows this move-ment (88136-147), but directors may encourage the dynamic using other materials. Here retreatants natu-rally begin to reflect on their availability to choose iden-tification with Jesus in concrete situations and consider how ready they might or might not be to follow him unreservedly. Ignatius proposes the meditation on Three Classes of People to facilitate this reflection (88149-156), but again directors may suggest other resources. In considering the depth of their commitment, retreatants may feel drawn to reflect on how Jesus lived out these values in his own public ministry, so that they learn to serve by watching him serve. Passages from Scripture might help engage this sense of vocation and The retreatants" attraction to Jesus naturally grows as they consider him in his poverty, transparency, and vulnerability. 62.1 2003 O'Brien ¯ Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises mission, as may biographies of holy men and women (§ 100). Meditation on the public ministry of Jesus, which can take from seven to twelve days or more (§§158-161), often leads retreatants to a greater or lesser feeling of love for him. Ignatius invites retreatants to reflect on this range of feelings as Three Kinds of Humility (§§ 165- 168), but directors once again may use a variety of mate-rials in order to develop the heartfelt but qualified desire for intimacy with God. As this desire grows in retreatants, they may want to walk with jesus through his Passion (§§190-209), as this leads to deeper union with the one they first experienced as Savior, signaling movement into the Third Week. As always, the director encourages retreatants to remain focused on God's presence and to respond generously to the invitations of the Spirit (§5). To help maintain this focus, Ignatius suggests attention to eating habits (§§210-217). At some point, retreatants may want to consider the buria! and subsequent resurrection of Jesus as recorded in the Scriptures and tracked in the meditations for the Fourth Week (§§218-225). John English suggests that an imperative to "go and tell other people" might arise here from the retreatants' own prayer, further calling them out of themselves.~2 Regardless, the focus must remain on God's call. The dynamic continues to engen-der a deepening of affirmation through the various moments as retreatants recognize God's loving action everywhere. The director may want to use the Contemplation to Attain Love as a means to promote this movement (§§230-237). A Call to Trust Recognizing the dynamic in both the Exercises and the experience of my retreatants encourages me as direc-tor to trust that God rather than I or the retreatants ini- Review for Religious tiates and sustains the movement. Accordingly I think of my role primarily as helping retreatants bring to birth in therhselves the fruit of the Spirit.~3 In so doing I facil-itate the work of the parakletos who leads Christians to deeper appreciation of the Gospels' truth and strength-ens them in difficulty.~4 Peter-Hans Kolvenbach uses similar language in describing the retreatant as "one who wishes to be seized by the Spirit and who goes to another for help about how to let that happen--help which will not 'hinder.'" Kolvenbach rightly emphasizes the desires of the retreatant for God and for help in engaging God, such that "both [the giver and the receiver of the Exercises] ought to stay attentive to what the Spirit is doing rather than to what the one giving the Exercises might seem to suggest." Kolvenbach critiques two oppos-ing extremes of direction style, one he characterizes as the "disappearing director" and the other as the "over-rigid director." as The former takes a hands-off approach, erring on the side of no help, while ~he latter takes a hands-on approach, erring on the side of interference. In fulfilling their charge, directors learn to walk a mid-dle road focused on God's presence. Having said this, we cannot ignore the need many retreatants express for practical training and assistance to hear God speak. As they come to resonate with the voice of the Spirit, they still may look for explicit help from their directors until eventually. ~he directors find themselves walking With their retreatants, primarily as companions or listening aides. But note that the interior development of the retreatant under the guidance of the Spirit sets the tone for the relationship rather than any plan in the mind of the director. Again, the director's role involves helping retreatants attend to religious experience. Any change in the relationship between director and retreatant as the retreat progresses should thus come as both grow in spir-itual freedom from hearing and trusting God. O'Brien ¯ Dialectic in the Spiritual Exercises Notes t For a description of this approach, see William A. Barry SJ "The Contemplative Attitude in Spiritual Direction," Review for Religious 35 (1976): 820-828. z For an early account see William A. Barry SJ, "The Experience of the First and Second Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises," Review for Religious 32 (1973): 102-109. 3 Michael Ivens SJ, Understanding the Spiritual Exercises: Text and Commentary: A Handbook for Retreat Direciors (Leominster, Here-fordshire: Gracewing, 1998). For a more technical analysis of the Spiritual Exercises using Hegelian categories, see Edouard Pousset SJ, Life in Faith and Freedom: An Essay Presenting. Gaston Fessard's Analysis of the Dialectic of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, ed. and trans. Eugene L. Donahue SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1980). 4 The terms "spiritual desolation" and "spiritual consolation" refer to the existential orientation of the human soul in relation to God. The states come about from either rejecting relationship with the Lord (desolation) or choosing it (consolation). Spiritual conso-lation reveals itself in love of the creator and the love of creation implicit therein, an increase of hope, faith, and charity, and peace of soul; spiritual desolation reveals itself in their opposites (§§314-317). 5 The term "moment" here refers, not to an interval in time, but to a passage in the interior life. Avoiding such terms as "phase" and "step" is meant here to discourage thinking of the spiritual journey as analogous to either growing up or ascending a ladder. Souls, in fact, seem to progress in a spiral rather than linear fashion, such that we constandy find ourselves revisiting interior spaces and relearning spiritual lessons as our relationship with God deepens. This being said, each successive "moment" implies those preceding it, as fur-ther explained in the body of this article and in footnote 6. 6 Because interaction with God changes people, each moment constitutes a different way of experiencing the dynamic of negation and acceptance. In this sense such terms as "conflicted self" and "limited self" refer to specific moments in the progression, even though we ordinarily speak of sinfulness as internal conflict or lim-itation. The idea is that, having experienced forgiveness (see Lk 15:21-24), we still find ourselves capable of turning away from God. For this reason we speak of God's affirmation in the fourth moment not as forgiveness but as a call to discipleship (see Lk 5:1-10). Personal sin here recedes as the theme, yet we still feel our defi-ciency, now understood as internal conflict. Having accepted the call, we experience negation not primarily as sinfulness or conflict but Review for Religious as all that precludes a full response--our circumstances, self-image, sinfulness, disordered affections, and so forth. We thus speak of God's affirmation in the fifth moment as the entirety of our accep-tance (see Lk 15:31-32). 7 On the importance of bringing our desires before God, see James M. Keegan sJ, "Praying with Desire," Human Development 11:3 (Fall 1990): 35. Keegan argues that we make ourselves avail-able to God by voicing what we want and thus opening the possibility of a mutual relationship. s "Autograph Directory of St. Ignatius," in On Giving the Spiritual Exercises: The Early Jesuit Manuscript Directories and the Official Directory of I Y99, trans, and ed. Martin E. Palmer SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), p. 7. 9 Gerald R. Grosh SJ, Quest for Sanctity: Seven Passages to Growth in Faith (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1988). ,0 This sense of sin differs from the low self-esteem that can block the retreatant from initially accepting God's love. Until retreatants, accept God's unconditional love, they cannot see them-selves as sinfully choosing to reject it. ~' As Ivens explains, "this stage of the Exercises consists not in any way of meditating on sin and repentance, but in material and a dynamic of a particular character" (p. 45). ,2 John English SJ, Spiritual Freedom (Chicago: Loyola Press, 1995), pp. 231-232. ~3 Joyce Diltz develops this metaphor at length in "The Spiritual Director as Midwife," Presence 2:1 (January 1996): 18. ~4John 14:16; 14:26; 15:26; 16:7. ~s Peter-Hans Kolvenbach sJ, "Discourse on Exercises and Co- Workers," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 33, no. 1 (2002): 28, 30, and 31-31. 37 62.1 200~ JOAN L. ROCCASALVO Ignatian Women Past and Future T graced beginnings of the Society of Jesus are ompletely known if the women who participated in its vision are left out: "one gains the impression that ¯ . . the Society owes its existence to many women.''1 This article speaks of women who participated in the early Society's apostolic work and supported its ministry; it looks at four religious institutes with an Ignatian spir-ituality and at religious-life issues in the United States; and it offers a suggestion for renewal.2 The Past: 1491-1556, 1650, 1877 In 1540 Pope Paul III officially recognized the Society of Jesus. Neither monks nor friars, the early Jesuits devoted themselves to pressing apostolic needs of the day. They undertook an itinerant ministry. In early Christianity, women participated in a peri-patetic ministry. The apostolic labors of the church fathers are copiously detailed, but recent scholarship reveals that women matched them, setting an example for other women.3 In the 16th century, lines of societal Joan L. Roccasalvo CSJ wrote for us twice in 2001. Her address is University of Scranton; Center for Eastern Christifin Studies; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18510. Review for Relig4ous demarcation for women were clear. Women either married or entered the cloister, and prostitution was common. The ministry of nuns was an extension of their monastic enclosure. Upper-class women ran their house-holds, enjoyed mobility and independence, and numbers of them shared in Ignatius's apostolate. After the death of Ignatius's mother soon after his birth in 1491, he was put in the care of his sister-in-law Magdalena, who provided him with a courtly education. A pious and educated aunt, Maria de Guevara, a third-order Franciscan, had established a cloister next to a hos-pital. She. fostered Ignatius's lifelong commitment to hospital ministry. While recuperating, at Loyola from a leg wound sustained at Pamplona, the young man read lives of Christ and the saints when nothing else was avail-able. Inspired by their lives, he set out to emulate them. Ignatius traveled to the celebrated Benedictine monastery at Montserrat, a place of pilgrimage to this day. There, before a statue of Our Lady of Montserrat (the Black Madonna), in keeping with the chivalric code and in pilgrim's garb, he kept an all-night vigil. On 24 March 1522 he placed his sword before the Mother of God and sang and prayed with other pilgrims.4 Ignatian Women in the 16th Century At Manresa, Ignatius the layman experienced the ulti-mate combat, the battle within. During a period of con-solation, he received five graces near the River Cardoner: mystical illuminations of the Holy Trinity, creation, the Eucharist, the incarnation, and matters of faith and learn-ing. Thereafter he was fond of speaking about all good gifts coming from above. The Spiritual Exercises embody these graces and are forever linked with them.5 Ignatius called Manresa "his primitive church" because here his world-vision was born and took shape.6 Women were the first to benefit from the Exercises.7 62.1 2003 Among those who followed him and looked after his needs were In~s Pascual, an influential widow, and Jer6nima Clavera, administrator of Santa Lucia hospi-tal for the indigent? He made the acquaintance of Isabel Roser. Writing to her fifteen years later, he says: "I am indebted to each one [of the women] and chiefly to you-- for to you I owe more than to anyone I know in this life.''9 The townspeople called Ignatius "the sack man";l° the women were known as "Ifiigas," followers of Ifiigo (his Basque name).ll An elderly woman who impressed Ignatius with her wisdom and holiness told him of her desire that one day Jesus Christ would appear to him.12 Years later Ignatius spoke of his vision, at La Storta near Rome, of the Father with his Son carrying his cross, telling Ignatius, "I want you to serve us. I will be propitious to you in Rome.''13 "If," as Garcla-Mateo notes, "one reflects that the stay in Manresa was the most decisive time in Ignatius's spiritual development, then the role of these women is very sig-nificant." 14 Though Ignatius was schooled in matters of faith, he saw the need for more education in faith and learning. From 1523 to 1538 he studied in Barcelona, Alcalfi, Salamanca, Paris, and Venice. In Barcelona, Ignatius's vision attracted women of the upper class. He instructed them in the Exercises, and they helped him minister to the poor and sick.15 Estefania de Reques6ns, Guiomar Gralla, and the gifted Isabel de Josa all revered him as an apostle.16 In Alcalfi Ignatius met some fifty women of the lower class. He shared his conversion story and gave them the Exercises. Ignatius found himself suspected of being an alumbrado, an "enlightened" one.17 Townspeople gossiped. When two Ifiigas disappeared, the gossip intensified, and he was imprisoned. Sometime later Maria de la Flor, a prostitute, made the Exercises. Desirous of retreating to the desert like St. Mary of Egypt,18 she remarked that Ignatius was Review for Religious the first man who did not regard her as an object.19 These women defended him at his trial. In Salamanca it was the same pattern: giving the Exercises, ministry, suspi-cion, interrogation, and imprisonment by inquisitors. Ignatius and his Society-in-the-making continued studies in Paris and Venice. Financial need pressed him once again to request help from ladies in Barcelona. They sent him and his companions the equivalent of "care packages," which helped sustain them during their studies.2° In Rome Ignatius created a new apostolate where women could help other women.21 For prostitutes decid-ing to reform their lives, the convent had been their only option. Yet many felt no attrac-tion to the cloister. And so in 1543 Ignatius, after receiving financial support, mostly from his loyal women friends, and with ecclesiastical backing, founded St. Martha's, a house for endangered girls. Isabel Roser, widowed and childless, took up a leadership position and lived there with two companions. Under Cardinal Carpi's patronage, they formed La Compagnia della Grazia. The car-dinal asked the Society to under-take the temporary spiritual direction of the institution.22 Other wealthy laywomen joined in the work at St. Martha's: Lucrezia de Bradine, Juana de Arag6n, Margaret of Austria, and Leonor Osorio, who took sixteen young prostitutes into her household and procured marriage dowries for them.23 The work of St. Martha's flourished and became a model for foundations in Messina, Valencia, other cities. At the end of 1543, nearly one hundred women were seeking a new life at St. Martha's)4 The townspeople called Ignatius "the sack man"; the women were known as "I£igas," followers of I£igo. 41 62. I 200~? Roccasalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future Women responded with munificence to the end of Ignatius's life. The Society's most generous donors were Faustina de' Jancolini, who bequeathed her house and lands to Ignatius,. and Donna Maria Frassoni del Gesso, who gave 70,000 gold scudi for the construction of the Jesuit church and college in Ferrara. Without their help Ignatius could not have expanded the Society's apostolate. These generous women became known as "the most lov-ing mother(s) of the Society of Jesus."25 Women Seek Admission into the Order: 1545-1552 It was only a matter of time before several apostoli-cally minded women, married or widowed, sought admis-sion into the young Society of Jesus. Their request seemed logical. Ignatius had given them the Exercises; they participated in apostolic works and had given their estates or large sums of money to the order. Now they wanted to enter the Society. They too would be engaged in an itinerant ministry--or so they thought. In 1545 Isabel Roser and her two companions asked to be admit-ted into the Society. She appealed to Paul Ill and received his permission. Ignatius then received their vows.26 A female branch of the Society was temporarily established, but, when Isabel embroiled Ignatius in family squabbles, he sought papal intervention.27 Licet debitum, promul-gated in 1549, freed the Society from any permanent responsibility for women. It reinforced the Jesuit promise of mobility and granted the general of the Society per-mission to send members "to teach theology and all. dis-ciplines 'anywhere.'''28 Still, to avoid inflexibility, Ignatius permitted his men to hear the confessions of nuns on occasion, but Jesuits were forbidden to serve as their res-ident chaplains or regular confessors. Jesuits were sometimes asked to help in the reformof convents and monasteries, a priority of the Catholic Review for Religious Reformation. Sister Teresa Rajadell, a Benedictine nun, and others sought admission into the Society because of corrupt conditions in monasteries. Of the four letters Ignatius wrote ~to Sister Teresa, the first remains a model of spiritual direction. Meanwhile other laywomen attempted to imitate Isabel Roser's initiative: Francis B0rgia's sisters-in-law Juana de Meneses Barreto and the wealthy Sebastiana Exarch, who without her husband's knowledge was ready to make a vow of obedience to her confessor after completing the Exercises. Sebastiana's letter reached Ignatius in the middle of his difficulties with Isabel Roser. The letter is significant because, in a con-versation with Jesuit Father Araoz, the bishop of Barcelona "criticized the pastoral meth-ods of the Jesuits, especially in that they gave women the Spiritual Exercises to perform 'in profound secrecy and silence' after the manner of the suspect Mumbrados." Juana de Cardona was willing to do anything to be received into the Society: i'epeat the Exercises, divest her-self of revenues, relatives, and friends, and serve in the Society by pledging herself as a pilgrim and missionary-- she would obey "even unto death.''29 The willful Jeronima Pezzani took a vow of obedi-ence to Ignatius without telling him first. With her large donations and her rule and constitutions, she planned on helping the Society set up colleges in Parma and Cremona. She and her companions hoped to transform the House of St. Martha into a convent of "Jesuitesses." 30 Ignatius's refusal to accept women into the order was not because of an enmity toward them, but because of the circumstances of the time. 62. I 2003 Roccasalvo * lgnatian Women Past and Future "It needs to be Understood," writes Garcia-Mateo, "that Ignatius's refusal to accept women into the order was not because of an enmity toward them, but because of the circumstances of the time.''31 He remained unbudgeable in all cases but one. Infanta Juana, Regent of Spain In 1555, by way of exception, Princess Juana, daugh-ter of Charles V and sister of Philip II, pressured her way into the Society through the influence of Francis Borgia. Because of internal hostility to the Society, any denial of her request might jeopardize their work in Spain. To ensure their apostolic freedom, Ignatius bowed to her wishes, but a discreet letter to her betrayed his reluc-tance. As "Marco Sfinchez," her membership was to be kept a strict secret in the Society. Juana's courtly way of life remained unchanged. Her apostolic availability was limited, but she did what was possible in her double life. As her own superior, she safeguarded and advanced Jesuit works. She took first vows as a scholastic, but never became a fully professed member of the Society. On the one hand, Juana used her power to help the Society defend itself against the attacks of some churchmen. She gave a large amount for the founding of a college at Valladolid and wrote a letter to support the foundation in Louvain. On the other hand, she caused anxiety when "murmurs began to arise in Spain, and especially in court circles, against the 'Jesuit government'., and against 'Jesuitical practices' in her 'palatial convent.'" In 1573 the anomalous lady Jesuit died, outliving Ignatius by sev-enteen years. "The experiment was never repeated," notes John O'Malley.32 Ignatian Women: Role Models for the Future The remarkable deeds of the Ifiigas prompted Ignatius to favor the establishment of a company of Review for Religious women that with missionary mobility could devote itself entirely to apostolic work.33 This vision would be realized beginning in the mid 17th century. An Ignatian institute may be distinguished in four ways: "through reliance on Ignatian texts in the formulation of their own constitu-tion, through influence by individual Jesuits, by model-ing certain works or structures on those of the Society of Jesus, and by inspiration drawn from Ignatian Christological and apostolic visions.''34 Among these groups are the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary (IBVM), the Sisters of St. Joseph(csJ/ssJ), the Society of the Sacred Heart of Jesus (RSCJ), and the Faithful Companions of Jesus (FCJ).3s A short summary about each is offered here. Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary: 17th Century In 1612 Mary Ward, a precocious woman not yet thirty years old, gained official approval from the Franciscan James Blaise, bishop of St. Omer, to form the Institute of Mary, modeled on the Society's way of life. Hearing in prayer the words "Take the same of the Society," she understood them to mean take Jesuit ideas and practices "insofar as they are applicable to women." Apostolically mobile, her sisters wore no distinctive garb. In 1629 Mary's brave vision resulted in a brief impris-onment and the suppression of the institute. Isolated Jesuits like Roger Lee and John Gerard supported her enterprise, but, because her institute resembled the Society, it encountered opposition from Jesuits them-selves and from seminary priests who resented the new institute's freedom. Though it claimed no dependence on the Jesuits,. its members were labeled "Jesuitesses" and Rogerites.36 Despite the bishop's public support, the Holy See intervened. In 1630 "Urban VIII signed the bull of sup-pression [declaring the institute] 'suppressed, extinct4,5 62.1 2003 Roccasalvo * Ignatian Women Past and Future rooted out, destroyed, and abolished.'" In 1877 the insti-tute was officially approved as the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It professes: "Inspired by Mary Ward's vision, we will claim more passionately and live more radically our Ignatian spirituality and share it more widely with those among whom we live and work." 37 The Sisters of St. Joseph: 17th Century In 1650 six apostolically minded women, guided by the French Jesuit Jean-Pierre Mddaille (+1669), were officially recognized as the Daughters of St. Joseph. These women ministered to others outside the cloister without religious habit, but wearing a distinctive attire-- that of the widows of Le Puy.38 Like the Jesuits, the Sisters of St. Joseph embraced a wide ministry: "ready for everything, available for all.''39 An institute parallel-ing the Society's apostolic mobility, envisioned by Ignatius, was at last established for women. The charism of the Sisters of St. Joseph is embodied in their consensus statement referring to "an Ignatian- Salesian climate.''4° Father M~daille gave the first Sisters of St. Joseph theSpiritual Exercises in the form of max-ims or proverbs, a 17th-century genre. The Exercises are their matrix and inspiration. The Maxims depend on the Exercises for their internal structure. St. Francis de Sales "lived under Jesuit direction from his school days onward, he made the Spiritual Exercises annually, and he took as his apostolic model the life and work of.St. Charles Borromeo.''41 The Introduction to the Devout Life emerges from the schema and content of the Exercises, with many passages paraphrased avec douceur from the Exercises. The Society of the Sacred Heart: 19th Century In 1800 St. Madeleine Sophie Barat (+1865) founded the Society of the Sacred Heart. Madeleine Sophie's intent was to begin a company of women parallel to the Review for Religious then suppressed Society of Jesus whose work would be to revitalize Christian life in France. Her motto was "unity and conformity to the Heart of Jesus." The constitu-tions, based on those of the Jesuits, were approved by Leo XII in .1826.42 The Society of the Sacred Heart resembled the Jes-uits, stressing the rigorous spiritual and intellectual training of its nuns. With its coherent plan of studies especially in the humanities, its interna-tional network of schools educated young women worldwide. In 1818 St. Philippine Duchesne made a foundation in the United States. In 1964 the Religious of the Sacred Heart removed their rule of cloister. ¯ In 1820 the Faithful Companions of Jesus (FCJ) were founded in Amiens, France, byMarie Madeleine de Bonnault de d'Hoiiet. Impressed by the Society of Jesus, she founded an institute bearing the Holy Name and following the Jesuit constitutions. An international con-gregation, they profess: "In the Exercises we contem-plate the life of Jesus, coming into personal contact with him and interiorizing his attitudes and values.''43 The Society of the Sacred Heart resembled the Jesuits, stressing the rigorous spiritual and intellectual training of its nuns. Catherine the Great and the Society of Jesus The suppression of the Society of Jesus (1773-1814) was affected by the three-power partition of Poland .in 1772. The papal bull of suppression was not promul-gated in the part that had come under the rule of Russia's Catherine the Great. She valued the educational work of the two hundred Jesuits living there and permitted them to teach in what was called White Russia. By the Roccasalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future time of the Society's restoration in 1814, their numbers had increased to 337.44 How women advanced the Society's apostolic mission during the suppression is a rich topic for research. Catherine was no Ignatian woman, but she kept the Society's flame burning during a dark night in its history. Issues of Religious Life Perfectae caritatis mandated that religious live more in line with the modern world. The universal call to holi-ness proclaimed anew by Lumen gentium (§§3 3, 40) urged the laity to engage in "the saving mission of the church itself." A recent document on religious life says, "If. the thii'd millennium will be the time of promotion of the laity, of associations, and of ecclesial movements, we can rightfully ask, What place will be reserved for the traditional forms of consecrated life?''45 Perfectae caritatis does not clearly differentiate reli-gious life from the lay state, as sociologist Patricia Wittberg SC reminds us.46 Lumen gentium and Perfectae caritatis declare a distinction of degree, though not of kind.47 Experience tells us that religious do belong to a distinct category, as we shall see.48 Prophetic Witness Religious life is "mainly the fruit of the free and dynamic action of the Spirit in the church; it is a charis-matic way of life" existing since the early centuries of the church. If religious life is marked by its prophetic witness, its characteristic sign is the vow of consecrated celibacy. It accepts God's gift of friendship and "is best disposed for the development of a life of prayer and con-templation." 49 Consecrated celibacy is an attitude and a fundamen-tal choice affecting a person's entire life. One's center of affectivity is Christ himself, whose love is centered Review for Religious totally on his Father. His love embraces all. So with con-secrated celibacy. No other person may substitute for Christ at the center of one's heart. Because this vow touches every aspect of one's experience, it involves "a certain affective renunciation and a solitude of the heart which form part of the cross offered [to them] by Christ.''5° Supported by community friendships, the love of consecrated chastity excludes no one. Companionship in Christ frees celibate women and men for service to others without the demands of close family ties. The world is their family. Solitude and strong friendships, contemplation and action, are dynamically balanced. Religious women and men stand as external signs of God's presence and activity in the world. In a secularized environment their prophetic witness focuses not on themselves but beyond themselves, on Christian values and ultimately on God. Religious life is the Spirit's great gift of love to the church. Particular Charisms When consecrated persons are attracted to a partic-ular vision of Christ's paschal mystery given to a founder or a small group, they will assume that same vision,s~ A charism begins with an unmerited religious experience of depth and intensity by which God singles out an individual and touches that person with an unforgettable experience of love in Which he or she is given a special vision of the Divine Majesty. The mode of receiving the charism is shaped by the person's historical and cultural conditioning as well as by his or her temperament, human gifts, and limitations, all of which Christians recognize as the effects of God's active love in history,s2 The charisms of the Benedictines, Dominicans, 62.1 2003 Franciscans, and Jesuits define who they are. Each order was founded by a person to address a specific need and mission at a specific time in the church. The Jesuits expanded their apostolic focus to include the whole world for their mission. Like the call of .Christ to his disciples, orders attract followers to their founder's way of life and to their graced activities, the attraction often preceding knowledge of the founder's name. But sooner or later the various orders must elicit each candidate's deep-down commitment. Each order, like a perfume, gives off a uniquely identifying, fragrance: A whiff of Benedictine spirituality is detected the moment you step. into the interior of an abbey church. After.weeks, a chemical reac-tion occurs between monastic life and .the human spirit. You discern the Benedictine heart notes: a blend of chant, Liturgy of the Hours, lectio divina, work in the fields. Silence and solitude are the fixatives lending constancy. Then there's the interplay with a monk's chemistry. Differences exist for those wearing the perfume as a signature. Yet you recognize the underlying Benedictine fra-grance . The nuns at an abbey in New England make a perfume from flowers in their pine forest. It's called Attar of Peace. It ¯ summons up the grounds and even the com-munity. The scent has made the place its own; spirituality can be embodied in a fra-grance, s3 Wittherg notes that today we see the opposite in practice: "The members of most congregations now have widely diverse interpretations of their community's charism, as well as varying degrees of commitment to it."s4 Let us take a closer look. Review for Religious Religious Institutes from Past to Present The Tridendne reforms of the 16th century held fast until the early 1960s. With the advent of the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965), the manner in which women lived religious life changed significantly. Today traditional religious institutes in the West either are in chaos or are dying." In the United States there are more than one hundred sixty secular institutes, a nontradi-tional form of consecrated life. Most religious vocations now come from India and East Asia. In Creating a Future for Religious Life, Wittberg remarks that the decline in vocations in the West is not "an ongoing religious crisis," but part of the life-death rhythm of creation, from which religious institutes are not exempt: "A recurring pattern of foundation, expansion, stabilization, and breakdown has developed time and again throughout history of Western Christianity, in intervals of two hundred fifty to three hundred fifty years." In the late 1960s Ladislas ~)rsy SJ anticipated Wittberg's observation: [Consecrated religious life] rejoiced in peri-ods of splendor, and it suffered the bitter expe-rience of decline--yet it never died. After each crisis it recovered and manifested signs of internal strength. It showed also a remarkable capacity to adapt to the needs of every age; it was continually enriched with new, external forms,s6 If birth-and-death is a natural pattern, why not allow communities to die a peaceful death? Because not all institutions die because of external reasons. Several met their demise because of internal causes: deconstruction of their charism, laxity and moral decadence, fashion-able spiritualities and divisiveness,s7 The aggiornamento called for by Pe. rfectae caritatis began in a grim context. By the early 1960s religious women were too removed from the modern world. After 62.1 200t Roccasalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future their daily apostolic work, sisters would return to a vir-tual enclosure where physical presence, equated with community life, took precedence over the apostolate. Detailed rules regarding the minutiae of daily life cramped their spirits. Superiors wielded power that often impeded psychological maturity and the development of talents. Even minimal contact with the outside world Was closely monitored and discouraged. This rigidity contradicted the ministry for which these institutes were founded,s8 Most communities anticipated reform and responded at once. Others moved at a slower pace or on a superfi-cial level. Some institutes were successful at rediscover-ing or revitalizing their shared vision. Today, for example, the Benedictine nuns of Today Ignatian institutes pursue their charism with varying degrees of intentionality. Regina Laudis Monastery in Bethlehem, Connecticut, report a waiting list of candidates. Other institutes minimized, ignored, or altogether uprooted their charism. There may be a good reason for this. The charisms of women's congregations sometimes seem rather eclectic, unless the group is a female counterpart of a men's group such as the Benedictines. It is difficult for a group with a hybrid charism to discern its principal charism. Some groups seem not even to have one. When we speak of the schools of spirituality, many women's religious institutes do not fall into neat categories as the men's orders do. Some groups, however, with clear identities like the Ignatian, have removed elements that uniquely identified them as a particular institute and have added other elements. Today Ignatian institutes pursue their charism with vary-ing degrees of intentionality. Review for Religious Marketing experts tell us that "tampering with an identity--a brand, a restaurant, a cola, or any other con-sumer product--can be a perilous business.''59 Religious groups with a renewed sense of identity and mission appear to be in a strong position to survive. Those that have "tampered with" or discarded their identity are in peril. The Current Situation Since the 1960s, issues such as governance, ecclesi-astical poverty, obedience, and common life have under-gone change. Let us briefly examine the present-day resonances of this statement. Governance. Out of Vatican II emerged a collegial spirit. There it applied to bishops acting in union with the bishop of Rome, but this spirit has permeated the church. In nonepiscopal groups, it is more accurately referred to as coresponsibility or shared decision making. Centralized, hierarchical groups must find a way to incor-porate the collegial spirit. In decentralized communities, superiors have been vested with less authority, and they govern less if at all. For women, the past remains an open wound, but "everyone her own pope" leads to chaos. We have not yet realized a communion ecclesiology. Economics and Poverty. Every religious institute must support itself. The plunge in finances is a cause for con-cern even though religious are tax-exempt. Diocesan structures require sisters working in them to contribute their services. The local ordinary determines what small fixed stipend will be given to those working within his diocese. The stipend, falling below the poverty line, varies from diocese to diocese.6° Major superiors have tried unsuccessfully to remedy this long-standing abuse. With larger memberships, communities could manage their budgets on contributed services. This is no longer the case. 62.1 200~ Roccasalvo * Ignatian Women Past and Future Economics and Obedience.' Flexibility to choose one's ministry has brought its own problem. Today, in a com-petitive market, unemployment among religious is a stark. reality. If a position opens up, especially one paying a full salary, it is likely to be in a nondiocesan institution far from the local community. Though superiors gladly send a sister "in obedience," they have little choice but to do so; these sisters support themselves and sisters who receive no diocesan stipend. Economics and Community Life~ The employment sit-uation mentioned above has affected the traditional understanding of community life as an essential part of religious living, and so community life is on the wane. With greater personal freedom to choose their aposto-lates, sisters work not only in' different places but also on different schedules~ Common life, yes; community under one roof, no.61 Has maintenance displaced mis-sion as a community focus? Does economics drive the maintenance? Decline has set in. Numbers are plummeting. Attitudes formed over the years have hardened. Loss of judgment has followed, and a tendency to create a make-believe world under the cover of optimism. No large corporation or small business would permit losses with-out a realistic analysis of facts. Instead of facing and dis-cussing them with intellectual and emotional honesty, most religious are in denial. They continue glorifying a way of life that is fast ebbing away. Johannes Metz notes that loyalty "not infrequently takes on the lineaments of necrophilia: of shutting one-self up in dead patterns of life and behavior, patterns perhaps that have been worn to death in the power of the Spirit.''62 Years ago small institutes were the first casu-alties, and a few merged vcith larger ones. Today larger institutes are in jeopardy. Given this trend, by 2020 a handful of religious will remain as an endangered species. Review for Religious Young people are avoiding institutes in decline. Instead they seek ecclesial groups with "fiery vision." 63 Many applaud religious women for continued ser-vice to others, and praise is richly deserved. Sisters have worked hard all their lives without seeking or receiving recognition. They have educated men and women in leadership positions and have promoted vocations to the priesthood and religious life. Their contributions to almost every walk of life are considerable. Critics, how-ever, paint a picture of confusion, blurred identity, indi-vidualism, secularity, and irrelevance. Renewal through the Spiritual Exercises Holiness of life brings its own "fiery vision"; its radi-ance attracts others to God. Today, in a wasteland of secularity, reform will not be realized from external pres-sure. Religious must vigorously pursue inner conver-sion. For four hundred and fifty years, the Spiritual Exercises have stood as an instrument of interior trans-formation. They changed the religious contours of chaotic 16th-century Europe. Today, even with com-peting syncretic aids, they continue renewing the church among lay ecclesial groups.64 Ignatian women can build up the world by living this "fiery vision" and, without dilution, handing it on to others longing for meaning in life. In this school of prayer, one intensely desires con-version of heart. This book for "exercising" brings the whole person into the cosmic Christ. It requires prayer-ful activity of the whole person: body, mind, spirit, imag-ination, memory, and the subconscious. This "retreat" of solitary prayer becomes active service of neighbor. The exercitant assumes the mind of Christ, "for Christ plays in ten thousand places, / Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his, / To the Father through the features of men's faces." 65 62.1 200~ The Exercises for a New Millennium In a post-9/1 1 world, we face a new world situation. In the past the Exercises, with their theocentric world-view that includes spiritual humanism, have attracted non-Christians as well as Christians.66 Jews and Muslims, for example, without compromising their beliefs, have benefited from them. The goal is not conversion but a more devout practice of one's faith, more attuned to global harmony.67 Discernment calls Ignatian women to regard others with love, seeking unity in all things. The Trinity and the incarnation, the two fundamen-tal dogmas of Christianity, permeate the Exercises. Our Trinitarian God, archetype of unity and diversity, "is one, good, true, and beautiful because [God] is essen-tially Love, and Love supposes the one, the other, and their unity.''6s In the incarnation God condescended to flesh to raise women and men to God. Created in God's image, all are called to the divine likeness. The Johannine Gospel impels us to live within the Trinity, who lives in all creation. Christ's humanity presses us to respect and reverence those whose beliefs differ from ours. The incarnation links us to one another in a global village. Interacting with other great religions, wherein the Spirit breathes, will advance the oneness for which Jesus prayed. Ignatian women, indeed all in the church, must be fully catholic to be fully Catholic. The Exercises for Ignatian Women Religious For Ignatian women religious at the start of this mil-lennium, more is asked of our consecrated life. Drawing its meaning from the Trinity, celibacy is to be valued and embraced as affectivity. The Trinity's inner love is the model of that love which God offers us throughout our lives. When the motive for pleasing others is love, affa-bility and good manners are assured. Circumstances call us to a lifestyle of frugality. As stewards of Mother Earth, Review for Religious we must train ourselves to think, feel, and act with greater vigilance over God's sacramental world. Envisioning a new attitude toward personal freedom, coresponsibility, and communion, ecclesiology places the Trinity at the heart of governance. These reflections do not guarantee that institutes will attract new members at once, but the future will bear fruit if we plant strong seeds now. Ignatian religious women are called to share this "fiery vision" with others--noblesse oblige. The Exercises encompass three other graces which Ignatius received at Manresa. God's cosmos is indeed "charged with the grandeur of God.''69 In the Eucharist, Christ offers himself to his Father, and he nourishes us, his Body. Our service must be actu-alized in our becoming what we have received. Neither mere activism nor pragmatic service, it is faith expressed as love.7° The Exercises embody tides quaerens intellectum, faith seek-ing underst~inding, valuing and developing our gifts. Commitment to faith and learning sharpens our sense of justice and our other sensibilities. For Ignatian women religious at the start of this millennium, more is asked of our consecrated life. The Magis from Ignatian Women Religious Reform will not necessarily guarantee the survival of our various institutes. Perfectae caritatis (§ 19) spoke of the possibility of establishing new communities, cau-tioning the need for discernment regarding their "use-fulness" and promising future. Challenging women religious to begin their own institutes, Wittberg says: Find a vision which consumes and vitalizes you, one which you are willing to die for--and to live the rest of your life for. Start the jour- 57 62.1 2003 Ro~casalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future ney. Don't wait until fifty, or twenty, or even ten people are ready to go with you . Start the journey alone, if need be, and then invite others to come along . Expect to fail ~everal times. Expect to lose your way. Learn from your mistakes and try again. That is what founders, and refounders, do. That is the cru-cifixion, the "Passover," to which they are called. The resurrection, we know by faith, will also occurfl1 A bold challenge, indeed. One leaves her institute to found another only at the prompting of the good Spirit. Still, it is well to recall that, without separation from the Benedictines, there would have been no Bernard of Clairvaux, the Cistercians, or Thomas Merton. Without separation from the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary, there would be no Mother Teresa, 'no Missionary Sisters of Charity caring for the most destitute of the dying. Women are endowed with the gift of building a cul-ture of love founded on love. How muchmore religious 'women who follow the Ignatian way! Their "fiery vision," emerging from the Exercises, sees the impossi-ble as possible--as imaginative, practical, an'd prophetic. The Spirit will lead our discerning hearts to build the future "all ablaze with God springing up everywhere.''72 Notes ' Rogelio Garcfa-Mateo, "Ignatius of Loyola and Women," Theology Digest 45, no. 1 (Spring 1998): 32.'In this article I men-tion only a few of the women who helped Ignatius. 2 I thank Fathers Ladislas ~rsy sJ and Brian O'Leary SJ, Sisters Judith Roemer, Marion Honors CSJ, and Maria Pascuzzi CSJ, and my brother for their insights and encouragement to write this article. 3 The deaconess St. Macrina (d. 380) founded the Basilian order with her brother St. Basil. They wrote the Rule for nuns and monks. She founded an orphanage for girls, ~he first of its kind. St. Olympias (d. 408), deaconess and friend of St. John Chrysostom, distributed Review for Religious her vast fortune to the poor and rallied to his defense when he was illegally deposed. This led to her own exile. 4james Brodrick SJ, St. Ignatius Loyola: The Pilgrim Years, 1491- IY38 (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Cudahy, 1956), p. 86. 5 The Autobiography of Ignatius of Loyola, trans. Joseph E O'Callaghan, ed. John C. Olin (New York: Fordham University Press, [1974] 1992), pp. 36-40. 6 Thomas M. Lucas sJ, "The Saint, the Site, and the Sacred Strategy: Ignatius, Rome, and the Urban Mission," in Saint, Site, and Sacred Strategy (Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1990), p. 20. 7 Garcfa-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 29. 8 Hugo Rahner SJ, Saint Ignatius Loyola: Letters to Women, (Freiburg: Herder / London: Nelson, 1960), pp. 4-10. 9 H. Rahner, .Letters, .p. 265. '°Jos~ Ignacio Tellechea Idfgoras, Ignatius of Loyola: The Pilgrim Saint (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1994), pp. 180-181. 1, H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 10, 252. 12 Garcfa-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 29. 13 John W. O'Malley sJ, The First Jesuits (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), p. 34. 14 Garcia-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 29. 15 See n. 14. ,6 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 10, 296-297. ,7 Brian O'Leary SJ, "Foundational Values in the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius," Milltown Studies (Spring 1994): 7-9. 18 H. Rahner, Letters, p. 11. Mary of Egypt is considered an icon of repentance. ,9 Tellechea, Ignatius, p. 254. 20 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 174-176 and PLATE XII facing p. 321; 181-182, 185, 192. 2, Garcia-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 30. 22 Ludwig Pastor, The History of the Popes, Vol. 12 (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co., 1923), p. 42. 2~ O'Malley, First Jesuits, p. 180. 24 Pastor, Popes, Vol. 12, p. 43. 2~ H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 197, 209-211; consult all of Part 3, "Begging for the Kingdom of God," pp. 169-206. Also pp. 15,199, 211, 15. 62.1 2003 Roccasalvo * Ignatian Women Past and Future .60- 26 Garcfa-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 31. 27 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 287-290. 2s O'Malley, First Jesuits, p. 201. 29 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 340, 331-335, 126-128, 303,310. 30 H. Rahner, Letters, 318-319, 323. 3~ Garcia-Mateo, "Ignatius and Women," p. 32. For Ignatius's responses to these women's petitions to enter the Society, see H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 260, 308, 318, 323. 32 H. Rahner, Letters, pp. 52-67, 56-59, 59, 60, 59. O'Malley, First Jesuits, p. 76. 33 H. Rahne~:, Letters, pp. 251,260. 34 Mary Milligan,. "What Is an 'Ignatian Congregation'?" Way Supplement 70 (Spring 1991): 41-50. 35 Included as well are the Religious of the Sacred Heart of Mary (RSHM), the Religious of the Cenacle (RC), the Religious of Jesus and Mary (RJM), the Society of the Holy Child Jesus (SHCJ). 36 M. Emmanuel Orchard, Till God I/Viii (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1985), p. 29, nn. 17 and 33, and pp. 49-50. Also M.P. Trauth, "Ward, Mary," New Catholic Encyclopedia. 37 Orchard, Till God Will, p. 102. William V. Bangert SJ, A History of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1972), p. 146. See . 38 M~daille Committee, "The Spirituality of Jean-Pierre M~daille" (New Orleans, 1967), pp. 2-3. 39 Tellechea, Ignatius, p. 413. ~o Constitution of the Sisters of St. Joseph (Brentwood, N.Y., 2000), p. 9. 41 Elizabeth Stopp, "Francois de Sales," in The Study of Spirituality, ed. Cheslyn Jones et al. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), p. 381. 42 See , p. 6. 43 See "Our Spi;'it," ._ 44J.E Broderick SJ, "Jesuits," New Catbolic Encydopedia. 45 "Starting Afresh.from Christ: A Renewed Commitment to Consecrated Life in the Third Millennium," Origins 32, no. 8 (4 July 2002), §12. 46 Patricia Wittberg SC, The Rise and Fall of Catholic Religious Orders: A Social Movement Perspective (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), p. 232. Review for Religious 47 In Lumen gentium a religious is "more intimately consecrated to divine service. This consecration gains in perfection since by virtue of firmer and steadier bonds, it serves as a better symbol of the unbreakable link between Christ and his spouse, the church" (§44). Perfectae caritatis states that religious follow Christ "more freely and imitate him more nearly. Hence, the more ardently they unite themselves to Christ through a self-surrender.involving their entire lives, the more vigorous becomes the .life of the church and the more abundantly her apostolate bears fruit" (§1). Emphasis added. 48 Sandra M. Schneiders IHM, Finding the Treasure (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), p. 128. 49 Ladislas M. 0rsy sJ, Open to the Spirit (Washington-Cleveland: Corpus Books, 1968), pp. 17, 21, 25. 5o Our Jesuit Life (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1990), p. 94. s, Joseph de Guibert sJ, The Jesuits: Their Spiritual Doctrine and Practice (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1986), p. 2. 52 John C. Futrell SJ, "Discovering the Founder's Charism," Way Supplement (Autumn 1971): 63. s3 Joseph Roccasalvo, The Odor of Sanctity (USA: Xlibris, 2000), pp. 106-107. s4 Patricia Wittberg SC, Creating a Future for Religious Life (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1991), p. 138 and n. 4: "In some congre-gations, this pluralism has become so great that it is difficult to see what remains in common in any vital sense. Members have some vague sense of belonging to a group. This sense of belonging is usu-ally sustained by a vague ethos or spirit, by memories of a shared his-tory, by a sense of responsibility for the elderly members, and by personal relationships with those who are coworkers, coinhabitants, or like-minded allies. But belonging is not the same as commitment." Mary Jo Leddy, "Beyond the Liberal Model," Way Supplement 65 (Summer 1989): 46. 55 "Starting Afresh from Christ," pp. 130-147. ~6 ~rsy, Open to the Spirit, p. 13. ~7 Wittberg, Rise andFall, pp. 186-188, 41, Table 2.1, and 184ff, Table 10.1. 5s Male religious orders would not have tolerated these structures. s9 Eric Asimov, "When Makeovers Go Awry," New York Times (31 July 2002). The famous Russian Tea Room in New York City recently closed because its new owner "tampered" with its tradi-tional identity. One can only imagine the outrage of sports fans if the 61 62.1 2003 Roccasalvo ¯ Ignatian Women Past and Future New York Yankees were to tamper with their logo designed by Tiffany. 60 Before 1940, religious brothers working in the same diocese received more than twice as much as the sisters. Wittberg, Rise and Fall, p. 52. 61 Common life may refer to all members living under one roof or contributing to a common fund for the common good. It means that common rituals are observed as well, more easily observed in monastic than in apostolic communities. 62 Johannes Metz, Followers of Christ: The Religious Life and the Church (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 20. 63 A phrase used by Evelyn Woodward in P~ets, Prophets, and Pragmatists (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1987), p. 51. 64 This dry manual has been published some 4,500 times over the course of four hundred years. 65 "As kingfishers catch fire" by Gerard Manley Hopkins. 66 O'Leary, "Foundational Values," pp. 5-13. 67 Ronald Modras, "The Spiritual Humanism of the Jesuits," America (4 February 1995): 10. 6s Hans Urs yon Balthasar, "A Rdsum~ of My Thought," in Hans Urs yon Balthasar: His Life and Work, ed. David L. Schindler (San Francisco: Communio Books and Ignatius Press, 1991), p. 4. 69 "God's Grandeur" by Gerard Manley Hopkins. 70 O'Leary, "Foundational Values," p. 19. 7, Patricia Wittberg SC, Pathways to Re-Creating Religious Communities (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1996), pp. 199-201. 72 Pierre Teilhard de Cha~din SJ, Letters to L~ontine Zanta (New York: Harper and Row, 1968), p. 41. Review for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man All Christians know Jesus as the Son of God, and rightly so. But he never referred to himself by that rifle, except once (according to the synoptic Gospels), when the high priest asked him before the Sanhedrin, "Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed One?" and he replied, "I am" (Mk 14:61-62). But often (eighty-one times in the Gospels) he spoke of himself as .the Son of man.1 In fact, even on the above occasion of affirming his Sonship of God, he went on to clarify.at once, "And you will see the Son of man seated at the right hand of the Power." Reclaiming Jesus as the Son of Man In expressing their faith in Jesus, the early Christians called him Lord (also my Lord, our Lord, and Lord of the universe), Emmanuel, Savior, and the like, all expressions suggestive of his divinity. But never once did they name him A. Paul Dominic SJ last wrote for us in our issue of November-December 2001. His address is c/o Missionaries of the Poor; Fatima Nagar; Warangal 506 004; India. Dominic ¯ Learningfrom ~esus, the Son of Man the Son of man, with the notable exception found on the lips of Stephen (Ac 7:56). If, thus, no primitive creedal statements contain any reference to him as the Son of man, that need not deter us from Jesus' preferred way of speaking about himself. It is intriguing, too, that, on a rare occasion when he was drawing someone to believe in him, he asked him, according to the witness of John, "Do you believe in the Son of man?" On 9:35).2 So why not look at Jesus as the Son of man and learn from him what ways mark him out as the Son of man? So far, so good. But what is or can be understood by the Aramaic terminology the Son of man? It is surely one of the most discussed questions, with almost as ma. ny opinions as there are scholars. At the same time, it is one of the most important questions, as Milan Machovec says, "in considering the person and influence of the Master from Galilee.''3 Whatever the Marxist author's reason for saying so, there is truth in what he says, if only because the favorite self-designation of Jesus was the Son of man. The Meanings of"the Son of Man" As we seek to understand what Jesus meant by "the Son of man," we should remind ourselves that as a rule he did not indulge in cliches and fads nor as a rule confuse and confound people, but communicated himself to them in transparent, if teasing and provocative, ways. Further, from the many studies made on the subject, we may throw some light on the matter. Primarily, the expression Son of man was not a title, but a modest reserved way of referring to oneself in Galilee's Aramaic idiom. So, when Jesus used the choice phrase, .he was not drawing attention to himself, much less thrusting or projecting himself proudly, but presenting himself humbly.4 A much older use of the phrase, carried over from the Old to the New Testament, was simply as a synonym of Review for Religious "man" or "human being," without any special emphasis (Ps 80:17). Depending on the context, however, there could be an emphasis laid on human nature as nobler than subhuman, on the one hand (compare Dn 7:3-7 and 17-26 with 7:13), or of course as infinitely lower than the divine, on the other (Ez 2:1). Another element of emphasis could be that the speaker conceived of himself (I guess the expression was used only by men) not apart from but part of humanity. Far from being a stranger to humanity, he was part and parcel of it, owning himself a member of all humanity. Its usage was obviously comparable to that of the other expression "sons of the world" (Lk 16:8),5 which meant, of course, belonging to the world. Similarly, therefore, "the son of man." meant one who belonged to the world of humans. Jesus' Characterization as the Son of Man All this made sense in relation to the person of Jesus, as already mentioned. So, when he characterized himself as the Son of man, he was not passing himself off as something higher than others. Whatever else he was, he was still a man, pure and simple, and so like any other human being, as the early Christians believed (Ph 2:7). Besides all this, Jesus could have had something more in mindl He was not just resigned to, or even simply content with, his human status. He was appreciative of, and even intent on, something greater in the experience of being human. Keeping in mind the Gospels' emphasis on Jesus' use of the term "Son of man" and on the dignity of the individual human ("man as man") and of all humanity, Albert Nolan submits "that Jesus' frequent and emphatic use of the term 'Son of man' was his way of referring to, and identifying himself with, man as man.''6 Here is a nuanced insight that could be missed. Unlike others, Jesus used the term "Son of man" not by way of 62.1 2003 Dominic ¯ Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man Jesus used the term "Son of man" not by way of habit, but with a conscious intent. habit, but with a conscious intent. It was a way of expressing his vision of humanity, experienced in himself in solidarity with others. Whatever else he claimed to be, it was not apart from being a "son of man" among the likes of him. In other words, being a man, he could not but assodate himself with every social segment, making no discrimination whatever among human beings based on sex or status or religious sanction or what have you. What were the implications of this identification that Jesus made with others in the bosom of his religious tradition? Unlike the others, he not only inherited this religious outlook handed down by the ancients, but he consciously incorporated it and indeed incarnated it. He knew that being human, denoted by the term "son of man," embraced two opposite experiences. On the one hand, "son of man" implied and connoted that human life is short-lived like the grass (Is 51:12) or, like the worm, lowly and vulnerable (Jb 25:6). The " phrase "Son of man" showed that before God human stature cannot be anything but small (Ps 11:4). It showed that human creatures as such are mortal, terribly mortal (Ps 90:3, Ez 2:1), and thus no more significant than a dying breath or fleeting shadow (Ps 144:4). It emphasized that every human being is caught up in sin (Ps 14:2-3). On the other hand, besides and beyond all this, there was a transcendent sense to the religious term "son of man." It suggested and revealed that every "son of man" is an object of Providence (PS 107:8), something for divine wisdom to find delight in (Pr 8:31)," a crown of creation by divine plan, and even a partner with God (Ps 8:5-8). Before God, then, every Review for Religious human person is both nothing and, strangely enough, all blessing. It was with this manifold tensive human reality that Jesus identified himself. He was at home with this holistic vision of humanity; his lifetime was of a piece with it. Becoming Like the Son of Man Being the Son of man, and preeminently that, Jesus wanted others, too, to claim and share the same privilege that God envisioned for humanity. In this light some of his sayings lend themselves to a new interpretation. "Thus," Nolan remarks, "to say that 'the son of man is master even of the sabbath' is to say that 'the sabbath was made for man and not man for the sabbath' (Mk 2:27-28). To say that 'the son of man has power on earth to forgive sins' is to praise 'God for giving such power to men' (Mr 9:6, 8). To say that 'the foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests but the son of man has nowhere to lay his head' could mean that, whereas the Herods (foxes) and the Romans (birds) have a place in the present society, man as man has no place yet."7 Such an outlook offers the inspiration for all humans to attain the true glory destined for them by God, despite their own acute sense of infdriority and insignificance. It echoes in practical terms what the mystical psalmist joyously discerned: "When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in.place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You made him ruler over the works of your hands; you put everything under his feet" (Ps 8:3-8, N1V). Even though Jesus, believing this and acting on it, realized its truth in his life and invited others to do the same, people hesitate to conceive of themselves in this light. It is to such people that a sacred author quotes the67 62. I 2003 Dominic ¯ Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man above psalm and makes this assuring comment: "Now in subjecting all things to them God left nothing outside their control. As it is, we do not yet see everything in subjection to them; but we do see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor" (Heb 2:8-9). Let there be no mistake. The glorification of Jesus was not because of any angelic or royal nature he enjoyed, but because of his pure, radical human status in and through which, of course, his Abba God was at work. It was through becoming the lowly son of man, clothed in flesh, frailty, and fragility, that he became the glorious Son of man, thanks to his Abba God. Stephen was the first one in the biblical record to contemplate Jesus in this fashion. It was in this spirit, too, that the early Christians sang that, on the one hand, Jesus was "made in human likeness and [so] in his appearance found as a man" (Ph 2:7, CCB) and that, on the other hand, he was exalted in glory and given a name at which every knee must bend. rvVhat does. this all mean for us human beings, in whose image the Son appeared, though at the end he was seen in God's image? Are we not to follow, keeping our eyes on him who is the pioneer and perfecter, of our faith leading to glory (Heb 12:2)? And yet we hesitate to think of ourselves in these elevating terms, despite God's having predestined us all to be conformed to the image of his Son (Rm 8:29-30). The Way of Being Human Those of us who hesitate--and that is 99.9 percent of us--must face the truth, namely, that we hunger for honor and glory, but are not willing or concerned to be honored and glorified by the One from whom comes everything we have or could have. We have an all-tooo human tendency to seek the approval of others (Jn 5:44) or, what is worse, to smugly compare ourselves favorably Review for Religious with others. When we do not succeed in such maneuvers, we lament like the regretful psalmist: "Lord, let me know my end, and what is the measure of my days . You have made my days a few ha.ndbreadths, and my lifetime is .as nothing in your sight. Surely everyone stands as a breath. Surely everyone goes like a shadow .For I am your passing quest, an alien, like all my forebears. Turn your gaze away from me, that I may smile again, before I depart and am no more" (Ps 39:4-6 and 12-13). Or we resort to the opposite tactic, aggressiveness. We cover up our nothingness and by hook or crook seek to become a power to reckon with. When such efforts succeed, the social and political world is negatively affected, witness the stories of conquerors and empires. Such conquerors tend to show humanity at its worst. As pictured in the Book of Daniel, they are beasts that inflict violence on others and, inescapably, on themselves. They are the opposite of the "one like a son of man" who in the very presence of God receives divine fellowship, honor, and glory not only for himself but for everyone like himself (Dn 7:1-14). How true this is of Christ! Surely he is, as a pastoral commentary says, "the perfect human, and he bears the destiny of humanity," 8 and so in his glory will draw all to himself On 12:32). This will happen in growing measure as we become more like him, the Son of man, shedding increasingly our alien beasdy nature and becoming more It was through becoming the lowly son of man, clothed in flesh, frailty, and fragility, that he became the glorious Son of man, thanks to his Abba God. 62.1 2003 Dominic. ¯ Learning from Jesus, the Son of Man and more what we are and what we are meant to be, namely human. What Kahlil Gibran said of him rings true: "He came to send forth upon this earth a new spirit, with power to crumble the foundation of any monarchy built upon human bones and skulls . He came to demolish the majestic palaces, constructed upon the graves of the weak, and crush the idols, erected upon the bodies of the poor. He came to make the human heart a temple, and the soul an altar, and the mind a priest.''9 Peter could invite all Christians to Christ with these words: "Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God's sight, and, like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood" (1 P 2:4-5). Doing this increasingly in our world, we will become the embodiment of Daniel's vision of the son of man, in union with Christ, the Son of man. To grow to the measure of his full stature--that is the call for Christians as individuals and as a community (Ep 4:13). 70 Notes t See the note on Mk 8:31 in The NIVStudy Bible, p. 1510. Unless 6therwise indicated, all biblical citations are from NRSV. 2 It is worthy of note that, though some ancient versions have "Son of God," the modern translations, such as N~$V and N'JB, have preferred the adoption of "Son of man," following other ancient" authorities. 3 Milan Machovec, .4 Marxist Looks at ]esus (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1976), p. 120. 4 Many would seem to agree on this point. For this and related points, see the short survey of opinions in The New ]erome Biblical Commentary, ed. R. E. Brown et al. (Bangalore: Theological Publications in India, 1991), nn. 78:38-41, pp. 1324-1325. 5 If this is true, I wonder why it does not seem to receive mentibn among the scholars. 6 Albert Nolan, ~esus before Christianity (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1977), p. 119. Review for Religious 7 Nolan, Jesus before Christianity, p. 119. 8 See the explanation on Mk 8:27 in Christian Community Bible (Quezon City: Claretian Publications, 1990), p. 89. 9 Kahlil Gibran, Secrets of the Heart (New Delhi: UBSPD, 1943), p. 56. The Rendezvous On this red and rainwashed morning a cottonwool wispy cloud hangs over the hill as if to kiss the earth beside the waterfall and say: "I came to meet you here." On the driveway, as I walk, a cottontailed jackrabbit ventures close, so close that I can see the color of his eyes and catch his smile for me. He says: "I came to meet you here." At the gate, an oversized robinredbreast red as the freshened desert earth writes my name across the path in a twirl of song, as if to say: "I came to meet you here." In my heart I know that as I walk the morn the Risen One reiterates: "I came to meet you here." Mary T. O'Brien PBVM 7I 62.1 2003 DENNIS J. BILLY Perseverance: The Courage to Persist ~t~ T et us not grow weary of doing good; if we do not relax our efforts, in due time we shall reap our harvest" (Ga 6:9).1 These words of St. Paul show the importance of following Christ to the end, even in try-ing and difficult times. Perseverance, as we normally call it, is "to persist long in some undertaking until it is accomplished."2 All Christians are called to persevere in their vocations. For religious, this undertaking concerns Christian discipleship lived in a community dedicated to the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedi-ence. This should be their one, consuming lifetime pro-je

Issue 56.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1997. ; for re,lig i ous Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST1997 ¯ VOLUME56 ¯ NUMBER4 Review for Religious (s a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practical, or inspirational, written from a tbeological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is pul31ished bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone:314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: FOPI~I~MA@SLU.I~I)U Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Hendersou, NC 27536 POSTMASTF~R 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. ©1997 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy auy material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creatio,i of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review fi3r Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez sJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY/AUGUST1997 * VOLUME56 ¯ NUMBER4 contents prayer 342 Evoking the Spirit: Reflections on How to Pray ¯ ~°~Richard Hauser SJ explores the role of the Spirit in bringing about a communion with God, the goal of all prayer methods. 359 Liturgy of the Hours: Path to Integration Judy Roxborough STJ describes how praying the Liturgy of the Hours in community offers many ways in which we can find unity and wholeness, with ourselves, with our commutfity, with the world, and with all of creation. 364 370 spiritual direction What Is a Spiritual Director's Authority? Steve R. Wigall refocuses the question about the spiritual director's authority by considering the role of the Holy Spirit and the directee's freedom in this ministry. Confidentiality Issues in Spiritual Direction Shaun McCarty ST explores the nature and necessity of confidentiality in the ministry of spiritual direction and also some legal considerations affecting its practice. Review for Relig4ous 378 387 psychology Psychology: An Aid to Religious Formation Sefin D. Sammon FMS considers three specific and pressing initial and ongoing formative challenges and examines how psychology may help. Mental-Health Consultation with Religious Orders Alexander H. Smith Jr. considers elements of effective consultation from the perspective of both consultant and community in order to inform, to caution, and to encourage well-grounded principles and practices. 4O2 412 consecrated life Visiting a Scene. of Election Janet K. Ruffing RSM focuses within congregational elections on the ongoing partnership and collaboration of each assembly member and the entire body with those who are elected. The Rewards of a Costly Community Roger Finke ~ses sociological data to demonstrate that new members are attracted to religious congregations that have a distinctive community and mission. 340 433 departments Prisms ~,~, /~,~ -,¢- -r~ Canonical Counsel: Levels of Legislation in an Institute Book Reviews July-August 1997 prisms Jesus Christ is central to our faith and to its practices. As we continue our preparations for celebrating the third millennium in the spirit of John Paul II's 1995 letter, we could well reflect on how central Jesus is to our life, our prayer, and our work--to our everyday world. Jesus identified himself as one "preaching the good news." Jesus, first and foremost, proclaimed himself an "evangelizer." He talked about God. He talked about God's sons and daughters. He talked about God's world. Everything Jesus described--the first rays of sunlight, birds nesting, an old woman giving her little bit of money in the temple; whatever he listened to--spring water flow-ing, a baby's cry, musicians at a wedding feast; things that he could smell and taste--the freshness of a spring rain, the rich flavor of wine; whatever he touched--the mud to put on a blind man's eyes, the coldness of a young man's dead body, the warmth of John's embrace, or the lock-tight hold of Mary Magdalen on -Easter morning: every-thing spoke to him of the wonder of each of God's creatures, but even deeper down the wonder and beauty of God. And so Jesus could tell simple stories about seeds and growth, about wedding banquets and joy, about being neighbors and doing good to battered strangers Every time, in every instance, he is talking about God and our dealings with God. There is a Latin verb--conversari~-which means "to turn in relation with" and thus "to interact with," "to have dealings with," "to engage," or "to converse with" (our English word conversation obviously derives from it). In the light of this Latin derivation, we might say that all R~iew for Religious. our conversation--all our "talking"--is much broader in meaning and takes in all our dealings with others. Jesus was an evangelizer in all his dealings with the men and women of his time. Every incident in the Gospels is a picture of Jesus evangelizing--engag-ing people in the divine context of their lives. What does that say about us as Jesus' followers? To be evan-gelizers we do not have to go off to school and get degrees in theology. We do not have to exile ourselves to another country. All we need do is deal with the people in our everyday world the way Jesus talked and dealt with the people in his ~veryday world. He presented to each person a new quality of life; he uncovered divine values beneath the surface of all our human dealings. But for us to act in such a way implies that our world and the events in our lives speak of God to us so that we can speak of God to others. Like Jesus, we have to become aware of a world alive in God. Isn't that an essential to the good news which we live and speak about and deal with others about? John Paul has stressed repeatedly that we are being called to a new evangelization. Today we call our effort a "new evange-lization" because our educated world seems so ignorant of Jesus' way bf seeing (seeing deeper down) and because we ourselves, whatever our vocation in life, whatever our age, whatever our tal-ents and .education, are newly conscious of our responsibilities to preach the good news. For us to be Christian, to be like Jesus, we must be missionary; we must be evangelizers. How do we, neophyte evangelizers, start to live in Jesus' world? By reading the Gospels. Throughout the rest of this year. dedicated especially to Jesus, we need to set an agenda for our-selves of reading the Gospels through--slowly and over and over again. We need to let their words, their stories, become the warp and woof of our lives. We will be imbibing Jesus' way of being an evangelizer. We will assume more and more a stance of dealing with people in Jesus'. kind of world--a world alive in God. Like Jesus, we will be doing our part in making ourselves and our world come alive.in God. Like Jesus, we will be preaching good news to the "poor," that is, those who have so little a sense of God's pres-ence permeating their everyday world. David L. Fleming sJ 3~uly-August 1997 prayer RICHARD J. HAUSER Evoking the Spirit: Reflections on How to Pray Students in my graduate spirituality classes frequently ask about the most effective method of prayer for attaining union with God. They ask whether centering prayer from The Cloud of Unknowing is more effective than lectio prayer from the Benedictine tradition. (Lectio prayer is short-hand for lectio-meditatio-oratio-contemplatio prayer, a method from the 12th century for praying with Scripture.) Recently claims have been made for one method over the other. I am uncomfortable with assumptions behind such ,questions: that a method is necessary, that one method is more effective than another, that the effects depend upon our activity. After teaching methods of prayer conscien-tiously for years, I have been led by experience to soften my assertions about the use of method. My uneasiness regarding methods relates primarily to people's almost Pelagian lack of awareness 6f the role of the Holy Spirit, in any method of prayer or spiritual dis-cipline. The basic question for all spirituality is how we ¯ integrate our human effort with the role of the Spirit. Pope John Paul's 1986 encyclical, "Lord and Giver of Life," offers an apt response. Reflecting upon the Gospel of John and Christ's promise.to send ;another advocate to take his place, the pope summarizes the Christian tradition Richard J. Hauser SJ is chair of the Department of Theology at Creighton University and director of its graduate programs in theology, ministry; and spirituality. This is his tenth article for our journal. ,His address is Creighton University; 2500 California Street; Omaha, Nebraska 68178. Revie'w for Religious. on the Holy Spirit as sanctifier: "The redemption accomplished by the Son in the dimensions of the earthly history of human-ity-- accomplished in the 'departure' through the cross and res-urrection- is at the same time, in its entire salvific power, transmitted to the Holy Spirit: the one who 'will take what is mine'" (§11). The pope echoes Vatican Council II's emphasis on the Holy Spirit by insisting we adequately understand Christian vocation only when we understand the role of the Holy Spirit: the entire effect of the redemption is brought about by the Holy Spirit. We post-Vatican II Christians are challenged,to renew our theolog-ical models of the church, of the self, and of spirituality in light of our renewed understanding of the work of the Holy Spirit--an understanding all but lost before the council. And we are then challenged to renew every spiritual discipline, including personal prayer. The Spirit and Vatican II: Shift in Models One shift in models concerns the church. In recent decades we have witnessed two different, ~ough complementary, models of church. Each model assigns a distinctive role to the Holy Spirit. (Since I am a Roman Catholic, my primary understanding of church is that of my own tradition, but I have learned that my insights are applicable to Protestant traditions as well.) In the first model the Holy Spirit is indeed present in the church, but the church is seen primarily as an institution governed by hierarchi-cal authority--for Catholics: priests, bishops, pope. The Holy Spirit guides the institution through the hierarchy, and the hier-archy, especially the local priest, guides the people. The institu-tion rests secure because an infallible guidance in faith and morals was promised to it. In the second or Vatican II model, the Holy Spirit is present in the church, but the church is seen as the peo-ple of God, the entire community of believers, head and members united in the one Body of Christ. While continuing to guide the church corporately, the Holy Spirit also guides the members indi-vidually. The following excerpts from chapter 1 of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen gentium) highlight this truth elegantly. The Spirit dwells in the church and in the hearts of the faithful as in a temple. In them he prays and bears wimess yuly-A ugust 1997 Hawser ¯ Evoking the Spirit to the fact that they are adopted sons. The Spirit guides the church into the fullness of truth and gives it a unity of fellowship and service. He furnishes and directs it with var-ious gifts, both hierarchical and charismatic, and adorns her with the fruits of his grace. In order that we may be unceasingly renewed in him [Jesus], he has shared with us his Spirit, who, existing as one and the same being in the head and in the members, vivifies, unifies, and moves the whole bod);. Another shift in models is related to the church as the Body of Christ and concerns the nature of the self. Christians are dis-covering anew a central element of the New Testament message: the role of the Spirit within the self. Before Vatican II this role was virtually absent from our consciousness; now it dominates theo-logical consciousness. The plethora of books on the Spirit and spirituality in recent years are a sign of this. What is the role of the Spirit within the self?. Our treatment of this topic must begin with the Last Supper discourse in John's Gospel. Jesus is comforting his disciples, having told them of his imminent departure. But now I am going to the one who sent me, and not one of you asks me, "Where are you going?" But because I told you this, grief has filled your hearts. But I tell you the truth, it is better for you that I go. For if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you. (Jn 16:5-7, revised NAB here and throughout) Jesus assures them it is better for them that he'goes; the, Spirit he sends will take his place, guiding and strengthening' them in their mission. Indeed, this union with himself through the Spirit is the condition for apostolic effectiveness. The Gospel could not be more clear: Remain in me, as I' remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so nei-ther can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are °the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing. (In 15:4-5) Jesus' prediction is fulfilled at Pentecost when the Spirit descends on the community. The Acts of the Apostles gives wit-ness to the working of the Spirit in the apostolic church. Note the difference in the disciples before and after the coming of the Spirit. Review for Religious Among New Testament writings the epistles of Paul are a most eloquent witness to this power of the Spirit--a power he received only after his conversion to Christ at Damascus. For Paul, belief in Jesus with the subsequent infusion of the life of the Spirit is the source of all power. It is a new principle of life. Paul contrasts it with the flesh and its tendency to sin. But you are not in the flesh; on. the contrary, you are in the spirit, if only the Spirit of God dwells in you. Whoever does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the spirit is alive because of righteousness. If the Spirit of the one who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, the one who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also, through his Spirit that dwells in you. (Rm 8:9-11) This principle of life infuses the Christian community, form-ing one body, the Body of Christ, with every member united and animated by the Spirit. As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons, and we were all given to drink of one Spirit. (1 Co 12:12-13) A note on the activity of the Spirit in the self: The Holy Spirit joins our human spirit; it does not replace it. We humans enjoy three modes of activity flowing from the three dimensions of our being: physical, psychological, and spiritual. It is helpful to imag-ine three concentric circles: the center is the spirit, the middle is the mind, the outer is the body. Every human activity engages all three levels. Our physical and psychological activities are obvious to all. But what are our spiritual activities? The spiritual level is the level of our freedom, our freedom to respond to the Spirit or not to respond. The Holy Spirit joins our human spirit, initiating within us the desire for goodness~without the Spirit's presence we would nbt even have the desire. Responding to the Spirit, then, transforms the other levels of our b.eing, the physical and the psychological. The Spirit is the principle for all Christian life. Traditionally this indwelling of the Spirit has been called sancti-fying grace. Personal prayer--like every spiritual activity--is a response to the Spirit. An important corollary flows from this truth: We can trust our inner selves. At our center we have God's Spirit to guide us. .l~uly-Aug'ust 1997 Hauser * Evoking the Spirit Previous approaches to spirituality did not adequately acknowl-edge that presence. Commonly they taught that the self cannot be trusted because of fallen human nature and inherited original sin. This inherited brokenness so dominated our consciousness that we undervalued the power of redemption from sin. Since we could not trust this inner self, it became necessary to look outside our-selves for external guidelines. Contemporary approaches, too, acknowledge human brokenness--hence the emphasis on dis-cernment of spirits--but they also acknowledge the real effect of Christ's redemption. We have been freed from the slavery of sin; therefore, we can trust our inner selves. Grace in us is stronger than sin in us. Frequently we Christians have substituted fidelity to prescribed formal prayers--morning and night prayers, meal prayers, divine office, prayerbook formularies--for a more inte-rior response to the Spirit. Unfortunately, the Vatican II theological renewal concerning the Holy Spirit has not yet permeated popular consciousness thor-oughly. Many of us live within a different model of the self, which I will call the Western model because I recognize that it dominates the approach to God of many in the Western Hemisphere, In this model God is solely transcendent--in heaven--and so not dwelling within the self through the Spirit. This God in heaven is not readily seen as the initiator of good actions. Though the Western model duly acknowledges that we are made to know, love, and serve God in this life and so be happy in the next, it tends to give God no role in these actions until after they are performed, when rewards of grace are given in this life leading to the reward of heaven in the next. In this model, people tend to see themselvesas the initiators of their own good deeds, including personal prayer. Sanctifying grace is often erroneously under-stood as the treasury in heaven of merit earned by good works on earth. This Western view of self is not taken from the New Testament, but rather absorbed from several aspects of our culture. Our culture is secular. Our .view of the self tends also to be sec-ular; we do not recognize God's presence within us and its influ-ence on our inner motivation. At best we give intellectual assent that through baptism we receive sanctifying grace and so God is with us, but this notion of God's presence does not tend to affect our daily motivation. Our culture is also capitalistic, and financial rewards are conditioned on performance; we presume God gives Review for Religious spiritual rewards the same way, rewarding the just with grace--and perhaps even material prosperity--and withholding these rewards from the unjust. Our culture is individualistic. We prize inde-pendence and eschew any dependence, even finding dependence on God's grace demeaning. Without giving it much thought, we just presume we earn our salvation as we earn everything in life: by our own hard work. This view has disastrous effects on our understanding of how to pray: since the Spirit is not present within us, prayer cannot be a response to the Spirit, Another shift in models concerns spirituality itself. Unfortunately, we Christians have not drawn out implications of the Vatican II-renewed models of the church and the self and applied them to our practice of spirituality or to our personal prayer. Christian spirituality is a response to the Spirit. Today attention has shifted from performing spiritual disciplines (like prayer) externally to responding internally to the Spirit pres-ent in our hearts. Paul teaches his Jewish communities that they have been freed from subservience to the 613 Mosaic laws and are now called to respond to an inner law: "Now we are released from the law, dead to what held us captive, so that we may sePce in the newness of the spirit and not under the obsolete letter" (Rm 7:6). This truth also highlights the inadequacy of the Western-model understanding of good actions as self-initiated and emphasizes the scriptural teaching that~all good deeds are Spirit-initiated. Prayer and service not flowing from the heart do not fulfill Jesus' commandment of love. The Gospels present Jesus as hav-ing the most difficulty with a group of people who perfectly ful-filled all the commandments externally: the Pharisees. Jesus refers to them as whitened sepulchers. Externally they kept the com-mandments, internally they violated their very essence: love. Luke's parable on the Pharisee and the tax collector going to the temple to pray calls attention to the centrality of one's heart in prayer. The Pharisee boasted of his fidelity in keeping all the commandments, emphasizing his superiority to the tax collector. "But the tax collector stood off at a distance and would not even raise his eyes to heaven but beat his breast and prayed, 'O God, be merciful to me.a sinner.' I tell you, the latter went home jus-tified, not the former; for everyone who exalts himself will be Grace in us is stronger than sin in us. Hauser ¯ Evoking the Spirit humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted" (Lk 18:13-14). Previous approaches to spirituality often seemed more con-cerned with the external performance of prayer and service than with the quality of heart underlying them. Indeed, we usually examined our consciences in terms of sinful actions performed or omitted. For instance we focused not on whether we hated our neighbor, but on whether we performed hateful actions. Likewise we focused not on whether we praised God at Sunday Mass, but on whether we fulfilled our obligation by being physically pres-ent- our dispositions were irrelevant. Luke's presentation on the love commandments catches the quality of heart central to spirituality. Recall that the questioner was coming from a mentality that focused on the external obser-vance of many Torah-related precepts as central to observant Jews. Jesus, however, echoes the simpler injunction from the same Scriptures: "Teacher,'what must I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus said to him, "What is written in the law? How do you read it?" He said in reply, "You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." He replied to him, "You have answered correctly; do this and you will live." (Lk 10:25-28) We should recall that love is always a response to the Spirit: love in us originates with God in us: Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love . Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another. No one has ever seen God. Yet, if we love one another, God remains in us, and his love is brought to per-fection in us. (1 Jn 4:7-8, 11-12) The Spirit and Spontaneous Prayer How does the above apply to how we pray? that is, to what we do when' we withdraw individually to be with the Lord? I will begin with our commonest experience of prayer, spontaneous prayer, prayer outside of formal prayer times. Prayer itself I describe simply as "the movement of the heart toward God under the influence of the Holy Spirit": no heart movement, no prayer. Review for Religious (Prayer cannot be identified with either words we say or thoughts we think; indeed, prayer need not be accompanied by either words or thoughts. In Christian tradition the deepest prayer transcends both.) The movement occurs only when we are "under the influ-ence of the Holy Spirit." When we are not in touch with the Spirit, we cannot respond to it. The movement of the heart under the influence of the Spirit is "toward God." The Spirit moves us towards the Father and towards Jesus. As Christian theology sees the Spirit as the bond of union between the Father and the Son in the Trinity, so the Spirit is our bond of union with the Father and Jesus. In the communion of saints, the Spirit unites us also with Mary and the other saints. We on earth are united with them as they now are in heaven, where they continually love and praise the Father and Jesus. There they can be pri;cileged intercessors for us. With them we move toward communion with the Father and Jesus. A note about the purpose of prayer: Often we unreflectively assume that prayer is for the pur-pose of seeking specific favors from God. Deeper reflection, however, reveals that in prayer we are really seeking a confirmation of God's love for us. The purpose behind all our prayer is a deeper communion with the Father and with Jesus. Though we may be led to prayer for many different reasons, as we continue praying we eventually realize that our deepest need is for God's presence and support: the Spirit has transformed our initial desires. The process is not unlike Jesus' transformation in the Garden of Gethsemane. He initially seeks to have the chalice removed, but ends yielding to God's will and presence. I believe we experience over and over again the truth of Augustine's excla-mation "Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee." In prayer there are many levels of .communion, of experienc-ing God's presence. The very desire for God's help is already a rudimentary experience of communion, even though the desire may be interspersed with distractions. The desire is real, but at this level the Spirit has not yet transformed other dimensions of the self. At a deeper level the movement toward God in prayer may be accompanied by tranquillity and peace. The Spirit makes us aware that the world is in God's hands, and we rest in the secu-rity of our relationship with our loving Lord. This is the usual In prayer we are really seeking a confirmation of God's love for us. ~uly-August 1997 Hauser * Evoking the Spirit experience. But, at an even deeper level, the Spirit so unites us to God that we lose conscious awareness of our communion with God. During the momentary experience itself, self-awareness recedes, but we are able to reflect upon the experience afterwards. The experience leaves a residue. The residue is described as wholeness, joy, contentment. Reflection on my own prayer experiences leads .me to a sur-prising conclusion (one I would not have made ten years ago): I find my heart drawn to God as frequently during spontaneous prayer as during the times I set aside for formal prayer. I have noticed that certain conditions foster these experiences--am I describing for myself a method for spontaneous prayer? The times and places are important. On schooldays the expe-riences occur mostly in the evenings after I have completed my day's work. Having put aside preoccupation with projects, I either take a leisurely walk around the campus or sit in one of my favorite places, such as a secluded university garden or the fountain-piazza in front of the church. On weekends the experiences can occur anytime, provided I have put aside preoccupations with work. I must give myself enough time for the experiences to occur--min-imally fifteen minutes, ideally a half hour--and must never be rushed. These experiences of spontaneous prayer, especially as they occur in natural settings, have affected my retreats and vacations. I now choose places for my annual retreats primarily for their setting. I find that my heart moves to God through nature in spontaneous ways that thoroughly refresh me. I consider the for-mal reflections characteristic of retreats as no more important than simply enioying the Lord's presence in nature. In these places God gives me the insights I need for my life. For my annual vaca-tions, too, I choose settings that facilitate spontaneous prayer. I see vacations as similar to retreats, as times for being re-created by God's presence, not simply as times to be distracted from my daily life. I find myself breaking into spontaneous prayer also at other times during the day. Most commonly this occurs after a partic-ularly successful class or during a walk down the campus mall. on an especially beautiful day. And it occurs when I am faithful to times of formal prayer. I believe we sensitize ourselves to the Spirit's presence during formal prayer, making it more likely that prayer will break forth spontaneously during daily activities~ Review for Religious The Spirit and Formal Prayer Only after discussing spontaneous prayer do I feel comfortable discussing formal prayer. Recall that formal prayer refers to time specifically.set aside for personal prayer. The question about the merits of centering prayer and lectio prayer makes sense only in the context of formal prayer. What method of prayer should we use to facilitate responding to the Spirit and reaching commu-nion with God? Remember that our role is to provide the condi-tions for responding to the Spirit. We all have our own rhythms for maintaining union with God. The observations I make here are attempts to share what has been working for myself. They do not imply that this is the way it should be done. Since we humans are complex beings of body, mind, and spirit, it is important for us to 0 find our own personal ways of getting our bod-ies and our minds ready to respond to the Spirit. The following patterns work for me. Time, place, and setting are important. First, the time. After rising, showering, shaving, and getting a cup of coffee, I light a candle and begin a period of sixty to ninety minutes. I sip the coffee and do some journaling; then, putting the coffee aside, I pray the morning office; finally, I move to personal prayer for the last twenty to thirty minutes. I never rush, spending as much time journaling as needed. It.clears my head and allows me to process what has built up in my psyche, matter which could emerge as distractions in my prayer. Often journaling provides the topic for the subsequent prayer. Next, the place. I pray in my own room, in a chair next to a large window that looks eastward over the secluded garden I men-tioned above; the chair, facing my prayer wall, is upholstered and comfortable, but supports me firmly in an upright position. On a side table are all the things I need: my journal, a Bible, the daily office, a lectionary, meditation books related to the liturgical season. I love this room, away from my offices. The window, open in warm weather, gives direct access to the sights and sounds of the garden and to the warmth and light of the rising sun. My prayer wall is hung with favorite icons, prints, and crucifixes gathered over the years; I rearrange it for the various liturgical seasons and feasts. Physical details are key: the time, the place, the furniture and furnishings. The regular rhythm of entering this environment at I believe we sensitize ourselves to the Spirit's presence during formal prayer. July-August 1997 Hauser ¯ Evoking the Spirit this time each day not only helps one to be receptive to the Spirit, but often occasions immediate communion with the Lord. Given the desire for communion with God, praying can be simple: just find the right time and place and go there regularly! Prayer methods, too, can dispose one to receive the Spirit. The methods of lectio prayer and centering prayer differ. Lectio prayer is a response to God's presence in the word. The word of God has many meanings. God is present in the scriptural word; traditionally most have found this to be the most helpful starting point for prayer. God is also present in the word of creation; some find focusing on God's presence in the beauty of nature a more effective beginning. God is present in the existential word as well; many find focusing on God's presence in the events and people of their lives the most effective beginning. But all aspects of cre-ation- images, poetry, music--are words of God and possible starting points for prayer. God is present in all of reality, sus-taining it in existence and using it to bring us into communion: "Creation proclaims the glory of God." In lectio prayer we choose an aspect of God's word to focus our attention; and then .we wait, listen, and respond to that word--under the influence of the Spirit. Our effort is to attend to God's word and, as much as pos-sible, avoid letting our attention be drawn toward distractions. In lectio prayer we are led by the Spirit toward a progres-sively deeper response to God's presence in the word. Frequently the dynamic is from thinking (meditatio) about God's presence~in the word, to praying (oratio) to God in response, to simply rest-ing (contemplatio) in God's presence without either thinking about God or even consciously praying to God. Guido II, a 12th-cen-tury Carthusian abbot, gives the classic expression of the internal dynamic of this prayer: You can see., how these degrees are joined to each other. One precedes the other, not only in the order of time but of causality. Reading (lectio) comes first and is, as it were, the foundation; it provides the subject matter we must use for meditation. Meditation (meditatio) considers more carefully what is to be sought after; it digs, as it were, for treasure which it finds and reveals; but, since it is not in medita-tion's power to seize upon the treasure, it directs us to prayer. Prayer (oratio) lifts itself up to God with all its strength and begs for the treasure it longs for, which is the sweemess of contemplation. Contemplation (contemplatio) when it comes rewards the labors of the other three; it ine-briates the thirsting soul with the dew of h~avenly sweemess. Review for Religlous Reading is an exercise of the outward senses; meditation is concerned with the inward understanding; prayer is con-cerned with desire; contemplation outstrips every faculty. (Guido II, Ladder of Monks, Cistercian Publications, 1978) The goal of the process is contemplation which "outstrips every faculty" and rests in communion with God unmediatated by our own activity. Our activity recedes; God's increases. God holds us close with little or no effort on our part. An image, adapted from Abbot Thomas Keating, helps us understand the process. The Spirit is the river; the word of God the boat; God the ocean. We live in the river (the Spirit). In prayer we allow the Spirit to direct our attention to the boat (the word of God). Focusing on the boat, we move with the boat into the ocean (God). Quite similar to this is the dynamic of spbntaneous prayer. Some aspect of God's word catches our attention. Through the Spirit we respond and are brought into divine communion. Centering prayer is quite different from lec-rio pra~er. It is based bn the truth of God's pres-ence in the center of our being, beyond the level of thoughts and desires. It presumes the scrip-rural model of the self. In centering prayer we respond to God directly, unmediated by reflections on God's word. The method, taken from the 14th-century English classic The Cloud of Unknowing and popularized by Trappist Fathers Keating, Pennington, and Menninger, is simple. We choose a favorite appellation for God, such as, "Father," "Abba, Father," "Jesus," "Lord," "Rabboni." We begin prayer with this "prayer word" and simply sit in faith and love before God. We do not begin With any reflections about God flowing from the word of God; we simply are in faith before God. Our goal is to be totally receptive to the Spirit so that it can hold us in communion. Interior silence, is the matrix for our receptivity. Keating's advice for handling thoughts is simple: Resist no thought, react to no thought, retain no thought; simply return to the. prayer Word. Note that we do not return to this word unless a thought arises. Thoughts inevitably arise and we let them pass, returning to the prayer word. Thoughts even have a positive qual-ity to them because, as we let them pass, ,;re are removing from In centering prayer we respond to God directly, unmediated by reflections on God's word. ff~uly-Auffust 1997 Hauser ¯ Evoking tbe Spirit our psyches obstacles to the contemplative communion with God; they are actually part of the purification process. Handled well, they move us toward interior silence, that is, nonattachment to thoughts. Eventually thoughts may recede and we can be before God in faith with little use of the prayer word. Once you grasp the fact that thoughts are not only inevitable, but an integral part of the healing and growth initiated by God, you are able to take a positive View of them. Instead of looking upon them as painful distractions, you see them in a broader perspective that includes both interior silence and thoughts--thoughts that you do not want but which are just as valuable for the purpose of purifi-cation as moments of profound tranquillity. Vghen everything in the unconscious is emptied out, the kinds of thoughts that were~passing by in the beginning will no longer exist. There is an end to the process of purifi-cation. Then the awareness of union with God will be con-tinuous because there will be no obstacle in our conscious or unconscious life to ~interfere with it. (Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Open Heart, Amity House, pp. 112 and 102) The goal of the process is contemplation which outstrips every faculty and rests in a communion with God unmediated by our own activity--the same goal as that of lectio prayer. The image of the river (the Spirit), boat (the word of God), and ocean (God) is helpful. Remember that we live in the river (the Spirit); in centering prayer we simply move in the river directly into the ocean (God).The prayer word is not a boat; we do not use it to support thinking (meditatio) and loving (oratio) as in lec-tio prayer. The prayer word serves only to symbolize our inten-tion. The Spirit brings us directly into communion without reflection on the word of God. ~ A third method should be discussed, mantra prayer. Its assumptions and dynamics are similar to those of centering prayer. It enters the Christian tradition formally in the 5th century in the Conferences of John Cassian. In mantra prayer, too, we respond to God directly, unmediated by reflections on God's word. But we come to prayer with a previously chosen mantra, not merely with a prayer word. We begin prayer slowly repeating dae mantra, coordinating its four phrases (separated by asterisks) with our inhaling and exhaling. (Most authors, but not all, suggest coor-dination with breathing). Cassian notes that the desert fathers preferred: "O God * come to my assistance * O Lord * make haste Review for Religious to help me." The most famous.mantra in the Christian tradition, however, is the Jesus Prayer that arose among the Greek fathers in the 5th century: "Lord Jesus Christ * Son of God * have mercy on me * a sinner." Any phrase can serve as a mantra. I frequently recast scriptural passages into mantra form. Among my favorites: "The Lord * is my shepherd * there is nothing * I shall want"; "You are my servant * whom I have chosen * my beloved * with whom I am pleased"; "I am the vine * you are the branches * with-out me * you can do nothing." The method for handling thoughts is similar to that of cen-tering prayer. When thoughts occur, we simply let them pass and return to the rhythmic repetition of the mantra. This repetition is the matrix for our receptivity to the Spirit. Our effort in this method is to let pass all thoughts that occur and to return to the repetition of the mantra. We do not reflect upon the mantra, but simply use it as a way to focus our minds and symbolize our inten-tion to pray. (If we begin reflecting upon the. mantra itself, we have switched from mantra prayer to lectio prayer.) As we become still, we may want to drop parts of the mantra or even the entire mantra. We may use only the appellation "Lord" to symbolize our intention. If this occurs, we have moved from mantra prayer to centering prayer. But, in any case, the goal of all these methods is contemplative union with God which "outstrips every faculty." The holy men of the Orthodox Church see the essential task of the Christian life as being to restore this unity to man with a mind and heart integrated through prayer. The mantra provides the integrating power. It is like a harmonic that we sound in the depths of our spirit, bringing us to an' ever-deepening sense of our own wholeness and central har-mony. It leads us to the source of this harmony, to our cen-ter, rather as a radar bleep leads an aircraft home through thick fog. (John Main, Word into Silence, Paulisy Press, p. 15) The Best Method of Prayer? Praying is an art, not a science. The goal of all prayer meth-ods is communion with God. Since only the Spirit can bring about this communion, our role ,is providing conditions conducive to our receiving the Spirit. Communion remains a gift. I once believed--erroneously--that my conscientious use of a particular method guaranteed good results in prayer. There is no best way to pray. Through trial and error we individually discover what works best for ourselves. The following reflections about formal prayer July-~lug~tst 1997 Hauser * Evoking the Spirit present what has been working for me, but may not be helpful for everyone. Sometimes no method is needed. Frequently, after lighting my candle, settling into my prayer chair, sipping my coffee, and doing some journaling, I find myself already close to God with no further effort needed on my part, so I stop journaling. I am already centered; no method is needed. Perhaps my journal writings have brought to mind some blessing, some word of God, from the pre-vious day. The blessing becomes the occasion, the sacrament, for awakening consciousness of God and for resting gratefully in God's presence. The Spirit moves me from gratitude to commu-nion and contemplation. All I know is that I have no desire either to reflect upon or pray over the blessing. Or perhaps the jour-nalings have recalled a need which then becomes the occasion, the sacrament, for awakening consciousness of dependence on God and resting in silent acknowledgment of my helplessness without God: "Be still and know that I am God." Occasionally while I am journaling, saying the office, or doing my personal praying, my attention is caught unexpectedly by something in the garden outside my window: the sun rising through the trees, the song of a bird or the rusde of leaves, the fra-grance of blossoms, the wind blowing. Then I have no desire to continue reflecting Or praying: I find myself held close by God-- I am centered. Nature has become the sacrament occasioning communion with God and contemplation. Frequently my attention is caught by an icon or print on my prayer wall, the Vladimir Madonna, perhaps, or Fra Angelico's Annunciation, or a photograph of the Vatican Museum's 4th-cen-tury sculpture of the Good Shepherd. In the various liturgical seasons I may be especially caught by Hicks's Peaceable Kingdom, Gorgione's Adoration of the Shepherds, Perugino's Crucifixion, Fra Angelico's Noli Me Tangere. I believe the Spirit offers seasonal graces. Sometimes a combination of prayer methods is helpful. If I have not experienced the drawing of the Spirit toward communion and contemplation during journaling and the morning office, I readily choose lectio prayer. Usually something from the previous day or one of the readings from the office presents itself. Sometimes I look over a seasonal meditation book, reading alit-tle and then putting the book aside to see how the Spirit will move in me. Meditation books are helpful as starting points, but Review for Religious then we need to be sensitive to our own inspirations, to the exis-tential word of God as we ourselves experience it in our own lives. We need to wait in God's presence, listen to God's speaking through the word in my heart, and respond in the way the Spirit moves us. We speak only in response to the Spirit and only after we ha~;e listened. The goal of prayer is resting in a communion with God that is beyond thoughts and desires. When I reach this peaceful state, I find it helpful to switch from lectio prayer to mantra prayer. I use the mantra to keep my mind occupied and prevent distractions from arising. The gentle repetition of the mantra sustains my intention. At this point I am held to God by God with virtually no effort on my part. This restful state is often referred to as the prayer of quiet. This beginning contemplation is marked by con-scious awareness and enjoyment of God's presence. But sometimes this reflective consciousness recedes and we enter momentarily an even deeper state of contemplation. We become aware of this special grace only when we return to reflective awareness. I often move from mantra prayer to centering prayer. After a period of mantra prayer, I may find the mantra unnecessary and even bothersome. My faculties are quiet; I am centered. Using a simple prayer word, I move in faith and love toward God. When distractions arise I let them pass, renewing my intention by my prayer word, all in response to the Spirit. We speak only in response to the Spirit and only after we have listened. Evoking the Spirit God made us to be fulfilled in communion with the Father and Jesus through the Holy.Spirit--a fulfillment expressed both in prayer and in service to our neighbor. The Spirit in us yearns always for this fulfillment. In formal prayer we consciously attend to our relationship with God; ~n Sl~Ontan60us prayer it just hap-pens. Both are identity experiences, both are "movements of our hearts to God under the influence of the Spirit." The prayer expe-rience is the experience of our deepest identity; complex methods ought not get in the way of this basic yearning, of our being. I believe that all methods of Christian prayer are somehow related to one another. .~dy-,qug~st 1997 L3-S-7- Hauser ¯ Evoking the Spirit Each of us has the challenge of discovering how the Spirit is moving within us to help us experience our deepest identity. We ought never be discouraged. No matter how disturbing and pre-occupying the external events of our lives may be, we can always pray because we have been given the Spirit to help us in our weak-ness. I think Paul had his own tumultuous life in mind--and per-haps also Jesus' experience in Gethsemane--when he wrote the following words to the community in Rome, a comraunity expe-riencing persecution and even death for their faith in Christ: The Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.~And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God's will. (Rm 8:26-27) AMORALTHEOLOGIAN'S REQUEST¯ Professor Germaln Gnsezas beg~nmng to work on the fourt~i volume of his systemau9 treatment.of moral theolo, gy ennded The Way of the Lord Jesus. ThiS,final volun~e will troat~thE i'esp0hsibilities proper to women and men lbiing the coiasecrated life and to men who have been ordained as deacons, priests, or bishops. He seeks a~dv~lce from those whose responslbdmes he will be ~eating. To stimulate reflection tfe proposes'some questions: - What Would you expecl~ of the book ] am undertaking? What is a ~bmpa~:able resource yod Can~ think of and Would recommdnd,to a no,ice or a seminarian? ¯ What moral problems'do religious or clerics sometimes experience that are never touched on by magisterial documents and~ perhaps, seldom or never discussed in., books and journals? ~ . ¯ What rec~nt books and/or ~a_rticles have y9ufound "" ¯ especially helpful?~, ~ ¯ ,~,~,* Besides obvious ~6pics such as obedience and virginity or, celibacy for the kingdom's sake, what Other matters sh6uld I~onsider? : - ¯ ~3esid~s stu~13?ing~relevant paSs~ag~ in Scripture and. - " rele~cant magisterial docunient~,of the.tweritieth century, o whatother sources should I use?~ " Any communication he reEeives will be kept in .~tfictest confidence. All real cases used as examples in the book will be fictionalized to safeguard.~ privacy Please contact: Germain Gi'isez; Mount Saint Mary's College; En~mitsburg, Ma~land 21727, USA. Review for Religious JUDY ROXBOROUGH Liturgy of the Hours: Path to Integration Rilar Feliu STJ, former superior general of the Teresian sters, once described the Liturgy of the Hours as the frame that encloSes our day. Like the frame of a painting, our common prayer time can radically change the way we perceive the day as we look forward to it at Lauds, and back on it at Vespers. Bringing our lives to prayer through the Hours can effect far more than bringing a new perspective or adding a rosy tone' to our view. It can also be the channel for the powerful working of the word of God, which is "living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword" (Hb 4:12). Encountering in a prayerful setting the psalms and other scripture texts again and again through the cycle of the seasons, allows them to work on us, "penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow,., to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart." Perhaps the image of a loom is more appropriate than a simple frame, for through the Hours run the threads of the word, and the threads of our lives, which can be woven together into a fabric both beautiful and whole. The Liturgy of the Hours is the frame on which we can discover unity and wholeness, helping us to integrate our lives. The first task at Lauds is to become engaged in the act of prayer. For some of us this may not be .an automatic event. At times I have found myself physically present at Lauds, perhaps Judy Roxborough STJ, a sister of the Society of St. Teresa of Jesus, has been a computer programmer in rocket-data analysis, meteorology, and telephone-circuit simulation and also an editor. She is currently involved in her first love, teaching, at Sacred Heart School in Uvalde, Texas. Her address is 343 North Crisp Street; Uvalde, Texas 78801. t-3- 9 July-August 1997 Roxborougb ¯ Liturgy of the Hours even mentally present, but somehow not engaged. I haste not tuned in to the act of prayer, the fundamental attitude of wor-ship. It is as if I were racing the engine, but in neutral. With the clutch disengaged, the highest octane gas is not going to produce one foot of forward motion. And so it seems with prayer when we are not engaged--nothing happens, in spite of all the proper rituals and words. For me it is often something from .without that calls me into prayer--a word of introduction, a song, or perhaps a line from a psalm engages me and leads me into prayer. When this happens, I am integrated into prayer, into the moment, and into relationship with my Creator. My focus changes as once again I realize the simple truth that I am creature entering into praise of my Creator. This shift in focus is the narrow doorway through which I can encounter the divine. The Liturgy of the Hours also provides a way of bringing.us a deeper .awareness of the passage of time, not just in a chrono-logical sense, but as sacred time: time as participation, together with the universe, in God's plan of salvation. The cycle of the Hours, praying Lauds at sunrise, Vespers at sunset, helps to inte-grate us with the rhythm of the day. We find our place in the diur-nal cycle. The day begins at Lauds, and in a sense the whole day becomes present as we look towards it. This is the proper moment to consecrate the day to God, to invoke the Spirit, to ask for a blessing on all that we will do, to form within our hearts the inten-tion to serve God well this day. At Vespers the day is again pres, ent--in memory--and is gathered together in thanksgiving. Whether we have succeeded or failed, found joy or sorrow, there is thankfulness that God has brought us through the day, never abandoning us. Vespers joyfully remembers, gives thanks, cele-brates, and offers the day back to God, with a sense of completion. Through the celebration of the seasons, we also find our place in the liturgical year. Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, ordinary time, and special community feasts all give us reference points within the flow of time. The simple act of becoming aware of the season in a prayerful setting helps us to become more inte-grated in time. Just as the priest puts on vestments to celebrate the Eucharist, so do we put on the season thr.ough the Hours. The mood and nuances of the season become our own. P~rticipafing in the season in this wa.y heightens our own sense of wholeness and of being at one with the world we' dwell in. This is especially meaningful in a society which anticipates seasons for commercial Review for Religious purposes, discarding them as soon as their monetary potential has expired. In many ways, as we have become insulated from natural surroundings, we have lost much of our connection with seasons, and the Liturgy of the Hours helps to mend this separation. At times we commemorate special moments of our lives in the Liturgy of the Hours: personal milestones, community feasts, civil occasions. This too helps bring unity to our lives, putting the milestones in Christian perspec-tive, forging new bonds as we each cel-ebrate our unique heritage, and making connections with the stream of civilian life. In a different sense we may find a new integration in time through the repetition of the psalms themselves. I may be struck for the first time with an application of a psalm to some event of the past. Suddenly both the psalm and the event become fresh for me and acquire new meaning. The psalm becomes my own (integrating my life with Scripture), and the past is inte-grated with the present.as it is reinterpreted in the context of the whole. This process is like weaving, going back to pick up the old threads of our lives and weaving them together with the new. The fabric of my life becomes a little more whole; time itself is being redeemed. The past is not lost forever, but brought back, cleansed a little, purified a little, healed a little, as it is brought to prayer and we discover God moving within those bygone events. The very act of praying together with the community has aspects of integration. The community chooses an hour for prayer, often one that few actually find optimal. Nevertheless, we com-mit ourselves to this time, integrating our desires and needs as community. Our physical presence at community prayer enfleshes and symbolizes our commitment to be one, a commitment that will demand a little dying from us each day. The intercessions that we offer also provide an opportunity for further integration within the community. To the extent that we are willing to bring our petitions to God beftre our brothers and sisters, to the extent that we are willing to hear their interces-sions and hold them in our hearts, to the extent that we are will- Our physical presence at community prayer enfleshes and symbolizes our commitment to be one, a bommitment that will demand a little dying from us each day. ~7~tly-Augttst 1997 Roxborou~b ¯ Liturgy of the Hours ing to pray earnestly for one another, making one another's bur-dens our own, we deepen our community life. Here is a wonder-ful opportunity to risk loving one another in community by sharing our concerns, our needs, our failures; by accepting the concerns, needs, and failures of others. Our union with the entire Body of Christ is also strength-ened as we pray the church's own prayer. We join with all the church in praying the psalms, in celebrating feasts and seasons, in lifting up our hearts to praise God for the resurrection, in thank-ing God for the day. In daily intercession we pray with and for the church, just as we do for our own needs~and for those of the com-munity. We expa~nd our horizons to the whole church, indeed, to all of humanity, through prayer. We can give a voice to the voice-less as we offer prayers of praise and petition on behalf of all those who cannot pray, those who do not know how to pray, those whose hearts are hardened against prayer. When we speak to the Lord on behalf of others, we share their burden~ and find com-munion with them. This communion, the fruit of prayer, is a grace for us, a gift that brings us to our rightful relationship.with our brothers and sisters, a relationship that allows us to become more whole, more human. Our prayer with and on behalf of others is not limited to our fellow Christians, nor even to all humanity, but includes all of God's creation. We are voice for the whole universe, awaiting redemption: "Creation awaits with .eager expectation the revela-tion of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who sub-jected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slav-ery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now" (Rm 8:19-22). All creation is groaning, crying out for redemption. The universe itself suffers the wounds of sin and alienation and yearns for healing. We can become voice for all creatures, for all creation, in our prayer. When we lift our voices in praise or petition to the Creator, we offer praise and petition on behalf of all creatures, all creation: .birds and fish, trees and rocks. The same psalms that we recite proclaim the praise of God's silent ones: . Let the rivers clap their hands, the mountains shout with them for joy. (Ps 98:8) Let the plains be joyful and all that is in them. Review for Religious Then let ~ill the trees Of the forest rejoice. (Ps 96:12) You mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars; You animals wild and tame, you creatures that crawl and fly; You kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all who govern on earth; young men and women too, old and young alike. Let them all praise the LORD's name, for his name alone is exalted, majestic above earth and heaven. (Ps 148:9-13) The untilled meadows also drip; the hills are robed with joy. The pastures are clothed with flocks, the valleys blanketed with grain; they cheer and sing.for joy. (Ps 65:13) In becoming voice for the speechless, we find union with cre-ation, and in that union we also find our creaturehood, so that we can become more the persons we are called to be: creatures, redeemed, proclaiming God's goodness, There is a wholeness and unity suggested here, a sense of peace deriving from this kind of connectedness to the whole of God's world. To make that con-nection, even for a few moments of prayer, spins another thread that can help bind the wounds of separation for ourselves, for our communities, for "our world. Indeed, the hour we spend praying the Liturgy of the Hours offers us a path toward wholeness. Speechless In wordless psalmody I watch the sun strike golden fire atop the trees. A finite moment stills Infinity, emboldens a dare to spell a sunrise ignited by Divinity. Anna Marie Mack SSJ 3~dy-Aug~lst 1997 spiritua direction STEVE R. WIGALL What Is a Spiritual Director's Authority? One of the most debated issues in the literature of spiri-tual direction is that of the spiritual director's authority. Some argue that it is improper for spiritual directors to wield authority over their directees. They see the author-ity that has been traditionally and historically invested in the role of the director as a problem to be apologized for and avoided. Others view spiritual directors as people who properly carry a divine authority by reason of their being gifted by God to be divine instruments in directees' lives. This article surveys thes~ arguments and suggests an alter-native way of understanding the issue. Authority Is Negative Numerous articles and books begin their discussion of spiritual direction with an almost embarrassed effort to avoid, or at least redefine, the classic terms spiritual guidance or spiriiual direction. The Reverend Peter Ball, canon of S~. Paul's Cathedral in England, writes about his discomfort with both words, spiritual and direction. He considers them ambiguous and liable to be misunderstood. He expresses particular concern that the word direction implies "a sense of authority, even authoritarianism." After Steve R. Wigall is a Presbyterian clergyman and a candidate for the Th.D. degree at Boston University School of Theology. His address is 296 Lowell Street; Lawrence, Massachusetts 01841. Review for ReIigious all, he says, "a director directs, steers, is in charge. Directions are orders. You are supposed to comply with them, to obey." l William Barry and William Connolly, too, find spiritual direc-tion an awkward term: "The term spiritual direction unavoidably suggests to people of our contemporary Western culture a spiri-tualism and an authoritarianism that sound theology and psy-chology must repudiate." The fear they express is that the classic terms guidance and direction describe a practice that places exces-sive authority in the hands of the director) Green agrees that a director should not be given too much authority. He insists that the director's role with the directee must be only that of a "co-discerner" of God's voice? Doherty addresses the same concern by insisting the director should be merely the directee's friend.4 Schneiders insists that the spiritual director must exercise no authority at all over the directee. She writes that the director is just a companion whose role is to point the directee to God, but who in no way speaks, to the directee in God's name. The director-directee relationship, she writes, is fraternal or sis-terly, rather than parental,s She goes on to argue that it is invalid for the director to take an authoritarian role or to set the direc-tion of another's life, since people must exercise that responsibil-ity themselves. The director, she states, does not and cannot give direction, but merely helps directees find or discern God's direc-tion for themselves.6 Authority is Positive Other writers are less hesitant to describe the role of the director as one of authority. Guenther, for example, argues that the role of the spiritual director cannot possibly be one of mutuality and friendship. She writes that spiritual direction is essentially a hierarchical relationship in which the focus is not meant to be shared, but is to be on the directee.7 Bots and de Vries agree'that a spiritual director is not a spiritual friend. The image of friend-ship, they contend, places too much emphasis on the human aspect of the relationship and not enough on the role of the Holy Spirit.s William McNamara, who runs a spiritual retreat center in Sedona, Arizona, attributes to the spiritual director the high authority of a spiritual teacher, much like that of a guru in the Hindu tradition.9 Kallistos .Ware, like many writers who speak from the Orthodox tradition, describes the spiritual director as .y~dy-August 1997 Wigall * Wbat ls a Spiritual Director's Authority one to whom a directee gives trust and obedience, In Ware's view, the directee submits to the director's authority in order to avoid the ego trap of trying to make spiritual progress by self-will and personal effort.1° Those who invest the spiritual director with significant authority do so because they believe that God gifts and uses the director. Andrd Louf, for example, argues that a director is accorded authority as a spiritual elder because he or she is given a spiritual gift or charism by God, and that the charism enables the director to receive and impart God's authoritative word of guid-ance.~ 1 Sister Donald Corcoran explains that, in the Orthodox tradition, the authority of the spiritual director is based on the recognition that the spiritual director is a person in and through whom God works. Directors, she states, are called spiritual father or mother because they are used by God, in parentlike manner, to engender, convey, and nurture spiritual life in their directees.~2 Looking back in history, we find many authors expressing this same confidence in the spiritual director's authority. St. Symeon the New Theologian, for example, taught that the directee should understand that, because of the director's God-given gift, "fol-lowing [the director] . . . is following Christ." This is not, as Blessed John of Avila says, that directees should "subject [them-selves] to another person. [or] confide in. a person alone." The directee's confidence in the director's authority is based on his or her faith "in God, who will speak to you and strengthen you through another person."~3 Merton explains the original histor-ical reason for the authority that was accorded to spiritual direc-tors: He writes that historically the authority of spiritual directors was based on a recognition of their charism and that--when the first hermits went out into the desert, leaving behind established Christian communities--they exchanged the hierarchical guid-ance of their bishops for the guidance of the spiritually gifted.~4 An Alternative Perspective Obviously, some are comfortable investing the spiritual direc-tor with divine authority, while others are not. The question of authority is approached from different perspectives. Authority is seen as something negative by those who believe in egalitarian relationships and by those who are concerned about avoiding its abuse. Authority is seen as positive by those whose worldview is Review for Religious hierarchical and by those who are concerned about avoiding chaos and disorder. There are legitimate concerns on both sides ofithe authority question. I suggest that, when we look at the concerns that are dis-cussed under the ~bric of the spiritual director's authority, two fundamental questions can be found at the heart of this debate: (1) Does the director see and acknowledge the Holy Spirit as the authority for and source of his or her ministry? and (2) Does the director's ministry set the directee free to follow where God is truly leading? Ouestion One: Corcoran is a good example of an author who argues that Christ's Spirit is the Christian's one and only spiritual director. She points out that, while othe~ religious traditions have master-disciple relationships in which the disciple obeys the authority of an earthly master, Christianity does not have an equivalent relationship. Christ still lives. His Spirit is still pre sent with and within each of his followers and is still the one master of every Christian disciple. Christ's Spirit, says Corcoran, is still the Christian's only authority.Is Because Christ is the Christian's one true spiritual director, the only authority a human spiritual director can have is derivative. This insight is cru-cial to the debate over the spiritual director's authority. Whether spiritual directors claim to speak with God!s authority or claim to .be merely spiritual friends who point their directees toward God, it is crucial that directors acknowledge to themselves and to their directees as well that God and God alone is the central authority in their life and ministry. Question Two: St. John of the Cross, along with St. Teresa of Avila, stands at the head of the great Carmelite tradition of spir-itual direction, one which is not the most laissez-faire of traditions. Yet St. John is an outstanding example of those who champion the freedom of the individual directee. In The Living Flame of Love, John strongly advocates that each directee needs to be granted the freedom to follow God's Will. Those who are born of the Spirit, he says, are wildly free and need to know that God alone is their Lord and guide.~6 This second insight is crucial t6 Those who invest the spiritual .director with significant authority do so because they believe t hat God gifts and uses the director. ~dy-August 1997 Wigall * What Is a Spiritual Director's Authority the debate over the spiritual director's authority. No matter how spiritual directors understand or carry their authority, a more important question by far is whether and to what degree spiri-tual directors are able to set the individual directees free to follow the unique path along which God is leading each one. How spiritual directors envision their own authority is deter-mined to a large extent by the theological tradition and the cul-tural context within which they operate. One director may be comfortable claiming to be a spiritual abba or aroma or a spiri-tual elder; another may be more comfortable claiming to be a spiritual friend. Both sides of the authority question can benefit from realizing that the important issue at stake in this matter is not so much how spiritual directors conceptualize their authority; rather, it is how they answer the two questions raised in this arti-cle, both of which refer to the crucial underlying matter of the quality of the director-directee relationship. These two questions also directly relate to the issue of authority. However, they shed light on the practice of spiritual direction in a way that the'debate over the authority of spiritual directors has failed to do. I suggest that what underlies the concern for affirming the director's authority as God-given is the question of whether direc-tors acknowledge their dependence on God's Spirit. I suggest that the question of whether they protect and assure their directees' freedom is what underlies the concern for limiting the director's authority. Both of these questions represent concerns that relate to the director-directee relationship, and both are essential for spiritual directors to address. No matter how spiritual directors understand their authority, they need to deal with these two issues, They need to acknowledge openly their submission to God's authority. And they need to set their directees free to seek and follow Gdd. Notes 1 Peter Ball, Journey into Truth: Spiritual Direction in the Anglican Tradition (London: Mowbray, 1996), pp. 4-5. 2 William A. Barry and William J. Connolly, The Practice of Spiritual Direction (Minneapolis: Seabury Press, 1982), pp. 9-11. 3 Thomas H. Green, Opening to God (Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 1977), p. 49. 4 Rose Marie Dbherty, "Doing Spiritual Direction in a Group," Praying 29 (March-April 1989): 6-7. Review for Religious s Sandra Marie Schneiders, Spiritual Direction (Chicago: National Sisters Vocation Conference, 1977): 19-20, 47-48. 6 Schneiders, "The Return to Spiritual Direction," Spiritual Life 18, no. 4 (Winter 1972): 275, and "The Contemporary Ministry of Spiritual Direction," Chicago Studies 15 (Spring 1976): 123. 7 Margaret Guenther, Holy Listening: The Art of Spiritual Direction (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Cowley Publications, 1992), p. 3. 8 Jan Bots and Piet Penning de Vries, "On Spiritual Direction," Review for Religious 40, no. 4 (July-August 1981): 496. 9 William McNarn~ara, "Psychology and the Christian Mystical Tradition," in Transpersonal. Psychologies, ed. Charles Tart (New York: Harper and Row, 1975), pp. 408, 425. ,0 Kallistos Ware, "The Spiritual Father in Orthodox Christianity," Cross Currents 24 (Summer-Fall 1974): 296. 11 Andr~ Louf, "Spiritual Fatherhood in the Literature of the Desert," in Abba: Guides to Wholeness and Holiness, East and West, ed. J. Sommerfeldt (Kalamazoo: Cistercian Publications, 1982), pp. 38-40. lz Donald Corcoran, "Spiritual Guide: Midwife of the Hig,her Spiritual Self," in Abba, ed.J. Sommerfeldt, 356-357. 13Jerome M. Neufelder and Mary C. Coelho, eds., Writings on Spiritual Direction (Minneapolis: Seabury Press, 1982), pp. 18-19. 14 Thomas Merton, Spiritual Direction and Meditation (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1960), pp. 3-4: is Donald Corcoran, "Spiritual Guidance: The Role of Spiritual Directors in Christian Spirituality," in Christian Spirituality, ed~ B. McGinn and J. Meyendorf (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1995), pp. 444, 448-451. 16 Joel Giallanza, "Spiritual Direction according to St. John of the Cross," in Spiritual Direction: Contemporary Readings, ed. Kevin G. Culligan (Locust Valley, New York: Living Flame Publishers, 1983), p. 202. July-Aug~tst 1997 SHAUN McCARTY Confidentiality Issues in Spiritual Direction Cdonfidentiality is a critical consideration in a spiritual-irection relationship as well as a serious ethical impera-tive for the director.-This derives from the nature and history of spiritual direction, which deals with the most intimate levels of a person's life. The topic, theh, merits careful cqnsideration. I intend to e~xpl0re: (1) the nature of confidentiality; (2) why it is critical for the spiritual-direction relationship; (3) some legal considera-tions concerning its observance; (4) the relative merits of church regulation of this ministry to protect the confidentiality rights of the one :guiding and the one guided; and (5) an alternative to out-side regulation in dealing with the need for the exercise of a' responsible ministry of spiritual direction. Nature of Confidentiality "Confidentiality" has to do with keeping secrets. Something is "confidential" when a private matter is imparted in secret. "Confidence" carries the sense of firm belief in, reliance on, and assurance of another keeping trust. "Confiding," then, assumes a trusted "confidant." A "secret" is a hidden fact which may not be divulged, whether it be a fault or even something good that needs protection, for example, inventions or special recipes. There are three kinds of Shaun McCarty ST, currendy on a sabbatical, l~as been director of Trinity Ministries Center for several years. He writes from 1733 Metzerott Road; Adelphi, Maryland 20783. Review for Religious secrets: (1) A "natural" secret, in which the obligation to secrecy arises from the nature of the case, for example, deeply personal matters spoken of within close human fellowship or matters whose revelation would in some way injure or displease another (such as defamatory gossip). (2) A "promised" secret, which is to be kept, not by the nature of the case, but because of one's subsequent promise not to reveal the matter; the obligation arises from fidelity to one's declared word, but does not apply to useless or inane matters. (3) An "entrusted" secret, wherein the matter is revealed on the condition (whether explicit or implicit) that it will be kept secret. A special kind of entrusted secret is referred to as a "pro-fessional" secret; it obliges doctors, lawyers, the clergy, and some others by reason of their professions. This is the most binding secret of all. It is with this privileged category of professional secret that spiritual direction is concerned. Those bound to secrecy include not only the director, but all those'who may become privy to it, such as supervisors, consultants, and supervi-sory and peer-supervisory groups. The Necessity of Confidentiality Confidentiality is an imperative that arises from the need for discretion in matters where serious harm may come to self, oth-ers, or communities. People have a right to privacy. Confidentiality is a practical demonstration of reverence for the personal, inti-mate, and sacred values of another person. There is also a need on the part of both individuals and the public at large for a climate of freedom and trust wheri it comes tb seeking help that involves the revelation of confidential material. Vital to the effectiveness of guiding, helping, . and healing professions.are these elements of freedom and trust. Few events can be more destructive or preclusive of contin-ued help than the violation of trust and loss of such freedom of exchange. Not only is a violation of confidentiality destructive of the relationship with the person who divulges personal informa-tion, but it often can make the person betrayed wary of ever entrusting anyone else with similar confidences. It leaves deep wounds that are a long time healing. Some mention should also be made concerning the damage done to the integrity, reputa-tion, and future effectiveness of the one revealing the confidence. It can compromise that person's integrity and credibility for the ~dy-Aug~st 1997 McCart~ ¯ Con~dentiali~ Issues in S~iritual Direction future. The matter of confidentiality is of special concern in a ministry as sensitive as spiritual direction, for it is especially dependent upon the establishment and maintenance of that trust-ful silence so vital to open dialogue. In Catholic circles especially, spiritual direction has tradi-tionally been distinct from, yet closely akin to, sacramental con-fession and the confidentiality surrounding it. Spiritual direction is referred to as belonging within the "internal, nonsacramental forum"; sacramental confession, the "internal, sacramental forum." Exceptions With the exception of sacramental confession (and, as some would hold, spiritual direction), some secrets may be revealed under certain circumstances. A basic axiom in regard to most secrets is: The more important the secret, the greater the reason needed to reveal it. The obligation to secrecy ceases ordinarily when (1) there is permission from the one who owns and reveals it; (2) when it has already been disclosed by others; (3) when there is sufficient reason to avert a greater evil, that is, to avert a grave danger to the common good or serious harm either to a third party or to the person revealing it. It is permissible to discuss confidential material in consulta-tion with a prudent third party while at the ~ame time taking care to protect the anonymity of the person revealing it--unless that person objects. In regard to spiritual direction, such a likelihood should be discussed and agreed to when the initial working rela-tionship is negotiated. As with the revelation of secrets, it is,also unethical to probe into secrets unless for a serious reason and by using just means. The fields of investigative journalism and criminal investigation have in recent years brought public attention to the ethical ques-tions of both what may be investigated and what methods may be used. Some Legal Considerations In the United States there are civil and ecclesiastical laws both protecting and restricting confidentiality that may some-times be in conflict or simply inadequate.~ Review for Religious Traditionally, constitutional decisions of the Supreme Court have deferred to ecclesiastical law, not wishing to interfere with the free exercise of religion which is protected under the religion clause of the first amendment of the United States Constitution. As a consequence, not only has the confidentiality concerning sacramental confession by an ordained Catholic priest been respected, but likewise the legal right to keep priv-. ileged communications confidential has been afforded to clergy of other traditions. Though they vary from state to state, statutes con-cerning the "clergy" privilege are part of each state's rules of evidence. Under them the fundamental rule is that the public has a right to every person's evidence. Privileged communications are an exception and must meet certain restrictive requirements. While "minister" is usually interpreted in a strict sense, that is, one who is ordained in the church, the parameters of this clergy priv-ilege vary from state to state. In familiarizing oneself with particular statutes, there are some questions that need to be asked such as: Who qualifies as a member of the "clergy"? What types of communi-cation are covered? What do the statutes require in terms of the regulation of the ministry of spiritual direction by a given church, denomination, or community? What must be the expectation of the one making the communication? What must be the nature of the relationship between the 'spiritual director and the one mak-ing the communication? 2 There have been conflicting decisions in the courts concern-ing those not ordained who are consulted as spiritual directors and who have claimed clergy privilege. In a case arising in 1971 in New Jersey, a Catholic sister was cited for contempt for her refusal to testify in a murder trial of a former pupil for whom she had been spiritual director. She claimed the statutory privilege allowed by New Jersey law protecting the confidentiality of those authorized by her church as a minister of spiritual direction. Her plea was rejected because counsel was unable to find anything in Catholic doctrine or practice that would give her the right to claim privileged communication? More recently, in 1985, a sister in Missouri refused to make a deposition concerning a plaintiff because of a previous relationship as spiritual director and was granted the clergy privilege by way of extension,4 The more important the secret, the greater the reason needed to reveal it. 37zdy-August 1997 2VlcCarty * Confutentiality Issues in Spiritual Direction ~ As more recognition is given to nonordained people who are nevertheless exercising ministries such as spiritual direction, it might be hoped that clergy privilege would be extended further. Yet legislators and courts, understandably and for obvious reasons, favor restriction of privilege when it comes to withholding evi-dence. In recent years, even pre~;iously recognized clergy privilege has been abrogated in many states with reference to child abuse. ~ Ecclesiastical law in the Roman Catholic Code of Canon Law (1983) carefully protects the secrecy of material confided in sacra-mental confession (cc. 983-984),,but has little to say with direct reference to the nonsacramental ministry of spiritual direction, in which.a growing number of nonordained people have become involved. As previously noted, civil law will generally respect the provisions of ecclesiastical law. Given the absence of specific eccle-siastical recognition of spiritual direction in the ministries of the church, it is difficult to discuss the rights of the nonordained in reference to privileged communication. Both official recognition and outside regulation of spiritual direction are problematic. There are some who have advocated regulation of this min-istry by ecclesiastical law to protect people from civil- and crim-inal- law requirements.5 They suggest that special guidelines, standards, or even statutes be created by denominations and reli-gious communities to protect members from having to divulge confidential information obtained in spiritual direction. Such statutes would call for defining spiritual direction as ministry, establishing it as an office in the church requiring certain quali-fications, providing for the presentation or selection of candi-dates, and making a statement concerning confidentiality that includes specified exceptions. If this course of regulation is fol-lowed, it has been suggested that such statutes or policies be pro-posed on an interfaith basis. This takes into consideration that frequently the spiritual director and the directee do not belong to the same denomination. So as to protect the rights of the confidant, such regulations would provide for no waiver of confidentiality on the part of the one confiding.: The regulations would be clear and consistently implemented. It has been further proposed that they would also include confidential communications received in pastoral coun-seling. and other nonsacramental ministries in which information is communicated in an atmosphere of confidentiality. Such regu-lation has benefits and deficits that will be dealt with later. Review for Religious There has been some inclination for courts to recognize the right of~nonordained spiritual directors to withhold privileged communications. (Of all the states at the present time, Illinois seems to have legislation most consistent with ecclesiastical pro-visions, even though it limits the privilege to those accredited by the religious body.6) However, for now at least, it would seem that spiritual directors may not assume that th4y can successfully claim clergy privilege in a civil court.7 To Regulate or Not to Regulate? On the one hand, it would seem beneficial for churches and communities officially to recognize and to regulate ministries of spiritual direction. On the other hand, though laws protect, they also tend to con-trol and thus hinder freedom. Regulation would have the advantage of gaining church recognition of the min-istry of spiritual direction. This would seem to make it more likely that the civil authorities would recognize privileged communications made to the nonor-dained, thus providing more legal protec-tion for those involved. In addition to official recognition of a ministry, it would also, seemingly, render malpractice and other forms of litigation less likely in that regulation would require evi-dence of a person's competency to be a spiritual director, would make statements of policy, and would provide for sanctions. On the negative side, with regulation there wouldbe certain trade-offs. Regulations would bring tighter outside controls to what has traditionally been more of a free and charismatic ministry. Recognition of bona fide spiritual directors has.come to a large extent from local faith communities in which people gifted for the ministry have been recognized and sought out, and much less from the approval of some institution, often at a distance from the local scene. Every ministry need not be created into an office. Moreover, regulation raises the question of who determines qualifications, policies, sanctions, and the like. Would such reg-ulation not raise the further complication of limiting the choice of directors to denominations recognized by the regulating agency? I would wonder whether, with the growing number of Both official recognition and outside regulation of spiritual direction are problematic. L3-75-- j%dy-August 1997 McCarty * Confidentiality Issues in Spiritual Direction malpractice suits, a regulating agency might be more liable for suits brought againsf an "approved" or "licensed" director. Such suits tend to go after the "deep pockets" of agencies having affin-ity with the individual. What Is the Alternative to Outside Regulation? Without a doubt, there is need for responsible stewardship in the exercise of any ministry and especially spiritual direction, which deals with the deepest and most delicate matters of a per-son's interior life. But, instead of regulation from the outside or from above, is it not,preferable for provisions and standards to come from within agencies preparing people for this ministry and professional societies supporting and challenging people in their practice of it? Laudable efforts at self-regulation by such groups as Spiritual Directors International, perhaps, have greater promise of balancing freedom with responsibility in exercising a respon-sible stewardship. Ethical and moral guidelines developed in this fashion are apt to call for even higher standards of professional-ism than would legal restrictions or an external regulating agency. Such guidelines would be concerned not just with confidentiality, but also with other important issues such as: (1) help in discern-ing whether one is genuinely called to exercise this ministry; (2) careful preparation and enrichment that would include pertinent understandings, processes, skills, and supervision; (3) encourage-ment: for ongoing education and formation in theological, scrip-tural, psychological, and other related disciplines; (4) maintenance of integrity in the role of spiritual director with regard to time, frequency, place of meetings, and so forth; (5) recognition of lim-its of competency in making or declining to make referrals; (6) avoidance of fostering emotional dependency; (7) ongoing assess-ment of each spiritual-direction relationship; (8) measures of accountability such as insisting that spiritual directors also receive spiritual direction and individual or pee~'-group supervision; and, most of all, (9) keeping, in the relationship, the focus on the per-son's God-relationship. Needed: A Poised Balance In this article we have explored the nature and necessity of Confidentiality in the ministry of spiritual ,direction and also some Revie~ for Religious legal considerations affecting its practice. We have considered some pros and cons of official recognition and outside regulation of this ministry. Hopefully, these considerations underscore the need for faithful stewardship in maintaining a poised balance between freedom and responsibility in the exercise of a ministry that calls for both sacred silence and public accountability. One who goes shopping for a product is cautioned: "Let the buyer beware!" Perhaps it is also wise advice for those seeking official recognition or outside regulation: "Let the seekers beware and proceed with caution!" We need open ears and closed mouths as we fulfill a sacred trust. Notes ' R.P. Stake, "Professionalism and Confidentiality in the Practice of Spiritual Direction," The Jurist 43 (1983): 214-232. z Stake, 227. 3 Stake, 228. 4 D.K. Iopollo et al., Confidentiality in the United States: A Legal and Canonical Study (Washington, D.C.: CLSA, 1988). s Stake, 231-232. 6 Iopollo, pp. 60-61. 7 Stake, 229. Wild Things Wild strawberries in the grass, tiny spots of red amid the green. One does not always understand how the wild things grow, rooted and strong though appearing fragile. So am L Lord, a wild thing, eager to grow anywhere, but there are times when the wind's so strong and it rains so hard and long that my weakness shows. Virginia Skrdlant SHCJ j%dy-August 1997 SEAN D. SAMMON Psychology: An Aid to Religious Formation psychology At the outset, let ug set the record straight: Psychology can be a help or a hindrance to formation for religious life. In the right hands it becomes a valuable tool for help-ing young people take up the life and mission of their congregation or institute. Its findings and principles can assist men and women religious in the middle years, too, and those of us facing the inevitable diminution that comes with age. Psychology, however, can also tyrannize us. In the wrong hands and incorrectly applied, it can lead to exces'- sire self-involvement and give rise to less than adequate preparation for today's demanding apostolic life~ With all that said, this admission must also be made: In some quarters of religious life, considerable suspicion continues to .exist about psychology and its practitioners. While in some instances good reason may support such wariness, in others it might very well be unfounded. This article will explore a possible place for psychol-ogy in initial and ongoing formation. There is nothing magical about the science of psychology. It is made up of many schools of thought, and its pr~actitioners engage in the same kind of debate as researchers in other human sciences do. Psychology is also a young science and, as Sehn D. Sammon FMS is vicar general of the Marist brothers. His address is Fratelli Maristi delle Scuole; C.P. 10250; 00144 Rorna, Italy. Review for Religious such, struggles still to find its place among those other sciences with longer and more established traditions. In spite of its many and varied approaches to the human per-son and its rather brief history, however, the findings of various schools of psychology--when correctly and appropriately applied--can assist formators in calling forth apostles for today. While formation is always the Lord's work, at the present time the~ fruit of the hard labor of some people in the mental-health field might be able to help us in a number of areas. Let us consider, for example, three specific and pressing ini-tial and ongoing formative challenges and examine how psychol-ogy may help: (1) educating for a healthy sense of our sexuality and life of celibate chastity, (2) preparing for the interpersonal chal-lenges found in today's ministry and community, and (3) deepen-ing our self-knowledge so as to ensure that some of our less than sterling motives~ do not interfere with the action that the Lord wishes to take through us. Before we address these issues, though, let us examine a few of psychology's tools and critique their pur-ported power. Psychology Is No "New Priesthood" Every profession has its rituals. Doctors, attorneys, teach-ers-- all have certain agreed-upon methods, principles, points of view. If, for example, you visit a doctor's office with a sore throat, a persistent cough, a headache, chills, and other aches and pains, you expect the physician to carry out a thorough examination and perhaps order some tests in order to diagnose correctly a head cold or pneumonia. Both conditions are treatable; the appropri-ate remedies, however, are different. Psychologists also have their rituals. Testing is one of them. Is there anything magical about the Rorschach test, the Thematic Apperception Test (TAT), the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI), the Reitan battery, or other somewhat more culture-free instruments? Not really. Psychological testing will unearth little more than a perceptive person w0uld find out about another after a year or so of living together. Ask yourself this question: Do many months have i:o pass before you realize who is selfish, self-centered, generous, even-tempered, moody, very intel-ligent, and so forth, in any new community you join? What test-ing does is .give us this information more quickly. July-August 1997 Sammon ¯ Psychology Findings from testing can be of great help to any candidate for religious life and to his or her formators. IL for example, testing tells me that I am overly sensitive, opinionated, rigid, and stub-born-- well, then I have some grist for the mill of formative direc-tion. On the other hand, test results will also tell me about my strengths: my intellectual level, my ability to manage life's chal-lenges. Such findings are powerful allies in the work of forma-tion, for both the candidate and formator. Apostolic religious life has for years judged the admissibility of candidates by three general criteria: at least average intelli-gence, good judgment, and adequate physical health. A medical examination provides information about the last item; psycho-logical testing can help with the first two, To avoid pitfalls in testing, however, one should know, for example, how the test was normed. Obviously, an instrument that used a population of middle-income, midwestern United States citizens to establish its scoring criteria needs to be normed anew before being applied to candidates for religious life in Asia, Africa, Europe, and Latin America. Psychological examiners also need to be well acquainted with religious life and its values. How else will they be able to write a helpful report and provide feedback that encourages rather than hinders the process of formation? Before men and women in lead-ership or formation engage a psychologist to carry out the psy-chological assessment of a candidate or a member of the province, they need to be sure that the examiner understands and respects the values and commitments that are integral to religious life~ Formators also need to know the place of psychotherapy. This can be essential to growth for some members of a province or congregation, but psychotherapy cannot be the very mode of for-mation, even though a formator's accompaniment or direction may have therapeutic aspects. The psychotherapeutic relation-ship is different. It involves, for example, a different kind of per-sonal privacy for the client. If I am a psychologist in a therapeutic relationship with a client, I have no right to reveal anything disclosed to me in that relationship without the client's expressed and written permis-sion. The only exceptions to this rule are the laws in certain juris-dictions that mandate the reporting of some disclosed actual or anticipated criminal behavior such as child sexual abuse or homi-cide. The strict right to privacy that governs therapy allows clients Review for Religious to unburden themselves without fear of reprisal or judgment on the part of the therapist. That right must be protected. Formative direction or accompaniment is, in my opinion, dif-ferent. I prefer the word mentoring to describe this relationship. Mentors are like older brothers or sisters, persons close in age but with more experience. Mentors help younger people--and at times contemporaries and older folks--to identify the dreams in their life and to give those dreams a place in that life. Mentors are both parents and peers, and not exclu-sively one or the other. They offer example, challenge, acceptance, counsel, and at times friendship. The following distinction between a therapist and a mentor might help clarify their differing roles. Therapists, in general, do not disclose to clients information about their own personal lives. In contrast, an accompaniateur (a companionable guide) or person doing'formative direction might often enough use a per-sonal example to encourage the person being directed, to chal-lenge him or her or illustrate a point. Do accompaniateurs and those doing formative direction, then, need to be psychologists to be effective? Of course not. Do they need adequate and up-to-date information about human devel-opment and its principles? Absolutely. Most accompaniateurs can also benefit from having at hand a mental-health person to help with advice or to provide supervision when needed. To insist that every accompaniateur or person doing formative direction be a psychotherapist, however, misses this important reality: religious formation is a spiritual and not a psychological journey. Religious formation is a spiritual and not a psychological journey. Education for a Healthy Sense of Human Sexuality and Celibate Chastity Celibate chastity is in trouble today. When a colleague, friend, student, or family member asks us why we are living a life of celi-bate chastity, we respond quickly: For the sake of the kingdom, to love everyone and not just one person, to be more available. Then we pause and hope that there will be no more questions.~ The vast majority of us in religious life' have had inadequate education about human sexuality and celibate chastity. How many Sammon ¯ Psycholo~ of us, for example, recognize the important distinction between sexuality and genitality or realize that celibate chastity cannot be equated with asexuality?. Celibate chastity is a particular way of liv-ing out my sexuality. Today, more than before, psychology can provide us with realistic information about our human sexuality, information that will also help us to grow in our appreciation of our life of celibate chastity. God can be held responsible for passing out sexual energy. Just as we have spiritual energy, so also we have sexual energy. For what purpose? Our sexual energy draws us into relationships with other people and with our God. For some of us it might come as a surprise to learn that. the purpose of sexual and spiritual energy is the same: union with God and with others. Any adequate program of education for celibate chastity would do well to include information about the factors that advance or impede healthy psychosexual development. In addition, we could benefit today by some additional frank discussion about sexual orientation, masturbati~)n, intimacy in relationships (and the dif-ferent expectations of men and women in this latter area), and the spiritual foundation for celibate chaste living. During our religious formation many of us were warned about "particular friendships." Stop for a moment now and consider that phrase, Then ask yourself this question: Is there any other type of friendship than a particular friendship? I do not think so. Obviously, this preoccupation with particular friendships was often at the heart of past concerns about sexuality: a fear that . people might lose control of one very powerful part of their lives. We need to be quite clear about this important point: All of us must make decisions in life about our human sexuality. Married people, single and single-again people, celibate chaste people--no ¯ one escapes the process of decision making. For our peace of mind, the decisions we make need to be in keeping with our val- . ues and commitments. If I am a married man, for example, and I )want to remain faithful to my wife, I will have to set some limits in other important relationships in my life. If any of us believe that we do not, from time to time, have to make some difficult deci-sions about how we will channel our sexual energy, we are living in a dream world. Psychology can assist us in our education about .human sexu-ality. Furthermore, studies made of stages of growth in lives of celibate chastity2--~ith its fidelities and failures can help all of Review for Relig4ous us appreciate the wonder of this way of being a sexual person. Paradoxically, in the end psychology can help us understand that to be at home with our life of celibate chastity we must ultimately face what it means to be a spiritual person. Most of us are quite at ease when talking about the place of poverty and obedience in our lives. While we might not always agree on the day-to-day specifics involved in living out these vows, we can, without too much difficulty, discuss their place in our lives. Psychology and its current findings about human sex-uality might help us achieve the same ability to discuss celibate chastity. Interpersonal Challenge,s Found in Today's Ministry and Community Life Have you ever lived with a'chronic complainer? This simple test will help you decide if there is one in your life: When some-one comes to talk with you, does he or she generally sit down right away? You know the reason full well: they are going to be there for a long, long'time. The story of Jonah illustrates this: even God tired of such incessant whining! How about life with negativists--those people who, when faced with a new and hopeful idea, respond by saying "it won't work," "we tried it last year and it failed," and "those in charge around here are not intelligent enough to see to its implementation." Do stallers hold a prominent place in your life of ministry?- folks who ~iust could not make a decision even if your life and theirs depended on it. And what about men and women who with'- hold information unnecessarily so as to keep undue control of any situation? Realistic people do not expect their lives of ministry or in community to be altogether free of troublesome folks. There are, however, some individuals whose behavior can sap energy from us that would be better directed toward the work of the mission. Organizational psychology and some of its principles can teach us to cope with these difficult characters and their kissing cousins.3 With what outcome? So that all of us can get on better with the task at hand:'living together harmoniously and carrying out our mission in the church. Every community, too, passes through its own stages of growth.4 Some communities are healthy places in which to live, Jvdy-August 1997 Sammon * Psychology others less so. We have all participated in community meetings, for example, where the real meeting took place in small groups after the formal meeting had come to a close. Poor communica-tion skills, the lack of a vocabulary with which to discuss some difficult topics, a failure to learn ways to respectfully disagree with one another when necessary--all those factors can make life in community something other .than what it should be: a support to us in carrying out our mission. Psychology can help a community identify where it is in its own development and can suggest steps that can be taken to enhance its spiritual, ministerial, and interpersonal growth. Psychology can also help us develop the skills we need to live together more effectively and with genuine Christian charity. We all need a place to come home to. If our religious com-munities fail to be places where friendship is possible, human hnd spi~ritual support available, and the love that can exist between sisters, and brothers evident--well, then, who would freely choose to live this life? In many church ministries today, there are tensions. Sometimes it is tension between men and women. At times strife develops between priests and lay religious or between religious and their lay partners. Tension can spring up among members of any ministry team. If the level of tension in our ministry reaches a point where the mission is no longer being carried out effectively, the science of psychology can provide some specific help. More importantly, principles of psychology can. be used to nip in the bud any developing problem before it becomes something larger than life. 3-84 Self-kngwledge in the Service of the Mission Did you know that there is no such thing as a perfect family? There are good enough families--where 'the people and the place provide what we need for life, along with a push out the door so that life can expand--but, no, perfect families exist only in the imagination of some people. We take our families with us when we come into religious life. ~While its members may not be physically visible, they do participate in some way in every community meeting that we attend. Families shape and form us--for good or ill. We: also bring along to religious life what we learned about Review.for Religious ourselves while living in our family. In yours, for example, how was anger dealt with, was sexuality talked about openly, did disagree-ment give rise to alienation from the family at large? In some families, for example, members may stop talking to one another in the face of a disagreement or disappointment. In my family, for example, I realize in retrospect that expres-sions of anger were not encouraged. To signal that events were getting out of hand with me, my mother would often use the phrase "Sefin, be nice!" Though nowadays I pay less attention to it, still--when I am feeling angry, even at my present age--I hear her saying "Se~in, be nice!" Some of us suffer from low self-esteem. Simply put, we do not think we are worth very much. Low self-esteem is often the result of receiving information coming from my world through a series of faulty filters. Because of what we have been told about ourselves, some of us eventually come to believe that we are worthless or, at best, not worth very much. When people with low self-esteem make a mistake, for exam-ple, they suffer shame rather than embarrassment. Rather than learn from the error of their ways, they "beat themselves up" instead and insist that .they are bad people undeserving of any recognition or praise. We take our families with us when we come into religious life. Low Self-esteem a Threat to Effective Ministry Low self-esteem is a threat to effective ministry. Why? When our self-esteem is low, we begin to look to have our needs met by those we are called to serve. Eventually we need them more than they need us. When such a situation develops, we are no longer doing ministry. Rather, by our "serving" others we are promoting our own well-being, our own good feelings about ohrselve.s. Once again psychology can help us--towards enhanced self-esteem that is in the service of mission. Self-intimacy--a gift that often comes with mid-lifeS--helps us accept the particular and perhaps peculiar amalgam of bits and pieces that make up who we are. By mid-life we know full well that our motives for doing things in life are often mixed. Tha~: knowledge, in itself, helps keep us honest when it comes to ministry. Sammon ¯ PsycholoKv The Lord came for sinners and not the saved. At mid-life many of us feel more of a need to be redeemed than ever before. We have become distinctly aware of personal and social sin. But this self-understanding paradoxically enhances our self-esteem. This knowledge, in itself, helps keep us honest when it comes to ministry, helps us to carry out the Lord's mission free of illusion. Psychology and its principles can play an important role in this purification. Psychology Can Help In summary, then, psychology--used as one formative tool among many others--can be a friend to formators in religious congregations and institutes and an ally for mid-life and senior women and men religious in their ongoing formation. Today in particular it may help deepen our understanding about our com-mitment to celibate chastity, provide us with skills for greater effectiveness in ministry and a rich life in community, and help ~us grow in .greater self-awareness and self-acceptance in service of the mission of Jesus. If it does help a~complish these ends, that fact in itself will be a blessing beyond measure. Good psychology has more to do with self-transcendence than with self-fulfillment. It is not antithetical to the concept of sin, to admitting guilt, nor to penance and self-sacrifice. Rightly used, psychology leads to greater freedom of spirit and more effective ministry. Notes ~ Sefin D. Sammon, An Undivided Heart: Making Sense of Celibate Chastity (Staten Island, New York: Mba House, 1993). 2 A.W. Richard Sipe, A Secret World: Sexuality and the Search for CeJibacy (New York: Brunner/Mazel, Publishers, 1990). 3 Robert M. Bramson, Coping with Difficult People (Garden City, New York: Doubleday Anchor, 1981); Se~n D. Sammon, Don't Get Eaten for B~eakfast: Making Sense of the Impossible People in Your Life (forthcoming). 4 Rosine Hammett and Loughlan Sofield, Inside Christian Community (Jesuit Center for Human Development, 1981). s Se~n D. Sammon, Life afier Youth: Making Sen~se of One Man's~ourney through the Transition at Mid-life (Staten Island, New York: Alba House, 1997). Review for Religious ALEXANDER H. SMITH Mental-Health Consultation with Religious Orders Myental-health consultation has evolved over the past thirty ears in a specialty with a large body of literature on the process and technique, with diverse applications (Caplan and Caplan, 1993; R. Caplan, 1972; Altrocchi, 1972). Relatively few of these studies directly apply to religious orders, where their mem-bers have made lifelong commitments to membership and where the consultative process must be crafted to accommodate the unique features of religious life in a group setting. Mental-health consultation with a religious community requires a clarity of purpose at,times even more demanding than that in agency, school, or other ifistitutional setting. Within 'the community beats the heart of its spiritual tradition, one that pre-sumably drew its members, at least at a conscious level, to seek God and serve others. Beyond these oversimplified parameters, the climate of expected altruism and fraternal charity can paradoxically create the possibilities of boundary confusion, difficult limit set-ting, self-righteous entitlement, and exaggerated expectations of being understood and accommodated. Herein lie the often found tangle of inspired devotio0 and the all-too-easily-disillusioned psyche with its comple~es, hidden desires and aversions, power struggles, and longings. Not infrequently these very issues drive the community to seek assistance. Religious communities frequently experience a range of needs for outside help. The problems occur in group-level issues such Alexander H. Smith Jr., EdD, is a profession~il counseling psychologist. His address is 3150 Willis Avenue; Cincinnati, Ohio 45208. j~dy-August 1997 Smith * Mental-Health Consultation as conflict resolution, factioning, and decision making, They occur often to individuals as thorny personality conflicts and in groups as resistance to assimilating new tasks and letting go of old ones. Almost all communities have been faced with the problem of dwindling membership, including losses both of old timers and of new members who do not stay. Many communities are half the size they were thirty years ago, and few have found effective ways to integrate "then and now." Administrative talent varies across com-munities, and the management of the group according to its charism in this subculture of increased psYchological awareness is very challenging. Renewed individualism often stretches the best of minds to steer a course that supports the individual and the group as well. Most communities must cope with practical realities of day-to-day community life that become too hot to handle as a group. The community that approaches consultation in an informed way can realize more effective outcomes. The community's effort to make these course corrections with the consultant's assistance is best served when both the community and the consultant are familiar with what tO expect from each other. Such an informed recogni-tion of issues that are often unique to religious communities helps facilitate a more hopeful tone from inception to termination. The application~ of consultation to religious life appear to range from uninform~ed and sometimes naive "hacking" to highly competent psychological models that integrate diagnostic and intervention strategies from group process theory, models of con-sultation, knowledge of defense organization-in individuals and groups, and so on. This essay considers in very basic form these elements of effective consultation from the perspectives of both consultant and community in order to inform, to caution, and to encourage well-grounded principles and practices. What Type of Consultation Is Best for This Community? The consultant must help the community to select the appro-priate type of consultation. Caplan and Caplan (1993) have iden-tified four major ones: client-centered case consultation, consultee-centered case consultation, program-centered admin-istrative consultation, and consultee-centered administrative con-sultation. These me~hods differ in their targets of service delivery. Review for Religfous They were developed primarily for assisting other therapists work-ing with clinical populations, and they range across a spectrum of targets within a system from problems of an individual client to those of program development and organization. This model of reflective, "indirect" consultation differs substantially from that of organizational development where the focus is on team building, conflict resolution, and other modalities of more direct action methods (see Altrocchi). Two main types of consultation are probably most frequent for religious communities. These are consultation for individual cases where a mental-health issue has emerged, and administrative con-sultation where group-process difficulties need to be addressed. An adaptation of these principles to the :exigencies of life in religious communities is essential for both the consultant and for the com-munity. Usually there are crossing lines of communication, author-ity, and role functions, and the consultant must recognize that decision-making boundaries may be more fluid and that author-ity lines may vary from centralized to decentralized ones. More importantly, the nature of community life involves life commit-ments by its members to form and to maintain a group which supports its members' very livelihood. This reality requires that the consultant reconceptualize the consultation model as one which impacts not only service or "case management" in a work setting, but one which accommodates and supports the manifest structures .of a group whose very livelihood depends upon inter-personal competence and adherence to a task. The Alliance between the Consultant and the Community: Clarifying the Stated Purpose The initial phase of consultation includes the assessment of the community's tolerance for self-observation and for facing uncomfortable and at times painful issues. Some communities are more rigid than others. Some communities are more capable of examining attitudes, beliefs, and practices which interfere with accomplishing their stated aims. Some communities roll with the inevitable punches of difficult times and problematic personalities in a fairly relaxed way. Others struggle frequently, often appear-ing brittle and easily fragmented. The community's decision to seek consultation is rarely unan-imous; the events that lead up to the decision are themselves diag- ~dy-Aug'ust 1997 Smith ¯ Mental-Health Consultation The initial phase of consultation includes the assessment of the commumty s tolerance for self-observation and for facing uncomfortable and at times painful issues. ---.-390 nostic for the group and'for the consultant. The consultant who works with a religious order encounters a network of unique opportunities to assist individuals in a group. The consultant faces with the client community the same human foibles found in any organization. The! engagement with the community from its inception requires that the consultant maintain an integrity about the consultation. Often the initial request for consultation concerns unrecog-nized scapegoating. All group processes invariably include struggle with how to handle anger, disappoint-ment, and disavowed responsibility and therefore with the phenomenon of scapegoating. The process of scape-goating in religious life is surprisingly frequent. Historically it was often fos-silized in such matters as the status of lay brothers. A community's history with these major conflictual issues can be read ,off the contemporary problem foci, and the consultant can begin to read between the lines. For example, one community sought help about how to deal with a difficult member who was "conserva~ tive" and who would isolate himself from the rest of the communify, not participating in common prayer and work. The stated problem, of course, was to address the community's difficulty with its member. However, the com-munity had been chronically divided within itself about liturgical and dress practices. The community maintained the conflict for years by censuring any differentiation from the "new" majority norm. It had ironically created an authoritarian norm that resem-bled the very ones it prided itself for opposing in the larger cl~urch and had scapegoated "problem" members as they came through the ranks. The consultant initially should convey an acceptance of these problems as they are stated, while maintaining the accompanying desire to help the community in the most appropriate way possi-ble. The task here is to open the door to reasonable consideration of all the forces that define the problem as it appears to the com-munity and to be able to further negotiate the community's will- Review for Religious ingness to redefine it or "reframe" it in adaptive ways. In a way quite similar to (but by no means the same as) the initial stages of a psychotherapy, the consultant conveys a tolerance for the ambi-guity of the problem and seeks to draw the community into a more self-observing stance. Elaborating the Consultative Request The initial request usually stands as the consciously stated reason for help. Inevitably it includes a variety of unconsciously associated "agendas." The consultan~ recognizes these hidden forces that have coalesced to prompt the seeking of assistance and will respectfully inquire about them without attempting to inter-vene. They have a much longer life than the consciously stated one., The consultant for religious communities should maintain a particular ear for the historical context of these problem areas. Initially the community often challenges the consultant to do something impossible and then waits to see whether she or he is grandiose enough to try to tackle it. Questions like "Can you help us, deal with all the unspoken anger in this bunch?" need to be answered in a modest but respectfully humorous way: "Well. let me think a minute . . . what happened to the last guy who tried it?" After the ice is broken with the group's powerbrokers, the question can be restated in terms that can more easily be addressed, again hopefully with some humor: "Well . . . some-thing is getting in the way of people here being able to speak their piece., without getting sent ~to New Guinea . " The consultant takes these intangibles into account and for-mulates in clear language an agreement with the community about what consultation will be about, what it can and cannot accom-plish, when and how it will occur, when it will conclude, and what the sort of fee would be involved. The community should expect some response from the consultant that clearly formulates the current understanding of the problem.from perspectives of both community and consultant. Such a statement is usually best if it is,simple and colloquial and contains a potential for redefinition later on: You guys have really been struggling with this prob-lem about who lives with whom., and you're also saying you want to start closing out some parish work, that every-body is getting burned out., you really don't have to wait July-August 1997 Smitb * Mental-Healtb Consultation until the whole team is carried off the field before changing the game plan., let's see if it makes sense to meet a few times and see if there's some connection between these issues, how the community presently thinks about it and what would give the problem some fresh air . The initial phase is a get-acquainted one for both par-ties. The community needs time to size up the consultant and vice versa. The anxiety that accompanies a community's need for help can prompt it (and the consultant) into a pre-mature determination of type of consultation. The com-munity may be panicked about a growing tension between members or between subgroups and may demand quick results from the consultation. It is the height of folly for the consultant to rush in with psy-chological inventories or group-assessment devices. The religious in a community live there as well as work there. The consultant goes home. The context is different from industry, whei'e people at least have the escape of going home themselves in the evening. One community had be~n very reserved about seeking, con~ sultation. Careful assessment revealed that a previous consultant had come in for some "team building" and had required the com-munity to take a popular (but psychometrically compromised) test and then had proceeded to place the results on newsprint around the walls of the'community recreation room. No one would attend any further meetings; the community felt railroaded, overexposed, and very upset with the consultant. The consultant never stayed around long enough to get the feedback about how such cavalier interventions affected real people's lives. The community members' response to the proposed method is significant, for it often reflects attitudinal force and counterforce at work. For example, one community's s~uperior would not directly address the issue of the fee~ The consultant was told to contact the financial officer, an individual who was rather irrita-ble and demanding. The financial officer spoke to the consultant in a veiled condescending way, expressing dismay that the con-sultant even dare to charge a fee to a religious order. Such interactions in the initial phase reflect not only an anx-iety which the community cannot master, but also the manner by which it resolves it. Here the problem is manifested as anxiety about having adequate supplies and resources, whereas the uncon-scious fears seem to be around loss of control and authority. The community has designated someone who is rather difficult to con- Review for Religious trol the purse strings. The resolution is observed in the superior's being unable to address the financial issue directly and hiding behind the irritability of the financial officer. This kind of maneu-ver results in the superior coming across as a weak negotiator and never allowing the community to meet the financial issue head on. Some other forces are at work: the superior is set up as a "pup-pet" and the actual control resides in "old-timers" who are direct-ing the choice of leadership. The consultant's appearance on the scene is less than welcome, for they fear that the whole consultative process will undermine their "fiefdom." The community rarely lets the consultant in on the main difficulty all at once, especially in the beginning phase. The community has grappled with some issue for a long time; it has seen various personalities struggle with it with varying degrees of success. There have usually been fluctuations in leadership styles, in gov-ernance and decision-making processes, and in community responses to the changes. The texture of the com-munity's approach is often tied into its history and charism as well as to the current composition of

Issue 50.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1991. ; Volume 50 Number 6 November/December 1991 Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister Song of the Groom The Erosion of Faith The Prayer of Stupidity R~vtEw FOR Rt~l.~C~OUs (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office: 3601 Lindcll Boulevard, Room 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO and additional offices. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to REVIEW ~'Oa RELIGIOUS; P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Subscription rates: Single copy $3.50 plus mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs; two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription informa-tion and mailing costs. © 1991 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Michael G. Harter, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. November/December 1991 Volume 50 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REvtEw FOR RELtGtO~JS; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Elizabeth McDonough, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017. Back issues should be ordered from REVIEW ~'oa REL~GIOOS; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 . "Out of Print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. 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This order is for [] a new subscription [] a renewal [] a restart of a lapsed subscription MAIL TO: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS o 3601 LINDELL BOULEVARD ".ST.LOUIS, MO 63108 1.91 PRISMS . For those who take their Christian calendar for granted, the celebration of Christmas day seems more an ordinary part of the secular year than the extraordinary event it is. in the case of the business retailer the days leading up to Christmas become the watershed for a profitable sales year. For those in school the Christmas season marks ihe end of a semester, perhaps a gradu-ation, or at least a holiday time. There are large parts of Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, and Hindu worlds where Christmas remains a Western cultural "playtime" invention. And what is Christmas really for us? Christmas celebrates an almost unbelievable reality: God being born as a human being, as a rather ordinary helpless baby. As usual with the arrival of a baby, Christmas represents jby, and with the magical ingredients of angels singing, shepherds watching, and Magi adoring we seem to hold Life with a gentle and light touch. Yet we cannot ignore the dark side of Christmas and the various struggles present within its story, such as the massacre of the innocent babies and the refugee reality of this young family in Egypt. One continuing struggle we all enter into as Christians is in believing that God loves this tangled human world so much. Another cont(mpo~:ary area of con-flict for us lies in the chosen limitations which God takes on in being human, for example, in being male, not female, in being Jewish, not Irish, Polish, or Japanese, in being an uneducated, itinerant preacher, not a priest, a lawyer, or a successful financier. Certain things will be remembered about Jesus-- this God-man--ways of speaking, the kinds of stories he told, his program for what it means to be blessed. All of this sets up the potential for more conflict and misunderstanding from this Middle Eastern way of approaching life so different from our own. Perhaps in our time we need to enter into Christmas more from God's point of view of our human world rather than fixating on our own conflictual struggles. Today it seems that causes and movements, allegiances and preju-dices, tend to make us small, mean, and even vindictive. Christmas take on new importance for Us Christians when the reality we celebrate allows us to identify with God in smallness and in the mean things of this world. We enter a little more lightly and gently into the conflict of limitations which God so eagerly took on in Jesus--the one we call our Vindicator. God desires to minister to a world out of love even though some forms and 801 [109 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 expressions of love always seem to be the source of so much misunderstand-ing and conflict. As a tribute to John of the Cross as we close the four hun-dredth anniversary celebration, Kevin Culligan focuses upon John's : m~mstry--like God's-~coming from an ardent lover. Always the energy of love which seeks union and draws forth imitation enhances at the same time the differentiation of the ones in love. Teilhard de Chardin's evolution axiom, "union differentiates," restates more secularly the Pauline concept of the glory of differences in hands and feet and eye within the Body of Christ--all united in the love of Christ in God. Our contemporary struggle with our own human sexuality in relating to our Christian God needs to find softer focus within the light of Christmas. Maybe there is a kind of divine humor in speaking and relating to God in masculine and feminine imagery. After all, if sexuality makes no sense in referring to our trinitarian God's life, at least the origins of our own human sexuality--limiting as it is in its male and female forms--stem from our cre-ator God of love. And so in accentuating our masculine and feminine reali-ties we reflect back some kind of reality within God's life. Jesus only makes concrete in his very person the struggle of our human love of God--both towards himself and to the God he calls abba, Father. The paradoxes involved in language about God and in responding to a God so intimately involved with us human beings--"male and female God created them"-~are touched upon by two authors in this issue, Robert Annechino and Nancy Cross, as they consider the experience of our loving God and God's loving us. Hennessy's expansion of the Marian mysteries in the public ministry of Jesus adds balance and fullness to our entering into salvation events. Limits in our loving in the form of narcissism is touched upon by Markham and Sofield. O'Hea looks to its roots in the erosion of faith. Darkness even in our loving response in prayer is considered by Dent and Ostini. Ottensmeyer, with a certain lightness of touch, has us take hold of what we might call our perversity principles. The poem, "Monastic Ruminations," by Auer and the article "Messiaenic Epiphany: '. amidst animals, Love is born'" by Schloesser are intended as two special, and different, love-gifts to our readers. May the God enfleshed for us, celebrated anew this Christmas season, help us touch issues and challenges of our times lightly, gently, and with grace. David L. Fleming, S.J. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister: John of the Cross's Lived Example Kevin Culligan, O.C.D. This article is an edited version of a talk Father Kevin gave in December 1990 at the beginning of the fourth-centenary commemoration of St. John of the Cross's death in 1591. Father Kevin was his province's provincial and is now its director of continu-ing education and ongoing formation. His address is Discalced Carmelites; P.O. Box 429; Hinton, West Virginia 25951-0429. A number of years ago, at a seminar on St. John of the Cross and Spiritual Direction for directors of formation in religious communities, one of the par-ticipants told the group that he had come to our seminar in secret: "If my community knew I was participating in a seminar on St. John of the Cross, they would think I had gone off the deep end and would probably remove me from office to protect our novices." For me that remark sadly illustrates the poor image St. John of the Cross has for many clergy, religious, and laity in the United States. In 1926 Pius XI proclaimed him a doctor of the Church precisely because his writings were judged, after three and half centuries of thorough examination, to have universal value for the spiritual formation of Christians. Yet, for most American Catholics today, John is little known and his writings are a closed book. Many think of him primarily a's a mystic and poet, and so have difficulty identifying with him or believing that his teachings have much value for ordinary practical Christian living. Others, like the great American psycholo-gist and philosopher William James, have read his writings but consider him a negative ascetic, admirable in his personal austerities, perhaps, but whose teaching--"to come to possess all, desire the possession of nothing" (Ascent 1.13.11)--is psychologically dangerous. Even the images of John in reli-gious art, where he is usually portrayed embracing a cross, scare people. In Carmel we think of St. John of the Cross differently. He is our spiritu- 803 ~104 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 al father. We have experienced that his teaching, while challenging, is filled with practical wisdom. We regret that he is so little known and so negatively perceived in the United States because we believe he offers adult Christians a "spirituality with substance," as John Welch, O.Carm., states in his recent book, When Gods Die: An Introduction to John of the Cross. Thus, during the celebration of the fourth centenary of his holy death on December 14, 1591, we challenge ourselves to make his life and writings more accessible to our brothers and sisters in the United States. We hope many will discover him and find in this sixteenth-century Spanish friar a sure guide for our com-mon journey toward union with God. This article, then, considers John less as poet and mystic than as pastoral minister. As an ordained priest he made ministry to others the primary activi-ty and absorbing concern of his adult life. Even as a youngster he cared for others. Years later, his greatest writings on the spiritual life emerged from his ministry of spiritual direction. He wrote his famous diptych, The Ascent of Mount Carmel and The Dark Night, for other Carmelites, both friars and nuns, "since they were the ones who asked me to write this work" (Ascent, prologue, 9). His other two masterpieces in spirituality, The Spiritual Canticle and The Living Flame of Love, were written for two women he served as spiritual director, one a Carmelite nun, the other a widow. By looking at John as priest, as pastoral minister, we may get insights that further the most exciting development in the post-Vatican II Church, the opening of pastoral ministry to all. People have been newly reminded that pastoral ministry is not solely an obligation assumed at ordination or religious profession, but a responsibility that flows from our baptism and confirmation. Specifically, John contributes a fresh way of conceiving a pastoral min-ister, not only a "wounded healer" as Henri Nouwen has suggested,I or a "skilled helper" in the phrase of Gerard Egan,2 but also as an "ardent lover," a phrase which I believe aptly captures John's practice of pastoral ministry. John's Preparation for Ministry In 1567 Juan de Yepes--known then in the Carmelite order as Juan de Santo Matfa or John of St. Matthias--was ordained to the priesthood in the university city of Salamanca. Shortly after, in his home town of Medina del Campo, he met for the first time Teresa of Avila, who persuaded him to forgo his plans to join the stricter Carthusian order in order to assist her in reforming their own Carmelites. John had already been involved in ministry before 1567. From 1556 to 1562, as an adolescent between the ages of fourteen and twenty, he lived in a hospital, where he served the sick as an orderly and begged alms for them in Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister / 805 the streets. He would continue to serve the sick faithfully throughout his life. But the two major events of 1567--his priestly ordination and his first meet-ing with Teresa~determined the character of his pastoral ministry until his death twenty-four years later, in 1591 at the age of forty-nine. Everything that took place in his life before 1567 was but a preparation for the variety of pastoral services he would perform as a priest and a close associate of Teresa of Jesus. John's remote preparation for ministry began early. He was raised in a single-parent home. His father, Gonzalo de Yepes, died from the effects of poverty and famine shortly after John's birth in 1542 in the small Castilian farming village of Fontiveros, twenty-five miles northwest of Avila. John's father had belonged to a noble Toledo family with a prosperous silk business. He left a promising career in the family business to marry John's mother, Catalina Alvarez, a "poor but beautiful" weaving girl originally from Toledo whom Gonzalo had met on one of his business trips. Because his family dis-owned him for marrying beneath his position in life, Gonzalo joined his wife as a weaver in order to make a living. Into these poor circumstances he and Catalina brought three sons in twelve years, John being the youngest. Undoubtedly, in the years following the death of her husband and also her second son, Luis, who died of malnutrition not long after his father, Catalina repeated again and again the lesson and example of her husband's life to her two surviving sons: "Love," she probably said to them, "demands giving everything, just as your father gave up everything for me." Because of their poverty, Catalina turned to the Church for help in rais-ing her youngest son. She placed John in a residential school for orphans and children of the poor.in Medina del Campo, where she moved her little family in 1551. There John would be fed, clothed, and taught the fundamentals of his religion, and would learn a trade. At fourteen he was placed in a hospital, where he came under the formative influence of its chaplain and administra-tor, Don Alonso Alvarez de Toledo. Don Alonso carefully guided the young John and made it possible for him to study the humanities in the Jesuit col-lege in Medina, where he graduated at the age of twenty-one. Shortly afterwards John entered the Carmelites in Medina. Although formed by the role modeling of a diocesan priest and formally educated by the Jesuits, John apparently chose to enter the Carmelites, a Marian and con-templative order, because of his devotion to the Virgin and to prayer. The University of Salamanca After his year's novitiate, the Carmelites sent him to the University of Salamanca for a four-year course in the arts and theology. In the mid-six- 1~06 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 teenth century, Salamanca was a leading center of ecclesiastical learning and at the height of a neo-Scholastic revival. Its faculty included great scholars such as Fray Luis de Le6n, the Augustinian poet and translator of Sacred Scripture, and learned Dominican commentators on the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas. There John became proficient in Sacred Scripture, theolo-gy, and Thomistic psychology, three fields of study that would be essential for the years of ministry ahead of him. These three disciplines, together with his own personal experience, pro-vided the solid bases for the treatises on mystical theology he would later write. Almost every page of these writings contains quotations from the Bible. "Taking Scripture as our guide," he writes in the opening of The Ascent of Mount Carmel, "we do not err, since the Holy Spirit speaks to us through it" (Ascent, prologue, 2). His theology training reveals itself in his continual reminders that God is both transcendent and immanent, demanding that our relationship with God be based on faith and unceasing prayer. And in Thomistic psychology he found a conceptual tool to explain God's work in the human soul. For example, he used the Thomistic concept of active and passive intel-lect to explain this mysterious paradox: although we are limited in our intel-lectual ability to actively form adequate ideas of God, we are virtually unlimited in our capacity to passively receive God's own loving knowledge. Therefore, John taught that one of the major challenges of the spiritual jour-ney to union with God is to not allow our finite understanding of God to become an obstacle to receiving God's own infinite loving knowledge which he communicates to us in contemplation. John considered the knowledge of psychology to be of crucial impor-tance for the ministry of spiritual direction. Writing some twenty years later in his Living Flame of Love, he severely criticizes incompetent spiritual directors, not because their knowledge of theology and Scripture is inade-quate, but for their deficient knowledge of the human person. Because they fail to understand the full depths of the human "spirit" and its laws of opera-tion, incompetent spiritual directors hold persons in the stage of beginners in the spiritual life and never permit them to pass into the interior depths of the soul where God is leading them so that he may communicate with them and unite them totally with himself (Flame, 3.30ff, esp. 44 and 54). Preaching Following John's ordination to the priesthood and his commitment, approved by his religious superiors, to assist Teresa in her reform of Carmel, he was assigned by his provincial to the first reformed community of friars. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister it was located at Duruelo, a small crossroads in the Castilian plains west of Avila. There the friars lived an austere community life, joined with the min-istries of hearing confessions, preaching, and celebrating liturgies in neigh-boring villages. John was not kriown as a great preacher, although we may assume he preached regularly throughout his years of priestly ministry. None of his ser-mons has come down to us, but he does share his theological reflection on this ministry in The Ascent of Mount Carmel, written some fifteen years later. He says: The preacher., should., keep in mind that preaching is more a spiri-tual practice than a vocal one. For although it is practiced through exteri-or words, it has no force or efficacy save from the interior spirit. No matter how lofty the doctrine preached, or polished the rhetoric, or sub-lime the style in which the preaching is clothed, the profit does not ordi-narily increase because of these means in themselves; it comes from the spirit of the preacher. The profit is usually commensurate with the [preacher's] interior preparedness. It is commonly said that as the master, so usually is the disciple . We frequently see, insofar as it is possible to judge here below, that the better the life of the preacher the more abundant the fruit, no matter how lowly his style, poor his rhetoric, and plain the doctrine. For the living spirit enkindles fire. But when this spirit is wanting, the gain is small, however sublime the style and doctrine. Although it is true that good style, gestures, sublime doctrine, and well-chosen words are more moving and productive of effect when accompanied by this good spirit, yet, with-out it, even though delightful and pleasing to the senses and the intellect, the sermon imparts little or no devotion to the will (Ascent 3.45.1-4). Confessor and Spiritual Guide At Duruelo he also began what was eventually to become his primary ministry, forming souls as their confessor and spiritual guide, a ministry he carried on almost uninterruptedly for the next twenty-four years. He was appointed master of novices for the men who joined the reform. In the years that followed, he was successively master of Carmelite students at Alcal~i de Henares, spiritual director of St.Teresa for five years, regular weekly con-fessor to her 130 nuns in the monastery of the Incarnation in Avila, master of students at the Carmelite college in Baeza in Andalusia, and regular confes-sor to the Carmelite nuns in the convents at Beas, Granada, and Segovia. In addition to these assigned positions within the Carmelite order, he carried on an extensive ministry of spiritual direction with persons outside it. He served large numbers of men and women from every phase of the Christian life, from its earliest stage of conversion to the heights of mysti-cism. These persons included: young people seeking guidance and support in I~0~1 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 determining their vocation in life; men and women troubled by scrupulosity, excessive guilt, psychosomatic anxiety; profoundly disturbed hysterical and paranoid personalities manifesting bizarre forms of religious behavior; and those with the normal problems in the spiritual life such as temptations against God,s law, difficulties in prayer, and feelings of dryness, desolation, and emptiness. The biographical data indicate that John rendered his spiritual service "without distinction of persons." He welcomed all who came to him for help; both inside and outside the confessional--religious, clergy, laity, young and old, rich and poor. His ministry extended to the entire Christian commu-nity, not simply to an elite few who held positions of privilege in society or who enjoyed a reputation for exalted spirituality. From these historical records, I estimate that during one eighteen-month period in 1587-1588 in Andalusia his ministry as spiritual guide and confessor included nearly a thousand .persons in and outside the Carmelite order. With all he fostered the same goals: union with God; imitation of Jesus Christ; deeper faith, hope, and love; continu~il prayer and mortification 6f every desire not ordered to the love and service of God; transformation of the personality through contemplation. Administration As Teresa's reform progressed, her friars eventually became, in 1580, a separate province within the friars of the Ancient Observance a, nd, in 1588, a separate congregation with their own vicar-general. As these developments occurred, John's fellow friars called upon him to fulfill various administra-tive offices within the reform. In 1578 he was appointed local superior of the community at El Calvario in the Sierra de Cazorla mountains in Andalusia. The following year he o~ened the Carmelite seminary in the Andalusian city of Baeza and served as rector there until i582. In 1582 he began six years as prior of the friars' community in Granada, the last two years of which he also served as vicar-provincial for Andalusia. In 1588 he was appointed to a threeryear term on the order's general council, during which time he was also local superior of the friars' community in Segovia. For fourteen straight years he was deeply involved in the administration of a new and growing order, establishing new communities, building new monasteries, providing for the formation and education of new members, and making canonical visitations of communities of both friars and nuns. His most intense period of administrative activity was the two years from 1585 to 1587, when he was prior of the monastery in Granada and Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister vicar-provincial of Andalusia. He was thus responsible, not only for his own local community in Granada, but also for seven other monasteries of friars and five convents of nuns scattered over thirty thousand Andalusian square miles, from Caravaca in the east to Seville in the west, and from C6rdoba in the north to M~ilaga in the south. To visit each community at least once a year as his office required meant almost continual travel, by foot or by donkey, frequently under a blazing sun, over dusty, rugged, winding, and at times mountainous roads, spending nights sleeping in open fields or in boisterous roadside inns. Five years later, in June 1591, at the friars' general chapter in Madrid, the burdens of office--both of formation and administration--were lifted from John's shoulders for the first time in thirteen years. He was to prepare for the Mexican missions, a directive that was later rescinded. In September 1591, his leg became seriously infected, leading to the illness which brought his death on December 14, 1591. During the last five months of his life, he had the physica! solitude he craved since his ordination to the priesthood twenty-four years earlier. These few months were the first time since he was ordained, save for nearly a year when he was imprisoned in Toledo on a charge of disobedience to his Carmelite superiors, that~he was without active pastoral care of souls. He wrote to Sister Anne of Jesus Jimena in July 1591: "Being freed and relieved from the care of souls, I can, if I want, and with God's help, enjoy peace, solitude, and the delightful fruit of forgetfulness of self and of all things. It is also good for others that ! be separated from them, for thus they will be freed of the faults they would have committed on account of my misery." Writing John was now no longer in direct service to others, but indirectly he con-tinued his ministry through writing. Living in a small hermitage in the Sierra Morena mountains in Andalusia, he continued to provide spiritual direction through personal letters and worked on revisions of his two spiritual master-pieces, The Spiritual Canticle and The Living Flame of Love. Both of these treatises were written for his directees, the former for the Carmelite nun Anne of Jesus Lobera and the latter for the lay woman Dofia Ana Pefialosa. Writing became for John, not a hobby, but an essential part of his pas-toral ministry. When a Carmelite nun once asked him if his poetic inspira-tions were from God, he replied, "Sometimes they came to me from God and at other times I sought them." John undoubtedly wrote during his early years in college and as a Carmelite. However, the writings we have today begin with his period of 810 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 imprisonment in Toledo and continue through the last thirteen years of his life, when he was between the ages of thirty-six and forty-nine. The nine-month imprisonment was the tragic result of conflicting jur!sdictions direct-ing the early days of Teresa's reform. This placed John in the. awkward position where fidelity to Teresa's reform, supported by the Holy See through the king of Spain, Philip II, appeared as di'sobedience to his Carmelite superiors, punishable by confinement in the monastery prison. In his prison cell in the Carmelite monastery at Toledo, John began his poem The Spiritual Canticle. Its opening lines sugges.t that poetry provided him a way of coping with the feelings of abandonment by God and spiritual desolation brought on by his imprisonment. He writes: Where have you hidden, Beloved, and left me moaning? You fled like the stag After wounding me; I went out calling You, and You were gone. However, in the years following his dramatic escape from Toledo, John continued to write poetry to express the deepest longings of his heart for God and to capture as best he could in human language his ineffable experi-ences of divine union. More than merely self-expression, John's poetry became pan of his ministry. His pedagogy involved sharing his poems with his Carmelite brothers and sisters and his directees to teach them about the human person's union with God. They, in turn, requested a fuller explanation of these teachings in prose. He responded with three major treatises in spiri-tuality- the prose commentaries on his poems The Dark Night, The Spiritual Canticle, and The Living Flame of Love. Had John not been involved in the ministry of spiritual direction, it is likely that we would still have his poetry, but not the prose commentaries which today, four centuries later, continue to provide reliable spiritual guidance to millions of readers of all faiths for the journey to union with God. A Man on the Move This overview of John of the Cross's ministry hardly leaves us with the image most have of him--a mystic on the mountaintop, with abundant soli-tude to explore his relationship with God and the leisure to write lyric poet-ry. Rather, we see a man on the move--preaching, hearing, confessions, providing spiritual guidance, studying the architectural plans and financial figures of new monasteries, at his desk writing for others; in short, a man deeply committed to pastoral ministry. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister / I~'1"1 True, by nature he was deeply introverted. His heart's desire was for solitude. He longed to be a solitary Carthusian before he met Teresa of Jesus, and when finally, after twenty-four years of pastoral ministry, he was free to be in a mountain hermitage, he wrote to Dofia Ana Pefialosa: "I am indeed very happy in this holy solitude." Nonetheless, his first commitment was to God, who called him out of himself to share his many gifts with others in pastoral ministry; in responding to this call, he discovered for himself the power and beauty of his own gifts. And these same gifts continue to be an enrichment for us all today. Jesus Christ, the Motive for John's Ministry John's ministry was not an outlet for an active temperament or a restless personality. It was, rather, his loving response to Jesus Christ, who was his Everything--"a brother, companion, master, ransom, and reward" (Ascent 2.22.5). John's ministry was his response to Jesus' love for him. In ministry he attempted to awaken others to Jesus' love for them. "Now we are telling you," John writes in his commentary on The Spiritual Canticle, "that you yourself are His dwelling and His secret chamber and hiding place . Since you know now that your desired Beloved lives hidden within your heart, strive to be really hidden with Him, and you will embrace Him within you and experience Him with loving affection" (Canticle 1.7 and 10). Jesus, too, was John's exemplar for ministry, especially in his kenosis, his self-emptying on the cross. From this John concluded that effective min-istry arises, not from a multiplicity of activity, but from union with Jesus' life-giving death. When he joined Teresa's reform, this insight prompted him to change his name from John of St. Matthias to John of the Cross. Later it led him to remind "true spiritual persons". "that their union with God and the greatness of the work they accomplish will be measured by their annihi-lation for God in the sensory and spiritual parts of their soul. [For] the jour-ney [to union with God] does not consist in recreations, experiences, and spiritual feelings, but in the living, sensory and spiritual, exterior and interi-or, death of the cross (Ascent 2.7.11). Mary, Model of Transformation John's experience of God's love in Jesus also determined his goal in ministry: to help persons let go of their inordinate attachments to creatures so that they might be free to receive the Creator's love into their lives, the divine love which both heals the effects of original sin and transforms human life into God's life. In this transformation, persons are united with the ~112 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 mind and heart of God. They respond to events in their lives with the mind and heart of Jesus. They are moved in everything by the Holy Spirit. In John's mind, the person who best embodies this transformation is the Blessed Virgin Mary. She is the "true daughter of God" in the passage quot-ed above. Furthermore, in The Ascent of Mount Carmel, describing the trans-formed Christian, John writes: "Such was the prayer and work of our Lady, the most glorious Virgin. Raised from the very beginning to this high state [of divine union and transformation in God], she never had the form of any creature impressed in her soul, nor was she moved by any, for she was always moved by the Holy Spirit" (Ascent 3.2.10). John's image of transformation was Mary, the Mother of Jesus. In his pastoral ministry he invited persons to imitate her simple faith in God so that they too might be transformed by the Holy Spirit. With this in mind he com-posed the following lyric that summarizes his entire spiritual doctrine: Del Verbo divino The Virgin, pregnant La Virgen prefiada With the Word of God, Viene de camino: Comes down the road: Si le dais posada. If only you'll shelter her. When we, like Mary, let go of everything that prevents us from being totally open to God's word, the Holy Spirit transforms us into her Son, the Word, Jesus. Two Difficulties Modem readers often have difficulty with John of the Cross's emphasis on purification through suffering. "Too negative," they say when they read a passage like this one from his Sayings of Light and Love: "God values in you an inclination to aridity and suffering for love of Him more than all possible consolations, spiritual visions, and meditations" (SLL 14). Yet anyone who has experienced the healing that comes from intense psychotherapy will, I think, appreciate the wisdom of this recommendation. For John, contempla-tion is, literally, psychotherapy--healing the soul. He is not teaching us how to arrive at ecstatic altered states of consciousness; rather, he is telling us how to heal the effects of original sin in our life. Effective psychotherapy demands a willingness to endure the pain that comes from an expanding awareness of our own ego-defense mechanisms and the consequent change of behavior necessary to break the compulsive repetition of self-defeating behavior. Similarly, John of the Cross explains that contemplation requires a readiness to accept the interior pain that accompanies a clearer insight into the disorder of our soul and our natural distance from the incomprehensible goodness of God. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister The healing of our souls begins when we open our lives to receive God's loving knowledge. We experience loving knowledge as a light, at times painful, which allows us to observe clearly the disorder that continues to operate in our daily lives. At the same time, this light lets us see as never before God's inexhaustible love for us. In this light we quite naturally let go of disordered attachments to our own self-interest (a letting go that brings the temporary pain of 1 oss and sadness) and become more attached to God's will, which ultimately brings peace to our inner lives, even as we deal with each day's problems. But even granting John's hypothesis that purification is a prerequisite for healing and transformation, many today still believe that his spiritual doctrine is too individualistic and exclusive, meant only for the few who choose an avowedly contemplative way of life. They see little relationship between his spirituality and the pressing social issues of our day, such as those addressed by the American bishops in their recent pastoral letters on peace and economic justice. Obviously, the issues John addressed four hundred years ago are not the same issues we face today, although sixteenth-century Spain was not without its wars and economic injustice. Nonetheless, Richard Hardy, one of John's modem biographers, has suggested new ways of interpreting his counsels on personal mortification that bring out their social significance. Addressing the Institute of Carmelite Studies in Boston a few years ago, Hardy pointed out this country's inordinate appetite for national security and an improved stan-dard of living, even while millions of our people live in poverty. In the face of this poverty, he suggested that John's counsels on the mortification of the emotions in order to dispose one's sensory life for union with God are also a prophetic social challenge to the American Church. Thus, St. John writes in The Ascent of Mount Carmel: Endeavor to be inclined always: not to the easiest, but to the most difficult; not to the most delightful, but to the harshest; not to the most gratifying, but to the less pleasant; not to what means rest for you, but to hard work;' not to the consoling, but to the unconsoling; not to the most, but to the least; not to the highest and most precious, but to the lowest and most despised; not to wanting something, but to wanting nothing; do not go about looking for the best of temporal things, but for the worst, and desire to enter into complete nudity, emptiness, and poverty in everything in the world (Ascent 1.13.6). 1~14 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 These shocking words, directed to Carmelite religious in the sixteenth century committed by public vows to live in poverty, admittedly demand interpretation for Christians in twentieth-century America. Nevertheless, they challenge us, an affluent Christian community in a world where mil-lions are dying of starvation, to seek, not always the best and the most, but only the necessary, so that others in our world may also participate in their just share of the earth's goods, which God intends for all his children. Moreover, John teaches that when persons are deeply touched by God's love, their entire outlook on life is radically changed. Seeing now with God's eyes and feeling with Jesus' heart, they can no longer maintain racial preju-dices, exaggerated nationalism, or hearts closed to the world's suffering. The fruits of contemplation which John describes in his writings are precisely those which our bishops identify in their peace pastoral when they write: "The practice of contemplative prayer is especially valuable for advancing harmony and peace in the world. For this prayer rises, by divine grace, where there is total disarmament of the heart and unfolds in an experience of love which is the moving force of peace. Contemplation fosters a vision of the human family as united and interdependent in the mystery of God's love for all people" (The Challenge of Peace, no. 294). Conclusions What conclusions might we draw for pastoral ministry today from this review of John of the Cross's life and work? I suggest the following: 1. Preparation for ministry begins early in life, hopefully with baptism. Ministers for the Church will come forward from Christian families, parish-es, and schools where there is deep love, where serving others is a communi-cated value, and where role models and positive mentoring for ministry are present. 2. More immediate preparation for specialized ministries in the Church requires a solid grounding not only in Sacred Scripture and theology but especially in Christian anthropology, that is, a constant study, aided by human sciences, of the mystery of the human person in contemporary soci-ety. 3. Effective pastoral ministry, lay and ordained, depends first upon acquiring the skills necessary for a particular ministry and, second but more important, living daily Jesus' Paschal Mystery, the main source of effective ministry. 4. Christian ministers need clear images of Christian transformation to guide their activity, such as Mary, Mother of God and of the Church, Spouse of the Holy Spirit, Faithful Disciple of Jesus, and Queen of Apostles. Ardent Lover as Pastoral Minister 5. The spirituality that empowers Christian ministry realistically appre-ciates both the effects of original sin in our lives and the presence of God's never failing love to heal us. This spirituality seeks to overcome artificial dichotomies that undermine ministry, such as opposing social action and contemplative prayer, pastoral activity and artistic creativity. It encourages persons to bring forward under the guidance of the Holy Spirit their unique gifts for the building of Christ's Body, confident that such sharing of gifts leads to the discovery and realization of one's total person. Pastoral Minister as Ardent Lover Earlier I suggested that John inspires an image of the pastoral minister as an ardent lover. The Holy Spirit set him on fire with love for God, other persons, and all creation. Fire was John's most comprehensive symbol, as Professor Keith Egan demonstrated in his address to Carmel 200, the sym-posium in Baltimore in August 1990 honoring two hundred years of Carmelites in the United States.3 As a metaphor, fire suggests the purifica-tion of soul symbolized by "the dark night"; it also captures the mutual pas-sionate love of God and the human person conveyed through the erotic images of spiritual betrothal and marriage in the Spiritual Canticle. As a consuming fire slowly transforms a log into itself, so the Holy Spirit, the Living Flame of Love (Flame 1.3), transforms us into God, leaving us on fire with divine love for his people. The Church always needs pastoral ministers on fire with the love of the Holy Spirit, but never more than today in the United States. Archbishop Rembert Weakland of Milwaukee recently underscored the enervating polar-ization in the American Catholic community which hardens us into opposing ecclesiologies, unwilling to dialogue with one another, unable to tolerate dif-ferences, afraid to compromise in order to find a common way together.4 Pastoral ministry obviously must try to resolve our present polarities, not reinforce them. We are not likely to do this without the fire of God's love burning in our hearts, a love that results from a contemplative openness to God. In the Carmel 200 celebration mentioned above, Father Joseph Chinnici, O.EM., historian of American spirituality and currently provincial of the California Franciscans, offered the opinion that the failure since 1700 to cul-tivate the contemplative dimension of Christian life accounts in large mea-sure, not only for "our contemporary groping for a stable spiritual center," but also "for the stridency in today's Catholic community.''5 For years Thomas Merton alerted us to the dangers of this neglect, but only now are we seeing clearly our spiritual impoverishment as a Church and our need I~16 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 each day for God's wisdom and love, which, as St. John of the Cross teach-es, is contemplation's gift. In 1591, following the general chapter of the Teresian friars at Madrid, a Carmelite nunin Segovia, Maria of the Incarnation, wrote to John deploring the shabby treatment he received from his brothers in the reform who deprived him of all offic~ and planned to mission him to Mexico in return for his outspoken opposition to the policies of Father Nicholas Doria, the vicar-general, regarding Jerome Graci~in and the government of the Carmelite nuns. John wrote back on July 6, 1591: ". do not let what is happening to me, daughter, cause you any g.rief, for it does not cause me any. ¯. Men do not do these things, but God, who knows what is suitable for us and arranges things for our good. Think nothing else but that God ordains all, and where there is no love, put love, and you will draw out love . " Considering the circumstances in which they were written, these words bespeak the effects of contemplation in John of the Cross--a transformed consciousness and a nonviolent heart. They, perhaps more than anything else he wrote, cha.llenge the Catholic Church in the United States today. NOTES I Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society (Garden City, N.Y.: Imag~ Books, 1979). 2 Gerard Egan, The Skilled Helper: Models, Skills, and Methods for Effective Helping, 2nd edition (Monterey, Calif.: Brooks/Cole Publishing Co., 1982). 3 Keith Egan, "The Fire of Love: John of the Cross' Central Symbol of Contemplative Identity." Lecture given at Carmel 200: Contemp.lation and the Rediscovery of the American Soul, sponsored by the Carmelite nuns of Baltimore, held at Loyola College, Baltimore, August 12-18, 1990. 4 Rembert G. Weakland, O.S.B., "From Dream to Reality to Vision." Address given to the Future of the American Church conference, sponsored by Time Consultants, Washington D.C., Sept. 28, 1990. Printed in Origins 20, no. 18 (October 11, 1990): 289-293 5 Joseph P. Chinnici, O.EM., "The Politics of Mysticism: Church, State, and the Carmelite Tradition." Lecture at Carmel 200, Baltimore, August 12-18, 1990~ Messiaenic Epiphany: . amidst animals, Love is born Stephen Schloesser, S.J. Mr. Schloesser is a transitional deacon studying theology at Weston Co!lege. He resides at 15 Avon Street; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. The nineteenth and twentieth centuries, in their most profound manifestations, are centuries which have tried to live without tran-scendence. How to live without grace--that is the question that dominates the nineteenth century. The question of the twentieth cen-tury., has gradually been specified: how to live without grace and without justice? --Albert Camus, The Rebel (1951) I would like to stress the need for the Church today to be aware of its duty to bring to the world a sense of the sacred and the transcendent., i. In this way we can show to the world that we are a sign of something which is more meaning,ful and more complete than just the daily tragedies that all of us must face. --Rembert Weakland, "25 Years after the Council" (1990) A friend stopped me after class the other day and said, "You like twentieth-century organ music, don't you?" Grateful at last that life had sent a soul partner to accompany me on my solitary journey, I eagerly replied, "Yes! Do you? . No," she answered, "but a friend gave me a CD of Christmas music for the organ. I can't stand it. If you want it you can l~ave it." I took the disc gratefully and set out again on my journey, solitary still, but with a mission-ary's fervor. Twentieth-century music in general tends to distend: for lush romantic strings it seemingly substitutes barbed wire; for pastoral horns the intermit-tent siren. It attempts to speak in language too deep for words those feelings we prefer left unsaid: confusion in the face of chaos; despair over life's daily 817 I~1t~ / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 deaths; horror in the face of human atrocity. Twentieth-century music in gen-eral tends to express our culture's deepest pulses: a world seemingly devoid of grace and justice. And what about twentieth-century church music? The church music composer-historian Erik Routley once wrote that all authentically twentieth-century church music contains within its score a certain measure of "skepti-cism." I think he is right here, but in this Christmastide I suggest a more seasonal term: a certain measure of "scandal"; the "stumbling block" of the manger. For what faced the European church musicians after the Great War was nothing less than the scandal of Christianity: incarnation, cross, grace-- the works. How do church musicians remain faithful both to their experience of violence--this race, this culture, this epoch--and, at the same time, to their vision of confidence in Love's promise to triumph? Many--perhaps most--solve this dilemma (as so many of us do) by simply choosing one or the other, confidence or despair. We--players and listeners alike--are numbed by the banality or bludgeoned by the bombast. Yet, as Archbishop Rembert Weakland said once in an Advent homily, Christian liturgy (and the vision it ritualizes) insists that we always keep in mind both terms of the dialectic. At Christmas, we remember the price in Gethsemane of becoming human; on Good Friday, we remember the promise proclaimed at Easter. When our liturgy expresses joy unbridled by the mem-ory of death-~or grief unbalanced by the hope of resurrection--we have for-gotten the paradox: ¯. amidst animals, Love is born. Whereas the French composer Claude Debussy had painted impression-istic passage.s, conveying the evanescence of time lost with large lush ensembles, the young Parisian Olivier Messiaen turned his attention to the other pole: he attempted time out of time. Messiaen discovered the genius unique to the organ: it can convey the illusion of eternity. The bang of a drum punctuates; the vibration of a piano wire inevitably dies; the singer must come up for air. But the organ, as Igor Stravinsky complained, is "the monster that does not breathe." In the organ, Messiaen and many after him found a new way of inviting the listener to experience the transcendent. On the other hand, these musicians were twentieth-century citizens, very much situated in history. The organ lost a genius when the young Jehan Alain was killed in the defense of France. The German Paul Hindemith fled to the United States under Nazi persecution while choral composer Hugo Distler took his own life under the same. Olivier Messiaen wrote and pre-miered his "Quartet for the End of Time"--beginning with "the harmonious silence of heaven"---while imprisoned in a German POW camp. They knew Messiaenic Epiphany / 8~9 firsthand the human potential for savagery, a fragile culture's collapse, the seeming triumph of death. Thus, they also employed the musical language of our time: barbed wire, screaming sirens, carefully constructed cacophony. Writing church music, they attempted to convey in their medium the experience of Christmas: that, in the midst of life's bleak midwinter, there lives "the dearest freshness deep down things." Their fusion of the languages of transcendence and of skepticism resulted in a radically new musical lan-guage, a nearly hypostatic union. In the midst of scandal (which their music never sidesteps), they stood apart from the aleatoric vogue, firm in hopeful trust, rooted in their vision of the immanent transcendent: ¯. amidst animals, Love is born. I am glad for the gift of the CD, and I plan on listening to it this season. Not, of course, over Christmas dinner or while opening gifts under the tree or while rocking my niece to sleep in front of the crackling fire. For that I will listen to "The Messiah" or to the kids from King's College, or my moth-er will put on Nat King Cole or my father Johnny Cash . And not, of course, when the snow silently piles outside my Cambridge window, weigh-ing down the boughs as books weigh down me, streetlights highlighting Victorian crannies on neighboring homes. For that kind of delicious melan-choly only George Winston's "December" will do. I mean rather when I turn off the lights and light a candle, wrap a blan-ket round and stare into nothing: that is when I will play my new CD. Time and timelessness, scandal and hopeful trust, death and Love. I will think about them--Nazis and world war and concentration camps; and I will think about us---death squads and desert storms and Mount Pinatubo; and I will think about home--grandfather's Alzheimer's and grandmother's grief, a cousin's suicide, a friend's AIDS: "the daily tragedies that all of us must face." And then, I hope, as for magi on a journey to a manger, scanning the midwinter sky, it will light up the night, the sudden onslaught of insight-- the Epiphany--those artists attempted to convey: ¯. amidst animals, Love is born. 820 Monastic Ruminations I. Spring." The Russian Olive Tree in Meditation Park "The affection of love is a delicate plant. " --Gilbert of Hoyland Silver smells whiff past me, into me, Byzantine incense, perfume from a bazaar, a solitary pearled tree in the park odors the mind with deja vued dusty dreams shelved from disuse. Sable Lent fades into resurrected dappled blooms, the Russian Olive shimmers in newborn light, morning dew kisses its hoary-haired branches, while it speaks in hushed tones of hidden presence. II. Summer: Locust Trees along the Academy Entrance "Unity consists in singleness of love." --Bernard of Clairvaux Standing at attention, locust trees reach skyward, stretching limbs into lowlying clouds, each arm delicate, broken by storms, battered by winter's ice, survivors sentineled. Breezes sway the foliage to an unheard melody, rhythmically touching the tips of treed tendons, digits gnarled by seasonal change, each tree soloed, a monk reaching for God, separate, yet partnered, facing each day together yet aloned. 821 IlI. Autumn: The Monastic Cemetery "The treasure of our love is hidden in the field of our heart and lies buried in its very depth." --John of Ford The colors are deep across the valley-- red, burnt orange, yellow. Each vibrant tree grasping my throat and choking my breath away, death is viewed, keeping itself daily before our eyes. Fallen leafs encircle my feet, drawing my eyes to the stones neatly rowed, each with a face, a person I knew, a laugh recalling the past, now silent, earthbound, yet rejoicing beyond the eye. IV. Winter: Leafs Trapped in Collins Court "Love is solid. It may be fretted by annoyance, but it simply cannot be worn away." --John of Ford Leafs trapped within the courtyard beat bird-like against the mirrored windows, trying to escape the battering wind, fluttering desperately, vortexing, rising and falling, yet free. Columns rise, Stonehenge revisited, standing guard over the spectacle, silent seers, mutely observing the abused leafs, hostaged too, but immobile, the stationary monoliths envy the leafs bound nowhere yet unfettered. Benedict Auer, O.S.B. Saint Martin's College Lacey, Washington 98503 Song of the Groom: Spiritual Marriage and Masculinity Robert Annechino Robert Annechino has completed the graduate program in spiritual direction at the Shalem Institute for Spiritual Formation, Washington, D.C. This article is taken from a paper written for the program. He is married and the father of three children, and is writing a book on masculine romantic spirituality. Correspondence would be wel-come at P.O. Box 14039; Rochester, New York 14614. All Christians have heard God addressed as "Father." Today we sometimes also hear God called upon as "Mother." In our mystical literature there is a long tradition that speaks of God or Christ as the "Bridegroom" of the soul. This article considers something we have heard next to nothing about: a Christian mystical experience that celebrates God as "Bride." Admittedly, such an idea seems peculiar at first, but perhaps its very anomaly is even more peculiar. Why has not Christianity admitted such a tradition when, as we shall see, many world religions have? How might an appreciation of the Divine Bride expand our understanding of God, of religious experience, and of ourselves as spiritual, social, and sexual beings, male and female? The awareness of God as Mother has been a gift and challenge of femi-nist spirituality. This alternate feminine image of God as the Divine Bride derives from the quest for an authentic contemporary masculine spirituality. Reflection by men on our experience as men will free us from the myopic assumption that male experience is normative of all human experience, and will bring the unique features of masculinity into sharp focus. To understand and revitalize the spiritual life of contemporary men, it is important to con-sider how we customarily recognize both maleness and holiness and how these conceptions connect and conflict. Richard Rohr, James Nelson, and John Carmody are some of the teachers who have explored male experiences of Christian faith and values. 822 Song of the Groom / 823 As evident in the work of Robert Bly and Robert Moore, an essential element of the men's movement is the recovery of the archetypes or models of male experience, which typify distinctive themes of male identity. Through the exploration of such heroic figures as the Wild Man, the King, the Warrior, the Trickster, the Lover, the Grief Man, and the Quester (which Robert Bly has aptly called the "Great Joys of Men"), contemporary men are gaining new understanding of their maleness and of the social expectations and personal conflicts which shape them. In Toward a Male Spirituality, John Carmody encourages men to come to God in and through the kinds of relationships that reflect the best of male experience, finding God as buddy, father, brother. He also seeks to open men to the possib!lity of finding God the Holy Spirit as the divine lover, in a spirituality of romancing,l But here, in the attempt to engage male romantic love as a spiritual symbol, we run into a barrier that challenges traditional Christian notions. This barrier has also been noted by Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette in their book on the four major male archetypes, King, Warrior, Magician, Lover. Of these, they feel that the Lover has been the most repressed within Western religion. They describe the giftedness of the Lover so: For the man accessing the Lover, all things are bound to each other in mysterious ways. He sees, as we say, "the world in a grain of sand." This is the consciousness that knew long before the invention of holography that we live, in fact, in a "holographic" universe---one in which every pa~t, reflects every other in immediate and sympathetic union. It isn't just that the Lover energy sees the world in a grain of sand. He feels that this is so.2 The mature energy of the Lover is not exclusively nor even primarily expressed through sexual activity, but as a royal dignity which suffuses the entire person with gladness of heart and warm richness of being. While the Lover has never been articulated well for Christian women or men, I believe that histor!cally there has been a particular reluctanc~ to incorporate male erotic energy into religious expression, and this history needs to be under-stood and redressed. In a recent book on the feminist rhetoric of St. Teresa of Avila, Alison Weber maintains that medieval spirituality systematized two major images of the mystical journey.3 The first was .the sponsa Christi, the bride of Chris.t, an image drawn from the conventional feminine experience of romantic love and marriage. The second image was the miles Christi, the soldier of Christ, derived from the conventional male experience of war. In the sponsa Christi or bridal mysticism, we find that from the time of Origen the Song of Songs was lavishly allegorized as the mystical union of the soul, personified by the 1~24 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 Shulammite damsel, with the Lord as the shepherd/king. This imagery evolved into the classical descriptions of spiritual betrothals and spiritual marriage. It is certainly true that throughout the history of Christian spiritu-ality such imagery has been evoked by men as well as by women. In fact, most of its known expositors were male (since literature was a male domain). Yet today, when feminist theologians have tightly insisted that we consider the limitations levied by exclusive masculine language in relation to God, we might also ponder what diminishment lurks in the imagery of bridal mysticism. Why have men relied upon the erotic imagery of women to describe their love for God? Why is there no "bridegroom mysticism" call-ing up.on the natural erotic imagery of men? What would it take, and what would it mean, for Christian men to become free to pursue God as their Divine Bride? Bridegroom Mysticism: The Male Mysteries of God and Men At this point it is important to ask: Does it really matter whether we con-ceive of God as Father, Mother, Bridegroom, Bride, or in any of the person-al, transpersonal, or nonpersonal figures that have dawned in human consciousness as we encounter the great Mystery? If we give too much attention to the name, will God cease to be Mystery? I believe that the name only enhances the Mystery. If God is God, then the God of the naming is not different from the God of experiencing. Feminist theologians have wisely recognized that naming God is an act of self-revelation as well as God's rev-elation to us. With this in mind, let us consider what it means for men to name God as Father, Mother, and Bridegroom and then consider the alterna-tives of knowing God as the Divine Bride. Mary and Leon J. Podles, in an interesting article denouncing the "emas-culation of God," protest that the male image of God cannot be dispensed with arbitrarily. God the Father, they say, is a God of transcendence, stand-ing distinct from his creation, having created it in a male act of separation from himself: Why is God the Father a Father and not a mother? Maleness is a symbol of transcendence because the fundamental male experience, thal~ of fatherhood, of reproduction through ejaculation, is one of separation, while the fundamental female experience is one of prolonged and inti-mate union with the offspring through the long months of gestation and nursing. The male experience of the world is one of "either/or," "this, and not that," one of separation.4 The male image of God engages essential aspects of the male identity, which cannot be denied without denying the life quest of men. As many Song of the Groom / 895 writers have pointed out, male identity is usually first discovered in an act of distinction and separation.5 The little girl experiences continuity with her mother, their femininity uniting them (with both positive and toxic bonds). But the little boy becomes aware of his masculinity as being a difference between him and the close nurturing mother, and thus begins the male quest of distinction and separation. With this comes the need for the boy to affirm his maleness by connecting with his father. From here ensues the whole dynamic of dependence, independence, and eventual interdependence that are typical of healthy male development experiences that perhaps figure in the religious motifs of exile and redemption. And yet, while the maleness of God does engage these crucial aspects of men's experience, there is a subtle but clear possibility that it can also limit a man's sense of masculinity before God. The Podles' article, for example, refers to the Father God as "the Creator, before whom all else is female.''6 The inevitable presumption is that, if God is considered male, then all cre-ation, including humanity, is essentially feminine. Ironically, this might leave men castrated before God, their maleness exiling them from the "femi-nine" creation. As James Nelson has said: When God became male, males were divinized, and patriarchy had cos-mic blessing. At the same time we have resisted that one-sided masculin-ized deity, for a male God suggests to men their feminization. Language referring to the Church has long been feminized: "She is his new creation by water and the word." All of us, men as well as women, are "she's" when it comes to being the Church. That feels uncomfortable. Furthermore, a male God penetrates us. But to be penetrated by anyone or anything, even God, amounts to being womanized. It seems tanta-mount to a man's degradation, literally a loss of grade or status.7 Notions of "female submission" toward God have pervaded all of Christian spirituality, from pious popular devotions to the most rarefied con-templation. Even if he has not been exposed to the literature of bridal mysti-cism, consider what it has meant for ~i man; standing amid generations of male Christian mystics, to sense himself in a feminine role in relation to God. What does this imply about his maleness? The lavish descriptions of bridal mysticism, in which the feminine soul is wooed by the celestial Bridegroom, violate his natural desire as a man. Jungians may discern here the emergence of the inner anima, the feminine side of the male. But even if this were the case, what other problems are invoked in such an approach? Arthur Green has asked some important questions along this line: Is it really only women alone who are in need of feminine imagery? Do images of the divine feminine belong only to women? Might they not 826 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 belong to, and respond to the needs of, men as well as women? Or, as a friend posed the question a long time ago, with reference to Catholic spiritual literature, does Teresa of Avila need to be the bride of God more than John of the Cross? Does John need God the Father more than God the Mother? Indeed, is it Mother whom the passionat~ Teresa seeks so boldly? Might one not argue that men need the feminine, as women need the masculine, if religious life involves something like what the depth psychologists call a search for.polarities? In the course of our intense longing for the divine Other, a longing long depicted as having a strong erotic component, might it not be opposite rather than like that needs first to be sought out?8 And, while feminist theologians have contributed an important under-standing of the Divine Mother, the uncritical acceptance of God as Mother still may not fully open the feminiriity Of God to adult men. Robert Bly affirms that a man's encounter with the holy feminine, the "meeting with the gbd-woman in the garden," is a step beyond the parental drama: W~ can't stop the story here, because the feminine has not yet appeared. His mother, as the maternal form of the feminine, he has of course expe-rienced, but that is all. And now he is about to meet the feminine in a nonmatemal form~ in its powerful, blossoming, savvy, wild, instigating, erotic, playful form.9 In God the Bride, we find a fully femii~ine expression of divinity, one who preserves for men the essential Otherness that is so integral to their psy-che. As Bride, God is even more "Other" than Father, yet it is an otherness which is fantastically attractive, and invites the man to participation and union. The Divine Bride welcomes a mal6 spiritual identity that is fully adult and ~ully masculine. Bridegroom Spirituality and the "Way of the Warrior" Now let us turn briefly to Alison Weber's second image of classical Christian mysticism, the image of the miles Christi, the soldii~r of Christ, a mas~tiline image that has found wide expression historically, from the ladder mysticism of John Climacus, through the service mysticism of Ignatius LoyolL Today one might well ask if this militant motif, in an age of nuclear and chemical weapons, terrorism, and environmental desecration, is at all appropriate. But here the expositors of what has been called "the way of the warrior" must challenge, nuance, and explain such imagery. The passionate denial of ~he flesh in an intent focus upon. a goal is a real and necessary aspect of human life, and it is fitting that it find expression in the mystical "way of the warrior." Many men and women relate vitally to God on this path, at least for a good part of their lives. The "call of the King" in Ignatius Song of the Groom / 827 Loyola's Spiritual Exercises presents a spirituality that springs from this rich sense of participation and mission. Some expositors of male spirituality seem to equate it exclusively with the way of the warrior, but the male "way of the lover" (bridegroom mysti-cism) is both a complement and an alternative to the way of the warrior. While it may be important to question the limitations of the miles Christi, it is emphatically not the role of bridegroom mysticism to neutralize or domes-ticate the way of the warrior, but to enhance, inflame, and fulfill it. The way of the warrior celebrates a clearly focused intent to uphold righteousness regardless of personal cost. This fervent passion unites the way of the war-rior with the way of love. But the miles Christi can become morbid if it arbi-trarily divorces itself from love, in any of its forms, including the erotic. Such denial inflicts a cramped, neurotic quest for control, a pseudospirituali-ty that is myopically fixated and incapable of the panoramic awareness exer-cised by the true warrior. Sadly, such diminishment has all too often been the conventional model of holiness, reflected in a celibacy that is sterile rather than full, in the collapsed mentality described by Alan Watts: The opposition of spirit to both nature and sexuality is the opposition of the conscious will, of the ego, to that which it cannot control. If sexual abstinence is, as in so many spiritual traditions, the condition of enhanced consciousness, it is because consciousness as we know it is an act of restraint . This is clearly the reaction of one for whom the soul, the will, the spiritual part of man, identified with that form of conscious-ness which we have seen to be a partial and exclusive mode of attention. It is the mode of attention which grasps and orders the world by seeing it as one-at-a-time things, excluding and ignoring the rest . Obviously, '~he sexual function is one of the most powerfu| biological manifes'ta'tions of biological spontaneity, and thus more especially difficult for the will to control . But this mode of control is a peculiar example of the proverb that nothing fails like success. For the more consciousness is individualized by the success of the will, the more everything outside the individual seems to be a threat--including not only the external world but also the "external" and uncontrolled spontaneity of one's own body. ¯. Hence there arises the desire to protect the ego from an alien spontane-ity by withdrawal from the natural world into a realm of pure conscious-ness or spirit.~° The Divine Bride brings men the gift of seeing the totality within the par-ticular, and the particular within the totality. She wards off all brittle reduc-tionism. Nor does She allow the will to sink into a quietist slumber. Rather She preserves full intentionality of the will, but in a mode that Gerald May aptly describes as open "willingness" rather than compulsive "willfulness.''11 While the impulse to relate to God as Bride has not been entirely absent t~91~ Review for Religious, November-December 1991 in Christian mysticism, it is certainly not in the mainstream of our tradition. For historical models we must turn to its expressions in other religious tradi-tions, and explore some out-of-the-way territories in our own history. But the love-quest for God the Bride is worthy of our attention. The Divine Bride in Non-Christian Traditions In the Jewish writings we meet the evocative figure of Wisdom, as expressed in the book of Proverbs and throughout the Scriptures. Wisdom emerges not as an abstract attribute of God, but as a mysterious and primor-dial Woman. In Proverbs, she boasts her own preeminence in her dalliance with Yahweh: "When He laid down the foundations of the earth, I was by His side, a master craftsman, delighting Him day after day, ever at play in His presence, at play everywhere in His world, delighting to be with the sons of men" (Pr 8:29-31). In the Wisdom literature we read how those who love the Lord also take Wisdom as their own: "She [Wisdom] it was I loved and searched for from my youth; I resolved to have her as my bride, I fell in love with her beauty" (Ws 8:2). In Western Christian exegesis, Wisdom was identified with the Logos, or as a personification of an attribute of God. But within the Jewish tradition the figure of Wisdom evolved into Shekhinah, the Presence or Dwelling of divinity. Among the Kabbalistic Jews in the thirteenth century, She was esteemed as no less than a divine hypostasis, the feminine consort of the . Lord. The eminent Kabbalistic scholar Gershom Scholem regards this as one of the most powerful and far-reaching insights of Jewish mysticism.12 The recognition of Shekhinah was not only an intellectual triumph, but also ennobled human sexual love as an emanation of and participation in the divine love between the Lord and His consort Shekhinah. The Christian father Clement would idealize the forty days of Moses on Sinai as time of continent chastity and use this example to justify detailed restrictions on sex-ual expression within marriage.13 But, in the Kabbalistic literature, Moses was said to have joined with Shekhinah, the very consort of God, on Sinai. According to Kabbalistic teaching, in the course of creation the Lord became mysteriously and redemptively alienated from Shekhinah, but sexual inter-course within marriage helps to reestablish God's unity, as men and women participate in the divine harmonic interplay of male and female. The Jewish wife and husband were invited to enjoy their Sabbath lovemaking as a con-templative act, their delight ever expanding to embrace them, their progeny, and their ancestors and continuing as blessing to all the Jewish people, to all of humanity throughout creation, ultimately bringing healing into the very Song of the Groom / 829 heart of a wounded, yearning God. Speaking of the Sabbath celebration, a celebration that was climaxed by sexual intercourse between husband and wife, Scholem has said, "A strange twilight atmosphere made possible an almost complete identification of the Shekhinah, not only with the Queen of Sabbath, but also with every Jewish housewife who celebrates the Sabbath.'q4 In the spirituality of Islam, the beauty of Allah has been identified with the charm of women. The Islamic mystics, or Sufis, could be quite ascetic, and sometimes shared with other Muslims a marked suspicion towards women (although at least one contemporary scholar of Islam, Annemarie Schimmel, has stated that such notions never reached the pitch of medieval Christian misogyny~5). But this did not deter the Sufis from also recognizing femininity as a revelation of God. A notable example is the illustrious Sufi master Ibn ai-'Arabi (1165-1240), perhaps the greatest mystical expositor of Islam. As a youth he had two women saints among his teachers. On his pil-grimage to Mecca at the age of thirty-six, he became enamored of an intelli-gent and beautiful Persian maiden. Recognizing the love of God suffused within the thralls of his human passion, he composed The Interpretation of Desire (Tarjuman aI-Ashwaq), an ode addressed to Allah as his beloved Lady. A few lines of one of his love songs to God display this eloquently: O, her beauty--the tender maid! Its brilliance gives light like lamps to one traveling in the dark. She is a pearl hidden in a shell of hair as black as jet, A pearl for which Thought dives and remains unceasingly in the deeps of that ocean. He who looks upon her deems her to be a gazelle of the sand-hills, because of her shapely neck and the loveliness of her gestures.~6 In a later work, The Bezels of Wisdom, Ibn al'Arabi taught that a man sees the divine most perfectly by contemplating the feminine. The man who enters sexual embrace in this knowledge finds much more than the satisfac-tion of a fleeting lust, but enters the play of divine pleasure. "If he knew the truth," Ibn al-'Arabi wrote, "he would know Whom it is he is enjoying and Who it is Who is the enjoyer; then he would be perfected.''17 Notice that here, as in the Kabbalah, erotic experience has been evoked both as a simile of divine love and as a sacrament divinizing the love experienced between a man and a woman. The Tantric schools of Hinduism and Buddhism view the world as a liv-ing matrix of divine energy. "Tantra" literally means continuity or inter-weaving, and the Tantric teachings skillfully reveal the existential and mystical consistencies that pervade the seamless but diverse fabric of life. 8~0 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 Even our neurotic bewilderments and obsessions contain seeds of transform-ing energy.18 Tantric contemplation enrolls all facets of human experience as skillful means to spiritual freedom, and the sexual faculty is not excluded. In the higher Tantras the Buddhas are imaged in intimate sexual embrace with their Prajna or Wisdom consorts, the female Buddha embodying authentic multidimensional vision and the male Buddha incarnating compassionate action. For those with the right preparation, initiation, and guidance of a qualified guru, the energy of sexual union is evoked in an explosive revela-tion of divine creative potential. 19 Those who enter this path encounter the divine feminine principle as the Dakini (Sanskrit--or, in Tibetan, khandro--literally "sky-dancer"). The Dakini is lovely, enticing, and challenging and sometimes comes in a horrif-ic guise, exercising a startling energy that cuts through behavioral obses-sions. The Dakini, who may become manifest as an archetypal figure or an actual woman of wisdom, avails Her fully realized femininity to move the contemplative beyond his exclusionary mode of consciousness toward one that is panoramic and involved in the full potentiality of life. To disengage him from habitual values, She may sabotage the yogi's self-righteousness. In several tales, an abstemious, scholarly monk enters the higher Tantric path when the Dakini approached with wine, meat, or the offer of sexual rela-tions, all of which are of course forbidden in the lesser path of renuncia-tion-- a fascinating rendition of the "female temptress" motif in that the male is tempted toward fuller life. To obtain the blessing of the Dakini, the con-templative needs to revere, court, and withstand Her, in short, to fully romance Her. As a contemporary Tibetan teacher said: The playful maiden is all-present. She loves you. She hates you. Without her your life would be continual boredom. But she continually plays tricks on you. When you want to get rid of her she clings. To get rid of her is to get rid of your own body--she is that close. In Tantric literature she is referred to as the dakini principle. The dakini is playful. She gam-bles with your life.2° In Taoism, also, the universe is seen to function according to the inter-play of male and female energies, the yang and the yin. A loving relationship between a man and woman serves to integrate the body-mind continuum of each with the universal dynamic of life. The Taoist texts give men explicit and detailed instruction on the encounter with the feminine, and a yogic approach to sexual experience that engages these profound energies. Christian Expressions of Bridegroom Spirituality In the gospels Jesus is proclaimed as Bridegroom, and one would hope Song of the Groom / 831 that the apostolic Church would have cultivated a view of marriage as a way of the Spirit, with an appropriate bridegroom spirituality. But a search here is somewhat disappointing. In The Body and Society, Peter Brown surveys the place accorded to marriage in early Christian thought, in context with the developing ideal of virginity.21 Rejecting the Jewish and Roman ideals of marriage, some of the more far-flung Christian bodies in apostolic times expected that all sexual activity, even within marriage, would cease upon baptism. Even the authentic Pauline writings, particularly 1 Corinthians, favor the ideal of celibacy, allowing marriage as a concession to the weak. Perhaps in reaction to the havoc created within families by the more ascetic model, the later Pauline corpus, particularly the pastoral letters, domesticat-ed this view, giving a conventional nod to the probity of marriage. Surpassing all of these is the notable passage in Ephesians 5:25-33, which is remarkable for its strong affirmation of male marital love: in the love of his wife, a man conforms himself to Christ as the Bridegroom of the Church. The marital eml~race is depicted as not only pure but purifying, a self-giving that ennobles both partners. Here was a wonderful foundation for the growth of a future bridegroom mysticism. However, the patristic era did not see the unfolding of marriage as a way of the spirit, but preferred celibacy as the ideal for a perfected life. By the close of the patristic period, the celibate ideal was firmly settled, and an allegorical bridal mysticism began to bloom. Doubtlessly, the sterling figure of Mary often came to stand in for the feminine aspect of the Divine. Her perpetual virginity was a rapt model of chastity, yet occasionally her devotees have found stirrings of a tender, more sensual love toward her. Bernard of Clairvaux, for example, was an eloquent and profound expositor of bridal mysticism, yet he also reported that the Virgin would come and embrace him warmly, as words of love would pour forth to her: "My Love! My Love! Let me ever love thee from the depths of my heart!''22 Later, in the time of Henry Suso (1295-1366), it was the custom of the young men in his native German town to serenade their sweethearts at the New Year. Henry reportedly followed suit by singing stirring love songs to the figure of the Madonna in the town square.23 One thinks, too, of Francis of Assisi in his romance of Lady Poverty. In fact, by adopting the mission of "troubadour of the Lord," Francis drew upon a movement that fostered bridegroom spirituality at a time when the Church would not recognize it: the emergence of courtly love and romance. In Love in the Western World, Denis de Rougemont traced the close development between the emergence of romance and the heterodox spiritual movement known as Albigen-sianism. 24 The troubadours were evangelists of the movement, and through 1~2 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 their odes of love and honor, human and divine love were integrated, so that spiritual love was given a human face and human love was elevated to a divine dimension. The Provenqal troubadours courted God as the divine fem-inine, dazzled by Her beauty and charm. The movement found expression in chivalry, literature, and the arts, making amorous love a respectable topic for prayer. One thinks, for example, of the tale of Tristan and Iseult and of the ~vorshipful manner~ 6f courtly love. It is curious that during this time, too, interest arose in spiritual friendships between men and women, such .as the chaste love of Francis and Clare or the more ~ultry and tragic affair of Abelard and Hrlolse. In his love of Beatrice, Dante fotind a revelation of divine mystery. Later the heritage would still be alive in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet: the young lovers meet at the masqu.e and express their love in an extended metaphor of worship, pilgrimage, and liturgy. It was during the medieval period, too, that the art of alchemy was intro-duced from northern Africa and taken up by Christian scholars. As Carl Jung's colleague Marie-Louise von Franz has exhaustively discussed,25 Western alchemy did not emerge as a primitive attempt at chemistry, but as a comprehensive map of inner transformation. Alchemy preserved psychologi-cal symboli.sm that was excluded from mainstream Christian mysticism, ificluding a sophisticated contrasexual integration. By the time of the Renaissance, interest in the Kabbalah was also respectable in learned Christian circles and doubtlessly coritributed its own sexual spirituality.26 For all of this, there was still no contemplative imagery in the mainstream of Christian spirituality that would represent male sexual longing as a paradigm for the love of God until the unique voice of Jacob Boehme broke the silence. Jacob Boehme (1575-1624), the German Lutheran lay mystic and teach-er, was doubtles.sly the boldest expositor of bridegroom imagery to emerge in the history of Christendom. Largely self-educated, Boehme worked as a shoemaker, and lived as a faithful husband and father of six, involved in the affairs of his guild and community. From an early age he had a remarkable series of revelations concerning the nature of God, creation, and the inter-play of good and evil. Iia his time alchemical and Kabbalistic ideas had per-colated well into learned spirituality, alongside the more official theologies of the churches. The Wisdom tradition, which had continued in Eastern Christian thought,27 had long lain dormant within Western Christian spiritu-ality, but in an intricate trinitarian theo.logy Boehme spontaneously and inde-pendently recovered it. Briefly and loosely stated, in Boehme's theogony Wisdom (or Sophia) was regarded as the consciousness of God. Wisdom was spoken of as the body of the Trinity and the bride of Christ. She infused all Song of the Groom the persoias of the Trinity in their knowledge of one another, and thus could draw human corisciousness into God. Accordingly, in the devotional works of Boehme, spiritual marriage was not between the bridal soul (the anima) and the bridegroom Christ, but between the animus and the Lady Wisdom. In The Way to Christ Boehme exhorts the reader to court the noble Virgin Sophia to become Her bridegroom just as Christ is Her bridegroom, and gives a stirring dialog between Sopfiia and the bridegroom soul.28 The Promise of Bridegroom Spirituality Let us return to the questions raised at the beginning of this article: What is th~ importance of male erotic mysticism? What does it contribute to our understanding of God? Does it open any new ways of thinking about who we are, in relation to God and in relation to one another, as men and women? The following common themes certainly are not exclusi~ie to bride-groom mysticism, but suggest themselves with enough ~orce to call for par-ticular notice: The Healing of Male Grief. Robert Bly has said that the male mode of feeling springs from a primal "grief," a grief related to the male experience of sacrifice and self-denial.29 In their conventional roles as providers and protectors, men have experienced a crushing burden of responsibility and "have-to's," wearily measuring up to others' expectations, just as they con-tinually size up other men. From the tenderest age, male ideritity is won in an act of separation and distinctioh from the mother, urilike the female identity that is secured through inclusion and similarity to her. Even the sexual act involves for the male a separation, a sundering and yielding of his very essence. Bridegi'oom mysticism exposes his deep grief to the healing work of the Woman. She, who is desirable pureiy by nature rather than by merit, brings forth what is best in a man. When a man first feels the stirrings of love toward the Divine Bride, the experienc6 is overwhelming, reminiscent of the first time he became attracted to ~ girl. Many men remember their initial sex-ual attractions as fresh and frightening and raw, but at the same time oddly pure. Later on, the sexual lives of men often become just another conquest or achievement, but the love of the Divine Bride never seems to lose its surprise and purity, giving the sacrifice of the man a worthy end and resting place. The Healing of Female Pain. Robert Bly calls the female mode of feel-ing an experience of "pain," the pain of being devalued. If nothing else, an awareness of God as Bride, at this juncture of our history, indicates mutuali-ty between men's and women's spirituality in contemporary faith, an acknowledgment by men that the divine feminine is as important to them as it is to women. One of the precepts of Tantric Buddhism states that "to dis- 834 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 parage women is a mortal offense, for woman is the source of Wisdom." Bridegroom spirituality accords the deepest respect to woman, in an act of affirmation that woman cannot give to herself, any more than man can heal his own grief without the love of the Woman. The Healing of God. In the wholeness of God as Woman, we worship Her as the matrix of mystery, comprehen.ding all within her, evil as well as good. In the year 1600 Jacob Boehme first had i.nsight into the activity of Divine Wisdom, and in this same revelation he said, "I saw, too, the essential nature of evil and good and how the pregnant Mother--the eternal gen-etrix brought them forth.''3° Bridegroom spirituality has much to offer our Understanding of what has been called the redemption of God.31 Warrior spirituality rouses to the Lord's clarion to wage battle against evil, but the human heart also seeks the why and wherefore of suffering, an intimacy in which the pain of God can be disclosed and, if possible~ healed. In Kabbalistic Judaism, humanity's separation from God also entails the sepa-ration of masculine and feminine principles within Godhead, and erotic spir-ituality participates in ttieir reunion. As Gershom Scholem writes: The reunion of God and His Shekhinah constitutes the meaning of redemption. In this staie, again seen in purely mythical terms, the mascu-line and feminine are carried back to their original unity, and in this unin-terrupted union of the two the powers of generation .will once again flow uhinterrupted through the worlds. The Kabbalists held that every reli-gioias act should be accompanied by the formula: this is done "for the sake of the reunion of God and His Shekhinah.''32 The Healing of Creation. This is the necessary and obvious corollary of the healing of God. Bridegroom spirituality implies human participation and co-responsibility for God's creative purpose. We relate to God the Father/Mother as children, but the relationship with God as Bride is an adult relationship, enrolling the man fully into God's ongoing creative actions. Wisdom. Quite consistently--in the Hebrew Scriiatures, in Buddhist Tantra, and in the teaching of Jacob Boehme--the divine feminine is named "Wisdom." Wisdom is the fulfillment of the defiriing male consciousness, not in an ever-escalating acquisition of knowledge, but in "knowingness," with its distinctly feminine quality. It is akin to the Hebrew yada, which is "to know" as well as "to make love to." Robert Bly says that ~i father must impart two gifts to his children: his temperament and his teachings. In con-temporary society, Bly says, childreh may ~till have a brief opportuhity to be exposed to their father's temperament, but they have been almost completely deprived of his teaching, of acquiring practical prowess from him. And (it seems to me) just as children need to receive the father's teaching, s6 the Song of the Groom male psyche needs to give teaching, for its own health. "Even mean men," Bly says, "are often sweet when they're teaching." The Buddhist scriptures describe the interplay of female Wisdom, or Prajna, with the male principle, which is alternately called Compassion (Karuna) or Skillful Means (Upaya), the ability to utilize any situation appropriately for the welfare of others. The implication is that the male capacity for action, know-how, and mastery must be thoroughly suffused with wisdom if it is to find fulfillment. Think of the master workman, mechanic, or cabinetmaker, who after years with his craft does not have to shout or trumpet his ability. His mastery is unarguably evi-dent in his work. He can be patient, gentle, and sure. He has seen it all before. In the same way, for the man to exercise Skillful Means, he must deeply see the potentials for good and evil in each situation. It is only Wisdom which brings this seeing. The Centrality oflntent. When the male spirit encounters God the Bride, She calls forth a unique pledge of fidelity, a resolve that endures beyond all appearances. When words fail, when understanding crumbles, when all our religious ego projects are shown for the games they are, only the kernel of bare intent remains. In such a contemplative vision, we pray not to "get somewhere," but enter prayer as itself an expression of desire or intent, in the faith that just in "being there" we give and receive everything. In the power of this intent we pray not to get close to God, but because we are close, and beloved, to Her. For the man who finds inklings of his own experience here, are they ways to enter more deeply? As masculine spirituality emerges, men will find ways to celebrate God the Bride if they are willing to do so. But here are some preliminary ideas for Christian men: ¯ Simply open the Song of Songs, and pray the words of the groom to God as your Bride. Notice what happens. ¯ Try the same thing with Jacob Boehme's dialog with Sophia, or with Ibn al-'Arabi's poem. ¯ In male gatherings of worship, sing Her praises, just as Jewish men would gather at the edge of town at sunset on Friday, to welcome their Bride as Queen of Shabbat. ¯ We learn about the divine feminine by honoring the femininity of women around us. In Tilden Edwards's book Practicing the Presence, there is a simple, prayerful exercise that a man and woman can enter together.33 The book The Shared Heart by Joyce and Barry Vissell also has some sug-gestions, for committed couples. ¯ Christian celibates who want to bring sexual energy into prayer might wish to consult The Radiant Heart by Linda Sabbath. This does not deal [136 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 specifically with male sexuality, but perhaps the exercises could be adapted toward this direction. In the Song of Songs, the awaiting bride leaps to the door at the approach of her groom, only to find that he has vanished. The bride is ready for love, but it is the groom who is timid and unsure. Is humanity only to be the hearer of the song of the groom? Might not that song also be meant to pour forth from the hearts of men? Might not the Bride be yearning to hear it? NOTES ~ John Carmody, Toward a Male Spirituality (Mystic, Conn.: Twenty-Third Publications, n.d.), pp. 31-32. 2 Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette, King, Warrior, Magician, Lover: Rediscovering the Archetypes of the Mature Masculine (HarperSanFrancisco, 1990), p. 121. 3 Alison Weber, Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1990), pp. 109-122. 4 Mary and Leon J. Podl6s, "The Emasculation of God," America, 25 November 1989, p. 373. 5 See, for example, James B. Nelson, The Intimate Connection: Male Sexuality, Male Spirituality (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988), p. 31. 6 Podles, p. 374. For a thorough treatment of the fatherhood of God, see also John W. Miller, Biblical Faith and Fathering: Why We Call God "Father" (New York: Paulist Press, 1989). 7 Carmody, p. 45. 8 Arthur Green, "Bride, Spouse, Daughter," in Susannah Heschel, ed., On Being a Jewish Feminist (New York: Schocken Books, 1983), pp. 248-249. 9 Robert Bly, Iron John: A Book about Men (Reading, Mass: Addison-Wesley Publishing Co., 1990), p. 123. l0 Alan W. Watts, Nature, Man and Woman (New York: Pantheon Books, 1958), pp. 143-145. ~ Gerald May, Will and Spirit: A Contemplative Psychology (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1982), pp. 5, 6. ~2 Gershom G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism (New York: Schocken Books, 1965). ~3 Referenced in Peter Brown, The Body and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), pp. 122-138. ~4 Gershom G. Scholem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism (New York: Schocken Books, 1969), pp. 140-141. ~5 Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions oflslam (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1975), p. 429. Song of the Groom 16 In Reynold A. Nicholson, The Mystics oflslam (New York: Schocken Books, 1975), p. 102. 17 Ibn al-'Arabi, Bezels of Wisdom, trans. R.W.J. Austin (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), p. 276. 18 Daniel Cozort, Highest Yoga Tantra: An Introduction to the Esoteric Buddhism of Tibet (Ithaca, N.Y.: Snow Lion Publications, 1986). 19 See the works of Herbert Guenther: Yuganaddha: The Tantric View of Life (Varanasi: Chowkhamba Sanskrit Series, second edition, 1964) and The Life and Teaching of Naropa (Boston: Shambala, 1986). 20 Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, as quoted in Tsultrim Allione's remarkable work Women of Wisdom (Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984), p. 38. 21 Brown, The Body and Society. 22 B.Z. Goldberg, The Sacred Fire: The Story of Sex in Religion (New York: University Books, 1958), p. 199. 23 Ibid. 24 Denis de Rougemont, Love in the Western Worm (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1983). This revised edition has valuable appendices. 25 Marie-Louise von Franz, Alchemy: An Introduction to the Symbolism and Psychology (Toronto: Inner City Books, 1980). 26 loan P. Culianu, Eros and Magic in the Renaissance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987). Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross are also believed to have been influenced b~, the Kabbalah. See C. Swietlicki, Spanish Christian Cabala: The Works of Luis de Le6n, Santa Teresa de Jesfis, and San Juan de la Cruz (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1986). 27 See Sergius Bulgakov's interesting and controversial works, particularly The Wisdom of God: A Brief Summary of Sophiology (New York: Paisley Press, 1937), in which he presents an Eastern Orthodox sophiology quite consistent with Boehme's theogony. 28 Jacob Boehme, The Way to Christ (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), pp. 59-62. 29 These comments from Robert Bly are from a televised interview with Bill Moyers, A Gathering of Men. A videotape and transcript are available from Mystic Fire Videos. 30 Ann Liem, Jacob Boehme: Insights into the Challenge of Evil (Wallingford, Pa.: Pendle Hill Publications, 1977), p. 8. 31 See, in particular, I. Carter Heyward, The Redemption of God: A Theology of Mutual Relation (Washington, D.C.: University Press of America, 1982). 32 Scholem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism, p. 108. 33 Tilden Edwards, Living in the Presence: Disciplines for the Spiritual Heart (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987), p. 74. 1~38 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 ADDITIONAL WORKS Bolen, Jean Shinoda. Gods in Everyman: A New Psychology of Men's Lives and Loves. New York: Harper & Row, 1989. Davis, Charles. Body as Spirit: The Nature of Religious Feeling. New York: Seabury, 1976. Donnelly, Dody H. Radical Love: An Approach to Sexual Spirituality. Minneapolis: Winston Press, 1984. Eliade, Mircea. "Masculine Sacrality" (vol. 8, pp. 252-258) and "Feminine Sacrality" (vol. 5, pp. 302-312). In The Encyclopedia of Religion. New York: Macmillan, 1987. Ibn al-'Arabi. Tarjuman al-Ashwaq. Translation and commentary by Reynold A. Nicholson. London, 1911. Johnson, Robert A. He: Understanding Masculine Psychology. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1977, 1986. Sabbath, Linda. The Radiant Heart. Dimension Books, 1977. Stoudt, John J. Jacob Boehme: His Life and Thought. New York: Seabury Press, 1968. Vissell, Joyce, and Vissell, Barry. The Shared Heart: Relationship, Initiations and Celebrations. Aptos, Calif.: Ramira Publishing, 1984. Incense What sense this incense, Questions common sense? This burning, this waste, Like fragrant perfume, Aromatic nard on the Lord? Like love freely given-- For sheer delight! A gift--this incense-- Sweet savor of benevolence. Walter Bunofsky, S.V.D. 1446 E. Warne Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63107 The Bible's Use of Sexual Language Nancy M. Cross Mrs. Cross's article on Blessed Edith Stein's feminism appeared in our issue of January/February 1989. The mother of twelve and now the grandmother of twenty-five, she entered the Catholic Church twenty years ago along with her Protestant-minister husband and their entire family. A wideiy published writer, she cofitinues to have this address: Box 55; Tayiors Falls, Minnesota 55084. [~lore and more Christian publications are saying what Arthur Shaw said in the National Catholic Register: that addressing God as male or female is "not only sowing confusion, but teaching heresy.''l Inasmuch as God is pu~e spirit and has no physical body that is male br female, the statement is, of course true. Yet a reply to this assertion about gender language used for God is demanded if some critical truth is not to be totally obscured, because the assertion is simply not clear enough. Addressing God with gender language exclusively of one sex is neither confusing nor heretical, but correct and true, and is first to be found in the Bible. Genesis 1 describes God's creation of man and woman in tiis image: "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness . So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them" (Gn 1:27). About tliis passage Pope John Paul II, in the encyclical Dominum et Vivificantem, asks, ."Can one hold that the plural which the Creator uses here in speaking of himself already in some way sug-gests the Trinitarian mystery, the presence of the Trinity in the work of the creation of man?''2 His logic, which in every particular fits the unfolding story of man and woman in the Bible, brings us to some clarifying insights about the meaning of sexuality. In his pastoral letter "Do This in Memory of Me," Cardinal Carter of Toronto presents the deep covenantal the61ogy based on the Trinity from which we understand relationships on all levels of being: God and 839 840 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 humankind, man and woman, priest and laity. The cardinal archbishop's teaching ranges from deductions based on the nature of the Trinity and the incarnation of Christ to anthropological considerations drawn from the nature of human sexuality. He begins with an analysis of the Trinity, a com-munity of diverse persons which implies neither lordship nor subjugation of one Person to another, yet with distinct roles, irreducibly different in what concerns their being as distinct Persons.3 Triune Relationship Within the relationship of the triune Persons stand revealed an initiator, the Father, and a dependent responder, the Son; unifying these two polar Persons (initiation and response are ob-positioned) is the Holy Spirit, who is, as St. Bernard said, "the kiss between the Father and the Son." Each has all the attributes of the one nature, but some are more to be said of one than the others-~"neither confounding the Persons, nor dividing the substance," as the Athanasian Creed puts it. From the union of Father and Son in the Spirit come creativity and ecstasy. In creating man and woman, God shares that creativity and ecstasy of his own being by enfleshing, materializing these awesome principles of personhood in a male who initiates and a female who is dependent and responds. Cardinal Carter writes: "This qualitative sexual differentiation is rooted not in physiology but in the created human imaging of the Trinity, and is indissociable from the revelation of the Trinity in Christ, as his Incarnation bears witness.''4 In the perfection of the original plan, these two (humankind) are made in this image: two polar persons sharing one nature-~one the initiator, one the responder, both united by a third, the Holy Spirit, who condescends to share himself and unify these opposites with divine love. Therefore, the sexuality that appeared in physical form expresses in a creaturely way something utterly spiritual at the very heart of things. The Trinity Imaged God is saying something about his very self in the creation of man and woman; he is sharing the dynamics of the personhood in the Trinity with the creature he makes in his image. Therefore maleness, though not found in the Trinity, of course, speaks nevertheless of what we would intrepidly say is the masculine principle among the Persons of the Trinity. How do we come to the idea of "masculine"? By observing the action of the male. But the male is picturing for us something far beyond himself. Although it may be anthro-pocentric to describe the First Person as Father, nevertheless, because the The Bible's Use of Sexual Language / 1~41 male generates (in a secondary way) new life and because God has revealed himself as generator of everything that is, it is clear that the very idea has come from God down, not from man up. God has spoken about himself in real terms by creating male and female bodies. Therefore, what has visible form as male imperfectly incarnates a masculine principle in the Trinity. We call the principle "masculine" because of our human experience with male-ness- but it precedes maleness and lies at the heart of things. What has visi-ble form as female imperfectly incarnates a feminine principle in the Trinity. We call the principle "feminine" because of our human experience with femaleness--but it precedes femaleness and lies at the heart of things. Accordingly, the second person in both the Holy Trinity and in humankind is the responder. This role for both the Son and the woman is in response to the First/first person. Do the Son and the woman have the attribute of initiation? Do the Father and the man have the attribute of response? Of course they do, because the polar persons share all attributes of each other; but certain attributes are more to be said of one than the other-- which makes the persons' positions polar and nonexchangeable. As Cardinal Carter says, "the absolute unity of God is not monadic but trinitarian. This eliminates the necessity o.f placing antagonisms between unity and multiplic-ity, because the Triune God, who is Unity itself, is also three Persons, quali-tatively differentiated and irreducible to each other, yet without antagonism." 5 Equality In perfection the Second/second person is completely equal in worth to the First/first person. It is a result of the Fall, the takeover of the scene by an enemy's values, that "response" and "dependent" have become despised concepts. In the perfect plan, re.ceiving and responding are values equal to governance and generating. The Second Person is coequal and coeternal to the First. Man and woman, created to image that relationship in human flesh, \ were created with the same polar roles inherent in their flesh and psyche, yet they stand eye to eye as total equals. As in the Trinity, initiation (or authori-ty) and response (or obedience), indicative of man and woman, are not prin-ciples unequal in their value and worth. They are the stances of wholly equal beings, who enjoy an equality like Father and Son. The very idea of the inequality of the role of response came from an alien consciousness, one who had already envied the role of authority and spread that envy to the perfect creation. When the woman accepted his defi-nition, eventually believing his lies, his value system was established, which is the Fall, a value system that still is modus operandi. It took this alien con- 1~49 / Review for ReligiouJ, November-December 1991 sciousness to cast doubt on that equality and to substitute a value system which contaminates everything since the Fall. The antiword (Pope John Paul's term) corrupts the world with the lie that to initiate and order is power and power is "where it's at." As a corollary, the same antiword insists that to heed and serve, to receive and. respond, is for lackeys and nitwits. Jesus restored the value system of perfection. In bridging this abyss he restored the values of the original plan: to be obedient is not the least important role, to be authority is not the most important role. But almost no one believes it to this day--least of all the one who most purely is created to model obedience and service, the woman. Archbishop John Roach, speaking to the National Council of Catholic W~omen, recently cast light on this as it refers to laity and clergy: The Father, the Son, and the Spirit are one, but very different. The Father does not do what the Son does, the Son does not do what the Father does and neither does what ~he Spirit does. Jesus spoke often of doing the Father's will. He was not obsequious; that was his role and he recognized the Father's role. The Father did things unique to the Father. He initiates, governs, presides, creates in a very distinctive way. The Son's role is to respond, to be the word for the Father, to reflect the Father, to be the splendor and glory of the Father. The Spirit is the bond of love animating the Father and the Son. He is the comforter and consoler and paraclete and inspiration. That may seem to be a kind of lofty ideal for us, but I think it is what we have to aim at. Our roles are different, but that ought to be a source of rejoicing, not resentment. There are things that you do as laity that I should not do. There are things that I do as bishop and priest that you should not do . There is no inferiority or super-superiority in the Trinity. There cannot be any among us. I must exercise a kind of leader-ship and a kind of authority for the good ofth~ Church which is not your responsibility. To do that, however, I must recognize not only th~ dignity of you as persons and children of God, but as people in whom the Spirit speaks . In a collegial gathering all bring gifts. The leader becomes ser-vant and the last rises to full dignity . 6 Revaluing Roles in Tr!nitarian Light In .order for this vision to catch on, it takes the woman first (beginning with the Blessed Virgin Mary, but with us women too) to revalue her role and meaning in light of the Second Person of the Trinity. This is because woman first accepted Satan's false definition and evaluation of her role, that is, as less worthy than the role of authority her husband held in their rela- .tionship by divine command. Edith Stein says, "The nature of the temptation was in itself of more significance to her."7 The woman must begin the unraveling of the knot by not choosi.ng again the values of Satan, not accept- The Bible's Use of Sexual Language ing again the lie that ordering/authority/governance has a higher prestige, is more worthy than service, and is, therefore, an object of envy. She must claim her role and love it; and if she must fight, it is to have that role of obe-dience recognized as fully equal to the opposite role of authority. She is nei-ther a lackey nor a nitwit. Authority will not talk down to her if she talks straight with it, respectfully, but eye to eye. In order for the value system of perfection to be restored, woman must accept obedience as fully worthy, fully equal to the opposite role. The Virgin Mary has done it. Women have rarely done it, and the very idea is being washed away in our day. Not only has obedience (submission) been deval-ued as the feminine role, but authority has been falsely elevated (Satan's val-ues are intact). Therefore, the man considers his role as prestigious and powerful; and this worldly, not to say carnal, evaluation is widely endorsed by women. Authority, which is another word for ultimate initiation and governance, must take its cue from the First Person of the Trinity--that is, it exists to put all at the service of those who are receivers/responders. Pope John Paul's insistence that Ephesians 5 speaks of "mutual submission" of wife to hus-band and husband to wife underlines this.8 But the submission of both, the total giving of self9 that both experience, is done differently. The woman submits to the husband's governance and ordering (the role of headship) of their life together, making one will of two; and the husband submits to the woman's need for protection and provision, and this whether he feels like it or not. In the Christian community, males have authority, and women model obedience. But both live lives of self-giving service in mutual submission. The laity (feminine though consisting of males and females) submits to the clergy's (masculine) governance, the clergy submits to the laity's need for headship, spiritual and material, whether convenient or inconvenient. Further, the Christian community forms the people of God (the bride) whose relationship to God is as feminine to masculine. The model? Again, man and woman in marriage;t just as man and woman in marriage are the image of the Holy Trinity. This imaging of the meaning of sexuality is not deviated from throughout the Bible despite the different pressures of time and culture in the two thousand years of its formation. We see the model for both roles within the Holy Trinity. There is no pres-tige in the role of authority, and no servility in the role of obedience--such is the peculiar Christian ~,ision of relationship. Says Jesus who was sent: "I do nothing but what I see the Father doing"; "I have not come of my own accord"; and so forth. Such statements are the core of the gospel of John. l0 844 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 Anthropomorphic, yet True What does this mean? That maleness and femaleness and the roles inherent in the bodily form speak of ultimate truth about relationship origi-nating in the Holy Trinity. God knows that this creature will develop a lan-guage according to information received through the senses. That language will necessarily be anthropomorphic, but because the sexual body, male and female, is created to image the truth, the words developed can be used to express that truth truly. C.S. Lewis masterfully investigates the meaning of sexuality in his space-fiction trilogy Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra, and That Hideous Strength. In the latter he writes: "Yes," said the Director. "There is no escape. If it were a virginal rejec-tion of the male, He would allow it. Such souls can bypass the male and go on to meet something far more masculine, higher up, to which they must make a yet deeper surrender. But your trouble has been what old poets called Daungier, we call it Pride . The masculine none of us can escape. What is above and beyond all things is so masculine that we are all feminine in relation to it . ,, I I The inspired writers of Holy Scripture, where Lewis gained his insights, speak truly when they reveal God as forever masculine, and humankind in relation to God as forever feminine. Under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, they never deviate from this form of expression, not once! Examine careful-ly those Scriptures used to present God as mother and you will not find them asserting God's motherhood. The importance of God in his triune Persons always being considered masculine to us human beings is so overwhelming that in every case in Scripture the truth of this is rigorously guarded. For this reason, also, the Second Person of the Trinity came as male--all Persons of the Trinity are to us as masculine to feminine whether we are male or female humans. Isaiah and Hosea Isaiah 66:12-13 is the favorite of the misquoted Scriptures and is always used in this way: "As nurslings, you shall be carried in her arms, and fondled in her lap; as a mother comforts her son, so will I comfort you." This, how-ever, is the fuller text, more closely translated: "Behold, I will extend pros-perity to her like a fiver, and the wealth of the nations like an overflowing stream; and you shall suck, you shall be carried upon her hip, and dandled upon her knees. As one whom his mother comforts, so will I comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem?' Obviously God does not present himself as the mother in this passage. The Bible's Use of Sexual Language The distinction he places between himself and Jerusalem is very clear. The same holds true for Isaiah 49:15, another favorite to substantiate God's motherhood. "Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you." The speaker is Yahweh, the LORD, who in the entire text of Isaiah presents him-self as enduringly masculine though with a depth of compassion that sur-passes all earthly love, even the love of a mother. Mothers may forget, it is possible, but the Lord will not forget. This Lord continues, "Then all flesh shall know that I am the Lord your Savior, and your Redeemer, the Mighty One of Jacob" (Is 49:26). Chapter fifty continues the theme, with God iden-tifying himself as husband and father. Isaiah 46:3-4 is also a standby text for the Mother-God argument, yet there is nothing necessarily maternal in the picture of God carrying the heavy burden which Israel has become. In fact it is explicitly stated in this passage that the one who carries is masculine: "Hearken to me, O house of Jacob, all the remnant of the house of Israel, who have been borne by me from your birth, carried from the womb; even to your old age I am He, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save." Next to Isaiah, Hosea is most often called on to bolster the femininity-of- God argument. Such a twist of Hosea's intent cannot be supported by the text, in which God speaks throughout as a betrayed husband and deserted father. There is no plausibility for assuming that the speaker in Hosea 11 is maternal. The Father is expressing the warmth and concern we expect from either parent, mother or father. Nothing maternal is stated here. The actual text, with irrelevant passages deleted, reads: When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son. The more I called them, the more they went from me . Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk, I took them up in my arms; but they did not know that I healed them . How can I give you up, O Ephraim!. My heart recoils within me, my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and not man, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come to destroy. Can this be considered to be the Mother-God talking? The context is quite the contrary. Neither does Sirach 4:10, "[God] will love you more than your mother did," say anything tb conclude the femininity of the One who loves more than human mothers. The full wording is: "You will then be like a son of the Most High, and he will love you more than does your mother." The Holy~Trinity, of course, has within itself all the positive expressions 846 / Review for Religious, November-December 1991 of relationship that there are. This means that mother-love has its origin in the Holy Trinity. What from humankind's point of view would be called fem-inine love is present within (intra) the Trinity; it has been enfleshed by the Creator in the woman--the Son is the Person imaged by the woman. Yet, despite the obvious full measure of what we humans call "femininity" inher-ent in the Trinity, God never approaches his people as mother or as feminine. To humankind (ad extra) God is consistently husband, father, lover, and not wife, mother, or beloved, because Godhead is to humankind the initiator, the author, eliciting humankind's response and obedience, and the roles cannot be reversed. Children, Church, Bride His people are polar to himself, and though they are intended to be, in a certain sense, his equals ("bride without spot or wrinkle," Ep 5:27), they can never be God despite Satan's words to the contrary. Yet they are meant to be joined in union with him; the Holy Spirit will condescend to his mysterious work, but only after Jesus has come to forgive otherwise indelible sin. His people cannot initiate anything with God; he is the initiator. They cannot work their way back to union with him; they are wholly dependent on his action. In relationship to him they can only receive and respond, as they were created to do: to think God's thoughts after him and to obey his Holy Will, or if they prefer to exercise their freedom the opposite way, they may think Satan's thoughts after him and do his will. If God can be presented as mother or as feminine, that is, as receiver and accepter in the God/humankind relationship, where does that place his polar people? They are his children, of course, but they are growing into his bride, not his groom. A feminine God would make them the masculine pole-- exactly what Satan tempted them to think in the beginning--that they should envy and seize the authority side of the equation and "be like gods." Already the value of the role of willing obedience has been totally disparaged. In its place is the Satanic concept that Godhead is merely dominating authoritari-anism lording it over lackeys and nitwits. Thus, the significance of masculine and feminine runs very deep indeed. There is no mother in heaven other than the Blessed Mother, and she is given to us as all the mother we need. There is another heavenly mother, the Church, in that mystical dimension of her that is holy. It is her overflowing breasts that feed us (Is 66) and her warm lap that holds us. The only consort of the God who presents himself as masculine to us is ourselves. Another aspect of the gender-of-God question that appears more and more frequently in periodicals is the matter of history--the assumption The Bible's Use of Sexual Language grows that the Hebrews somehow messed up things and imposed upon the world their perverse patriarchy which they expressed in their sacred writ-ings. Their patriarchal prejudices, declare this reasoning, overpowered the more gentle goddess-religions.~2 We need to look again at that claim in light of the above and also in. light of the goddesses themselves, who were not gentle and approachable at all. Tanit, Astarte, or Astaroth demanded child sacrifices; a very bloodthirsty goddess she was, depicted with a lioness's head! The others do not stand any kind of scrutiny either. They are projec-tions from the fallen psyche of humankind and cannot stand comparison with the Holy One of Israel, I AM HE. Language and Reality It is legitimate, therefore, to object to much current writing against tradi-tional God and gender language: 1. It twists Scripture, theology, and history, even when done innocently. 2. Scripture is not just a human book--it is far too profound for that, often speaking more than the human author knew or intended. Dei Verbum says, "Since, therefore, all that the inspired authors, or sacred writers, affirm should be regarded as affirmed by the Holy Sp!rit, we must acknowledge that the books of Scripture, firmly, faithfully, and without error, teach that truth which God, for the sake of our salvation, wished to see confided to the sacred Scriptures" (DV, no. 11). Often those who adhere to this definition are pejoratively called fundamentalists, a word many who are unwilling to take Scripture wholly and seriously use much too freely in order to quiet their questioners. It is necessary to heed literary forms, the times addressed, the exact meaning of words in their contexts, and ways of perception of the times. But none of this negates the truth of the quotation above (which tran-scends all of the human aspects of Scripture), namely, that God has seen to it that this book speaks what he wants us to know: "sacred Scripture must be read and interpreted with its divine authorship in mind" (DV, no. 12). 3. In the matter of sexuality in Scripture, we are not working with mere metaphor; we are working with an analogy. An analogy points up a relation-ship between two things--a real parailelism of character or attributes. Therefore, to say that man and woman and their relationship are an analogy of God's relationship to humankind is to say that there is a real parallel in the comparison that rests in verity--in this case, because God has created the one (humankind) to be a sign of the other (God). A metaphor, on the other hand, merely suggests a likeness in some particular about two very unlike things, for instance, "That dog walks like a turtle." Feminine references to Godhead in Scripture can be seen with little effort to be sheer metaphors. ~i4~1 / Review for Religious, November-December1991 When Jesus said that he was like a hen wanting to gather his chicks, he was speaking !n metaphor he did not resemble a chicken in any regard other than this one particular. But when he said he and the Father are One, he was not speaking metaphor at all--either about Father, which I have explained above, or about their oneness. In this matter of gender language for God and of the meaning of male and female, many people are being swept along by something that they do not understand, and are taking up the mistaken values of feminism about authority/submission. Thus they .are constantly tempted to envy the mascu-line side and thereby cast aside the beauty and wholeness of Jesus' way of abject obedience, saying it does not behoove women to be obedient or to have anything to do with submission. All of this is a serious concern to the Church as we enter the third millennium, for it lies at the center of what it means to be a Catholic Christian. It is sifting those who have the heart for it from those who do not, and will eventually be seen to vindicate the Church's assertion that the Holy Spirit "leads her to perfect union with her Spouse.''~3 NOTES l Arthur Shaw, "Gender Language for God," National Catholic Register, November 12, 1989, p. 4. 2 John Pau! II, Encyclical Dominum et Vivificantem (pentecost 1986), no. 12. Italics mine. 3 Cardinal Gerald Emmett (~arter, "Do This in Memory of Me," 8 December 1983. 4 .Ibid, p. 24. 5 Ibid, p. 11. 6 Archbishop John Roach, Archbishop of Minneapolis/St. Paul, Eucharistic Celebration, November 9, 1987, National Council of Catholic Women. 7 Edith Stein, The Collected Works of Edith Stein, Volume Two, Essays on Woman (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1987), p. 62. 8 John Paul II, Pastoral Letter Mulieris Dignatatem (1989), pp. 91, 92, 98. 9 Ibid, pp. 67, 78, 84. ~0 See, among many other verses, 5:19, 26, 30, 37, 43; 6:44; 8:28. ~ C.S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength (Macmillan, 1946), p. 315. 12 See Virginia Ann Froehle, R.S.M., "Feminine Images of God Can Enhance Your Prayer and Change Your Life," St. Anthony Messenger, May 1989. This article blatantl

Issue 48.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1989. ; R F.vu-'.w FOR RF.uG~OUS (ISSN O034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. l_x~uis University by thc Mis-souri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Blvd., Rm. 428: St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: $12.00 per year: $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail. add U.S. $5.00 per year: for airmail, add U.S. $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REviEw FO~ REt.~GOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to REVtEW ~'oa RE~ol~;totJS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Jan./Feb. 1989 Volume 48 Number I Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOUS; 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~:vtEw r'oa REU~aOUS; 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 for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Review for Religious Volume 48, 1989 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindeil 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 R~:vIEw FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Sep-tember, and November on the twentieth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book t~e te~I Index. A microfilm edition of R~:v~Ew FOR RELIGOUS is available from University~ Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyrighl© 1989 by R~vmw FOR RELiGiOUS. A major portion of each issue of REvmw FOR RgL~G~OUS is als~o regu-larly available on cassette recordings as a service for the visuallyl' im-paired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 1 O010. PRISMS . Religious life today presents a varied landscape of images. Some would see the landscape more in the fading light of autumn colors or, perhaps, far more somberly in the gray bleakness of a barren wintertime. Others look out and observe a springtime of new growth, with tender fresh green shoots and small delicate blossoms just visible above the ground level. All the various ways we have of picturing religious life have some basis in reality. For there are various prisms through which we view all life, including religious life. Prisms are very important because they do provide a way for us to see, to highlight and to emphasize, to reject and to ignore. As others share their prisms of vision with us, we gain en-trance to worlds of different colors and new life. Of course, if we main-tain our vision only through our own prism, our world begins to take on a singleness of color and a frozen artificiality of life. REVIEW FOR REL~C~OUS, from its first January issue in 1942, has tried to provide various prisms through which we might view the whole worldscape which must be a part of a vibrant Christian spiritual life and so necessarily a part of religious life. As newly appointed editor of this journal, I intend the variety of insights into the consecrated lifeform, tra-ditionally called religious life, to remain an essential contribution of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. This contribution seems all the more necessary at our particular moment in the Church when often more time is spent in defining and establishing one's own position than in listening or learn-ing of another's. I do not want to wear out an image, but there is another important pointer for us in the kaleidos6ope. The prisms of a kaleidoscope only pro-duce their beauty because of their relationships, one to another. I find that the prisms through which we view life only present us with adequate truth, new life, and fresh ways ofacting if we maintain the relationship of various viewpoints. That is the great strength of the Church who pos-sesses various pictures of Jesus in her gospels, who allows differing phi-losophies and theologies to provide understanding to her faith, and who approves the charisms of vastly differing forms of religious life to be le-gitimate icons of Christ for all the Christian faithful and for the world. It is in the maintenance of relationship that we possess the criteria of le-gitimacy, continuity, and true creativity. 4 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 In our current issue, the usual variety of articles gives indication of the richness of interests which help form the context of religious life. In subsequent numbers I intend to take the opportunity to highlight one or other article because of the importance of its issue or the insight or un-derstanding it provides. Sometimes I would like to reflect more broadly about certain key concerns of religious life as it is being lived in our Churc,h and world today. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in this way will continue to provide prisms as well perspectives on the relationships of the many prisms that make up our religious lives. David L. Fleming, S.J. What Do You Want?m The Role of Desires in Prayer William A. Barry, S.J. A frequent contributor, Father Barry wrote "God's Love Is Not Utilitarian" for our issue of November/December 1987. His address is Jesuit Community: Boston Col-lege; Chestnut Hill, MA 02167. know: you're going to ask what I want. "As I was driving up to the retreat house, I thought of your perennial question: 'What do you want?' and here's what l~came up with." I have often noticed that peo-ple who see me for some time for spiritual direction or directed retreats say things like this. It even becomes a bit of humorous byplay, as though they want to beat me to the punch. Clearly, one of my favorite questions for directees is the one Jesus put to the two disciples who began to fol-low him: "What do you want?" (Jn 1:38). If directees pick up on this predilection and start asking themselves the question, then, I believe, a good deal of my work as spiritual director is done. If we know what we want in prayer, we are going to find our way. After a practical belief that God wants an intimate relationship with each one of us and that God is directly encountered in our experience, nothing is more important for the development of our relationship with God-~-for our prayer, in other words--than knowledge of what we want and of what God wants. In this article I want to discuss the role of desires in prayer. Anyone familiar with the Spiritual Exercises knows that among the preludes to every meditation or contemplation is: "I will ask God our Lord for what I want and desire." In the various stages or weeks of the Exercises, Ignatius states what the desire is in each case. For example, in the First Week I "ask for a growing and intense sorrow and tears for my sins," and in the Second Week I "ask .for an intimate knowledge 5 Review for Religious, January-February 1989 of our Lord, who has .become man for me, that I may love him more and follow him more closely." In an earlier article in the R~v~Ew, l tried to show that each of the desires of the Exercises is a desire for some par-ticular revelation by the Lord. ~ On the face of it, it looks as though Ignatius is saying: "Here is what you should desire at each stage of the Spiritual Exercises." One conclu-sion might be to take a person through the four Weeks and just put be-fore him or her what Ignatius gives as the desire. In fact, this has been the procedure in preached retreats, including the preached thirty-day re-treats we older Jesuits and other religious made in novitiate and tertian-ship. But what happened if, as a matter of fact, I did not really desire to know Jesus more intimately when the Second Week was presented to me. Suppose, for example, I was still too afraid of what he thinks of me. In most instan(es, I would guess, we just presumed that we had the de-sire if it was Second Week time. But I would contend that without the real desire we never got very intimate with Jesus. Indeed, I believe that "what we really desire" is diagnostic of the stage of the Exercises we are actually in. To demonstrate this thesis we need to look at the role of desires in any relationship. If you get a call from someone asking for a.meeting, is not your first question, at least to yourself, "What does she or he want?" In fact, many meetings between people come off badly because the individuals involved have mistaken ideas of what each other wants. For example, I want to become your friend, and you believe that I want help with home-work; you want to help me, but are not even thinking of a deeper friend-ship. At the end of the meeting both of us are going to be pretty frus-trated unless we talk about our different desires and come to some understanding. Often enough, too, relationships become frustrating be-cause of ambivalent or incompatible desires in one or both parties. For example, I want to get closer to you, but I am also afraid of you. Or I want a friendship with you (a happily married woman), but I also want to goto bed with you. Every intended encounter with another person is accompanied by a"desire or desires'. We are not always aware of our de-sires, but they are present, and they condition our behavior in the encoun-ter. Now suppose that I want to befriend you and you do not want my: friendship. Will my efforts :at befriending get me or you anywhere? Only to frustration and resentment, probably. But let us say that I persist in trying to do nice things for you. What will happen? You will probably get more and more irritated and thus less and less likely to become my Role of Desires in Prayer friend. And like many a "do-gooder" whose good deeds are rejected, I may eventually wash my hands of you and call you an ingrate who de-serves his fate. Friendship is possible only when the desires are mutual, when you freely desire my friendship and I freely desire yours. Friend-ship cannot be coerced. "But," someone may object, "we often do things that we don't want to do. Because of my friendship for you, for example, I will go to a movie I don't like." But what do you want? If it is because of friend-ship with me that you go to the movie, is not your deepest desire to please me or to be with me? The friendship is more important than the movie. I believe that the centrality of desire for the developing of a rela-tionship cannot be denied. Now let us look at the importance of desires for the relationship with the Lord. In the first chapter of John's gospel, the two disciples of John are intrigued by this Jesus whom John has just pointed out as the lamb of God. So they start following Jesus. When Jesus asks them what they want, they say, "Rabbi, where are you staying?" They do not yet have strong desires, it seems; curiosity seems to be the desire. Jesus does not disdain this desire. "Come," he replies, "and you will see." Unless we have some attraction toward God, some curiosity or hope or desire, we will not take the time to begin our side of the relationship. If I be-lieve in my heart and feelings that God is an ogre, ready to pounce on any infraction, then I may try to placate him, but I will never want to get close to him. And God, as it were, does handstands.to convince us that he really is benign, that he is, as Jesus asserted, Abba. The p.rofli-gate wonders of nature, our own creation and life, the words of Old and New Testaments, Jesus himself, and other loving, caring people in our lives--these are all signg of God's desire that we find him attractive and let him come close. But he cannot force himself on us, or will not. We must have some desire to get to know him better. Sebastian Moore af-firms that God's creative touch which desires us into being arouses in us a desire for "I know what," that is, a desire for the Mystery we call God.2 This experience (understood as the experience of one's creation and continued creation) can be seen as the affective principle and foun-dation for the development ofone's relationship with God. The desire for "I know what" is what makes' our hearts restless until they rest in God. Many people need help to recognize that they have such a desire. Be-cause of life's hurts they may not recognize any other desire but to be left alone, or not to be hurt any more. Telling such people that God is Review for Religious, January-February 1989 love has little or no effect. They may need help to admit to God that they are afraid of, him and desire to be less afraid. Indeed, they may need help to voice some of their anger at life's hurts which seem to them to have come from the Author of life. The fact that they have not completely turned away from religion indicates that they may still want something from God, even if only an acknowledgment that he knows what hap-pened to them in life. Like Job some may cry out: "Then know that God has wronged me and drawn his net around me. Though I c~'y, 'I've been wronged!' I get no response; though I call for help, there is no justice." Only after he has poured out his sorrows, seemingly, can he say: "I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth" (Jb ! 9:6-7.25). In other words, it may take a great deal of pas-toral care and patient spiritual direction for some people to come to the point where they can trust life and the Author of life enough to let into their consciousness the desire for "'I know what.'" Job's friends have tried to derail him from expressing his desires to God: In his misery he wants God to speak to him. He will not lie and say, as his friends insinuate,, that he deserves his calamities because of his sins. Hewill not accept the just-world hypothesis proposed by his friends according to which anyone's sufferings must be deserved. No, he knows~that he does not deserve the awful fate that has befallen him and desires to speak directly .to God and to hear God's answer. Often enough we Christians are like the friends of Job. To a mother who has just.lost her only child we might say, "God knows best." and thus make it difficult for her to voice her outrage at God and her need for God's own answer to this awful loss. Sometimes we feel that we have to de-fend God against the anger directed at him by people in pain. Yet the anger may be the most authentic way for a person to relate ~o God and to ex.press a desire to know God's response. Finally in chapters 38 through 41 God does answer Job out of the whirlwind. The response may not sound very comforting or apologetic to _us, but apparently Job is satisfied, for he says: "My ears had heard of you but.now, my eyes have seen you. Therefore I despise myself and repent in ~du.s.t and ashes." Moreover, then God speaks to Job's friends, "I am angry with you and your two friends, because yQu have not spo-ken of me what is~right, as my servant Job has" (Jb 42:5-7). Whatever else God's speech from the whirlwind means, it certainly does not mean that Jg~bohas lost God's friendship by voicing so strongly his desire to have God answer him. Another biblical instance of an attempt to derail a desire directed to- Role of Desires in Prayer ward God comes in the first chapter of the First Book of Samuel. Han-nah, one of the two wives of Elkanah, is barren and miserable. She wants a son. Her husband, seeing her weeping and fasting, says to her, "Han-nah, why are you weeping? Why don't you eat? Why are you down-hearted? Don't I mean more to you than ten sons?" In other words, Elka-nah wants Hannah to forget her desire and be satisfied with what she has. In the story we do not hear Hannah's reply, but her actions tell us that she is not put off by Elkanah's entreaties. She goes to the temple and "in bitterness of soul., wept much and prayed to the Lord." Indeed, when accused of drunkenness by Eli, the priest, she says, "Not so, my lord, I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I was pouring out my soul to the Lord." Hannah knows what she wants and is not afraid to tell God over and over what it is (I S 1:8, 10, 15). Often we tell ourselves or are told to quell our desires, to look at all the good we already have. We can be made to feel guilty and ungrateful for desiring what we want. But if we do suppress our desires without be-ing satisfied that God has heard us, then, in effect, we pull back from honesty with God. The result for our relationship with God often is po-lite distance or cool civility. Perhaps God cannot or will not grant what we want, but for the sake of the continued development of the relation-ship we need to keep letting him know our real desires until we are sat-isfi~ d or have heard or felt some response. In 2 Cbrinthians Paul says, "There was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to tor-ment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' " Now Paul could stop making known his desire because now he knew God's answer. "Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. :For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Co 12:7-10). Convictions such as Paul's come not from theological or spiritual nos-trums, but from the experienc~ of growing transparency between a Paul and the Lord. Too often we use the hard-won wisdom of a Paul to short-circuit a similar transparency in our own relationship with the Lord. A woman may, for example, be experiencing the "dark night of the soul" and not like it at all. Her desire may be for it to be removed. She may be helped by the knowledge that others have experienced the same thing before her and been the better for it, but such knowledge does not have to satisfy her desire to be rid of the "dark night." A short circuit in the Review for Religious, January-February 1989 relationship might occur if she is told by her spiritual director or tells her-self to squelch her desire "because the experience is good for you." What she needs to experience is God's response, not a theorem of spiri-tual theology. She needs to know (really, not notionally) that God does want this darkness for the good of their relationship. Such real knowl-edge comes only through mutual transparency. Most of the healing miracles of the New Testament depend on the desire of the recipient for healing.The example of the blind beggar Bar-timaeus (Mk 10:46-52) stands out, but is not unusual. "When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, 'Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.' Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, 'Son of David, have mercy on me.' " Obviously Bartimaeus will not be hindered from expressing his desire by any num-ber of voices trying to quiet him. These "voices" can come from within us as well as from without, by the way. "Jesus won't have time for the likes of me; other people have more important problems; things aren't so bad." These interior voices may be expressing our ambivalence about being healed. Just as Bartimaeus had made a way of life out of his blindness, so too we may have made our own physical or psychological or sPiritual limitations a way of life and be afraid of what a future without them might be. One person on a retreat thought that he desired healing from a kind of dark-ness that seemed to rule his life. But then he heard the Lord ask, "Do you want me to heal you of this?" and he had to admit that he was not sure. Interestingly, he felt that God approved the honesty of his response. The inner voices may also express our fear of arousing strong desires for healing only to have them dashed. "Suppose I really want to be healed and I hear the answer Paul got? What a disappointment!''3 Desires are complex and often contradictory. However, once we have allowed the ambivalence and complexity of our desires to surface, we have some-thing else to ask the Lord about. In the Bartimaeus story Jesus calls him over and asks, "What do you want me to do for you?" Bartimaeus is quite clear and unambi-valent, "Rabbi, I want to see." "Go," says Jesus, "your faith has healed you." I have italicized Jesus' words. Without the faith of Barti-maeus, apparently, this miracle could not have occurred. The miracle re-quires a. partnership between Jesus' healing power and desire to heal and Bartimaeus' faith and desire to be healed. Indeed, Bartimaeus' desire is his faith in action. An example may help to illustrate this point. Once I was filled with Role of Desires in Prayer anger and self-pity about the turn a friendship had taken and thought that I was praying for healing. I was contemplating the story of the two blind men in Matthew 9:27-30. When Jesus asked them, "Do you believe that I am able to do this?" I knew immediately that I was not ready to give up my self-pity and anger. If I did desire healing, it was with the same "but not yet" desire with which Augustine at one time desired chastity. I did not have the "faith" found in the two blind men and in Barti-maeus, a faith that showed itself in unambivalent desire. Another exam-ple that shows how desire is faith in action is provided by the father of the boy with the evil spirit reported in Mark 9: 14-29. Instead of asking directly for a healing, the father said to Jesus, "But if you can do any-thing, take pity on us and help us." Because he did not believe in Jesus' power to heal, he could not desire the hea!ing directly. "If you can?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes." To which the father replied, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief." In effect the man is saying, "Help me to desire healing." This last example brings us close to the hub of why desires are the raw material out of which relationships are made. In order for the heal-ing to occur, there must be a meshing of desires. Bartimaeus's desire for healing meets Jesus' desire to heal; without both desires there is no rela-tionship, at least no mutual relationship. This point is beautifully illus-trated in the story of the leper. "A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, 'If you are. willing, you can make me clean.' Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. 'I am willing,' he said. 'Be clean!' Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured" (Mk 1:40-42). Clearly desire meets desire. The kind of relationship Jesus desires is a mutual one', where desire meets desire. The need for a partnership of.desires becomes even clearer when we look at friendship. In John 15:15 Jesus says, "I have called you friends," and then goes on to indicate what that means from his side, "for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you." From his side the desire has been to be fully transparent, to com-municate to them all that he is. His desire meets their desire to know him as fully as possible. Of course, full mutuality of friendship means that they desire to be fully transparent before him and he desires to know them fully. Take away one side of these desires and there no longer is a mutual relationship. Of course, on the apostles' part (and on ours) the mere desire for mu-tual transparency does not carry it off. "Between the cup and the lip . " Our desires are ambivalent and complex; we are fearful crea- 12 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 tures, as well, and our fears get in the way of what we most deeply want. We need help and healing to grow toward mutual transparency with the Lord. But that help is available if we want it. If we notice, for example,, that we want to know Jesus better, but are afraid of the consequences, we can ask Jesus for help to overcome our fears. But again we notice that desire is the key to developing the relationship. The retreatant mentioned earlier who told God that he was not sure that he wanted healing of the darkness that ruled his life provides another example of the reciprocity of relationships. Later in the same day he be-came more sure that he wanted healing and asked the Lord to heal him. The Lord's response was perplexing; "I can't," he seemed to say. The retreatant was enraged at such a response when his own reluctance had been overcome, and he let God know in no uncertain terms. Yet still later in the day, out of the blue, as it were~ he heard the Lord say, "But we can." He knew immediately that the Lord meant that he could live more out of joy than sadness if he kept desiring the Lord's helpful presence rather 'than withdrawing into himself. "We can" meant partnership. At the beginning of this article, I stated that the real desires a person has are diagnostic of where the person is in terms of the four Weeks of the Exercises. Let me now return to that point. If retreatants do not have a real trust in God's loving care and providence, they will not desire that God reveal to them their sinfulness. Without an experienced-based be-lief in God's goodness and 16ve, without, in other words, what I have called earlier an affective principle and foundation, people are too fright-ened of God to be able to say and mean the last words of Psalm 139: "Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting" (23-24). If there is no such real desire, then the First Week of the Exercises is not on. And, it seems, at this point God's desire is not so much to reveal sinfulness as to convince the person that he is "Abba." Similarly, if a retreatant voices the desire to know Jesus in or-der love him more and to follow him more closely, yet in his prayer con-tinually identifies with those who need healing, perhaps his real desire is to be healed. The desire of the Second Week to know Jesus shows it-self in an interest in Jesus himself, his values, his emotions, his dreams, his apostolate. If the retreatant is not really interested in these matters, but continually focuses on his own needs and weaknesses, then the Sec-ond Week is not. really in progress. Jesus himself may at this time desire more to heal than to call to companionship. The difference between the First and Third Weeks also comes down to a difference in desire. In the Role of Desires in Prayer First Week I desire to know that Jesus forgives me (and us), that he died for my (and our) sins; the focus is on desiring to have a deep experience of how much Jesus loved us even though he knew how sinful we were. The desire of the Third Week is more to share the passion with Jesus in-sofar as this is possible. The focus is on what Jesus felt and suffered, and the desire is that he reveal that to me. Retreat directors, I believe, do their most important work when they help their directees to discover what they do in reality want. And so every retreat could begin with a con-templation of Jesus as he turns and says, "What do you want?" As re-treatants hear these words and let them penetrate their hearts, they will come to know better what they desire; in other words, they will know better who they are at this time in their relationship with the Lord. NOTES ~ "On Asking God to Reveal Himself in Retreat," REVIEW FOR REI.IOWOUS 37 (1978): 171-176; reprinted in David L. Fleming (ed.), Notes on the Spiritual Exercises of St. ignatius of Loyola (St. Louis: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 1983), pp. 72-77. 2 Sebastian Moore, Let This Mind Be in You: The Quest for Identity Through Oedi-pus to Christ (Minneapolis: Winston-Seabury, 1985). 3 In another context I have discussed the courage of Bartimaeus. See "Surrender: Key To Wholeness," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 46 1987): 49-53. Perspectives on Parables and Prayer Donald Macdonald, S.M.M. Father Macdonald's most recent contribution to our journal was "A Pathway to God" (May/June 1988). His address continues to be: St. Joseph's; Wellington Road; Todmorden, Lancashire; 0L14 5HP England. A sister said that her annual retreat was less than satisfying because "the priest, who shall be nameless, seemed to spend a fair bit of time telling us how good he was. I nearly offered him a trumpet." My response was and is to wish that he could come for my annual retreat, if only to exer-cise my sense of humor, even though, as I suspect, he may be speaking tongue in cheek. If not, so much the better! This is not meant to be flip-pant, for it seems to me in recent years that retreats and such like are becoming more technical, esoteric, and managed. So often there has to be a title with content specified, ra~nging from privately directed to Bet- .ter World and charismatic, by way of the Spiritual Exercises, Inigo, Sadhana, Progoff, Zen, Yoga, and so much else; it seems a prudent step, therefore, to first inquire before one enters. The seeker for silence and stillness, for example, is likely to find an all-action organized retreat not a little off-putting. But it all seems so terribly earnest, with little humor. A retreat is undeniably important when seen as a chance for inspira-tion, encouragement, and vision, particularly if the opportunity comes only once a year. It is important that the Gospel is preached; arguably, over the years, some vocations may have gone by default, even among those who die as religious, inasmuch as the Good News, as the New Tes-tament would understand it, might not have been heard. It is sometimes asking much of a preacher during a retreat to try and shore up a creaking building on the verge of collapse when the day-by-day support has not been given. But what seems to happen today is a grasping for technique 14 On Parables and Prayer which is expected to provide the key to the Gospel. The search for the philosopher's stone is endemic. This, of course, may not be quite fair to someone who senses per-haps that "Thou [God] hast made us for thyself and our hearts are rest-less till they rest in thee" (Confessions 1:1).~ But expectation is not God, nor is disappointment nor, indeed, sat-isfaction. To set one's all on technique or the competence of the preacher or the receptivity of the audience is to risk losing everything. Humor will spare us that and much else. The late John Main, O.S.B., told a friend, a Ramakrishnan monk, who had asked him how he proposed to teach meditation, "Sit down, sit erect, say the mantra, and that's it.''2 His friend said that such an approach would never work with Westerners. It is so simple they will not believe you. His advice was to deliberately com-plicate it, saying you have esoteric knowledge which you can give only after they have been coming for at least ten weeks. Only then can t.hey be initiated. Throw in the name John Cassian for good measure. That should attract them. This raises a smile, as it is so close to reality as some of us observe it. A Greek Orthodox priest spoke similarly of students coming to his monastery asking to be initiated into the Jesus Prayer. "Say it." "But. ? . No, just say it." As you advance you need guidance. It is all rather deflating, for someone seeking the heights, to be told to begin at the beginning. It will be recalled that Peter L. Berger identified humor as one of his "signals of transcendence," a marvelous way out from all which might tend to dominate and frighten us in a seemingly locked-in world. It is crucial for perspective. "Laughter can show that power is ultimately' an illusion because it canno( transcend the limits of the empirical world. Laughter can--and does every time it relativizes the seemingly rocklike necessities of this world.''3 There is such a thing as gallows humor. Laughter can be a link with the divine and all that is, not just all that is here. How could a preacher or a community ever take themselves wholly seriously again after hearing this little story about a retreat director? He impressed a community as an obviously saintly man. His reputation grew as the week progressed--until he asked for meat on Friday. No saint would ever do that! On such are reputations built and lost. Favorite humorous authors such as P. G. Wodehouse or James Thurber can provide permanent links to God and reality. Once in their friendly and familiar company, we find space to simply relax and enjoy ourselves. We smile at Walter Mitty as we see ourselves in him. Our prob- 16 / Review for Religious,'January-February 1989 lems lessen in the face of what some of the Wodehouse characters have to meet. A Sergeant Bilko on black-and-white television can do as much. Holding on to the relative like this may help us see that there is always another chance--and if the Go.spei is to be believed, the time is now. I am far from underplaying the need for a properly prepared retreat or suggesting that one can laugh off whatever happens. Nor would I dis-count the value of any particular technique or approach. I would but say that everything here is relative and humor can help us see it. Father Enomiya-Lassalle once gave a day's Zen retreat to forty Korean novices, whose reaction was that "Up to now we used to have a scriptural text in our daily meditation to meditate on. Today for the first time we have felt that to meditate is to pray."4 One is grateful;for the sisters' experi. ence, but even if the priest had neve.r set foot in Korea, the providence of God would not have neglected them. Everything then can help, but nothing is essential. When the retreat .disappoints, all need not be lost. This is particularly so for those who know how to interpret their life in terms of Scripture. A fairly comprehensive experience convinces me that few can. If there is one cause of failure both in preacher and audience, it lies in the inability to do that. I would be astonished if novices knew how to do it, and very surprised to find it in the great majority of their senior brothers and sisters. One simple test is to listen for the Gospel when religious speak of what is happening to them and how they see it. The Gospel is the common coin of the Catholic Church, but many use it gingerly like a foreign currency. They do not know its value, or what to do with it. Authentic Sources 'Religious have been authoritatively urged that to genuinely live their calling they should draw "on the authentic sources of Christian spiritu-ality., in the first place they should take the Sacred Scriptures in hand each day" (Perfectae Caritatis, no. 6). Here faith and life are meshed as one. What a Jewish commentator, W. G. Plaut, said of the Torah, the Christian can wholeheartedly endorse for Scripture in its.entirety. "We hold that the Torah is a record of Israel's striving to meet God and un-derstand his will. In centuries of search, of finding and forgetting, of in-spiration and desperation, God touched the soul of his people and the sparks of these meetings burn in the pages of the Torah.' ,5 The "sparks of these meetings" are found in the pages of Scripture, and once prop-erly kindled they produce an enduring, not fitful, flame. In each meet-ing with God, which really means now, the religious by profession would wish his or her mind to be at one with the will of God, faith and life re- On Parables and Prayer flecting the one reality: "That man is Your best servant who is not so much concerned to hear from You what he wills as to will what he hears from You"(Confessions 10:26). That distinction is crucial, and none knew better than Augustine how hard it was to really make the transi-tion. All of us are innately self-centered, easily deceived. It is, then, prac-tical to go to the authentic sources of the Church's tradition, where "in the centuries of search, of finding and forgetting. God touched the soul of his people." Even Augustine intuitively seems to have felt this in his search for God. "I absolutely refused to entrust the care of my sick soul to the philosophers, because they were without the saving name of Christ. and whatever lacked that name, no matter how learned and excellently written and true, could not win me wholly" (Confessions 5: 14; 3:4). So while the attraction for God in Christ and authenticity was there, Augustine could not at first bring himself to find this, least of all in Scripture. He tells us honestly why: "So I resolved to make some study of the Sacred Scriptures and find what kind of books they were . My conceit was repelled by their simplicity, and I had not the mind to penetrate into their depths" (Confessions 3:5). He lacked "sincerity, openness of mind and that fundamental rev-erence which is a willingness to be commanded" which one who went deeper than most saw as minimum requirements before the Bible can do anything for a person.6 It is so hard to change one's mind radically, and that lovely quality of fundamental reverence before Scripture Js rarely found, especially in those who like to do things their own way--which means all of us, but for the grace of God. ~ Augustine was later to envy the Church's faithful whom he had once patronized as ignorant and unlettered. Once he himself had discovered the treasure which they so nonchalantly possessed, how his perspective changed: "Of what great harm to Your little ones was their far slower intelligence: since they strayed not far from You and so could fledge their wings in safety in the nest of Your Church, and nourish the wings of char-ity with the food of solid faith?" (Confessions 4:16). In thus moving from inauthentic to authentic existence as he saw it, he now realized that his "superior" stance was only that of the man with the empty stomach who does not know where to find food, in his case, "the food of solid faith." The search, tension, and struggle are perhaps heroic and the stakes are life or death, but nothing is gained by patronizing those who sit down each day at a full table. He finally knocked at their door and asked to come in and share what they had. Again his perspective changed: "It is with utter certainty that I love You. You have stricken Review for Religious, January-February 1989 my heart with Your word and I have loved You" (Confessions 10:6). It is well known that an appar.ently chance reading of Romans 13 and 14 finally enabled Augustine to see. Now from within the heart of the Church he is convinced that "Thou [God] didn't touch me, and I have burned for thy peace" (Confessions 10:27). This is not notional knowl-edge enabling him to speak to his intellectual peers, but the real insight given him by the word of God from within the Church enabling him to see faith and life as one. The sparks of the earlier meetings with God are now aflame in re-sponse to his word. His life and perspective are transfigured. It is per-haps not without its underlying humor to see this gifted man, with many of the gli~tering prizes within his grasp, now held enthralled by the faith of his mother and her nurse (see Confessions 9:8). He had traveled for miles and years searching for what he had left at home. If religious had this innate feeling of fundamental reverence before Scripture, always subordinating themselves to the word, never dominat-ing it, they might more easily warm to the sparks of the meetings with God in their own daily life, and so find a flame which they could never leave. Even among the trumpet calls of a preacher's self-proclaimed ex-cellence, the word of God isthere if one knows how to listen, but it is unlikely to be heard unless one is habitually doing this. That perspec-tive is all-important. A practical illustration may perhaps make the point. A Treasure Found Parables form much of the Gospel, and few strike a cord with the religious vocation more than "the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field" (Mt 13:44). Taken from life, it is meant to make us think. What is being said here? We under-stand what is being said, of course, but we are meant to assimilate its implications. Its dynamic is as powerful as Christ is real. Insofar as I be-lieve that God in Christ is here speaking to me, I shall respond and so attempt to make the Gospel my own. In fact, that parable, for many, is little more than an interesting analogy. It is a helpful example, an exter-nal, verbal, and indeed visual aid, as useful in the junior school as in the religious community. Precisely because that may not unfairly be de-scribed as the most usual understanding of the parable, the true perspec-tive is little known, and so those words scarcely ever spark into a flame. If that is compared with the approach to parables of T. W. Manson in a fine book first published over fifty years ago and often reprinted, we will find ourselves in another world where the sparks of the meeting On Parables and Prayer between Christ and ourselves can really catch fire. He says: Jesus is not concerned to demonstrate that God exists but rather to show the nature of the God whose existence is common ground for him and his audience. His aim is not to make God an article of faith but the ob-ject of faith. We are often concerned to make God probable to man; .he set out to make God real to them. It is this fact which makes parable the inevitable form in which the teaching of Jesus on the nature and ways of God should be delivered . The true parable., is not an illus-tration to help one through a theological discussion. It belongs to the same order of things as altar and sacrifice and prayer, the prophetic vi-sion and the like . It is a way in which religious faith is attained, and, as far as it can be, transmitted from one person to another. It is not a crutch for limping intellects but a spur to religious insight. Its object is not to provide simple theological instruction but to produce living re-ligious faith.7 This is Scripture seen from the inside. How many readers of this page honestly think like that? If religious habitually think in those terms, it seems to me that they keep it well hidden. Could the average reader echo, from experience, all that Manson sees--parable, the obvious teach-ing medium to make God real . . . a mode of religious experience on the same plane as altar, sacrifice, prayer, and insight., a way in which faith is attained, not a crutch for limping intellects., producing living religious faith? The easiest way to answer such questions is to ask: What did we feel when the parable was first quoted--' 'the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field."? If Manson was articulating what we have long known and felt, the resonances first produced by the par-able will still be there on the level of faith, not necessarily feeling. His comment would then simply buttress what we know to be true. Is our faith like a treasure found? Is this what has brought us to religious life? Is it a superb insight into reality? Is any sacrifice worthwhile to really possess it? What do we give in view of what we ~et? Can this treasure in any sense be found through the medium of an imperfect preacher? Do these words hold us up as they obviously show us up? One has to ask questions and link details together for the purposes of writing, but if the parable is properly assimilated to any degree, it is better to be silent and still and let the image absorb us and lead us where it will. We are then on the level of altar, sacrifice, prayer, and insight, willingly or even grudgingly, in view of the demands, letting ourselves be drawn into God through his Word. Perspectives that we perhaps know notionally are opened up to limitless horizons. Faith, not feeling, is seek- 20 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 ing to really understand. For years we have known the parable by heart. Have our hearts ever got the point and made it our own? Only silence and wonder stemming from fundamental reverence will do that. Fundamental Reverence For some years now virtually all religious communities have the for-mal daily prayer of the Church as their morning and evening prayer. In-variably, individuals or groups are given charge of liturgy and prayer, which generally means that coming to daily prayer one has to first find out what has been rearranged. Pages have to be marked, hymns noted, and alternative readings attended to. The pattern is rarely predictable. All this is done, one hears, because the community wants it, for the ordi-nary daily office is boring and repetitive. This constant adaptation is then seen as a practical attempt to engage the community in really meaning-ful prayer. In view of what has already been said, much of this suggests that those who foster or want this, apart from the risk of choosing only what-ever has personal appeal, may have no real feeling for Scripture, which may be why continual rearrangement is felt to be necessary to hold at-tention. This is, of course, the technique of the junior school, .where the children's attention span is limited and meaning has to be immediate. Yet if one receives~a line, phrase, sentence, or sentiment of Scripture on the level of altar, sacrifice, prayer, or insight, one just cannot keep chang-ing the focus without fragmenting the reality. Even to move, pick up a hymnbook, attend to alternative prayer or reading, or in general to be .never quite sure what is happening next, can be to break concentration. There may be some gain in alertness but, arguably, loss in continu-ity and assimilation. The Psalms and readings from the daily office have not yet been heard for the first time as Augustine, Manson, the Jewish commentator Plaut, and others would understand it, and will never be if one constantly changes the focus of attention in terms of relevance. One is all the time being brought up to the surface, never left long enough to go down to the depths. Ideally, the Psalms and readings could be so predictable that one almost knows them without turning the page. Only then do they have a chance of becoming part of ourselves so that we can truly listen, not just hear. Fundamental reverence would ask no less. But, however well intentioned, when one has to scan the board for the next item on .the agenda of prayer, or wait for the inspiration of a colleague, one is perhaps paying too high a price for spontaneity. The seemingly prosaic parable as a "spur to religious insight" must be in-vited to speak, not ordered to. On Parables and Prayer When Scripture is approached like this in the context of prayer, what one hears matters little. In time, perhaps less and less comes to mean more and more. It has not been and cannot be quite assimilated. Occa-sionally its relevance may be all too clear, as when, on the morning fol-lowing news of the horrific deaths of the seven astronauts in January 1986, one read: "Naked I came from my mother's womb, naked I shall return. The Lord gave, the Lord has taken back. Blessed be the name of the Lord. If we take happiness from God's hand, must we not take sorrow too?" (Jb 1:21, 2:10). Even if the words appear as dull as a school textbook, it does not matter. Nor does immediacy or surface mood. On the level of prayer, altar, sacrifice, and insight, it is one's faith responding to God that makes the connection. In time the words will peel away and matter less and less as one is held in faith, just as a smile or wave from a friend has a mean-ing out of all proportion to the action. It is a perspective on reality for which one is grateful. NOTES t The Confessions of St. Augustine, translated by F. J. Sheed (London: Sheed and Ward 1944). All references to The Confessions are from here. 2 John Main, O.S.B., "Christian Meditation," The Grail, 1978, p. 19. 3.Peter L. Berger, A Rumor of Angels (Penguin Books, 1971), p. 91. 4 The Tablet, London, January I 1, 1986, pp. 31-32. 5 The Torah, W. G. Plaut and B. J. Bamberger (New York: Union of American He-brew Congregation, 198 I), p. 1294. 6 C. H. Dodd, The Authority of the Bible [1929] (Fontana Paperback, 1962), p. 269. 7 T. W. Manson. The Teaching of Jesus (CUP, 1931; paperback, 1963), pp. 72-73. The Gift of Not Giving Jane Kammer C.S.Bo In our issue of January/February 1983, we published Sister Jane's "Three Times I Asked: Reflections on Weakness." She is a pastoral associate at St. Benedict Church in San Antonio. She may be addressed at 5107 Ozark; San Antonio, Texas 7820 I. So Jesus said to them, 'Well, then, pay to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor and pay to God what belongs to God ' (Mt 22:21). "Jesus exclaimed, 'You ask me for a miracle? No! The only mir-acle you will be given is the miracle of the prophet Jonah' " (Mt 12:39). "As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had had the de-mons begged him, 'Let me go with you!' But Jesus would not let him"(Mk 5:18-19). A popular Christian saying and song is "God loves a cheerful giver." Giving has been exalted as a hallmark of Christianity, and so it is. Didn't our leader, Jesus, give his very life to show us God's great love? Giving has also been extolled as the virtue of the ideal Christian woman. For most of her life, my mother gave. She waited on my father; she gave of herself for her children. For all but the last few years of her life, I never heard her say no to anyone who asked a favor. But after she had grieved over my father's death, a change took place in my mother. At sixty-two she learned to drive a car; she went on vacations; she joined groups and clubs; and she began to say no to requests she really did not want to fulfill. She had discovered another dimension of giving. Giving is not always healthy for the giver or for the receiver. It is not true respect when I continually do for another what the person can do for him/herself. I am beginning to learn the gift of not giving. Teilhard de Chardin said, "Your essential duty and desire is to be 22 The Gift of Not Giving united with God. But in order to be united you must first of all be --be yourself as completely as possible. And so you must develop yourself and take possession of the world in order to be. Once this has been ac-complished, then is the time to think about renunciation; then is the time to accept diminishment for the sake of being in another. Such is the sole and twofold precept of complete Christian asceticism" (The Divine Mi-lieu [New York: Harper and Row, 1960], pp. 70-71). I believe that part of developing myself is learning, through practice, the gift of not giving to everyone who seems to ask. If I continually place my focus on others, then I cannot really give myself in love to them, for I do not have a self to give. It is my task to discover and develop the unique person God intends for me to be. I am codependent. To me that means I tend to place my center out-side of myself. I am inclined to seek affirmation and validation from some-one else. I feel safest when giving, not receiving. I am a people pleaser who fears rejection. Taking things personally and blaming myself for whatever seems less than perfect are aspects of my codependence. I have lived with many "shoulds" from the past which I have interiorized. In many ways my life repeats the story of my mother. But it is not too late to refocus my center within myself. I can learn to allow the true "me" to emerge from within. In time I can become a self-validating, self-affirming person whose peace is permanent and whose happiness does not depend on the mood of another. If I stay with myself, I can learn to love and accept myself as I am, even while want-ing to change some things about myself. I can give myself the gift of not giving up on the real, beautiful, and exciting "me." Moreover, I can learn to give the gift to others of responsibility for themselves. By re-fusing to absorb and carry the emotions of others, I will gift them with the faith that they are capable of living their own lives, making their own decisions, and caring for themselves. One morning I attended a meeting of four people who work in the same field. One of the workers continually griped and complained. Ne-gativity flowed out of her every word and facial expression. At the end of the session, I felt depressed, oppressed, and.burdened. I had absorbed into myself the flow of her negativity. But I can give myself the gift of not taking responsibility for other people's feelings, for others' pleasant or unpleasant feelings. I can maintain my joy, peace, and positive out-look if I am aware of my tendencies and if I give myself the gift of not giving in to codependence. I can learn to trust other people to run their own lives. I can deepen my trust in God. Review for Religious, January-February 1989 As codependent I also try to control others, though I may not be aware that I am doing so. I have not seen my friend for quite a while. I miss him or her. I may long with emotional intensity to see and be with my friend again. This is all right; this is me~ I fall into codependence, however, when I expect my friend to feel the same emotions that I do, the same strong loneliness. Because he/she feels differently does not mean that we are no longer friends. We are still connected by the bonds of love and the union of our spirits, but my friend is entitled to his/her own emotional swings. Occasionally we may both experience the same feelings, but that just happens; it cannot be programmed. By giving the gift of not giving my friend the task of living up to my expectations, I free him/her to be a unique self, and I free myself from the frustration of unmet expectations. As I grow, I learn the gift of n6t giving allegiance to everything that is said about,~me, even when it is said by significant others in my life. Opefiness to consider feedback is good and necessary for growth, but I can take the comments offered, test them sincerely against what I know of my true self, and decide to allow them to influence me or reject them as not fitting. More and more I stand free: receptive but able to make choices and.changes for myself. Each of us operates out of a specific personality type. I know that those "unacceptable" aspec.ts of myself, my "shadow," can become for me sources of undreamt growth and expansion. If I am introverted, recognition' of the shadow invites me to promote the development of more assertiveness, more sociability. By taking up the challenge of my "opposites," I give myself the gift of not giving in and becoming com-pletely immersed in my dominant qualities. I also give to others the gift of my expanded personality., my versatility to be reflective and quiet, and to be spontaneous and outgoing. I then realize that I have the potential to grow in all qualities of personality. Giving the gift of not giving can be risky. This is especially so if one is looked upon as a professional "helper." 1 am supposed to rescue peo-ple, or so it is often assumed. But the divine in me nudges me to grow and to foster my own "undependence" so that I do not need to rescue in order to feel worthy or worthwhile. I can then rejoice with the other in his/her efforts that lead to confidence, success, self-esteem, and de-victimization. When I encourage the other to look within her/himself for the indwell-ing God, the source of strength and goodness, then the other's success in dealing with difficulties is truly authentic and lasting. I become, not The Gift of Not Giving a rescuer or savior, but a real companion and friend. Recently a friend said to me, "I am upset over certain events that have taken place lately. I feel I can share with you about those situations because you are concerned and will give your support and prayers, but you won't take on my problems and become as upset as I am, and so be-come an added problem and burden to me. And you won't smother me with sympathy either." I consider those remarks a confirmation of the rightness of the gift of not giving and an uncovering of the true meaning of compassion. Jesus gave the gift of not giving. He refused to give direct answers to the Pharisees who were trying to trap him. He did not allow them to control him or his mission. Jesus did not perform miracles for those un-believers. He refused to compromise himself in order to please them. He did not even accept the adoration of the man who was cleansed from evil. Jesus will not allow us to follow him out of coercion or ignorahce. We must make up our own minds. He gave us the gift of not giving easy answers; he taught in parables. Jesus leaves us free and invites us to re- .sponsible living and loving. He refuses to take on our responsibility for ourselves and our world even though we often try to put on him th~ blame for our misfortunes and our mistakes. o Christ's peace was from within. He was "self-centered," anchored in the depths of his love springing from deep within. We too are chal-lenged to anchor in the gift of self that we find within, put there by God. One way to self is through the gift of not giving. Chapters and Structures William F. Hogan, C.S.C. Father Hogan wrote "The Cross Reconsidered" for our issue of March/April ! 988. His address remains: Fratelli Cristiani; Via della Maglianelli, 375; 00166 Roma, It-aly. Postconstitution chapters in most congregations take a very different form from those in which much labor was directed to working out, concept by concept, word by word, texts of constitutions to be submitted for ec-clesiastical approval. If there was perplexity in some institutes as to what a chapter would do when there were no more constitutions to write, the wonderment soon dissolved as attention was focused on the principal calls of the times: justice, peace, preferential option for the poor, sim-plification of lifestyle, apostolic spirituality, and so forth. Less legisla-tion emerged from the chapters; the accent was on setting immediate goals for administrations and planning steps for implementation of di-rection by the community: simple documents of challenge for reflection, inspiration, action. A variety of formulas, techniques, and approaches have been used to provoke a deep listening to the Spirit during sessions and to share the chapter's reflections and concerns with the larger con-gregation. Our times have seen much effort and creativity to make chap-ters meaningful experiences, and more will be needed in the future be-cause there is no magical formula that can cover every set of concerns or apply to all chapter circumstances. The uniqueness of each chapter will demand an approach suitable to its particularity: what works for one may very well not be beneficial to another. The experience of many congregations would advocate that it is not necessary for chapters to go over every element of the life of a congre-gation, as ordinarily done in the past, because there are so many other 26 Chapters and Structures participative structures in place between chapters. More effective results emerge when one topic is pursued in depth and the congregation's ef-forts are channeled in a particular direction. At the same time it is im-portant that a chapter and other community organs related to a chapter devote some attention to important points other than the principal topic. The 1983 code of Canon Law determines a number of issues to be treated in the particular law of religious congregations, and these fall under the responsibility of a general chapter. Most of these matters have been leg-islated in the constitutions; there is widespread reluctance to touch them after experiencing the difficulties of having constitutions approved, even when a group intellectually acknowledges the need for modifications. Oth-ers are taken up in the secondary book and should be reviewed by the chapter, even though its primary thrust is not concerned with the particu-lar law as such. There are ways of accomplishing this so as not to dis-tract from the major chapter consideration--for example, through the use of an ad hoc committee reviewing the legislation and making recommen-dations to the assembly. Without this review there is always the possi~ bility of a gap developing between living and the calls of the Spirit to move forward in mission. One of the most basic areas not to be overlooked is that of the struc-tures of government, where there are many questions deserving ongoing congideration even though structures are usually treated in the constitu-tions and considered of more permanent nature than rfiatters'of the sec-ondary book. Frequently the particular law of a congregation will state that structures are for the mission:, that the participation of the institute in the continuing mission of Jesus is the determining factor for structures of authority and government and the division of a congregation into life-promoting and mission-serving units. It .is far too easy to let the concept of structures for mission become a dead letter, since the mission is not staticbut constantly undergoing variables. Reflective vigilance is needed to take into account the changing factors of the mission of Jesus today and be at the service of the mission in fact and not just in word. This is especially true in international congregations with their divi-sions into provinces, regions, sectors, and so forth, but finds application also'in national and diocesan groups. Religious institutes are experienc-ing decreases in some of their internal divisions because of aging, loss of members, and other factors with the result that some previously sta-ble units no longer appear capable of maintaining the autonomy neces-saryto function as a unit in the same way. In not a few instances there is occurring a reversal of what have up to this point been geographical Review for Religious, January-February 1989 central and peripheral areas in congregations; then, too, there often is dis-persion of individuals and communities, along with new forms of com-munity. New foundations in third-world countries being made by differ-ent provinces of the same congregation point to a need for a networking among them to provide for sharing of experiences and insights, even if situations are not yet sufficiently clear to establish more permanent struc-tures. And surely, sufficient reflection on the units of a congregation will give rise to other situations in need of monitoring. Canon law and practice leaves the regulation of internal divisions to the individual institute and the authority therein determined, as long as the basic points of the approved constitutions are followed. These latter often allow for more flexibility than seems apparent at first glance; where there may be lacking the necessary suppleness, recourse should be had to the appropriate Church authority. A desire for survival may force the issue of restructuring in some congregations rather than a more overt con-cern that structures serve the mission; whatever be the motivation in fact, watchfulness is called for and the occasion of a chapter provides an op-portunity to exercise a healthy vigilance. Reflection on structures is not meant to pull religious in on them-selves, but outwards to furthering the work of Christ and promoting the qualitative dimension of ministry, life, and contribution to the local Church--lest there be a discrepancy between what we say of ourselves in principle and the reality of what we live. Connected with this reflec-tion is the issue of identity and charism, in the sense that the question at times arises whether to bolster the presence of the congregation in one part of the world through bringing new members from countries where vocations are still in abundance or simply to let the presence eventually fade out of existence. The tendency is to give an answer in terms of the works the religious are doing and whether the apostolates should be con-tinued; yet there is a deeper element than simply the works: Are the re-ligious bringing anything different in terms of witness to the local Church that others cannot effect? Not just a question of doing, but the reality of being: How are we in wha~ we do? No simple answers can be given to this; much soul-searching about the identity to which we witness is en-tailed. And if there is nothing .particular being shared with the local Church in terms of charism, it may be that the Spirit is saying that the congregation's presence is no longer gifting the local Christian commu-nity. A number of other matters concerning authority structures deserve periodic consideration, such as terms of office, interimsbetween chap- Chapters and Structures / 29 ters, and whether chapters are the only or best vehicles to accomplish the promotion of the mission and life. Many congregations have gone through a number of changes during the last two decades concerning the duration of offices because of concern with people being in positions too long, the need for freshness of vision in monitoring change and the cur-rents of the times, and the promotion of participation and development of individuals' gifts and talents. Sometimes in addressing one set of val-ues and making decisions in accord with them, experience shows that other values suffer and perhaps there is conflict in trying to integrate all the facets. Thus some congregations have gone full circle and returned to their original terms of office after various experiments; others have opted for a longer nonrenewable mandate; and still others have deter-mined upon several shorter terms. It would be idealistic to think that the workable formula reached for the present should not be open for recon-sideration if changing circumstances would indicate the need for another solution. Frequently religious Speak of the amount of energy that is expended in preparing chapters and implementing their decisions and orientations; also of the insufficiency of time between chapters for a congregation to realize the implications of chapter decisions before being moved on as a group to other subject matters. The frustrations sometimes expressed in this regard, in conjunction with fatigue over the number of meetings in which religious at times have to participate on different levels, raise the issue of whether there are other ways to accomplish the goals with-out the mechanism of chapters so regularly and all that is entailed therein, and still preserve and foster the principles of members working together toward policies of life and mission. Creativity of thought is needed here to safeguard the values intended by the structure of chapter and at the same time to prevent excessive use of energy that could be more directly channeled toward mission. Further, it might prove opportune from time to time to reflect on some of the points brought over into religious structures from corpora-tion models to assure the rights of individuals and promote participation. Some were needed to correct abuses or remedy problem areas at a par-ticular time. Are they still needed? Has something been lost from the com-munity- of-faith dimension while stressing organizational approaches? Where is the congregation now in the balance of values? Some benefi-cial insights could be gained by a congregation relative to structures for mission from treating these and similar questions. Not to be overlooked either would be the number of people involved :30 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 in community administration full time: too few? too many? enough for the needs of mission on the part of the congregation? How do we under-stand these needs now, taking into account the concept of community for mission and the need for good government and sufficiently broad-based decision making? The answer given at one time will apply only as long as circumstances remain basically the same: hence the need for periodic review. To look at some of these issues of structure from the viewpoint of service of the mission and the community's growth for mission may ap-pe. ar as an invitation to furiher instability in religious life; perhaps it would involve furthe~r unsettling, but in terms--hopefully--of the unset-tling aspe~zts of Jesus' message and mission a~d of the mentaJity of foun-ders and foundresses. Their primary passion, in following Jesus,,was to reveal the Father's love and assist others to experience it in their lives; institutionalization of religious life and structures as such generally arose after the founders' times. Stability of life is an important aspect of relig-ious life; it is expressed in the Church's definitions of consecrated life (see can. 573,1). However, stability must not be equated with no change, especially when the mission that gives meaning to the consecrated life demands change. Stability demands serious prayerful reflection on the whole issue of change, keeping our vision focused 'on the person of Je-sus arid his mission today. And while we concentrate our ,energies and attention on the great sweeping calls of the Spirit of Jesus as reiterated through the Church, we must also keep alert to whether internal struc-tures are enabling for response to mission. Meta-Expectations and the General Chapter J. Roberta Rivello, S.S.J. Sister J. Roberta Rivello is a Sister of Saint Joseph of Philadelphia. She is currently Dean of Graduate Studies Division at Chestnut Hill College in Philadelphia; prior to that she was research analyst for the Department of Army where she worked for the past seven years. This paper is about the difference between expectations reasonably held and "meta-expectations," and what happens when "meta-expecta-tions" are part of the agenda for a general chapter in religious institutes. Having to deal with these meta-expectations in the general chapter may be a part of the reason why so many religious institutes find themselves, in the years immediately following a general chapter, in the midst of a good deal of frustration, anger, even~outright rejection of some of the mandates of the general chapter. I believe this occurs because many of the expectatio.ns explicitly ex-pressed by the members of an institute are clearly not the substantive con-tent for the general chapter to consider. When a religious institute re-quests from the membership proposals, recommendations, and sugges-tions prior to a general chapter, it may be of some benefit to explain at the same time what is reasonable for the members to expect from the chap-ter, and to provide some criteria for arriving at the proper methods for expressing those expectations to the chapter delegates. Part of this edu-cation could include guidance into what constitutes "reasonable expec-tations," and how to differentiate between these and what I term "meta-expectations." I use the term rneta-expectations as a phenomenological description for the kinds of aspirations and expectations which are not structurally 31 Review for Religious, January-February 1989 . and substantively significant to the issues ~hich h~ive been identified as chapter material. Persons who express such "meta-expectations" through their proposals and letters certainly do not perceive them as meta-expectations-- or they would not submit them. I believe it is the job of the prechapter committees to communicate to those who submit such pro-posals, even personally if possible, why it is that their expectations are not reasonable for the chapter to include in its portfolio of proposals. Do-ing this would eliminate some of the postchapter frustration, even if in-itially the explanation is quite difficult to accept. A general chapter may, for example, need to deal with spirituality and prayer as they relate to the charism of the institute, and proceeds to invite proposals to that effect. When the proposals are reviewed, how-ever, it is found that some members have expressed a variety of expec-tations which~ are, not substantive.ly identifiable with the charism and spiri-tuality of the institute. If these .expectations were to become content for the~delegates' consideration during the chapter, they could seriously im-pair the effectiveness of chapter deliberations and could ultimately erode the charis~n itself of the institute. The "mandates" of a general chapter are simply directives with en-forcement p.ower. These mandates deal with matters which have an im~ pact on the~members' sPiritual development, community life, prayer, ap-ostolic works, or other important areas which are integral to the life of a religious.The precise direction which the general chapter should take is undergirded by the constitutions and charism of the institute. Whatever else, a chapter accomplishes, it ought to accomplish the ful-fillment of its members' first-order reasonable expectations. These rea-sonably held expectations, in turn, ought to flow from the institute's spiri-tuality and charism. Ageneral ch.apter,, however, need not attend with great detail to ful-filling second-order expectations since these do not necessarily consti-tute the ne'cessary and sufficient matter for a general chapter to entertain. It is these latter which I term meta-expectations. Meta-expectations are something which a newly elected leadership might need: to consider sometime soon after entering into their term of office. But religious institutes which choose to concern themselves with such non-reasonable expectations during the general.chapter frequently find that there are.significantly sharp differences between the way the dele-gates perceive of the proposals presented to them and the way the pro-posing me,.mbers perceive the resulting chapter mandates. They will ac-cept the mandates accord.ing to what their expectations were prior to gen- Meta-Expectations and the Chapter eral chapter. Even in the Church today there is a growing sense that religious in-stitutes are experiencing very serious differences in the way the mem-bership perceives the outc0me of general chapters. This is partially due to the way general chapters often conduct their prechapter preparations and the way that Chapters of Affairs are conducted. These differences in perception and interpretation area result of the failure to differentiate between the reasonable expectations and the meta-expectations of the in-stitute's membership. This failure further fragments the members and their acceptance of the mandates and authority of the chapter. In this paper I will try to clarify what are reasonable expectations for a general chapter, and to show the difference between reasonable expec-tations and meta-expectations and how they influence the general chap-ter, Conflict between these two kinds of expectations can exist whenever expectations of any kind are elicited and aroused. For example, if one is invited to dinner, it is all right to expect something to eat but it is not reasonable to expect filet of beefi That is a meta-expectation, and while it may not be wrong to hold such a meta-expectation, it certainly is not reasonable; nor need the host meet it. Neither should the one holding such a meta-expectation be disappointed or offended if the host does not ~erve filet! More relevant to our discussion are the expectations religious have about their general chapters especially when preparations for them evoke strong expectations among the members as well as among the delegates. As I gtated above, two. of the things which ought to be simultane-ously evolving in the months prior to a chapter are how to identify and clarify the proper content for consideration and how to prepare both dele-gates and members to be able to differentiate between meta-expectations and reasonable expectations. It is reasonable for members of a religious institute to e£pect its gen-eral chapter to ~nandate programs for renewal, for spiritual development, for apostoli6 works, and for good community life. But it is not.reason-able to (xpect it to'decide how the membership ought to rest and relax, even thou'gti such matters are very important and time arid thou~ht~ought to be given to their consideration. It is as unreasonable for the member-ship to expect this to be considered as it would 'be for the general chap-ter to consider it---even if some of the delegates want it added to the agenda. The business of a general chapter is to redesign the future of the institute as it finds itself called to reveal Christ to the world in its con-temporary situation. This is its first-order work and is the only claim any- Review for Religious, January-February 1989 one can reasonably make on a general chapter. If the institute is true to its charism, the general chapter will succeed in fulfilling reasonable ex-pectations, and a newly elected leadership, or a reelected leadership, will be confirmed and authorized in working together to find ways and means to carry out what the chapter has mandated. In doing so, general administration should act in such a way that it further clarifies the difference between reasonable expectations and meta-expectations. Acting thus after the chapter assures continuity as well as flexibility in the institute's lived-out charism, since it preserves the in-tegrity of the institute's constitutions even while assuring versatility in their application to the reality that presents itself here and now.~ After all, it is in the real world that the institute exists, and its contemporary situation should be the focus of the institute's energies if it is to survive. If, however, the general chapter takes into consideration everything sub-mitted to it, the real essence of the institute's life becomes obscured. In addition, every proposal presented to the chapter contains its own par-ticular character and language which force the delegates to unpack its meaning before addressing the issue it contains. By sifting out the recta-expectations from the agenda, the delegates will be freed to concentrate on the constitutions and charism of the institute and to interpret the con-temporary situation in light of the Gospels for the world the institute is called to serve. There is good evidence that the bishops did this in Vatican II docu-ments. The document Lumen Gentium shows that they were aware of their .responsibility to separate out the recta-expectations from the rea-sonable ones.2 Their emphasis was on common-good considerations. Common-good considerations evolve from whatever the community has in common, not from things incidental to it. I believe this is why the docu-ments are clearly and straightforwardly parousial (expectant), so fitting for a Church in labor to reveal Christ to the world. For religious insti-tutes, the emphasis should also be on the common good, that is, on what the institute holds in common and what it shares as an institute in labor to reveal Christ to the world. For religious, this is found in their consti-tutions and in the charism of its founding. The document Perfectae Cari-tatis expresses the expectation of the Church about what it believes re-ligious institutes are called to be: Religious should carefully consider that through them, to believers and nonbelievers alike, the Church truly wishes to give an increasingly clearer revelation of Christ. Through them Christ should be shown con-templating on the mountain, announcing God's kingdom to the multi- Meta-Expectations and the Chapter / 35 tude, healing the sick and the maimed, turning sinners to wholesome fruit, blessing children, doing good to all, and always obeying the will of the Father who sent him.3 Rather than stating the expectations of religious, the document states what it is the Church expects of the religious institutes. This sense of expectation is not alien to either the Old or New Tes-taments. Scriptures retell the sacred history of a people filled with ex-pectation for a Messiah. For some, that expectation was misplaced or mis-focused so that when the Messiah came, when the expectation was ful-filled, they did not recognize it. Likewise, the message of Christ was clearly a statement of what it was he expected of us as we await his sec-ond coming. It is this same degree of expectation which is the ground-ing for religious institutes coming into being in the first place, that is, to reveal Christ to others even as we await (expect) his second coming. At this time some institutes are preparing for their chapter. A great deal of preparation will take place, I am sure. Included in that prepara-tion should be some education on what constitutes reasonable expecta-tions for the membership to have and how to express those expectations in proposals, letters, and prechapter committee work. I believe that some of the meta-expectations expressed prior tochapter in proposals to the general chapter are the result of excessive reliance on congregational and personal self-analyses which, in turn, rely too heavily on current statis-tics, social analysis, and popular trends. This tendency is best described as the historicist versus the historical view of events.4 Both views are needed but if they are not balanced, the religious institutes are robbed of either their historical tradition and dynamism (charism) or of insights derived from knowledge of the cultural and intellectual shifts occurring in society. Needless to say, I believe the omission of either is wrong. In fact, one of the tasks of the general chapter is to ensure that the bal-ance between both perspectives is maintained. Furthermore, an advan-tage to holding the Chapter of Election after the Chapter of Affairs is to ensure that the elected leadership is committed to carrying out the man-date of the general chapter and to the mission of the institute visible in its charism. The business of meta-expectations derailing expectations occurs daily in society--in the system of justice, in education, in government and other natural systems. It ought to occur less frequently in religious institutes if they are open to the Spirit unfolding in them. One other example of the distinction between meta-expectations and Review for Religious, January-February 1989 expectations might clarify what I am saying. In a religious institute mem-bers may experience some dissatisfaction with the missioning process, and all kinds of proposals expressing both meta-expectations and expec-tations emerge. The dissatisfaction is with the process and not with the people doing the job. Instead of focusing on the dissatisfaction, the dele-gates begin, as a result of some meta-expectations, to design new roles and functions for the persons charged with missioning when they ought to have seriously looked at the process and analyzed the cause of dis-content. The process is in need of change; failure to redesign it changes nothing, and future chapters will find themselves still dealing with dis-content about the process. Sometimes an issue is finally resolved but only after it has resurfaced in several chapters. One cannot be sure, however, that the ultimate resolution flows from reasonable expectations or not. What is certain is that if it is the result of meta-expectation something of the institute's charism is diminished. A model for expectations showing the process involved in discern-ment of the kinds of things which happen as a result of responses pro-vided in proposals follows: -Perception: dissatisfaction with missioning process -Response: a change is needed in the process In this model the response is a ~reasonable expectation for members to have. The model also lends itself to scrutiny by the delegates who will then test various recommendations made in the context of chapter to see how they relate to the charism and spirituality of the institute. In doing this, no special interest or meta~expectation will drive the final outcome. After chapter, the information and proposals not used in chapter can be given additional study and perhaps even be used for input into some ad hoc trial period of experimentation. A second model based on meta-expectations follows: -Perception: dissatiSfaction with missioning process -Response: establishment of new roles for persons charged with process The response in this case is the fulfillment of a meta-expectation since it begins to deal with m'any different aspects of the dissatisfaction. The issue is clearly defined as dissatisfaction with the process; then the charism and spirituality of the institute should dictate the solution. The response in this model is expressive of one of the many meta-expecta-tions expressed, all of which are not substantively, relative to the insti-tute's charism and spirituality. This model is provided as example; it is not a definitive model. Religious institutes can substitute ever so many examples which violate their own particular charism. This is not to say Meta-Expectations and the Chapter / 37 that it is wrong to have the vision to redesign the institute or to follow "paths unknown." What this paper is addressing is the growing aware-ness among religious that somewhere things are going amiss and worse, that it is becoming increasingly more difficult for the institute to recog-nize its own charism and spirituality at work in the Church for which it is called to reveal Christ and through him the Father. In this brief essay I have tried to make a distinction between the jus-tifiable and reasonable expectations one might have for a general chap-ter and the meta-expectations one might have, which are not reasonable for a general chapter to consider in its deliberations, no matter how at-tractive or relevant those meta-expectations appear. NOTES ~ Bernard J.F. Lonergan, S.J., Insight: A Study of Human Understanding. London. 1958. passim. 2 Walter M. Abbot, S.J. (ed.), The Documents of Vatican !!, p. 225, n. 26. All ref-erences to the Documents are taken from here. 3 Documents, p. 77, n. 46. 4 For an insightful account of the distinction between historicism and historicalism, read Bernard J.F. Lonergan, S.J., Method In Theology: London, 1971. pp. 323- 326, 239, 318. See also the works of Wilhelm Dilthey and Ernest Troeltsch; Maurice Mandelbaum. Enc. Phil., 4:22-25. Thomas Merton and His Own Cistercian Tradition M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Basil's most recent article in this journal was "Simple Contemplative Prayer" (March/April 1987). He now resides at Assumption Abbey; Rt. 5, Box 193; Ava, Missouri 65608. I presume most of the readers of this essay are fairly familiar with the life and development of Thomas Merton. In the last pages of the Secular Jour-nal, Merton sums up his spiritual journey towards the Church and mon-astery: From Gilson's Spirit of Medieval Philosophy I learned a healthy respect for Catholicism. Then Ends andMeans taught me to respect mysticism. Maritain's Art and Scholasticism was another important influence, and Blake's poetry. Perhaps also Evelyn Underhill's Mysticism, though I read precious little of it. I was fascinated by the Jesuit sermons in Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man! What horrified him, began to appeal to me. It seemed to me quite sane. Finally G. F. Lahey's Life of Gerard Manley Hopkins; I was reading about Hopkins's conver-sion when 1 dropped the book and ran out of the house to look for Fa-ther Ford. ~ It is not surprising that this author would be influenced primarily by authors and their books. In a preface to A Thomas Merton Reader, published in 1962, six years before his tragic death, Merton summed up his monastic years: I would say that my life at Gethsemani has fallen roughly into four pe-riods. First, the novitiate. I was a novice in 1942-1944. Those were hard years, before the days when radiators were much in favor during the win-ter, when the hours of communal prayer were much longer, when the 38 Merton and Cistercian Tradition fasts were much stricter. It was a period of training, and a happy, aus-tere one; during which 1 wrote little. The best Gethsemani poems be-long to this period. At the end of the novitiate my health broke down and I was ap-pointed to write and do translations of French books and articles. I was also studying philosophy and theology in preparation for ordination to the priesthood. This second period extends from 1944, my first vows, to ordination in 1949. At first the writing was very bad . In 1946 I wrote Seven Storey Mountain, in 1947 Seeds of Contemplation, and in 1948 The Waters of Siloe. After ordination, in 1949, there was an-other brief period of poor health and nervous exhaustion. I was almost incapable of writing for at least a year and a half after I became a priest. Then after a rest period in the hospital, I wrote The Ascent to Truth and Bread in the Wilderness (both about 1951) and finished The Sign of Jonas, 1952. In 1951 1 was appointed the Master of Scholastics, that is, of the young monks studying for ordination in the monastery. This en-tailed a fair amount of work preparing conferences and classes. Books like The Living Bread and particularly No Man is an Island and The Si-lent Life belong to the end of this period. Finally, a fourth stage. In 1955 I was made Master of the Choir Nov-ices. This is an office involving considerable work and responsibility. No writing of any account was done in ! 956, but after that it was possi-ble to produce short books or collections of essays, and some poetry. Disputed Questions, The Wisdom of the Desert, The Behavior of Titans, and New Seeds of Contemplation belong to this last period. So too do more recent essays on nuclear war, on Chinese thought, on liturgy, and on solitude.2 It is notable that in all of this literary reminiscing, Merton does not mention specifically any Cistercian Father or any of the work he did con-cerning them. Actually he does not seem to have had any contact with the Cistercian tradition prior to entering the monastery. But, in fact, once he entered the Cistercian life he so immersed himself in it that it became the very matrix of his life and .thinking. In his early days as he was as-similating Cistercian spirituality, Merton wrote about the Cistercian Fa-thers explicitly. When he served the community as Master of Scholastics and as Novice Master, he spoke about them constantly; his notes and his taped conferences are full of them. Later they cropped up spontaneously in his writings, the paradigm against which he evaluated what he was then absorbing. One of his favorites would find his place in the final talk Merton gave a few hours before his sudden death.3 When Merton first entered the monastery, there was, as he said in the epilogue of The Spirit of, Simplicity,4 little of the Cistercian Fathers 40 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 available in English.5 But this did not hinder him. He not only found no problem in reading the Latin texts in Migne, he strongly believed that translations always lacked something of the origin~il.6 How carefully he studied these texts is witnessed not only by his frequent use of quota-tions from them in his early writings and the talks he gave his scholas-tics and novices, but also by the .und.erlinings and annotations found in the voit]mes of the Fathers which he used. One of Thomas Merton's-- or Frater Louis, as he was then called-- earliest assignments was to translate a.report from the CisterCian Gen-eral Chapter, entitled The Spirit of Simplicity,7 and provide a suitable in-troduction for it. He'not only did that but gathered a complementary selection of texts from St. Bernard on interior simplicity in its fullness. He translated these and commented on them, turning the report into a full book. This part of the The Spirit of Simplicity has recently been published in a volume in the Cistercian Studies Series with two other early Bernar-dine essays of Merton.8 He wrote a five-part study of Bernard and St. John of the Cross for Collectanea which expresses his concern of that period when he was writing The Ascent to Truth .9 We can detect in these essays a certain struggle Merton was experiencing in trying to respond both to the rich, fully human patristic heritage Bernard offered him and the exciting, stimulating, scholastic approach which John of the Cross was able to integrate with a high mystical theology. It wbuld be Ber-nard's approach that would win him over. In the prologue to The Sign of Jonas he would write: "I found in writing The Ascent to Truth that technical language, though it is univer-sal and certain and accepted by theologians, .does not reach the average man and does not convey what is more personal and most vital in relig-ious experience. Since my focus is not upon dogmas as such, but only on their repercussions in the life of a soul in which they begin to find concrete realization, I may be pardoned for using my own words to talk about my own soul." ~0 The third piece in the Cistercian Studies volume witnesses to another early concern of Merton--the superiority of thecontemplative life. In an extensive essay which was first published serially in ~Collectanea and later appeared as a volume in French,~ Merton is at pains to establish that the apostolic life, though it may have a fullness beyond the purely contemplative life, as Bernard ,acknow!edges,.has true:value only inso-far as it flows out of contemplation. And thus the contemplative life is in itself more important or of greater dignity. Merton's~argumentation Merton and Cistercian Tradition here is not all that easy to follow, nor that cogent. Later he himself would comment negatively about such preoccupation.~2 The eighth centenary of Bernard's death led to a spate of publishing on the saint. Merton translated the papal encyclical produced for the oc-casion and wrote an introduction to it. ~3 He was invited to introduce other works. His preface to Bernard de Clairvaux, a collection of studies pub-lished by the Historical Commission of his order and edited by its chair-man, Father Jean-de-la-Croix Bouton, shows the increasing influence of Bernard on Merton.~4 The piece is filled with scriptural texts and allu-sions. We might.say it is a very Bernardine piece about Bernard. In line with his earlier concentration, Merton sees that Bernard added to the Cis-tercian reform "an emphatic call to contemplative union with God." ~5 At the same time Merton begins to reveal a more integral understanding of Bernard as a "man of his times . . . a many-sided saint." 16 This is further in evidence in the next piece. His .introduction to Bruno Scott James's translation of the letters of St. Bernard, he considered important. ~7 At his behest it was included in A Thomas Merton Reader in the section ".Mentors and Doctrines."~8 It revealed Thomas Merton's growth in his appreciation for Bernard in line with his own personal growth. Merton had had his experience on the cor-ner of Maple and Fourth. He now beheld all with a greater integrity. He had a new .appreciation for Bernard the man. H~e appreciated the letters because they so well brought out the human dimension of the great saint: They [the letters] show the man as he is, and because he is so much a man, readers who forget that saints must be men may sometimes be in-clined to question his saintliness . Bernard is sent to instruct us how human a saint must be to forge'out the will of God in the heat of the affairs of men . He had the humility to be himself in the thick of a silly argument. He had the good grace to admit that a saint might pos-sibly have to bicker with another saint . The angry Bernard, the pas-sionate Bernard . . . the merciful Bernard, the gentle long-suffering monk who could be as tender as a mother . 19 As Merton noted in his brief literary biography quoted above, liturgy came more to the fore in a later period of his life. In Seasons of Cele-bration he published one of his most beautiful pieces on St. Bernard: "The Sacrament of Advent in the Spirituality of St. Bernard.' ,20 It is undoubtedly St. Bernard, the "Theologian of the Cistercian Life" (as Merton's friend Jean Leclercq would name him), who received the most attention from Merton. Besides Bernard's prominence as the mas-ter of the Cistercian school, there would be the influence of Gilson. As 42 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 we have seen above, Gilson was one of the first to open the way for Mer-ton towards Catholicism. Merton's respect for him never diminished, and his masterful work The Mystical Theology of Saint BerndrdZ~ was most carefully studied and wholly accepted by Merton.22 But Merton read all the significant Cistercian Fathers, and spoke and wrote on them as occa-sion offered. The "Bernard of the North," Bernard's disciple, the abbot of Rievaulx, Aelred, received special attenti.on. Merton has an extensive un-published piece on him, which looks like it was on the way to becoming a book. We can hope it will. soon appear in Cistercian Studies. It is an important piece, and I shall return to it later in this esgay. As one of his first projects for Cistercian Publications, Merton wrote an introduction for Father Amfd6e Hallier's Monastic Theology of Aelred of Rievaulx. Here again we see the later Merton rejecting earlier attitudes: Let us be quite clear the monastic theology of Aelred is not a partisan "theology of monasticism." It is not an apologia for .the life of the monk, and not a kind of gnostic system organized to prove some sup-posed superiority of "the contemplative life," urging a flight to ineffa-ble convulsions,z3 He saw that "the Christian life is, for Aelred, simply the full flow-ering of freedom and consent in the perfection of friendship. Friendship with other human beings is an epiphany of friendship with God." Mer-ton notes that "Not so long ago, some of Aelred's books were kept un-der lock and key in Trappist libraries. ,,24 Merton never wrote a particular essay on Bernard's closest friend, William of Saint Thierry, but he considered him "a profound and origi-nal theologian and a contemplative in his own right."25 He dedicated one of his first books to him, "one of the saints and mystical theologians of the Golden Age," and quoted him extensively in the foreword.26 In regard to the fourth of the evangelists of Citeaux, Guerric of Igny, we have the opportunity to get a sampling of Merton's more ordinary treat-ment of the Cistercian Fathers in his talks to the juniors at Gethsemani. Sister Bernard Martin of Chimay transcribed two of Merton's talks which had been taped and published the transcription in Cistercian Studies in 1972.27 For Merton, "Guerric was really deep and very spiritual and very mystical."28 And as Merton.opens him up for his novices, he is also very much alive, very practical and down to earth. It is in these intimate talks that we best see how the Cistercian Fathers reverberated in the mind and heart of this twentieth-century Cistercian Father. Merton and Cistercian Tradition There is a more formal treatment of Guerric of Igny and his liturgi-cal sermons in Merton's introduction to the Gethsemani Christmas book for 1959: Sister Rose of Lima's translation of Guerric's Christmas ser-mons. 29 Other Cistercian Fathers turn up in Merton's published writings. There are poems about St, Alberic3° and St. Malachy.3! When Cister-cian Studies began publishing Sister Penelope's translation of the ser-mons of Isaac of Stella, Merton provided an introduction for this "not the least interesting of the Cistercian writers."32 He found him a "more independent thinker and less subject to the dominant influence of Saint Bernard''33, whose writings reminded him "at times of Eckhart in their tone."34 Merton's spirit resonated with this abbot who withdrew from a large and important Cistercian abbey to an erernus, a poor and lonely island foundation. Merton provided an introduction for another Cistercian Father, one of his favorites, Adam of Perseigne.35 Earlier he had written about Adam's theory of monastic formation in an essay that was published in Charles Dumont's French translation.36 Adam was for Merton something of a mentor in his duties as novice master, and his admiration for the ab-bot of Perseigne remained till the end. In his final talk at Bangkok he brings him forth to illustrate a basic monastic theory.37 When the earlier essay was further developed, Merton gave it a new title, one that wit-nessed to his own development: The Feast of Freedom. Adam, Aelred, all the great Cistercian Fathers led Merton in the same direction. But Merton did not have an unbounded admiration for all the twelfth-century Cistercian writers, Here is an example, Gamier of Langres: Gamier was not deep and not spiritual and not mystical. He was a literal-minded person with a lot of learning. As a matter of fact he is quite in-teresting, On the liturgy, he has a lot of little statements about what they did at the time and what they thought they were doing and why they did it. But these are just little statements of historical fact. Today Gamier would be a scientific-minded critic. "But a scientific-minded critic in the Middle Ages is just about zero, because he has nothing to work on . He's finished, he's dated, he's way back. He is no more modern than 'a twelfth-century concept of the universe.38 He goes so far as to say: "His work., is not in English at all, and if it never gets translated into English that won't be too soon.' ,39 This does, though, give, us another indication as to the extent to which Merton worked his way through the pages of Migne4° and ex-plored all the published writings of the early Cistercian Fathers. 44 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 Above I have mentioned the monograph that Merton was working on entitled "Saint Aelred of Rievaulx." This is a significant piece of work. In placing Aelred in context Merton gives a fine synopsis of Cis-tercian history and especially literary history from the foundation in 1098 up till the death of Becket (+ 1170). But I think one of the valuable ele-ments of this work is the insight that Merton has as a later Cistercian writer into these early Cisterclan writers. Indeed, as I read the pertinent section I ask.myself if this is not a candid insight into Merton himself as a Cistercian writer: ¯ . . the rich and elegant vitality of Cistercian prose--most of which is sheer poetry--betrays an overflow 0( literary productivity which did not even need to strive for its effects: it achieved them, as it were, sponta-neously. It seemed to be second nature to St. Bernard, William of St. Thierry, Adam of Perseigne, Guerric of lgny, to write with consummate beauty prose full of sound and color and charm, There were two natural explanations for this. The first is that the prolific Cistercian writers of the Golden Age were men who had already been thoroughly steeped in the secular literary .movements of the time before they entered the clois-ter. All of them had rich experience of the current of humanism that flow-ered through the twelfth-century renaissance . There is a second explanation for the richness and exuberance of theo-logical prose in twelfth-century monasteries of Citeaux. If contact with classical humanism had stimulated a certain intellectual vitality in these clerics, it hlso generated a conflict in their souls. The refined natural ex-citements produced by philosophical speculation, by art, poetry, music, by the companionship of restless sensitive and intellectual friends merely unsettled their souls. Far from finding peace and satisfaction in all these things, they found war. The only answer to the problem was to make a clean break with everything that stimulated this spiritual uneasiness, to withdraw from the centers in which it was fomented, and get away somewhere, discover some point of vantage from which they could see the whole difficulty in its proper perspective. This vantage point, of course, was not only the cloister, since Ovid and Tully had already be-come .firmly established' there, but the desert--the terra invia et inaquosa in which the Cistercian labored and suffered and prayed . The tension generated by the conflict between secular humanism and the Christian humanism, which seeks the fulfillment of human nature through ascetic renunciation and mystical union with God, was one 6f the proximate causes of the powerful mystical writing of the Cistercians. , However, once these two natural factors have been considered, we must recognize other and far more decisive influences, belonging to a higher order . It is the relish and savor that only experience can Merton and Cistercian Tradition give, that communicates to the writings of the twelfth-century Cister-cians all the vitality and vividness and impassioned sincerity which are peculiarly their own . The White Monks speak with accents of a more personal and more lyrical conviction that everywhere betrays the influence of an intimate and mystical experience . It is the personal, experiential character of Cistercian mysticism that gives the prose of the White Monks its vivid freshness . Since the theology of the Cistercians was so intimately persona! and experiential, their exposition of it was bound to take a psychological di-rection. All that they wrote was directed by their keen awareness of the presence and action of God in their souls. This was their all-absorbing interest.4~ Many scholars have noted that Merton's writings show a rather su-perficial knowledge of the Eastern religions. But when I traveled in the East and spoke with the spiritual masters there who had come into con-tact with Merton on his last journey, they said they had never met any-one from the West who had so fully understood their ways. I think the same might be said of Merton and the Cistercian Fathers. Certainly many scholars know more about the Fathers and the early history of the Cis-tercian order. But few, if any, so fully understand their spirit as does this twentieth-century Cistercian Father. Moreover, no one has been able to express so fully and clearly, and in a way that communicates to our times, what these Fathers have to say to our times and to the renewal of the Cistercian order. Cistercians cannot but profit from choosing Tho-mas Merton, their F.ather Louis, for their lectio, from spending time with him and letting him lead them into a deeper, fuller understanding and appreciation of their Cistercian Fathers. NOTES ~ Thomas Merton, The Secular Journal ofThomas Merton (New York: Farrar, Straus & Cudahy, 1959), pp. 268f. 2 A Thomas Merton Reader, ed. by Thomas McDonnell (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1962), pp. viiif. 3 Adam of Perseigne. See The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton (New York: New Directions, 1973), p. 333. 4 The Spirit of Simplicity: Characteristic of the Cistercian Order (Trappist, Ken-tucky: Abbey of Gethsemani, 1948). 5 Ibid., p. 137. Merton played an important role in remedying this situation in the part he played in the founding of Cistercian Publications, which has now published more than forty volumes of the Cistercian Fathers in English. 6 Reader, p. 317. 46/Review for Religious, January-February 1989 7 See note 4 above. 8 Thomas Merton on Saint Bernard, Cistercian Studies Series (hereafter CS), vol. 9 (Kalamazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications, 1980), pp. 103-157. 9 New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1951. ~0 Thomas Merton, The Sign of Jonas (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1953), pp. 8f. ~ Marthe, Marie, et Lazare (Bruges: Desclee de Brouwer, 1956). ~2 In the preface to A Thomas Merton Reader he would write: ". it would be a still greater misapprehension to say I am simply trying to prove that the contempla-tive life is 'better than the active life,' . Not only am I not trying to prove these propositions, but stated in this bald and unqualified manner, I do not even hold them. It is true that fifteen years ago I was able to get excited about such theses, but I have come to see that controversy about speculative matters of this sort is not only a waste of time but is seriously misleading. We are all too prone to believe in our own pro-grams and to follow the echo of our own slogans into a realm of illusion and unreal-ity"( p, viii). 13 The Last of the Fathers (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1954). ~4 Bernard of Clairvaux (Paris: Editions Alsatia, 1953). It was later published in The Tablet and Cross and Crown and in Disputed Questions (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1960),.pp. 260-276, under the title "St. Bernard, Monk and Apostle." ~5 Disputed Questions, p. 263. 16 Ibid., p. 262. ~7 Bruno Scott James, St. Bernard of Clairvaux Seen Through his Selected Letters (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1953), pp. v-viii. ~8 Reader, pp. 315-319. 19 Reader, pp. 316f. zo Seasons of Celebration (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1965), pp. 61-87. z~ New York: Sheed and Ward, 1955. 22 There is a copy of Gilson's work in the Merton Center at Columbi~ University with Merton's underlining and marginalia which indicate the care with which he stud-ied this book. 23 Am~d~e Hallier, The Monastic Theology ofAelred ofRievaulx, tr. by Colum-ban Heaney, CS 2 (Spencer, Massachusetts: Cistercian Publications, 1969), p. viii. 2,~ Ibid., pp. xif. 25 "Saint Aelred of Rievaulx," MSS, p. 20. ??26ft2The Spirit of Simplicity, pp. vf. 27 Thomas Merton, "Guerric of lgny's Easter Sermons" in Cistercian Studies, vol. 7 (1972), pp. 85-95. 28 Ibid., p. 85. 29 The Christmas Sermons of Blessed Guerric of lgny, tr. by Sr. Rose of Lima (Trap-pist, Kentucky: Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani, 1959), pp. 1-25. 30 "Saint Alberic" in Selected Poems of Thomas Merton (New York~ New Direc-tions, 1959), pp. 44f. 3~ Ibid., pp. 75ff. This poem is reproduced in the Reader, pp. 177f. 32 Louis Merton, "Isaac of Stella: An Introduction to Selections from his Sermons," in Cistercian Studies, vol. 2 (1967), p. 243. 33 Ibid. 3,~ Ibid., p. 244. 35 "The Feast of Freedom: Monastic Formation according to Adam of Perseigne," Merton and Cistercian Tradition in The Letters of Adam ofPerseigne, vol. 1, tr. by Grace Perigo, Cistercian Fathers Series, no. 21 (Kalamazoo, Michigan: Cistercian Publications, 1976), pp. 3-48. 36 "La formation monastique selon Adam de Perseigne," in Collectanea Ordinis Cisterciensium Reformatorum, vol. 19 (1957), pp. 1-17. 37 The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton (New York: New Directions, 1973), p. 333. 38 "Guerric . . . Easter Sermons," pp. 85f. 39 Ibid. 40 He read Garnier in Patrologia Latina, vol. 205. 4~ MSS. pp. 10-17. Liturgy of the Hours: A Canticle for Canticles Three canticles encompass all our praise: Three sacred songs of trusting love and hope. At dawn there breaks upon us like the sun, Old Zechariah's paean to God's work. At dusk, like Vesper star, young Mary sings Magnificat for mercy to us all. Then at day's end in darkness gently fall Old Simeon's thankful words, as clear and bright As Compline candles glowing in the dark To mark the end of day, perhaps of life: To let God's servants go in peace to him. Three son~s that with their jeweled antiphons, Like winking diamonds, daily bring delight As we lift hearts at dawn, at dusk, at night. Maryanna Childs, O.P. Ohio Dominican College 1818 Sunbury Road Columbus, Ohio 43219 The Challenge of Church Teachings: How Do I Respond? Lucy Blyskal, C.S.J. Sister Lucy Blyskal, C.S.J., has a doctorate in canon law and is a diocesan judge on the Tribunal of the diocese of Rockville Centre, New York. Her article is the fruit of her canon law dissertation on the Church's teaching authority. Her address is Tri-bunal of the Diocese of Rockville Centre; 50 North Park Avenue; Rockville Centre, New York 11570. In view of the increasing number of official Church pronouncements on many debated issues, how can today's religious keep informed and re-flect intelligently on such statements? How does one discern and listen to the Spirit of the teaching Church and the Spirit within oneself? The purpose of this article, comprised of two parts, is to help us to respond appropriately to papal and episcopal documents. The first sec-tion discusses three main aspects of the Church's teaching authority: (I) the truths of the faith as given to the ff.hgle.Church; (2) the concept of infallible Church teaching; (3) the noninfallible teaching and the response owed to it by the faithful. The second part offers the reader a practical method for analyzing doctrinal statements, and then applies this method to evaluate three somewhat controversial doctlments issued recently. Hopefully, this information will lead to a deepened knowledge and love of the faith which ought to transform our hearts and impel us to serve justice and peace in the world. Part I: Church Teaching Authority Revelation as Given to the Whole Church To set the correct context for'a discussion of teaching authority, it is important to keep in mind that the Church is fundamentally a commu- 48 Challenge of Church Teachings / 49 nity of faith and witness which worships God in Jesus Christ and bears witness to the Church's divinely given message throughout the world. Because Christ handed over the deposit of revelation to the whole Church, it is in the possession of the whole body of Spirit-empowered people, not just the hierarchy. While Scripture calls Peter the "rock" on which the Church was to be built, it never refers to him or the twelve apostles as "the Church." Thus, to speak of "the Church" as having done something when in fact an office or official is the source is theo-logic. ally incorrect; one should name the office involved, for example, "the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith stated . "~ In its doctrine on infallibility, Vatican I carefully and explicitlyaf-firmed that the deposit of revelation is with the whole Church. The text of Vatican I names the Church as the primary subject of infallibility in stating that: "the Roman Pontiff. enjoys the infallibility with which the divine Redeemer wanted his'Church to be endowed in defining doc-trine concerning faith or morals."2 Vatican II in The Constitution on the Church (article 12) clearly reitera.ted that, thanks to a supernatural sense of faith which characterizes the People of God, "the body of faithful as a whole, anointed as they are by the Holy One (see Jn 2:20, 27) can-not err in matters of belief." Since all believers possess, can perceive, and have insights into the Christian revelation, what is the specific task and charism of the hierar-chy? By Christ's will, the disciples were commissioned: (I) to be his "witnesses. to the end of the earth" (Ac !:8); (2) to "go and teach all nations" (Mt 28:19) his full revelation, under the guidance of his Spirit. (1) The chief vocation of the disciples and their successors is "to witness" to the integrity and truth of the evangelical doctrine. This call to witness does not necessarily include the capacity to have and to ar-ticulate the deepest insights into the meaning of the mysteries of our faith,3 which is a special gift. It is noteworthy that this gift has produced some of the most significant developments in the understanding of the faith not in members of the hierarchy but in such persons as Thomas Aqui-nas, honored as the common teacher of the Church, and Teresa of Av-ila, named doctor of the spiritual life. (2) Because of Christ's command to his disciples to "teach all na-tions," the Christian community from its earliest days has also recog-nized the importance of an authoritative teaching body to maintain inner unity as the gospel was being spread. By Christ's will, this teaching authority, termed the "magisterium," belongs to the hierarchy who are 50 / Review for Religious, January-February 1989 sacramentally empowered and assisted by the Spirit to speak in the name of.Jesus Christ. Therefore, Catholics are to trust what pope and bishops teach, not because of their personal learning or stated reasons for their teaching, but precisely because of the spiritual authority of the office they occupy.4 Infallible Teaching Authority Vatican Council I first defined the infallible teaching authority of the Church as an article of faith in promulgating the dogmatic constitution Pastor Aeternus in 1870.5 While it reaffirmed this dogma of Vatican I, Vatican Council II integrated it into the doctrine on the collegiality of the bishops united with the pope and the doctrine of the Church as the People of God (Constitution on the Church, articles 12, 18, 25). Article 25 of this constitution6 states that when the pope or the episcopal col-lege (pope and bishops together) solemnly,proclaim matters of faith and morals, they are protected by the Spirit of Christ from misleading the peo-ple by teaching erroneous doctrine; hence their teaching is infallible. Several conditions need to be fulfilled for a teaching to be consid-ered infallible. First, the doctrine must deal with a matter of faith or mor-als. Second, it must be proclaimed by a duly authorized Church teacher as binding on the universal Church. Finally, it must be proclaimed "to be definitively held" by all Catholics as a dogma of faith. This infalli-ble teaching authority has been exercised only rarely since its cautious and circumscribed definition by Vatican Council I. More recently, the Constitution of the Church and the 1983 Code of Canon Law7 describe three ways in which this infallible magisterium can be exercised. (I) The pope may issue a solemn or ex cathedra pronouncement. Ac-cording to Vatican Council I, popes possess and can articulate the infal-libility with which the Divine Redeemer endowed his Church for defini-tive decisions in matters of faith and morals. For example, Pope Pius XII proclaimed the dogma of the Assumption by the bull Mun~ficentissimus issued November i, 1950. (2) The episcopal college may act solemnly in ecumenical councils. In ecumenical councils, the episcopal college, assembled in one place, acquires a special clarity and efficacy. Here the corporate episcopate can act in a solemn manner to define an article of faith; for example, Vati-can Council I promulgated the doctrine of infallibility in Pastor Aeter-nus in 1870. (3) The episcopal college may exercise its "ordinary and universal magisterium." In their ordinary and universal magisterium, the same bish- Challenge of Church Teachings / 51 ops, without coming together in one assembly, and with each remaining at his post, can definitively set forth some doctrine for the absolute ac-ceptance oLthe entire Church. In practice it is not always easy to ascer-tain whether or not the magisterium in a given case is exercising infalli-bility through this "ordinary" manner. It has been suggested that a pos-sible example of this level of Church doctrine is the common and con-stant teaching of pope and bishops throughout the world on the moral evil of abortion. How is an infallible doctrine to be received by the faithful? Vatican II's Constitution on the Church and the 1983 Code hold that infallible teaching must be accepted with obsequium fidei, translated as the 'as-sent of faith." This assent of faith is to be absolute and unconditional because it involves divine authority which utteriy excludes the possibil-ity of error. Consequently, the obstinate denial of truths proclaimed as infallible would constitute heresy. However, various Church documents warn the faithful to receive a teaching as infallible only when it has been definitively proclaimed as such. Vatican II, for example, declared that its statements on faith or morals should be seen as binding on the Church only when the council expressly declared them as such.8 Like'vise, the new Code cautions that no doctrine is understood to~ be infallibly defined "unless this is manifestly demonstrated. ,,9 From this review of the meaning of infallible teaching, it is obvious that the great majority of doctrinal statements issued on a day-to-day ba-sis do not fit into this category. Rather, most documents seem to belong to the nondefinitive level of authority--which makes the accurate under-standing of this noninfallible teaching crucially important today. Noninfallible Church Teaching The noninfallible magisterium is the term used to refer to the follow-ing exercises of the Church's teaching office: (l) the pronouncements of the pope when he is not teaching ex cathedra; (2) the declarations of an office of the Roman See with the special approval of the doctrine by the pope as his own; (3) the declarations of a curial office with routine but not special papal approval; (4) the promulgation of a doctrine by the pope toget, l~er with the college of bishops in council; (5) the teachings of an individual bishop; (6) the pronouncements of a grouping of bishops in an episcopal conference or a particular council. In order to respond appropriately to the numerous doctrinal state-ments issued by these official teachers, one needs to understand: (I) the nature of noninfallible teaching; (2) gradations among nondefinitive teach-ings; (3) inherent difficulties. Review for Religious, January-February 1989 ( I ) The Nature of Noninfallible Teaching. Three basic principles un-derlie this exploration of the noninfallible magisterium. (a) The concepts of noninfallible Church teaching and the response owed to it are evolving concerns whose complete meanings are not yet in the Church's consciousness. ~0 Recall that the definition of infallible teaching authority (1870) took place only within the last one hundred twenty years of the Church's two thousand year existence, (b) The issues of nondefinitive Church teaching and the response owed to it are being examined and applied by a Church that is itself an evolving reality as a community and an institution. ~ (c) With the spread and evolution of the Church, there has been a concomitant growth and development of doctrine, for example, "a growth in the understanding of the realities and the words which have been handed down" (Constitution on Divine Revelation, article 8). Vati-can II reiterated in its Decree on Ecumenism that: "If there are deficien-cies in the formulation of doctrine . these should be appropriately rectified at the proper moment" (article 6). More recently, the Congre-gation for the Doctrine of the Faith for the first time officially acknowl-edged that even the Church's expression of a truth of revelation at a par-ticular age may need to b~ reformulated in a subsequent era. ~2 These of-ficial statements on the growth possible in dogmatic teaching can be ap-plied afortiori to the noninfailible level of teaching. ,Basically, it is difficult to categorize the precise nature of nondefini-tire teaching. According to Orsy, noninfallible teaching is composed of two types of doctrine in an organic unity: some changeable h~uman thoughts (often of a particular school), and incorrupt expressions of the deposit of revelation. For this reason, simplistic statements such as "non-infallible statements by ecclesiastical authorities are binding," or, "dis-sent from noninfallibly stated doctrine should be always permissible" do not recognize .the complex content of the body of noninfallible beliefs. Orsy also makes the important observation that a particular document may, and. usually does, contain a mixture of infallible and noninfallible teachings without any indication of the different levels involved. ~3 In 1967, the German bishops referred to another significant aspect of noninfallible teaching authority when they pointed out that this level of magisterium "can, and on occasion actually does fall into error." 14 Francis Sullivan, a theologian, comments that it seems impossible to fault the reasoning of the German bishops: if the nondefinitive teaching of the magisterium is not infallible, it can be erroneous and can stand in need of correction. ~5 Here the basic principle of the development of Challenge of Church Teachings doctrine comes into play. Indeed the Church has corrected or reversed its stance on a number of occasions. 16 For example, the Decree on Ecu-menism of Vatican II clearly departed from previous papal teaching re-garding the Church's negative stance on relationships with non-Catholic Christians. Another obvious example is the final lifting of the condemna-tions imposed in the celebrated "Galileo case." ~7 In their pastoral letter, the German bishops point out that the Church has always been aware of the possibility of error. They conclude, how-ever, that in order to maintain the true and ultimate substance of faith the Church officials must, even at the risk of error in points of detail, "give expression to doctrinal directives which have a certain degree of binding force." (2) Gradation Among Noninfallible Documents. The weight or gra-dation of importance of a noninfallible statement can be indicated either by the person or body issuing the teaching, or the type of literary genre of the document itself that is utilized to promulgate the teaching. (a) As noted earlier, noninfallible statements can be issued by the pope or the bishops. Since the formal authority o.f the pope and the epis-copal college exceeds that of the bishops acting individually or con-jointly, there are obviously gradations among the various teachings prom-ulgated. (b) The second criterion for ascertaining the weight of a particular ~ondefinitive pronouncement is its literary genre, or, "the nature of the document" that is utilized (Constitution on the Church, article 25). Ap-ostolic constitutions, for example, are considered the most solemn form of papal documents. Then come papal acts in the form of letters in two categories, encyclical epistles and encyclical letters, the latter form be-ing less solemn than the former. The ordinary magisterium of the pope is also found in doctrinal dec-larations of the curia, for example, of the Congregations for Doctrine and for Seminari

Issue 49.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1990. ; Religious Life Spirituality The Clericalization of Monasticism =Thomas Merton and the Enneagram Directing the Third Week Volume 49 Number 2 March/April 1990 R~\'u~w~:o~ R~:~.l(mms (ISSN 0034-639X) is published hi-monthly at St. Louis Universily by the Mis-souri Province Educational Institute of Ihe Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Blvd. Rrn. 42g: St. Lxmis. MO 6310g-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. b,~uis MO. Single copies $3.50. Subscriptions: United States $15.00 for one year: $28.00 Ibr two years. Other countries: US $20.00 for one year: if airmail. US $35.00 p~r year. For subscription orders or change of address. wrile: Rt~','ll~w I:oR RI~i.IGOUs: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth. MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:\'~:w rot R~:u~;mus; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. ©1990 REview For REI,IGIOUS. 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 Advisory 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. March/April 1990 Volume 49 Number 2 Manuscripts, books f~,r review and correspondence with the editor should he sent to R~:\'~:w vo~ R~:k~;~ous; 3601 I,indell Blvd.; St. la~uis, MO 63108-3393. Cnrrespondence abnut 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 ardered from R~:\'~:w FO;{ R~:LmtOUS; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. I,~mis. MO 63108-3393. "~Out of print" issues are available frnm 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 fiw the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS . The desire for new life, new ideas, new expressions, new insights permeates the everyday existence of us all. Modern day advertising and the consumer economy of first world countries continuously search out the ways to sell products, not in terms of real needs, but in terms of in-duced needs for something new. Consumerism builds upon the human desire for the new, while at the same time offsetting the equally strong human tendency to remain comfortably entrenched in the familiar. The Church seasons of Lent and Easter confront us all with our de-sires for the new and with our equally strong tendency to remain firmly entrenched where we are. The dialogue between Nicodemus and Jesus in the third chapter of St. John's Gospel captures well the continuing ex-change between the Christian and God, clearly focused during these Church seasons. Approaching God out of a certain darkness in our lives, we seek new life and new growth, a new understanding of our faith, or a new sense of relationship with God and with neighbor. But when God starts indicating a dying to some familiar life patterns, when God starts pointing the way to "being born anew," we are tempted to laugh it .off, to claim we are "too old" to need that kind of change. Why not a little "renewal," perhaps a little "restoration," or maybe even an attempt to "recapture" past devotion or past grace (charism)? Any of these words seem to allow ias to keep some measure of control, to retain some-thing of the old and familiar, and yet to pray and give God a place. Rebirth--to be born anew--remains the challenge of Lent and Eas-ter. Rebirth means the dying and rising--the pattern of the paschal mys-tery- which we Christians celebrate in the daily Eucharist. More clearly in these Lenten and Easter seasons we come face-to-face with the most traditional faith concept--that it is the Spirit who brings to birth and who gives life, in our continuing personal growth in our life-in-Christ, in the life of our religious congregations, and in the life of our Church both lo-cal and larger. Our personal response to being born anew is taken up in the articles "Directing the Third Week" by Joseph P. Cassidy, S.J. and "The Theme of Joy in the Spiritual Exercises" by Joan Mueller, O.S.F. We are given new insight into our call and our response to new life in the articles "Will the Real Prodigal Son Please Stand Up?" by Christine Ere-iser, O.S.B. and "Redemption and Romantic Melancholy: Thomas Mer-ton and the Enneagram" by Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. "The Re-demption Kernel" by Dennis J. Billy, C.SS.R., presents a new theologi-cal approach in understanding dying and rising, with special application 161 169 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 to religious life. Robert T. Sears, S.J., in his article "Resurrection Spiri-tuality and Healing the Earth," expands our vision about Jesus' resur-rection affecting the ecology of our whole world andso giving us the re-sponsibility of a new life-healing power. Finally those articles specifically dealing with renewal and transfor-mation in the congregations of women and men religious indicate the ar-eas of present struggle, the history of a sometimes laborious develop-ment, and the proposed costly future of new life. The various authors-- Stephen Tutas, S.M., Charles Reutemann, F.S.C., Anne O'Brien, gsic, and Lora Ann Quinofiez, C.D.Po and Mary Daniel Turner, S.N.D., de N.--invite us into seeing and knowing a life beyond renewal and trans-formation, a birth which only the Spirit can bring about for the future of religious life. May the joy with which the risen Jesus consoles us now become more richly our experience of new life. David L. Fleming, S.J. Resurrection Spirituality and Healing the Earth Robert T. Sears, S.J. Father Robert Sears, S.J., teaches in the Institute of Pastoral Studies at Loyola Uni-versity in Chicago. This article had its origin in a presentation made to the North American Conference for Christianity and Ecology. His address is 5554 S. Wood-lawn Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60637. Those involved in ecology and those involved in a healing ministry are for the most part on two different tracks. The one is focused on a scien-tific study of evolution and the interdependence of creation, the other on individual hurts with little attention to environment. My own healing min-istry, on the other hand, has led me little by little to concern for the en-vironment. I began with attention on the individual, then was led to see family relationships into past generations as grounding present destruc-tive patterns. And only recently have I become aware that the environ-ment itself is affected by these destructive patterns and needs healing. Several experiences have brought me to this conclusion. In the first place, there is evidence that places are affected by what occurs on them. Barbara Shlemon, noted for her healing ministry, has observed the ongoing destructive influence violence can have on certain places. She felt called to build a healing center in Clearwater, Florida but over a year's time could not find a place. With two others she prayed for guidance and one member thought of Native Americans. They looked into the history of that region and found that it was the location of a war with the Seminole Indians where it is estimated that some 10,000 to 15,000 Seminole Indians died as we took their land. They had a service of reconciliation, asking forgiveness of the Indians for what our ances-tors did then. The very next day an ideal piece of land opened up for 163 "164 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 them! It was as though God would not give the land till reparation was made for that violence. I will speak later of an instance in my experi-ence from Chicago. The civil war Camp Douglas lay between Thirty-first and Thirty-third streets and Cottage Grove. Some 6000 Confeder-ate soldiers died there in inhuman conditions, and when we went there to pray for healing, we found that prime property still overgrown and in ruins. Secondly, we have some experimental evidence that plants at least remember. Cleve Backster, an expert on the psychogalvanic skin re-sponse that is basic to the lie detector, decided one day to attach the elec-trodes to a tropical plant in his office. ~ He wondered if the plant would respond to cutting it. It did, but not as much as he expected. He then thought he would burn its leaves, and even at the thought the graph showed a violent response. The plant seemed to be able to anticipate his intended violence. He then set up a situation where plants could "wit-ness" a destructive action. Six people were selected and given numbers. All but one were instructed on their paper to go into the room, look at the plants, and leave. One was instructed to tear up and stamp on one of two plants in the room and then leave. Electrodes were attached to the remaining "witness" plant, and each person again went into the room. Only the plant "knew" who was responsible! There was no re-sponse for the five innocent persons, but when the culprit went into the room the plant responded vigorously, as if in fear. It seems to have re-membered. 2 Finally, Dr. Kenneth McAII, an English psychiatrist noted for his heal-ing ministry with family systems, was traveling by banana boat over the Bermuda Triangle (a place formed by an imaginary line between Miami, Puerto Rico, and Bermuda where for hundreds of years ships and aircraft had gone down without a trace) when the boat was caught in a terrible storm.3 In escaping south, one of the ship's boilers broke leaving them adrift. In his quiet leisure, he heard a droning outside. It wasn't the crew. Researching, he found that this was the place unfit slaves were thrown overboard so their owners could collect insurance money. As Genesis 4 said of Cain's killing Abel "Your brother's blood cries out to me from the soil," these souls were crying out from the sea. On returning to En-gland, Dr. McAI! got Anglican bishops in various places to celebrate Eucharist for those who lost their lives in an untimely way in that place, and later the Bermuda Anglican bishop did the same. For five years be-tween that celebration (in 1977) and his book (1982), there had been no reported accident in that region. Resurrection Spirituality We are dealing with incidents that are hard to repeat scientifically, but such evidence supports a view of the world as living and responsive to what occurs on it. Much like humans who are God's most developed creatures, the earth seems to be marked by past experience. Can it be healed? What implications might result for the earth if humans under-stood how to assist in this healing? It is my conviction that a deeper un-derstanding of the resurrection of Jesus would help us bring healing not only to humans but also to the earth. I will begin by relating creation-centered spirituality to a focus on resurrection. Resurrection-Centered Spirituality A recent focus on the importance of celebrating creation and joining its creative impulse is the work of Matthew Fox: Creation-centered spiri-tuality (see his Original Blessing: a Primer in Creation SpiritualiO, (Bear & Co. Inc., 1983). Fox sees traditional spirituality (which he terms Fall/ Redemption spirituality as instanced in Augustine, Thomas h Kempis up to Tanqueray) as dualistic, focused on the danger of sensuality and earthiness and on the need for ascetical restraint. He argues for another tradition which he finds in the Yahwist, wisdom writers, lrenaeus, Eck-hart up to Teilhard de Chardin, which is basically positive toward crea-tion. In his view Fall/Redemption spirituality sees little value in science, focuses on original sin and its effects, encourages detachment from the world and moral self-control and awaits the end of the world rather than its transformation. Creation spirituality, on the other hand, welcomes the discoveries of science as revealing the creator, focuses on the blessing of creation and our God-given commission to care for it, moves beyond moralistic negation of human action to a sense of communion with na-ture, and believes in the ultimate goodness and creativity of the cosmos. He wants to move beyond a focus on guilt to a focus on spiritual growth. He presents four stages from the work of Eckhart: befriending creation, befriending darkness, befriending creativity or our inner divinity, and be-friending new creation and universal compassion. I found myself in tune with those goals, but not with Fox's negation of the Fall/Redemption tra-dition. It gradually dawned on me that those very goals are restored to us through the resurrection of Jesus. Let me explain. It was Teilhard who turned our attention first to many of these themes. When he was in the novitiate, he told his director about his de-sire for both spirituality and science, and his wise novice director encour-aged him to pursue both, believing that God would somehow bring them into unity. His focus on evolutign did make theologians suspicious that he was neglecting original sin. In response he wrote an appendix to The 166 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 Phenomenon of Man explaining that evil was discoverable at every level of evolution, even though he chose not to speak of it for the sake of clar-ity, There is the evil of failure and disorder in adjusting and emerging, the evil of decomposition of the present to make room for the new, the evil of solitude and anxiety (especially for humans) in striving for con-sciousness in a dark universe, and the evil of growth itself--the constant struggle to make progress against the inertia and resistance of the pre-sent state. Whether further there is an excess of evil, stemming from an historic tragedy, he declines in that study to say. What he does persua-sively illustrate is that humans emerge as a higher consciousness within an evolving universe filled with seeds of new creation. We must choose, and in choosing we bring creation with us for better or worse. By our choices we develop a human "layer" of evolution, a noosphere, that af-fects everything. We create culture and "history," and we, in turn, are influenced by that history. We need only look at our technological world which drives our days with given hours and our attention with narrowly determined tasks to see how we are formed and informed by our crea-tions. Yes we are faced with new possibilities and creative challenges, but new creation is conditioned by the patterns we have grown accus-tomed to: our compulsion to consume and to live by an ever increasing standard of consumption. What will empower us to change? It is this awareness of historical conditioning that makes me take more seriously than Fox seems to the doctrine of original sin. Granted the doctrine as developed by Augustine needs reconsideration, still its roots are the biblical insight that our evil choices have a history. It is not enough to change our present attitudes because the present is conditioned by the choices made in our past. Our ancestors need healing and the earth affected by our ancestors needs healing. Joy in creation cannot accom-plish the earth's healing alone. We need redemption, yet a redemption that does not separate us from the earth but empowers us to purify the earth and bring it into wholeness. Redemption must be more than per-sonal. It must extend to the whole of creation. The resurrection of Jesus changed his sinful, unreliable disciples into a powerful community of com-passion. Can we expand our view of the resurrection to include its power to restore the earth? Let us see. Stages of Salvation History Both Freud and Jung worked on the assumption that the growth of the individual in a speeded up way goes through the stages of evolution-- from emergence out of water to the unfolding of human physical and psy-chological life. This evolutionary view need not be seen as contrary to Resurrection Spirituality/167 creation, since God's creativity is always required. It simply describes how God creates. What I have found is that human spiritual growth also recapitulates the stages of salvation history, and it is only in light of sal-vation history that the resurrection as its culmination can be fully under-stood. I have found five such stages culminating in the death/resurrec-tion of Jesus as the goal of the process: initial faith (Yahwist), familial faith (Elohist/Deuteronomist), individuating faith (Exilic prophets and Job), communitarian faith (foreseen in Isaiah 53, first lived in Jesus) and mission faith (revealed in Pentecost).4 Let us begin with individuating faith. Ezekiel 18 cites the saying: "You have heard it said that the fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth are set on edge." It then goes on to say: "That will no longer be said in Israel, for the children are mine as well as the fathers." They had been living by a so-called "conditional covenant" that af-firmed: "if you keep my law, then you will be my people." That cove-nant, Yahweh affirms, they have broken (see also Jr 31:32), and it is ab-rogated. Yet in this breakdown there is a breakthrough of a promised "new covenant" when Yahweh says: "I will put my Spirit within you and make you live by my statutes" (Ez 36:27). lndividuating faith, then, is a breakdown of human effort and a turning of each individual to God's initiative. I experienced this personally through a period of depression while studying theology in Germany. I began studying Freud to get some understanding, but was still depressed. Then one author led me to Isaiah 43:18 (written during the Exile): "remember not the events of the past ¯ . . See I am doing something new." In other words, healing would come from God's present creativity, not from my efforts to re.pair the past. From that central breakthrough (Israel's and my own), I saw that mere keeping the law (familial faith) was no longer enough. In that stage "The sins of the fathers/mothers are handed down to four generations (and more in my experience), the blessings to a thousand" (see Dt 5:9f, Ex 20:5-6 and so forth). In other words the patterns of history are handed down for better or worse till there is a collapse of human efforts and an inbreaking of God's new creation. Even before that concentration on hu-man cooperation through law, there is (in the Yahwist, Gn 2-3, 12:1-5 and others who wrote in the time of David) a focus on trusting Yahweh in order to find life. That universal trust, however, gave rise to intermar-riage and distortion of faith in Yahweh (as it can do whenever we lose the specificity of our faith) and so encountered the prophetic challenge of the Elohist and Deuteronomist. We see the result of even this human "161~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 effort in their Exile. Once we turn to Yahweh's spirit ourselves, we need to find the spirit in others. This we do by the forgiveness of enemies which I believe we find first only in the ministry of Jesus, though it was foreseen and for-gotten in Isaiah 53--the suffering servant. This stage of unconditional forgiveness allows us to remain faithful even to unfaithful partners (as Jesus did with Israel) and so to die that others might live. It forms the basis for the compassionate community that Matthew Fox envisioned. And finally, the actual gift of life in union with God releases a new communal reality through the Pentecostal power of the Spirit. Through the Spirit Jesus' death/resurrection builds a living, self-giving commu-nity that is open to all and to all creation. I contend that it is through this transformation of humanity that ultimately the earth itself will be trans-formed. The ground and goal of this development is God who raised Christ from the dead. The norm of who God is is not creation alone, but the life/death and resurrection of Jesus. "Who sees me sees the Father" (Jn 14:9). God's suffering love surrendered his own Son for us, and through Jesus' response of self-surrender the Spirit of self-giving love is sent and revealed. God is revealed as a community of self-giving love in this world-forming event. This pattern of stages is fully revealed in Jesus, but is lived out cy-clically. Individually or communally we can have a breakthrough to a new stage but then regress to a previous stage. This, I believe, is what happened in the Church. With the failure to convert Israel, the message of Christ went to the gentiles who were not prepared with the solidarity of a thousand year history. The gifts of the Spirit led to factions as we see in the Corinthian community and in the Didache. The central gift of the Spirit of forgiving love that builds the self-giving community was su-perseded by the need for institution and discipline (my "familial stage"). Structure and control replaced healing as focus of attention. As in Jesus' time, I believe we are again emerging from the familial stage of development to recognize again our need for forgiveness and healing. Healing the Human Family In order to understand the healing brought by the resurrection, we need to look at sin in history. The Yahwist, who first wrote of the sin of our original ancestors, did so by first looking at the sin of his day (the time of David). It was a time of domination and exploitation, of loss of faith in Yahweh because of the multiple marriages of kings like Solo-mon, of alienation of families torn by strife. If Yahweh was all good, Resurrection Spirituality 169 how could this happen? The Yahwist concluded (see Gn 2-3) that ~t was due to a freely chosen loss of faith in Yahweh. Humans were the culmi-nation of Yahweh's creation, formed from the earth, given the power to name (and so direct) creation and the commission to subdue the earth and bring it to order. All creation served humans, as humans served God. But they chose their own way and not only did they hide from Yahweh, but they also blamed and were alienated from one another. God gave as pun-ishment that Adam would dominate his wife and the woman would cling to her man, and the earth would be hard to till and not graciously yield crops. The Yahwist was symbolically telling the story of sin. Humans were given care for the earth, but when they turned from God, the source of creativity, they could only use power, dominance, and force. Further, this beginning continued in history. Cain doubted his accept-ability, envied and then killed Abel. Domination and enmity, social and sexual sin were handed down generation to generation to the Yahwist's own day. His solution was a return to trust in Yahweh as Abraham did (Gn 12: 1-5). But as we have seen, Israel proved incapable of such trust. God's Spirit was promised "to make them keep God's Law," but cen-turies passed. A similar envy and hatred of one gifted by God led to Je-sus' death. The heritage of sin exploded around him. The earth quaked and shook the foundations, as though being exorcized from an ancient wound. What began its healing was not a simple trust in God's good-ness. It was Jesus' willingness to forgive and trust God while suffering the effects of human sin. Such generational patterns, we find, change only when they are understood, compassionately borne, and forgiven. This is how we can view Jesus' resurrection. As human he inherited his nation's sinful temptations (see his baptism "to fulfill all justice" (Mt 3: 14-5) and his temptations which were like those of Israel). Yet he re-sponded with a surrendered trust in God. Under God he showed he had "authority" over storm and sea, and over the fig tree. Yet he freely bore the hatred of the Jewish leaders and Romans. His death culminated a life of trust in God, and through his resurrection he "sent" the Spirit to con-tinue this new life with his disciples. What Adam was called to and lost by distrust, Christ restored not on the basis of the old creation, but by the "new creation" through his resurrection. The world is restored to God's favor not by a return to the past (creation), but by a reconciling call from the future--the resurrection. It is important to understand the resurrection as such a restoration in this world. The Resurrection Firstly, the resurrection is an event in this world. It is not uncom- 170 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 mon to imagine the resurrection as Jesus' reward.apart from this world. He has made it and motivates us to try harder. Scripture presents a very different view. Peter's sermon in Acts points to the gift of the Holy Spirit as the sign that Jesus has been made "Lord and Messiah" (Ac 2:36). The resurrection meant that Jesus was made Lord over the whole earth. As Paul put it: "God . . . put all enemies under his feet" so that he in turn can subject all to God "that God may be all in all" (I Co 15:28). This is expressed in the earliest Creed: "Jesus Christ is Lord" (Ph 2:11). Far from separating Jesus from the world, the resurrection unites him to the world in a new sovereign way to bring everything to its intended goal of the kingdom of God. Secondly, the resurrection is a now event. A second misconception is that the resurrection is a past event rewarding Jesus. In the resurrec-tion Jesus returns to God and opens creation to union with God. Since God's Time is an eternal now, the resurrection is also an eternal now. That means it touches all time and all space. It affects the heart of every creature with a deepened and more absolute hope. It is not a particular event that we canlocate in a particular space and time. It is an event that transcends our concept of space and time, and is universally available if we but call upon the Lord. Thirdly, it is not merely spiritual but also bodily. All the apparitions point to bodily aspects: eating fish, touching his side or clinging to him, seeing him though some doubted. The resurrection is, as Teilhard might say, a new phylum in our world, the basis for building all believers into a new Body, a new family that is based not on blood ties or cultural ties, but on faith in Jesus as Lord and on the power of God's Spirit. Since it is a bodily event, it also penetrates the depths of bodiliness and so of the earth. As Colossians says, "It has pleased God to make absolute full-ness reside in him, and by means of him to reconcile everything in his person, both on earth and in the heavens, making peace through the blood of his cross. "( !: 19-20). Fourthly, therefore, in Jesus' resurrection the whole of creation has a new beginning, a new creation. This is the ultimate ground of spiritual healing. Spiritual healing is not simply a repairing of wounds, like re-parenting because of wounds from one's parents. It is actually creating anew. As Isaiah 43 taughtme: "Do not look at what is behind, behold I make all things new." I realized that healing came from looking at God's ever present creativity, not at one's problems. God's love heals our basic distrust. God's love gives us power to forgive rather than re-bel against our heritage in the familial faith stage. I have come to see Resurrection Spirituality that Jesus' resurrection restores our link to the creativity of God. He is the 'new Adam" (1 Co 15:22), the ground of our new family in God. He is also the one who fulfills God's command to Adam--increase and multiply, subdue the earth and bring it into order. As Lord, Jesus has this power to create anew in right order. It was Teilhard who called our attention to three basic principles of ongoing creation or evolution: differentiation, increasing interiority, and deepened community. Every new stage of evolution--molecules to life to sensation to thought--shows increased complexity or differentiation, increased self-activity or freedom, and all this in a total unity. If resur-rection is the final point of creation, a new creation from God, does it show these principles to the highest degree? It does. The Spirit from God gives each a "different" gift "for the building of the body." Differen-tiation and community are both increased as we see in the free sharing with the community that occurred in response to the Spirit in Acts. And the Spirit frees us to our deepest truth. The resurrection is a life at work in our deepest depths calling us through intimacy with Jesus, the Spirit, and our loving Creator. Finally, it is through sharing in the resurrected life of Jesus that we share Jesus' Lordship and power to heal. The miracles of Jesus (show-ing his power over materiality) are expressions of the same power that raised Jesus from the dead. We are to do "even greater works" (Jn 14:12). Jesus' power over the storm at sea (Mt 14:22-33) and over the fig tree (Mt 21:18-22) are not presented as unique to him. Jesus com-plains about their "little faith" and says if they had faith as a mustard seed they could say to the mountain "go into the sea," and it would obey. "If we die with Christ," Paul says in 2 Timothy 2:11-12, "we shall also live with him; if we hold out to the end we shall also reign with him." Andagain in Romans 5:i7: "If death began its reign through one man because of his offense, much more shall those who receive the overflowing grace and gift of justice [grace from Jesus' resurrection] reign through the one man, Jesus Christ." The disciples are to share Je-sus' rule which extends not only to believers but to the whole world (the whole universe). We share this rule not by our own power but as chan-nels of the Spirit--the resurrected power of Jesus, 'for without me you can do nothing" (Jn 15:5). Thus, in the scriptural view, the gifts that were meant for humans from the beginning of creation--union with God, rule over the earth that would respond fruitfully, partnership between men and women and the power to bless their offspring--were lost through Adam and Eve's sin 179 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 but restored through the death/resurrection of Jesus. We are to live now in the power of the resurrection or new creation, not just by union with world creativity. Resurrection differs from creation in that it is centered in a personal relation to Jesus (whether explicitly confessed or implic-itly lived through love) and has at least the following characteristics: a commitment beyond feeling (as revealed in Jesus' death in fidelity to God), creative community beyond failure (as seen in his disciples' re-newed community), wholeness beyond perceived disintegration (as seen in their power to heal), and the ability to face death through trust in God's indestructible life. All these are qualities of Jesus' resurrection Spirit as seen in Scripture. But the central difference, in my view, is that creation focuses on the beginning, unaffected by historical choices (an "original blessing"), whereas resurrection restores a new beginning by forgiving and healing actual historical choices and their effects. The stages that Matthew Fox finds in spiritual growth (befriending creation, befriending darkness, accepting inner divinity, cocreativity) almost par-allel the historical stages I discovered (trust and familial being creation, individuating faith opening to darkness, communitarian releasing crea-tivity in relationships, and mission caring for all and the earth). Only he omits the historical grounding. What Jesus' resurrection does is make his-torically real those goals. Jesus took our death-bringing choices on him-self, and in God empowered a new beginning for those who believe and receive forgiveness. All creation "waits" for that freedom of the chil-dren of God, Paul says in Romans 8:20. It is consigned to futility (or emp-tiness) for the sake of that hope. This resurr._ection power is already at work in us (Col 3:1 ). How can it help us become instruments of healing the earth? Healing the Earth If we are meant to live by the power of the resurrection to reconcile, order, and heal, we need to know the principles of such a life. Firstly, we need to be oriented to Jesus' victory. The resurrection brings creation into union with God. Jesus became human and since all humans are united with all creation, his death/resurrection brings crea-tion into union with God's own life. This cannot be lost. The universe is fundamentally saved though we cannot be sure how this transforma-tion will actually work itself out. Healing prayer is grounded in this truth, and seeks Jesus' guidance for how to cooperate with the saving of the earth. Secondly, our power to envision and imagine needs to be trans-formed by this vision of God's kingdom. What we believe affects what Resurrection Spirituality / 173 comes to be. Belief is not a surface act of mind alone, but also includes feeling, will, and imagination. Jesus' initial proclamation was "Repent and believe the good news." Repent meant "change your mind, believe the good news." Healing prayer is often unsuccessful because we do not expect and envision the hoped for change. For example, we might pray for a friend to be healed of an illness, yet go on complaining about how he or she suffers. We are attending to the sickness, not envisioning her getting well and thanking God for it. The conversion we most basically need is to trust God's love totally, We are channels of God's creative light, but if our minds are filled with worries and fears, what we are ac-tually believing is that the worst will happen. It is a spiritual law: what we believe is what we cause. We need God to change our faith, to help us believe that God wants and can bring good to the earth, and that we are given the power to pray for this. An example may help. How many times have we not prayed for good weather with little effect? Perhaps we did not have sufficient faith for such a large project. We may have to start smaller--say with our gar-den- in order to be convinced about the power of such prayer. Or per-haps we don't really believe we have such power with the weather. "That's God's domain," we may have been told and believed. Jesus' disciples were shocked when Jesus commanded the storm to be still, but he c6rrected them for their little faith (Mk 4:40). A number of cases show that we do have marvelous power under God. In a talk on healing the earth (given at the annual conference of the Association of Christian Therapists, San Diego, 1982) Barbara Shlemon told of a prayer for just that purpose. She and several others were giving a healing retreat for sev-eral hundred Native Americans in Montana when a tornado was spotted heading directly toward their camp. Not wanting anyone hurt they thought of disbanding, but decided first to pray for guidance. The way they were graced was to ask the Bishop to say a prayer for God to turn aside the tornado and let only a slight rain come to water the ground. Al-though he was not used to this kind of prayer, the Bishop complied, and then went on with the healing Mass. That is exactly what happened. Only a slight rain fell. The incident may not have received notice if a journal-ist had not been present, with the result that the next morning's head-lines read "Tornado divides and misses a healing service and then comes together again." Needless to say, the Bishop was quite impressed (he had said after the Mass "One does need common sense"). Many other examples could be given.5 Thirdly, what heals is God's love. The more we are filled with God's 174 / Review for Religious. March-April 1990 love and forgiveness, the better channels we will be for all sorts of heal-ing, including that of the earth. If we harbor resentment or judgments against others, we block the power of God's healing. Many instances could be given, but the one that comes to mind was given by Fr. Jim Burke, O.P. in a retreat. He was in a retreat where people shared con-version experiences and one sister spoke of getting to like Detroit after harboring a dislike for many years. Fr. Jim felt her words like a knife. Whenever he thought of bad examples of cities, Detroit came first to mind. In the repentance service he asked forgiveness for his condemn-ing attitude toward Detroit and asked for God's view. The result was that in the next few years he had fifty invitations for missions or retreats in Detroit whereas before he had almost none. Forgiving love opened the way for God's love to work. As we pray for the earth, we need to ask for God's forgiveness of those who exploit the earth, and for ourselves who in many ways have hurt the earth unawares. It is not resentment and bitterness that heals, nor discouragement, but forgiving love and faith. Fourthly, we have found that blocks may often be from the past both in individual healing and in healing the earth. As I mentioned earlier, places seem to remember what has happened on them and similar evil seems to continue. A group of us were led to have a Mass said for the civil war dead from Camp Douglas in Chicago, and to pray for the camp grounds. We found through history that some 6,000 Confederate soldiers died there in inhuman conditions, and the place of the actual camp (be-tween Thirty-first and Thirty-third and Cottage Grove in Chicago, a very suitable piece of land for building) was still a waste land after more than 100 years! We felt many of the dead did find release. We wondered what affect it might have on the land, and now three years later we passed by and saw a new housing complex being built there. I mentioned Dr. McAll's prayer for the Bermuda Triangle, and the five year freedom from incidents. He has many similar examples. We have been led to pray for such events as the Alamo (and the enmity between Spanish and Whites affected by that battle), the different sides in the Northern Ire-land dispute, several areas in Chicago with Mafia and Satanic connec-tions, divisions in Livingston, Kentucky, and similar areas. It may well be that the root of a present misuse or exploitation stretches back to an original hurt (like the killing of the Seminole Indians), or to injustice per-petrated by the Church (like the witch trials of the sixteenth and seven-teenth centuries). In sum, we have found that the same principles that apply to healing of persons apply also to healing the earth. Psalm 115:116 says: "Heaven Resurrection SpiritualiO, / 175 is the heaven of the Lord, but the earth he has given to the children of men." Nature is also given into our care as well as other persons. The earth is given to us to learn to love. As children teach us our sin by how they are affected by it, so God seems to let the earth be devastated so we will see our own inner devastation that causes it. But Jesus has come to restore to us power through his resurrection and Lordship to pray for its healing. Whether we will choose to restore the earth or exploit it has been given to us to decide. Implications for Us What are some implications for our own care for the earth'? Firstly, true prayer is helped by being informed.6 Agnes Sanford found out about the San Andreas fault in order to pray for it, how the earth must swell to create new land, how a division of the.earth falls along that fault. She prayed not to stop movement (that would have caused problems else-where), but that the tremors would be many and slight so that no destruc-tion would occur. If we want God to heal the earth, it helps to know what to pray for. Should we pray for the leaders of nations to realize the im-portance of their land? For the leaders of firms and their relation to the health of the environment? Ask God for guidance. Secondly, we need to grow in awareness of the power of healing prayer. Each of us will be led differently to experience God's love and forgiveness, and begin to pray for small things. Rest in God's love, en-vision that love and light radiating out into your selected place (a flower, garden, bird, and so forth). Envision with love and gratitude the healed condition you anticipate (a healthy flower, garden, and so forth), and fi-nally thank God. If nothing happens, you can check a number of things: your faith (are you convinced God wants this? that God wants to respond to your prayer?), your attunement to God's plan for this area, its appro-priateness with regard to other things (for example, not to pray for a good day for a picnic when the earth needs rain). God is infinite creative love and Jesus has been given "all power" to bring the earth to order. We are Jesus' instruments, so prayer will be effective if we have learned to become channels. Thirdly, you may expand your concern to some place like a city or church. Agnes Sanford was led by one lady to pray for cities. You may pick out city hall (quite a challenge in Chicago, but we have been try-ing). Visualize God's love bringing peace to that place, reconciling dif-ferences. We can waste our energy complaining because what we attend to is what we cause. We need to develop a constructive attitude of trust in God's Spirit and pray with a vision of peace being given. "176 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 There may be some particular issue that you are led to pray for. One of our group worked at Edison, and found his particular office rife with competition and discord. He did not even want to go to work. As we prayed we were led to pra}, for Thomas Edison himself who had no re-ligious faith and was disillusioned and angered by conflicts and compe-tition around the use of electricity. We prayed for him to be healed and opened to trust in God, to forgive and be forgiven and for the corpora-tion he began to be freed from that attitude. There has been relief in my friend's office, but long term change can require ongoing prayer. Or we may be concerned about the loss of small farms and the ex-ploitative policies of insurance companies that have received the land. We may not know how to.pray for such complicated issues and can best leave them in God's hands, always ready to do what we are led to do. We can pray God's light into these lands, and God's protection. I was asked by some members of the Association of Christian Therapists to go out to their land and bless it, and pray for any traumatic events (Native American or otherwise) that occurred on it. I was more than happy to do that knowing the many instances where such prayer has helped, though in most cases we don't see the results for some time. Conclusion As Psalm 115 says: "Heaven belongs to the Lord alone, but he gave the earth to humans." We have misused it, appropriated it for ourselves, as the parable of the vineyard says, and even killed God's Son, but we have not been left without resources for healing. Through the power of the Holy Spirit in Jesus' resurrection we can cooperate in God's ongo-ing creative work. We pray daily: 'Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven." In heaven God rules. On earth we pray that God may also bring life, peace, order and justice, but it cannot be done except through many who make themselves channels of God's love. Agnes Sanford likes to use the example of the light bulb. God is the power source, Jesus the transformer, but there will be no light unless we light bulbs are wired to Jesus and ultimately to our triune God. Further, one light can light a room, but if we want to light a house or a city ,we need many bulbs. God has entrusted the earth to us and given us the en-ergy. We still have to understand how creation works and how it is healed, and we need to become ever more fully united with God's crea-tive power. Resurrection Spirituality / "177 NOTES ~ See Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird, The Secret Life of Plants (N.Y.: Avon Books, 1973), chapter I. -' Ibid, pp. 24-25. Backster admitted the plant could have picked up guilt feelings in the culprit, but since it was for science he likely had none. 3 See his Healing the Famil\' Tree (London: Sheldon Press, 1984), pp. 59-61. 4 See my "Trinitarian Love as Ground of the Church," Theological Studies, vol. 37, no. 4, Dec. 1976, pp. 649-679 where I develop this argument, and "Healing and Family Spiritual/Emotional Systems," Journal of Christian Healing, vol. 5, no. I (1983), pp. 10-23, where I apply the five stages to healing family systems. 5 See Agnes Sanford, Creation Waits (Plainfield, N.J.: Logos International, 1978) for several of her examples. 6 See W. R. Parker and E. St. Johns Dare, Prayer Can Change Your Life (Prentice- Hall Inc., 1957) where they give results from three self-chosen control groups-- prayer only, therapy only, and prayer and therapy--and found that the prayer and therapy group improved by far the most. and prayer alone the least! They concluded that psychology (understanding) was needed to guide the prayer. Bang! Bang! "Yeah!" The miniature cowboy (or was it a cop? Scandalous play, whichever) said to his tiny victim, who wouldn't stay still, "'When you're really dead, you're dead for life." And I thought of a seed in the ground And a stone rolled away in a garden and "Out of the mouths of babes." Clarita Felhoelter 3105 Lexington Road Louisville, KY 40206 The Third National LCWR-CMSM Assembly Stephen Tutas, S.M. Father Stephen Tutas, S.M., finished his term as President of the Conference of Ma-jor Superiors of Men Religious at the time of the August 1989 national assembly about which he writes. Previously he had served as the Superior General of the So-ciety of Mary (Marianists) in Rome. His address is Marianist Formation Center; 22622 Marianist Way; Cupertino, California 95014, The Leadership Conference of Women Religious and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men Religious held a joint national assembly in Lou-isville, Kentucky, August 19-23, 1989. Over one thousand participated in this historic discussion of the future of religious life. What was spe-cial about this meeting was that it was a gathering of leaders of the esti-mated 130,000 women religious and 30,000 men religious at the service of the Church in the USA and beyond. What was also significant was that the discussion of the religious life of the future was placed in the context of our Church and society. It was not an in-house discussion, but a reflection on the future of the world and the Church and the response of religious to these anticipated changes. We viewed the challenging movie "Global Brain" and listened to stimulating presentations and reactions. Besides the women and men re-ligious, Mrs. Donna Hanson spoke from the perspective of a lay person while Archbishops Thomas Kelly and Pio Laghi represented the official local and universal Church. The greatest strength of the assembly, how-ever, was the quality of sharing that took place at the 119 round tables as the participants expressed their thoughts about where they are going-- and where they want to go--as women and men religious at the service of the Church in the USA. 178 The Third National LCWR-CMSM Assembly / 17'9 Charles Reutemann, F.S.C., described the process well: ". not so much of identifying something new but of grasping firmly the signifi-cant strands that have emerged and are emerging over the past twenty-five years . " Reports of the table discussions were gathered and col-lated, leading up to consensus on ten "transformative elements for re-ligious life in the future." And because the most important part of any meeting is what comes afterwards, the last session of the assembly was devoted to a table-sharing of planned follow-up. As Robert Schreiter, C.PP.S., pointed out ". if we are to be faithful to our tasks in lead-ership, and engage in more than a maintenance ministry, then look into the future we must." The assembly was an inspiring experience of looking back with grati-tude and of looking forward with hope, anticipating changes in the world around us. For me, it was another occasion to thank God for the grace of living at this time in history. As the assembly came to a close and I completed my term of service as President of CMSM, I looked ahead to a new phase in my life. I continue a very active ministry with women and men religious of many communities besides my own Marianist com-munity, and I also pray and reflect with many diocesan clergy and laity in the context of spiritual direction and retreats. Accordingly, my first act after the meeting was, as always, to pray and reflect about what I had seen and heard. Then I decided to offer this summary to others. When the tri-conference commission on religious life and ministry met for the first time this past February, two tasks were determined: the clarification of the identity of religious life and the promotion of collabo-rative ministry. Both objectives were emphasized at the LCWR-CMSM National Assembly. In fact, they seemed to be fused into one in the un-derstanding that religious in the future will be recognized precisely by their commitment to collaborative ministry in the local church. In this regard I found the observation made by Charles Reutemann especially significant: "Of special interest today is the phenomenon of lay partici-pation in founding charism., what seems to be demanded today is that bonding between lay and religious be one of a common spirituality, a ba-sic Christian spirituality of mission modified by the unique focusing of a congregation's special founding charism . . . a shared vision focused on a common ministry." To be ecclesial means to b~ collaborative, to have a sense of belong-ing to a larger community, to recognize that each person brings a unique gift to the group as a whole. Religious life, with the emphasis on spe-cific charisms, is built on the realization that each person is gifted and Review for Religious, March-April 1990 that a dynamic community is one that calls forth the gifts of every mem-ber. What religious try to do in their own communities--recognize and affirm giftedness--is applicable to the larger Christian community. Donna Hanson used the image of a relay "where people work together helping each other toward the community's common goal." Relays "re-quire planning, patience, and practice. Relays demand teamwork . . . could we also discover new ways of supporting our team members in their vocations to marriage, the single state, religious life and ordina-tion?" What will be the specific contribution of religious life to the Church of tomorrow? The LCWR-CMSM assembly gave the strongest endorse-ment to three features: women and men religious will be prophetic, con-templative, with a preferential option for the poor. These are not exclu-sive properties of religious. All the baptized are called to belong to a Church that is prophetic, contemplative, with a preferential option for the poor. Donna Hanson called for a new agenda: "We on the relay team must expand our Church agenda from a preoccupation with A, B, C-- abortion, birth control, and celibacy--to a more comprehensive com-mitment to D, E and F-- debt, environment, and family." This church-in-the-world emphasis is very promising for religious life and for the Church as a whole as we move into the twentieth cen-tury. It was good to hear Archbishop Laghi speak about a Church in the USA that is vibrant and still growing, and to hear him echoing the words of Pope John Paul II about religious life at the heart of the mystery of the Church. He reaffirmed the desire of religious to be on the cutting edge and to be prophetic and also challenged religious to find new mea-sures to meet the needs of ttiese new times. While some focus on the de-cline of numbers and the aging of religious, Archbishop Laghi chose to remind the religious that much more remains to be done. The climate of the meeting was remarkably positive, but not unreal-istic. Recognizing that attitudinal change is always difficult, the partici-pants saw the need for intensified ongoing formation as we move into the twentieth century. They also saw that the most significant changes would take place in communities and in the Church through incultura-tion. Change does take place most dramatically through the incorpora-tion of new members. There is need to reach out more effectively to blacks, native Americans, Hispanics, Asiatics, and also to others who are at present marginalized from church and society. But Robert Schrei-ter also issued a warning: "American Catholics' demand for a partici-patory model of leadership in parishes, coupled with the growth of lay The Third National LCWR-CMSM Assembly ministries, will result in a great deal of energy expended on intramural strife over issues of power and authority . There is great tension involved in striving to build a Church that calls forth the gifts of every member. Shared responsibility is a marvelous ideal, but not easily realized. But as I reflect on this, I am encouraged by looking at where we have come from and where we are going today. Our hope for the future is always based on our experience of God at work among us in the past. The tri-conference retirement project is a great ex-ample of ecclesial collaboration. The tri-conference commission on re-ligious life and ministry is a promising new structure in the Church. The ongoing collaboration between LCWR and CMSM regionally and nation-ally is an important witness. Looking forward to the year 2010 means that we are dealing with four five-year plans. Only a great belief in the value of religious life and the power of the Spirit at work among us enables religious to accept the mission to be messengers of hope in the Church today. The assembly statement was a commitment: "We will nourish these transformative elements for religious life in the future." They were ten in number, arranged in the order of priorities. The first three are these: 1. Prophetic Witness Being converted by the example of Jesus and the values of the gos-pel, religious in the year 2010 will serve a prophetic role in church and in society. Living this prophetic witness will include critiquing societal and ecclesial values and structures, calling for systemic change and be-ing converted by the marginalized with whom we serve. 2. Contemplative Attitude Toward Life Religious in the year 2010 will have a contemplative attitude toward all creation. They will be attentive to and motivated by the presence of the sacred in their own inner journeys, in the lives of others, and through-out creation. Recognizing contemplation as a way of life for the whole Church, they will see themselves and their communities as centers of spiri-tuality and the experience of God. 3. Poor and Marginalized Persons as the Focus for Ministry Religious in 2010 will be investing their resources in direct service with and advocacy for structural change on behalf of the poor and margi-nalized. They will minister where others will not go. Their own listen-ing to and learning from the poor and marginalized will shape all aspects of their lives. The other transformative elements, without commentary, are: 4. Spirituality of Wholeness and Global Interconnectedness Review for Religious, March-April 1990 5. Charism and Mission as Sources of Identity 6. Change of the Locus of Power 7. Living with Less 8. Broad-based, Inclusive Communities 9. Understanding Ourselves as Church 10. Developing Interdependence Among People of Diverse Cultures. While all ten are important, the first three received the strongest sup-port from the assembly. Preliminary to being a prophetic witness is the openness to conver-sion. It is interesting that religious are calling themselves to a continu-ous change of attitude. This change will come about as religious reflect on the example of Jesus and the values of the gospel. I found the words of Graciela Volpe, R.S.C.J., very helpful: "By their charismatic and prophetic vocati6n, religious men and women are called to capture and interpret the signs of the times, the demands of God in each historical moment. This requires letting oneself be led by the Spirit, opening to the Spirit of God, an entrance on the road of discernment, a humble and sin-cere search for the call of God in each situation in the complexity of events. ' ' It is also interesting to note the closing words of the first transfor-mative element. People are converted not only by meditating on the gos-pel, but also by associating with the marginalized with whom they serve. In the third transformative element, we are reminded that listening to and learning from the poor and the marginalized will shape all aspects of our lives. Many of us are just beginning to learn what this means. But as any-one learns and shares, others in the community also learn. Perhaps this is the most striking feature of this transformative ele-ment and in fact of all the priorities, namely, that being prophetic is not something peculiar to religious life. The entire Church is called to be pro-phetic. Religious recognize that they are called to contribute their aware-ness of what it means to be prophetic. Their mission is to lead by exam-ple. This is what it means to be on the cutting edge. Religious are called to be outspoken in word and in lifestyle. This call to be prophetic prompts two basic questions: How do we critique societal--and ecclesial--values and structures? How do we call for and facilitate systemic change? Charles Reutemann commented: "As we look at religious life, in its lifestyle and varied ministries, and the spirituality which motivates it, can we say that we need more than ever to be prophetic, to continue to offer a radical criticism of the social and political injustices in our society, in housing, schooling, racism, and so The Third National LCWR-CMSM Assembly / "11~3 forth, and to bring a contemporary vision of the beatitudes and gospel message that will energize a confused and disheartened people?" Being prophetic goes hand in hand with being contemplative. It is important to note that the contemplative attitude we want to develop as religious communities and as Church is toward all creation. We see the need to step back from contemporary activism even while being intensely apostolic. We need to be attentive to the presence of the sacred first of all in our own journeys, and then in the lives of others. As we see God at work in our own lives, we are able to see God at work in the lives of others. Our awareness of how God is at work among us is the key to both ministry and community. Contemplation is a way of life for the entire Church. But religious, individually and corporately, are called to be centers of spirituality in the Church and to be expert in being able to share the experience of God. Once again we see that religious life in the future is to be characterized not so much by what religious do, as by how religious live. In being prophetic and contemplative, religious are inspired to reach out to the poor and to the marginalized. This will become more and more the focus of ministry. Graciela Volpe reminded us of the assertion of Le-onardo Boff: "A Copernican Revolution has been produced in the Church, whose.significance goes beyond the Latin American ecclesial context, and concerns the universal Church. This option signifies the most important pastoral-theological transformation which has occurred since the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century. With it a new socio-historical place is defined, from which the Church wishes to be present in society and construct herself, namely, in the midst of the poor, the new subjects of history." But Graciela also reminded us that ". the option for the poor is being viewed with suspicion, obstacles are be-ing put in its way and sometimes it is condemned. The Christian base communities begin not to be trusted. A surge of neo-conservatism is be-ing felt within our Church." While the Christian community must be concerned about everyone, religious serve to remind the Church not to forget the poor and the margi-nalized. I found it especially challenging to note that religious in the fu-ture will minister where others will not go! Direct service with the poor and advocacy of structural change on behalf of the poor are already be-coming more and more characteristic of contemporary religious life. Again, Graciela Volpe shared her experience in commenting that "this mission of Jesus was eminently concrete. Jesus lived it in a conflic-tual context, fighting against sin and for the human person, especially 11~4 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 the poor. To follow Jesus today implies for us the consciousness that we also are supposed to live his mission in concrete historical situations, cer-tainly conflictual ones, 'in an ongoing struggle against sin which mani-fests itself in concrete political, economic, and social structures." While Robert Schreiter challenged us with the observation that "communities now have much rhetoric about the poor, but generally pursue a middle-class lifestyle" Charles Reutemann rightly pointed out that "it would be impossible to have lived religious life for the past twenty years with-out being aware of the intense focusing on the concerns of the poor, the option for the poor." The Church of tomorrow cannot be exclusive or closed. It must be recognized as compassionate and welcoming. The role of religious life is to help build a Church that calls forth the gifts of every member, a Church which recognizes the potential and actual giftedness of every mem-ber, a Church which continually restates the universal call to holiness and mission, a Church which gathers together God's sons and daughters as co-disciples. INCARNATION While sage and sorcerer Sought salvation in words, And high priests strove in blood To reverse man's age-old curse, While from scruples' towers Flagellant and Pharisee Laid siege to Paradise, You remade us from a woman, Formed of her flesh, instead of dust, No longer mere breath and image, But Your very Self at her "Fiat." Kathleen T. Choi 1706 Walanuenue Ave. Hilo, Hawaii 96720 Religious Life Spirituality in the Year 2010 Charles Reutemann, F.S.C. Brother Charles Reutemann, F.S.C., is a de La Salle Brother of the New York prov-ince. He currently serves as a staff member of the Center for Spirituality and Justice in Bronx, New York, as adjunct professor in spirituality and spiritual direction at the Maryknoll School of Theology, and spiritual director at St. Joseph's Seminary in Yonkers, New York. For sixteen years he had been director of the Sangre de Cristo Renewal Center in Sante Fe, New Mexico. His address is St. Joseph's Seminary: Dunwoodie; Yonkers, New York 10704. When first approached to share some reflections on religious life at this year's LCWR/CMSM assembly, the year 2010 was proposed as a con-text for describing what religious life might look like in the foreseeable future. It was an attractive image, 2010, arbitrary but just far enough ahead to make one wonder. The program theme has since been descrip-tively changed to "tradition and transformation in religious life," but I have the feeling that the substance is the same: what will things look like twenty years down the road, as we move through present traditions and experiences? In targeting 2010 we recognize that the changes shall not happen over-night, nor in 2009, but that the future is already germinating and hap-pening now. Would it be correct then to say that since we now seem to be in a settling out, settling down, though still transitional period of re-ligious life, it would be helpful to identify and further describe the main trends and movements ihat are presently pro~,oking and energizing us so that we might embrace them in greater depth and with more enthusiasm? Is it a question then not so much of identifying something new but of graspingfirmly the significant strands that have emerged and are emerg- 185 Review for Religious, March-April 1990 ing over the past twenty-five years, and see if we can continue to weave them integratively into a religious life experience that will support and enhance the evolving Church in its quest for the kingdom? "Spirituality" would seem to be an "in" word today: articles, books, seminars, institutes--all are using the word repeatedly and in a variety of ways. Somehow I have the feeling that underneath its repeated use there are two strong movements: the quest for interiority and the con-tinuing quest for identity. In addition, I find it difficult to locate any one definition of spirituality that applies to all of its uses. Thus, for our pur-poses and partially because of my own bent, I should like to settle for a definition that focuses on the experiential, that is, what it feels like from within, as well as something that is applicable to all situations, re-gardless of different belief systems and religious responses. Hence, I would describe spirituality as a kind of mind-set, or a heart/mind-set, or if you are familiar with the skill of focusing, a body-sense/heart/mind-set that focuses a person's energies as he or she receives, reflects on, judges, and acts out life's responses in light of the transcendent. Spiri-tuality is thus a kind of integrative orientation which penetrates and chan-nels energies, as a person seeks for meaning and lives out life's choices. Except for the totally fragmented person, most of us function out of some spirituality in a good part of our conscious moments, though we may not be actively aware of that. Again, what is said of the individual may be said of the collectivity: groups function out of a spirituality, a heart/mind-set orientation as collectively they seek for meaning and live out life's choices with some awareness of the transcendent. A helpful metaphor for an experienced spirituality would be that of a large cable of many copper strands through which an electrical current flows. For the Christian, and afortiori, for the religious, this electrical current can be identified as the Holy Spirit, or the grace of Jesus, or the grace of God--whichever term one feels most comfortable with. In any case, the electrical current is a power source beyond the self; yet it be-longs to the self in freedom to accede to, impede, or modify the flow of this current. In such a metaphor for spirituality, the electrical current is absolutely indispensable; yet it is the copper cable and its strands that need to occupy our attention as we seek to describe religious life spiritu-ality in the year 2010, for all of us have some responsibility for that. I see the cable as having as many as eight identifiable strands sometimes overlapping through which the current of God's grace is presently form-ing the expression of religious life. I would name them as: founding charism strand, holistic strand, the experience of God strand, dealing Religious Life Spirituality with impasse strand, prophetic strand, conversion strand, feminine prin-ciple strand, and ministry strand. A brief description of each follows. The Founding Charism Strand By now, many initiatives have been taken by each religious group-ing to reappropriate its founding charism. Serious scientific research has uncovered the language, thought-patterns, and experiences of the foun-der and his or her early companions. Based upon this, there has been an attempt to re-say the rule, the constitutions, methods of governance, and mission statement. Through questionnaire, convocation, document, and chapter meeting, practical steps have been taken to involve the total mem-bership in valuing the charism, in recognizing it in its present lived ex-perience, and in re-appropriating it more enthusiastically as an histori-cal ideal for the present and the future. Underneath, of course, there is the strong conviction that it is God's Holy Spirit who has created the charism and who now invites us to a new appropriation. Yet there remains a challenge: we need to continue to demytholo-gize the founding charism by putting it into contemporary thought-form, imagery, and applicability, even as we must recognize that the charism itself has not completed its growth, for it is a living reality that can be ever transmuted while still retaining its original identity. Reli-gious are not meant to be stamped-out copies of an historically-conditioned founder, but possessors of his or her charism that is rooted in an initial gift which flowers in new ways and new relevances. For us, of special interest today is the phenomenon of lay participation in our founding charism. Lay collaboration is being redefined into more than a shared participation in the good works of religious, or a prayerful bond-ing of common aspirations. What is being demanded today is that the bond between lay and religious be rooted in a common spirituality, a ba-sic Christian spirituality of mission modified by that unique focusing of a congregation's special founding charism. Today and into the future we shall speak of creating Lasallian, Franciscan, Marian families; but this will have to be rooted in a mutually shared spirituality of mission with its unique focus flowing from the founder's gift. In lay-religious collabo-ration today there are no firsts and seconds, but a shared vision focused on a common ministry. And so, this founding charism strand needs fur-ther attention as the numbers of religious lessen and lay-religious col-laborators increase. The Holistie Strand Last February, I was part of a group of three hundred who attended "1111~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 a seminar on American Spirituality at the Mercy Center in Burlingame, California. While there, I noticed an announcement on the bulletin board that said there was a resident sister who was available to give a massage, for a fee. I have never had a massage, and regretted that I could not work it into my seminar schedule. But it did seem appropriate: spirituality with massage. Is this what holistic spirituality is all about?--"holistic"-- again, a much-used word, but one that attempts to say that body and spirit need equal attention, that the cultivation of the whole person comes about through an exciting multiplicity of experiences that leads to nature/ person integrity. Personally, I like to say that "holistic" is not just an integrated harmony of body and spirit, but that it includes a felt experi-ence of God, that the experience of self (body-spirit) in a developmental growthful way is also a God-experience, something that happens simul-taneously. Karl Rahner seems to suggest this when he speaks of the uni-versality of religious experiences in ordinary happenings. Should this not incline us to want to grow more holistically?. For then, God would not be thought of as some kind of "adversary," standing over and above the self, calling the individual to some better self, but as a Presence within, calling a self that is desirable (as Sebastian Moore would say) to further growth and development. Becoming one with the self (body/ spirit) is becoming one with God. Spirituality and massage do go to-gether. A fully-embraced holistic strand within spirituality opens the door to a healthy receiving and adapting of psychology in its theories and popu-larized processes. Self-knowledge and self-acceptance are essential to healthy spirituality, and modern psychology offers extraordinary help in becoming the holistic self. A rapid glance at the prospectus of extended renewal programs offered to religious today show such things as: jour-naling, dream analysis, enneagram, focusing, Myers Briggs interpreta-tion, and so forth--all tools for self-knowledge and integration. Added to this are the relational helps: skills for collaboration and community-building, communication skills, and the arts of relating. Then there are the healing arts which use music, massage, color, fiber, and clay. Is all of this not a strand of a spirituality of the present into the future, a mod-erated, integrated cultivation of body-spirit? Tennyson's lines from Ulys-ses might well signal the motivation: I am a part of all that i have met. Yet all experience is an arch where-thro" Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, Religious Life SpiritualiO, / 189 To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! As tho" to breathe were life. The Experience of God Strand (a balance to the holistic strand!) By title, this strand of religious life spirituality may seem to be the most obvious. There can be several differing theologies of what reli-gious life is all about, but there's no arguing with its name: "re-ligious"-- bound back to God. God is the central agenda, God is the enough, and, as the Constitution on the Church insists, the religious is centered on God and "the more." We have heard it many times: serv-ice and doing are essential for religious; but it is the "being," the wit-nessing to the central agenda that God is and that God cares in the immediacy of an exciting and troublesome world--that is what religious are all about. And yet, to achieve that kind of presencing, religious can-not just be, they have to be nourished by a lively, ongoing experience bf God. Here, the key word is "experience": do we really believe that God is extraordinarily near in the ordinary, in the daily, in the moment? If so, where are the happenings, the daily experiences in life where we can say: here! God is affirming, inviting, scolding, caring? If Elizabeth Barrett Browning can say to her beloved "how do I love thee? let me count the ways," should that not also be the language of the religious who is a lover? Let me count the ways, O Lord, that you come to me today and I to you. Our Judaeo-Christian God is a passionate, personal God, who invites to a relationship, but who also exacts a relationship and a passionate response. Obviously, prayer, prayerful awareness, is cen-tral to a "counting of the ways," a deliberate acknowledging of the re-lationship. Prayer is not an end in itself, nor is it a conjuring act, though that belongs, of course. Prayer at its core is "a counting of the ways," a saying "yes" in a fumbling, inadequate way to the intermittently ex-perienced God. In our times, there have been all kinds of development of the prayer response: contemplative centers, prayer workshops, experiments with methodologies, books. Yet, with all of this, it remains important that we be not distracted from the central fact: God is ever near, wiping away the tear, suffering with us, helping us to taste and see in the immediacy of our lives. Cultivating an awareness of God's presence is our chief re-sponse. That, too, is the central girl that spiritual directors can be for oth-ers: a hungry awareness of this passionate God. Very much part of the "experience of God" strand, though it could be given separate treatment, is our focus on the human Jesus. I have al-ways felt that one of the most significant statements in that remarkable 190 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 book, Shaping the Coming Age of Religious L(fe, by Cada, Fitz, and oth-ers, is this: "One of the major prerequisites for the movement of a re-ligious community from a time of search and darkness to that of creat-ing a transformed community is the personal transformation among a significant number of people in the community . The most striking feature of this metanoia is a new (in the sense of deep, broader, and so forth) relationship to the person of Jesus and the gospel message of the kingdom." Experiencing Jesus in his humanity has a special attraction for our era which values the human and seeks to minister to its broken-ness. Today, Christology has fed into this contemporary longing with many remarkable studies: and belief in a resurrected human Jesus, who has gone before us and who is now let loose in our world as a healing, ministering presence, is for many a source of great hope. I would think that an ideal spirituality of 2010 would include a lively love affair with the person of Jesus in which through the concrete instances of his his-torical life we would penetrate his mind and heart and thus stretch back into the heart, mind, and feelings of our very God. God may be inex-haustible mystery, but divinity does not have to be mysterious--there is Jesus. The Dealing with Impasse Strand We do not have to have lived long to be convinced that life is filled with impasse situations: rejections, oppression, exploitation, and suffer-ing bear a multitude of names and disguises. Spiritual directors hear from their directees an endless litany of these darkness experiences, and the pain and confusion which they cause. Also, if our social critics and art-ists are any gauge, what happens to the individual is happening on the worldwide stage of society where drugs, local wars, forced deportation, the funneling of natural resources for weapons of destruction, the stran-gulation of initiative by business conglomerates, are creating societal im-passe in the social, political, and economic spheres. Just as "figuring a way out" is no longer an option for the individual in impasse, rational planning by societies seems less and less feasible. Social institutions are becoming paralyzed by never-ending impasse situations. What kind of spirituality is best able to deal with impasse? Once again, we probably know the answers, but it may be helpful to spell them out and thus fashion another strand of a wholesome religious life spiri-tuality. Earlier this summer, while Pope John Paul was visiting Norway, a country which has one of the highest p~r capita incomes in the world, one 28-year old student was interviewed as saying: "We have every-thing, yet something is missing in our lives, something spiritual. So Religious Life Spirituality many things happen that you cannot explain. We often talk about this at our university." Impasse. The Holy Father himself made this com-ment: "Science and technology, like the economic life they generate, cannot of themselves explain, much less eliminate, evil, suffering, and death." Impasse. The reality is that material self-sufficiency and politi-cal planning, so terribly necessary for all, cannot of themselves resolve deep personal and societal impasse--something which even liberation theologians are coming more and more to realize. Here in America, we have experimented extensively with the self-help techniques of psychology as being able to bring a person or a group through impasse. Gail Sheehy writes of the victorious personality, the survivor who by self-trust, flexibility, and the assistance of a mentor is able to overcome the cataclysmic effects of being a boat-person, a sur-vivor of the holocaust, a castaway from a disintegrated family. Yet even here, psychology does not seem to be enough--another level has to be touched to resolve impasse. Witness the Cambodian refugee, whom Miss Sheehy cites as a victorious personality, who says: "I started thinking, 'maybe God has a plan for me.' If I didn't think that way I would have given up so many times." Are self-help insights and techniques enough to confront impasse? What then? Allowing for the need of economic and political plan-ning, as well as the need for psychological self-awareness, would it not be true to say that the day-to-day impasse situations of our lives can only be met by Christian reflection: "Maybe God has a plan for me"? Here we touch upon experienced faith in a contemplative mode. This is not so much a belief system as it is a simple awareness that "God chooses what is foolish in the world to shame the wise and what is weak in the world to shame the strong" (! Co 1:27). God has a plan for me. Such an awareness rests in the paradox of nothingness and its seeming im-passe. In such awareness of darkness before the Lord, individuals and groups, moved by faith, can quietly exclaim: "I am crucified with Christ--but I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me" (Ga 2:20). Maybe God has a plan for me, as I rest in the crucified Christ. A spirituality of the present into the future needs very much to make creative space for contemplative moments where impasse is accepted and reflected on-- gone through contemplatively. Only then can there be a flowering of hope that will nourish a utopian praxis in the very face of such impasse. The Prophetic Strand Although history tells us that there have always been prophets, we seem to be needing them more today than in our remembered past. Is it 199 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 because of the extraordinary changes and the accelerated rate of change that we find we need someone to tell us what this means and where it is all going? Is it also because, as never before, the media is able to re-veal to us the tragedies and unending travail of so many of the world's inhabitants? Planet earth,, though spectacularly beautiful from a distant moon walk, is pock-marked and diseased when looked at closely--the media has shown us this. We can no longer afford to "bring on the clowns" to help us forget; rather, we find we need prophets, truth-tellers, to remind us that many on planet earth can never be fully human, fully alive; we need truth-tellers, prophets, to help us mourn injustice, and to show us by lifestyle and ministry how to offer the poor some uto-pian hope and an alternative vision. We religious: are we meant to be prophets in our own culture? We are accustomed to describe ourselves as being on the cutting edge, as be-ing in the world but not of it, belonging but not entrapped, always strug-gling for justice and the better way. Certainly, scriptural prophets were on the cutting edge of their cultures, belonging to the scene but refusing to be corrupted by it. Certainly, too, our founders and foundresses and early associates were on the cutting edge, prophets in their culture. Is it part of our vocation then to be prophetic in a special way, and will it become even more evident and necessary as we reappropriate in depth our founding charism? Will it be a clear mark of the refounded religious group that, in both lifestyle and ministries, there will be significant mourn-ing and denouncing of injustice in the marginalized as well as the offer-ing of clear alternatives for social betterment? It is remarkable how Walter Brueggemann's book on The Prophetic Imagination has captured the thinking of many who today are writing about religious life! I join them as I add these thoughts. Brueggemann points out that anyone who uses power, particularly in bureaucratic re-ligion and religious life, tends to develop "a royal consciousness," that is, a fixated omniscient view that power-holders are automatically the cus-todians of God's power, and hence know best how to control structures and limit dissent. A royal consciousness mentality loves law and order, and exalts the status quo. A royal consciousness mentality is forced to stifle creativity, encourage passivity, and consequently fosters fear and mistrust. But, Brueggemann says, the oppression goes just so far; his-tory reveals that when the very stones are crying out, God breaks through and overthrows the control by raising up prophets. Andthe prophets play two roles: they radically criticize existing inequities, not so much as a social crusade or in strident indignation but in grief and lament, a thren- Religious Life Spirituality ody of woe. And secondly, the prophets provide alternative visions that penetrate the numbness of despair and give energy for opening up new paths. Does Brueggemann's insight speak to religious life today? By life-style and ministries are we being called to a more visible prophetic spiri-tuality that will enable us to offer radical criticism in housing, school-ing, job opportunities, religious expression, medical care, and a host of other social and political structures, and continue to bring a contempo-rary vision of the beatitudes and gospel message that can truly energize a confused and disheartened people? The ways and means of prophetic expression will vary: we may be serving as individual catalysts rather than as groups, we may be creating communities rather than living in com-munity, and so on; but prophecy must certainly be part of religious life spirituality in 2010. The Conversion Strand In 2 Corinthians Paul writes: "All of us gazing on the Lord's glory with unveiled faces, are being transformed from glory to glory into his very image by the Lord who is Spirit." For the Christian, the process of transformation or conversion entails a lifelong focusing on the face of Christ and an active surrender to the Lord who is Spirit. Conversion is one of those strands of spirituality that everyone recognizes as essen-tial. Mohandas Gandhi rues that he is still unconverted: "It is an unbro-ken torture to me," he says, "that I am still so far from him, who, as I fully know, governs every breath of my life, and whose offspring I am." Thomas Merton, on what was to be the last day of his Asian jour-ney exclaims: "What is essential . . . is not embedded in buildings, is not embedded in clothing, is not necessarily embedded even in a rule. It is somewhere along the line of something deeper than a rule. It is con-cerned with this business of total inner transformation." Conversion. The parameters of Merton's 1968 perceptions of religious life may have changed, but the business of total inner transformation remains a formi-dable goal for all religious. Property can be bought and sold, garb can undergo many modifications, rules can be simplified and redirected; but that firm decision with its appropriate means whereby we place ourselves on the path of Jesus remains the never-ending challenge. Conversion of individuals, of small communities, and of the total grouping remains a basic project in religious life. Two observations about conversion and spirituality. First, there is de-veloping a new kind of leader in the Church. Inasmuch as social con-cern about armaments, the economics of structural poverty, refugees, ecol- 194 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 ogy, the homeless, and so forth, have high priority in the consciences of Church and society, people are looking to leaders who can deal ef-fectively with such concerns. And, more often than not, the Church lead-ers who are rising up to work with them are indiscriminately sister, priest, brother, lay person, bishop; but what is common to them all is that each has undergone a personal conversion, a conversion provoked by some kind of renewal experience--a program, charismatic prayer, an AA experience, some social justice involvement that helpfully trauma-tized-- and through this experience or series of events each has found an-swers to very real and very personal questions about their lives and their ministry to others. "What they have in common," Kevin O'Rourke says in a Commonweal article, "is not ideological; it is experiential, an ex-perience of conversion and commitment. And, they are becoming the lead-ers in the American Church; they are spearheading the move to involve the Church in (struggling) with nuclear disarmament, capitalism, and third world issues." Is the religious of the future being invited to a lead-ership in a variety of ministries, a leadership that demands a spirituality of radical conversion? My second observation about conversion is that it seems it must be an across-the-board experience. Bernard Lonergan, James Fowler, a host of writers in recent issues of The Way magazine, all insist that conver-sion goes well beyond our moral responses. Conversion must affect the integration of our emotions and feelings, the rectitude of our thinking, the purifying of our images of God, the maturity and depth of our reli-gious enthusiasms--and all of this accompanied by that inner critical sense, discernment if you will, by which we pay attention to the subtle movements of our desires, attitudes, indecisions. A spirituality of the fu-ture geared towards total inner transformation must be accompanied by Buddhist awareness, or what Hemingway crudely called "a built-in crap detector." Only then will pure passionate energy be released and sim-plicity achieved. The Feminine Principle Strand Of the eight strands, the one about which I feel the least secure is what I am calling "the feminine principle strand." My insecurity comes not from a.lack of conviction about the importance of this strand--far from that. Rather, it is rooted in my own limited.knowledge and my be-lief that only a woman can adequately speak to the subject. Neverthe-less, something must be said. It would be impossible to have lived religious life for the past twenty years without being aware of the intense focusing on the concerns of the Religious Life Spirituality poor, the option for the poor. Likewise it would be impossible to have lived religious life in the same span of time without being aware of a simi-lar intense awareness of the feminine in Church and society, especially as that touches upon the demands of justice for women. These two con-cerns have marched along together, principally because the claims of jus-tice are common to each, but also, I think, because women, and relig-ious women in particular, have been in the forefront of succoring the poor through individual and group initiative. The claims of justice un-derlie every enterprise of religious life ministry. But it is the feminine and justice--an understanding of, respect for, and espousal of--that I feel must color our spiritual vision in the future. Once again, allow me to reduce my observations to two specific ar-eas. Most of us now accept the anima-animus duality of Jungian analy-sis and recognize that both operate within us. Likewise, most of us are probably still struggling to work out the implications of this distinction as we strive for wholeness. For example, speaking for myself, I sub-scribe to the theory that each man needs to go from his socialized mas-culine self, to his feminine self, and then to his deep masculine self, if he is to complete the journey of personal integrity. The same would ob-tain for woman: from the socialized feminine self, to the masculine self, to the deep feminine self, and thus to integrity. But, in a world that is patriarchal in language, symbol, and structure, much has to be overcome; the feminine needs to be underscored, both for the man and the woman. The gifts and qualities of the feminine are the ones that need to be ap-preciated and actively endorsed. We know those feminine qualities well: the ability to tap into and relate experience, the ability to be in touch with feelings and to articulate them in detail, the gift of making friendships that mature, the gift of a special bonding with the earth, for holding it sacred and walking on it gently. All these are specifically feminine quali-ties and gifts, and I would see our cultivating them as a consciously-chosen goal in a spirituality of the future. My second observation would have to come under the heading of "woman and justice"--a vast topic, but one that pertains to every di-mension of society and church. Simply put, the goal may best be ex-pressed in the words of Carolyn Osiek in her book Beyond Anger where she writes: "What we need is a transformation of patriarchy into a dis-cipleship of equals." A discipleship of equals; yes, that's it, and it would involve an ongoing conversion of attitude and action that must affect lan-guage, symbol, structure, and relationship. As part of a spirituality, this would mean an alert conscientization, a willful desire for justice in a spe- Review for Religious, March-April 1990 cific realm. A spirituality of the future must include a feminine princi-ple strand that addresses at least these two specific areas. The Ministry Strand "Go out to all the world and tell the good news." That is the com-mand. At the beginning ofevery religious congregation there was always some human need that cried out for relief, some opportunity for bring-ing the gospel message and Jesus to the marginalized. Founding groups and we their followers continue to believe that we are called by the Holy Spirit to be involved in the cause of Jesus through love of neighbor and a concern for justice. Of all the strands of religious life spirituality this has to be the most central and dominative: ministry rooted in faith and love that seeks justice. For me, the best contemporary expression of this goal was spoken by Pope John Paul II to a gathering of religious superiors: "The central conviction for meaningful renewal of a religious group lies in a deep-seated sense of mission for each individual and within the group. More than contemporary abstract social and psychological models, your for-mation programs for new members and for old, your community struc-tures of government and lifestyle will be well-ordered and sharpened when they are infused by a contemporary understanding and feeling for the group's historically-derived mission . Mission fires the idealism of the young and old alike. Mission calls us to pay the price, to bear the burden, to suffer pain, loneliness, and loss. Mission remains at the heart of the active apostolic vocation." If this be so, as we look into the future, we may want to define and evaluate our spirituality of mission according to three factors which have special meaning for today. First, the works of ministry. To what extent are the present works of our congregations the legitimate offspring of the founding charism? As a guide to this evaluation, it may be more impor-tant to gauge the religious zeal with which the ministries are being pur-sued, rather than their specific nature. Paul's words in 2 Timothy seem appropriate: "I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God bestowed when my hands were laid on you. The Spirit that God has given us is no cowardly spirit but rather one that makes us strong, loving, and wise" (2 Tm 1:6-7). Genuine ministry will always have a driven quality about it. Secondly, although all works of justice attract Christian ministry, our present technological society calls us to give special attention to struc-tural justice. Our socio-political-economic institutions and systems fre-quently oppress in a nameless, faceless way. We will not be able to con- Religious Life Spirituality / "197 front this unless our vision sees three and not just two dimensions to hu-man existence: the individual, the inter-personal and the public or so-cietal. How often, for example, in working for change through minis-try, have we focused on structures: personal, community, business, neigh-borhood, and asked: are these structures oppressive or life-giving? am I contributing to their power? A spirituality for ministry today must in-corporate a much clearer and more sensitive awareness of structures and their power if justice is to be achieved. Thirdly, our world has gotten smaller and more cohesive. United na-tions, one world, global village, planet earth are the terms we use, and our ministry responsibility needs to reflect that. Consequently, I would see that the ministry strand of religious life spirituality would have a global and ecological orientation that would make us concerned citizens that can pass beyond geographical boundary and language as we bring Christian outreach to all people and to the earth itself. Will "missionar-ies" be a special category in religious congregations of the future, or will all of us be part of that? A Final Word Where can we go with this? If I myself were reading this presenta-tion and found myself agreeing with some of it, and wanted to take some action, I think I would first sift the word "spirituality": is it a signifi-cant operative reality, and if so, what is its power and function within religious life? Depending on the answer to that, there is the matter of defi-nition: what is religious life spirituality and is there a generic understand-ing that cuts across congregational differences? Next, there is the image of the cable and its strands: are there identi-fiable patterns, movements, elements that we are being called to live out as religious today and into the future? If so, is it helpful to tick them off in some form of completeness/incompleteness, and can we then match these with our own congregational documentation (rules, mission state-ment, and so forth) and major endeavors (ministries, lifestyle, and other creative involvement), so that we might see where we are on the living chart of contemporary religious life? In other words, are we ready for some kind of self-evaluation as we move towards 2010? Following that, I should think a number of possibilities would de-velop: As a first (1) possibility, after a careful critique of our congrega-tional group, there might be cause to have a major celebration, a convo-cation or something similar, where the message would be: "We are on the right track; let us continue, though we might want to give some spe-cial consideration to such and such a strand. A second (2) possibility "191~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 might be the recognition that, although our congregational group has an intellectual or "documentary" grasp of these major strands, we, the rank and file, do not own them sufficiently in our lived experience, and we need to devise further strategies to address that. A third (3) pos-sibility, though I doubt it exists, is that our congregational group has not yet adequately come to an intellectual awareness of the import of these strands in religious life today. And so, we come back to our starting point: what will religious life spirituality look like in the year 2010, and what can we do about it now? Canticle To I Am The splendor of Your love is dazzling winter sunlight upon drifts of snow frozen by the frosts. At other times, it has the deep roar of immense waves crashing against red granite rocks which have patiently withstood the continuous onslaught of the sea. Also, it has the tranquillity of a street puddle made by the rain. Such a place can catch countless reflections of skyscrapers, the intense blue of a child's inquisitive.eyes. Your love is the song of a red cardinal telling the world that spring has come. Brother Richard Heatley, F.S.C. De La Salle Centre 45 Oaklands Avenue Toronto, Ontario M4V 2E4, Canada From CMSW to LCWR: A Story of Birth and Transformation Lora Ann Quihonez, C.D.P. and Mary Daniel Turner, S.N.D. de N. Sister Lora Ann Quifionez, C.D.P., is a former executive director of the Leader-ship Conference of Women Religious. She served as a member of the general coun-cil of the Sisters of Divine Providence of San Antonio, Texas. Sister Mary Daniel Turner, S.N,D. de N., is also a former executive director of the LCWR. She served as president of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur. They are currently co-authoring a book on the renewal of religious life in the United States. They may be addressed at 1319 Floral Street, N.W.: Washington, D.C. 20012. This article is based primarily on sources in the archives of the Dominican Sis-ters, Adrian, Michigan; of the Sisters of Loretto, Nerinx, Kentucky: and of the Lead-ership Conference of Women Religious. The authors have constructed chronologi-cal sequences and the details of events from correspondence, minutes, proceedings of assemblies, internal reports, and a few in-house publications of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (Conference of Major Superiors of Women). The dates of the papers consulted fall within the years cited in the article. That the last twenty-five years have witnessed marked changes in Ameri-can Catholicism and that women religious have been prominent actors in the change process are evident. From children and daughters of the Church to women and partners in the mission of the Church, from ob-servers of to active participants in church-world affairs, and from insti-tutional church workers to initiators of and collaborators in multiple serv-ices, women religious of the United States, setting out from a stable and precisely-defined state of consecration, have journeyed to a less secure, and more expanded life of mission. There are many lenses through which we could examine this journey. The Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR)--founded as the Conference of Major Superiors of Women (CMSW)--however, offers a unique lens through which to view 199 200 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 the coming-of-age of American women religious. ~ Composed of the chief officers of congregations of women religious, the conference is a juridically-recognized body in the Church, having of-ficial status with the Vatican and the American hierarchy. The major su-periors, as the designated leaders of their congregations, give priority to their communities, and issues of meaning and ultimate direction engage their energies. Joining with their peers in the conference, they are in a privileged position to probe and analyze issues. Moreover, since their roles encourage the promotion of change consonant with the mission of the Church and their respective charisms, they possess a certain degree of moral authority to consider common responses to the claims of church and world on their resources. Two events--the founding of the conference in 1956 and its verita-ble refounding in 1971--illuminate the transformation which occurred among the leaders of congregations of women religious within a span of twelve years, a metamorphosis not unlike the one among the sisters of the United States. These events reveal women of their times who carried out their responsibilities from very differing worldviews. This difference, graphically captured in their contrasting perceptions of religious life, is clearly evident in the records of the founding and the refounding of the conference. For the founders of the conference, consecration to God, the pursuit of personal holiness, and separation from the world were the essential elements of religious life. They understood their vocation as a call to a "state of perfection," whose legitimacy came from ecclesiastical author-ity. Religious were "religious" first and foremost; apostolic works were secondary, mere "nets" for saving souls. Corporate institutional ser-vices, however, ensured their collective and public identity. Stability, cer-titude, and order marked this way of life; regular observance distin-guished the "good sister." The place and the role of religious in church and world were secure and privileged. The statutes drafted at the time of the founding of CMSW simply reflected this theological perspective and mirrored the corporate self-understanding of the major superiors in the 1950s. Many of the major superiors of the late ! 960s and early i 970s, how-ever, imaged religious life not so much as a state within a "perfect so-ciety" but as a reality rooted in the Gospel, organized around and for the mission of the Church and shaped in history through the Spirit-inspired insights of persons living it. The work on the conference bylaws at the time of reorganization made apparent that leaders of women's con- From CMSW to LCWR / 201 gregations were refashioning their religious identity and reordering their place in the Church. Appreciating the universal call to holiness of all bap-tized persons espoused by Vatican II, these women searched for a cor-porate self-definition that would simultaneously speak to the commonly-shared vocation of all Christians and describe religious life as a distinct, but not more perfect, response to the Gospel. For a significant number of these leaders, personal holiness and the transformation of society were inextricably related. They no longer judged the world as alien territory; it was a locus of the holy. No longer secondary, works were constitutive of an apostolic life. They were not to be determined by a priori definitions of appropriate "religious" ac-tivities nor confined solely to corporate institutional commitments. World realities attested to needs and services were to be responsive to them. The mission of the Church, not regular observance, was the or-ganic principle of an apostolic religious life. In contrasting the members' work on the CMSW statutes and on the LCWR bylaws, we see that these differences determined the purpose and character of the conference. Conference of Major Superiors of Women (CMSW) 1. Genesis The story of the founding is an account of a church movement with its beginnings in post-World War II Europe and its inspiration in the call of Pius XII for "aggiornamento" in and collaboration among religious institutes. The movement, deriving its direction from Vatican officials, gaining momentum through the international congresses and national meetings of religious held in the fifties, ultimately became institutional-ized because of the persuasive moral power of Vatican officials and the allegiance of American women religious to church authorities. 2. Organizing the Conference. In 1952 Valerio Cardinal Valeri, Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for Religious (SCR), appointed a committee of seven women to help plan the first national congress of religious of the United States. In April, 1958, he asked this same body to organize, in consultation with the ma-jor superiors of men, a national conference of religious in the United States. Writing to Mother Gerald Barry, O.P., superior general of the Dominicans (Adrian, Michigan), chair of the organizing committee, Val-eri states that the purpose of national conferences "is precisely to en-able those who understand most intimately the particular needs and con-ditions of their own country or area to provide for those needs by means 902 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 best adapted to their situation" (Oct. 9, 1958). These women, however, saw no need for a conference because organizations like the National Catholic Welfare Conference, the National Catholic Education Associa-tion, and the Catholic Hospital Association were ably serving com-munities in matters related to apostolic works. Besides, the need for "ag-giornamento" was not a felt-experience in the United States, where works were thriving, vocations abounded, and religious life seemed sta-ble. Nevertheless, if the Holy Father wanted such an organization, these women could be counted on to help realize his dream. They knew that the major superiors of the United States, "obedient children" and daugh-ters of the Church, would obey the wishes of the Sovereign Pontiff. Within six months (April--November, 1956) the Committee had drafted statutes, secured SCR approval for their work, orchestrated a na-tional assembly of major superiors, and set in motion a process for es-tablishing a conference. In doing their task, they relied heavily on the statutes of the newly-formed Canadian Religious Conference, which included both women and men; they also took quite seriously the directive of Valeri to structure national conferences according to local needs. Thus, although the SCR assumed that there would be a single conference for women and men, the Sisters' Committee took the view that the needs and problems of relig-ious women and religious priests were quite different. They saw a sepa-rate conference for women as a practical necessity: women must orga-nize and act on their own behalf. (No references were made to religious brothers in these early discussions!) Convinced as they were that other national organizations compe-tently advised women religious in matters pertaining to health, educa-tion, welfare, and "foreign missions," the organizing committee at-tached less importance to establishing a national office than did their male counterparts, also drafting statutes for a national conference. And so the women decided that a national executive committee would serve as a kind of "national sec?etariat" for the CMSW. Authority within the conference would be entrusted to the executive committee, and its mem-bers alone would elect national officers. The executive members would make decisions, direct programs, and transmit the mind of the Church to major superiors. While the conference membership would gather na-tionally every five years, the organizing committee did not envision mo-bilizing their power for corporate action. The national executive com-mittee would determine what, if any, activities were appropriate for a re-ligious conference. From CMSW to LCWR / 903 The organizing committee did, however, attach great significance to regional organization and activity. Local and regional diversity, so much valued in the United States, demanded this emphasis. The regions, there-fore, would constitute the strength of the conference and serve as forums for education and gathering places for major superiors to study together issues and topics relating to religious life. Work on the statutes made evident the relative certainty of the found-ing women about the nature and purpose of the Church and religious life. They accepted the official definitions and the practices of ecclesiastical authority as well as the canonical prescriptions about religious life. This certainty guided their deliberations and left its mark on the statutes, which clearly identified CMSW as an ecclesiastical moral person, depend-ent on church officials for its being. Submission to church authorities within the limits of canon law was to be the hallmark of the new organi-zation. Determining the criterion for membership was also no problem: only major superiors as defined by church law qualified. Similarly, the pur-pose of the conference was precisely specified: the spiritual welfare of religious and matters that were properly spiritual would engage the re-sources and energies of the conference. In summary, the statutes of CMSW structured a conference accord-ing to a hierarchic-elitist worldview, shaped in harmony with the domi-nant classical theology of religious life as a state of perfection and a life of consecration. Conference programs, activities, and relationships would take their direction from this worldview and theology. 3. The Founding Assured that the SCR endorsed their preparatory work, the organiz-ing committee planned a national meeting for November 24, 1956. Fol-lowing Vatican directives, they invited only major superiors of pontifi-cal congregations. Although the more than 235 in attendance unani-mously approved the proposed statutes, some raised the possibility of experimenting with a national conference for one year before making a final decision. The participants easily and quickly disposed of the ques-tion: what the Holy Father wanted, United States women religious wanted. Experimentation was unnecessary. And thus, the CMSW was founded. As originally envisioned, it was to be simply and only a conference: a forum for the spiritual benefit of major superiors as well as for the revitalization of religious life and an organ for communicating and promoting the mind of the Church. The months between November, 1956, and July, 1957, were devoted 204 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 to organizing the six regions, in particular, to electing regional officers who would serve as the eighteen-member national executive committee of the conference. A report given by Mother Alcuin McCarthy, O.S.F.--first National Chairman (sic)--at the Second International Congress of the States of Per-fection (December, 1957) reviews the founding activities of the confer-ence. Her account, simply and directly told, makes clear that, within the context of the Roman initiative, the organizing women took full charge of the process of founding and did so according to their understanding of the needs of religious life in the United States. It likewise records a story marked by the absence of conflict. Whatever the reservations of the founding women about the need for a national conference and about cer-tain organizational features, their steady reliance on church authorities and, in turn, the confidence of Roman officials in them worked together to bring about a stable, well-defined organization. The SCR officially recognized the conference in 1959 and approved the statutes in 1962. As a pontifically approved organization of major su-periors, the CMSW was well on its way to becoming a nationally and internationally recognized presence in the Church. Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) In contrast to the record of the founding of CMSW, the account of its reorganization is a story of women religious profoundly affected by Vatican II, influenced by the movement of Catholics into mainstream America, unsettled by the politics and cultural revolution of the sixties, challenged by the liberation theology of Latin America, and somewhat conflicted about their own identity and purpose. The decision to reor-ganize emerged from within the conference, engaging the members in an intensive review of the statutes and generating a transformation of con-sciousness about the purpose and organizational components of the con-ference. In fact, the implementation of that decision brought about the refounding of the CMSW. The Work of Reorganization The journey toward the refounding of CMSW was initiated and di-rected from within the conference. Responding to a request from Mary Luke Tobin, S.L. (then CMSW National Chairman) to ascertain the readi-ness of American congregations of women religious to implement Vati-can II, the National Executive Committee (NEC) appointed, in 1965, a research committee to direct this task. The committee launched the Sis-ters' Survey, a questionnaire of some 645 items, answered by 139,000 From CMSW to LCWR / 205 women religious in the United States. Since responses to the Survey made it clear that the sisters were eager to participate in decision-making, the research committee recommended to the 1967 assembly of the CMSW a study of conference structures. The NEC engaged the mem-bership in a study of the statutes that developed into a full-blown educa-tional program, calling for the active involvement of all the members. In many ways the process paralleled the special general chapters then un-derway in individual communities. In revising the statutes, CMSW members probed radical questions about the nature and purpose of religious life and necessarily about the nature and purpose of the conference. Conversations made evident that some leaders of women's congregations understood and experienced ap-ostolic religious life as something other than a "state of perfection" and a life of "separation from the world." The reports from regional meet-ings show that the appropriate relationship of religious to the world was a dominant issue in the discussion. The clear-cut distinction of classical theology between the sacred and the secular and between the "strictly spiritual" and apostolic works no longer held sway. It could not be as-sumed that traditional formulae about religious life, its purpose and mean-ing, claimed general allegiance among conference members. To some members it seemed that a spirit of secularism was finding its way into the conference. The records of this study also show the major superiors grappling with questions of ecclesiastical jurisdiction and debating the issue of mem-bership eligibility. What was the appropriate relationship between a pon-tifically approved organization (the conference) and church authorities? What was the legitimate and necessary autonomy of the conference within the church system? They questioned, too, criteria for membership. A proposal to include associates evoked fear among some members: they believed that to admit major superiors who did not fit canonical defini-tions and leaders of groups who did not have canonical approval would surely undermine the identity of the conference. Minutes of regional discussions also point up that a few members ex-pressed seriousconcern about the relationship between the national and the regional levels. Disturbed by what they perceived as the "sociologi-cal" character of the Sisters' Survey and its propagandizing intent, some members believed the influence of the NEC, who commissioned the study, needed curbing. Even the egalitarian principles shaping the orga-nizational character of the conference did not wholly dispel mistrust of the power of the NEC. 906 / Review for Religious, March-April 1990 The proposed revisions of the bylaws drastically altered the purpose and role of the national meeting as well as the constituency and function of the governing body. Now conference members were to gather annu-ally and as a national assembly determine directions, establish goals, and specify priorities. A national board constituted by the chairs of the newly structured fifteen regions, five officers, and the executive director would govern according to the directions determined by annual assemblies and be accountable to the membership for its decisions and actions. The proposed bylaws provided for an expanded national office. This restructuring also caused anxiety among some members. As directors and coordinators of programs, research, development, communications, and fiscal procedures, the staff would, some thought, be in a position to ex-ercise too much power in the conference. Assurances from conference officers about the ecclesial character of the conference, the proposed restructuring of the regions, the move to universal suffrage for the election of the national officers, the function of the national assembly as a decision-making body, the board's account-ability to the membership, and the supervision of the staff by the board did not totally eliminate tensions within the conference. These tensions remained throughout the process of revision and after its completion. The revised statutes--now called "bylaws' '--adopted by the mem-bership in 1971 represented the dominant position, if not the unanimous view, of the membership. The bylaws clearly identified the conference as an ecclesial body, sophisticated as an organization. The members were unequivocally "women" in the Church, equal among themselves and partners with church officials in carrying out its mission. While they were clear that the bylaws of the conference existed to serve the leaders of congregations precisely as leaders, the purpose and objectives of the conference were broadly conceived, allowing for great diffusion of en-ergies and wide-ranging agendas. Not only were the Church and the world legitimate forums for concern and action, the conference was chal-lenged to be a transforming agent in both spheres. Strikingly, the lan-guage of the bylaws manifests a dynamic, evolutionary worldview, and the objectives mandate the development of a theology of religious life consonant with that worldview. Re founding Without prior consultation with or endorsement from the SCR, the national board presented the proposed bylaws for a final vote during the 1971 assembly. This was not, however, the first opportunity for a total conference discussion of the revised statutes: A special assembly had From CMSW to LCWR / 207 been held in February, 1970, to provide full membership debate on the purpose, role, and objectives of the conference. They had endorsed the restructuring of the conference from six to fifteen regions and adopted universal suffrage for the election of national officers. At the 1971 As-sembly the members approved the revised statutes and a new title, Lead-ership Conference of Women Religious. The newly-adopted bylaws and title signaled a transformed under-standing and appreciation of the raison d'etre of the conference: not only was it to be a forum for enabling leadership, it was also to become a cor-porate force for systemic change in Church and society. LCWR was born and with it an organization committed to constructive, creative use of power and influence in Church and world. No longer simply a forum for sharing, it now became an agent for change. The assembly, the national board, and executive committee as well as the secretariat and national committees consolidated the corporate power of the conference to coor-dinate regional and national levels and promote collaboration with Church and civic organizations. Following the 1971 Assembly the board directed the staff to initiate whatever actions were necessary to have the new name legally recog-nized. The former name CMSW, they agreed, communicated a negative image to the public: its militaristic and hierarchic connotations needed dispelling. This action and the adoption of the bylaws by the assembly without prior approval of SCR caused consternation not only among some conference members but also in some members of SCR. Presented with the newly adopted bylaws in November, the SCR raised questions about the lack of explicit jurisdictional lines between the conference and Church authorities and the meaning of the new title. Amendments to the bylaws worked out by the national board stilled, for a time, the concerns of SCR about jurisdictional issues. Provisions were incorporated to acknowledge the "authority of the Holy See and of the bishops," the relationship of the conference to SCR, and its re-sponsibility to the Apostolic Delegate in "its more important activities." As a result, the SCR granted definitive approval of the bylaws in 1972. Agreement about the title, however, did not come until 1974. For some SCR authorities the appropriation of the term "leadership" by the United States major superiors appeared arrogant. Besides, they charged, the language evoked the negative images associated with terms like "Fuh-rer" and "II Duce." After much dialogue between conference officers and members of the SCR and the addition of a statement in the bylaws clarifying the meaning of "leadership," SCR officials finally endorsed 201] "1 Review for Religious, March-April 1990 the title. The CMSW, according to one observer, had taken "a sharp new turn." The work of producing bylaws gave evidence of a growing ap-preciation of United States culture by the major superiors. And though probably unconscious of their kinship with feminists, the CMSW mem-bers of the late 1960s demonstrated commitment to becoming a self-determining conference, not isolated from Church officials but interact-ing with them. Concluding Reflections I. Transitions: Times, Events, Movements Between the call of Pius XII in the 1950s for "aggiornamento" and the challenge of John XXIII for renewal, the United States had experi-enced rapid and radical change. The flight from the cities to suburbia, the volatile confrontations of the civil rights movement, the assassina-tions of John F. and Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, the ex-cruciating agonies and divisions over United States involvement in Vi-etnam, the farm-workers' struggle for justice, the anti-Communist para-noia, the Bay of Pigs debacle, and the development of a vocal feminist minority threw the country into a national paroxysm. Self-doubt, dissent, and protest became a way of life. Moreover, the nation was not untouched by liberation movements in Third World countries. The presence of Peace Corps volunteers and of United States religious in Latin American countries awakened social re-sponsibility and global sensitivities, and, at the same time, called into question the role of the United States in international inequities. The United States was a world power. Was it a force for international jus-tice? The response of Catholics in the United States to Humanae Vitae was a powerful symbol and experience of intense ferment in the Church, evok-ing as it did a storm of protest. Public dissent was no longer confined to civic matters. The American Church, consciously becoming a "local church," was loosening its ties to Rome as Catholics moved into main-stream America, became better educated, and delighted in the experience of a Catholic president. Catholics were at home in America. They had assimilated well ~pecifically American values: the sharing of power, the right to dissent, participation in decisions that affect one's life, dialogue, respect for differences, and due process. The political upheavals, in ad-dition, evoked a new awareness of and commitment to these values. For many Catholics, however, these values were not simply or only From CMSW to LCWR / 209 cultural: they were consonant with the Gospel. They could, and should, find their way into Church life and structures. As renewal efforts within religious congregations demonstrate, women religious were not immune to these developments. They were profoundly affected by them. Movements directly related to religious life also influenced religious women. The expansion of education and theological competence brought about by Sister Formation (SF) activities in the 1950s and early 1960s insured that "new" ideas concerning both Church and society circulated in communities. Newer members, in particular, as well as congregational leaders and formation directors sensed that some structures and practices within religious institutes were not workable nor productive of healthy people and groups. Neither were they compatible with a developing sense of apostolic religious life. In many ways, the SF movement had prepared religious to respond boldly to the societal and ecclesial chal-lenges of the 1960s. In particular, the Vatican II mandate for renewal, its acknowledg-ment of the vital connection between Church and world, and its charac-terization of the Church as People of God and as Pilgrim People found receptive minds among a significant number of women religious. These ideas, validating the developing consciousness of many religious concern-ing the meaning of apostolic religious life, opened the way for its re-imagination. The depth of the response of United States religious to Vatican II was probably enlarged by the presence of Mary Luke Tobin, S.L., as an of-ficial observer at the Council. Her work on the commission which de-veloped The Church in the Modern World uniquely prepared her to be-come an ambassador of the Council. Traveling extensively throughout the country, she challenged women religious to take an active role in the world: they were to be bold advocates for justice and peace. As the presi-dent of CMSW (1964-67), she was in a privileged position to dissemi-nate the "good news" of Vatican II among major superiors. Her influ-ence was especially felt in the program planning of the national as-semblies from 1965-1967, assemblies that proved powerful corporate and formative ex

Issue 61.2 of the Review for Religious, 2002. ; Examen .Living with God Growing Older Religious Eife Perspectives MARCH APRIL 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 2 Review for Relig4ous helps people respond and be faithful ~ to God's universal call to holiness by making available ~to them the spiritual legacies that flow from the charisms of CathOlic consecratea life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written applicatign to the Editor, Review for Religious. L VING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Afin Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp ~Adarmiaens G~.nadu dJoinan S. CFelling Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos'A. Sevilla SJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CsJ MARCH APRIL 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 2 contents 118 feature Examen: Persons in Relationships Joseph A. Tetlow sJ provides new insights by focusing examen on our many personal relationships in daily life. 129 137 living with God No Rapine in the Holocaust: Eremitical Life Today Karen Karper Fredette surveys some of the different forms eremitical life has taken in a fresh flowering in church life today. Metaphysical Self in Other Mystical Traditions James J. Magee defines metaphysical self as one's self residing in God and God residing in it and then examines this term as it appears in Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, Jewish, and Muslim (Sufl) mysticism. 146 growing older Aging: Spiritually Present to the Burning Bush Geraldine M. Wodarczyk CSFN reflectively enters us into her six-year experience of living among her own congregation's aging and prayerful sisters. Review for Religious 166 Coping with Repetition: A Spirituality for Ministering to the Elderly Helen Jean Novy HM proposes some spiritual considerations to guide our responses to the repetitiousness of sick/elderly people. 169 religious ~i~e perspectives Medaille's "Means" and Religious Life's Renewal Joan Wagner ssJ focuses on six "means" derived from Father Medaille's writings that nourish religious community life. 183 The Decline of Religious Life: A Success Story Michael Dominic W. Ledoux OFM asks whether the next task for religious congregations is to let go of our hold on institutions and ministries and allow them to find a charism based upon their own stories and histories rather than being too strongly attached to religious communal stories. " 191 Membership and Leadership: An Organic Whole Beatrice M. Eichten OSF sketches out the patterns of interworking between leaders and members that enhance effective leadership in community life. flepar men s 116 Prisms 202 Canonical Counsel: Exclaustration: Further Considerations 211 Book Reviews March-April 2002 115 prisms Jesus' transfiguration was a favorite passage of the Jesuit paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. With his own description of evo-lution progressing by crossing thresholds, he found the transfigured Jesus giving promise of crossing the threshold from being Jesus a marginal Jew to being the risen Christ Pantocrator. Whatever our response to evolutionary theory, the crossing of thresholds gives insight into words and images used to describe the mysteries of our Catholic faith. We seem to be unaware that in faith we have crossed a .threshold between commonsense language and language bursting with faith realities. For exam-ple, our scripture and prayer language in the Lenten and Easter seasons describes redemption as our being purchased at a price. Sometimes this has led to the preaching and imaging of God paying off the devil by Jesus' passion and death. So we--the human race-- were bought at the cost of Jesus' death in order to release us from the grip of the evil one. At other times, it seems that our language has seen God as being appeased or satisfied by the pain and suffering and blood shed by his Son. And we have wondered: What kind of God is this? The New Testament writers built upon the imagery of the Hebrew Scriptures and presumed a poetic under-standing of the religious world. Following Scripture and inspired by their own culture and times, theolo-gians, artists, and spiritual writers over the centuries have all contributed, with mixed results, to various ways of understanding and celebrating the central mystery of our salvation/redemption. In the United States, with R~view for Reli~o~s our sometimes sanitized religious worship removing us from devotional or emotional involvement, we still tend to slip back to a rather morbid focusing on physical pain and the shedding of blood in Lenten prayer and especially in the Holy Week triduum. Perhaps we find ourselves praying with an unhealthy fixation on pain and suffering as the way to God. We need to acknowledge that Holy Thursday has more than just a chronological precedence to Good Friday. The Eucharist is key to a solidly Christian approach to the Passion and Cross, one that is psychologically and spiritually sound and healthy. As St. Ignatius Loyola points out, Jesus' institution of the Eucharist is "the greatest mark of his love." We may be surprised that it is not Jesus' passion and death that help us to understand the Eucharist, but it is the other way around. The Eucharist shows us that Jesus holds nothing back from us in his love. He gives all that he is, sacramentally, to be the food and drink of our life, a life in the same bloodline as God. The word redeemer from its Hebrew derivation points to one taking on the obligations of blood or familial relationship. In itself redeemer does not imply pain or suffering. In the Hebrew Scriptures redeemer describes God in this familial relation to his chosen people. In Jesus we see God fulfilling the redemption of all peoples. By instituting the Eucharist, Jesus intends that the sacramental "nowness" of a blood relationship--the reality of our being adopted as God's sons and daughters--is to be celebrated in our daily living. We have the saying that "love costs." On Holy Thursday Jesus is showing sacramentally that he pays whatever it costs. That is how much he loves us and loves his Father. All our scrip-tural words about payment--ransoming us with his blood, pur-chasing us for a price, and so on--are images, sometimes confusingly used, looking towards the heartfelt truth that "love costs." But God is not paying off anyone. Jesus is not buying us back from the devil. It is the reality that "love costs." Jesus shows us the face of the God who does not count the cost to show his love. The Eucharist is our key to all the events of the Passion and Death. The key presents itself to us every time we look at the crucifix, every time we come forward for Communion. We are invited to cross a faith threshold, thereby experiencing anew God as Love and our identity as beloved. David L. Fleming SJ II7 March-April 2002 JOSEPH A. TETLOW feature Examen: Persons in Relationships You are likely to take account of your relationships with others whe'never you make the examen that St. Ignatius Loyola recommends. But why? Deep down in our own hearts, is there not plenty for God and me to do, without distractions from all sides? Actually, no, and for good reasons. The first reason comes from revelation. The human person is created in the likeness of a God who is One only and also Three Persons. This impenetra-ble mystery reveals to us that each of the Persons has identity only in and through the relations among the Three. It is in that likeness that your own "person" is modeled: you are a person only in your relationships. You will always be your mother's child and your father's offspring, always your siblings' brother or sis-ter. Moreover, it is in and through those relationships and others--teachers, neighbors, friends, even ene-mies- that you have become the person you are. To tell who Jesus of Nazareth is, Matthew begins with a genealogy. After telling about incarnation and birth, he goes right to Jesus' relationship with John the Baptist. Joseph A. Tedow SJ last wrote for us in September-October 1998. His address is Secretariate for Ignatian Spirituality; C.P. 6139; 00195 Roma Prati; Italy. Review for Religious Here is the second reason, closer to the everyday, for doing this exercise. You are always relating to your family, where per-sonhood (self) takes early shape and within which you continue to develop throughout life. You work with others, creating another set of day-to-day relationships. You may belong to a religious community, requiring you to develop a subtle lifelong set of relationships with persons whom God has chosen for you. You may belong to an apostolic team--parish, school, center, hospital, program--which requires cooper-ation and planning. All of these relation-ships require attention and prayer, since "we are all parts of one another" and together we make up the Body of Christ (Rm 12:5). As a very practical matter, this exercise might be a regular part of the prayer of those who work in apostolic partnerships. These are not simple in the church today, and a lot of "personality conflicts" disguise rather dis-orderly emotions and affects. Moreover, a lot of apostolic planning and community planning gets scuttled because of unre-flected- upon personal relationships. Teams and communities commonly blame "the process" for failed planning, when the actual problem is the relationships among the members. This examen, besides helping you know whom to thank God for, helps reveal and even heal such dysfunctional relationships. There are reasons why everyone would benefit from this special exercise. Every life today is plagued in some measure by individualism and alienation. One consequence affects the examen. Even when examining how you are getting along with others, you tend to focus on your own part in the relationship-- "How am I doing?"mand less on the other or on the relation-ship itself. This exercise challenges that focus on the self. It draws you to appreciate, for the right reasons, the people whom God has put into your life. "Each of us should think of our neighbors and help them to become stronger Christians" (see Rm 15:2). You enact individualism by thinking about yourself in isolation rather than in relationships with others. This examen asks you to look directly at the others in your life and the relationships that hold you together in Christ. Every life today is plagued in some measure by individualism and alienation. 119 March-April 2002 Tetlow * Examen Your relationships are where, and the deepest reason why, you exercise the virtues of prudence, justice, fortitude, and tem-perance and a host of others that are needed in order to love the way Jesus loves. Relationships, especially your family and community relationships but also your apostolic and job rela-tionships, are where you give in to sins of pride, covetousness, lust, envy, anger, gluttony, and sloth. If you find this hard to believe, perhaps you really need to do this exercise for a while. Here is the last and ultimate reason to use an examen specif-ically about your relationships: to make sure you are loving the way Jesus loves. Ignatius's Contemplation on Love--the more descriptive title would be "Contemplation to learn to love the way God loves"--begins with two prenotes. The first is that love "ought to manifest itself in deeds rather than in words," and the second is that love consists in constantly sharing, the lover and the beloved giving and receiving in open generosity (SpEx §231). This is how Jesus loves, always in relationship with the Other and the others. This exercise takes you directly to the issue whether you are loving as Jesus loved or are, in actu-ality, doing something else. Practicing the Exercise What is recommended here can be used as a single exercise, in which case it will require a long period of quiet time. It has been used profitably as the material for an eight-day retreat. Once you have gone through it for a while, however, you will know which parts of it to apply on a given day or occasion. You will know that sometimes you need to run through and examine all of your relationships: family, friends, work, community mem-bers, parish council, and so forth. At other times you will want to examine something that has happened, like a disagreement that left you far more unsettled than the matter deserved, or a deci-sion not to phone someone. This exercise will help you to uncover your true purposes, responses, and responsibilities. You can think about one partner or colleague; you can look at one group or committee or team. And so on. (The exercise as it is given here is divided into five sections, following its Ignatian inspiration.) First, taking time to thank God for those whom the Spirit has put into your life. A good way to do this is by making three columns Review for Religious on a sheet of paper. In the first, write some names (parent, sibling, friend, coworker), choosing those who belong to the period you are covering. If you are moving historically through your life, you would begin with parents or grandparents; if you are covering your life situation today, you would name the people with .whom you relate regularly. In the second column, across from each name, write the relationship you have with this person. You might want to add some details beyond a mere title. For instance, to "childhood friend" you might add "first date"; to parent, "died too young"; to colleague, "real partner." This assigning of titles may not be entirely simple. Choosing the appropriate title for a sibling.who is also a lifelong inti-mate friend and a business partner would take some thought--thought precisely about the relationship that you are given and choosing. Then, in the third column, for which you will need plenty of space, describe the relationship you have with this person. How has this person helped shape your self and your life, in the past or more recently? For instance, "rooted me in Christ" about a deeply religious and well-informed parent who established you in your faith. A trust-worthy friend may have told you the truth about yourself and your opinions and decisions, bringing you to know yourself before God. This step will give you grounds for a good deal of thanksgiving. Someone taught you to read and write. Someone showed you how to play your favorite sport. Someone intro-duced you to the Scripture.s. Someone challenged you to for-giveness because he or she not only hurt your feelings but did you harm. Someone may have betrayed you as Judas betrayed your Master. In this examen you probe how you relate to these people, not only how you feel about them, but especially what you have done and are doing in this relationship. In every instance your Creator and Lord is giving you an array of gen-erous gifts, sometimes surprising ones, freely and constantly, gifts for you to be thankful for. There is no gift as great as the gift of a faithful friend or lover who means only good for you. 12I March-April 2002 Tetlow ¯ Examen People know that there is, no gift as great as the gift of a faithful friend or lover who means only "good for you. So here is occasion to name the influences that such persons have had on your values and choices. You may well have adopted a friend's special perspective on the church or on parenting. You may become a member of a solid program because a friend invited you into it. You may have made a life-shaping choice under his or her influence. This point is well worth dwelling on, because through these relationships God is moment by moment creat-ing us as persons. Whom has God put into your life to give it shape? How have they shaped it? How do you relate to them? Here is the core of this exercise. Thanking God for these friends and relations will be incom-plete- and perhaps impossible--unless we consciously approve of how God is even now creating us and those we relate with. If you have an elderly parent who is still clear and keenly interested in your life, that is a great gift. An equally great gift is an elderly parent who depends entirely on you. If you have colleagues who depend on you, that is a gift. So is it when there are colleagues on whom you can depend. And sons or daughters will be their parents' sons or daughters forever, however they may be doing just now. The members of a religious community--real persons--are the living environment of each religious's living, growing, and dying. This exercise asks that you grow conscious of a reality we take so much for granted that we do not think about it at all. How often do you note that the sun rose this morning? How much do you value the water that comes from your tap? We treat our relationships rather like that. They are just there. They do not take thinking about except in special circumstances like an argument or a celebration. But every day each relation is a gift greater than today's sun, and each person given you to love and to be loved by is as indispensable to your thriving as the pure water that you drink without giving it a thought. Prayer Lord Jesus Christ, when you walked this earth you lived a family life with neighbors and friends. When you began to spread the Good News, You gathered around you seventy-two, and twelve, and three, who were precious to you, each in a special way, because Review for Religious the Spirit of Love gave them to you. Never has there been a companion better than you, a colleague more trusting and compassionate, a partner more giving and generous. Help me to know those many, those most special ones whom the Spirit of Love has given me in my life, and, with you, to thank the Father for the gift of them. Amen. Second, asking for attention, insight, and courage. Call on the Holy Spirit to let you pay attention to the others in your life. Ask to feel real interest in others, to get outside yourself and your interior concerns to see the people around you as they are. Ask to pay this attention in the way that God does, who hates nothing he has created and lets rain fall on just and unjust alike. Ask for insight into each person and into your relationship. Some are growing more important in your life, and perhaps some are growing away from you. Ask to know how. Ask the Spirit to let you see what you are looking at, and also to let you hear what you are listening to--from and about those whom the Spirit has given you. Finally, beg for the courage to see clearly and to affirm your connections to others, to feel how they have grown into your life and yourself. How have you reached out to them and perhaps risked something to know and love them? Ask boldness to assert your attachments to others, or your detachment and distanc-ing. Ask to be able to see how another or others are calling you to grow or, alternatively, how another or others are inviting you to be less authentic. Prayer Spirit of the risen Lord, who moved the Holy One to care for friends with his still-wounded hands and pierced heart, make me attentive to my friends even with my fearing toudh and wearing spirit. Open my eyes to see what gifts they really are; open my ears to hear what good they really mean to say. Brace my spirit to feel what they need me to feel. And, as you steeled the heart of Jesus while he lived misunder-stood and then betrayed, brace me now--while I find how I have fared in risking my self--to remain true to who I am ~and to be open in giving and receiving love. Amen. March-April 2002 Tetlow ¯ Examen Third, examining how relationships are doing. To begin with, stay with relationships that are going well. Simply look down the three columns you have written and note the name, relation-ship, and influence, and let yourself be contented in Christ with this love that falls into his pattern of loving. Using the columns is an effective way of examining relationships, but there are other ways. You could begin with the persons most closely related to you by blood and move out through extended family to friends. Or begin with the people you spend most of your daytime with, colleagues, coworkers, and so on. You could begin with superiors and move to those who answer to you. All of these steps could be limited to a smaller set of people if that would be useful at this time. Then come to those relationship that are not going well. Possible failures are sometimes glaring, like anger or blatantly selfish action, and sometimes quite subtle and complex. For every relationship is triune: one person, the relationship, and another person, and all three matter. Honestly and exactingly lay five templates (to be described below) over each conflicted or faltering relationship. As you con-template your relationship with each person under each tem-plate, demand an account of yourself, for failures in relationships show up in many ways and manifest many personality limitations or flaws, or simple sins. For instance, perhaps you find yourself saying negative things about an old friend's character. What has happened in this r~lationship and what is your responsibility for it? What are you doing or failing to do that damages the rela-tionship, or the mission you share with this person (or persons)? These failures or dysfunctions can be variously accounted for. One way is by looking at them under five categories (which I borrow from Roberta Gilbert's Extraordinary Relationships). The categories will help you look clearly and honestly at any fal-tering relationship. They will demand that you take your respon-sibility for what you have done, what you are doing, what you must do, to make this relationship a strong and holy one. The Templates 1. Conflict. You cannot come to agreement with another in some serious matter. You have never got- Review for Religious ten over a rancorous argument. You answer each other with "yes, but." You are losing respect for the person. You question whether you can ever work together again. Any of these suggests a relationship of conflict, which is often a hot relationship. 2. Distancing. You hold each other at arm's length. You have become very polite to each other and a lit-tle standoffish. You rarely talk about anything serious; instead, you chat. You would deal as openly and warmly with a stranger. You would simply rather not have to pay attention to this person anymore. You are uncomfortable around him or her. This is distancing, and, though it seems to suggest that you have no relationship with this person, you have--a special one. 3. Cutting Off. You stay out of each other's way. You do not communicate even when you have to convey some information. You simply do not like this per-son. Your judgment is that this person is harming the family, community, apostolate. You would like to be rid of this person. This is a cutoff, and it is an intense relationship. 4. Excessive Mutual Dependency. You depend on each other, too much or far too much. One of you makes the decisions. One of you needs the emotional support of the other, and the other needs to give it. Others see you as a pair. You are cutting others out of this relationship, emotionally or practically. This is excessive dependency--in a way, too much of a relationship. 5. Triangling. You have an issue with another and, instead of going to the other, take it to a third person. You find yourself saying things about this person, not to him or h~r, but to others. You gossip about this person. You complain about his or her shortcomings to others, never to the person. Alternatively, you passively allow others to tell you things about this person which they ought to be saying to him or her. 6. Could there be another template? You may find a March-April 2002 Tetlow ¯ Examen better term for a ~elationship in your life that is faltering, a term that clarifies for you what you are doing and might do. The Applications When you are on a team with another, you are not free to remain unrelated. The only issue is how you will choose to relate: whether well or badly, creatively or destructively, and, indeed, holily or unholily--all the more, of course, within your own family or among those who have somehow become your friends. Each of the five templates names a relationship--dysfunc-tional, but a relationship. It is crucial to accept that you are related to a person even when you cut him or her off, or are constantly arguing and debating with him or her, or when you are triangling. Humility demands--since it is truth--that you affirm your own contribution to making a relationship bad, or your cooperation in any dysfunctional relationship. Each of your relationships will have its own intensities, its own occasions, its own mixture of the apostolic, social, intel-lectual, affective, and so on. Each lays on you the light yoke of responsibility to accept the relationship as a gift from God, who is giving you freedom and the chance to love as God loves. When you find that one of the templates describes a current relationship, you will have to look into your heart more deeply to find out what is going on. At the same time, you will have to keep aware that the relationship has its own life and tempo, and that there is always "the other" or "the others." Prayer Jesus of Nazareth, my good brother, you worked with many and loved many. You loved aging laborers and the idle rich. You loved holy sisters and disrep-utable women. You worked with tax collectors and scribes. You chose partners who doubted and one who betrayed. You chose them, accounted for your choices to the Father, and stood by your friends to the end. Let me find my way in sureness and in risk, and give me courage to name those I relate to and clarity to know our shared responsibility. Help me to Review for Religious give my account to the Father and to stand by my friends to the end. Amen. Fourth, asking forgiveness for your sins and healing for those you have wounded and for yourself. "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." This is the only condi-tion in the prayer Jesus taught. You cannot overestimate the weight of forgiving others. Yours, after all, is "the ministry of reconciliation," for you are in mission with Jesus Christ. You cannot expect forgiveness and the experience of reconciliation, except to the extent that you have forgiven and become recon-ciled with others. This is no trivial matter, and as good a reason as any to make an examen something like this one. Pray for those whom you have failed, or offended, or hurt. You need to beg the Spirit of Love to make up for your short-comings. Prayer Holy Triune God, in you, giving and taking barely differ since both are done as love. I have taken and not given. I have given what I did not mean to give and not given what I wish I had, so far, so very far, am I from loving as you love. Grant'me to be close to you in this, at least: that I forgive wholeheartedly those who wound me, as Jesus forgave those who wounded him. And then I ask that you forgive me and make up for all that I have left undone. Amen. F~h, choosing to do one thing tomorrow. You are wise to choose a single act to do, a concrete act like making a phone call (some-times the hardest thing you will do that day) or writing a note. Your discernment brings you to see how you can enact your gratitude to God for the people in your life. You take responsi-bility for your part in the relationship, not trying to redeem, but only to help the other and to bring him or her closer to Christ. You may need to focus on one person: to reconcile, to praise or thank, to enjoy being with. You may need to focus on one group of people like your family or community or colleagues. You may need to focus on yourself: to accept that God is making you a unique lover, to accept others' acceptance of you as you are; or, alternatively, y6u may need to address some habit that you see aggravates others or turns them off. Or you may I27 March-~tprll 2002 Tetlow ¯ Examen need to see that you really have entered into in a new relation-ship. Or you may need to get ready for a meeting by spending precious time really preparing for it or praying that you.do well. Finally, you may need to focus on some concrete event that is coming up: an interview, a meeting, a confrontation. Or you may need to focus on some long-term development in a relarionship--unsettling conflict, growing distance, emotional-ities-- so that you can take some concrete action. In all of these focuses, you are trying to keep Jesus' own commandment, "Love one another the way I have loved you." Prayer 0 Lord, reconciler of us to ourselves, the whole world and all rime would barely hold all the acts that love demands of us. I beg you to accept the little act that for this time is what I can and would do to learn to love like you. Amen. Annunciation Holy one, favored one, the Lord is with you. Be it bright angel's word or voices in the dark or cannonball or caress, any manner of invitation is prelude to Yes Holy ones, favored ones, the Lord is with us. Eugene Cartier Review for Religious KAREN KARPER FREDETTE No Rapine in the Holocaust: Eremitical Life Today '~e what you are called to be--a passionate seeker of God through continual prayer that allows 'no rapine in the holocaust,'" declares a woman in her seventies dwelling in a rural hermitage in Massachusetts. She emphasizes the total dedication she deems necessary for her chosen vocation--that of a hermit. This apo-dictic statement is culled from 140 responses to a ques-tionnaire sent to 600 hermits and solitaries. The survey was circulated by an international newsletter for her-mits, "Raven's Bread: Food for Those in Solitude." Replies flowed in from such diverse places as New Zealand, French Canada, the Philippines, Bavaria, Ireland, Mexico, and forty of the fifty United States. This twenty-three percent response rate is con-sidered a phenomenal return on a survey and, of itself, says something significant about eremites. Interviewing a single hermit is a rare event; taking the pulse of large enough numbers to determine trends would be an impossible task if eremites themselves were the aloof, people-hating individuals portrayed in popular literature. This survey reveals, however, that Karen Karper Fredette writes from 18065 Highway 209; Hot Springs, North Carolina 28743. 129 March-April 2002 Fredette * No Rapine in the Holocaust a lifestyle seasoned by hours of solitary prayer produces human beings distinguished by hospitality of spirit and a rare compassion. The essential hiddenness of eremiticat life is achieved by blending into one's surroundings. Recent History of Eremitism Even before Vatican Council II, a movement toward solitude and eremitical living had been noted. An historical but almost forgotten intervention at the council by Bishop Remy de Roo initiated a process that resulted in a new canon (c. 603) being written into the revised'Code of Canon Law that appeared in 1983. Bishop de Roo expressed his con-viction that the renewed vitality of the eremitical calling "indicates a special influence of the Holy Spirit, who inspires initiatives beneficial to the church and the modern world." Additionally, de Roo made the prophetic point that recognition of hermits would correct the impression that the practice of poverty, chastity, and obedience is limited to those living communal religious life. The myriad forms of hermit life reported in the recent survey prove the validity of this forecast. When an ancient vocation is recovered, old modalities often prove inadequate and new styles are fashioned. But can one devise a single expression for a call that transcends definitions of religious groups and flourishes among a devout and' occa-sionally unchurched fringe of society? What demographics, if any, can be assigned to an amorphous and largely hidden sub-culture that owns no common affiliation--nor desires any? In an effort to assess the state of eremitical life in the 21st century, the recent questionnaire invited hermits to draw their own demo-graphics. The results have been illuminating and inspiring. ¯ For some of us, a hermit may be living in the next apartment or down the street. Contrary to the caricature of hermits in their far caves, only three out of 140 reporting solitaries live in the "wilderness." A large number (31 percent) dwell in rural areas, but even more (43 percent) are to be' found in urban or Review for Religious suburban settings. Eight of those responding to the survey have chosen a site in the inner city. The essential hiddenness of eremitical life is achieved by blending into one's surroundings in such a way as,~to pass unnoticed even by one's neighbors. Many hermits abhor being singled out and so avoid any identifying sign of their inner dedication to solitude. Others, however, accepting the value of witnessing to a transcendent Reality in our midst, choose a simple habit and seek a recognized status within the church. Their countercultural stance is not militant, but rather a silent encouragement to others that a dif-ferent life is possible from that preached by an all-pervasive consumer society. When and to Whom Does the Call Come? A woman living in the southeastern United States writes: "I first heard the 'call' when I was four years old. I did not know What it meant--I only knew that it shook me to my founda-tion. I married, bore two children, and became a single mother. In my studies for clinical psychology, I discovered the works of Carl Jung. My inner life began shouting for attention. I listened. I shut down my practice, moved, got the children on their feet, and became a solitary. That was twenty years ago." A woman in the Philippines says, "Friends thought I was a fool to give up a secure full-time teaching position in a univer-sity, which sadly didn't leave me space and energy to pursue contemplative living--the one thing that gave meaning to all the rest." A married hermit living in California says, "I was a Hindu monk for five years, but the community did not support my attraction to hermit life." Ninety-eight women and forty-two men responded to the Raven's Bread survey. One-third of these are in their fifties. One-fourth are in their sixties. Only six persons responding are in their thirties. Further data confirms that most received the eremitic call later in life rather than earlier. Twenty-seven percent of those responding said they entered an eremitic lifestyle in their fifties, and twenty percent in their forties. Only eighteen percent followed the call to solitude while in their twenties or thirties. Maturity and life experience are necessary before a person 131 March-April 2002 Fredette * No Rapine in the Holocaust can launch into the rigors of solitary living, though the desire may have been planted much earlier in life. This fact of mid-life transition is an echo of the ideal life-pattern espoused by many Eastern cultures. A person joins a monastery or becomes a monk, not at the beginning of life (except for a brief training period), but only after one has fulfilled family obligations and achieved a certain financial success that one then freely leaves behind. The initial results from the survey indicate that in the Western world the call to solitude replicates this wise rhythm. Good physical health and fitness are the norm among solitary dwellers. Forty-seven percent describe their health as "good," and thirty-eight percent claim "excellent" health. Mental and emotional stability radiate from the responses to the reflec-tion questions that accompanied the survey. For example, a Catholic priest in his fifties writes from an urban hermitage in California: "The grace and essence of solitary living is the abil-ity to live in and be continually conscious of the Presence of God, to become more aware of who one is, to become enlight-ened to see more and more with the vision of God, to struggle to live the compassion of God, to grow in serenity and peace-- in a word, to live the freedom of the children of God." Religious Affiliation and Status The largest number of respondents (92 of 140) are Roman Catholic, but the Anglican, Episcopal, Lutheran, and Baptist churches are also represented. Among the respondents we also find persons from the Society of Friends and Orthodox churches and from various Eastern mystical traditions as well. Of the Christian denominations, Catholicism has the most hermit-friendly atmosphere, but even here eremites frequently mention lack of support and outright discouragement of their aspirations. Of the ninety-two Catholic respondents, only seventeen had been recognized as hermits under canon 603; an additional six had professed a state of consecrated virginity under canon 604. The obstacle to canonical recognition most frequently cited by respondents was the indifference of bishops. Many local ordi-naries were suspicious and expressed unwillingness to allow per-sons to pursue church-sanctioned hermit life in their dioceses. Review for Religious In the United States, only three dioceses are reported in this sur-vey to have more than one hermit living according to canon 603. A woman living in an inner-city neighborhood in England says: "The one and only meeting I had with my present bishop (a Benedictine monk) lasted only a few minutes. I had pressured him into giving me an appointment and had waited eight months to see him. I asked if he would help me become publicly pro-fessed, and he said no. That was it, a monosyllable, no expla-nation, no hesitation, no interest, no concern. I had been living as a hermit for twelve years at that time." Sheila Richardson, who is working on her master's degree in canon law at the University of St. Paul in Ottawa, inquires pointedly: "Are bishops aware of canon 605? This canon requires diocesan bishops to strive to discern new gifts of consecrated life, assist promoters of such lifestyles, and protect these new forms by appropriate statutes." Eremitical life is flourishing without much active support from the establishment. This may well be a blessing, allowing persons seeking to live as hermits or solitaries freedom to devise the form of life that best expresses their aspirations without concern about standards only a select few can meet. Exploring the various categories of individuals who choose a predominantly solitary life, we find 67 single lay persons, 24 married people, 38 members of religious congregations, and 15 ordained ministers, male and female, from six different denominations. Catholic priests who are living as hermits often exercise a limited ministry among people living nearby. They have the permission of their local ordinaries to live in retirement from most of the demands of pastoral ministry and devote the larger portion of their time to the "works" of eremitical life in solitude. Others have established a rhythm of part-time ministry with a certain number of days each week spent in solitude. Another priest is searching: "I am now at the point of decision. I am looking for a hermit-loving bishop where I might support myself by celebrating weekend Masses and confessions, perhaps in some priestless parish. Beyond that, I would be free to live in my own cabin following my own hermit schedule." Being a member of a religious community, whether active or contemplative, does not guarantee understanding of or support March-April 2002 Fredette * No Rapine in the Holocaust for an eremitic calling--something which, incidentally, may arise after a person has faithfully pursued religious life for many years. Thirty-seven of the hermits responding to the survey are still members of religious congregations. But, of the laypersons now living as hermits, sixty percent were members of a religious con-gregation at an earlier stage in their journey. Half of the former religious women claim they left their community so they could follow their attraction to solitude. Many said they were deeply grieved by this "necessity" of departure. Only two of the male religious say that their reason for severing connections with their religious order was in order to pursue solitary life. In other words, twenty-five percent of the men who left religious life did so because they were unable to live solitary life within their com-munities; fifty percent of the women left for the same reason. The most surprising category to surface from an analysis of survey responses is that of married hermit. Strictly speaking, this is a contradiction in terms and one that is hard to justify. But, for those who so identify themselves, the vocation is real and valid. Of the twenty-three respondents who are married, not all claimed to be hermits, but more than half did so. In an effort to understand this phenomenon, the following question was posed: "If you are married and are attracted to solitude, how do you work this out with your spouse?" In reply a woman in Arizona said: "The working out of mar-riage and solitude contains., every contradiction that one can experience in making oneself vulnerable in love to God and the unfolding of God's call in another. Two people can be authen-tically called to solitude and to solitude with each other, but the expressions of it can be so very different. The sharing of phys'ical space has been of great pragmatic concern for us recently--how to arrange our home so it can facilitate simplic-ity of life, prayer, and solitude." A man in Connecticut said: "I decided to separate my own liturgy commitments from my marriage by rising each morning at three for my prayer schedule. Also, I go to bed a little before my spouse to be alone once more in prayer." A woman married to a permanent deacon said: "He shares my attraction to silence and solitude although his ministry is pastoral and mine is mainly prayer. Our small country parish requires very little contact with the people for me. I work qui- Review for Relig4ous etly and prayerfully in the background while he ministers to the people. Everyone seems to understand and accept this arrangement." A woman frankly confesses: "It [attraction to solitude] cre-ated great problems. The marriage ended because we could not work it out. We remained friends." Daily Lifestyles, Daily Problems One hundred and one of the 140 respondents to the sur-vey describe themselves as living alone with significant periods of solitude and prayer. Forty-four of these have a written sched-ule incorporating prayer, work, reading, and relaxation. Eighty-seven of the 140 respondents live an informal mix of these elements. Some of these noted that they had begun with a written schedule that gradually became a more flexible routine. Seventy-eight of the 140 re-spondents pray with others one or more times a week. The most frequent prayer-form cited was meditation. Almost ninety percent find daily periods of meditative prayer a necessity. Nearly as many include Eucharistic Liturgy as part of their daily or weekly prayer routine. Most respondents find special periods of retreat important. Almost half arrange for an "annual r~treat; some manage monthly or even weekly periods of retreat. Penitential practices preferred are fasting and vigils. Almsgiving is important, with forty-three percent giving either in cash or in kind. Thirty-six eremites have made public profession of the evan-gelical counsels. Thirty-eight have committed themselves pri-vately, their vows or promises witnessed by a church-related person. Almost all respondents (103) value spiritual direction, though many said that finding a spiritual guide has been diffi-cult. Forty-seven hermits function as spiritual guides for others. One hundred and one of the 140 respondents to the survey describe themselves as living alone with significant periods of solitude and prayer. 135 March-April 2002 Fredette ¯ No Rapine in the Holocaust The survey listed six areas that could prove problematic for eremites: housing, income, spiritual guidance, relationships with church representatives, physical health, and personal fears and insecurities. The most frequently cited problem is difficulties with church representatives; the next, finding adequate spiri-tual guidance. The expected difficulties of locating a suitable site and generating enough income had proved less trouble-some. In this third millennium of Christianity, eremitical life is experiencing a fresh flowering, with new blooms appearing on the ancient vine. Butthe essence remains the same: "For me, the grace of solitary living is Emptiness," a married hermit member of an oblate Benedictine community states categorically. "No rapine in the holocaust" continues to be the stark demand of solitary life. Lake's Edge At night I hear the motion of the lake. It sighs to its own heart. Foam frosts the weight of wetness flung toward the house where my light burns. I am waiting for the wind to bring the message that I long for, the meaning of breath and motion, and who it is that sends waves pulsing toward this empty shore. Kate Martin OSC Review for Religious JAMES J. MAGEE Metaphysical Self in Other Mystical Traditions Ion an article in this journal (1994), I examined the devel-pment of metaphysical self in the writings of eight Christian mystics, concluding with Thomas Merton's definition (1966, p. 180) referring to "the depths of people's hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God's eyes." In short, metaphysical self is the term for one's self residing in God and God residing in it. Respondents to the article took the occa- ¯ sion to point out that metaphysical se/fappears also in the writ-ings of mystics from other religious traditions and recommended that I enlarge the presentation by incorporating some of them. Since these correspondents were women religious more famil-iar than I with these various mystical traditions, I asked them to participate in a monthly online chat room to examine meta-physical self as it appears in Buddhist, Christian, Hindu, Jewish, and Muslim (Sufi) mysticism. Our group of nine has met for the past five years, and this article presents some of the riches these mystical traditions brought to our understanding of meta-physical self. Each month we decided upon two primary sources we would examine in common, one Christian and one from another James J. Magee has written nine articles for our journal, the last in 1994. He is professor of counseling and gerontology at College of New Rochelle; New Rochelle, New York 10805. March-April 2002 tradition. In addition, each of us read the historical and con-textuai introductions preceding the texts or a monograph explaining their specific themes and imagery. At the conclusion of this article is a bibliography of the sources that we found particularly fruitful. Each tradition has its own style, some directly didactic and others more metaphorical. Each elabo-rates upon metaphysical self with novel, arresting paradoxes and engaging imagery that invigorated our familiarity with our own Christian mystics. Each, too, emphasizes the following components of metfiphysical self: the relational, nondualistic rootedness of self in God; transcendent individuality; engaged detachment as an expression of metaphysical self. Throughout this endeavor we dealt with paradoxes and found the most exhil-arating paradox in the power of other traditions to confirm our Christocentric perspective. Residing in God's Unconditional Acceptance This brief sampling of Christian mystics illustrates the con-tinuing emphasis they placed on the-self-residing-in-God: From Meister Eckhart: The soul is so completely one with God that the one cannot be understood without the other. One can think heat easily enough without fire and the shining with-out the sun, but God cannot be understood without the soul nor the soul without God, so utterly are they one. (p. 309) It is God's pleasure and rapture to discover iden-tity, because he can always put his whole nature into it--for he is this identity itself. (p. 167) From Julian of Norwich: Our soul sits in God in true rest, and our soul stands in God in sure strength, and our soul is naturally rooted in God in endless love. (p. 188) Between God and our soul there is neither wrath nor forgiveness. For our soul is so wholly united to God that nothing can interpose . Though we find in ourselves anger, contention, and strife, still we are all mercifully enclosed in God's mildness and meekness. (p. 189) Review for Religious From Catherine of Genoa: My being is God;. my me is God. (W'ilber, p. 72) From Thomas Merton: We know God insofar as we become aware of ourselves as known through and through by him. We "possess" him in proportion as we realize ourselves to be pos-sessed by him in the utmost depths of our being . Our knowledge of God is paradoxically a knowledge not of him as the object of our scrutiny, but of our-selves as utterly dependent on his saving and merciful knowledge of us. (1969, pp. 103-104) Note how this same emphasis appears in the following excerpts from Jewish and Muslim mystics: From the Maggid of Mezhirech: Man's essence is only the soul that is within him, which is a portion of God above. Thus, there is nothing in the entire world except the Holy One. (Uffenheimer) From the Kabbalah: There is nothing that is not pervaded by the power of divinity. God is everything that exists, though every-thing that exists is not God .Nothing is devoid of its divinity. (Matt, 1995) From Rumi: Remember God so much that you are forg9tten, until you are lost in the Call, without distinction of caller and called. (Breton and Largent, p. 23). You are my face. No wonder I can't see you. (Breton and Largent, p. 168) From 'Abd Allah Ansari (Kwaja 'Abdullah Ansari): One went to the door of the Beloved and knocked. A voice asked, "Who is there?" He answered, "It is I." The voice said, "There is no room for Me and Thee." The door was shut. Mter a year of sOlitude and depri-vation, he returned and knocked. A voice from within asked, "Who is there?" The man said, "It is Thee." The door was opened for him. (p. 94) O God, I possess that mirror in which you are reflected. Rather, I am that mirror. You are not sepa-rate from me. (p. 196) From Fakhruddin 'Iraqi: 139 MarchoApril 2002 The EternalOcean spews forth new waves. "Waves" we call them, but there is only. the Sea. (p. 77) From Ibn Al'Arabi: As in the case of a mirror and the beholder, he sees the form in it, but does not see the mirror itself. In your seeing your true self, He is your mirror and you are His mirror in which He sees nothing other than Himself. (p. 65) Through the intimate imagery and ecstatic directness that pervade these writings, the mystics of three monotheistic traditions seem to strain the point that, while human beings par-ticipate in the divine nature, they never become the essence of God. Their mystical reach, on the other hand, does touch upon that mystery which "no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love Him" (1 Co 2:9). The mystics intuit that persons are not dualistically separated from God, but "closely united with God in a love that is always moving toward oneness" (Johnston, p. 124). Transcending Individuality The Christian Scriptures address a second characteristic, the quality of relationships that proceed from metaphysical self. This characteristic also reappears in the mystical literature of other traditions, and our group members were able to find these paraphrases about metaphysical self-transcending indi-viduality: "Love is not self-seeking; it is not prone to anger; neither does it brood over injuries" (1 Co 13:5) becomes, in Rumi, the Sufi mystic, "Love has no calculating in itT' (Breton and Largent, p. 9) "Thanks be to God, who unfailingly leads us on in Christ's triumphal train, and employs us to diffuse the fragrance of his knowledge everywhere" (2 Co 2:14) occurs in Rtimi as "Vv~hether they know You or not, all creatures bend but toward You. M1 love for some-one else is but a whiff of Your perfume." (Breton and Largent, p. 141) "For I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink" (Mt 25, 35) appears; Review for Religious in the Bhagavad Gita, as "Any offering--a leaf, a flower, or a fruit, a cup of water--I will accept it if given with a loving heart." (Mitchell, 2000, p. 118) "Let us profess the truth in love" (Eph 4:15) is, in the Bhagavad Gita, "Speak the truth with kindness, honesty that causes no pain." (Mitchell, 2000, p. 178) These mystical sources echo the scriptural message that in human beings metaphysical self is inherently relational. Each of us is a seat of consciousness and an experiencing agent with-out being independent of others. Aitken and Steindl-Rast go so far as to say: "Underlying 'Love thy neighbor as thyself' has to be the experience that the other is no other than myself" (p. 113). Engaged Detachment During our years of meetings, members recognized a third characteristic, engaged detachment, as the way metaphysical self conducts itself in the world. This oxymoron refers to the readiness to invest ourselves in causes, tasks, and relationships while remaining ready to foi'go achieving our goals. It focuses upon process, both the deservingness of the activity at hand and the affirmation that we shall die unfinished, our potential only partly realized, and that completion is ultimately God's work and not our own. The different traditions of mystical writings repeatedly express this theme: From Julian of Norwich: God does not want his servants to despair because they fall often and grievously; for our falling does not hin-der him in loving us. (p. 188) From Paul Tillich: You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you . Do not seek for anything; do not intend anything. (Church, p. 180) From Anthony de Mello: There is no clinging to a classical symphony and no hastening it. One does not wait till the end to enjoy . it, but takes in every note, every chord as it comes and lets it go to welcome the next uninterrupted flow. Any attempt to stop the performance, any "attachment" to 14! March-April 2002 Nlagee ¯ Metaphysical Self a single note, will ruin the symphony. (p. 164) From the Tao Te Ching: A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving. (Mitchell, 1988, p. 27) The Tao gives birth to all beings, creating without possessing, acting without expecting, guiding without interfering. (Welch, p. 41) From the Bhagavad Gita: With no desire for success, no anxiety about failure, indifferent to results, surrendering all thoughts of out-come, unperturbed, he does nothing at all, even when fully engaged in actions. There is nothing that he expects. (Mitchell, 2000, p. 75) From Fakhruddin 'Iraqi: Give up desire. Think that whatever you get is what you want, and in this acceptance find ease and joy. Renounce desire a hundred times. (p. 114) Engaged detachment, like the other characteristics of meta-physical self, is paradoxical. It invites a response of passive atten-tiveness wisely expressed in this admonition from the poet Rainer Maria Rilke: Be patient toward all that is unresolved in your heart. . Try to love the contradictions themselves. Do not now seek resolutions, which cannot be given because you would not be able to live them, and the point is to live everything. Live the contradictions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the resolutions. (p. 97) Imagery, Paradox, Complementarity, Love The imagery, metaphors, and paradoxes which other mys-tical traditions use to illuminate the nature of mystical se/famplify and complement the attention Christian mystics center upon on this theme. The artfulness of these other sources can help sustain us both in the apophatic ~loud through which Christian mystics typically view mystical self and in the relaxed tena-ciousness of our commitment to love others as ourselves. Review for Religious References 'Abd Allah Ansari, 1978. Intimate conversations. New York: Paulist Press. Aitken, R., and D. Steindl-Rast. 1996. The ground we share. Boston: Shambala. Breton, D., and C. Largent. 1998. Love, soul, and freedom: Dancing with Rumi on the mystical path. Center City, Minn.: Hazelden. Church, E 1987. The essential Tillich. New York: Macmillan. de Mello, A. 1992. One minute nonsense. Chicago: Loyola University Press. Fakhruddin 'Iraqi. 1982. Divine flashes. New York: Paulist Press. Ibn Al'Arabi. 1980. The bezels of wisdom. New York: Paulist Press. Johnston, W. 2000. "Arise, my love . . .": Mysticism for a new era. Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books. Julian of Norwich. 1978. Showings. New York: Paulist Press. Magee, J. 1994. "Shame, mystical writers, and a spirituality of self." Review for Religious 53, no. 5 (September-October): 746-752. Matt, D. 1995. The essential Kabbalah. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, p. 25. Meister Eckhart. 1986. Meister Eckhart: Teacher and preacher, ed. B. McGinn. New York: Paulist Press. Merton, T. 1966. Conjectures of a guilty bystander. New York: Doubleday. Merton, T. 1969. Contemplative prayer. New York: Herder and Herder. Mitchell, S. 1988. Tao te ching. New York: Harper and Row. Mitchell, S. 2000. Bhagavadgita. New York: Harmony Books. Rilke, R. 1978. When silence reigns: Selected prose. New York: New Directions. Uffenheimer, R. 1993. Hasidism as mysticism. Princeton: Princeton University Press, p. 74. Welch, H. 1966. Taoism: The parting of the way. Boston: Beacon. Wilber, K. 1983. Up from Eden. Boulder, Colo.: Shambala. Bibliography of Easily Accessible Sources Sources in Christian mysticism appear in the series Classics of Western Spirituality (Paulist Press). Sources for Buddhist and Taoist mysticism Da Liu. 1986. Tai chi ch'uan and meditation. New York: Schocken Books. Deng Ming-Dao. 1990. Scholar warrior: An introduction to the tao in everyday life. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco. 143 March-April 2002 Magee ¯ Metaphysical Self Kohn, L. 1993. The taoist experience: An anthology. Albany: State University of New York Press. Merton, T. 1968. Zen and the birds of appetite. New York: New Directions. Mitchell, S. 1988. Tao te ching. New York: Harper and Row. Reps, P. 1957. Zen flesh, Zen bones: A collection of Zen and pre-Zen writ-ings. Rutland, Vermont: C.E. Turtle. Thich Nhat Hanh. 1987. The miracle of mindfulness: A manual on med-itation. Boston: Beacon. Watson, B. 1968. The complete works of Chuang Tzu. New York: Columbia University Press. Wei, H. 1987. The authentic I Ching. North Hollywood, Calif.: Newcastle. Sources for Hindu mysticism Dehejia, V. 1994. The legend of Rama: Artistic visions. Bombay: Marg Publications. Heehs, P. 1998. The essential writings of Sri Aurobindo. New York: Oxford University Press. Jack, H. 1989. The Gandhi Reader. New York: Grove Press. Krishnamurti, J. 1994. On conflict. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco. Mitchell, S. 2000. Bhagavadgita. New York. Harmony Books. Ramakrishna Vedanta Centre. 1972. Women saints of East and West. London: Ramakrishna Vedanta Centre. Shukla, S. 1999. The Upanishads. Fremont, Calif.: Asian Humanities Press. Sivaraman, K. 1989. Hindu spirituality. New York: Crossroad. Vetter, H. 1997. The heart of God: Prayers of Rabindranath Tagore. Boston: C.E. Tuttle. Sources for Islamic mysticism 'Abd Allah Ansari. 1978. Intimate conversations. New York: Paulist Press. Breton, D., and C. Largent, C. 1998. Love, soul, and freedom: Dancing with Rumi on the mystic path. Center City, Minn.: Hazelden. Chittick, W.C. 1983. The Sufi path of love: The spiritual teachings of Rumi. Albany: State University of New York Press. Ernst, C. 1984. Words of ecstasy in Sufism. Albany: State University of New York Press. Fakhruddin 'Iraqi. 1982. Divine flashes. New York: Paulist Press. Ibn Al'Arabi. 1980. The bezels of wisdom. New York: Paulist Press. Review for Religious Ibn A1-Sabbagh. 1996. Mystical teachings of Al-Shadhili. Chicago: Kazi Publications. Ibn 'Ata' Illah. 1978, The book of wisdom. New York: Paulist Press. Massignon, L. 1982. The passion of A1-Hallaj, mystic and martyr of Islam. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Schimmel, A. 1987. As through a veik Mystical poetry in Islam. New York: Columbia University Press. Sharafuddin Maneni. 1980. The hundred letters. New York: Paulist Press. Sources for Jewish mysticism Ben Joseph, A. 1987. Book of formation (Sepheryetzirah). San Francisco: Holmes. Ben Zion, R. 1984. Anthology of Jewish mysticism. Brooklyn, N.Y.: Judaica Press. Cohn-Sherbok, D. 1995. Jewish mysticism: An anthology. Rockport, Mass.: Oneworld. Jacobs, L. 1997. Schocken book of Jewish mystical testimonies. New York: Schocken Books. Kamenetz, R. 1998. Stalking Elijah: Adventures with today's Jewish mys-tical masters. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco. Kook, A. 1978. The lights of penitence, New York: Paulist Press. Matt, D. 1983. Zohar: The book of enlightenment. New York: Paulist Press. Matt, D. 1995. The essential Kabbalah: The heart of Jewish mysticism. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco. Nahman of Bratslav. 1980. The tales. New York: Paulist Press. Scholem, G. 1995. Major trends in Jewish mysticism. New York: Schocken Books. NEW ON OUR WEBSITE Searchable indexes of Review for Religious articles from January 1970 to the current issue Abstracts of the lead articles of the January 1997 isshe to the current issue and summaries of the others Complete text of A Spirituality for Contemporary Life: The Jesuit Heritage Today edited by David Fleming SJ and containing articles by J.J. Mueller SJ, Walter Burghardt SJ, David Fleming SJ, Monika K. Hellwig, Jon Sobrino SJ, Elizabeth Johnson csJ, and John W. Padberg SJ www.reviewforreligious.org -4 45 larch-, Jpril 2002 GERALDINE M. WODARCZYK Aging: Spiritually Present to the Burning Bush growing older For months now I have written multiple reflections on aging. They are connected with a book by Jane Marie Thibault2 She says that in later life people are invited to contemplation and that there should be contem-plative communities for the elderly. My congregation is 127 year old, and I have lived among aging and prayerful sisters for decades. I sought to formulate a theology of aging based on the spirituality of our foundress, Frances Siedliska. But, in spite of a wealth of material, no formulation presented itself. And so, with encouragement from Sister Judith Nero OSB, my local mentor for the gerontological program, I decided on a different focus, simply writing about my ministry experiences at Holy Family Manor. What are those experiences, and what are they calling me to in my own life? Perhaps, like Moses, I have discovered a "burning bush" and here, on holy ground, I learn of God. Geraldine M, Wodarczyk CSFN wrote this paper originally in a gerontological pastoral care program at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. Her address is Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth; 285 Bellevue Road; Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15229. Review for Religious Years ago Sister Mary Paul Krasowski gave me a copy of a poem by an unknown author: The Moses in my heart trembles not quite willing to accept the prophet hidden in my being wondering how much it will cost to allow the prophet to emerge. O child of unnecessary shoes cast them off and stand in readiness on this awfully holy ground! For the Egypt in people's hearts demands that you see the burning bushes all around you aflame and burning wildly calling you forth away from the comfort of well-protected feet. The ground you stand on is holy! Take off your shoes believe in your Moses and go. Sister Mary Paul gave.me a copy a second time, when I was the superior at the Manor, my "holy ground" for the past six years. I realized that during this time I had been called to accept the prophet in me, and in others, as we search for God in our every-day realities. I have seen the Egypt in the hearts of sisters and heard their cry for freedom sung in many ways. Within the evening solitude that these days provided me, I discovered the Egypt within my own heart and heard a call to let go of false securities of my own and to find new freedoms within me. I have been present to "burning bushes" of experience with seasoned older sisters. In ways I never expected, God touched my life and called me from the comfort zone where I was six years before. 147 March-April 2002 Wodarczyk ¯ Aging With Fear and Trepidation In 1990, when first asked to consider being superior of the Manor, I flatly refused. I was already superior of a small convent of four sisters. I was engaged in full-time ministry as the province councilor for formation, and together with my brother, who was just beginning a family in Wisconsin, I was sharing long-distance care of our widowed father in Erie, Pennsylvania, who was steadily moving to a new stage of frailty in his life. These were the reasons I gave my provincial, but another rea-son was that I had never been present at anyone's death. Terrified, I could not imagine living where I would need to be present to sisters as they died. Time passed. In 1993 our father's condition became worse. When notified, I knew the seriousness of Dad's condition, but did not realize that, with the physician, my brother and I would be making decisions that Dad was not able to make about his failing life. As Divine Providence would have it, I was in Erie when decisions about the breathing and cardiac machines needed to be made, and I was present during Dad's last hours and death. I learned that a broken heart is a real experience. I was changed, and so in 1994, when a new provincial asked me about being superior of Holy Family Manor, I said I would be willing. The provincial was taking seriously the choice of the superior. First, after asking the sisters living in the Manor for suggestions and reviewing the list, she and her council had three sisters come to a mandatory day of reflection in a small cottage on our motherhouse grounds. Our retirement home had sixty-nine beds and sixty-six sisters at various stages of aging. The retreat director, Sister Ann Winschel CDP, invited us to consider our gifts and what might be our stumbling blocks in accepting the ministry. I went to my room in the cottage and prayed with open hands, letting God put there what I needed and giving God the freedom to take away any drawbacks to my willingness to accept this ministry. For most people, praying with open hands is a simple gesture, but for me--with hands affected by rheumatoid arthritis--the gesture spoke of my own human brokenness. Could God really want me, already a broken vessel, to shep-herd these senior religious in their last days? At the end of the retreat, after sharing our personal reflec- tions, we were asked to express our final decision in a letter to the provincial. I wrote of openness to the ministry, my aware-ness of my gifts in working with the elderly, and my recognition that I could use them only in the context of my own brokenness. I qualified my openness by saying that, if I had an incapacitating flare-up of the arthritis, I would take it as an indication that this service was not appropriate for me. Three months later my provincial telephoned me, saying that the council had unani-mously chosen me the next Manor superior. She wanted me to take some preparation time with the current superior, attend the upcoming American Society of Aging conference, and offi-cially begin on the first of May. On Sunday, 30 April 1995, in the early afternoon, I arrived at the Manor. I was scheduled to be in the chapel for a wel-coming prayer and commitment service at four o'clock. The previous superior had already left. Three sisters were waiting for me at the door, welcoming me with one breath and asking with another, "You will take us to the festival at Mr.Assisi, won't you?" Barely gathering my belongings from the auto-mobile and putting them in my room, I welcomed the excur-sion (a five-minute trip) to the Franciscan sisters' festival. Though a busy place, it was a respite where I could amble with-out any focus on the fears and anticipation that were part of me at this transition moment. We returned home and soon four o'clock came. In the presence of the retired sisters, the provincial asked me several questions: Will you accept this responsibility [to be local leader] which the sisters have confided in you? Do you promise to serve the sisters in kindness, compassion, and charity, in the spirit of our blessed foundress, Frances Siedliska? Will you strive to be faithful to the Covenant of Love [our constitutions] and the directives of your general and provincial superiors? Responding affirmatively, I was given a bouquet of roses by the provincial and was told: "Your ministry as servant leader will be a mixed blessing. Both joy and sorrow, possibility and I could not imagine living where I would need to be present to sisters as they died. !49 ~¥larch-April 2002 Wodarczyk ¯ Aging impossibility, success and failure will accompany you. These roses, themselves offering both beauty and pain, are given to you with our gratitude for accepting this mission." After the sisters voiced their support, I recited the following: As I approach this ministry of servant leadership, I pray: Hollow out in me, O God, a space in which I will find myself, find peace and a whole heart, a for-giving spirit and holiness, springs of laughter, and the will to reach boldly for abundant life for myself, this local community, and the whole human family. Grant me your peace, instill in me such awe of you as will make me wise, and such quiet courage as will enable me to make hope visible, forgiving delight-ful, loving contagious, faith liberating, and peace-mak-ing joyful. Shape my weakness into compassion and help me to make myself open and present to my sisters, to oth-ers, and to your kingdom. Amen.2 And so I began my sojourn as the convent superior of our retire-ment community. Except for my Franciscan festival invitation, my first encounter with one of the sisters came that evening, when Sister Maura3 told me, "On behalf of the entire community here at Holy Family Manor, .I want to tell you it is too cold in this build-ing." "Temperatures!" I thought; "after that profoundly religious service, I am supposed to adjust thermostats!" And so it was-- God was inviting me to listen to the concerns of everyday life, the little things that are so important in these sisters' lives. The Power of the Word The next morning I had an announcement to make in the first-floor dining room, where forty sisters sat. Besides some trembling, my voice did not carry well, especially for the good number with impaired hearing. Finally I got the message across. Shortly thereafter, a sister from the second-floor dining area came complaining that I did not give the sisters there any message. What was I to do? The next day I typed out some items of common interest and posted them in the elevator, Review for Religious thereby causing traffic jams. Sisters would ride up and down until they finished reading the note. I realized that we needed copies of the newsletter posted in various places, including the elevator. This simple arrangement, providing this large num-ber of sisters direction for the coming day, also informed them about what was happening in our home. Was this communication episode a "burning bush" in which I found God? At least I learned how impoytant the communi-cated word is to people, and that it could promote love and caring in this household. It calmed the fears of the sisters who wondered about who was in the house: other sisters, guests, contractors, maintenance work-ers. The daily newsletter included a prayer request list and kept the sisters informed about the health progress of the sisters in the hos-pital. The newsletter invited the sisters to share a joke as well as to request prayer for themselves I learned how important the communicated word is to people, and that it could promote love and caring. or others. It became their newsletter. It provided a source of unity and dismantled some rumors that institutions readily give rise to. It hung for twenty-four hours at eight places in the building. Each of us had plenty of time to return to it to get the news of the day. There is a power in the written word. It is a way love can be communicated. Isn't the Word the way God communicates the greatness of Divine Love? And did the Word not become incarnate in the most simple and humble way? Perhaps in some small way the newsletter really was a "burning bush." The Joy of the Resurrection After living a short while in the Manor, I noticed a heavi-ness- sadness in the sisters' demeanor, depressive postures; even the daily Masses were in remembrance of the deceased. Although all the bedrooms are quite alike, some were considered "dying rooms," and sisters shuddered at the thought of being placed there. March-April 2002 V~odarczyk * Aging When I arrived at the Manor in the midst of spring, I was still flesh with the message of the Easter season's life-giving liturgical readings. One reading kept coming back to me, the one about the women returning to the tomb who were asked, "Why do 3iou search for the Living One among the dead?" (Lk 24:5). One day these words, stirring in my h.eart, became reversed. I heard, "Why do you search for the dead among the living?" Something changed within me, and I realized how alive, even with some physical limitations, these sisters were. I knew that I needed to foster that life of theirs. I knew that I should help them help each other to build a happy life within this retirement community. By Pentecost I looked for the evi-dence of the Spirit as we tried new things and reviewed old practices. What brought the gifts of "love, joy, peace, patient endurance, kindness, generosity, faith, mildness" (Ga 5:22-23) that Paul spoke about? The things that brought such results to the majority of the community would be fostering and increas-ing in the sisters the new life of Easter. How else does God speak to us and affirm our actions except by the gifts of the Holy Spirit? In late May 91-year-old Sister Ellen was rushed to the hos-. pital in excruciating abdominal pain. "A perforated bowel," the doctor told me and asked, "What do you want me to do? I don't think that Sister could survive the surgery." Asking Sister, who was fully conscious, was to me the obvious thing to do. The doctor explained the options: surgery or palliative care. Sister Ellen looked at me with the most trusting eyes. "You are my superior," she said. "Whatever you decide will be God's will for me." I could not believe my ears, nor was I prepared for this responsibility she placed on me. She remained adamant. "I trust that your decision is God's will for me." I had not been reared in religious life with that degree of surrender put into a supe-rior's hands. Mine was a formation toward dialogue, toward coming to a mutual decision. She, however, simply continued to insist. From her primary-care physician, I learned that Sister Ellen had specifically said a few weeks earlier that she never wanted another surgery. When I managed to contact our provin-cial superior, who was traveling in Europe, she concurred with the decision for palliative care. Review for Religious I remain humbled by the trust Sister Ellen placed in me. I learned that being an instrument of God in these sisters' lives is something very serious indeed. I learned of my own need for prayer and intimacy with a God who, though transcendent, is immanently present to us and our decisions. Second Floor: 0 God, Are You There? A visitor to our Manor told me happily that her little boy would be three years old in a couple of weeks. On hearing that, he began to cry, "I don't want to be three, Mommy." Holding her tearful child, she said to me: "When he turns three he has to go to the next room in the day care. He doesn't want to take that step." It can be like that with the elderly, too. In conversations with oth-ers who deal with the elderly, I have found that there is always some place where res-idents do not want to go. It may be called the A wing or Mary's Corridor or something sim-ilar. In our convent it is simply called "the second floor." It is where those needing the most care live. Agreeing to live on the second floor is, for some of us, accepting death--even though, in reality, it may be years away. When I came to the Manor, the frailest sisters on the sec-ond floor would sit or recline in geri-chairs in a semicircle in what was called the solarium. These sisters were clean and well kept, but some would randomly yell out a prayer, a request, a humorous remark, or something incoherent. When people passed by Sister Lynnette--her parochial school teaching over and end-stage Alzheimer's drawing near--she would insist, "Line up for the fire drill, without talking!" If you did not do so, your misbehavior called for discipline. Although humorous, these moments were also sad, for Sister Lynnette had been such an excellent teacher. Many sisters shied away from the second floor, and espe-cially the solarium, where these frail sisters spent long days, I have found that there is always some place where residents do not want to go. March-April 2002 Wodarczyk ¯ Agigg still as icons. This comparison struck me as I read some words of Henri Nouwen: Icons are not easy to "see." They do not immediately speak [appeal] to our senses . They do not reveal themselves to us at first sight. It is only gradually, after a patient, prayerful presence, that they start speaking to us. And, as they speak, they speak more to our inner than to our outer sense. They speak to the heart that searches for God.4 The frailest sisters on the second floor "do not reveal them-selves," or the Holy, immediately. It is only after I become prayerfully present to them that their presence, in their dimin-ished physical or mental condition, speaks to my heart. They tell me about life's brevity, about our dependence on God, and show that we are only pilgrims here. One day I took a visiting priest acquaintance to see our treasured sisters on the second floor. He began preaching to them about their duty to contemplate. With blank faces they just looked at him. A confused embarrassment seized him, and he became speechless. There was nothing more to say. Later I wondered if these sisters are in the contemplative state of being in God's wordless embrace. One cannot know such secrets. These sisters, and we ourselves, spend lives desiring such close-ness. But, because they and we have also spent years seeking responsible and prudent control of our lives, such vulnerability, such complete dependence on God and on others, is likely to be fraught with fear as well. On a recent visit to Pittsburgh, Trappist monk Thomas Keating, founder of Contemplative Outreach, spoke to an ecu-menical group gathered at another Franciscan motherhouse. He spoke of the prayerful consent that is part of Centering Prayer, for fostering contemplative experience. He spoke of the call to follow Christ and to let go of possessions--not external possessions so much as interior ones, the baggage of attitudes that we carry with us (in his phrase, the false self). At one point he looked up at the' choir loft, where the frailest of the com-munity's sisters were. He spoke directly to them, taking note of their willing acceptance of their present frailty, their loss of health, their losses of young self-reliance and of status in the community. He saw their disabilities as precious gifts from God, Review for Religious things to be grateful for. His words reminded me of my own sisters on the second floor. But to accept diminishment with gratitude is not easy. Solidarity with Suffering A few footsteps away from my office, my belief in the cru-cified and resurrected Christ was tested. Suffering is a mystery. We do not want to see others suffer, nor do we want suffering in our own lives. When faced with the suffering of people we love, what is our response? Henri Nouwen says: A friend who was very ill had a great devotion to Mary, the mother of Jesus, and derided to make a pilgrimage to Lourdes to ask for healing. When she left, I was afraid that she would be disillusioned if no miracle happened. But on her return she said, "Never did I see so many sick people. When I came face-to-face with that human suffering, I no longer wanted a miracle. I no longer wanted to be the exception. I experienced a deep desire to be one of them, to belong to these wounded people. Instead of praying for a cure, I prayed that I would have the grace to bear my illness in solidarity with them. And I trust that the mother of Jesus will bring my prayer to her Son."s As for myself, I have never come to the point of wanting "to be one of them." I desire to be well. But so did this dear woman on her way to Lourdes for healing. Is true healing the ability to love so deeply that we long to share others' intense pain and sorrow? That is what Jesus did. When we are young, we find many ways to escape that question and that reality. As we age and see diminishment in ourselves, our families, and our friends, the question returns. That call to solidarity in suffering is a difficult call to hear, especially when the time actually comes for us to visit--or move to--the "second floor." Sacrament of the Present Moment - Even in Dementia "Where am I going?" she asks, her body slumped. The eyes, once sparkling with joie de vivre, now are dim, like smoldering wicks. "I can understand," she says, "why, without faith, one155 March-April 2002 Wodarczyk ¯ Aging could commit suicide. Not that I want to," she says, "but I understand. I know why others would do this." Coming out of my own uncomfortable search for something to say, I ask, "Do you have faith? . Why, yes, I do." But soon she is asking, "What should I do? What is happening to me?" These words rose in her during the initial stages of Alzheimer's. It is easy to agree with the maxim that "a mind is a terrible thing to waste." In a group where many have been educators, the relentless decline of mental acumen is truly frightening. In this place, you can imagine the ardor one brings to reading the "Nuns' Study" !6 In the light (or darkness) of this feared disease, a faith per-spective does not come easy, even in a congregation whose motto is "Thy will be done." I needed to be reverently present to any-one who was concerned about Alzheimer's, just as I did to those showing symptoms of it. I needed to be cautious about explain-ing away dementia-with pious sayings or even a quick quota-tion from Scripture. For many months Sister Mary would stalk me, particularly at sundown. Even when I did not initially see her, I could sense her presence and her foreboding look. I had learned earlier that I should keep touch with my own inner experience when relat-ing to others. With Mary, the more I avoided her physically and psychologically, the more she pursued and pressured me. Her cognitive impairment was becoming worse. I would think, "Oh, here she is, pestering me again!" or "She's got dementia. She doesn't know what she's talking about." One time she was particularly adamant: "How awful to be on the second floo!! How cruel you were to put me there!" And on and on, in a sort of frenzy. I wondered, "What ever happened to that loving and supportive friend I had for so many years?" I thought of relat-ing to her as a simple matter of"how to handle a difficult situ-ation." I thought of Christ being in her, but was far from experiencing it. Worn down by her raving, I was wondering if she had received her medication. I called the nurse to ask. Sister Mary heard me and said, "You think medication is going to take care of this? You are not around and you think medicine is going to cure this? That's not the way! That's not the way!" My "quick and appropriate solution"--so that I could be about more Review for Religious "important" things--stirred up more mistrust in Sister and greater frustration in me. Then my faith invited me to adopt a new perspective. I paused, put aside other matters, sat face-to-face with her, and listened. Soon both of us were at peace. After a while she returned to her room for the evening. This scenario occurred more than once. Afterwards, pondering the healing that took place when I was more present to her, I realized that there is a sacramentality in such moments. Jean-Pierre de Caussade says: There is never a moment when God does not come forward in the guise of some suffering or some duty, and all that takes place within us, around us, and through us both includes and hides his activity. Yet, because it is invisible, we are taken by surprise and do not recognize his operation until it has passed by us. If we could lift the veil and if we watched with vigilant attention, God would endlessly reveal himself to us, and we should see and rejoice in his active presence in all that befalls us. At every event we should exclaim: "It is the Lord!''7 Can I be alert to this potential revelation of God the next time I am stalked by one of my own sisters? When people complain to me about the odd behavior or mental confusion of a dear friend of theirs, can I help them see Christ's presence in the situation? How do I do that? Caussade reminds us of the power of faith: It is faith which interprets God for us. Without its light we should not even know that God is speaking, but would hear only the confused, meaningless bab-ble of creatures. As Moses saw the flame of fire in the bush and heard the voice of God coming from it, so faith will enable us to understand his hidden signs, so that amidst all the apparent clutter and disorder we shall see all the loveliness and perfection of divine wisdom.8 Seeking Life's Deeper Meaning A few years ago Sister Mary Stella came to my office quite excited about the prospect of winning a car or money for the 157 Vlarch-April 2002 Wodarczyk ¯ Aging community. A piece of mail had informed her that she had been "selected to win." I tried to explain to her about the money-maEing ploy of these contests. She insisted: "Fill it out for me. I can't see!" Hoping that somewhere in this experience there would be a teachable moment, I filled out the form and mailed it. A few weeks later she received a "free" watch. "See," she told me, "I am already winning! I will really help the congre-gation when the check arrives." Not long after the watch came, Sister was billed $75 for a magazine subscription. She called me to her room. Obviously upset, she said she did not have the money for this subscription and believed that, if she canceled it, she would be responsible for the salesperson's losing her job. "I should have listened to you," she lamented. My teachable moment had arrived! Though I was angry about companies that exploit senior citizens, I gently explained to her that this is an advertising gimmick, that all she needed to do was write "cancel" on the bill and mail it back; the matter would be over. She listened. I left the room thinking all was well. But within a few days Sister stopped eating. She did not come to morning Mass. She stayed in her room, depressed and despondent. Noticing this, I spent some extended time with her, but she was silent. She wanted to see a priest. I called the Franciscan priest who often served us, and he paid her a pastoral visit. Her depression lingered. I visited her again. She still lamented, "I can't pay the bill, and the poor man will lose his job." Her suffering was evident. Her sheltered and "precomputer" life did not prepare her to understand today's big-business advertising. So I listened, and then I suggested that we write the man a letter with an apology, explain her cur-rent financial situation, and return the watch. Her eyes lit up at the prospect. Together we composed a letter, which she signed and I mailed. In a few days she was back to normal. A few months later her health declined, simply by reason of her advancing age. When I visited, she looked up at me from her bed and with a most peacef~l look said, "I will never forget your gentleness to me when I thought I would win that money. You were so kind." The entire episode showed us God's grace working in both our lives. I continued to see how greatly these older sisters desire to contribute to the congregation. Review for Religqous Supporting the congregation financially gave meaning to the sisters all their lives, even as they themselves led a frugal existence. They had experienced the Depression firsthand and had stories to tell about begging alongside factories, begging h0use-to-house for summer stipends, or asking for funds by writing letters to family and friends. Today, for some, lotteries and various contests appear to be another source of financial support for the congregation. One sister, clear-minded at ninety-nine, had a lucky streak. Although she lived frugally, I heard rumors of her "having money." Family and friends would buy her lottery tickets and then cash them in for her when she mailed back the winning ticket. Although I was "out of the loop" of direct information about these transactions, I somehow always found out about them. Though some might find gambling question-able in light of the vow of poverty, I waited to see what would happen eventually, since Sister's participation connected her to others and caused no harm. Sometimes months would pass between rumors of her winnings and her eventual cash donation of $200 or $300. The happiness she radiated sent the message that even at ninety-nine she could contribute to the community. She rarely wanted anything for herself. Suspicions about a breach of her vow disappeared. I have often noticed with what pride the sisters contribute their Christmas, birthday, Easter, and anniversary donations to the communal kitty, expecting my gratitude as they do so. I appreciate what they do, but I have encouraged them to find meaning in other parts of their lives too. Their very presence in love, patience, and faith is a meaningful gift to the community, to their families, and to all who witness their kindness. I have invited them to look for ways of spreading the Good News in and beyond the community. I have tried to be attentive to the I have often noticed with what pride the sisters contribute their Christmas, birthday, Easter, and anniversary donations to the communal kitty. March-April 2002 Wodarczyk * Aging ordinary things they accomplish or experience, and I have lis-tened affirmingly as they speak about what they did and are doing with their lives. I have learned, too, about meaning that is not initially obvious. Sister Gina was a "collector." Her room was filled with any-thing and everything. Some might call it clutter. One day she said to me, "You know, when I die, people will complain about all the stuff I left behind. Some have already asked me to clean things up. But I want you to know something. Now that I can go nowhere, I have brought into my room all kinds of things that bring to mind the wonderful friends I have had in my life. These things always make me happy, and I pray for these peo-ple as well." When Sister Gina died, I took care of her things quietly, without others knowing, needing to respect the gen-uineness of her words to me. Most of this "junk" humbly con-veyed love and friendship and gave meaning to Sister Gina's last days. An Incarnational Spirituality When our sisters come to the Manor, transportation diffi-culties and their declining health limit their activity. Two things seem to arise in the absence of formal ministry. There is some-times an unhealthy focus on self and on the "world" of the Manor. Small matters become major concerns. Negativity can result. Teresa of Avila saw such problems in her cloistered monastery.9 There is perhaps no one remedy, but I have seen changes for the better when sisters choose other avenues of ser-vice or ministry or other activities compatible with their new status and their personal limitations. The healthiest and happiest in the Manor were those who were able to rechannel their formation-for-ministry in creative ways. Writing letters to friends, family members, and politi-cians and intercessory prayer for the needs of others are integral to the sisters' lives and are a genuine service they render. Decorating the chapel for feasts, participating as readers or Eucharistic ministers during the litu#gies, companioning another to the physician, sending get-well cards to the hospitalized, and visiting the "second floor" are but a few of the ways the sisters incarnate their love for God in service to their neighbor. Their Review for Religious humble acceptance of their limitations and their patient strug-gles day by day become invaluable tools in building up the body of Christ, as those who are touched by their witness can testi@. For the sisters, their personal sufferings take on deeper mean-ing as they offer them for the intentions of people who have requested their prayer and support. Perhaps some ecumenical healing takes place as well, as staff members of different faiths take care of these sisters, who have lived their lives with hearts so attuned to Roman Catholicism. The sisters remain educators, teaching young care-givers about faith, patience, forgiveness, hope, acceptance and nonacceptance of suffering and dying. The sisters, too, are stretched to go beyond the images of a vowed religious life that is past and gone. After fifty years or more of religious life, that is not a small stretch. Sports on television and radio, and movies, books, excur-sions, concerts, and so forth offer relaxation and outreach--for nothing can "separate us from the love of Christ" (Rm 8:35). Some sisters have become mentors or teachers in various spe-cialties. One Sister translated from Polish to English a valu-able book on the foundress of our community, Frances Siedliska. With phones now in every room, telephone ministry to family and friends became possible. Advocacy for human rights and other special interests is also a possible ministry for the sisters. If we live by the truth and in love, we can "grow in all ways into Christ" (Ep 4:15). All these ways of service build the king-dom of love among the family of God; they express the mis-sion of the Congregation of the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth. "Tell Him to Wait!" Several months ago Sister Helen, our 95-year-old, was quite ill. She ceased to breathe during an MRI, and the hospital staff, acting on impulse rather than consulting her advance directive, resuscitated her. The doctor called me and told me Sister had been placed on a breathing machine. Twenty-four hours later the doctor removed the breathing machine, and, staunchly, Sister Helen survived the ordeal. I visited her in the hospital and reminded her gently, "Sister Helen, you are very ill. Perhaps 1K1 March-April 2002 Jesus will call you soon." "Let him wait," she bellowed; "I'm not dead yet!" I was taken aback, slow to see the humor. Later I reflected: "She has been a baptized Catholic for ninety-five years and a member of our religious community for eighty years. She has prayed each day of those years. She has a profound rela-tionship with God. After eighty years of relating, a certain free-dom of relationship must exist between lovers. How free Love can make us!" Sister Caritas died several years ago, and I especially remem-ber her dying. Racked with fever, in great distress, she held my finger tightly--so firmly that it reminded me of what my friend Maureen told me about a birth. Her sister's husband was on a business trip, and Maureen was in the delivery room with her sister. Her sister grasped her hand so tightly during the birth that Maureen needed several weeks of hand therapy afterward. While grasping my finger, Sister Caritas, too, was being born, born into eternal life. I have been with others who have died, not all struggling as did Sister Caritas. Some have gone to the Lord gently. Others have chosen to stop treatment and accepted the palliative care that became part of that choice. Some died after years, months, or a few days of being bedridden; others, while taking a nap. Each "birthing" has been different, each one very final, each one inviting me to deepen my belief in the life hereafter. Here at the Manor--or anywhere, of course--other kinds of dying occur earlier, before that actual moment. Every stage of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross's death-and-dying theory is lived out here: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.1° Are some stages more appropriate, more holy, than others? ls the sis-ter in denial less effective in dealing with dying than the one who is angry and displacing it at every available opportunity? And the one who bargains--"If I keep on living on the third floor, I'll never get like those on the second floor"--is she less holy than the one whose depression shows all over her face and in her every bodily move? And is she still less holy than the one who grieves her loss, accepts additional personal help, gently accepts the everyday deaths and dyings that are part of human experience? I think there can be no comparisons here. When one strug-gles in the face of d~ath, regardless of what type, the struggle is Review for Religious real. "It remains true," as Pope John Paul has observed, "that the years pass quickly, and the gift of life, for all the effort and pain it involves, is too beautiful and precious for us ever to grow tired of it." 1, And so we struggle and deny, are angered, bargain, and are depressed. In the end we do accept the reality that has been presented to us by Life. The challenge for me in the Manor community was to have faith in this precious journey and trust that the increasing pains are redemptive. I chose to permit people to be themselves: I challenge, but do not force. Rather, I wait in patience for God's grace to touch hearts and hurts and lead all of us into his sacred presence. My Beloved As we religious grow toward accepting death, the inevitable reality shared by all creation, I believe that a life of prayer sustains us. Deep within us all there is an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul, a holy place, a Divine Center, a speaking Voice, to which we may continuously return . It is a Light within which illuminates the face of God. for the spiritual person is forever bringing all affairs down into the light, holding them there in the Presence, reseeing [sic] them and the whole of the world., in a new and overturning way.12 A life of prayer is different for each of us: some tending to more prescribed prayers, others to a more wordless prayer. What is common about prayer life is the deep relationship with God that is so special and so sacred to each one. Inscribed on each sis-ter's profession ring are the words "My Beloved is mine and I am His," from the Song of Songs (2:16). She not only wears that ring, she lives that reality. Recently I was asked to be the community witness when Sister Ann's casket was closed. Before burial we normally remove from the deceased our congregational cross and ring. On this occasion the undertaker could not remove the ring. I advised him to leave it and close the coffin. Reflecting on this moment afterwards, I considered it to be as symbolic as the ring itself. Sister Ann, orphaned as a child, surrendered herself to God March-April 2002 Wodarczyk * Aging through her vows and eventually, as Alzheimer's disease kept taking its toll, was stripped of family, friends, and even cogni-tion. The one thing that remained was the reality: she was her Beloved's and her Beloved was hers. The sisters at the Manor foster that relationship with their Beloved in many ways, including personal and communal prayer. Communally we have had to vary our prayer style here. Because of impaired hearing and sight and various other physical limi-tations, we no longer say Office in common. But the sisters pray faithfully --in their rooms, in the chapel, at Mass, on the porch, while walking outdoors or in the corridors, and during our spe-cial Friday mornings in the chapel. When they are very ill, they may say they cannot pray, and some are troubled by this. Others say that they are simply united with Jesus in their suffering, which is "nothing compared with His." Still others are quiet, their faith wrapping them palpably like a shawl. At times faith grows in darkness. It is no small discomfort when one who has dedicated her ehtire life to God questions the existence of God. When suffering is too much, "God, O God, why did you abandon me?" becomes the prayer of the day, or week, or even longer. In community, even as we pray in various ways, we journey in prayer together. Just as the psalms pray through the gamut of human emotion, so our lives together become a living psalter. Anlen I cannot think of any richer ministry experience within my thirty-nine years as a member of the Congregation of the Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth than the time I spent in service to my sisters at Holy Family Manor. But my two three-year terms as convent superior here have come to an end. "Relieved?" my current provincial superior asked me before announcing my replacement. "Mixed feelings," I mumbled. But I know that this is right and good. My body and my spirit home in on a few words in my Moses poem: "Take offyour shoes, believe in your Moses, and go." Now they have a fuller meaning: ". go, relax awhile, and then, changed by this burning-bush experience of yours, go on and minister to whatever people I, your God, choose for you!" I respond: Amen. Review for Religious Notes l Jane Marie Thibault, A Deepening Love Affair: The Gift of God in Later in Life (Nashville: Upper Room Books, 1993). 2 The welcoming service was composed by Sister Therese Frankowski. 3 The names of most of the sisters in this article have been changed. 4 Henri J.M. Nouwen, Behold the Beauty of the Lord: Praying with Icons (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1987). s Henri J.M. Nouwen, Our Greatest Gift: A Meditation on Dying and Caring (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1994). 6 David Snowden PhD, Aging with Grace: What the Nuns' Study Teaches Us about Leading Longer, Healthier, and More Meaningful Lives (New York: Bantam Press, 2001). 7 Jean-Pierre de Caussade, Abandonment to Divine Providence, trans. John Beevers (New York: Image Books, 1975), p. 34. ~ Caussade, p. 37. 9 The Way of Perfection, chap. 4. ,0 Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, On Death and Dying (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1969). '~ John Paul II, Letter to the Elderly (1 October 1999), §1. ,z C.S. Lewis, as cited in A Step Beyond: Advanced Training in Pastoral Bereavement Counseling (Archdiocese of New York: The Ministry to the Bereaved, November 1994), p. 32. School Day, 1947 I am seven, on my way to school, crisp snow sparkles in the sun. As I walk along, I reflect that some day a man will offer me a diamond ring, but today God himself has hurled thousands at my feet. Mary Hanson ~larch-April 2002 HELEN JEAN NOVY Coping with Repetition: A Spirituality for Ministering to the Elderly ~ehncoeuthneter rds uwriinthg tfhaem eilldye rvlyis iotfst eonr ifnovromlvael mdeianliisntgry w, iothur their habits of repetition. I have overheard "Dad, you say the exact same thing every time I come," and I have heard myself saying "Mom, you ask me that again and again." The proverb "Variety is the spice of life" inclines us to assume variety as a condition of anyone's continuing interest or at least as a lively attention getter. Repetition, however, is a necessary complement to variety. A systematic interplay of repetition and variation is a sine qua non for the arts. Consider the structure of sonatas or the form of songs. Aaron Copland's "Simple Gifts" in Appalachian Spring is an example of theme and variations, as is Max Reger's Variations on "America." In prayer, too, there is repetiton and variation. Christians regularly praying the Liturgy of the Hours, for example, are so accustomed to Morning Prayer's psalms for Week One that most know them by heart. Their predictability provides a rhythm that matches the regularity of breathing. But along with this comes the season's or feast's antiphon, giving a turn to the verses of the psalm and in a sense reinventing them. Helen Jean Novy HM is director of mission effectiveness at Magnificat High School; 20770 Hilliard Road; Rocky River, Ohio 44116. Review for Religious For Sunday of the First Week in Ordinary Time, this antiphon begins and ends Psalm 63: "As morning breaks I look to you, O God, to be my strength this day." The antiphon suffuses the psalmist's words that follow: "O God, you are my God, for you I long; for you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you like a dry, weary land without water." For the feast of Saints Peter and Paul, a different anti-phon frames the same psalm w"I know the one whom I have trusted"--and gives it a different tinge: "O God, you are my God, for you I long; for you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you like a dry, weary land without water." The synoptic Gospels, echoing each other in recounting the same events and sayings, do it with small yet significant differences. Compare the healing of Peter's mother-in-law in Mark 1 .'31 ("he came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her"), in Luke 4:39 ("he stood over her and rebuked the fever, and it left her"), and in Matthew 8:15 ("he touched her hand, and the fever left her, and she got up"). Might these considerations guide our responses to the repetitiousness of elderly people who have debilities of memory or concentration? Each encounter with another person, even though seemingly routine, is a new arid original encounter. Both parties are changed by the passing of time--by the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual experiences of the intervening time--even if only minutely. Health has improved or declined; the weather has turned warmer or cooler; clothes are brighter or more uniform; the staff has been updated or has had a turnover; the family has been reunited or suffered a loss; a sacrament has been received or a prayer prayed. "No need to recall the past. I am doing a new thing" (Is 43:18-19). Could Yahweh God be doing this new thing daily? God indeed adds yeast to the dough of the soul, lets it work, and gives it the kneading it requires: prayer and contemplation, opportunities for good works and self-sacrifice, active or passive Perhaps the most mutually soothing response to unceasing repetitions is a silent laying on of hands, a gentle and loving touch. I67 March-April 2002 Novy ¯ Coping witb Repetition suffering, or simply love's perpetually re-creating thoughts and deeds and words. Does it take yeoman patience to hear the same questions, the same comments, the same concerns day in and day out, hour by hour, and even minute by minute? Of course, those who minister have to work on themselves, cultivating a reliable equanimity and ideally a blend of knowing tolerance and psychological and spiritual understanding: Thank heaven she can still respond., what a grace that we can still interact., how humbling that he takes his own debility in stride., bow merciful that she is unaware., what a gift.t that I can encounter the very Christ in the simplicity and vulnerability of this person. Perhaps the most mutually soothing response to unceasing repetitions is a silent laying on of hands, a gentle and loving touch. Only by taking the tensions and strains of working with the sick-elderly to prayer again and again will ministers discover each person as an "imago Christi, a living analogue of the crucified Christ. As they do this, the ministers themselves will be molded into other Christs. They may find themselves praying the antiphons and psalms of the Liturgy of the Hours in the persona of Christ in the sick-elderly: "For you my soul is thirsting. My body pines for you like a dry, weary land without water." In the purview of faith, while the soul of the minister is being tuned to a new pitch, the souls of those they minister to become new songs. The Spirit sings through the adaptive constancy of the one and the dulling repetitions of the others, harmonizing both in the mystery of Divine Providence's unfathomable workings. G.K. Chesterton suggested that we should not take for granted the rising of the sun. Such a glorious phenomenon may well depend on the childlike delight of God calling for an encore: "Do it again, Sun!" Ultimately, deepening spirituality will not only expect the unexpected; it will expect the familiar, the recurring, the repetitious. It will perceive even the annoyance of repetition as a melodic refrain within the grand orchestration ¯ of God. Review for Religious JOAN WAGNER Medaille's "Means" and Religious Life's Renewal At our last meeting, in June 1998, I attempted to show that the primitive documents of the Sisters of St. Joseph indicate that apostolic endeavors have deep mystical foundations. In the present paper I examine other aspects of these primitive documents, aspects that pertain especially to the communal life of small communities that undertake apostolic ministry. Because this article focuses on the spiritual and apostolic insights of Father Jean-Pierre Medaille SJ, it is intended especially for those who walk in his tradition, but also for all professed religious who seek the deepening of their community life and their apostolic action. I will focus on six "means" derived from Father Medaille's writings, but first I draw your attention to two Scripture passages that were of major importance for Medaille: Have this mind among yourselves, which was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself taking the form of a p rspecliv s Joan Wagner ssJ presented this paper in Milwaukee in June 2001 at the fifth triennial meeting of the Conference on the History of Women Religious. Her address is Little Design Community; 171 Schiller Street; Buffalo, New York 14206. March-April 2002 Wagner * Medaille's "Means" servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Ph 2:5-11) That they may all be one; even as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. The glory which thou hast given me I have given to them that they may be one even as we are. one, I in them and thou in me, that they may become per-fectly one, so that the world may know that thou hast sent me and hast loved them even as thou hast loved me. (Jn 17:21-23) I think that adopting Father Medaille's "means" could help contemporary religious to practice the emptying spoken of in Philippians and thereby achieve the unions spoken of in John's Gospel. After discussing these "means," I will offer some concrete proposals for living them. The new community to which I belong, the community of the Little Design, is attempting to establish its communal life on "the means of Medaille." Clarifying the Scope of Medaille's "Means" The six "means" that I will be discussing cannot be found at any one location within the Primitive Documents of the Sisters of St. Joseph. In fact, nowhere in Medaille's writings did he use the term "means" as I use it in this article. It is a concept that was first formed in the latter decades of the 20th century, that is, three hundred years after Medaille, by a commentator on the Primitive Documents, Sister Julie Harkins of the Boston Sisters of St. Joseph. I first encountered Sister Julie's work when I attended a charism retreat that she gave in Wichita, Kansas. In her presentation she referred to "six central means found in the lived experience of our first sisters to maintain unity among themselves and to be apostolic communities of love." Even as I Review for Religious taped her presentation at that conference, I felt that her ideas and concepts about Medaille's approach were truly a treasure. It seemed to me that Medaille had applied St. Ignatius Loyola's Rules for Discernment in a new way, using at the communal level the retreat pedagogy of reflection on experience. He adapted those rules to unlettered and diverse groups of women, to assist them in becoming apostolic communities of love. Other interpreters of the Primitive Documents of the Sisters of St. Joseph such as Sister Vacher and Sister de Vaublanc have analyzed the practices that Medaille proposed for the early sisters. Not all of these commentators would agree that the six "means" identified by Sister Julie Harkins capture the heart of Medaille's approach. Other phrasings and other lists of "means" have been proposed. It has also been suggested that Medaille's approach can be represented by one expansive "means," the sisters' sharing their hearts unreservedly. To shed additional light on whether I-Iarldns's six "means" adequately represent Medaille's approach, I suggest that we consider how difficult it would be to distill the central practices recommended by St. Paul. We know that Paul wrote extensively about the living of the Christian life. (His writings are far more extensive than Medaille's even if we consider all the Maxims and other Primitive Documents to be authentically his.) How then to express the central "means" of St. Paul? One commentator might comb through his writings and identify six "means" as central. Another might determine that there are actually four or eight or one. Obviously there is much room for disagreement. Keep in mind, then, that there are various ways of presenting the essence of Medaille's approach even as I now list Harkins's six "means." I advocate them as the basis of the community life of religious women, today--but always understanding their meaning within the Gospels' call to discipleship. Please note, too, that in Harldns's list there are two dimensions in Means 2 (and perhaps in Means 3 as well). And there is some overlapping among the various "means" since the boundaries among them are not tightly drawn. Finally, note that Means 6 is phrased in such a broad, all-encompassing way that it seems to subsume the preceding five "means." Here, then, is Sister Julie Harkins's list of Medaille's "means": 171 March-April 2002 _Wag~, er ¯ Medaille's "Means" 1. Sharing experiences and feelings in prayer and doing so with candor and simplicity (Reglements, p. 9 par. 6). 2. Sharing the state of the house (outer as well as inner) and sharing the next step to which ofie is called (Reglements, p. 8 par. 4; Primitive Constitutions, p. 16 par. 1; p. 21 par. 4, 5, 6; p. 39 par. 6; p. 51 par. 8). 3. Sharing the dangers (evils) that threaten community life; protesting (promising) to safeguard what will safeguard the common union (Primitive Constitutions, pp. 58-66; Protestations, pp. 67-68). 4. Sharing what is our city and dividing the city among ourselves to discover the evils and to work for their healing (Primitive Constiitutions, p. i1 par. 6; p. 29 par. 9; p. 30 par. 1-3; p. 31 par. 1-2). 5. Sharing with each other how through works of service they are building the kingdom of love among the dear neighbors and the members of the community (Reglements, p. 8 par. 4; Primitive Constitutions, p. 17 par. 2). 6. Fidelity to the core spirituality: being grouped in honor of the Father, Son, and Spirit; Jesus, Mary, and Joseph (Maxims of Perfection, pp. 21-22; Reglements, pp. 4-5; Primitive Constitutions, pp. 12 and 57). Putting Medaille's "Means" into Practice You can see that the first three "means" listed pertain to spiritual bonding within the community; they deal primarily with discernment of spirits as a way of life. The next two "means" pertain to discerning the apostolic and prophetic stance to which the community may be called; these "means" address discernment as a decision-making process. Finally, the sixth "means" stands above the others and informs all of them inasmuch as it focuses upon the mystical relationships that are at the heart of the calling that Medaille identified for the Sisters of St. Joseph. I am keenly excited about having our Little Design community underway. This small community employs Medaille's own term, and it represents the fulfillment of a dream for refoundation that I have had for forty years. (Be it known, however, that at least one other person has called this dream my Review for Religious obsession.) As I write, this house is only three months old and at present has only two members. We have good hopes of attracting other young women who are interested in a life that is based on these six "means" of becoming an apostolic community of love. Let us now consider Medaille's first "means": sharing experiences and feelings in prayer and doing so with candor and simplicity. I will first try to explain why I feel that this is important, and then I will offer some recommendations about how to practice such sharing. The mystery of faith revealed to us in Scripture, particularly in Paul and John, is that all of history is now sacred history. This is the impact of the incarnation on our daily life (note--in Philippians 2:6-11, one of the passages cited above--the relevance of Paul's theology). All of our ordinary daily life is filled with God drawing our human consciousness to God's Self. God desires for us an ever-growing love and participation in the life of Jesus. This goes on in each moment of our human experience, and it registers as a thought, a tendency, a mood, a feeling. (Father George Aschenbrenner SJ has emphasized this approach in his conferences.) It is one thing to believe this. It is another to be deeply aware of it. It is a third step to be keenly sensitive to it. Our response is toward a greater share in living out Jesus' mission (note here the relevance of the John 17 passage on unity). To share within a community (I envision one of three to five sisters) one's experience in prayer presupposes incarnational theology and could move the community from believing to the final stage of responding. Submission to the group mandate for the purpose of growth enables believing, awareness, and sensitivity to develop. And movements of grace obviously become more explicit when inner awareness moves to vocal articulation. Sharing one's prayer experience with candor and simplicity is a demanding endeavor. An emptying is required, but I believe it leads to a new depth of communal unity if it is done in faith, All of our ordinary daily life is f!lled with God drawing our human consciousness to God's Self. --!73 Mt~.rcb-dpril 2002 Wagner ¯ Medaille's "Means" trust, and love. This depth is the mystery of God made more manifest in and among ourselves. We become more conscious of the call to respond and to be accountable. How would this be implemented? A possible scenario would be a biweekly gathering at which community members would relate movements of consolation and desolation during their prayer of the previous few days. Journaling after prayer periods would help members to be more responsibly prepared for the group gathering. Those who have had an Ignatian directed retreat will easily identify with this process. At present our small community enters into Morning Praise with a psalm, quiet time to reflect, and then the citing of a word, phrase, or line that was "given." The Gospel for the day is then read aloud. This is followed by a brief period of quiet and a brief time of communal sharing. All of this is done within half an hour and prepares us for deeper listening at liturgy. The content of our prayer in the future may vary, but the communal sharing is integral. Medaille's second "means" has three aspects: sharing the state of the house (outer as well as inner) and sharing the next step to which one is called. "The state of the house" has two meanings: first, the practical details of the community's living quarters. For harmonious living, responsibility and accountability are expected from every member. Such matters as cleaning, shopping for food, preparing meals, paying bills, scheduling prayer, hospitality, and times for silence are basic elements in a well-ordered "house." Honesty prevailing, the community will be aware of members' overextension or ill health, of things needing repair, and so forth. With solutions to be found, the quality presence of each member is important. The ebb and flow of external harmony is guaranteed by this practical sharing. The other "house" is the inner one, the heart. Teresa of Avila in her Way of Perfection notes that in praying it is essential to recognize and own how one is as one stands before the Beloved: weak, grateful, sinful, needy. This ownership of my incarnate self relates me to the incarnate Jesus. In truth, to articulate that inner state demands honesty, probes causes, and elicits understanding. What a sacred gift to offer my sisters: an emptying for the purpose of union,t My creaturely limitation stands naked before the Christ I trust, and before the Body of Review for Religious Christ in my sisters. Transformation in Christ occurs when I share in Jesus' life--in his being child of God and sharer in created human nature. The next aspect of the second "means," sharing the next step to which one is called, flows out of the group's increasing sensitivity. Articulation of deeper desires was a requirement for Jesuit novices, and this may have influenced Medaille to recommend this sharing to the first sisters. Great desires for God need to be fostered into action or they die. One's next step may be small and subtle or grand and significant. It could be to create a dream, to change a pattern of behavior, to attend to one's health, or to begin a new relationship. Such matters require careful handling with regard to the members' personal and communal mission. They begin in the human heart. It was the sharing that Teresa of Avila had with John of the Cross that enabled them to take the next steps for the refoundation of the Carmelite order. It was the vision that Ignatius shared with Francis Xavier that led to his bringing the faith to south and east Asia. Incarnational theology points out that our deepest desires are God-given. The word God gives us is to be spoken and enfleshed. The emptying required in taking next steps in our lives is attested to in the lives of men and women who accomplished much for God. A Saturday morning once a month could be set aside to ensure Medaille's second "means." Although the focus would vary, all aspects of this "means" would be attended to within this leisurely time together. Community members could take turns facilitating a simple process that might begin with listening to a member describe a project that she feels called to initiate. The listening could be followed b~ quiet reflection, questions, and dialogue. In this way one member's hopeful desire would be gracefully fostered and nurtured or deemed unsuitable or temporarily tabled for deeper discerning. At present our Little Design community gathers in the community room on Saturday mornings for about an hour and a Incarnational theology points out that our deepest desires are God-given. March-April 2002 H~ner * Medaille'~ "Means" half, a time we consider sacred. Because we are a new community, we do this every Saturday unless some special event interferes. We realize, too, that it is easy to spend too much time on the "outer" house, and so we strive to ensure the more interior and bonding elements of this second "means." Medaille's third "means" is sharing the dangers (evils) that threaten community life, protesting (promising) to safeguard what will safeguard the common union. One might ask wh

Issue 44.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1985. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, M O 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by REVIEW FOR R ELIGIOOS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUg 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 Sept./Oct., 1985 Volume 44 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R Evmw FOrt R ELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microf'dms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. The Primordial Mystery of Consecration John R. Sheets, S.J. ~ Father Sheets has been a frequent contributor to our. pages. The substance of the present article; the first of the "'Mother Xavier Ross Lecture" series, was given at the Motherhouse of the Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth in June, 1985. Father Sheets continues to teach in die Theology Department of Creighton University; Omaha, NE 68178. It seems that among people .with religious sensitivities, there is reawakening of the sense of mystery. This~is taking place on every level of the Church, among laity, religious, priests. In spite of the technological milieu in which we live, there breaks through what Peter Berger'once called "the rumor of angels." This is a sense of what lies beyond; beneath, and around the "manufactured" world that seems to dry up and suck out that deep source of life which overflows from the fountain of living water, through the mysteries of nature and of grace. It is the sense of what Teilhard de Chardin called "The Divine Milieu." "The perception of the divine omnipresence is essentially a seeing, a taste, that is to say a sort of intuition bearing upon certain superior qualities in things. It cannot,, therefore; be. attained directly by any process of reasoning, nor by any human artifice" (Theo Divine Mileiu, p. 131). Perhaps this deepening sense of mystery is taking place not only :in spite of the technologizing of our world, but because of it. When windows ~are shut and there is no fresh air, our Jungs cry out for this freshness in a stronger way than we. felt when fresh air was part of our normal life. This milieu of the:.'freshness, at the heart of reality is the world of the sacred. It is the world where two worlds join and compenetrate, the sacred world, which is the "milieu" of the divine, and our created, spatial-temporal ~2 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 world. The overflow of the sacred into our world is con-secration. Etymo-logically the word means a "with-sacredness," or a "co-sacredness." In a manner that is pure gift, what belongs to God alone, his milieu, so to speak,° becomes our milieu. In what follows, I would like to take this notion of milieu as a way of speaking about consecration. In particular, I want to show how religious consecration, a life committed to Christ through commitment to the evan-gelical counsels of chastity, poverty and obedience, is a particular florescence of the sacred md~eu ~nto wh~cfi we are drawn through baptism. Baptism is not only the "door of the Church," as .it has often been called. It is also the way in which Christ's own consecration eniers into us, and we are drawn into his. It is what has been described as the "admirabile commercium," the wonderful exchange. His milieu becomes mine, and mine becomes his. What Jacob said about the place where he had wrestled with the angel applies to the sacrament of baptism: "This. is indeed the house of God and the gate of heaven," It is out of this sacred milieu into which we are drawn through baptism that religious consecration arises as a particular "art form" of the. mystery of consecration. The Milieus in Which We Live Since the notion Of milieu is central to the way that I want to speak of religious consecration, | shall begin with a brief description of its meaning: then, comment on the different milieus which shape our lives. A milieu, acco.rding to the etymology, is a "middle place." I am not sure of all that is implied in that derivation. :But in someway, everything, and every person in a. milieu is always in the middle of it, no matter where the thing or person is. It is th~ mystery of the interpenetration of two levels of reality: that by which we belong to what is greater than we. Yet what is greater than any individual enters into the individual as though each indi-vidual is a center of convergence of all that is in the milieu. Undoubtedly one could speculate on this interdependence of individual and milieu at length. But this is not the place to do that. It is enough to call attention to the way that the whole exists in the part, and the part in the whole. ~he milieu is not merely something external to the individuals, but works to shape individuals, groups, nations, marking them with an identity which gives them.a sameness even in their individuality. For our purposes we can speak of three different milieus~ The first is that of the,world of things as they exist.within the interdependence of the whole. Today we call that milieu, and the way that iridividual things interact with it, the ecosystem; There is also the milieu in which we exist, not simply as things, but as 7he Mystery of Consecration spirit-embodied in the world of things. It is the world created by.lspirit-in-the- flesh, the world of culture, It is the world which is our home as persons, a world created by the power of the spirit--the world of language, art, literature, and the world of human relationships. In the third place, there is the world of the sacred. By its very nature, every°milieu is found in time and space, but has no limits or boundaries. Also, every milieu compenetrates, in a greater or lesser degree, everything that is within it. But in the realm of the sacred milieu this is even more profound. There is in every heart, as well as in communities of mankind, a sense of the more, the depth, and the beyond that.surrounds, encompasses, sustains,' every other aspect of our existence. This sense of'the sacred is found in the heart Of individuals and in the collective awareness of all peoples. Augustine describes it as the restlessness of the human heart that thirsts for the fullness which cannot be satisfied by any limited good. "Our hearts are made for thee, O God, and they are restless, until they find their rest in thee." Rudolf Otto speaks of it as the sense ~of the numinous (The Idea of the Holy). Paul Tillich as "ultimate concern." Rabbi Heschel describes it as the "sense of wonder coming from the ineffable depths of reality." No matter how it is described, all the descriptions point to the milieuwhich is the source and sustaining power of the whole of created existence. St. Paul, in his speech to the Athenians, will speak of God as this milieu: ". he is not far from any of us, for in him we live, and move and have our being"~(Ac 17:27). ~ It. is this sense of the sacred that is at the heart of all the :searching for meaning of life, the attempt to make some sense out of the problem of evil, suffering, death.'~It is the basis of all religious practice, in the attempt to enter,into communion with this absolute reality, or to propitiate it. It is here, then, for the first time that we find a new reality. It is the mystery of con-secration, a "with-sacredness." This boundless mystery, which is out of time and space, is concretized in time and space. Certain persons, places, things are set apart to embody this mystery, to be the "sacrament" which inserts the mystery into our lives, so that it can touch us, and we can touch it. For this reason, persons, places, things are set apart and assume the specialness that belongsto the mystery of the sacred. In other words, they are consecrat6d. We have been speaking of the mystery of the sacred, and the consecra-tion by which it takes on a certain sacramental presence in the world. This is the realm of what is called natural religion. But .with God's entering into the history of Israel through the call of Moses, and the whole of the Exodus experience, there is a new sense of the sacred. We are now in the realm of dialogue. In an' incomprehensible way, 644 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 the sacred is revealed as a person,,who calls, chooses, sends. He has a name, ~"Yahweh." He has designs for the whole people, and the whole of history. He invites the people to enter into his own holiness, to share 'it. This is an entirely new dimension in the mystery of the saci'ed, as well as in the meaning of con-secration. The mystery Of the holy is not only the mystery of the numinou~, but the revelation of a God who is also will. His will is that we might live. But his will, as well as our lives, are inseparable from keeping his word. "From this you know that now, if you obey my voice and hold fast to my covenant, yoti of all the nations shall be my very own; for all the earth is mine. I will count you a kingdom of priests, a consecrated .nation (Ex 19:5). As we saw above, in the realm of natural religion, the'sense of the sacred is incarnated in the world of persons, actions and things, which are conse-crated, to be the meeting place of the sacred and the human. The same is true in Israel, but with a richer meaning that comes from revelation. Now, the consecration of persons, places, things serves to put the people in touch with what took place in the saving events of their history, whose meaning is revealed through the .prophetic word. Even. within the consecrated people, the tribe of Levi has a ~pecial consecration to be the tribe to serve as priests. They would receive no part of the land'allotted to the others, because God himself was to be their lot. However, all these aspects of the sacred, from natural religion, to the historical religion of Israel, are only stages to the revelation wefind in Christ. The Letter to the Hebrews describes the whole pattern of consecrating activities in the Old Testament as shadows and figures of what is to come, "For the Law contains but a shadow, and no true image of the good things which were' to come" (Heb 10:1). "These are no more than a shadow of what was to come; the solid reality is Christ" (Col 2:17). The entrance of.God into history in a unique and unforeseeable way in the Incarnation is described as an act of consecration. Mary is to be overshadowed by the power of the Holy Spirit, and the one to be born of her will be called the Holy One. The terminology is reminiscent of the description of the consecration of the temple of Solomon.A cloud, sym-bolizing the consecrating presence, of Yahweh, filled the temple (IK 8:10). Jesus himself is the one who is consecrated, the one in whom and through the Father's redemptive love reaches out to us, and through whom we touch the Father. He is the fulfillment of the meaning of the ladder stretching from heaven to earth seen in Jacob's dream (Gn 28:17). "You shall see greater things than that. In. truth, in' very truth I tell you all, you shall see heaven wide open, and God's angels ascending and descending upon the Son of Man" (Jn 1:51). ,. 7he Mystery. of Consecration / 645 .~ The theme of consecration is in particular central to the Johannine thought. Jesus is at one and the same time the one consecrated by the Father, as well as the one who consecrates' the wbrld. He is lamb and priest. "I have been consecrated and sent into the world by the Father (Jn 10:36). He is the fullness Of the Father's h~llowing act, that takes place in hi~ Hour, the Hour in which he is glorified. But this hallowing act overflows to consecrate the world, in particular the Church. "For their sake I now consecrate mYself that they may be consecrated by the truth,' (Jn 17:19). In the blood and water flowing from his open side, together with the gift of the Spirit, are symbolized the .consecration, in the first place of Christ, and then the manner in which his own consecration reaches out to touch the world. In Paul in particular, there is the sense of what we cancall the Christic milieu. To be a Christian is to be put into Christ, incorporated in him. This is an inse.rtion into Christ's ownconsecration. One of the favorite phrases he used to express the whole mystery of the faith is "in Christ Jesus," or "in the Lord." The Christian finds his identity as the new creation by being taken up in Christ's consecration. This theme is central to the thought of Paul: I shall give only a sampling of the texts. In his farewell to.the elders at Miletus, Paul told them: "And now I commend you to God and to his gracious word, which has power to build you up and give you your heritage among all who are consecrated to him" (Ac 20:32). The Corinthians "have been consecrated in Christ Jesus" (1 Co 1:2), "washed and consecrated" (6:11)o His own ministry is described as a liturgical act: ',It falls to me to offer the gentiles to him as an acceptable sacrifice, consecrated by the Holy Spirit" (Rm 15:!6) Hebrews stresses the identity which is established between Christ ai~d the Christian through being consecrated by Christ: "For a consecrating priest and those whom he consecrates are all of one stock" (Heb 2:11). Peter speaks of the faithful as "consecrated by the Spirit to a life of obedience to Jesus Christ" (1 P 1:2). A.person who is consecratedby Christ and in Christ:should live the kind of life that flows from consec~:ation and brings it to fulfillment. "Let us therefore cleanse ourselves from 511 that can defile flesh or spirit, and ifi the fear of God complete 'our consecration" (2 Co 7: !). The consecration of a believing spouse has inner power.to draw the unbelieving wife or husband into the consecration of the believing spouse. "For the heathen husband now belongs to God through his Christian wife, and the heathen wife through her Christian husband. Otherwise your children would not belong to God, whereas in fact they do" (1 Co 7:14). Paul parallels the sacrificial love by which Christ consecrated th~ Church ~a46 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 with the way that.a husband should,love his wife: "Husbands, love your wives as Christ also loved the Church and gave himself up for it, to consecrate it, cleansing it by water and word, so that he might present the Church to .himself all glorious, with no stain or wrinkle or anything of the sort, bht holy and Without blemish" (Ep 5:25~27). '~ The extension.of Christ's power to consecrate is transmitted in the mysterious power by which his own power to consecrate is sacramentalized in his apostles. They are told to "do this in memory of me," that is, to repeat sacramentally the act by which Christ consecrated the world. They are empowered by being given the gift of the consecrating, or rather, re-conse-crating Spirit."'Peace'be with you. As the Father sent me, so 1 send you.' He then breathed on them, saying: 'Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive any man's, sins, they stand forgiven; if you pronounce them unforgiven, unforgiven they remain'" (Jn 20:21-23). It is this sacred power sacramentalized in his apostles and their succes-sors which is described by the word hierarchy. In popular understanding, the word is identified with power and bureaucracy. ~But its original meaning, coming from the word "hieros'" and "archia," "holy principle," is the sacra-mentalization of Christ's power to consecrate the faithful. Before proceeding on to the topic of religious consecration, I would like to sum up what l have said. At first it might seem as though I have a very long staircase, by way of introduction, to reach the place where I am going, '~ As I said above, it is important to recapturethe importance of the various milieus in which weqive, Each in its own way, on different levels; contributes to the shaping of individuals and societies. This is especially true of the milieu of thesacred. There is an analogy between the compre-hensive force of the power of gravity in the ecosystem with the power of the sacred to sustain and give meaning to the whole of reality. This sense of the ~way that the sacred permeates the whole of created reality is at the root of the. symbolism in the Book of Revelation, ch. 4, where created reality acclaims the One who is on the throne, singing, "Holy, holy, holy is God the sovereign Lord of all, who was, and is, and is to come'~ (v, 8). 0 .In ~the Old Testament, this milieu is described through images such as covenanted people, people of God. In the New Testament, the images abound: kingdom, city, temple, body, vine and branches, the New Creation. We must,then, recapture the radical or primordial meaning of conse-cration, It is'. not something which touches us merely externally. To be "in the Lord," or "in Christ Jesus," means to be in a milieu which tranSforms the inner.,person into a new creature, while at the same time it draws him into a consecrated community. The Mystery of Consecration The followiiag passage, then, will serve as a summary of what I have said, as well as a bridge to the next section. "Let us t.hen establish ourselves in th( .divine milieu. There we shall be within the inmost depths of souls and the greatest consistency of matter. There, at the confluence of all the forms of beauty, we shall discover the ultra-vital, ultra-perceptible, ultra-active point of t.hb universe; and, at the same time, we shall experience in the depths, of our own being the effortless deployment of'the plenitude of all our powers of action and of adoration; For it is not merely that .at that privileged point all the external springs of the world are coordinated and harmonized: there is the further, complementary marvel that the man who surrenders himself to the divine, milieu feels his own inward powers directed and enlarged by it with a sureness which enables him effortlessly to avoid the all too numerous reefs on which mystical quests have so often foundere~d" (Hymn of the Universe, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, p. 141).' Religious Consecration: The Florescence of the Divine Milieu I would like then to apply what I have said above, about the way we are consecrated by being drawn into the milieu of Christ throu'gh baptism and the Church, to the consecrated life of the counseis.~l shall do this by commenting on Pope John 'Paul's letter on the religious life, Redemptionis Donum ( The Gift of Redemption). It was addressed to religious throughout the world at the close of the Jubilee Year of the Redemption. It is dated March 25, 1984. But first I would like to give some of my own reflections about the letter. In my mind it is most consistenL the most profound presentation of the theology of the religious life ever written. That is a bold statement. But I think it is true. In the first place it is a coherent theology taking in all the mysteries of our faith to bring them to 'converge on the meaning of the religious life: Trinity, incarnation, Church, sacraments, grace, Mary. What we have in Vatican II and other official statements ~abo~t religious life brings out the meaning but not in the context of a coherent theology. There is a depth° to the treatment which undercuts the traditional dichotomies which often prevent us from getting to the central meaning of religious life.~ Such, for example, are the contrasts between "Pre-Vatican and Post-Vatican," "monastic and apostolic," "conservative and liberal~" "American and R6man," "male and female." The letter goes to what is permanent beneath all of the changes. It shows the principle of identity that marks the religious life wherever and whenever it is found. Perhaps one of the main reasons for confusion today among religious, and in the formation programs of so many congregations, is the lack of any permanent base which acts as a constant among the many 6ttlt / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 ¯variables which-affect religious life as it emerges in different cultures throughout, history, responding to new needs of the Church as these develop. How many things have been written in the past couple of decades on the "religious life of the future," "changing religigus life today," and more. Most of these 'are projections from a view of the religious life which is simply-a recombination of variables, without any sense of a constant which gives them consistency. They are like the skywriting messages we see in the sky, which are there, lose their shape, disappear, to be succeeded by more skywriting. In this sense, to be current is to be always out-of-date. To come then to the letter itself. There are seven.sections to it. I want to call special attention to sections three and four. Section Three is entitled "Consecration," and Section Four, "Evangelical Counsels." In Section One, "Greeting," the Holy Father describes the purpose of the letter, which is, first of all, in the context of the Jubilee Year of the Redemption, a call to conversion; and secondly, it is the opportunity for him as the Vicar of Christ to express in the name of the whole Church a message of love to religious. In Section Two, he turns to the account of Jesus' dialogue with the rich young man (Mk 10:21 ff). "He looked upon him and loved him." He said, "If you want to be .perfect, go sell what you have, give .to the poor, and come follow me." The man went away sad. This gospel narrative, then, is applied to each of those whom Christ called. It puts v0catio0 in the context of an ongoing dialogue with Christ. Christian religious life is not like, for example, that of the Buddhist monks. Their life of celibacy, together with their other commitments, arises out of what we spoke of above as "natural religion." Christian religious life arises out of a personal dialogue of Christ with the individual. It is not a call simply to asceticism. It is a call "to follow Christ." For this reason, it is a call to a lived-communion. The Holy Father speaks of this as "spousal" nature of religious life. Then, in th~ part which concerns us in particular, Section Three, "Con-secration," he describes religious life as a special form that our baptismal consecration take.s, as Christ enters into dialogue with us, to draw us to a special form of baptismal consecration. In ithe context of what I said above about the "divine°milieu," this means that. we are taken up into this milieu of Christ through our baptism, which at the same time draws us into the society of "saints" (Paul's word for members of the consecrated community of faithful). Within this milieu, through this ongoing dialogue of Christ with the heart of each of his faithful, he draws them to the particular charism which is their special way of consecrating the whole community. Paul speaks of the individual char-isms (or graces, gi(ts) as "building up" the community. But in reality, there The Mystery of Consecration is no way to build up except by drawing out all the implications of the radical consecration through our baptism. Within the manifold of ways of living out the baptismal consecration, there is the vocation of the evangelical counsels. What is the uniqueness of this charism in respect to the other vocations that arise through the prompting of the .Holy Spirit from our baptismal consecration? The answer is found in the unique way that religious life bears witness to what is at the heart of the baptismal consecration. As the Holy Father says: "Upon the sacramental basis of baptism in which it is rooted, religious profession is a new 'burial in the death of Christ': new, because it is made with awareness and by choice; new, because of love and vocation; new, by reason of unceasing 'conversion.' This 'burial in death' causes the person 'buried together with .Christ' to walk in newness of life. In Christ crucified is to be found the ultimate foundation both of baptismal consecration and of the profession of ,the evangelical counsels, which--in the words of the Second Vatican Council--constitutes a 'special consecration.' It is at one and the same time both death and liberation" (#7). The clue that is at the heart of the Holy Father's faith-insight into baptismal consecration, and the religious conseizration which is rooted in it, lies in two words: paschal duality. The paschal mystery has two different, but inseparable aspects, death-resurrection. This paschal duality can be expressed in other ways: sacrifice-communion, giving up in order to give to afiother, impoverishment-enrichment, emptying-filling, powerlessness-empowerment. The uniqueness, then, of the charism of religious consecration lies in the way that it renders visible, tangible and operative, the paschal duality that lies in the very heart of the Church. In Section Four, "Evangelical Counsels," the Pope points out how the life of the evangelical counsels is not simply a kind of private way of life. Such a life transposes what he calls the "economy of the redemption" into the here and now. The economy of the redemption is another way of speaking of the paschal mystery, and the paschal duality. The life of the counsels incarnates the redemptive pattern into the life of an individual and a community. In this way, such a life carries within it the very liberating power of Christ's own death and resurrection~ This emphasis shows how the religious life, even if lived in a cloister, is by its very nature the most powerful liberating force in the world. "In this way the economy of the redemption transfers the power of the paschal mystery to the level of huma'nity, docile to Christ's call to life in chastity, poverty and obedience, that is, to a life according to the evangelical counsels" (# 10). 650 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 In Section Five, :the Holy Father takes up each of the evangelical counsels in order to point out how they exhibit this paschal duality. On the one hand, the counsel of chastity for the kingdom of God means giving up marriage and the joy of having one's own family. But in this case, renuncia-tion is not something negative. It is at the same time annunciation that the ultimate goal of all of us is a here and now possibility. With the power of the. Holy Spirit it is possible to open one's heart and allow Christ to fill it completely. The intangible reality that Christ is the only spouse of the Church is made visible in the lives of those for whom he is truly spouse here and now through chastity for the kingdom of God. "The evangelical counsel of chastity is only an indication of that partic-ular possibility which for the human heart, whether of a man or of a woman, constitutes the spousal love of Christ himself, of Jesus the 'Lord.' To make themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven' is not in fact merely.a free renunciation of marriagel.but a charismatic choice of Christ as one's exclusive spouse . . . In this way consecrated persons accomplish the interior purpose of the entire economy of the redemption ~. they bring into the midst of this passing world the announcement of the future resurrection and of eternal life: life in union with God himself tl~rough the beatific vision and the love which contains in itself and com-pletely pervades all the other loves of the human heart" (#11). Then he turns to the evangelical counsel of poverty. He develops the paschal duality involved in the counsel by his reflections on the way that Christ enriched us through his poverty. "For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich" (2 Co 8:9). He continues: "For this reason he says to the young manof the synop-tic Gospels: 'Sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in'heaven.' In these words there is a call to enrich others through one's own poverty, but in the depths of this call there is hidden the testi-mony of the infinite, richness of God, which transferred to the human soul in the mystery of grace, creates in man himself, precisely through poverty, a source for enriching others not comparable, with any :other resource of material goods, a source for bestowing gifts on others in the manner of God himself. We see how this process of enrichment unfolds in the pages of the Gospel; finding its culmination in the paschal event: Christ, the poorest in his death on the cross, is also the one who enriches us infinitely with the fullness of new life through the resurrection" (#12). He then turns to the counsel of obedience. He takes as the key text Paul's description of the kenosis (emptying) of Christ. "Though he was in the form of God, he did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, The Mystery of Consecration / 651 but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross" (Ph 2:6-8). He locates the inmost constitutive element of the paschal mystery in the obedience of Christ to the Father. "Here, in these words of the Letter of St. Paul to the Philippians, we touch the very essence of the redemption, In this reality is inscribed in a primary and constitutive way the obedience of Jesus Christ. Other words of the apostle., confirm this: "For as by one man's disobedience many were made sinners, so by one man's obedience many will be made righteous" (Rm 5:19). In living out the counsel of obedience, through which they place them-selves at this disposal of the community and the Church through obedience to their superior, they cooperate in redeeming the world. Here in this redemptive mode of life, they echo both the words of Mary and of Jesus; "Be it doneoto me according to your will." ',By living out the evangelical counsel of obedience, they reach the deep essence of the entire economy of the redemption" (#13). ~ Of course, every Christian must live out his life in obedience to God through obedience to legitimate authority. But the life of the religious should be marked in a special way with this duality, an emptying of self-will, which paradoxically constitutes an inner freedom. "And since this obedience of Christ constitutes the essential nucleus of the work of the redemption, as is seen from the words of the apostle quoted above, there, fore, also in the fulfilling of :the evangelical counsel of obedience we must discerh a particular moment in that 'economy of the redemption' which pervades your whole vocation in the Church." (#13). ,Thr°ugh°ut the letter the Pope stresses that the "treasure in heaven[ promised to those who.give up all things to follow him is not reserved for heaven. It takes place here and .now. When the paschal mystery is allowed to "seed" the heart, which is' constricted by the threefold way in which its inner instincts are twisted, the "lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" (1 Jn 2:15-17), its power to love takes on the infinity of Christ's own love. "Remember also, dear brothers and sisters, that the obedience to which you committed yourselves by consecrating yourselves without reserve to God through the profession of the. evangelical counsels is a particular expression of interior freedom, just as the definitive expression of Christ's freedom was his'obedience 'unto. death'i 'I lay down my life, that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord" (Jn 10:!7, 18)(#13): In Section Six, he shows how ihe life of the counsels witnesses to the 659 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 redemptive power of the paschal mystery, because it frees the heart, which is open to the counsels, to embrace that paschal duality/in the whole of one's life. It touches us in the three most radical aspects of our lives: the need to have things, the need for human, intimate love, and the need to be master of our destinies. In this way, religious life is witness to the presence of the paschal mystery in our hearts. "These counsels, each in its own way and all of them together in their intimate connection, 'bear witness' to the redemption which, by the power of Christ's cross and resurrection, leads the world and humanity in the Holy Spirit toward that definitive fulfillment, which man and through man, the whole of creation finds in God and only in God" (#14). He stresses then the way that religious by their consecration share in the apostolate of the Church. But at the same time their most fundamental apostolate is found in being who they are. "And thus, even though the many different apostolic works that you perform are extremely important, nevertheless, the truly fundamental work of the apostolate remains always what (and at the same time who) you are in,the Church" (#15). Finally, in the conclusion, he stresses that this paschal mystery which finds its special witness in the religious life is a mystery that can be pene-trated only with the eyes of faith. "May the Holy Spirit--through Christ's cross and resurrection--'having the eyes of your hearts enlightened,' enable you "to know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his g~orious inheritance in the saints'" (Ep 1:18) (#16). Summary and Conclusion It is probably a mixed metaphor to say that we have gone through l_ight-years in this article. We have seen that the mystery of the sacred, the holy, is the mystery that sustains all things. It is the milieu in which all things have their being. Yet the mystery is so boundless that it has to be, so to speak, scaled down for us to be in touch with it. This "scaling down" is itself a mystery. We call it consecration. Somehow, what has all the opa-queness, earthiness of this world, imperviousness of the world of creatures, becomes charged with the infinite power of the holy. Through revelati6n, we are able to see with the eyes of faith, the inner nature of this milieu, the holiness of God. His mystery of holiness is also a mystery of lbve which seeks to share-what one has and what one is. This sharing takes place through the redemptive :love of Christ. The world, thin, ultimately exists in a Christic milieu. It is a world washed with the blood of Christ, recreated, re-consecrated. We enter this consecrated milieu through baptism. This radical conse-cration can never be lost, even though we might desecrate it. This is called 7he Mystery of Consecration in theological terms the sacramental stamp, or character. Through the variety of gifts given by the Holy Spirit, the radical conse-cration flowers in many ways. In particular, it blossoms in the religious life. It is there that the fundamental character of the paschal duality is re-pre-sented, in a way that parallels the re-presentation of Christ's sacrifice in the Mass. For in and through the consecrated life of chastity, poverty, and obedience, Christ says, "Here's what I am. Here's what I came to do." This mystery of the way that the milieu of Christ enters into us to consecrate us by taking us up into himself finds some remote analogy in the images used by the poet William Blake in his Songs of Innocence. To see a Wor|d in a grain of sand And a Heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour. A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all Heaven in a rage. A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons ~hudders Hell through all its "regions. From .Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New° Constitutions I and II by Patricia Spillane, M.S, C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd; St'.~ Louis, Missouri 63108 The Charism and Identity of Religious Life Michael J. Buckley, S.J. Father Buckley, of Berkeley's Jesuit School of Theology, has~ served as theological advisor since its inception to the Pontifical Commission on Religious Life in the United States. This article is the text of a paper Father Buckley presented at the meeting of the American bishops at their spring meetifig in Collegeville preparatory to their corporate reflections about religious life. Father Buckley may be addressed at The Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley; 1735 Le Roy Avenue; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Prenote: The limitations imposed by the nature of this conference do not allow for anything more than a fragmentary set of reflections upon a topic of such critical importance to the understanding of religious life. This paper, then, can do no more than attempt three of the many tasks which fall under so general a title: (1) To sketch something of the development of themagisterium's teaching on this subject; (2) to indicate some of the problems which this teaching entails; and (3) to suggest a manner in which these problems might be understood and moved towards resolution. The paper proposes the following three theses: (I) The fundamental identity of religious life must be grasped in terms of charism; (2) This understanding of religious life as charismatic raises profound problems that t6uch every aspect of its reality; (3) The office of the hierarchy is to discern an authentic charism from its counterfeit, while the exercise of this office is subject to the very real danger that excessiv6 legalism will quench the Spirit. One theme that contemporary philosophy and modern hermeneutics have insisted upon is this: Words have an effect like architecture. With architecture, you build the buildings, and then the buildings you live in build you. Similarly with language, you introduce terms into a discussion, 654 The Charism of Religious Life / {$55 and the language you admit either expands your perception of the issues or it hopelessly limits it. The concern of the early Fathers and Councils about language was not trivial: language forms our perception of reality. If our words are careless or precise, exaggerated or discriminating, we will have that kind of discussion. Even more, we will have that kind of perception of the very reality we are attempting to understand. Few contemporary Church leaders realized this better than PopePaul VI. He was painstaking, even scrupulous, in his selection of words. And it was this pope who introduced the vocabulary: "the charism of religious life" and "the charisms of the founders [bf religious communities] who were raised up by God .within his Church." ~ (ET II).The Second Vatican Council prepared for this stage of theological development, but Paul V1 brought it into articulation and existence. Charism and Rel!gious Life Lumen Gentium, in its critical second chapter, had spoken of the charisms given by the Spirit for the, renewal and building of the Church (12). Lumen Gentium, had distinguished the hierarchical girls from the charismatic girls (4, 7, 12). But Lumen Gentium never applied its doctrine on charism explicitly to religious life, though much of the theology of the gifts is contained in its sixth chapter, the section that deals with religious life in the Church. Similarly, ~Perfectae Caritatis contains many of these same elements and even adds an essential note missing from the previous Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, namely, that the origins of religious life lie with "'Spiritu Sancto afflante (under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit),' (l). But the word "charism" does not occur. It was Paul VI who took the Church~s general teachings about charism and the charismatic and applied them repeatedly during his pontificate to religious life. And the documents and the allocutiones of the present pontificate have continued this application. This usage of the more recent popes, however, has not gone unchallenged. Very recently, some have objected to the use of this term on two grounds: the word, "charism," is very difficult to define, and the Code of Canon Law does not include this term. Nevertheless, the present pope did use the term--and he did so specifi-cally in his Letter to the American Bishops, charging them to "encourage the religious, their institutes and associations to live fully the mystery of the redemption, in union with the whole Church and according to the specific charism of their religious life" (LTYR #3). The American bishops cannot step over this term: it frames the perspective on their mandate. It occurs three times in that same section of the papal .letter, specifying both the nature of religious life as a "proper ecclesiai charism" and reminding the 656 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 bishops that "in the local churches the discernment of the exercise of these charisms is authenticated by the bishops in union with the successor of Peter. This work is a truly important aspect of your episcopal ministry" (ibid). Furthermore: This charge to the American bishops is not an isolated phenomenon. Mutuae Relationes places the most critical responsibility of religious superiors precisely in this same '~erminology which others have found so dange~:ous: "Religious superiors have a grave duty, their foremost responsibility in fact, to assure the fidelity of the members tothe charism of the Founder by fostering the renewal prescribed by the Council and required by the times" (14c). The documents of the ,magisterium speak either of the charism of religious life in general or of the charism of a particular form of religious life. But two things should be noted in either case: First, when they speak about charism, they are speaking about what is fundamental to its identiiy. Second, this fidelity to charism involves change together with stability, a change demanded either by the conciliar documents or by the needs of the time. What does "charism" mean, then, and why is /he papal use of it so illuminative of the identity of religious life? The classic description of charism is given in the second chapter of Lumen Gentium (12b): ',It is not only through the sacraments and the ministrations of the Church that the Holy Spirit makes holy the People, leads them and enriches themwith his virtues. Allotting his gifts as he wills (l Co 12:l l), he also distributes specialgraces among the faithful of every rank. By these gifts, he. makes them fit and ready to undertake various tasks and offices for the renewal and building up of the Church, as it is written, 'the manifestaiion of the Spirit is given to everyone for the common good' (1 Co 12:7). Whether these charisms be very remarkable or more simple and widely diffused, they are to be received with thanksgiving and consolation since they arefitting and useful for the needs of the Church . Those who have charge over the Church should judge the genuineness and proper use of these gifts through their office, not indeed to extinguish the Spirit, but to test all things and hold fast to what is good"(l Th 5:12, 19-21). Erom this text we can affirm that the term "charism" includes the following notes: (1) The origin, of every charism is the Holy Spirit--not the hierarchy nor human structures. : (2) Its impetus, is distinguished from the action .of the Spirit in the sacraments and in the habitual ministrations of the Church's ministers. ¯ (3) Charism is by its nature a special grace, given to anyone of the faithful as an enabling gift for a specific ministry within the Body of Christ. 1he Charism of Religious Life (4) Its purpose is the renewal and the development of the Church¯ (5) The authenticity of a charism is to be tested and judged by the hierarchy--and the allusions to St. Paul's negative prohibition not to extinguish the Spirit indicates the danger that a.charism can be de-stroyed by the bad judgment of the very ones who are to judge and support it. Lumen Gentium and Perfectae Caritatis made two other significant contributions to the development of the identity of religious life as a char-ism. (l) Neither document discusses religious life in the juridical language of status or "the state of perfection to be acquired." Neither document uses the technical expression, "status perfectionis acquierendae"; while the word status is used six times in Lumen Gentium VI and only once in Perfectae Caritatis, it never becomes the principal or governing category. Status is recognized as a canonical term, but not given the position of being the organizing perspective through which religious life is understood. The his-tory of the title of Perfectae Caritatis indicates ~how progressive and delib-erate that exclusion was made. It is not that status could not be profitably used: its heritage can be traced from Pseudo-Dionysius' The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, to the profound treatment 6f Saint Thomas--distinguishing officium, status, and gradus--to Provida Mater of Pius Xll. But the con-cept of status over these centuries has increasingly . become static, and a fundamental juridical category) Vatican II, by refusing to subsume reli-gious life under this juridical heading as its primary category, was clearing the way for the further theological developments of Paul VI. These docu-ments from the Council provided many of the elements in their description of religious life which would allow Evangelica Testificatio to bring them together under thegeneral rubric of charism. What the Church witnessed in Evangelica Testificatio, then, is a con-scious and radical shift--to be very precise, a categorical shift: from reli-gious life classified primarily.as a canonical reality, one whose forms a(e set and understood fundamentally in terms of juridical, even constitutional, structures, to a charismatic reality, whose forms and constitutions them-selves are ,judged by the classic signs of the Spirit and by the manner in which its members are configured to the life of Christ. Both charism and law are obviously necessary. Religious life is not a variation of antinomianism. But the question is what is categorical. And Paul VI has said that the fundamental category is charismatic: Charism has been given a priority over status.3 What the deliberate choice of the term "charism" asserts is'that religious life is directly dependent upon the Spirit, both for its origins and for its continually new forms. As Paul VI put it: "The charism of the religious 65~! / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 life, far from being an impulse 'born of flesh and blood,' or one derived from a.mentality which conforms itself to the modern world, is the fruit of the Holy Spirit, who is always at work within the Church" (ET l l)~ The various forms of religious ~life are derived from the charisms of the founders of these religious communities who were raised up by God through this gift of the Spirit. This charism of the founder does two things: It gives each religious community that dynamism which defines it--often called its par-ticular spirit--and it provides for the future a "certain constancy of orienta-tion" that allows for a continual revitalization and change in external forms (ET 12).4 The~development of a religious community, as opposed to its decline, lies with~the organicgrowth of its original and defining charism. Mutuae Relationes expanded this teaching, insisting with bishops that "they are entrusted with the duty of caring for religious charisms, all the more so because the very indivisibility of .their pastoral ministry makes them responsible for perfecting the entire flock" (9c). Here the charism of the founder is stated precisely as "'an experience of the Spirit,' transmit-ted to their disciples to be lived, safeguarded, deepened and constantly developed by them in harmony with the Body of Christ continually in the process of growth" (1 !). It is this experience of the Spirit that gives the distinctive character to their religious communityi "This distinctive charac-ter also involves a particular style of sanctific.ation and of apostolate, which creates its particular tradition with the result that one can readily perceive its objective elements,' (11). impli~cations and Difficulties Now, for rather pragmatic Americans, this discussion of charism seems sound enough, but hardly earth-shattering---hardly important enough to wonder whether it is or is not in the Code. But it is the implications that are foundthreatening, implications which Mutuae Relationes is at pains~ to point out: "Every authentic charism implies a certain element of (1) genuine originality and of (2) special initiative for the spiritual life of the Church. In its surroundings, it may appear troublesome and may even cause difficulties, since it is not always and immediately easy to recognize it as coming from the Spirit" (12). Concretely and pragmatically, charism implies that religious life will always involve something that the Church has not seen before---or at least seen in this~way. Because of its novelty and its presence as an unforeseen impetus within the Church, charism may well mean the presence of the "troublesome," and. the presence of new difficulties and challenges to the Church.Call religious life a charism, and you have already said the Church expects to be continually challenged in many ways, and the hierarchy is The Charism of Religious Life / 659 :bound by God to the difficult and nuanced discernment of the authenticity of these challenges. Unlike status, whose structures can be determined adequately by law, charism presages the new, the creative, and the trouble-some. This has formed the history of religious orders over the Centuries, and for the United States it has been the history'of religious communities of men and women since Vatican II. An ~Example: During this time, a radically new articulation of the religious life:for women has come into consciousness and acceptance: many women are assuming both ministerial roles within the Church :hitherto reserved for men and have adopted small and: flexible community styles which have made these new missions possible. Women religious no longer necessarily dress in the same identical fashion, nor do they assume collec-tive tasks independent of their particular orientations, skills, and expe-rienced vocations. What is emerging in many religious orders is a thoroughly contemporary woman, as competent as her contemporaries in her accomp-lishments and in her extensive acquaintance with the issues and experiences of.,her times. This does not mean that either the initial spirit or the sound traditions of her order have been rejected. This may, of course, have occurred in some cases, but it has not been the rule. What this new order means is that many American religious communi-ties of women have transposed-,their heritage into a modern idi6m. This neither discredits nor invalidates other forms of religious life and the ch~irism of older forms of religious expression, any more than the active communi-ties of the nineteenth century were a rejection of Benedictine monasticism or of the clerks regular. But it does mean that something new is here. These religious communities of women have begun, perhaps for the first time in the Church, a synthesis of religious consecration and an inculturation into the forms of contemporary life--a synthesis made in service to their mission. If one looks at previous' external customs or previous regulations or even some° of the current mandates being stretched in the name of this growth:--that is, if one looks at religious life primarily as legal status, one can wonder at this phenomenon and question whether we are dealing with decline or infidelity. On the other hand, if one sees religious life primarily as charism, a charism that needs constitutions and laws for its objectification and constancy of~orientation; but not as the exhaustive or adequrite, state-ment of its nature, then one might wonder if we are not witnessing a flew 'impet.us of the .Spirit within the Church. Could it be the case that at a timein which women are assuming directive and leadi~rship roles within all forms of contemporary culture, the Spirit of God is raising up within the Church renewed or new charismatic communities, religious who will be just as individually characterized and 6611 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 just as culturally coordinate as theircontemporaries and impelled to this new inculturation by the very charism of their founders? If so, we may be witnessing a movement which will carry an importance to the Church similar to that of the rise of the mendicants in the thirteen century. Quite new--perhaps radically new but of, enormous importance to the future of the Church. But how is one to judge this? Another Example: Repeatedly Religious and Human Promotion en- .cou~ages .religious to be "enterprisingin their uridertakings and initiatives" because this is "in keeping with the charismatic and prophetic nature of religious life itself" (27; See 4a and 24). Placing the prophetic together with the charismatic and then asserting this hendiadys as characteristic of the nature of religious life, constitutes a significant challenge. Fidelity to the charism of religious life, then, could well involve religious in those activities which have alienated many people in the Church from them: speaking out about the morality of American intervention in Latin America, writing about discrimination even within the Church, demanding fair hiring prac-tices in local business, far ranging discussions within their national confer-ences of areas of injustice and oppression. Indeed, this document foresees precisely sucha development: "Confer-ences of religious, because of their more immediate knowledge of ecclesial and social conditions, are in a better position to identify the problems of different countries and continents. Through an exchange of experiences and study meetings, they could, in collaboration with the episcopal confer-ences and respecting the various charisms~ find solutions and means more in harmony with the hopes for integral human promotion" (35). When religious bring these subjects continually to the fore in their discussions and in their activities, and when they ask for episcopal collaboration in the exploration and elimination of these evils, are we not dealing with some-thing that issues from the very nature of religious life as a charism even when this elicits irritation from good Catholics or results in picket-lines, protests, and imprisonment? How are the bishops to judge, whether this is of God. however much it disturb expectations and social concord? Discernment, Not Repression These two examples raise the same questi~)n, as would many more that could be cited: How can one judge growth or decline? How can the hier-archy judge authentic charism, even authentic prophetic action when Mutuae Relationes (19) taught that "a responsiveness rich in creativ~ initia-rive is eminently compatible with the charismatic nature of the religious life"?. How can one test the Spirit, not quench it? Mutuae Relationes suggests three criteria by which this sifting of the The Charism of Religious Life / 661 genuine from the inauthentic can be done (51): First: Charism has "its special origin from the Spirit." Consequently the leaders of the Church can legitimately .expect that the signs which Galatians enumerates as present in aiathentic charismatic movement: "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such there is no law" (Ga 5:22-23). If these are present, one has every reason to suspect that the claim upon our conscience is from God. Secondly: "A profound ardor of love to be conformed to Christ in order to give witness to some aspect of his mystery." When I read this, I had to wonder what the Holy See had in mind here, and I think it is this: Charism always effects a particular configuration to Christ. This is espe-cially true in the mystery of his cross. Authentic charism will always be costly, will always entail an inescapable element of suffering and of the cross as one attempts to bring to the, contemporary: world or into the contemporary Church something that is truly of Christ. Authentic charism involves .a willingness (albeit with a sinking feeling) to undergo, to endure as did Christ. A previous paragraph in this same document put it this way: "The true relation between genuine charism with its perspectives of new-ness and interior suffering, carries with it an unvarying history of the connection between charism and cross, which, above every motive that may justify misunderstandings, is supremely helpful in discerning the authenticity of a vocation" (12). Finally: "A constructive love of the Church, which absolutely shrinks from causing any discord in her."-This does not mean that conflict can always be avoided, but that one spontaneously shrinks from causing it, that one does not revel in fights or get one's sense of identity from party' divisions and dissensions. Charism leads to the building up of the Church. Charism always involves three factors: It is an enabling gift of the Spirit which so conforms the recipients to Christ that they will build the Church. Mutuae Relationes has touched upon each one of these. This set of three criteria does not mean', that religious women or men will be without the faults and limitations of human beings, but it does mean that even in sinfulness these three religious attitudes will be basically present.5 Between the boldness of the new initiatives which the charismatic nature of religious institutes demands and the expectations of some members of the Church or of the hierarchy, there will be unavoidable moments of tension--tensions which are not resolved by eliminating either side of this dialectic: by quenching the Spirit or by disobedience to the hierarchy in the legitimate exercise of its leadership. Either would mean the destruction of the directive influence of the Spirit of God bringing the Church into this new age. It is possible for bishops (even culpably) to quench the Spirit, to fail to recognize 662/ Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 the charisms given by the Spirit; it is possible for religious to become incapable of serious self-criticism and to reject the need to submit the charism of their lives to the Church for its. discernment. Either of these spells out a disintegration of religious ~life, and both are real possibilities. This is the reason that Mutuae Relationes adds the following addendum to its three criteria: "Moreover, the genuine figure of the founders entails men and. women whose proven virtue (see LG 45) demonstrates a real docility both to the sacred hierarchy and to the following of that inspira-tion, which exists in them as a gift of the Spirit" (51): But these dangers become somewhat mitigated if all, the members of the Church come to, understand what Paul VI brought to expression: that what is most profoundly at issue here demanding prayer and discernment and those sufferings which go with any struggle to recognize the Spirit of God--is the radical identity of religious life as developing charism. The present pope has insisted in Redemptionis Donum that it is out of this that the apostolic presence of religious comes; the charism of every .religious order becomes a charism for the different, needs of the Church: "The apostolate is always born from that particular gift of your founders, which, received from God and approved by the Church, has become a charism for the different needs of the Church and the world at particular moments of history, and in its turn it is extended and strengthened in .the life of the religious communities as one of the enduring elements of the Church's life and apostolate" (15). Both Paul VI and John Paul 11 indicate the dynamic nature of the charismatic: Fidelity to the charism of the founder will demand the changes indicated by the Council and required by the times (ET 12; M R 11), A static understanding of charism leads some to think that religious pre-cisely in order to be faithful to their charism should remain jfist aS they were before, even despite the Council, the magisterial documents, and the needs of the time. But charism is essentially a living reality, and like every living reality confronts continually the questions of growth or decline, of development or disintegration. External changes, even radical external changes, can mean either. Stability and change are not opposed; they are coordinate. You can only change what remains the same; as Gilson remarked many years ago~ the only way you can keep the same fence is if you paint it often! Change is a necessity if the same thing is to continue. Charism involves both change and stability. There is no more reason a priori to expect that the contem-porary religious woman will look like the nuns from the middle ages or the sisters from the nineteenth century than to expect ~that the contemporary Church simply copy the primitive Christian community. The sober assess- The Charism of Religious Life ] 663 ment of this change constitutes the continual discernment done in most religious communities. It is in a parallel ongoing discernment by the hier-archy that their own office will be accomplished.For the major function of the hierarchy here is not so often to discern the charism of a radically new community, but to recognize the development of a charism in terms of a Church ~ind a world that is changing so rapidly. To be aware of the authentic presence of the developing cflarism within a religious community is to be conscious of its fundamental identity, found not in a static repetition of the past but in growth and continuity. NOTES ~The following abbreviations are used for documents of the magisterium to which reference is made in this article: From Vatican H LG Lumen Gentium: PC ¯ Perfectae Caritatis: From the Pontificate of Paul VI ET , Evangelica Testificatio: M R Mutuae Relationes: The. Dogmatic Constitution on the Church The Decree on the Renewal of Religious Life Apostolic Exhortation on the Renew-al of REligious Life Directives for Mutual Relations Between Bishops and R~ligious in the Church, published by CRIS/CB From thb Pontificate of Jo.hn Paul H ~ RH P Religious and Human Promotion CRIS CDRL Contemplative Dimen~io~ of Religious Life CRIS L'VI'R Letter of John Paul H to the Bishops of the United States. April3, 1983 EE Essential Elements in the Church's Teaching on Religous Life as Applied to Institutes Dedicated to Works of the Apostolate RD Redemptionis Donum: Apostolic Exhortation on Religious Consecration in the Light of the Mystery of Redemption 2See Bernard Olivier, O.P., "I! carisma della vita religiosa nel Concilio e nei documenti post-conciliari," Vita Consecrata 17 ( 1981), pp. 329-33 I. Father Olivier agrees with the previous evaluation of J. M. Tillard that the development within the Council ran as follows: "From the idea of religious state (stato religioso), thus from a perspective essentially static and juridical, from a consideration of the religious in their canonical 6~4 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 situation which characterizes theria in contrast with the laity and clerics, one arrives at the evangelica! and dynamic notion of life with everything which this implies about charity and human involvement" (ibid. pp. 329-330). See also the article by P. R. Regamey, O.P., under the title, "Carismi," Dizionario degli istituti diperfezione, edited by Guerrino Peliccia and Giancarlo Rocca, Vol. 11, columns 299-315~ 3This primacy of charism over legal description is classic in religious rules. Witness for example the "Preface" to the Constitutions of the SoCiety of Jesus: "Although it must be the Supreme Wisdom and Goodness of God, our Creator and Lord, which will preserve, direct, and carry forward in his divine service this least Society of Jesus, just as he deigned to begin it; and although what helps most on our part toward this end must be, more than any exterior constitutions~ the ~interior law of charity and love which the Holy Spirit writes and engraves upon hearts; nevertheless, since the gentle arrangement of Divine Providence requires cooperation from his creatures, and since too the Vicar of Ch'rist our Lord has ordered this, and since the examples given by the saints and reason itself teach us so in our Lord, we think it necessary that constitutions should be written to aid us to proceed better, in conformity with our Institute, along the path of divine service on which we have entered" ( The Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, translated and edited by George E. Ganss, S.J. [St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970]), "Preamble to the Constitutions," [#134]. 4The last word has not been either said or assimilated in this development initiated by the Council and brought to terminological articulation by Paul VI--otherwise it would have been impossible for Essential Elements to claim that the doctrinal richness of the magisterial teachings over the past twenty years "has been distilled and reflected in the revised Code of Canon Law." (3) No external legal structure is adequate to a reality whose identity is primarily charism. Hence the papal letter to the American bishops modifies that claim substantially with the statement: "Much of this doctrinal richness has been distilled and reflected in the revised Code." (3) Beneath the papal claim and that of Essential Elements lies the fundamental difference between the understanding of religious life primarily as a charism of the Spirit or as a juridical status. 5Mutuae Relationes provides a more particularized list for the discernment of authentic charism. Though cited above, it deserves to be included in full: ~The specific charismatic note of any institute demands, both of the founder and of his disciples, a continual examination regarding: fidelity to the Lord; docility to his Spirit; intelligent attention to circumstances and an outlook cautiously directed to the signs of the times; the will to be part of the Church; the awareness of subordination to the sacred hierarchy; boldness of initiatives; constancy in the giving of self; humility in bearing with adversities. The true relation between genuine charism, with its perspectives of newness, and interior suffering, carries with it an unvarying history of the connection between charism and cross, which, above every motive that may justify misunderstandings is supremely helpful in discerning the authenticity of a vocation" (12). "Ourselves, Our Church, Our Dreams": A Province Begins To Plan In early June, the Missouri Province 6f the Society of Jesus to6k a few days together to remember, to share, and to dream. They remembered their roots and their history; they shared their present and their presence to each other; and they began to dream together. Mindful that, in the words of Mutuae Relationes, n. 14 c, "Every ' institute exists for the Church and must enrich her with its distinctive characteristics, according to a particular spirit and a specific mission" (n. 14 c), and that "the particular Church is the historical space in which a ¯ vocation is exercised in the concrete and°realizes its apostolic commitment~ (n. 23, c), the Jesuits invited the shepherds of the Local Churches in which they labored to share with them their present concerns, and to d~eam with them for the future. Among the presentations offered, those published here seem to trans-cend their relevance to their immediate audience. They may well have a value for all religious, serving as pointers and reminders, as models and spurs for the continuing search of individuals and of communities in their constant search for better ways of serving their Lord. ' ~A Local Bishop Speaks to the Province--I John L. May" Archbishop of Saint Louis In preparing these thoughts I did some reading in the history of the Society, the work of the Society through the centuries, and especially its work here in this Local Church. I have been in this see but five years, and how quickly the time has passed. But your corporate presence here has passed well beyond the centennial mark. 665 666/ Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 In preparing these remarks I consulted with a particular Jesuit, a former provincial from another country. I asked his counsel about what emphases I might give, and his response reflected what 1 know to be your own concern, as it was the concern of Ignatius himself, and has been reflected in your history from the beginning. He stated emphatically: "The first and most important thing is working in close union with the local bishop." ¯ That is often a problem from both sides. It is simply not easy to keep in close contact, to share effectively what we are doing and hope to do. But when we don't make the effort, when we don't successfully cope with these difficulties, the result is that both of us--the Society and the Local Church--suffer. At the time of your last General Congregation, Father Dezza, speaking to this same .former provincial, said that in his estimate ninety per cent of the problems the Society experienced in Rome arose from complaints of bishops. That is sad; it is tragic. Bishops will often complain of a certain elitism on the part Of Jesuits, an elitism that is perceived as separating them and their labors from the rest of the work that is going on in a diocese. As a matter of fact, this was also the criticism of Father John Tracy Ellis in an address he delivered some years ago to the Jesuits of New England and later reprinted in Thought magazine. My own experience down south, however, has been y.ery good. The local Jesuit pt?ovincial was extremely solicitous in this regard. He came regularly to visit and to review every single work that we were doing together,, every single appointment, every single new. project which would have a bearing on the diocese. This was the way that we always worked. In a small diocese like Mobile, this made for very coordinated labors. The first point, then, that I would want to share With you, and it is always difficult to make very concrete, is the close union that we must have~ bishops and Jesuits, in working together. Otherwise, there will inevit-ably arise on the part of the bishop either an apparent paternalism, seem-ingly an effort to control everything, to know about everything, to check up on everything, or there will be a perceived negligence, a seeming indif-ference to what is happening in his diocese. In these times above all, we must all hang together or we shall surely hang separately. Secondly, a work that is characteristic of your Society in the Local Church, and one that is important to my topic for today, is scholarship. In that same address of Father Ellis, a Jesuit superior is reported to have complained that a number of Jesuits are convinced that scholarship is necessary, indeed they join the lament of those who clamor that Catholic A Province Begins to Plan scholars are few and far between; but then, when these same Jesuits are given Opportunity for scholarly pursuits, they promptly gallop off to dissi-pate themselves in other, greener pastures. If they are given time to read and write, too often we find that these Jesuits soon become involved in preaching, in retreat work, or in some other immediately rewarding directly apostolic task. Certainly you would not expect a diocesan bishop to belittle the value of these apostolic works. It is simply that, as Father Ellis has told us many times, "Scholarship is a jealous mistress." Truly significant scholarly achievement requires a spiritual and intellectual asceticism that is prepared even to forgo directly apostolic and priestly work for the lonely but valuable, and always necessary, labor of study, research and writing. Those few who are capable of such work should stick to it. Indeed, they need the encour-agement of the rest of us if they are to continue to do so. They need our grateful recognition of their attainments. How much we have needed that kind of scholarship in these days. The need for clear, insightful analysis of what is happening in the Church and in our society remain~ great. What a tremendous gift it is to a Local Church to have a number of truly scholarly priests'and religious within its borders-- people who are resource persons in the be~t sense of the term. Thirdly, there is another work for which the Society is rightfully well known from its beginning. ! am told that, though St. Ignatius didn't perceive its value for the Society immediately, even during his lifetime he came to see how the work of education was going to be vital to the life and ministry of the Society. Again, what a magnificent contribution you have made to Local Churches from the days of the Ratio Studiorum of 1599. What has been accomplished for the Local Church in the course of these centuries! Certainly I can speak of.what I perceive here in Saint Louis. But in my past experience as well, 1 have perceived what Spring Hill College has meant to the whole community of Alabama. It was th.efirst institution of higher education in .the entire state, founded even before the state Univer-sity of Alabama! The implications of that fact in terms of service to the larger community are obvious. Here about us there is evident the magnificent contribution made by Saint Louis University for this entire community, but even more so for the Local Church. There are also your two high schools here. It is a tragic thing, at least in the opinion of this local bishop, to see in our time the abandonment of education by some religious communities in the Local Church. We talk so much about consulting the people, the laity. If there is one 668 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 thing 1 hear from the laity, it is the plea for good Catholic schools. This is the plea of our people. True it may be that their concept may be different from ours in what they look for and expect from their schools. But, if we consult seriously what the people think, that is their constant plea. And you are meeting it here. My fourth heading has to do with the missions. Jbsuits have constituted a major missionary society of the Church down through the centuries. Ordinarily in this context we think about the "foreign missions." We tend to think thus invariably, automatically--and sometimes exclusively. But, coming as I do from my involvement in the Catholic Church Exten-sion Society, I have a few thoughts about the home missions as well! In light of my own thoughts, I am convinced that, as from the days of Father DeSmet:and the work of Jesuits which has gone on and continues to go on am.ong the Native American people, much of your missionary emphasis, especially now and in the immediate future, could well be focused on our own "home" missions. What is "mission"?. As we know, in the aftermath of Vatican I1 there was a vast reassessment of the concept of "missions'." There was much questioning--sometimes destructively so--about the work of missionaries, about what had been done through the centuries in the name of missions. Today, though, I am sure we all agree that some of the neediest mis-sions are in the hearts of our major cities--right here in "River City," and in so many, many other places. When we talk about liberation, liberation from all the consequences of discrimination and poverty and suffering throughout the world, we should also become awareof all the destructive consequences wrought within our very own society. Our people, perhaps, aren't impoverished in the same sense as are people so often in the foreign-mission lands, but they really are poor--poor in so many other ways. Hence the importance of your work in the poor parishes of our cities, where you labor day in and day out. Noted, too, if not so directly parochial in their scope, are your other works of. evangelization for the poor and for others: the Living and Learn-ing program, the work of the Sacred Heart Hour; your preaching aposto-lates, the columns that are written in our Saint Louis Review. All of this constitutes a great mission work that you are doing, algreat and important mission work in the Local Church. In no way would I want to downgrade your work in foreign lands. These are most important. But sometimes we do not see clearly enough the mission work that needs to be done so badly right here for go many, many people. These, too, truly need to be liberated from the restricted outlook and malevolent influences which are at work in their lives. A Province Begins to Plan A fifth heading recalls your retreat work, indeed, your spiritual work of all kinds. Here again is a great apostolate of the Society from the very beginning, based upon the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius himself. The retreat movement, as we remember, was questioned in so many ways foi: some years. But now it is again valued as a work that is more necessary today perhaps than ever before. It is a work that is so important because it keeps before our people in a more profound and personal way the Good News they need to hear. There are so many people in positions of leadership in this community who tell me that th.ey keep in touch with the things that really matter because of the retreat that they regularly make at your White House. Then there is the work of counseling and spiritual direction! So many people come day after day to your confessionals here--even today when, to all appearances, the sacrament is scarcely appeciated. But the numbers who come to the downtown chapels--the Alverne, your College Church, and other such places--attest to the importance of that. ministry. Many people really do want it. .Campus Ministry assists the young people who more and more in these days are sensing their spiritual need. It wasn't so long ago that there seemed to be no young people coming to us, no young people interested in what we had to offer them. But now that, too, is changing. Once again.we begin to see them realizing their great need and we recognize the important work that is being done with our young people. Let us tak~ some words of Mother Teresa for our closing thought. Sometimes she seems like a modern-day Catherine of Siena who, reportedly illiterate, became a Doctor of the Church, and has a permanent influence in the life .of the Church. Mother Teresa, herself without great educational background, has said some things which we all need tO ponder. One such observation she has made is that the Church languishes today, not because it asks too much from the~modern age, but because it asks too little. It has tried to make its faith plausible when it should have presented the high, hard way of Christ, without compromising his demand for the total sacrifice of self. Total sacrifice of self! Is not this an essential constituent of Ignatian spirituality? We all need to hear this message. We need to see it lived in the lives of Jesuits; we need to hear it preached in their teachir~g, in their counseling, everywhere. As one bishop, I can attest personally, but also pastorally, that I have received so much from the Society under all these five headings. And I will ever be in your debt. 671~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 A Local Bishop Talks to the Province--2 Richard C. Hanifen Bishop of Colorado Springs, Colorado l am delighted to speak after Archbishop May and to pick up from: his conclusion, namely to treat with you further about the concept of Ignatian~ spirituality in the Local Church. Archbishop May and I had decided earlier that we would proceed in this fashion because of the one principal Jesuit presence in my diocese: the Sacred Heart Retreat House in Sedalia. To me,.this is an extremely impor-tant part of our new diocese and a source of great pride to us. It also provides me with an obvious occasion for reflecting with you about Igna-tian spirituality in the context of the Local Church. First of all, permit me to review what I see as actually happening in the Local Churches. I will~ reflect on this in terms of priests, religious, and :laity. First o,f all, what is happening with priests, specifically with diocegan priests--though ultimately you will see the same happening among you religious priests. Diocesan priests are being opened through suffering. They are learning the role that Jesus learned from the Father: they are learning obedience through suffering. Well, so are you. They are being opened up with a can-opener to a sense of their need for spirituality. They have found that they are a very needy group of men. There is a new awareness of their need for a deepening spirituality. Young priests are actually seeking contemplation. I can recall the days not so very long ago when seminarians wouldn't let you Jesuits direct silent retreats. But things are different now. Young priests are seeking contempla-tion- including specifically Ignatian forms of contemplation.-. Priests are also increasingly seeking fraternity. One of the phenomena that is becoming more and more common among diocesan priests, and also among religious, is the Jesus Caritas form of spiritually based, priestly fraternity; they are.seeking out the Emmaus form of priestly fraternity; there is the Ministry to Priests movement of Vince Dwyer, and tother programs as well. This is actually what is happening now. It is the reality. Bishops themselves are also seeking priestly fraternity through the Jesus ,Caritas or the,Emrnaus models. Throughout the country more and more bishops are joining into. fraternity for prayer, in recognition of their ¯ spiritual needs. Regarding religious, this is what I see happening. Many women reli-gious especially are now living and working apart from their respective communities. They are allowed, even encouraged, to make their personal A Province Begins to Plan / 671 discernment and to find their own jobs. A result of this new situation is that it is creating the need for community where these religious actually are. Many of them, living in apartments rather than corivents, are looking for spiritual and companionate forms of living that don't come from their own religious communities. ¯ These religious are also looking for healing in their lives--the healing of woimds which are coming to them from the new forms of their ministry among our people. They are no longer teaching in grade and high schools, as Archbishop May mentioned. Rather many of them are pastoral ministers, working in parish scenes where the pain is oozing out of people every day. They are wounded healers, and they are looking for healing themselves. Often'enough they can't find this healing from their own community which is at a remove from them. They need the grace and the awareness of the discernment of the Holy Spirit in their lives--surely a key concept of Ignatian spirituality. How are they to discern their life-plan? In terms of the laity, "peer ministry" is already here. It is not coming, it is already here. Lay people are ministering to one another. Para-parochial and other experiences are developing among our laity a new awareness of their need for a deepening spirituality in their lives. The Cursilio move-ment, Marriage Encounter, TEC, Search, Parish Renewal, Renew, and the newly forming Basic Christian Communities are demanding of lay people that they themselves become ministers, and the kind of ministers they are going to be is going to depend on the spiritual formation that can be given to their lives. I see "Pop Spirituality" as 'being "in" now. More and more 'lay people are studying spiritual direction in order to become spiritual directors to other lay people. That is not coming. It is here. Not altogether Unrel~ited to this phenomenon, I see a growing concern among the clergy, especially diocesan clergy; over the question of their own role as counselors and spiritual directors in the'lives of lay people. You may have noticed that across the country clergy are becoming more and more liable to civil lawsuits over their counseling practices. That is a reality which, whether we realize it or not, is having an impact on their willingness to enter into spiritual direction and into counseling relationships with lay people. Some are .beginning to back away altogether from counseling. What will happen there? I see also,~ as you do, growing forms o~'ecumenical counseling groups in our cities. People are now seeking out those whom they feel Understand what they term Christian Counseling. And that is a phenomenon with many ramifications, because many of those getting into what is called 672 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 Christian C~unseling Centers are Fundamentalist Christians, and they counsel rather differently than we would. I see also a growing dichotomy between spiritual formation and social responsibility. By way of concluding, then, I would like to recommend the following to the Jesuit community as it discerns, with .the help of the Spirit, its own present and its own future: --In regard to priests and bishops, I hope that the Jesuit community will continue its commitment to spiritual direction. Permit me to share with. you just one case in point in our diocese of Colorado Springs. At the Sacred Heart Retreat Center, your Father Jerry Borer conceived the idea of becoming a "circuit,riding" spiritual companion to our priests. And so he goes on the road monthly, reaching out to our priests where they are. In his visits he spends the night with these priests. Heeats with them and talks with them. Those who want spiritual direction get it. Those who want to go to confession get it. Those who just want a priest-friend get that also, This program is meeting with more and more appreciation. At a recent convention of our priests, it was brought up as one of the real strengths of our young diocese, It also represents, I think, a creative use of Ignatian spirituality. In fact, the overall Sedalia ministry itself is a powerful influence in the diocese. It is pow~erful also for priests and bishops. I am excited about ~ome of the construction that is going on there at the present time because it indicates your growing commitment to the possibility of developing Pous, tinias, hermitages of a sort, for diocesan priests. I really think they are going to ask for such. The tougher things get, the more they are going to want to find hermitage! --Archbishop May and I have been together on more than one occasion for an eight-day directed spiritual retreat according to the Ignatian style. This is something that is going on across the country, in case you didn't know it. It represents, I think, another instance of Jesuits sneaking into the Local Church, this time through the souls of the bishops. You talk abou~t the pastoral letters which are coming in a steady stream from the bishops. You talk about the way that American bishops are be~having nowadays, something which is of no little concern to everybody-- including the American bishops. Where is that coming from? Why are bishops now beginning to act like brothers instead of competitors? It is because they are praying together! That is why. And that is growing. And your contribution to this phenomenon is bigger° than you know. --In terms of the laity, the phenomenon of lay ministry has shown me A Province Begins to Plan / 673 something that I don't know if any of us really expected. We thought that, as we ran out of priests, lay people would rush in to take over those ministries., They did! But when they got in there, they found out they needed more priests! They found that the more they minister, the more they need "priesting." There is no less need for priests now because the laity are active in the Church. There is more need. But what will be the role of the priests in their lives? Lay ministers, too, need spiritual healing. They, too, are being wound-ed-- as I said about religious--by their ministry. Too often this wounding is done by their pastor. Obviously, he can't be their healer. Who will? So they also are looking for hermitage--in one sense or another. In growing numbers the laity are coming for spiritual direction. Those of you in retreat work know that you are not just doing retreats on weekends anymore. You are dealing with lay women during the week; you are dealing with lay persons coming for individual retreats. They need growth and healing in order to become healers themselves. You can help them. --I hope that you will be able, somehow, to move into the area of training lay spiritual directors. I am not really convinced that it is being done right. I am a little worried about the form of direction that is sometimes going on. There really is a kind of a "Pop Spirituality" going the rounds which is not altogether healthy. I would like to see the Jesuit community take a serious look at how you can contribute your Ignatian spirituality ~o the training of lay people to become spiritual directors. --I would like also to see develop within the Local Church a spiritual approach to social justice. Let me reflect on that for a few minutes. I am in a city that is dedicated to war--in the name of peace! °The city really is dedicated to war. I don't mean to put down the people in the defense industry and in the militai'y. But the city of Colorado Springs is surrounded by four war-camps. One Easter Sunday I said that if they ever declare peace, we'll go broke. How do I minister in the city of Colorado Springs to people whose livelihood comes from the prospect of war? What would happen to their lives if we ever did declare peace? Who will help them to face the reality of their livelihood--and the livelihood of our nation--which is. actually a war-based economy? Who will address what lam calling here the spirituality of social justice? Frankly I don't think we have yet discovered the way to do it. May .I challenge you to help us? ~. Is there, in fact, a way in which persons skilled in Ignatian spirituality can take a community, work in it for a long period of time--because 674/~Reviewfor Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 credibility is key to getting through to people's spiritual lives--in order to help a diocese to address questions of social justice from the standpoint of their integral spiritual nature? I really would love to see that happen. This would mean that somehow we need to be helped to address the question of simplicity of life, the question of concern for others, and really the question of our education, to a large extent, concerning the Third and Fourth Worlds. Who can help us with that? --In regard to religious. I would ask that you continue and enhance your efforts to help religious women especially to develop a life-plan by which they can satisfactorily minister in the community, to help them become healed even as they are wounded in their ministry to others. These are some of my hopes from Ignatian spirituality within the Local Church. These are some of the ways in which I can see the Society of Jesus ministering in and to the Local Church. My Dream Jarrel Wade, S.J. Pastor of Zampul, Honduras I would like to begin with the Church that I know, the Church of Hondu-ras. And when I talk now, I am thinking of communities that are sociologi-cally small towns, villages--places where still the Word of God has not had the effect it should. I would dream that the Church would be inspired to take this Word and make it heard clear and strong: the Word of Jesus--of him who .saves. And 1 would like to se6 among all my people, as I have seen in some of their, lives, that when people do take this Word into their hearts they are changed. As they begin to read it, to meditate and live by the Word of God, they begin, to love where they have never loved before. They begin to forgive one another. And they begin to seek the teaching of the apostles. This is conversion. And once it is started, it never ends,, Above all, I have found that the sign that the Word is being proclaimed, the sign that proves that God is present in his Word, present in the person of Jesus to whgm the written word of Scripture leads us, is that. this Word leads men to love one another. It leads to brotherhood. It leads to thinking about others in your town, in your family. It leads to giving yourselves to, others. P~ople share their lives when they have heard this Word. They share their goods. They share their persons. A Province~Begins to Plan / 675 " l desire that the Church be able to bring it to pass that every person might be able to hear the name of Jesus. That is the beginning of salvation. It is the beginning of life. One Of the ~greatest,sadnesses that I experience in my life is that | am not able to preach this Word effectively enough and' to live it visibly enough so that those to whom | preach, with whom I live, would immediately want to change~ It' hurts me to see people that are humble and poor not be able to open themselves to this life-giving Word. The Church has to rethink its message. It has to speak its message clearly to all the world: Christ is its Savior. Then I would like to see in the whole Church what I have seen these days here among my brother Jesuits, and what I would like to see among my own people at home. I would like to see'among them the celebration of the presence of God in their lives, according to their own cultures and in whatever ways ~they can. 1 would like to see them bring'to their liturgy lives that are in union with what they believe with what they live in the midst of their families, what they live in their civil lives: what goes on in govern-ment and what goes on in the buying and selling of their marketplaces. I would like to celebrate with them the fact that a man's Word speaks the truth of his life. Finally, 1 would like to 'see them celebrate the fact that they really do give themselves to others. When people are! able to celebrate the presence of God ambng them-selves, what ~ve see is that men and women learn to walk together to satisfy their common needs. We see that they try to not dominate the way that others think and the way that others decide. They leave people free.' They respect this po~,er to decide and to love in others, and they want to give this freedom to the community, to enable the community to grow. Domi-nation must be stopped--in the Church, and in civil 'life." I would like to see respect for each person. I would like to see us learn to listen to each other's thoughts, however ~simple and uncomplicated they be. I would like to see us respect each one's sincere decision to live accord: ing to each one's own 'lights. :~ I would also like to s(e how these Christians, heating the Word of God, and hoping in his promises, learn that it is possible to not hate, that it is possible toforgive, thiat it is possible to live as brothers and sisters, that it is possible that the shadow of God's kingdom is actually upon us. A campesino once tbld me that the kingdom of God is seen when, in our lives; we are llke the shadow of that kingdom. People can see that something is coming. They can see that something is present. It is almost h~re--but it is not yet: I would lik~e to see that with thi~ hearing of the Word of God there 676 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 comes a commitment of our lives, a consecration of all that there is in our lives for us as priests, for everyone in our baptism. I would like to see that each one of us, by our way of acting, might give forth to the world the Word that the Iov6 of God is greater than the hate that there is in the world, that we all can break bread together as brothers and sisters., This is my vision of the Church. This means that bishops and priests and religious have a definite role to play, a definite place to serve. We should not dominate the laity, and, especially .today, we must learn to become sensitive so as no longer to dominate women. As I look at the Society and at our province, I would like to see each one of us be a man of prayer, a man who can be alone, a man who can test his spirit in the presence of God. And I would like that this solitary prayer be a priestly prayer, that it enflame a burning desire in us that, by whatever we do, somehow all might come to know Christ's Name and love him. I would like to see this prayer transform our lives, so that we might show the world how to live as brothers and sisters. I would also like to see for our Society that we might all be men of the Church, and at the same time, men deeply imbued, men deeply touched by the reality of humanity. I would like to see our Society continue to resist atheism in all its forms-- even in our own lives. I would like to see from those of you who would be in the cutting edge of thought and practice, that through you we might have a significant part in the renewal of the Church. Especially I would like to see us as the forerunners (in the most literal sense) in a faith that is lived, seeking social justice, seeking peace among nations and men. And above all, and this without any power, I would like to see us defend the hiamble people, the defenseless, the poor, the needy--and to do this, I would tend to add, as Christ did. I would also like to see our Society and our province continue to be made up of "Men of the Word" men who are continually meditating on the written word which leads us to the Person who is Jesus. I would like to see us give this Good News to give Jesus to the world. I would like to see us learn how'to adapt this Word to all place~ and to all cultures and to all times., so that men could become free even from themselves and learn to be Christ to one another. I would like to see us, as Jesuits, in all our apostolates be men who confirm the faithful in their faith, who strengthen the Church as a sign of salvation and liberation for all especially those outside it. I would also like to see in our province and in the Society that we be authentic men. I would like to see that the authenticity of our apostolates A Province Begins to Plan / 677 manifest itself in "our way of proceeding.'.' We are different. We do have particular way of acting. And, as done by this discerning community that is the :Society, I would like to see verified the mission of each. one of .us. I would like our austerity of life, our poverty, to make us credible. I would also like to see the further practice of this discernment--which is so difficult and so seldom seen in our communities, but at the same time so dearly desired by all of us--so that our Society might continue to make its option preferentially for the poor in its service of the faith and through our promotion of justice. If this discernment is to happen, there must be prayer in the community and in our lives. For this discernment to happen, we must also know human reality. We must be among the people. We must feel the pulse of the times. We should be able to do this at all levels of society, but especially at the level of those who do not have a voice, at the level of the poor. And in this discerning community, I would like to see us try to determine where the Spirit is leading us, how many things we would have to change, what we would have to do if the Spirit of Christ, the Spirit of love and brotherhood were to penetrate our lives. In sum, permit me to list "My Desires": 1. I desire to be "a companion of Jesus the Lord." 2. There is a desire which, in these last years, has become very strong in me, even as I recognize that I am not near arriving there. I desire to find the presence of God, of the Lord, in people-~in people with faces and noses-in concrete people: in the people of my parish; people who love me and people who don't love me. In this sense I would sincerely desire to have this capacity to find God in all. I would like to lead the people that I serve in this, too. 3. I would like to grow in union with Jesus Christ in prayer. 1 would like to be a man who is sincerely one with Christ--in my weakness and in my strength. 4. I desire to draw the people I deal with, especially the young, to a service of the Church, and of society, for the renovation of the world. ! would like to call these people to renovate their faith, to grow again, to be reborn. I desire that the crucial work of announcing the Name of Jesus be given to the layman, to the religious, and to the priest alike; and that this announcement of the Word in the Church Would renovate us as well, would make us new again. And I would desire that, by our announcing of this Word, faith and life might be united in us, that out of this union of faith and life there might result a more just world, a more brotherly world. 5. I desire to be forgiven for all my faults, for my lack of love. I desire to be gentle. 678 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 , 6. I desire to w6~k among thepoor campesino~ who labor in th~ fields in the parish of Zampul. I want to help them enter into the New Church. I want to learnfrom them: I want to learn their patience. I want to learn their dependence on God their absolute dependence on him. 7. I. will even share this with you: I want their God to be my God. I want their people to be my people. ! want their land to be my land. I want to be buried in Honduras. 8. At the same time, I want to obey. I want to serve where the Church and the Society call me. I want to be a Jesuit. 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 o 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 The Holiness of Saint Francis: Spiritual Vision and Lived Suffering Matthias Neuman, OS.B. Father Neuman's last article, "The Benedictine Prayer of Beauty," was published in the November/December issue of 1984. He continues to reside and teach at St~ Meinrad Archabbey; St. Meinrad, IN 47577. The twentieth-century Greek novelist Nikos Kazantzakis in his spiritual autobiography, Rdport to Greco, relates an experience in his own life when he visited the village of Assisi. He went there particularly to learn and absorb something of the spirituality of St. Francis. As he was walking through the small streets of the town trying to imbibe the feel of that unusual city, he happened upon another visitor to Assisi, a man from D~nmark. They struck up a conversation, as tourists from various coun-tries often do when they speak a common language. And discovering that they were engaged in the same, process of searching for the spirit of Francis, they spent the rest of the day together. They walked through the town and down into the valley to visit the Portiuncula. They visited the small hermit-ages on the outsirts of Assisi. As they passed these hours they shared their hopes and feelings a.nd understandings of Francis. Kazantzakis says they lost all sense of time as they spoke about the vision and spiritual quest of Francis. Toward evening he returned to the home of the friends with whom he was staying. As he walked through the door, they asked, "Who was that man you were walking and talking with?" He replied, "It was just a tourist from Denmark I met." They continued, "You were talking about Francis, weren't you?" "Yes," he said puzzled, "how did you know?" "Because," they explained, "as the two of you walked and spoke there seemed to be a glow that radiated from both of you~" 679 6110 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 That story illustrates well the mystique and power that the vision of Francis still holds for people hundreds of years later. Most people with a scholarly outlook on the history of Christian spirituality, of the many ways that individuals have sought to relate to the mystery of God in their lives, have been attracted by Francis of Assisi, by his personality, by his actions and vision. Sir Kenneth Clark, in his brilliant portrayal of the high points of Western civilization, calls Francis a religious genius, the "greatest I believe that Europe has ever produced." Francis led a renewal in Christian spiritu-ality that was long desired by many, but which, until Francis, had been accomplished by none. He became the pinnacle of the medieval quest for a total reformation in Christian and ecclesial living. To the popular Christian mind, that multitude who know a few facts about Francis, he remains one of the most attractive and appealing of Christian saints. He was an individual who desired to follow Jesus alone; he wished to strip himself of every other concern, save the total following of Jesus Christ. That was the real goal of his ideal of poverty. The simple and total following of Christ gave him such a joyfulness and a trust that he. could call the sun his brother and the moon his sister. He could feel such a brotherhood with nature and be filled to overflowing with enthusiasm that to preach a sermon to the birds seemed the natural thing to do. This was the religious spirit that exuded from his hear(. This Francis is surely one of the most popular of Christian saints. Both the scholarly and the popular views of Francis are justifiable. They represent two different ways in which he serves as a model of holiness for Christians, In this article we want to look at Francis to see how he provides a guide, a direction, a way into a deeper relationship with God. The popular image of Francis, the Francis of joy, the Francis of communi6n with nature, .the Francis who lived in simplicity, is built upon the ideals that he sought to live out in his relationship with God. That popular image provides us with a learning that we need to reflect on and to pray over. The spirituality of any Christian believer needs a vision, an ideal, to provide a direction just as Francis had in his life. That ideal vision of the man of poverty and joy wh,o loved nature is one aspect of Francis' holiness. But there is another dimension of the holiness of Francis, one which revolves far more around the real facts.of life: the trials, the struggles and the suffering he endured in trying to live out his ideal. For Francis sought to live his religious vision in the midst of a society that did not understand or appreciate what he was trying to accomplish. Even the official leaders of his church struggled to grasp how his vision could possibly be called Christian. They could not understand him; they misunderstood him; they frequently caused him great pain. Francis lived 1he Holiness of Saint Francis / 6111 with pain and suffering all his life, endured it, offered it up, made it a means of his growing identification with the Mystery of Christ. In both his spiritual vision and in the lived suffering of his career Francis is a saint of the Church, a saint and a model for us. In this article I would Jike to reflect on both of these aspects of his life. Let us begin by seeking to grasp more clearly his ideals. Spiritual Vision The best place to begin our sefirch is to examine Francis' own conver- ¯ sion. The historical sources do not provide that much clear informatiofi about his life; many stories and legends grew up and infiltrated themselves early into the histories of his life. It is often difficult to say whether or not an event or episode, even those well-known in popular lore, really depict what actually happened. Still we.can sketch the major events and outlines of his career. He was born around the year llSl or 1182 in the town of Assisi. Assisi lies in the provihce of Umbria in centrhl Italy about a hundred miles northeast ~f the city of Rome. As far as we know, his parents were good people. His father was a successful cloth ~erchant who traveled to foreign countries to sell his wares and make purchases. His mother seemed to have been a pious and quiet individual wholiked to pray and who made pilgrimages to the holy places of that time. Francis himself appears to have grown up as an average young man, even a bit more frivolous than most. He liked fine clothes and parties and enjoyed.showing la bellafigura, as many youngmen did. Francis grew up as a typical young man of medieval Italy in a family of the rising merchant class. He breathed the ',crusading ideal," somewhat romantically, as did many of the. young people of his day. The city-states of the Italian peninsula of that age carried on running feuds with,neighboring cities; Assisi and the principal town of Umbria, Perugia, were no exceptions. Hostilities between the two towns broke out in 1202 and Francis volunteered gallantly, to fight ~for Assisi. His military career was short-lived; he was taken hostage in his first battle. Through some means, perhaps a ransom paid by his father, Francis was released and soon afterwards he was once again in the city of Assisi. Sometime after this military episode, perhaps around 1204-1206, changes begin to occur in Francis' behavior and attitudes. It is the onset of a radical conversion. Historical sources do not clearly explain why this begins, or whether it occurs suddenly or slowly builds over a period of time. (The popular episode of the crucifix speaking to Francis is a later addition, telescoping a lengthy complex period into a single divine act--a frequent practice of traditional hagiography). In this period Francis seems to have lost his sense of direction and what he wanted to accomplish in life. 6~12 ] Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 He began to exhibit strange behavior. Moods of depression overwhelmed him and at times he would take cloth from his father's store and either sell it and give the money to the poor or simply distribute it to the poor living in huts on the outskirts of Assisi. He would disappear.for days at a time, going into the hills to pray. In this conversion period of about five years his ideal of perfection and spiritual vision slowly takes shape. His conversion creates a radical rupture; Francis leaves the world of his familial upbringing and the societal values of his culture. He forges his own unique set of Christian ideals to form a spiritual vision of life. First, Francis came to realize and tograsp deeply in his heart that to have real meaning and true direction in life requires a radical following of Jesus Christ. ~He had surely heard that read often in church, but it seems now for the first time to have really struck home. The realization crept into the depths of his heart and he began to make changes in the way he lived and acted. Francis frequently said we must put on Christ as completely as possible. That meant radically and totally! At the basis of any authentic Christian conversion is this selfless imitation of Jesus. This conversion needs a beginning point and Francis saw the process beginning with the practice of poverty, the ridding oneself of the pressures of all worldly possession s. He heard the Gospel passage one day in church: "If you would be perfect go and sell all that you have, give it to the poor and come follow me" (Mt 19:21). Francis heard those words and he took them sincerely to heart. For him the goods of this world, any possessions that we have, material or mental, create anxiety. They create worry and begin to blur our values. There. is a story told in the Franciscan legends about a young noyice who came and asked Francis for a little book of psalms so he could learn his prayers. He knew. that Francis adamantly insisted that the brothers are to own nothing. Nonetheless the novice made his plea: "Just a little praye~ book." Francis. so the story goes, looked at him and said: "Just a prayer book! And when you have that, then you will want a breviary! And after you have a breviary you'll want one decorated with all manner of jewels. And after you get that, you'll want to sit in a chair and pray your breviary like a bishop does. And after that you'll want a servant to bring you your book while you sit in the chair and pray from your beautifully decorated breviary. Just a psalter? No, no. no." Francis deeply believed that he should own absolutely nothing except the clothes on his back. He wanted no land, no permanent hom~e, no extra clothes: he sought to wander as a beggar, to live in abandoned buildings, and to eat only what he could beg from people. Needless to say, Francis' ideal was extremely controversial even in his own day. Many churchmen insisted it could not be lived by normal people. Francis said it could and he did it. If The Holiness of Saint Francis one is to radically follow Christ, then one must give up the values of the society, the wealth and.theproperty that impose a network of concern on you. While poverty was the linchpin and the controversial topic of Francis' program, in his mind it really prepared the way for the even more important principle of true freedom. Freedom of heart allowed him to really trust in God's providence: Poverty was the means, not the end! The following of Christ meant that you could come to that point in your life when the trust of God was honestly and truly your daily support. Not ' possessions ~or power or status or intelligence, neither insurance policies nor well-placed friends; only ,a simple trust in God. This also touches the meaning of obedience in Francis' mind; we place ourselves in God's hands no matter what happens in this life. Christian obedience is fundamentally our willing-ness to accept this life and be content with it ~in the way that God gives it to us, Francis' socially active life in his family and culture gave him no real peace. His peace and his trust appeared when he put himself completely in God's hands .to accept whatever life gave him. That same trust .in God's providence, which Francis lived better than anyone else, led him to believe, in the goodness of creation and our need for a close association and harmony with all natural things. For Francis one of the ~clearest evidences, of God's' beautiful providence lies in the stunning beauty of the earth. He loved flowers and animals; he loved birds; he loved,the sun, the moon, the stars and the trees. This Franciscan spiri-tual principal found moving expression not only in Francis' own Canticle of the Sun but in the many stories later collected in the Fioretti and other writings. Franco Ziferelli's movie, '.'Brother Sun and Sister Moon," so beautifully portrayed Francis' love of the earth. This wasan earth he could' fall on and feel a oneness with. This enthrallment so seized Francis that he could spontaneously deliver a sermon to some birds--who also needed to be preached to. , His life carried a simplicity and a constant love of nature.~But that love of nature serves not merely to :appreciate beauty, but even more it is a sign. of how much God cares for~us. That loving closeness to creation led Francis to live and practice an attitude .of life that is supremely joyful! Joy is the spiritual .style of Francis' life. This joy .created .love even for the poorest of God's creatures: Novelists have humorously mused that if Francis were the gatekeeper of ,heaven, mice, mosquitoes and even roaches would be welcomed in: He simply loved everything that~existed! That warmth and gentleness will,always remain among the'most appealing aspects of Francis" spiritual vision. He was to all who met him indeed a happy Christian. There is a charming episode [old about him and a few of his comPanions journeying to Rome to get the pope's approval for their new "order." The 61~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 pope at that time was Innocent III, a man who, it was rumored, sucked on lemons, such was his disposition and manner of dealing with everything in life. Francis appears before this dour and powerful pope to get approval for. his order. At this time the pope was close to imposing a moratorium on new religious oi'ders; they were multiplying like mad throughout Europe. Francis entered the presence of Innocent III; he began to vividly explain his vision for the "Poor men of Assisi" and what this life meant for the Church of Christ. And the story goes, as he poured out his spiritual ideal, he became so animated that he began to dance right in front of the pope, all the time telling what it means to be happy and a joyful Christian. Francis was an individual who possessed a love for Christ that simply overflowed in the way he lived his Christianity. Why were so many people drawn to Francis in his day? Probably as much because of his joy, his humor and his enthusiasm as much as any-thing else. If we sum up his spiritual ideals,, the poverty, the trust in God's providence, the closeness with the beauty and goodness of creation, and a joyful, warm loving attitude of life, Francis indeed shows us the true meaning of Jesus Christ and his Gospel. But one final step must be taken. If we really believe this in our hearts, then we have to go out and share it with others. This Gospel must be proclaimed to all. And so Francis set out " to preach this vision of the Christian Gospel, this understanding of what Christian holiness is all about. He heard the Gospel say clearly that all are called to spread the kingdom of God. Francis possessed no special training. He never went to a seminary, 'never took any religion courses, was never ordained a priest. He was an ordinary, average Christian who one day heard in church the word of the Gospel and let it penetrate into his heart. From there he set out to preach this meaning of the faith of Jesus Christ to all he met. ~ That in summary fashion describes the popular image of Francis and his religious vision. It was a vision that in his own time captivated all manner of people, poor and rich, those who simply heard and rejoiced, those who were willing to donate vast sums of land, money, artistic wealth, to the Franciscan movement. His image captivated people ofhis time, as it has ever since. It was indeed a remarkable vision of what Christian holiness is and it remains so for us today. Francis' ideal always returns to that radicalness of searching our lives" and our hearts. It asks us, prods us: are we willing to cast off even our most precious possessions and supports to be able to live a real trust in God's providence? The key remains, poverty. The key is that we are willing to strip ourselves of the human strengths we usually rely on. We must arrive at a trust in God where we can accept what life gives us, and accept it joyfully. To Francis the real signs of the Christian 7he Holiness of Saint Francis who has attained that trust are joy, happiness, warmth and gentleness. Overall there is nothing terribly new in this teaching of Francis. It had all been said before many times. Why was it so popular? Why does it remain so popular? Because in the way that Francis lived he held togeth.er in one personal vision aspects that people deemed incompatible. He was a man who lived poorly, and yet was deeply happy. He was a man who loved Christ, .and yet he'also loved all that was created in this world. He trusted solely in God, and yet he could live freely. He held together each of those different aspects that the common opinion said could not be held together. You can do one or the other, you can either love God or love the things of this creation. You can be poor, but you can't be happy at the same time: You can trust solely in God, but it will constrict you. The marvel of Francis' .life was that he merged all these "contradictions" in one lifestyle. That was his religious vision and incredible contribution to medieval Christian spir-ituality. His was not so much a new teaching as a new practice. His practice proved that we really can live the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Lived Suffering Beyond Francis' ideal view of Christian life lies another, and less well known, dimension of his holiness. This is the St. Francis of lived history, the one fewer people know about. This Francis was completely caught up in the history of his time and was entangled in multiple societal, conflicts and family disputes. This second Francis knew anger, humiliation and failure; he even bordered on despair several times in his life. He failed in many ways to see his spiritual ideals put completely into practice. As with so many religious individuals, he was forced to compromise. In this Francis we view a considerably different image of Christian holiness. It teaches us that holiness cannot always be a crystal clear ideal that one lives out perfectly all the time; rather, true Christian holiness requires an individual to make his or her way as best he or she can in the midst of many contradictory forces. The path of holiness counts halfway successes, some failures, and compromise much of the time. This Francis of lived suffering, just as much as the Francis of the pure ideal of following Christ, has a great deal to teach us about Christian sanctity. He tells us that,true holiness must be won by flesh and blood individuals who live in the Church of their time, a Church that is often confused and unsure, Let us now turn to consider the lived holiness of Francis that emerged through the particular conflicts of his life. An initial and continuing controversy swirled around his religious ideal, especially his conviction of the need for absolute poverty in following Christ. That belief flew in the face of the religious and societal convictions 686/ Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1985 of his time and caused much, family conflict as well as Church dispute~ ,Francis came from a family that was quite successful as. members of the rising merchant class. His father was a member of the upwardly mobile, a forerunner of our modern businessman. Possessions, material and social, meant a great deal to such a family. Pietro Bernadone, Francis' father, worked very hard to give much to his family and to his son. But Francis flatly rejected all that hard,earned wealth. He even gave away ("wasted") his father's money. He gave away his father's merchandise, even to the point that it became necessary to lock him out of t.he store. Many heated argu-ments erupted between Francis and his father. Francis would then leave to go off and pray in a cave. His father became convinced that he had a mentally deficient son. When arguing failed, his father tried locking him in his room, even beating him, but Francis usually wound up going back to the hills and to the caves There can be no doubt that as beautiful as Francis' spiritual ideal became, it caused his family great pain, It is too easy to idealistically side with Francis against his father. There is no evidence that his father was an unjust or cruel man. He lived, supported actively and participated in the life of the Church as he was asked to do by 'church leaders. He would go to the bishop of Assisi personally and ask him to try and persuade Francis to give up this stupidity. What then does Francis do? He strips himself naked right in the middle of the town square and effec-tively disowns his father. He says, "I want absolutely nothing of yours." That scene has often found its illustrators in religious history, the,bishop putting his cloak around Francis to shield his nakedness.Yet think for a moment what Francis' action really said to the family that loved and raised him. Francis shows ,us that the living of a religious ideal can cause great pain among family members. It did in his time and still does in our own day. Francis' ideal ctiallenged more than his family; it. flew in the face of Church law at that time. The total renunciation of possessi0ns,~both indi-vidual and communal, was commonly thought to be "unnatural." Religious orders needed to own communal property, even while the individual members renounced any private possessions. It was natural for religious men and women to possess a basic standard of living and also to be able to do the works of the Church like teaching, helping the poor or missionary endeavors. Francis said "no" to this common assumption. The Gospel of Jesus Christ says, "if you will be perfect, sell all you have, give it to the poor and come follow me." This religious context involved the important fact that in the hundred years before Francis many other movements in the Church had sought to live a type of radical poverty! The Humiliati in Milan, the Albigensians in southern France, The Waldensians in France and Switzerland were just some of the religious groups who aspired to own The Holiness of Saint Francis / 6117 absolutely nothing. ~Practically every one of these movements eventually found themselves opposed to the Church, critical of Church wealth and power, and finally excluded from the body of Christianity. To even breathe the thought of radical poverty in Francis' day raised instant alarm in the leaders of Church and society. Indeed more than a few popes, bishops and cardinals looked suspiciously at this strange individual from Assisi who was beginning to gather some followers. Every.time such an ideal had been started before, it ended up to no good, Francis trod a dangerous and hostile path. To follow his Christian ideal h6 opposed tradition and the common opinion of Church leaders, Several times he came close to having his movement outlawed by Church authorities: In this conflict and suffering Francis exposes another aspect of Christianity sanctity: to pursue the holi-ness of the Gospel is not always a free and easy path even within the Church. Other equally sincere Christians will say this is a bad route to follow. The lived suffering of holiness requires an 'inner courage

Issue 61.3 of the Review for Religious, 2002. ; Review for Religious helps people respond and be fait~hful to God?s universal call to holiness by making available tO them the spiritual legacies~ that flow from the charisms of Catholic consecrated life, Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. 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Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. vie w for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla sJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ MAY JUNE 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 3 contents 23O spiritual growth Transformative Aspects of Spirituality George A. Maloney SJ emphasizes the need for us to rediscover the personal, interrelational, triune creator God and thereby find a spiritual renewal in our Christian practices of prayer and asceticism. 242 St. Alphonsus and Today's Spiritual Direction Dennis J. Billy CSSR examines St. Alphonsus's relevance as a "spiritual master" and identifies elements that people can use in their own practice of spiritual direction. 252 265 dialogue Louise de Marillac and Elizabeth Seton: Women of Spirit Anne Higgins DC and Betty Ann McNeil DC allow Louise de Marillac and Elizabeth Seton to speak out how their lives as wives, mothers, widows, and spiritual leaders model the life of the Spirit for contemporary women in ministry. From Paschal Mystery to Reconciliation, from ASCs tO Adorers Regina Siegfried ASC traces the expansion and maturing of her own religious congregation's foundational charism, modeling for other congregations how to discover their still relevant and appropriate gift in contemporary society. Review for Religious 272 religious life culture Distinctiveness, Diversity, and Commoness in Consecrated Life Deborah M. Cerullo SSND proposes ways of dealing with diversity and externalizing our new reality so that we sustain the distinctiveness that is religious life. 281 The Culture of Religious Life within Asian Culture Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR outlines some considerations that Asian religious need to observe when adapting to Asian culture, not merely fitting in but challenging the culture to conversion. 299 reflections Why Only Three Evangelical Counsels? Brendan Kneale FSC offers some new reasons to the traditional ones for our having three defining vows for consecrated life. He echoes Pope John Paul's challenge to clarify the anthropological significance of the counsels. 3O8 Religious Life Revisited Lucy Fuchs reflects on some aspects of religious life, with her reflections occasioned .by a fifty-year reunion of those wh.o stayed as religious and those who left. departments 228 Prisms 313 Canonical Counsel: Voluntary Departure 320 Book Reviews May-June 2002 prisms In several ways, known to us all, Christianity is a scandalous religion. The GreeE word skandalon means a small stone that causes one to trip or fall. "To scandalize," then, is to be a stone that, deliberately or not, causes another to fall. In the Old Testament, God is sometimes a scandal. By his manner of acting or not acting, especially in their times of exile, the Israelites see God as a scandal. The prophet Isaiah identifies God as the stone of scan-dal and the rock that causes the two houses of Israel to fall (Is 8:14). In the New Testament, we find this text of Isaiah applied to Christ in the first letter of Peter (1 P 2:8). Jesus is a scandal, a sign of contradiction against which people's hearts become hardened. Paul bluntly proclaimed that our preaching Christ crucified is "a scandal for the Jews and folly for the gentiles" (1 Co 1:23). If we place ourselves within a Buddhist or Muslim culture, we begin to realize how much a scan-dal the mysteries of the incarnation, the crucifixion, and the resurrection remain for people. God becom-ing man?--why would God ever want to do that? God dying shamefully as a criminal?--that is no reason-able or respectable idea of God. God being raised from the dead and. keeping a human body for eternity?-- that is too much even for those who like science fic-tion. Jesus Christ truly is a scandal. Just like the ubiquitous stones that cause us to trip .and fall, so Jesus knows that scandals in human life Review for Religious are inevitable. When at our best, we Christians in our good-ness will sometimes appear and even be scandalous to others. Our belief in Christ can scandalize. Perhaps our sacramental worship--eating and drinking the Body and Blood of Christ-- gives scandal. Franciscan poverty was a scandal to burghers of the 13th century. To some in the 16th century, there was scan-dal in Jesuits claiming to be religious but not singing the Divine Office and not having distinctive religious garb. Maybe 2 lst-century religious women serving the poor and needy on all sides of a civil conflict are a scandal. Just as Jesus himself is a scandal to certain people of his time, so "goodness" can be a scandal even within Christ's church. Like Jesus, we do not want our goodness to be a scandal to others so that their faith in God is shaken or their charity is lessened. While trying to avoid scan-dal in our doing good, we know ourselves to be part of a scan-dalous Christianity. But there is the dark side of scandal in Christianity. Jesus speaks harshly about those who deliberately cause another to fall into sin and to lose faith in God. "It would be better for him to be thrown into the sea., than that he should trip up a single one of these little ones" (Lk 17:2). Jesus had a sharp word for Peter, accusing Peter of trying "to trip him up" by saying the crucifixion should never have to happen (see Mt 16:23). The church in the United States is being buffeted by scan-dals centering on priests sexually abusing young people and on bishops for their lack of oversight. The stumbling blocks have been experienced not only by the victims, but also by many parishioners whose trust of the church and faith in God are undermined. Our human scandal, causing others to fall into evil or distance themselves from God, is a sin. Sin demands repen-tance, seeks God's forgiveness and, if possible, our wronged neighbors' forgiveness too. The darkness of human scandal in all too many places is lightened only by the scandal of a God we call Savior and Redeemer, a God who is just, but also patient and merciful. Thank God we belong to a scandalous Christianity. David L. Fleming SJ May-3~une 2002 spiritua growth GEORGE A. MALONEY Transformative Aspects of Spirituality The human race has entered a new age. We are too close to the launching of it to know what is really happening or to see where it will lead us. We are like adolescents seeking meaningfulness in newfound powers emerging inside them and exploding confusedly around them. We feel a tension between pessimism, even fear, and optimistic dreams of a world of increasing richness. Through satellites we are in immediate contact not only with people and events all around planet Earth, but also with other planets as well. In a way our universe is shrinking, for distant parts of it are becoming more and more present to us. But we also stand in frightened isolation against the reality exploding before us into mysteries that we cannot handle with our limited human knowledge. One way to cope with such richness and apparent meaninglessness is to retreat into ourselves. We can build physical and psychological walls around us; George A. Maloney sJ has taught theology, edited the jour-nal Diakonia, conducted and directed many retreats, written articles (including four in this journal, 1965 to 1995), and published sixty-three books. His address is Contemplative Ministries; 13338 Del Monte Drive, #3-K; Seal Beach, California 90740. Review for Religious within the narrow confines of ~elf-centered consumerism, sports, cults, and new and old religious ideas that favor ghetto living, we can live in "splendid isolation" from the rest of the world. Traditional Western Christian views, based largely on Scholastic philosophy and theology and Newtonian physics, no longer seem adequate. An overemphasis on impersonal dogmas and structures and rituals is yielding to a search for revitalization. People seek transcendence and personal experience of God in their lives. Carl Jung has shown how some people use the institutional, dogmatic, and ritual aspects of their religion as a defense against subjective, inner religious experience. His writings strongly advocate that the quest for religious experience is an integral and necessary part of the search for our true self) The rationalistic framework that has been used to present Christianity to the West is in need of a complementary vision. Such a vision would not really be new. It is found in the Old and New Testaments. It is an openness to God as mystery, meeting the transcendent God in reverential awe and wonderment. It takes our eyes away from ourselves as the exploiting center of the universe and focuses on a humbly adoring response to God's invitation to share his divine life. Abraham J. Heschel, the great Jewish mystic and theologian, captures this contrast between a heavily accentuated, rational approach and one of perceptual intuition: "Most of our attention is given to the expedient, to that which is conducive to our advantage and which would enable us to exploit the resources of our planet . But there is more than one aspect of nature that commands our attention. We go out to meet the world, not only by way of expediency, ~ but also by way of wonder. In the first we accumulate information in order to dominate; in the second we deepen our appreciation in order to respond.''2 A Transcendent but Als0 Immanent God Most of us grew up with a Newtonian understanding of the universe, of God, and .of ourselves. In this paradigm God is "up there," a static observer of a .mechanical world. He directs the world through the laws of mechanics which are built into the cosmos. What moves through abs'olute space and time are May-June 2002 Maloney ¯ Tran~formative Aspects of Spirituality God is seen as energizing Love, acting on all of his creation from inside as well as outside. material particles called ,atoms: small, solid, indestructible things, the basic building blocks for all material creatures. In 1905 Albert Einstein published his special theory of relativity and "slew a beautiful theory with an ugly fact," in the words of T.H. Huxley. He proved that space and time form a four-dimensional continuum (space-time) and showed that all reality is relational. Norman Pittenger, a process theologian, describes this dynamic universe well: "We live in and we are confronted by a richly interconnected, interrelated, interpenetrative series of events, just as we ourselves are such a series of events."3 In such a view, all of us being part of God's creation, God is seen as energizing Love, acting on all of his creation from inside as well as outside. He is seen, not as a God up there or over there--as an object--but as a triune community of personal love, interacting with all his creatures, ordering all seeming chaos into loving unity. He leads all things in a dance of harmonious motion, stretching toward greater complexity hnd yet greater union. This God is truly, as St. Paul told the Athenians, not far from us, "for in him we live and move and have our being" (Ac 17:28). ~ Einstein describes how science and religion are in intimate relationships with each other~through the gift of mystical wonderment: "The most beautiful and most profound emotion we can experience is the sensation of the mystical. It is the sower of all true science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead. To know that what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitive forms--this knowledge, this feeling, is at the center of true religiousness.4 Such wisdom and beauty can come .only in the religious insight that all human beings and all of our material cosmos are interrelated and interdependent, through a sense of community, of belonging together and sharing the riches that God has given. It is through interior prayer, through humble and loving Review for Religious adoration, that we can encounter God as a personal, loving, infinite sphere whose center is everywhere and circumference nowhere, and who embraces each of his creatures in the unity of his dynamic, loving creativity. Only in such intimate oneness with God can we receive living knowledge that is also transforming love. Only such experienced love will allow us to see our unique place in the whole of creation. Transformed by such oneness with God, we can stretch out creatively to bring about a more loving universe. Before we can rediscover some Christian practices to help in our renewal in this young millennium, we need to rediscover the personal, interrelational, triune creator God. This brings up the perennial question asked by Eastern and Western Christianity: How does God, who in his true essence is unreachable and unknowable, come to us? If he is perfect and unchangeable, how can he relate to us? "No one has ever seen God" (1 Jn 4:12, Jn 1:18). We would have to be God in order to know him fully. Yet the good news Jesus brings us is that God so loves this world as to give us his Son so that we may share in God's own nature, even in this life and more fully in the life to come (2 P 1:4). This is why the early Eastern Fathers always insisted on the distinction between God's essence and his uncreated energies. It preserves the awesome transcendence of God that can never be totally possessed by finite creatures. God Is Primal Grace Of all God's material creatures, only we human beings are an unfinished nature that has been gifted by God with spiritual faculties to communicate with his knowledge and love. We are capable of freely receiving God's communications and responding to his call to become divinized children of so loving a Father (1 Jn 3:1). The redemptive work of the crucified and risen Jesus consists in giving us his Spirit of love, through whom we may know the Father and the fullness of the Son On 17:3). Thus we can become true children of God On 1:12, Rrn 8:15, Ga 4:6). This "going forth" of God, to use Pseudo-Dionysius's term, is simply grace in its primal sense. It is God in 'his hesed, covenantal love, pursuing his people by stretching out his "two hands-- Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit," in the words'of St. Irenaeus. May-~une 2002 Maloney * Transformative AspectsofSpirituality God is, therefore, grace as he goes out of himself in his uncreated energies to share with us his very own life. We can truly know God and experience him intimately. Mthough in his Godhead or essence he is totally incomprehensible, yet in his energies he can be experienced as perfect love giving itself to us. In this experience of God as free gift of love, we can know him in his personal love toward us and can cooperate with his loving energies toward others. God's energies are the loving relationships of the Persons of the Trinity with regard to ourselves. God's activities are not divided.into sacred and secular, the supernatural and the natural. These energies are not "created things." They are God himself in self-giving to us in one essence of love, yet in three distinct Persons. The energies are personal. They are the whole Trinity acting in loving self-giving to all creatures. In such a view, God is never inactive.regarding us and his created worlds~ Grace, then, is not a created "thing" that God heaps upon us when we pray ardently. God permeates all persons, all things, all events by his personal, loving, uncreated energies. Every thing, every event, in the universe is "graced" and penetrated by God at each moment. It is for us to find new eyes to see this presence. This is possible through Jesus' resurrection. He brings us this "new life" as a Person, fully God and fully human. We are branches of his life-giving vine; he is our bridge to the Father. Body-Soul Relationships The way we perceive ourselves as human beings is the way we relate to other human beings and to God. For centuries we have viewed human beings as entities existing all by themselves. We have failed to see ourselves as persons oriented toward others in body-soul-spirit relationships. Instead, through Platonism's way of expressing Western Christianity, the human being was seen as a cgmbination of a body and a separable rational soul. The body was seen as material and perishable, the soul as immortal by its nature: it could live forever after being separated from the body in death. In the 17th century, Descagtes did more than any other thinker to create the impression of the body and soul being two Review for Religious distinct, objective entities. Such an objectivization of the body and the soul left its heavy mark upon our Western Christian idea of how we relate to God, ourselves, others, and the world around us. Such a view of the human person does not fit well with the biblical vision of human beings' relationships with God, others, and the entire created world. St. Paul describes a human person as being in the process of becoming holy and blameless, "spirit, soul, and body, for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Th 5:23). The Bible does not present a human being as one who "possesses" a living soul, but rather as a living "ensouled" body-person. A human person does not have a body as a possession; the ensouled body is the whole person. This human person, accordingly, in his or her totality, exists in relationship with all of matter and with the trinitarian God, whose being pure spirit does not prevent the Son from being incarnate among us. God (as ruah) breathes into human beings and restores them to a new love relationship with God. If God, then, is so dynamically present to us, why do we not "see" him everywhere? Because, as we have said, our concept of ourselves as "possessing" several objects, a body and a soul, has led us to think of God as an object outside of ourselves, usually in a lofty region called heaven. We :have forgotten the immanence of the passionately loving Trinity, God dwelling within us. In our prayer we approach God "rationally,".as persons who see ourselves as the center of our own activity and who see God as the "object" out there to whom we pray. The philosopher Martin Heidegger can furnish us with insights for a new vision of God and ourselves. For him God is a dynamic, energetic force, never static, but always revealing himself to us in the events of each day. Truth is an event, not an abstract concept. It is an event of "nonconcealment," a "revelation," a stripping away of the veil so that the fullness of Being may shine forth,s The infinite God, of course, never becomes fully revealed to human beings. ~ The fullness of God's infinite Being, his Godhead, remains hidden, but is glimpsed as We have forgotten the immanence of the passionately loving Trinity, God dwelling within us. May-3~une 2002 Maloney ¯ Transformative Aspects of Spirituality the Ground of all created beings. To see God in his revelation is to love ourselves and all other creatures by a created participation in the uncreated and all-powerful love of God. Diaphanous Matter God is present in all things with his loving activity. In our contemplation, then, we should see God existing in all of his material creation and working in our very own bodies to bring them into the harmony of "spirit, soul, and body" that Paul speaks of'(1 Th 5:23). Jesus used his human body in communicating with his heavenly Father, finding his Father working in and through his human body. Jesus could enjoy the Father's love in being there, in his body. His body was also the place where the Father's energies were at work. If Paul could write, "Your body, you know, is the temple of the Holy Spirit" (1 Co 6:19), how much more must Jesus have known the sacredness of his body? He used his body as a gift to communicate God's Spirit in love to all whom he met. We too are to use our bodies integrally as part of ourselves: who we are as whole persons living lives as receivers and givers, as persons who are loved and love in return, growing into greater likenesses of Christ by God's presence within us. If God's energies touch us in our bodily relationships, then our bodies can experience the effects of God's loving activity. The idea that our bodies are basically evil, or at least not very sacred, must change to a more incarnational view. We should find God's goodness in the feeding and clothing of our bodies, in our sexuality, even in various postures of our body as We pray. Praying with Our Whole Being We find in the Old and New Testaments the command "You shall love Yahweh your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength" (Dr 6:5). In prayer we should use not only our mind and memory, but our whole being, body, soul, hnd spirit. We need in the West to learn how to use our body in praying before God. All mystical traditions of East and West agree that a certain amount of exterior silence, a certain amount of aloneness, is necessary for interior concentration. True silence Review for Religious is an integration of all the powers of body, psyche, and spirit for the hearing of God's word. We Westerners need inner silence in order to reach the still-pointedness that the mystics speak of. A way of becoming "one-pointed," suggested by the disciplines of yoga, is to look intently upon a flower, a painting, or some other beautiful object. In Eastern Orthodoxy worshipers focus or center on the Trinity, Christ, Mary the mother of God, or a saint by using icons to lift them into the presence of the one represented in the icon. Through such focused consciousness, they begin to lose their focus on themselves and become immersed in the presence of God, the Giver of all beauty. They find themselves transcending the limitations of place and time and the tyranny of their "conditioned" self, with its unruly desires. Through such concentration they not only begin to perceive a oneness with the world around them, but also a slowing down of their mental activities, with a feeling of peace and quiet as they enter the numinous presence of the Divine. Breathing properly is the first step toward finding ourselves as integrated persons. Rhythmic breathing tends to make us detached, relaxed, and hence more free to focus and reflect steadily, calmly, and effordessly upon the indwelling Trinity. A form of body-prayer almost lost to Westerners is prostration. Lying on the floor, face down, fosters a great awareness of our creaturehood before the awesome Allness of God. Our body is exposed and defenseless; we feel truth .and simplicity tangibly. The empirical ego disappears, and only the true self remains. Throughout the history of Christianity, many reform movements have sought to recall Christians to a simpler, more pristine vision of Christianity and away from an exaggerated attachment to religion's externals. !n the 16th and 17th centuries there rose up in Europe a puritan protest against Roman Catholicism. Material techniques that had been in use from Apostolic times--such as sacraments and sacramentals, pictures, statues, icons, incense, candles, water, oil--were removed from many Christian churches during and after the Reformation period. As we are "whole" persons whet/we enter into prayer, it is only natural that material aids can help us to move from one level to another in a fuller integration of our total human nature May-~une 2002 in our prayer. We can be helped by memories of specific human experiences and by symbols and pictures; they are likely to be filled with spiritual meaning, elevating our consciousness to greater awareness of God. We should not be afraid of such things if they truly do help us to pray better. In our relationships with God and neighbor in this world of ours, perhaps our greatest need is external and internal discipline, that is, asceticism. Important Principles We need to keep clearly in mind the distinction between God's freely bestowed grace and our free cooperation in using various techniques to dispose ourselves to receive God in his grace. First, we must remember that God wishes to give himself to us directly through an immediate experience. This communication is made to a human person, a whole being, not to a separated soul or a detached intellect. It is important, therefore, to prepare ourselves for prayer and worship through asceticism and. psychosomatic techniques to bring our whole being to a point of receptivity or single-mindedness to receive God's communication on the highest level we can attain. Second, we must recognize that all such preparatory acts are only conditions for prayerful union with God through grace. Our own best efforts, by themselves, leave us absolutely impotent to attain such union. Union with God is a free and gratuitous gift whose bestowal cannot be dictated by our human wills nor be assumed after long and careful preparation. Most importantly, if our uses of psychosomatic techniques are truly to help us receive God's life-giving grace, they must conform to the whole plan of salvation as revealed by Holy Scripture and church teaching and illustrated in the lives and writings of the saints. In our relationships with God and neighbor in this world of ours, perhaps our greatest need is external and internal Review for Religious discipline, that is, asceticism. The more exclusively rational our religion is, the less discipline of body, soul, and spirit do we find. In our lives, is there an habitual attitude of self-control and inner discipline? In all of our body, soul, and spirit relationships, do we exercise an alertness and a turning to God whereby we keep things in balance? St. Paul exhorted the new Christians of Corinth to bring every thought and flight of fancy of theirs into captivity and into obedience to Jesus Christ (2 Co 10:5). Jesus insisted that we first clean the inside of the vessel (our heart) and then the outside (Mr 23:26). A Means to Love God and Neighbor The end of our Christian life is to love God with our whole heart and to love our neighbors as ourselves (Mt 22:37-40). But there can be no new level of awareness in prayer that God is our all unless we courageously strive to put to death all affections and attachments to lesser loves that are obstacles to our full love of God and neighbor. Many Christians have heard distorted teachings on asceticism. The "worldliness" within human hearts has all too often been equated with the material world which God created and saw as "very good" (Gn 1:31). Is it any wonder that with a more holistic, biblical approach to theology and anthropology, informed by the behavioral sciences of psychology and sociology, we have turned from an old "traditional" view of asceticism? But have we replaced it with something better? Today, in our pleasure-oriented culture, our bodily appetites are more in need of discipline than ever. The way we approach this must be determined by the goal, namely, to love God and neighbor as perfectly as possible. Jesus had to go against his own desires in order to do at all times whatever most pleased his heavenly Father. His ascetical practice was always subordinated to the Father and had its full meaning insofar as it brought him into more intimate union with his Father (Lk 22:42). Ascetical principles include the following: (1) Any and all ascetical practices are means to attain the end of the spiritual life. (2) The whole person needs continual discipline of body, soul, and spirit in relationships with things, other people, and God. (3) Certain areas of our being are more important in determining ll/lay-~une 2002 Maloney ¯ Transformative Aspects of Spirituality our choices than others. Without neglecting any area of our being, we especially need control of our interior faculties of memory, understanding, and will, for it is through these faculties that our moral decisions to commit sin or practice virtue are made. (4) The areas needing discipline, then, include the body with its five exterior senses, the interior senses (the emotions, imagination, memories), the intellect, and the will. Exaggerated selfqove in the will is the root of all movement away from God. The great ascetics of the desert advise us to be guided in the spiritual life by a "soul-mate" or spiritual director, someone who is learned in the science of the spiritual life and is also holy. They advise us to reflect often, in the presence of the Trinity, and especially at the end of each day, on what we have done moment by moment in thought, word, and deed and so to discover the roots that prevent our cooperating with the Holy Spirit's gentle inspirations. The athletes of the desert, men and women "intoxicated with love of God," can also tei~ch us, in our world of sense pleasures and comforts, the value of fasting. Jesus in the Gospels teaches the necessity of fasting, almsgiving, and prayer and shows that they are intimately related. These things can be done quietly and humbly. "Your Father, who sees what is hidden, will repay you" (Mt 6:16-18). Fasting, to be truly Christian, must include turning to God ~metanoia) with a corresponding openness, to love and serve our neighbor. We experience a oneness with every human being, especially the poor and the hungry. Fasting perhaps once a week from our habitual eating habits can help us be inwardly attentive to God's loving presence in our daily life. ---24o Living the Transfiguration Feast We have presented some of the transformative elements of Christian spirituality that may help our daily living-out of the Feast of Transfiguration. This feast, celebrated on August 6, is a major feast among Eastern Christians. They bring to the church the first fruits of their harvest to be blessed and offered to God, but a deeper faith-vision penetrates this simple ritual, the mystery of the seed falling into the e~rth to bring forth fruit a hundredfold. We Christians in baptism each become a seed Review for Religious planted in the church. We are to grow to full maturity in Christ Jesus. A transfiguring process takes place over the spring, summer, and autumn years of our Christian lives. The seed grows from within, but also in the outer world. God's transfiguring power, his divinizing energies of love, work in us and in the world around us. The same loving God is the source both of our being and of all the beings around us. With this thought, this vision, we realize that the world has not changed, but we have changed. God's presence was always there as active love, but we took little notice of it. What we felt as darkness is now suffused with light. Seeing our uniqueness in God's love for us, we now see the uniqueness of all other beings in God's love for each of them. The true test of how Christian we are and to what degree we have been baptized in the Holy.Spirit is the degree of our involvement in bringing mercy and love to those suffering. "I was hungry and you gave me food . . ." (Mr 25:35-40). The presence of God within us becomes a swelling ocean wave that flows out to inundate the entire world with God's love. What was hidden now becomes revealed. Through our loving cooperation, what seemed absent now becomes present and transfiguring. As the Holy Spirit broods over us, baptizing us with his love and fire, we become a transfigured microcosmos in the incarnate Christ. We image the macrocosmos of the heavenly Jerusalem. Notes ~ See Carl Jung, Psychology and Religion (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1972). 2 Abraham J. Heschel, Man Is Not Alone (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Young, 1951), p. 36. 3 Norman Pittenger, Process Thought and Christian Faith (New York: Macmillan, 1968), p. 13. 4 Quoted by Lincoln Barnett, The Universe and Dr. Einstein (New York: New American Library, 1962), p. 108. s See Martin Heidegger, "Plato's Doctrine of Truth," trans. John Barlow, in Philosophy in the Twentieth Century, ed. William Barrett and Henry D. Aiken (New York: Random House, 1962). May-yune 2002 DENNIS J. BILLY St. Alphonsus and Today's Spiritual Direction ~Lhigeuno drei a(l1i6n9g6 w-1it7h8 t7h)e, tlhifee daoncdt owr oorfk ps roafy eSrt .a Andlp thhoen psautsr odne saint of confessors and moral theologians, we cannot expect to find precise, ready-made advice about spiritual direction for today. But this is not to say he has nothing to offer our current understanding of this ministry. Although Alphonsus was lim-ited by the general spiritual outlook of his day, he also had a way of surpassing it, and he brought great benefit to the people he served. In understanding Alphonsus's relevance for spiritual direction today, much will depend on how we approach his thought and which aspect of it we emphasize. In this essay we will examine the basis of his reputation as a "spiritual master" and identify the elements that people can use in their own practice of spiritual direction. A Gospel Spirituality At the outset it is important to recognize Alphonsus's missionary fervor. The major projects of his life--his mission preaching, his writing, his founding the Redemptorist Congre- Dennis J. Billy CSSR, a frequent contributor to our pages, writes from Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma, Italy. Review for Religious gation, his prayer--were all motivated by his desire to bring the Good News of plentiful redemption to others, especially the poor and most abandoned. Alphonsian spirituality is first and foremost a gospel spirituality, one which takes seriously the person of Jesus and his injunction "to make disciples of all nations" (Mr 28:19). In 18th-century Naples, Alphonsus inter-preted this calling in a very personalized way. Rather than going to faraway lands, he looked to his own "backyard," where peo-ple did not have easy access to the church's ordinary means for spiritual growth. This option for the poor, this willingness to go where others were not interested in going, led Alphonsus and his small band of followers to small moun-tain villages on the back roads of the king-dom of Naples. Their evangelizing efforts for the poor, illiterate peasants they found in the forgotten hamlets of Campania, Puglia, Basilicata, and Calabria helped change the spiritual landscape of south-ern Italy. These early Redemptorist missioners reminded peo-ple that God had not forgotten them, but was very much with them in their desire and thirst for spiritual growth. To ensure that such growth would continue, Alphonsus and his followers set up various devotional structures (confraternities, Eucharistic devotions, evening chapels) that would foster prayer and devo-tion in these fledgling faith communities after they left. Alphonsus's gospel spirituality helps us appreciate the var-ious nuances in the old debate whether there is a single Christian spirituality or many2 Inasmuch as every expression, of it must be rooted in the person of Christ, Christian spirituality is one. At times, however, individuals and groups have followed Christ in various particular works, spiritual practices, or styles of living. The great number of religious congregations, secular institutes, and lay movements that have appeared in the church's history suggest the almost infinite number of ways of following Christ. In this sense there are many Christian spiritualities, and many still to come. For our present purposes, Alphonsus's own prac-tice of the love of Jesus Christ can be seen as both different from and united to all other authentic Christian spiritualities. Throughout his life Alphonsus's overriding purpose was to draw others closer to Christ. May-June 2002 Billy ¯ St. Alphonsus and Today's Spiritual Direction Because of its flexibility and popular diffusion, moreover, his particular brand of gospel spirituality reminds us thatlthe term spirituality itself allows for various nuances and can be treated on a number of levels.2 A Man of Prayer Throughout his life Alphonsus's overriding purpose was to draw others closer to Christ. He believed that everyone could share an intimate relationship with Jesus and that the key to such a relationship was to be dedicated and persistent in prayer: "He who prays is certainly saved. He who prays not is certainly damned.''3 These strong words show Mphonsus's emphasis on prayer in fostering a mature relationship with God. Prayer, for him, was "the great means of salvation.''4 Everyone, he believed, receives sufficient grace to pray. Meditatio or mental prayer is particularly important for turning one's whole heart and mind to the Lord.s Alphonsus developed a simple formula for mental prayer that could be easily taught to the rustics of the Italian hill country, thus introducing them to one of the great riches of the church's tradition. In doing so he was criticized by a number of "enlightened" Neapolitan clerics for "casting pearls to swine" and thereby desecrating the church's treasures by sharing them with people who could not appreciate them, let alone put them into practice. Alphonsus, however, had little time for such judgmental remarks or for those who made them. Throughout 'his life he popularized the church's teaching on prayer. He met people where they were and helped them little by little to pray to God as inti-mate friends .speak with one another. "Paradise for God . . . is the human heart," he liked to say.6 Prayer was for him the means par excellence for enabling this divine indwelling to occur. He never tired of emphasizing the centrality of prayer for the spir-itual life: "There may be some who, after the perusal of my spiritual works, will accuse me of tediousness in so often rec-ommending the importance and necessity of having, continual recourse to God in prayer. But I seem to myself to have said not too much, but far too little.''7 Not only did he emphasize prayer in his own writings, but he also encouraged others to do the same: "I say, and repeat, and will keep on repeating as long Review for Religious as I live, that our whole salvation depends on prayer; and, there-fore, that all writers in their books, all preachers in their sermons, all confessors in their instructions to their penitents, should not inculcate anything more strongly than continual prayer.''s It is no small coincidence that Alphonsus is often referred to as the "doctor of prayer.''9 For him, we can get nowhere in the spiritual life without it. With it we have access to the copious redemption made possible by Jesus' passion, death, and resurrection. Leading Others to God Leading others to Christ was what Alphonsus's missionary vocation was all about. This conviction helps explain his Marian piety. Mary's life and her role in the church center on this same calling. By staying close .to Mary, Alphonsus felt assured that his own life of leading others to her Son would intensify and bear much fruit. This explains why his writings are full of the-ological references, edifying stories, and heartfelt prayers to the Madonna. Mary, who pondered in her heart all that happened to her son, is the Christian disciple par excellence. In his own efforts to follow Christ and to contemplate the great events of the paschal mystery, Alphonsus relied on Mary's generous help and protection?° When taken under the heading of the "care and cure of souls," spiritual direction encompasses virtually every aspect of the church's pastoral ministry. Such an assessment would be dou-bly true for Alphonsus, who through his preaching, writing, direction of souls, and general pastoral care did all he could to lead people to a more intimate relationship with God. Everything that Alphonsus did can be considered a kind of spiritual direction. Even activities that did not directly touch the lives of others (his prayer, his spiritual reading, his own private devotions) had a missionary dimension. These activities had a Marian dimension as well. What is more, the subtle balance between contemplation and action that appears in Mary's joyfulfiat is characteristic of Alphonsus's missionary activity. For him, prayer and action are two sides of the same apostolic coin. To separate them or to give undue emphasis to one or the other could do grave damage to missionaries and the people they serve. May-~une 2002 Billy ¯ St. Alphonsus and Today's Spiritual Direction When taken as "a helping relationship focusing on a person's spiritual growth," Alphonsus's spiritual direction is "directive" in nature and closely tied to his confessional practice.~ This is not to say that he did not sometimes give spiritual direction through correspondence or in conversation outside the confes-sional.~ 2 In fact, his practical temperament and his eclectic use of the church's spiritual tradition led him to take circumstances into account in his pastoral praxis with individuals. In general, however, Alphonsus saw a close connection between spiritual direction and sacramental confession. While he was aware of the distinction between the two, he was firm in his insistence that the confessor be someone who not only forgives sins, but also leads penitents further along the path of sanctity.~3 Alphonsus's strong penchant for uniting the two appears most clearly in his Praxis confessarii, where he delineates in descending order the four offices of the confessor: father, doc-tor, teacher, and judge.'4 For Alphonsus, every confessor has the responsibility of guiding souls to sanctity. This is so because all the faithful (not just a select few) are called to the perfection of Christian living. The term "spiritual director," in other words, is not simply for those who guide people through the rarified states of mystical experience, but for all confessors helping peo-ple in all states of life to walk the path of holiness. Alphonsus thus went a long way in demystifying the role of spiritual director in the Christian tradition. His efforts brought nourishing spiritual sustenance to ordinary people. This "meat and potatoes" approach was a benchmark of Redemptorist practice and char-acterized the Alphonsian approach to direction for years to come. More specifically, the principal characteristics of the Alphonsian confessor-director are: (1) an attitude of being more of a father and doctor than a judge, an attitude of charity, good-ness, and mildness in welcoming and treating penitents and in disposing them to penitence (so that their absolution need not be deferred or denied); (2) an attitude of kindness in giving penance, seeking rather to heal the soul than exact punishment for faults; (3) a marked preference for the poorest and most ignorant of the social classes; (4) a concern for giving the pen-itent the means not only to avoid a relapse into sin, but also to advance along the way of holiness; (5) recognizing the rela-tionship between preaching and confession, with preaching Review for Relig4ous preparing the way for confession and continuing its work.15 These characteristics of the Alphonsian confessor-director demonstrate the practical orientation of Alphonsus's mission. He sought to preach the good news of plentiful redemption to as many people as possible. He saw the wisdom of treating the confessional not as a tribunal, but as a means for educating the faithful in the ways of holiness. The connection he saw between preaching and confession reveals that he understood spiritual direction as something that extends to the ordinary care of souls. Ecumenical and inter-religious dialogue was not a viable option in his day. There was still too much polemic and mutual antag-onism among the various Christian denominations for constructive dialogue to take place, and the church's stance toward non-Christian religions was characterized by out-right condemnation of their tenets and a call to conversion. In Western Christianity, moreover, the church had to struggle not only against proselytizing by Protestant reformers, but also against the secularization stem-ming from the Enlightenment. In dealing with these threats, the church adopted a "fortress mentality"; it tried to shelter the faithful from as many harmful influences as possible~ It should not be surprising that Alphonsus, a foyal son of the church, espoused similar views. He sought, on the other hand, to preserve a certain "com-munion" of the various spiritual traditions within the church. He displayed a remarkable openness to the various approaches he encountered. If they passed the critical test of orthodoxy, he felt free to borrow whatever might be useful in his mission to bring about a fundamental conversion in the hearts and lives of people, especially the poor and most abandoned. This prag- When taken as "a helping relationship focusing on a person's spiritual growth," Alphonsus's spiritual direction is "directive" in nature and closely tied to his confessional practice. May-June 2002 Billy ¯ St. Alpbonsus and Today's Spiritual Direction matic openness to other spiritual traditions stood in contrast to quarrelsome petty arguments among some religious orders of his day. Such unhealthy competitiveness focused on small points that separated their approaches to the spiritual life, rather than on what united them. Alphonsus much preferred to emphasize what bound them together. His rule of thumb was whether a particular spiritual practice draws people closer to Christ. A corollary was that it be beneficial to as many people as possible~. This practical eclecticism led him to a synthetic approach to direction that was peculiarly his own. To cite just one example, he valued highly the spiritual doctrine of Teresa of Avila on the interior mansions of infused contemplation and encouraged directors to follow it whenever they encountered someone with tendencies toward mysticism. Unlike some representatives of the Carmelite school of spirituality, however, he affirmed with the Jesuits that not everyone is called to infused contemplation in this life. Accordingly, in his direction of souls, he focused on meditation and acquired contemplation.~6 In the final analysis, Alphonsus was convinced, it is not a method or approach that leads people to metanoia or a "change of heart," but a personal encounter with Jesus Christ. To this end Alphonsus probed various spiritual traditions within the church and used whatever he thought would benefit the people he served. Doing so, for Alphonsus, was an exercise of Christian love. He would have agreed wholeheartedly with Bernard of Clairvaux's assessment of families of spirituality in the church: "I admire them all. I belong to one of them by observance, but to all of them by charity." ~7 Doctor of Prayer As mentioned earlier, Alphonsus's reputation as a spiritual master eventually earned him the title of the "doctor of prayer." 18 His renown as a spiritual director comes from his cre-ative, eclectic, and pragmatic use of the traditions that preceded him. As an interpreter of these traditions, he focused on the one thing which, in his judgment, ultimately mattered in life, to enter into an intimate relationship with Jesus, the Redeemer. Prayer, for Alphonsus, was the primary means given to us to accomplish this end. Spiritual direction, for him, was both gen- Review for Religious eral and particular. It could take place in many contexts, but primarily had to do with the confessor's task of helping people grow in holiness. While Alphonsus saw a distinction between confession and spiritual direction, his zeal for souls and his popularizing sen-sitivities brought him to the conclusion that he and other priests in his day and age could best serve the people of God by draw-ing a close bond between the two. Sacramental confession, after all, was an application of Christ's redemptive love to the life of the penitent. Since, for Alphonsus, redemption was "plentiful," it followed that people's experience of sacramental reconcili-ation should include not only for-giveness of sin, but also guidance to help penitents grow in holiness. He believed that spiritual direction was for the masses--not a select few-- and for people of all walks of life. The close bond that he saw between preaching and the confes-sion- spiritual direction experience also suggests an organic (even circular) relationship between the general and more personal elements of anyone's receiving spiritual direction. These considerations have great import with regard to the relevance of Alphonsus's spiritual doctrine for today. His walk-ing with the Lord was both like and unlike our own. Walking in his footsteps today cannot mean following his teachings to the letter. That would be to overlook the prudenc.e of Alphonsus's own pastoral decisions; it would mean neglecting to take into account the pressing concerns and very different pastoral needs of our own day. Following Alphonsus today must mean making creative, eclectic, and pragmatic use of the spiritual traditions that have come down to us as they first came to Alphonsus along with what he himself has handed down to us. Following him must mean sifting through what he considered beneficial for the peo-ple of his day and finding .practical applications for the people of today. It must mean a way of spiritual direction that helps people get word of Christ's plentiful redemption and fosters a Alphonsus's reputation as,a spiritual master eventually earned him the title of the "doctor of prayer." May-June 2002 Billy ¯ St. Alpbonsus and Today's Spiritual Direaion lifelong conversation with God deep in their hearts. Spiritual direction in the Redemptorist tradition today must neither pre-tend to be, nor try to be, nor be an exact replica of what it was during Alphonsus's day. It should resonate with his teaching, however, and glow with his missionary fire, his yearning to lead as many people as possible into a deep friendship with the Lord. Notes 1 For references to this debate, see Walter H. Principe CSB, "Toward Defining Spirituality," Studies in Religion / Sciences religieuses 12 (1983): 129, esp. n. 3. 2 For a discussion of levels of spirituality in relation to Alphonsus, see Dennis J. Billy, Plentiful Redemption: An Introduction to Alpbonsian Spirituality (Liguori, Missouri: Liguori Publications, 2001), pp. 98-101. 3 Alphonsus de Liguori, Prayer: The Great Means of Obtaining Salvation and All the Graces Which We Desire of God, in The Complete Works of Alphonsus de Liguori, ed. Eugene Grimm (New York: Redemptorist Fathers, 1886-1894; reprint, Brooklyn, St. Louis, and Toronto: Redemptorist Fathers, 1927), Vol. 3, p. 49. Hereafter, Complete Works, Vol. 1 or 2 or 3 or 4 or 6. 4 Complete Works, Vol. 3, pp. 19-22. 5 Alphonsus de Liguori, Mental Prayer and the Exercises of a Retreat, in Complete Works, Vol. 3, pp. 252-258. 6 Alphonsus de Liguori, The Way to Converse Always and Familiarly with God, in Complete Works, Vol. 2, p. 395. 7 Alphonsus de Liguori, The Practice of the Love of Jesus Christ, in Complete Works, Vol. 6, p. 456. 8 Alphonsus de Liguori, in Complete Works, Vol. 3, p. 240. 9 See Pope Pius XI, "Allocuzione del 20 Settembre 1934," in Annuarium Apostolatus Orationis (Rome, 1935), p. 73; also Dizionario di Mistica (Rome: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1998), s.v. "Alfonso Maria de Liguori (santo)," by G. Velocci. 10 For the theological and pastoral dimensions of Alphonsus's Marian devotion, see Hamish EG. Swanston, Celebrating Eternity Now: A Study of the Theology of St. Alphonsus de Liguori (Chawton Alton Hampshire: Redemptorist Publications, 1995), pp. 220-230. ,1 For various definitions of spiritual direction, see Dennis J. Billy, "The Relations of Spiritual Direction," Studia moralia 36 (1998): 67, n. 1. t2 For spiritual direction in Alphonsus's correspondence, see Sean Wales, "The Ministry of Spiritual Direction: Saint Alphonsus, the Review for Religious Spiritual Director as Seen though His Letters," in Reflections on the Spirit of Saint Alphonsus, ed. M. O'Shea (Monroe, Michigan: IHM Publications, 1987), pp. 93-107. ,3 Emilio Lage, "S. Alfonso e la direzione spirituale," Spicilegium historicum CSSR 48 (2000): 22-25. 14 Alphonsus de Liguori, Praxis confessarii ad bene excipiendas con~ fessiones, chap. 1, in Theologia moralis, Vol. 4 (Rome: Typis Polyglottis Vaticanis, 1912; reprint 1953), p. 528. ,s Emilio Lage, "S. Alfonso," p. 14 (my translation). ,6 Joseph W. Oppitz, Alphonsian History and Spirituality: A Study of the Spirit of the Founder Saint Alphonsus M. Liguori and of the Missionary Institute, The Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer (Rome and Suffield, Conn.: privately published, 2nd printing, 1978), p. 30. 17 Bernard of Clairvaux, Apologia to William of Saint Thierry, IV.8 (PL 182.903), cited in Pope John Paul II, Vita consecrata (1996), §52. ~s See endnote 9 above. "erat lux vera" here shines that light soft and luminescent brilliant and incandescent firefly by night and sun by day ember and inferno manifold, multifarious, multifaceted variegated and diverse that light which mothers every honest light the stars and their stones incendiary and catoptric candlelight and firelight and the light which warms and dances tender glowing in the eyes of the one you love through every shuttered window bolted door and locked gate in every place which shows a space there shines that light which all the world illumines enkindles and enflames Se~n Kinsella May-June 2002 ANNE HIGGINS AND BETTY ANN McNEIL Louise de Marillac and Elizabeth Seton: Women of Spirit dialogue Although separated by a century and more, Louise de Marillac (1591-1660) and Elizabeth Seton (1774-1821) were bound together by the Holy Spirit in ways of charity and wisdom.~ Their lives mirror one another. As wives, mothers, widows, and spiritual leaders, they model the life of the Spirit for contemporary women in ministry, for all whom the Gospels inspire to tend the fire of divine love in their own hearts and in the lives of others. Elizabeth made the first English translation of the original (French) biography of Louise.2 With the support and guidance of the French Sulpicians in Maryland, Elizabeth founded the Sisters of Charity of St. Joseph's (31 July 1809) in Emmitsburg. For her sisterhood, the first to be founded in the United States, she adapted the Rule that Louise de Marillac and Vincent de Paul (1581-1660) had developed for the Anne Higgins DC, poet and English instructor, also does campus ministry at Mount St. Mary's College and Seminary, Emmitsburg, Maryland. Betty Ann McNeil DC is province archivist for the Daughters of Charity and a member of the Vincentian Studies Institute. They write from St. Joseph's Provincial House; 333 South Seton Avenue; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727. Review for Religious Daughters of Charity, founded in Paris 29 November 1633. The Setonian legacy expresses their charism today. This article compares and contrasts the themes common to their lives, and notes how they saw themselves until devastating things happened to them, .changing their lives forever. Through devastation and change they remained faithful to God, and God created something new through them.3 In her new life Elizabeth found "peace"--"enjoying the liberty of solitude, country life, and plenty of every good." We invite you to enter into "Sabbath moments" as Louise and Elizabeth tell us about themselves in first-person vignettes, which include or are based on their own words. May the Spirit guide this reflection on roots and be a source of blessing for all who live or are listening in on the Vincentian and Setonian legacy.4 (At intervals, we invite you to pray and reflect on their story, which may also be yours.) Like the five modern women discussed in a 1990 book called Composing a Life, Louise and Elizabeth "were engaged in that act of cremation that engages us all--the composition of their lives." Like these women--and guided by the Holy Spirit and fueled by their faith--"they worked by°improvisation, discovering the shape of their creation along the way, rather than pursuing a vision already defined." And they "combined familiar and unfamiliar components in response to new situations. Their commitments were continually refocused and redefined." s LOUISE: I had been looking at my life in one way. I was born into an upper-class Parisian family, but I never knew my mother. And my father referred to me as "ma' fille, ma naturelle." From infancy I was raised in a convent and a boarding school. When I was four, my father remarried, and his new wife did not accept me. ELIZABETH: I had been looking at my life in one way. I was born into an upper-class New York family, but my mother died when I was three. When I was four, my father remarried, and his new wife did not accept me. LOUISE: "God, who has granted me so many graces, led me to understand that it was his holy will that I go to him by way of the cross. His goodness chose to mark me with it from my birth, and he has hardly ever left me, at any age, without some occasion of suffering." 6 ~lay-June 2002 Higgins and McNeil * Women of Spirit ELIZABETH: "Will not Jesus Christ be with me? Was I not signed with the cross of salvation in baptism?''7 "You and I must meet him - we must be crucified - it is in vain to start [recoil], or think of escaping." 8 "The thirst and longing of my soul is fixed on the cross alone.''9 "We are never strong enough to bear our cross; it is the cross which carries us, not so weak to be unable to bear it, since the weakest become strong by its virtue." 10 LOUISE: "O God, I have resolved to admit no love unless it be for you!" 11 Ihad been looking at my life in one way, and then things happened to change it. When I was nineteen, I had my heart set on joining a contemplative order of nuns, the Capuchins. I even made a private promise to join them. But my spiritual director, P~re de Champigny, who was the provincial of the Parisian Capuchins, said no. He said I was not physically strong enough, and he said, "I believe that God has other plans for you." 12 ELIZABETH: I had been looking at my life in one way, but then things happened to change it. When I was nineteen, I fell in love with William Magee Seton (1768-1803). I married him, and we moved into our house in lower Manhattan. Then the children came: Anna Maria, William, Richard, Catherine, and Rebecca.13 "Sitting on a litde bench before the fire - the head resting on the hand, the body perfecdy easy, the eyes closed, the mind serene contemplating, and tracing boundless Mercy and the source of all excellence and perfection - how pure the enjoyment and sweet the transitions of every thought - the soul expands . . . all earthly interests recede - and heavenly hopes become anxious wishes. "I can patiently, submissively, submit to thy holy will, adoring in sweet confidence of thy mercy - preserve me but this heavenly peace, continue to give me this privilege beyond all mortal computation of resting in thee, and adoring thee my father - friend - and never failing support - for this alone I implore, let all other concerns with their consequences be entirely and wholly submitted to thee." 14 LOUISE: So, at twenty-two, I was married to Antoine Le Gras (1581-162'5). He was a good man, conscientious, deeply religious, and charitable to the poor, and I grew to love him. We had one son: Michel-Antoine [1613-1696]. We lived in a town house on the right bank of the Seine. It was a pleasant life in those first years. Review for Religious I had been looking at my life in one way, and then things happened to destroy it. to change it. In 1617, when I was twenty-six, my kinsman the Marquis d'Attichy and his wife had both died, and we took charge of their seven children . . . Then, my own husband, Antoine, became ill. I remembered my old promise to God to enter religious life. I began a dark journey through doubt. Everything seemed to be filling apart for me. I entered into a great desolation of spirit which lasted until Pentecost, because of a doubt as to whether l should leave my husband, as I wished to do in order to repair my first vow and have freedom to serve God and neighbor . I feared further that the attachment I had for my director might prevent me from taking another, thinking myself obliged to quit him . . . I had great pain because of doubt concerning the immortality of the soul. These three uncertainties gripped my soul in agonies which now seem to me unimaginable. On the day of Pentecost, at Saint-Nicolas-des-Champs during holy Mass, all of a sudden my spirit was cleared of these doubts. I was made to understand that I must dwell with my husband and that the time would come when I would be in a position to make vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience and that I would be in a small community where others would do the same. I then understood that I would be in a place where I could help my neighbor [although] there would be much coming and going . , . I was also assured that God would give me another director, who was then, so it seems to me, shown me in a vision, and I felt a repugnance to accept him. I submitted, nevertheless, although it seemed to me that it would not be necessary to make this change yet. My third difficulty was banished, by the assurance I felt in my soul that it was God who revealed all this to me, and that, there being a God, I must not doubt the rest)s Reflect for a few minutes now on your Pentecost experience. "I believe that God has other plans for you." LOUISE: Some months after that, I met Vincent de Paul, who became my spiritual director. And I took care of Antoine, with great love, for four years, until he died in December 1625. I was thirty-four. I had been looking at my life in one way., and May-June 2002 Higgins and McNeil ¯ Women of Spirit then things happened to destroy it. to change it. and in the midst ofthe"destruction, in the midst of the changes, I remained faithful to God. I held on, and God created something new. ELIZABETH: I had been looking at my life in one way. and then things happened to change it. When I was twenty-three, pregnant with Richard, my father-in-law died, and we took charge of the seven young Seton children . . . and then things happened to destroy my life. William's health became a real worry for me. When I was twenty-seven, my father died . . . Around that time, too, the family business suffered terrible losses., and William was so ill that we decided to travel to Italy for his health. After thirty terrible days, quarantined in the Lazaretto near Livorno, we moved to a house in Pisa, rented for us by the Filicchis.~6 Will died there, with Anna Maria (Annina) and me at his side. I was twenty-nine. He was buried in Livorno. Each time I visited his grave, I wept over it for a long time with inexpressible tenderness and "unrestrained affection." It seemed that I loved him more than anyone could love on earth.17 I had been looking at my life in one way., and then things happened to destroy it. to change it. - "the sharp thorn in the heart."~s And in the midst of the destruction, in the midst of the changes, I remained faithful to God. I held on, and God created something new. It was in those months in Italy after William's death that I was exposed to the full radiance of the Catholic faith. You drew me to it, Jesus - you and your Mother. Through storms of tears and questions, of doubts and anguish, you drew me to the Catholic faith. @hrough fifty-six days on the ocean voyage home, with Annina, and in the company of Antonio Filicchi, through desires and temptations, I remained faithful to you, God, and you created something new. In New York, on Ash Wednesday 1805, I turned the corner of Barclay Street, where St. Peter's Catholic Church was, and said to myself: "Here, my God, I go, heart all to you!" ~9 Reflect for a few minutes now on your conversion experience. LOUISE: Ultimately I came to embrace the God of both light and darkness and proclaim, "God is my God.''2° "I gave -~2~5~6-] him my full consent to work in me by his power whatever he Review for Religious willed to see accomplished.''2~ In 1629 1 met a young woman of Suresnes named Marguerite Naseau [1594-1633], who had presented herself to Monsieur Vincent. She was the first to serve in the Charities.22 Vincent de Paul asked me to organize and form the growing group of country girls who had come to Paris to serve the poor. "God, my only hope, your love impels me." My urgency impels my sisters. "Continue, [my sisters,] to love His service by observing your Rules, especially by the cordiality and support you show one another. You can be certain that God is with you.''23 Give yourselves entirely to God in order to serve God in the poor24 "As for your conduct with the sick, may you never take the attitude of merely getting the task done. You must show them affection, serving them from the heart, inquiring of them what they might need, speaking to them gently and compassionately.''2s "Perfection is not to be found [in excessive introspection], but in the practice of true charity.''26 "Be very gentle and courteous toward your poor. You know that they are our masters and that we must love them tenderly and respect them deeply.''27 Our Savior has taught us charity in order to make up for our own powerlessness to render him any service,z8 "Oh, what a happiness it would be, provided God were in no way offended, were the Company to serve only the totally destitute.''29 I had been looking at my life in one way., and then things happened to destroy it. to change it. and in the midst of the destruction, in the midst of the changes, I remained faithful to God. I held on, and God created something new. Reflect now on what God has created new in your life. In the midst of the changes, I remained faithful to God. ELIZABETH: I had been looking at my life in one way., and then things happened to destroy it. to change it. and in the midst of the destruction, in the midst of the changes, I remained faithful to God. I held on, and God created something new. On Pentecost 1806 1 received the sacrament of confirmation May-June 2002 Higgins and McNeil ¯ Women of Spirit from Bishop John Carroll. Later I wrote to my spiritual advisors: Things are so bad in New York for me, and so financially tenuous--should I move to Canada? While I was waiting for some reply, I chanced to meet Father William Du Bourg, who invited me to Baltimore to open a school for girls. Bishop Carroll and all my priest friends supported me, and in June 1808 we began our journey to a new life, in Maryland. LOUISE: I put my trust in Providence. I said to my sisters: "If you completely entrust everything to the guidance of Divine Providence and love the most holy will of God, this will contribute greatly to your peace of mind and heart. In fact, this is one of the most essential practices I know of for growth in holiness.''3° "We can have no peace with God, with our neighbor, or with ourselves unless Jesus Christ gives it to us.''3~ "Vows have their origin in Love. in the cross." 32 "One of the principal graces God has given you, my sisters, is your call to this Company and your vocation of charity; I will tell you, then, what your thoughts about it should be - there may be both very highs and very lows and still without contradiction.,,33 ELIZABETH: I had been looking at my life in one way . . . and then things happened to destroy it. to change it. and in the midst of the destruction, in the midst of the changes, I remained faithful to God. I held on, and God created something new. While I was trying to figure out a way to teach poor little girls, God sent into my life Mr. Samuel Cooper, a convert, who was becoming a priest and was disposing of his wealth. He wished to fund education for Emmitsburg's poor, and also various services for the elderly and for needy families. "Our Lord will direct all, whatever you say or do I shall consider as his voice and will.''34 "I set out on a new career: peace and silence and submission the whole aim.''35 "Do we serve God in hope, looking to his promises, confiding in his love, seeking his kingdom, and leaving the rest to him?''36 "Providence has disposed for me a plan after my own heart.''~7 Reflect awhile on your eJcperience of Providence. ELIZABETH: Not only would I have a school there, but a new religious community. I wrote to a friend in New York: "Mr. Cooper has given a handsome property for the establishment of such females as may choose to lead a religious life. We are going Review for Religious to begin our novitiate in a beautiful country place in the mountains." 38 I rejoiced in my new home, communing with God amidst "woods, rocks, walks.''39 "Peace . enjoying the liberty of solitude, country life, and plenty of every good.''4° I wrote to my lifelong friend Julia Sitgreaves Scott: "It is true also that I shall be at the head of a community which will live under the strictest rules of order and regularity.-41 Even in Emmitsburg I remembered my last home in New York, on State Street. I wrote to my dear friend Eliza Craig Sadler: "Think of me when you pass it again. Can a heart swell so high and not burst? Yet would I change one shade or trial of it? That would be madness, and working in the dark.''42 The building and nurturing of my new religious community was my next challenge, for "one can't talk of making nuns like making bread.''43 I cautioned about the danger of being "lovers with our lips rather than our heart, while a true lover of Christ can never have enough of his cross.''44 I told my young sister-in-law Cecilia Seton: "Rejoice to bear your share in the cross, which is our passport and seal to the kingdom of the Redeemer.''4s At our council meeting we agreed that "no personal inconvenience should prevent Sisters of Charity from doing what duty and charity required.''46 From its inception I felt loved by my sisters. I told my New York friends that they should come and see my community's black gowns and demure faces, "which hid a set of as lively and merry hearts as ever met together.''47 As grateful as I was for the plenty of every good, the Real Presence in the Blessed Sacrament was for me the best of all God's gifts. It was the treasure of my soul.48 Sickness and death were never far from us in Emmitsburg. In 1810, when my sister-in-law, now Sister Cecilia Seton, died, I told Julia Scott: "I am sending my rosebuds to bloom in heaven." 49 On 12 March 1812 my beloved daughter Annina died. Through the stark days after her death, I found myself "begging, crying to Mary to behold her Son and plead for us, and to Jesus to behold his Mother - to pity a mother, [this] poor, poor mother." S° On 3 November 1816 my youngest, Rebecca, died. She was only fourteen. "I am sending my rosebuds to bloom in heaven." May-June 2002 Higgins and McNeil ¯ Women of Spirit "God is with us - and, if sufferings abound in us, his consolations also greatly abound, and far exceed all utterance. [I was] not only willing to take my cross, but kissed it too.''sl "My own troubles.will teach me, I hope, how to comfort others." s2 Reflect on troubles that taught you how to comfort others. --- 260-J ELIZABETH: In 1811 I met Father Simon Gabriel Brutfi, "a true cordial to my heart."" He was my soul's friend and guide. The Scriptures continued to be God's wellspring for me. "Nothing in our state of clouds and veils can I see so plainly as how the saints died of love and joy, since I, so wretched and truly miserable, can only read word after word of the blessed 83rd and 41st psalms in unutterable feelings - God - God - God - that the supreme delight, that he is God, and to open the mouth and heart wide that he may fill it." s~ "I long and wish to serve our Lord with every breath I draw."" "Oceans of LOVE to plunge in for eternity, every faculty of our soul dilated!!!!! - heavenly pure supernatural love undivided - God alone - ,,s6 Love love love, when will I love enough? "This world of separations must have its course. We must take its good and evil quietly as it passes - for my part I am now so accustomed to look only at our God in all that happens that it seems to me [that] the most painful things in the order of his providence can but increase our confidence and peace in him, since all will draw us but nearer to himself." ~7 "If it succeeds I bless God, if [it] does not succeed I bless God, because then it will be right that it should not succeed.''s8 LOUISE: In my prayer at Chartres, where I dedicated the Company to God through the prayers of the Blessed Virgin, I asked God to destroy the Company "rather than let it be established contrary to his holy will." s9 ELIZABETH: God, your love impelled me. and my urgency impelled my sisters. "Our God is God, and I know.all will turn out well at last., the ways of Providence are mysterious indeed as to the human nature, but most clearly we may distinguish in them the progress of the divine, pervading all.''6° "Be children of the church . be children of the church .,. May the most just, the most high, and the most amiable will of God be accomplished forever!''61 LOUISE: I had been looking at my life in one way., and Review for Religious then things happened to destroy it. to change it. and in the midst of the destruction, in the midst of the changes, I remained faithful to God. I held on, and God created something new. My life with the Company of Charity captured my heart, focused my mind, stabilized my soul for the single-minded search for the living reign of God, of God who was justice for the poor, healing for the sick, light for those in darkness. My story, like yours, is about bringing spiritual presence to a world lost in the mundane.62 ELIZABETH: "Let your chief study be to acquaint yourself with God because there is nothing greater than God." 63 "How grateful, then, should we be for our vocation, which is in itself a practice of the two principal commandments - obliging us to give every moment of life to charity, serving her [our vocation, charity] exteriorly in our care of the body, but principally in our care of souls, speaking to them of God, and helping them to know and love him eternally. Besides, how grateful we should be to God for choosing us for this manner of life.''6~ Notes ~ A version of this article was first presented at Seton Legacy III, a symposium on Elizabeth Seton and Incarnational Spirituality for a Contemporary World (Sisters of Charity Federation, 2001). 2 Nicolas Gobillon, La Vie de Mademoiselle/sic] Le Gras: Fondatrice et Premikre Superieure de la Compagnie des Filles de la Chariti, Servantes des Pauvres Malades (Paris: Andr~ Pralard, 1676). 3 This reflection may incorporate music and song into a multimedia presentation. The opening song could be "I Heard the Voice of Jesus" (Kingsfold). An entrance procession could be orchestrated with a solo flute, then flute and piano, then flute, piano, and guitar, then singing. As the song is sung, a processiofi could begin, with candle, incense, and LOUISE and ELIZABETH. Reflective interludes could be enhanced by sung verses of an arrangement of Elizabeth's favorite psalm, Psalm 23 (such as Marty Haugen's "Shepherd Me, O God"). The reflection could conclude with "Sing a New Church" (Nettleton). 4 See Ronald Rolheiser, The Holy Longing (New York: Doubleday, 1999), p. 165. 5 Mary Catherine Bateson, Composing a Life (New York: A Plume Book, 1990), pp. 1, 9. 6 "On Charity," in Spiritual Writings of Louise de Marillac, ed. Louise May-3~une 2002 Higgins and McNeil ¯ Women of Spirit Sullivan DC (New York: New City Press, 1991), p. 71 I. 7 "Mother Seton's Baptism," in Mother Seton Guild Bulletin 16 (November 1945), p. 3. 8 Elizabeth Seton to George Weis, 13 May 1810, quoted in Mother Seton Notes by Simon Gabriel Brute, ed. Loyola Law DC (Emmitsburg, 1884), p. 98. 9 To Philip Filicchi, 21 January 1809, in Elizabeth Seton: Selected Writings, ed. Ellin M. Kelly and Annabelle Melville (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), p. 244. ~0 "Exercise of the Presence of God," in Archives Saint Joseph's Provincial House, Daughters of Charity, Emmitsburg, Maryland (hereafter ASJPH), 1-3-3-23B, 58. Quoted in Joseph I. Dirvin CM, The Soul of Elizabeth Seton: A Spiritual Portrait (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1990), p. 103. ,l Ec. 848. ~2 Joseph I. Dirvin C2vl, Louise de Marillac (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1970), p. 22. ~3 Anna Maria 1795-1812, William 1796-1868, Richard 1798-1823, Catherine 1800-1891, and Rebecca Mary 1802-1816. ~4 31 December 1799, ASJPH 1-3-3-3:1. ,5 See "Light," in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, p. 1. ,6 Antonio and Filippo Filicchi, devout Catholics who lived in Livorno (Leghorn), were longtime business associates of the Setons. Filippo married Mary Cowper in Boston; Antonio's wife was Amabilia Baragazzi. ,7 See letter to Rebecca Seton, 5 March 1804, in Elizabeth Barley Seton: Collected Writings, 3 vols. projected, ed. Regina Bechde SC and Judith Metz SC (New York: New City Press, 2000), Vol. 1, p. 294. ~8 To Julia Scott, 5 March 1805, in Bechde and Metz, Elizabeth Barley Seton, Vol. 1, p. 345. ~gJoumal for Amabilia Filicchi, 27 February 1805, Ash Wednesday, in Bechde and Metz, Elizabeth Bayley Seton, Vol. 1, p. 375. 20 To Vincent de Paul, 24 August before 1650, in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, p. 341. 2~ "Renunciation of Self," in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, p. 720. 22 Dirvin, Louise de Marillac, p. 87. See also "On the Love of Our Vocation and on Helping the Poor," 13 February 1646, in Conferences of Vincent de Paul to the Daughters of Charity, ed. and trans. Joseph Leonard CM (Westminster, Md.: Christian Classics, 1968), Vol. 1, p. 217. zs To Catherine Gesse, 4 May 1659, in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, p. 639. 24 See "On the Love of Our Vocation," in Conferences of Vincent de Review for Religious Paul to the Daughters of Charity, Vol. 1, p. 223, and "On Serving the Sick and the Care of One's Health," 11 November 1657, also in Conferences, Vol. 3, p. 292. 2s "Instructions to the Sisters Who Were Sent to Montreuil," October 1646, in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, p. 773. 26 To the Sisters of the H6tel-Dieu of Nantes, 13 July 1658, in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, pp. 600-601. 27 To Sister C~cile Agn~s, 4 May 1650, in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, p. 320. 28 See "On the Spirit of the Company," 9 February 1653, in Conferences of Vincent de Paul, Vol. 2, p. 204; also Vincent de Paul to Anne Hardemont, 24 November 1658, in Vincent de Paul, Cor-respondence, Conferences, and Documents, ed. and trans. Marie Poole DC (New York: New City Press, 1997), Vol. 7, pp. 396-397. 29 Ec. 994. 3o To Mathurine Gu6rin, 23 December 1659, in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, p. 662. 31 To Our Very Dear Sisters, the Daughters of Charity at Nantes, in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, p. 197. ~2 Ec. 845. 33 "Thoughts of Mademoiselle Le Gras On [the] Vocation of [the] Sisters of Charity," trans. Elizabeth Ann Seton, in Reflections of Saint Louise, ASJPH 1-3-3-24B. This manuscript in Elizabeth Seton's own handwriting is the first English version of the final book of Nicolas Gobillon's/~e de Mademoiselle Le Gras. 34 To Philip Filicchi, Baltimore, 21 January 1809, in Kelly and Melville, Elizabeth Seton, p. 244. 3s To Rev. Simon Gabriel Brute, November n.d., ASJPH 1-3-3- 12:81. 36 "The Sisters of Charity meditate on the service of God," ASJPH 1-3-3-20E, 37. 37 To Julia Scott, 2 March 1809, ASJPH 1-3-3-6:76. 38 To Rose Stubbs, Baltimore, 20 February 1809, ASJPH 1-3-3- 2:103. 39 Dear Remembrances, ASJPH 1-3-3-26A, quoted in Kelly and Melville, Elizabeth Seton, p. 352. 40To Julia Scott, 20 July 1810, ASJPH 1-3-3-6:83. 41To Julia Scott, 23 March 1809, ASJPH 1-3-3-6:77. 42To Eliza Sadler, Baltimore, 20January 1809, ASJPH 1-3-3-7:35. 43To Julia Scott, 29 October 1812, ASJPH 1-3-3-6:95. ~ "Exercise of the Presence of God," ASJPH 1-3-3-23B, 57, quot'ed May-June 2002 Higgins and McNeil ¯ Women of Spirit in Dirvin, Soul of Elizabeth, .pp. 102-103. 45 To Cecilia Seton, 1 October 1803, Bechtle and Metz, Elizabeth Bayley Seton, Vol. 1, p. 224. 46 First Council Book," Sisters of Charity of St. Joseph's, 20 August 1814, ASJPH. 47 To Julia Scott, 20 September 1809, ASJPH 1-3-3-6:79. 48 See Dirvin, Soul of Elizabeth, p. 74. 49 To Julia Scott, 20 July 1810, ASJPH 1-3-3-6:83. 50 To Rev. Simon Gabriel Brute, 22 September 1812, ASJPH 1-3-3- 12:33, quoted in Dirvin, Soul of Elizabeth, p. 82. 5t To Rebecca Seton, 20th [November 1803]. Archives Mount St. Vincent, Sisters of Charity of Saint Vincent de Paul of New York, N/P 110: M, II, 12. 52 To Archbishop Carroll, 6 August 1809, Archives of the Archdiocese of Baltimore 7M4. 53 To Julia Scott, 20 May 1815, ASJPH 1-3-3-6:106. 54 ASJPH 1-3-3-12:44, n.d. Psalm 83 (Ps. 84 in present-day Catholic Bibles) and Psalm 41 (Ps. 42) are prayers of longing for God. 55 To Antonio Filicchi, 22 May 1810, quoted in Kelly and Melville, Elizabeth Seton, p. 280. s6 Kelly and Melville, Elizabeth Seton, p. 327. 57 To Mary FitchBayley Bunch, 26.June 1819, ASJPH 1-3-3-7:88. 58 To Antonio Filicchi, 6 May 1805, in Bechde and Metz, Elizabech Barley Seton, Vol. 1, p. 362. 59 "Account of the Pilgrimage to Chartres," October 1644, in Sullivan, Spiritual Writings, p. 122. 6o To Cecilia Seton, Friday, July [1806], ASJPH 1-3-3-8:92. 6, Law, Mother Seton Nobles by Simon Gabriel Bruti, p. 26. 6z See Joan Chittister OSB, Fire in These Ashes. 63 To Cecilia Seton, 19 November 1802, ASJPH 1-3-3-8:87. 64 "Thoughts of Mademoiselle Le Gras on [the] Vocation of [the] Sisters of Charity," trans. Elizabeth Ann Seton, in Reflections of Saint Louise. Review for Religious REGINA SIEGFRIED From Paschal Mystery to Reconciliation, from ASCs to Adorers ~thodate smcoritbivea tietss ca hcaornigsmreg? aWtiohna tto p ursoem dpiftfse trhenatt tsearmmein coolomgy-munity to find another name for itself, for use within the com-munity and for others' use too? The Adorers of the Blood of Christ have recently experienced these two developments. For a community of women religious whose charism is rooted in a cen-tral mystery of our redemption, the answers to those questions flow from a developing appreciation of our rich charism. Some excellent recent studies of religious life and charism provide the background for this article.~ But, rather than focus-ing on distinctions and nuances of charisms, this article takes note of one congregation's growing understanding of its charism and maintains that "history changed the expression of our charism," as Joe Nassal CPPS says in "Reclaiming Our Name.''2 While 19th-century terms often sound antiquated to 2 lst-cen-tury ears, the founding charism, now expressed in today's lan-guage, still resonates for our' congregation. In a letter to Biagio Valentini CPPS, dated 28 June 1841, Maria de Mattias, founder of the congregation, wrote: "The Regina Siegfried ASC, known to many of our readers, writes from the Department of Theological Studies; Saint Louis University; P.O. Box 56907; St. Louis, Missouri 63156. May-June 2002 SiegiCried * From Paschal Mystery to Reconciliation spirit of this holy work., is all charity., charity toward God and the dear neighbor." The preface to the 1857 constitution describes the charism in these words: Now this our lowly Congregation that lives and labors under the glorious title of the most precious Blood of Jesus Christ must be patterned and shaped into a living image of that divine charity with which this ¯ divine blood was shed and of which it was and is sign, expression, measure, and pledge. Maria de Mattias understood our sharing in the redemption in terms of our practice of "charity toward God and the dear neigh-bor." In violent 19th-century Italy, where political and social strife were the reality of life, Maria de Mattias knew that the "divine charity with which this divine blood was shed" spoke to the hearts of her "dear neighbors," especially the women and children, who needed education and longed to hear a word of peace. Recent Developments in the Founding Charism After Vatican Council II, the congregation, now worldwide, missionary, and ministering in truly needy places, rephrased the founding charism in its 1968 "Life Charter," and kept the same wording in the 1992 revision of the constitution: Our charism as Adorers of the Blood of Christ is deeply rooted in the death-resurrection mystery of Jesus. Ours is a paschal identity, signed in the blood of the Lamb. As a congregation we are to bear witness in hope and joy to the living presence in our world today of Christ's adoring, redeeming love, which gives meaning to human suffering and can render it power-fully liberating and life-giving. (§22, "Paschal Mystery in Our Charism") Although the title of our congregation has changed slightly over the years, "adorers" has always been a decisive part. The original document, written in Maria's own hand, has "Adorers of the Divine Blood." A later shift was to "Adorers of the Blood of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." In 1968 the congregation's name was changed from "Sisters Adorers of the Most Precious Blood" to "Adorers of the Blood of Christ" to reflect a more contemporary and holistic under- Review for Religious standing of the theology of the Blood of Christ. The United States expression of the charism moved from devotionalism to a concentration on the paschal mystery. We began to give more attention to life, death, and resurrection in the life of Jesus, in the life of the church, in the life of the congregation, and in its members' lives. Immersed in this mystery of our redemption through community education and personal prayer, we hoped to grow to be "more credible witness[es] of God's tender love, of which the blood of Jesus is vibrant sign and unending covenant pledge" (Life Charter, §2). Becoming credible witnesses meant (and still means) living lives of simplicity, involvement in social-justice issues, solidarity with the poor, and improving our community living through communication workshops, conflict resolution, and prayer. Reflecting on the intensely apostolic implications of the charism helped us understand more fully that ministry flows from prayer and prayer floods ministry, much as the classic "Gift of the Nile" provided thriving stands of wheat. "Adorers" in our tide is contemplative; "Blood of Christ" keeps us mindful of the work of redemption. The one title expresses the unity of con-templation and mission. Along with other communities, we researched our roots, wrote histories, and reclaimed a charism that had been in us from the beginning. We .were proud to be Adorers of the Blood of Christ, confident that our paschal-mystery charism continues to be a fiery and energizing spirit for the church and us. The United States expression of the charism moved from devotionalism to a concentration on the paschal mystery. From Paschal Mystery to Reconciliation In "Reclaiming Our Name," Joe Nassal CPpS writes: "The charism does not change . What changes is our response that is shaped by the currents of history." This is precisely what hap-pened to the Adorers of the Blood of Christ and to other May-June 2002 Siegfried ¯ From Paschal Mystery to Reconciliation Precious Blood congregations in the early 1990s. After our two decades of highlighting the paschal-mystery facet of the charism, historical events drew our attention, prayer, and reflection to another facet of our theologically complex charism. Our international congregation has a province in Bosnia and had United States missionaries in Liberia, West Africa. In the early 1990s war raged in both places. While we dreaded that sisters might be killed in Bosnia, it was the five United States Adorers shot and killed in Liberia in October 1992 that gave the Croatian sisters who ministered in Bosnia the courage to stay with the people, to witness to peace, and to attempt to bring reconciliation there. Matija Pavic, one of the Croatian Adorers who experienced the war and destruction of that country, wrote: Since their martyrdom I can say we feel greater close-ness among us, at the level of the province and of the congregation as well . We experienced the truth of the Word that we are called to witness Christ even to shedding of our own blood. We were overwhelmed by feelings of worry, compassion, and prayer; it was as if their suffering spilled over into us.3 Reconciliation is p.ossible only when we have embraced the paschal mystery. The violent shedding of blood in our lifetime--in South Africa, Central and South America, Croatia, Bosnia, Rwanda, and Indonesia, in the crime and violence on U.S.A. streets, and in the terrorist attacks here, there, and there too--this bloodshed cries for reconciliation rather than revenge. As Adorers, we understand the seemingly impossible hope that the shedding of the Blood of Christ gives to Christianity. Christ's death was not the end, but the beginning of salvation and reconciliation. So, too, the bloodshed and suffering of our world today need not be just a sad series of endings; it can be the beginning of a new, though painful, reconciliation for this world of ours today. While bloody violence in South Africa and Central America and elsewhere horrified us, much of it was far away from our-selves, or so it seemed. Liberia and Bosnia, similarly far away, were made personal, close up, and full of grief for us Adorers because of the presence, suffering, and death of sisters of ours in those countries. We were now immediate sufferers, with raw Review for Religious and public sorrow. We knew, however, that our sisters gave their lives in the service of the Liberian people and that the Croatian sisters of our congregation willingly suffered along with their people. As Robert Schreiter CPPS has written, "repentance can orig-inate from the side of those who have perpetrated violence, but reconciliation and forgiveness must come from the side of those who have suffered violence.''4 Revenge is anger with an ugly face and the wielding of weapons. The retaliator is reduced to the level of the perpetrator; revenge continues the cycle of violence, spinning it out of control into more madness. Reconciliation is love tempered by suffering, immersing the wounded in the depths of the paschal mystery of our redemption. Reconcilers seek to restore wholeness, and not cause more fragmentation and division. Reconciliation and revenge are not mutually exclusive things separated by an unbridgeable chasm. Rather, they are participants in a con-versation earnestly seeking deeper understanding. For either partner to demonize the other destroys the communication. In a homily during a prayer service for peace shortly after 11 September 2001, Joan Range ASC told us "we must reflect on the cost of bringing peace through reconciliation." She prayed that Jesus would "heal our wounds and give us [his] Spirit so that we can be ambassadors of [his] reconciling presence in the world." Peace and peacemaking on many levels become the work of those who reconcile. Robert Schreiter describes three characteristics of the spir-ituality of reconciliation: an attitude of listening and waiting, attention and compassion, and a postexilic stance.5 As we tell our own stories of the violence done to us, we learn to listen to other sufferers, to wait with them as the pain becomes trans-formative. Reconciliation keeps us conscious of the suffering of others; we become compassionate in ways we never dreamed possible. We learn to live in a new place, beyond the circum-stances that abruptly or gradually exiled us from our former existence: "For those who are reconciled, reconciliation becomes Reconcilers seek to restore wholeness, and not cause more fragmentation and division. May-~une 2002 Sie~ffHed ¯ From Paschal Mystery to Reconciliation a calling. They move to a wholly new place, from which they call oppressors to repentance and serve in a prophetic way for the whole of society.''6 From ASCs to Adorers Why, in the last year or two, have we in the United States province of the Adorers of the Blood of Christ begun to refer to ourselves as "Adorers" instead of using the convenient acronym "ASCs"? (Our website is now even !) Is it merely a way to greater name-recognition, an attempt to dis-tance ourselves from the elaborate code of Catholic religious-congregation abbreviations? While Adorers seems easier to understand and to have better name recognition, I think there is more to it than that. The shift from ASCs to Adorers highlights the contemplative dimension of the charism and provides for the balance of prayer in the midst of activity. Helen Lindsey ASC believes that "Adorer is a statement of who we are; adoration is what establishes the uniqueness of our charism.''7 We have become comfortable with "Adorers" because we have contemplated the paschal mystery, we now realize and internalize more fully what reconciliation means and demands, and we wonder where next the vitality of our charism will lead us. Perhaps Maria de Mattias sensed the link between adoration and reconciliation when she wrote to her bishop on 13 November 1838 that our work is to "establish that beautiful order of things which the great Son of God came to establish in his blood." Contemplation and adoration urge us to reconcili-ation and restoration of right relationships. Theresa Wetta ASC succinctly describes the unfolding of the charism when she says: Reconciliation as a current expression of our charism was prompted, I believe, by the work the CPPS men were doing on spirituality coupled with the increasing need for reconciliation in our more violent and disturbed world. Love and unity have always been expressions of our charism. Now we see love and unity achieved through efforts at reconciliation--the same deep union that Jesus achieved for/with us through the shedding of his blood.8 Review for Religious While this article concentrates on one small community, I think it has implications beyond the Adorers of the Blood of Christ. If we believe that all religious congregation charisms are vibrant, flaming gifts and graces given to our founders and living in us, they do indeed grow, develop, and breathe in us for today's world. Communities can trace the expansion and maturing of their foundational charism to discover how that gift is still relevant, appropriate, and significant in contemporary society. Notes ~ See Marianne Stevens RSM, "Revitalizing Charisms Inspiring Religious Life," and Joseph Nassal CPPS, "Reclaiming Our Name," Review for Religious 53, no. 6 (November-December 1994): 847-859 and 840-846, respectively; Margaret Susan Thompson, "Charism or Deep Story? Towards Understand Better the 19th-Century Origins of American Women's Congregations," Review for Religious 58, no. 3 (May-June 1999): 230-250; Sandra M. Schneiders IHM, Finding the Treasure (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000): chaps. 9 and 10. z Review for Religious 53, no. 6 (November-December 1994): 843. 3 Email to author, July 2001; trans. Viktorija Tomic ASC. 4 Robert J. Schreiter CPPS, Reconciliation: Mission and Ministry in a Changing Social Order (Maryknoli: Orbis Books, 1992), p. 21. See also Joseph Nassal CPPS, Premeditated Mercy: A Spirituality of Reconciliation (Leavenworth: Forest of Peace Publishing, 2000), for another fine study of reconciliation. s See Schreiter, Reconciliation, pp. 70-73. 6 Schreiter, Reconciliation, p. 73. 7 Helen Lindsey ASC in email to author, 31 December 2001. 8 Therese Wetta ASC in email to author, 24 January 2002. May-June 2002 DEBORAH M. CERULLO Distinctiveness, Diversity, and Commonness in Consecrated Life religious life culture Much is being written these days concerning where we are currently situated in religious life. Some are calling it the dark night of the souU Others see it as a time for courageous waiting,2 comparing it to being inside a cocoon, developing as we are meant to develop, but at risk of being impatiently opened too soon? While these images are helpful, especially as they allay some of the fears that surround the uncer-taihty of our times, I wonder if there is more clarity about who we are becoming than we sometimes give ourselves credit for. We have spent many years devel-oping those aspects of our life of faith that we share with others' outside our communities, including spirituality, ministry, community, and even charism. We have deconstructed our boundaries and empha-sized an inclusiveness in keeping with Vatican Council II's renewal of the universal call to holiness. As our understanding of what we share with others continues to develop, we are now also beginning to hear the call Deborah M. Cerullo $$ND wrote "Charism and Membership" in our September-October 1999 issue. She is visiting associate clinical professor of law at Boston College Law School; 885 Centre Street; Newton, Massachusetts 02459. Review for Religious to discover our distinctiveness. We are being asked to explore what makes the lifestyle of religious life distinctive, not because it is better or holier, but simply because it is different. This article will explore questions about distinctiveness, diversity, and commonness as we continue our movement from the high-walled boundaries of the pre-Vatican II era to our cur-rent search for new boundaries. It will also propose one method that religious institutes might use to answer these questions. My bias in this project is a belief that we are in a criti-cal time. If we wish to sus-tain the distinctiveness that is religious life, we must deal with our diversity and externalize our new ~reality in a more common way. My thoughts are from the view-point of one who did not experience religious life before or during most of its Religious life is a lifestyle that inculcates and fosters interior and exterior habits that have proved helpful in following Jesus Christ closely. deconstruction, having entered in the mid 1980s. I do not claim that others who entered when I did necessarily have the same thoughts as I do, nor do I think that only those who entered after Vatican II have thoughts like mine, but I do think that we who never experienced religious life's preconciliar uniformity have a different perspective on "commonness" than those who did.4 From my perspective commonness is not the same as uni-formity. I take for granted that diversity is good and that respect for the needs of individuals is important for our future. Distinctiveness and Diversity The distinctiveness of religious life comes from its primary focus, which is God. It is a lifestyle that inculcates and fosters interior and exterior habits that have proved helpful in follow-ing Jesus Christ closely. The means that are most distinctive of the lifestyle of consecrated life are the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, shared governance and finances, and a perma-nent commitment to religious life. Except that unmarried lay life excludes sexual activity, no other Christian lifestyle requires May-June 2002 Cerullo ¯ Distinctive'hess, Diversity, and Commonness --- 294A people to renounce private property, sexual activity, marriage, and autonomy (sharing financial resources with other members and abiding by decisions made by other members), all on a permanent basis. As religious life does too, other Christian lifestyles, of course, call for ministry, community, prayer, and social justice. For some, these calls come from within the charism of a par-ticular religious family through various associate programs,s Although religious and others still ask whether those making only temporary commitments might be invited to full mem-bership or whether some dedicated people should be invited to make permanent but partial commitments that would, say, include participation in government but not the life of the vows, these are questions without present answers. Meanwhile, other questions about joining with others in ministry, promoting social justice, forming alternative communities, and praying and grow-ing spiritually have all been answered with a resounding yes, and the only questions left are whether there need be any limits to this sharing. There are diverse views in religious life today and diverse choices being made. I believe that exploring this diversity is crucial to understanding the distinctiveness of religious life.6 Because being nonjudgmental and tolerant is such a strong cul-tural value today, many have adopted a live-and-let-live attitude that can prevent dialogue from being meaningful. While this attitude reduces tension and conflict within our congrega-tions, there is danger of our not engaging one another at enough depth to keep our passion alive, the passion inside each of us that enlivens our commitments for shared mission. In discussing diversity we must ask whether there are essen-tials in the living o]: consecrated life beyond which we venture at our peril. If so, how do we decide what they are? For exam-ple, most would agree that an active sexual relationship is incon-sistent with the commitment to consecrated celibacy. The boundary is fairly well established, with little, though some, disagreement. Even the disagreement, however, is more in the-oretical terms thari in. open behavior. Can we identify similar boundaries for gospel poverty and apostolic obedience? Gospel poverty seems to be an area that permits a wide variance of opinion, but at the same time includes silent disapproval of the Review for Religious way some members' choices undermine community relation-ships. Apostolic obedience seems to enjoy wide support for the view that the distinctiveness of our living the vow of obedience is limited to who we invite into our discernments (that is, lead-ership instead of a spouse or friend), rather than something qualitatively different. Even here, however, there would be wide disagreement about how and when leadership is invited into our personal discernments. Although these issues are significant, the questions sur-rounding the areas that we share with nonmembers are, I believe, even more significant. In our age of respect for the individual and in our reaction against religious life's preconciliar unifor-mity, we are strongly supportive of a wid~ diversity of choices in ministry and in styles of community and prayer, including when and with whom we engage in these aspects of our life. This diversity is so great that many of us have difficulty finding members with whom to share our work, homes, and prayer, especially on a daily basis. For like-minded members to come together once or twice a month is seen as an acceptable alter-native to daily sharing, especially by those whose entered before Vatican II, the majority of our membership. This opinion is not shared by most members who entered after the council and is a growing source of difficulty.7 This issue is at the heart of our different belonging needs. For mem-bers who have a well-developed sense of belonging after decades of membership, living, working, or even praying with other members of the congregation does not appear to be a strong need so long as the intermittent connection is maintained. The same practice would also likely satisf3, those who do not have a strong sense of belonging within the congregation, but still desire some of the benefits of membership. The question that remains is whether our diverse choices about ministry, community, and shared prayer so detract from our distinctiveness that our current support for them will con-tribute more to the loss of our lifestyle than to its flourishing, or whether the values and social movement that generated this diversity are so important that diversity must be allowed to con-tinue unabated. VChile in theory the answer probably lies some-where between these extremes, that middle ground can be achieved only if enough members keep trying to achieve it. May-.~une 2002 Cerullo ¯ Distinctiveness, Diversity, and Commonness The area where we seem most united, with very little articulated diversity, is in our social-justice views. The area where we seem most united, with very little artic-ulated diversity, is in our social-justice views. Vghile tolerance of different perspectives on living the vows, prayer, community life, and ministry are, in my view, the norm, this is not true of our justice perspectives. In her recent book Finding the Treasure, Sandra Schneiders has gone so far as to suggest that this social-justice work on behalf of the poor and marginalized (which she calls the prophetic dimen-sion of religious life) isin fact a primary distinguishing characteristic of religious life.~ While Schneiders's work as a whole is a major contribution to any analysis of contemporary religious life, this assertion seems to me quite extraordinary, con-sidering the latitude she gives in all other categories. Her descrip-tion of our prophetic role as standing on the margins of church and society, lamenting the iniustices of our world, and offering hope to the oppressed seems appropriate for some of our mem-bership, for whom social justice is a passion. It seems all the more appropriate, then, for some congregations whose charism involves such social protest. But, though I believe that most of us would support and affirm the need for a social-justice dimen-sion in our lives and our congregations, I am not convinced that we would agree that this dimension is the distinguishing char-acteristic that all members must espouse with the fervor and ded-ication of a prophet. Rather, many would assert that our prophet role as witnesses of hope and love in a broken world is meant for everyone, and that service to others is legitimate in its own right, not simply as it affects the poor and marginalized. But, even if I am wrong and most religious would claim that social justice deserves a primacy in our lives, where does that leave us on the issue of diversity? Is there a place among us for those who do not experience social justice as the primary motivating or sus-taining aspect of our vocation? What about those with minority political views? These examples highlight the difficulties we are experienc-ing as we decide what areas of our lives to emphasize and what, Review for Religious if any, boundaries should be set or maintained. Is it ever appro-priate to claim that a practice or belief is normative, or would we too likely return to a conformity that has been rejected or a majority rule that is not sufficiently respectful of individual per-spectives? I believe that how we answer these questions together within our own individual institutes will determine whether we hold on to the distinctiveness that is religious life, at least in its North American manifestation. Externalizing Our Common Reality The renewal of Vatican II brought many changes to reli-gious life, deconstructing a world where the externals had become ends in themselves. Externals became suspect, and inter-nalizing new understandings of our lifestyle became the norm. Diversity and respect for individual choices became so highly valued that the value of commonness for the sake of shared mis-sion was overwhelmed. Our challenge now is to discover ways to integrate these values so that the common life may reemerge, not in its preconciliar form, but in a way that maintains dis-tinctiveness and provides religious with sufficient support. One way to do this, I believe, is to identify the parts of our new real-ity that we regard as common and to give them external expres-sion. Symbols, myths, public rituals, and expected standards of behavior are identity markers which we need in order to embody our commitment? We must do this in a way that respects legit-imate diversity and individual needs, but does not make diver-sity and individualism ends in themselves, valued at the expense of the common life. So how might religious, together, go about answering some of these questions? In my own community we have begun with a process of theological development, especially in the areas of Christology and ecclesiology as they relate to diverse world-views from the classical, modern, and postmodern eras. Other communities are doing the same~° or are engaging in ongoing dialogue on significant.theological issues, i1 Another step in this process could include corporate theological reflection on the various elements discussed above. A group would discuss these in relation to their lived experience and with a view toward tak-ing action. It would aim at practical action, not theory, working May-June 2002 Cerullo ¯ Distinctiveness, Diversity, and Commonness out of specific contexts rather than generic truths and drawing upon lived experience as much as classical texts. It would cor-relate this experience with the sources and texts of the religious tradition and then draw out practical implications for living.12 The action goal would be commitment to living these practical implications. This process could be used in local communities, geo-graphical areas, provinces, or even entire congregations. It could involve members, associates, coworkers, or guest contributors, but decision making would be left to those planning to live the commitment. Givefi the potential difficulty of this level of dia-logue, perhaps the use of certain rules for dialogue would be useful, such as those articulated in the Common Ground ini-tiative, where Catholics with differing viewpoints are encouraged to dialogue:13 ¯ We should recognize that no single group or view-point has a complete monopoly on the truth. ¯ We should test all proposals for their pastoral realism and potential impact on living individuals. ° We should presume that those with whom we differ are acting in good faith. ¯ We should put the best possible construction on differing positions, addressing their strongest points rather than seizing upon the most vul-nerable aspects. ¯ We should be cautious [about] ascribing motives. ¯ We should bring the church [or, in our case, religious life] to engage the realities of contemporary cul~re by acknowledging both our cul-ture's valid achievements and real dangers. ¯ It could be helpful to have a skilled facilitator who is not a member of the group. Such a person can help participants to hear all voices in the dialogue, not only those that are loudest or most articulate. Another way for the group as a whole to hear different voices might be to practice by bringing together smaller groups that have types of ministry in common or simi-lar ages or similar community lifestyle experience, and then dis-cussing differences that occur even among themselves. In all such efforts, what is important is the honesty and depth of our dialogue and a true commitment to its results, neither of which is quickly or easily achieved. Summing up, I believe that we are in a critical time in reli- Review for Religious gious life when we must deal with our diversity and externalize our new reality in a more common way if we wish to sustain consecrated life's distinctiveness--the very reason why we entered religious life. The development of new symbols, myths, public rituals, and expected standards of behavior--or perhaps reclaiming some of the old with a new understanding of their meaning in our lives--is essential if we are to survive as a dis-tinct lifestyle. If we identify, and perhaps create, more of what can hold us together in this life we share, it will lead to a deep-ening of our individual and community spiritual life and empower us for more effective ministry. I believe, too, that more will want to join us if we can tell them with greater clarity who we are and how our life is different from theirs. While this can never be the primary motivation for our choices, without new members it will not matter how much diversity, respect for indi-viduals, prophetic witness, or postmodern sensibility religious life fosters, except in the lives of its last generation. Notes ~ Sandra M. Schneiders II-hVl, Finding the Treasure: Locating Catholic Religious Life in a New Ecclesial Context, vol. 1 of Religious Life in a New Millennium (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000o), chap. 5. 2 Barbara Fiand SND, Wrestling with God: Religious Life in Search of Its Soul (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1996). 31 could not locate the source of this image, but I remember read-ing it on more than one occasion. 4 See Patricia Wittberg SC, Pathways to Re-Creating Religious Communities (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1996), p. 126. s See John Paul II, Vita consecrata, §54. 6 1 am indebted to Mary Maher SSND for first raising this point in a workshop titled "SSND: Living in Many Worlds," held in 1999 in Chattawa, Mississippi. 7 See Catherine Bertrand SSND, "Common Threads: Are We Weaving or Unraveling?" Review for Religious 57, no. 6 (November- December 1998): 566-577. 8 Schneiders, Finding the Treasure, pp. 137-149. 9 Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR, "Refounding by Honing the Purpose Concept," Review for Religious 57, no. 4 (July-August 1998): 417. ~0 Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary have been leaders in developing materials for this process and have been gener- May-June 2002 Cerullo ¯ Distinctiveness, Diversity, and Commonness ous in sharing them with others. And see Marie Chiodo DW and Mary Irving SSND, "An Itinerant Approach to Theological Updating," Review for Religious 57, no. 3 (May-June 1998): 247-259. n For example, the Congregation of Notre Dame, with whom I live, is engaged in such a dialogue on the topic of Eucharist. 12 See Robert L. Kinast, What Are They Saying about Theological Reflection? (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000). 13 National Pastoral Life Center, Called to Be Catholic: Church in a Time of Peril, Origins 26, no. 11 (29 August 1996), pp. 169-170 passim. Walking by St. Cecilia's Convent Still taking that side of the street And the convent's brick sidewalk For the memories that it had: Behind bricks" barred recesses, the lives Lived by bells that to children Seemed gladder than children's; what wrinkles Of feature or fate those wimples hid, stayed Hidden from us, singing gaily "St. C! St. C!" For the school team. Where is she now, Virginal martyr and mistress of musics, Who sheltered our years and sheltered Her servants, the habited girls? And if I knocked at her convent And said, "Take me back in" to my innocence, Sisters, to a life lived by bells, Would I find her and them? or myself only Behind bricks still quixotic as ever, Impossibiy dreaming the St. C Of me has yet to begin. Nancy G. Westerfield Review for Religious NIHAL ABEYASINGHA The Culture of Religious Life within Asian Culture Tqe battle cry of the Fr,e, nch Revolution was "Liberty, uality, and Fraternity. The revolution in France and other revolutions that followed in Europe are well known. Two hundred years later it is almost ironical that Neil Kinnoch, onetime transport commissioner for the European Union, would almost parody that battle cry, saying "A car, a pair of jeans, and a burger are the new evidence of liberty, fraternity, and equality." Innovations within a Culture Innovations almost always stem from individuals. Yet, as Max Weber has remarked, no intellectual has ever established a religion. What becomes of the innovations is what the many other individuals who constitute society make of them. Often the results have little to do with the intention of the innovator2 To have some idea, then, of the likely direction an innovation will take, one has to look at who constitute the society into which the innovation is introduced. People differ not in soundness of reasoning, but in the principles and modalities that govern its exercise. Human experience is shaped, molded, and in a sense constituted by cultural and linguistic forms. Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR wrote two articles for our pages in 1999. He may be addressed during his sabbatical year (till mid January 2003) at St. Hilary Parish; 5465 Citronell Avenue; Pico Rivera, California 90660. May-June 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Religious Life within Asian Culture The vast majority of international religious institutes rose in the West, with its long Christian tradition. Only after the 16th century were numbers of them planted in Asia. Of these, many accepted local members for the first time only in the late 19th century. With few exceptions, the first Asian superiors were named only in the mid 20th century. Today there are very few foreign religious in Asia (except for some that have come to Asia to seek members to staff their establishments in the West). Hardly any foreigners are superiors. The organization and direction of religious life have been entrusted to local personnel. But the principles and modalities that govern the course of religious life as lived in Asia need to be reflected on more carefully. The fact that international religious institutes are well established in India in terms of numbers, buildings, and involvement in many forms of apostolate does not mean that these institutes have adapted themselves to the Asian context. The question that needs to be raised is: Do these religious institutes give indications of the innovative witness of their founders and foundresses according to the principles and modalities of the functioning of the Asian mind? Unfortunately, it would seem that many Asian branches of religious institutes seek direction from their general administrations for the resolution of their local problems. The general administrations are for the most part non-Asian, and so the question arises: On what principles and modalities of reason do they offer direction'to their units in Asia? That one must keep the institution going at all costs because most present-day vocations come from Asia and Africa? Or that what the local unit decides must be right? Or that what the local unit judges to be good is good also for the institute? These modalities of reasoning can be legitimate and valid in specific instances, but are they the correct general modalities for the Asian context? The numerical growth of religious life in Asia is evident. These numerous Asian members must certainly not function or seem to function like foreign implants within the Asian culture. On the other hand, they must not simply be part and parcel of the Asian culture. Religious life must always be a challenge to the existing culture. It must be an innovation, one that witnesses to the Source of its incarnate newness. The present article oudines some considerations, in the working out of this process of Review for Religious adaptation to Asian culture--not merely reflecting the culture, but challenging it to conversion. I shall do this in the form of theses for discussion (italicized below). They are not exhaustive treatments of the issues. The Movement of Adaptation The movement of adaptation #from the gospel to the culture and back to the gospel, which is then proclaimed in its originality in a cultural modality. In his address to the first meeting of the Pastoral Council for Culture, Pope John Paul 1I pointed out that the Vatican Council committed "the whole church to listen to modern man in order to understand him and to invent a new kind of dialogue which would permit the originality of the gospel to be carried to the heart of contemporary modalities." The human situation, however, is ambiguous. People have forces in their own hands: The operative question is: What is worth losing in a culture in favor of what is to be gained in life ? either they control them or they become enslaved by them. In every instance, then, the operative question is: What is worth losing in a culture in favor of what is to be gained in life? Life is not just a dimension of the human situation that involves the satisfaction of biological or aesthetic or other needs. It is, rather, the way revealed in Jesus Christ, and it is to this life that the Christian is committed. As Pope John Paul has said, "man is the way of the church." But "man" must be understood in terms of the man, Jesus Christ. It is the proclamation of Jesus Christ that is the mission of the church) It is through inculturation that the church becomes an intelligible sign of what it is and a more effective instrument of mission. Adaptation's Goal By their witness to escbatological values, religious are called to bring the Good News of conversion into the heart of the culture. May-d~ne 2002 Abeyasingba ¯ Religious Life within Asian Culture (Religious institutes began as innovations; they must continue innovating or slowly fade away.) Pope John Paul has said that mission is contemplative action and active contemplation. Sometimes silent witness is the only way.3 Before him Pope Paul vI pointed out that "the gospel, and therefore evangelization, are certainly not identical with culture, and they are independent in regard to all cultures. Nevertheless, the kingdom which the gospel proclaims is lived by men who are profoundly linked to a culture, and the building up of the kingdom cannot avoid borrowing the elements of human culture or cultures . Therefore, every effort must be made to ensure a full evangelization of culture or, more correcdy, of cultures. They have to be regenerated by an encounter with the gospel,"4 beginning (we could add) with an encounter resulting in regeneration/conversion in the lives of Asian religious themselves. How does this happen? Perhaps the message to youth issued at the end of Vatican II can suggest a path. Each generation has to receive from its elders what they have to offer, but each generation is committed to build a better world than their elders had. In fact, the youth of today, despite many negative assessments of them, can surprise their elders. In 2000 almost a million young people gathered in Rome for the World Youth Day. The organizers were amazed at their restraint and gen-erosity. Founded as innovations, religious institutes challenge the existing forces within their culture by proclaiming the gospel afresh, bringing the good news that is able to convert and transform the culture. Such results follow in the early years, but new problems arise when the founding insight needs to be . adapted to circumstances and cultures that are quite different. As institutes increase numerically and spread geographically, their original creativeness requires some adaptation in ascetical practices, forms of work, lifestyle, and so forth. If the adaptation is not done carefully, religious life is likely to be of the world, not merely in it (rather than in the world and not of it). It would reflect the culture uncritically, without challenging it at all. Social structures in Asia, even at the present time, are feudals (at least in aspiration, if not always in fact). So the temptation in adaptation and proclamation would be toward conforming to social aspirations and doing the things that are respected and Review for Religious likely to gain recognition in society. But there must be no letup in looking for ways that the gospel and the charism (innovations, both of them) can retain their relevant originality in the Asian context. Adaptation in Context Adaptation needs to take place, for the sake of being relevant within the Asian cultural traditions. Otherwise there is danger of the message being unintelligible or thoroughly misunderstood. As has been pointed out, the Gospels can be seen as reflecting the minds of the particular evangelists. Mark is factual; Matthew is holistic and gives the big picture; Luke follows a step-by-step approach and is systematic; John preaches love. Similarly, the historical books of the Bible are factual; the prophetic books view present situations within the big picture as God might see it; the wisdom literature attempts to be syste,natic; and the psalms and the Canticle of Canticles are odes to love. All the books are valuable, and no book is less the word of God than the others. Only the modalities are different, re

Issue 51.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1992. ; Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JANUARY-FEBRUARY 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 1 Review fl)r Religious (ISSN 0034-630X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535 3048. Manuscripts, books fi)r reviexv, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious. 3601 l,indellBoulevard. St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the "Canonical Counsel" departmeut: Elizabeth McDonough ()P ¯ 5001 Eastcrn Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 Washington, I).C. 20017. P()S'I'M~XSTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid a~ S~. Louis, Missouri, and additional offices. SUBS(~RIPTI()N RATES Single copy $5.00 includes surface mailing costs. ()he-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover fl~r subscription infl~rmation and mailing costs. ©1992 Revieu for Religious review fre° [gii ous Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor . Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer sJ Michael G. Harter sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe David J. Hassel SJ Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden $SND Sefin Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JANUARY / FEBRUARY 1992 ¯ VOLUME 51 ¯ NUMBER 1 contents 18 24 church and ministry Ecclesial Burnout: Old Demon, New Form Richard Sparks CSP suggests some remedies for overcoming a new strain of burnout which tends to afflict church ministers. Vincent Pallotti vs. Polarization Erik Riechers SAC shares some practical steps suggested by Vincent Pallotti for spiritual regeneration in a polarized church. The Ecumenical Kernel Dennis Billy CSSR explains how church unity involves a process of committed encounter between religious traditions whose very existence implies a relationship of concrete mutual dependence. 34 46 56 direction and discernment Elements and Dynamics of a Spiritual-Direction Practicum James Keegan SJ presents a successful way of putting together a spiritual-direction practicum and the personal and clinical issues involved. On Becoming a Discerning Person Charles Reutemann FSC describes in practical terms the meaning of spiritual direction, the person of the director, and the process of the direction session. Discernment and Decision Making Brian O'Leary SJ outlines elements for a pedagogy of discernment so necessary for our contemporary human and Christian situations. 2 Revie~ for Religious religious life 64 Making Sense of a Revolution Se~in Sammon FMS assesses the present state of religious life and sets an agenda for the process of renewal. 78 The Past Is Prologue Elizabeth McDonough OP identifies three interrelated phenomena which have significant influence on the direction of religious life. 98 An Experiment in Hope Mary Carty CND and MaryJo Leddy NDS report on a carefully planned intercongregational exploration in revitalizing religious life. 109 community and missien Internationality--At What Price? Janet Malone CND challenges any community which identifies itself as international to realize the concrete demands made on every aspect of their life together. 118 The Perils of Polarity Julia Upton RSM focuses upon the common roots from which both monastic and apostolic religious life take their growth. 134 Evangelizing Community William F. Hogan CSC suggests that religious who share faith in community are the best evangelizers. 140 4 144 149 Vocation as a Journey Brother Andrew shares a personal reflection on vocation as a crucifying walk in intimate union with Jesus. departments Prisms Canonical Counsel: Clerical Institutes Book Reviews January-February 1992 3 prisms As you page through this issue, you cannot help but notice the new appearance of Review for Religious. The development of this new look involved the staff, the members of the advisory board, and the Jesuit design group called Studio J in a critical assessment of everything from the important areas of content and edi-torial policies to the nitpicking aspects of the letterspac-ing of our new typeface. Our entire effort was to launch into our second half century of publication by enhancing our traditionally fine content and presenting it in a way that is truly "reader friendly." When Review for Religious began to be published in 1942, its very title gave evidence of its intended audi-ence- women and men consecrated in a special lifeform in the Catholic Church commonly called religious life. Yet even the first editors encouraged diocesan priests to use the journal articles as helps both for growing in their spir-ituality and ministry and for appreciating the various reli-gious- life traditions. Early on, too, lay women and men, especially those identified with third-order and sodality movements, were regular subscribers. With the burgeoning of lay ministries after Vatican II, there have been a growing number of lay readers, inter-ested particularly in developing their prayer life, under-standing their own roles as ministers of Christ, and even searching for better community models for family and parish, inspired by the internal efforts of religious com-munities. Our journal's contributors, too, illustrate the wide range of our readership--women, men, lay, religious, priests, even a bishop now and then. The question arose: Should the very name Review for Religious be changed to reflect its wider audience? 4 Review for Religious After much discussion we agreed that the religious-life empha-sis retains its central place because it focuses so well the rich spir-ituality traditions within the church. A secondary title, now evident on our cover, clearly highlights this aspect. But the pur-pose of Review for Religious remains just as current and necessary after fifty years: a forum for shared reflection on the lived expe-rience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spiritu-ality- Augustinian, Benedictine, Dominican, Carmelite, Ignatian, Franciscan, Salesian, and many others--support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. For readers coming from whatever spiritual tradition, the articles in the journal are meant to be infor-mative, practical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. The journal's look, then, is meant to reinforce its purpose. While you may miss the easily scanned backcover table of con-tents, we hope that you will find our Contents pages more infor-mative by their brief indication of an article's theme and by the grouping of various articles under sectional titles. The new sec-tional titles will keep changing from issue to issue, depending on the relationships among articles published in any one issue. Both the variety of sections and the variety of articles within a section are indicative of the vision and purpose of Review for Religious. In its 1942 beginnings this journal provided a com-munication forum which was almost nonexistent among various traditions represented by religious orders. Still today the mix of articles contributes to the ongoing understandings, critiques, and movements in our religious-life heritages so that we find new insight, expand our horizons, and collaborate more effectively for the good of our church life. I find a growing tendency among church people in the United States to read only the articles or books which reinforce their own views and to ignore or condemn out of hand an alternative or opposing approach. As an editor I find myself seldom (if ever) in total agreement with any one article--even in this iournal. For the healthiness of our life in Christ, we all need to appreciate and evaluate differences, changes, and developments in and among the various traditions which, contribute to the present makeup of the church. The articles in this iournal are like prisms which sub-tly nuance light into colorful and unexpected patterns. For exam-ple, some articles present contemporary ways of understanding our traditions; others probe new community forms, prayer prac- January-February 1992 5 Prisms tices, and models of ministering. You as reader may be inspired, surprised, or even annoyed by a particular theme or approach. For me the image of a prism suggests an application of the ministerial wisdom of St. Ignatius Loyola written at a time of church his-tory rife with excommunications and denunciations. Ignatius says: it should be presupposed that every good Christian ought to be more eager to put a good interpretation on a neighbor's statement than to condemn it. Further, if one cannot inter-pret it favorably, one should ask how the other means it. If that meaning is wrong, one should correct the person with love; and if this is not enough, one should search out every appropriate means through which, by understanding the statement in a good way, it may be saved. Sp Ex 22 (Ganss's translation) As the task of dialogue in the church takes on even greater importance, we want Review for Religious to remain a valued resource for people serious about their spiritual growth, for those involved in ministries, for members of religious congregations, and for spiritual directors and those seeking guidance. Review for Religious is privileged to play its role in that dialogue now as it has since its beginnings. Do let us know whether you find our newly designed journal "reader friendly." David L. Fleming sJ 6 Review for Relig4ous RICHARD C. SPARKS Ecclesial Burnout Old Demon, New Form cal, emotional, intellectual, social, and even spiritual energy--is reappearing among pastoral team members with alarming frequency. In those heady years immedi-ately following Vatican II, there appeared a strain of this self-induced dysfunction among zealous priests, sisters, brothers, and lay ministers who too literally tried to fol-low Paul's injunction "to be all things to all people." In their well-intentioned attempts to "be there" for the old and the young, the churched and the unchurched, parish-ioners and strangers alike, many in pastoral ministry "burned out." But it is not this "workaholic burnout''1 that I intend to discuss--though it still exists. I intend to discuss what I call ecclesial burnout. Most of us professed,, ordained, or hired in the last ten to fifteen years were schooled in a revised, more col-laborative model of ministry. This model is marked by job descriptions, staff meetings, attempts at collegial dia-logue, claiming one's personal needs and space, in short, Richard C. Sparks CSP is an editor at Paulist Press. He holds a doctorate in moral theology from Catholic University, with a specialty in biomedical ethics. He serves as an ethics consultant for several healthcare facilities and regularly offers professional and pastoral workshops on bioethics, sexuality, and moral deci-sion making. His address: Mount Paul Novitiate; Ridge Road; Oak Ridge, New Jersey 07438. church and ministry January-February 1992 7 a greater appreciation for the need of each minister to set limits and to nurture both professional and personal relationships. Ideally this leads to happier, healthier pastoral ministers, men and women who have found a better balance of work, play, prayer, exercise, rest, good nutrition habits, and so on. However, as most practitioners will admit, the team model in its all-too-human incarnations is no panacea. The lived experience of rule by com-mittee and collegial discernment does not always match the ideal. If the workshops I have given in various pastoral settings around the country are any indication, there is a new strain of ministerial burnout. It began in the early 1980s and seems to be immune to the simple correctives of prioritizing one's schedule, keeping in touch with friends, and religiously taking one's day off. The power of this ecclesial burnout to corrupt and to debil-itate formerly effective pastoral ministers (lay, clergy, and reli-gious alike) comes not from an overzealous commitment to work nor from an inflated sense of Lone Ranger ministry. Rather, I think, it is rooted in an erroneous, or at least inadequate, sense of church (that is, one's assumed ecclesiology). For the last five years I have been battling a mild-to-moderate case of it myself and am now slowly on the road to recovery. I feel it, I see it, others confide it, newcomers discern it, col-leagues transfer or leave church ministry altogether because of it--ecclesial burnout. No doubt much of it parallels other forms of psychological burnout. It certainly seems to fall within psy-chiatrist Herbert Freudenberger's classic definition: % state of fatigue or frustration brought about by devotion to a cause, way of life, or relationship that failed to produce the expected reward.''2 The symptoms are the same--long-term sullenness, a cynical edge, an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion, dissipated energy, forgetfulness, and depression (clinical or the everyday variety). People who suffer from ecclesial burnout frequently cite the cases of Charles Curran and Archbishop Hunthausen or the recent Vatican treatment of Rembert Weakland as precipitating their low mood. The suppression of certain catechisms, the removal of longstanding imprimaturs from books, the influence of CUF (Catholics United for the Faith) in Vatican curial circles, and the decidedly juridical tone of some CDF (Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith) documents contribute to a certain fear that "the party's over." For some, particular diocesan, chancery, or intracommunity ev~counters contribute to a general feeling of 8 Review for Religious malaise. It might sound like a simple case of the liberals' lament, revisionist Catholics being disheartened by what some see as a mid-course conservative correction following a quarter century of Vatican II experimentation.3 But many who placed great hopes in the church after Vatican II increasingly feel that aggiornamento (renewal) may be short-lived, that this era of church renewal may be the aberration and not the norm, and that we may soon be back to church history's "business as usual"--politics, legalism, inquisitions, and all. Those who suffer workaholic burnout are depressed that they personally did not measure up, could not be all things to all people, fell short of some impossible agapeic ideal. By contrast, among those who suffer ecclesial burnout, there is less a question of antipathy about personal imperfections and more of a sense of dis-illusionment with the church and its abil-ity to really be "the kingdom come." I hear story after story of frustration, that no-win Ecclesial burnout does not come from an overzealous commitment to work rlor from an inflated sense of Lone Ranger ministry. feeling of being the person caught in the middle--between the Vatican and people in the pew, between liberals and conserva-tives, between pro-school and pro-CCD proponents, between the "townies" and the university students, between right-to-lifers and everybody else, between the diocese (or one's generalate) and the parish, between Catholics and the wider society, between a pas-tor and other team or council members. Many feel drained, impo-tent, frustrated in their attempts to mediate, to get the church's act together, whether locally or in some larger arena of the church universal. While there are many contributing factors to this experience, I am convinced that one help toward navigating the shoals suc-cessfully is for each of us to reexamine our own ecclesial presup-positions and expectations. The insights that follow may be self-evident to some, but for me they have been eye-openers, a tremendous help on the road to recovery and reinvigoration. Much literature has been written expounding the theory that the dominant image of church in the decades, even centuries, pre-ceding Vatican II was the institutional model. In his often quoted January-February 1992 9 ~÷~s ¯ Ecclesial Burnout Models of the Church, Avery Dulles noted in 1974 that, while all five models--hierarchical institution, mystical communion, sacrament of Christ, herald of God's word, and servant of secular society-- coexist in the church, during any given era one or another tends to dominate.4 In the two major Vatican II documents on the church, as well as in the Final Report of the Synod of 1985, one can find all five models vying for central place,s Despite several decades of the-ologizing and deferential homiletic bows to the notions of church as people of God, mystical body, sacrament of Christ's ongoing presence, and herald of Gospel justice, it is my contention that our pastoral efforts after Vatican II expressed, for the most part, the same model fostered earlier, namely, the institutional model. Sure, we were going to do it better: more effective liturgy in the ver-nacular; more participatory parish, diocesan, and community gov-ernance; more developmental, story-laden religious education; more process-oriented evangelization (RCIA); more experiential approaches to reconciliation; and more social-justice-oriented ecumenism. But we were still about the task of running an insti-tution, making our little corner of the vineyard the best-struc-tured parish, Newman Center, diocesan office, or apostolate around. It seems to me that many of us made a subtle shift or trans-ference. After some initial flirtations with personal workaholism and its consequent form of burnout, we no longer expected our-selves to be supermen or superwomen, serving selflessly twenty-four hours a day, in season and out. But at the same time we did not reject the drive for perfectionism altogether. Rather, we trans-ferred it to our rejuvenated image of the church, expecting our post-Vatican II ecclesial structures to be or to become what we individually could not achieve. The church would or should become wholly Spirit-filled, renewed at all levels, from the Vatican curia, through the USCC, chancery, and intracommunity offices, right down to our own parish or center in Name-Your-City, USA (or Canada). If we all worked hard enough, whether as Lone Rangers or as collaborative partners, we could "pull this Vatican II thing off," making the Roman Catholic Church what some supposed it was intended to be, the kingdom of God incarnate on earth . . . as it is in heaven. "Oops," as one of my Catholic U. professors would have screamed, "you collapsed your eschaton." In such hopeful 10 Review for Religious expectation there seems to be no room for human sinfulness and finitude, too little room for well-intentioned visionaries, reform-ers, and sincere counterreformers to make mistakes. If we really can successfully create the reign of God on earth, then who needs redemption? We could cancel Christ's second coming. There would be no need for his break-through return at the end of time. In our newfound Camelot-like enthusiasm, I fear that we plotted a course destined to dis-appoint. Ask those priests, religious, and lay ministers who opted to leave. Ask those who had physical or emotional breakdowns. Ask those who are now recovering alcoholics, fooda-holics, adult children of alcoholics, or victims of other addictions and dysfunctions. Ask those who joined a religious order or diocese, only to be disillusioned when real life in community did not match vocation brochures or one's own idealistic expectations. Some of them are still searching for the diocesan, religious-order, or denominational "promised land." For the most part we seem to have faced the fact that none of us individually is Jesus Christ (and that even he faced his own doubts, fears, and temptations). By acknowledging that worka-holic perfectionism is wrong, some of us have conquered the demon of "works righteousness," allowing God's tender mercies to bathe us and to begin to heal our brokenness and wounds. Workaholic burnout seems to be waning, at least in the Catholic community.6 However, I do not think we have made great strides in grant-ing a similar benefit of the doubt and benevolent forgiveness to the church and its leaders (including ourselves) for not measuring up, for not ushering in the fullness of the kingdom of God. Hans Kiing, echoing the pioneering ecclesiology of Yves Congar, con-tinues to point out that the church is sinful as well as graced.7 Martin Luther, credited with coining the adage simuljustus etpec-cator, would hardly be surprised to hear that twentieth-century Roman Catholics are having trouble accepting that their church not only was, but is, and always will be sinful, in need of God's abiding assistance, patience, redemption, and frequent forgive-ness. If we really can successfully create the reign of God on earth, then who needs redemption ? January-February 1992 11 Sparks ¯ Ecclesia~Burnout Thus, the warning sign of ecclesial burnout is the sadness, bordering on depression, that has deeply affected many idealistic pastoral ministers upon their discovering that the church is not, and likely never will be, synonymous with the kingdom of God. But does not church teaching say that they are supposed to be one and the same, that the church (especially in its Roman Catholic incarnation) equals the kingdom of God? No, the bish-ops and theologians gathered at Vatican II rejected such a notion in an earlier draft for Lumen Gentium, in which the church in its fullest sense (that is, God's reign or kingdom) was to be equated with the Roman Catholic Church. In its place, the church's official magisters declared that the "church, established and ordained as a society in this world, sub-sists in the Catholic Church''8 (emphasis mine). Despite arguments to the contrary by some dissident conservatives, most ecclesiolo-gists take this to mean that, while the Roman Catholic Church manifests to some degree Christ's cosmic presence, it is not the sum and substance of church nor of the kingdom of God in their fullness. The visible church, at any point in its history, is never a spotless manifestation of the "mystical body," church in the ideal. Lumen Gentium goes on to propose that all Christians, the chil-dren of Israel, Islamic believers, other monotheists, as well as all who seek life's source and meaning with sincere hearts are some-how "related to the People of God," kin in some concentric sense in this family called church.9 The church then, in its most cosmic and echatological sense, is not synonymous with any denomination, though some churches--more than others, and in some historical eras more than others--better embody the call to be communion, sacra-ment, herald, servant, and institution. For those of us tempted to shrink the meaning of church to the institutional denomination or subset in which we have been professed, hired, or ordained, it is well to keep reminding ourselves that the kingdom to come, on earth and hereafter, is bigger. You might be tempted at this point to remark, "What you're saying is fine, but it doesn't apply to me. I already learned in ecclesiology class that the church is the imperfect pilgrim people of God and that it in some sense includes a wide variety of ecu-menically related brothers and sisters." My response is yes and no. I think most of us comprehend this broader ecclesial vision academically (in our heads) and even present it fairly effectively 12 Review for Religious in inquiry or RCIA programs. But I am not so convinced that we have let that broader vision of church, that benefit of the doubt about what can and cannot be accomplished in our lifetime, sink down into our souls, our intuitions, our feelings, our expectations about life as pastoral ministers in the real church of the 1980s and 1990s. I suggest that many of us could benefit from prayerful, per-sonal, and communal reflection on and attempts to incarnate a broader vision. The "kingdom of God" is not an institution, but a designation for any and all people of goodwill who are about God's business. Whether one views this in the language of Rahner's "Anonymous Christian" or in any of a number of more traditional categories (for example, mystical body, invincible ignorance), the community of believers, those who will share in the fullness of redemption, is not coterminous with card-carrying Roman Catholics or even avowed Christians more broadly considered.1° If I measure the coming of the kingdom with myopic vision, focused solely on institutional success or the extent to which my ministerial locus is perfectly fruitful and personally satisfying, I am destined to be disappointed--by my own impoverished "institu-tional" ecclesiology and by a graced but sinful church that always falls short of the ideal. In such a way, I think, many professional Catholic ministers (lay, religious, and clergy alike) are spinning their wheels, burning up psychic energy on form and parochial structures, not Gospel substance. Either we invest too much time and talent trying to create the perfect institutional program, or else we spend time bemoaning the fact that many of our best-laid parochial plans come to naught or go awry. In the process, frus-trations mount, leading to personal and ministerial dissatisfac-tion, depression, departures, and so on. Voile, ecclesial burnout, or maybe I should say burnout induced by unrealistic ecclesio-logical expectations. It seems to me that any proposal for recovery from this form of burnout entails an attitudinal shift. We can change our atti-tude in either of two ways. First, we can expand our definition of church in the light of Lumen Gentium, allowing that no denom-ination or institution can or will incarnate it fully. It takes a lot of The warning sign of ecclesial burnout is sadness, bordering on depression. January-February 1992 13 Sparks ¯ Ecclesial Burnout self-reminding to allow this ecclesiology to sink in, to become our true modus vivendi. We need to reconceive ourselves as min-isters not solely of the Vatican-based Roman Catholic denomi-nation, nor even of the Christian tradition explicitly professed, but of the elusive, ever evolving church of Pentecost, mindful that the fruit of our labor, though real, will be limited at best. Our whole identity as a church employee or minister ought not to be caught up in structural successes and programmatic gains. This broader view of church, if taken to heart, can free us to relish grace incarnate wherever we find it, being less obsessed with insti-tutional achievements and shortcomings. The second change of attitude, in some ways a semantic vari-ation on the first, involves constricting our definition of church, letting it be a referent for various institutional efforts to incarnate faithful and Christ-like living, while conceiving of our ministry more broadly, focused on the wider kingdom of God. Thus we see ourselves less as minions of the institutional church (though not denying our sacramental role and ecclesial responsibilities) and more as ministers or facilitators of the kingdom, God's reign in time and space in all its manifestations. As Patrick Brennan phrases it in his recent best-seller Re-Imagining the Parish: Is the church an end in itself?. No! In this more traditional view of church, the church as movement, as people in a sacred relational bond of faith, exists as servant and instru-ment of something larger, more important than itself--that is, the reign or kingdom of God.11 The kingdom comes in myriad ways, some explicitly religious, many only implicitly so. We can and do find God incarnate in Paschal Triduum liturgies as well as in rather routine daily Masses; in powerful sacramental moments as in exquisite sunsets or a deer crossing the road at some country retreat; in the warmth of old friends, comfortable clothes, and mellow music as well as in the discovery of new relationships and the unexplored terrain of new ideas; in the gathering of colleagues and friends for professions, ordinations, anniversaries, and even funerals; and in vacation times far away from community members and parish life. Wherever there is love, life, and hope (that is, resurrection) in the face of life's limits, including death, we who are Christian ministers should point and say, "There is God's kingdom at hand." When those life-giving moments are in church (liturgy, Scripture, religious education, a retreat weekend, social-justice ministry), 14 Review for Religious let us sing a full-throated alleluia. But when such moments are part of church in its more cosmic sense or beyond the church in a kingdom-coming sense (symphony orchestras, art, nature, Windham Hill albums, even in Leo Buscaglia tapes and some New Age con-cepts), there too we should point to God's incarnate grace and voice praise. Over a decade ago I heard Richard McBrien use the parable of the ten lepers (Lk 17:11-19) as a type for this broader concept of church vis-h-vis the kingdom of God. He noted that all ten lepers were made clean, that is, all ten were redeemed. All ten were made ready for the heavenly banquet. The tenth leper, the one who realized what had been done to and for him, returned to give thanks, to praise God, and to be a herald of this good news. That tenth leper, McBrien suggested, is the church in its institutional manifesta- The community of believers, those who will share in the fullness of redemption, is not coterminous with card-carrying Roman Catholics. tions. We avowed Christians realize God's mighty and merciful deeds. We give thanks (Eucharist) not only in our own name, but in behalf of all creation. We praise God not only for our own lot in life, but also for the blessings bestowed on all of creation and especially on the human family. We strive to live, to speak about, and to incarnate the good news of God's benevolent creation and offer of redemption in every time and place. But it is crucial to remember that the healing of the ten (that is, redemption of the whole) is not primarily dependent on our success. God's healing Spirit blows where it will. Christ's invitation, redemption, and healing touch are not limited by our personal or institutional efforts. In this motif, the kingdom of God is bigger than the church which participates in it and attempts, more and less suc-cessfully, to proclaim it. Whether one equates the kingdom of God with "the church" in its ideal form and uses the same word "church" for those graced but imperfect institutional efforts, or whether one conceives of the kingdom of God as a fuller reality and all institutional churches as more and less successful attempts to embody kingdom or Gospel values, the result seems to be the same. We approach our institutional church--with its papacy, curia, national conferences, January-February 1992 15 generalates, dioceses, parishes, centers, and committee struc-tures- with more realistic and modest expectations. Sin abounds, but grace abounds more. Successes mount up, but so do failures. We have peaks and valleys in our efforts to "do ministry," whether as rugged individuals or as team players. For those who are not intimately bound up with the institu-tional church, these reflections may seem self-evident. But for those of us so imbued with an institutional sense of church, pro-grammed by our own socioethnic heritages and an underlying, intuited, and almost infused Roman Catholic ethos, it may be lib-erating to be confronted by this challenge to broaden our hori-zons, to stretch either our image of church or our sense of ministry to be more kingdom-oriented, less ecclesially confined. As one minister phrased it, "only recently have I been able to proclaim honestly that I cannot save myself. My salvation [and the church's] is only in the gift of God's grace through Christ.''Jz Keep your chin up, your chest out, your personal and com-munal relationships nurtured, your prayer life deepened, and, for God's sake and your own, do not lose your sense of humor. Do not let worries and disappointments about church or parish or com-munity shortcomings dampen your hope. You are not perfect, we are not perfect, they are not perfect--and never will be. So lighten up. Take care of yourself physically, emotionally, intellectually, socially, and spiritually. No use getting "burned out" by unful-filled and unrealistic expectations, personally or ecclesially. "Do not collapse your eschaton." Notes I See, for example, Jerry Edelwich and Archie Brodsky, Burn-Out: Stages of Disillusionment in the Helping Professions (New York: Human Sciences Press, 1980). Recent theological studies into the meaning of genuine Christian love suggest that agape alone, wholly other-centered love, is not only a human impossibility, but most likely a mythical unreality. Not even God, despite treatises to the contrary, is wholly other-centered, sola agape. In the Trinity there seems to be some measure of philia, mutual love one for another, within the Godhead, as well as some degree of eros, personal satisfaction in eternal life and in relationship among each of the divine Persons. Add God's involvement with and seeming delight in creation and we profess a God who is love in all its dimensions--selfless, mutual, and personally fulfilling. The varied literature on ministerial burnout includes a classic text and 16 Review for Religious a new volume: John Sanford, Ministry Burnout (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1982); Robert R. Lutz and Bruce T. Taylor (eds.), Surviving in Ministry (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1990). 2 Herbert J. Freudenberger, Burnout: The High Cost of High Achievement (Garden City: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1980), p. 13. 3 Bernard Hiiring sadly labels this the curial process of "restoration." For further analysis of these trends and H~ring's insights, see Bernard H~iring, "The Role of the Catholic Moral Theologian," in Charles E. Curran (ed.), Moral Theology: Challenges for the Future (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1990), pp. 32-47; "A Letter to the Pope," Tablet (30 June 1990); "The Church I Want," Tablet (28 July 1990); "Life in the Spirit," Tablet (4 August 1990). 4Avery Dulles SJ, Models of the Church (New York: Doubleday, 1974); A Church to Believe In (New York: Crossroad, 1982). s Vatican II, Lumen Gentium (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church); Gaudium et Spes (Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World). Synod of Bishops, "The Final Report," Origins 15 (19 December 1985): 444-450. The ecclesiology in each of these is discussed in Avery Dulles SJ, '% Half Century of Ecclesiology," Theological Studies 50 (1989): 419-442. 6 The 1990 Lutz/Taylor anthology, Surviving in Ministry (note 1 above), was written primarily for a Protestant audience, indicating that what I have called "workaholic burnout" is a current issue for many mainline Protestant ministers. The book, however, has application for religious, clergy, and especially lay ministers in the Catholic Church, people striving to balance ministerial work with a reasonable home and social life. 7 Dulles, "A Half Century of Ecclesiology," 423-425, 433-434; see also Hans Kiing, Reforming the Church Today: Keeping Hope Alive (New York: Crossroad, 1990). ~ Vatican II, Lumen Gentium (Dogmatic Constinltion on the Church), no. 8. 9Ibid, nos. 14-17. 10 Some more conservative readers might think that I am flirting with heresy. After all, there is an ancient patristic maxim that "outside the church there is no salvation." Seniors and church-history buffs may remember that Boston's Father Leonard Feeney tested the Catholic Church's interpretation of this in the 1940s by asserting that outside the Roman Catholic Church no one could be saved. He suffered excommunication for this ahistorical denominational overreaching of the definition of church, receiving reconciliation only after a nuanced recantation in later life. ** Patrick J. Brennan, Re-Imagining the Parish (New York: Crossroad, 1989), p. 12. 12 W. Benjamin Pratt, "Burnout: A Spiritual Pilgrimage," in Lutz/Taylor, Surviving in Ministry, p. 108. January-February 1992 17 ERIK RIECHERS Vincent Pallotti vs. Polarization o say that we live in a polarized church is to state the painfully obvious. The church is full of some very angry people, and this anger is dividing it into many factions. All around us we find examples of the growing polarization which is sepa-rating brothers and sisters in the Christian community. In our parishes we find different groups struggling for control over the direction of the community. In the dioceses different interest groups push their agenda without concern for the legitimate con-cerns and problems of segments of the local church. On the national and international levels, we can find the same struggle among opposing factions with only an increase in the amount of power and control that is being fought over. To be brief, polar-ization based on anger is a horrible and prevalent reality in our church. We are rapidly becoming people who fight for our ideo-logical causes and, therefore, are filled with an ideological anger towards those who disagree with us. Thus, liberation theologians are angry with classical theologians, classical theologians are angry with conservatives, conservatives are angry with progressives, the youth with the older generation, the laity with the clergy, and the clergy are angry and suspicious of the laity. Finally, there are those who are angry at everybody in the church. Our polarization often comes from anger that stems from ideology and not faith or theology. Ideological anger is based on real pain, be it mental, spiritual, or emotional. But it is an anger justified on ideological grounds. This anger feeds on itself, refuses to seek healing and reconciliation. It enjoys perpetuating itself, Erik Riechers SAC wrote "Love and Apostolate" for our November/ December 1988 issue. His address is 321 90th Avenue S.E.; Calgary, Alberta; Canada T2J 0A1. 18 Review for Religious enjoys no reflective moment. Instead, the knee-jerk reaction becomes the norm of response. Gradually our perception of the issue is clouded, and we replace individuals with neat stereotypes. Finally, we justify our anger by hiding it behind our "cause" and then declaring it righteous, when in fact, by this time, it is often pure hatred based on a gut reaction. Such a polarization, how-ever, has a price tag, and an expensive one at that. The first victim of polarization in the church is our sense of humor. When we are ideologically angry, we are no longer able to laugh at ourselves or with one another. The same humor which used to ease the tensions of our disagreements now adds to them. The foibles and weaknesses that once were laughed at because of their absurdity are no longer funny, for adherents of ideology tend to make no distinction between the allegiance they demand for their cause and that which they claim for themselves. This does not make for easy self-critical observation which is the root of humor. The seriousness which was once preserved for the issue itself is now extended to the proponents, so that not just the cause is on the line, but their very persons are at stake. Honesty is the second victim of polarization based on ideo-logical anger. As our anger grows, our honesty begins to shrivel. The real issues are soon forgotten and fall by the wayside. Personal animosities enter the arena once reserved for the matter at hand, and the issue has become a chance for us to vent our spleens. There is a willingness to see every form of evil in the others, but to ignore or justify the same attributes in ourselves. The best example is the parishioner who bemoans the stubborn-ness of another person in the parish, but describes his or her own intransigence as tenacity in the cause of justice. Sullenly we refuse to acknowledge even the smallest positive sign in the others, yet deem ourselves to be the last bastion of virtue and truth. Here the truth dies an ignominious death. Therefore, it becomes pos-sible for people in the parish to complain that their fellow parish-ioners do not listen to the authority of the pastor, but then refuse to follow the same authority when they themselves disagree with it. On the national church scene, there are some who decry the heavy-handed authority of those in positions of power, yet actu-ally advocate the same methods to further their own cause. In each case, the people who are caught up in the throes of ideo-logical anger have lost the ability to see and recognize the truth. But those who cannot recognize the truth cannot recognize Christ, ~anuary-February 1992 19 Riecbers ¯ Pallotti vs. Polarization the Truth. As a consequence it becomes easy enough to resort to stubbornness and call it fidelity, to savagely attack the integrity of another and call it defending the faith, or to speak with vitriolic cruelty and then label it righteous indignation. Charity is the final victim of our polarization; especially here we pay a heavy price. This is the devastating moment in which brothers and sisters refuse each other table fellowship. Parishioners will not associate with one another, and parish coun-cils replace dialogue with diatribe. Every motive is impugned as we expect the others to be as rotten and nasty as we have made them out to be. No longer is there a willingness to grant the ben-efit of the doubt or to assume the best. Distrust becomes the rule as the grip of our anger slowly squeezes our hearts dry. Yet the bleakness of the picture I have drawn is not a neces-sity and can be overcome. The dreariness of polarization can be lightened with the brilliance of the spiritual life. The polariza-tion of the church we live in can be seen as the result of our sin-ful brokenness, but it can also be seen as a call to a new fidelity. It is our spiritual lives which are suffering most from the atmo-sphere of poisoned debate and mistrust. Recognizing that we have strayed from the path of Jesus Christ, we always have the oppor-tunity to respond anew to the call of the Lord. There are cer-tainly many ways of achieving this, but I would like to suggest the way of a very special man, St. Vincent Pallotti (1795-1850). A man of incredible spiritual stature, he is to this day an effective and powerful teacher of the spiritual life for thousands of members of the Union of the Catholic Apostolate. It is my firm conviction that he has a great deal to offer all of us in the polarized church and that he can point out to us a way of spiritual regeneration. Pallotti's first response to a polarized church is to emphasize the need of putting our focus on God. He is a staunch proponent of such a focus. Repeatedly he calls upon his listeners to channel their energy and effort into God. In one of his most famous prayers, he lists the many things in life that people pursue, but then admonishes us to seek God alone. "Not the intellect, but God. Not the will, but God. Not the heart, but God . Not food and drink, but God .Not worldly goods, but God .God in all and forever." In another passage he writes, "I want nothing but God: nothing, nothing." It is in this God-centeredness that Pallotti offers us an antidote for the self-centeredness which is at the root of all our polarization. When we focus on God and the 20 Review for Religious magnificent work of redemption wrought for our sake, we see our causes and our self-interest for what they truly are: petty and insignificant. The God-centeredness of Pallotti would root us again in the essential mission of Christ and wean us from the pre-occupation with our own agenda. The more we fill our lives with God alone, the less room is left for our own narrow and selfish ideological causes. Pallotti goes on to offer us a second response to polarization in the church by emphasizing the Pauline challenge to become all things to all people. If in the first instance Pallotti prays for a focused heart, in the sec-ond he prays for a responsive heart. As Father Francesco Amoroso, a leading Pallotti scholar, points out, the closer Pallotti draws to God, the closer he draws to his creatures and the greater is his yearning to become responsive to the infinite love to which he has drawn close. "I want to help the poor as well as I can . I want to become food and drink and clothing in order to alleviate their need. I want to be transformed into light for the blind, hearing for the deaf, and health for the sick." In these touching words of prayer, Pallotti shows us the result of a heart aimed at responding to the need of our brothers and sisters, namely, a shattering of the bondage to egotistical and ideological anger. For Pallotti it is per-fectly clear that a heart made responsive by God's infinite love destroys polarization because it is more concerned with the need of the other than with the desire to be successful or right. Pallotti was a man who cherished the communion of the church. He saw our communion as something of an essentially sacred nature because it is rooted in love and built upon that love. Pallotti describes love as the substantial constituent of the church, without which all things decline. Thus, Pallotti challenges us to heed the call to live as church. The church is a communion of brothers and sisters united by their shared life with God and one another in the power of baptism. This shared existence is nour-ished by their participation in the one bread and one cup offered on the one altar of the Lord. They share a common calling in Christ and are led by the same word which calls them to com-munion and demands of them a common sharing in the fate and destiny of one another and of Christ. In God-centeredness Pallotti offers us an antidote for self-centeredness. ~anuary-February 1992 21 Riecbers ¯ Pallotti vs. Polarization We seem to have forgotten that there is no opposition party in the church. Yet we are rapidly losing this understanding of ourselves as church, a loss Pallotti considered intolerable. Instead, we have replaced the image of church as communion with the image of church as parliament. In parliament many parties fight for power, each interested in furthering its cause and hindering the policies of the other parties. Nothing binds individuals together save the desire to be the party in power. In the search for power and the realization of their cause, they constantly belittle, demean, and devalue the efforts and ideas of those they oppose. Above all, a par-liament does not have love as its substantial constituent. Sometimes we seem to have forgotten that there is rio opposition party in the church. We all belong to the community, we are all moving in the same direction. There are no enemies to beat off, only brothers and sisters we must struggle to understand. We belong to the same family, even when we are of dif-fering mind-set. Naturally, this does not deny the possibility of disagreement and differing opinions. Yet, when we disagree or differ, it is as parts of one community that we do so. The force of our differences must be balanced by the strength of our love for one another as brothers and sisters. If getting our own way, winning the argument, or being proven correct becomes more important than preserving our bond of love as community, then we no longer heed the call of Christ. Pallotti was a man of great humility, always struggling to rec-ognize the reality of his life as a sinner who was redeemed by infinite love. This too is part of Pallotti's challenge to us today: to heed the call to live in humility and reconciliation. Humility means that we are rooted in reality, that we perceive reality as it is and not as we would have it. Upon recognizing our reality we abandon exaggerated self-assertion, give up self-righteousness, allow the truth of our sinfulness to stand before our eyes, and we rid ourselves of the illusions of our grandeur, power, and perfec-tion. Only in humility do we find the ability to serve God and neighbor because it is in humility that we see them both as they truly are. Reconciliation becomes possible because we recognize both grace and sin in ourselves and in others. We can be a peo-ple that lives mutual complementarity in the Body of Christ 22 Review for Religious because with the clarity of humility we can acknowledge the charisms in the other members of the church, even if they should not agree with us in every question. Like Pallotti, we are in good shape when despite our differences we realize that we would be impoverished without the gifts and talents of the others. Finally, Pallotti can offer us the simple lesson of humor. If we possess humility, we can laugh at our vanity and pride. The positions we once defended with such venom remain important, but our actions often look as foolish as they actually were. The sweeping generalizations made in the heat of angry debate sud-denly bring a sheepish smile to our lips and a somewhat rueful laugh from our hearts. Thomas More put it well when he prayed for a sense of humor and the grace to understand a joke so that he would know a bit of joy in this life and pass it on to others. That gift of humor is very much a part of our calling, and it is a criti-cal part of the healing needed in a polarized church. For when we are able to laugh at ourselves and one another, we are able to leave behind the anger and the pain and to invest our energy, dedication, and commitment in the only cause that really mat-ters, the kingdom of God. Pallotti's sense of humor is not often described since the hagiographers had other interests in mind when writing about him. But there are subtle hints of a gentle humor in the man, and there is no doubt in my mind that his humor helped him to overcome the many daunting obstacles he faced in his lifetime. For, if Pallotti did not have a sense of humor, we would be hard pressed to explain the gentleness, patience, and kindness which marked his entire ministry and life. Martin Luther King Jr. once spoke with eloquence of his dream of a world without social injustice and racial hatred. Pallotti too had a dream of a new reality, a dream he called many to share with him. We dream of a church which has been swept clean of polarization and ideological anger by the refreshing wind of the Holy Spirit. We dream of a church of mutual complementarity where the ordained and the laity cooperate rather than compete; where young and old are fulfilled rather than frightened by each other; where women and men complement rather than contra-dict each other; where diversity does not mean division and learn-ing can replace lambasting. We dream of a church where the pure waters of coresponsibility will extinguish the burning flames of power, domination, and polarization. .~anuary-February 1992 23 DENNIS J. BILLY The Ecumenical Kernel call for Christian unity an authentic and wide enough theological basis for diverse doctrinal and moral opinion. Such a finding can be arrived at only through a close examination of the various assumptions of that call, not the least of which concerns the very meaning of the term "oneness" itself. This, in turn, must be inte-grated with the whole of theology and in such a way that the integrity of each of the Christian traditions is maintained. The Theological Basis of Ecumenism Theologically the call to Christian unity can be traced to a number of well-known New Testament texts. Jesus' priestly prayer for solidarity among those who believe (Jn 17:21), Paul's chal-lenging description of the oneness of those baptized in Christ (Ga 3:27-28), and the eloquent call to unity in faith, baptism, and Spirit expressed by the author of Ephesians (4:4-5) are but a few of the many texts which come to mind (for example, Jn 14:20, Ac 4:32, Rin 10:12, 1 Co 12:13, Col 3:11, Heb 6:12). When taken together with Irenaeus's understanding of the church's unity of faith in both heart and soul (Adversus haereses, 1.10.2), Cyprian's notion of the unity of the church as the source of salvation (De ecdesiae unitate, 6), and Nicea's definition of the signs of the church Dennis Billy CSSR, who has often contributed to our pages, continues to reside at Accademia Mfonsiana; Via Merulana, 31; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma, Italy. 24 Review for Religious as "one, holy, catholic, and apostolic" (italics mine), these texts support the classical theological claim of the church's indivisible nature. Such evidence, however, must not be taken at face value. Beneath it lies the question why the call for unity holds such a prominent place in the texts of Christian antiquity. Do these texts portray a historical reality or a theologized hope? Do they reveal a concrete picture of the ecclesial circumstances of their times? Or do they point instead to the discouraging and often embarrassing experience of disunity within the ranks of the early church com-munities? This latter possibility seems more than likely. To sup-port this claim, one need merely point to the first-century tensions between Jewish and Gentile Christians over the need to adhere to the letter of the Mosaic law (see Acts 15), or to the Gnostic threat within the early-second-century church of Antioch which led Ignatius to see the value of a strong monarchical episcopacy, or to the third-century controversy between Carthage and Rome over the rebaptism of the lapsed, or even to the hostile division between Catholic and Arian camps in the pre-Nicene church of the early fourth century. It must also be remembered that so-called hereti-cal ideas often develop within existing ecclesial structures and are labeled as such only when circumstances push the church's teach-ing authority to articulate for its members a more precise theo-logical doctrine. In this respect, heterodoxy occasions the historical context within which orthodoxy struggles continually to refine itself. This relation of codependence in the history of Christian thought needs much further study and clarification. It comes as no small surprise, then, that one of the greatest feats of the Second Vatican Council was its dogged attempt to invert the historical dynamics of ecumenical relations from neg-ative contrariety (that is, heterodox/orthodox codependence) to cooperative dialogue. While acknowledging that the one church of Christ subsists visibly in the Catholic Church (Lume~ Gentium, 8), the council fathers recognized varying degrees of incorpora-tion into Christ's Body and, for the first time ever, the existence of other churches or ecclesiastical communities (Lumen Gemium, 14-16). They also called for the restraint of prejudicial attitudes, dialogue between competent experts, more cooperation in work-ing for the good of humanity, prayer undertaken in common, and the ongoing task of renewal and reform (Unitatis Redintegratio, 4). The intention of these challenging doctrinal innovations was January-February 1992 25 Billy ¯ Ecumenical Kernel to foster within ecumenical relations: (1) a conciliatory attitude towards the divisions of the past, (2) a realistic attitude towards the possibilities of the present, and (3) a hopeful attitude for the future. The immediate result has been more than two decades of intense dialogue between the Catholic Church and virtually every major Christian denomination and non-Christian religion. The Meaning of Christian Unity From these discussions a number of questions about the nature of Christian unity have arisen. Is the sought-after unity something which exists in the transcendent, other-worldly dimen-sion of Christ's Mystical Body? Is it to have visible expressions in the world in which we live? Must these expressions be of a structural or institutional nature? Are these expressions neces-sary to the nature of the church? Is an absolute uniformity of doctrine and morals essential to the rule of faith? Is it something that people can and should experience in the concrete expres-sions of their daily lives? Is greater cooperation in social-justice issues enough? Is it sufficient for the Christian churches simply to agree to disagree? If so, then in what does the distinctive Christian witness to the world consist? Since the answers to these and sim-ilar questions vary as much as the theological starting points of the numerous denominations involved, it is no small wonder that, on almost every front, ecumenical dialogue is slowly moving towards (and, in some cases, has already arrived at) a discouraging and uneasy state of theological deadlock. What is the worth of present attempts to break through this apparent confessional impasse? Is the standstill itself a sign that the ecumenical process has been moving in the wrong direction? The latter seems worthy of exploration. Rather than being thought of as mutually exclusive, perhaps the relational models of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue can be juxtaposed--held in tension, if you will--in such a way as to enable the churches to understand the meaning of Christian unity in more dynamic and creative terms. Perhaps the Catholic Church needs to examine its tradition of dependence on the classical Protestant theologies (that is, Lutheranism, Anglicanism, Calvinism) as a means of refin-ing its insights into the richness of its own theological tradition. The various Protestant denominations, in turn, should do the same with Catholic theology and perhaps even with each other. 26 Review for Religious The point being made here is that a theological concept can be fully appreciated and understood only in relationship to those ideas it was originally meant to negate. The history of Catholic dogma, in other words, should be written in the context of its own "antihistory," that is, in relation to those who, ultimately, could not accept the consequences of its teaching. But how is this to be done? How is a balance between ecu-menical relations based on negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue to be maintained? Are they not mutually exclusive? Do they not stand in open contradiction to one another? How could they ever be reconciled? Plato's description of justice as well-tem-pered harmony of contrary forces (Republic, IV, 443) proves an invaluable guide in this respect. Unlike Aristotle's rather static rendering of virtue as the mean between the extremes of excess and deficiency (Ethics, 2.6), Plato's understanding allows for a dynamic yet creative interplay of wild and unwieldy forces. True, mistakes will be made from time to time: one horse may over-power the resistance of the charioteer, resulting in his loss of bal-ance and eventual fall. But with the perfection of the skill comes a mastery of these contrary forces; movement is eventually achieved with ease and grace. The point here is that, rather than struggling to reach a theological middle ground acceptable to all concerned, those working for Christian unity should be more involved in trying to help people acquire the skill of dialoguing in the midst of intense confessional conflict. In doing so, future ecu-menical efforts will be less threatened by those in the churches who, somewhere along the way, have let themselves be swayed by one or the other extreme. The Ecumenical Kernel From what has been said thus far, the fundamental principle of ecumenical theology (the ecumenical kernel) may be described as an acquired interior disposition of individual Christians and believing church communities who, seeking to understand the historical and theological significance of their oven religious tra-ditions, maintain an ongoing, balanced relationship of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue with traditions (both Christian and non-Christian; secular and nonsecular) other than their own. The goal of these relationships is to increase, on both personal and communal levels, a deeper appreci.ation of the mutual January-February 1992 27 Billy ¯ Ecumenical Ke~ ,~,,,~ dependence these traditions share in the historical dimensions of space and time. They are to determine as far as possible the extent to which their stated differences prevent them from remaining true to the most basic tenets of their respective faith traditions. Given the above formulation of the ecumenical kernel, a num-ber of observations arise: 1. As "an acquired interior disposition," the principle resides within individual members of the believing faith community. This habitual attitude of mind looks upon other faith traditions not as a threat, but as a challenge to question and, hopefully, to grow in the knowledge and love of one's own tradition. Acquired by human cooperation with the intricate working of God's grace, it repre-sents a level of maturity which cannot be presupposed for all members of a particular tradition. The principle must be thought of as existing in varying degrees among the members of the faith community. Numerous internal tensions are likely and are to be expected. 2. The principle contains an important social dimension. The above-mentioned interior disposition of mind is not confined to private piety, but is oriented, by its very nature, towards being shared with others and towards growth within groups--often across denominational boundaries--for the purpose of achieving its stated relational goals. A person's own interior disposition of mind is strengthened by the growth of this attitude within his or her community. The more this disposition grows in its social ori-entation, the more it will affect the doctrinal outcome of ecu-menical relations among the churches. 3. The principle asserts that the Christian search for self-understanding must be carried out in the context of the relation-ship a particular faith tradition has to those traditions outside of its official confines and which the thrust of its doctrine was orig-inally intended to negate. This "knowledge by negation" forces the believer to delve ever more deeply to the roots of his or her own theological tradition and to try to determine the precise histori-cal basis of church doctrinal statements. 4. From a doctrinal perspective, precedents for the theolog-ical balancing Of opposing extremes are found in both the classi-cal trinitarian doctrine established in the fourth- and fifth-century councils (that is, three Persons in one God) and in the way the divinity and humanity of Christ were balanced in the definition of Chalcedon (451). In each instance the orthodox position emerges 28 Review for Religious only in contrast to certain teachings encountered within the ranks of the church which the authorities ultimately sought to negate (that is, Arianism, Nestorianism, Monophysitism). In such a way the principle challenges the church to adapt its classical theolog-ical approach of balancing opposing extremes to the pressing ecu-menical concerns of the present. 5. The balancing of the relationships of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue also points to the capacity of an individual or group to maintain a steadfast internal equilibrium between two very different ways of dealing with the lack of religious unity in their lives (that is, polemics and irenics). Rather than seeking to compromise or to water down one doctrine with the other, the aim here is to develop within believers suffi-cient latitude of mind not only to chal-lenge and confront, but also to see the intrinsic worth of faith traditions other than their own. By helping believers to recognize the extent to which their own tradition is dependent upon and has, in fact, been enriched by various opposing ones, these relationships should evoke a unity of respect that will go a long way in the pursuit of further ecumenical exchanges. 6. Since various religious and secular traditions are likely to be involved, the extent and scope of these relationships will vary from place to place, even within local churches of the same tra-dition. Stronger and more fruitful relationships of negative con-trariety will exist between those traditions sharing a long history of doctrinal controversy. Relationships of cooperative dialogue are constrained only by the limits of constructive theological reflection and exchange. Since each tradition will obviously look within itself for its measure of orthodoxy, progress in ecumenical relations is to be measured not so much in terms of a movement towards doctrinal uniformity as in the mutual commitment of each tradition to keeping the balanced relationship of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue alive. 7. The goal of appreciating the mutual dependence of con-flicting religious traditions challenges the members of each com- Other faith traditions are not a threat, but a challenge to question and, hopefully, to grow in the knowledge and love of one's own tradition. January-February 1992 29 B~I~ ¯ Ecumenical Kernel munity to take the risk of letting go, if ever so briefly, of some of the most precious presuppositions of their faith. They do this, on the one hand, in order to look at their own tradition from outside its own self-limiting confines and, on the other hand, to experience the conflicting tradition from within its own framework of hermeneutical preconceptions. The result should be an inter-pretative turn back to their own tradition with eyes opened anew to both the strengths and weaknesses of their most basic doctri-nal positions. 8. From this deeper appreciation of mutual dependence, there arises a concern over the extent to which the differences now articulated between each opposing tradition prevent them from remaining faithful to even more basic tenets of their faith which each tradition may very well share with the other. The stated goal is and must always remain a person's faithfulness to his or her own theological tradition. Disagreement between mutually depen-dent religious traditions is to be expected and cannot be over-come in all instances. VC-hat is more important is (1) that these mutually dependent religious traditions support each other in the beliefs and values which they share and (2) that they remain com-mitted to maintaining an open relationship of contrariety, one which will insure that each will continue to refine its own positions and grow in a deeper understanding of their final consequences. These observations do not exhaust the richness of the fun-damental principle of ecumenical theology as set forth in this essay. They seek merely to draw out some of the implications of the principle and to provide a context within which the current efforts of ecumenism may be renewed. Religious have an impor-tant role to play in such a renewal. Religious and Ecumenism Characterized by a communal lifestyle dedicated to the evan-gelical counsels, the religious life provides an environment that can foster the interior disposition of the heart and mind needed to maintain a balanced relationship of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue. In their vow of poverty, religious seek to empty themselves not merely of an inordinate attachment to material goods, but even of those immaterial attachments of the mind and heart that may get in the way of their service of the Lord. In an ecumenical context, 30 Review for Religious this would mean a willingness to hold one's own theological opin-ions "in check" so as to cooperate with other faith traditions with a view towards experiencing them for their own intrinsic worth. Such an interior disposition should culminate in a deeper aware-ness of the various strengths and weaknesses of one's own theo-logical perspective. In their vow of obedience, religious choose to accept the will of their superiors as a con-crete sign of God's design for them in their lives. In an ecu-menical context, this would translate into a strong identifi-cation of one's own desire for church unity with the approved ecumenical directives of the Catholic Church. Religious would thus stand as staunch defenders of their church's theological tradition who are able and willing not only to confront other reli-gious traditions with challeng-ing questions and observations rooted in a sound knowledge of their own faith, but also to The risk of letting go of some of the most precious presuppositions of their faith to look at their own tradition from outside its self-limiting confines should open one's eyes anew to both the strengths and weaknesses of their most basic doctrinal positions. refine their own theological positions in the light of challenges and observations received from without. In their vow of chastity, religious forgo the goods of marriage in order to give witness to the existence of a life beyond the con-fines of the present earthly reality. In an ecumenical context, this translates into a constant reminder to the various proponents of church unity that the ultimate source of that unity cannot be human efforts alone, but is the trinitarian harmony of "unity in plurality" within the life of the Godhead itself. Religious thus urge their fellow Christians to be aware of the eschatological dimensions of their struggle for church unity. God's kingdom, in other words, is established on earth only to the extent that the oneness and peace found in the divinity's inner life manifests itself (1) within the communal assemblies of the faithful and (2) in the human society where these faithful assemblies gather. January-February 1992 31 Billy ¯ Ecumenical Kernel Even more important than the above considerations is the fact that the religious life asks its members to strive constantly towards achieving in many areas of their lives a delicate balance of opposing extremes, for example, action/contemplation; personal needs/community life; the ideals of the evangelical counsels/the experience of human weakness and the tendency to sin. Such a life of balanced extremes should make the balance of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue spoken of in this essay that much easier to incorporate within one's own spirituality and approach to life. This is not to say that a similar balance cannot be developed in other states of life within the church (for exam-ple, single, married, priestly lives), but only that the religious life is especially suited to it. To be sure, the eschatological orientation of the vows themselves moves the religious to maintain a contin-ually balanced perspective between life in the present and in the beyond. Realized eschatology refers not to a collapse of the latter into the former, but to the balanced and simultaneous movement of each, bringing the Christian to his or her ultimate end in God. Conclusion This essay deals with the present deadlock in ecumenical progress by reexamining some of the basic premises of the dis-cussion and by suggesting a redirection of many current efforts for Christian unity. As put forth in these pages, the fundamental prin-ciple of ecumenical theology (the ecumenical kernel) calls for the balancing of the opposing extremes of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue. While the former refers to the relationship of heterodox/orthodox codependence prevalent in the early church and in the Catholic Church's relation with dissident Christian traditions down through the centuries, the latter represents the more conciliatory, irenic approach employed since the time of the Second Vatican Council. The essay argues that the movement towards Christian unity lies not so much in a calculated agenda for doctrinal uniformity as in the commitment among the churches to maintain the balanced relationship of negative contrariety and cooperative dialogue. The bonds resulting from such a relation-ship of opposing extremes give rise to a healthy respect for tra-ditions other than one's own and to a deeper consciousness of the mutual dependence which so many traditions share but so sel-dom advert to. 32 Review for Religious Religious can play an important role in maintaining this bal-ance of opposing extremes. Their commitment to the vows pro-vides them with a deep spiritual basis from which they can develop the necessary internal disposition of mind and heart required for the principle to take effect. Since their way of life already asks them to sustain a similar balance of opposing extremes in many areas of their lives, they give witness, on the one hand, to those who believe it cannot be done and set an example, on the other hand, for those seeking to embody the principle in their own lives. The faithful dedication of religious to their calling not only serves as a leaven for themselves and others (both within and without the Catholic tradition), but also can make those who are deaf to the call for church unity sit up and take notice. Religious should be in the forefront of the church's attempt to maintain with other religious traditions a balanced relationship of nega-tive contrariety and cooperative dialogue. In sum, then, the fundamental principle of ecumenical theol-ogy (the ecumenical kernel) states that church unity involves a pro-cess of committed encounter between religious traditions whose very existence implies a relationship of concrete mutual depen-dence. The goal of ecumenical theology is to highlight this rela-tionship and thus provide, for all concerned, a deeper understanding of the issues which unite and separate them. Since such under-standing will take place only in the context of the above-mentioned balance of opposing extremes, it would seem that the churches have much to do before the long-yearned-for unity "in faith and morals" becomes a reality for future Christian generations. January-February 1992 33 JAMES M. KEEGAN Elements and Dynamics of a Spiritual-Direction Practicum direction and discernment the West Coast to talk about their common concerns in training spiritual directors, has discovered itself large enough to form a separate East Coast "symposium." In the years of religious discovery after Vatican II, a num-ber of institutions in North America established them-selves as centers for the training or development of spiritual directors. This sudden evolution, or fission, into dozens of programs is startling. It seems the training of spiritual directors, almost without being noticed, is becom-ing a significant commitment of church-related institu-tions. While the methods and goals of these ventures are as diverse as the people who manage them, there is a signifi-cant difference between practicum programs and those which do not involve such an element. Even among practicums the variety of ways and means can be dizzy-ing. To stimulate and encourage those engaged in the adventure of developing spiritual directors--or thinking James M. Keegan sJ has been involved in the training of spir-itual directors for a dozen years, first in New England and now in Kentucky. His present work is in the Spirituality Office of the Archdiocese of Louisville: Flaget Center; 1935 Lewiston Place; Louisville, Kentucky 40216. 34 Review for Religious about it--this article will describe some of the facets of a suc-cessful practicum and then present two important issues which seem inevitably to arise in this kind of work. The Need for Practicums At the center of its pedagogy, a practicum program includes the actual doing of spiritual direction with directees over a period of time, plus staff supervision of that work. Under this definition falls a wide variety of actual plans, courses, and organizations ranging from year-long full-time programs to part-time one-to-four- year courses, as well as those shorter arrangements designed for one to four months which may include individually directed retreats as the practicum element. The abundance of programs answers a new demand for spir-itual directors, a demand arising from a felt need as well as from the increased visibility of spiritual direction as an attractive, pos-sibly even faddish, discovery in the current atmosphere of the churches. Increasingly, professional ministers are recognizing their spiritual hunger and lack of regular nourishment in the central relationship of their lives and opting to do something about it beyond an annual retreat. Furthermore, as lay men and women are encouraged and educated to claim their particular gifts of min-istry, many are realizing the concomitant need for stronger spir-itual grounding. So they seek out competent spiritual directors. The quality of training which those directors receive seems of paramount importance if they are to be accurately helpful to these men and women, as well as accountable for what they do. While a reading knowledge of spiritual direction or an understanding of some of its theoretical schemata can be important in preparing one to do the work and especially in reflecting on it later, such an approach without the practical element of working with individ-uals can be counterproductive and even dangerous. The theories of spiritual life that one reads have been developed from many an individual case over long periods of trial and error. They acknowledge, of course, the rough edges and ambiguities one meets when face-to-face with a directee, but they cannot predict how any one of us will react in that circumstance. For instance, one can understand that change and development in prayer are often signaled by inner darkness, and yet have no idea how to understand and respond to a directee's yearning pain. One may January-February 1992 35 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum have theories about the termination of spiritual direction, but be completely thrown when a particular directee wants to quit. A program involving a supervised practicum should be considered a sine qua non at some point in the development of a qualified spiritual director. Those who run successful programs usually have articulated their beliefs and pedagogy in a model of spiritual direction which they attempt to impart to the participants. For some, the heart of the model is conversion; for others, religious experience or the incorporation of social awareness into one's life and prayer. The strength of the practicum, however, comes not from a model of spiritual direction, but from the experience of God at work in the directee, the director, and the supervisor--and from their suc-cesses and mistakes. If it is genuinely at the service of its partic-ipants' experience of God, a successful practicum program is a continuous test of the model upon which it based. Change and development in spiritual life may look quite different from what is expected; God's action may outfox the supervisor as well as the director and demand that the staff reflect critically upon its assumptions in the light of its experience. Elements of a Practicum A practicum is composed of a staff and the participants. "Staff" here means supervisory staff, even though other staff persons may be vital to the functioning of the program. The staff oversees the participants in at least six basic and essential elements. 1. Active engagement in the work of spiritual direction. Nothing substitutes for each participant's seeing several directees on a reg-ular basis if the core of learning is to be the recognition of God's action in another's life. Other elements of the program are more or less useful as they help participants become better at recog-nizing and facilitating another person's relationship with God. Directees most often come through the sponsoring organization, with staff members conducting a first interview to determine their readiness for spiritual direction. In other instances, participants in the program bring their own directees. In any case the staff should determine its role in the admission of directees so as to insure that these persons' real needs may be met and that the practicum's participants may best learn from their experience. Their work with a number of directees regularly over an 36 Review for Religious extended period of time provides them with learning that cannot be acquired in briefer time or with only one or two individuals. They may learn from dealing with the slow development of one person's contemplative ability, or with people at different stages of spiritual life or in different socioeconomic conditions, or with various dynamics of change in people's relationship with God. Whereas some beginning directees may already be at home in their inner lives, others will need patient help in discovering an inner landscape, noticing and then articulating interior events, and continuing to pray when things get dark. The way in which such variety challenges or affirms assumptions that the partici-pants have provides an invaluable arena for their formation as spiritual directors. 2. Regular supervision of actual cases. Confidential supervision using verbatim reports (or taped interviews) is the central learn-ing arena. Supervision begins when the participant prepares a detailed ("verbatim") report of what actually occurred in a par-ticular spiritual-direction session, and is furthered in the encounter with a staff supervisor. The focus is on exploring the participant's responses and reactions rather than on diagnosing the directee, and the goal is twofold: assuring the welfare of the directee and promoting the personal and professional integration of the par-ticipant, the fledgling director. Many programs include group supervision to provide insight that may not come from a single supervisor, and to encourage participants in the program to think in a supervisory manner. Learning through supervision to reflect on the particulars of their work with a directee, participants can become aware of their particular strengths and weaknesses as spiritual directors. Rather than simply offering tools or techniques for the work, a super-vised practicum can help directors to discover their own distinc-tive style and abilities, taking as their goal the development of the person of the spiritual director as a director. Supervision helps to develop a discriminating mind-set, a love for criticism, and the healthy skepticism about one's own work which allows God to be the creative one in the lives of directees. 3. Regular personal spiritual direction. It is clear that one of the greatest helps or hindrances to growth in a practicum program is the participant's personal experience of receiving spiritual direc-tion. We shall see in the final section of this article that partici-pants' personal lives and prayer may hit rocky ground in the January-February 1992 37 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum course of this kind of program, and personal issues may cloud their ability to learn. At least during the practicum, participants should be encouraged to receive direction from directors whose practice is known by the staff to be based on principles similar to those being taught. Furthermore, without an experiential awareness of those principles active in their own life, participants may well find the focus of a particular program either intellectu-ally confusing or, worse, negligible. 4. Study: Courses, Workshops, Reading. A tragic flaw in many practicums is the attempt to accomplish so much that the essen-tials are lost; more material is covered at the expense of contem-plative depth and reflection on the work. No staff wants to certify ignorant or uninformed directors, but the body of knowledge with which a good spiritual director should be familiar is growing so rapidly that it could ease an experiential pedagogy into sec-ond place. Each staff will have to determine for itself how much time and energy should be given to at least these four areas: the-ology (Scripture study, Christology, moral theology), psychology (developmental theory, study of the unconscious, diagnostic cat-egories), spirituality (history, traditions of prayer and discern-ment), and culture (religiopolitical history, issues of social justice). Some will set certain prerequisites for entrance into their pro-grams while others will encourage concurrent workshops, courses, and reading. A rule of thumb might be that academic work in a practicum should illumine the participants' experience of doing spiritual direction and whet their appetite for further investigation rather than just provide familiarity with a broad range of material on spirituality. 5. Reflection. Development of spiritual directors demands con-templative time for participants to remember, think and pray about, and otherwise mull over with their directees. Reflection is a value that needs to be built into the program, or competing forces will eat it away. It is possible to design a course whose aca-demic elements unite around and illuminate the participants' experience doing the work of direction. While the goal of a grad-uate program might be the students' command of the history of spirituality and the works of its major authors, a practicum seeks to help its participants understand their experience in the light of the tradition. Reading assignments, for instance, will be differ-ent than in academic programs: participants may be asked to famil-iarize themselves with the cultural background of a spiritual classic 38 Review for Religious and then read only a few pages of the actual work, imagining the experience described, comparing it with what they have seen, noticing their reactions to it. Questions like the following might be pursued after a reading of the first three chapters of the Life of Teresa of Avila: What do you understand (or not) of her expe-rience of God? Have you seen anything like it in any of your directees? How is it different? What do you make of the cultural influences on Teresa? on your directee? What is God like for these people? Where does Teresa's experi-ence lead? your directee's? Some programs provide retreat week-ends for their participants, or other kinds of shared prayer. Journaling can be built into group time, along with some sharing of that journaling with the group. Finally, the staff's reflective lifestyle, or its absence, speaks most loudly of the values inherent in any program. 6. Evaluation. However it may make us cringe, a supervisory program is inescapably evaluative. Supervision, as described here, is a means of critical self-evaluation. Further, if participants are progressing toward some kind of certification, clear develop-mental criteria must be communicated and maintained. It is essen-tial that the staff have understood these criteria uniformly and agreed upon them and that it apply them equitably. Furthermore, the staff needs to talk at length with one another about their atti-tudes toward evaluation, both of participants' performance and of their own. The more clearly the staff understands the foundational phi-losophy and pedagogy of the program, the more clearly it will communicate the goals and objectives of each term or semester, and the more helpful the evaluations will be for those in the pro-gram. If, for instance, a goal of the first segment is a demon-strated ability to listen to a directee with empathy, acceptance, and genuineness, both the staff and those being evaluated would have to understand and recognize the working definitions of those terms and agree on their place in the work of spiritual direction. A positive evaluation would encourage participants by helping them to own their strengths and successes and would challenge them with specific directions for growth in the next segment of the Reflection is a value that needs to be built into the program, or competing forces will eat it away. ~anuary-Felrruary 1992 39 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum work. In deciding what constitutes a negative evaluation, how-ever, and what the next steps should be, a staff may run into ques-tions and disagreements rooted in the subjective nature of much of their work, and will need to fall back on their previous inter-action and their togetherness as a team. Evaluation is also a means by which a program can measure its own success in the short term. If the learning goals for each term or semester are not achieved by participants in a demon-strable way, evaluation time 1nay signal a need to rethink parts of the program. 7. Summary. As described here, a practicum program focuses its energies and its various elements on the concrete work of spir-itual direction and on its supervision for learning purposes. Study, reflection, group process, even individuals' own prayer and spir-itual direction are variously related to what happens when the participants engage with a directee. The supervisory staff need a shared understanding and experience of the basic elements of such engagement which they want to develop in those who come to them for training. Because the heart of the practicum is the meeting of persons--the directee, the director, and the supervi-sor, all carrying their own inner wounds and scars, and the supremely free person of God--the entire endeavor stands on precarious ground. The following section will discuss two events which, unlike earthquakes, may be predictable. Some Dynamics of a Supervisory Program. Although a practicum is a clinic for ministerial development, personal as well as clinical issues will inevitably arise among the participants and call for attention. V~hen strongly felt psycho-logical and spiritual change begins to happen to individuals in a group, the forces at play can be simultaneously shrill and very subtle, and a staff ought to be prepared to listen beneath the noise lest their program be derailed. Below I will discuss two issues, a personal issue which often has profound impact on the practicum as a whole and a clinical one which arises from the nature of a practicum. First, if the program presents a refined focus or a particular understanding of the nature of prayer or spirituality, it will prob-ably confront to some degree the spiritual lives of those enrolled in it. People will be challenged to confirm their own experience 40 Review for Religious anew, to look into it more deeply than before, or to criticize and possibly jettison their old assumptions about God, prayer, and spiritual life. They may expose the inadequacy of former spiri-tual directors or may encounter their need for counseling or ther-apy; anger may arise and get directed at staff, peers, friends, or directees. Because of new material about spiritual life or new experience of it, the participants themselves begin to change--some-times radically. This is usually an important and welcome development, signaling real engagement in the pro-gram. However, such personal expe-rience can be so strong and so generally felt that, unless a staff expects and understands it, the oper-ative goal of the program can subtly shift from ministerial to personal growth. A practicum can subtly change into a personal-growth rather than a ministerial endeavor if the staff does not keep the emphasis on the work to A practicum can subtly change into a personal-growth rather than a ministerial endeavor if the staff does not keep the emphasis on the work to be done. be done, always conscious of helping the participants to bring their personal growth to bear on their work with directees. Here the staff itself may well need supervision. Elements of the program can be imperceptibly skewed away from the ministerial issues cen-tral to it. Because the person of the director is the focus of super-vision, for instance, supervisory sessions may subtly become therapeutic rather than clinical and professional. If participants are consistently asked to consult their own experience of life or prayer in reflecting on their work, they may not develop the ability to remember and look critically at other people's experience, which will inevitably offer them a wider and more surprising range. Material can be presented in a way that favors the participants' personal application of it and neglects the further step of apply-ing what they have learned to what they have seen in their directees. Since participants often experience the "personal-conversion phenomenon," it can become a group issue which may be best addressed if there is in place some group function where they are encouraged to talk with one another about what is happening to January-February 1992 41 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum them personally. Further, the staff may need to be flexible enough to modify the syllabus or calendar, to adjust the presentation of material to the ability of individuals in the group to hear and absorb it. The second issue I intend to discuss, for which I borrow the term "narcissistic crisis,''l occurs in some form in most clinical programs and is complicated by the highly personal and value-laden religious material of spiritual direction. People tend to enter such programs with some infection from the cultural stereotype of the spiritual director as wise, holy, and powerful. Whether they measure themselves positively or negatively against this icon and its expectations, participants very often exhibit regressive behav-ior when a supervisor starts to look at the details of their work. Initial confidence or self-doubt may turn into their opposites when otherwise successful and competent people find themselves scrutinized as they assume their new roles. For our purposes it is important to notice that (1) participants may extraordinarily and unrealistically accept or challenge the foundational elements and philosophy of the program; (2) this is an expectable and wel-come development, rather than something to be avoided, and demands staff understanding, unity, and participation; and (3) this "narcissistic crisis" is primarily an individual issue (in that it will configure itself quite differently in each person's experience), but it can easily--and erroneously--be generalized into a broader dis-satisfaction with the program when it catches similar issues in other participants. The resistance of this phase of practicum training often sounds like rebellion or despair: "I have heard all this before." "I am never going to do this right." "There are lots of ways of doing spiritual direction that you're not giving us." "Tell me what I should have said to this directee." At heart these are often state-ments about the personal difficulties individuals are encountering as their self-esteem experiences some dismantling in supervision or in their comparing themselves with more polished perfor-mances from peers or the staff. So the staff must be keen not to mistake them either for genuine criticism or for signs of genuine understanding of the program's foundational elements. This resis-tance, when felt by a group (either the participants or the staff), can swamp and drown gentler voices of moderation and carries within itself strong "we versus them" projections that must be understood and treated as such by the staff lest they polarize the 42 Review for Religious program. Supervisors need to look beneath the manifest behavior to the personal and professional issues that are awakening. Successful negotiation of this "crisis" can be difficult for a staff, testing its team cohesiveness with urges to side with or against certain participants, and its willingness to recognize and respond flexibly to genuine criticism. Supervisors are idealized, identified with, then ignored or renounced--made into idols and then melted down! Erosion of his or her own self-esteem and professional identity can tempt a staff member to clear up a super-visee's anxiety and confusion rather than work with it as appropriate to this stage of learning, or perhaps to respond in anger, or to exaggerate or minimize the real demands of the program. The very survival of the supervisory staff may hinge upon its having done its work in the following two areas. First, a shared understanding of and desire to work with the foundational philosophy and pedagogy of the program is impera-tive and should not be taken for granted. While diversity of background and ideas can enrich a training program, all mem-bers of the staff will need to understand A participant who finds support, challenge, and growing peership in supervision will grow away from dependence on the supervisor and the institution represented in the practicum. the particular goals being sought when the going gets tough. New staffs need to put aside valuable time to discuss and haggle over what they mean by spiritual direction and training directors, and ongoing staffs could profit from a devil's advocate brought con-sciously into their midst. Second, it is of critical importance that the supervisory work of each staff member be open to the others, and in some detail. For the welfare of the program's participants and for the profes-sional development of the staff, the work they do with partici-pants needs itself to be supervised with the same focus on the presenting person as described earlier. They will need to know and trust each other's work when some of the dynamics detailed here begin to operate, or at least to have a forum in which to challenge and change one another. If the goal of a practicum is the integration of supervised January-February 1992 43 Keegan ¯ Spiritual-Direction Practicum learning into one's own personal style of doing spiritual direc-tion, then the participants' success or failure in resolving this cri-sis could be crucial to their development as spiritual directors. If supervisors maintain only a mentor's stance and never allow their own mistakes and biases to be dealt with, or if the program appears inflexible, participants may perceive little room to blend what they have learned into their particular personalities. The result can be either a defensive posture against the program and its goals or a need to maintain one's connection with it in order to feel competent. On the other hand, a participant who finds support, challenge, and growing peership in supervision will grow away from dependence on the supervisor and the institution repre-sented in the practicum. Toward the end of a successful year, for instance, a supervisee said with some force, "I am going to park this whole damn program and get out and walk!" The remark, articulating his desire to integrate his learning with his own stride, would have told quite a different story--and been far less wel-come- at the beginning of the year. At some point any trained spiritual director will have to ques-tion the basic principles of his or her training, experiment with them, and integrate what is of substance into a personal, distinc-tive style of doing spiritual direction. A practicum can impart the skills and qualities needed in a spiritual director. A better practicum can aim to help qualified directors to be themselves in the practice of direction. Conclusion Inasmuch as we are heirs of the Judeo-Christian legacy, spir-itual directors are face-to-face with an extremely delicate task: to facilitate the self-revelation of the incomprehensible God. While we know that anything we assert about this unsearchable God must be taken back immediately as inadequate, human words and gestures are what we have to work with in the place of awed silence. The God who is omnipresent is also most concrete. The unknowable God has chosen to be known and has, in our Scriptures, revealed a personality, desires, and hopes. God has a divine Name and entrusts it to Moses and Israel (Ex 3). God is tender and caring as a mother or a father (Is 43, 49; Ho 11), pas-sionately angry (Am 5), or desperately sad (Jr 14). Able spiritual directors are women and men who have explored and become 44 Review for Religious responsible for their own personalities and have, to some degree, integrated that with the ministry to which they have been called. They can dare to approach the intimate experience of another person and, above all, the Person of God, with humility and expec-tation. Before them is the task of reverencing the mystery while exploring the everyday events in which the mysterious personal-ity of God becomes incarnate, in a sense continuing by that very work the loving thrust of God into even the smallest details of earthly life. Our tradition makes clear that such discernment arises from and is verified in the community of believers. A practicum in spir-itual direction, then, can be more than a training ground. At its best it can be a microcosm of the People of God, an instance of the kind of critical believing community without which we dare not claim to know in our own lives--nor to help others know-- what God is saying here and now. Note ~ See Baird K. Brightman PhD, "Narcissistic Issues in the Training Experience of the Psychotherapist," International Journal of Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy 12 (1983). Narcissism is discussed as a dynamic element in the struggle for psychic growth, involving "a positive libidinal feeling toward the self" or the maintenance of self-esteem in the face of the erosion of one's grandiose professional self and of one's pro-jection of perfection onto others, namely, the staff, the supervisor. Brightman sees a clinical program "as a developmental period of adult-hood with its own characteristic tasks and demands, and therefore the potential for evoking the conflicts, fixations, and defenses of the preced-ing life stages (as well as the potential for further growth)." January-February 1992 45 CHARLES REUTEMANN On Becoming a Discerning Person Through Spiritual Direction hese reflections are a practical commentary on a short passage from the prophet Jeremiah: "More tortuous than all else is the human heart, beyond remedy; who can understand it? I, the Lord, alone probe the mind and test the heart" (Jer 17:9). The image of "journey" as a way of describing day-to-day movement towards self-knowledge, towards intimacy with God, and towards a generous love and service of neighbor has been popular in most ages and many cultures. Among written descrip-tions are The Pilgrim's Progress, The Ascent of Mount Carmel, The Road Less Traveled, the journey into The Interior Castle, and the four-week journey of the Exercises of St. Ignatius. Even the life of Jesus is presented to us as a journey: with Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem; from Bethlehem to Egypt and then back to Nazareth; from Nazareth to other parts of Galilee and to Judea and Samaria; and finally that fatal last journey up to Jerusalem, and then out to the whole world. In particular, the Gospel of Luke-Acts is cast as a splendid journey story. In the Gospel it is like a great bus ride, with Jesus as driver, gathering up all the poor and the outcasts: smelly shepherds, tax collectors, prostitutes, fishermen, cripples, widows, the blind, the possessed-- all are gathered and brought on the journey to that symbolic holy Charles Reutemann FSC is on the staff of the Center for Spirituality and Justice, a training center in the Bronx for spiritual directors. For six-teen years he was director of Sangre de Cristo Renewal Center in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He resides at Manhattan College and his address is 5050 Fieldstone Road; Riverdale, New York 10471. 46 Review for Religious place Jerusalem. Then in Acts there is another bus ride, and the driver is the Holy Spirit sent by Jesus, gathering more outcasts: eunuchs, sailors, tent makers, prison guards, merchants--all on a bus ride leading to Rome, that symbol of the whole world. Life is a journey, and the most engrossing part is the interior journey of our soul. Our soul's journey--what is it like? Is it merely a random alternation of ups and downs, of going forward and falling back, and then more of the same? Or is there a pattern and a meaning to it? One major spiritual tradi-tion sees our journey as a line, a kind of one-direc-tional climbing of a hill with many slippings and risings. Another and perhaps better spiritual tra-dition sees the spiritual journey as a spiral, as something like the liturgical-year cycle in which we keep moving through the seasons, the seasons of the year, the seasons of our life, the seasons of the life of Jesus, ever moving deeper. With Jesus we move through his birth, early years, public life, conflict life, death, and resurrection. As we touch and live through the seasons of Jesus' life, never boring nor repetitious, we live through the sea-sons of our life, a kind of spiral journeying, touching the same places inside us, but never really the same, as we go deeper, ever trying to find the answers to those two great questions of all life: What does it all mean? and what shall I do with my love? No, we never remain the same on our soul journey, even though our days pass one after the other in twenty-four-hour regularity. This is our interior spiritual journey, fascinating and mysterious. Are there things that we notice as we circle slowly about, things that are happening to us, things that move us forward? and other things that seem to block our way? Of course! First of all, one of the things that all of us recognize and that spiritual guides are most attentive to is our freedom. How much inner freedom do we find in us as the years go by: freedom from our compul-sions, addictions, fixed ways of looking at things? And somehow we also recognize that we cannot will our freedom--it is some-thing that happens, like Topsy, or the Velveteen Rabbit. Another thing we may become aware of as we move along, and it is much akin to freedom, is detachment: Are we really beginning to lose our ego, to lose that self-regarding self?. I cannot forget some- Life is a journey, and the most engrossing part is the interior journey of our soul. January-February 1992 47 Reutemann ¯ Becoming a Discerning Person Our prayer shows us what road we are and what direction we are facing on that road. thing I heard many years ago from an English university profes-sor. We were doing a workshop in Dublin, and one day he casu-ally mentioned that he was teaching history to Mother Teresa's novices in a convent outside of London. "Oh," I said, "and what kind of woman is Mother Teresa?" He paused a moment and then slowly said, "She's a woman who has lost her ego." I have never forgotten that. What a marvelous achievement, and what a lifelong process! A third thing we might begin to notice as we move along on our journey is what motivates us. Are we really begin-ning to live more and more by faith, seeing things through Gospel values and truths, gradually find-ing ourselves more like St. Paul when he cries out, "I live! no, not I, but Christ is beginning to live in me"? There may be other signs that we notice about our inner selves: a certain simplicity, a movement towards integrity--but wait a minute! Are we aware of what we have been saying: ing freedom, noticing detachment, noticing living by faith? Now that is something to notice! Is it possible to become a more noticing person? And there we have the magic word, discernment! Noticing is discernment; a noticing heart is a discerning heart. Or is it a discerning head? Or is it both? Let us pause to look at the other expression in our reflection, "spiritual direction." We all need direction, especially if we find ourselves in an unknown land of many roads, like some parts of the Bronx, or downtown Boston, or Jersey City. And the same is true of our interior life, our spirit life. Most of us know exactly what St. Paul is talking about when he exclaims: "I don't know where I'm going. I don't do the good things I want to do; instead, I do the evil I don't want to do. My inner being delights in the law of God; but I am aware of a different law that is at work in me, that fights against the law that my mind approves of. It makes me a prisoner to the law of sin which is at work in me. What an unhappy person I am! Who will rescue me from this road that is taking me to death? Who will show me the way?" (Rm 7:15-24, adapted). Everyone on the spiritual journey of life needs direction, needs some guidance for the spirit. We know there are various maps to help us find this direction: spiritual books and magazines 48 Review for Religqous that we can study and learn by, especially that great map, the Holy Bible, which has directed more people in the whole world than any other--and still does. Another source of direction is our own prayer, our struggle to be quiet and to reflect, our crying out "Give me guidance today, O Lord!" Our prayer shows us what road we are on, and what direction we are facing on that road. And then there is another source, something that has been practiced in all cultures and religions, namely, the conversation between two people about the interior life and its ways. This con-versation is frequently called "spiritual direction." To a woman coming to me for such direction, I once said, as we faced each other in a relaxed setting, "And zvhy do you want spiritual direc-tion?" She was startled, but after a moment's silence she leaned forward and said, "I want to become more real." I was startled by the beauty of her response. Then I said: "And what would it mean for you to become more real?" Again she was thoughtful: "Well, I have this friend whose mother has Alzheimer's disease. Every time I see her when she's walking with her mother, she is smiling." So it is that some people seek spiritual direction, a conversa-tion with another adult about their values and their God, because they have seen something beautiful in another person and they want to be like that. They are challenged to fill up what is want-ing in themselves, to grow, to go deeper, to become more real. Other people, like myself when I first sought direction many years ago, recognize that, although they want God in their lives, they get careless and easily become distracted, even choked, by the anxieties and cares of the world. They need someone to talk with about their desire for God, someone to be accountable to--so that, in the very telling of their stow, they may be strengthened in their resolve and receive clarity about the paths to God. Others seek spiritual direction because they are troubled: there is a crisis in their lives. It may be a relationship, it may be a major decision about a vocational choice, it may be an addiction. But always this crisis is affecting the sense of God in their lives: Does God understand? Where is God? Am I on the right path? More tortuous than all else is the human heart. Where is the direction? They need the Lord to probe their mind and test their heart. For others, things are not all that clear. There is no crisis, but there seems to be something missing. The refrain "Is that all there is?" rings through their lives. They have had no other adult January-February 1992 49 Reutemann ¯ Becoming a Discerning Person with whom they can talk values. And so, finding themselves drift-ing, uncertain, lacking meaning, they seek direction. From all of this, can we now say that we have some sense of what spiritual direction looks like, at least in a Christian setting and in today's world? It is a conversation between two adults in which one is seeking some guidance on the path to God and the meaning of life. It is not idle chatter, nor even problem solving, though it is about the ordinary things of life: communication, liv-ing situation, working conditions, relationships. It takes time, honesty, and a spiritual sense. It is one of the gifts of the Spirit for forming the Christian and the Christian community. Can we say anything about the guide, the spiritual director? Like all guides, it would seem that the guide should have some training, some expertise, and that he or she should also be receiv-ing spiritual direction on the pilgrim road. We would want a knowledgeable person, someone familiar with the inner move-ments of the heart, the roadways, possessing some skills that might avoid pitfalls, especially the skill of listening to where the person wants to go--listening is so important, and it is a listening that goes beyond ideas and words and focuses on feelings and desires. Every pilgrim on the spiritual journey is best known by his or her desires and feelings, and the guide must be attentive to them. The director need not be a holy person, but he or she must be a seeker of God, one who prays regularly and who has a vision of faith. Lastly, the spiritual guide must really have the interests of the pilgrim at heart, and thus must be patient, humble, and under-standing. It is God who gives the increase, it is God who sends down the rain to water the paths. Can we say anything about what a spiritual-direction session would look like? Well, obviously, the directee would come pre-pared, that is, ask herself beforehand: Where has God been in my life since last we met? What have been some of my responses? As 1 reflect, what might I like from this session? Can I say any-thing about my prayer or about something that has struck me? The session itself can last forty-five minutes to an hour, but no longer than that and possibly shorter. When someone begins direction, it is helpful that the meetings be somewhat frequent: each week or every other week. Then, after three or four meet-ings, the space can be lengthened to three or four weeks. And, of course, to get the most benefit, the directee would take time to write down and even pray over what has been noteworthy in the 50 Review for Religious session. Let me illustrate this point. It is rare that I receive letters from my directees, but recently I did receive one that reads in part like this: "Mainly just want to tell you how much I have come to value our sessions. Thanks very much for your interest, atten-tion, and care in helping me to come to know the Lord better in my life. I believe it is also helping me to communicate that kind of experience to others whom I meet in the course of my own work and ministry, my own life. I guess what occasions this, in addition to the gratitude, is that I just wrote up for myself, as I usually do, a little summary of the points that we talked about . And I was surprised to see how wide-ranging it was, and the depth too, and the com-monalities among the points .Certain themes do begin to appear after a time . " Of course, a director or guide prepares too, by prayer, by reflection, and sometimes by written observations that help chart the inner movements on the directee's journey and the basic direction. Let me now say some more about "discernment" and then try to relate it to how spiritual direction ought to be helping us become more discerning persons. Frequently individuals and even whole groups, when faced with a major decision, will say, "You know, I (we) have to discern that"; and then they start some pro-cess to which they give the name "discernment." Is that what dis-cernment is, something we do when we have to make a big decision? Yes and no. I like to call decision making a "choosing" that gets into the will and into the feeling part of me. Of course, as I do that, I need to weigh things before I say yes to what I choose. I also like it when Karl Rahner says, "There are no big decisions; there are only bundles of little decisions." He seems to be suggesting that we are making little choices all along, choices coming from our feelings and our thinking, perhaps more from one than the other. So discernment is something we can practice in those little choices that might eventually get into a bundle for a big choice. And discernment therefore could become some kind of a habit of noticing my feelings and testing their reasonable-ness,~ that is, whether or not they are leading me to my better self and to my God or leading me away, down some primrose path to my ego self. We should try to become a discerning person in the ordinary times and in the little choices, for discernment is 'There are no big decisions; there are only bundles of little decisions.' January-February 1992 51 Reutemann ¯ Becoming a Discerning Person not the kind of thing we can start practicing when we need to make a big decision. When asked "Who is the holy person?" the Lord Buddha answered: "There are sixty minutes to the hour, and sixty seconds to each minute, and sixty fractions of a second to each second. If anyone could be fully present in each fraction of each second, that person would be a holy person." Awareness leading to rightmindedness. Noticing, testing, leading to choice. For most of us, growth in self-knowledge occurs when we take more notice of our feelings and name them. For, although we may be deeply feeling people, most of our conscious life is taken up with thought: making observations, giving our opinions, try-ing to figure out what we are to do. But does this get down to the deeper self, the desiring self, the hoping and choosing self?. Spiritual directors need to assess this so that they come to see the necessity of helping directees uncover feelings and name them. But it is equally necessary that people test with their heads the inner reasonableness of their feelings: W~here are they coming from? Are they leading to or away from God? Can we conclude then that in discernment it would be a mis-take to separate our feelings from our knowledge-insight? that it would be a mistake to consider our feelings as better criteria for discernment and decision making? and, finally, that we make a mistake when we overlook the possibility that, although operat-ing out of our heads can distort the spiritual journey, living only by feelings or feeling-insights, "spiritual hunches" if you will, can be equally distortive? ~ But perhaps we are getting too theoretical. Let me give some examples of how spiritual direction can help someone become a more discerning person. Peter is an ordained minister who is beginning spiritual direction. He says he is overburdened by the work of an inner-city parish. In several sessions he mentions his hope that the spiritual direction will give him an answer to his "burnout." The spiritual director can help Peter examine his day, note areas that might be curtailed, and perhaps even recommend that he change ministries. Another way to go is to examine with Peter his feelings about his situation: What are the feelings? anger? sadness? self-pity? feeling abandoned and alone? He might then be asked whether the different feelings (not his work nor the situation in general) are leading him to God or away from God. This question needs to be asked with careful nuances. It is here, too, that the exchange can become prayerful. Most people 52 Review for Religious never examine their feelings with God. They may mention them to God, but they never explore how God reacts or even feels about their feelings. It is almost as though God were "over there," observing things, but never really empathetic, never really involved in their feelings, especially "negative" ones like anger, sadness, and self-pity. Is it possible that, as Peter explores his feelings about his burnout, he might become more aware, more discerning about his inner movements and the direction in which they are taking him: to God? away from God? Is it possi-ble, too, that out of this awareness some clarity about practical decisions affecting his burnout might come to him? Can we see how some kind of disciplined willing-ness to look at our feelings and testing their reasonableness with God is central to dis-cernment? Can we also see that it is a chal-lenge to the spiritual director to encourage directees, especially those who operate out of their head (as most of us do), to take this route? It is indeed a real challenge, even hard work. Maria has been coming for direction for several years. She is energetic, has a sense of humor, and talks with verve and rapid-ity. She actively seeks God, even seems to wrestle with him in a verbal kind of way. One day she comes and blurts out: "Where am I in my relationship with God? I am becoming more and more clearly aware of my sinfulness--not vague sinfulness, but specific sins and definite sinfulness. I realize I can do nothing good. I wonder why he bothers with me. And yet I am at peace with this; I don't feel upset by this. And then, when I go into poor neigh-borhoods and see all the people and the poverty and suffering, I wonder if there is a God. I doubt that there can be a God. No, I just don't believe there is a God." She stops and looks at the direc-tor as though to say, "Now solve that!" Clearly, the spiritual director cannot solve anything, nor should she try. Yet there is a "way out." In listening to Maria, the director needs also to listen to herself, noting any movements that are taking place within herself as she listens to Maria. She notices a twinge in her heart when Maria says, "I wonder why he bothers with me." Acting on that, and by patient questioning, the All growth in the spiritual life is strongly rooted in desire, and it is from desire that commitment flows. January-February 1992 53 Reutemann ¯ Becoming a Discerning Person director explores: "Why do you wonder? What is that like? What are you feeling as you wonder that? And God, what might she be feeling as you realize within yourself that you can do nothing good by yourself?." Following this, there might be the opportunity to look closely at the poor, the suffering, and the abandoned and to wonder with Maria whether God bothers with them as she does with her. And then it might be possible to ask Maria: "Are you aware of God asking anything of you in all of this? Do you and God have anything in common here?" Helping a person sort out movements within, even seemingly contradictory movements like peace and sinfulness, compassion for the poor and disbelief in God, is exactly what spiritual direction and its discernment is all about. Other examples of this sorting-out process could be given; but perhaps it is time to make some summary observations about spiritual direction and becoming a discerning person. 1. Formal spiritual direction allows someone to articulate experiences. The central element in experiences, however, is feel-ings and, ultimately, the desires associated with those feelings. All growth in the spiritual life is strongly rooted in desire, and it is from desire that commitment flows. 2. When spiritual direction is focused on discerning the inner movements, then ordinarily connections can be made, themes and tendencies become apparent, and a sense of a desirable direc-tion becomes clear. When this occurs over time, a feeling of ener-gized peace develops on the journey. This becomes evident when remarks like these are made at the end of a direction session: "You're the only one I can talk with on this level--it means a lot to me." "This has been a very insightful session today--it hangs together." "My retreat experience has become more real to me after our talking about it. Things are working out." 3. When discernment is being practiced in spiritual direc-tion, there frequently occur corrections in judgments that directees make about themselves, especially negative judgments. In other words, a positive realistic outlook about the self develops. In addition, the Achilles' heel--that blocking, negative orientation which keeps recurring--generally gets discovered, and this allows for appropriate strategies to deal with it. 4. Practicing discernment with the assistance of a spiritual director encourages a disciplined willingness to check out feel-ings, name them, and test them against reality, that is, test their Review for Religious inner rationality. In this way we discover whether our feelings and what underlies them are leading us to God and our better self, or away from God into darkness and confusion. 5. Insight alone rarely changes people. Action, or commit-ment to trying to live differently, often does change people. Hence, it is not sufficient that our discerning be merely an aware-ness. Motivated desires and even specific tasks need to follow awareness, and so it can be said that discernment and decision making work together for growth in the spiritual life. 6. From all of the above, hopefully we can see that the goal of spiritual direction is to develop a discerning person who func-tions thus outside of the spiritual-direction relationship, some-one who moves with clarity in the direction of active love. Hopefully, too, those two basic questions of the life journey: What does it all mean? and what shall I do with my love? will find bet-ter, clearer answers. Note 1 See pp. 36-37 of Michael J. O'Sullivan sJ, "Trust Your Feelings, but Use Your Head: Discernment and the Psychology of Decision Making," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, 22/4 (September 1990). I have been helped in my thinking about the interrelationship of feeling and thought in discernment by this article. The Light at the End of the Year Snow has fallen. Day is dark With the early coming on of night; December's darkness fin& its only spark Of brilliance in the Christmas light. Gray as our winter lives become, and stark With harshest turns of weather, bright Is the year's blessed ending. Mark! Now the starburst at earth's Eastward height. Nancy G. Westerfield January-February 1992 55 BRIAN O'LEARY Discernment and Decision Making Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing, and perfect will (Rm 12:2). exposing the influence that a projected course of action will have on one's relationship to God in Christ. It is not, therefore, some kind of generalized awareness of God or of his presence, but an insertion into a process--the process of finding and owning the will of God or, in other words, of Christian decision making. A dis-cernment which does not lead to a decision is incomplete, has been aborted at some point along the way. When a decision has been reached, it becomes a concrete expression, an incarnation of one's desire to respond to God's love and to serve his kingdom. Personal Freedom In spite of the laudable wishes of many Christians to move away from an

Issue 54.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1995. ; Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER 1995 ¯ VOLUME 54 '. NUMBER 5 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314o977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ° Washington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1995 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library, clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read Joann Wolski Conn PhD Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER 1995 ¯ VOLUME 54 ¯ NUMBER 5 contents 646 symposium The Roots of Faith-and-Justice: Critical Assessment Martin R. Tripole SJ presents a case for a more careful assessment of the relationship between faith and justice in the Christian apostolic life. Responses are made by Gerald F. Finnegan SJ, Vincent J. Genovesi SJ, and Charles L. Currie SJ. 675 681 ecumenism Ecumenism a Scripture Mandate for Religious Jude D. Weisenbeck SDS explains how ecumenism is at the very heart of what it means to be a religious. Too Deep for Dogma Bernard Seif SMC describes the enriching prayer relationship that has been created between a Salesian monastery and a Hindu ashram. 685 Catholicism in the Social Order of a New Era Curt Cadoret~e MM addresses changes in the church that will occur in the next millennium as its center of gravity moves from the developed to the developing world. 696 707 finding God Fihding God in Daily Life: Ignatian Spirituality's Heart Richard J. Hauser SJ describes a practical way of staying attuned to the Spirit by focusing upon the direction of one's heart. A Hermitage Experience Perry McDonald OFMCap takes away the fear or glamor of a hermitage experience as he recounts the everyday grace of solitude. 642 Review for Religious 716 The Abbey of S~nanque: A Journey of the Heart Dennis J. Billy CSSR ponders the contemplative effect of a pilgrimage to the Cistercian Abbey of S~nanque. 723 754 prayer Jesus:Beauty::Jesus:Compassion George A. Maloney SJ enters us into an experience of Jesus as Beauty and Compassionate Love which leads us to a self-emptying service towards others. 729 Mysticism as Flight M. Pascaline Coff OSB explains how t/~e breakthrough to the mystical, to the Transcendent, is the true goal of our lives. living spiritually J 735 The Problem with Problems Hilary Ottensmeyer OSB points out ways in which a problem-solving approach to hfe has e,normous consequences for how we think and feel about ourselves, our neighbor, and our God. 744 A Case for Candlelight [ Donald Macdonald SMM illumines thrbugh the experience of Julian of Norwich how personal relationships with God and others seem to flourish best in a gentldr rather than a harsher light. Vocation as Liberation and Revel Ltion Terrance Wayne Klein describes the necessity of liberation for ministerial candidates in their pursuit of a vocation call 644 772 from God. departments Prisms Canonical Counsel: Cloister for N~uns: From the 1917 Code to the 1994 Synod 779 Book Reviews September-October 199Y 643 prisms Te editor's introduction to each issue is usually focused on a way of viewing an issue, a practice, or an event in relation to our Christian living, often refracted through religious life heritages. In this issue I designate the following content rather in the "announcement" than in the "viewpoint" category. The National Board of the Religious Formation Conference in'the United States has designated Review for Religious to be the recipient of the Religious Formation Conference's Sister Mary Emil Penet IHM Award for 1995. The award is being given in recognition of its contribution to formation ministry in this country and throughout the world during its fifty-four-year-old history. The presentation will be made at the Ninth National Religious Formation Conference in St. Louis on October 13, 1995. Sister Mary Emil Penet, a member of the Congregation of the Immaculate Heart of Mary in Monroe, Michigan, was the founder of the Sister Formation Conference (pre-cursor of the Religious Formation Conference) and a woman who recognized the needs of her time in prepar-ing women religious for their professional ministries. The Religious Formation Conference evolved over the years from the founding vision of Sister Mary Emil Penet, and as a national organization continues to respond to the needs of religious communities in the area of initial and ongoing formation. Sister Mary Emil Penet received the first award in 1989. Presented biennially, the award was given to the Institute of Religious Formation at Saint Louis University and the Institute of Formative Spirituality at Duquesne University in 1991. In 1993 the Adorers of the Blood of Christ of Ruma, Illinois, received the Mary Emil Penet IHM Award in honor of their Sisters who were martyred in Liberia, all five of whom were in some way involved in the ministry of formation. 644 Review for Religious As the fourth editor of this journal, I express my apprecia-tion for this recognition--a tribute given to our many writers who have collaborated in sharing from their various religious life heritages. Building upon the untapped resource of collaboration among religious was central to the vision of the founding editors, Augustine Ellard $3, Adam Ellis SJ, and Gerald Kelly SJ, in 1942. That vision has been realized through the articles of numerous women and men--some well-known writers and many others not so well known, but all contributing from the richness of their insight and experience. Today this kind of collaboration is central to formation and ministry--between religious congregations and between religious and laity. ' In another example of collaboration, Review for Religious is working with the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth in Wernersville, Pennsylvania, in its special symposium: "Religious Life 30 Years Later. Is This What Vatican II Intended?" Scheduled to celebrate the 30th anniversary of Vatican II's decree on "The Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life" (Pe~fectae caritatis), this program will investigate the present state of religious life with an eye to appro-priate future developments. Major presentations will be given by Miriam Ukeritis CSJ, Albert Dilanni SM, George Aschenbrenner SJ, and Judith Merkle SNDdeN. The speakers mean to stimulate conversation among all the participants on current trends and devel-opments, community, mission, and other aspects of contemporary religious life. The symposium is dedicated to the memory of Mary Margaret Johanning SSND, former superior general and Review board member who died in October 1994. A notice on the practi-cal details for those wishing to participate in this symposium to be held October 26-29 can be found on page 797of this issue. Finally, Review for Religious intends to publish another book in the series The Best of the Review, with the title The Church and Consecrated Life. The book will include the pope's still-to-be-published apostolic exhortation as a result of the synod on con-secrated life, a collection of Elizabeth McDonough's Canonical Counsel articles reviewing church documents on religious life, and other significant articles relating to synod considerations. This prepublication announcement is meant only to alert you, our readers. Look for the book's publication in early 1996. David L. Fleming SJ September-October 199Y 645 MARTIN R. TRIPOLE The Roots of Faith-and-Justice: Critical Assessment symposium The 34th General Congregation of the Society of Jesus (GC34) met in Rome from 5 January to 22 March 1995. Twenty-four documents were approved and, as of this writing, were awaiting final revisions and official pro-mulgation. Its decree 2, 'titled "Our Mission and Justice," renews Jesuit "commitment to the promotion of justice as an integral part of our mission, as this has been exten-sively developed in GC32 and GC33.''~ Thus GC34 reaf-firms the tradition of the promotion of justice set in place at the 32nd General Congregation in 1975. This paper examines the roots of the justice move~ ment in GC32's decree 4, "Our Mission Today: The Service of Faith and the Promotion of Justice.''2 Commonly known as Decree Four, the document was dis-cussed amid considerable opposition during GC32 and has been the subject of much joy, confusion, and consternation since, reflecting the different ways the document has been received. A decree of major importance, it became the guiding light that gave new direction and meaning to much of Jesuit spirituality and ministry thereafter. It also had a significant effect on the many other religious orders of men and women that took guidance from its words in Martin R. Tripole SJ, associate professor of theology, and the three Jesuit respondents to his paper first presented these reflec-tions on 21 January 1995 at a Jesuit community meeting at St. Joseph's University. Their address is St. Joseph's University; 5600 City Avenue; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. 646 Review for Religious reorienting their own spirituality and apostolic direction. It will therefore be useful to examine carefully what the doc-ument decreed about the promotion of justice, why it made this change of direction, whether it was justified in doing so, and whether there might not be a better course to follow to attain its noble goals. This presentation is divided into three parts: (1) the meaning and use of justice in decree 4, with analysis of the spe-cial importance it gives t6 the promotion of justice in the apostolic life; (2) the meaning of"the poor"; and (3) a suggestion for a bet-ter formulary to guide religious apostolic life into the coming millennium. The Meaning and Use of Justice in the Decree A careful examination makes it clear that the primary mean-ing of justice in decree 4 is social justice, a justice that is achieved through the revamping of institutional or social structures so that they May more adequately reflect and promote a just ordering of society. There are those who argue that justice in the decree is more properly understood as the human reflection of divine justice, as God's justice at work in the world. This, they assert, makes Jesuit efforts to promote justice a spiritual activity appropriate to their priestly life. While it is true that the decree does argtie, and rightly so, that our efforts to secure tlie rights of others are a reflection of the "power of God's mercy, that mercy whereby he most fully shows forth his justice," this notion is present in only one small part of.the document and in no way substantiates the assertion that justice in the decree takes its central meaning from this the-ological idea) The argument from divine justice has such an iso-lated position in the document that one guesses it is an afterthought to provide a spiritual, foundation for activity in the social order.4 Even understood thus, the argument has its prob-lems, which we shall point out later. In emphasizing social justice the decree gives importance to the establishment of right relationships among people--to render to each what is his or her due--but stresses even more the need to change the social, political, and economic structures of society so that all, especially the poor and oppressed, obtain what is due them through these structures. The decree states: "There are mil-lions of men and women in our world., who are suffering from September-October 199Y 647 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faitb-and- ffustice poverty and hunger, from the unjust, distribution of wealth and resources and from the consequences of racial, social, and polit-ical discrimination . In a world where the power of economic, social, and political structures is now appreciated and the mech-anisms and laws governing them are now understood, service according to the gospel cannot dispense with a carefully planned effort to exert influence on those structures" (§20 and §31). So far, so good. But this leads to one of the major conclu-sions of this presentation, and perhaps the major conclusion: While it is acceptable that the promotion of justice be a work of the Society of Jesus and, indeed, of all religious life, d problem arises when the decree makes the promotion of justice the absolute stan-dard against which all apostolates must be justified, saying in effect that you cannot have an apostolate in Jesuit life which is not, in some sense, a work of justice. The point is stated emphatically at least twice in the decree: The mission of the Society of Jesus today is the service of faith, of "which the promotion of justice is an absolute requirement. (§2) The promotion of justice is not one apostolic area among others, the "social apostolate"; rather, it should be the concern of our whole life and a dimension of all our apostolic endeavors. (§47) There are at least two reasons why it is unwise to give the promotion of justice this comprehensive role: First, there is an inherent danger in seeing a work of the temporal order as neces-sary to justify a (more ultimate) spiritual work, the danger being that this penultimate requirement may become the goal itself and thus its own legitimation. In this case the promotion of justice would become the goal of apostolic endeavors, rather than being in the service of the faith. Fear of that danger was present even among some of the del-egates at GC32. According to Jean-Yves Calvez, a delegate to the congregation and a longtime close associate of Father General Arrupe, some of the members "were truly fearful that, if the two themes [the promotion of justice and the entire apostolic life] were to be united, the promotion of justice would come to occupy the whole field and appear to represent the totality of today's Jesuit apostolate.''s That Pope Patil VI sensed this danger is clear from his admonitions to the Jesuits through his secretary of state, Jean Cardinal Villot,at the end of GC32, when Paul reminded 648 Review for Religious the delegates of what he had said in his closing remarks at the 1974 Synod of Bishops: "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.6 By most accounts, this danger became a reality--at least twice. Arrupe noted in 1972 that an undue emphasis had been placed upon justice as "socioeconomic development" in the aftermath " of Vatican II, probably because of the powerful impetus given to the social-jus-tice movement b}" Gaudium et spes.7 But it is also generally accepted today that after GC32 the concept of justice again became largely identified by Jesuits with the work of the social apostolate. Calvez tells us that a group of Jesuits who met in Latin America in 1982 admitted that they had "yielded to excessively secularized views" of justice in their apostolate (Calvez, p. 65). He notes that Arrupe became con-cerned in 1980 that justice was being seen as something "sufficient in itself" and not related to charity (p. 84) and tried to cor-rect the problem in his famous talk of 6 February 1981, "Rooted and Grounded in Love." Calvez and others argue that Arrupe reaffirmed the impor- " tance of love or charity in that talk--that social justice should not be separated from love or charity--but that he did not in any way intend to correct decree 4's heavy emphasis upon justice. But a better reading of the evidence indicates that Arrupe was reducing the importance of justice in that talk. Arrupe had been affirming as early as 1966, the year after he became superior general, that all Jesuit ministries and every form of Jesuit apostolate had to be a response "to the urgent priorities which justice and social equity call for. Even an apostolate like education., must be the object of reflection in the light of the demands of the social problem.''8 Right through to GC32 he often sti'essed the role of justice in the apostolate, especially in the famous 1973 speech in Valencia to Jesuit alumni, many of whom became so upset at his assertion that they had not been adequately Justice is necessary, but it is not enough. The world needs a stronger cure, a more effective witness and more effective deeds: those of love. Septentber-October 1995 649 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faitb-and-ffustice educated for justice that the .president of the alumni association immediately resigned'(Calvez, p. 27). But, in "Rooted and Grounded in Love" only eight years later, Arrupe speaks quite differently. He talks about "all the imperfec-tions" of decree 4, that it was an "option in the right direction" but not sufficient: "Justice is necessary, but it is not enough. The world needs a stronger cure, a more effective witness and more effective deeds: those of love .C.harity adds its transcendent, inner dimension to justice .E.very explanation in terms of jus-tice seems inadequate.''9 About two months before this talk, Pope John Paul II had published his second encyclical, Dives in misericordia (Rich in Mercy). Arrupe cites it explicitly: "The experience of the past and of our own time demonstrates that justice alone is not enough, that it can even lead to the n.egation and destruction of itself, if that deeper power, which is love, is not allowed to shape human life in its various dimensions.''~° It would seem that Arrupe had come to a new awareness that undue emphasis had been placed on the promotion of justice by the Jesuits, an emphasis that should more properly have been placed on love and charity. The second difficulty with making the promotion of justice the criterion for all Jesuit apostolates is that it risks undermining the acceptability of traditional apostolates which cannot easily be explained as extensions of the promotion of justice. The ques-tioning of the legitimacy of many traditional apostolates is exactly what~occurred after GC32 and has continued to this day, for it is difficult to find rational arguments to justify apostolates such as education, the fine arts, some forms of research and publishing, administering the sacraments, and giving spiritual counsel on matters of faith and on people's personal relationship with God when these all must be demonstrably the promotion of justice to survive. This leads to one's asking why all apostolates must be expres-sions of justice. It seems.they must only if it has been determined a priori that justice is the norm for all apostolates. But why should that be the case? What the following discussion may show is that there is no clear reason for justice to be given ~uch a far-reaching role. Although dec'ree 4 provides at leasteight arguments for the comprehensive role of justice jn all apostolic activity, we shall examine only two of the more important ones here. 650 Review for Religious Is Justice an Absolute Requirement of Faith? The major argument is based on the view that the "mission of the Society of Jesus today is the service of faith, of which the pro-motion of justice is an absolute requirement" (decree 4, §2).lj But is the promotion of justice an absolute requirement of the service of faith? No footnote is given in decree 4 for the origins of this idea, but they are found in the document:Tustice in the World from the Synod of Bishops of 1971, which Arrupe made use of in the congregation. The key text from that statement reads: "Action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the gospel." J2 The words constitutive dimension are crucial, for if used in their technical sense they would mean that "action on behalf of justice" is essential to the preaching of the gospel--so that you could not preach the gospel without action on behalf of justice. The statement is repeatedly cited by all who would make the promotion of justice a new essen-tial dimension of Christian liv-ing, and everyone takes these words constitutive dimension in their literal technical meaning. It would take too long to discuss this matter fully here, but Charles Murphy, the former rector of the North American College in Rome, wrote in 1983 a highly significant article on this topic, in which he shows that, whatever it may have meant by those two words, the synod did not mean that they should be taken in their technical sense.13 Among the synod's possible meanings, the most likely is that justice is an integral part of the proclamation of the gospel. According to Avery Dulles, "integral part" means "pertains to the completeness of that of which it is a part, but., not essential to the existence of the latter." ~4 The distinction is crucial, for if the promotion of justice is "integral" but not essential to the service of faith, then the promotion of justice is not an "absolute require-ment" of the service of faith, as decree 4 asserts)s If the promotion of justice is "integral" but not essential to the service of faith, then the promotion of justice is not an "absolute requirement" of the service of faith. September-October 199Y 651 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faitb-and-ffustice No pope since 1971 has understood "constitutive dimension" from Jztstice in the V~orld to have its technical meaning. Paul VI argued that the synod had not in fact explained the exact nature of the relationship between action for justice and the procl.ama-tion of the gospel, and both he and John Paul II have repeatedly used other terms; such as "profound links," to explain the rela-tionship. John Paul II, at his opening address at the Puebla Conference of Latin American Bishops in 1979, stated that work on behalf of justice is "an indispensable part" of the church's "evangelization mission." This is clearly not to assert that it is a constitutive or essential element of evangelization, but rather, in Dulles's sense, an integral part of it. The International Theological Commission in 1977 explicitly treated the synod statement.~6 It argues that the document should not be understood in a "theoretical, scientific," or "theological" way (I, p. 307), that it should be understood as affirming "a pro-found unity that links" the proclamation of the gospel and justice (II, p. 307), and that the more accurate meaning "seems" to be "an integral part, not an essential part" (IV, p. 311). Is Justice Integral to Priesthood? A second reason for the special importance given to the pro-motion of iustice in decree 4 is based on the essential role sup-posedly given to it in the ministry of the Jesuits as a priestly order. Because this constitutes one of the more serious theological argu-ments in the documents and because it has a broader signifi~cance for all religious priestly congregations, it needs to be given seri-ous attention. The argument in question reads as follows: The mission of the Society today is the priestly service of the faith, an apostolate whose aim is to help people become more open toward God and more willing to live according to the demands of the gospel. The gospel demands a life freed from egoism and self-seeking, from all attempts to seek one's own advantage, and from every form of exploita-tion of one's neighbor. It demands a life in which the justice of the gospel shines out in a willingness not only to recog-nize and respect the rights of all, especially the poor and the powerless, but also to work actively to secure those rights. It demands an openness and generosity toward any-one in need, even a stranger or an enemy. It demands, 652 Review for Religious towards those who have injured us, pardon; toward those with whom we are at odds, a spirit of reconciliation. We do not acquire this attitude of mind by our own efforts alone. It is the fruit of the Spirit who transforms our hearts and fills them with the power of God's mercy, that mercy whereby he most fully shows forth his justice by drawing us, unjust though we are, to his friendship. It is by this that we know that the promotion of justice is an integral part of the priestly service of the faith. (decree 4, § 18) We have here an argument that conflates several theological re~ilities that, while interrelated, must be understood distinctly: divine justice and human expressions of it and also the priesthood of all the faithful and the ministerial priesthood. The document gives as parallels "the justice of the gospel" that expresses itself in the mercy by which God draws us into his friendship and into the human practice of justice by which we recognize, respect, and promote the rights of others. The decree implies a certain equa-tion between the horizontal and the vertical: Our work toward the establishing of respect for the rights of others is made possi-ble in the power of God's mercy, the same mercy which is at work when God's justice brings us into his friendship. Thus it is God's justice which is at work both in our efforts to promote justice in the world and in divine-human reconciliation. The argument is not incorrect: It is in reality God's justifying action that is at work in the world in human efforts to promote justice. But God's justice is far greater than human expressions of it. Human actions of justice may therefore be considered one form of God's justice, but only one, and perhaps not even the major form of it. Justice in the Scriptures is always understood as at work inside a covenant relationship, whether in the Old or New Testament. Justice is God's saving,,redemptive activity at work in the world, extricating humans from the power of sin and restoring them to a relationship of friendship with God. Justice is equated with that saving action, and it is present wherever that action is at work. Justice, then, is ultimately found wherever salvific union with God is established. In the Old Testament, Israel's justice is "that she repents and takes refuge in her God, that she trusts in him, that she is faith-ful." t7 In the New Testament, justice takes place in the relation-ship centered on Christ's redemptive activity in his suffering, death, and resurrection. The human being's justice, then, "consists September-October 199~ 653 Tripole * The Roots of Faitb-and-ffustice of, and depends upon, his trusting acceptance of God's saving act in Christ, whereby man accepts the restored covenant relationship with God." ~8 In the New Testament, God in Christ is the source of justice or righteousness, and the human being enters into that righ-teousness by faith in Christ. We are justified in that we are brought back into friendship with God and made his adopted children. God's Spirit leads us to a share in the new justified life as God's children, which is in fact a sharing in God's own life-- even now in this world and more fully in the next. It is in the experience of this new life in God that the com-munity of love, human dignity, and respect for one another is formed. Indeed, in the Christian dispensation the horizontal expressions of that saving justice are realized as a consequence of the justice already enacted between God and human beings, so that the horizontal experience is unintelligible without the lat-ter. To separate human expressions of justice from the salvific encounter with God in the knowledge and recognition of his sav-ing love in Christ is not only to risk distorting the Christian dis-pensation but also to risk reducing the Christian expression of justice to something purely secular. As far as Christians are concerned, the promotion of justice should not be separated from its relationship to divine justice, which is its sole ground of meaning. This means that the pro-motion of justice not only should never be separated from its relationship to the gospel, but also should never diminish pri-mary attention on the good news of God's justifying Word. Decree 4 rightly argues that "our mission today is to preach Jesus Christ and to make him kntwn in such a way that all men and women are able to recognize him" (§1 i). The danger in decree 4 is that, with its excessive emphasis upon the promotion of justice in the social order, the gospel risks being slighted. What is rightly understood as the incarnation of the gospel in the world risks being sepa-rated from its foundation in divine justice and becoming simply an action of social justice of the secular order. That what Arrupe recognized as a danger actually happened in the aftermath of the decree in the late 1970s indicates that the danger remains a real one. While Vatican II in Gaudium et spes did encourage the church to take a strong role in promoting the dignity of the human person, it nevertheless saw human actions for justice as properly pr0paedeutic to the proclamation of the saving 654 Review for Religious mysteries of Jesus Christ and never intended that human efforts for justice be separated from the justifying life of the church. Unless human efforts at justice are designed to lead to an expe-rience of justifying union with Christ in his church, such efforts risk becoming inconsonant with the Christian mission. Decree 4 gives the impression that divine justice translates directly and adequately into efforts at justice in the world. While efforts at human justice are extremely important to God's justi-fy! ng action in the world, that impor-tance should not overshadow the fact that God's saving justice is revealed in many parts of our lives in which the word justice is not used. God's saving justice is revealed in the whole life of the church, especially in the procla-mation of God's Word and the church's sacramental life. While human justice is an integral part of the service of the faith, it is not the rich-est way in which God's saving action is manifested. Therefore, if the promo-tion of justice should ever be stressed to such a point that it begins to over-shadow the primacy of the proclama-tion of the gospel and the sacramental life of the church, one risks once again separating the promgtion of justice from its solid Christian base. Besides the, potential confusion that we have been discussing in regard God's divine justice, which is his saving covenanted relationship with his people, makes a human act of justice priestly, not in the ministerial sense, but rather in the sense of the priesthood of all the faithful. to decree 4's conflation (in § 18) of ~two theologically distinct mean-ings of justice, the passage also tends to confuse the priesthood of the faithful common to a!l Christians with the ministerial priest-hood conferred by the sacrament of holy orders. God's divine jus-tice, which is his saving covenanted relationship with his people, makes a humah act of justice priestly, not in the ministerial sense, but rather in the sense of the priesthood of all the faithful, each of whom is called to show through justice towards others God's saving activity" towards all. The promqtion of justice is, of course, appropriate to the life of the ordained priest inasmuch as he is called to proclaim the SepteTnber-October 1995 655 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faitb-and-ffu~tice gospel and be instrumental in the establishment of God's kingdom, which in some sense involves the establishment of just relation-ships among people. If at times the faithful as a whole are not exercising their commitment to justice by direct action in its ser-vice, it may fall upon the ordained ministers to try to compensate for that lacuna by direct action. Nevertheless, it is to the enhance-ment of the lay faithful's efforts for justice that the ordained priest's mission efforts should be directed, rather than to his own direct involvement. To the extent that the priest gives himself to the latter, he risks slighting the mission role of all the faithful, a mis-sion that is increasingly in need of support. Who Are the Poor? Inextricably linked to the promotion of justice is what is often called the "preferential option for the poor." Though that expres-sion is not used until the 33rd General Congregation in 1983, it is there in germ in decree 4, which makes it clear that "the justice of the gospel" calls us "to recognize and respect the rights of all, especially the poor and the powerless, but also to work actively to secure those rights" (§18). The question arises: Who are the poor? No doubt the term "the poor" is used by decree 4 to refer to the materially or economically poor and the politically oppressed. But we should look to the scriptural use of the expression, to see if this commonly accepted understanding of who the poor are is consonant with the Bible. In the earliest stages of Israel's history, the poor are indeed the economically poor and the politically oppressed or marginalized. But in the postexilic period (after the 5th century B.C.) "the poor" is often the term used for people who are simply meek and humble, but then also for the Israelite community as a whole, standing before God in need. In the New Testament the two favorite texts making refer-ence to the poor are found in the beatitudes in Matthew 5:3-12 and Luke 6:20-27 and in the Last Judgment scene in Matthew 25:31-46. In examining these three passages and the exegetical interpretations of them, we shall see that there is a broad spectrum of scholarly viewpoints on who the poor are. When Jesus says "Blessed are the poor" (Lk 6:20) and "Blessed are the poor in spirit" (Mt 5:3), there is one thing we can be cer-tain of, according to the exegetes: Jesus is not speaking about poor people as such. R.J. Karris says: "The Lucan Jesus is not 656 Review for Religious declaring a social class blessed."19 According to the exegetes, when Jesus calls the poor blessed, he is referring, not to poor people everywhere in the world, but to those among his listeners who are open to his message, open to his Father and the coming of his kingdom, and open to accepting Jesus and his teaching as his disciples. There is no blessed state, as far as Jesus is concerned, apart from being one of his disciples. In Luke, it is true, the disciples (or potential disciples) are addressed primarily in their material and political poverty. But we must not forget that in Matthew the beatitudes are addressed to the "poor in spirit." The primary emphasis here is not on the material or political state of the blessed, but on the fact that they are poor in spirit, that is, living lives of dependence upon God, trusting their lives to him completely, and finding no meaning, comfort, satisfaction, or fulfillment in the things of the world. What Matthew brings out (though it is true for Luke as well) is that the poor are blessed, not because of their material or political poverty, but because of the total orientation of their lives to God in Jesus. This leaves ¯ open the possibility that, for Jesus, being poor or poor in spirit means being a disciple of his (at least poten-tially) and not necessarily being mate-rially or politically deprived. It may be that Matthew, having in mind a later stage in the life of the Christian community, may be extending the beatitude "to all, of whatever social rank, who rec-ognized their complete dependence on God.''2° One exegete asserts that "Matthew has spiritualized and generalized the beat-itudes, making them applicable to the spiritual needs and moral endeavor of every member of his church.''2~ After all, Matthew alone among the Gospel writers tells us that Joseph of Arimathea was "a rich man" and that Jesus' body is laid "in his new tomb" (Mr 27:57 and 60). Would Matthew have considered Joseph not to be poor in spirit? It seems we must be open to a conception of the poor that includes more than the economically poor and polit-ically marginalized. What Matthew brings out is that the poor are blessed, not because of their material or political poverty, but because of the total orientation of their lives to God in Jesus. Septentber-October 1995 657 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faith-and-ffustice Last Judgment Scene Exegesis of the Last Judgment scene (Nit 25:31-46) is equally broad. The heart of the problem is contained in Jesus' statement to "all the nations" assembled for judgment before the Son of Man when he comes in glory: "Whatever you did for one of these least brothers and sisters of mine you did for me," and "What you did not do for one of these least ones you did not do ~:or me." Exegesis centers on who these least ones are and who the people in the nations are who are judged by how they relate to the least ones. There are two quite different interpretations in contention here. The more popular interpretation is that the least ones or least brothers and sisters are the materially and politically poor of the world and that "the nations" includes anyone in the world who comes to their assistance. The point is that, if you respond to the needy, you will be saved; if you do not, you will be condemned. The number of exegetes who in recent times subscribe to this interpretation is significant, due to the emphasis given to it by liberation theologians seeking a scriptural basis for a preferential option for the materially poor and socially oppressed. But there are problems: What about the necessity of faith for salvation and Jesus' constant call for faith among his disciples? Where does that fit in? The pec~ple of the nations are not represented as hav-ing any faith. Some exegetes argue that their faith is presumed, but this is a big presumption. Also, none of the people have any awareness of Jesus' teach-ing identifying himself with these least ones. Would not the dis-ciples know this teaching? It seems better to argue that the people are nonbelievers, in which case the passage is s~howing the sav-ing value and the necessity of works of love for nonbelievers. Niore and .more Matthean scholars argue that it is the Gentiles (and possibly the nonbelieving Jews) who make up the nations and that the least ones are Jesus' disciples sent on mission to preach the gospel of the kingdom.2~ The point, then, is that the Gentiles are saved or not saved according to how they respond to Jesus' disciples in their missionary needs. This appears to be the better meaning. It is based on Jesus' use of "brothers and sisters" to refer to members of the community, especially disciples in need (Mr 10:42 and 12:49), and on the fact that Matthew gives prominence to Jesus' sending his disciples on mission (Nit 10), telling them to carry on this mission to "all nations" to the end of time (Mt 10:40). This approach explains 658 Review for Relig%us why the respondents did not know that Jesus was present in his disciples, since they, unlike the disciples, would not have been familiar with that teaching. It also satisfies more easily the prob-lem caused by the lack of any mention of the importance of faith, a major element in Jesus' teaching (Mt 10:32-33): While explic-itly nonbelieving, the nations are saved because they are in fact responding positively to Jesus present in his disciples. With this exegesis, Jesus in the Last Judgment scene would not be showing a preferential love for or solidarity with the socioe-conomically poor. The scene would have an entirely different meaning; it would show his identification with the members of his community on mission and would give to that mission theo-logical and soteriological significance of enormous proportions. The disciples would be on a mission of evangelization, entrusted to all Christians by reason of their faith and baptism. With this exegesis, the Last Judgment scene and the beati-tudes in both Matthew and Luke could have a certain common message: Jesus' preferential love, if there is to be any, is extended to all sinners who accept him and respond to his teaching. In view of the fact that Jesus came to call all "sinners" (Mr 9:13), Jesus' option or choice is not for any special group or types of people, but rather for anyone who would hear his call and accept him and his teaching. A preferential love, however, could have been directed toward a special group, though certainly not toward hyp-ocrites (Mt 23) and the self-righteous (Lk 16:15; 18:9-14). Jesus, while never excluding anyone who would respond to his call On 3:1), may have had a special love for those perhaps best described as physically unfortunate (Mt 4:23-24) and spiritually dispossessed (Mk 1:12-18 and 5:1-20). Nevertheless, when it came to who this Jesus said would be "greatest in the kingdom of heaven," it was not the poor, nor the unfortunate or dispossessed, but "whoever hum-bles himself like this child" (Mt 18:~t) and "whoever obeys and teaches these commandments" (Nit 5:19b). This would seem to argue that Jesus' preferential love was for whoever accepted him and lived a life of dependence on God, as much as it was for the poor, the unfortunate, and the dispossessed. Those who point to Matthew 5:3 as evidence that Jesus had a preferential love for the poor o~erlook the fact that that verse is immediately followed by similar blessings on.those who mourn, the meek, those who search for evidence of the kingdom on earth, as well as on the merciful, the pure of heart, the peacemakers, September-October 199Y 659 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faith-and-Justice and those who are persecuted because of their commitment to Jesus--all of whom may be different types of persons for whom Jesus had a preferential option or who may (more likely) be the same people denoted by different dimensions of their lives, in which case the term poor is probably an all-inclusive category. Since the Gospel, by the time it was written, was being addressed to a Christian community already formed, it is also possible that these beatitudes are intended collectively to describe worthy mem-bers of the Christian community, in which case the poor of the beatitudes are all who have turned to Jesus in faith, hope, and love and are committed to serve him with their lives until the end. This more extended sense of the meaning of the poor has been confirmed by recent statements. In 1986 the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith stated: "The .special option for the poor, far from being a sign of particularism or sectarianism, man-ifests the universality of the church's being and mission. This option excludes no one"; and John Paul II, in his Christmas mes-sage of 1984, listed fourteen separate groups under the concept of the poor, two of which are those who suffer from psychological violence and families that suffer from the moral upheaval of soci-ety due to consumerism.23 A Better Formulary to Explain the Priestly Apostolate GC32's ultimate goal was not simply to promote justice in the world by altering unjust social structures. This is not enough, for it simply attempts to redress the external order. What it wanted to do ultimately was to transform inner lives, to reshape who Jesuits and others are, as a necessary foundation for reestablish-ing the dignity of the human person and right relationships in the human community. The outreach of justice is not .great enough to accomplish this. What decree 4 should have made its primary focus was not human justice but divine justice, the entire process of God's sav-ing relationship toward his people. Instead of putting its primary focus on human justice, it should have put it on the transforma-tion of the human heart so as to bring it into a saving relationship with the divine, which would then be expressed in saving rela-tionships with others. A better formular~ to clarify these goals would be "the service of the faith through the promotion of a Christian and human culture." 660 Review for Religious This formulary keeps the mission's Christian dimension clear and puts inculturation at the forefront of evangelizing efforts. The primary goal of Jesuits and, indeed, of all apostolic religious would, accordingly, be to promote their own personal faith rela-tionship with Jesus Christ through endeavors to inculturate his gospel; in doing this they would be fostering and inculcating val-ues not only consistent with the gospel but also conducive to a truly human society. Such a program would be broad enough to include the promotion of justice and all or most of the other apostolates appropriate to religious life as well. Concentrating work on the pro-motion of justice helps to change external relationships, but it does not necessarily touch hearts, the way peo-ple think and the standards they use to measure success. It does not touch who we are and how we seek fulfill-ment. It does not necessarily restruc-ture our personal relationship to God--or to God in Christ, as the Ignatian focus would put it. Let us briefly examine a.typical apostolate of religious, namely, edu-cation. If we overdo the promotion of justice among our students, there is a danger that the Christian life may come to mean only redressing unjust social structures, but not changing who the students are. Students often seek a secure identity for themselves by adopting secular society's production-and-consumption values, values that embrace greed, money, power, and prestige. There is even danger that, in religious life, the promotion of justice may become a slick way of appearing to care without having any real transformation take place inside us. The promotion ofiustice urges us to fit into our lives some time for thinking of others, but it does not necessar-ily touch our fundamental options. In spite of programs promoting justice in our schools, our students often leave with an understanding of Christianity that accepts as a given that the normal human being lives a me-cen-tered life. The promotion of justice is likely to cut away only a Concentrating work on the promotion of justice helps to change external relationships, but it does not necessarily touch hearts, the way people think and the standards they use to measure success. Septe~ber-October 199Y 661 Tripole * The Roots of Faitb-and-ffustice small part from that me-centered existence. Justice actions can easily fall into the category of works of charity seen as addenda required of those who would be Christian, but who otherwise" lead self-centered lives. This leaves the rich to continue to get richer while the poor get poorer, with the Christian willingly sharing in that search for wealth and power, feeling there is noth-ing wrong as long as life is tinged with social concern. It is little wonder, then, that when there is an open clash in society between the values of the world and Catholic values, the church loses regularly. Christianity has come to be perceived as a side issue, whose primary purpose is to help the needy, and whose legitimate requirements are satisfied by giving some time or money to social causes. In this scenario Christianity's role is to make people feel good--whether as giver or receiver--rather than to make them redefine their understanding of who they are. The church thus loses the right to ask for a redefinition of human existence that would involve a commitment of one's whole life to Christ, to the life of the beatitudes, and to Christ's church. Union with Christ and through him with the Father is pri-mary, and this is not necessarily established by the promotion of justice. People must be led to understand that a personal rela-tionship with Christ through his church is primary and that this demands a commitment so profound that it challenges one's def-inition of oneself. A fundamental change occurs when people give themselves to their baptismal identification with Christ, and the new moral life is consequent upon that change. The absolute requirement in the service of the faith--for reli-gious as for anyone--is identification with Christ: not just to be men and women for others, but to be committed and involved, through personal faith experience, with Someone who re-creates who we are, so that as other Christs we think and act with the mentality, value perceptions, attitudes, and habits that are his. This kind of faith experience is so fundamental that it revolu-tionizes one's existence; it permeates one's whole life. It is this deeper transformation that Paul VI saw operating in effective evafigelization and that he perhaps felt was not pre-sent in the call to promote justice. To promote justice is to seek to establish equitable relations among people individually and collectively. To seek to establish Christian and human culture is to seek to transform people's mind-sets, the precondition for the establishment of a just society. 662 Review fo'r Religious In the coming millennium, the purpose of our religious apos-tolate must be to redress not the lack of justice so much as the lack of fully human beings--men and women who are motivated by Christ and by the beatitudes he proclaimed. To achieve that goal is far greater and more important than simply to promote jus-tice. The church and the world are in need of religious who will work for the transformation of minds and hearts, other people's as well as their own. This can be accomplished only if we restore the person of Christ and the centrality of a life of faith in him to the center of our mission statements. In doing that, we shall also be working for the promotion of all the values he stands for, val-ues not limited to but including the promotion of justice. Notes ~ Continuity is being affirmed with the decrees of General Congregation 32 (GC32), which met in Rome from 2 December 1974 to 7 March 1975 and General Congregation 33 (GC33), which met in Rome from 2 September to 25 October 1983. References from the doc-uments of GC34 are taken from "The Interim Documents of General Congregation 34 of the Society of Jesus," National Jesuit News 24, no. 5 (April 1995), special pull-out section, pp. 1-40. Here the reference is to "Our Mission and Justice," §3, pp. 6-8 at 6. z A more complete presentation of the issues discussed in the paper may be found in the author's Faith Beyond Justice: Widening the Perspective (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1994). 3 "Our Mission Today: The Service of Faith and the Promotion of Justice," decree 4 of the 32nd General Congregation, in Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, ed. John W. Padberg SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1977), pp. 411-438, §18 (hereafter, paragraphs are noted in the text). Other documents in this volume are noted under Documents. 4 A letter dated 8 February 1995 to the author from Gerard J. Hughes SJ, chairperson of the commission that composed the decree, confirms this impression. He states that references to supernatural justice were inserted at the end to make clearer the idea that such activity was under-stood as part of the priestly ministry of Jesuits. 5 Jean-Yves Calvez sJ, Faith and Justice: The Social Dimension of Evangelization, trans. John E. Blewett SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1991 [1985]), p. 35 (hereafter, Calvez, and pages are noted in the text). 6 Appendix to "Letter of the Cardinal Secretary of State to Father General," 2 May 1975, Documents, p. 547. 7 Pedro Arrupe SJ, Witnessing to Justice Vatican City: Pontifical Commission Justice and Peace, 1972), p. 41. September-October 199~ 663 Tripole * The Roots of Faitb-and-ffustice s Pedro Arrupe SJ, "To Major Superiors of Latin America on the Social Apostolate in Latin America," 12 December 1966, Acta Romana Societatis Iesu 16 (1967): 791; Calvez, p. 27. 9 "Rooted and Grounded in Love," in Pedro Arrupe SJ, One Jesuit's Spiritual Journey: Selected Letters and Addresses, vol. 5 (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1986), §67. ,0 John Paul II, Rich in Mercy (Dives in Mi~ericordia) (Washington: USCC, 1981), §12. l~ The original text reads: "la service de la foi, dont la promotion de la justice constitue une exigence absolue"; the official Latin reads: "fidei servitium, cui promotio justitiae ut exigentia absoluta pertinet" (Acta Roman Societatis Iesu 16 [1975]: 330-331). The complete French and Latin texts are found on pp. 330-375. GC34's decree "Jesuits and the Situation of Women in Church and Civil Society" reaffirms this position (~8, p. 30). 12 "Justice in the World: Synod of Bishops' Second General Assembly," 30 November 1971, §6, in Joseph Gremillion, The Gospel of Peace and Justice: Catholic Social Teaching since Pope John (Mary.knoll: Orbis Books, 1976); pp. 513-529 at 520. 13 Charles M. Murphy, "Action for Justice as Constitutive of the Preaching of the Gospel: What Did the 1971 Synod Mean?" Theological Studies 44, no. 2 (June 1983): 298-311. ,4 Avery Dulles SJ, "Faith, Justice, and the Jesuit Mission," Assembly 1989: Jesuit Ministry in Higher Education (Washington: Jesuit Conference, 1990), pp. 19-25 at 24. ,5 Decree 4 states that the promotion of justice is both an "absolute requirement" of the service of faith (§2) and "an integral part of evange-lization" (§30). The decree gives no consideration to the marked differ-ence between the two statements. The latter would allow for apostolates not directly expressive of the promotion of justice; the former would not. Note that GC34's "Our Mission and. Justice" uses only the expression "integral part" when addressing the role of the promotion of justice in the Jesuit mission, fdr example, §1 (p. 6). 16 "Human Development and Christian Salvation," Origins 7, no. 20 (3 November 1977): 305 and 307-313 (hereafter, section and page are noted in the text). ,7 E.R. Achtemeier, "Righteousness in the Old Testament," in The Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible (New York: Abingdon, 1962), vol. 4, pp. 80-85 at 84. ,8 p.j. Achtemeier, "Righteousness in the New Testament," in The Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible (New York: Abingdon, 1962), vol. 4, pp. 91-99 at 91. ,9 Robert J. Karris OFM, "The Gospel according to Luke," in New Jerome Biblical Commentary, 48:39. 2o The New American Bible, Saint Joseph Edition (New York: Catholic Book Publishing Co., 1986), p. 16. 664 Review for Religious 2~ John P. Meier, Matthew (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1980), p. 39. 2., Eugene A. LaVerdiere SSS and William G. Thompson SJ, "New Testament Communities in Transition: A Study of Matthew and Luke," Theological Studies 37, no. 4 (December 1976): 567-597 at 581. 23 Origins 15, no. 44 (17 April 1986): 723, and Origins 14, no. 30 (10 January 1985): 498. First Response A his mystical experience at the river Cardoner, Ignatius described himself as "another man." As Martin Tripole sees things, that personal, fundamental change in a person remains the mission of the Jesuits today, and it is accomplished primarily by the preaching of the gospel. Using his own experience as a teacher of theology at St. Joseph's University, he argues that his job as a Jesuit in this situ-ation is to challenge students to question the values of the soci-ety in which they live, values which are mainly selfish, the values of the "me generation" which sound very much like the values Ignatius describes in the Exercises as those of the enemy: wealth, honor, and pride. The Jesuit does this by teaching his students the beauty of a life based on the beatitudes. But Tripole's concern is that this mission has been upstaged by an emphasis on social justice in the Society of Jesus since the days of its 32nd General Congregation and the publication of its famous document "Our Mission Today: The Service of Faith and the Promotion of Justice." The unfortunate consequence of this has been a lapse of memory. Jesuits have forgotten that social jus-tice depends--at least for the Christian--on a personal conversion to Jesus' understanding and way of life. What this means con-cretely in the situation of Jesuit schools is that Jesuits do not chal-lenge the secular values which students are taught as members of American society, but are content to teach them that they are good Christians if they volunteer their time or money to some good social cause. Thus Tripole sees the present emphasis in Jesuit schools on service, learning, and volunteering as deficient. It does not get at the root of the matter. It does not challenge and change the val- September-October 199~ 665 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faith-and-Justice ues of students, their sense of themselves. It does not pay sufficient attention to the gospel itself. He admits that it is always hard to preach the gospel authen-tically. Teachers who want to challenge the values of their stu-dents have to examine their own as well. The social-justice approach, on the other hand, is much easier. It deals with action, The present emphasis in Jesuit schools on service, learning, and volunteering does not get at the root of the matter. It does not challenge and change the values of students, their sense of themselves. not values. It is acceptable to the larger society. It does not require great soul-searching. In short, it is a work, something external, whereas the preaching of the gospel demands first of all the changing of one's heart and mind and soul. And here Tripole can call on Ignatius for support. Ignatius was convinced that any permanent and worthwhile result must begin with the interior of the person and work from there out to external action. The social-justice approach, on the other hand, does not work that way. It begins and ends with external actions and leaves hearts untouched. So Tripole is calling for a return of the Jesuits to an emphasis on the preaching of the gospel. The effort to create a just society will follow from this preaching. But it is the observance of this proper order-- faith first, then works--which he sees as having been lost by those who have made faith and justice synonymous. Unless this primary emphasis on the gospel itself is main-tained, Trii~ole fears, Jesuits will become simply social workers. Moreover, many of their traditional works, since they will not be able to justify themselves as works of social justice, will be aban-doned. Higher education, at least in some of its disciplines, say mathematics, would be on this list~ For how can the work of a Jesuit professor of math be understood and justified as a work of social justice? As he sees it, the commitment of the Jesuits to justice as the criterion for its service of faith was the result of the spirit of the times, the late 1960s and early '70s, the time when society at large and the Society of Jesus were in a crisis of self-identity, when 666 Review for Religious eight hundred Jesuits left the Society each year, many perhaps because they found the priesthood a hindrance rather than a help in their attempts to do justice. Moreover, such efforts have not produced a better world. Thus he would claim that it is now time to correct this mistake, to put justice in its place, and to get back to preaching the gospel and thereby building what those who emphasized social justice wanted to build but failed to build, a more just world. Tripole's argumentation is appealing. How could any Christian deny that he or she wants to preach the gospel and believes in the beauty and truthfulness of the life Jesus describes in the beat-itudes? But then the question emerges: Must not the preaching of the gospel be fruitful? And what kind of fruit is called for today? Ignatius was a practical man. He looked at his situation and then decided how to bring the gospel to effective expression. What then is the effective expression of the gospel demanded of Christians today? It is the building of a just society for our world. Therefore Jesuits should be involved in it. And the only difference between this effort 'today and the efforts of Ignatius and earlier Jesuits is that Jesuits today recognize that economic structures are morally charged and changeable. Thus their effort to change them is simply the modern way of preaching the gospel effec-tively. It is the concrete application of the gospel to the situation at hand. And whether this effort is labeled integral to or consti-tutive of or essential to the gospel is really secondary. But it itself is necessary. Otherwise faith stands convicted as dead. Gerald F. Finnegan sJ Assistant professor of theology St. Joseph's University Second Response InmUSt agree with Father Tripole's suggestion that we need a ew formula to express the Society's understanding of its works, goals, and overall mission. Furthermore, I support the proposition that the varied apostolic endeavors of Jesuits are most likely to be both accurately described and properly justified by September-October 199Y 667 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faitb-and-3~ustice the formulary which calls us to "the service of faith through the promotion of a Christian and human culture." It seems to me that to leave unchallenged and unchanged GC32's statement that the mission of the Society is "the service of faith, of which the promotion of justice is an absolute require-ment" brings us face-to-face with a task which I am not sure is either valid or necessary. It seems also to be a task which smacks too much of the kind of enterprise taken up by Procrustes. For staying simply with GC32's formulary seems to suggest either that we have to cut the legs out from under certain of our apostolates or that we have to stretch mightily our understanding of what justice is all about and of what in fact it takes in order for a work of the Society to be considered as one which is promotive of that justice. If I understand GC32's formulary correctly, when it says that the promotion of justice is an absolute requirement for the service of faith, it means that unless we are promoting justice we are not serving faith. To me the truth of this idea is neither obvious nor necessary. If ultimately we Jesuits are called to work for the sal-vation of human beingsand if faith is a sine qua non for salvation, then clearly the focus of our concern and labor must be on estab-lishing and enhancing the conditions which make it possible, and even easier for individuals to respond affirmatively to the initia-tive of God's love and grace in their lives. Clearly, one way in which the atmosphere conducive to the birth and flourishing of faith is created is by seeing to it that God is not lost in the exhaustive scramble that takes place when vari-ously marginalized and oppressed people must scratch and claw their way through situations in which their basic human rights are denied and their personal dignity is violated. In light of the full richness of the meaning of redemption--namely, that human beings are saved as whole persons, as spirit and body--it makes eminent sense to say that we as Jesuits must have concern not only for the spiritual well-being of others, but also for their tem-poral or material welfare. Indeed, I seriously do.ubt that the Good News of salvation can be effectively shared without our seriously attending to somehow improving the human condition. But I must maintain ~hat there are other valid and necessary ways for Jesuits to work in the service of faith without being insen-sitive to prevalent injustices or varying forms of oppression and without in any way doing an end-around run in the face of any social or political realities which affront human dignity. There '668 Review for Religious are simply other ways to serve faith besides promoting justice, and there is absolutely no guarantee that the effect of promoting justice is the service of faith. In itself, promoting justice does not necessarily serve faith. Promoting justice may indeed be a way for us as Jesuits to work out our salvation, but promoting justice in .itself may do nothing or little to encourage and facilitate the sal-vation of others, which is pre-cisely what we Jesuits are supposed to be about. I am all for more equity and less oppression and injustice, but when people become temporally and materially better off, then what? Working to improve the material and human status of others is noble and necessary, but it is not our ultimate work and not our final norm for apos-tolic involvement. Working to ensure that people come to have more of the good things of life is fine, but the message must be loud and clear that "the more" is to be used and enjoyed "tan-tum quantum," that is, only insofar as it serves to establish and enhance union with God. In other words, the good things of life are meant simply to help us, all of us, on our return journey to God. This means that all of us have to live and prosper in the light of God's reign. And so, although there is reason to rejoice if the poor become less poor and less oppressed and less forgotten and less powerless as a result of our Society's labors, nonetheless, it seems to me that the joy for us as Jesuits might well be tempered or conditioned until we know the answer to this question: Have these same people, newly lib-erated from the chains of injustice and oppression, remained resis-tant to the strong temptations to self-complacency and self-assertion which already lead so many of us to ignore provid-ing a place for God in our lives? I am left with these two questions: (1) Would it not be more honest and reflective of the actual work of the Society to expand Promoting justice may indeed be a way for us as Jesuits to work out our salvation, but promoting justice in itself may do nothing or little to encourage and facilitate the salvation of others, which is precisely what we Jesuits are supposed to be about. September-October 199~ 669 Tripole ¯ The Roo~s of Faith-and-Justice the formula articulated by GC32? and (2)What exactly would be lost by such an expansion? Vincent J. Genovesi Professor of Christian ethics St. Joseph's University Third Response The Mission of Jesus and Our Mission Today Somewhat serendipitously, the liturgical readings for the Sunday following the weekend discussion reported in these pages were eas-ily related to the theme of the discussion. 14/-hat follows is an adap-tation of the homily given in the St. Joseph 's University Chapel for the third Sunday of year C. Local references have been elim-inated. A few words have been added from the 34th General Congregation, which was in session at the time. Wlive in a time when everyone seems to be writing mis- V V sion statements--schools, parishes, religious orders and communities, organizations of all sorts. At their best, these state-ments address, in a fresh and updated way, who we are and what we are about. One such effort has been the recent 34th General Congregation of the. Society of Jesus, a gathering of about 230 Jesuits from around the world, attempting to say what it means to be a Jesuit in 1995. Another recent effort had members of Congress proclaiminga "Contract with America" on the same front steps of the Capitol where presidents deliver their inaugu-ral addresses. In today's readings from Scripture, we have two similar expe-riences. Nehemiah (8:2ff) and Luke (4:14-21) probably would not know what we mean by mission statement, but in fact Ezra and Nehemiah are proElaiming a mission statement for the Jews who have returned from exile in Babylonia, and Luke has Jesus at the beginning of his publiF life proclaiming his mission statement, his statement of who he is and what he was about. As we listen, we are obviously challenged to ask who we are and what are we about. About 350 B.C. the Jews had returned from Babylon to reestablish themselve~s in Jerusalem, but they were confused, much 670 Review for Religious like today's resettled and repatriated refugees, and they needed leaders to help them to find themselves. Ezra the priest is trying to renew them spiritually, and Nehemiah is trying to renew them politically and socially. Ezra and Nehemiah together remind them of their roots as the people of God by reading the Law, the compilation of God's revelation to them and their traditions as the Jewish people. They redis-cover themselves in their roots and come together as community. From a murmuring, discouraged gro.up of individuals, they become a believing, worshiping community. In the Gospel, Luke is introducing Jesus at the beginnifig of his ministry. He too reaches back to roots, Jesus' roots in the Suffering Servant of Isaiah, to describe who Jesus is and what he is about. He is to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim lib-erty to captives, sight to the blind--probably not wha~ his hear-ers expected to hear. Various scripture scholars point out that Luke's Jesus inher-ited the social realism of the Israel into which he was born. He would have seen his people surrounded by various degrees of bondage, oppression, and poverty, and he would have seen the alleviation of this situation as an intrinsic part of their salvation and, therefore, of his mission. He would go about transforming social systems in a distinc-tive way. For disciples he chooses not the socially influential, .but the powerless and, in Matthew's case the despised. He reveals a predilection for little pe6ple, the least favored. He uses power riot to dominate, but to free and to serve. He follows, in fact goes far beyond, the model of the Suffering Servant, who gave his life so that his people might live. As we listen to Nehemiah and to Luke, we are being chal-lenged to spell out our mission statement as Christian commu-nity in 1995. Will it sound more like Jesus in the synagogue or more like the Contract for America on the steps of the Capitol? We live at a time when men and women all around us-- Democrats, Republicans, Perotians, and whatever--are ti~rning their backs on the poor, on immigrants (legal and illegal), and even on victims of violence and abuse. Lest we blame this on politicians, remember that all too often they are simply telling us what polls sugge.st we want to hear. Much of this mean-spirited agenda is supposedly what white mid-dle- class males and the "Christian Coalition" want. We hear that Septentber-October 199~ 671 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faitb-and-3~ce we have done enough for those on welfare, the poor, and "for-eigners." Now we must look out for ourselves, get ours first, save America first. We h~ve done enough for "them." Let "them" now help themselves. What would Jesus say to us if he were beginning his public mission here in this chapel today? Are there any fewer poor than in his day? Of course not. The number is now in the billions. In this country, the richest in the world, one of every five children is poor arid faces a lifetime of poverty. Imagine what this means in wasted humanity. Are there any fewer captives? Of course not. There are over 45 million refugees and displaced persons in the world, 80 percent of them women and children, trapped in violence, oppression, meaning-lessness. Are there fewer blind? Of course not. We see millions suffering from physical, spiritual, and intellectual blindness of every kind. The big difference between 2000 years ago and today is that we, not Jesus, are challenged to open up the scroll and make Isaiah's words ours. Thirty years ago Vatican II situated the church, not on the m~untaintop above all of the turmoil of the human condition, but down in the trenches with women and men struggling to live in the midst of that turmoil: "The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these too are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ" (Gaudium et spes, §1). Twenty years ago the Society of Jesus spoke of its mission as the "service of faith, of which the promotion of justice is an absolute requirement"; since then, Jesuits and their colleagues have been trying to spell out what that means. It is sometimes said that the church's (and the Society of Jesus') interest in justice questions and in the poor is a remnant of the '60s and '70s and that it is a third-world issue not necessarily relevant to us today. We are told that we need to broaden our agenda and move on to other issues. But we have to be blind not to see that injustice, poverty, and oppression are as prevalent today as in the '60s and '70s, if not more so, and that we in the "first" world, with our own problems of violence, abuse, and neglect, are not that much more devel-oped than the "third" world. Thus it is that the recent Jesuit general congregation did not weaken, but rather strongly reaffirmed, the 1975 commitment to 672 Review for Religious a "radical life of faith that finds expression in the promotion of jus-tice for all." The international and cultural context for this com-mitment is spelled out in much greater detail, and the fundamental importance of faith is emphasized, in these words of the 34th General Congregation: "The aim of our mission., is the service of faith. The integrating principle of our mission is the inseparable link between faith and the promo-tion of the justice of the kingdom" (Interim Documents, p. 5). Work on behalf of justice is linked to the work of evangeliza-tion, inculturation, and interreli-gious dialogue. The agenda is broadened to include human rights, the sanctity of human life, the global interdependence of peoples and the environment. Within such a perspective, this is hardly the time to retreat from the mission of Jesus, "to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to the captive, to give sight to the blind." Rather, it is a time to stay the course in the face of an ever more expansive agenda before us. Paul's letter to the Corinthians gives us an important insight for the ongoing task. In the Body of Christ, each of us has a different contribution to make, so that the It is sometimes said that the church's interest in justice questions and in the poor is a remnant of the '60s and '70s and that it is a third-world issue not necessarily relevant to us today. But we have to be blind not to see that injustice, poverty, and oppression are as prevalent today as in the '60s and '70s, if not more 20. total, collective effort may be successful. None of us can be involved in every cause for justice which comes to our attention, but a reading of the Gospels, the documents of Vatican II, and our most recent Jesuit congregational documents would argue that v~e need to be involved in at least one. We can pursue justice in various ways. Some of us will be more the activist, some more reflective. Many strengths are needed to solve the problems we face: the persistent work of the activist, the careful analysis of the scholar, the concerned prayer of the contemplative. September-October 199Y 673 Tripole ¯ The Roots of Faitb-and-3~stice Perhaps in the .past we have been too sweeping and too sim-plistic in our emphasis on justice; It is interesting to note one very moving exchange on the floor of the Jesuit congregation betweeri Latin Americans and those from formerly Communist countries. Both groups acknowledged how they had misread each other's motives in the past. There is no doubt that work for justice needs to be combined with strong faith if it is to be most fruitful for the kingdom and if we are to have the strength we need for the long haul. Work for justice needs to be combined with caring love if it is not to become harsh and vindictive. It needs to be part of an effort to transform culture, inculturate gospel values, if it is to have lasting, widespread significance. It must be linked to a total effort at evan-gelization for the same reason. Each of us will be able to bring one or more of these strengths to the table, each plays a different role within a complex agenda. The endless agenda left to us by Jesus, and made more explicit in the church in recent years, leaves more than enough for each of us to do in integrating faith and justice in our lives. Charles L. Currie SJ Adjunct professor of theology St. Joseph's University Many foreign missionaries depend upon people like you who donate subscriptions for them to Review for Religious. To start a subscription for a deserving missionary, please send $24 to: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Blvd. ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108 To pay by credit card, phone: 314-977-7363. 674 Review for Religious JUDE D. WEISENBECK Ecumenism a Scripture Mandate for Religious Our theme's images of "weaving" and "fabric" are indeed captivating as they relate to our present purpose. The theme affirms that the ecumenical vision, far from being an optional and ancillary dimension of religious life (or, holding to the image, a hem or a fringe), is so integral to our vocation that removing it would run the risk of caus-ing the entire garment to unravel. I hope here to focus reflection. To accomplish this, I believe we need to move away from the natural tendency to ask, "In what ways can religious communities contribute to the goals of the ecumenical movement?" and toward that self-understanding whereby we recognize ecumenism as being at the very heart of what it means to be a reli-gious. Promoting Christian unity is not merely something that is appropriate for religious to be engaged in; it is so integral to our way of life that religious life without an ecumenical thrust would be like religious life without a love for the poor or without concern for peace and justice issues. Undoubtedly an immediate reaction on the part of some might very well be: "Spoken like a true ecumaniac! Jude D. Weisenbeck SDS presented the following (here slightly revised) as the keynote address at the national consultation (Albuquerque, New Mexico; 28-30 April 1995) of men and women religious engaged in ecumenism. He is the director of the Office of Ecumenism for the Archdiocese of Louisville. He may be addressed at Flaget Center; 1935 Lewiston Drive; Louisville, Kentucky 40216. ecumenism September-October 1995 675 Weisenbeck ¯ Ecumenism a Scripture Mandate for Religious Sharing life to the fullest is what I mean by wholeness. In turn I think of the ecumenical movement as promoting the sharing of life. Turn them loose and they will try to make ecumaniacs out of all of us." Please do not respond in that way without first hearing me out. The perspective embraced here rests upon three simple but firmly held convictions: (1) The Scriptures call Christians to wholeness in all of its marvelous dimensions. (2) Religious life is about responding to this call to wholeness in an especially com-mitted way. (3) The ecumenical movement is fundamentally about restoring wholeness to the entire family of God's people. I agree with Michael Kinnamon who, in various recent talks, tenders his conviction that unity is at the very heart of the Good News. It is not one among many themes, nor is it peripheral; it is central to all that the gospel stands for. In the plan of God, shared life is the norm, and it is division that needs explanation. Sharing life to the fullest is what I mean by wholeness. In turn I think of the ecumenical move-ment as promoting the sharing of life. This is a positive idea and an ideal toward which the Scriptures constantly call us. As per-vasive as brokenness may be in our experience, it is still a depar-ture from the norm. Brokenness is something to be deplored, not something to be taken for granted, much less accepted. For reflec-tive sages of centuries past, it was very disconcerting to find our world full of conflict, pain, and suffering. This needed an expla-nation. They concluded that it could not have come from God and is not part of God's original plan. Broken bodies lack wholeness. Divided families lack whole-ness. Communities split apart by dissension and conflict lack wholeness. The church, fragmented into thousands of denomi-nations, lacks wholeness. All of these are in some ways similar to the pieces of a puzzle still in the box. Everything that is needed to complete the picture is there, but until they are put together in their proper relationships, the puzzle just is not a complete pic-ture. It lacks wholeness. I would like to explore this scriptural call to wholeness in somewhat greater detail. The first image I offer for considera- 676 Review for Religious tion is one from the Book of Genesis. What do we find there? We find the creation story, a story about bringing harmony out of chaos. Consider the elements in this image: ¯ the earth was without form and void; ¯ darkness was over the face of the abyss; ° a mighty wind swept over the surface of the waters. We have an image of darkness, formlessness, emptiness, tur-bulence. Enter God bearing gifts: ° light in regulated rotation for night and day; ¯ the ordered relationship of water and dry land; ¯ fertility, resulting in fresh growth, seeds, fruit, young animals, and children; ¯ water, teeming with countless creatures and moistening the dry earth; ¯ an enormous diversity of plants and animals sharing life in harmony: fish for the seas, birds for the air, animals for the land; ° the human species, man and woman, sharing their life in their own wonderful diversity; ¯ the harmonious ordering of all things, each in its own designed relationship to all other creatures. A primary image of the entire story is that of shared life in all its goodness. God shares the divine life through creation; all crea-tures share the divine gifts with each other. Shared life is the norm. Conversely, death, confusion, shame enter when life is no longer shared. Adam and Eve decide to take what is not theirs, and the rest is history. The Hebrew Bible and Jewish tradition to this very day are rich in their contributions to this theme, as is evidenced by that remarkable document entitled "Guidelines for the Catechetical Presentation of Jews and Judaism in the New Testament" issued in 1986 by the United States Catholic Conference. A few pas-sages will suffice to illustrate the point: The Jewish understanding of God's reign is of universal harmony and wholeness (shalom), in which all the peoples of the earth will gather to worship God. This understanding of the End toward which all human history is oriented pro-vides a constant and present challenge to Christians and Jews (for example, Is 2:11 and Is 25; Mi 4:4). (Dr. Eugene September-October 199Y 677 Weisenbeck * Ecumenism a So4pture Mandate for Religious J. Fisher and Rabbi Leon Klenicki, In Our Time, p. 64) This sense of wholeness and unity is intended to mark both the hearing of God's word in the synagogue and the festive Sabbath meal in the home (p. 65). The great Jewish festivals underscore in different ways this constant journeying toward wholeness (p. 65). Elizabeth Johnson echoes these sentiments when she com-ments on both the Hebrew tradition and the New Testament: At the heart of [Jesus'] preaching was the symbol of the reign of God. Taken from the Hebrew tradition, this sym-bol signifies what the state of affairs will be when God is recognized as the One on whom everyone sets their hearts, when God finally reigns . The reign of God is the situ-ation that results when God's will is really done. VV-hat is God's will? As revealed in Jesus, God's will is our well-being. God wants the wholeness, the healing, and the salvation of every creature and of all of us taken together. The reign of God, then, involves justice and peace among everyone, heal-ing and wholeness everywhere, fullness of life enjoyed by all. It is what the Scriptures call the situation of shalom, peace experienced not only as the absence of war but peace as the fullness of life. (Consider Jesus, pp. 51-52) When an ecumenist quotes Scripture, especially the New Testament, one normally expects that John 17:20-23 (Christ's famous prayer for unity) will be cited. It is, of course, a beautiful and appropriate prayer. However, it is not the only New Testament passage with ecumenical significance. I would like to suggest that John 10:10 is also very much to the point. Christ says, "I have come that humankind may have life, and may have it in all its fullness." This statement is set in sharp contrast to the work of the thief who comes to steal, kill, and destroy. It is within this context--that we may have life in all its full-ness- that Jesus' preoccupation with healing must be understood. One of the most pervasive images of the gospel is that of Christ engaged in healing. This includes not only physical healing, but also the healing of minds and hearts and souls. The stories of the woman at the well, of Nicodemus, of the forgiveness of sins, and of the resurrection itself are all instances of the healing of minds, hearts, and souls. Living life and sharing life to the fullest are the norm; it is brokenness ~nd division that are the exceptions and departures from the norm. 678 Review for Religious This naturally brings us to my second firm conviction, namely, that religious life is about seeking wholeness. For religious life is about living the Gospels in the most perfect way possible. We call it responding to the evangelical counsels. We take this so seriously that we make public vows to God to do so. We respond to the call to bring wholeness into our own personal lives and to bring wholeness to a very broken world. During the past couple of years I have been involved with a project at the Cathedral of the Assumption in Louisville, Kentucky, called Caring for the Soul of the Community. This ecumenical project explores spirituality from a wide range of per-spectives, and it leads me to conclude that, for almost all people, spirituality is an attempt to get in touch with ultimate goodness. It is a desire to possess life in all its fullness, the life which Jesus promises us. It is that yearning for wholeness. Is that not what religious life also is about? And what stands in the way of possessing life in all its fullness is the same today as in the Garden of Eden--the refusal to share life. It is the incli-nation to take for ourselves what does not entirely belong to us or to keep for ourselves what is designed to be shared. We live out our lives in community, not only the immediate community of our religious sisters and brothers, but the larger communities making up our church and ultimately the entire fam-ily of God. Consequently, our concern for wholeness must extend beyond ourselves to the various circles of larger communities of which we are a part. Individually we can never be fully whole unless the entire community is whole. Our call, then, is to seek wholeness for the entire community. This brings us to my third basic conviction, that the ecu-menical movement is a response to the call to seek wholeness for the entire Christian community we call the church. The church is broken, fragmented, divided. Healing this brokenness, this frag-mentation, this dividedness and bringing wholeness to the church are what the ecumenical movement is all about. This has to be a matter of grave concern to those who take the gospel seriously. Members of religious communities may not take the broken-ness and the dividedness of the church for granted any more than we may take poverty and injustice for granted. The entire church suffers, and the people for whom the church is a sacrament of Christ's love suffer, when doctrinal differences and other dis-agreements divide members of the church one from another. Septe~tber-October 199Y 679 Weisenbeck ¯ Ecumenism a Scripture Mandate for Religious A divided church is both a scandal and a handicap. It is a scan-dal because persons professing the kind of conversion required by baptism prefer to go their separate ways rather than to continue in dialogue and prayer until irreconcilable church-dividing con-troversies are settled. It is a handicap because the life of the church and the life-giving powers of the church are not fully and mutu-ally shared both by its members among themselves and with those who need the church that they may live life to the fullest. Is not a failure to reach out in love to those separated from us in some sense a failure to live our vow of poverty to the fullest? We keep for ourselves what should be shared with others. Is not our failure to attempt to enter into relationship with other Christians who are not in communion with us a kind of disre-gard for our vow of chastity? Instead of observing celibate chastity for the sake of freeing ourselves to cultivate the numerous other relationships required for a healthy Body of'Christ, we retreat into a celibacy of aloneness in which shared life is seriously inhib-ited. And our vow of obedience: here is where the prayer of Christ for unity is disregarded if we fail to take seriously the mandate to work for unity both within and among the Christian communities. If a divided church is both a scandal and a handicap, then also a religious not concerned for the unity of the Body of Christ is an anomaly. Life cannot he lived to the fullest without sharing life. Promoting unity among Christians is both a mandate of the Sacred Scriptures and an integral part of the very fabric of reli-gious life. Kansas Sunflower bright and bold nodding in the breeze splash of color; smile of God sunshine for the road. Mary E. Penrose OSB 680 Review for Religiou~ BERNARD SEIF Too Deep for Dogma ~otnieS y oenalry bfeivfoe rme itlhees afowuanyd ainndg foofu onudre do wasn r elictetlnet lmy oasn a1s9t8e6ry, .j uAst bit of divine synchronicity, I often wondered--now I know it was much more than just a bit, it was a gloriously large dose. The juxtaposition of the two communities has led to great joy and new life for many people, clear signs of the intervention and presence of our Creator. I always knew the ashram, which is what I will call Arsha Vidya Gurukulam for purposes of simplicity, was nearby, Ashram is a generic term for a spiritual community in the Hindu tradition, much like a monastery in the Christian tradition. A gurukulam, more specifically, is a very special Hindu community where one or more gurus (also called swamis) live and teach, passing on the wisdom of revelation, holy scripture, the practice of meditation, and so forth. Not only did I know that the ashram was nearby, but I knew that it resonated with what seemed to be an ageless long-ing within me for a deeper experien.ce of Eastern traditions. Thomas Merton's love of the East had long nourished a similar love within me. Dom l~ede Griffiths' many years of living and guiding Shantivanam Ashram in south India, wherein Christian and Hindu traditions meet without loss to either tradition, but rather enrichment, long fascinated me. My own energies in more recent years have been spent largely in the foundation and running of the Salesian Monastery. I had, Bernard Seif SMC wrote for our July-August 1992 issue. He continues living .his monastic life and sharing it with others through the practice of clinical psychology and spiritual direction, with part-time ministry at the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth. He may b.e addressed at the Salesian Monastery; HC 1, Box 455, Frantz Road; Brodheadsville, Pennsylvania 18322-9630. Septentber-October 199Y 681 Seif ¯ Too Deep for Dogma however, wandered onto the property of the ashram a few times during those years, but did not get too far. Most of that was due to my own timidity. On one reconnoitering I spoke with a teenage boy who had stopped on his bike for some reason along one of the paths. We felt a warm and lively connection. We chatted for five or ten minutes and then both of us left, happy for the encounter. The only prob-lem was that the boy was speaking Hindi and I was speaking English. Neither of us understood, on a surface level, a word of what the other was saying. Deep in our hearts, however, we knew that there was a connection. Such is the kind of connection or dia-logue which I would like to present and encourage in this all too brief. Once when one of my sisters, who is a Sister of St. Joseph of Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia, was visiting our monastery with a mutual friend, another Sister of St. Joseph, we traveled over to the flea market situated on the grounds of a drive-in theater across from the ashram. My hidden agenda was to get the three of us over to the ashram and explore it a bit. After purchasing some discount cereal and dented cans of decaffeinated coffee, we walked across the road and onto the property. This time I caught a glimpse of the top of the temple on our way and was able to fol-low the paths which lid to it. Peering in the windows we could see a few hundred people sitting peacefully on the floor. I was hooked. I needed to be in there. As we went to an entrance, a smiling man with an Indian accent welcomed us and encouraged us to go into the temple. Before I knew it we all had our shoes off, had left our recently purchased items out in the hall, and were sitting on the floor before a man dressed in orange robes who spoke in English and every once in a while sang something in Sanskrit which the community repeated. I was mesmerized. My sister, on the other hand, was mesmerized by the hole in my white running sock. The gathering began to break up for lunch; I wanted to stay but knew I had my visitors to attend to, and so we left to con-tinue o.ur journey even though we were assured of a welcome at lunch with the ashram community. Tha.t night as I sat quietly reviewing the day, thinking and praying about its events, I picked up some of the literature I had taken from the ashram. There was a sheet of paper announcing some classes being given by Swami Tadatamananda with a little picture of him printed on it. Mthough I had never met him, did not even know if he spoke English, I 682 Review for Religious knew at some very deep level that we would become good friends, and so it has come to be. After a weekend students' class, which the Sunday morning lectures are called, I introduced myself to "Swami T," as people affectionately call him. There was an immediate smile of recog-nition when I mentioned who I was. He had read about our monastery in the newspaper a year or two before and had saved the article to look us up one day. Knowing how precious the gift of time is, I am always cautious about taking up the time of another and thought of keeping our encounter brief. The swami, however, made me feel so wel-come that we sat down and had coffee and talked for a long time. The upshot of that meeting is that our community is graced with his presence on a regular basis, coming to us several times a week for Evening Prayer (and sometimes Eucharist), dinner, chapter, and some private time together. During this time I tutor the swami a bit in counsel-ing (I am a clinical psychologist), and he teaches me Vedic chant-ing. We have shared our spiritual journeys with one another and experience an ease and honesty which brings joy to our hearts. Both of our communities are supportive of our relationship. The other monastics and our associate members enjoy the swami's presence, and the sharing of our spiritual heritages (which often is experienced as one heritage) is mutually enriching. In fact, Swami T has now become an associate member of the monastery. More recently Swami Dayananda, founder of the ashram and a venerated teacher throughout the world, asked me to come and speak at a Christmas gathering in their community about Christ and Christmas. What a thrill it was to offer the Good News in an atmosphere of mutual dialogue and respect. No one was or is trying to convert the other. We are simply shar- Before I knew it we all had our shoes off, had left our recently purchased items out in the hall, and were sitting on the floor before a man dressed in orange robes who spoke in English and every once in a while sang something in Sanskrit which the community repeated. September-October 1995 683 Seif ¯ Too Deep for Dogma ing our experience of the sacred and finding a profound unity therein. Such is the experience of a group that has long been dia-loguing on this deeper level of prayer, rather than on dogma, called the Monastic Interreligious Dialogue.~ This group is made up primarily of Hindu, Buddhist, and Catholic monastics from throughout the world. My friends and my spiritual director tell me that they see my excitement as I talk about this part of my spiritual journey. They see the life that it brings to me and others. I sometimes expect them to say something like "What next?" yet they encourage me to continue on in the way that the Lord is leading me these days. With a grateful heart I must admit that I too wonder "What next?" Yet what does it matter? My recent spiritual experiences have helped me to live, better than ever, in the spirit of our Salesian charism peacefully in the present moment. The day that manifested the reality of East-West dialogue which is carried on at a level deeper than dogma occurred shortly before Christmas when the Salesian Monastery and the ashram held a joint puja (Hindu worship service) at the monastery. The form was totally Hindu and the content totally Christian. The service enacts the welcoming of an honored guest. Oil lamps blazed in the oratory as incense and flowers were offered. We chanted the doxology in Sanskrit. Hindu and Christian alike touched foreheads to the ground before the Blessed Sacrament. Even the newspaper reporter eventually took off his shoes, respecting the holy ground on which we stood. The presence of God was palpable in the oratory, and I saw tears glisten in the eyes of my friend at one point. There was absolutely no division among us. We were all experiencing the same God. In conclusion, I encourage fidelity to one's faith tradition as well as all forms of dialogue, but I believe that we cannot wait to hammer out agreements on paper. Praying and meditating together is a form of dialogue which bonds us without any need to leave the tradition one comes from. Nor does it create a hybrid religion. When one is properly grounded, there is no threat of these things happening. Rather, it takes us deeper into the won-der of who we truly are to the Source from which we all come. Note ~ A bulletin is available; write Bulletin of Monastic Interreligious Dialogue; Abbey of Gethsemani; 3642 Monks Road; Trappist, Kentucky 40051. 684 Re~v~ iew for Religious CURT CADORETTE Catholicism in the Social Order of a New Era On I0 April 1995 Newsweek, a weather vane of American middle-class sensibilities, displayed a close-up picture of Pope John Paul II on its cover. The pre-Holy Week edition fea-tured an analysis of the pope's recent encyclical, Evangelium vitae, a lengthy and important document that calls into question the ethical assumption of the developed world or, from John Paul's vantage point, the lack thereof. Calling for the creation of "a cul-ture of life" rather than "a culture of death," the pope criticizes the materialism of the developed world, birth control, abortion, euthanasia, and capital punishment. The encyclical is unprece-dented in its intensity and cohesion. Social analysis, characteris-tic of his early encyclicals such as Laborem exercens, is linked with reflection on personal and social ethics, a theme in his more recent writings. In the pope's estimation, we stand on the brink of catas-trophe, tempted by nihilism and violence that already claim mil-lions of victims every year and may destroy us all if left unchecked. In Evangelium vitae John Paul is a social analyst and social ethi-cist. He calls on individuals and societies to reflect deeply on their behav, ior and the contemporary social order, affirming what is good and rectifying what is deficient in the light of humankind's innate dignity and transcendence. His plea is that we see and treat each other as God-given gifts rather than as opponents or objects and thus counteract the destructive violence that afflicts us. Curt Cadorette NIM holds the John Henry Newman chair in Roman Catholic Studies at the University of Rochester. His address is 430 Rush Rhees Library; University of Rochester; Rochester, New York 14627. September-October 199Y 685 Cadorette ¯ Catbolicis~n in the Social Order The common wisdom that Roman Catholicism is nothing more than its hierarchy, or even the dominant Christian church in the Western world, is wrong, both theologically and demographically. The reactions to the encyclical were equally predictable, from "challenging" to "monstrous." Some critics pointed to the pope's nai'vet4 about free-market economics and the inevitability of casu-alties in a rough-and-tumble world. Some members of the pro-choice movement characterized the encyclical as another exercise in Catholic misogyny. Since the encyclical's critics had to read and analyze 198 pages of heavy prose in just a few days, we can assume that their analyses require further refinement. In any event, Newsweek proves that the title of this article is germane. Catholicism is a national and international part of the social order. Some rejoice, some lament, but none can deny that a religious insti-tution with nearly a billion peo-ple is a significant force in the contemporary world. However one assesses the current papacy, (and prudent analysts are advised to wait several decades before deciding its historical fate) there can be no doubt that John Paul II has helped make the Catholic Church a more significant interlocutor in social dis-course. Beyond the shallow categorizations of John Paul's ideas lie a great deal of thought, analysi;, and passionate concern about the modern world. Of course, many people, including loyal Catholics, disagree with some of his ideas. H+ speaks from a Eurocentric vantage point and understands the institutional church in a profoundly hierarchical way. Like all of us, he has his contradictions. He feels others' pains but refuses to deal with aspects of the institutional church that sometimes cause pain. Although he is a student of modernity, he is essentially a medieval man. The memory of Christendom seems to control his imagi-nation and make him deeply wary of post-Enlightenment plural-ism. He questiofis a civilization predicated on materialism, convinced that a return to Christian values can somehow rem-edy our global ills. Although many people resonate with his crit- 686 Review for Religious icism of modernity, many also question his vision of Christendom, in large part because of the historical record of the church itself. Institutional Catholicism suffers from a credibility problem. Fortunately, the question of credibility is being addressed by ordi-nary Catholics who are remaking the church to which they belong. We need to focus on these people as much as on the papal persona to understand what contemporary Catholicism is really all about and how it affects the social order. "Real" Catholicism Media images of Catholicism, of course, are only marginally accurate. In today's world, news has been commercialized. It is sold in package form to consumers who pick and choose accord-ing to their tastes. More troubling, however, is the erroneous assertion that what the media calls Catholicism is Catholicism. Impression to the contrary, popes, bishops, and priests, as well as the church in the United States, are only a tin.y part of what is now one of the most culturally, linguistically, and politically diverse rgligious institutions in the world today. The common wisdom that Roman Catholicism is nothing more than its hier-archy, or even the dominant Christian church in the Western wo~ld, is wrong, both theologically and demographically. Such assumptions have been incorrect since the 1960s when the center of gravity in Catholicism moved from the developed to the devel-oping world. The bishop of Rome now presides over a religious community that is more African, Asian, and Latin American than American and European. Catholicism is undergoing profound internal change as millions of non-Western people, most of whom are economically poor and politically marginalized, enter its ranks as full members. In effect, Catholicism is becoming more catholic with all the growing pains and confusion such expansion entails. The "in" words these days among Catholic theologians are con-textualization and inculturation, that is, how to take the basic insights of the Catholic tradition, translate and then transplaht them in the different soil of the developing, non-Western world. Contextualization and inculturation are well under way. New vari-eties of Catholicism are emerging that are making the Catholic community, locally and globally, a stronger, more credible force. To understand correctly the role Catholicism plays and will play in the social order it is imPerative to look beyond its leaders September-October 1995 687 Cadorette ¯ Catholicism in the Social Order and institutional structures. The heart and soul of Catholicism has been and always will be the people who make up the Catholic community. Today that means hundreds of millions of people in the developing world whose culture, economic values, and polit-ical traditions are vastly different from people in the developed world. In 1979 Karl Rahner, the great Jesuit theologian, tried to assess the significance of Vatican II, a council he helped shape more directly than any other theologian. Rahner recognized that Vatican II, great achievement that it was, really marked the end of the "second age" of the church. In his mind, one of the greatest achievements of the council was the fact that it gave license to non-Western peoples to create new forms of Catholic thought and life consonant with their diverse histories, cultures, and approaches to the sacred. Rahner was convinced that Catholics in the developing world would be able to do new things with their faith that would reen-ergize Catholics in the developed world. Indeed, by the year 2000 almost 70 percent of the world's Catholics will live in the south-ern hemisphere. (In the United States 50 percent of American Catholics will come from so-called minority groups, largely Hispanic and Asian.) This means that Catholicism is about to enter a new "third phase" marked by an unprecedented internal diversity. The globalization of Catholicism is now a fact whose consequences have already altered its internal and external life. New ways of understanding and explaining the Catholic vision have emerged, forever altering theological discourse. Institutional structures, more and more the responsibility of lay women and men, are being recreated. The way the Catholic community responds to its social environment has changed dramatically. In a church made up largely of poor and oppressed people, prophetic challenges to injustice and its corollary, martyrdom, have become commonplace. I want to focus the rest of this article on these changes and what they mean on a deeper level for Catholicism, both internally and as a institution that is part of a global social order. As a postscript we will focus on the American Catholic church and its place in the global scheme of things. Modes of Theologi, cal Discourse Theology was understood in early Christianity as reflective living rather than verbal or written discourse about faith. By the 688 Review for Religiolts third century, however, Christian thinkers were busy devising a sophisticated mode of theological discourse that relied on Hebrew and Christian Scripture as well as classical philosophical language. Isaiah and Jesus, as it were, met Plato and Aristotle. Augustine and Aquinas systematized Christian thought in impressive ways and had a profound impact on Western history. Their theology is structured, logical, deductive, and dualistic. This type of theo-logical discourse has legitimacy, but it also has limitations. Few people can fol-low it other than trained intellectuals and, like all professional languages, it often becomes an end in itself. The problem of Western theological language becomes more acute when non-Western people are involved. Because their cultures and histories are different, Western theology rarely meets their needs. Their faith is strong, but their patience with imported theological discourse is limited. They recognize the difference between the medium and the message and insist on their right to cre-ate theologies that reflect who they are culturally and historically. Perhaps one of the most significant decisions of Vatican II was the. decision to encour-age non-Western Catholics to use their own language and expe-rience to explain their beliefs. This may seem like an innocuous and abstract shift, but it really is quite revolutionary, theologi-cally and politically. Abstract theological language is being replaced by context-specific discourse about faith done by people who confront grinding poverty, injustice, and violence. Suddenly~, theology has become the voice of the voiceless, something it has not been for centuries. It is intellectually and existentially provoca-tive, as well as socially engaged. Since the council grass-roots theological discourse in the developing world has burgeoned. It is now impossible to keep up with the vast amount of theological literature coming out of Latin America, Africa, and Asia. Just as intellectually sophisticated as European and North American material, third world theology nonetheless displays special characteristics, most notably rooted- Perhaps one of the most significant decisions of Vatican II was the decision to encourage non- Western Catholics to use their own language and experience to explain their beliefs. September-October 1995; 689 Cadorette ¯ Catholici~n in the Social Order ness and passion. It draws on many provocative sources--the Hebrew prophets, the Beatitudes, Catholic social teaching, and the day-to-day experience of ordinary people. It is contextualized intense reflection on how faith can help transform society. This new theology, often called liberation theology, is no threat to the integrity of Catholicism. To the contrary, it is a vital component in its survival. It enriches an ancient tradition with a new vocab-ulary and point of reference. As Gustavo Gutidrrez has put it, liberation theology is dis-course on Christian faith done from "the underside of history," a part of the world inhabited by most Catholics, past and present,l Indigenous Catholics in the Andes are beginning to create a the-ology that speaks of their great reverence for the earth, the Pachamaraa, a symbol which speaks of the feminine side of God and the sacredness of the earth as the common womb of life. Korean Christians have incorporated concepts like ban, or trauma-induced anger, and minjung, a word that connotes the spirit and genius of the poor and oppressed, into their theological writing and liturgical life.2 These are signs of energy that instill hope. Western theology will not disappear, but in the third millennium it will be seen as part of a larger whole, one vocabulary and set of images among many. More important is the fact that Catholic theology now reflects the experience of people heretofore over-looked and victimized. Their history and hope are thus kept alive in a social order that often disregards and even kills them. Ecclesial Evolution and Political Society Not only will theological discourse be different in third-mil-lennium Catholicism, community structures and leadership will be too. As peoples create their own varieties of Catholicism they will construct new types of community. For centuries, most Catholics have thought of Catholicism as something that flowed from the top down--from pope, to bishop, to pastor, to parishioner. This model, however, is beginning to change. For more and more peo-ple in both the developing and developed world, Catholic iden-tity is not something conferred by infant baptism, but rather something a person acquires as an adult who enters a believing community, assimilates the tradition, and begins to see him- or herself as part of a larger Catholic whole. Today base communi-ties and even large parishes are made up of people whose self- 690 Review for Religious understanding as Catholic is more intense and articulate. Engagement within the community and the community's rela-tionship to the larger social whole are therefore more focused and consequential. Catholic identity, defying the laws of history and hierarchy, increasingly flows from the bottom up, changing the self-under-standing of the church and its social role. In many parts of the developing world, the Christian community is a real political force. Committed to an incarnational spirituality which insists that God is present in history and nature, members of base com-munities struggle for justice and social transformation in soci-eties scarred by violence and oppression. The Christian churches in South Africa were at the front of the struggle against apartheid struggle. In Haiti base communities provided refuge for the per-secuted and food for the hungry despite military repression. Precisely for this reason, of course, prophetic individuals and committed communities have faced the wrath of the mighty who often brand them as subversive. The label, in fact, is correct since Christianity lived well is subversive. What is really remarkable, however, is the depth and commitment of many Catholic Christians who are willing to risk their lives for their faith and the world they live in. Saints and martyrs abound in contemporary Catholicism. Most of these saints and martyrs are ordinary, name-less people, and that frequently overlooked fact may be the most important political datum in the history of contemporary Catholicism. Their sanctity was gained in Catholic communities intent on doing justice and transforming history. Spirituality As a central part of a person's identity rather than a religio-cultural label, Catholicism serves as a vision or spirituality that helps people achieve a more integral and respectful understand-ing of their own selves as well as a more engaged and positive relationship with the larger world. The incarnation, as central Christian symbol, speaks of God's love and commitment to all human beings, women and men with particular languages and cultures. This symbol validates their specificity. In a world marked by a violent preiudice against the other as inferior by dint of race, class, gender, and culture, the incarnation is both an indictment of such violence and a call for transformation in the institutional Septentber-October 1995 691 Cadorette ¯ Catholicism in the Social Order church and in society. Despite the fact that millions of human beings are deemed nonpersons by oppressive economic and polit-ical systems, a truly Catholic spirituality insists that each of them is a gift because of the incarnate God it believes in. It denounces injustice and makes justice real by accepting these people in all their specificity. Liberating spirituality is not developed abstractly but rather in a living community that is dialectically engaged with the larger world. Base communities address people's brokenness and chal-lenge their members to transform those economic and political forces that oppress them. Much of liberation spirituality revolves around the central symbol in Jesus' life and mission, the reign of God. As contemporary scripture scholars have pointed out, Jesus understood God's reign concretely. It was not a future event or abstraction for him, but something he saw happening in first-century Palestine. Even today, when a broken person is healed, when a community celebrates Eucharist in the midst of oppres-sion, or when a believing community helps bring about even mod-est social change, we see signs of God's reign transforming history. Spirituality is really a synonym for visionary political holiness.3 As the poor and oppressed begin to understand themselves as graced, an insight that oppressive social systems try to deny them, they have a powerful impact on their social environment. Great tech-nical skill is required to transform society. Social technology alone, however, is mute and unappealing. It requires a human voice and poetic imagination. A spirituality aimed at integral justice must also include stories, song, and dance--lessons people in the devel-oping world teach eloquently through their spirituality. Beauty is as much an antidote to iniustice as economic and political plan-ning. It is an unequivocal no to deforming violence. Given its multicultural makeup, contemporary Catholicism can play a vital role in forging a liberating spirituality. By affirming the beauty of many people it can be a living embodiment of political holiness. A U.S. Catholic Postscript The history of Catholicism in the United States is a fasci-nating story of disenfranchised immigrants coming to life, By hanging on to and affirming their religious identity, Irish, German, Polish, and Hispanic immigrants managed to gain a foothold in a largely Protestant society and eventually make a significant con- 692 Review for Religious tribution to the United States. Their success would not have been possible without parochial schools and neighborhood parishes. By the 1960s American Catholics were part of the mainstream, and the United States was the better for it. As full members of the middle class, however, United States Catholics run the risk of forgetting that they were once the "other" and forgetting the "other" in their midst. Luckily, the American Catholic church is not static. New Hispanic, African, and Asian Catholics are mak-ing the American church more diverse than ever before. Many of these groups are poor and politically powerless. Their experi-ence of oppression cannot be overlooked. If Catholics cannot understand and defend their fellow Catholics, then what good is American Catholicism? Middle-class Catholics cannot hide in suburban parishes and satisfy themselves with a type of "Catholicized" civil religion. In a country separated by racial and class divisions, they are called to exemplify inclusion and real justice, virtues that are central to Catholicism and a democratic political system. Given their place in the world, American Catholics also have to remind themselves that they have "made it" in an empire and that this empire unfortu-nately is responsible for a great deal of suffering in the world. They need to keep in mind that their tax dollars have trained third-world dictators in the School of the Americas, some of whom have murdered committed Catholics and non-Catholics in the developing world, and even American missionaries. They need to tell themselves that as people with voice and vote they can do something about their country's foreign and domestic policy. American Catholics have to raise hard, responsible questions about national policy and the way we wield our enormous might. That is a right and obligation American Catholics have towards their fellow Catholics and their country. Real patriotism requires responsible th6ught about our national and international policy--something Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, and more recently the American bishops have said with eloquence. Many political analysts have pointed out that Middle-class Catholics cannot hide in suburban parishes and satisfy themselves with a type of "Catholicized" civil religion. September-October 199~ 693' Cadorette ¯ Catbolicis~t in the Social Order we are in the midst of a deep national crisis. We need people of vision, men and women with a deep spirituality and commitment to the public realm, to find our way out of the cul-de-sac we find" ourselves in. Squabbles between liberals and conservatives have become meaningless. We need people with vision and integrity who defy political categories. American Catholics can make a sig-nificant contribution in political discussion as representatives of an American Christian denomination that embraces more social classes and races than any other and a religious community of global proportions. The pluralism of American Catholicism is its greatest asset. It has much to contribute to the debate about who we are as a nation and our role in the international arena. The Catholic community does not have all the answers nor does it pretend to, but it is hardly shy on experience, wisdom, or com-mitted people. If it can live up to its own vision and be truly inclu-sive, just, and joyful it will have made an enormous contribution to the body politic. Of course, inclusion, justice, and joy do not rain down from the heavens. They require work which heaven asks of American Catholics. There are those, of course, who do not welcome a Catholic voice or presence in the social order. Often, they are working with an erroneous understanding of what Catholicism is, rooted in a misunderstanding of what Catholicism was. As new types of Catholicism come to the fore, this prejudice hopefully will decrease. There are more astute and hostile people, however, who oppose Catholicism not for what it was, but for what it is. They recognize the subversive potential of a religious tradition based on the incarnation and universality of grace. The Catholic vision, lived deeply, threaten~ their economic and political interests. Ironically, some of Catholicism's most implacable foes call them-selves Catholics, as recent events in Latin American tragically demonstrate. One can only hope that the example of people like Oscar Romero, Dorothy Day, Ita Ford and Maura Clark will call these people to conversibn, for their own sake, that of the Catholic community, and the world at large. We must keep telling our-selves that there is ground for hope, that our religious traditions, the liberties made real by the Enlightenment, responsible sci-ence, and homespun genius can lead us out of our current quandary. The social order can and must be transformed. The question we must ask ourselves is what role we will play in its transformation. Can we and will we respond to that powerful 694 Review for Religious spirit of liberation at play in our world or will we resist it? The answer to that question is enormously consequential for each of us as individuals and for the world we all inhabit. Notes ~ Gustavo Gutierrez, The Power of the Poor in History, trans. Robert R. Barr (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1983). 2 Chung Hyun Kyung, Struggle to Be the Sun Again: Introducing Asian Women's Theology (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1990), pp. 53-73. 3 Pedro Casaldfiliga and Jos~ Maria Vigil, Political Holiness: A Spirituality of Liberation, trans, paul Burns and Francis McDonough (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1994). Listen! Listen to your life. Listen and be still. Listen to the endless fall of endless silence. Listen with the ears of the sentinel alert to the sounds of the night. Listen to the years cresting over forgotten days, soundless, breaking infinitely slow. Do not speak. Gather together your life, and let time well slowly up from your depths and collect it as you might spring water in a cool dipper. Thomas More Page CFX September-October 1995 695 RICHARD J. HAUSER Finding God in Daily Life: Ignatian Spirituality's Heart The Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins calls attention to a fact of all created being in his "kingfishers" sonnet: Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves--goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying I, Vhdt I dd is me:for that I came. Every created being is endowed by God with an inner nature and ac.ts accordingly--"selves"; in this it glorifies its Creator. And so with us human beings. We are endowed by God with a specific nature, indeed with the very image and likeness of God. Further we have been given God's own Spirit to assist us in expressing our inner being--the same Spirit that guided Jesus. But, unlike our fellow crea-tures, we humans need not always act according to our deepest selves. We alone of all creatures are given the choice of whether or not to follow the laws of our inner being. And so in his Spiritual Exercises Ignatius of Loyola gives us guidelines for recognizing God's movements within our hearts. He calls them Rules for the Discernment of Spirits. For Ignatius discernment is sim-ply the art of listening to our inner selves and learning to recognize (discern) movements that arise from the Holy Richard J. Hauser SJ is director of the graduate programs in theology, ministry, and spirituality at Creighton University. A comprehensive treatment of his thought on discernment can be found in his book Moving in the Spirit: Becoming a Contemplative in Action (Paulist Press, 1986). His address is Creighton University; 2500 California Street; Omaha, Nebraska 68178. 696 Review for Religious Spirit (our true selves) from those which do not. Traditionally the skill is called discernment of spi

Issue 63.1 of the Review for Religious, 2004. This was the first issue of the Review as a quarterly publication. ; Education Objectives Human Development Eucharistic Ce~nteri~ng Saintly Models Spiritual Growth QUARTERLY 63.1 2004 Review for Religious helps people, respond and be faithful to God's universal call to holiness by making available to them the spiritual legacies that flow from the charisms of Catholic consecrated life. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2004 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm 'Judy Sharp Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 63.1 2004 6 Secularism, Justice, and J~suit Higher Education-- Are They All the Same? Martin R. Tripole sJ questions the adequacy'of the justice agenda in Jesuit education and proposes to spell out the task for educators in establishing "the justice of God's kingdom" among students. 21 32 The Spiritual Development of Individuals Stanislaw Glaz SJ points out that spiritual development can proceed correctly only on the condition that we discard the illusions that we have created about our lives and likewise discard vain expectatio~ns for the future. Breaking Stereotypes Ignatius Jesudasan sJ writes about stereotypes from his Indian and Jesuit experience and calls us to reflect on our efforts to move beyond such prejudice. 40 53 A Charism Illumined: Eucharistic Anamnesis and "Viva Memoria" Hildegard Magdalen Pleva OSSR develops the crucial feature of both anamnesis and "living memory" as the ability to make past events and the person of Jesus present and active in our time. Eucharistic Devotion in the Rising Generation Randall S. Rosenberg reflects upon the desire of young people to spend time in loving contemplation and adoration of the Eucharist as a sign of growth in an integral faith life. Review for Religious 58 Teresa of Avila and Friendship Susan B. Cordsen reflects on Teresa of Avila's struggle with friendship. Teresa has much to say to us today as we struggle with what it is to be friends of Christ and friends of one another. 66 Five Faces of Rosalie Rendu Robert P. Maloney CM reflects many of the numerous new blesseds and saints of Pope John Paul's pontificate are not well known. This article attempts to acquaint readers with one of them. Growth in Faith, Hope, and Love Normandie Gaitley SSJ discovered through the setback of apparent failure and rejection God's voice in the midst of the storm calling to a deeper faith, hope, and love. 84 Mountain Caves Carolyn Humphreys OCDS describes our growth in intimacy with God through the imagery of our exeriences in entering the darkness of spiritual caves. 4 Prisms 91 Canonical Counsel: Papal Enclosure: Further Considerations 99 Book Reviews 63.1 2004 R first things first. As we begin a new year, it may be helpful to observe what is first in our lives. For example, we believe that the Eucharist is central to our living the paschal mystery. Yet we might look at whether or how it is first in our religious practice. Jesus provides us with two helps--the first, a word, and the second, an action. During the Last Supper events recorded in the synoptic Gospels, Jesus makes reference to the covenant: "This is the new covenant in my blood." Covenant, a specific agreement practice among the Middle-Eastern peoples, took on a new depth of meaning when the Israelite people understood that God had made a covenant with them] To celebrate this new relationship between God and a people he calls "peculiarly his own," the biblical covenant is sealed with the blood of a sacrificed animal. Blood--just as in out'modern-day blood transfusions--means life, not death. When the priest sprinkled blood first on the altar representing God and then on the people, this blood ritual symbolized the sharing of life between God and God's people. When Jesus says the word "This is the new covenant in my blood," he is taking the symbolic covenant of the Jewish faith and providing an undreamt-of reality to his word. In Eucharistic communion, we find ourselves given the food and drink of everlasting life. Our veins, our very bodies, our very beings are coursing with the "blood" of this new covenant of shared life, the Review for Religious Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, Son of God and Son of Mary, the new Paschal Lamb. The action Jesus performs as key to our understanding is recorded only in John's Gospel account of the Last Supper. The action is Jesus' washing of the disciples' feet. When Peter objects, Jesus replies that, if he does not wash his feet, then Peter will have no relationship with him. In the face of such a harsh consequence, Peter immediately reverses his position and desires to be washed totally clean as a guest made'welcome from the travel of dusty roads--not just his feet, but his hands and face as well. For the Johannine community and for the church in her Holy Thursday celebration, this washing of the feet dramatizes the central mystery of the Eucharist, a sharing of life, giving it away, a life-in-service--"I have given you an example," Jesus says. Eucharist, meaning celebration of holy Mass, and Eucharist, meaning the sacrament of holy communion, include both word and action. God in Jesus is speaking a word of love in sharing divine life with us, bringing us from being just God's creatures to being truly sons and daughters, members of God's family. But in Eucharist God is also involving us in his very action of sharing, and so we find ourselves moved not only, to share our life with God but also, like God, to share life with all those whom our life touches--all of them our brothers and sisters! Eucharist is key to Jesus on the cross--to pay whatever price love costs--to give over his life to God and to give over his life to us. Easter, too, finds its key in Eucharist--Jesus sharing resurrected life, his Father's gift to him, with all of us so that we too might continue to rejoice in and share this life forever. Entering into Eucharist, then, we participate in the paschal mystery, the mystery of the dying and rising of Jesus, the pattern of living the divine cost of sharing life given in love. . .David L. Fleming SJ 63.1 2004 MARTIN R. TRIPOLE ,,Secularism, Justice,. and Jesuit Higher Educationm Are They All the Same? Whether or not justice is present in Jesuit higher education seems recently to have become a mat-ter of high priority. In 2000 every Jesuit college or university in the nation was pressed to send representatives to a special conference in Santa Clara, California, to examine the extent to which justice was being promoted in the policies and curricula of Jesuit institutions, with a view to implementing stronger justice agendas. More than three hundred delegates attended. In October 2002 a follow-up gathering was held in Chicago. Conversations on Jesuit Higher Education recently devoted its entire spring 2000 issue to social justice.1 In July 2002 in Philadelphia, the fifth annual meeting of Col-leagues in Jesuit Business Education focused on "The Paradox of Globalization and Economic Justice." And an international conference on justice and globalization for. leaders in Jesuit Martin R. Tripole SJ last wrote for us in September-October 2000. His address is St. Josepl'i's University; 5600 City Avenue; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. Review for Religi.ous higher education was held in November 2002 at Santa Clara University. The perception seems to be that Jesuit higher edu-cation is not adequately committing itself to the pursuit of justice and something must be done about it. The pressure has grown to make the promotion of justice-- in an institution's mission statement and curricular offer-ings-- the litmus test for qualifying as a Jesuit institution. So much has this conjunction of justice with Jesuit edu-cation become the standard parlaffce at Jesuit institu-tions today that, when lay administrators, faculty members, and students refer to Jesuit education, they immediately identify it with the promotion of justice. In short, if your institution is not promoting justice, it is not Jesuit. Many educators question this symbiosis.of justice and Jesuit education. Is the purpose of Jesuit education to promote justice? Is it possible to fashion Jesuit edu-cation according to a justice model? Doesn't a liberal education in the Jesuit tradition have dimensions far deeper and more important? This article questions the adequacy of the justice agenda in Jesuit education, arguing from (1) the under-standing of the Jesuit mission as approved by the 34th General Congregation (GC34) of the Society of Jesus in 1995, (2) the inherent inability of the iustice agenda to .maintain the Catholic and Jesuit character of Jesuit higher education, and (3) the compelling challenges cre-ated in the world since 11 September 2001, in relation to which the justice mission falls seriously short. Justice and the Jesuit Mission at GC34 The identification of Jesuit education with the pro-motion of justice stems from the 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus (GC32) in Rome in 1975. It decreed that the Jesuit mission is "the service of7 63.1 2004 Tripole * Secularism, Justice, and Jesuit Higher Ed faith, of which the promotion of justice is an absolute requirement.''2 Though the congregation never defined what it meant by justice, most commentators noted the 1960s and 1970s political- and social-activist thinking reflected in the decrees and have rightly concluded that the congregation was referring to social justice. In effect, the congregation asserted in the key for-mulation cited above that every branch of the Jesuit mis-sion had somehow to justify its existence by how it promoted justice. That was the way things stood until 1995, when GC34 was convened. One would never guess, from the continuing emphasis placed upon jus-tice today, that GC34 broadened and deepened the for-mulation of the Jesuit mission so that it now includes much more that is explicitly Christian. Though GC34's thinking included social justice,3 the justice that is linked to the service of faith is now under-stood to be the scriptural and theological understand-ing of justice as "the justice of God's kingdom,':4 The aim of our mission received from Christ. is the service of faith. The integrating principle of our mission is the inseparable link between faith and the promotion of the justice of the Kingdom. In this pre-sent congregation we want to deepen and extend, in a more explicit way, the Society's awareness of those integral dimensions of our mission to which [GC32's] Decree 4 drew attention and which are now reaching maturity in our experience and in our present min-istries. (2:14) Central'to GC34's understanding of faith and the "justice of God's kingdom" is that faith entails sharing in the church's mission of evangelization and therefore pro-claiming the gospel and bringing its teaching into every culture and society (2:15). United with Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit, and operating "within the total evangelizing mission of the church" (2:3), Jesuits are called "to promote the kingdom in all its aspects," Review for Religious including destroying the "structures of sin" and fulfilling the universal "desire to find God" and to "live by his gospel in all its implications" (2:11). The congregation, recognizing that the roots of injus-tice are to be found not only in "economic structures" but also in "cultural attitudes," explicitly states that jus-tice will "flourish" in society only when a deeper cultural transformation is achieved (2:17). Social justice is in a sense a by-product of the transforming power of "Christ's explicitly liberating presence" within history (4:8). Through inculturation, the "liberating power of the gospel" (4:3) be-comes present in every soci-ety by touching its "structural, cultural, and religious aspects with its light" (2:18). Clearly, by shifting its focus to the need to transform cultures, and integrating that effort into the church's total evan-gelizing mission, GC34 has found a deeper and mtre sat-isfying way to correct social problems than by focusing on the promotion of justice alone. Few would deny that promoting social justice is a work "integral". to the church's life. But it is another thing to assert, as GC32 seemed to do, that promoting social justice is an "absolute requirement" of every effort to serve-the gospel. Jesus seems repeatedly to have dis-tinguished the service of faith from the promotion of justice. At the beginning of his ministry, he made faith in his teaching and repentance for sin the appropriate response to the coming of tlie kingdom (Mk 1:15). He stressed the saving power of faith (Mr 9:22, Jn 3:16) and of baptism (Mk 16:14, Jn 3:5) and taught the parable of the talents (Mt 25:14-30), all without alluding to justice. And is it not fitting to proclaim the need for dis- Few would deny that promoting social justice is a work "integral" to the church's life. 9 63.1 2004 Tripole ¯ Secularism, 3~ustice, and yesuit Higher Ed cipleship of Christ (Mk 1:16-20), or the soteriological sig-nificance of Jesus' healing actions (see Mk 2:1-12; 3:7- 12), as well as the redemptive significance of his death and resurrection (1 Co 15), without mentioning justice? Jesus calls his disciples to a life of service of God and others. But the service Jesus intended is broader than promoting justice and does not call for such promotion unless just relations are lacking. Service, however, always calls for love. The quintessence of Christian living is found in our expression of love for one another modeled on Jesus' life of love (Jn 15:12). This love is manifested most of all in laying down one's life for another, as Jesus did On 15:13). It is promoting love, therefore, that would be the more adequate hallmark of the Jesuit mission. Jesuit and Catholic Presence in Jesuit Higher Education Understanding the Jesuit mission as inculturating the gospel has greater implications for Jesuit education than promoting justice does. According to GC34, a Jesuit university "must be out-standing in its human, social, spiritual, and moral for-mation" of student~ (17:11). Borrowing from Pedro Arrupe, superior ger~e.ral\of the Society of Jesus from 1965 to 1983, the congregation ranks, as a priority apos-tolate of the Society of Jesus, "theological reflection" upon "humanism, freedom,~ m~ss culture, economic development, and violence" (16:7). The congregation~ recalls that the early Jesuits "linked Christian catechesis to an education in classical humanism, art,and theater, to make their students versed both in faith and in cul-ture" (4:10), and specifically affirms that in the educa-tional apostolate Jesuits "have a special role to play in linking Christian faith" to contemporary movements in culture (4:28). The justice mission is not broad enough to handle these goals. Review for Religious In the light of GC34's understanding of the Jesuit mission, we would do well to examine the findings of "Jesuit Education 21," the last major conference on Jesuit higher education in the United States. Held at St. Joseph's University in June 1999, the conference brought together over three hundred laypersons and Jesuits from around the world, with more than eighty presentations made by prominent educators. A close examination of the conference proceedings5 indicates much of what is troubling Jesuit higher education today. They show that more is needed to restore the Jesuit and Catholic char-acter of Jesuit institutions than promoting justice can provide. Though their concerns were distinctly pro-Jesuit and pro-Catholic, the participants never came to a consensus on what being Jesuit and Catholic means or how Jesuit and Catholic values, whatever they might be, can be pre-served. A reviewer of the published proceedings called them "fascinating" and "indisl~ensabl~e' readin_g, yet admitted he could not conclude fro---~-~hem_ what Jesuit education stood for.6 This inability to state with clarity what it means to be Jesuit and Cath_olic_may reflect an erosion of identity already underway in Jesui_~t and Catholic colleges and universities. The proceedings provide good grounds tofear that the secularization that oc~ in many Pro___testant schools in the early 20th-century is well under___way at Jesuit and other Catholic institutions as_w__ell.____A basis for this view may be found, for exa--m-~le, in ~he distinction admissions recruiters.have frequency_ drawn-between Jesuit values and Catholic ide~-~ity. Many_ said they emphasize the former and do.wnpla._y or ignore the latter as a matter of policy. But why?-The distinction, they said, enabled them to iden6fy Jesuit schools to potential applicants as institutions promoting humanistic values, rather than as schools fostering Catholic identity. The 11 63.1 2004 Tripole ¯ Secularism, Justice, and Jesuit Higher Ed effect was to make being Jesuit distinguishable from belonging to the Catholic Church. That recruiters make such a distinction as part of their effort to appeal to potential students may indicate how ingrained among students as well as among recruiters secularization has already become. The erosion of Catholic identity may be even more evident in the hiring of new faculty members increas-ingly for their professional competence and their sup-port of humanistic values rather than for an interest in fostering a Catholic culture on the campus. One admin-istrator at the conference, bluntly admitted without com-ment or apology that Jesuit institutions will no longer accept support for the Catholic mission as a factor to be considered in the hiring of new faculty. He argued that Jesuit distinctiveness is now identified with humanistic values such as seeing the world, as sacramental, showing love by deeds, and searching for ultimate meaning, and that, when the Jesuit character is understood that way, "Jesuit education can and will thrive independently of the fortunes of the institutional Catholic Church." He went on to say that, "if you were to tell faculty tomorrow to 'hire for mission' with an emphasis on Catholic rather than, or over and above, Jesuit, I know what will hap-pen . The present faculty simply will. not do it" (Francis Fennell, Proceedings, p. 446). The peremptory nature of these remarks indicates how difficult it would be to reverse the trend toward secular humanism, for the faculty are the primary decision makers for hiring in their departments. Deeper theological roots of secular humanism may be found in the increasing acceptance of a principle never accepted by the Catholic Church, that faith is a private matter. This perspective includes relegating faith matters to the theology department and campus.ministry, rather than considering a Catholic culture something all Uni- Review for Religious versity personnel can share in. Theology departments, however, eager to be accepted as legitimately academic and hospitable to pluralistic thinking, are increasingly reluctant to identify themselves with matters of faith, thereby adding to the alienation of faith from the life of the institution (Avery Dulles, Proceedings, pp. 168-169). Does Promoting Justice Foster Secularism? Jesuits may themselves have much to do with this incursion of secularism into Jesuit universities, for an identification of Jesuit values with secular humanism has been widely accepted in Jesuit circles. The favored jar-gon for what Jesuit products should be--"men and women for others"--would be an acceptable character-ization of ideal products of any secular university. Are there any institutions in favor of self-centered graduates who want to promote injustice? The common phrase makes it difficult to distinguish a good secular humanist from a good graduate of any Jesuit institution. Jesuit spirituality promotes "finding God in all things." The principle, admirable in itself and valuable for people who wish to implement their faith, is problematic when put into the hands of secular humanists, since it allows not only faith in any god whatsoever, but also the marginal-ization of the true God over against a quasi-sacral aura that envelops all things. Support for secularization has unwittingly come from equating the Jesuit mission with the promotion of justice, an equation that can be made even when faith is absent~ Such an equation allows the reduction of the Christian faith to secularly acceptable standards and makes what is specific to being Catholic optional: belief in the triune God, commitment to Jesus Christ, and fidelity to the church and its teachings. When, therefore, Jesuit edu-cation understands its mission as promoting justice, someone must ask: Is such a mission capable of preserv- 13 63.1 2004 Tripole ¯ Secularism, 3°~stice, and Jesuit Higher Ed ing the Catholic character of our institutions? It would seem not. The promotion of justice is put on a par with other advocacy movements-- not life-altering efforts, but efforts that fit into the little compartment in our lives that supports Charitable causes. Catholic Identity and the Lives of Our Students The justice-advocacy movement has the weakness of being normally integrated into the larger framework of self-identity, even when it is most effective. The promotion of justice is put on a par with other advocacy movements-- not life-altering efforts, but efforts that fit into the little compartment in our lives that supports charitable causes. We contribute to the muscular dystrophy program on Labor Day, our hearts go out to Michael J. Fox and his cam-paign for curing Parkinson's disease, the more youthful among us dance the night away to seek financial contri-butions for the fight against AIDS--but afterwards we return to the secular aims and purposes that motivate our humdrum daily lives. Self-chosen secular aims and agendas are not likely to be altered much by participation in special advocacy movements, for many students take it for granted that in any case the measure of success is the worldly standard of money, power, and reputation. Against such a back-drop, advocacy causes fulfill the contribution to human-ity that political correctness and secularized Christianity deem necessary for those who would be model citizens and good Christians, but they do not call for renouncing worldly values in the ways that Christ proposed in his Sermon on the Mount. Review for Religious Reducing Jesuit education to a justice syndrome, then, is inadequate. In order to work, such a syndrome would need to be integrated into a life-altering motivating prin-ciple. In seeking to make our students eager simply to pursue social justice, we fail to provide them with the Christian rationale for being committed to such activity. The rationale that the older generation of Catholics accepts as a Christian truism--that sharing a common humanity should make human beings concerned for the welfare of others--cannot be taken for granted in our students. Many of them operate on a sense of worth the root of which is their aggressive pursuit of self-interest. For them, being a "person for others" is a sop for the weak and sentimental. Many people thought that 1960s altruism would of itself promote everywhere an array of humanistic values consistent with the goals of Chris-tianity. We now know that this did not happen. Only faith in Jesus Christ can bring in its train the life-altering principles dynamic enough for consistent and truly humanistic, humane, human activity. Reducing Christianity to a sort of social justice makes faith appear redundant and irrelevant (when in fact full Christian faith is central). Identifying Jesuit education with pro-moting .justice caters to this seeming redundancy and calls into question any need for any sort of Catholic edu-cation and any Christianity that demands a faith com-mitrnent to Jesus Christ. It is not accidental that, as years pass, our students are less and less inclined to call them-selves Catholic or practice a Christian way of life. In effect, they have been programmed by a system that has made Christian commitment and Catholic living mar-ginal or obsolete. Justice and Ignatius's Educational Goals ls an education geared to the promotion of justice consistent with St. Ignatius's goals? Many do not think so. 63. I 2004 Tripole * Secularism, Justice, and yesuit Higher Ed Surely no one disputes that Ignatius supported the integration of the virtue of justice into the lives of stu-dents at Jesuit institutions. In a letter written to his nephew Antonio de Araoz in 1551, Ignatius indicates that education in Jesuit sch'ools should lead to positions of influence for the good of society--either in specifically Christian activity, such as being a priest, or in govern-mental and other administrative positions of~authority. He specifically mentions that persons educated in Jesuit schools may benefit society by taking on roles in "the administration of justice." But Ignatius never saw such activity as intrinsically self-motivating. Whatever field of endeavor graduates might enter, they were to be moti-vated by the desire for "God's greater service" and that of "Christ, our eternal salvation." 7 George E. Ganss shows, in his classic study Saint Ignatius' Idea of a Jesuit University,s that Ignatius under-stood his goals for the education of non-Jesuft students as part and parcel of the Christian life envisioned in his Spiritual Exercises. There Ignatius indicates that human beings are "created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by means of doing this to save their souls," and that everything else is created for them for these purposes.9 That same outlook on life is °brought to bear upon Part Four of Ignatius's Constitutions, which treats of the goals of his colleges (high schools) and universi-ties: "The end of the Society [of Jesus] and of its stud-ies is to aid our fellowmen to the knowledge and love of God and to the salvation of their souls." Since Ignatius saw the study of theology as "the means most suitable to this end," he declared that "principal emphasis ought to be put upon it.''l° Ganss argues, however, that the inculcation of Christian values was not left simply to the work of the-ology professors, but was integral to the life of the entire university.~l For Ignatius, all of life is brought into focus Review for Religio us through a personal encounter with Jesus Christ and a commitment to Christ's mission by sharing in the paschal mystery of his death and resurrection. It would have been unthinkable~ for Ignatius to set up educational insti-tutions without orienting them and their students toward this same encounter and mission. Jesuit Education after 11 September 2001 Perhaps the most serious question to be asked of advocates of justice education is whether their agenda, in the light of the events of 9/11 and the gravity of the priest sex-abuse scandal, meets the chal-lenge of our time. The roots of the horrendous actions of the Middle East terrorists on that September day may be found on many different levels--economic, social, cultural, and religious. Surely an enlightened awareness of the inadequacy of the attempts of the United States to promote justice throughout the world needs to be brought to bear upon the kind of response we make. But, whether one is Palestinian or Israeli, European or American, Democrat or Republican, the issue is not whether to promote justice (who is in favor of being unjust?), but how to discern and implement practical methods that will satisfy people's yearnings for justice and peace. Faith does not endow Christian educators with the ability to discern what such methods might be--they continue to elude the best of political-scientists of whatever faith-- The issue is not whether to promote justice (who is in favor of being unjust ?), but how to discern and implement practical methods that will satisfy people's yearnings for justice and peace. 17 63.1 2004 Tripole ¯ Secularism, Justice, and Jesuit Higher Ed but it does provide a motive for see,king the best of meth-ods and choosing honestly the most,prudent moral action. The issues on the table since the'attacks of 9/11 are fundamental. The very survival of humanity seems to be at stake. It would be naive and platitudinous for Christian educators to think they have made their specific contri-bution merely by calling for the promotion of justice. The stakes are far too high, the dimensions of the prob-lem too great, for talk on that level to be adequate. The world has a right to expect more from people of faith. The sex scandal among the clergy also calls for a major rethinking of what it means to be a disciple of Christ. If those who have been singled out by the church to be model artisans of a new humanity have instead become instruments of dehumanization, more is de-manded to correct .the situation than a call for justice. To respond to the demands of our day, Christians are being called to a thorough reformation of their lives--abandoning self-interest and recentering their lives in the Christ who renounced himself on the cross for the salvation of the world. Christians must become persons who are themselves transformed and are at work revamping the human psyche so that it is motivated no longer by secular and material drives alone. The goal is a transformation of culture so that the person of Christ and the pattern of his life will willingly be accepted as the ideal of what it means to be human. What other efforts could Christians be expected to make? The mission for Catholic and Jesuit educators today is to go all the way or not go at all. What we need to promote is not simply justice, but a new visiofi of humanity where God's Spirit is recognized as the power driving generous and beneficial human action, rather than as optional or marginal to it, Our goal cannot merely be social justice, but the justice that destroys the Review for Religious demonic forces of the world, restores community between the human race and God, and ennobles human dignity by seeing it as a sharing in divine life. Our goal must be to spread the fire that Jesus came to earth to ignite, brightening people's minds and warming their hearts (Lk 12:49). This is what our students need to receive in our schools. The task for educators in Jesuit universities is to establish "the justide of God's kingdom" among our stu-dents. Instead of equating the Lucan principle "Blessed are the poor" with a call for economic and political jus-tice, we need to hear the Matthean principle "Blessed are the poor in spirit," which calls us to walk humbly with the Lord so that in the Spirit we can create even on earth the life of his kingdom. Doing that, we may even succeed in showing terrorists that Christ is the redeemer of the world and that faith in him is the very way to God and to wholeness and peace in human relationships. Notes ~ Conversations on Jesuit Higher Education 19 (Spring 2001), "After Justice." 2 Decree 4, "Our Mission Today: The Service of Faith and the Promotion of Justice," §2, in Documents of the 31st and 32rid General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, ed. John W. Padberg SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1977). 3 Indeed, GC34 devotes an entire document to the social-justice agenda: Decree 3, "Our Mission and Justice," in Documents of the Thirty-Fourth General Congregation of the Society of Jesus, ed. John L. McCarthy SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1995). 4 Decree 2, "Servants of Christ's Mission," §11, of GC34. Hereafter references to the documents of this congregation are noted in the text thus: (2:11). 5 Jesuit Education 21: Conference Proceedings on the Future of Jesuit Higher Education, ed. Martin R. Tripole SJ (Philadelphia: St. Joseph's University, 2000). References are noted in the text. 6 Dennis O'Brien, "How to Be Loyal to Loyola," Commonweal 128, no. 8 (20 April 2001): 26. 19 63. I 2004 Tripole ¯ Secularism, Justice, and yesuit Higher Ed 7 To Antonio de Araoz, On the ministry of Christian education, I December 1551, in George E. Ganss SJ, Ignatius of Loyola: The Spiritual Exercises and Selected Works (New York: Paulist Press, 1991), pp. 361-365 at 362 and 365 (letter selected and translated by Martin E. Palmer SJ). 8 George E. Ganss sJ, Saint Ignatius' ldea of a Jesuit University (Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1956). 9 The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius, trans, and ed. George E. Ganss SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1992), §23. ~0 St. Ignatius of Loyola, The Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, trans, and ed. George E. Ganss gJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), Part 4, chap. 12, no. 1 (§446; emphasis added). The nature of the university was different in Ignatius's day, to be sure, yet there is no reason to think that Ignatius would alter the content of this statement, even if it were directed to the Jesui~ university of today. 11 Ganss, Saint lgnatius'Idea, pp. 176-178. Song of the Thistle You brought me forth on the parched prairie where Russian thistles rolled and were caught against fences. And I like a thistle am still on a roll fencing with frustrations, but you don't leave me stuck to the wires now as you didn't then. I am still a tumbling weed that survived the dirty "thirties rolled fast by the Wind this day. Somewhere along the Way I am scattering seeds that may yet become shrubs or trees, something more than thistles and tumbling weeds. Mary Alban Bouchard CSJ Review for Religious STANISLAW GLAZ The Spiritual Development of Individuals Psychology shows us that, in the spiritual life of Christians who strive to keep the command-ments, much falsehood and aggression may go unnoticed. Sins we are not conscious of may be hidden in our soul. For sin is not only breaking a few specific commandments an&admitting some of the peccadilloes on a catechism list. There is sin when 'people neglect their own growth and ignore their life's purpose as deter-mined by God and by nature's laws of develop-ment. Anger and theft, are often the result of a sin, the sin of being immature, of not growing apace with one's years. If we want to grow, we have to be in contact with ourselves and with God. A lack of personal development leads to inner compulsions to hurt ourselves and others, as a way of believing in our own strength and showing it: We feel weak and humiliated, and then we choose to do harm in order to feel our own vitality. Stanislaw Glaz SJ is professor of psychology at the University "Ignatianum," where the address is: ul. Kopernika 26; 31-501 Krakow; Poland. 21 63.1 2004 Glaz ¯ The Spiritual Development of lndividuals Members of the clergy, psychologists, and theologians often ask what should be done to foster people's spiritual growth and thereby foster their personality development as well. What are the essential conditions for proper development and growth? As answers to questions like this one, I plan to share some of my pastoral experience of the last few years. I will point out several factors, often unconscious ones, that influence people's spiritual development in either constructive or destructive ways. One cannot name everything thht can benefit spiritual development. Many psychologists and theologians have tried to show elements helping such development, but those they have mentioned concern mainly the ascetic and theological aspects. Today the psychology of spirituality~ offers more such factors than earlier theology could offer. Reconciliation with Oneself and with Others Many psychologists believe that, before people can love their enemy, they have to learn to love the enemy in themselves. They have to effect a reconciliation between hostile elements in themselves. To the end of their lives, people retain certain personal imperfections. They need to admit their aggressive and murderous tendencies, their inclinations towards iealousy, fear, sadness, loneliness, and other emotions. It is often more difficult for us to love the enemy in ourselves than the external enemy. We must allow the sun of God's love and benevolence to shine on and into our entire being, including all that is dark and threatening and everything that is odd, awkward, or inept. Then the light of love will transform the evil (Powell 1978). A sense of guilt is often caused by a lack of rec-onciliation with oneself, a failure to face one's own truth. Psychologists say that the sense of guilt is often necessary. In providing a chance to learn the truth about one's self, it Review for Religious can be a blessing or a curse. People with a negative attitude towards their sense of guilt are not able to accept the history of their life. They rebel at the fact that they were brought up in this or that way, were born .at this or that moment of history, were not in a position to realize their dream--that they experienced deep wounds. They blame their parents and society for not giving them the opportunity for normal development. They choose to see themselves as victims, rather than accept their situation, their wounds, their limited range of experience. They must understand that their parents and neighbors did not set these limits (perceived wrongly as constraints) intentionally, but only as the unavoidable result of similar limits and perceptions in their' own lives. Thus it is necessary that people evaluate the world by new principles (Sovernigo 1990, pp. 221-223). Reconciliation with oneself plays an important role in the spiritual development of human beings. We need to accept the person we became, to accept--along with our talents---our handicaps and weaknesses, our vulnerability, our fears, and our dallying perseverance. We must look at all that we do not Jike in ourselves, at everything we would rather not see, at our low esteem. This is ~a lifelong process. We endlessly discover in ourselves things ~that are new to us. We have to accept it all, including our own incompleteness. We must account for everything in .our lives that we excluded or rejected because it did not fit in our favorite image of ourselves, an idealized and untrue picture. We must admit that, besides the love and friendliness in our souls, there also are such feelings as hatred, anger, A sense ofguilt is often caused by a lack of reconciliation with oneself, a failure to face one's own truth. 23 63.1 2004 Glaz ¯ Tbe Spiritual Development of Individuals depression, and fear; not only brave and unselfish yearnings, but also godless spheres that want to remain undisturbed and unchanged. If we do not face the full truth about our patterns of emotion and thought and behavior, we project them unconsciously on others. Facing the full truth of our life till now means more than glancing at it superficially. It requires great courage. It requires giving up our ideal image of ourself (Laing 1969). Life in Accordance with Love Happy people are~not those who can either solve their own problems or ignore them. Happy people are people aware of their value as persons living their own unique lives, being themselves, loving others and letting others love them in their limitedness. Love assumes the need of self-control, which starts with awareness of our own feelings, thoughts, and behaviors. Love is both the skill and the wish to allow the loved ones to be who they want to be, without any insisting that they meet our own expectations. How much love we can offer to others depends on the love we have for ourselves. We are all unique. We should love our own selves, and our self-esteem should not be directly affected by our limitations and faults. Neither our current behavior, nor the behavior of others towards us, nor our feelings are the gauge of our own value, which is constant. People often evaluate themselves by .the definition of beauty and by role models put forward by the surrounding culture. Such self-evaluations are the origin of false selves that commandeer the true selves that people are given once and forever (Griin 1999, Mellody 1992). People have their genuine selves, which are the core of who they are, their essence, their spiritual entity. It is there that God is present, where their fears and sufferings do not penetrate. People who allow their own true self, their spiritual self, to direct their actions make of their Review for Religious soul a secure citadel where God lives and freedom reigns. This inner sphere is invulnerable. One can never be deprived of this intrinsic dignity. But one needs to discover it and to experience God as the foundation of all existence, of all human lives. God gives me life, and God sustains me in it. My value does not depend on passing an exam, nor on the judgment of others. It depends on my being who I am. God wants me to be myself. My value comes from no one but God. My value is my privilege (Powell 1978). The Way of Experiencing Faith Faith is not only the teaching of the church, it is not only the spiritual dimension, but it is also the proper perception of reality, the proper perception of God, of other people, and of myself. It is the art of a sane life, the art of trustful judgment of myself, of handling myself appropriately. Faith is the way to freedom. It is trust in God. It is conviction that God touches tenderly each sphere of my being, that his grace reaches all of the human soul in order to bring the light of his life there. Faith allows me to share with God all my mysteries. Faith is conviction that through Christ and in Christ human beings gained participation in God's life and that all of creation is permeated by God (Grfin 1980). True love depends not only on being free from an external sovereign, from the power of this world, and from the authority of another person, but also on being free from internal compulsions. Some ~limitations of our freedom may be occasioned by inherited behavioral tendencies. My freedom is limited when I do not know God, when I lower my self-esteem, when I create a false image of another person, when I follow slavishly the role models given to me by my parents, when I let myself be controlled by fear of loneliness, or when my perception of life and the world, is false. 63.1 2004 Glaz * The Spiritnal Development of Individuals Destructive Elements Spiritual development proceeds step by step. Many people, even when considerably along on their° spiritual iourney, may do things that impede their progress. Psychologists have tried to discover these hindrances and evaluate their consequences in both sociological and developmental terms. In their religious and social lives, numbers of people have a rigorous attitude towards themselves. The roots of such an attitude may be numerous and deep in people's unconscious. These roots may form when children do not experience unconditional love or when their parents do not treat them seriously in terms of their own self. Then the children are likely to be deeply wounded and fail to experience themselves as distinct and unique beings. According to many psychologists, their primal sense of security is injured; in other words, the children feel fundamentally unloved. Their self, their sense of the "me, who I am" is hurt, damaged, rejected by the very persons they needed to accept them unconditionally. After being treated in this way, children may react violendy against the people around them or against themselves. Such behavior is likely to bring some kind of punishment on them. Later, growing up, they may similarly punish themselves. This injustice and violence is likely to be .at the root of future violence and cruelty in the world (Gri.in 1997a). Upbringing becomes destructive when it fosters one side only, for example, only male aspects of personality like toughness and audacity, and depreciates sensitive feelings. Such treatment convinces a boy that his own and others' feelings are not important. Aggression towards the external world always corresponds with resentment towards oneself. The lack of love causes children to be fearful. They fear rejection, loneliness, and life itself. They desperately try not to disappoint their parents. They see exaggerated rigidity as a way of gaining their Review for Religious parents' love. Having no support from their inner self (for it is not developed yet), the children try to create support by imposing clear and sharp demands on themselves. Such severe attitudes towards themselves are efforts to overcome the deeply rooted fear resulting from the absence of parental warmth and acceptance. Such children do not trust themselves or others because they do not feel the support of a stable and clear relationship with their parents, nor the support of good pedagogical rules and guidelines. They are filled with suspicion and doubt, and so they perceive other people as untrustworthy and threatening. Feeling a similar vague mistrust of themselves, they seek to overcome it by sticking strictly to their own clear norms (Powell 1969). They feel well. only on the condition that they fulfill certain ideals. Their sense of their own value depends on whether people describe them as perfect children or not. They identify with "model" children so strongly that they cannot tolerate any deviation from that ideal.VV-henever they learn .that something they did was a mistake, they make their self-imposed rules and rituals more severe and uncompromising, But if persons force themselves to fit their ideals, they only torture themselves. They think that God expects them to be ideal constantly, that they should always be kind and open to others, forgetting self always. But that is not God's will; it is their own self-imposed "ideal," which often serves solely to gratify themselves, their own expectations and ambitions (Griin 1997). Lack of Love of Oneself Such an "ideal" appears mosdy in our ideal image of ourselves. We cannot accept that God created us to be who we are. We think that our imaginary idea of ourselves is more important than God's will. We do not try to develop all that God gave us; we do not accomplish numerous real possibilities in our lives. In our minds we27 63.1 2004 Glaz * The Spiritual Development of Individuals have ready pictures of ourselves deriving either from our parents and official and unofficial teachers or from own ambitions, our dreams of being some kind of hero or heroine. We may think, then, that we can do almost everything without any help from anybody. We may believe we can form the world as we wish and that we have no need to take into account the order given to the world by God. Many of us assume that we can achieve our hopes and ambitions by some kind of force. Before God this may indicate both a lack of humility and a failure to give God due respect. ~ People who push themselves higher than they are supposed to go land finally in their own prison. Resisting God is resisting life. It does damage to oneself. The egoism in people's drive towards self-actualization often leads away from love of their neighbor. It is in their work that they look for their identity and value, because they have failed to find value in themselves as God's beloved creation[ Such people have trouble admitting that they can. and do make mistakes. They look for ways to gloss over the evidences of their errors. They may push a miscalculated plan to a regrettable conclusion (provided they :do not appear responsible for it) rather than admit the wrongness of their initial decision. Their fear of anyone's negative opinion of them is stronger than their fear of doing damage: What will happen if others know how weak and fallible I am? And so they create and take on problems for other people, overestimating their own ability to control the damage. Such people lack balance. Their thought is all-or-nothing: If I do not achieve greatly at all costs, I am empty and dull, a nothing (Sovernigo 1990, pp. 228-229). Misunderstood Asceticism ~. A sound asceticism is characterized by a positive attitude towards ourselves. Its role is giving support to Review for Religious us--although people often think of it as rejecting pleasure and inhibiting our drives. The idea is the affirmation and development of life, not its negation. Unhealthy asceticism often includes a deficient image of God, which in turn may cause insensitivity and destructive desires, aspects of perfectionism. Perfectionists try to be like God. They create a system of compulsions, of detailed principles and commands. Adhering to that system and enlarging it becomes their goal in life. They deprive themselves of any pleasure; they live solely to sacrifice. They do not let themselves have any happiness because it will not last and then they will feel all the worse. They want, on their own, to get rid of anything negative in themselves. They do not trust God. They do not believe that somehow everything will make sense, that God can positively transform even what is negative in their lives. All they have to do is let God into their lives, their souls. The religious attitude of those people contains a lot of disbelief in the goodness of humanity. It assumes that people are good only when they are doing things, such as saying as many prayers as possible. Only fi solid faith in the true God brings the kind of trust that people need in order to live heaolthy and constructive lives without fearfulness. People who do not put trust in God's unconditional love for them have trouble in coping with guilt, which is present even in people who strive always to be good. People without trust in God do not understand what Jesus' carrying our cross and our carrying some of it with him are all about. They live stubbornly according to their own ideals, and their lives become rigid. Their suppressed and unmet needs attack them and appear as neurotic behavior. Perfectionists A sound asceticism is characterized by a positive attitude towards ourselves. 29 63.1 2004 Glaz ¯ The Spiritual Development of Individuals demand of themselves that their lives be altogether free of shallow or untrue motives. Such asceticism becomes a process of self-destruction (Sovernigo 1990, pp. 233-237). It seems, then, that spiritual development can proceed correctly only on the condition that we discard the illusions that we have created about our lives and likewise discard vain expectations for the future. One of those illusions is that we can create our own justice, love, and truth. And yet we have been transformed by Christ, we are called to a new life, called to a full development. To live that new life means to live in accordance with our innermost calling, not surrendering to expectations and demands that we ourselves or other people mistakenly impose on us. It means allowing God to create us and form us. Living by the Spirit's guidance and power means freedom from compulsion to prove our own value. It means life based on gratitude for all that we have been given by God. The aim of life is acceptance of that inner, spiritual reality which God gave us, which he gave us with love and in truth. The aim of life is being and living that reality and discovering the beauty of being, each of us, our individual selves, discovering and showing our original faces, faces given to us by God. Bibliography Albisetti, Valerio. 1991. Per esserefelici. Milano: Edizioni Paoline. Griin, Anselm. 1980. Lebensmitte als Geistlicbe Aufgabe. Benediktinerabtei Mfinsterschwarzach. Griin, Anselm. 1996. Glauben als Umdeuten glauben--lieben--loben. Benediktinerabtei Miinsterschwarzach. Griin, Anselm. 1997. Gut mit sicb selbst umgeben. Mainz: Matthias- Griinewald-Verlag. Griin, Anselm. 1997a. Tu dir docb nicbt selber web. Mainz: Matthias- Griinewald-Verlag. Griin, Anselm. 1999. lm Haus der Liebe wobnen. Stuttgart: Kreuz Verlag. Laing, Ronald D. 1998. L'lo diviso. Turin: Einaudi. Review for Religious Mellody, Pia. 1992. Facing Love Addiction: Giving Yourself the Power to Change the Way You Love. HarperSanFrancisco. Powell, John. 1969. Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am? Mien, Texas: Thomas More Association. Powell, John. 1978. Unconditional Love. Chicago: Thomas More Publishers. Sovernigo, Giuseppe. 1990. Religione e persona: psicologia dell' esperienza religiosa. Bologna: EDB. Nothing Is Lost That's what the fossils teach, leaves pressed to carbon traces, footprints cast in pudding stone, a dinosaur with feet smaller than my hand. Nothing is lost, not even what we cannot find a trace of. Firm under our feet, those old lives live on, in new forms, rock and root, awareness of what we are and have come from. Once a mind opens, thelight is there; it cannot close. Knowledge grows and we see what we could not, learn what needed light to be clear, like seeds long still in sand till the rain softens the dark, and green horns seep through the grains toward the sun. Nothing is lost. Everything feeds on, is formed from the past. And so shall we be, someday: seed and loam for what will come. Doretta Cornell RDC 31 63.1 2004 IGNATIUS JESUDASAM Breaking Stereotypes Reality is changing constantly. Stereotypes do not. Therefore they are unreal, products of the emo-tion and imagination of individuals and groups that have a vested interest in maintaining and perpetuating illu-sions. Stereotypes are born of fear or perception of threat. They go with and generate the negative attitudes of closed minds and hearts, keeping people stuck in their prejudice. Every group has experience of stereotypes. India abounds in them--a reason why we do not progress as much as we could. Our stereotypes make us our own worst enemies. The great national task in this context is to break the stereotypes in our minds by seeing and recognizing reality, which changes and has changed from the last time that we took a look at it. What follows is an example set by a minority group, without a conscious design to break stereotypes, nor claiming to be nor setting itself up as a model of stereotype breaking. This group just did something natural. Spontaneity is the natural way to break stereotypes, which are unnatural and antinatural. One has only to watch that stereotypes do not become second nature. Ignatius Jesudasan SJ wrote this from Loyola School; Uthiramerur; 603 406 India. Review for Religious Jesuits are a worldwide and well-known male religious order and organizational network in the Roman Catholic Church. Although they are generally known by the quality of their educational institutions, they are involved in and committed to many other endeavors too. They are a missionary order; they are always to be in a state of mission, of being sent. It is in this sense that the church itself is missionary. It understands itself as being sent into the whole world by Jesus Christ, who himself was sent here by God, whom .he called Father. In other words, Christ is not for himself, but for others. The church is not supposed to be for itself, but for the world. Christians is not supposed to be for themselves, but for others. Gandhi's vision of India was something similar. His self-image and life and action manifested the same spirit. Is this something wrong? Is it not the way that everyone is supposed to be? Where then is the problem? It is in this sense of mission and being missionary--in this stereotypemthat Christians and Christian organizations have caught the attention of the Indian majority mind and consciousness. As an avant-garde organization in the Catholic Church, the Jesuits and their diverse works are not free from the stereotype. Even Gandhi was not free from it. Regarding the church and its missionaries, is the stereotype well founded? Stereotype as Prejudice. Stereotyping is people's habit of assuming that they know what in fact they do not know. It is pretending to know. If my etymology is correct, "pretend," from the Latin roots prae and tendere, means to hold out in front, to stretch forth, to put forzvard a falsehood, a mask, an empty faqade. It means to assert as real what reality denies. In life we are often involved in such contradictions, or koans as Zen masters name them. We hold what we do not hold, and know what we do not know. We do not know 63.1 2004 Jesudasam * Breaking Stereotypes Since stereotypes are founded on people's ignorance and on bigots" exploitation of that ignorance, the first and best remedy is to get to know those about whom stereotypes exist. that we do not know. In other words, we lie to and deceive others or ourselves; or else we may not know enough to be able and willing to admit and correct our ignorance. And this is what bias or prejudice is. It is judgment before knowing or hearing the case. We indulge in it because we are cocksure of our rightness. And this sense of rightness is not all wrong. Prejudices have their roots in positive or negative emotions like love and hatred, or attraction and repulsion. Behind love and hatred, and attraction and repulsion, there may be many layers of knowledge and experience. What knowledge and experience do large numbers of Indian people have of Christians that cause them to dislike or feel uneasy about them? They "know" that the church and Christians are missionary, and they take it to mean converting others to their faith and worldview. They see such conversion as a loss to Hinduism and a gain to Christianity. This is why ethnoreligiously conscious Hindus, which secular Hindus are not, perpetuate the stereotype about Christian education, Christian social work, Christian medical work, and what have you. No one asks whether the schools and colleges do it, or the other good works do it. No factual statistics substantiate the prejudice against Christians. People take no surveys among Christians or even non- Christians about conversion facts, efforts, or even conscious intentions before adopting or retaining or rejecting these stereotypes. Review for Religious Stereotypes and prejudices are not good for any group or nation, and are positively harmful to them, for they divide, scatter, and waste their precious emotional energy resources and capacities for constructive development. India's emotional unity is affected by the prejudice directed from any community towards any other community on whatever basis, be it language, religion, caste, state, or locality. It is therefore in the national interest to remove every bias, prejudice, and stereotype that any individual or community has about any other individual or community. Since stereotypes are founded on people's ignorance and on bigots' exploitation of that ignorance, arousing mass phobia regarding the ethnically different, the first and best remedy is to get .to know those about whom stereotypes exist. It is probably with this in mind that Jesus spoke with authority to his fellow Jews: "I tell you: Love your enemies, do good to them, and pray for those who persecute you." This is good advice for any nation, and certainly not bad for India. Bias-breaking Spirituality Breaking stereotypes is therefore a social, psychological, national, and spiritual service. One may engage in it consciously or not. I see an example of unconscious stereotype breaking in a small document published recently by the Indian Jesuits, containing a summary of a week-long meeting of South Asian Jesuits held recently at Mumbai to plan a course of action for the coming years. The document is called "Action Statement of the Jesuits for Living and Sharing the Good News in South Asia." The title might strengthen the suspicion already present in the minds of the prejudiced, but the actual document will show how far it is from being sectarian propaganda material. The document was not produced 6"3.1 2004 yesudasam ¯ Breaking Stereotypes for public consumption or propaganda. It is meant solely to inspire, enlighten, and direct Jesuits in their various endeavors. The Vatican and the bishops might not appreciate it, but it was not written with them in view either. Christianity as Humanism It reads pretty much like a religiously secular document. Religious faith and social commitment are nowhere camouflaged. Faith, what the meeting's delegates believe in, is the source of their motivation. Sharing this faith is the purpose of all their activity and involvement. But neither that faith nor their activity is sectarian or divisive in purpose or practice. Christian terminology is used, which is unavoidable. But it is neither propaganda, nor propagandist in intent. It is inspirational for the group, and is not directed against any other group or the common good. Denominational religious conversion does not figure in it at all, not even as a hidden agendum. All the same, personal and cultural transformation, respect for every individual and group, and human dignity, equality, and fellowship stand out as serious social concerns. The document deplores absence or shadowy presence in the culture of the land. But, instead of accusing and finding fault with the culture, it calls for struggle and sacrifice to bring about desirable change in social patterns, The realities of globalization, religious fundamen-talism, and ethnic nationalism are recognized as aggravating the social conflicts in South Asia. The confusion of values in the fast-changing society (youth falling prey to alcohol, drugs, cults, sects, violence, and sexual exploitation), gender discrimination, and the commoditization of women and of labor are clearly focused upon. Civil liberties, human rights, environ-mental concerns, community-building techniques, and Review for Religious human solidarity are seen as signs of hope even amid the conflicts and tensions. Church as National Social Service Several areas of Jesuit involvement in South Asia are reviewed and planned for. They are education, parish ministry, interreligious dialogue, youth formation, social action for empowerment of women, Dalits, and tribals, and finally Jesuits' accountability to themselves and one another. Jesuit education is open to all, but especially to the poor, the Dalits, tribals, and women. Basics of all religions and problems regarding social justice, the environment, and human rights are to find a place in Jesuit curricula. Jesuit education is to serve the full human development of the weak and the marginalized and thereby help bring about social equality. There is to be remedial education in the schools and socially relevant research at higher levels. Even the formation of Christians is given a more social than religious thrust and direction. Basic Christian communities are to blossom into basic human communities imbued with the gospel values. In a male-dominant patriarchal church and society, the document asserts the need to discover the feminine in every person and in this way change one's own mindset and enhance one's way of relating to God, the world, humankind, and all creation. It asserts the need to include women in church decisions and priestly formation, and to take up women's issues in social action. The document calls for focus on the liberative dimension of cultural symbols, language, myths, and festivals. It calls for addressing religious fundamentalism, including Christian funda-mentalism. On the side of tribals, they support traditional rights to forestland, water, and habitat, and unity in tribal diversity. On behalf of the much-fractured Dalits, the document propounds standing up for their dignity as 63.1 2004 ~esudasam ¯ Breaking Stereotypes God's children, opposing caste discriminations, working for equal respect for each man and woman, and working preferentially with and for the most marginalized of the Dalits, irrespective of their religion. In social action the meeting's delegates want to share the struggles of the poor for a fuller life, to educate the illiterate, to organize domestic and displaced laborers and help them get skilled training. For greater effectiveness and coordination, they propose greater all-India administrative linkage and democratically transparent accountability. Sharing the gospel means working for equality, for the human dignity of those to whom it is denied. Social Activism People's participation is the essence of the democratic process. In actuality, social structures exclude many from the process. Sharing the gospel in this context means working for equality, for the human dignity of those to whom it is denied. This is the philosophy behind the action plan described above. One recognizes echoes of political language, but the composers of the document are not a political party. They are churchmen to the core. They do not speak a distinctively churchy language either, but one of social activists. The plans might be high-sounding and idealistic. Everything might not be realized as desired or planned. But the goodwill is obvious, and it is unlikely to be wholly in vain or go unfulfilled. Does this mission pose a danger or threat to Hinduism? No reasonable Hindus would take it so. Denominational conversion could indeed be perceived as a sociopolitical and cultural threat, especially if it took place on a massive scale. But conversion in the values of a Review for Religious culture does not pose such a threat. The nation and its people can be the better for it. (Will the Indian people then come off the various stereotypes about church, mission, and Christians?) Reflection Individuals can challenge and be challenged by others in dialogue into greater confidence and indifference. Then they will speak without fear their critical as well as creative ideas. Then they will feel accepted with their strengths and weaknesses and will participate with joy and confidence in their own and the common works. They will come up with initiatives that could be discussed, decided, and acted upon. This might be a way of rediscovering Ignatian indifference--through structural changes more in tune with our times. This might be a way of refounding St. Ignatius's Society as our Society. No institute or nation is founded once and for all. It stands always in need of reappropriation and reidentification by new and would-be members or citizens. It is when they are happy with the country or institute that they proudly identify with it and want to strengthen it further. Such a feeling is not an individual's to produce all by oneself. Every member has a personal responsibility to it. The government or the leaders have a major structural and personal responsibility. Friends, I am passing these thoughts on to you in the hope that they may evoke some critical reflections for our common good. 63.1 2004 HILDEGARD MAGDALEN PLEVA A Charism Illumined: Eucharistic Anamnesis and "Viva Memoria" ¯ he Second Vatican Council gave the church an energizing impulse. One of its most generative instructions directedreligious orders and con-gregations to go back into their history, examine early texts and archival material for guidance in reappropriating their founders' inspiration and charism, and thus begin their own rejuvenation. The still burning embers of the Spirit's work were to be fanned into flame and illumine the path ahead in new times and new circumstances. The Order of the Most Holy Redeemer pur-sued this directive in company with their Redemptorist brothers, whose efforts brought its founder, the Venerable Maria Celeste Crostarosa (1696-1755), into the light. Renewed knowledge of her vivacious spirit and mystical ¯ experience was a rediscovery of the institute's charism, the life force to be reappropriated by her sisters, the call to be a living memory of the 40 Hildegard Magdalen Pleva OSSR is newly professed among the Redemptoristine Nuns; P.O. Box 220; Esopus, New York 12429. Review for Religious paschal mystery of Jesus. Our formula of profession says, "You have called me to relive in myself the Mystery of Jesus. and to be a living memorial of it." During my ten years of association with the order and two years within the community, in conversations with friends, lay associates, religious of other congrega-tions, and visitors to our monastery, I have often attempted to explain our charism, to be a "living mem-ory" of Christ (Crostarosa, Dialogues, §104). It does not mean mere imitation; it goes beyond that. My effort to expand on the "beyond" kept falling short. From this sense of inadequacy came a search for a way of defining "living memory" that would be appropriately substan-tial yet comprehensible. The Eucharistic Connection With time and within the misty atmosphere of men-tal conjecture, "living memory" began to merge with Jesus' words in the Liturgy: "Do this in memory (anam-nesis) of me." Suddenly the overlap was not just a coin-cidence of vocabulary. It included a concept of Eucharistic theology explored in graduate school. That first appreciation of Eucharistic anamnesis seemed like a bright star exploding before my eyes, initially blinding in its brightness but then illuminating everything. At the consecration of the Mass, not only is the Body and Blood of Jesus made present under the appearance of bread and wine, but the entire paschal mystery is made present, and not only present but also active among us here and now. We are not merely remembering Jesus' life and sacrifice on the cross. Those events are actively redeeming the world at this m'oment. That explanation of the Eucharistic Liturgy's meaning and power emerged from the past in response to my "living memory" question of the present. It suggested that the concept of liturgical anamnesis could clarify our Redemptoristine concept of "living memory4."1 63.1 2004 Pleva ¯ A Charism Illumined The form and features of this concept emerged from careful reading of Maria Celeste's Dialogues and Autobiography, which provide a rich vein of evidence of her post-Communion meditation experiences. One morning after Holy Communion I heard in the very center of my soul these words of the Credo pro-nounced: "consubstantialem Patri per quem omnia facta sunt" [one in being with the Father, through whom all things were made] so that, filled to over-flowing with divine gifts, it seemed to me that the divine essence was in me . My Lord Jesus Christ. gave me his divine heart, which he enclosed in my breast in place of my own . I seemed to enter into a new life of Love, a life in God. (Autobiography, capi-tolo 18) This morning., my whole soul was transformed into your very substance. (Dialogues, §30) Since your soul is the figure of My substance, what ~ really are you within your spirit, in your very being, if not a living image, a living copy of Me? (Dialogues, §47) After I received Holy Communion . . . I saw You within me and myself changed into You . I felt that just one word was being spoken to me, namely, "sub-stance of the Father" [consubstantialem Patri] . This transformation, O Lord of my heart, of my being into Yours, You deigned to make so many times! (Dialogues, §125) This morning I went to Holy Communion and You transformed me into Yourself so that I entered into the humanity of Your divine Word and began to sacrifice myself to the Father for all people. (Dialogues, §147) You do this precisely by the spirit of observance in terms of your Rule, which was given to Me so that you might be a viva memoria [a dynamic memory] of My life. (Dialogues, §104) These passages speak of a transformation that is not merely an imitative overlay but a participation in the substance, the very essence, of Jesus, in which he in turn is consubstantial with the Father. Nor is it a static par-ticipation, but a highly animated one that propels Maria Review for Religious Celeste "into a new life of Love, a life in God." By such participation and animation, Jesus, his paschal mystery, his work of redemption, is made present and active in our time. For Maria Celeste the incarnation of Jesus was the opening of new territory in the relationship between God and humanity, a territory into which she entered with abandon. By taking part in the Eucharist, the essen-tial act of remembering Jesus, she became substantially one with him, not merely an imitation of him. Gradually these mystical experiences revealed to her the necessity of remembering always, of living a life of remembering, a life of "oneness" with Jesus Christ. Eucharistic Anamnesis The phenomena of Eucharistic anamnesis and "liv-ing memory" each reflect the other. Yet their depth, their power to inform sacramental and spiritual appreciation, was lost over time. While the anamnetic character of the Eucharist was buried under weighty layers of theo-logical argumentation, Maria Celeste's mystical experi-ence of "living memory" was lost to obscurity for more than two hundred years. In the 20th century each became the object of a kind of archaeological dig, a treasure to be unearthed by tectonic shifts brought about by the Second Vatican Council. The crucial feature of both anarnnesis and "living memory" is the ability to make past events and the per-son of Jesus present and active in our time. This idea, however, this connection, is not enough. One must ask where this astounding concept of anamnesis comes from. The answers will more fully illuminate the Redemptoristine charism, and the Catechism of the Catholic Church gives inquirers a start: The Eucharist is the memorial of Christ's Passover, the making present and the sacramental offering of his unique sacrifice . In all the Eucharist Prayers we 63. I 2004 --44 Pleva ¯ A Charism Illumined find after the words .of institution a prayer called the anamnesis or memorial ["Father, we celebrate the mem-ory of Christ . We. recall his passion" etc. / "In memory of his death and resurrection" etc. / "Father, calling to mind the death your Son endured . . . his glorious resurrection" etc. / "Father, we now celebrate this memorial of our redemption. We recall Christ's death, his descent among the dead" etc.]. In the sense of Sacred Scripture, the memorial is not merely the recollection of past events but the proclamation of the mighty works wrought by God for men . They become in a certain way present and real. This is how Israel understands its liberation from Egypt: every time Passover is celebrated, the Exodus events are made present to the memory of believers so that they may conform their lives to them. ¯ . . When the church celebrates the Eucharist, she commemorates Christ's Passover, and it is made pre-sent . "As often as the sacrifice of the cross . is celebrated on the altar, the work of our redemption is carried out." (§§1362-1364) Rooted in Jewish Liturgical Practice The memorial or anamnetic character of the Eucharistic banquet is not a conceptualization newly minted by post-Vatican II sacramental theology. Rather, it is a theological concept found in the oldest Eucharistic Prayers, which reflect how the practices of the early church were deeply rooted in ancient Hebrew liturgical tradition. "The primitive Eucharist was a commemora-tion. Not a commemoration of the Last Supper, but a commemoration of Christ, and of his saving mysteries. The idea . of a 'mere' commemoration (nuda com-memoratio) would have been meaningless to the Jewish mind" (Lash, p. 44). In 1969 Rabbi Marc Tannenbaum, then director of national intex:religious affairs for the American Jewish Committee and an observer at the Second Vatican Council, wrote: "To commemorate and to remember is in the Jewish tradition never a mere Review for Religious memory, but always implies a look toward the future and a making present again" (Breaking of Bread, p. 148). The Jewish Passover Seder is the penultimate expression of the Hebrew commemorative meal, making present in real time the mystery of the Passover of the Lord God. Based upon the work of scholars in Eucharistic the-ology, among them Louis Bouyer, Louis Ligier, Joachim Jeremias, Jean-Paul Audet, and Gregory Dix, an even greater understanding .of the origins of the earliest Eucharistic Prayers or anaphoras is emerging. The most ancient anaphoras conform in structure to the Jewish prayers said at a fellowship meal, espe-cially the birkat-ha-mazon, which was typically anamnetic in char-acter and featured three move-ments: blessing, thanksgiving, and supplication (Audet in Klein, p. 410). Beyond appreciating the stylistic resemblance of early Eucharistic Prayers, it was Gregory Dix who had the insight to consider the Sitz-im-Leben, that is, the insti-tutional setting in actual Hebraic practice which gave specific meaning to these liturgical meal prayers (Klein, p. 413). Dix's insights answered a basic question: What did Jesus, as a Jew of his time, have in mind; what did he mean when he said, "Do this in memory of me" (1 Co 11:24)? "The command of Jesus did not refer to the rep-etition of a sacral fellowship meal. This could be pre-sumed as fundamental to Jewish religious practice. In other words, Jesus did not have to institute a meal, because the meal was already there. What Jesus did was to invest this meal with a new anamnetic character" (Klein, p. 414). For the Hebrew of Jesus' time, the Passover meal was not merely "a subjective, human psy- What Jesus did was to invest this meal with a new anamnetic character. 63.1 2004 Pleva ¯ A Charism Illumined chological act of returning to the past, but an objective reality" undertaken to make the Passover of the Lord perpetually present before God (Bouyer, p. 103). "By the power of the Lord of history, those events are in a sense made present in the liturgy, so that the worshipers are living them ag.ain in their own lives. A Jewish ritual memorial, therefore, is no mere thinking of the past; it is a memorial filled with the reality of that which it com-memorates" (Maloney, p. 265). This was the anamnetic character of the meal. When Jesus said "Do this in mem-ory of me," he invested the meal with a new anamnetic object, that is, the paschal mystery, which is the saving acts of his own life, death, and resurrection. The Implications of Anamnesis for Our Practice Celebrations of the Eucharist in which we share today are the occasions in which we call to mind the person and events of our salvation--Jesus Christ and his paschal mystery--in such a way that we render them liv-ing and active in our own time. The plural pronoun we is operative here. The priest, although acting in persona Christi, is not acting alone. The gathered community is not merely present or participating by observation. The community gathered for the memorial meal is integral to anamnesis, to recalling and thereby making actively pre-sent the person and saving action of the~Redeemer. The Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum con-cilium) of the Second Vatican Council declares that God's people gathered for Eucharist "offer the immaculate vic-tim through the hands of the priest, but also together with him" (§48). The Eucharistic Prayer emphasizes this integral func-tion by repeated use of the pronoun we. "We thank you for counting us worthy to stand in your presence and serve you" (EP II). "We offer you in thanksgiving this holy and living .sacrifice" (EP III). "We, your people and Review for Religious your ministers, recall his passion, his resurrection from the dead, and his ascension into glory" (EP 2). Indeed, the level of participation penetrates more deeply if the community offer themselves along with the gifts of bread and wine: "Father, we bring you these gifts. We ask you to make them holy by the power of your Spirit, that they may become the body and blood of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ." In the consecration Jesus becomes uniquely present under the appearances of bread and wine, but also, through the Eucharistic anamnesis and the congregation's living memory, actively present within and among those gathered. This answers the question of the way Jesus Christ becomes actively present at each Eucharistic celebration. According to people's receptive memories, Jesus the redeeming Christ becomes present in those who are united with him in this memorial. In remembering, we become what we remember. Just as the anamnetic character of our Eucharist is rooted in an ancient religious ritual, appreci-ation of the effect of anamnesis is imbedded in our history. St. Fulgentius (467-533), bishop of Ruspe, speaking of the obligation of the faithful to fulfill the words of the Savior at the Last Supper, wrote: "Thus they drink the Lord's cup by preserving the holy bond of love; without it, even if a man should deliver his body to be burned, he gains nothing. But the gift of love enables us to become in real-ity what we celebrate as mystery in the sacrifice." Alexander Schmemann, the late Russian Orthodox scholar of liturgy, wrote about the power of anamnetic memory in his work The Eucharist. His words are so elo-quently reminiscent of the Constitutions of the Order of the Most Holy Redeemer that they" must be quoted at length: In Christ . memory comes to reign and is restored as a life-creating power, and, in remembering, man par-takes not of the experience of the fall., but of the 47 63.1 2004 Pleva ¯ A Charism Illumined overcoming of this fall through "life everlasting." For Christ himself is the incarnation and the gift to mankind of God's memory in all its fullness . The essence of our faith and the new life granted in it consists in Christ's memory, realized in us through our memory of Christ. From the very first day of Chris-tianity, to believe in Christ meant to remember him and keep him always in mind . From the very begin-ning the faith of Christians was memory and remem-brance, but memory restored to its life-creating essence--for . this new memory is a joyous recog-nition of the one who was resurrected, who lives and therefore is present and abides . Faith eternally knows that the one who is remembered lives . The remembrance of Christ is the entry into his love, making us brothers and neighbors, "brethren" in his ministry. His life and presence in us and "among" us is certified only by our love for each other and for all whom God has sent into, has included in, our life, and this means above all in the remembrance of each other and in the commemoration of each other in Christ. Therefore, in bringing his sacrifice to the altar, we create the memory of each other, we identify each other as living in Christ and being united with each other in him. (Schmemann, pp. 128-130) The constitution and statutes of our order assert again and again this understanding of the Eucharistic Liturgy as the agent of "living memory":. The church continues to make present this memorial of the Passover of the Lord, a living bond of 16ve between Christians and a pledge of future glory. Our liturgical celebrations must give witness at one and the same time to the holiness of the Lord and to his loving presence among us . This silent con-templation, maintained in faith and love in the depth of the soul, allows us a personal experience of God and also permits us to enter fully into the plan of redemption . We allow Christ to relive his mys-tery in us by contemplating him in the whole of his life. (§§37-42) Review for Religious Participation by the Holy Spirit's Power The scope of this paper does not permit lengthy dis-cussion of the debate regarding consecratory elements of the Liturgy of the Eucharist. While the church in the West has long held to "This is my body . this is my blood" in the Gospels' Last Supper narrative as the con-secratory formula, the church of the East has always con-sidered the epidesis, the prayer of the invocation of the Holy Spirit, to be the essential mo-ment of consecration. Again it is Alexander Schmemann who calls the debate back to order. "Despite hundreds of treatises written in response to this question, neither aca-demic theological nor liturgi-cal studies have given, alas, a satisfactory answer . We cannot 'break through' to the genuine meaning, embed-ded in the very experience of the church, of the Eucharist as the sacrament of remembrance" (Schmemann, pp. 192- 193). Although today the Catechism of the Catholic Church (§§ 1352-1353) declares the Eucharistic Prayer "the heart and summit of the celebration," specifying the institution narrative as consecratory, the very existence of the old debate reminds us to renew our attentiveness to the work of the Spirit. This attentiveness is important for appreci-ating the anamnetic character of the Eucharistic Liturgy. Each of the four principal Eucharistic Prayers includes an epidesis invoking the power of the Holy Spirit as the agent of consecration: "Let your Spirit come upon these gifts to make them holy" (EP II). By these words we acknowledge that it is by the power of the Holy Spirit Attentiveness to the work of the Spirit is important for appreciating the anamnetic character of the Eucharistic Liturgy. 49 63.1 2004 Pleva ¯ A Charism Illumined - that the gifts are changed. In these words we ask that we too may become h01y, becoming "a living offering to God" (Catechism, §1105) in the mystery we celebrate, the sacrament of remembrance. For Redemptoristines the vocabulary of anamnesis (memory, remember, remembrance, recall, memorial) should be like music to the ears. The charism to be a "living memory" of Jesus was revealed to our foundress during post-Communion meditations in which she expe-rienced the transformative power of the Eucharist accomplished through the work of the Spirit. Her daugh-ters are to be transformed into the "living memory" by participation in the Eucharistic banquet, which was from the beginning a "memory." By remembering we partic-ipate in the change of the Eucharistic elements into the Body and Blood of Jesus and, in turn, we are changed into the very life we remember. The Jesus of Maria Celeste's mystical experiences said: "You shall take on a memory of my life in each hour [of the day]. I shall be the lamp of all your activities, and you shall eat the living food of eternal life which was contained in the works of my life while I was a pilgrim on earth. This is the spirit of the institute: viva memoria and imitation of me just as I lived among you" (Dialogues, §§104-105). Elsewhere this level of attentive remem-bering is referred to as a "fixed gaze." To the degree that Celeste's daughters' devout recollection approximates a fixed gaze, their very lives take on an anamnetic character. Then we make the paschal mystery more present and active in real time. We become the "living memory" of Jesus. Our acts of memory, insofar as they are produced by the Holy Spirit, render us not only spiritual people (pneumatikoi) but also bearers of the Spirit (pneu-matophoroO, a living epMesis (Bianchi, p. 162). By our lives we call down the power of the. Holy Spirit into every cor-ner of the world and the troubled hearts of humanity. Review for Religio,,s My original question concerned the deeper meaning of our charism, to be a "living memory" of Jesus Christ, to make the person of Jesus present in our world in a manner that goes beyond any mere imitation. Our Eucharistic Liturgies are "pregnant with reality" (Crichton, p. 14), a reality Jesus called for at the Last Supper: "Do this in memory of me." Jesus, the incarna-tion of the memory of God, is asking us to become, in turn, the incarnation of his memory in our world. The words of Maria Celeste express self-affirmation and encourage her community today: Now that Your sacred humanity, united to the Word of God, has been glorified . it gives me such a risen life in God that it transforms me into the eternal life of God, as I await the dawning of the new day that will make me blessed for all eternity. (Florilegium, p. 95) If we have it in our power to make present and active the saving work of Jesus by our remembering, the qual-ity of that remembering, our alert presence to it, becomes so much more vital. Seeing the relation between the anamnesis and Maria Celeste's "living memory" intensi-fies our call to be contemplatives. For Redemptoristines, for all contemplatives, or for all who would live their active lives in a more contemplative fashion, the Eucharistic anamnesis can reinforce our effort to live rec-ollected lives, to order our lives by continually remem-bering (and thus reactualizing) the person, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Almost fifty years ago Thoma~ Merton declared, "In the night of our technological barbarism, monks must be as trees which exist silently in the dark and by their vital presence purify the air" (Merton, p. 124). Just as the trees of the forest breathe transforming life into the world, our conscious and active "living memory" is, with the divine breath of the Spirit, cocreator of the saving presence of Jesus in our time. Appreciation of the anam- 63.1 2004 Pleva ¯ A Charism Illumined netic power of our "living memory" is impetus for the life and work of contemplation. Sources Bianchi, Enzo, OCSO. "The Holy Spirit in Monastic Life," trans. Brian Kerns. Cistercian Studies Quarterly 37, no. 2 (2002): 153- 166. Catechism of the Catholic Church. Liguori, Mo.: Liguori Publications, 1997. Crichton, J.D. "A Theology of Worship." In The Study of Liturgy, ed. Cheslyn Jones, Geoffrey Wainwright, and Edward Yarnold SJ. New York: Oxford University Press, 1978. Or see Study, rev. ed., 1992, p. 15. Crostarosa, Maria Celeste. Dialogues, trans. Joseph W. Oppitz. Esopus, N.Y.: Mother of Perpetual Help Monastery, 1981. Dix, Dom Gregory. The Shape of the Liturgy. New York: Seabury Press, 1982. Florilegium: Texts from Mother Maria Celeste Crostarosa, ed. Sabatino Majorano. Liguori, Mo:: Liguori Publications, 1993. Klein, Terrance W. "Institution Narratives at the Crossroads." Worship 67, no. 5 (September 1993): 407-418. Lash, Nicholas. His Presence in the World: A Study of Eucharistic VVorship and Theology. Dayton, Ohio: Pflaum Press, 1968. Maloney, Raymond. "The Doctrine on the Eucharist." In Commentary on the Catechism of the Catholic Church, ed. Michael J. Walsh, pp. '259-269. Collegeville~ Liturgical Press, 1994. Merton, Thomas. Basic Principles of Monastic Spirituality. Springfield, Ill.: Templegate Publishers, 1996. Order of the Most Holy Redeemer (OSSR). Constitution and Statutes. Rome, 1985. Schmemann, Alexander. The Eucharist: Sacrament of the Kingdom. Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1988. Tannenbaum, Marc. "How Mode(n Jews Celebrate Their History." In The Breaking of Bread, ed. Pierre Benoit, Roland E. Murphy, and Bastiaan van Iersel. Concilium, vol. 40. New York: Paulist Press, 1969. Review for Religious RANDALL S. ROSENBERG Eucharistic Devotion in the Rising Generation _~ .~.aismseuse M oafr tAinm SeJ rdiicda a, nhiicgeh jloibg,h inti nthge t3h Me aprecrhs 2o0n0a3l reflections of contemporary Catholics on traditional devotions. In recent times we have witnessed in the United States a rise of the devotion of Eucharistic adoration. How ought this revival to be perceived? Is it merely an attempt to resurrect nostalgic memories of the "good old days"? Or is it the authentic recovery of a lost Eucharistic piety that has had an important place in our tradition? In this "bent" world, both of the afore-mentioned possibilities could be operative. In his April 2003 encyclical on the Eucharist, Ecclesia de Eucbaristia, John Paul II recognizes "positive signs" of an increase in "Eucharistic faith and love." But he also takes notice of what he calls "shadows" with regard to this devotion. He writes: "In some places the practice of Eucharistic adoration has been almost completely abandoned. In various parts of the church, abuses have occurred, leading to confusion about Catholic doctrine Randall S. Rosenberg has taught high school theology and is beginning work towards a Ph.D. in systematic theology at Boston College. His address is 14 Eddy Street; Newton, Massachusetts 02465. 63.1 2004 Rosenberg ¯ Eucbaristic Devotion and sound faith concerning this wonderful sacrament. At times one encounters an extremely meager understanding of the Eucharistic mystery" (§10). John Paul claims that the worship of the Eucharist outside of Mass, as linked to the celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice, is of "inestimable value for the life of the church." He calls upon pastoral leaders to encourage this devotion which affords the opportunity to "spend time with him, to lie close to his breast like the Beloved Disciple (see Jn 13:25) and to feel the infinite love present in his heart." Surely this intimate language springs from the depths of the pope's personal experience of Christ in adoration: "How often, dear brothers and sisters, have I experienced this, and drawn from it strength, consolation, and support!" (§25). What are we to make of our pope's proclamation? As a faculty moderator on a recent high school retreat, I witnessed students spending some time in Eucharistic adoration. The adoration followed several days of small-group sharing and was linked with the opportunity for the sacrament of reconciliation. Without solicitation, one student remarked to me how powerful this experience was for him. This was not a student regularly involved with campus ministry, nor did he seem particularly interested in matters religious. The student asked me why this opportunity was not more available. It struck me that this generation (I am not very much older) does not carry around the baggage that many middle-aged and older American Catholics carry; that is, there is no liberal-conservative rift dividing them. I am all for healthy theological tension, but young people today are not likely to label those who spend time in Eucharistic adoration traditionalist conservatives, nor those who are concerned about social justice radical liberals. There seems to be a growing sense that the contemplative and active dimensions of the faith ought not to be pitted against each another, but rather are part of the rich and Review for Religious complex life of faith in the modern world. John E Kavanaugh SJ recendy suggested (America, 4 November 2002) that the old dichotomies of liberal and conservative simply do not work anymore. One such illuminating experience for him was an encounter with a prayer group of college students who invited him to speak on the topic of "Real Presence in the Eucharist and in Persons." Many in the church are righdy concerned about an emphasis on private Eucharistic devotion over against the communal dimensions of the faith. Influenced in part by the groundbreaking work of Henri de Lubac SJ, the church has rediscovered the social dimension of the Eucharist, namely, that this powerful sacrament is not only an encounter with the divine, but also a means of fostering unity in the church and among human beings generally. Rightly under-stood, Eucharistic contem-plation could deepen one's relationship with Christ made present under the appearance of bread and wine and also with the assembly of the faithful, the body of Christ. In the midst of our technological culture that fosters noise, clutter, information overload, and a quick fix, and in a world culture that is permeated with violence and war, I propose that we need Christic contemplation and silence. Since my conversation with the student, I have become more convinced than ever that our world not only needs silence, but also hungers for silence. One can commune silently with Holy Mystery in nature or in one's living room, but our sacramental tradition provides us with a special quiet encounter with Jesus. Many in the church are rightly concerned about an emphasis on private Eucharistic devotion over against the communal dimensions of the faith. 63.1 2004 Rosenberg ¯ Eucbaristic Devotion ! The great theologian Karl Rahner SJ--who respected the tradition deeply and engaged modern intellectual developments creatively, and who tried to convince ordinary people that they can be mystics in their everyday activities--warned against the loss of this devotion. In Mission and Grace: Essays in Pastoral Theology, Rahner suspects that those who oppose contemplation of the Eucharist are really uncomfortable with "private, prolonged, contemplative prayer in general; that the objections raised against visits as such are for the most part only a sort of ideological cover, supplied in retrospect, for a general withdrawal from the severe demands of meditation." In his final writings Rahner wrote that the worshiping of Jesus in the sacrament must not disappear. Its history may have started from unnoticeable beginnings. However, in salvation history and in the history of the church, something cannot disappear simply because it started almost without being noticed. No, as Catholics we wish, individually and together, to loo1~ to the sign of the presence of the one who has loved us and has offered himself up for us. It should not be unusual for us to kneel at times in private prayer before the Lord who has saved us. ("Eucharistic Worship," in Theological Investigations x aI0 Eucharistic adoration may also foster the contemplative dimension of a concern for social justice. A hallmark of the theology of Johannes Baptist Metz, famous for his spiritual classic Poverty of Spirit, is what he calls dangerous memories. According to him, what theology often ignores is the history of suffering. We must not do theology, he would say, with our backs turned to Auschwitz, but with a mysticism of eyes open to the dangerous memories, the me.mories of horrendous human suffering. Discourse about the war in Iraq, then, cannot be divorced from the dangerous memory of the Review for Religious young boy who lost his arms and was severely burned in a U.S. missile attack. Not only was he injured, but his pregnant mother was killed, along with his father and several of his siblings. One encounters dangerous memories in the Eucharist. As Pope John Paul has insisted, the Eucharist makes sacramentally present again the horrible sufferings of Jesus, himself a victim of injustice. In the light of the dangerous memory of the cross, Eucharistic adoration provides, if well understood, the opportunity to become conscious of and to lament the terrible sufferings of God's children in our present day. We are given a chance to commune with the one who gave us these haunting words: "Whatever you do to the least of my brothers you do to me." Christ-centered contemplation, then, may lead to Christ-centered action. Although we must avoid letting private devotion seem more important or more central than the Mass, it would be wise to listen to people, especially young people, who desire to spend time in loving contemplation and adoration of the Eucharist. Such devotion may actually build bridges across rifts in the church and in the world, actually make the church more Catholic and catholic. I am convinced that the rising generation is ready to discard divisive political labels and embrace both the prayer and the activity necessary for integral lives of faith. 63.1 2004 SUSAN B. CORDSEN Teresa of Avila and Friendship Teresa was a friend par excellence. She had tremendous natural relational gifts. These caused her great difficulty, but also became keys to her effectiveness as a reformer. Friendship is a central element in her writing as it was in how she lived her life. In her autobiography she writes, "As I grew older, when I began to know of the natural attractive qualities the Lord had bestowed on me (which others said were many), instead of thanking him for .them, I began to make use of them all to offend him.''1 The redemptive learning and teaching that flowered from her experience can be helpful for us today. In her early life, relationships were a con-stant struggle for her. In her autobiography Teresa says that a friendship of hers with a teenage relative "pained my father and my sis-ter" (2.4). She uses her own reflections to illus- Susan B. Cordsen, a lay Carmelite for twenty-one years, is doing graduate studies at Washington Theological Union; 6896 Laurel Street, N.W.; Washington, D.C. 20012. Review for Religious trate and teach "the harm a bad companion can do." Later she speaks of the personal influence of a nun in the convent school she was attending: "This good com-pany began to help me get rid of the habits that the bad company had caused" (2.4 and 3.1). Both the negative and the positive aspects of friendship frame her discussions. In 1536, at the age of twenty-one, she entered the Carmelite Convent of the Incarnation. There "the par-lor" and outside relationships became a major "harm and distraction" for her. In that early period she had a vision of Christ, who "desired to make me understand that those friendships were not proper for me" (7.6). Since she did not know that it was possible to see the Lord in such a personal, experiential way, and since "the vision was not to my liking," she tried to conceal it from her-self (7.7). Concerning these friendships, she ignored other external and internal warnings as well. In 1544 a Dominican confessor, Vicente Barron, iarged her to return to personal times of prayer. Here she reflects: "Spiritual friendship is. extremely impor-tant for souls not yet fortified in virtue--since they have so many opponents and friends to incite them to evil" (7.21). Now she begins to express prayer in friendship terms with her famous definition: "Mental prayer., is noth-ing else than an intimate sharing between friends; it means frequently taking time to be alone with Him who we know loves us." For friendship.to :endure, "the wills of the friends must be in accord" (8.5). Seeing Christ as "friend" who invites us into "friendship" becomes the key and model of her redeemed relationality. Yet her internal struggles remained intense. She says, "For more than eighteen years, I suffered this conflict between friendship with God and friendship with the world" (8.3). Finally, in 1554, she had her profound conversion before the statue of the wounded Christ. Yet, even here, though 63.1 2004 Cordsen ¯ Teresa of Avila and Friendship Though she was deeply reoriented toward friendship with Jesus, she was not fully freed from personal attachments. she was deeply reoriented toward friendship with Jesus, she was not fully freed from personal attachments. This came about two years later. She writes of her new Jesuit confessor, Juan de Pradanos, who led her with skill and gentleness because she was still fragile, "espe-cially with regard to giving up some friendships I had." She was not offending God, but was attached, feeling she would be ungrateful to aban-don them. This would seem to be a rather common state of affairs in people's friend-ships. The friendship is not sinful or "destructive," and to simply discard the rela-tionship would seem disloyal to the friend, and yet the attachment is the very thing that keeps us unfree and interferes with both our friendship with God and our friendship with the person. Turning to God in prayer,. Teresa was for the first time granted a rapture; she heard, "No longer do I want you to converse with men but with angels" (24.5). She com-ments, "These words have been fulfilled." How? By her withdrawing into silent prayer, ending all human friend-ships to speak only with angels and God? No. "For I have never again been able to tie myself to any friendship or to find consolation in or bear particular love for any other persons than those I understand love [God] and strive to serve him; nor is it in my power do to so, nor does it matter whether they are friends or relatives" (24.6). This freed her to become more of a friend rather than drawing her from friendship. This is because her friendship with others now flowed from her friendship with Christ. It is astonishing Review for Religious how deeply and richly she draws on the concept of friendship to express her relationship with Jesus. She notes, again and again that he is a "true" friend. This is a term she uses just before writing about the importance of the sacred humanity of Christ and how we must never seek to go beyond this. "We are not angels but we have a body" (22.6-10). The concept of friendship keeps her connected to the sacred humanity. She writes of how God treats the soul with friendship; she even prays that the Lord make a certain person "our" friend, that is, the friend of both God and Teresa (27.9 and 34.8). God enables in us a sense of mutuality whereby the soul and God understand each other (27.10). This key, friendship, continues in her "Meditations on the Song of Songs." Though a human love story and one often used by mystics to comment on the love of God pursuing and enticing the soul in the image of the bride, Teresa adds her own twist. Her meditation is really on only a few verses and treats the themes of prayer and union as she does in her other works. But here she emphasizes "friendship" and "peace." Quoting the verse "Let Him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth," she asks how dare we speak them. She answers, "The soul that is enkindled with a love that makes it mad desires nothing else than to say these words." Then, after speaking of the Blessed Sacrament, she wonders whether the bride "was asking for that union so great that God became man, for that friendship that he effects with the human. race. Obviously a kiss is the sign of great peace and friendship among two persons.''2 Teresa discusses everything from "friendship" with the devil to our relationship with God as "skin-deep." Using "friendship" to express growth and union, she refers to "another kind of friendship, stronger than this," but adds that "neither is this the friendship the bride seeks" (2.20 and 2.27). "God grants so great a favor as to 6! 63.1 2004 Cordsen * Teresa of Avila and Friendship join [the soul] with himself in a friendship like this" (3.9); "how is it possible that even while in this mortal life one can enjoy You with so special a friendship [that] only those who experience this friendship will understand it?" (3.14 and 4.1). Teresa develops this human love story in many directions, including that of marriage. The fact that she uses it to reflect on divine friendship may help us reflect on the friendship dimension within marriage. As usual, Teresa not only shares her experience, but also reflects on it to help others. In setting up her Carmelite reform, she initially limits her monasteries to thirteen nuns. Here "all must be friends, all must be loved, all must be held dear, all must be helped.''3 She herself knows how difficult this is in practice and tries to point out pitfalls and give guidance. Though written for cloistered women, her insights are practical for us as well. She is concerned about hav-ing "excessive love" for one person and thus failing to love others equally, feeling sorry about an affront to the friend, desiring possessions so as to have things to give as gifts, and looking for times to speak with her and often only about trifling things. Such friendships seldom help each other toward love of God. Yet because we are human we are often drawn more to one person than another and easily become attached. The crucial ele-ments are self-knowledge and awareness (4.6-8). Teresa usually does not recommend cutting off con-tact altogether, which would not be possible in the monastery anyway. "To break away from these friend-ships involving a particular fondness, great care is nec-essary at the outset of the friendship. This breaking away should be done delicately and lovingly rather than harshly" (4.9). She says to limit time together. She is not trying to destroy the friendship, only reorient it. She shows this by the way she speaks of spiritual love, which is what she desires for all friendship. "Even though in Review for Religious the beginning it is not so perfect, the Lord will gradu-ally perfect it. Let us begin by using the suitable means, for, even though the love bears with it some natural ten-derness, no harm will be done provided this tenderness is shown toward all" (7.5). Her advice regarding falling in love with confessors shows her realism and balance. The sisters should "try not to think about whether they love the confessor or don't love him; but, if they do love him, let them love him . A great principle for making much progress is to love the confessor, if he is holy and spiritual and if I see that he is dili-gent about my soul's progress. For our weak-ness is such that some-times this love helps us very much to perform great deeds in the ser-vice of God. If the love is not of this kind, there is danger . There is much need for caution and pru-dence. The best advice is that the confessor not know that there is such affection . If [the sisters] know that he is God-fearing, they should not weary themselves over any temptation . about their great attachment; when the devil is worn out, he will go away." However, if they "become aware that the confessor is turning toward some vanity," they should make their confession brief and seek another confessor:4 Teresa looks to self-knowledge, awareness, patience with our emotions, and God's grace to navigate rela-tionships. Regarding confessors she advises developing internal boundaries rather than trusting external bound-aries to keep relationships proper. Again, it is Christ the friend who shows how we are to be friends together. Teresa looks to self-knowledge, awareness, patience with our emotions, and God's grace to navigate relationships. 63.1 2004 Cordsen * Teresa of Avila and Friendship Teresa says this is "a love with no self-interest at all. All that it desires., is to see the other soul rich with heav-enly blessings" (Way, 7.1). As with all of life, this friendship is not without suf-fering. After speaking of the cross, Teresa asks, "What better friendship than that [Jesus] desire for you what he desired for himself?." (Way, 17.7). This is one of many places where she notes that one of the gifts of Christ's friendship is a sharing in his cross--but the suffering comes not from denying friendship but from attempt-ing to live it without self-interest, to have affection but not attachment. We do not reach this fully in this life. In trying to distinguish the different loves, Teresa says, "I don't think I know which love is spiritual, or when sen-sual love is mixed with spiritual love" (Way, 6.2). Yet this is often the condition we are in. We have the choice of pulling back in fear we will become attached, or of crossing boundaries, ignoring cautions as Teresa did early in her life and fostering distracting and harmful rela-tionships. Or--a third choice--we can choose the path Teresa did and respond to the invitation to friendship with Christ and trust that his grace and mercy will grad-ually bring our friendships in line with his own. In her letters Teresa shows herself to be a very human person. She chides others for not valuing her friendship enough to write more; another "owes her more." Showing great affection, she speaks of being lonely, scolds, encourages, pleads. Her words leap energetically off the pages. There is her great affection for Jertnimo Gracifin, a friendship that brings her much joy and sor-row, and is a puzzlement to others. In her "Spiritual Testimonies" she writes of a time when she "was living in great~ loneliness" and says Gracifin was the only one to "give me comfort, and he had to be absent most of the time." The loneliness continued, and she had a curious intellectual vision of the Lord placing "himself in my Review for Religiot~s arms as in the painting" of the body of Jesus in his mother's arms after being taken down from the cross,s Teresa came to acknowledge her natural gifts for friendship and to thank God for them. She allowed them to be used to draw others to .Jesus. In our world that strives to improve communication skills, set boundaries, express our sexuality neither too much nor too little, where does friendship fit in? The recently beatified Mother Teresa of Calcutta spoke of the great loneliness in the United States. Sexual abuse continues to be a problem and to cause problems in the church and in the world at large. Where is the friendship that St. Teresa of Avila wrote of and lived? Teresa, teach us to be friends of Christ that we may be friends of one another. Notes ~ The Book of Her Life, chapter 1, section 8. Hereafter till note 2, references to this work will be supplied in parentheses in the text. The translations used in this article are those of Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD, The Collected Works of St. Teresa of Avila, Vols. 1, 2, 3 (Washington: ICS Publications, 1987, 1980, 1985). ¯ Note 2 begins a second series of parenthetical references, and note 3 begins a third series. 2 Meditations on the Song of Songs, chapter 1, section 10. 3 The Way of Perfection, chapter 4, section 7. 4 Teresa as quoted in the translators' note to The Way of Perfec-tion, 4.8. s Spiritual Testimonies, 53. 63.1 2004 ROBERT P. MALONEY Five Faces ofRosalie Rendu On 9 November 2003 Pope John Paul II beatified Rosalie Rendu, a Daughter of Charity. She was the Mother Teresa of 19th-century France. Her energy, creativity, and courage leap out from the accounts of those who knew her.~ Fifty thousand people flocked to her funeral on 9 February 1856. What was said that day, and the articles written in her praise, remind me of Shakespeare's eloquent words: When she shall die, Take her and cut her out in little stars, And she will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night.2 The church beatifies and canonizes men and women pre-cisely for that reason: that they may shine out like stars for us, that in the midst of darkness we may see what it really means to be holy. Saints make holiness real, con-crete. In this article I offer five faces of Rosalie Rendu. Prodigious Worker and Organizer Rosalie was born on 9 September 1786, in Confort, a tiny village in southern France. At just fifteen years of Robert P. Maloney CM, superior general of the Congregation of the Mission, is a frequent contributor to our pages. He resides at Via dei Capasso, 30; 00164 Roma; Italy. ¯ Review for Relig4ous age, she set off for Paris. There she spent more than fifty years of her life in the capital's poorest neighborhood, Mouffetard. Her works were prodigious. She began as a teacher in a primary school, which she later ran. Though she herself had little formal education (biographers say she never managed to write French very well), Rosalie and others labored strenuously to teach children to read, write, and do basic mathematics along with learning their catechism. For young girls and needy women, she soon orga-nized courses in sewing and embroidering. She then founded a day-care center and a nursery school fox; the children of working mothers. For these same mothers she started a branch of the Children of Mary. In addition, she and the sisters ran a center for the distribution of food and firewood, with a pharmacy, a clinic and a clothes dispensary. She helped in counseling the newly founded Society of St. Vincent de Paul. She assisted in the reestablishment of the Ladies of Char-ity in 1840. She cared for the sick and the dying in the recurring cholera epidemics, and throughout her life she visited the poor and infirm in their homes. During the several epidemics between 1849 and 1854, withas many as a hundred and fifty persons dying in the parish every day, Rosalie and the sisters kept doing all they could. They attended to the living, accompanied the dying, and buried the dead. Though Rosalie was not an advocate of orphanages, in 1851 she took over the running of one; in 1852 she began a home for the elderly. The secret of Rosalie's enormous energy was this: she saw the face of Christ in the face of every poor person. 63.1 2004 Maloney * Five Faces of RosMie Rendu In the judgment of the theologian who examined her writings, the secret of Rosalie's enormous energy was this: she saw the face of Christ in the face of every poor person. One of the sisters who lived with her remem-bered Rosalie encouraging the community: "Love our good God very much. Do not be sparing in your duty; serve the poor well, always speaking to them with great kindness . The ruder they are, the more dignified you must be. Remember, our Lord hides behind those rags.''3 Local Superior When she was not yet seventeen years old, a seem-ingly sickly Rosalie was sent away from the novitiate of the Daughters of Charity in the hope that a change of air would improve her health. It is hard to imagine that the air was much better in inner-city Mouffetard, but she thrived there. She quickly won the hearts of the sisters of the house. When she returned to the motherhouse for "habit taking," the local superior sent a letter to the superioress general saying: "I am very happy with this little Rendu. Give her the habit, and send her back to me.''4 And so it was that she took her first step toward becoming the "apos-de of the Mouffetard district," where she would spend the remainder of her life. In 1815, when she was twenty-nine years old, she became the superior. She carried out this service for the next forty-one years, until her death. What was Rosalie like as a superior? Those who gave firsthand testimony about her noted three things: (1) Describing Rosalie's relationship with the sisters in the community, her cousin speaks of her "infinite tender-ness." She was sensitive to what went on around her. Some thought she was sensitive even to a fault. In 1844, when two sisters whom she loved died, Rosalie broke into tears and wrote, "I rebelled in some ways against the hand that struck us, yet I am confident that these two angels will obtain mercy for me.''5 Review for Religious (2) Young sisters loved her. The house where she was superior became a "formation house," so to speak, to which many were sent. From Rosalie they learned first-hand how to serve the poor. Twenty-two postulants lived with her over the years. Eighteen sisters prepared for vows under her direction, starting in 1832. At the time of her death, twelve sisters lived in her community; half of them had been sisters for less than four years. She waged war against pride. One of the sisters says: "In spir-itual direction she pursued this fault relentlessly: 'It's our number-one enemy,' she said. 'Look for it . . . it dis-guises itself to trick us and confuse us, but we must grab it by the throat and choke it.'''6 (3) Rosalie's incredibly active house was also a house of prayer. The community rose each morning at four. One sister testified: "If we had to accompany her on a charitable visit during our prayer time, she said to us as we walked: 'Let's begin our meditation!' She suggested a subject for meditation in a few simple, clear words and entered into prayer." One of her best friends, the Viscount of Melun, quotes her as saying, "I never pray so well as I do in the street.''7 Intrepid Woman By all accounts this tender woman was fearless. Rosalie lived in turbulent times. As a child she experi-enced the Reign of Terror in France; her family hid a nonjuror priest in their home. She experienced the rev-olutions of 1830 and 1848 and the terrible cholera epi-demics of 1832, 1849, and 1854. Rosalie walked among the wounded, the sick, and the dying with little fear for her own health. She and the sisters ministered to thou-sands of cholera victims. The most well-known incidents of Rosalie's bravery took place during the revolutions. When she and the sis-ters hid revolutionaries, Monsieur Gisquet, the chief of69 63.1 2004 Maloney ¯ Five Faces of Rosalie Rendu police, signed a warrant for her arrest. But the local policemen warned him that her arrest would cause a riot in the Mouffetard neighborhood. Gisquet himself went to notify Rosalie of the warrant. She replied: "I am a Daughter of Charity. I have no flag. I help the unfortu-nate wherever I meet them. I try to do good to them without judging them, and I promise you that, if you yourself are ever being pursued and ask my help, I will not refuse it.''s The chief dropped the matter. Fierce fighting broke out within the city during the revolution of 1848. The archbishop of Paris mounted the barricades in an effort to stop the slaughter and was shot dead. The fighting became even more intense. General Cavaignac, later president of France, decided on a massive bombardment of the Mouffetard neigh-borhood, but first offered the sisters safe-conduct out. Rosalie responded to his messenger: "Please thank the general and tell him that we are the servants of the poor and also their mothers and that we want to die with them.''9 Rosalie and the general became lifelong friends. --70J Friend of the Poor and the Rich On many occasions I have walked to the cemetery in Montparnasse to visit the grave of Rosalie Rendu, which is near that of Jean-Paul Sartre. Fresh flowers always lie there. On the simple stone are engraved the words: To Sister Rosalie Her grateful friends The poor and the rich She knew how to be friend to both. The poor loved her deeply because they sensed that she lived out precisely what a witness said she asked of those who accompanied her: "Welcome everyone. Speak to the poor with both kindness and dignity. Do not make them wait. Treat them as you would treat your father, your brothers, your sis-ters.'' 1° The rich, too, were attracted to Rosalie. They Review for Religious found her appeals irresistible. She knew how to engage their energies and their resources in the service of the poor. Her correspondence extends to the archbishop of Paris, superiors general, politicians, doctors, young stu-dents, relatives, and friends. She took on Frederick Ozanam and his companions as apprentices and thus par-ticipated in the birth of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. From 1833 until Rosalie's death, the Viscount of Melun visited her at least once a week to seek her advice and help in the service of the poor. Among those who gave Rosalie material aid were the king and queen, General Cavaignac, writ-ers and politicians like Lamartine and Caubert, and many local politicians and administrators. The ambassador of Spain, Donoso Cort6z, came to Rosalie's house weekly to receive a list of the poor to visit. When he himself fell ill in 1853, Rosalie assisted him until his death. On 27 February 1852 Rosalie was awarded the Cross of the Legion of Honor. On 18 March 1854 the Emperor Napoleon III and the Empress Eug6nie came to visit her at her house. ¯ The daily line of those seeking entrance into Rosalie's office was long. She worked effici.ently, writing little notes to remind herself of their requests. She sought to find some response, even if inadequate, to all the needs presented to her. Rosalie knew how to engage the energies and resources of the rich in the service of the poor. Faithful, Sometimes Misunderstood, Daughter of Charity Rosalie was revered in her own lifetime. People from all ranks of society came to see her. ~ But her extraordi-nary popularity sometimes raised eyebrows in high cir- 71 63.1 2004 --79,.2 Maloney ¯ Five Faces of RosMie Rendu cles. In the latter part of her life, she suffered from the disapproval of her superiors. The troubles began in the late 1830s, when Jean-Baptiste Nozo was superior gen-eral of the Congregation of the Mission and the Daughters of Charity. Because of a financial scandal, strong opposition to Nozo mounted up. Jean-Baptiste Etienne was his most formidable opponent. News of the conflict hit the papers, so that much of Paris was talking about it. Finally the archbishop of Paris intervened, com-posing a document of interdict against Etienne and oth-ers. Rosalie wanted the matter to end peacefully. She had good connections with the archbishop and went to intercede with him, refusing to leave without an answer and pleading with him to burn the d

Issue 52.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1993. ; frOe i g,i ous Christian Heritages and Contempora~ Living MAY-JUNE 1993 ¯ VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 3 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University. by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048 ¯ FAX: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 Washington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. ©1993 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolsld Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Se~n Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1993 * VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 3 contents 326 feature Prophecy or Restorationism in Religious Life Gerald A. Arbuckle SM describes the effects of the prophetic and the restorationist movements on religious life. 340 350 witnessing Would That All Were Prophets~ Dianne Bergant CSA examines the 'meaning of prophecy in the life of religious congregations. Committed Christian Secularity Paul J. Philibert OP explores some areas of development for those called to the life of the secular institute. prayer and direction 364 Liturgy of the Hours: A Reflection Suzanne Zuercher OSB finds that the ritual praying of the Liturgy of the Hours manifests what monastic life is and needs to remain. 371 380 Get Serious! The Monastic Condemnation of Laughter Kenneth C. Russell suggests some ways for us to understand and give modern application to the monastic attitude towards laughter. A Mystical Moment: Spiritual Direction and the Adolescent Fred Herron highlights aspects of spiritual direction in the con-text of adolescent development. 322 Review for Religious 39O 418 428 432 446 454 religious leadership Religious-Leadership Competencies David Nygren CM and Miriam Ukeritis CSJ report on skills and characteristics which mark superior performance for contemporary religious leaders. Some Ruminations on the Identity of Religious David F. O'Connor ST reviews the current identity issues around religious life. An Identity Dilemma: Standing with the Poor Patricia McCann RSM focuses the question about a gap between the espoused ideal and the reality of standing with the poor in religious life and ministry. ~ living gospel values Poverty as the Embrace of Insecurity Richard J. De Maria CFC stresses that the insecurity of poverty in some form remains essential to religious life. Men Vowed and Sexual: Conversations about Celibate Chastity Selin D. Sammon ~MS and Judith Ann Zielinski OSF describe a project sponsored by the Conference of Major Superiors of Men to enhance the living of celibate chaste life by vowed men. A Story of Addiction and Co-Addiction William F. Kraft tells a story of how the problems of addiction and co-addiction can be signs of contradiction that lead to new and better living departments 324 Prisms 462 Canonical Counsel: Common Life and Houses 469 Book Reviews May-.~une 1993 323 prisms ~edo not talk much about "working at the virtuous life." Perhaps the Pelagian inference--that "working at it" is enough, all by itself---keeps us suspi-cious of such talk. Maybe we are reluctant to admit explic-itly that virtue is on our list of outmoded things. There is also the possibility, even the likelihood, that some people strong in virtue have offended us in some way. "Nice" people may be easier to live with and less offensive than people imbued with courage or fired up for justice' sake. But Jesus demands more of his followers than that they be nice. Christians in every age need to work at the vir-tuous life. Recently in North America the news media have made much of various accusations or admissions of sexual mis-conduct by bishops, priests, and religious. The result is that the leadership in the local church and in religious congregations has had the painful, but necessary, task of coming to terms with a difficult and disturbing situation. What becomes evident to those living the consecrated life is that celibate chastity is not only something which we can "lose," but also something to be worked at: that only through a lifetime effort does one grow in chastity and love. Various programs like Marriage Encounter and the Christian Family Movement and Teams of Our Lady have long stressed how couples need to Work at their marital chastity if they are going to deepen their love and grow to be ever more faithful to each other. In a similar way, through some painful reminders today, both men and 324 Review for Religious women in celibate commitment are being called to make the effort they need to make if they are to grow as loving celibate people. In the scholastic theology of St. Thomas Aquinas we are taught the meaning of the virtues of the Christian life through his masterly explanation of habit. It would be interpreting Thomas fairly to bring our commonsense thinking about acquiring a habit to our understanding of his insight into acquiring--"working at"--virtue. Without denying the primacy of grace, especially experienced in the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity, we need to put forth the human effort to make those qualities more deeply our own. Theological developments since Vatican II have stressed that, just as conversion is continual in a Christian's life, so too growth in virtue is never finished--nor can either of these occur in iso-lation; they demand the presence of the faith community. Similarly, we now see even more clearly that virtue, like conver-sion, is never a private matter but impacts the public and social sphere. Our very working at virtue gives force to our evangeliz-ing efforts in our families, communi.ties, and workplaces. As a case in point, then, there are recent efforts being made to ~work at celibate chastity within a community setting and not in isolation. As married people have discovered in their various Christian family organizations, it is within the faith community that growth in virtue finds its support and that marriage and fam-ily values are witnessed to and witnessed. "'Men Vowed and Sexual," a project sponsored by the U.S. Conference of Major Superiors of Men and reported on in this issue, is one way to achieve a com-munity setting of support and understanding for the celibate chaste development of individuals. In another effort to assist those who are committed to the tasks of spiritual formation, the Christian Institute for the Study of Human Sexuality has been announced by the staff of theJesuit Educational Center for Human Development. Along 0¢ith the primacy of the grace of God and continuing individual effort, such community projects point the way for all of us to "work at" virtue today. David L. Fleming SJ May-June 1993 325 feature GERALD A. ARBUCKLE Prophecy or Restorationism in Religious Life "Turmoil is going to break out among your tribes." --Hosea 10:14 Anthropologically a tribe is a gathering "of bands., hav-ing a feeling of unity deriving from numerous similarities in culture, frequent friendly contacts, and a certain com-munity of interest.''1 By this definition religious life before Vatican II was one tribe consisting of many bands or clans (congregations) bound together despite their individual differences by a common belief in the nature and purpose of religious life. Now this tribal oneness no longer exists. Today, instead of clans within one tribe, we have many dif-ferent tribes that do not share a common vision of reli-gious life. Even within the same congregation there can be several different tribes, each claiming that it alone is authentically interpreting religious life and the original founding congregational vision. Communication across the boundaries of these reli-gious- life tribes may be poor, as is commonly the case between different ethnic groups at any time in human society. Each tribe, says anthropologist Edward Hall, usu-ally takes the position of "thinking and feeling that any-one whose behavior is not predictable or is peculiar in any way is slightly out of his mind, improperly brought up, irresponsible, psychopathic, politically motivated to a point Gerald A. Arbuckle SM continues to write, lecture, and con-duct workshops on the refounding of religious life. His address is Refounding and Pastoral Development Unit; 1 Mary Street; Hunters Hill; Sydney, N.S.W. 2110; Australia. 326 Review for Religious beyond redemption, or just plan inferior.''2 This rather blunt (but generally accurate) statement of tribal ethnocentrism describes the strong prejudice-founded belief that my tribe is the center of everything, and all other groups or tribes are scaled and rated with reference to it. Unfortunately, the way some religious tribes within contemporary religious life at times view other groups-- with hostility and self-righteous intolerance--is not unlike Hall's description. Sometimes. religious-life tribes agree to co-exist side-by- side with apparent harmony; peace is maintained because they agree at least tacitly not to raise their significant differences over the m~aning of religious life. They deny or suppress the differ-ences lest exhausting tensions erupt openly. Dialogue, which demands an op.enness to the other and to the possibility of change, is difficult in these circumstances--even impossible. This article has a twofold function: first, to summarize why one religious-life tribe has fragmented into many different tribes or quasi-ethnic groups since Vatican II; and second, to describe the significant qualities of these tribal groups. From Tribe to Tribes in Religious Life Religious Life: Founding Myth Undermined. The founding myth .of religious life historically evolved wheri people began to gather together to live the radical values of the gospel, to devote, them-selves totally to the person of Christ and his kingdom values. The major mo;vements (monastic, conventual, and apostolic) were prophetic reactions to abuses or corruption of power within the church and society at large. Prophetic action is thus integral to the founding stoW of religious life. Johannes Metz correctly asserts that religious communities must be "a kind of shock therapy" challenging the church to live the fullness of Christ's message. "Against the dangerous accommodations and questionable com-promises that the church . . . can always incline to," he writes, "they press for the uncompromising nature of the gospel and of the imitation of Christ.''3 Myths bind people together with a common vision. They are value-impregnated beliefs and notions, born in sacred time and space, that people live by and live for; at the level of the culture they are primarily unconscious, powerful in their influence, and partic-ularly difficult for people to articulate objectively except in stoW form or by describing the life histories of their culture's heroes or May-a~une 1993 327 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism: heroines. In reality people adhere to relatively few archetypal myths, of which the conspiratorial enemy and the all-powerful hero-liberator are central kinds. Myths provide a feeling of cer-tainty, direction, and trust rather than the paralysis, fear, or bewil- The council challenged religious to rediscover the prophetic heart of their ministry when it directed them back to the person of Christ, the founding experience of their own congregations,. and the apostolic needs of the world. derment that chaos--the opposite of order or the predictable--brings.* Over time, however, myths can drift away from their original message without people' being quite aware of what is happening. This in fact hap-pened to the founding myth of reli-gious life. In recent centuries religious life has lost its prophetic emphasis within the church and the world and has become based on three pivotal assumptionscontrary to its original founding vision: the world is funda-mentally evil and tobe avoided, reli-gious are the spiritual elite of the church, and their task is to be uncrit-ically supportive of the ecclesiastical and pastoral status quo.~ Vatican II dramatically under-mined these aberrant assumptions and the myth they sustained when it stated that the world is capable of redemption and the church must inter-act with it through a process of exchange/dialogue (that is, incul-turation). 6 Furthermore, all people--not only religiousware called to, and are capable of, holiness.7 Religious asChristians could no longer remove themselves from the concerns of the world, nor could they ever again consider themselves the spiritual elite of the church. Finally, the council challenged religious to rediscover the prophetic heart of their ministry when it directed them back to the person of Christ, the founding experience of their own congregations, and the apostolic needs of the world. The revi-talized founding myth was not neatly put together by the coun-cil and it would be a long time before religious could rediscover with confidence its authentic nature and implications. Reactions to Vatican Ih Conversionist and Restorationist Groups. It is a basic experience of anthropology that any interference with a founding story or myth of a group--even when fully justified (as 328 Review for Religious occurred at Vatican II) and intellectually assented to by the peo-ple involved--is catastrophic or chaotic at the level of identity, belonging, or feeling.8 A satisfying and interiorized myth is never re-created quicHy out of turmoil or chaos. The reaction to a dramatic mythological change, such as hap-pened to religious life at Vatican II, normally follows a fairly pre-dictable pattern. First, there is an effort to control initial unease or anxiety through legislative or structural changes so that an anxiety-reducing order can once again emerge, but political or legislative action alone is ineffective without an attitudinal open-ness to an as yet unformulated new myth. The phase of chaos follows; neither traditional support systems nor mere structural changes provide the needed sense of direction and belonging. Symptoms of depression--such as anger, numbness, "lostness," feuding, denial, sadness, witch-hunting to assign blame for the chaos--emerge within the group or in individuals. As the chaos persists, people are apt to turn to one of two options: either conversionist or escapist movements. Leaders of these movements have the charismatic ability of articulating appropriate visions and strategies to achieve them. Conversionist movements develop when people recognize that the way to change is not by nostalgically and uncritically returning to a former cul-tural stage but by struggling to relate to an entirely different ambience. The building of a new founding myth is painful, demanding courage to let go the past, the willingness to walk in the darkness of uncertainty and ambiguity, waiting, creating and testing new ways of acting adapted to the changing circumstances. No sudden solution to the malaise of the chaos is possible.9 Commonly many people cannot cope with the darkness and uncertainty demanded by the conversionist approach. They seek the escapist option with its fundamentalist and simplistic remedies to the confusion. Fundamentalistic or sect movements are com-mon today within Islam, Judaism, and Christianity and in the arena of politics just as they have always been in times of dra-matic social or cultural changes. They take various forms. For example, some are millenarianl° as they promise a dramatic and imminent appearance of a world of meaning and belonging to their disoriented followers, on condition they commit themselves without question to simplistic and authoritarian-led actions. The popularity of these fundamentalist movements today~ testifies to the extent and depth of the cultural upheaval through- May-3~ne 1993 329 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism Restorationism is the vigorous effort to return the church uncritically to the pre-Vatican II structures, practices, and attitudes. out the world in reaction to the speed and radicality of contem-porary technological; social, and economic changes. Patrick Arnold's definition of fundamentalism is particularly apt: it is "an aggressive and marginalized religious movement which, in reac-tion to the perceived threat of moder-nity, seeks to return its home religion and nation to traditional orthodox prin-ciples, values, and texts through the co-option of the central executive and legislative power of both the religion itself and the modern national state.''t2 This definition highlights the emphasis that fundamentalists place on the role of civil and religious governments to coerce people to accept their beliefs. James Hunter sees fundamentalist movements as "characterized, to varying degrees, by a quality of organized anger." They aggressively want to make history right again.13 Intellectual arguments will not convert people away from fundamental-ism because fundamentalism is a reaction to a loss of felt belong-ing, not necessarily to inadequate intellectual reasoning. Fundamentalist movements form an increasingly strident, intolerant, and powerful force within the Catholic Church today, indicative of the extent of the chaotic upheaval sparked off by such forces as Vatican II and the opening 0f the church to a world caught up in its own tumultuous change--the revolution of expressive disorder of the 1960s and early 1970s.14 These restora-tionist movements demand that the church return to its pre- Vatican II culture with its patriarchal, dependency, and authoritarian models of leadership. Whoever dares to question what fundamentalists do are branded as contemporary "witches" who are out to undermine in a conspiratorial way what restora-tionists define as orthodoxy. In brief, restorationism is the vig-orous effort to return the church uncritica'lly to the pre-Vatican II structures, practices, and attitudes. (I say "uncritically" because there are some key pre-Vatican II values that need to be revital-iz. ed, for example, a respect for a living tradition.) Restorationism is an abuse of power because key values of Vatican II--for exam-ple, collegiality, the call to inculturate the faith within local 330 Review for Religious churches--are either rejected or undervalued. Like Thomas the Apostle, fundamentalist or restorationist Catholics earnestly seek clear-cut signs of the presence of the Lord: "Unless I can see the holes that the nails made in his hands and can put my finger into the holes they made, and unless I can put my hand into his side, I refuse to believe" (Jn 20:25). Contemporary Religious Life: Tribal Models .With the disintegration of the then prevailing founding myth of religious life, in addition to the other upheavals consequent on Vatican II, religious today are torn between the enticements of fundamentalist or restorationist solutions to the chaos they expe-rience and the painful requirements of the call to radical conver-sion. Those opting for the latter take to heart the words of Christ to Thomas: "Blessed are those who hav~ not seen and yet believe" (Jn 20:29). They recognize that the church (and religious life) is in the liminality stage of a crucial rite of passage--the pre-Vatican II church has yet to be let go and the new to be confidently cre-ated based on Vatican II values. It is a time of pain, lament, and hope. Prophets and prophetic movements are needed to create the "pastoral quantum-leaps" necessary to bring the gospel into interaction with the most.urgent needs of today--secularism and political/economic oppression for example.~s The following tribal models of contemporary religious life fall within what I will call "escapist" or "conversionist" categories. By "escapist" I mean that religious tribes within this category avoid in various ways the struggle to return to the original found-ing myth of religious life--that is, the prophetic challenging of the church and the world. "Conversionist" tribes, however, struggle to live this challenge. My purpose in offering these categories and models is to help clarify an increasingly c.omplex situation within religious life; it is not my aim to judge the subjective moti-vations of individual religious. Finally, a word of warning about the use of models. An anthro-pological model is not a perfect representation of the real world. Rather, a model is very much a necessary research construct to facilitate a better understanding of very complex situations. A model reflects reality to the extent that it highlights certain emphases or trends. For the sake of clarity unnecessary details are omitted. A situation can then be researched to discover just May-J~ne 1993 331 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism how far it diverges from or conforms to the model. In practice one will rarely find in real life a perfect embodiment of a model; par-ticular qualities of many models will tend to be present, but the characteristics of one model will predominate over others. A model is not a caricature since the latter is a deliberately inaccu-rate representation of reality for comic effect; No one expects a caricature to be modified in the light of reality.~6 Category 1: "Escapist" Religious-Life Tribes The Nativistic Tribal Model. Tribal leaders claim that the unquestioning return to the symbols (for example, religious garb), myths, and rituals of.religious life before Vatican II will in some magical way resolve the loss of meaning or relevance among reli-gious. Fundamentalist and sect-like tribes that approximate to this model fanatically assume "we have the truth and the pope is on our side," yet, like all Catholic fundamentalists, they selectively read ecclesial documents to support their position and rather thoroughly ignore the social teaching of the popes. These com-munities withdraw from the "contaminating world" (which they look upon with considerable doom and gloom), refuse all dia-logue with their opponents, and avoid any critique of restora-tionism in the church. In fact, they are zealous supporters of ecclesiastical restorationism. Prayer is stressed, but only the pre- Vatican II forms that highlight a personal or privatized holiness removed from the world's concerns. They cultivate, as the Puebla document says, "a spirituality of evasion.''~7 Candidates are encouraged to join, but screening and training programs are inadequate for the demands of today's apostolic work. The more who join, the more certain nativistic tribes are that God loves them. In brief, they place the survival of their con-gregation over their commitment to the full mission of the church. The Conservative Tribal Model. In the conservative model, lead-ers are moved by the numerical success of sect-like and restora-tionist lay movements within the contemporary church; they uncritically encourage the return to pre-Vatican II traditions-- for example, quasimonastic structures for apostolic communities, traditional religious habits, and pious customs--but with less fanaticism than nativistic leaders. Souls are to be converted to the Lord, compassion shown to the poor, but the faith/justice 3 3 2 Review for Religious apostolates are to be avoided as irrelevant and dangerous to one's consecrated vocation. Conformist-oriented candidates are encour-aged to join these tribes, particularly if they have above-average needs for security and identity. Dependency and conformity are valued "virtues" in this model as in the previous one. New forms of prayer are allowed--as, for example, in the charismatic movement--provided they do not lead to involve-ment in the social-justice apostolate. Asceticism is an esteemed virtue, but within the narrow limits of the individual's journey to the Lord or as a way of encouraging him or her to submit to authority and the congregational status quo. Liberation theology and inculturation are considered dangerous "leftist" ideologies, and criticism of ecclesiastical restorationism is not considered necessary nor encouraged. The Millenarian Tribal Model. Millenarian movements immi-nently and dramatically expect the miraculous transformation of the world by supernatural methods. In millenarian religious tribal life, all forms of instant-holiness or inner-peace programs are .offered by tribal leaders--for example, encounter-group sessions, bodily relaxing techniques, immediate-union-with-God prayer sessions. Pastoral planning programs are formulated with the assurance that they will automatically lead to an increase in voca-tions. Often, as a sign of one's authentic conversion, in true mil-lenarian style religious indiscriminately discard as "old-fashioned" any reference to the past; thus, for example, the great spiritual traditions of Saints Teresa and John of the Cross are seen as of lit-tle or no value.Is Religious keep searching feverishly from one workshop to another for the "right leader, or spiritual/professional guru, to describe the latest way to inner peace and a firm sense of direc-tion" for themselves personally and their congregations. Try harder, they feel, and the correct miraculous technique will turn up eventually. Leaders and followers are so concerned about inner-peace and identity issues that ecclesiastical restorationism and the apostolic demands of the world are of little concern to them. The Therapeutic or "Me-istic" Tribal Model.19 In the previous tribal model, religious do have concern for the welfare of the group and its future, even though it be in an introverted way. However, group life and concern for its future are of minimal importance to the therapeutic tribal model. Tribal life is marked by individualism, excessive concern for self-fulfillment, and uncrit- May-a~une 1993 333 /trbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism ical acceptance of secular consumer or material standards. The group andits leaders exist solely to support the narcissistic, indi-vidualistic, and independent aspirations of its members. There is a paradox in this tribe: rampart individualism on the one hand and the desperate need for personal affirmation and support from other tribal members on the other. Individuals may undertake important apostolic work, but it is done with little or no reference to their religious tribal com-mitments or vision. In other words, the links between members and the corporate vision are so weak that the tribe is equivalently a social club; a typical attitude would be: "I remain in touch with my community only as long as it serves my needs." If restora-tionism is criticized, it is only because it is thought to be an obsta-cle to the pursuit of individualism and personal self-fulfillment. The prophetic corporate commitment of religious life within the church and the world has no meaning in this tribal model. The Neo-Conservative T~:ibal Model. Religious gather around leaders who were once fervent advocates of change, but have now become overly fearful of the chaos and the extremes of attempted adaptation programs they see around them. They believe that only slow, measured ox~ predictably safe apostolic adaptation to the world will achieve new expressions of religious life. Orderly pastoral planning becomes an ideology or an end in itself, not a condition for bold creative apostolic action in response to the most urgent pastoral needs of the world. There must be no diver-gences from the pastoral plan lest chaos erupt.2° "Risk is out, order is in" becomes axiomatic. It is assumed that revitalization can occur only if the whole community or congregation moves in response to agreed-to mis-sion statements and strategic pastoral planning. Intra-group ten-sions and conflict are to be avoided at all costs: "Let the province move when all are ready and willing to do so; otherwise no change is to be sanctioned." The sense of belonging to or affiliation with the congregation is viewed as more important than the struggle for the religious community to realize its primary task of prophetically challenging a secularizing world and the church. Creative religious who believe that chaos requires a more rad-ical linking between the gospel and cultures are marginalized or pressured out of the community since they threaten the group's desire for an orderly approach to refounding. The faith/justice apostolate is only lightly supported lest involvement in it disturb 334 Review for Religious the unity of the community. Any critique of restorationism is couched in unchallenging or vague tones for the same reason. The Radical Non-Conversion Tribal Model. These tribes are led by people who have a vision of a radical, social-justice program. However, because the faith values of religious life do not impinge on their consciousness, they see themselves only as social workers, activists, or enablers of others. Their view of the gospel is limited only to the procla-mation of forms of liberation. They do not see that their "contribution to lib-eration is incomplete if [they] neglect to proclaim salvation in Jesus Christ.''2t Tribal life in this model is very fragile; either people withdraw from religious life since it no longer has any meaning for them, or they remain, generally with bitterness against their congregation and the church, living The ultimate identity of religious comes from their faith in the person of Christ and his mission to the world, especially to the marginalized and powerless. highly individualistic lives, refusing any effort to work toward an authentic religious-life vision. There is an un-Gospel-like harsh-ness to their criticism of restorationism within the church. Category 2: Transformative/Refounding Tribal Model Tribes within this, category are transformative or prophetic communities recognizing that the only way out of the chaos is through radically new faith-justice, hope-inspired, corporate action in which the gospel message is directed to the most urgent needs of today. The ultimate identity of these religious tribes comes from their faith in the person of Christ and his mission to the world, especially to the marginalized and powerless. The chaos is seen in biblical and anthropological terms as potentially a graced experience--the chance to rethink the mission of religious life and the tribe's commitment to it. Hence, for exam-ple, these religious tribes struggle to be living witnesses to the radical demands of prayerful asceticism in opposition to the sym-bols of consumerism and "instant spirituality"; living witnesses to the virtue of hope in order to counter symbols that seek to May-ffune 1993 335 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism negate any redemptive and eschatological power of suffering; liv-ing witnesses to the need to dialogue with the world so as to counter the elitism/sectarianism of restorationist Catholicism; living witnesses through their lifestyle and attitudes to God's mercy, Jesus Christ, in concern for the alienated and the oppressed; living witnesses to vibrant community-life relation-ships founded on interdependence, mutuality, and faith sharing to counter the symbols of excessive individualism, abuse of author-ity/ power in society and in the church; living witnesses to a spir-ituality of involvement with the world, especially the powerless, to counter a spirituality of evasion.22 Through their imaginative, faith-oriented action they create a new founding myth of reli-gious life, a vision in which creative and prophetic action is an integral and primary quality. For these transformative tribes, it is Christ's mission that has priority, not the physical survival of the community. If they dis-cover it is God's will that they are to die, then they accept this as the chance to enter more deeply into the mystery of Christ's suf-fering and resurrection. Consequently, if people do ask to join these tribes, they are accepted only if there are well-founded hopes that these candidates have the demanding qualities of maturity to live and work on the prophetic edge of the church and the world. These communities foster within themselves prophetic or refounding persons who are able to relive within today's context the experience of the original congregational founding people. They are pained to see the void between the gospel and the needs of the world; so, like their original founding members, they move to create pastoral strategies to bridge this gulf. They, together with others in their communities, are dreamers who do. These are rest-less or liminal people in the sense that they are on the edge of what is considered to be the "correct or predictable" way of being reli-gious; they are prepared to critique everything according to gospel values. Not surprisingly, therefore, they and their communities evoke anxiety within tribal groups of category 1; their vision is too threatening so marginalization, tribulation, and suffering are their inevitable lot (as has commonly been the case with founding peo-ple of religious communities over the centuries).23 These apostolically risk-oriented leaders and prophetic tribes maintain their zeal only as long as they prayerfully admit to their own inner powerlessness without the grace of God. Once they allow their own attachment.s to the predicable to go, they repeat- 336 Review for Religious edly rediscover, as did the lamentation psalmists of old, that noth-ing is impossible to them through the mercy and love of the Lord.24 Restorationism is critiqued with a boldness of apostolic faith, love, and compassion because they take to heart the fact that "Christ summons the church., to that continual reforma-tion of which she always has need, insofar as she is an institution of [people] here on earth.''2s Conclusion In the centuries immediately before Vatican II, religious life had become a bastion of the unchanging status quo within the church. We even called it the "religious state." But by its origins it .was never intended to be something static, but an ongoing expe-rience of prophetically becoming in reaction to the ever-changing apostolic needs of the world. Once religious say they "have got it all together," then they have lost their passion for creative gospel life. Today, Paul VI said, the "split between the gospel and culture is without a doubt the drama of our time,''z6 so religious to be true to the original founding myth must be at the cutting edge of the gospel and culture. This is an inescapably agonizing experience, for it means cri-tiquing not just the world but also the church itsel~---a church in which the forces of restorationism are daily more visibly present. Religious life is in the stage that anthropologist Victor Turner terms liminality,27 that is, the betwixt-and-between stage; the unnecessary structural constraints of the former state of religious life have gone, and the reinvigorated founding story of prophetic action has yet to emerge with confidence. It is a stage rich in imaginative apostolic potential for the future. But it is also a dan-gerous phase for those religious who are excessively frightened of the darkness of uncertainty and ambiguity. They are tempted to flee into the false comforts of restorationism and to reengage uncritically the structures of pre-Vatican II religious life, seeing around them "nothing but prevarication and ruin"ZS--the defeatist attitude John XXIII warned us against. When this happens, these religious turn their backs on what is the most exciting and prophetically stimulating period for religious life in centuries. May-~une 1993 337 Arbuckle ¯ Prophecy or Restorationism Notes ' R. Linton, The Study of Man: An Introduction (Appleton-Century- Crofts, 1936), p. 231. 2 Edward Hall, Beyond Culture (New York: Doubleday/Anchor, 1976), p. 43 3 Johannes Metz,F0110wers of Christ: The Religious Life and the Church (Exeter: Burns and Oates/New York: Paulist, 1978), p. 12; see also an analysis of the prophetic nature of religious life by D. O'Murchu, Religious Life: A Prophetic Vision (Notre Dame: Ave Maria, 1991). 4 See G. Arbuckle, Earthing the Gospel: An Inculturation Handbook for the Pastoral Worker (London: Geoffrey Chapman/Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1990), pp. 26-43; see also M. Eliade, The Myth of the Eternal Return (New York: Bollingen/Pantheon, 1954), chap. 1. s See Arbuckle, Out of Chaos: Refounding Religious Congregations (New York: Paulist/London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1988), pp. 68-77. 6 See "The Church in the Modern World," The Documents of Vatican II, ed. Walter Abbott (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1966), §44; for expla-nations see Arbuclde, Earthing the Gospel, pp. 15-20. 7 See "The Church," §40f. 8 See M. Douglas, Natural Symbols: Explorations in Cosmology (New York: Pantheon, 1970), p. 38. 9 See Arbuckle, Out of Chaos, pp. 14-28. ,0 See explanations by Norman Cohn, The Pursuit of the Millennium (New York: Oxford Un!versity, 1970). ~l For an overview of world fundamentalism see Concilium, no. 3, 1992. ¯ ,2 "Reemergence of Fundamentalism in the Catholic Church," in The Fundamentalist Phenomenon, ed. N. Cohen (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1990), p. 174. ~3 "Fundamentalism in Its Global Contours," ibid, p. 63. ,4 See overview of Catholic fundamentalism by T. O'Meara, Fundamentalism: A Catholic Perspective (New York: Paulist, 1990), passim, and Patrick Arnold, "The Rise of Catholic Fundamentalism," in America, 11 April 1987, pp. 298-302. *s See Arbuclde, Earthing the Gospel, pp. 187-220. ,6 For an analysis of the nature and usefulness of anthropological mod-els see L.C. Luzbetak, The Church and Cultures (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1988), pp. 135-139. ,7 Final Document, Conference of Latin American Bishops, 1979, § 826. ~8 See T. Merton, "Cargo Cults in the South Pacific," in America, vol. 121, no. 5, 1969, p. 96. ,9 See a fuller development by Arbuclde, "Suffocating Religious Life: A New Type Emerges," in The Way Supplement 65 (1989): 26-39. 338 Review for Religious 20 For insights into the dangers of overplanning see R. Stacey, Managing Chaos (London: Kogan Page, 1992), pp. 43f., 208. 2, Evangelii Nuntiandi, 1975, §47. zz See Arbuclde, Strategies for Growth in Religious Life (New York: Alba House, 1986), p. 41. 23 See J. Lozano, Foundresses, Founders, and Their Religious Families (Chicago: Claret, 1983), pp. 65-70. 24 See Arbuclde, Change, Grief and Renewal in the Church OgVestminster, Md.: Christian Classics, 1991), pp. 61-107. 2s "Decree on Ecumenism," Abbott, §6. 26 Ibid, §20. 27 See V. Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (New York: Aldine, 1969), p. 95. For a summary of Turner's insight into limi-nality see Arbuclde, Earthing the Gospel, pp. 74f. 28 "Open!ng Speech to the Council," Abbott, p. 712. Will He? Veils gone, Securities gone, "Respect" gone. Adulation and ~. Convent-mysteries All gone. Can I sing my Song of Songs to Him In the rags of who I really am ? Will He love me still? Without my baubles And my cover-ups, Will He still love me? Crushed in His arms, 0 wonder of it all! I came to know That, in my poverty, He loves me Twice as much! Maxine Inkel SL May-~'ane 1993 339 DIANNE BERGANT Would That All Were Prophets witnessing In 1989 the joint assembly of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (LCWR/CMSM) drew up ten charac-teristics of the "transformative" religious life of the future. The first of these, prophetic witness, is described as fol-lows: "Being converted by the example of Jesus and the values of the gospel, religious in the year 2010 will serve a prophetic role in church and society. Living this prophetic witness will include critiquing societal and eccle-sial values and structures, calling for systemic change, and being converted by the marginalized with whom we serve." The following reflections have been prompted by this statement. "Behold, I am doing a new tbing" (Is 43:19) Before we discuss prophetic witness, we should briefly consider prophetic insight: Why is prophetic insight needed? Where does it originate? Prophetic insight is born in times of crisis, in its basic Greek meaning of decision and not its popular-usage meaning of misfortune or distress. In a time of crisis, a community is at a turning point and needs some kind of decisive direction--or the community should be at a turning point but, failing to recognize this, needs someone to call it to repentance and reform, to conver- Dianne Bergant CSA presented the substance of this article in a talk to the chapter members of her congregation, the Sisters of St. Agnes. Her address is Catholic Theological Union: 5401 S. Cornell Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60615. 340 Review for Religious sion, to turning. But, of course, a community is not always at some kind of crossroads; and, if it is relatively faithful to its nature and ideals so that its members encourage and inspire each other, it may not need, for the time being, any distinct and indepen-dent prophetic insight. When prophetic insight is needed, where will it come from? One cannot casually assume it in oneself; not every member of the community is blessed with it. While it is the fruit of a very personal relationship with God, it includes perceptive insight into the reli-gious implications of "the signs of the times," an insight that calls for decision and usually for some kind of change. Prophetic insight is lit by the flame of passionate attachment to the religious tradi-tion. It is critical, not for the sake of being critical, but for the sake of the word of God. Illumined by this word, it perceives either the faithfulness of believers to their religious identity or a lessening or lack of this faith-fulness. It sees clearly what people should embrace within society in order to deepen their commitment to life and to God, and it sees what they should avoid. Prophetic insight assesses the values of contemporary society with eyes of discerning faith, recogniz-ing any distortions and, on the other hand, relating society's authentic values to their divine source. The biblical prophets did not call for change for the sake of change. They spoke out when they were convinced that their communities were in peril. They were often alone as they chal-lenged the institutions and practices that limited and sometimes shattered the lives of their communities. At times the threat fac-ing .their communities was evident to all. For example, King Ahaz was well aware of his predicament when Isaiah warned him against Assyrian entanglement (Is 7), as was King Zedekiah when Jeremiah spoke to him (Jr 27). At other times the threat was more insidi-ous, and the community seemed oblivious of its surrender to seductions that compromised its religious identity. We read that Amos condemned the Israelites for disregarding their covenant responsibilities in favor of material prosperity and that Hosea denounced the people of his day for yielding to the religious prac-tices of the Canaanites. The prophets seem always to have been Prophetic insight is lit by the flame of passionate attachment to the religious tradition. May-June 1993 341 Bergant ¯ IVould That All Were Prophets convinced that the situation had to change because it threatened the community's relationship with God. Prophetic insight and satisfaction with the status quo are seldom compatible. The prophets usually found themselves in conflict with offi-cial leaders. This was not because they disdained authority or authoritative organization, but because the leaders were respon-sible for public policy and for the social and religious structures that supported that policy. Therefore, when those in responsible positions failed to lead as the religious tradition directed them or when the policies and structures themselves created divisions of privilege or marginality, the prophets denounced the status quo and called the community to a new vision. They seldom, if ever, proposed specific new approaches to the problems. They were the visionaries, not the policy makers. They were the ones who called for a new society; others would work to fashion such a society in line with the prophetic insight. We must not confuse prophetic with apocalyptic, which also grows out of a dissatisfaction with the prevailing situation. Prophetic insight, whether it is reassuring people of divine com-passion and care or warning them of God's indignation and jus-tice, is fundamentally positive. It knows that human history with all its possibilities, challenges, and risks is the matrix within which the reign of God takes shape. Down amid social, economic, and political reality, such insight is neither ignorant of nor removed from the needs, aspirations, movements, and accomplishments of society, for it believes that it is within society that God is revealed. A genuine prophetic spirit is fashioned and enlivened by the ener-gies of the day. It is not a spirit of the past or, for that matter, of the future, but of the present. It knows that God is immanent and continually involved in the lives and history of people here and now. No event, no moment in time, is beyond the realm of God's activity. Authentic prophetic i,nsight insists that human beings can indeed influence the course of history and, with divine assistance, can bring .to birth the reign of God. "Apocalyptic" comes from the Greek word for revelation. Since it refers to a divine message about the end of the world, in the minds of many it is associated with prophecy. It maintains that the world and all within it must be purged before it can enjoy that for which God intended it, and it believes that this purgation will be individual, social, and cosmic. For this reason an apocalyptic atti-tude is fundamentally pessimistic. It not only challenges but rejects 342 Review for Religious the prevailing social, economic, and political reality. It does not encourage involvement in the world in order to transform it. Instead, it advocates separation from the world in order to pre-vent contamination. An apocalyptic point of view contends that sinful history is ultimately and exclusively under divine control, and therefore it awaits the defeat of evil and the triumph of good-ness. It believes that only after purgation will the new age appear and God's reign be victorious and unchallenged. While prophetic fervor drives people into the marketplace (for example, Jesus going from village to village proclaiming the reign of God), apocalyptic zeal frequently bids them escape into the desert (for example, the Essenes of Qumr~n waiting for the reign of God to come). At times prophetic insight has been confused with an apostolic spirit, which also calls for decision, repentance, .and reform and is also 6ommitted to the transformation of the world. The word apos-tle comes from the Greek for "send," and it stresses the intimate relationship between t~he sender and the person sent, rather than any message that may be involved. In a veery significant way, the one sent actually represents the sender. "Those who hear you, hear me; and those who reject you, reject me" (Lk 10:16). Paul under-stood his call in this way: "So we are ambassadors for Christ, God making an appeal through us" (2 Cor 5:20). Such an intimate rela-tionship between the apostolic minister and the Lord is more than a matter of personal holiness. It is inextricably li.nked with repre-sentation of the Lord to the world. This is quite different from the situation of the prophet, where the focus is not on the person sent but on the message sent. Belief in the power of the word itself is clearly seen in a passage from Second Isaiah(55:10-11): For just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down And do not return there " till they have watered the earth, making i( fertile and fruitful, Giving seed to those who sow and bread to those who eat, So shall my word be that comes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it. Insisting on these distinctions does not suggest that an apos-tle cannot also be prophetic Or that a prophet may not at times May-June 1993 343 Bergant ¯ Would That All Were Prophets entertain an apocalyptic attitude. Rather, it is to point out that these perspectives are in fact different from each other. "Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy" (J1 3:1) The LCWR/CMSM statement speaks of conversion, critique, and change, language that implies that religious life is indeed at a crossroads. It further claims that "religious in the year 2010 will serve a prophetic role in church and society." Such a claim pre-sumes that an entire body of people will enjoy a kind of insight When the community finds itself at a crossroads, prophetic witness becomes more crucial and even more complex, because there is ambiguity among the members regarding it. that is normally not communal. This prompts us to ask: How can we ascribe prophetic witness to the whole group without compromising the power of unique prophetic insight? In answering this question, we must remember that religious commu-nities are made up of the daughters and sons of foundresses and founders, who critiqued the dominant social and reli-gious cultures of their times and found them wanting and who, as a result, brought new vision and devised new ways of living in the world and in the church. They frequently called for repentance and reform; they always called for decision. Their visions, their insights, became the charisms of their religious families. Because these charisms were always in some way prophetic, fidelity to tMm will always result in a form of prophetic witness. This will be true even when a community does not face a time of crisis, for devoted living out of the founding charism is the fundamental prophetic ideal to which members always commit themselves. Rededication to the ideals of the com-munity does not always call for prophetic insight, but it always demands faithful commitment. However, when the community finds itself at a crossroads, prophetic witness becomes more crucial and even more complex, because there is ambiguity among the members regarding it. It may be that social changes call for a new and contemporary inter-pretation of the founding charism (for example, the early Christian controversy regarding the admission of the Gentiles and the 344 Review for Religqous observance of the Law [Acts 16]). When this is the case, a com-munity faces a serious challenge. It must choose which guidelines to follow in critiquing the social change itself, and it must decide how the integrity of the charism can be guaranteed even as it is reinterpreted. The community as a group must discern how to address this challenge faithfully, and communities do not always achieve consensus on such matters without difficulty. On the other hand, the group may have lost its prophetic edge and may be itself in need of prophetic critique. Such a cri-tique should come from within the community, from an insider who knows the charism intimately and can bring its challenge to bear upon prevailing community understandings that are inade-quate. But who can perceive and articulate the hopes and ideals of the community in such a way as to speak both to it and for it? The community must discern this matter as well. (An example of such a dilemma is the ill-fated clash between the prophets Jeremiah and Hananiah [Jer 28].) Since the charism is to be found within the group and not merely in the intuitions of one individ-ual, the community must be able to recognize itself in the insights of its perceptive member or members. The task of a community at a crossroads is twofold: (1) a crit-ical examination of "the signs of the times" in order to discern the real religious needs of the moment and (2) a thorough anal-ysis of its established religious institutions and practices in order to discover their underlying traditional religious value. Only after such examination and analysis can the community hope to bring to bear on contemporary needs the traditional religious values that flow from its charism. It is not enough to approach this task with faith and commitment. Serious examination, rigorous eval-uation, and faithful yet imaginative reinterpretation are required, all of which call for extensive information, keen insight, and cre-ative visioning on the part of each member and the community as a whole. Not every member will be proficient at each step in this analysis and reinterpretation, but if each member has been formed in the founding charism, everyone will be able to enter into the process in a thoroughly beneficial manner. It is in this way that prophetic witness can be ascribed to the whole group without compromising the power of unique prophetic insight. "Behold, I make all things new" (Rv 21:5) Time and again we have heard it said that we are in the midst of a paradigm shift. May-June 1993 345 Bergant ¯ WouM That All Were Prophets Actually, because of the complexity of today's world, we are under-going the radical shift of m~iny paradigms. The ways in which we understood the world, society, human endeavor, and theology seem no longer adequate to meet and interpret the realities now facing us. The presuppositions of the modern world with its tech-ntlogic~ il achievements and its hierarchical manner 6f manage-ment are being seriously challenged. We ai'e standing on the threshold of the postmodern world, and yet we remain caught in many of the paradigms of the past. For example, we know that the patterns of growth and pros-perity which have provided many of us in the Western world with the benefits of material comfort can no longer be sustained at the same rate or for the same number of people as has been the case till now. One reason for this is that we are depleting our available material resources and are doing little or nothing to replenish them. There are limits to the environment's ability to sustain the kind of lifestyle to which the Western world has grown accus-tomed. Nature may be able to endure a certain amount of imbal-ance, but if its tolerance is exceeded it can no longer be expected to sustain our life. Despite our realization of this fact, we are still caught in a lifestyle that requires an inordinate amount of fuel for heating and for travel, of water for cooling, of paper for com-munication, and so forth. Another reason that we can no longer sustain our present pat-terns of gro.wth and prosperity is that we no~ realize that our privileged lifestyle has often been secured at the expense of the human rights of others. Frequently we are able to procure what we need or what we want at bargain prices only because workers that provide us with these products are paid wages far below what they need in order to live with dignity and hope. We already fight wars over land and the control of natural resources and at the expense of vulnerable people and nations. Still, we continue to live relatively comfortable lives while professing to be in solidar-ity with the disadvantaged. On another issue, we reject any androcentric or misogynist anthropological view that regards women as derivative. We refuse to consider ourselves natural followers rather than leaders, sup-porters rather than directors, dependents rather than providers. We have become sensitized to language and imagery that explic-itly insults, subtly minimizes, or completely disregards women. And yet at times we ourselves employ the very strategies of priv- 346 Review for Religious ilege and control, both among ourselves and with others that we believe relegated us to positions of subservience in the first place. In yet another area we are engaged in ministerial situations that call for a high degree of resilience and include extensive trav-eling. Ours is a kind of itinerant existence which demands that rootedness, a feature that is essential for any sound life, be found somewhere else than in a particular place. Despite this we are often efltangled in concepts of community that are more fitted to a sedentary lifestyle than a peripatetic one. . Finally, we have committed ourselves to the transformation of the world, a world that seems bent on greed and power and on violence in order to preserve privilege. We have taken on min-istries of advocacy; direct social service; ecological, peace, and justice activism; and the influencing of policy on all .levels of gov-ernment, and we carry out these ministries in dangerous circum-stances. We have committed ourselves to uncommon selflessness. All the same, we are often caught in the contemporary preoccu-pation with our own health, both physical and spiritual; the sur-vival of our group and our institutions, even at the price of compromised ideals; and the glorification of personal and pro-fessional accomplishments. None of the above is done hard-heartedly. Rather, things have changed either so rapidly or so imperceptibly that we have had neither the time nor the insight carefully to analyze either the old models that governed us or the new ones that are emerging. Nonetheless, we have already taken upon ourselves the task of fashioning an alternative way of living in the world, and if we are to be faithful to this commitment, we will have to examine seri-ously not only what we do but also how we do it. We will have to learn anew that the reign of God is more a process than~a prod-uct. It is brought to birth not so much in what we do as in the way we do it. Although it is in the world, it is not of the world, and this includes the world's systems and strategies. In order to bring this reign to birth, we must first acknowl-edge that this same world has played an active role in forming us into the people we have become. We possess many of its features (for example, our political and economic values), and we carry the effects of its history (for example, our inherited preferences and prejudices). Although it plays sugh a formative role in our lives, we are not always aware of the ways in which our particu-lar worldview promotes our own well-being and enhances our May-.l~une 1993 347 Bergant ¯ IVould That All 14Zere Prophets lives. It is very easy to take for granted the attitudes and mores into which we have been socialized and to presume that they and only they offer a way of dignified human living. Yet how will we be able to transform the world if we are not even aware of how We must listen to the marginal, not because their way of living and coping is better than ours, but because they help us to see what is wrong with a system that makes people marginal in the first place. much we are embedded in that world and its values, and how much that world and its values are embedded in us? Usually it is only when people feel restricted or in some way diminished (in other words, when they are not members of the dominant or influential group of the culture) that they question the justice of the restriction and then of the underlying rea-sons for it or for the continuation of it. This explains why those who suffer oppression or who are relegated to marginality or invis-ibility within a group are sometimes better critics of that group than are those who are privileged and satisfied. We must listen to the marginal, not because their way of liv-ing and coping is better than ours, but because they help us to see what is wrong with a system that makes people marginal in the first place. But even this may not be enough. We may need someone's prophetic insight to uncover for us our own complicity with such systems and with the world that we hope to transform. We may need to listen to the voices in the world and in the church that offer us insights that, left to our own devices, we may not be able to gain; voices that call for authentic collaboration rather than subtle control, for willing cooperation rather than self-interested competition, for genuine interdependence rather than aloof independence or inappropriate dependence, for gra-cious mutuality rather than uncompromising domination, for uni-versal justice rather than selective exploitation, for unaffected respect rather than veiled disdain, for tender compassion rather than detached indifference, for the reign of God rather than busi-ness as usual. This paper ends where it began, with the challenge of the LCWR/CMSM statement: "Being converted by the example of Jesus and the values of the gospel, religious in the year 2010 will 348 Review for Religious serve a prophetic role in church and society." The task before us appears monumental, but then we are taking on the whole world. Like our predecessors in their own periods of crisis, in many ways we are in uncharted waters, but they did not drown--so why should we expect to? We are being called upon to address urgent human needs that are not only social but also religious in nature. As we work to transform the world, we are bringing to birth the reign of God. Added to this challenge is the task of developing a contemporary theological understanding of who we are and what we are doing. We may still claim meaningful religious traditions that informed us in the past, but our conventional expression of these traditions is not always helpful in the postmodern world that we face. Despite all of this, we believe that we have been called by God and that we are the heirs of a prophetic charism. We are convinced that we must be steadfast in what we do, without being unyielding. We must be bold as we face the unknown, with-out being foolhardy. We must be confident of the pervasive power of God's love, without being presumptuous. We must be creative as we face the future, without being forgetful of the past. In all of this we must be genuinely humble, for after all it is God who promises: "Behold, I make all things new" (Rv 21:5). Letterto a Friend on Her Return from Retreat in a Hermitage Don't be afraid; you bring the forest and the trees back with you. Deer roam the corners of your room; shadows hang upon the curtdins, crouch playfully upon the pane. Healing is not out there; it's within if it's at all. Deep nights and double days, the soft wool throw of quiet. Peace: you carry it with you like persistent pink impatiens in your heart. Ann Maureen Gallagher IHM May-June 1993 349 PAUL J. PHILIBERT Committed Christian Secularity tkniS difficult to profess a Christian lifestyle that is very little own and largely misunderstood, but my hope is that secu-lar institutes will become better known and much more appreci-ated. In this article I argue that the consecrated life of the professed secular Christian is the most vivid example of the ide-als of Christian living in the secular world that were put forward at Vatican Council II. In the light of this council's theology, one would expect church leaders to illustrate the radical meaning of baptism by speaking at every opportunity of'the ideals and prac-tice of members of secular institutes. Yet four years ago, when Pope John Paul II spelled out in his apostolic exhortation Christifideles Laici the "vocation" and "mission" of the lay faithful in the church and in the world, he made only the briefest refer-ence to secular institutes: In the field of a "commonly shared" lay vocation, "spe-cial" lay vocations flourish. In this area we can also recall the spiritual experience of the flourishing of diverse forms of secular institutes that have developed recently in the church. These offer the lay faithful, and even priests, the possibility of professing the evangelical coun-sels of poverty, chastity, and obedience through vows or promises, while fully maintaining one's lay or clerical state.~ Many diocesan bishops in the United States appear to be unaware of the meaning of secular institutes or unconcerned about their development. What, we may ask, does this lacuna in the ordinary teaching of the church actually mean? Paul J. Philibert oP is prior provincial of the Southern Dominican Province. His address is 3407 Napoleon Avenue; New Orleans, Louisiana 70125. 350 Revie'w for Religious One can start the assessment by noting that the present papal administration seems to be distancing itself from some of the reformist orientations of the council. For so long have we been dividing recent church history into two periods called "concil-iar" and "postconciliar" that we have failed to recognize a more complex reality which needs to be named. Like many others, I would divide these years into three periods: 1963-1965, the "con-ciliar" years, during which the council was in session; 1965 until the death of Pope Paul VI in 1978, the "postconciliar" years, dur-ing which the Vatican and most Catholic bishops endeavored to implement the liturgical and pastoral reforms of the council; and, since 1978, a period of "ecclesiastical reassessment" during the pontificate of John Paul II. One of the council fathers, who is now a retired archbishop, has said, "The council rejected triumphalism (the church has all the answers), clericalism (the church is a pyramid), and legalism (church teachings presented as laws). The church is in the mod-ern world as are its ministers. There is no retreating to being people of another world.''2 Yet, to a greater or lesser degree, all three of these orientations--triumphalism, clericalism, and legal-ism-- are creeping back into the attitudes and utterances of some church leaders. Some describe the present tendency of the Vatican as "restoration," that is, an orientation to restore things to the way they were before Vatican II. That may be too extreme a judgment, even though one can understand why some think that way. Different observers account for this retrenchment from the "postconciliar" period in different ways. Some have observed that a significant motivation for this papal administration has been to avoid schism with the Lefebvrites and other ultraconservative Catholics; they say that the Vatican has been bending .over back-wards to avoid alienating those who pretend that Vatican II never happened. Others suggest that some high officials in the Vatican believe that much that came out of the council was mistaken in its orientation and must be replaced with the preconciliar solutions. Probably more accurate is the view that many of the documents of Vatican II are compromise statements that contain the seeds of tension that are now sprouting and bearing the fruit of division and conflict over some basic notions of church. Tlie major orientations of this pontificate that seem to touch on secular institutes are centralization and institutional nostal- May-June 1993 351 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity The major orientations of this pontificate that seem to touch on secular institutes are centralization and institutional nostalgia. gia. Regarding centralization, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that some heads of Vatican congregations think that incultura-tion and diversity of practice have gotten out of hand. Cardinal Ratzinger is reported as saying that national organizations of bish-ops have gone too far in establishing their independence of Vatican control. Some American bishops, and bishops in Holland and Germany too, have been called on the carpet and chided for statements of theirs. These are examples of what I mean by central-ization. This pontificate does not want anything to be happening in the local churches without consultation with the top. As regards institutional nostalgia, the example of religious comes to mind. The pope personally or through personal del-egates working above the level of the Roman congregations has given prefer-ential treatment to certain new, conser-vative religious institutes like the Society of St. Peter and the Legionaries of Christ as well as to some small traditionalist groups that stayed with the Roman Catholic Church at the time of the excommunication of Archbishop Lefebvre. During the summer of 1992, the Holy See granted approval to a new Council of Major Superiors of Women Religious in the United States at the request of a small number of traditionalist sisters here. (They are fewer than ten percent of the religious women in this country.) This fairly momentous decision was taken by the pope at the behest of an American cardinal arch-bishop without any consultation of the three existing church lead-ership conferences: the National Conference of Catholic Bishops, the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men. Among other interpretations, actions like these make one wonder if this pontificate is calling into question the principles and outcomes of the past thirty years of efforts at institutional renewal undertaken by the vast majority of religious in this country and in western Europe. What is being held up as a positive counterex-ample is the attitude and practice of a small number of religious who follow a regular'daily order and wear a distinctive habit. 352 Review for Religious Separation rather than transformation marks the spirit that is approved. I need to admit, of course, that mistakes and excesses did occur in the thirty years of postconciliar efforts at renewal. That is too obvious to miss. But it needs to be pointed out, I believe, that the Vatican seems now to single out for approval a simple return to the ways of the preconciliar period. This is what I mean by institutional nostalgia. Applying these observations to secular institutes, I note that their form of consecration does not fit well either with central-ization or with institutional nostalgia. They are trying new ways of implementing the church's ancient commitment to consecrated Christian life. Even though their commitment and spirituality are admirably in accord with the lay vocation and mission as described in Pope John Paul's apostolic exhortation, their juridi-cal and cultural independence place them somewhat outside the central preoccupations of this pontificate. In this context I now ask two essential questions: What is the vocation of a consecrated secular Christian? And how should it evolve? Institutes Described in the Code" of 1983 The 1983 Code of Canon Law describes secular institutes carefully. Their members share a radical commitment to Christian witness and apostolic endeavor. The charism given to secular institutes and recognized by the church is to united Christian commitment and secular presence in the world. Members remain lay or diocesan priests, even though they receive a canonical sta-tus in view of their profession of a consecrated life. The 1983 Code has abandoned the term "states of perfec-tion" and, above all, the language of Provida Mater (1947), which allowed one to think that there was a sort of hierarchy of institutes of perfection which placed members of secular institutes within a third rank. Canon 710 says: "A secular institute is an institute of consecrated life in which the Christian faithful living in the world strive for the perfection of charity and work for the sanctifica-tion of the world especially from within." The use of the cate-gory "consecrated life" allows the possibility of avoiding reference to the category "religious." In the eyes of the present Code, "reli-gious" and "seculars" are two categories of consecrated life of equal dignity. May-June 1993 353 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity Canon 713, §2, indicates that lay members, in the world and operating in a secular manner, participate in the church's evan-gelizing task in various ways: (a) by means of the witness of their Christian life, (b) by their fidelity to their profession of the evan-gelical counsels, (c) by their "efforts to order temporal things to God," and (d) by shaping the things of the world so that they are enlivened by the spirit of the gospel. "Also, they cooperate in serving the ecclesial community, according to their particular sec-ular way of life" (c. 713). Members of secular institutes are called to strive for the per-fection of charity. The ultimate purpose of secular institutes is apostolic. Their apostolate is the expression and the exercise 6f their consecration. As to lifestyle, the Code of 1983 is insistent upon the secular dimension of their living. Neither common life nor religious garb is to be imposed upon members) Consecration vs. Commitment Let us linger for a moment on the term "consecration"; it is the source of a great potential misunderstanding. Almost thirty years ago, Father M. D. Chenu (the gre, at French Dominican theologian who died in 1991) pointed out that the term "consecration" was loaded with ambiguity when employed in a context of relation or service to the world. The word, from the Latin for "to make sacred," supposes an opposition between the sacred and the profane. Is it, asked Chenu, a useful term.at precisely the moment when the Roman Catholic Church is articulating its openness to the world and its embrace of the ordinary conditions of human expe-rience (see Gaudium et Spes)? Historically the word "profane" meant "not pertaining to that which is sacred or holy," from the Latin for "outside the temple." So, Chenu argued, we would do better in this age to leave aside the term consecration, which suggests an oppo-sition to the secular (the nonsacred) and to express the intensifi-cation of a Christian life with a word like commitment.4 Chenu was at the time in search of the authentic meaning of religious life. His remark is even more pertinent to the vocation of members of secular institutes. Chief among their stated goals is to witness to the fullness of a lay vocation or (in the case of ordained members) of baptismal maturity in a world of secularity. The key issue, it seems, is how to be an active participant in sec-ular life and at the same time to be an exemplary Christian. 354 Review for Religious Secular and Christian What is authentic secular living, and what is authentic Christian witness? One of the meanings of the word secular (from the Latin saeculum, meaning "age") is "pertaining to the spirit of the age or the character of the times." This may refer to things like clothing styles and popular music, but is there a deeper mean-ing too? What is the most profound challenge of our age? I think that the answer lies somewhere within the interplay of political and religious phenomena. We are coming out from what was sometimes called "the age of alienation" or "the age of anxiety." Not that all alienation and anxiety are over and done with, but the world seems to be mov-ing out from under the cloud that threatened us for 45 years with nuclear destruction. It is amazing, now that the Cold War is ended, that there is not more acknowledgment and analysis of the waste of wealth on arms of cosmic destructive power. If the trillions of dollars spent on armaments in the past five decades had been available for peaceful solutions to world problems, we could have eliminated illiteracy and starvation and attacked poverty and disease. We were victims of irrational fear for fifty years; now that period is passing. The demise of the major communist governments is another symbol of a changing age. The irony is that Karl Marx devised the philosophy of communism as a response to "alienation"--people not being able to participate meaningfully in the economic and political processes that governed their lives. The tragedy is that the government of the Soviet Union under Lenin and Stalin became instead a totalitarian dictatorship that was even more alienating than the corrupt government to which it was reacting. Marx's issue, though--participation versus alienation--is still the issue. Here in the United States, at the end of an overlong pres-idential electoral campaign, it is not at all clear that people are pre-pared to participate vigorously in politics, We have been alienated by the media and by the deviousness of the c~ndidates themselves from truly raising or genuinely addressing the issues that are the most significant for our nation as a whole. In the religious world, participation versus alienation is like-wise a key issue. One analysis of the Second Vatican Council and its aftermath is that the dominant social reality of this age has been to promote full participation in church life--worship and administration included--to all those who, by their baptism, are May-ffune 1993 355 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity entitled to dynamic interaction within the "body of Christ." Forty years ago we would never have conceived of a woman eucharistic minister, a lay pastoral administrator, or a nonclerical chancellor of a diocese. Now we have all these things and have learned to take them for granted. Despite the fact that more progress has been made in securing entitlements to church office for lay people in general and women in particular in the past fifty years than in the previous fifteen hun-dred years, there is nonetheless strong agitation for even more par-ticipation, includinglthe ordination of Catholic women to priestly service. It can be argued that to be authentically "secular" today is to take a stand for the promotion of rightful participation of all persons in the structures, processes, and decisions that shape their lives and shape the communities in which they live. Authentic Secularity Authentic secularity includes three Cs: conversation, com-passion, and conversion. Social psychologists have argued that people enter into a new form of relation when they treat others not as strangers or inferiors, but equals. This is what I mean by "conversation." A conversation is marked by give-and-take, by listening as well as speaking, receiving as well as giving. This atti-tude, when adopted intentionally, empowers others. It opens us to the perspective of another despite distances of role and situation. It favors the understanding and fellow feeling that we generally call "compassion." Living this relation of conversation and com-passion promotes experiences of "conversion." Here conversion means for me a reorientation that makes us eager to promote the growth and freedom of others. By this conversion, one becomes an agent of liberation and a facilitator of the moral and emotional maturity of our neighbors in this world. My effort to spell out the agenda of authentic secularity in our age of transition has remained rather general and abstract, but I hope that these ideas may stimulate recognition of these patterns or possibilities in yourself. I hope you will notice that many people are still marginalized from government and the econ-omy, education and the church, and that their true well-being can be promoted through their fuller participation in these things. The promotion of such participation is a clear responsibility of those who have secular integrity .at heart. 356 Review for Religious Authentic Christian Witness Beyond secular integrity, how does one integrate authentic Christian witness with it? How is one authentically Christian today? First, I would observe that the key issue here is more akin to pol-itics than to piety. I use "politics" in Plato's classical sense, mean-ing the ethos and the discourse of a people. Of all the dynamic changes that have touched the lives of American Catholics as a result of Vatican II, none has been as important or as far-reaching as the transformation of our sense of church. We no longer see Sunday worship as sacred theater. We see that we are each church, but not as isolated consciousnesses, isolated pieties, or isolated agendas. We are church as part of an organic cooperation and growing solidarity in the gospel and in the Holy Spirit. The council's mos~t dramatic theological paradigm shift, according to most theologians, was the fresh view of the church as the people of God. This view was the fruit of decades of the-ological work, especially biblical research and exegesis, liturgical studies, and the reinstitution of adult catechesis in northern Europe in the period between the two world wars. All three of these streams of research found it important to stress the theo-logical continuity between the Old Testament and the New. The opinion that the Old Testament's God was thunderously severe and arbitrary while the New Testament's God is forgiving and gentle was seen for the simplistic misinformation that it was. Better biblical texts and better exegesis, based not upon early Latin translations, but rather upon ancient Hebrew manuscripts, allowed several generations of biblical scholars and theologians to appreciate the theology of the Old Testament for what it was, a testament of mercy and salvation. The key concept of both tes-taments, which unified the revelation of the ages, was that of a people called and saved by God from alienation and absurdity. From the call of Abraham through the story of the sons of Jacob, the Egyptian slavery and the exodus, the kingships and the exile, and the times of the prophets and the remnant, one message dom-inated salvation history. God called and chose a people to become his very own so that they could bear witness in their very existence to his transcendent reality and mercy. The theology of Vatican II places this truth above all others, forcing other themes of theology and other pastoral insights to adjust to it. God calls a people to be the visible expression of God's way with the real. The descendents of Jacob, Israel, heard May-.l~une 1993 357 Pbilibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity In Jesl, ls ~ God was again calling a people to be his own--. this time a people so closely identified with Jesus the Lord as to be calledhis "Body." (despite disbelief and temptation) and were haunted by God's call until they became the Judaism of history. Jesus came to call them into an intimate relation of love, forgiveness, and transformation by revealing the mystery of the triune God. But many of them rejected the Messiah Jesus, and the story of God's people reached a new moment in the followers of Jesus. These followers carried the "good news" to the nations, while Israel "hardened its heart" once again. But the fundamental truth did not change: in Jesus, God was again calling a people to be his own--this time a,~ people so closely identified with Jesus the Lord as to be called his "Body." It may be that in this theological insight lies the greatest challenge of all for members of secular institutes. For reasons largely associated with the ori-gins of secular institutes in hostile, anti-clerical societies, the institutes adopted the principle of discretion or reserve. One characteristic of this is that the members are not to lead a lifestyle pub-licly distinct from that of their neigh-bors. Part of their "secularity" is their immersion in the ordinary. A public religious profession or an unusual lifestyle would deny institute members access to the are-nas of.activity and witness in which they hope to use their apos-tolic energies: the place of work, casual neighborhood conversations, and the deliberations of university faculties, gov-ernment agencies, and community assemblies. This kind of anonymity--not publicizing their secular- institute commitment-- need not keep members from active involvement in a local parish's liturgical and apostolic life, but institutes differ in encouraging their members to lend their energies to the shared life and apos-tolic projects of their parish community. An authentic Christian life, however, is, as I said above, an ecclesial life. The institute members must always reflect the call of God to all Christians to be part of the people, of God and to give solid witness to God's presence and mercy in the midst of a hurting world. Therefore, they need to guard against such things as escapism, a piety .that is self-absorbed rather than apostolic, 358 Revie~ for Religious and a manner of liturgical participation that avoids involvement with the worshiping community. The ministry of reconciliation and atonement of the Lord Jesus can be seen as a work of solidarity with those who had become alienated from the forgiving and empowering word of his Father. As Vatican II's Constitution on Divine Revelation puts it, "Jesus perfected revelation by fulfilling it through his whole work of making himself present and manifesting himself: through his words and deeds, his signs and wonders, but especially through his death and glorious resurrection from the dead and final send-ing of the Spirit of truth." The central challenge to our moment of time from the gospel is that of visibly joining the dynamics of faith and of social trans-formation. I have been trying to evoke a general sense of the issues that are involved in this joining. But now it is time to turn to the admirable text of Pope John Paul II that followed upon the synod of bishops of 1987 and in which he summarizes the synod's theological insights. Christifideles Laici At the heart of the pope's message in Christifideles Laici is the assertion that lay Christians can bring to the frontiers of society a presence of the church that is unique. As the council's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church Says, "The laity are called in a spe-cial way to make the church present and operative in those places and dircumstances where only through them can she become the salt of the earth" (§33).5 It is the secular insertion of the laity that is the treasured aspect of their witness, in the pope's analysis. He says, "In particular, the lay faithful are called to restore to creation all its original value. In ordering creation to the authentic well-being of humanity in an activity governed by the life of grace, they share in the exercise of the power with which the risen Christ draws all things to himself and subjects them along with himself to the Father, so that God might be everything to everyone" (§14). The pope interprets the secular character of the lay Christian as a theological dimension of the experience of being Christian. It involves living in the world and transforming it through the exer-cise of "every one of the secular professions and occupations." It involves their relationships with family, friends, professionals, members of society, and authorities of the civil order. May-June 199.~ 359 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity The pope's theological affirmation appears to be that living and working in the context of ordinary reality from motives of faith in God and love for our human fellows is in itself an exercise of grace with the power to influence and ennoble human exchanges. The pope makes an unusually strong statement in saying: The images of salt, light, and leaven taken from the gospel, although indiscriminately applicable to all Jesus' disciples, are specifically applied to the lay faithful. They are partic-ularly meaningful images because they speak not only of the deep involvement and the full participation of the lay faithful in the affairs of the earth, the world, and the human community, but also and above all they tell of the radical newness and unique character of an involvement and par-ticipation which has as its purpose the spreading of the gospel that brings salvation (§ 15). The pope goes on to emphasize that a member of the lay faithful cannot remain in isolation from the community, but must live in an interaction with others that builds up the church. With reference to the church's liturgy, the pope says, "The various min-istries, offices, and roles that the lay faithful can legitimately ful-fill in the liturgy, in the transmission of the faith, and in the pastoral structure of the church ought to be exercised in confor-mity to their specific lay vocation, which is different from that of the sacred ministry" (§23). At the heart of lay people's ecclesial life is the parish, which is the symbol and the realization of the community of Christians. The pope reports that at the synod the bishops, in their discus-sions about renewing parishes, proposed two approaches: (1) "adaptation of parish structures according to the full flexibility granted by canon law, especially in promoting participation by the lay faithful in pastoral responsibilities"--so as to respond to situations where parishes have become geographically too large or where exiles and migrants demand specific pastoral responses (such as ministry in languages foreign to the place); and (2) devel-oping "small, basic or so-called 'living' communities where the faithful can communicate the word of God and express it in ser-vice and love to one another; these communities are true expres-sions of ecclesial co~nmunion and centers of evangelization in communion with their pastors" (§26). Thus the pope links the renewal of the parish to the expanded role of the lay faithful in the ani~nation and development of parish communities and the foundation of base communities alongside 360 Review for Religious and within the structure of existing parishes. Clearly, the need to find new forms of relationship that call to faith and celebrate faith within the neighborhood or the village is at one and the same time a diagnosis of the church's weakness today and a challenging mission for committed lay people. The pope, stating that the council insisted upon "the absolute necessity of an apostolate exercised by the individual [lay Christian]" (§28), then cites the following text of the council: The apostolate exercised by the individual--which flows abundantly from a truly Christian life (see Jn 4:14)--is the origin and condition of the whole lay apostolate, even in its organized expression, and admits no substitute. Regardless of circumstance, all lay persons (including those who have no opportunity or possibility for collaboration in associations) are called to this type of apostolate and obliged to engage in it. Such an apostolate is useful at all times and places, but in certain circumstances it is the only one avail-able and feasible.~ The pope's letter says much about the possibilities for holiness in committed lay life, but here I will include only some summary comments taken from its closing pages. A key preoccupation of Pope John Paul is to foster unity between everyday life and faith experience. He speaks of the need to evangelize the cultures within which we live. In part this means finding a place (in conversation and in social action) for the gospel values that the church preaches. Lives that integrate prayer, con-templation, and liturgical and sacramental life are a witness to the divine origin of our life and our world. The pope urges a readiness to take part in church programs and activities at local, national, and international levels. He indicates the crucial need for capable persons to commit themselves to catechesis and religious teaching. He urges people to organize gatherings and meetings focused upon a Christian analysis of family, civic, and social expe-rience. Finally, he mentions the value of a spirit of detachment and generosity and the power of the witness of poverty in a world " that is seduced by the power of materialism. John Paul then calls for a "reevangelization" of the Catholic and Christian world; we need, he says, to "remake the Christian fabric of the ecclesial community itself. This will be possible if the lay faithful will know how to overcome in themselves the separation of the gospel from life, to again take up in their daily activities in family, work, and society an integrated approach to life May-.~ne 1993 361 Philibert ¯ Committed Christian Secularity that is fully brought about by the inspiration and strength of the gospel" (§34). Earlier I noted how odd I find it that this lengthy document refers only briefly to secular institutes. I will not dwell further on that point. I observe, however, two things on the relation between secular institutes and the pope's apostolic exhortation on the laity: (1) I think this papal document is an extraordinarily well-crafted exposition of the meaning of the life of the vows for members of secular institutes. What they effectively commit them-selves to is an intense baptismal transformation as spelled out in the documents of Vatican II and summarized in the pope's letter. (2) The papal teaching here takes us a step further. The mem-bers of secular institfites must be committed to fostering the Christian life of their friends and neighbors. There is a mission-ary dimension to their vocation--towards their neighbor and towards the common culture within which they live and celebrate together. Although I have no firsthand experience of living the life of secular institutes, I have come as an interested outsider to the study of this dedicated form of life. My hope is not to answer ques-tions and close off discussion, but to raise questions and open new avenues of dialogue. I feel that secular institutes, especially in the United States, have a great opportunity. The church needs evan-gelical guidelines to help people grow in personal holiness and in effective witness to all the people around them. And so I hope that members of secular institutes will find ways to articulate their sense of their vocation even more clearly 9nd ways to make others aware of the very existence of secular institutes and the nature of their life. The gospel warns us about keeping treasures hidden. Notes ~ John Paul II, The Lay Members of Christ's Faithful People: Christifideles Laici (Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1989), §56. 2 David M. Bulger, "Men Who Love Their Priesthood and Their Church," Touchstone (National Federation of Priests' Councils newslet-ter) 8, no. 1 (fall 1992), p. 2. The prelate in question is the Most Rev. James Martin Hayes, retired archbishop of Halifax. 3 See the helpful summary in E Valdrini, J. Vernay, J. E Durand, and O. l~chapp~, Droit Canonique (Paris: Dalloz, 1989), pp. 188-121. 362 Review 3~r Religious 4 M. D. Chenu, "Consecratio Mundi," in The Christian in the World: Readings in Theology (New York: Kenedy, 1965), pp. 161-177. 5 The Documents of Vatican H, ed. and trans. W. M. Abbot and J. Gallagher (Ne~ York: Association Press, 1966): The Dogmatic Con-stimtion on the Church, §33. 6 Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity (Apostolicam Actuositatem), §16. Loving Verbs I've always loved nouns. Neatly framed words with clear definitions. Solid, stable words that name safe things, things you can count on and hold and keep. I know now that I've been afraid of verbs. Words that do and have and are. Words that whirl past you so fast you can't catch them, that alter and change things and give ulcers to nouns . Loving verbs is like saying yes to the rollercoaster, going on but still being scared. Loving verbs is saying yes to a kaleidoscope of action and being and having and feeling. Loving verbs is saying yes to Possibility. I think it's time for me to fall in love with verbs. Christen Shukwit OSF May-~une 1993 363 prayer SUZANNE ZUERCHER and direction Liturgy of the Hours: A Reflection "Ritual is the enactment of the myth." --Joseph Campbell The reality of monastic" life has always been formed and shaped around the ritual of the Liturgy of the Hours. In his Rule for Monasteries St. Benedict devoted numerous, if brief, chapters to the content and structure of this prayer, which he called the Work of God. The Divine Office requires that monastics pause again and again, offer praise together, and then move on to the next aspect of their lives. The complete circle of the monastic day gains its momentum ahd energy by stopping for the Work of God. Many monastics no longer spend eight periods daily praying the Liturgy of the Hours. Nevertheless, the pri-ority of this liturgical prayer remains, and they continue to gather daily. For contemporary monastics, as for early ones, this form of worship best manifests what their life together is about. Early monastics were lay persons even in all-male communities, and so opportunities for daily eucharistic celebrations did not exist in many monasteries. In such a context it is understandable that Benedict would place a high priority on the Work of God, which he made the distinctive and constant form of community praise and worship. It remains the heart of monastic prayer life even in this twentieth century. Suzanne Zuercher OSB, well known for her writings and work-shops, has held both administrative and formation roles in her community. Her address is: St. Scholastica Priory; 7430 North Ridge Boulevard; Chicago, Illinois 60645. 364 Re'view for Religious In times when we are so intent on exploring what religious community really means, one place to look for the answer is in this ritual of the Liturgy of the Hours. Joseph Campbell tells us that by examining a ritual we can find out about the myth the ritual attempts to express. For this reason I would like to spend time reflecting on elements of the Divine Office as it is celebrated in monastic communities in order to better understand what com-munity means in such settings. Today's monastic communi-ties say something about who they are as they gather daily for this ritual and worship. Perhaps even they need to pay close attention to what that statement is. Are we overlooking what community life is and needs to remain by failing to examine what may well be its clearest manifestation? Initially, the most basic communication a monastic community makes by gathering for the Work of God is that their life is founded on hope. David Steindl-Rast in his book Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer distinguishes hope from optimism. A hopeful per-son lives in the present. An optimistic one looks ahead, pumping up positive feelings of how good things will be. A person of hope looks with confidence and trust into reality simply as it is right now. He or she--or they when one speaks of a community of hopeful people--finds life in ordinary, humble, actual experience. Rather than having expectations of good things to come, persons of hope have only one expectation: For those who live and wait in the present moment, life/Life will be a surprise. Monastics watch for such surprises. Ritual, Campbell also reminds us, is by its very nature boring. In its repetitiveness it fails as entertainment and distraction. Instead, ritual forces those who participate in it to search beneath the words and actions to discover the reality it gives shape to. This holds true whether worshipers are from Indonesia or Illinois. Boredom demands the deeper search for meaning beneath litur-gical action. Those who observe monastic communities repeating psalmody week after week and year after year may wonder what can possi- The most basic communication a monastic community makes by gathering for the Work of God is that their life is founded on hope. May-j%ne 1993 365 Zuercher ¯ Liturgy of the Hours bly draw them together for so repetitious a ritual. The sequential reading of Scripture, the yearly round of liturgical seasons, the consistent liturgical gestures are rhythmic, to be sure. To some, such repetition may appear empty and uncreative; but for monas-tics, whose worship is formed around this liturgy, such ordinari-ness underlines the reality of all human life and, consequently, of their life together. It calls to them, demands of them, that they look more deeply into what their lives are about. Eventually, if they are to continue to gather for the Hours, they are forced to cut through ritual to discover what that ritual signifies. It is dif-ficult, if not impossible, to endure the repetitive round of common prayer without such a breakthrough. Monastics who do not respond to this challenge to go deeper either go to sleep or despair. Sooner or later they absent them-selves psychically and physically from gatherings of the commu-nity in prayer or otherwise. Those, however, who hang, on in the face of meaninglessness can be led to the conversion at the heart of monastic commitment. Anguish and desperation can lead to rebirth and transformation in this as in other aspects of the spir-itual life. We do not willingly plumb our lives. We do so only when something demands that we move from the obvious to what that obvious is really expressing. We are forced to ask some questions: Why do we come together, stop our work, come home early, make sacrifices to be together for this time of prayer? What is the mean-ing behind what we do and say here? Do we believe all this, see it as important, even primary? Such questions are about the liturgy. But they are also, if we look closely at them, questions about community itself. Do we really see significance in using up our energies in praise of God together? Given life/Life as mystery, there is no final answer to any important human question. That is possibly why we keep asking what community is over and over again, generation after gener-ation, even though we have a Rule to guide us. Our human nature ultimately insists on experience. Experience is how we learn our answers. Liturgy of the Hours revolves around a lived experience of virtues we have all learned about which form the bedrock of the spiritual life. It makes these virtues concrete. First, we find faith in the gathering of the community, and we believe that life/Life will be found here. Then we recognize that the space in which we 366 Review for l~eligio~s gather is a sacred place where holiness will quicken us; for this we hope. And when it does bring the energy we call spirit/Spirit, we are truly one people, God's family, united in love with those who gather here and with the world of which we are a microcosm. Indeed, the place of our gathering for liturgy is sacred, but the spiritual spills over, if it is gen-uine, into all the other aspects of life: to the kitchen, the grounds, the classroom, the social agency, the hospital ward, the parish offices, the artist's studio. All are sacred places, all filled with objects and growing things and others who are sacred vessels. Benedict told his monastics to pause wherever they were in their work for God's Work, the Liturgy of the Hours, to remind themselves that everything is sacred. They were not to make life holy; they were to remind them-selves that it already is. Another element of monastic community is stability. Sometimes misunderstood as never going anywhere, stability does have something to do with being together in physical space. There is symbol in gathering. When community members come in one after another and take their places for the Work of God, their gathering together says what people want and need to hear expressed: You can count on my presence. Seeing the same per-sons gathered for prayer day after day makes real the word fidelity. The action of monastics looking around and noticing commu-nity members assembled with them is itself a form of prayer--a consoling and strengthening reminder that we wait as a people for our God (o come to save us. The monastics who gather share daily living, values, com-mitment; They are the same people who will be together in wor-ship and in all the other moments of existence as well. Praying together stands for and ritualizes all our being together. Talk and write as we will about the importance of being one in spirit, actu-ally hearing the voices and observing the silences and singing the psalmody with community members provides a needed testimony of this dedication to one another. The physical setting and its rituals offer another reflection on monastic community. As weeks pass, those who participate in the Liturgy of the Hours assume first one role in the ritual and then another. From presider to chanter, to reader, to the one who Praying together stands for and ritualizes all our being together. May-gTune 1993 367 Zuercber ¯ Liturgy of the Hours intones the various choirs, to merely being one of the group at prayer, the rhythm of life involves numerous tasks. The rhythm of monastic community is similar. One may be the prioress for a time, and then the procurator or the formation director, the gar-dener or the cook, the principal of the school or a teacher, the hospital administrator or a staff nurse. Monastics move easily and regularly throughout their lifetime in one another's company from the responsibilities of authority to those of obedience. They do so simply; it matters little in their life together what title they may have or how much prestige it carries. If today they have a larger role, yesterday they were one of the group and tomorrow they will be so again. Prolonged and consistent living among the same people pro-vides opportunity for a unique sort of learning. All the ministries monastics assume in the community and beyond it are for ser-vice, and this service changes. When a group lives in continuity with one another, moving from role to role is a normal, unim-pressive experience. Members give of their talents now in one way and now in another. The content of the Liturgy of the Hours is almost entirely scriptural. Meaning comes from the long and nourishing story of the Judeo-Christian tradition found in both Old and New Testaments. The history of redemption is larger than any indi-vidual person or any community, but Scripture provides words for the human experiences lived out by the whole group and each of its individual members. Monastics ponder the Scriptures until its words--and more importantly, the message they proclaim-- permeate their lives, are absorbed into the marrow of their bones. Body and mind and feelings soak up the liturgical seasons in their cyclic rhythm. In my own experience I once met a group of spiritual direc-tors who were to companion some monastic women on their first directed retreat. These directors expressed concern about how to introduce praying with Scripture. To their surprise, the monastics they directed not only understood the relevance of suggested pas-sages, they were able to add many others on the same theme. The directors were amazed at how steeped these women were in the concrete experiences which various Scriptures highlighted. Many of them had done litde formal scriptural study, but the constant association of the texts with their day-to-day lives had blended both together. 368 Review for Religious The simple reflection on the Gospel which the Liturgy of the Hours provides testifies to the natural, nonelaborate quality of the best of prayer, the best of living. There is design and order in the structul'e of God's Work, but medieval embellishments have been done away with in these times of ours. Monasticism is again being expressed very simply in its most basic and original form, and its prayer ritual has assumed some-thing of the natural breathing in and out of word and silence. As a result monastics experience the order and peace found when an appropriate amount of structure shapes life. It is important that what is and needs to be predictable not degenerate into rigid formalism. Monastic liturgy makes the statement that, as is true for all mature persons, mgnastics need to learn to bend with changing breezes without uprooting themselves as they do so. Perh.aps the most signifiEant statement the Liturgy of the Hours makes is that "it is good for us to be here." In the end, community is its own justification as is prayer. Religious life is valuable simply because it is. People live in community; it is the human thing to do. The kind of community people choose varies according to who they are. Monastics live their kind of commu-nity life primarily because it "fits" them. They find their whole-hess with other people who, like them, seek God, the Work of God and obedience as described in the Rule for Monasteries. When members of monastic communities live their under-standing of who they are in a whole and happy way, they cannot but witness to God's love and peace and joy. They do so simply by their lives. Of course, it is true that any whole person is called to care and to serve~ to be concerned and to work for the good of others. Monastics, therefore, find that they cannot contain what God has given them. It overflows to those around them and cre-ates yet another expression of stability in the environments in which they live. The vision of monastic community that underlies this article is idealized, to be sure. So, too, is the fantasy of perfectly carry-ing out the Liturgy of the Hours. Such perfection never happens. There are coughs and sneezes; people read too softly or too loudly, Perhaps the most significant statement the Liturgy of the Hours makes is that "it is good for us to be here." May-3~ne 1993 369 Zuercber ¯ Liturgy of the Hours too slowly or too fast. People forget to perform their assigned role in the ritual and the flow of things is upset. Differing inter-pretations about how the psalmody is to be read or sung by the group create subtle conflicts. All of these imperfections, and many more besides, limit the beauty and peace of liturgical celebration. Despite such imperfections, monastics continue to gather together for this less-than-perfect expression of a community life that is also less than perfect. They watch and wait, not knowing at what hour the Bridegroom will come in the form of some insight, some consolation, some discernment, some energy released from image or symbol, some decision to act. The Spirit blows when and where it wills. Those who wait find their quick-ening at the point of what we might Fall readiness--a readiness which differs for each person. It demands a culmination of a num-ber of life experiences to reach such a ripeness. Monastics gathered for Liturgy of the Hours never know when their individual hearts will be warmed, when the heart of the person beside them will be set on fire, when the community as a group will hear God's response to the Spirit's groaning within. But they wait, nonetheless, with a certain amount of patience and good humor for these freeing moments to occur in the world of time. This reality best describes for me what community is. It has not always been my description of our life together, but in recent years community has come to mean waiting with one another for each person's time. The ritual of Liturgy of the Hours celebrates and makes that description clear over and over, day after day. It, indeed, enacts the reality we struggle to define, the myth of reli-gious community. 370 Review for Religious KENNETH C. RUSSELL Get Serious! The Monastic Condemnation of Laughter /~,n, chapter six of his famous rule, St. Benedict bluntly forbids talk leading to laughter,''1 Later he notes that a monk has reached .the tenth step of humility when "he is not given to ready laughter:, for it is written: 'Only a fool raises his voice in laughter'" (Si 21:23).2 This condemnation of mirth is not, we must note, some oddity that can be explained away on the basis of Benedict's personal history or the troubled period in which he lived. His outright condemnation of the joviality we applaud was echoed in other monastic rules and in the critical comments of church fathers such as St. Ephrem and St. John Chrysostom.3 This harsh attitude toward laughter seems strange to us and even downright unhealthy. The early spiritual masters frowned on laughter; we, on the contrary, are suspicious of seriousness. ' In today's world all truth is spoken with a smile, as Horace rec-ommended, and Woody Allen, despite his recent troubles, is the only Hamlet we are willing to tolerate. Why Laughter Was Suspect But what prompted the first monks to condemn laughter? The scholars who have explored the early monastic rules and the sayings of the desert fathers offer various explanations. For one thing, laughter disrupts monastic order. It shatters the silence that represents the readiness of a disciple to listen.4 A monk who Kenneth C. Russell is a professor of the theology faculty at Saint Paul University. His address is Saint Paul University; 223 Main Street; Ottawa K1S 1C4; Canada. May-June 1993 371 Russell ¯ Get Serious.t is busy laughing is not ready to hear whatever may be spoken to him by the Holy Spirit or the abbot. In the monastic context it is the abbot's duty to speak and the monk's to listen,s The monas-tic rules are particularly hard on the effort to provoke laughter. In terms of order, this all makes sense because a joker in the clois-ter is obviously the equivalent of the clown in the back row of a classroom competing with the teacher for the other students' attention. Monasticism's reasons for rejecting laughter went deeper than that, however. The early monks prohibited laughter because they associated it with an arrogant, self-satisfied disdain for God and neighbor. Did Jesus not in fact say, "Woe to you who laugh now; you shall weep in your grief" (Lk 6:25)? And where in the New Testament does it say that Jesus laughed? This may not seem an important point to us, but the early monks took the failure of the gospels to show Jesus laughing quite seriously. They were not the only ones. Not even popular piety, which was ready in every cen-tury to fill the gaps in the gospel narrative with legends and sto-ries, ever developed the image of a lighthearted, laughing Jesus.6 Why this suspicion of laughter in the first Christian cen-turies? There would seem to be cultural as well as religious rea-sons for this uneasiness. In the tight-knit societies of the ancient world, laughter was likely to be laughter at someone: the for-eigner, the deformed, the handicapped. It separated the person who had done something "funny" from the group and made him or her a legitimate object of scorn. Laughter mocked and excluded the outsider. This social reality is reflected in the view of the ancient Greeks who, though they recognized risibility as a dis-tinctive human quality, concluded nonetheless that laughter was unbecoming to a mature human being because of its characteris-tic cruelty.7 The world in which monasticism took shape was sev-eral centuries away from the classical era, but the same high regard for how one appeared to others and the same sensitivity to shame were operative. Laughter, therefore, could be seen as a destruc-tive and even satanic force,s We must not think, however, that the fathers and the early monks favored a kind of pious gloom. They did not. In fact, some of those who made the harshest remarks about laughter were well known for their geniality and cheerfulness. What they frowned on was a certain lighthearted devil-may-care joviality. But why? To get to the heart of the matter, I think we have to look beyond the 372 Review for Religious historical situation and the predictable considerations of monas-tic discipline to the very essence of laughter. This is the only way we can discover what the fathers were really condemning and determine whether what they said has any message for us today. What Is So Funny? It seems to me that humor springs from the tension between our spiritual aspirations and the physical limitations imposed on us by our bodies and our confinement in a physical world with laws of its own. Comedy, in other words, is built into our very being. Even when we avoid the ridicu-lous pretensions that blind the proud to the banana peel right in front of them, we are funny creatures. Our efforts to go up the down escalator, our inability to guarantee that the soup in our spoon will reach our mouth without mishap, and all the other follies of daily life constantly remind us of our basic humanity or, to put it differently, of our littleness and dependence. Our comic condition mocks our solemnity? Therefore, if we have a prudent measure of humility and a min-imum of wisdom, we cheerfully accept our role in the human comedy and laugh at ourselves. We also laugh at others, but usually because we identify with them and see ourselves in their pratfalls. That is why Charlie Chaplin holds our attention or why we laugh at the-shy scientist in The Gods Must Be Crazy who falls all over every bit of furniture in sight in the presence of the attractive young woman who has entered his life. "Isn't it the truth!" we say. Male or female, we know what it is like to be completely overwhelmed by the attractiveness and charm of another human being. We have all been there, and our laughter celebrates our humanity and the glory of its fragile being. Our laughter testifies that the world, for all its troubles, is a joy-ous place and humanity, for all its pain, a wondrous thing in the hands of a God who can be trusted. Faith and cheerfulness would seem to go together. Our laughter testifies that the world, for all its troubles, is a joyous place and humanity, for all its pain, a wondrous thing in the hands of a God who can be trusted. May-June 1993 373 Russell ¯ Get Serious! But does our laughter always stand in such a healthy rela-tionship to the basic seriousness of life? What about the cynicism and despair that echoes in much of our laughter? For, indeed, we use laughter, not only to relativize the tragic dimension of life, but also to trivialize it altogether. Laughter can be a way of saying, "Hey, when it comes to silliness and stupidity, we're all in the same boat!" or it can be a frightened, frenzied dance over the abyss of anxiety. Laughter can be a life-affirming chuckle or a panicky giggle. Laughter, therefore, is not necessarily a sign of faith, nor is it necessarily, to use .the title of Richard Cote's contribution to a theology of laughter, "Holy Mirth." 10 It may, indeed, signify a brave stance before the meaninglessness of life. It may be a deter-mined retreat from a truth too dismal to contemplate. It may, ultimately, be an avoidance of seriousness. The Nature of Laughter We have lost the ancient world's suspicion of laughter, but it remains true, nonetheless, that making someone the object of laughter can be a disguised act of aggression. The same chuckle that mocks the other may comfort the joker with the consolation that he or she is not "like that." Whether crude or subtly sugar-coated, this alienating humor is the basis of most racial jokes and stories. Is this cruel aspect of humor just a negative twist that can be explained away by human sinfulness, or is it, in fact, the very basis of laughter? Surprising as it may seem, most philosophers and psychologists who have studied laughter connect it with aggres~ sivity and defensiveness. You may hit your neighbor with a feather duster and protect yourself with a water pistol, but you do hit him and you do defend yourself. In the evolutionary and anthro-pological way of looking at humanity which these thinkers adopt, laughter is partly a protective device, like the cuteness of small ani-mals, and partly a barrier erected to protect the group from the unfit and different. Laughter offers an alternative to a direct assault in those circumstances where overt aggression would be ill-advised. "If you can't hit him, tickle him to death, or make him so uncomfortable he gives up and goes home." The experts seem to consider laughter akin to the excited, mocking behavior of the likes of Tarzan's Cheetah.11 374 Review for Religious Are the psychologists and phenomenologists right? They cer-tainly seem to be on target when they describe how laughter func-tions in society. We have all, at one time or another, used laughter to disarm someone who has assumed an aggressive stance in a conversation, or we have, conversely, "jokingly" taken a verbal punch at someone we dared not face off with seriously. But must we fol-low them when they explain laughter in purely evolutionary terms? Must we see it merely as an outgrowth of aggression and defensiveness? Is laughter--harmful or helpful, loving or hateful--merely an amoral by-product of our swing down out of the trees? Is it someth!ng that will van-ish once genetic engineering succeeds in bleaching aggression out of the human gene pool? The notion that laughter is rooted in the desire to figh.t and defend ultimately cloaks the most lighthearted laughter in very dark colors indeed. It is surely prefer-able, therefore, to view laughter as a God-given, inherent human characteristic and not merely as a stained leftover from some newly grounded ape with the jitters. It is a proper human attribute that can be used, like most things human, for good or ill. Why, then, was laughter so harshly condemned by the spiri-tual masters of early monasticism? It is true that they placed a high value on the gift of tears which enabled a monk to lament his sins .and, indeed, the human condition in its alienation from God, but they certainly did not favor going about under a dark cloud.~z Sadness, after all, is one of the spiritual disorders in the list of passions that John Cassian handed down to Western monasti-cism. 13 We have to keep in mind that cheerfulness is one thing, the deliberate effort to provoke laughter quite another. What Laughter Does It seems to me that, to hold the monastic condemnation of laughter in perspective, we have to keep in mind that cheerfulness is one thing, the deliberate effort to provoke laughter quite another. Cheerfulness is the mark of someone who knows the May-.]une 1993 375 R~ssell ¯ Get Serious! score, as it were. Confidence in the providence of God and faith in the resurrection of Christ make Christianity a joyful religion. Therefore, those who penetrate to the heart of things, the wise, are inclined to be cheerful. However, if they heed the warning of St. Benedict, they will not "love immoderate and boisterous laugh-ter." L4 Certainly they will "speak no foolish chatter" and will not say anything "just to provoke laughter." ~5 Yet surely there is much to be said for the effort to make peo-ple laugh. After all, jokes, wit, and "foolish chatter" function as social lubricants. They act as icebreakers and frequently provide an interlude of relaxation and entertainment in the tense envi-ronments in which many of us operate. This is certainly true, but nonetheless I am inclined to say that, even at the best of times, laughter is a movement toward the surface, toward the shallows. It is always escapist. It is always a distraction because it is always a movement away from the quiet center of one's being. The fact that clowns and clowning around distract us does not, of course, make the effort to provoke laughter an evil. Laughter has its proper, place and its uses. In the hustle and bus-tle of the large, impersonal metropolis in which most of us earn our living, it is a marvelous instrument of social interaction. It helps us survive in a world of strangers. We may not know one another's history or evefi what the person next to us does when he or she is not working in this office, serving on this committee, or attending this class; This may be regrettable on a theoretical level, but the truth is that things would not go smoothly if we had to establish a deep interpersonal relationship with the mul-titude of people we meet. We encounter them in a specific con-text where we wear, as it were, a name tag referring to only one aspect of our personal history. We are "employee," "tennis part-ner, . student," or whatever. We want to be known and to feel that we fit in, but at the same time we have no desire to expose our pri-vate life to people we meet in this one-dimensional setting. Shared laughter allows us to achieve these contradictory goals. It binds the group together by touching our common humanity and, by veer-ing away from a focus on the personal, it protects our privacy. Laughter keeps everything light and frothy as it should be among those who work in the same place or band together to pursue some common social or recreational goal. This'is not the perspective that preoccupied the early monks. Therefore, their derogatory assessment of laughter should not 376 Revie~w for Religious be read as an attack on the social use of humor nor interpreted as a put-down of stand-up comics or, for that matter, the office wiseguy. The words of the fathers were addressed to those who had withdrawn from the turmoil of life and the humor that helps it function pleasantly. They were addressed to those who had, as it were, gone apart to concentrate. An effort to deliberately pro-voke humor in a setting which, by reason of its very seriousness, was surely prone to the laughter rooted in the human condition was obviously inappropriate. Laughter was as out of place in this setting as it would be on a green during a pro tournament. It broke the pros' concentration. Worse than that, the inclination to stir others to laughter indicated that a monk had fallen victim to the restlessness and distraction that the desert tradition called acedia.16 Conclusion Does this ancient suspicion of laughter have anything to say to us today? I think it challenges all Christians to ask, "Why am I laughing?" Does our joviality spring from the confidence that gives rise to cheerfulness, or is it perhaps anxiety in cap and bells faking nonchalance in the entrance hail of death? Is it the prod-uct of faith in a loving God who demonstrated his seriousness by making humans glorious beings and his love by giving them two feet to fall over to help keep things in proportion? Or is it the by-product of unbelief that opts, despite it a

Issue 45.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1986. ; REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOUS (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 ave located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REvIEw FOR REIolGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by REVIEW FOR REt,IGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $ I 1.00 a year: $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write i~vlr~w FOR I~LtG~OUS: EO. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel E 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 Sept. / Oct., 1986 Volume 45 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to I~v~Ew FOn REt,tG,OUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW ~Oa REL~C~OUS; 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. Dominican Mission and Apostolic Common Life Mary A nn Fatula, O.P. Sister Mary Ann is the Chairperson of the Theology Department of Ohio Dominican College (1216 Sunbury Road; Columbus, OH 43219). Her last article, "Trusting in the Providence of God," appeared in the issue of January/February, 1986. In company with other religious orders, we Dominicans have placed a great amount of energy into reclaiming our mission of apostolic preaching in the Church. Yet even as we have become increasingly competent and profes-sional in our ministries, more than a few of us have sensed that something is radically missing from our reappropriation and that our mission requires far more of us than the total dedication of our energies to ministry. If we are honest, we must admit to a growing pain which we too easily push aside because we fear the cost of facing its implications. We find our ministries consuming us, sapping our energies and perhaps making very little real or lasting impact on others in spite of our hectic lives. At the same time, we see that the women and men drawn to Dominican life do not come to us for the sole sake of ministry. In many cases they already have been successful in a ministry and are looking for a committed community which will nourish their prayer and service in the Church. Yet we know in our hearts that precisely what these young people desire and have aright to expect from us we seem unable to offer them. In addition, our study of Dominic shows us that his vision entailed not simply a task to be accomplished but the far more comprehensive and demanding reality of a life to he lived. As we catch glimpses of these truths, we are beginning to suspect that our desire for "something more" in our life together expresses 641 642 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 the Spirit's own cry within us for the very life to which this same Spirit has called us: a life of preaching as the apostles did, out of a rich communion not only with the Lord but also with one another. The Relation Between Dominican Mission and Apostolic Common Life Many of us may not have reflected on the importance of community when we entered religious life, and yet we probably experienced its value, at some level at least, simply because we could not escape its structure. Today, however, we often have local settings in which hardly a semblance of com-munity life exists. On weekends no one is around; on weekdays it is difficult, if not impossible, to find one evening during a given month when even a small community is present in its totality at a supper meal. In many instances, not much binds us together except the TV set. We know by experience that simply promulgating laws does not make us choose something, no matter how valuable it is. We make free commit-ments because we have experienced the beauty of the reality held out to us, or because our hearts and minds reach out to claim a value when its beauty becomes apparent to us. Perhaps we do not experience the beauty of common life today--quite the opposite. But a deepened understanding of what common life can and must be for us could inspire us to consciously claim it anew. Far from providing "icing on the cake" to pep up our mission, so to speak, apostolic common life is literally a matter of life and death for us: if we do not reclaim it, we will perish. The interior communion and interdependence at the heart of Dominic's vision is something no structure or law can deliver to us; no outside force will hold us responsible for living it unless we ourselves do. Dominican apostolic common life, and thus the Dominican mission, will survive only if living men and women freely choose to devote their energy to living it. As M.H. Vicaire points out, Dominic renewed the apostolic life in its fullness precisely because he founded the outer element of missio upon the inne~ element of communio. The mission of itinerant preaching of God's word, the very ministry that founds the Church, was to flow from the rich interior life the Dominicans lived through prayer, the evangelical counsels, community and study. Far more than the task of merely verbal or written preaching, Dominic's mission entailed living the Word we preach with our mouths and pens, preaching in fact with our very lives. "I have come to cast fire on the earth" (Lk 12:49). We know the differ-ence between the preaching of mere words, and the kind which enlightens and sets fire to us: "Were not our hearts burning within us as he spoke to us on the way" (Lk 42:32). Dominican preaching is meant to be both light (or the mind and warmth for the heart because that preaching Dominican Mission / 643 comes from fire in the heart. This constitutes the Dominican mission in the Church, inseparably Word and Spirit, truth and love, light and fire--the fire of loving communion lived and put into words. The Spirit of communion anointed Jesus himself in the word he proclaimed (Lk 4:18); gathering a community around him, he preached not as an isolated individual but united to his Father and also to the twelve: "Let usgo to the next towns that we may preach there also, for this is why I came out" (Mk 1:39). When Jesus sends the apostles to preach, he sends them not one by one, but two by two (Mk 6:7). A witness at Dominic's canonization process in Bologna testified, "his words were so moving that most of the time he himself and his listeners were stirred to tears." We ourselves weep when something in a speaker's heart sets fire to our own hearts. Dominic wept when he preached because he spoke of what he loved and lived in his communion with the living God and with brothers and sisters. Jordan of Saxony writes of him that his "fre-quent and special prayer to God was for the gift of true charity." In a marve-lously creative synthesis Dominic combined the itinerant preaching of the apostles with the communio of the early Church. Preaching formed the purpose of the Dominicans' prayer, study, and community; but even more, the apostolic life they lived together, the reality of their love and communion with one another in the Lord, constituted the loudest and clearest word they preached. "Living Together," Community Life, and Common Life We have learned to distinguish between mission and ministry; our mission of preaching entails living the apostolic life in its fullness, preaching what we live, while our ministries express that mission in concrete and diverse ways. In a similar manner, we can distinguish between simply living together, community living and common life. Most of us perhaps know the first reality, "living under the same roof." Like ships in the night we greet each other but have no real connection to or interaction'with one another. Some of us may know, too, the deeper reality of community life, concrete sharing of goals, interests, work, prayer, responsibilities. But the words "common life" in fact translate the Latin word communio denoting an interior reality, a union of hearts and minds which only the Spirit can effect. Certainly this communion must be expressed in concrete forms, yet its reality is far more deep and inclusive than what "living together" or even "community life" denotes. We can share many things in community and still not share the deepest reality for which we are called together, the Lord whose love makes us one. The Hebrew and Christian Scriptures which, inspired Dominic's vision 644 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 portray preachers as people joined together to receive and to proclaim the Word expressing the very life they live in communion with others. Recalling how communities gathered around the Hebrew prophets, the author of John 17 places on the lips of Jesus the following prayer: May they "be one, as you, Father, in me, and I in you." May they all "be one in us, that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have made known to them your name and I will make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them." These words hint at the truth that no mere human effort can bring about communio. We have already tried human plans, projects, laws and programs, and we still find that we cannot achieve by our own efforts alone the kind of communion to which we are called as Dominicans. Only the Spirit gives life, and only the Spirit can offer us the power to live the kind of communion to which our vocation calls us, a human sacrament of the unspeakable com-munion at the heart of the triune God. When we ourselves love, we find that the closer we come to another, the more the union causes a bitter-sweet pain precisely because we cannot achieve the kind of oneness we desire. Because we cannot literally have one mind and heart with another; there remains always that final place in us which no one else can know or enter. But the Father, Son and Spirit live literally one life; in their communion no hint of division or separation exists. Our call to communio, to the common life, invites and urges us to be in some way a sacrament of this trinitarian communion. The Acts of the Apostles describes this reality among the early Christians: "The company of believers were of one heart and one soul in the Lord . . . they had all in common" (Ac 4:32). Here common life signifies not simply the sharing of material goods but ultimately the interior bond which makes them of one mind and heart in the Lord. Precisely because of this communion, the early disciples share everything in a "common life." This apostolic communio described in Acts 4:32 clearly inspired Dominic's own vision. The Rule of Augustine which he adopted for his Order opens with the proclamation that those gathered together have been called by the Lord precisely to live with one heart and mind in the Lord. And the primitive Constitution of his Order begins with this prologue: "Because a precept of our Rule commands us to have one heart and one mind in the Lord, it is fitting that., the uniformity maintained in our external conduct may foster and indicate the unity which should be present interiorly in our hearts. "" The earliest constitution of Dominic's Order thus identifies preaching not as a mere speaking of words, but as the expression of unity in the Lord which even in their diversity binds the members together in the apostolic common life. Dominican Mission / 645 The Basic Constitution adopted at River Forest in 1968 emphasizes this theme anew. The first three paragraphs speak of the mission of proclaiming God's Word, but the fourth paragraph makes clear the very heart of this mission: "Because we share the mission of the apostles, we follow their way of life as Dominic conceived it. With one soul we live in community." This distinction between the interior communion and the concrete expression of it in community life has important implications. Those who for serious reasons are unable to live in Dominican community may yet be truly living in the communion that binds us together with one heart and soul in God. Communio does have to be lived out in concrete ways, and community life is one of them, but Dominican communio is lived out also through study, prayer and ministry that flow from our interior union with our brothers and sisters in Dominic's family. We are called to foster one heart and soul in the Lord--a mystery far more deep and demanding than simply living under one roof. The Holy Spirit at the Heart of Dominican Apostolic Communion We address Dominic as "Preacher of grace" precisely because his procla- ¯ marion came not only from grace, from the Spirit's fire, but also spoke about grace, the supremacy of God's mercy and power in our lives. The Dominican mission calls us to preach from the fullness of our own experience of this mercy, our own realization that finally God's work and not our own will save us. In our attempts to renew and to live this communion among us, we are thus brought to our knees; the word of grace we are called to preach to others becomes only a "noisy gong and clanging cymbal" (1 Cot 13:1) unless it is also the word of grace we ourselves live together. In writing of love, Aquinas stresses how the activities of knowing and loving expand and enlarge us by uniting us to reality beyond ourselves. The process of becoming mature adults entails the ability to extend ourselves outside of our own limited being to others around us. Knowledge takes reality into us, so to speak, but in also lov!ng what we know we reach out in an "ecstatic" movement outward toward what we love (ST I, 16, 1). In love, we put others in place of ourselves and regard their good truly as if it were our own. The ecstatic nature of love's union in this way truly enlarges our being, increasingly actualizing us as human persons. Thomas distinguishes, however, between self-gratifying love and the love of friend-ship. In self-gratifying love, although we seem to be drawn out of ourselves to good outside us, the movement of love remains within us and focused on ourselves; we desire the good of others not for their sake but for our own (ST I, 28, 3). The love of friendship, in contrast, loves others as equals and directs 646 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 our affection outside of us to their reality precisely as other. True union thus happens only when we reach out of ourselves in an unselfish move-ment of love toward others' own uniqueness. Yet as experience itself teaches us, our own efforts alone cannot effect this kind of love. Precisely for this reason, "the love of God has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (Rm 5:5). Most of our communities have engaged in some program of helping us to appreciate and to tap our own resources, especially the gift of one another. But the gift we have left most untapped is the very person of the Spirit. Aquinas notes that the Spirit's name as Gift denotes gratuitous, unreturnable bestowal, with no expectation of return. And because a gift is presented to us only so that it may belong to us, the Spirit given to us is truly ours, our possession, our gift, our Spirit (ST I, 38, 1). Dominican women especially are called upon to renew this awareness of and reliance upon the Spirit's power in our life and ministry together. If we would claim our affinity for the Spirit's tender mercy and strength within and among us, we could become ourselves a new gift in and for the Dominican family, a living gift of women who live and speak the anointed word. For the word we have preached as Dominicans too often has not conveyed or come from the Spirit's anointing. This seems to me a special contribution which Dominican women can make to the Order today: to live and to proclaim the word of truth warmed with the fire. of life. Aquinas stresses that the Word cannot be divorced from the Holy Spirit: because the Son eternally breathes forth the very love between him and the Father, the living person of the Spirit, the Word is always Verbum spirans amorem-- the Word breathing forth love (ST I, 43, 5, ad 2). Only when we internalize this truth will we live out our call to be preachers not simply of the Word but of the anointed Word. Our mission to preach the Word by its very nature thus demands our increasing submission to the Spirit of God in whom we are to find the motiva-tion and power for our life together. "Ask, and it will be given you . . . if you who are evil know how.to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Fath.er give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him" (Lk 11:9, 13). We need to call down upon our life together the Spirit who alone can effect the interior communio at the heart of our preach-ing mission. As Aquinas stresses, the charity at the heart of our union is a created participation in the very person of the Spirit (ST II-II, 24, 2). This is a profound and radical insight, it seems to me: the bond of love we share is in some sense nothing less than the very reality of the Spirit, the divine person of love. As a participation in this Spirit, charity heals and enlivens our capacity to love one another truly as other. Again as Aquinas Dominican Mission / ~147 comments, charity of all the virtues has the strongest inclination to its act, for it reaches out to live in a spontaneous movement of pleasure and delight (ST II-II, 24, 5, ad 3; II-II, 23, 2). Since the Spirit's own person dwells in us by charity, making his power of love in some sense our very own, charity is specifically the same act whereby we love God and also one another. The movement of selfless love that binds us to each other thus of its very nature binds us also to God (ST II, 25, 1). The interior communion at the heart of our preaching mission calls us to reach out to one another's joys and sorrows, but we know how difficult it is to do this. We may be physically in the same room, apparently speaking and listening to one another, and yet we know in our hearts how often we are not present to one another's concerns. This kind of communion can happen only when the Spirit opens us to one another. As William Hill points out, the Spirit--and not just some effect of the Spirit's activity--is the very bond in some way uniting us in apostolic communion.' Perhaps we have had tastes of this communion at a time when we were bound together in a community sorrow or joy or at a time of deep prayer and celebration. We may have experienced this interior bond when the group was lost in silence and we had an intimation that our common life is not simply words we say or tasks we do for another. As Hill notes, when the Spirit "lays fast hold of us, we begin to live from a personal center that is our own self.''2 This last insight suggests that Dominican apostolic common life is possible only at the price of a profound continuing conversion on the part of each of us. W~ are called to live not from a center of narrow interest and self-concern, but from the abundant love of the Spirit who enlarges our hearts by making room in them for the truth of one another, In the depths of our being, the Spirit "lures us to the self-transcendence" of interdependence in the midst of our diversity: "The proper domain of the Spirit is not life in isolation, but in communion.''3 Neither Jesus nor Dominic sent our people one by one to convert the world, to be individual leavens in many places. This is a valid call, but it is not ours as Dominicans. If we are to live our charism in the Church, our preach-ing must express the fire of love that we live first of all in communion with one another. Individual men and women may have 1o minister alone in special cases, but their ministry also is called to give voice to the communion at the heart of the Dominican mission. If we are truly to live what we preach and preach what we live, the word we proclaim as Dominicans must express the apostolic communion we live with one another. The apostles' own preaching had such power because it overflowed with the Spirit's love lived in communion with one another, Because the Spirit inflames and anoints our preaching only to the extent that this same Spirit 648 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 binds us in love in one another, we will rediscover what it means to be fire in the Church, as Dominic was, only when we rediscover the absolute central-ity of apostolic communion. In many instances we still do not preach and minister out of the abundant communio we live with one another. And to the extent that we do not, we are insipid in the Church, a "noisy gong" and a "clanging cymbal" (1 Cor 13:1). Each of us is called to beg the Spirit's grace in our individual life and in our life together that our preaching would in fact give voice to the communioh we live with one another. Renewing Common Life Through Renewing the Four Elements of Dominican Life Because the Spirit's grace entails the mystery of both God's activity in us and also our free human cooperation, perhaps our most significant task in deepening our communion is to give renewed attention to each of the four elements which comprise Dominican apostolic life. And for both Dominican women and men, it may well be not simply a question of reclaim-ing but also of claiming these elements as our own in a way we have never done before. With regard to the first of the elements, prayer, we realize that our preach-ing is meant to flow from the abundance of our contemplation: "'contemplata aliis tradere. "" Yet too often we find ourselves saying, "My work is my prayer; the demands of my ministry prevent me from devoting explicit time to prayer." But as Vincent de Couesnongle, former master general of the Order, commented in an address at Providence in 1982, "People quickly distinguish the preachers who speak of the Friend with whom they constantly live, from the preachers who speak of him as of a stranger and try to pass him off as a companion with whom they are on familiar terms. The first know how to speak about God, because they are in the habit of speaking to God." People are thirsting to find in us women and men of God, and they recognize our pretense when we do not pray. And because this is so, what we most owe others in our ministry is precisely what we do with our time when we are not with them. Experience itself teaches us the paradox of grace: that God accomplishes wonderful things through us when we do not devote one hundred percent of our time to ministry, when we devote ourselves also to adoration before the living God in prayer. Many of us are perfectionists who think that our time must be consumed by projects to make our ministry more effective. Without belittling these efforts, more than a few of us are discovering that redirecting some of our " energy from compulsive busy-ness to time in prayer and fostering contempla-tive peace in our lives effect far more profound results than our efforts alone could have accomplished. What we do with our time when our people do Dominican Mission / 649 not see us often bears the deepest gifts for them when they do see us. We owe the people to and with whom we minister a consecration of our time to prayer so that they will find in us living evidence that God's presence and mercy fill the world. With regard to the second element of Dominican life, we are beginning to suspect the radical nature of our call to study. Dominic identifies as the crucial element at the heart of his Order the sacred study which opens us to contemplation and preaching. And is this not what we most lack in our lives today? Again, in his 1982 Providence address, de Couesnongle stresses, "It is a systematic, deepened and persevering study that we need to under-take . If this is not the case, then spiritual suffocation awaits us. The experience of each one of us shows this sufficiently." De Couesnongle com-ments that he stopped congratulating members of the Order for working so hard precisely because "people are overworked., they believe that one has to work like this. And thus, an unbalanced life results" whose equilibrium can be regained only by "stressing more a basic study that is at once serious and prayerful." Without prayer and study, we do no real preaching. We women especially must claim as never before our call to profound study; if we think we have no time for this because of our ministry's demands, we fool ourselves. No one will force us to study; this is a priority choice we ourselves must make. We come now to the third element that fosters communio, our com-munity life. In 1980, de Couesnongle noted in his report to the General Chapter meeting at Walberberg that he too easily believed the common life could be renewed simply by insisting on meetings and rules, as if these would automatically bring results. He came to see that true community life flourishes only to the extent that each person freely chooses to commit herself or himself to a real interest in the community members and to sharing what makes up his or her own life. "The newspaper and TV . . . will simply not suffice to excite and nourish an authentic community life. How many of us know how to share with outsiders what is best about ourselves, but become soeechless with our sisters and brothers?" We need to become, as never before, women~and men of the Word shared with one another, choosing to live what Dominic asked of us by speaking to and about God with one another. Is this not what we so little do? Because very few structures foster our communio, community life will cease to exist unless we freely choose it. We easily blame those in authority for the erosion of our life together when in fact we ourselves are responsible for its life or death. If our communities die, each one of us is responsible. We must begin to speak the Word to one another, to pray together, to speak to one another of deeper matters than simply the weather. 650 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Because mission is our purpose, our community life and sharing of the Word with one another cannot be a matter of adding more time requirements to our already busy day; our commitment to one another must be in terms of quality rather than quantity time. Even if we are fortunate enough to experience a measure of community life, it is often not communio, our shared faith in the living God, that binds us together. But by taking advantage of the opportunities we already have for quality time together, we can take the risk of improving the level of conversation at table and of sharing the Word at our prayer and house meetings. And instead of harboring anger and resentment, we can begin to speak the truth in love to one another, for even honest fights do far more to foster communio than polite silence. Candidates to our communities who may have tremendous gifts for preaching and prayer and yet do not value the commitment to communio show by this very fact that whatever call they do have, it is not to Dominican life. And we who have already consecrated ourselves to this life must con-sciously choose today what perhaps we have never really chosen before, a true commitment to the community life that fosters the communio at the heart of our Dominican mission. De Couesnongle noted in his 1982 Provi-dence talk that as we have abandoned structures, individualism and non-par-ticipation have grown, and these are the "enemy number-one of community life." "Community life demands interpersonal relationships. Are we not too easily secretive. Do we not spontaneously hide what we are?. We bottle ourselves up and dodge compromising questions." He also notes the radical nature of our present call to community, precisely because so much today militates against a true union among us. We have become as secula-rized as the world, as filled, perhaps, with a selfish individualism that makes it increasingly difficult for us to reach out of ourselves to one another. Just as we ourselves must ratify our own baptismal vows, we Domini-cans are called to make a personal choice to live in fact what we say we are living. We can no longer escape facing ourselves with the question: "Why am I here? If I want to preach as a Dominican, my preaching must come from a true communio I myself concretely live." Unless each of us squarely faces this question and lives out its implications, we will surely die as com-munities, because we will fail to live our charism in the Church. Since the Dominican tradition has always treasured the richness of plural-ity, there are and will be diverse ways of living our call to communio. Our being bound together with one heart and mind in the Lord will express itself in different ways according to the character of each local community. And if for some serious reason a Dominican must live alone, he or she can still live out the Dominican call to communio-missio by fostering in whatever ways possible a true communion, a oneness of mind and heart with the Dominican Mission / 651 brothers and sisters. As our congregations decrease in numbers, we will be forced to cooperate with one another in the kind of collaboration that the Dominican family asks of us. Increasingly we are called to minister together, to provide options for living in communities of other Dominican congrega-tions in order to preach and minister from a communio concretely lived. And we need to actively work toward these new kinds of configurations. We consider finally the relation between communio and ministry. We Dominican women especially are growing to realize that our mission is not simply ed.ucation but Dominic's mission, the preaching of God's Word through our varied ministries. Each of us needs to take personal responsi-bility for the extent to which her ministry concretely expresses this mission and to ask ourselves how we can best focus our varied gifts in the service of proclaiming the Word. Perhaps more than a few of us are called to re-examine whether the ministry to which we are devoting our energies is the one to which God is calling us now, the ministry which best utilizes our gifts for the mission of proclaiming the Word. We need also to ask ourselves whether we have allowed our ministries to consume and master us, rather than to free us in joyful service. When we fail to live the Dominican call in all of its elements, when we cheat other dimensions of our life to devote all of our energy to ministry, we find our-selves in an inevitable burnout, ministering not out of the abundance of our communion with God and with one another, but out of our own emptiness. Not every possible ministry is meant for us as Dominicans. If we are not ministering from the fullness of a contemplative peace and in a way that fosters this peace in others, we need to face the hard question of why this is so. If all that we bring to the world as Dominicans is more busy-ness, more hectic activity, we have nothing to contribute. What others need from us is not more unpeacefulness but the witness of men and women who minister from the depths of contemplative peace. This is one of the chief ways we are called as Domincans to be counte~:-cultural. When our ministry no longer fosters this peace within and around us, when it drains us end-lessly and yields nothing but unpeace, we need to take a second look at whether God is not calling us to another ministry more at the heart of our mission to proclaim the Word. De Couesnongle points out in his 1982 Providence address: "Work is not prayer., in saying we lack time we find an easy excuse. Do we have the right to present ourselves as religious whose word proceeds from the abundance of contemplation? Time is needed, if we are to pray. Let us find this time and give it to God . . . This is my dream for the Order: contemplation and preaching., preaching ex abundantia contempla- 652 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 tionis. "' This is also Dominic's dream for us. But a dream becomes reality only when we ask it as a gift from God and then with all of our hearts make a conscious choice to commit ourselves to its realization., together. In his 1970 commentary on the Fundamental Constitution, Vicaire stresses that our one profession, our one vow, integrates us "'into the communion, and it is the communion which has the mission. "" Our vow consecrates us not only to God but also to one another, for it consecrates us to be a "reli-gious community of life vowed to preaching." Our Dominican life itself "is an apostolic mission in the Church" that springs from the communion we live with one another. Vicaire continues: we are not "just a team engaged in a common task." We are "a community of life, centered essentially in faith's response to the Gospel and in the seeking for God together." Our call to the common life is the heart of our specific mission in the Church, for our preaching as Dominicans is meant to flow from our communion with God and with one another, the communion that makes us in truth of one heart and mind in the Lord. "This requires that we be a true community. We are in it for better or for worse, as in the conjugal community, until death." We need to take seriously this "conjugal" relationship not only with the Lord but also with one another, for as married people can and do tell us, real communion happens only at the cost of personal time and energy and commitment. Our Dominican mission will again bring fire to the Church and world only to the extent that it springs from and expresses the communio we live with one another. As ! write these words, 1 am conscious of how little I live them. But I also know that to run from the truth is to sell our very soul. May the words de Couesnongle spoke in Providence in 1982 about the common life as the indispensable well-spring of our preaching mission in the Church continue to knock at the door of our minds and hearts: "Each of us must feel herself or himself responsible for this. We have to pay out of our own person . Alone and in community, let us have the courage to confront this problem and then, 'Do what he tells you.' " NOTES ~William J. Hill, O.P., The Three-Personed God (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1982), p. 303. 21bid, p. 288. 3lbid, p. 307. Active and Monastic: Two Apostolic Lifestyles George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. Father Aschenbrenner is well known to our readers especially for the series of yearly surveys in spirituality he authored from 1980 through 1985. For the past year he has been Director of the Spiritual Formation Program at the North American College in Rome, where he may be addressed (00120 Vatican City State). This article originally appeared in the USIG Bulletin (Rome: no. 70, 1986), and is reprinted with permission. The spirited beauty and gracefulness of Jesus Christ has inspired the minds and hearts of women and men for centuries. They have been stirred, at times, to feats of missionary heroism all over the world. At other times, they have found encouragement for quiet, hidden faithfulness to the daily duties of a very ordinary state in life. In all these different types of heroism the moti-vation is the same: an enthusiastic love of Jesus Christ. In some way, then, Christian spirituality is always one and the same. Its beginning and end, its motive and energy always focus on that one whose words still echo in hearts today: "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life" (Jn 14:6). But over the many years, this one, central essence of Christian spirituality has taken expression in many different forms, some of which, at times, have seemed almost irreconcilable. Whenever these different forms are misunderstood and their common rooting in one basic Christian spirituality is forgotten, then they can become competitive or even truly at loggerheads. The interrelationships of each form with the one fundamental Christian spirituality, and of the various forms among themselves, have not always been easy and clear. But as long as we are careful to maintain a lively familiar-ity with and a genuine belief in Jesus Christ as the root and foundation of 653 654 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Christian spirituality, we can speak of numerous Christian spiritualities. The following quotations are good examples of two very different dynamics within the one basic Christian spirituality: The Carthusian life rests upon a deep foundation of silence which you know and love, and it is in that depth that the Eternal Word is born for each one of us. There lies our whole vocation: to listen to Him who generates the Word and to live thereby. The Word proceeds from Silence, and we strive to find Him in His Source. This is because the Silence here in question is not a void nor a negation but, on the contrary, Being at its fullest and most fruitful plenitude. That is why it generates; and that is why we keep silent.~ Take down your lantern from its niche and go out! You may not rest in firelight certainties, Secure from drifting fog of doubt and fear. You may not build yourself confining walls And say: 'thus far, and thus, and thus far shall I walk, And these things shall I do, and nothing more.' Go out! For need calls loudly in the winding lanes And you must seek Christ there. Your pilgrim heart Shall urge you still one pace beyond. And love shall be your lantern flame.2 Though the dynamic of expression is different in these two instances, the core of the matter is the same: a heart afire with God's love in Jesus. But there will often be a very significant difference in the details of the daily living out of these two dynamics. And though the difference is never so profound asto destroy a common essence and a genuine bond, yet it is significant enough to prevent an easy identification of these two forms. My concern in this article is to describe and distinguish further these two different charisms or spiritualities, without endangering their basic rootedness in the tradition of Christian spirituality. Often in the past the Christian tra-dition has distinguished between monastic and apostolic spiritualities. I would like to suggest a further refinement of that distinction--a nuance that seems to me to be important and clarifying in these present times of struggle to understand the essence and expression of apostolic spirituality in religious life and throughout the Church. After some comments on the essence of all Christian spirituality as being apostolic, I will describe at some length what I will call two different apostolic lifestyles, charisms or spiritualities: the monastic and the active. Among the ancient world religions Christianity is unique in its strong Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 655 incarnational quality. In the Christian religion, at its center, is the claim that the Son of God became a full human being. Neither a deceptive illusion, nor a passing hallucinatory appearance, Jesus of Nazareth intimately, pre-cisely, awesomely gives flesh in our midst to the God who lives, beyond beginning or end, in unapproachable light and holiness. In Jesus, there can be no doubt that God is turned toward us forever in loving forgiveness and is ineluctably involved with and committed to our world evolving in time. In fact God is the decisive source and gentle sustainer of all being and crea-tion. And so we find in Jesus someone who enters our world confidently and profoundly, someone who lives and loves tenderly, courageously, thoroughly, and yet whose center of identity is never fully of this world. His God, addressed so intimately as Abba, "my dear Father," focuses his heart far beyond all of this world. On Calvary an apparently absurd and horrendous death can be desired, even chosen, precisely because his identity, though fully lived within this world, is not finally rooted here. And this identity is then fully revealed by God in the blessing of resurrection. The God of Christian religion always far transcends in being, beauty and life anything of this world. And so the Christian God is never fully identified with or by anything of the here and now, but, in Jesus, stands forever committed in loving forgiveness to all of us and to our created uni-verse. Fired by the same Spirit of God, all disciples of Jesus must learn to find an identity resonating in God far beyond this world while they live and love with a profound joy and hope that implicates them seriously within this world--but never so as to confine their identity to what they can see, taste and know here and now. And this balanced integration of the seriously incar-national with the transcendently eschatological has never been easy for any disciple of Jesus. There must never be any doubt of Christianity's healthy, creative and serious concern for this world. In the sense of a serious commitment to and involvement with our world, every disciple of Jesus must be intensely apostolic. Not to be apostolic, in this sense, is simply to betray Christian discipleship. For this reason, any facile distinction between apostolic spiritu-alities and monastic spiritualities may confuse, and may even deny the healthy, creative and serious concern--the apostolic concern--with this world that must be part of monastic spirituality. Nevertheless, as the central point of this article will make clear, there are two different ways of living out Christianity's serious, loving concern for this beautiful, anguished world. A central assertion of this article is that the essential apostolic orientation of Christian spirituality can be expressed in either a monastic or an active lifestyle. And these two quite different apostolic lifestyles are the result of God's Spirit at work in the hearts of men and women. This distinction, then, 656 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 is not something simply of human invention. Over centuries, as believers have struggled to be faithful to the Spirit of God inspiring their hearts, apostolic concern for our world expressed itself in a variety of ways. The evidence for our distinction here has resulted from God's love stirring human hearts down the ages. This distinction between the two dynamics of a monastic and an active relationship with the world cuts across the whole Church. It can name the experience of lay men and women as much as it can describe different types of religious congregations. And the Church has not always found it easy to acknowledge and respect these different apostolic charisms among women and men. Today, however, as a result of Vatican II, we are in a better position to recognize and cooperate with the different ways that grace stirs human hearts to express themselves and to be present.to God. To confuse or blur these two distinctive apostolic dynamics runs the danger of not respecting God's call in human hearts and of not cooperating properly in the formation of an appropriate apostolic Christian presence. The monastic and the active styles of Christian apostolate are not meant as hard and fast divisions. Rather, they express tendencies, movements of grace in our hearts. For many people and for many religious congregations, the challenge is to achieve the proper blend of these tendencies. We are speak-ing here, then, of a whole spectrum of development, from the highly monastic with little mixture of the active, right through to the highly active with a similarly small mixture of the monastic. It is like a long clothesline, and every individual and every group in the Church may be imagined as a clothespin that God attaches to some part of the line. As we consider these two different apostolic dynamics and tendencies of grace in the human heart, the issue centers on nothing less than identity-- either the identity of an individual or the corporate identity of a religious congregation. To avoid spiritual schizophrenia and identity confusion, no pins ought to be on the clothesline in the exact center. People who try to focus identity on this central point of the spectrum attempt the impossible balance of a life in apostolic faith of exactly equal monastic and active proportions. Religious congregations that referred in the past to themselves as semi-cloistered have been invited after Vatican II more carefully and decisively to interpret their identity with clear priority for either the monastic or the active style. The semi-cloistered balancing of exactly equal monastic and active dimensions is not possible. And such identity confusion, besides the damage done an individual or a religious congregation, also wreaks havoc in the ministry which, as the product of such identity confusion, must also be con-fused and weakly focused. Before moving now to a description of each of these two apostolic dynamics and lifestyles, two further comments are in order. First, no priority Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 657 of one style over the other is intended. The claim is that the monastic and the active are different and distinctive. There is no claim that they are superior, one to the other, in any way. Second, in describing each dynamic I will center on groups or on individuals who legitimately embody each tendency in a fullness and a clarity--with little qualification and nuance. When seen in such simple clarity and fullness, the dynamic in question can be better appreciated. But it should be understood that for many individuals and reli-gious congregations, the precise challenge is for them to qualify and nuance both dynamics so as to achieve an appropriate and identifying blend of each one.3 The Monastic Apostolic Dynamic I will describe six aspects of the monastic charism. These aspects are not disparate realities that stand on their own; rather they coalesce into a whole sensibility and way of life. As integrated and unified, they make up the monastic experience of God and the monastic vision of reality. These aspects are rooted in a distinctive dynamic at work in human hearts and comprise what, in the Church's long history, is usually called monastic spirituality. 1. Formal prayer is the primary determining influence. In the monastic apostolic lifestyle, the formal prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours and the Eucharist, and any other private contemplation resulting from the liturgy, has a clear and decisive primacy in the development of the Whole way of life. These times of formal prayer are the first items placed in the daily schedule. They literally determine the schedule and the contour of the life. As regularly spread throughout the day, this experience of formal prayer clearly determines, not only the schedule, but the very structure of monastic spiritu-ality. The heart of the monastic person is primarily and thoroughly rapt in the contemplation of God. And simply everything reveals this primacy. 2. Order, routine, regularity and schedule are central. Because of the clear priority of the Liturgy of the Hours and the Eucharist, the monastic life reveals and requires a regularity of order and schedule. Often, only Sundays"and special feasts will vary the fundamental routine of monastic life. An active prejudicefor variety as the spice of life should not lure monastic people away from a profound regularity of life in which the monastic heart is purified and disciplined for docility to the spon-taneity of God's Spirit. The disorder of any inappropriate irregularity is serious enough to trivialize the monastic experience of God. 658 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 3. Being set apart from the world in order to be part of the world. The monastic dynamic always requires an appropriate withdrawal from the world. This being set apart from the world can never become an end in itself, nor an uncaring protection from the world. Should such a lack of concern develop, the monastic life would have lost that apostolic commitment to this world which is essential to all Christian discipleship. But for the monastic heart, it is precisely through being set apart from the world that a care and concern for the world grows and is appropriately expressed. This monastic withdrawal from the world can serve as a reminder for all disciples of Jesus. "If you belonged to the world, the world would love its own; but the reason that the world hates you is that you do not belong to the world for I chose you out of the world" (Jn 15:19). These words of Jesus profess a type of separation from the world without which serious Christian discipleship can never be possible. The monastic separation from the world-- never meant to be a frightened disinterest, but rather a sharing in God's passionate care for this world--serves as a reminder of Jesus' words for every Christian disciple. This monastic separation from the world is expressed in many different ways. Some monasteries are situated literally out in the middle of nowhere. Others are situated in the midst of an inner city, still crumbling or now being redeveloped. Sometimes the monastic person is set apart from the world in a small, simple apartment-hermitage. Especially in experimentation after Vatican II, monastic women and men have rediscovered that the cloister of the heart contemplatively fascinated in God is the central issue, much more than any grilles and cloistered spaces. And yet, unless there is an appropriate external separation from the world, the monastic heart will be distracted and become trivialized in its simple contemplative focus on God. 4. Stability, solitude and peace figure prominently in the monastic life. From the outset, in discussing the importance of each of these three qual-ities in the monastic life, key distinction must be made between the quality considered as a profound inner reality of heart and as an external expression of that same interior reality. When stability is viewed as a profound, inner quality of heart, it typifies and would be expected of any mature believer-- and not just of the monastic person. Interior stability, as dependability and responsibility before God, always entails the refined sensitivity which dis-tinguishes God's word of true love from the many other seductive words of apparent and fallacious love heard at times within the human heart. This inner stability and refined insight comprise the core of faith maturity and, therefore, would be at the very heart of both monastic and active apostolic lifestyles. Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 659 But there is an appropriate external expression of this inner stability of heart that typifies the monastic lifestyle and not the active. Vowed stability in a monastic congregation, though surely a profound reality of heart in all the members, also unites them in this specific place with a communal bond that facilitates their ongoing search together into God. This kind of external stability, while stimulating profound communal experience of God in the monastic life, obviously interferes with the mobility of the active life. To appreciate the necessary role of solitude in the monastic life, the same distinction must be applied. A regular experience of solitude alone with and in God is another sign of every mature believer, whether called to the monas-tic or the active life. Without such experience of God in solitude, we remain superficial and immature, in our experience of life, ourselves and God. One of the dangers that could weaken the Church's ministry today, especially in the active form, is the situation in which active apostles become too busy for regular prayer in solitude--with the result that their faith becomes immature, superficial and indecisive. But for the monastic heart there must be an appropriate external expression and atmosphere of quiet solitude if one is to maintain a live witness within the Church of an inner solitude with God, a nourishment for which all our hearts year9 and are made. In a similar fashion, peace, as a deep inner quality of heart, is Jesus' gift to every serious disciple. Beyond this mature, inner experience of Jesus' peace, the monastic apostolic lifestyle also provides an external expression and atmosphere of peace, without the disruption and distraction of the active lifestyle. This distinction between inner quaiity of heart and external expression is very helpful in describing both the overlapping and the distinctiveness of these two apostolic lifestyles. I will make use of it later in describing the active style of being apostolic. 5. The apostolate of formal prayer is most typical of monastic spirituafity. The formal prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours and the Eucharist and of individual contemplation is the chief and primary apostolate or ministry of the monastic heart. No other secondary ministry should be practiced except insofar as it relates to and does not interfere with the monastic life of con-templation alone with God. To blur or confuse this ministerial primacy of formal prayer could, once again, trivialize the monastic experience of God. The monastic heart always senses a salvific radiation emanating from its contemplative adventure alone in God. 6. Importance of physical presence in the formation of monastic community. Christian community is usually easier to define than to live. Wherever 660 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 it occurs, it is a union of minds and hearts primarily focused by a shared faith vision. Though many other elements, like similar age, training and interests, may facilitate union of minds and hearts, nothing is more important than a genuinely corporate faith vision regularly experienced and appropri-ately expressed. In the monastic style of Christian community, physical pres-ence, often in silence, plays a very important role in developing and maintaining the unity deriving from a corporate faith vision. A physical togetherness in prayer, reading, eating, sleeping and recreating are further aspects of the monastic dynamic at work in human hearts--and they are not unimportant ones in the living of monastic community. The Active Apostolic Dynamic Contrasted with the monastic, the active apostolic lifestyle is rooted in a different dynamic in the heart, and it also takes a different expression. This difference becomes obvious in the first of the six aspects that I will now describe. 1. Ministry is the primary determining influence. Vatican II, when describing this active dynamic in terms of religious life, speaks of communities in which "the very nature of the religious life requires apostolic action and services.''4 When this active charism is given either to a whole community or to an individual believer, it is ministerial involvement, rather than formal prayer, that determines the contours and the schedule of daily life. This is an important but very subtle point, which requires further eluci-dation, lest it be seriously misunderstood. To give primacy of influence to ministry is not meant to deny the absolute importance of quiet contemplation for the active apostle. Henri Nouwen states clearly the importance of formal prayer for ministry when he says: "If the minister wants to minister 'In the Name' he must live in the Name and speak and act from there.''5 Without mature prayer, mature ministry just is not possible. To deepen their regular contemplative experience is a great challenge today for active apostles, so busy and fatigued with responding to our modern world's needs. Let me be firm and clear in asserting this radical importance of formal prayer for the busy minister. The point to be stressed here, while not denying the importance of regular prayer, concerns the influence that ministry has on the whole makeup of the active life. The legitimate demands of ministry form the schedule of the day. When people enter a new ministry, with the intention of maintaining a past set time for private prayer which now will clearly interfere with availability for the new ministry, this violates the dynamic of the active apostolic charism. Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 661 To have a schedule of formal prayer already in place before entering into the new ministerial situation is backwards for active apostles. Rather, they must first insert themselves into the new ministry and get an honest sense of its reasonable demands. Only then can their conviction about regular contemplation determine the specifics of when, where and how long they should pray each day. That there be regular contemplation is beyond doubt, regardless of ministry. But the determination of the specifics of regular contemplation depends upon the demands of the new ministry. For the active apostle, ministry, then, while not a substitute for regular contemplation, is the primary determining influence in this whole way of life. 2. Flexibility for change is central. Because busy ministry and service of others is essential to active spiritu-ality, a regular routine scheduled around formal prayer is not possible. A flexibility of heart and spirit is called for, in order to respond to the challenges and needs of a world so often in great upheaval and unrest. The earlier distinction between a profound reality of the heart and its external expression is important here again. Flexibility of heart is not some-thing that only active apostles know. A profound inner flexibility of spirit makes possible genuine docility to the spontaneity of the Holy Spirit--and is always a sign of spiritual maturity, both for monastic and for active people. Responsible involvement in complicated and unsettled situations, something not usual in monastic life, calls forth in the active apostle a distinctive external expression and practice of this mature flexibility of heart. The struggle and anguish involved in much of our response to Vatican II reveals how hard it is to change a routine and how prone many of us are to find our security in a rather rigid routine rather than in a faithfully loving God. As indicated above I believe that a routine is not only healthy, but necessary for living out the monastic charism. But, while a certain routine is necessary for all human life, the active apostle must always resist the escape into an overly monastic routine and must learn to trust the gift of flexibility that is always part of the active apostolic dynamic in the Church. 3. Ability discerningly to find, be with and serve God in all activity. Someone in a busy, active life can become very scattered and distracted. One's attention almost constantly flits from one thing to another. One's energy and concern are poured out in one situation after another. Drained and running, one loses a sense of focus, of unity and maybe even of funda-mental meaning. As life gets more and more hectic and chaotic, burnout of body and spirit sets in. Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Moments of special religious experience in formal prayer cannot, all by themselves, stem the tide of this heightening discouragement and tension. More than regular formal prayer is needed. Despite a great desire for unity and integration, human consciousness is capable, often without being aware of it, of various compartmentalizations. One of these is the split between formal prayer and the activity of life. In such a split, the surge of religious experience in private prayer ebbs in the face of all the busy activity of the rest of the day. The frantic, frenetic business of the day often calls forth and reveals in the apostle little sense of God. Private prayer is stubbornly main-tained in an attempt to keep religious experience alive. But such an ebb and flow of religious experience actually saps the apostle's energy and finally fails in accomplishing the desired integration in which all the activity of a day contributes to, rather than interferes with, a person's unifying religious experience. The proper balance of regular prayer and discerning involvement in the business of everyday can simplify and purify the focus and commitment of a heart so that the compartmentalized split of human experience into sacred and secular is gradually healed in a unity whereby all human experience bbc0mes religious--and finds God. In my own opinion, this is the greatest challenge still facing active apostolic spirituality. Often, past religious for-mation produced a compartmentalized relationship between prayer and activ-ity. Religious formation, in many ways, is still struggling to help active apostles find the proper interior integration that facilitates, and actually makes possible, the religious experience of finding, being with and serving God in all activity. Active apostles need a reflective sensitivity, in order to recognize the subtle but real difference between a selfish manipulation of others that finds self and a generously humble service of others that finds God. Only a genuine experience of the intimacy of God's love as beyond all other love and inviting a radical abandonment of self in love to God, together with a rigorously careful discernment of inner affective experiences, can make possible a human, loving presence that finds God in all activity and dealings with others. Vatican 11 makes a similar claim when it says that, for com-munities in religious life whose very nature requires apostolic action and services, "their entire apostolic activity should be animated by a religious spirit.''~ 4. Mobility and apostolic availability are key in active spirituality. Because mission and active ministry are so central to the active apostolic dynamic, mobility of body and spirit are important. Any rigidity in a person can interfere with the fruitfulness of this charism. In an active religious corn- Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 663 munity, the members come together precisely in order to be sent out on specific ministries, each of which shares in God's mission of salvation in Jesus. Any stubborn selfishness or immature insecurity will always corrode that mobility for mission which should characterize active spirituality. Apostolic availability is a readiness of spirit born of a freedom radically fascinated with a loving God's faithful commitment to us. Because of the inevitable limitation of human weakness and sinfulness, this freedom never perdures perfectly in a human heart. It must be won and received again and again. But the more this precious freedom grows in a human heart or in a whole congregation the more an availability of spirit allows the person or congregation to be thoroughly committed to a present ministry, but always with a readiness for wherever God's love may lead in the future. 5. The prayer of the apostolate is most typical of active spirituafity. The phrase that typifies monastic spirituality is reversed here. Granting, once again, the absolute value of regular contemplation in any serious spiritual life, the typical and more important prayer of the active apostle is a distinctively prayerful presence in and through all activity. This is related to. the third element above, i.e. the need to find, be with and serve God in all activity. The prayer of the apostolate should not be misunderstood as that claim and practice that many of us struggled with through the 1960s and 1970s: "my work is my prayer." Most of us now know the heresy.of such a claim, even though active apostles who would not want to profess an identification of work and prayer can still easily be pressured into living such a heresy. We have learned again over recent years that for no one does work become prayer, unless that person regularly stops working--and prays. So the prayer of the apostolate does not mean any simpliste identification of work and prayer. Rather the prayer of the apostolate involves two mutual and integral movements. The first is an appropriate, regular involvement in contempla-tion, which gradually spills over and renders pi'ayerful everything the person does, says and is. The second is an involvement in activity which stirs a desire for, and sometimes provides the subject matter of, formal contemplation in private. As one grows faithful and sensitive to these two movements, a pres-ence in all activity develops which is prayerful--a presence which is the Spirit of God praying and which reveals those clear signs of the Spirit mentioned in chapter five of Galatians. ¯ 6. A unity of mind and heart extending far beyond physical presence. Whereas the corporate faith vision of those sharing the monastic charism 664 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 requires much physical presence with one another, the active apostolic dynamic, because its very nature requires apostolic action and services, does not depend as much on the physical presence of the members to each other. It can foster a union of minds and hearts among members missioned all over the world in various ministries. Obviously, this corporate bond is not auto-matic. It is not the effect of any one person's fiat. It cannot be something superficially external. Rather, a unity rooted deeply in the hearts of all mem-bers will always require a profound attitude of heart on the part of each member, a distinctive type of missioning process and the careful practice of certain human, symbolic means. To say that the active charism depends less on the physical presence of the members than the monastic does certainly does not mean that physical presence can be simply disregarded in active communities. It is inhuman to imagine that members of a local live-in community, whatever the size, can develop a union of minds and hearts if they never gather together in quality physical presence. However, without disregarding the need for some such physical presence, we must not conceive the communitarian dimension Of the active charism according to monastic norms. Many active congregations today continue to struggle in local communities with how much physical presence of all members and what quality of presence of each is needed if there is to be a genuine, faith union of minds and hearts. If this struggle is not better resolved soon, increasing numbers of active religious, caught in the tension between involvement in an exciting ministry and the boring frustration of no shared vision in the local community, may well find celibacy too heavy a burden to bear alone. The De-monasticizing of Active Religious Life As religious have seriously responded to Vatican II's invitation to return to "the original inspiration" behind their own institute, a greater realization of the clear distinction between the differing and graced dynamics of the monastic and active has grown among us. In the wake of this growing clarity there also comes the realization that in the past we have not always respected this distinction with enough care. A major part of the renewal of religious life, therefore, has involved the de-monasticizing of institutes which were, in their founding, and which should, with greater fidelity over the years have continued to be, actively apostolic rather than monastic. This de-monasticizing process has not been easy. Mistakes have occurred. At times, inevitably, overreaction has set in. And many individuals have experienced great personal anguish in the midst of the confusion and turmoil of critiquing and of chang-ing, through experiment, revered and long-standing practices. But this process, although most painful, was unavoidable. To avoid it Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 665 would have been as serious a refusal as to violate the reverent d~cility due the Spirit of God who invites us to be faithful to the genuine, graced identity of our religious institute. In the past twenty years much headway has been made in realigning the fundamental conception, formation programs, ministerial practices and daily living of communities according to their rediscovered, original identity. Though the process is surely not finished, we are presently involved, appropriately enough, in a period of careful assessment of the fruits of this renewal process.7 A successful evaluation can help us to sift the precious wheat of fidelity to the essentials of religious life, as incarnated in appropriate contemporary expressions of the original founding charism, from the deceptive (though often attractive!) weeds of contemporary develop-ments that either destroy a necessary continuity of identity or shortsightedly try to defend older forms, which are now, and ought to be, simply dead. Vatican II reminds us of the importance of fidelity to the unique charism and identity of each religious community. "It serves the best interests of the Church for communities to have their own special character and purpose."s In line with this directive Thomas Merton cautions us against confusing the monastic and active dynamic: "The monastic life must not be evaluated in terms of active religious life, and the monastic orders should not be equated with other religious institutes, clerical or otherwise. The monastic community does not exist for the sake of any apostolic or educational work, even as a secondary end. The works of the monk are not justified by their external results but only by their relevance to his monastic life alone with God.''9 In conclusion, let me point to three results of respecting the clear dis-tinction between the active and monastic dynamic. First, we must be careful how we make use of the Liturgy of the Hours. In the monastic community the Liturgy of the Hours is a primary determinant and focus of the whole day, at which the physical presence of all is expected. In the active commu-nity, a regular communal prayer besides th.e Eucharist seems necessary. Some use of the Liturgy of the Hours may serve as an appropriate regular com-munity prayer. On the other hand, some other type of communal prayer may better serve a particular community. If something o.f the Liturgy of the Hours is used, it should not become a primary determinant and focus of schedule, to the detriment of the members' ministerial involvement. So, depending on the size and variety of the local community, the physical presence of all members is neither expected nor possible. However, the active community would be deficient in its unified faith vision if each member did not share the same desire to pray together regularly--which desire would always take expression in physical presence, except for ministerial reasons. But for an active community to use the Liturgy of the Hours in a monastic fashion would be to violate its God-given charism. 666 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Second, members of active communities cannot avoid a natural monas-ticizing tendency as they get older. As the biological breakdown of old age sets in, religious become less and less active, they settle into a much more regularized pattern, and the apostolate of prayer becomes more predominant in their daily lives. If we are careful of certain presuppositions, this natural monasticizing tendency will not necessarily violate the active apostolic nature of a community. But the older members, whose lifestyle is now understand-ably more monastic, must not claim that this monastic lifestyle is the genuine identity of the whole congregation. Another subtle change of attitude could be entailed here. If a section of the motherhouse is located where many of the older, retired sisters are living, then naturally the style and schedule of life for that part of the house will be more monastic--as it should be. However, we must then be careful .that this more monastic schedule and style not be idolized as typical for all other houses of the congregation, an image that motherhouses often in the past have projected. Such a misunderstanding would be a serious interference with the unity and ministerial effectiveness of the whole congregation. In fact, it can be downright demoralizing and dis-torting for younger members. Furthermore, though these older members are much more inactive than earlier in their lives, they must be helped to keep the active zeal and concerns of their hearts alive and peacefully integrated with their bodily inactivity. These older members must also have a live sense of the ministry of old age and retirement. They must be helped to realize how valuable and necessary for the whole congregation's ministerial effectiveness is their own ministry of prayer and sacrifice. So often older religious think they have retired from ministry. I cannot stress enough the need for the elderly, and for everyone, to realize that while the aged and the sick must humbly retire from active involvement they never retire from ministry. The final and most important ministry is dying. If these concerns are not forgotten, then the natural monasticizing tendency of old age 'will not interfere with the active, apostolic nature of a religious community. Third, in the long history of women's religious congregations, for various historical reasons which are beyond my simple point here, the Church has had great difficulty in recognizing the active charism at work in the hearts of various foundresses. Angela Merici, Mary Ward, Marguerite Bourgeoys and Louise de Marillac and their followers are but a very few examples of the suffering this confusion has caused. In some ways the Church still continues to struggle today with this issue of more fully acknowledging and facilitating the active charism within communities of women religious. It is very clear that the Church's welcoming approval of valid contemporary forms of active spirituality among women religious--and without imposing any additional, Two Apostolic Lifestyles / 667 illegitimate, monastic expectations-- will enormously enrich God's mission of justice and love in our world. This article has described two different charisms, two different apostolic lifestyles, the active and the monastic. The Spirit of God has created and kept these two charisms alive in the Church. In a recent talk to the American bishops Michael Buckley, S.J., summarized the treatment of charism in the document "Directives for Mutual Relations Between Bishops and Religious in the Church": "Charism always involves three factors: It is an enabling gift of the Spirit which so conforms the recipients to Christ that they build the Church.''~° Three things, then: a gift of the Spirit, intimacy with Jesus, for the sake of the Church. As we come to appreciate further the active and monastic lifestyles in the Church, it is the hope of this writer that we will not confuse or corrupt these different charisms, but cooperate with what God intends, through them, for the unity of the Church, the holiness of its members and the service of a faith-filled justice in our world. Paul's words to the Corinthians both confirm and stimulate our hope: There is a variety of gifts but always the same Spirit; there are all sorts of service to be done, but always to the same Lord; working in all sorts of differ-ent ways in different people, it is the same God who is working in all of them. The particular way in which the Spirit is given to each person is for a good purpose (1 Co 12:4-7). NOTES ~They Speak By Silence, a Carthusian (Huntington, Indiana: Our Sunday Visitor Inc.), p.3. 2One Pace Beyond--The Life of Nano Nagle, M. Raphael Consedine, P.B.V.M., (Moorabbin, Victoria: L.R. McKinnon & Co., 1977), p. 7. 3As a result of their study of the document "Essential Elements in the Church's Teach-ing on Religious Life as Applied to Institutes Dedicated to Works of the Apostolate," Franciscans are investigating and proposing the evangelical life as the best description of their charism. It remains to be seen whether this evangelical life is a third type of spirituality different from what I am calling the monastic and the active, whether it is its own unique blend of the active and monastic, or whether it is a particular version of an active spirituality. 668 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 4Vatican 11, "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life," #8. 5Soul Friend, Kenneth Leech, (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1977), p. viii. 6Vatican II, "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of Religious Life," #8. 7See my two articles "Assessing and Choosing Even as the Journey Continues," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, March/April 1984, and "Come Let Us Talk This Over: Issues in Spirituality, 1985," Part 1, 'REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July/August 1985, and Part II, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September/October 1985. 8Vatican II, "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life," #2. 9The Monastic Journey, T. Merton, (New York: Image, 1978), p. 213. ~°See "The Charism and Identity of Religious Life," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September/ October 1985, p. 661. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and II 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 Canonical Considerations of Autonomy and Hierarchical Structure Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. Sister McDonough is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Canon Law at The Catholic University of America (Washington, DC 20064). This article is based on a presen-tation she made to the LCWR convention in New Orleans last September. In the Middle Ages--from the grips of which many people suspect canon law has never been freed--canonical discipline was known as "practical theo-logy." That is, it was not a separate science as it is today, with specialized formulators, practitioners, codifiers and interpreters. What people did on a regular basis became operative norms of action. By authoritative interven-tion or by custom these operative norms of action eventually became recog-nized as laws in the technical sense of the Aristotelian/Thomistic construct, that is: An ordinance of reason formulated and promulgated by one charged with care of the common good. At that point in time the reasonableness of the norm, the intelligence of the individual, and each person's freedom of choice were paramount. Also in the Middle Ages--from the grips of which many people like-wise suspect religious life has never been freed--the ancient monastic and recently discovered mendicant ideas of religious life held sway. By that time the former was already highly clericalized, feudally land-based, rather well-off, and subject to frequent reforms. The latter was a new notion capitalizing on mobility, the development of towns, the discovery of trade, the rise of universities, and renewed lay piety. It, too, soon became rather clericalized; comfortably land-based, economically well-off, and in need of frequent reforms. 669 670 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 Nearly three centuries later at the time of Trentmfrom the grips of which most people are quite certain canon law and religious life have not been freed--canonical science was heavily influenced by nominalism, voluntarism, legalism and emerging casuistry. At that point in time the reasonableness of the norm, the intelligence of the individual, and one's freedom of choice were no longer paramount. The then recognized forms of religious life were suffering badly from the mediocrity and compromise and half measures that commonly accompany the waning of initial fervor, the dissipation of energies, the loss of resources, the monotony of the ordinary, the discovery of personal interpretation, and the sometimes misplaced convenience of dis-pensation, exception and privilege. Similarly, all of society was in flux: notions of political power, emerging nations, methods of warfare, forms of communication, frontiers of exploration, monetary systems, philosophical reasoning, theological conclusions, and ecclesiastical structures all experienced incredible upheavals and alterations. And in the midst of this social and ecclesial melange, the desperately needed "new idea" of apostolic religious life was conceived by Angela Merici, Ignatius Loyola, Mary Ward, Louise de Marillac and Jane de Chantal. These charismatic individuals were fol-lowed in a few centuries by Catherine McAuley and many others. Perhaps it was a failure of imagination on the part of the ecclesiastical establishment that perpetuated the ancient, cloistered, monastic model in theological reasoning and canonical practice for women religious. But reli-gious life itself simply continued to develop. Eighty percent of the religious groups ever founded became established between Trent and the twentieth century, and non-cloistered, non-solemnly vowed, apostolic religious life for women was finally universally recognized, but not until 1900. Canon law-- retaining some remnant of its medieval ',practical theology" identity--could not ignore the reality of the "new idea" in religious life forever, although recognition came rather slowly by our standards. Relating to the Present But what precisely is the connection of all this with the topic at hand, namely "Canonical Considerations of Self-Determination, Just Autonomy and Hierarchical Structure"? The connection is this: At the moment recog-nized forms of religious life are suffering badly from the mediocrity and compromise and half measures that commonly accompany the waning of initial fervor, the dissipation of energies, the loss of resources, the monotony of the ordinary, the discovery of personal interpretation, and the sometimes misplaced convenience of dispensation, exception and privilege. Similarly, at the present time all of society is in flux: notions of political power, emerg-ing nations, methods of warfare, forms of communication, frontiers of explo- Canonical Considerations / (171 ration, monetary systems, philosophical reasoning, theological conclusions, and ecclesiastical structures are all experiencing incredible upheavals and alterations. We are clearly in a post-conciliar era incredibly comparable to the late Middle Ages and to post-Tridentine times. In the midst of this social and ecclesial melange, religious life is again in need--perhaps desperately in need--of yet another "new idea." But those of us who are currently members of established communities, more than likely, are not the bearers of this desperately "new idea." At best we are perhaps--or certainly have the opportunity to be--artisans of a transition. And with proper understand-ing and use, this writer contends that canon law can be a great aid in this transition. Fostering a Transition To illustrate the transitional role of contemporary religious institutes, let us for a moment take the medieval methodological approach of canon law as "practical theology" and look at what current "theology in practice" in the 1983 code suggests about this life we call "religious." To begin, the new law talks about life: an identifiable form of life, a substantive form of life, a stable form of life. It speaks of a life clearly understood and freely chosen: a life of following Christ, a life of total dedication to God. It con-siders this life a particular state in the Church undertaken by profession of the evangelical counsels and lived in accord with the supreme law of the Gospel as expressed in the proper law of one's institute. It is a life involving some fixed organizational structures, certain obligations and rights, various spiritual exercises, some restrictions on personal and apostolic activities, numerous clear procedures for admission and departure, and a public con-nection to the local and universal Church. From the point of view of "practical theology" the new code requires proper law specification in seventy-four out of the one hundred fifty-three canons that apply to religious institutes. In other words, in nearly half of the canons concerning religious, the institute itself must or may determine specific elements of the life of its members, both individually and collectively. Thus, widespread distinctions in practice are not excluded by the universal law requirements for common life, identifiable superiors, necessary forma-tion, apostolic limitations, departure procedures, and the like. The prin-ciple of subsidiarity is canonically incorporated in the new code, and opportunities for practical variations are amply provided. How well or to what extent these are utilized depends entirely on one's proper law. Proper-law revision, or the writing of constitutions, as experienced during the last two decades in the life of religious institutes has been no easy task, however. In some instances the process was carried out in an ambience of 672 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 internal polarization that fomented contentions among members as each retreated to his or her corner courageously defending the truth for the sake of God. In other instances the formulation of an institute's truly representa-tive legislation was complicated by a certain lack of contemporaneity in institutional and hierarchical Church structures themselves. Nevertheless, these difficulties do not negate the fact that it is precisely the revision of proper-law wherein lies the opportunity for institutes to incorporate new ideas and new experiences of religious life. Good proper-law revision allows them to accomplish this without having to shoulder the burden of being the initiators or receivers of the desperately needed "new idea" mentioned above. Moreover, incorporating new ideas and experiences in proper-law to the greatest extent possible now, can help pave the way for later canonical acceptance of other, newer ideas and experiences, however long that may take. Institutionalizing Charisms Backtracking momentarily before going on, let us note that the phrase "new idea" is entirely inadequate. Ideas have consequences, but they are not the only realities that have consequences. And religious life is never primarily or merely an idea, an intellectual endeavor. It is a gift of the Spirit to, in, and through the Church. Charisms are like seeds planted in particularly fertile soil in a specific historical context. They are shaped and reshaped by the exigencies of history, by the fortunes and misfortunes of the passage of time. They are nourished and grow and evolve in the context of everyday life with everyday people--interspersed here and there by those we happily refer to as "saints" (while being equally happy we never had to live with them). Charisms are never captured in constitutions or any collection of fundamental and secondary documents. Charisms live in people or they do not live at all. Legal norms, on the other hand, are externally formulated and externally measurable. They can never totally express internal motivation. Thus, the basic import of any constitutions and any collection of fundamental and secondary documents is not merely their juridical perspective and canoni-cal determination. The legal heritage of an institute, capturing as best it can the articulated charism, is always conditioned by the emerging values of real life as experienced by those inspired to embrace the charism. People are, you see, an undeniably important element of the canonical system. On another level, the institutional Church, which in some form or another has been with us for nearly two millennia, must itself occasionally reach out and embrace a genuinely new charism. In such instances the ecclesial structure must fracture its preset boundaries, redefine its established cate-gories, and reorient its institutional life in order to incorporate, that is, take Canonical Considerations / 673 into its structures, a new breath of the Spirit. This reaching out and embracing a charism has probably happened only three times in Church history: for Benedictine monasticism, medieval mendicancy, and post-reformation apostolic orders. In each instance, institutional embracing of the new charism occurred quite slowly, required numerous adjustments and experienced set-backs over the years. The time may very well be ripe for another institutional embracing of truly new charisms of consecrated life in the Church. If so, this too will occur slowly, require adjustments, and experience setbacks. And, if history can offer us any objective insights regarding the process and its effects, one might be cautioned to note that once the institutional Church reaches out and embraces a genuinely new charism, the rest of the story is that of the charism's institutionalization. It is simply a matter of time and human nature: initial ideals are eventually dimmed or forgotten; initial fervor is slowly chilled or lost; initial Gospel goals are gradually subordinated to preservation of the new institution. Suffice it to say that the readers of this article are, more likely than not, part of already established, already institutionalized charisms and, as such, are not the first wave of any new movement in religious life. Limiting Self-Determination and Autonomy The parameters of ecclesial embrace and the exigencies of historical evolu-tion are the primary limiting factors in the "self-determination"aspect of any religious founder or foundress, of any religious institute. Self-determina-tion is never absolute. It has always been far from so for religious life, and still is. But this is also the case, for example, regarding members of the Christian faithful in general. In the new code all Christians are entitled to form associations (c. 215). All Christians should lead holy lives and promote the building up of the Church (c. 210). All Christians have the right and duty to work towards announcing the Gospel of :salvation (c. 211) and to undertake apostolic activi-ties (c. 216). But no Christians are obliged in any way to seek official recog-nition for these :activities in 'any canonical form unless they choose to do them in the name of the Church '(c.301,). And no Christian is obliged in any way to choose any form of consecrated life (c. 573 §2). Yet the self-determination of any Christian (which is never absolute to begin with) is quite circumscribed and channeled--limited, if you will--by either of the above choices once made. As individuals we cannot be both teachers and nurses at the same time. As communities we cannot be both monastic and apostolic at the same time. As institutes we cannot be both Ursuline and Franciscan at the same time. Thus, in an era that prefers to deal with "both/and," we are sometimes faced with an inevitable "either/or" because 674 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 no self-determination is absolute. Similarly the "just autonomy" of any institute is always and only to be considered within the context of ecclesial embrace and historical evolu-tion. Philosophically speaking, autonomy refers to freedom from external control and censure. It guarantees room for action and reflection without disruption, but it includes necessary coordination in reference to the whole. Nevertheless, any auto nomos, from the Greek to be self-normed, is funda-mentally limited by creation and redemption: by our realistic situation of being creatures in an ambience of and affected by evil. As individuals we have from the start only limited independence that remains always relative: so, too, with religious institutes in the Church. Appreciating the Role of Obligation Here it may be important to digress somewhat to consider the bias that supports the current canonical system. It is a philosophical/theological con-struct characterized by valuing status, common good and obligation. This is so in contrast to more recent philosophical/theological constructs character-ized by valuing human dignity, individual advantage and personal rights. Neither need be mutually exclusive of, or in direct contradiction to, the other. But both have often appeared so. Even with the advances of the last few centuries and the affirmations of recent popes and the articulations of Vatican Council II, the former con-struct is the one that clearly underlies the new law. In the new code, the communal context of "status" constantly qualifies any affirmations of equality in dignity. In it, the common good--perceived as a set of conditions enabling the attainment of reasonable objectives for the sake of which individuals have decided to collaborate--is clearly prior to independent, indi-vidual advantage. In it, rights are subordinate to and conditioned upon duties intrinsic to the Gospel and to our social nature. In it, the protection of rights is for the sake of fuller participation in one's evangelical and social obliga-tions. And in it, patriarchal paradigms and male-dominated linear images still predominate. But what of the alternative constructs? What of, for example, the philosophical and theological mind-set that emerges from the social contract and human rights theories of Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau? These are to a great extent the basis of our constitutional republic and the foundation of American civil law and jurisprudence. Prescinding from their equally patriarchal paradigms and male-dominated linear images, note that social-contract and human-rights theories appear to posit the pristine existence of free, independent but highly vulnerable individuals willing to ransom a portion of personal autonomy for collective security. Rights are the "playing Canonical Considerations / 675 cards" or the "poker chips" of the barter: some cannot be relinquished (these are termed "inalienable"); others can be relinquished but can also be recalled (in breach of contract). It may appear, at times, that the institu-tional Church would be much better off with a healthy dose of American civil liberties incorporated into its legal system: with a civil rights basis; with non-hierarchical checks and balances; with protection by administrative pro-cedures; with guarantees of prior notification, due process, provision for counsel, and the like. And, for the most part, this is probably not only an accurate observation but also a viable possibility and partial reality. Witness, for instance, the numerous appeals boards and administrative tribunals that already exist in many religious institutes and dioceses to complement the heavily hierarchical Church system. Indeed, it is clear that these two systems are not, and need not be considered, contradictory or mutually exclusive. Nevertheless, there is a significant difference between the Medieval and Enlightenment mind-sets, and the difference is crucial for ecclesiastical law and especially for religious institutes. Social-contract and human-rights con-structs, while very affirming of life and dignity in theory, are singularly inept at guaranteeing life and dignity to the individual from the community in practice. This is because one finds in them no legal locus of obligation. They are based, if you will, on the implicit myth that somewhere there exists a Utopian world of perfectly free humans who have no alienated or usurped rights and who experience no unresolved conflicts, individually or collectively. Reality is not quite so Utopian. So, for example, in the American social-contract/ human-rights systems, suppose you are .walking over a bridge beneath which there is someone in the water drowning. Note that, even though the drowning person has affirmed rights to life, education, suitable housing, equal-opportunity employment, a just wage, and more, there is absolutely no civil-law focus of obligation for anyone to come to his or her aid. This is not to say there is no moral obligati?n to come tothe person's aid, but there is no legal one. In fact, the legal system--because of numerous possibilities for litigation--at times seems even to militate against fulfillment of one's moral obligations in such situations. And note that we are not discussing here the medical/moral/legal subtleties of prenatal life or of the terminally ill. We simply have a recognizably fully alive human being with numerous affirmed rights who ends up quite dead because of lack of legal obligation in the system itself. In sharp contrast, the Aristotelian/Thomistic system of law, and even further back the Judaic/Talmudic system of law, are based primarily on obligations: common, mutual, reciprocal obligations that arise from a cor-porate experience. The Hebrew, the Christian, the religious is chosen-- passive voice--be it at Sinai, through the Last Supper, or by a call to conse- 676 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 crated life. We are chosen. This is not to suggest that we, therefore, have no responsibilities; but rather, to highlight the fact that the initiative is God's. Only the response is ours. Thus it is the beginning of our system's notion of legal obligation that becomes the crucial difference in the end.~ We do not begin by bartering away any pristine "rights." We receive a gift, with consequences. The legal constructs of our lives relate to divine events in and through which everything necessary for the eternal salvation of everyone for all ages has somehow already been given, in some sense even commanded. They are the same divine events in and through which we have freely assumed personal perpetual obligations. And they provide for an amazing absence of Utopian myths. For there is in salvation history ample evidence of human failure, outright betrayal, personal and collective infidelity, repeated digressions, and an uncanny unwillingness to live up to our part of the bargain. In contrast, on the part of God, there is ample evidence of long-suffering patience, relentless forgiveness and unswerving fidelity to the promise of mercy. Moreover, if we do not read the Gospel too selectively, even after having done everything expected, you and I have no basic right or even a distant claim to any reward whatsoever, although we are assured in the end of attaining the greatest possible goal. Situating Obligation in Hierarchical Structures The importance of proper law--the law that obtains for one's own insti-tute- has already been mentioned in regard to fostering the current transition in the paradigms of religious life. Proper law is also crucial to any element of self-determination and just autonomy within the Church's hierarchical structure. And the central element of ecclesiastical proper law, as well as ecclesiastical universal law, is the locus of incumbent obligation. This is what gives our laws content and objectivity for assuring the protection of values and the exercise of rights, even if these values and rights are not directly named as such. In fact, whether or not the values and rights are actually named in the law is of minimal importance. Perhaps at this point an example is in order. There is an ancient principle of Roman Law which states: Where there is a right, there is a remedy (Ubi ius, ibi remedium). It is in the logical contrapositive that we more readily recognize the truth of the principle, namely: If there is no remedy to be found for violation of an affirmed right, there is really no right at all. With this in mind, let us proceed to the example. It is an example not taken from ttie~ law for religious so that the content will not distract from the point intend~dl. Chnon 22'1! §'2',of~ the 1983 code states: If the Christian faithful are sum- Canonical Considerations / 677 moned to judgment by c6mpetent authority, they have the right to be judged in accord with the prescriptions of law applied with equity. It sounds wonder-ful. But what is there to guarantee that this will, indeed, be the case? The answer: incumbent obligations and opportunities to insist on their fulfill-ment as provided in the canons on judicial procedures. °The affirmed right of c. 221 §2 can be vindicated because all tribunal personnel must take an oath that they will fulfill their functions properly and faithfully (c. 1454). All tribunal personnel must disqualify themselves from involvement in cases concerning: (1) persons with whom they have a first-cousin or closer relationship, (2) persons for whom they are guardians or trustees~ (3) persons with whom they have a close friendship or for whom they feel a great animosity, as well as (4) those instances in which they desire to make a profit or avoid some loss (c. 1448). And if the tribunal personnel do not disqualify themselves, the parties in the case can lodge an objection (c. 1229) to which the court must attend before the trial can continue (c. 1451). All tribunal personnel are forbidden to accept any gifts whatsoever for the performance of their duties (c. 1456). And any tribunal personnel are subject to penalties, including loss of office, if they refuse to deal with a case for which they are competent, or attempt to deal with a case for which they are not competent, or violate the law of secrecy, or inflict damage on the parties out of malice or serious negligence (c. 1457). In other words, these procedural canons--specifying as they do the legal locus of obligations and providing the opportunity to insist that the obliga-tions be fulfilled--are really what give canonical force to c. 221 §2. But the point is this: These canons, albeit with different numbers, were also in the former code. The affirmation of current c. 221 §2 was not. How much this newly affirmed "right" would mean without these related obligations is questionable, for indeed: If there is no remedy, there is really no right. And how much this newly incorporated right actually adds to the related, already long-standing procedures still remains to be seen. All the foregoing in norway intends to ignore the fact that. even in the best of legal systems incumbent obligations can upon occasion be observed primarily in the breach. The intention is, rather, to provide a clear under-standing of the importance of obligations in the Church's legal system in order to investigate more meaningfully the numerous obligations contained in the canons concerning religious institutes. Religious Institutes and Obligations To begin our discussion, as well as to illustrate the complexity of the: interrelationships among canons, let us consider thosecanons contaii~ed under the title "Obligations and Rights of Institutes and of their Members,." cc. 678 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 662-672. As often as one might comb the (official Latin) text of the canons, there is not one strict right (ius) to be found. But at this point in the presenta-tion, such a discovery should be no great surprise: It is the locus of incumbent obligation, not the affirmation of rights, that is the substantive base for our legal system. Moreover, listed in these canons there are numerous obliga-tions from which it is clear that what other legal systems call "rights" will be respected even though not mentioned by name. To pursue the practical content of obligations/rights in the code as related to self-determination, just autonomy and hierarchical structure, we will isolate one of the canons in this section and investigate its canonical consequences. Perhaps the most important obligation listed in this set of canons is that of c~ 670: Each institute must (debet) supply for its members all those things necessary for attaining the end of their vocation. The debet is canonically preceptive language. The subject, object, and matter of the obligation are, respectively, the institute, its members, and necessities. Proper law should certainly address itself to the objective meaning of "necessities," and the meaning should have some reference to what is justly judged so in an equit-able manner by competent authority within the norms, structures, and resources of a particular institute. There is some problem, to be sure, with relating mandated necessities to the end of one's vocation when that end ultimately transcends temporal realities and, thus, is effectively precluded from the possibility of practical evaluation. But consequences of the mandate in c. 670 are extensive and have already been addressed by canonists.2 At the very least, this obligation on the part of institutes is interpreted as requiring those in positions, of government to provide for, and as giving members a corresponding right to: (1) sound, complete, approved proper law, (2) structural provision for general chapters, superiors and councils, (3) systematic formation, (4) stable community life, (5) suitable options for apostolic action or internal work in accord with the institute's mission, and (6) appropriate material goods and .opportunities for ongoing health care, formation, work and renewal. Note that none of the mutual obligations/rights in this list are meaningful except as connected to a coherent legal system that can guarantee their fulfill-ment. And recall that in Church law the locus of incumbent obligation is what provides objective content and procedural safeguards for affirmed or unaffirmed rights. It is the locus of incumbent obligation that is the basis for whatever down-ward or lateral accountability might exist in our hierarchical system, which Canonical Considerations / 679 operates primarily on the intrinsic principle of upward accountability. That is, in fulfilling well the obligations it has towards its members (i.e., its down-ward accountability), any institute is also more than likely fulfilling its obliga-tions towards the other elements of the hierarchical structure (i.e., its lateral and upward accountability). Simply put, an institute cares for downward accountability by attending to the legal obligations it has towards its members. It does this by providing for at least the six categories mentioned as flowing from the requirement of c. 670. But in so doing the institute is not only protecting the rights of individual members. It is also establishing itself on a sound operational basis for relating to equivalent juridic persons, such as other religious institutes, in lateral accountability. And it is likewise con-tributing to its own just autonomy in the upward accountability of the insti-tute to higher authorities in the hierarchical structure. Thus, all of the mutual obligations/rights that derive from c. 670 are directly or indirectly related to the question of an institute's existence and just autonomy. But the motive for action and the locus of accountability in c. 670-- fulfilling obligations toward members--shift the focus for the institute from that of accepting the collective imposition of alien restrictions to that of guaranteeing the possible pursuance of someone's response to having been chosen. It is possible to approach this accountability from an entirely different perspective, namely: from the recog-nition of just autonomy for religious institutes in c. 586. Indeed, the result of beginning with c. 586 might even be somewhat similar, as will be seen in the next section. Yet the basis for action in the former approach is probably more canonically sound. Religious Institutes and Just Autonomy Canon 586 states that it belongs to local ordinaries to preserve and protect (servare ac tueri) the autonomy of each institute. In the same canon "just autonomy of life, especially of government" is recognized by universal law. The canon goes on to describe this "just autonomy" as that by which insti-tutes enjoy (gaudeant) their own discipline and have the power to pre~serve (servare valeant) their patrimony3 intact. The patrimony of an institute of consecrated life is described in c. 578 as the intention and purpose of the founders/foundresses, sanctioned by competent ecclesiastical authority, con-cerning the nature, end, spirit and character of the institute as well as its sound traditions. The canon adds that this patrimony is to be faithfully preserved (servanda est) by all. Elsewhere, in c. 631 § 1, the general chapter is given special responsibility both to protect (tueri) the institute's patrimony as described in c. 587 and to promote its appropriate renewal (accommodatam renovationem). Still elsewhere in c. 587 §1, institutes must (debent) incor-porate into their constitutions .whatever is established regarding their 680 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 patrimony in order to faithfully protect (ad. fide#us tuendam) the voca-tion and identity of their instutute. Another set of canons is also pertinent to the investigation at hand: cc. 675 §1, 611 #2, 677 §1, and 671. The first states that in apostolic institutes apostolic action is part of their very nature (ipsam eorundem naturam). The second states that a bishop's consent for canonical erection of a religious house includes the right (ius) to exercise the works proper to the institute according to the norm of law and within any restrictions contained in the consent. The third states that superiors and members of institutes should faithfully retain (fide#ter retineanO and prudently accommodate (prudenter accommodenO the mission and works of their institute. And the fourth states that members may not undertake pgsitions outside of those proper to the institute,without the permission of legitimate superiors. Both the language and the interplay of all these canons are significant. The patrimony of any institute, or, if you will, the meaningful heritage or expres-sion of its charism, is somehow to be contained in its proper law. Note that this is the same sound, complete, approved proper law to which membe~-s have a right by reason of the obligation in c. 670. And this patrimony is to be preserved by all--an unqualified and inclusive all--according to c. 578. Con-stitutions (c. 587), general chapters (c. 631), and local ordinaries (c. 586) are each required (using some form of the same Latin verb, tueor) to protect the institute's patrimony. Chapters have the responsibility to renew it (c. 631), while superiors and members have the ability to retain and accommodate certain aspects of it (c. 677). Now for the sake of example, let us suppose that an institute has been founded whose nature is apostolic, whose purpose is to practice the corporal works of mercy, whose spirit is non-monastic, and whose character, because of its purpose, is for the most part one of commitment to individual rather than to collective apostolates. Let us also suppose that the instutute is of pontifical right, that it has three canonically erected houses in three dioceses, and that its members are present in seven other dioceses in which the institute has n6 canonically erected houses. Finally, let us suppose that a member of this institute, with appropriate permission from internal authorities and fulfilling the norms of universal and proper law, is exercising an apostolate which the diocesan bishop does not wish this person to exercise in the diocese entrusted to his care. The stage is set, is it not, for the play of tensions commonly experienced between just autonomy and hierarchical structure? Without being facetious, let me suggest further that the script for this act of the play commonly has the religious entering stage left, the bishop entering stage right, and all defini-tive action coming Deus ex machina from above. The entire performance Canonical Considerations / 681 is usually viewed only through the opera glasses of a communications media well known for its ability to distort the factual while filling lacunae with unfounded conjecture. When the curtain falls, there are inevitable winners and losers, but who belongs to which category most often depends on where you were seated--center orchestra, third balcony, backstage, or in the wings. And usually the real issues have neither been well addressed nor even partially solved, while genuine Christian values, not to mention Christian people, have more than likely been forgotten or neglected or badly battered during the performance. As a canonist, this writer holds there are viable alternatives to the above scenario. For, if law does nothing else for us in the Church, it ought to at least be able to function as the impartial arbiter in cases of conflict. How well it can do this for cases such as the above, however, depends on how clearly and thoroughly obligations are both delineated in proper law and fulfilled by those responsible for them. But, to return to the case and the question at hand: Can the bishop prohibit the religious from exercising the apostolate in the diocese entrusted to his care? If you view it from the per-spective of the religious--to use familiar phraseologywthe "bad news" is that he probably can, because ultimately all religious are subject to the power of the bishop in apostolic works (c. 678 §1). The "good news" is that such a prohibition would be very difficult in some circumstances. Needless to say, if you are looking at this case from the vantage point of the bishop, the content of the answer is exactly the same: The prohibition is probably possible but possibly very difficult. The law, you see, is rather objective and can be an impartial arbiter in such matters, even though the "goodness" or "badness", attributed to the content would probably be reversed (and logically so) in the judgment of the bishop. Why is it probably possible but possibly very difficult for the bishop to forbid the religious from exercising an apostolate in the diocese entrusted to his care? The answer, to be canonically sound, requires a careful investi-gation of the canons previously mentioned. If the institute is an apostolic one, then apostolic works are part of its nature by law (c. 675). The nature of an institute as sanctioned by ecclesiastical authority is part of its patri-mony to be preserved°by all (c. 578) and contained in its constitutions (c. 587). The power to preserve this patrimony is part of an institute's legally recognized just autonomy of life, and local ordinaries are to preserve and protect this autonomy (c. 586). Regarding just autonomy of life, on the one hand, it cannot be restricted merely to internal matters or only to government. If autonomy is restricted to internal matters, then the understanding of religious life under universal law would be a dichotomized, compartmentalized one. The code takes great 682 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 pains to indicate that this is clearly not the case, and especially for the apostolic activity of apostolic institutes (cc. 662, 673, 675). Furthermore, if autonomy is restricted to the institute's internal government, then the just autonomy "especially of government" recognized in c. 586 is a meaningless phrase even canonically. On the other hand, if any apostolate is fundamental to an institute and if any autonomy in regard to this apostolate is to be recognized, then the apostolate must be clearly articulated in the institute's constitutions. If it is clearly articulated in the constitutions, and if the institute has a canon-cially erected house in the diocese, then this includes a strict right (ius) to exercise proper-law apostolate(s) of the institute from this house (c. 611 #2). Note, however, that while the institute has this right, each and every member of the institute is not necessarily free to exercise the right. Canonists do agree that, in granting consent for a religious house, a diocesan bishop can restrict some of the institute's activities for all of the members or all of the institute's activities for some of the members. But they also agree that he cannot restrict all of the institute's activities for all of the members. If he judges this extreme restriction necessary, he simply ought not to grant consent for establishing the house. Thus, in response to the case, if: - there is a constitutionally established apostolate - exercised by a member of the institute -~with proper internal permissions ~ according to universal law (i.e., legally) -. from a canonically established house -to which no general or specific apostolic restrictions have been attached, it would be very difficult for the bishop to prevent the religious from continuing the apostolic activity. The prohibition would not be impossible, however, because it is provided by c. 679, that if: - the bishop judges there is a most grave cause - after having referred the matter to the major superior - and if the major superior does not take appropriate action - the bishop can prohibit the religious from remaining in the diocese. But this action constitutes a penalty (c. 1327 §1) which means that -the procedure for application of penalties is to be followed (cc. 1341-1353) - no steps may be dispensed with (c. 87) 7 all wording must be interpreted strictly (c. 18) - the constitutions of the institute may not be violated (c. 1327 §1) and - the bishop must immediately inform the Holy See of his action (c. 679). Canonical Considerations / 683 Whence, the answer given above must contain an important qualification: The prohibition is probably possible but possibly very difficult only if the initial legal obligations regarding apostolate, houses and constitutions have been fulfilled by the institute to which the member belongs. But such is not usually the case, is it? For the most part situations arise in which it is clear that one or many of the above legal obligations have not been fulfilled and, consequently, the rights involved are not well protected. It often happens that the institute has no canonically erected house in the diocese. Then there is simply no right for the institute or any of its member to exercise any apostolate there. If they do so, they do so at the good will of the bishop who can subsequently forbid what he has previously permitted. The written agreements between diocesan bishops and competent superiors, which are now required by c. 681 when entrusting works to religious, might possibly give the religious a cause for civil-law action in the case of a breach of contract, but this could only occur if the agreements were poorly composed canonically in the first place. One might add that adhering to the require-ment for these written agreements, which are supposed to include the type of work involved, could possibly identify potential conflicts such as the above case in their incipient stages. It also often happens that a particular activity exercised by a religious is not mentioned--or at least not referred to in a specific enough manner--to definitively include it in the constitutionally approved elements of the insi-tute's apostolate. The competent internal authority by making a practical interpretation in the course of good government may judge that this specific activity is included within the constitutionally approved elements of its aposto-late. But if this practical interpretation is challenged and recourse is had to the competent external authority, the interpretation of the authority who approved the constitutions in the first place is the one that prevails. Another common occurrence is practical accommodation of an institute's mission and apostolic works by the superiors and members in accord with c. 677. An institute may adapt its apostolate from educating orphans, for instance, to educating Blacks or Hispanics. Or, again, an institute may relin-quish nursing in hospitals in order to serve in home-nursing ministries. Some-times these accommodations are not subsequently or accurately incorporated into one's constitutions by a general chapter. But legal affirmation of such adjustments is both the obligation and prerogative of general chapters accord-ing to c. 631. If general chapters do not fulfill their obligations by providing an adequate update of an institute's proper law, the "good news" and "bad news" for the religious will be rendered as mentioned above. Three other forms of apostolic accommodation are also common and can be far more problematic, namely: 684 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 (1) defining the institute's mission and apostolate in so generic a manner that almost any apostolic activity can be included in them, (2) including in the institute's mission and apostolate some activities that appear to be only indirectly connected with its patrimony, and (3) including in the institute's mission and apostolate those activities which relate closely to those prohibited for religious in universal law. It would be unrealistic--if not grandiose--to attempt a treatment here of the specifics of each of these instances, but all three can certainly be recog-nized as occasions for another play of tensions between just autonomy and hierarchical structure. In the process of approval of constitutions, competent ecclesiastical authorities often perceive these instances as fostering generic vagueness or minute inclusiveness or institutional challenges: Their response is usually to request or to mandate adjustments in wording and/or content. This is often viewed by the institutes both as a violation of their just auto-nomy and as a negation of their renewal experiences. There is no doubt that the attitudes of those involved in the dialogues concerning constitutional revision are crucial to the results. In the first case just suggested, there can be--but need not be--a real danger of dissipating an institute's resources by too extensive a diversification within a generic category, such as education or health care or social justice. In the second, there can be, but need not be, a noble attempt to "legitimize" the activity of every member, however diversified, by incorporating it by name into the institute,s proper law. In the third, there can be, but need not be, a genuine and necessary prophetic challenge to the gradually institutionalized: restrictions on Gospel imperatives. Whether competent authorities and reli-gious institutes approach these and similar situations from a stance of polari-zation and confrontation or from a stance of pluralism and constructive compromise alters the "flashpoint" of the matter involved. A "flashpoint" is the degree of flammability of combustible materials. Most readers will probably be aware that there have been many tenuous "flashpoints" approached and passed by the interaction of hierarchy and religious--as well as among religious themselves--throughout history. Such opposition and conflict, indeed, utter conflagrations at times, have been regrettable and are certainly not to be excused.4 But in the interaction of religious charism and ecclesial institution they will always be potentially present. Suggestions are sometimes made that religious institutes experiencing great charism/hierarchical tensions might opt for what is referred to as "non-canonical" status. Legally speaking "non-canonical" is a misnomer as well as an almost impossible option. Religious institutes are by law public juridic persons (c. 634, 116 §2). Canonical Considerations / 685 This means they automatically have a "canonical status" which can also be described as legal standing or public authentication within the ecclesial structure. This status is understood to guarantee the soundness of the insti-tute's charism and traditions, to empower the duly elected officers of the institute forgoverning, and to confer a mandate on the institute (and its members) for apostolic activities. It is quite clear in Church law that only the appropriate ecclesiastical authorities--namely, Diocesan ]~ishops or the Apostolic See--can erect religious institutes (cc. 576, 578-579, 589), can approve and accept the charisms of founders and foundresses (c. 578), and can officially interpret and moderate the practice of the evangelical counsels (c. 576). Any public juridic person in the Church is by law a "perpetual" entity and can be legitimately extinguished only by competent authority (c. 120 §1). The Apostolic See alone is able to suppress an institute of consecrated life once it has been canonically erected (c. 584). On the occasion of such sup-pression, the disposition of the goods of the institute, which are by law "ecclesiastical goods" (c. 1257), belongs to the Apostolic See (c. 584) unless the approved statutes of the public juridic person (i.e., the institute's proper law) provide otherwise (c. 123). Thus, the material possessions of any religious institute, as well as the final decisions regarding what is to be done with them, do not belong ultimately to the institute or to its members but to the institutional Church. Moreover, religious institutes are "collegial" public juridic persons (c. 115 §2) andas such continue to exist (unless suppressed) as long as there is one surviving member, upon whom all the rights and obliga-tions of the institute devolve (c. 120 §2). For two major reasons, therefore, it is not legally realistic for a religious institute as such to become "non-canonical" in response to the tensions experienced in the interplay of the institute's charism and hierarchical struc-tures: (1) suppression of a religious institute is difficult to accomplish and (2) truly non-canonical status is almost impossible to find. First, an institute does not have the authority to suppress itself; and it is rare that all members of an institute might opt for requesting suppression by the Apostolic See. If such were the case., however, the juridic person could totally cease to exist. But if even a few chose to remain and were allowed to do so, these few would then enjoy all the rights and assume all the obligations of the still existing original religious institute. The ecclesiastical goods of the institute would also be subject to the care and control of the remaining members according to Church law? In other words, the mem-bers of any religious institute cannot simply decide to self-destruct the juridic person and head off into the sunset, each fortified with his or her own "piece 686 / Review for Religious, September-October, 1986 of the (institutional) rock." Second, even if an institute were sup

Issue 44.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1985. ; REVIEW FOR R ELIGIOUS(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 R ELIGIOOS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by REVIEW FOR R El.IGlOOS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year: $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscdpllon orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOOS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor Jan. / Feb., 1985 Volume 44 Number 1 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELtGIOOS; 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 REvlEw FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Review for Religious ~,'olume 44, i985 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.~.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 isavailable from~University Microfilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright © 1985 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. Religious Life as Unchanging in a World of Change John E Whealon Archbishop Whealon of Hartford addressed the Fall Meeting of the Consortium Perfectae Caritatis in October, 19.84. He may be addressed at his office: Archdiocese of Hartford; 134 Farmingtoh ~v~nue; Hartford, CT 06105. he theme of your meeting, my dear sisters and brothers, is "Religious Life as Unchanging in a World of Change."Th~ medieval~scholastics taught us that distinctions are necessary for ~good thinking, for good logic. So I make a necessary distinction here between the essentials and the accidentals of the religious life. As a Father of the Second Vatican Council (andotherE are precious few of us left :as active bishops these days), I point,out with sortie authority that the council did call'upon religious to change--or at least to consider.changing --the accidentals ofiheir religious life. The operative text is Paragraph 2 of the council's decree Pe~fectae Caritatis, which lays in effect: "The: appropriate renewal of religious life involves 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." ~ " So the council expected every religious community to fix one eye on the Gospel and on its founder, and the other eye on the modern world, and to update those accidentals which no longer made sense in the modern world. I do think that all communities, nineteen years after that council decree, have done what they were asked to do. The real question is whether some communities have lost some of the essentials as well in their efforts to update. Returning, then, to that basic distinction, I am thinking now of religious life as "Unchanging in E~sentials in a World of Change." 3 4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 I wish to do twothings this afternoon: first, to speak about these essentials; second, to read to you some quasi-private correspondence. What are the essentials for us in our living out of the Christian life? Forgive me, not a religious, for listing her~ some of the items that are essential in my life--I suspect, though, that they are quite essential in your lives as well. At the end of the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew gives us the Lord's teaching about the person whose house is built on rock. It is a useful metaphor to describe the person who has certain fundamental convictions which carry through the years. Let the tides and eddies and swirls and winds come, the rock-foundation of these convictions is there, unshaken, unmoved, unaffected by what goes on around. So you and I should be solidly based on the rock of our certain convictions, on the essentials of our lives, so that we are not really shaken by what other people say or do, by the spirit of the age, by the shallow currents of our shallow times. I will now list for you five unchanging elements in this world of change. They have carried me through some years which have been very difficult for any bishop. Perhaps the listing of them will find an echo in your own lives as well. The first essential is God. As the years go on, I "become even more convinced that the incredible design in nature, the intricate and intertwined design of the human body and psyche, and the very continuation in being of this world and of us humanbeings in this world and in.life must be explained by God. How a person can go through, life and not accept a Designer, God, who alone explains life, the world, and the universe, I fail to fathom. The second essential is JeJus Christ, the climax of Revelation. By Revelation I mean that truth from God which we know frrm Scripture and the Spirit-guided Tradition of the Church. From Revelation there are many things God had not ~old us and which we can only wonder about and theorize about in theology. We know so little about heaven and ~hell and purgatory, about what Jesus Christ knew,~ about what the Blessed Mother knew, about how she came to the end of her life, about the Apostles, But we know all that we"need to know to save our souls and to lead a good and fruitfully human life --and whatwe know is summed up in one word, because it is the Word-- Jesus, our Lord. Our life isto be the imitation of that Perfect.Life: Our life is to be our acceptance of the One who is the Way, the Truth, the Life. So, as St. Paul said, life is Christ and death is Christ. In thefirst reading, from Galatians, of today's Mass we have the same lesson: we are baptized into Christ, we live totally in Christ. St. Ignatius of Antioch over eighteen centuriesago described Christ as "our inseparable life." This is what it means to have Jesus as our Lord. For us the ~iimax of God's Revelation is Jesus Christ: in what Jesus was and is, and in, what Jesus has taught us and teaches us. So this is a.second solid essential on which to base a life: Jesus Christ, after God. The third essential for living is prayer, mainly personal prayer, but also Religiou~ Life as Unchanging public or liturgical prayer. One of the standard definitions for prayer is -conversation with God. In my life prayer has not been a. conversation at all with God. My prayer is a poor, one-sided effort to speak to the Almighty and to praise the Almighty. I trust and I believe that God is listening. Prayer is a necessary dimension of living,. I believe, so that a day spent without an attempt at mental prayer, a little move towards contemplation, minutes spent in praise and thanksgiving, would be a ,day somehow lost spiritually. I know that prayer does more good for me than I will ever know, and so prayer is the third foundation for living that I list. A fourth essential is community with others. I am not a religious, but I would have a' very difficult time living alone as an anchorite or a hermit. I need to be with others who think and pray and live as I do, and that is why I live with a community of priests. It seems to me that for much the same reasons the religious life is an element in the Catholic Church that will be present until the Lord comes again. So long as the faith is strong, some will want to live out their Christian lives in a community form of life. Some will be called by God to put themselves under vbw in order to live their lives in Christ more fully, in order to do more for Christ and for his Church. So in .a world of change--and I suspect that the prominence of the electronic, media in our society will make inevitable an atmosphere of continuous change in the: years ahead--religious life will be a constant, an ever-available way of life for those with a vocation. A fifth essential element for any Catholic is the Church itself--the Catholic Church possessed, of a teaching authority or rnagisterium that is a part of the Christ's Church. We are the Church, we People of God. But we are also a Church which has a teaching authority. The Lord Jesus gave a universal shepherd and other shepherds to guide his flock. The Lord Jesus, who taught with authority, told his apostles to use his authority and to teach and baptize all nation's, even to the ends of the earth. One of the dominant characteristics of the Catholic Church is its magisterii~m. We have in the Church an authority to tell us what is right and " wrong, what is true and false, what is to be done and what is not to be done. The test of theomagisterium, and of Our acceptance of it, occurs precisely when we are told to believe something or to do something that we personally would prefer not to believe or not to do. The "obedience of faith," then, calls for some humility. And in a proud and indulgent age, neither the concepts nor the words "obedience" and "magisterium~ are very popular. So, specifically by reason of the magisterium in the Church, the Catholic today should know and hold clearly that racial discrimination is wrong, abortion is wrong, contraception is.morally wrong, liberation theology is in some forms dangerous, and ~o forth. I do not see how a person can live the Catholic life fully without following the magisterium. In saying that, I fully realize that there are distinctions which have to be made about the voice 6 '/ Review for Religious, Jan.-~eb., 1985 expressing: magisterial teachings, the clarity and loudness (so to speak) of that voice;, the.topic taught, and so forth. But my point is that the gentiine ~Catholic is to follow the teaching of pope and bishop, and not turn Somersaults so as to avoid accepting magisterial teaching. It is in the context of this acceptance, of magisterial teaching that I see the various reactions (really only two) to the Holy'Father's letter of April 3; 1983, addressed to the diocesan bishops of the United States. The Holy Father asked the bishops to: give special pastoral.service to religious in their dioceses, with a view to express gratitude for all that religious mean for the Church and also to convey concern over the future of this charism in the Church because of the decline in vocations. The papal letter mad~ reference to the Ten Essential Elements .of Religious Life and to their further explanation in an accompanying document drawn up by the Sacred Congregation for .Religious and Secular Institutes. ,, There.,has been much voiced opposition by some U.S: religious to that document and to the Ten Essential Elements. 1 have heard presentations, that go. into a lengthy exegesis of the document, that anal~,ze the mind,set, the limited world-outlook and limited theology o~ its authors, that criticize the ten points for this or that reason. I can only say to such criticisms that it seems to me to,be improper to attempt to separate the document or the Ten Essential Elements from the Holy Father. In September of last year, in company with~a hundred U.S. bishops, I made the obligatory ad limina visit to Rome and presented a quinquennial report~ on the archdiocese. In talking to me, and to,each of the.other U.S. bishops, the Holy Father asked with concern and worry about.the religioias in our dioceses and about their reaction to :his letter. On the basis of my experience, then, it seems tome that the way to read and interpret this letter is to see that the Lord's Universal Shepherd is'worried about a most.important part of the universal flock, the ireligious in the U,S.A., and wants to tell them what religious life should be: in the past, and now, and in the future. A hypercritical or narrowly analytical reading of that letter will offer, I believe, a wrong interpretation and, in view of the magistegium, not a fully Catholic reaction to it. This question of magisterium is of critical importance today for Catholics seeking to understand more fully the dimensions of their faith. During the past twenty years the underlying question in many news stories relating to Catholics has really been about magisterium. And magisterium is the real question un~derlying the recent discussion regarding two Catholic legislators and their pro-choice stance concerning abortion. I conclude this presentation by summarizing the :several points which we need to hold to as basic for living, as Christians and Catholicsand religious, in an ever-changing world: '1) God; 2) Jesus Christ as Lord; 3) prayer,or our aRempts at prayer; 4) religious community; 5) the magisterium' of~the Catholic Church Religious Life as Unehanging / 7 Come what may in future years, may we hold to these essentials and find strength as. we base our lives, build our house, on them; My second purpose this afternoon is to read to you, for whatever wisdom it holds, my answer to the Holy Father's request for special pastoral service to the Leligious of the archdiocese. A copy of this letter has been. sent to Arch-bishop John Quinn for~reference to the Pontifical Commission which he heads and the committee which he appointed. ~ , My answer was dated August 14, 1984, and reads as ~follows: Most Holy Father: This letter is in response to the request of Your Holiness to the U.S.A. diocesan bishops, asking each to give special pastoral service to the religious in the dioceses. After receiving the letter of Your Holiness, I met with either the provincial or council or community of each of the ten communities of religious with provincial houses in the Archdiocese of Hartford. With each group I discussed the esteem of Your Holiness for these religious, your concern for their future, and religious vocations, and their experience of renewal after the Second Vatican Council as seen in the light of the ten "Essential Elements." ~ I learned that of the ten communities, seven [and here I list,,their names] see the ten essentials as expressing their religious life. Most of these have already had their constitutions approved. Of the ten communities three have experienced renewal in. a different way. In general they have experienced a reduction of centralized and local authority In favor of a more collegial approach, an openness to difference and individual apostolates, a willingness to permit smaller groups to live apart from the larger community, and.a replacement of religious garb with a simple secular dress. In these three.communities, however, a minority of the community has kept the religious garb and traditional customs. These are mainly older members of the community. From these interviews, and from meetings with religious outside the Archdiocese, I conclude: 1. We have today in the U.S.A. two sharply different approaches to religious life. The one approach follows the Ten Essentials. The other approach follows some of the Ten Essentials, but has adopted a noticeably more democratic approach to authority, work, living arrangements and religious garb. 2. These two approaches' are irreconcilable. There is a painful division between the two groups, and a more painful division within a community in which the leadership and most younger members have followed a progressive approach to renewal, while most of the older members have remained conservative.* 3. Some; not all, consei'vative communities are growing. The more progressive communities, our largest communities of women, are Review .for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 showing no growth. 4. Because of these two different approaches to religious life, there is widespread confusion about the identity of religious life. 5. The progressive group,, includes many of our best, brightest, most dedicated religious. Their lifestyle and works of religion are to the credit of their community and Chui'ch. And that they are not growing in numbers is cause for lamentation. 6. The progressive group is concerned that its approach to renewal will be judged as not valid, and they will lose their status as religious in the Church. One answer to this is that they have .already effectively ~ converted the community to the status of a secular institute. The picture is extraordinarily complex. My best thinking is that the Holy See could respond in two possible ways: 1. Following the Gamaliel~principle, do nothing. In fifteen years, a brief time in the life .of the Church, the picture will be much more clear. At the end of the century a decision can be made. 2. Designate the religious following the Ten Essentials, including individuals in progressive communities, as "religious. of strict ob-servance," and designate the others by a different terminology. The conservative in progressive communities should be given special consideration.~ ' ~ My conclusion is that there is in the long run little difference between these two approaches. But, for the purpose of identifying the religious in the. Church' and for encouraging religious vocations, the second approach is probably preferable. With respect and fraternal affection in the Lord. That is the end of my letter tothe Holy Father, and end of my presentation to you. And I am grateful~ for your attention. *In response'to a listener, Archbishop Whealon offered the following clarification: By the terms .progre~ssive and conservative 1 intend nothing other than the more or less conventional way used to describe different extremes in the body p~61itic. I am consciously irying pot to use loaded terms in any way, and so am open to any more successful way of expressing these differences. Future Directions in Ministry Barbara Kraemer, 0 S. E Sister Barbara Kraemer is Vice-President of the School Sisters of St. Francis. This article is based on a presen~tation delivered to the, Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the course of their.Assembly (August 6, 1984). Sister may be addressed at her generalate: 1501 S. Layton Blvd.; Milwaukee, Wl 53215-0006. Our future directions in" ministry are rooted in our history and in our current context. We are members of apostolic communities in the United States. Our spirituality is rooted in our western culture. The experience of growth and renewal these past years has been basically positive for Changes have not been made lightly, nor have they been made without mistakes and difficulties. Renewal is an ongoing process. My community was founded at a time when ~Catholic schools were being established to teach religion and to giv~ people the skills they needed in an irfimigra~society. Over the years, the needs have changed and also our responses ~m ministry. Todaywe must ask: "What is our unique contribution in education?" Today the descendants of~the German immigrants are members of the middle and upper classes. Do we continue to have a mission to them? What is its new focus? Do we have a mission to new immigrants from Southeast Asia, from Latin America and the Caribbean? There are several areas of blatant need in the U.S. today that help to direct out: efforts in ministry. They are the real needs of real people and they must be part of our consideration as we shape our present and future responses. First, Poverty. Not the t:oncept, but thepeople who are poor. How can we keep in touch with the devastating reality of the poor people around us?.How can we keep our hearts open to them? What can we do so that the distribution of wealth and opportunity will be more equal? "~ ,. Second, .Violence. There is a lack of respect for life in our country, and I'm not speaking only of abortion or capital punishment, but also about child and 9 10 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 spouse abuse, prison conditions, war-making. Are we aware of the violence within us? What steps can we take so that in the future our country and our people stand for a nonviolent world? Third, Inequality of Women. Women in our country receive contradictory messages. Are we convinced that further changes need to be made? What is my or your personal commitment to equality for women? Fourth, Economic Exploitation, There is the philosophy that says we should have more because it's available, that we should sacrifice nothing and enjoy our abundance. And there is the undeniable fact that someone can make a living by exploitation, later beginning a respectable enterprise, made more respectable by donations. People are happy to accept the money because they need it. Playboy Enterprises now has a charitable foundation. Do we scrutinize the source of donations we accept? The response we make to these and other needs is important not only in terms of the what but also the how. The value of our future contributions in ministry depends as much on how we live out our beliefs and values, as it does on the work itself. Therefore, I would like to emphasize three characteristics of ministry that are extremely important for the future: insertion into the lives of people; public witness; and effective use of resources. Insertion Insertion simply means that .we must be part of the people we :serve, part of the society we live in, identifying ourselves as much as possible with the people. Sometimes that seems easy, especially when we come from the same class and a similar background. It is harder when a person with ~a middle-class background goes to teach in a wealthy suburb or to work~at an inner-city shelter for the homeless. It takes careful looking and searching to see the people around us and to recognize what they have to contribute to our lives. Not many, if any, of us rea!ly know what it is to stand in a line at a government office waiting'for an unemployment check,.to personally face the question of abortion or divorce. But iLwe let people teach us, our ministry will not be superficial and it will not be judgmental. Recently,someone. questioned the priorities of a small group of our sisters living in a village in Guatemala. "They spend so much time buying food and " preparing the meal," she said. Their work is basically with the .women of that village and the surrounding area. What better way to understand the life of those women than to identify with how they spend their day! And whose time priorities do we use to measure the value of our presence with these people? Henri Nouwen has spoken about how difficult it is for us to receive from people; we 'always want to give. He pointed out: a servant doesnt decide how h~/she is going to serve. He/she comes to work for people and observes and graduall3i learns how to serve them.~ It.seems that this is something we learn slowly in life. New teachers believe that everything depends on them. They prepare and prepare, presenting a day's work in the first half hour of class and Future Directions in Ministry then wonder what they will do the rest of the day. With time they learn that they don't even know what to prepare or what to give until they learn from the students what they need. Teachers must receive from their students in order to be of service to them. There are some consequences to the approach to ministry: We can't as easily deceive ourselves, believing we are in control. Not to be in charge can be very frustrating! Neither should we be an elite group in the Church anymore, on a pedestal, separated from the rest of the faithful. There is no work religious do that laity cannot do. And maybe the laity can do some things better. We may learn that lay leadership can be far more effective than our own in a parish or a school. We may need to stay for years in an area before we are really accepted by the people. This is often true in places like Appalachia where people are suspicious 6f"here-today, ,gone-tomorrow" outsiders with projects. The people we work with who are poor, who have little, help us examine our own lifestyles. We see what we actually need and what we have accumulated because consu-merism has crept in. One sister, speaking about the poor she encounters in the cour~ system, said; "They keep me honest." In our society and in our wo~:ld, the values that are a.ccepted and carry weight are: competition, power, domination, control--what we would characterize as "masculine" values. What our world needs is an alternative vision: not domination, but in,terdependence; not control, but freedom; not individualism, but collaboration. Within the Church, as religious persons, we already bring many gifts. We have the potential to do more. Sometimes lay women see sisters as rivals .for positions or recognition, rather than seeing them as sisters working with them to make the Church receptive to the contribution of women. Collaboration requires us to leave our ghettos, wherever they are, however comfortable. We need to stretch ourselves, to be with those who are different from ourselves and who can complement the gifts we have to bring. For such collaboration, coalitions can be formed so the power of action for good can be strengthened, i have belonged to the Central America Solidarity Coalition in Milwaukee since I returned from Nicaragua in 1980. ~.There are Catholics, atheists, Lutherans, students, union workers, socialists, democrats, medical personnel and many others in that coalition. It takes us time to come to agreement on directioqs or actions. But there, is respect for the differences, which is cbnstantly an example to me. I ~m convinced that it is worth the effort to make the coalition work because we can reach out to more people. We are not only talking to ourselves, to those convinced of the need to stand with the peoples of Central America. We also talk to the Catholics who are indifferent, to the union workers who want to see the relation of Central America to their jobs, and to many others. Our mission as a coalition is served by our diversity, even though this same diversity can be an obstacle, because people tend to categorize others by their associations. That may be what we are afraid of in taking such a step. 12 / Review for Religious, Jan,-Feb., 1985 To summarize, insertion into people's lives calls for a ministry with them, a -ministry which is reciprocal. It calls us to collaboration with other religious, with laity, with people who have the same goals as we, no matter what their background. There is one other point to be considered, and it is a sensitive one. Why would a musician take a practical nursing course and work in a nursing home? Some would say she is wasting her talents. Why would a Ph.D. go to work in a refugee camp or in a Catholic Worker house when~ she could be teaching? Most often these changes occur because the ministers have inserted themselves into the lives "of the people around them, and are listening to the needs of these pepple. Most often these.people are poor. We continue to hear the phrase, "the preferential option for the poor," and it has a foreign ring to it. The expression comes from Latin America, not from the United States. What does it mean? This preferential option for the poor basically is not about the type of people w~e work with, or where, or what type of work we do. It has to do with our hearts and with the values that inform all we do. It has to do with our priority concern in ministry. The term "preferential option for the poor", does. come from Latin America. The Latin American Conference of Religious-(CLAR) has explained its meaning, declaring a priority for certain poor, those who have these three characteristics: (l). they have nothing, no opportu, nities, no resources (2) they can do nothing, i.e. they have no power, and (3) they struggle in faith and love for justice and for a better world.2 The Church in Latin America has made a preferential option to accompany this group of people. And these are the poor 'who evangelize, who convert us. The question is: can We p~rsonally, can our religiou~s-institutes, make such an option in ministry? Can we support those who make this option? Public ~Mi~ "nistry For'some missionaries the preferential option for the poor has led to their persecution, torture, even death, the same consequences that the poor face in their daily lives. By thifir choice these missionaries give public testimony to Gospel values and to their following of Christ. This'is a second characteristic of ministry, public witness. In the United States our bishops have exercised a public ministry through their positions on racism, the threat of nuclear war, abortion, capital punishment and Central America. They' have not been persecuted, but they have been criticized and wooed. They have generated opposition and reaction. J. Bryan Hehir in the commencement address at Catholic University this past year coffcisdy presented.the meaning of public witness for us in the U.S. Church: In the.end a public church is a community which stands for something--indeed, which Future Directions in Ministry v stands f9r many things. It is the product of people who shape their personal lives in such a way that they make a public d~ifference. In concrete terms, that is the challenge of a public church: to live with a vision which makes a difference for the world.3 In this country we have a unique opportunity to 19e a public church. We are guaranteed freedom of expression and freedom from religious persecution. But many times Catholics do not understand this role for themselves or for the Church. Our tradition of separation of Church and state, designed to guarantee freedom of religion and prevent the establishment of any one religion, has been interpreted to mean that religious concerns are private, and that the Church should stay out of public life. The spirit of the Second Vatican Council is just the opposite. Gaudium et Spes calls the Church tO be a permeating rather than a parallel presence in the world. The mandates of Vati.can II must be carried out in the market place, in political cgnventions, in schooi~, in nursing.homes, in international meetings. To move in this direction is a risk. Bishops, Church people, may lose support and privileges. Religious institutes might lose their tax-exempt status, especially if the message they.speak is a threat to the status quo. Yet how ¯ important it is to hear Church representatives and organizations say no, as Bishop Hunthausen and others .have, to weapons production; ~ say no, as Archbishop Weakland has, to the deportation., of Central American refugees. More and more the Church must be known for upholding the vision of a better world and thus announcing the Reign of God on earth. It is unfortunate that at times we hear more from .our bishops than from our parish priests. There is such a need to awaken a consciousness of injustice. Who is doing it? Are we? Just as we say an institution has a mission or a sponsored program has a mission, so the total religious community or institute has a mission and can make a corporate response to the needs of the world. The community can take a public stance on certain issues, not because they are fads or the latest cause, but because of the values that we believe in as religious persons, as Catholics, as Christians. Furthermore, the leaders of a religious community, by their writing and other.actions, can call attention to injustices and to needs in society and in the Church. For years, the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, Kentucky, have been using a corporate reflection process in their community. They reflect in small groups and then in larger groups on a certain need or concern, for example, racism. Most of their sisters are located in the south. Publicly they are known as a community tha~ stands against racism. What are our communities known for publicly? How can the Gospel affect the world through our 9ommunities? Another dimension is the public witness of individual members of the community through writing, public appearances, participation in demon-strations, lobbying for reforms, holding prayer vigils, even civil disobedience. Our beliefs and values as a religious community, stated in our documents, are a guide to us as members examining the need for public witness. Increasingly, 14 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 this area of action l~as become more controversial within the Church. as we face the question of public office. It may not always be appropriate for individuals to speak publicly or take political stands. One of.our sisters in'Honduras, Maria Rose Leggol, directs a program for orphaned and abandoned children. The success of her efforts depends on support from all sectors of society and from the Government. Another ' sister in Central America works in a refugee camp. If she wants to continue to work there, she cannot criticize or even complain about anything that happens. This is especially difficult for her because of her background in union organizing in the south, but she makes this choice in order to continue her ministry. What is important is that some of us are present in the public arena--as legislative aides, as members of UN commissions, as writers for national publications and as artists who call to mind the beautiful in this world. Through some of our members we can be present where decisions are made, where values can be influenced. One caution in all of this: we must avoid dichotomies. Rather, we must see the connections. There is not only one way to look at anything. So, we are not all ptiblic figures or writers or artists. But some of us are. And weare all called to be leaders and prophets in our own ministry. The choice is not between direct service and structural change, between education and social justice, between the individual and the corporate. The choice is between cooperation and competition. The challenge is for us to see the connections among all of these types of ministries, and to be a public witness in the spirit of 1 Co 12:4-5: There is a variety of gifts but always the same spirit; there are all sorts of services to be done, but always to the same Lord . Effective Use of Resources As members of religious institutes Wer share in their personal, financial, institutional resources. We do have some money at our disposal and perhaps, as religious communities, more money than many individuals in our society, because the money is held in common. At the same time we also have needs within our-communities, including retirement needs. Therefore, there has to be a balance between the use of inonies to meet those community needs and to respond to ministry needs. A question to ask, as a community, is: What are the ministries that we believe in so much that we are willing to make sure that they continue? We can make sure that they continue in different 'ways. One is~by giving personnel, maybe even sacrificing someone we would like to see in internal community work so that ministry needs can be met. Another by allowing our members to work by contributing services, that is, working for a stipend or lower salary. A third is giving real money, on a one-time or an ongoing basis. Maybe those earning more can contribute or be assessed a certain amount annually to support those who do not earn enough. Future Directions in Ministry ] 15 An example of how to insure an ongoing program, in this case one that meets the immediate food needs of the poor, is the St. Benedict Meal Program in Milwaukee. This program has been organized citywide with many parishes and organizations providing the meal one day a month for the people who are poor and homeless. It is a program that does not drain resources, because different parishes and groups sponsor one day a month. They can afford to do that. It is a program that is systematized so that people are fed every day of the month. Therefore, it is a program that is ensured a long life and is a real service to people. St. Benedict the Mror Parish also had the idea for,the project now known as the Benedict Center for Justice, which helps women in jail through a program of v!siting, of education, and of job counseling. This program is dependent on outside financial resources to be able to continue. There are limits to financial commitments, and the parish may not be able to do much, but they have established a brainstorming group to consider the long-term. Over the years, our religious institutes have made some institutional, Commitments. We must evaluate these to determine whether they continue to respond to the fieeds of people, and whether we have the resources, personal and financial, to maintain them. Institutions can give a service that individuals cannot. Because of the size of an institution and its very existence, it has a certain amount of clout, or power. An institution can have an effect on a political issue, for example. We have been looking at this questirn in relationship to our health care institutions in the United States. We have one rehabilitation hospital, one nursing home, one psychiatric hospital and one general hospital. We have been asking whether we should maintain the one general hospital, and until now the answer has been "yes" because having a general hospital allows us to speak in a forum that would otherwise be closed to us. . An alternative tO owning and operating an institution is to sponsor an institution or a program. For example, our community sponsors the LaFarge Lifelong Learning Institute, a separately incorporated organization, serving the needs of over one-thousand elderly people each semester by providing classes, a place to visit, h.chapel, and a hot meal at noon. The community has no financial obligation to this institute, but some of our sisters, active and retired, work within it. Another example is a project our community sponsored some years ago in the Walker Point area of Milwaukee. It is still bearing fruit, even though the project as such has ceased to exist. A small group of sisters researched the needs of the Walker Point neighborhood community. Three of them began to live and work there. One worked with a handicraft cooperative, another helped to establish a neighborhood newspaper. They all served within a local parish. At the present time, only one of those sisters remains, but now there is a tri-college outreach project, with our college, Alverno, participating, to help women in that area of the city who have not had the opportunity to continue in school, to complete their basic education. So needs change, responses change. If there 16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 is some ~commitment to an area, sponsorship ofa new program, even though that program h~is a time limit, m~y be one way to serve people, Many of us are familiar with discussions about the meaning of "corporate th.rust~ or ',corporate commitment." Institutions and sponsored programs and parish schools are clearly ',corpora, te" commitments. But there are other ways of serving ,that amplify :our undei'standing of the corporate dimension. For example, the Capuchin priests ~nd brothers have some intentional communities, In one the priests are in different w.brk but they are all committed t~ being part of the inner-city neighborhood the~ live in; and they share the same values and concerns about justice. Another w,ay of looking at the corporate dimension is to see it present in each member,of the community. One member may say about another, "Oh, she is just going off to do her own thing." What that person may not know is that this itnd~vldual may have internalized v~ery well the vision of her foundress and theigoals of her community. Se.eing a need, she might, respond as an individual but very much as part of the community Bishop Kenneth Untener of Saginaw, MI, said to the religious of his diocese that the measure of the val,ue of religious life is the impact of our lives upon others. He says, ~ ' Today your witness is more individuali Today we notice how each of you prays. Today we notice how each of you finds ways to :live out the vow of poverty. We notice how celibate commitment is expressed through your own person. We notice your attempts to be obedient to the Lord's call, to the work of your community, to the needs of the Church. Your respo~nse unfolds in ma~ny different ways . You are aware, I'm sure, that this p~laces different demands upon ~ou. It is One thing to be a member of a community whose Collective life makes an impact. It is quite another thing to make an impact through your own individual life. The Church needs both . 4 If this trend is true, and we know from our experience that it is, then it continues to be exceedingly important that each one of us develop ourselves, our own resources through study, reflection, education and through other ways :of ~keeping ourselves open, to learn more an~l to become more. Experiences of people very different from ourselves can be broadening if we are open to them. One of our sisters, participating in our mission exchange program, went to Peru to develop her Spanish and her understanding of Hispanic people. She works with learning-disabled children in Aurora, Illinois, many of whom.are Hispanic. This year she is back in Aurora, her h~art opened to the pastoral needs of the Churc~h in another part of the. world. We are all aging and though x~e might be happy with .the work we are doing, we have less choice about, what else we might do. The Sisters of Perpetual Adoration in LaCrosse .~ponsored a hostel last summer for their sisters age fifty'five ~nd older. It ~;as a program of theological reflection, in which participants looked at their own futures and possibilities for new directions in their lives, recognizingithat with aging come physical Limitations. The contribution of new members also needs to be drawn out and appreciated. When we think about~lspecific ~vorks, we need to recognize that new members are not necessarily in education or health-care fields in which Future Directions in Ministry many of us have worked. What do they bring? What kind of ministry directions do they point us toward? We had a meeting of all our formation directors from different countries during December, 1983. One of the points mentioned at that meeting was that the new members help to form the community. If we really believe that, we have to find ways of putting it into practice. Sometimes they are so new that they do not take much initiative, or they are drowned out by the initiative of other members. We need to look for ways to hear their voices so that they can really shape the community, which is theirs, in the future. Each one of us must: Consider the treasure that w~ arer the gifts and skills and abilities we possess. We must recognize our own freedom or lack of freedom to make changes, to start on a new path, to "let go." We must take into account our limitations, our personal needs. The deeper our awareness of our own selves, the more we can be in ministry. We, in the United States, in the Catholic Church, have a unique opportunity to be prophetic. We belong to a Roman-based Church that, at the present moment, emphasizes hierarc~iy at the exPense of the prophetic dimension, and the Church needs both. We know that at times our contribution is not recognized. Thdt does not mean that it is not valuable. The Church needs the dimension we bring just as the body needs both arms, each finger and toe. To be prophetic in ministry may mean nothing more (or less) than that each of us and all of us pursfiE our goal as members of our communities, which at root is the goal of the Church and' ultimately of the Gospel, to transform the earth and promote the Reign of God. ' We express our fidelity to that goal through our ongoing willingness to reexamine our ministry priorities. As :we crntinue that reexamination, we must keep before us the people we serve. We must ask ourselves about our awareness of reciprocity and our efforts to collaborate. About the quality and the fearlessness of our public witness; individually and corporately. About the creative and effective use of our many-faceted resources. Then we will be prophets in the Chui'ch of today ¯ and tomorrow, true in our following of Jesus and fa'ithful to the heritage of our communities. NOTES t Henri Nouwen, "The Spirituality of Struggle," a presentation at the annual meeting of the U.S. Catholic Mission Association, May 6, 1984. , 2Cited by Anthony Bellagamba, I.M.C., "The Preferential Option for the Poor," Alba House Cassettes, Canfield, Ohio 4440~6, to be released in Spring, 1985. 3j, Bryan Hehir, "A Public Church," Origins, May 31, 1984, p. 43. 4Kenneth Untener, "The Rich Abundance Within an Earthen Vessel," Origins, June 7, 1984, p. 61. Focused Freedom: To, Someone in Formation Desmond O'Donnell, O M.1. ; Father o'Donnell, is a General Councillo~r of his congregation, and may be addressed at the generalate:~ Oblati; C.P. 9061; 00i00R o m~a-Aureh"o; Italy. His last article in our pages, "The Problem Member in Community;~ appeared In the issue of March/April, 1981. Agood friend confides in you that he or she is considering adopting a way of life which will guarantee reasonable security but no significant material rewards, in which Considerable mobility of residence may be foreseen, in which work-preference will not always be,given, in which marriage and family life ar~ forgone and for which a seven or eight year training period, will be necessary. What would you sa); to your friend? What sort of questions do you think he or she should consider? Is there~ one big question which your friend should face deeply? Before you read further, in this letter, it could be useful to jot down the sort of questions you think you~r friend should think about before he or she gets into this unusual way of life. t No deep reflection is necessary to discover that your friend is thinking ~bout giving up a great deal nor to see that the demands of this way of life are unusual. Can you do it? Is it worthldo~ng? Has anyone the right to ask all this of you? Why are you doing it anyway? What do you hope to get out of it? These are some of the spontaneoqs questions which might come to mind in responding to you~ friend. It is clear that at base there is question not merely of material prosperity, marriage or m~obility but of your friend's very self, of his or her core freedom. Your friend h~s to face the issue of exercising or of losing his or ~her freedom in a very radical way. You are aware~that I am talkin~ about your own respofise to priesthood or to the vowed life. Looking at either from this human point of view that of using.or losing one's freedom---can~,be a good starting point. The questions are 18 Focused Freedom / "19 important for you at this time and they cannot be answered theoretically nor by another person for you. Your own very personal freedom is at stake, The exercise of freedom at any level is personally demanding but at the level of priesthood or the vowed life, one's entire personhood is involved. 31,000 priests asked to be dispensed from their way of life between 1963 and 1978; 60,000 sisters have changed their way of life during approximately the same period. Did these sincere people have freedom? Did they lose their freedom? Did they give it away? 'Did they have it taken from them? Or did they find it only in later life? What does the fact of their presumably painful experience of staying, then leaving and readjusting to a new way of life, say to people life yourself? The failure to deal with this sort of question could mean that you become an additional statistic. Keeping Your Options Open There is a very obvious, and attractive temptation today to avoid the risk and exercise of freedom at any depth. It is to avoid completely all deep and permanent choices like marriage, priesthood or the vowed life. It is to sidestep all unconditional decisions. Besides being aimless, this if-perhaps-maybe-for-a- while exercise of freedom is purposeless, as we are~ reminded by Dag HammarskjiSld -- "The man who is unwilling to accept the axiom that he who chooses one path is denied the others must try to persuade himself, I suppose, that the logical thing to do .is to remain at the cross roads."1 We can understand and admirea married couple very fruii-fully renewing their choice of each other, at regular intervals, but constantly revising or reassessing their choice would hardly make for a deepening relationship any more than regularly uprooting a flower and replanting it would help it~ growth. As Karl Rahner reminded us, freedom is not exercised in the constant revision of choice but in the, ability to make one choice and follow it. Experiencing Freedom . 4, To be free is to be untrapped, free from han/~-ups which could hinder a chosen directioning of one's life. It presumes the ability to shake off anything which might limit the power to say yes in the direction of a deeply-chosen goal. More positively it is the power to surrender one's whole self, to lose oneself even one's life--for a chosen cause: It is the ability to bring oneself together, to collect one's frequently scattered parts, to point them and trigger them all in one important direction. Freedom at its best enables the momentous launching of one's life in a morally irreversible .direction. "Man is free when he is able to make up his mind in conformity with the highest values and the ultimate aims" (John Paul II to the Faculty of Frib~urg University, June I3; 1984, quoted in L'Osservatore Romano 2/7./84 p.3). Maximilian Kolbe was most frbe when he walked out of his cell in 20 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 Auschwitz to take the place of another prisoner about' to be killed:" .Dag Hammarskj~ild tells us about his '.freest moment--"To be free, to be able to stand up and leave every, thing bfhind--without looking back. To say yes" (p,88). ~ Jesus .summa~:izes his life thusT--"I~ lay down my life., no one takes it from me. I lay it down freely" (Jn 10: 17, 18). While this deepest exercise of freedom can sometimes be socially supported and encouraged by less than totally selfless motives, it can come ultimately only from someone who i~ rich indeed--a real adult. No wonder (Jordon Allport reminded us that only adults can commit themselves and that commitment and adulthood arrive simultaneously. Appreciating Freedom It seems to me that one blessing of this age of totalitarian regimes and mind-manipulating techniques is ttlat it is leading to an increased appreciation of freedom. In the past the conscious awareness of freedom was lower because it was less necessary, or less encouraged but now there is a growing sense of human rights and freedom everywhere. Some would see a need to recall St. Paul's words today even in the Church: "Some who do not belong tO the brotherhood have furtively crept i,n to spy on the liberty we enjoy in Christ Jesus and to reduce us all to slavery again" (Ga 2.4): To which he opposes the fact that "When Christ freed us, lie meant us to remain~free" (Ga 5.1). Paul surely appreciated hisfreedom agai.hst those who would limit it even within the Church. ', It is only in freedom that we c.an become our best selves by transcending ourselves in an act of kenosis and thus reflect the justice-fidelity of God by the power of his Spirit---"Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom" (2 Co 3:17). When we use our freedom toldo what w6 know is right or what we know we are called by God to do, we arellike God whose dabar was his word-event, his word-acted-upon in freedom. Our freely acted-upon word no~t only expresses us but it makes us what we are,. as Karo.l Wojiyla, later Pope John Paul II, emphasized in his Acting Person. Thus it is that freedom involves your deepest you. Your free acts express you, and they also make you---especially those rare acts of dedication which influence your life'~ direction deeply. While you can be forcibly limited by others whenexpressing it externhlly, this core freedom can be touched only, and used only, by you. The full and, fruitful exercise of this freedom calls for an ever-deepening appreciation of it. Conscious Awareness Since thefinal choice of priesth~aod or/and of the vowed life is. going to be an expression of your deepest freedom, it is important that you get the feel of this freedom now. You cannot lose yourself unless you have found yourself. It will only be when you have exp'ressed and felt the satisfaction of lesser Focused Freedom / 21 :freedoms that you can gradually appreciate the deeper ones. and finally the deepest one of being "ready at any moment to gather all into one Simple sacrifice"2 as Hammarskji51d put it. -~, Have you recognized yet that every choice is a little death; that every choice makes you in a way that can never quite be unmade? Or have you ex;er thought and reflected upon how prominent people in the Chuich, in your own congregation or in history have exercised their freedom? Why not organize a seminar or write a paper on one of these people and then line it up with the oarticioants' own experience of freedom? And to flex your~own freedom muscles in the exercise of everyday actions such as eating, drinking, fasti~g, going to bed, getting up, keeping to study or prayer exercise/schedules can be a revealing and helpful exercise. This recognition of' the primacy of the practical--just doing it--will add authenticity to the reading and reflection you do on the subject. Your failures to be free can teach you as mu(has your hard won victories. From these you can discover and list--it is good to write them down--the areas of your freedoms and unfreedoms and what it is that contributes to'each. Your freedom to finally choose the vowed life or. to accept priesthood will be on sand or on solid ground depending on the type of soil you have prepared over these early years. The fact that. you fail or succeed in exercising your smaller freedoms could be less important than ~,our discovery of what motivated the success or failure. That iswhy the habit of monitoring your.freedom in a daily examen of consciousness is important. Heightened physical and mental aware-ness has great benefits for richer living: Try to grow in a similar awareness of your freedom by learning to look at it reflectively. Discerning Freedom , ~ To help you in monitoring your freedom-efforts as you grow into~your vocation, may I offer you a guideline or norm? As you find yourself growing in peacefulness, ease, harmony or even enjoyment of your way of life, you can know that you are moving into real freedom in your vocation, This, of course, allows for rough spots and moments of doubt but not for a constant series of such. You will grow into thefeeling that paradoxically you are beco .ming less free to choose outside that way of life as a happily married couple becomes less free to part, with the years. In a way, your growing vocational choice can be compared to an onion with its many layers~ If the core is sound, then each layer originatingfrom the core fits around it and strengthens' it~ As time passes, the healthy core becomes safer with its close-fitting layers protectingly around it~ And a time comes when the core cannot be touched unless the layers are gradually and destructively removed and the entire organism destroyed. That is why. it is difficult to lose a genuine vocation and impossible to lose it suddenly or without gradual and long infidelity. If a person's vocational choice has been sound in the beginning and 22 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 succeeding choices emerge from it and fit it, then what is called loss of vocation has tb be more a partial disintegration of the personality than a departure from something which was part of it. If, !on the other hand, the core has been poorly motivated, the later layers are more like wrapping paper which can easily be removed b~cause ~they do not really belong; they, were put on rather than having emerged from the core. Thee vocation was not lost; it was never there. So it is vital in these early years to beaware of your core freedom, to reflect on it and to relish it.~Each day of ygur life over these early years cannot be a review, a revision nor a momentary rejection of your basic choice just as the layers of a healthy onion cannot be !removed even for constant clinical analysis. On the contrary, each~act is a renev~ing and deepening of what you know was a healthy initial choice. It will help you perhaps in ~onltonng your grdwth into freedom to consider Ivan Illich's question about schooling--,'Is it a place where the child . is~,chasing knowledge or where knqwledge ~s chasing the child?" In these early years, do you increasingly get the feeling that this way of life is something you are pursuing more comfortably eac.h year or do you have the feeling that it .is something clumsily pursuing you and with which you are increasingly less than comfortable? Or to put it another Way, can you see and feel yourself enjoying this way of life freely in, say, tweniy years' time? Is this way of life becoming more "good news" to ~ou each year? If you answer these questio.ns in a clear no or with a hesitant yes, you have reasons to doubt the presence of freedom in your present way of life. . I ~ Spiritual directors now exercise their role less as directors than as someone who accompanies--a sort of spiri.tual friend. And who better to help you monitor your growth in freedom? ~With this friend, you can, as it were, take your freedom out to look at it in the only way possible--how you use it from day~to-day, In the presence of such~ friend, you can bring yourself to account gently and even ask him or her to do it for you. Formators, too, have an important role to play in our growth in the external use of freedom. You can 'r.easonably ask, then, that they fulfill their contractual role- that of leading you into a life'form which they themselves are already living. In recent years .,there may have been a sort of suicide of leadership in reaction to an earlier bver-authoritarian model. But laissez-faire leadership is not a Christian model and if your formators use this, they do you an injustice. If you feel theyare faili,hg you in this way, yo.u can reasonably ask them to encourage, challenge and confront you on your external behavior in such matters as presence at commgn prayer, availability to the community, academic results, interpersonal behavior and pastoral work. Both your spiritual guide and your formators are important, in helping you find your response-ability in freedom. ~ ~ Focusing Freedom ,~ .~ It seems very significant that s~]ch a diverse group as a Dutch spiritual Focused Freedom writer, a Jewish psychiatrist, a French philosopher and an American psychol-ogist stress that focusing is an indication of adulthood. Van Kaam says that permanent commitment is entrance intopotential maturity after the indecisiofi and dispersion of adolescence, while Viktor Frankl stresses that the human person actualizes him or herself only insofar as he or she becomes committed to life's meaning. Gabriel Marcel adds to this by reminding us -- "Man can know himself only if he is committed and only the man who knows himself is ready for ~ommitment." Gordon Allpo~t seems to summarize it by saying that it is only when youth begins to plan for life that the sense of self is complete. Like a river which gathers force when it is channeled, freedom is at its best when it is focused. A man is never so free in his relationship with women as when he deeply chooses and marries one. Freedrm is maximized when. it 'is purposefully pointed in one direction. Because all freedom is ultimately situated in a pla,ce, time'and activity, it must be focused to be full and fruitful. You are now looking seriously at one life-form on which you consider it worth centering your freedom. Your diocese with its people, its structures and its leaders or your congregation with its charism, community living and mission, offer you an opportunity to express yrur freedom in and through them. The question before you remains -- "Is this the structured life-form in which and through which I can freely b~come my best self?. Is this where I want to focus and express my deepest freedom unconditionally?" Hume said that reason must always serve passion and Lonergan described emotion as the mass and momentum of human existence. True, to follow feelings or to be driven by emotions is not necessarily to find one's vocaiion, but feelings and emotions experienced over a time can help us find our personal truth." Despite-the partly foreseen sacrifices entailed in your con-sidered way of life, do you feel that this is where you want to express~our personal gifts;' that the mission of this diocese or congregation is increasingly getting hold of you? Do you feel even somewhat driven as St. Paul expressed it in speaking of his own mission: "It is for'this that I struggle wearily on, helped only by his~' power driving me irresistibly" (Col 1:29) or lik~ Jeremiah: "You have seduced me, Lord, and I allowed myself to be seduced"or like Jesus when he said: "I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were blazing already" (Lk 12.49)? Do you feel a conviction that something important will remain undone if you do not do it because,no one else can make your unique and irreplaceable contribution?' While. this experience has come to some people in one momentarily very strong impulse, it comes~to most of us in a calmer and more prolonged way. But come it must and pres~ent it must be, if you are to launch your life freely into the life-form you are now consideiing. Freedom Through Community One good way to determine the quality of your choice now and throughout your life will be your attitude towards and your actions for or 24 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 against the community you join. ~her.e will ever be a healthy tension between your individuality and the community. Dialogue and discernment will have to ¯ be a permanent part of this interdction but from the point of view of the new member like yourself, he or she can reasonably ask: "Will this presbyterium or c~ngregation give me the experience of a community of believers so that the exercise of my freedom in faith arid love will be supported or am I just being invited into a busy bachelors' club or into a same-sex group of social workers where interaction is generally SUl~erficial and mostly for the sake of smooth interpersonal relationships?" On 'the other side of the dynamic, a modern Jewish scholar poses questions t6o: "The proper use of autonomy begins by repudiating the self as a monad! I am individual and unique but likewise inseparably part of all mankind. More, by my finitude I am necessarily more intimately linked to some of its vast number than to others. I am therefore morally obligated to live my life,in community with them and exercise my personal autonomy in terms of them . I understand that to mean that my community .may reasonably demand of me that 1 discipline my will so that the community can function and persevere . It can also legitimately expect me to sacrifice my conscience when its promptings conflict with central affirma-tions of my group . .Our com¯munities and traditions bear a wisdom far more profound and embracing an,d certainly more enduring than anything we could create on our own. In conflict with it we must often bow to what, against our private judgment but in due humi.lity, we accept as.its superior understanding.'3 I have consciously omitted mtich explicit reference to God in this letter so far. I thought it best to isolate the ~,experience of any focused freedom without naming the central motivation which would inspire it in our case, namely faith in God and in his Son, Jesus Christ. To return to your im~ aginary friend of the first paragraph, sure!y the deepestland most inclusive question for him or her will be: "Why are you doing this?'? Because priesthood and the vowed life are meaningless without faith and a real experience of God. the choice of these vocations without faith would beiself-destructive and ~]ltimately harmful for others also. It is not easy to define priesthood or.~ the vowed life with theological precision but one t6ing remains clear, namely that a deep experience of God must be the motivating force. Even positive motives such as preaching good news or changin~ political structures for the sake of God's poor, will not sustain these life-f0rms. While this faith-motivation does not usually come to us as it did to Paul en route to Damascus, it must be there just the same, despite the often-present doubts which are part of any adult faith. "Father, if it be possible." was i .fiamediately followed by nevertheless spoken in faith and freedom by Jesus. Freedom and Uncertainty The .quest for total certainty iis self-defeating whether it is about hang gliding or about God, whether it i~i abou.t someone we love or the significance Focused Freedom of our own lives. Caution cannot be a substitute for action; it can only accompany it. We must beware of theorizing too much about certainty and freedom in a veiled attempt to eliminate the risks of action. Lot's wife was almost persuaded to leave Sodom and Gomorrah; Agrippa was almost persuaded by Paul to become a Christian and the rich young man was almost persuaded to leave his wealth and follow ,lesus. Their search for certainty paralyzed them. Again, Dag HammarskjSld helps us: "Once I answered yes to Someone or Something. And from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life in self-surrender, has a goal.TM He acted in freedom despite the uncertainty expressed in his "Someone" or "Something." It is surely important to be as free as possible before making important life decisions but this is not to say that we must await the chimera of perfect freedom. Carl .lung reminds us: "Life itself flows from springs both clear and muddy. Hence all excessive 'purity' lacks vitality. A constant striving for clarity and differen-tiation means a proportionate loss of vital energy, precisely because the muddy elements are excluded. Every renewal of life needs the muddy as well as the clear. ''~ Muddy freedom will become clearer #s it is exercised just as the str~earia gets clearer on its journey from its muddy source. Conclusion I find that Robert focused' freedom: Frost offers people like us an ideal, as we grow in But yield who will to their separation, My object in living is to unite my avocation and my vocation as my two eyes make one in sight. Only where love and need are one and work is play for mortal stakes, is the deed ever re.ally done for heaven and for future sakes. NOTES ~Dag Hammarskjtild. Markings Ed. W.H. Auden: Faber and Faber Ltd, London 1966. 2Dag Harfimarskji51d. op. cit., 1. 3Eugene Borowitz Theological Studies. March 1984, "The Autonomous Self and the Commanding Community." 4Dag Hammerskji51d. op. cit., 1. 5Carl .lung Psychological Types Bollington Series (Princetown), 1974, p.244. Trusting in the Providence of God Mary Ann Fatu~a, 0. P. Sister Mary Ann is well. known to our readers by reason of her earlier contributions, the most recent of which was "Catherine of Siena on the Communion of Friendship" (March/April, 1984). She may be addressed at her office as Chairperson of the Theology Department of Ohio Dominican College; 1216 Sunbury Roadi'Columbus~ OH 43219. "Cast all of your cares upon the Lord, for he cares for you" (1 P 5:7). A key figure in the political and dcclesial crises of her day, the fourteenth-century Dominican and doctor of the Church, Catherine of Siena, lived a' spirituality which embraced this radical trust in the providence of God. In her Dialogue she expressed with unique insight a central truth experienced by men and women of faith before and after her: far from providing an escape from the reality of human life, it is precisely such a trust which provides the focal point for a key human conversion. It is a conversion to placing one's trust not simply in one's own limited resources and efforts, "but" in the abundant and intimate providence of God. Paradoxically, it is also this conversion which founds a spirituality capable of nourishing an authentic personal autonomy and mature interdependence. Early in Catherine's life the Lord pledged that he would make her his concern if she would make him her concern. Experience of her helplessness in situations which her efforts proved powerless to change faced Catherine daily with the same choice 'which in some way confronts every human being: either to trust or to despair. "Which of you by being anxious can add a cubit to his or her life? If then you are not able to do even this, why are you anxious about the rest?. Yo~.ur Father knows your needs. Seek first his kingdom, and these things shall be yours as well" (Lk 12:25-26, 30-31). Toward the end of her life, Catherine reflected on the Lord's faithfulness to his promise made in her youth. The result is the section in her Dialogue which stands as a hy, mn of praise to the infinite mercy of a provident God. Her close friend and 26 Trusting in the Providence of God / 27 biographer, Raymond of Capua, wrote that this chapter was an explication of the very foundation of her spirituality, the experience of the frailty of what is Created, and the absolute power of the love of God. °The Choice~to Trust In life's most precious experiences there is perhaps the wordless recognition of,.the fruit of trust. It is the paradox of security in the presence of what we cannot ,unequivocally verify. Around us are alluring traces of the kind of trust which makes human life possible at all: in the vulnerability of a child asleep in a parent's a~:ms; in the secret shared between friends; in the vow that is said and then lived, to love faithfully until death. But life leaves also its scars. Those who know what it is not to trust or to be trusted, who know what it is to be betrayed, recognize also the fruit of distrust in the sense of worthlessness which eats away at their identity, in the anxiety and fear which rob them of peace. ~For each of us, in the face.of what life has held out to us, a deeper question and choice inevitably presents itself in the decisions of everyday. Has life ultimately been gracious to us, or has it cheated and betrayed us? To ask this is to ask the meaning of our life experiences taken as a whole, an6 holy vve will choose to live out the future in the light of that meaning. More than most, Catherine knew what it was to live through the bitterness of life. She knew what it was tO have those for whom she had poured out her life energy turn against her. And yet Catherine made her choice. In and through the weak and often twisted ways of the human heart, she found the reality deeper than all others and which she learhed to trust absolutely. For Catherine, the entire universe is ruled not by forces' which rob and deceive us, but by the provident mercy of God. She learned to trust that all of creation is made for humanity, and it is this fragile and precious work of his hands with whom God ~has fallen "insanely" in love. He has given everything with love and care: every facet of creating, every gift and faculty of our unique persons. In every event of history he has unfolded his mercy, until finally, he did not spare even his own Son. What he wantsqs only our good, and having provided for our every need in the past, he will continue to do so to the end.* Catherine realizes that it is only those who see with eyes of faith and hope, who make the radical choice to trust in God'sprovidence, who are able to receive its fullness. The God who infinitely respects the human persons he has authored will not force his love on .their freedom. His providence will never fail those who place their hope and trust!in him (280): But it.is a trust Which cannot exist side by side with a contrary hope. To trust in oneself is to trust in "what is not." To trust in God is to cling to the one alone "who is." The choice to trust is finally the choice to let go, to entrust oneself, to receive the gift Contained in *The Dialogue: 136; in Catherine of Siena: The Dialogue, translation and introduction by Suzanne Nofke, O.P. (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), pp. 180-181. Other references to this work will be cited in the text by page number. 211 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 every moment of life. Yet how can one receive with love and reverence the tragedies which life holds and which evoke in us only :anger and bitterness? Are not '~life's experiences of disappointment and pain empty of the providence of God? ~On the contrary," the Lord tells Catherine. "No matter where they turn those who trust in my providencewill find nothing but mydeep burning charity, and the greatest, gentle, true, perfect providence" (290). It is not that his providence causes tragedies. Rather, even in life's inevitable tragedies, his providence is great enough to bring life from what is material for death. Itis not that we are to deny or repress human feelings of anger in the face of pain. But working through anger and pain is meant to bear fruit finally in the peace and even joy " which recognize the gift of God given in every event. The Wealth ltidden Within Catherine's experience taught her that what human beings find particularly bitter is the discovery that all that is created will eventually~fail us. The temptation then is to cry out against the God whose providence has .abandoned and deprived us of what our plans had fashioned. We "lift up our heads against the goodness of God," writes Catherine, and draw death from what was intended to give life, because we "do not recognize the wealth hidden within" (219). How is the "wealth hidden within" every human experience to be discovered? One dimension of sin is the human resistance to change,-the unwillingness to grow. "How can you lift your head .against my goodness? Because you do not see that all things except my grace are changing and. because you . are constantly changing, I am constantly providing what you need at any given time" (282). The refusal to olet go of a present and yet outgrown security is so. strong a temptation in us that unless it.is removed from us, it can become an obstacle to the deeper security which alone founds human maturity and autonomy. God permits what is created to fail us so that, in the absence of previous supports, we may cling to the one alone "who is," and so be given the means for deeper growth. The "troublesome thorns" of life God permits not out of hatred but love for us (290). In this way we are forced to learn what we would rather not: that what is created can never be God for us. In the collapse of hope in what is created, we are given .the invitation to see and to turn to the one who will not fail us: "I wanted her to learn that although everyone else might fail her, 1 her Creator would never fail her. and that with or without the help of another person, in any situation or at any time whatever. I know how to and can and will satisfy her in wonderful ways" (296). Those who place their trust not in themselves but in God, eventually experience the fruit of this trust. God himself becomes their provider and gives them his "merry," the Holy Spirit, as their mother to nurse them at the breast of God's love (291). Gradually their fear and insecurity starve for want of food. Trusting in the Providence of God / 29 The Spirit, their mother, feeds them with the milk of gratitude and love. The ones so nourislied become with time strong and confident, able to see life with new eyes in a light given by the Spirit. Slowly they learn to hold "all things in reverence, the left hand as well as the right, trouble as well as consolation." Even in painful situations they learn to reverence the gift "hidden within" as the material for deeper growth. Thus, the Lord tells Catherine, in situations 0f great labor, he gives the gift of even greater strength (292). The "Holy Tricks" of Providence In order to make his people "drunk" with his providence, the Lord devises "holy tricks" perfectly suited to meet their needs at any particular moment. To those caught fast in sin he gives his providence by "plucking the rose" from their thorn. One kind of "thorn" is an enslaving sin; the rose, the lack of satisfaction he gives in the experience of that sin. "They set their affection on something,., but they find nothing there" (297). This gift of his providence is meant as an enticement away from the emptiness and pain of sin by means of the sweeter gift of peace and freedom (297): In other circumstances, the Lord employs still other "holy tricks" of his prowidence. He finds ways to humble the pride which bears fruit in judging others, gossiping, and using the tongue to complain and "spit out hurtful words." As healing, the Lord permits emptiness in a person's feelings, darkness in her mind, and temptations which besiege the senses. "Why do I keep her in such pain and distress? To show her my providence so she will trust not in herself but me." The person who is humbled through these struggles will learn the contrast between her own weakness and the provident love of God for her. In these struggles is contained her liberation, for the Lord himself eventually will free her in deeper ways than she could have imagined. Serenity and peace come unforeseen, not through her own effort alone, but through the Lord's "immeasurable charity, which wanted to provide for her in time of need when she could scarcely take any more" (301). The struggles which humble are in fact the gift of God: "The soul comes to perfection by fighting these battles, because there she experiences my divine providence, whereas before this she only believed in it" (302). For those formed in virtue, the Lord provides in still other ways by using a "pleasant trick to keep them humble.," Often, after they have borne the weight of burdens and sufferings with patience and gentleness, he allows them to feel passion or rage at a mere trifle: "In something that really is nothing, that they themselves will later laugh at, their feelings are so aroused that they are stupefied." At other times, his providence leaves his servants a "pricking" as he did with Paul: "I left him., the resistance of his flesh." Is the Lord able to remove the weakness of his servants? Certainly, he tells Catherine, but his providence leaves his loved ones "this or that sort of pricking" so that they will become humble and "compassionate instead of cruel to their neighbors." For those who suffer from their own weakness will have cause to be all the more 30 / Review for. Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 compassipnate toward the weakness of others (305). .- The Chain of Charity According to Catherine, the most tender means which the provident God has designed to care for us is one anothi~r. The God who in his being is trinitarian communion of love has fashioned us in his image. The inescapable truth etched into our own beings is that we are made by love, and we are made for love. We are, in fact, made to need and care for one another. "In this life I have bound you with the chain of charity. 1 in my providence did not give to any one person or to each individually the knowledge for doing everything necessary for human life. No, I gave something to one, something else to another, so that each one's need would be a reason to have recourse to the other" (31 l). Could he have given, everyone as an individual all that he or she needs? Yes, he tells Catherine, "But in my providence I wanted to make each of you dependent on the others,'so that you would be forced to exercise charity" (312). Thus, for example, the poor who place all their trust in him will experience for themselves his providence.Sometimes in their .need they are brought almost to the brink of despair, only so that they may see all the more clearly the miracle of the Eord~s care for them (314). Sometimes the provident God acts directly, as he did with Dominic, causing bread to appear for his brothers who had nothing to eat. Usually, however, he inspires his loved ones to pray for and to come to the assistance of the poor themselves. In many ways he touches his servants' hearts to provide' for those in need. Even those dedicated to solitude cannot escape the chain of charity with which the Lord has bound his people together. Thus, he inspires a hermit to leave his or her solitude in order to giqe help to another hermit (324). He "stretches out" his providence to his poor by inspiring his servants with compassion for the needs of their brothers arid sisters (315). "The whole life of my gentle poor is thus cared for by the concern I give the world's servants for them" (314). In still another way, the Lord cares for our deepest needs through one another. He tells Catherine that he uses a ~holy trick" of his providence to inspire people with a "special love" for another. It is this "special love" which eventually brings to light hidden insecurity, jealousy, possessiveness, manipula-tion, selfishness. The inner struggle uncovered through the pain of these relationships is meant to lead to humble self-knowledge and dependence bn his healing. As a person grows through these struggles into deeper personal autonomy and inner freedom, "a greater and more perfect love for others in general will follow, as well as for the special person my goodness has given her" (303). Thus, his providence has inextricably bound and woven itself into our care for one another. Our 'own~ persons are the lixJing sacrament of God's providence given to us in one another. As his friends grow more and more one with him in prayer, they become identified with him and live out the Trusting in the Providence of God / 31 experience ofPaul: "It is no longer I who live but Christ lives in me" (Gal 2:20). And as with Jesus, those whose love grows will know both deeper joy and deeper sorrow. The pain of the friends of God is not finally that of offenses done to them, but rather the grief they feel for sin against, the Lord and the destructiveness of sin for the sinner. Those who learn to love "know how ineffably I :love my creatures., and so they have fallen in love with my creatures' beauty for love of me." Through the chain of charity with which the Lord binds his people together, he provides in a marvelous way at one and the same time for both sinner and those his love inspires to intercede for them, The sinner's heart is touched through the prayer of his servants, and these latter are in turn all the more united to the Lord through their p~rayer~ Through their love and yearning for others' salvation, "they are another Christ crucified ,. they have taken his task on themselves" (306-307). Catherine compared God's people united in charity by his providence to an orchestra. The Lord is the "maestros" and each person is an indispensable instrument. Without each of the otl~ers, no instrument,alone is sufficient. The more sweetness with which each one plays his or her instrument the gift of each one's own unique life--the more those who hear are allured by this music to the Lord. "Consider the glorious virgin Ursula," writes Catherine of the legend of Ursula and her companions. "She played her instrument'so sweetly she caught eleven thousand from the virgihs alone." The entire orchestra together is meant to grow more lovely in its sound, swelling to make this music worthy to fill heaven and earth with the praise of God. For those who trust in him, everything which happens in their lives is a gift f~rom God as a way of refining their instruments and rendering the music they play more beautiful. It is his infinite providence which cares for each one and all together, teaching each one what and how to play (311). The chain ofcharit~ with ,which the provident God has bound us to one another will not be loosed even in death. The life of heaven will be a rejoicing not only in him but in one another, and this very joy.will be a continual praise of his providence~ "I have so brdered their charity that no one simply enjoys his or her reward in this blessed life that is my gift without its being shared by the others." The joy of all adds to the joy of each, and the joy of each is the joy of .all (312). ~ To live one's life in trust is a gentle ~'0retaste on earth of the life of heaven. The fruit of trust in the proEidence of God is a joy and peace more secure than what human missteps and failures can destroy. The One who trusts learns to rejoice "in what she sees and experiences in herself and others," and finding joy ~in God's goodness to l~er, she learns to rejoice without jealousy in the goodness of God to others. She "is not afraid thaf she will lack the lesser things because by the light of faith she is guaranteed the greater things" (293). Conclusion For Catherine, trusting in the providence of God is not a spec~c kind of 32 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 "spiritual exercise,~ but the entire content of a life lived in 10ve. The more one lives in hope and trust, the more lavishly will God's providence in fact provide. To live in trust is not something mere human willing can attain; it is rather a gift the provident God most deeply wants to give, and for which he wants his people to ask. Catherine learned that what best nourishes trust is a good memory, a heart and mind that have learned to remember and to reflect upon the experiences of one's own life, and to find there the indisputable evidence of the personal and intimate providence of God. In this way, one's own unique life story becomes the inspiration and encouragement to ask for even deeper trust for the future. To trust in this way is not imprudence nor immatu(ity. It is, rather, a depth seeing which increasingly frees one's energies from inner forces inhibiting personal autonomy and mature interdependence. It entails the paradox of a radical inner poverty and inner contentment. To trust, in fact, is to live secure in the care of the one who can be trusted absolutely. It is to have the peace and freedom and courage to dare, to take risks inspired by the Holy Spirit. It is, ultimately, to have the heart to let go. It was not the fourteenth-century Catherine of Siena alone who had the personal call to live a life of trust in the providence of God. Today also, it is the witness of lives lived.in the maturity of trust in the one who alone is Lord over all, which perhaps will be the most radical statement a contemporary world will hear. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and II 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 Christian Conversion: Suffering Out of Love John Navone, S.Z Father Navone is well known to our readers. The idea of this article is developed at much greater length in his recent Gospel Love: A Narrative Theology (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, Inc.). Father Navone is professor of biblical theology at the Gregorian's Spirituality Institute, where he may be addressed: Piazza della Pilotta, 3; 00187 Roma, Italy. In the seventeenth century, Samuel Crossman wrote that Christ in his passion has:° Love to the 16veless shown That they might lovely be. The passion story is both the good news of God's unconditional love for us as well as the mirror by which we can judge the authenticity of our own life and loves. It changes us from being °unlovely to being lovely (and loving) by showing us what true loveliness could be. Christ is the author and communicator of authentic communion with God. His claim that all authority belongs to him (Mt. 28:18; .In 17:2) and his communication of that authority to others are based on his power to transcend the limitations imposed by human desires and feelings to suffer freely and gladly out of love, When someone truly loves us, we respond to that love by investing our lover with the authority to initiate elements in our life story. When that love is absolute, as in the love of God for us, the absoluteness of that love claims an absolute authority. The story of Jesus reveals that God is Love, and it summons us to share in God's dynamic state of being-in-Love.I The trinitarian imagery of Scripture presents us with the symbolism of transcendent and unrestricted love where the persons are persons by virtue of their relationship to one another. ,iesus is the human incarnation of that loved and loving reiationship to God and the Spirit. Being-in-Love (Father) with 33 ~!4 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 Jesus Christ (Son) entails our accepting a relationship to the Love that transcends every human Ioye.2 We, however, do not establish that relationship; it is given to us. We do not possess it by nature, so it cannot be taken for granted .3 Our self-deception is the failure to accept the gift of God's love and the call to be transformed into God's children in the Son. We merely pretend that our communion with God is authentic, that we share his being-in-Love, if we are not willing to undergo the suffering that is entailed in meeting the demands and total claims of Love. In meeting the demands of L6ve, suffering demonstrates our authentic acceptance of the gift of God's love. The sovereign transforming power of God's love, as opposed to self-love, is manifested in the sufferings of the just. The Drama of Suffering Love The Synoptic Gospels tell the story of Jesus as a drama in four acts. The first act prepares us for what is to come (Mt 3:1-4, ll= Mk l:l-13 = Lk 3:1-4:13); the second act tells the story.of Christ's ministry in Galilee (Mt. 4:12-18:35 = Mk 1:14-9:50 = Lk 4:14-9:50). In the third act Jesus journeys to Jerusalem (Mt 19:i-20:34 =. Mk 10:1-52 = Lk 9:51-18:43) while the fourth act tells the story of Christ's passion and resurrection. As in every good drama, the story invites the onlooker to join in the dramatic action. We are called to become actors within Christ's dramatic story rather than to remain as onlookers marveling at the drama of what is happening to someone else. The evangelists want their hearers to be trans-formed by authentically sharing Christ's life and his Spirit by dying and rising with him. The life of the Spirit is a sharing in the whole life of Jesus, his dying and rising, his self-emptying and his self-fulfilling glorification in God. We cannot be filled by the Spirit unless the self has been emptied to make room for the Spirit's gifts. The mystery of the Cross and resurr6ction expresses the true nature and power of Jesus' being-in-Love, the power and freedom to .be able to love to the end. The disciples, who share their Lord's de~tiny, are also called upon .to suffer. As his ,followers, we must expect suffering, rejection and persecution (Mk 8:34-35; Mt 10:24-25; Lk 6:22; 14:26-27; .In 12:25,26), for the kingdom of God that comes to us in the myster3) of Jesus Christ's dying and rising is a sign of contradiction. Fidelity to the Master means that the disciples must enter into the same struggle that Jesus entered to fulfill God's plan for creation. Opposition to Jesus is manifested within all his human contexts. Mark structures his Gospel to underscore human resistance to the arrival of the kingdom in the person, work and ministry of Jesus Christ. Society resists Jesus (l: 14-3:6)~ Pharisees and scribes, the leaders of the people, engage him in five controversies (~2:1-3:5) and decide to destroy him (3:6). His family, relatives and townspeople are disturbed by him (3:7-6:6), and they fear for his sanity (3:21). Despised in his own country, among his own relations and in his own Christian Conversion / 35 house, he could work no miracle there (6:4:6). Jesus meets with the incompre-hension of his own disciples (6:6-8:33), and he rebukes them for not understanding the miracle of the loaves (8:17) or the necessity of his passion and death (8:31). Fidelity to the will of God meets with human resistance and incompre-hension. If the kingdom of God was ours by nature, Jesus would not encounter incomprehension, hostility and.rejection. His harmony with the will of God entails his disharmony.with all that is opposed to it. His being-in-Love entails his suffering and death out of love that all persons might be-in-Love. He loves his people, fami]3i, disciples and all others with whom his life, vision and mission are in conflict. He suffers out of love for them with the compassion that leads to his passion and death, in order that all might have the fullness of new life in the kingdom. Especially in Mark's story of Jesus, we see that as God's will for Jesus is being progressively fulfilled, he becomes increasingly unpopular until he dies alone--rejected and abandoned by all. Mark's narrative structure makes the theological point that God alone is the fulfilling origin, ground and destiny of Jesus Christ's living, dying and rising out of Love. The coming of the kingdom in the person of Jesus Christ is the ,revelation that God is in love with all human persons and summons them to become a new creation in God's Love. What is demanded of us is repentance and faith in his love given to us in his Beloved Son (Mk 1:11, 15; 9:7). Such repentance and faith entail the suffering out of Love which the Beloved Son himself experienced i.n his prayer at Gethsemane (~Mk 14:36). Jesus experiences suffering out of Love in every human context, the intra-personal as well as the interpersonal; this is evidence for the community of faith that the integrating center of his life transcends every human context. God's lordship in love is a creative goodness which makes others good. When God begins his reign as Father in Jesus Christ, all things are made new in his love,.all things are possible (Mk 10:27; 11:36; Mt 19:26; Lk 18:27). Conversion: Becoming Persons-in-Love Through the example of Jesus' being-in-Love, ~he Christian community sees that God compassionately demands all persons to find and accept their true fulfillment in the gift of his Love so that all might forever be persons-in- Love. God is not indifferent to what weare and become. To accept his love for all is to learn to suffer with his compassionate and passionate love for all, ¯ overcoming our intrapersonal and interpersonal tendencies to remain impersonal. The new life of the kingdom that is given to us in Jesus and his Spirit entails the suffering out of Love for others that manifests our being-in-Love with others. This new life transforms us by making us willing and glad to suffer for others in the service of the kingdom. In the context of the Last Supper, John's gospel implies that Jesus gladly and voluntarily lays down his life that his friends might know the joy of being able to do likewise. ~16 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 True disciples love as the,Master loves. They share a life that is rooted'in God's community-creating love for all, the only love that constitutes the community of divine and human persons which lasts forever. True disciples have solidarity in that invincible love which, despite suffering and death itself, makes them glad to pour out their lives for others. They do not consider themselves to be martyrs or victims; rather, they suffer for others (divine and human) as true friends in the power of that love which alone grounds the eternal friendship that is life in the kingdom, Central to the notion of Christian conversion as suffering out of love is the fact that God wants all human persons to enjoy his life as their own. The gift of God's love is not so much a giving away as a sharing. In loving, God shares himself and all that he is. Jesus Christ enjoys the life and love of his Father; therefore, he is glad to suffer out of that love so that all human beings might share what he most cherishes. But what is perfect in the Master is imperfect in the disciple. The life that Jesus Christ fully enjoys is the life that his disciples are learning to enjoy. The disciple knows the Master to the extent that he or she enjoys the same life and is glad to suffer out of love to secure that life for others. The. solidarity of Master and disciple in suffering out of love for others consists in their enjoying and cherishing the life that they want others to enjoy. Christian conversion is not only an event but also a process that deepens this solidarity through fidelity to the grace and demand of God for responsible lives. Christian conversion, both as event and as process, is participation in the befriending love that Jesus Christ received and accepted from his Father as the integrating center of his life, mission and death for 6thers. Lived Christian conversion entails suffering out of a befriending love that affects all our conscious activities, directs our attention, pervades our imagination, release~ symbols that penetrate to the depths of our psyches, enriches our under-standing, guides our judgments, reinforces our decisions and motivates 0tii~ actions. To enjoy the transforming, benefit of God's befriending love in Jesus Christ and his Spirit implies a gratitude that actively accepts it and makes a religious and moral commitment to sharing it with others. Gratitude for the gift of God's befriending love reflects a humility that takes nothirig for granted. Such humility'brings an appreciation of others and a commitment to them, even when they are superficially unattractive. If we truly appreciate others, we are glad to suffer out of love for them and to befriend them as disciples of ~the Master who lived and died to make his joy ours and to make our joy complete (see Jn 15:11). Some Principles and Practical Points of Reference 1. Being-in-Love is the motivating power for suffering out of Love. 2. If, as Jesus reveals, God is befriending Love, being in befriending Love is the motivating power foi" suffering out of befriending Love for others. It makes us glad, despite difficulties, to befriend others. Christian Conversion 3. Suffering out of befriending Love for others is the self-transcending activity that frees us from self-absorption, self-pity and self-idolatry (i.e., from being impersonal). It frees us for the fulfillment that is being-in-Love with others (i.e,, for being personal). 4. For human beings to be fully personal is, ultimately, for them to be-in- Love befriending others. Sin is the refusal to be personal, the state of the impersonal subject. 5. In lived Christian conversion, suffering is not sought for its own sake; rather, it is embraced only when it is a condition for commitment to the grace and demand of God's befriending love. 6. If lived Christian conversion entails suffering out of befriending Love for others, suffering is not a univocal sign that something is wrong with a person. It may be, as the teaching of the beatitudes implies, the sign that something is profoundly right with a person. 7. We are not committed to persons or values for whom we are unwilling to suffer. We cannot suffer out of love for others when we have no love for them. 8. Being-in-Love is the efficacious ground of self-transcendence required to live responsibly and to be responsible to the pursuit of the truth, however difficult it may be to discover or to accept. It motivates the will to be responsible and to pay the pric.e of responsibility. 9. The fact that Jesus Christ was willing to suffe~ and die for us grounds the primary dogma that God loves us~ To sense that we are loved is to sense something that is true. It may be that imagination is involved in our sensation, but the truth of the dogma will stand. Being-in-Love and willing to suffer out of love for others should never be identified with the presence or absence of any particular feeling or sensation. Our faith and hope is in God, not in our feelings. 10. Because human beings leave something to be desired that God alone can fulfill, suffering out Of love is the condition for the possibility of friendship. Friendship (marriage, community, society, and more) disintegrates with the refusal to endure limitations arid deficiencies in others. Our incapacity for friendship is related to our unwillingness to be committed to others who do not fully gratify, support or console us. There is no lasting commitment to others apart from the willingness to suffer out of love for them. 11. Having time for others is a form of suffering out of love for them. Religious conversion implies that we are living in God's time, that we have the gift of his time for welcoming and listening to others. Consequently, we do not see others as taking or consuming our time; we are free for them to the extent that we are free from the illusion that the only time we have is our own. Prayer is a form of enjoying God's time and transcending our own. Some seldom find time to pray because they are living in their own time and do not want to lose it for life in God's time. The call to pray always is the call to be-in-Love and to live in God's time forever. Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 12. Sufferingout of love for others is a form of our self-investment in them. Inasmuch as communities are formed and held together by a common faith and hope, there is a community-creating and community-sustaining power and value in suffering out of faith, hope and love for others. 13. Inconveniencing ourselves for others is perhaps the most basic form of suffering out of love for others. Unwillingness to inconvenience ourselves for others is a reft~sal to be personal; it is the failure to befriend others at the most rudimentary level of everyday life. No possibility of a lasting commitment to others exists without our being willing to inconvenience ourselves for them daily. 14. The New Testament demand for human transformation through following Jesus' way of the cross should warn those who are tempted to reduce God to their own measure. The self-abandonment that God's befriending love required of Jesus Christ should correct our tendency to manipulate God. 15. Tothe extent that we are convinced that our importance is in God, as opposed to the illusion of an independent self-importance, we are equally convinced that all others have the same importance and are worthy of self-sacrificing and befriending love. The conviction that we exist because God loves us implies that we-find security and a sense of personal worth in God, rather than in the approval that others may choose to give us. 16. If God's will is done, all human persons will be in his kingdom. Our finite, limited, human love is inadequate to the challenge of loving all persons, apart from the gift of God's all-embracing, all-encompassing, all-sustaining, all-forgiving, all-reconciling and all-fulfilling love. His community-creating love for all is the origin and ground of life in the kingdom. 17. Love takes others seriously. How seriously we take others, according to the Judeo-Christian tradition, reveals how seriously we take God. It is the conviction of Jews and Christians that God takes all human persons seriously. How seriously God takes us is implied in the Christian affirmation that God is Love. We know that God is Love because he sent his only Son to live and die for us: We know that such Love transcends words because it embraces human living, suffering and dying. We know that we are truly loved and taken seriously by those who willingly share our living, suffering and dying. We discover the reality of our love for others in willingly doing likewise. NOTES ~See Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology. (London: Darton, Longrnan & Todd, 1971), passim, esp. pp. 105-122, 2Although Being-in-Love is the existence of the Father and Son and Spirit, I pareaihesize Father to highlight the filial relationship of Jesus as Son. 3See Charles Hefling's lntrduction to Frederick E. Crowe, The Lonergan Enterprise (Cambridge, MA: Cowley Publications, 1980), p. xvi. A Clump of Lichen and Me Kathleen Gallas, OS.B. Sister Gallas is Food Service Director at the Sacred Heart Convent and Conference Center, where she may be addressed: P.O. Box 488; Cullman, AL 35056-0488. What ig contemplative life? Why the nuclear arms race? Why the environ-mental devastation? In the aftermath of "The Day After" my reflectivd moments pondered these seemingly unrelated questions. A combination of spiritual reading, n~ws magazines and discussions on the American Catholic Bishops' Pastoral On Peace surfaced this assortment of questions. While pon-dering the last two questions there eventually came over me a sense of futility. What can any one p.erson do to change the course of events toward possible destruction of life and environment? It can even be questioned as to what will destroy what firs!! Even if there' is a nuclear disarmament it will only be a matter of time before life is destroyed through our irresponsible use of environ-ment and our exploitation of peoples around the world as though they were so many pins on a chart. The question of contemplative life I pondered as an altogether different kind of issue. Ordinarily when one speaks or hears of contemplative life and of contemplative prayer, it is understood in terms describing activities limited to a select few. Contemplative life involved Contemplative prayer, and anyone experiencing contemplative prayer was undoubtedly living a contemplative life--which usually meant living a vowed religious life. Neither combination is necessarily true, nor the total meaning. My own convictions saw a distinction between contemplative life and contemplative prayer. Mother Mary Clare, S.L.G., in her book, Encountering the Depths, gives a difference. "Contempla-tive prayer can be experienced, if God wills it, in any such circumstance as he sees fit to bestow, while contemplative life is the life so directed in its simplicity, and separated from the normal distraction of the active world, that it provides the best preparation for carrying out the work of contemplative prayer." How- 411 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 ever, as Thomas Merton said, "Not all who are vowed contemplative religious experience contemplative prayer." After a while I found myself considering the word contemplative as separated from the terms life and prayer. By itself I couldn't limit the meaning of contemplative to a few but asked the question if being contemplative wasn't a dimension of being human, and therefore per-taining to everyone. What is it to be contemplative? This assortment of questions unexpectedly came together and found its own kind of answer in an experience 1 had on a January afternoon. Everything I had been meditating within the context of each of the three basic questions surfaced and synthesized an experience with a clump of lichen. I had been pondering these questions separately without any thought of relating them. However, my experience of lichen gave me the insight that in actuality the answer to the question of what is contemplative life was the foundation to answering the other questions--and all other questions concerning peace, justice and harmony in our relationships with each other and our environment. I am standing at my special place on a particular hillside with an Alabama version of mountains before me evoking the line: "I lift my eyes to the moun-tains from where comes my help--the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth." At my feet is a clump of gray-green lichen with red dots. Flowers? To see them eye to eye I have to lie on my stomach. Then do I see. The lichen grew finger-like projections and each finger tip is painted red. There am I on the ground "eyeballing" a lichen's painted finger nails! At first I laugh at myself. Then at us, the~lichen~and me. I talk to it. "Aren't we a crazy pair? Somehow, this is a fun moment, isn't it? We share a secret, you and I. Others might question my sanity if I were to tell them of our secret delight in each other. However, there must be others like us, for Goethe back in the eighteenth century said: 'Tell no man, tell wise men only, for the ~vorld might count it madness'," My deepest intuitions say that I am not mad in having fun seeing and listening ~ith a clump of lichen. After a while the humor of the situation shifts in mood to a sense of wonder, fascination and appreciation of so tiny a bit of color on a January day. In this Garden of Eden setting comes the urge to pick up this clump of lichen and bring it home to the prayer room--a winter flower for the Lord. But no! in my position of lying stomach flat to th~ earth comes the awareness that I am hugging great Mother Earth who in Greek mythology was named Gaia--a name personalizes and effects a deeper relationship. Gaia and I became one in this°moment--a moment of union. She and I are gift to each other from our God, the maker of heaven and earth. There is the vista before me, t_he clump of lichen below me, and myself. We are responsible to each other and for each other. So, I am one human being and this under my eyes is roughly a 3 x 4 inch clump of lichen. Yet this clump of lichen and I represent a microcosm of life on planet earth. On the one hand it could be said what harm done to pull up this clump +sp~cially with the motive of offering? But how thoughtless and insensitive to Gaia who needs this clump of lichen to maintain nature's balance A Clump of "~chen and Me / 41 so that I might live comfortably. To be fruitful and multiplyr fill the earth and stibdue it doesn't mean that I ravage it, pollute it, coerce it for my own selfish needs and even worse, under the guise of something good. Whose good? How often our God voiced that he spurned such offerings. Some would say that I have done no harm to another human being in pulling up this clump. But I have. Even if it is in innocence, the innocence of thoughtlessness; I have harmed another in contr!buting to making earth an unfit place to live. Gaia is upset. Mother Nature reacts and there can eventu-ally come a separation, a divorce. I could be a contributing cause in the erosion of this hillside. In being responsible to Gala and for Gala I am also responsible to all other human beings. Each of us is responsible to the other for maintaining a harmonious relationship with Gaia who will respond accordingly. In this total economy of life no one human being is insignificant. Neitheris this clump of red-dotted lichen by my side. Just now 1 suddenly recall a long-forgotten story, The Little Prince. The fox is explaining to the prince what it means .to be tamed. "It means to establish ties." "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world." We were asked to subdue the earth, Wouldn't "to subdue" mean "to tame'~. To establish ties, to create a need for each other? To instill a reverence for the uniqueness of each other? In lying flat on the ground face to face with a clump of lichen, I felt an. interrelatedness. The lichen and I were one. My body pressed to the body of earth were one. As far as the eye could see there was not another clump of lichen to be seen amidst the variety of winter-colored plant life. Yet there was the awareness that while this was so on the immediate level, there was also an awareness on another level that the earth was populated with the likes of me and the likes of this lichen. Each was one in the many and the many in the one. I knew an interrelatedness with all in the universe that was human. The lichen would'feel the same with its kind. However, the sense of harmony, the expe-rience of0neness-and-manyness wasn't limited to recognizing this in our sepa-rateness of plant and human, for at the same time there was the feeling of Oneness with each 6ther. The lichen and I knew a oneness with each other as well as a oneness in the manyness of us. Lichen and me. Plant life and human life. Mother Earth Gaia and me, Gaia and the manyness of me. Each and speaks of union. Each and speaks of a union that is life-creating, life-giving, life-supporting. This life with a small "1" could only be because of the gratu-itous, unfathomable love that is Life with a capital "L." It is from the Life and in this Life that the lichen and I have life. We are gifts to each~ other, responsible to each other from the Gift that is Life--maker of heaven and earth. A dialogue from another story, The Farthest Shore, by Ursula LeGuin Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 speaks of this responsibility. The wise magus explains to his young companion the meaning and responsibility of personal choice. "On every act the balance of the whole depends. The winds and seas, the powers of water and earth and light, all that these do, and all that the beasts and green things do, is well done, and rightly done. All these act within the Equilibrium. From the hurricane and the great whale's sounding to the fall of a dry leaf and the .gnat's flight, all they do is done within the balance of the whole. But we, insofar aswe have power over the world and over one another, we must learn to do what the leaf and the whale and the wind do of their own nature. We must learn to keep the balance. Having intelligence, we must not act in ignorance. Having choice, we must not act without responsibility." When did we become responsible for each other? In the beginning of , creation Life hovered over the darkness of the deep and breathed over the waters of the abyss. God said, "Let there be . " With each word of God, each breath of Life a living being was created. Gaia is a living being. This clump of lichen is a living being. I am a living being. Within each resides the breath of Life uniting us as one. Gaia and this clump of lichen act unconsciously accord-ing to their nature. The breath of Life that brought me into being included the freedom of choice. But "having choice, we must not act without responsibility." However, if I am not awakened in eye and heart to that breath of Life within me then my actions are likely to be irresponsible and contrary to the nature Life intended me as a ruler of myself and of the earth. Only if I am awake to this Life breathing within me will I be able to make responsible choices that will be in harmony with all other beings until All is in all, a union of One, a oneness in the manyness. Frederick Franck in his Book of Angelus Silesitis says: "For the awakened.spirit there is no longer a split between 'I' and 'other'." Meister Eckhart asks, "When is a man in mere understanding?" "When he sees one thing as separated from another." "And when isa manabove mere under-standing? . When a man sees All in all, then a man stands beyond mere understanding." Until one is awakened to the Life within there is no unfolding, no con-sciousness that this clump of lichen and I are responsible to each other, gifts to each other for all others in our oneness. Thoughtlessness, insensitivity, ihgrati-tude to the gift of oneself and the gift of each other have compounded to the magnitude of global disaster at the exp.ense of all that represents the lichen and me. In our insecurities and lack of appreciation of each other's unique gifted-ness-- everything that makes up heaven and earth--we have become envious and greedy. In our drive to be number one in whatever area of life, individually and nationally, we have lost sight of our interconnectedness. We have forgot-ten that the world is round'and not fiat. In our linear vision of life we have forgotten that there is a Center that links us as spokes in a wheel. In our fears and insecurities we can be likened to the schoolyard bullies easily provoked when our power position is threatened. In the global schoolyard we clench nuclear warheads. ° A Clump of Lichen and Me / 43 Or? I was about to pull up the clump of lichen to use as an offering and a decoration but I didn't because ~of an awareness that each of us is connected to a Center and interdependent. But on a global level we have those who thought-lessly, selfishly ravage the earth's peoples and places as so many clumps of lichen and for a variety of reasons--least of all, offering and decoration. On the other hand, when done out of offering and decoration it is far more devastating. It is said that greed brings out the animal in us but that isn't true. Animals act according to their nature as designed when breathed,into life. ,~ dog gnawing on his bone is not envious of the dog next to him chewing on a steak. Each is content. Humans in their greed that becomes exploitation of all living beings act contrary to even animal nature in wanting both, their own and what others have. ~ I feel that my experience with the lichen spoke to the fundamental ques-tion, what is contemplative life--what is it to be contemplative? Am I off the track? I don't think so.-It is for each of us to live life moment by moment deliberately, reflectively, consciously, reverently; awarely, thoughtfully, prayer-fully. The majority claim that this isn't possible. But why not? Walter Burg-hardt in his book Season that Laugh and Weep_:quotes his friend William McNamara in defining contemplative as "a long loving look at the real." Burghardt goes on to explain the "real~" Reality is living, pulsing people; reality'is fire and water;~reality is the sun setting over the Poconos and a gentle doe streaking through the forest; reality is a ruddy glass of Burgundy, Beethoven's Mass in D, a child lapping a chocolate iee-crearn cone; reality is a striding woman with wind-blown hair; r~ality is Christ Jesus. Contemplation~is not an abstraction "where a leaf is no longer green, water no longer ripples, a woman is no longer soft, and God no longer smiles." He goes on to say, "This real I 'look' at. I no longer analyze it or argue it, describe or define it; I am one with it. I do not move around it; I enter into it." When one enters into it one becomes one with it. I am that at which I give a long loving look. Sense of separateness disappears.in the embrace. I am convinced that this capacity is within each of us.As I am writing and ponder-ing this (now a summer morning) I'm aware 0fa buzzing fly. The window has a space between outside glass and .inside screen. The fly flew in by the open middle section. It is now buzzing and frantically dashing itself at the top section of panes. This has been going on for over an hour. If it would just stop long enough to take a long loving look at the reality of its situation, it would come to know that the next set of panes is open. The fly would be free to become one with all that is outside the barrier of closed upper-window panes. To be contemplative is a dimension within each of us that must be responded to in order to live in harmony with one's self, with each other, with Gaia. That dimension is there enabling us to be free, but like the fly we frantically dash our lives on window panes of our own choosing. In all the ceaseless buzzing and frantic dashing about we fail to "see" that the next set of panes is op.en which would free us to be one with all we see but interact with through the glass of 44 / Review for Religious, Jan.-Feb., 1985 fears and insecurities. We are gifts to each other.~As human beings breathed into existence each of us is endowed with gifts we hold in common as well as those unique to each. Gifts can remain latent or be 'used intelligently ~nd responsibly. But this is an unfolding and a growing that starts from a beginning. In the beginning God created the heavens and earth. In the beginning was the Word. In the begin-ning life breathed. The very words "in the beginning" suggest that there is a past, a present and a future. We all have beginnings and are now in process toward endings. But life is a spiral of beginnings and endings gradually open-ing us to greater circumferences. Beginnings proceed to endings only to find that endings become new beginnings. Life is breathing, bringing us to an expanding awareness and fullness. However time past and time future ismean-ingful if I live the now moment attentively, patiently, caringly, lovingly. Other-wise the clump of lichen is just a clump of lichen to be trampled on or pulled up indifferently, carelessly--for there are no established ties. Again, theqittle prince and the fox: "What must I do, to tame you" asked the little prince? "You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me--like that--in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day." In my experience on that January'day, the lichen and I tamed each other. Ties were established revealing secrets visibly to the heart. As I was walking back home filled with the fullness of Life, pain and sorrow entered. I could identify with St. Francis who cried because Love is not loved. Along the roadside was the trash 6f beverage cans and fast-food restau-rant containers. This marring of the creation of heaven and earth is evidence of a lack of awareness of the meaning of life breathing within all created things. Most of the trash along our highways are food containers betraying the pace and emptiness of our lives. Many people claim they are too busy to eat' reflectively, appreciatively, companionably and as an undivided activity. Too busy to take "long loving looks at the real." Busy-ness reflects an emptiness or a fife lived in qu~intity not quality until it becomes a frantic dashing about. There is not the patience to live the now moment attentively, undividedly. From just considering the kinds of trash I saw along the way, it seems that eating has become something we do while in the process of doing something else, on our way to somewhere else--all activities of another kind that are not entered into fully either. Our attention is fragmented; when the activities of each moment are multiple and experienced indifferently and randomly, as a ¯ necessary activity to get over with, it is a natural consequence to open the window of the car and carelessly toss out the trash on the landscape which goes unnoticed. The fox upon saying goodby to the prihce imparts his secret. "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." "It is the time you have wasted for another that makes this tamed one so important'. Men have forgotten this truth but you must not forget it. You A Clump of Lichen and Me / 45 become responsible forever, for what you have tamed." What is it to be contemplative? Whether described as "a long loving look at the real" or "time you have wasted for another," it is a time consumption that a pragmatic materialistic society rejects because for them time and life are mea-su~- ed in terms of money--cash and flow. The contemplative dimension that enables us to be truly human is there but lost. From still another source, Tom Brown, a woodsman taught by an Apache Indian, describes in his book, The Search, his conviction of the contemplative dimension. There is a place I know where everything lives in harmony. Nothing is envied, stolen, or killed. Instead, everything is shared. The land is everyone's and no one's. Life is sacred there. A dweller in this place thinks highly of human life because he lives so close to the earth. He understands his part in the scheme of nature and is not lost or searching for himself. Where is this place? Does it really exist? Yes. It is within me and can be within you. It is a state of mind; it is an awareness; it is an appreciation; it is an understanding; it is a commitment to life. It is the realization that everything I described is all about us every day of our lives, but we miss it. We are blind to the beauty of a sunset, deaf to the music of the wind, callous to rough bark and soft grass. We speak of salaries and war instead of singing songs of life. We taste the bitterness of pollution and miss the sweetness of wild honeysuckle. We smell bus fumes but never the apple blossoms or clover flower. Life is manufactured and marketed. It is, for many of us, something to be bought or sold, and the more we pay, the better off we feel we are. Empty, untamed and fragmented lives are not awakened to the Life within. There is no awareness of interconnectedness, of taming and being tamed. There is no awareness that the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth and everything therein, is at the center of his universe and the center of each of us. One indifference leads and escalates into another: trash out the window by individuals, pollution and exploitation of land, sea and sky by industry, oppression of people around the world by political systems. If lives were lived contemplatively to what is essential and visible to the eye of the heart, then it would be realized that no being is insignificant because each o

Issue 61.6 of the Review for Religious, 2002. ; DECEMBER 2002 VO~,UME 61 'NUMBER 6~ Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2002 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. view for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ NOVEMBER DECEMBER 2002 VOLUME 61 NUMBER 6 contents 566 579 ignatian spirituality Ignatian Invitation: Remember and Imagine David L. Fleming SJ sums up the contemporary relevance of Ignatian spirituality in the dynamic movements of remembering and imagining. Ignatian Indifference and Structural Constraints Ignatius Jesudasan SJ enters us into the contemporary struggle to apply indifference as understood in spirituality to the various structural situations of authority and obedience. 585 594 ministry formation The Emergence of the Contemporary Traditionalists David M. Whalen OSFS presents certain "verbal snapshots" of young people identified as contemporary traditionalists whose interim theology includes an exemption or "notwithstanding" clause. A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation Guy B. Wilson ST explains a model of formation for the men candidates of the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity, which involves the collaboration of the Trinitarian family of men and women religious and lay persons, following the inspiration of their founder, Father Thomas Augustine Judge. 602 sisters and brothers Mary Magdalene: An Icon for Women Religious Mary Kay Dobrovolny RSM, by using the resurrection story found in John 20:11 o 18, presents Mary Magdalene as an icon for celibate loving and apostolic mission for women religious. Review for Religious 615 Lonely and Small: Religious Brothers' Situation Philip Armstrong CSC makes a case for religious life, the vowed commitment to a life of service to the church and to the world through the public profession of the evangelical counsels, to be raised to the status of a sacrament in the Roman Catholic Church. 624 God and us The Birth of Christ in the Human Person Janet Sullivan OSF brings home the faith reality that God asks of us what he asked of Mary: to allow his Son to come to birth in us. 631 Reading/Reciting the Psalms: Some Reflections Roland E. Murphy OCarm offers, from his lifetime of study and prayer, a bright sprinkling of information and intuition about the psalms. 64O Eucharistic Faith: Jesus' Bread-.of-Life Discourse Dennis J. Billy CSSR reflects upon Jesus' Discourse on the Bread of Life On 6:22-71) to emphasize the call to faith which every Eucharist celebrates~ departments 564 Prisms 649 Canonical Counsel: 656 Book Reviews 666 Indexes Mandatory Dismissal November-Decentber 2002 prisms After sixty-one years of publish-ing on a bimonthly schedule Review for Religious begins a quarterly schedule of publication beginning in the year 2003. As our readers may well surmise, rising costs of publishing and mailing have played a signifi-cant role in leading to this decision. As editor, I have explored, with the help of my Board members and staff, various options. We could raise the subsdription price and still be competitively equal to other jo.urnals ~nd magazines. But since women and men religious with their religious vow of poverty make up the larger part of our readership, I want to keep the cost as low as possible. Perhaps even more importantly, fi large number of foreign sub-scribers, especially in India and in the countries of Africa, would find any increase in price unbearable in terms of currency exchange rates. We thought of reducing the size of the journal from 112 pages to 64 or 72 pages, a common pagina-tion for journals of our kind. A cheaper production and a lighter weight for mailing would save some expense, while at the same time allowing us to main-tain a bimonthy schedule. After serious discussion among Board members and staff, we decided that the continuity of appearance and quality of material should not be sacrificed for the sake of economy. As we considered the quarterly schedule, the Board encouraged us as an editorial staff to try to Review for Religious engage our readers in a more interactive way with follow-up questions or reflection/prayer helps and, perhaps, with some sort of readers' forum or letters-to-the-editor column. As we reduce the number of regular issues of Review for Religious from six to four times a year, we intend to provide a 32-page supplement issue for the seasons of Lent and Advent which will allow us to experiment. These supplements will be included in the regular subscription price that remains the same as it has been. Since we are an international journal, we will not try to des-ignate our quarterly issues by seasons since they vary with our readers' northern or southern climates. Instead we will identify the volume number and then each issue as "Quarterly" num-bered from one to four in every year. The two supplements will be identified by the church seasons of Lent and Advent. We are grateful to you, our subscribers and readers, for your loyal support. We intend that you will find the same con-sistent high-quality articles in every issue. We also will be look-ing forward to your response to our interactive supplements, whether for possible publication or not. In fact, we welcome comments from our readers even now. We are always seeking to increase our readership and so we continue to encourage you to give a gift subscription or sug-gest that a friend or colleague subscribe. If you or your com-munity could provide a gift subscription for those financially limited communities or individuals, usually in countries other than the United States, your charity would be much appreci-ated. Either designate the gift-recipient or allow us to fund the many requests that we receiveand do not have the resources with which to respond. You then extend your own mission in wonderful ways through the mission of Review for Religious. The editors and staff of Review for Religious wish you the richest blessings of the Advent and Christmas seasons. David L. Fleming SJ November-December 2002 DAVID L. FLEMING Ignatian Invitation: Remember and Imagine ignatian spirituality Pope John Paul II issued a call to all Christians as we entered this new millennium. It is a call that he has repeated i~a many talks since he wrote his challenging letter about the new millennium back in January 2001. The Latin phrase Duc in altum expresses his challenge succinctly. We translate it as "Put out into the deep." It is, of course, Jesus' command to Peter and Andrew, James and John, and their fishing companions after they have just spent a fruitless night at their fishing occupation. As we faced a new millennium, with its unfulfilled promise and its potential disasters, John Paul said that as Christians, full of faith, we should lead the way: Duc in altum, put out into the deep. Little did we think that in the year 2001 we would experience, especially in the United States, a "deep" defined by the effect of the September 11 terrorist attack on a whole way of living. Little did we think that in 2002 we would have our economy shaken by major company fraud, abetted by accounting firms that paradoxically were not accountable. Little did we think that we would find David L. Fleming SJ, editor of this journai, presented this material as a talk at the Ignatian Spirituality Conference in St. Louis, Missouri, in July 2002. Review for Religious ourselves in a church under scrutiny for its own internal terror by a few of its priests, but a few too many, and by the lack of accountability in some of its own hierarchical leaders. Duc in altum. Yes, we feel that we are somewhere out in the deep. What are the resources that we Christians now draw on? What are the strengths of the spirituality that we try to live? I would like to share with you the strengths that I experience in Ignatian spirituality. Back in the last century--in the 1940s and '50s--part of growing up in St. Louis in the summer months was a day-long trip on the Mississippi River on the excursion boat called the Admiral. The boat left at ten o'clock in the morning from the downtown riverfront (the area where now the Arch stands), usually went south down the river just beyond the Jesuit White House Retreat, which sits on the bluffs overlooking the river, some fifteen or twenty miles down river. The boat would then circle around and buck the river currents, chugging slowly back up the river and mooring at about four o'clock in the afternoon. Being a five-deck boat, it offered a lot of room for people to meander, between air-conditioned decks and open-air decks, between a ballroom dance-floor deck and a deck for games, between restaurant areas and "bring-your-own-picnic" areas. What always made a big impression upon me were the two massive pistons, the major attraction of a noisy and hot first-deck area. These two massive arms kneading up and down were our visible representation of what moved the boat forward. To make a turn, one arm obviously would do most of the work. But the two working in unison pushed this big boat securely against the strongest of river currents. I experience Ignatian spirituality much as I experienced the Admiral excursion boat. Ignatian spirituality is something in movement. Ignatian spirituality has a lot of room within it--a lot of different decks, as it were, where we live out an Ignatian spirituality in a variety of contexts. But what intrigues me the most are the two massive pistons that allow for the movement or dynamism of Iguatian spirituality. The words with which I will identify these two pistons will surprise no one. Those of us familiar with Ignatian spirituality talk about them with ease. But what I hope to share with you is the often overlooked importance of each of these arms and, perhaps even more so, the necessity of November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ Ignatian lnvitation their working in unison if we, seeking our life's direction within an Ignatian spirituality, are to continue to move forward even amid strong and deep currents. I will use the word remembering for one arm of movement and imagining for the other. Remembering I deliberately have chosen these active verbal terms remembering and imagining rather than the more stolid noun-forms mentor)/and imagination. Ignatius is a man-in-motion, and he relates to God, to his fellow men and women, and to his world in a dynamic fashion. In his mystical intuition at the river Cardoner in Manresa, he sees God as a God who labors, an active God, a busy God. He understands that busyness, laboring, working does not take us away from a laboring God, a busy God. And so Ignatius writes with verbs and participles, a motion-oriented, vigorous style, especially in the Spiritual Exercises. We need always to keep reminding ourselves that the Exercises book, by its very title, speaks of movement, of interactivity--the activity within a person (in the retreat first of all, but in daily life as well) and the activity without, that is, all that happens outside us in the world all around us, in the circumstances of the people and things of our everyday life. Ignatian spirituality is an active spirituality, or, rather, an interactive spirituality. Noticing One of the first actions of Ignatius in developing his relationship with God is caught in the word noticing, taking note of, noting. Ignatian spirituality begins to thrive where Ignatius himself began--paying attention to various experiences, noting what is going on. In his Autobiography, Ignatius particularly emphasizes his noting of his own reactions to his daydreams about serving his king or a noble lady and his d~ydreams about doing as St. Dominic or St. Francis did. He notes what is going on inside (within) himself---the effects both short-range and longer lasting. Just as for all of us, Ignatius does not claim that he never had these kinds of experiences previously. It is just that now he notes or notices them. He also takes note of what is going on around Review for Religious him (the without). He is very observant of his world, the people in it, their various customs. Perhaps out of his piety and certainly out of his courtly training, he adopts an attitude of reverence to God, to God's people, and to God's world. Noting or noticing is all part of our attitude of reverence as we live in God's world, our home. Noting or noticing is a first and essential part of remembering, one of the two piston arms of Ignatian spirituality. Examining Another part of remembering in Ignatian spirituality is something that has received much emphasis in our day. The examen or examination of conscience has had a revitalization over the past thirty years that has put it at the forefront of, made it the signature exercise of, Ignatian spirituality. For us in North America, Jesuit George Aschenbrenner's article "Consciousness Examen" in the January-February 1972 issue of Review for Religious marked the beginning of this renaissance. Since then, the writings of John English, Joseph Tetlow, John Veltri, Dennis Hamm, and many others, Jesuits and others, have given new life to and sharp insight into the practice of the daily examen. From the Exercises book we are aware that Ignatius identifies a number of examinations. In fact, because these constitute the first material under the title First Week, we cannot miss the implication that examining is an important ingredient of making the Exercises. Obviously, our process of examining works better as we get more accustomed to noting or noticing as we move through a day. But examining remains its own special exercise, beyond noting, and remains an essential part of the piston arm we call remembering. Recalling the Story A third aspect of remembering is to be found in the Ignatian first preludes from the contemplations of the Second Week on, the preludes that recall the history of an event. "History" for Ignatius does not refer to facts of a past event. His Spanish expression, ~aer la historia (§§102, 191), emphasizes "making present the story." Ignatius does not say "bring to memory" or November-December 2002 Fle~ning ¯ Ignatian Invitation Remembering plays such an important role in Ignatian spirituality that this spirituality is clearly a reflective spirituality. "remember" the relevant ~cts. He says "recall the history bow" (the Spanish como). For Ignatius, facts are not enough. He wants us to enter into the how and why of events. The first and second preludes for a gospel contemplation are interlocked. The second prelude is a composition, sometimes erroneously identified as a "composition of place." Among more recent authors, the Jesuit William A.M. Peters brought the significance of this Ignatian usage to our attention, showing that Ignatius stresses rather the composition of ourselves within the history. We place ourselves by noting how we see the Trinity looking down upon our world; we place ourselves by noting bow the pregnant Mary, Joseph, and a little servant girl wend their way towards Bethlehem. So history and composition are tightly interlocked-- not as preliminary to prayer, but as an integral part of our prayer, which has its various focal points. Just as noting and examining are integral to the Ignatian remembering, so, I believe, the Ignatian "history," this recalling of the story, is an integral part as well. Remembering, then, plays such an important role in Ignatian spirituality that this spirituality is clearly a reflective spirituality. It is reflective in the way that scholars suggest the Hebrew Scriptures were formed--by people noting, recalling, exa.mining, reflecting on the story. Ignatian spirituality is in sync with the providential process whereby people's remembering contributed to the forming of our Scriptures. We have described one arm of Ignatius's dynamic spirituality. It is time to express a qualification, beginning with the word but. But this arm I have just described has, I believe, received overemphasis through the centuries and perhaps also in our own time. This emphasis was so great that often the second arm was practically ignored. I would like to focus now on the second piston arm of Ignatian spirituality, which I will describe by the word imagining. Review for Religious Imagining Over the past thirty years, I think that the battle about whether Ignatian spirituality predominantly makes use of an intel-lectu~ il and meditative form of prayer or a contemplative one has been won. The centuries-long controversy, in fact, may have been not so much about a way of praying as about how important imagination is in Ignatian spirituality. Even now, in the current renewal of Ignatian spirituality, I think that people do not give imagining the pride of place that Ignatian spirituality requires. Jesuits themselves are partly responsible for the lack of emphasis on this second arm of Ignatian spirituality. In most traditions, secular or ecclesial, there seems to be a continuing fear of imagination. After their forty-year suppression, I think that Jesuits in their 1814 refounding took their cue from the church climate and parroted the text of the Exercises and their own Ignatian constitutions just as American Catholics parroted the Baltimore Catechism in the 19th and 20th centuries before Vatican Council II. I believe that many of the retreats Jesuits gave to religious women in their motherhouses and to lay men and women in Jesuit retreat houses suffered from a deficient understanding of the importance of imagination in Ignatian spirituality. St. Ignatius implicitly but clearly calls for imagination when he insists on adapting the Exercises to specific retreatants, but this was often ignored. Even now, in the current renewal of Ignatian spirituality, Jesuits and others often set little store by imagination. You may be getting the picture that I think that imagining is all too scarce in people's understanding and living of Ignatian spirituality today. And, in looking to the future, I think that imagining is altogether essential. Just as I discussed three integral parts of remembering-~- noting, examining, and recalling the story--now I want to discuss three integral parts of imagining in Ignatian spirituality. I begin with contemplating, for this is again where Ignatius has left his mark on Christian spirituality. Contemplating Ignatian contemplation is focused, not on losing oneself in God, but on finding oneself with God. Contemplating is ordinarily understood as "gazing upon" the divine. In this gazing, November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ lgnatian lnvitation We tell stories not just to remember the past, but to learn for the future. the emphasis is not on the relationship between oneself and God, but rather is on being absorbed in God, lost in God, taken up into God. An example of this kind of contemplation is centering prayer. For Ignatius, however, the focus is always on relationship. Because Ignatian contemplation is ordinarily focused on gospel mysteries (that is, gospel events), we as contemplatives may, of course, get absorbed in the gospel story, but we are always consciously in relationship. For Ignatius, contemplating the gospel mysteries is the privileged way to come to know Jesus more clearly so as to love him more dearly and follow him more nearly, as the popular song from Godspell would impress upon us. A number of people today, in our media-saturated climate, claim difficulty with Ignatian contemplation for the very reason that it calls us to use our imagination. Having been spoon-fed by movies, television, and now computers and handheld Palms, we may have had our imaginations dulled. But, regardless of the cause, how do we help ourselves and others to do the imagining that Ignatius calls for? Ignatius was a romantic man, and he made active use of his imagination, as we know from his Autobiography. We ourselves may or may not be romantically inclined, but I think that most of us have told a story or two in our small world of everyday interaction with others. We tell stories about what happened to us or to others at the store, at work, at school, or on the way home. Most of us tell stories frequently. Ignatian contemplation can be understood as "telling a story." Remember what we said about the Ignatian "history": making something present to ourselves, recalling how. Contemplating for us is meant to be as involving as our own telling of a story. We have had the experience of telling the story of being at the bedside of dying Aunt Martha, and in the telling the lump in the throat and the tears come just as if we were once again in the midst of the very event. We have had some ridiculous interchange between a fellow worker and ourselves, and the event is so real that, in the retelling, tears of laughter roll down Review for Religious our own cheeks and down our listeners' cheeks as well. That kind of involvement is Ignatian contemplation. Perhaps we are not very imaginative, and the Ignatian directive of seeing the people, listening to what they say, and then watching their actions may seem very stilted and even cause us to feel frozen in our response. But I repeat that almost everyone can tell a story (and usually does in day-to-day life). And I think that, for Ignatius, contemplating and telling the story are one and the same activity. When we tell a story, we not only provide details; we also communicate meaning. Beyond that, we intimate the story's significance for ourselves and for the future. Telling the story may give us insight into our own behavior, other people's perceptions and moods, and God's ways of acting. We tell stories not just to remember the past, but to learn for the future. Telling stories is our way of imbibing wisdom. Contemplating, telling stories, looks to the future, and is an integral part of imagining. Dreaming A second aspect of imagining for Ignatius is dreaming--not nighttime dreams, but the daydreaming that is a part of youth, no matter the age. When we looked at the importance of noting for Ignatius, we observed that he had daydreams about serving the king of Spain and winning a great lady's hand; and then alternately he dreamed of serving Christ his King with great deeds like the saints of old, such as Dominic and Francis. After his wounding at Pamplona and his conversion, Ignatius never lost his ability to dream. I think we gain insight when we look upon the Call of the King meditation at the beginning of the Second Week as Ignatius's attempt to bring us into Christ's dream. Whether we take the parable king, so winning and inspiring, proposing his dream of conquering his enemies and achieving a victorious peace, or whether we consider the risen Christ calling each of us to let ourselves be caught up into his dream of the kingdom of heaven, God's reign, we are entering into a dream of future happenings. For the human king, such dreams might never be realized; for Christ, the victory of the dream is already realized in his resurrection, as we know by faith. In the Exercises, whether we consider the Three Degrees of Humility (§§165ff) or the situations described in the Second Way November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ Ignatian lnvitation to Make a Good and Sound Election (§§184ff), Ignatius presumes that most of us dream about our futures. He takes a common human experience and uses it for God. Dreaming, which is about a future still unrealized, is a use of imagination. Dreaming is an integral part of imagining in Ignatian spirituality. Visioning Similar to dreaming in Ignatian spirituality, but fixed more in the reality of what is already present, is visioning. Ignatius presents us with three vision exercises. He begins with a vision exercise known as the Principle and Foundation. He closes with an exercise tided "Contemplation on the Love of God," a vision exercise. The third vision exercise is tided the Call of the King (sometimes understood as the Second Principle and Foundation opening the Second Week and the Weeks thereafter). We have already considered it primarily under the idea of Christ presenting his dream to us, but Ignatius is careful to point out that this is more than just a dream, for the victory is assured. It is also a vision. The Principle and Foundation expresses succincdy Ignatius's way of seeing God, himself, his neighbor, and his world--in all their relations--and seeing, too, the choices to be made in living out the truth of the vision. The Contemplation on the Love of God expresses the ways of God's loving that we have reflected on and experienced through the course of the Exercises. In it we pray to be empowered to go forth and love with something of the fullness and breadth of God's loving. For Ignatius, visions present reality to us. Our effort to bring our own way of living into the vision gives us our direction into the future. Visioning, then, lik~ dreaming and contemplating, is an integral part of imagining--all three elements looking towards the future. I believe that the emphasis on imagining inherent in Ignatian spirituality is what allows it to be open, adaptable, and applicable to the future. Imagining is akin to the "blue-skying" that is so much a part of the planning process in organizational psychology. "Blue-skying" breaks us out of our usual restraints just as the image suggests. For Ignatius, imagining allows God to break into our lives because we have given up our own control, our own setting of limits. Imagining allows us to be open and Review for Religious available, to be vulnerable, to let a divine break-in help us to break out. Such imagining, then, as Ignatius discovered, becomes a way of working with God in the direction that God calls us. Recall that it is two piston arms that give Ignatian spirituality its dynamism: remembering and imagining. These terms mean more than a casual "look back" and then a "look forward," and neither one is to be chosen over the other. The genius of Ignatius was to see how only both working together would provide the forward dynamism that is summed up in the often misunderstood phrase "spiritual freedom." Being Free We are free only if we know, acknowledge, and work with our own personal history. But we need something more. We are free only if we are not limited or shackled by our past or present so that we can imagine the fi~ture that we are invited to by God. In Ignatius's experience, human freedom is a gift of God, but only a potential one. Actual freedom requires us to join together our remembering and our imagining. To be more exact, for us people of faith the gift of freedom is realized only in its relationship with the gift of God's grace. Then human freedom is experienced--Ignatius would say, using the Spanish word liberalidad--as generosity. I think, indeed, that liberalidad is better translated self-giving. Liberalidad well describes God's way of loving, a loving without limits, and yet always a discreet love. For Ignatius, a love without limits is a love of discretion because of reverence. The reverence that God shows to each of us, his children, is meant to be the pattern of our own way of loving. As the Third and Fourth Weeks show, God's love, incarnate in Jesus, will not be limited even by threat of death or death itself. And, in his risen life, Jesus lives the discreet love of never forcing but eliciting our response. Jesus' interaction with Thomas a week after the resurrection shows Love eliciting love. There are no limits to God's love, but, his reverence for us being so great, God always loves us with discretion. Human freedom, what we sometimes call spiritual freedom, is about giving oneself, sharing who we are. Freedom in its essence is not focused on one's independence or on concern about one's rights. For Ignatius, as we are reminded in his November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ Ignatian Invitation prenote to the Contemplation on the Love of God, lovers want to express their love in deeds more than words, and lovers want to communicate (the Ignatian word communicar) or share what they have with the one they love. It is in self-giving, in mutual sharing, mutual surrender, that human freedom is most strongly experienced. It is in this experience of generosity that true love is experienced between God and us and between wife and husband and between all who love. Ignatian generosity is not just a giving as in giving away; it is a sharing, a communication back and forth between two parties. "More !" The dynamism of Ignatian spirituality is sometimes identified with the Latin word magis, "More!" Looking for more seems to indicate a discontent with what is. Wanting more--for example, more food, more money, more successmcan be a devil-driven quality that makes us desire to be our own gods. To put magis in focus, we need to recognize that Ignatius's meaning of the word is in relation to love that has no limits, but nevertheless is always discreet. In ottier words, magis for Ignatius is a relationship word, a word having meaning in terms of personal relationships, in terms of love, reverential love. For Ignatius, God-given love is the only thing, the only giving, that gives proper meaning to "More!"--the love given freely, in generosity and always in reverence, just as God loves. Into the Deep In the same apostolic letter that Pope John Paul told us Christians to "set out into the deep" in this new millennium, he also gave a name to the spirituality that was to empower us in this endeavor. He called all Christians to live a "spirituality of communion." The pope made little attempt to define it and certainly did not identify this spirituality of communion with any one school or tradition of spirituality. The word communion, we note, does not come from the Latin unio and cure, meaning "union with." Rather, with its two re's, communio (from the Latin munus and cure) expresses a "functioning or working with." The usual English meaning of Review for Religious "communion"--that is, "union with"--will result from our "working together," but there seems to be an emphasis on activity, a real working at something together. The pope has called us all to live a spirituality of communion--to live a working-together spirituality--in a world in which divorce and family divisions are rampant, a world in which the meanness and divisiveness of racial, cultural, and economic differences have turned various cities and countries into war zones, a world in which our churches are divided between conservative (or traditional) factions and liberal (or progressive) ones, and a world in which religious faith itself is used as the excuse for the hatred, violence, and death visible in Europe, visible in the Middle East, visible in Africa, visible in India, and there are always more. The spirituality that is needed for us to face this world, the pope says, is above all a spirituality of communion. It is a provocative expression for a spirituality that looks to the future--"working together at bringing together." What is Ignatius's invitation to us today? It really does not differ from his invitation to the men and women of his own time in the 16th century. Perhaps we see the makeup of his spirituality more clearly today, finding it attractive in the face of the demands of our times. Perhaps we are more needy today, more in need of what this spirituality offers. Perhaps Ignatian spirituality shows the way to a reverence for all relationships in our world, so missing in secular culture and perhaps obscured in our church too. Whatever the appeal of Ignatian spirituality, I know that it concretizes for us a spirituality of communion--a "working together at bringing together." We need to be fed by God's word, by "every utterance that comes from the mouth of God," if we are to live and actively minister in our church today. For this, it can help to hold on to the word remembering, noting, examining, and recalling the story of events that have gone into the making of who we are--but not letting the past encapsulate us or drive us. We need to allow our creator God to break into our lives with creativity, and so it can help to hold on to the word imagining, contemplating, dreaming, and visioning activities that allow God to enter our life and accompany us into a world of generosity that only a truly'free person can know. When we remember God's love from past events and when we imagine God's call to greater love, more generosity, in the November-December 2002 Fleming ¯ Ignatian Invitation future, we are able to experience the magis (the "More!"), a love that is free and discreet, not driven, because of God's reverence for us and our reverent response. With a discreet love that knows no limits, we enter into Jesus' way of loving, into all the activity of God's way of loving. We are free to share our gifts, to be present, to give of ourselves, to labor and struggle and not count the cost. Whatever our situation, we may hear St. Ignatius echoing Pope John Paul: Yes, put out into the deep, be empowered with a spirituality of communion, look beyond patriarchy, foster mutuality, look towards solidarity, "work together at bringing together." Father Pedro Arrupe, the former superior general of the Jesuits, often used to ask challengingly, "Como?" or, in English, "How to do?" I can see Ignatius responding: "Remember and imagine." I can see Ignatius softly reminding us that there is a magis because there is Love. More softly still he adds, "Remember, imagine. See Jesus, our crucified Love." Adirondack Dawn Such intense stillness - no birdsong greets my ears, but only the whisper of lake water lapping the shore and birch leaves rustling ever so slightly. A faint cloud of incense rises from the misty waters, perfumed by the aroma of fragrant pine forests. Nature and I stand mute, awed by the miracle of this new day being birthed in such splendor. Christine Diensberg OSF Review for Religious IGNATIUS JESUDASAN Ignatian Indifference and Structural Constraints ~sehraneet lSy tu. nIgcnhaaltlieunsg reedfe cros ntcoe apst Gino odu'rs pwluilrla ilsis htiacr tdilmy eas. For him and his contemporaries, God was the indubitably trustworthy and unshakable rock on which to secure one's choice and commitment. Our age and culture do not believe in and recognize God as patently as previous ones did. Ours is a secular era, which understands and is at home with only secular language and thought. As contemporaries of this era, we cannot use any other language if we seriously want to address people of our era and be understood by them. In the context of seeking and finding God's will with regard to important decisions at the crossroads of one's life, St. Ignatius is, in effect, speaking of "affective indifference." In common parlance, this is a state of peace unruffled by the emotions of joy, hope, fear, and anxiety about actual or possible happenings. Anxiety is an indicator of attachment to something or someone and of the consequent fear of losing or becoming distanced from that object or person. Attachment can also be to one's own will, interests, or powers. Regarding decisions to be made by individuals and groups, we can use this language to approximate what Ignatius calls God's Ignatius Jesudasan SJ, new to our pages, writes from Loyola School; Uthiramerur 603 406; India. November-December 2002 Jesudasan ¯ Ignatian Indifference and Structural Constraints Images can be obstacles to affective indifference. A will. He desires to help people find as complete a freedom and objectivity as is obtainable or realizable on earth, so that they may be peacefully sure of making the right decision in current circumstances and the prevailing state of knowledge, avoiding needless errors of judgment and resulting difficulties, regrets, and recriminations. Affective indifference means freedom from emotional attachment or aversion to someone or something that a decision concerns or affects. Attachment and aversion are prejudices for or against someone or something. When one makes a decision on the basis of a prejudice, one is far from being fair to all involved in or affected by the decision. This unfairness comes ultimately from one or another prejudicial structure. Ignatius's stress on emotional or affective indifference can be seen as stemming from his concern about social structures with their social prejudices. Within those structures he sees the obviously unstable and changing nature of the emotions of both liking and disliking. His wish and desire is to help people achieve a stable social structure wherein all can be at peace together. This means that personal decisions people make need to be firm, steady, and. dependable. Affective indifference or lack of it has a bearing on social structures, and vice versa. People's most common difficulty in achieving and retaining affective indifference arises from the way their likes and dislikes make relationships unstable, opportunistic, exploitive, and irresponsible instead of stable, edifying, principled, virtuous, and responsible. People get stuck in webs of negative relationships from which only great effort, suffering, and sacrifice could extricate them--things they are not likely to desire. Often the very positions people occupy in an institution are obstacles to affective indifference, especially positions of great power, wealth, esteem, and influence. This can be true in the church and in institutions of religious congregations. Images can be obstficles to affective indifference. The image that people have or might get of you, or the image that you want to project of yourself, say of clarity and firmness, can make you Review for Religious inflexible. But you flatter yourself---and, when you are in power, there are also others to flatter you--with having that clarity and firmness. Such inflexible consistency is likely to be the very opposite of affective indifference and of psychological and spiritual freedom. It is perhaps a sign of the times and a clue to what they are reading that major superiors call for feedback on their governance. One hopes that they do this in openness and Ignatian indifference to the diverse opinions expressed. Needless to say, the teaching of St. Ignatius on indifference applies no less to superiors and their attitudes and decisions than to the ordinary members of his Society. Superiors have a duty to ask it of their subjects, and subjects have the reciprocal right to expect it from their superiors. Without it, religious governance would be no different from that of any secular, efficient, and exploitive military organization. The very call for feedback is a sign of a personal government, one that respects every member and takes the whole of his personality into account in decisions that affect him. This implies that the superior follows up, observes carefully, and, from what he sees and hears, learns how the subject has responded and how effectively he is accomplishing the assignment. Subjects might, of course, deliberately give false impressions. The superior might not interpret the information objectively, might bring prejudice to it, a lack of affective indifference. Depending on the patterns overall, the decision, its result, and the reading of the resulting situation will qualify as just clever and efficient, or else as also holy. An order made or given in affective indifference (and thus without prejudice) can be expected to be received with affective indifference by the subject. When there is resistance or reservation on the part of subjects who are usually affectively indifferent, there may be an absence of indifference on the part of the superior. The indicator of affective indifference is readiness to listen to the reasons and feelings of people on the other side. Indifference is total presence, availability, and attention to the other. It presupposes a measure of leisure and empathy to move with the other's flow of feeling, understanding, motivation, decision, commitment, and action. It is identification with the November-December 2002 ~esudasan ¯ I~natian Indifference and Structural Constraints other; it is objectivity with and transparency to the other. It is a state of perfect understanding, with a naturally contagious mutuality. The above is a description of a desirable ideal. The reality is very different on both sides. For we are all "busy" and in a hurry to achieve: make a name, prove a point, or teach a lesson--all in a short time. The result is that we do not achieve a solid objectivity, but make a show of power or of ourselves and our self-will, unaware of what we project and the violence we inflict on others because we do not see ourselves with their eyes: because in fact we are not indifferent. There are other structural hindrances to affective indifference. Being conditioned to structures can be the first. Some structures are inevitable and therefore function as criteria of indifference. Other structures, like tight schedules and strict procedures, militate against indifference. The greater the work, haste, power, prestige, or public image in one's life, the less time and likelihood there is for self-questioning. Thus one becomes extrovert and self-justifying, revealing the absence of detachment and indifference. When one is vested with much power or authority, one seems threatening to others, and the perceived threat erodes their indifference too. Another hindrance is that structures themselves, the very forms and formalities of objectivity, may have lacunae. That is, they may be objective only on the dubious assumption of perfect indifference on the part of decision makers and consultors. In decisions about a subject's psychological illness or resistance to change, the person involved may be physically absent from the scene of decision, and there may be a real possibility of his being prejudicially misrepresented because someone at the meeting likes or dislikes him. This writer became aware of one such misrepresentation and pointed it out. The superior, when informed, was apparently honest and humble enough to accept the correction, but the decision had already-been made in the absence of the subject and on the basis of a misunderstanding of a text. How sure is one that the information supplied to the consultors at the decision-making session is correct? When the basis of the decision is incomplete or incorrect, how complete and correct can the decision be? The probability is that this was not a unique occurrence. But Review for Religious how and why do such instances occur? They occur from the ex-parte nature of the decision or proceedings in the absence of the concerned person. The system does not have a built-in transparency for all concerned. Between the superior and the consultors, there may be some transparency. But, if the superior had the right to decide the matter after his face-to-face discussion with the concerned person but chooses, permissibly but without necessity, to bring the matter before his consultors, the subject's trust in the proceedings tends to be shaken. When the subject's personal indifference is not great, accepting the communicated decision is difficult, and the subject is left with the impression that the decision makers are no more indifferent than he himself is. It is likely that bias affects the decision precisely because the proceedings go on without the concerned person. In a personal government, transparency to the persons concerned is more important than transparency to a mechanism of decision making. Personal transparency is more likely to induce or educe a subject's indifference than an authoritarian structural mechanism like an official meeting of consultors. Besides, transparency to a mechanism risks betraying information that is passed on to a superior in confidence, and will only serve to make people opaque and nontransparent. If both trust and transparency are to be preserved along with the existing mechanisms and ways of proceeding,' the persons whom decisions concern will have to be asked to be present when the decisions are made. Otherwise, decisions are perceived as unfair and confidence is further eroded. A bigger structural constraint is the centralization of power and portfolios in the hands of one major superior. I am not advocating the appointment of more major superiors, but a suggesting that there may need to be decentralization and How sure is one that the information supplied to the consultors at the decision-making session is correct? November-December 2002 z~esudasan * Ignatian Indifference and Structural Constraints democratization of power at all levels, with the right to appeal to a higher superior when there is disagreement or conflict at any level. Democratization can be ensured by dialogue and wider consultation and by opening the local consultors' meetings to any and all members of the local community who are interested. The content or agenda of every such meeting should be announced beforehand. When a member and his works are discussed, he should have to be present. Entrusting more powers to local superiors in dialogue with their consultors and their community could ensure decentralization, but there should also be appeal to the higher superior in case of conflict or disagreements. Only that which cannot be resolved or decided upon by the local superior and community should be referred to the higher superior and his consult. When individual members feel that their voice is heard at the appropriate and necessary levels, the level of their confidence and indifference will increase. 5-841 Walking with Jesus I stroll along the water's edge tiny shorebirds my companions scurrying for morsels of food God provides in the receding tide. And I think of Jesus by the sea of Galilee, the apostles his companions listening to every word from his gentle heart. Now I too reach out to Jesus midst the sunrises and sunsets cognizant of the food of life bestowed on me, a loving son. Neil C. Fitzgerald Review for Religious DAVID M. WHALEN The Emergence of the Contemporary Traditionalists If indeed a picture is worth a thousand words, let me begin with a few verbal snapshots. The first is of a meeting of the liturgy/chaplaincy committee at a prominent Catholic university. Seated around the table are the priest chaplain, a full-time lay chaplain, and a half dozen or so students. The topic for discussion is what chaplaincy might offer by way of special services during Lent. Several suggestions generate little response. Then a student proposes an all-night Eucharistic vigil before the exposed Blessed Sacrament. The priest chaplain is amazed, and highly skeptical of its success, but feels he must go along with the suggestion if only to prove to the committee that such practices no longer attract the young. On the evening selected a brief exposition service is held with a surprising number of students present. The priest chaplain retires, setting his clock to wake him in the middle of the night so that there is sure to be someone present especially in case of an emergency. ministry formation David M. Whalen OSFS, an Oblate of St. Francis de Sales, teaches in the University of St. Michael's College. His address is Faculty of Theology/USMC; 81 St. Mary Street; Toronto, Ontario M5S 1J4; Canada. November-December 2002 Wbalen ¯ Contemporary Traditionalists As he enters the chapel, he is astonished by what he sees. There are young people everywhere. Some are on their knees. Others are sitting on the floor against the wall. Some have a Bible in one hand and a water' bottle in the other. There are even a few young students who have fallen asleep right at the foot of the altar. A second visit several hours later shows a scene almost identical to the first. The second snapshot is of a recent ~rdination. Only one man is being ordained. The concelebrating clergy section is comfortably filled with an assortment of "fifty-something" priests in albs and stoles of various design. Seated in the congregation are two additional priests, men in their mid sixties. Neither is in clerical attire. They have concerns about the overly clerical nature of the ordination ceremony and what they consider clericalism in general. For most of their priestly life, they have been in the vanguard of theological and liturgical change. Right in front of them are seated two seminarians, each in black suit and Roman collar. One sports a bright silver earring in each ear. The final snapshot is taken on the streets of Toronto, Canada, at the outset 'of World Youth Day. Walking down the street past the university are four or five religious sisters in full habit. By full habit I mean ankle-length dress, scapular, rosary hanging alongside, and a full back veil. One concession to modernity is evident. Since they do not wear a forehead cover, glimpses of black hair can be seen. Their progression down the street is continually interrupted by groups of young people who stop and talk with them, and, while I am not privy to the conversation, it appears friendly and positive. Whoever these sisters are and wherever they are from, it is clear that they are welcome in the eyes of the youth gathering in the city. These, of course, are only three snapshots. Though I could offer many more, they seem to capture bits and pieces of what I am calling contemporary traditionalism. I am a priest and religious in my late fifties. I grew up in a traditional Roman Catholic family, attended the local parish elementary school and the local Catholic high school. I entered my religious community right out of high school. My postulancy, novitiate, and first two years of professed life preceded Vatican Council 1I. The remainder of my formation took place right in Review for Religious the midst of the council. My priestly ministry began and continues in the post-Vatican lI era. My ministry has been chiefly in education, first as a high school teacher and administrator and now for twenty years at the university level. I teach in a faculty of theology attached to a university. I have also been a member of my congregation's formation team for close to twenty years. On weekends I assist in parishes. I refer to myself as part of the "bridge" generation, that is, the generation that lived before and after Vatican My doctoral work dealt with ministerial identity. Using qualitative or thick research, I studied a group of theology students, mostly lay, for one year, looking for indications of whether, when, where, and how they appropriated a ministerial identity. Religious/ministerial identity still intrigues me. What follows in this article is some informal qualitative research, that is, an attempt to look in some depth and over an extended period of time at a particular issue. Qualitative research does not permit long-range projections, and both the writer and reader need to be aware of that limitation. On the other hand, qualitative research, even of the informal variety, may suggest that the issue under scrutiny deserves some serious investigation. For several years now I have been fascinated by the growing number of people who seem to be forging a new religious identity. Many of these people have been students in my classes. Others have been a part of our formation program at one point or another. Some come from my parish experience. I refer to these people as the contemporary traditionalists. They are men and women in their twenties and thirties. Most of them are university educated, and many are now pursuing graduate studies. Theirs is the world of cyberspace and technology. Just as I would be reluctant to leave the house in the morning without my wristwatch, they do not think of leaving their residence without cell phone and PalmPilot in hand. They are much more likely to get their daily news from I have been fascinated by the growing number of people who seem to be forging a new religio ts identity. November-December 2002 VVbalen ¯ Contem~orar[ Traditionalists the Internet than from the printed newspaper. They are educated, although their educational resources are very different from mine. While I still like to hold a book and have no difficulty roaming through the stacks in a library to find the book I want, they are much more likely to use the Internet and its resources than library stacks. I continue to be amazed as the bibliography of student essays indicates more downloaded articles than traditional "hard" text references. They have only known one pope, John Paul II. They have known the liturgy only in the vernacular. Events like Vatican II, the Vietnam war, and indeed the Persian Gulf war are all historical events for them, just as Vatican Council I and Trent were for my generation. Although their Internet abilities give them a global access, they are surprisingly apolitical. They find pictures of campus disruptions in the 1960s and 1970s mildly amusing. They are generous in volunteering for local efforts to help the poor or marginalized, but not much interested in what seem the deeper structural issues that cause such poverty. It is in the broad area of theology and religious practice, though, that their contemporary traditionalism is most evident. In moral theology, for example, specifically regarding divorce and remarriage, homosexuality, and abortion and contraception, they seem at first glance totally supportive of the church's current teaching, but as conversation continues one notices the contemporary side of their traditionalism in what I call their "exemption" or "notwithstanding" clause. They believe that marriage is for life, they do not believe in divorce or remarriage of the divorced, and yet they not only are not condemnatory of divorced and remarried people they know, but often express the conviction that such people ought to be admitted to the sacraments under certain nonspecified conditions. They see no difficulty in holding a traditional position about marriage and sometimes granting exemptions to church restrictions by way of a "notwithstanding" clause. They take a similar stand regarding homosexuality. While terms such as "intrinsic disorder" are not part of their vocabulary, they seem to believe that homosexuality ought not enjoy the same status as heterosexuality. But, expressin, g such concern about the issue, in the abstract, they are quick to cite the Review for Religious gays and lesbians they know firsthand, particularly those in generous committed relationships, as persons who should be granted an exemption to the church prohibitions. They are strongly opposed to abortions. In fact, an antiabortion protest is one of the few protests in which they will participate. They do not believe in free or recreational sex, but they seem much less concerned about artificial contraception whether used in or out of marriage. They have this relative unconcern particularly in the case of young people who they think have not yet reached a certain level of moral development. People call this theological approach cafeteria theology, a pick-and-choose theological stance, or a revival of situational ethics, but the contemporary traditionalists do not seem to see it that way at all. They seem to see it as an interim theology. I have had occasion to speak with a young man who acknowledges privately that he is gay. lie does not consider himself intrinsically disordered--in fact, the term means little to him--and yet he is willing to live by the church's current expec-tations. He supports neither the "queer culture" nor the church-sanctioned support group for homosexuals called Courage. He does not think either of these groups contributes much to the cause. He is convinced that the church's teaching will change in time and seems willing to wait for it to change. He has friends who are less patient than he is, and, while he does not agree with them, at least in some instances he seems willing to grant them an "exemption" or "notwithstanding" clause. In other areas of theology, many of these young people appear to be theologically illiterate. My generation grew up with a question-and-answer form of religious education that provided a certain primitive theological literacy along with some problematic side effects, but the contemporary traditionalists do not seem to have even a primitive theological literacy. This is true even of students who are studying theology. But the contemporary traditionalists do not seem to have even a primitive theological literacy. November-December 2002 Wbalen ¯ Contemporary Traditionalists --5.90 In one of the classes I teach, I invite students at a certain point in the course to go to their "theological treasury" and find elements that they can place in conversation with their contemporary experience. A student responded by saying, "My theological treasury is bare. Someone got in before me and robbed me of everything." His opinion seemed to be that of many in the class. While many of my generation have bemoaned the style, language, and structure of the new Catechism of the Catholic Church, I am amazed at how many students consider it one of the most valuable documents in their possession. They are more likely to have this on their bookshelf than the documents of Vatican II. It is in the broad area .of liturgy/spirituality/piety, though, that the contemporary traditionalists seem most clearly identifiable. These contemporary traditionalists are searching desperately for a genuine Christian and Catholic spirituality. Last year, for example, my introductory course in spiritual direction had the highest enrollment of any course in our faculty of theology. Class evaluations were overwhelmingly positive. While in moments of pride I am quick to think that the positive response centered on me as teacher, comments suggest that their enthusiasm was for the content, not the professor. My generation was delighted when the first home Masses began to be celebrated. Gone were the long rows of pews. Instead, friends sat around a coffee table with a relaxed and much more informal ritual. The priest, if he wore any liturgical garb at all, probably wore only a .simple stole. There was always a "shared" homily and a very warm exchange of peace before the Eucharist itself was shared. The contemporary traditionalists are clearly not excited by the casual liturgy of the 1970s. They are tired of "sharing" their feelings about the readings. One student said to me, "From grade one on, all anyone ever asked me was what I felt about this or that. What I feel now is that I need a litde more information rather than another round of everyone's feelings on the topic." Almost universally, the contemporary traditionalists are critical of the way liturgy is celebrated today. They seem to find many parish liturgies and many of the clergy incapable of creating the sacred moment for them. As for p.reaching, they Review for Religious would much rather read a passage from one of the church fathers than listen to a homily. One student said to me: "Look, I already have a degree in psychology, and frankly my parish priest's attempt to speak psychologically falls flat. If he has nothing theological to say, I wish he would just sit down and shut up!" The traditional part of the student keeps him going to church while the contemporary part is constantly searching for another option. Some contemporary traditionalists are rediscovering various pious practices in the church. One student told me that from childhood on she had wondered what the various pictures were that graced the walls of her parish church. What she was referring to are the Stations of the Cross. While surfing the net, she came upon a copy of prayers and reflections designed to accompany the Stations. Waiting for a time when she felt "safe" in walking the Stations, she came to the church and walked them and prayed them. Her comment and question to me was "Why are these such a bigsecret tooay." ~" In addition to the retrieval of many traditional devotions from the past, the more contemporary practice known as Taiz4 Prayer appears very common among the contemporary traditionalists. Taiz4 Prayer, modeled on that used by the monks of Taiz~ in France, combines simple chanted scriptural phrases, mostly in Latin, with periods of silent prayer and usually concludes with a veneration of the cross. As the snapshots I gave you at the beginning of this essay hinted, the contemporary traditionalists have no difficulty with visible manifestations of their religious beliefs. They seem somewhat intrigued by the fact that so many religious and priests have abandoned religious clothing and other religious symbols. At the same time they know very few religious. Although many of them have attended Catholic elementary and secondary schools and in some cases Catholic universities, few if any of them were The contemporary traditionalists have no difficulty with visible manifestations of their religious beliefs. November-December 2002 Whalen ¯ Contemporary Traditionalists ever taught by priests, brothers, or sisters. They are much more likely to identify sisters with the late Mother Teresa or with Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act than with an actual still-living religious woman. And, while there is a world of difference between the late Mother Teresa and the Whoopi Goldberg version of a sister, the contemporary.traditionalists find both very enticing. One young male religious in a religious community that has a visibly distinct religious habit told me that the "habit" issue is not his issue; it is an issue for the "older" members, who still seem to be fighting for something that his generation has little time or sympathy for. This gap between many of the contemporary traditionalists and many of the current generation of religious was brought home to me vividly by a simple line from a young woman beginning consecrated life. The Canadian Film Board spent a year following this young woman through the process of applying to and eventually entering a religious community. One scene in particular drew nay attention. It shows her filling out the questionnaire sent by the community as part of the admission process. One question asks, "Have you ever dated?" The young woman turns and faces the camera with a bit of a grin, rolls her eyes upward, and says "How fifties-ish!" In many ways that comment seems to represent the attitude of the contemporary traditionalists as they confront the church and ministry and religious life today. Their issues, their lifestyle, their questions and concerns are simply different from those of stereotypical conservatives or liberals. Those ideas, those agendas, are so "fifties-ish" or so "sixties-ish"! Another difference between the contemporary traditionalists and the usual conservative or liberal "suspects" and representativFs is on the matters of married clergy and women priests. The traditional side of these young contemporaries supports an all-male celibate clergy, but for many of them what is important is not the clergy's gender or marital status, but rather its authenticity. Given the option between a celibate but incompetent male priest and a liturgy presided over by someone of the caliber of Mother Teresa, they are prepared to use their "notwithstanding" clause in favor of the woman. In their eyes, this is not inconsistency; it is yet another example of different concerns and their use of the "exception" or "notwithstanding" theology option. Review for Religious Whether these contemporary traditionalists are merely a passing blip on the great Jumbo-Tron of religion today or are a whole new picture slowly replacing an older picture it is probably too early to tell. Still, it seem to me that such contemporary traditionalists are the ones most likely to investigate consecrated life or the priesthood today. Whether the religious communities and dioceses that have assumed--by deliberate choice or simply by default--a standard conservative or liberal posture will be welcoming of them and their way of life remains to be seen. Epiphany Like one of the magi, you journey toward the Light. There's more wilderness than you would have thought, uncharted plains stretching from yesterday to remote Decembers. You could lose your courage or your way and scan the sky for twinkling clues. But it requires no gift of gold or frankincense for God to grant epiphanies. Unexpected stars have risen in your darkest nights, and always just in time. So you were not surprised at what you heard today. The magi's star, absent for a while, would of course shine forth again, be fair oasis brightening the desert of vast sky and luring, as stars do, curious travelers to the very feet of new-begotten God. Patricia Schnapp RSM November-December 2002 GUY B. WILSON A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation Imn the past four years we have developed in Costa Pica a odel of formation for our new members. The model is based on religious and lay people working together. This article is an attempt to articulate the philosophy, theology, spirituality, and practice of our experience with this model. The model is inspired by the vision and pioneering work of our founder, Father Thomas Augustine Judge. He began an apostolic organization of laypersons, the Missionary Cenacle Apostolate,and then founded two religious congregations, one for women, the Missionary Servants of Most Blessed Trinity, and one for men, the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity. He encouraged us all to collaborate as a missionary community or family. Our Rule, constitution, and documents promote this interdependence and cooperation. The new Manual of Forma-tion for the men religious emphasizes the common history and the shared vocation we have with the other branches and takes our collaboration with them for granted. Our religious have been working in teams with laypersons, sharing gifts, ministries, and faith. We are doing so more and Guy B. Wilson ST, a member of the Missionary Servants of the Most Holy Trinity, first published this description of formation principle and practice in his congregation's newsletter, Tri-Com. He can be addressed at Cenficulo Misionero San Jos~; Apartado Postal 191-3100; Santo Domingo de Heredia; Costa Rica. Review for Religious more in our promotion of parish life and the life of pastoral centers. In these places the three groups share responsibilities, power, and decisions to enrich the ministry of evangelization and to strengthen the missionary vocation of all. In Costa Rica we have applied this pastoral model of collaboration to the formation of our men religious. In this model, the laypersons are key. They form an integral part of the formation team with the director. They share responsibilities and decisions. As they do in pastoral ministry, they gready enrich the ministry of formation. Religious and laypersons, by forming community and working together as teams, model for the seminarians the reality of the church. They form a microcosm of the church, men and women, lay and religious, married and celibate, all united in their faith and promoting the mission of Jesus. This collaboration reflects the church as the people of God, an important image articulated in the documents of the Second Vatican Council. All the baptized are called to participate, with their gifts and faith, in the mission of Jesus. Laypersons, with their practical experience of day-to-day struggles and successes and with their varied professional backgrounds, have much to offer to formation ministry. Our young men have benefited from being accompanied in their religious vocation by a psychologist and father of a family, by a mother of adolescents who is also a financial administrator, by a grandmother and pastoral coordinator, and by an experienced lay missionary. Our candidates and newly professed are in an intensive process directed towards serving the people of God. It is crucial that the people of God are intimately present in their formation. This model shows laypersons and religiou~ united through their baptismal commission in promoting the mission of Jesus. It is an important change from priestly and religious vocations being enthroned above the lay vocation. The participation of women is essential not only in the ministry of the church but also in the formation of our men religious. Their perspective on life, the gospel, faith, and motherhood enriches the formation of our men in their otherwise male-dominated world. The women who have worked on this team have helped to create an environment of trust and accessibility. The seminarians feel at home in November-December 2002 Wilson ¯ A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation approaching them to talk and seek counsel. At the same time, because of this relationship, the women have been able to challenge our young men to mature personally and grow in their religious identity. We want our future religious to reflect, in their relationships with all and especially with women, the harmony, intimacy, love, and collaboration promoted in our devotion to the Holy Trinity. Spiritual and Theological Bases This model of collaboration is based on the vision and charism of our founder. Father Judge referred to the lay apostolic organization and the men's and women's religious congregations he founded as the Missionary Cenacle. He emphasized that we work and share together the spirit of the first Christian community, the cenacle. The cenacle (the upper room where the Jesus' followers were gathered at Pentecost) is the image and model for this formation program. The formation community comprises men and women, laypersons and religious, and people from different cultures, all guided in faith and mission by the Holy Spirit. In the interaction of the cenacle, the members of the formation community are helped to develop their various gifts for use in their mission ministry. "It is the same and only Spirit who gives all these gifts and powers, deciding which each one of us should have" (1 Co 12:11). It is the Holy Spirit who prepares us for mission. This ministry calls us to adopt a prophetic stance that flows from the spirituality and ecclesiology of our founder. He selected the cenacle as the model of the interdependence of his missionary family of religious and lay people. The renewal promoted by the Second Vatican Council also suggests a formation style of collaboration. The Triniw is the main image for the church's community and mission. The Trinity, as a model of collaboration, encourages dialogue and shared ministry in our formation endeavors. Our efforts to glorify the triune God have brought us to a commitment of collaboration in community and mission with the branches of the Missionary Cenacle, lay and religious. As the Father collaborates with the Son and Holy Spirit in distinct and specific ways to actualize the saving mission, we as a formation Review for Religious team intend to collaborate in the ministry of formation of our candidates and newly professed. We form not only a team with specific duties but also a formation community in which our faith and shared ministries testify to the life and mission of Jesus. Jesus, sent by the Father, sends his missionaries or apostles to realize his mission. As people sent by Jesus, we are designated to cooperate in the labor of the Holy Spirit in the vocational development and the missioning of our brothers. Jesus is our key and door to the mystery of the Trinity. Our devotional knowledge of the incarnation brings us to a greater intimacy with Jesus. This devotion teaches us that, with all our graces and all our defects, we are sent. As humble and grateful members of the Body of Christ, we understand that our collaboration with Jesus' mission involves using the variety of our gifts. These gifts enrich the formation ministry as we accompany the candidates and newly professed in their spiritual, human, communal, and apostolic development. This model of interdependence and collaboration has several aspects. First, the religious life and its formation are not isolated from the world. The previous model of priestly and religious formation separated seminarians from the people of God in their daily life. The seminarians lived, prayed, studied, and socialized amid priestly formators and other seminarians. Only priests, normally with an academic emphasis, were chosen to direct the seminarians. The role of the laity in their formation, if it existed, was limited to classroom teaching or to consulting on specific matters. Often this environment produced elitist attitudes. The present model of formation emphasizes helping seminarians develop their capacity to live relationally with other seminarians, lay people and religious, men and women. The Formation Team The formation team of the Missionary Servants in Costa Rica comprises a religious priest as director, a layman as associate director, and a laywoman as the pastoral supervisor. This team accompanies the propaedeutic, prenovitiate, and postnovitiate formation programs. The cooperation of laypersons increases the pool of those who can dedicate themselves to formation. In our situation this is a great advantage, for we have few religious November-December 2002 Wilson ¯ A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation available for this ministry. Also, the laypersons, through their professional training and experience, have improved the quality of formation. Our associate director, for example, a professional psychologist, has strengthened our efforts to foster the seminarians' personal growth. He has implemented extensive workshops on personal growth, sexuality, maturity, and group dynamics. Using his professional vision and understanding of the expectations of our congregation and the needs of the church, he has selected various other professionals to accompany our young men towards maturity. Likewise, the pastoral supervisor has arranged to have our seminarians trained and evaluated in their apostolic endeavors along with our lay missionaries. The apostolates have improved significandy. Our students and the lay apostles cooperatively help one another. The participation of women in the formation program has strengthened the seminarians' ability to relate to and work with both men and women. The model produces a healthy environment for our young men and for the director. Exchange and dialogue help the seminarians and also help the director in making decisions for their sake. Likewise, open sharing with lay formators is a blessing for the personal and spiritual life of the director. By challenging me daily to become a better director and religious, the lay members of the team strengthen my vocation. On the other hand, the laypersons who participate or have participated speak of the profound spiritual, apostolic, and faith growth they experience in this exchange with religious and seminarians. They are grateful for what God is doing in their lives through this relationship. The Formation Programs The formation team is responsible for three programs: propaedeutic, prenovitiate, and postnovitiate. The programs are distinct, but are located on the same property. Each program has its own living and recreational areas. I have observed certain advantages to the proximity of the programs. First, it helps economically. One team serves the three programs, and the expenses of domestic employees, property taxes, financial administration, and so forth are reduced. Second, there is good Revie~v for Religious communal interaction. The young men in the three programs share the same Eucharistic table and the common table. This has helped to build community in number, participation, and spirit. They share sports activities and work in teams. The participants of the three programs form apostolic teams with the members of our lay branch, many of whom celebrate the daily liturgies with us. All the programs study at ITAC (Instituto Teol6gico de Am4rica Central), which was formed to educate religious. The international environment has greatly enriched the formation programs in Costa Rica. The formation team consists of members from the United States, Costa Rica, Puerto Rico, and Mexico. The candidates and newly professed are from nine different nations of Central America, the Caribbean, Colombia, Venezuela, and Mexico. At the theological institute, there are students from sixteen countries and a number of religious congregations. The cultural exchange broadens everyone's worldview and promotes the vision of one America among the Americas. The formation community includes a retired religious, another religious priest (vocation director), two members of our lay organization who work in the seminary (financial administrator and academic advisor), and lay apostles from the Missionary Cenacle Apostolate who gather in our center for formation and apostolates, sharing prayer and training with our seminarians. All the members of the team have participated in programs designated for formators. The Formation of the Team All the members of the team have participated in programs designated for formators. The programs emphasize personal and spiritual development as well as methods of sharing ministries. Most of these people have attended pr.ograms of the Instituto Central de Espiritualidad in Guatemala under the leadership of Father Carlos Cabarrus SJ. They also attend theology classes at L-Y99-- November-December 2002 Wilson ¯ A Collaborative Model of Missionary Formation ITAC. They gather in retreat once a year and pray together frequently. All members of the team participate in spiritual direction. Concerns have been voiced in regard to the role of laypersons in the formation of our religious. There is a concern that, in this collaborative model of formation, our professed will not develop a clear identity as religious. From my observation over these years, our young men's religious identity is actually reinforced. In particular, the laity demand and challenge our candidates and professed to be faithful to their vocation and religious way of life. They likewise encourage our young professed to share the richness of their studies and spiritual and apostolic training with them for the benefit of the mission. It is quite evident that lay participation in their formation reinforces the vocation of our religious. A clear indicator of this is that religious priests formed in this model and now serving in our missions show a clear and strong identity in their vocation as religious. They are forming good community with their confreres on mission, and they work well with the laity. Specific Abilities This model comes with risks and challenges. Although it is based on the experience of pastoral teams functioning in our missions, the formation ministry requires specific abilities to accompany our young men in their development as persons, Christians, and religious. There are few books or guidelines to follow. The formation team has to dedicate itself to dialogue and communication. It must make a deliberate decision to form a community that shares faith, life, and vision. The heart of the work of the formation team is to model a communal spirit that collaborates on many levels. The team has to adapt continually to the new realities of this generation of young men. This is a new model, and in many respects it is prophetic. It is important that team members dialogue with other formators, with council members, and with spiritual directors to ensure the effectiveness and health of the formation. And, of course, the team must be united and convinced of the model even though people criticize it. Many will not understand it, including at ti~nes our own seminarians. Review for Religious All in all, the model is developing positively and serving well the needs of the congregation. It is producing a healthy environment for the seminarians' formation, a healthiness that includes taking some prudent risks. Bees Canning bees and picking bees, long skirts pinned up front and back, gingham aprons - blue, green, yellow-checked (diversity skirting uniformity). Noon hours in sweaty kitchen or out in sunbaked yard snipping beans, podding peas, peeling scalded tomatoes - coming and going like flocks of sparrows alighting in waves, laughing, pecking at bits of news, filling tubs of ready-to-can. Sticky evenings in berry patch or orchard, filling buckets with raspberries, blueberries, currants, climbing trees for cherries, red and black - a thousand locusts chattering between the rows, whisking clean every bush and branch. Chapel bell intoning silence. Then instant stillness - hundreds of nuns processing quietly along dusty lane toward stately motherhouse. Mary Joseph Maher IHM November-December 2002 MARY KAY DOBROVOLNY Mary Magdalene: An Icon for Women Religious sisters and brothers About six years ago I fell in love for the first time. The experience opened entire new worlds to me and taught me a great deal about honesty, integrity, inti-macy, and myself in relationship with others. It also brought tremendous conflict and turmoil. I was inex-perienced in matters of the heart, and I had made a public commitment to live vowed religious life, includ-ing celibacy, for at least three years. Being in my sec-ond year of this three-year commitment, I prayed daily for the grace to live my life with faithfulness and integrity as I discerned whether to leave my religious ¯ community or stay as a vowed member. Today I am very happily a perpetually professed Sister of Mercy, having made final vows in July 1998. But I remember clearly those days of my first love and the struggle in the months thereafter to freely choose vowed religious life. Beyond the intense grief for the path not chosen, there was the great void of role mod-els for how to negotiate a love relationship while choosing to remain a vowed member of a religious community. Loud in my consciousness were the myr- Mary Kay Dobrovolny RSM is pursing a doctorate in New Testament studies at Vanderbilt University. Her address is 3335 Acklen Avenue; Nashville, Tennessee 37212. Review for Religious iad stories of women who left in the 1960s and 1970s to marry or pursue a committed relationship with another. Deafening by its silence was the reluctance of current members to speak of their own experiences of falling in love and being in love. As a new member I began to wonder if it was possible to fall in love and choose to remain part of vowed religious life. To help fill the void of role models, this paper will present Mary Magdalene as an icon for celibate loving and apostolic mission, using the resurrection story found in the Gospel of John. This passage speaks of a love and intimacy between Mary Magdalene and Jesus. In addition, as the first to encounter the resurrected Jesus and receive the commission to "go and tell," Mary Magdalene becomes the "apostle to the apostles." This paper will (1) explore who Mary Magdalene is, sorting through the myths in the tradition; (2) examine the portrayal of Mary Magdalene in chapter 20 of John's Gospel; and (3) note some insights suggested by this examination regarding celibate loving and apostolic mission for vowed women religious. Sorting through the Myths of the Tradition When I began working on this paper, a theologically edu-cated friend of mine gave me an article on Luke 7:36-50, a pas-sage the New American Bible calls "The Pardon of the Sinful Woman.''1 I looked at my friend, smiled, thanked her for the article, and then said, "You do know that the woman in this pas-sage is not Mary Magdalene, don't you?" Gasping slightly, she said, "I can never keep those Marys straight." My friend is not alone in this, and she has had much help combining the women of Scripture. In the tradition of the West, the unnamed woman in Luke 7, Mary Magdalene, Mary of Bethany, and sometimes even the woman who was caught in adultery ~ln 8) have all been interwoven and confused. The confusion can be traced as far back as the 6th century. Pope Gregory the Great (ca. 540-604) merged the identities of these women into one woman in sev-eral homilies. Since that time, veneration of Mary Magdalene in the West has diverged from the Gospels' portrayal of her. While none of the biblical women is called "a prostitute," Mary Magdalene's most frequent portrayal in stories, legends, art, and worship has been as a prostitute and repentant sinner. November-December 2002 Dobrovolny ¯ Mary Magdalene The East has looked at Mary Magdalene as equal to the apostles. The combination of these women's identities was not shared by the Eastern churches, which have treated the women as sep-arate individuals. The East has looked at Mary Magdalene as equal to the apostles. Shortly after the time of Pope Gregory the Great, Modestus, patriarch of Jerusalem, said that Mary Magdalene, the myrrh-bearer, was "chief among the women disciples," a teacher of other holy women, a lifelong virgin, and a martyr.2 While the popular mind continues to think of Mary Magdalene as a repentant prostitute, recent scholarship is replac-ing this image with a view of her as faithful disciple, witness to the resurrection, and apostle to and with the twelve. This is a retrieval in the West of a previously held image, not a new creation. Each of the Gospels portrays Mary Magdalene as a follower of Jesus through his Galilean ministry, a wit-ness and mourner of his crucifixion and death, a witness of the empty tomb, the first to whom the risen Jesus appears, and the first to proclaim his resurrection. Accordingly, Hippolytus (ca. 170-235), bishop of Rome, named her apostola apostolorum, apostle to the apostles. This title, revived by recent scholars, was repeated as late as Thomas Aquinas. Narrative Analysis of John 20 John 20:1-18 is a single narrative unit divided into three scenes. Verses 1-2 depict Mary Magdalene's discovery of the empty tomb, verses 3-10 describe the race between Peter and the beloved disciple to the tomb, and verses 11-18 find Mary Magdalene alone, weeping outside the tomb. She went to the tomb of the crucified Jesus "early. while it was still dark." hnmediately after discovering that the stone had been removed from the tomb, she ran to tell Peter and the beloved disciple that "they have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." This is the first of three times that she announces that the body of Jesus has been removed from the tomb (see also 20:13 and 15). This announcement to Review for Religious Peter and the beloved disciple is the catalyst for the second scene, in which these two characters race to the tomb to dis-cover it empty, albeit for linen wrappings. After these two have returned home (20:10), Mary Magdalene stands weeping beside the tomb. Still weeping, she stoops and looks inside, continuing her search for Jesus' body. Her weeping is mentioned twice in one verse, suggesting both intense frustration and intense grief. She stays in this place of grief and pain rather than return home like the other disciples. She turns toward suffering, pain, and death.3 The setting for Mary Magdalene's search for the body of Jesus is both a graveyard and a garden. Her weeping in the graveyard is reminiscent of the grief of Mary of Bethany upon the death of her brother Lazarus, and the garden On 19:41) brings to mind both the primeval male-female intimacy of Adam and Eve in Genesis and the passionate love in the Song of Songs (4:12-5:1; 6:2-3; 8:13).4 Mary looks into the tomb and sees "two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying" (20:12). Rather than deliver a message of hope, comfort, or resurrection, these angels question her: "Woman, why are you weeping?" This question calls attention to her tears for a third time. Mary reit-erates the cause of her pain: "They have taken my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him" (20:2 and 13). Apparently not awed by the angels, Mary turns from the tomb to see the unrecognized Jesus. A conversation with this "gar-dener" takes place, three exchanges between them. Jesus asks the reason for her weeping--tears mentioned now a fourth and final time. The intensity of Mary's grief and worry and serves to fulfill the prediction Jesus made earlier in the Gospel: "Amen, Amen, I say you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice" (16:20). In this Gospel, Mary Magdalene is the only character who weeps and mourns when she can "no longer see [Jesus]" (16:19).s Soon the rest of Jesus' prediction will be fulfilled: "You will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy" (16:20 and 22). Jesus asks not only the reason for her weeping, but also "Whom are you seeking?" (20:15). She reiterates for the third time her search for the crucified Jesus, asking the "gardener" to help her find him. The focus on Mary's unrelenting search for . November-December 2002 Dobrovolny ¯ Mary Magdalene the crucified Jesus echoes the lover's intense search for her beloved in the Song of Songs: Upon my bed at night I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought .him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer. "1 will rise now and go about the city, in the street~ and-ih the squares; I will seek him whom my soul loves." I sought him, but found him not. The sentinels found me, as they went about in the city. "Have you seen him whom my soul loves?" Scarcely had I passed them when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him and would not let him go until I brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me. (Sg 3:1-4, NRSV) In this passage and in the narrative about Mary at Jesus' tomb, the women are seeking and failing to find their beloved. The searches occur in a garden (Sg 4:12-5:1; 6:2-3; 8:13; Jn 19:41-42). The women inquire where their beloved might be. And, as we will see shortly, neither woman wants to release her beloved once he has been found. This is stated strongly in the Song of Songs 3:4: "I held him, and.would not let him go until I brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me." The second exchange is marked by recognition. Mary Magdalene has not recognized the resurrected Jesus by sight, but now, his voice sounding her name, she recognizes him. This recognition reminds us of the shepherd who "calls his own by name" and they "follow him because they know his voice" (10:3- 4). Mary exclaims, "Rabbouni!" (meaning Teacher). This title and "Lord," the title she has used before (20:2, 13, and also 15), are titles Jesus has mentioned as fitting ones: "You call me Teacher and Lord--and you speak correctly, for indeed I am" (13:13). Before Mary's "Rabbouni!" the Greek text says of her (using a participle) strapbeisa. This can simply mean baying turned, but it can also mean baying changed inwardly, baying been converted.6 The New Revised Standard Version uses the former meaning of physical motion, saying "she turned." But she has already turned from the tomb toward this "gardener" (20:14); turning physically again does not make narrative sense. It s~iems instead that, hear- Review for Religious ing her name spoken by that beloved voice, she is inwardly changed by that recognition. Most likely the transformation of her weeping and mourning into the joy described in John 16:20 and 22 is at the heart of that change. In the third exchange, Jesus presents Mary Magdalene with two commands: "Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father" and "Go to my brothers and sisters and say to them . " In read-ing between the lines, it can be difficult to get the tone of Jesus' commands and their impact on Mary, whose weep-ing has just been transformed into joy. Some commentators try to find a fault in her or her belief, which does not permit her to touch Jesus as Thomas is later invited to do (20:27).7 Others have written about a "decided brutality" in Jesus' rebuke and rejection of her.8 Both of these interpretations miss textual clues. Far from being found at fault, Mary is given, a privileged position within the Gospel of John as the first to see the risen Jesus and the first to be commissioned to proclaim the resurrection. Jesus does not find fault with her--which suggests that the Gospel's author does not intend the reader to do so either. As for the idea of "brutality," Mary does not respond as one who has been rebuked or rej.ected by her beloved Jesus. There is no more weeping. Instead, with jubilation Mary proclaims, "I have seen the Lord!" (20:18). Still, inasmuch as Mary's inclination to hold on to her beloved after seeking him unrelentingly with intense longing is quite understandable (as in Sg 3:4), Jesus' command is per-plexing. It can only be understood in light of his explanation: "for I have not yet ascended to the Father." Later in this same verse, Jesus tells Mary to announce "I am ascending . " The text seems to indicate that Jesus is in a transitional phase in which he is in the process of ascending.9 The appearance of Jesus at this threshold moment between his resurrection from the dead and his ascension to the Father is unique, and it Hearing her name spoken by that beloved voice, she is inwardly changed by that recognition. November-December 2002 Dobrovolny * Mary Magdalene involves only Mary Magdalene. By the time Jesus appears and invites Thomas to touch him (20:27), he has already ascended to the Father and returned, bringing and bestowing the Advocate upon the disciples (20:22). Mary's encounter with Jesus is recognizable as a uniquely privileged one. After telling Mary not to hold on to him, Jesus commis-sions her to "go to my brothers and sisters and tell them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God'" (20:17). There are three noteworthy pieces of this com-mission: (1) the phrase tous adelphous mou, translated above as "my brothers and sisters"; (2) the phrase "to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God"; and (3) the verb tense used in the commission to "go and tell." The phrase "my brothers and sisters" denotes a new rela-tionship between Jesus and his followers and among his fol-lowers. 1° Previously, in his final discourse to the disciples, Jesus has called his disciples friends rather than slaves (15:15), and, while hanging on the cross, he has created a new relationship between his mother and the beloved disciple (19:26-27). Now (20:17) he proclaims that all members of the believing com-munity are his brothers and sisters and, by implication, broth-ers and sisters to each other. This new relationship recalls and fulfills the imagery in the Johannine Prologue: "But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God" (1:12). The fulfillment of the words of the Prologue is made more explicit in what follows: "I am ascending to my Father andyour Father, to my God and your God" (20:17). The rhythm of these words recalls the covenant Ruth made with her mother-in-law Naomi: "Your people shall be my people and your God my God" (Ruth 1:16). Despite the differences in race, Ruth, a Moabite, casts her lot with her Hebrew mother-in-law, mak-ing their futures forever intertwined. In the same way, Jesus proclaims that, despite the differences (see 14:6: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me"), a new covenantal family relationship has been established. This new covenantal family relationship encompasses all of the believing community in the postresurrection community. Mary Magdalene is commissioned to "go to my brothers and Review for Religious sisters and tell them . " The imperative verb poreuou (go) is in the present tense. A present imperative "generally denotes a command to continue to do an action or to do it repeatedly.''11 Thus, Mary Magdalene is commissioned, not for a one-time telling of her revelation of the risen Jesus (such as that recorded to the disciples in 20:18), but to go repeatedly to the commu-nity, continuing to tell the story of her encounter with the risen Jesus.2 The Gospel of John does not narrate any additional con-versation between the risen Jesus and Mary Magdalene. Instead, Mary is presented as going immediately to the disciples to pro-claim: "I have seen the Lord!" Her weeping and mourning have been transformed into joy. Her intense search-ing for her beloved has been transformed into assured confidence of continuing in her rela-tionship with Jesus. Her encounter with the risen Jesus establishes her authority among the disciples. And, through her conveying the mes-sage of the risen Jesus, a new relationship among the community of believers is estab-lished, enabling them to be "brothers and sisters" in the one God and Father of them all. It is on the authority of her witness and the new relationship that she is given to proclaim that the tradition correctly bestows upon her the identity of apostola apostolorum, "apostle to the apostles." Through her conveying the message of the risen Jesus, a new relationship among the community of believers is established, enabling them to be "brothers and sisters" in the one God. Iconic Insights for Celibate Love and Apostolic Mission The command in the Gospel of john is clear: "Love one another" (13:34, 15:12). The Gospel further indicates that it is through our love for one another that we will be recognized as Nove~nber-Decenlber 2002 Dobrovolny ¯ Mary Magdalene disciples of Jesus--that Jesus will be made known in our world. As apostolic women religious, we do love deeply. We are drawn by Love and called by Love. We express our love in prayer, in community, in ministry. Sometimes we eveh fall in love. I used to fear falling in love and being in love. I thought it would jeopardize my identity as a Sister of Mercy. I thought it would place my ability and my commitment to live the vow of celibacy at too great ~ risk. I was wrong. Through experiences of falling in love and being in love, I have been drawn deeper into the mystery of Love. Through my love experiences, I have been taught how to love, and I have been taught what it means to be another person's "beloved." With my own longing for the touch of another, I discovered the depth of my longing for God. Through the words of another person's longing for me, I have heard God's longing for me. These love experiences have drawn me deeper into the mysterious and mystical love of God. I am not saying that as apostolic women religious we need to have one or more experiences of falling in love and being in love to be drawn deeply into the mystical love of God. I am simply saying that it can happen through these love experiences because it has happened. I would venture to guess that many of us have been taught how to love God as God's own beloved through experiences of loving another and being loved. That is part of the mystery of the incarnation, the revelation of God in human form. As one who has dared to love deeply, I resonate with Mary Magdalene, who dared to love Jesus deeply. Through my expe-rience of choosing not to follow my beloved and commit myself to that love relationship, I identify with her intense longing, her intense searching, her utter grief. There is a point in which it seems that tears will never end. In the midst of risking to love deeply as vowed religious, we risk being led to the depths of our pain, our longing, our search-ing. But a wise woman once taught me that, if I am unwilling or unable to feel the depth of my own pain, or longing, or grief, then I am also not able to journey with another person to the depths of her or his pain.~3 Our choices do impact our ministry. By feeling the depths of our pain and our grief, our hearts are opened to feel the pain of others around us and of our world. As apostolic women religious, we are called to feel that pain, to Review for Religious name that pain, to witness to the suffering of those around us. We are called to stand with those who are marginalized, to mourn and weep with them for all that is not right in our world. We are called to name destructive violence for what it is, to name the things that rob individuals, communities, and coun-tries of fullness of life. Tears can seem unending. Mary Magdalene chose to stay at the tomb; she chose to stand in the emptiness, in the void, in the confusion, in the pain. She chose to weep and mourn. She continued her search for her beloved Jesus. She sought him out, persisting in the search even when others did not. Her actions are characterized by initiative, persistence, and determination. Her search betrays an intense longing and yearning. As apostolic women religious, we too are called to stand in the emptiness of a broken world. We are called to search for our beloved God in the midst of this brokenness. We are called to long and yearn for a world that is imbued with the presence and love of God in every cor-ner, in every action between individual persons, and in all diplo-macy and business between countries. We are called to work for such a world with our own efforts, our own initiative, per-sistence, and determination. Mary Magdalene searched for what she knew was possible to find--the body of her crucified Jesus, her beloved. Ultimately, instead of finding what it seemed humanly possible to find, she was found by a divine reality beyond her fondest hope; she was found by the risen Jesus. In turning toward Jesug, in hearing her name called by her beloved, she was transformed. She was able to turn to a new.reality and allow her life and the world she knew to be transformed. As apostolic women religious, we are called to model Mary Magdalene. We are called to seek out and work toward what we know is realistically possible. In our ministerial commit-ments, we are called to set attainable goals and strive to meet them. We are called not to be overwhelmed by the extent of brokenness in our world, not to let ourselves be paralyzed by grief and despair. In our searching and striving, we are called to have an open heart that is ready to be transformed, a heart ready to be found by a divine reality beyond our imagination. The words of the risen Jesus are again perplexing: "Do not hold on to me." After such intense searching and longing, it is Noventber-December 2002 Dobrovolny * Mary Magdalene Like Mary Magdalene, we are commissioned to proclaim the living God here in our midst. completely understandable to want to hold on to whatever sign of life and love, whatever divine revelation, we see in the midst of a broken and pain-filled world. Yet love and the things of this world are not ours to hold on to. With open hands and open hearts, we instead hear Jesus' words: "Go to my brothers and sisters." Like Mary Magdalene, we are commissioned to proclaim the living God here in our midst. Mary Magdalene was in a privileged place with a unique encounter with the risen but not-yet-ascended Jesus. Her encounter cannot be replicated. Yet, as apostolic women reli-gious, we sometimes do not rec-ognize our own privileged place. We belong to religious commu-nities that nurture and support our spiritual journey, that help us integrate contemplation into our lives of ministry. Time and money are provided for ongoing spiritual direction and annual retreats. We are joined by others who are on this same jour-ney; together we have companionship and a common language to name our experiences. Many days I take all of this for granted. But, like Mary Magdalene, we women religious are in a privileged place in our world. In our lives, contemplation opens us to divine revelafons that may be unique to our world-- and maybe our world desperately needs to hear them from us. Through Mary Magdalene's encounter with him, the risen Jesus instituted a new relationship among his followers. He called his followers his "brothers and sisters" and said that his Father is their Father, and his God their God (20:17). We live in a fractured and broken world and a fractured and broken church. Like Mary Magdalene, we are called to give witness to a vision of unity. We are called to be sisters to each other in our communities so that we can be, beyond our communities, sisters to our world. Like Ruth's covenantal relationship with her mother-in-law Naomi, we are called to unity with others, no matter how different from us. This is the vision Mary Magdalene was given by the risen Jesus, and it is offered to us as well. Review for Religious As apostolic women religious, not only are we called to weep and mourn with those at the margins of our society and with the victims of the violence in our world. We are also called to proclaim the power of the resurrection. We are Galled to pro-claim a God who loves us deeply and calls each of us by name. We are called to proclaim a God who transforms lives, filling the empty tombs of our lives with life unimaginable. We are called to proclaim a God who raises the dead to life and offers life eternal. Like Mary Magdalene, the premibre apostola apostolo-rum, "apostle to the apostles," we are called to proclaim an Easter faith to a world that is ravenously hungry for God. May God find us willing. Notes ' The story in Luke 7:36-50 is of an unnamed woman who bathes the feet of Jesus with her tears, kissing them and anointing them with ointment. The setting is the home of a Pharisee who neglected the customary act of hospitality of washing his guest Jesus' feet upon his arrival in his home. 2 Modestus of Jerusalem, PG 86, cols. 3273-3276, as quoted in Susan Haskins, Mary Magdalen, Myth and Metaphor (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1993), p. 107. 3 This is emphasized by Dorothy A. Lee, "Turning from Death to Life: A Biblical Reflection on Mary Magdalene (John 20:1-18)," Ecumenical Review 50 (1998): 112-120. 4 See E Scott Spencer, "'You Just Don't Understand' (or Do You?): Jesus, Women, and Conversation in the Fourth Gospel," in A Feminist Companion to John, ed. Amy-Jill Levine and Marianne Blickenstaff, Vol. 4 of Feminist Companion to the New Testament and Early Christian Writings (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002, antic-ipated). 5 Colleen M. Conway, Men and Women in the Fourth Gospek Gender and Johannine Characterization (SBLDS 167; Atlanta: SBL, 1999), p. 193. 6 See John 12:40; BAGD, 2nd ed., p. 771. 7 Interpretations that place a fault on Mary Magdalene have been found as early in the tradition as Ambrose and Jerome. For the history of interpretation of this verse, see Harold W. Attridge, "Don't Be Touching Me: Recent Feminist Scholarship on Mary Magdalene," in A Feminist Companion to John. 8 See especially Alison Jasper, "Interpretative Approaches to John 20:1-18: Mary at the Tomb of Jesus," ST 47 (1993): 107-118. November-December 2002 Dobrovolny ¯ Mary Magdalene 9 This interpretation has been in the tradition as early as Origen. See Attridge, "Don't Be Touching Me," pp. 3-4. 10 While many translations, including N'JB, NAB, and NRSV, trans-late adelphous simply as "brothers," there is no good reason not to use the inclusive translation "brothers and sisters." There are a substan-tial number of places in both Koine and Attic Greek in which the plural adelphoi refers to both brothers and sisters, not just brothers. See BAGD, pp. 15-16. 11 David Alan Black, Learn to Read New Testament Greek, rev. ed. (Nashville: Broadman and Holman, 1994), p. 168. ,2 This provides further evidence for the appropriateness of the inclusive translation of tous adelphous mou as "my brothers and sis-ters." 13 My thanks to my former CPE supervisor Rosemary Ferguson OP for teaching me this lesson. Child of Mary The presbytery garden, after Mass, is busy with departing worshipers, mostly taking the shortcut to their cars; only Patrick, pauper of the parish and carless, solitary wanderer-about- town, seems unready to be gone. A single point of stillness in our midst, he lingers by the weathered blue and white of o~r Lady, in her privet bower, hands in his pockets and a cigarette - unlit and apparently forgotten - casually tilted between his lips. It's not the first time that I've seen him there, at Mary's shrine under the conker-trees, in that same relaxed, attentive posture, head bent in unobtrusive reverence and his eyes, as now, remotely focused on something only he is privy to. Ian A.T. White Review for Religious PHILIP ARMSTRONG Lonely and Small: Religious Brothers' Situation Z ose with long memories may recall a novelty song the rics of which ran, "I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch . . . all I do is cry all day." The catchy melody and much repetition were probably more responsible for the song's burning itself into the memory than any depth of meaning, but the plaintive cry of a single common flower that finds itself surrounded by a crop of onions tugs at least minimally at our heartstrings. The poor litde petunia, no matter how attractive, cannot help feeling overwhelmed. It grieves in its isolation. Latter-Day Petunias I suggest that religious brothers are experiencing something of the lonely petunia's plight in today's church and world. The brothers' existence, let alone their impact, is nearly impercep-tible. They are much less noticeable than the clergy, who, like onions, are rather conspicuous. Metaphorically speaking, the church cultivates onions assiduously, and in more than one way people keep being reminded of their existence. Few take notice of a few petunias scattered here and there among them, eager to have a beneficial impact on the church. No wonder the brother is sometimes tempted to cry all day about being practically invis-ible and irrelevant. Philip Armstrong CSC last wrote for us in September-October 2001. His address is P.O. Box 460; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. November-December 2002 Armstrong ¯ Lonely and Small But that would be surrendering to self-pity, and there is really no reason for it. Brothers, however hidden, do in fact accomplish enormous amounts of good through multiple forms of ministry. Brothers by all means must reflect regularly on the relevance of their vocation. Doing so can increase their capac-ity and determination to continue serving God's people in prac-tical and concrete ways. It is not my intent to prove the situation of the brother, for it should be self-evident to anyone closely and objectively observing the working of the church's hierarchical structure thirty-eight years after the Second Vatican Council's dogmatic constitution on the church, Lumen gentium. There, in chapter 2, the council fathers remind the faithful that all the people of God constitute the church, but make it clear in chapter 3 that "the church is hierarchical," with positions of higher and lower authority in it. By implication, then, the concept of horizontal authority, lending itself more to equality than to degree of dis-tinction, is set aside. A wisp of cynicism might drift in here, in language reminiscent of George Orwell's Animal Farm: All God's people are equal, but some are more equal than others. True, at times the roles of these leaders have been circum-scribed by expectations of the faithful. Clerics of whatever rank have always been somewhat limited in their practice of min-istry by various expectations that church members have, some-times by reason of their limited education, sometimes because they make rarely make use of their membership, sometimes for other reasons. The laity were able to se~ this plainly enough. They have been able to see, too, that religious sisters, despite their goodwill, talents, and sacrificial dedication, often had their activities arbitrarily limited. But still, in the case of both clerics and nuns, the laity have long had a clear, consistent image of them in the scheme of things. Not so in the case of religious brothers. In the small world of parochial or diocesan secondary education during the first two-thirds of the 20th century, brothers indeed were visible, for they figured prominently in the plans of bishops and pastors as the logical educators of adolescent boys. Outside that world, however, brothers' visibility ceased. There were almost no brothers in ministry outside their own institutions. So, if you were not the parent of a boy in a brothers' school, you just did Review for Religiotts not know any brothers. If you were such a parent, you probably knew them only in their professional and institutional capacity. Visible or Not Yet conciliar, synodal, and papal statements continue to remind us that the brothers' life is a needed, purposeful, valid, blessed state of life among the people of God. The brothers' life has been an enduring part of the church and has been affirmed and approved repeatedly over the ages, both by the hierarchy and by those benefiting from the brothers' ministries. The vowed life has demanded and permitted adaptations befit-ting the "signs of the times" regarding current needs of church and society. None of these factors, as we look into the stark reality of membership trends today, changes the perilous situ-ation in which vowed commitment finds itself as a way of life in the church. Who could blame today's brothers, lonely little petunias, for crying, if they avoided sobs of self-pity and merely shed a few silent tears of loneliness amid feelings of irrelevance? A Proposal Allow me make a proposal here that is simple, radical, and perhaps revolutionary. Recent research and writing on forward-looking ecclesiology and theology has been done by such authors as Cletus Wessels OP, Sandra Schneiders IHM, Kenan Osborne OFM, Joan Chittister OSB, and Ronald Rolheiser OMI.~ It would be helpful if they supported the concept behind nay proposal. Except for Osborne in a very general way, they do not, so far as I know. Nor are there incontrovertible scriptural or patristic citations I can lean upon. Yet in experience, common sense, and urgent pastoral need, there seems to be adequate foundation for this proposal: I believe religious life, that is, vowed commitment to a life of service to the church and world through the public profes-sion of the evangelical counsels, should be raised to the status of a sacrament in the Roman Catholic Church. I ~nake this proposal for two reasons. First, both matrimony and orders are recognized by the people of God as sacramental moments in which God's providential presence is at work in a special way and as symbols of God's continuing activity among November-December 2002 Armstron~ ¯ Lonel.~ and Small us. These sacraments touch the lives of those receiving the sacra-ments, those who witness their reception, and those who receive the ministrations of parents and priests. Currently, vowed com-mitment is recognized as only a "sacramental" (Catechism of the Catholic Church, §1667), that is, "a sacred sign which bears a resemblance to the sacraments." Sacramentals are meant to dispose individuals to receive the sacraments. Yet religious life, in its purpose and its demands, ranks logically with the sacra-ments of matrimony and orders as equally exacting, equally needed, equally exemplary, and equally rewarding. Second, the raison d'etre of religious life goes far beyond individual commitment and participation in the common life of an approved congregation. Pronouncing the vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience demands of the those making this pub-lic commitment the express intention of reaching out in gener-ous, loving service to others and also of being a visible witness to the gospel values that run counter to pleasure, wealth, and power. In short, vowed commitment constitutes a way of life modeled perfectly by Jesus in the gospels. Besides the individ-ual and congregational covenants, there are perceptible public consequences of religious profession from which the whole of society benefits. Who can ignore the symbolic impact and value vowed com-mitment could have as a sacrament? If the church, as we are informed, periodically evaluates the sacramental system with a view to keeping it optimally relevant for the people of God, now is the time to exercise that prerogative once again and bring commitment by the vows of religion to the level of recognition and acceptance it deserves. If the dearth of vocations to lay religious life is to be effec-tively addressed from within the church, if those who have supervisory and teaching authority in the church are to heighten the awareness of the people of God to this form of life and ser-vice in yhe church, then I suggest that no better way exists than to bestow the character of sacrament on vowed commitment in the religious life. What would that entail? Sacraments Then and Now The church gives as its traditional definition of sacrament: Reviev) for Religious "an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace" (Baltimore Catechism). The Catechism of the Catholic Church (§1131) supplies the same definition, slightly elaborated. With all due respect, I suggest this description is neither adequate nor entirely appropriate today. Acknowledging that the present sacramental system was developed over the course of centuries, that only since 1150 have we specified seven, and that the system remains open to review and revision in the light of new insights and the needs of the times (Sacrosanctum concilium, §62), I propose the following definition: "A sacrament is a meaningful symbol first exemplified in the life of Jesus and today incarnated through him in key human moments or events publicly celebrated by the worshiping community as a sign and promise of life in the Spirit and of bonding among the people of God." Here I suggest less emphasis on exegetical proof of a sacra-ment's being "instituted by Christ" and on its "giving grace" ex opere operato. I would rather the focus be put on the gospel rev-elation of Jesus' participation in significant events in the spiri-tual development of individuals and groups and on how those events enrich their personal relationship with God, invite them to ongoing conversion, and give promise of growth arising out of continuously augmented relationships. From this perspec-tive I believe Jesus' conversation at the well with the Samaritan woman and later with her fellow townspeople (Jn 4:1-42) illus-trates a sacramental moment, as does the cure of the demoniac in the country of the Gerasenes (Mk 5:1-20). In both cases sig-nificant individual impact opens the door to community con-version and further orientation toward God. Other examples could be the wedding at Cana (Jn 2:1-11), the multiplication of the loaves and fishes (Lk 12:9-17), Lazarus (Jn 11:1-44), the man born blind (Jn 9:1-41), and Zacchaeus (Lk 19:1-10). According to the current definition, a sacrament stresses the individual's readiness and participation; that is, each sacra-ment's salvific effects relate primarily to the recipient. The ben-efit is bestowed directly on the person(s) being baptized, confirmed, ordained, anointed, forgiven, married, or nourished by Christ's Body and Blood. On the other hand, in the light of recent research leading to a more profound understanding of the human person, the focus seems to be moving toward a com-munity- centered interpretation. November-December 2002 Armstrong ¯ Lonely and Small Such a sacramental system is perceived as productive of new, restored, or improved relationships and a wider, more knowl-edgeable and conscious participation in the administration of each sacrament; it presumes that a communal enrichment is more desirable than a benefit chiefly or only for an individual. The emphasis switches from ex opere operato (individual benefit from grace already won by Christ) to ex opere operantis (individual and community intention to receive and benefit from grace con-stantly available through Christ). The latter effect is "from the recipient's own activity" (ex opere operantis) and can be under-stood as applying not only to an individual recipient but also to the witnessing, supportive community of worshipers. The indi-vidual's participation in the reception of a sacrament draws in, involves, and impacts the entire worshiping community. Playing It Out So considered, baptism can more readily be seen as the com-munity's welcoming another member into God's family, a fam-ily that seeks to extend God's reign on earth. Confirmation marks a communal response of support for the individual's maturing affirmation of fundamental faith. The Eucharist-- both as celebration and as nourishment--is the perfect bond uniting God's people. Holy orders and matrimony are the com-munity's affirmation of and blessing on individuals' vocational and lifestyle choices in their seeking of God. The community's example helps the individuals to do the same. Reconciliation is clearly community-oriented because the individuals' failings impact the entire assembly, and so the community's forgiveness, encouragement, and support are essential in the individuals' battle with human weakness and willfulness. The anointing of the sick is the worshiping community's laying on of hands, even if figuratively, to show oneness with, care of, and support for an ailing member; it is a reminder of how interdependent we are as the people of God. Why Not? It is from this view of the sacramental system that I pro-pose raising religious life to the level of formal sacrament, I see Review for Religious no more effective way to reestablish the ecclesial significance of vowed commitment. I will not elaborate here on the appro-priateness of including other forms of commitment to the ser-vice of the people of God (for example, appointments or elections to church office, including the permanent diaconate and most other offices, even temporary ones, oriented toward the pastoral care of the community). Vghat more fitting way to welcome a pastor into the midst of the flock than by a commu-nal sacramental celebration of the significance and symbolism of that pastoral office? These and even more possibilities would, I believe, inaugurate anaong the people of God a better under-standing of how communal (in and through the church) the relationship between an individual and God is. In the process, knowledge of and respect for the religious life would be aug-mented, along with encouragement to join its ranks. Juridic Implications Were vowed commitment to become a sacrament, would that not, as some suggest, expose this way of life, even in exempt congregations (those approved by and directly responsible to the Holy Father and exempt from overall juridic control by the local ordinary), to greater control by local ordinaries? I believe the answer contains two components. First, the church already has the authority to interpret the evangelical counsels, to regulate them in practice, and to establish lifeforms that implement them (LG §43). The church's authority over religious life is acknowledged further, for example, in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (§§919, 927,944) and in the Vatican II document Ad genres (§~18, 40). Thus, the question is not whether the church would assume an authority it did not have before, but whether local ordinaries would get some juris-diction over exempt communities that they did not have before. As the above citations indicate, even exempt religious commu-nities must work with and by the authority of the local ordi-nary, in accord with his overall pastoral plan. With the revised understanding of "sacrament" proposed above, I contend that there would be no more control than before. Second, emphasis would be placed, not on consecrated life as sign, but on vowed commitment as promise; that is, not on November-December 2002 Armstron~ " Lonel~ and Small the already but on the notyet. It is the latter that witnesses to the religious life's prophetic mission. A supervisory role, even though indirect and informal, would then seem to fall to the worship-ing community at large. Vowed religious would be accountable to the whole body for living up to the promises they made and thereby helping the entir