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Book reviewed in this article:FEDERALISM & RESOURCE DEVELOPMENT: The Australian Case. Peter Drysdale and Hirofumi Shibata (Eds.).SERPENT'S TOOTH: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL NOVEL. By Roger Milliss.POOR NATION OF THE PACIFIC‐AUSTRALIA'S FUTURE? Papers read at the 50th National Conference of the Australian Institute of Political Science. Edited by Jocelynne A. ScuttCLASS CONSCIOUSNESS IN AUSTRALIA. By Chris Chamberlain.BRITAIN, THE AUSTRALIAN COLONIES, AND THE SUDAN CAMPAIGNS OF 1884–85. By Malcolm Saunders.POZIÈRES 1916—AUSTRALIANS ON THE SOMME. By Peter Charlton.THE WHITLAM GOVERNMENT 1972–1975. By Gough Whitlam.FREDERIC EGGLESTON: AN INTELLECTUAL IN AUSTRALIAN POLITICS. By Warren Osmond.THE WORKING CLASS AND WELFARE. Reflections on the Political Development of the Welfare State in Australia and New Zealand, 1890–1980. By Francis G. Castles.CONFESSIONS OF A NEW BOY. By Donald Horne.THE ANZAC CONNECTION. Edited by Desmond Ball.PRISONERS OF WAR: AUSTRALIANS UNDER NIPPON. By Hank Nelson.THE BJELKE‐PETERSEN PREMIERSHIP 1968–1983: ISSUES IN PUBLIC POLICY. Edited by Allan Patience.ARGUING THE ARTS: The Funding of the Arts in Australia. By Tim Rowse.BRITAIN, AMERICA AND THE SINEWS OF WAR, 1914–1918. By Kathleen Burk.THE PACIFIC WAR. By John Costello.YOUTH IN CHINA. By Beverley Hooper.CHINA AT THE CENTER, 300 YEARS OF FOREIGN POLICY. By Mark Mancall.POPULIST NATIONALISM IN PREWAR JAPAN: A Biography of Nakano Seigō. By Leslie Russell Oates.VIETNAM, A REPORTER'S WAR. By Hugh LunnNATION‐BUILDING IN MALAYSIA, 1964–1974. By James P. OngkiliTHE MURDEROUS REVOLUTION: LIFE & DEATH IN POL POT'S KAMPUCHEA. By Martin Stuart‐Fox and Bunheang Ung.LA BIRMANIE OU LA QUÊTE DE L'UNITÉ. Le problème de la cohésion nalionalc dans la Birmanie contemporaine el sa perspective historique. By Pierre Fistié.PUBLIC POLICY AND POLICY ANALYSIS IN INDIA. By R.S. Ganapthy, S.R. Ganesh, Rushikesh M. Maru, Samuel Paul, and Ram Mohan RaoSTATE AND SOCIETY IN CONTEMPORARY BRITAIN: A CRITICAL INTRODUCTION. Edited by Gregor McLellan, David Held and Stuart Hall.THE SCAREMONGERS: THE ADVOCACY OF WAR AND REARMAMENT 1896–1914. By A. J. A. Morris.BRITISH FOREIGN POLICY IN THE AGE OF WALPOLE. By Jeremy Black.BRITISH PARLIAMENTARY PARTIES, 1742–1832: From the Fall of Walpole to the First Reform Act. By B. W. Hill.IRELAND: A POSITIVE PROPOSAL. By Kevin Boyle and Tom Hadden.COLONIAL ULSTER: THE SETTLEMENT OF EAST ULSTER 1600–1641. By Raymond Gillespie.POLITICS AND RURAL SOCIETY. THE SOUTHERN MASSIF CENTRAL c. 1750–1880. By P. M. Jones.THE WORKING CLASS IN WEIMAR GERMANY: A Psychological and Sociological Study. By Erich Fromm.THE PEOPLE'S REFORMATION: MAGISTRATES, CLERGY, AND COMMONS IN STRASBOURG, 1500–1598. By Lorna Jane Abray.THE ALTERNATIVE CULTURE: Socialist Labour in Imperial Germany. By Vernon L. Litdke.POLITICS AND SOCIETY IN SOVIET UKRAINE, 1953–1980. By Borys Lewytzkyj.THE STALINIST LEGACY. Edited by Toriq Ali.LEBANON: THE FRACTURED COUNTRY. By David Gilmour.CAPITAL, LABOUR AND THE MIDDLE CLASSES. By Nicholas Abercrombie and John Urry.COMMUNISM AND DEVELOPMENT. By Robert Bideleux.ROOM FOR MANOEUVRE. An Exploration of Public Policy in Agriculture and Rural Development. Edited by E. J. Clay and B. B. Schaffer.THE COURT SOCIETY. By Norbert Elias. Trans. E. Jephcott.PERSPECTIVES ON ORGANISATIONAL CHANGE: LESSONS FROM EDUCATION. Edited by Murray Frazer, Jeffrey Dunstan and Philip Creed.POLITICAL SCIENCE: THE STATE OF THE DISCIPLINE. Edited by Ada W. Finifter.DEMOCRATIC ENTERPRISE: A Policy Proposal for the Labour Movement. By R. G. B. Fyffe.RELIGION AND SOCIETY IN EARLY MODERN EUROPE, 1500–1800. Edited by Kaspar von Greyerz for the German Historical Institute.THE DEMOCRATIC ECONOMY. A NEW LOOK AT PLANNING, MARKETS AND POWER. By Geoff HodgsonTHE BRITISH MARXIST HISTORIANS: an Introductory Analysis. By Harvey J. Kaye.FROM MARX TO LENIN. An Evaluation of Marx's Responsibility for Soviet Authoritarianism. By David W. Lovell.HAROLD D. LASSWELL AND THE STUDY OF INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS. By Derek McDougall.ARISTOCRACY. By Jonathon Powis.EDUCATE, AGITATE, ORGANISE. 100 YEARS OF FABIAN SOCIALISM. By Patricia Pugh.NEW DIRECTIONS IN EUROPEAN HISTORIOGRAPHY. Revised edition. By George G. Iggers.PHILOSOPHY IN HISTORY: Essays on the Historiography of Philosophy. Edited by Richard Rorty, J. B. Schneewind, and Quentin Skinner.INCOMES AND POLICY. By Ian ManningDISORGANISED CAPITALISM. By Clans Offe.THIRD PARTIES IN AMERICA: CITIZEN RESPONSE TO MAJOR PARTY FAILURE. By Steven J. Rosenstone, Roy L. Behr, Edward H. Lazarus.HUNGER AND HISTORY. By R. I. Rotberg and T. K. Rabb (eds).LANGUAGE AND POLITICS. Edited by Michael Shapiro.MEN AND CITIZENS: A STUDY OF ROUSSEAU'S SOCIAL THEORY. By Judith N. Shklar.NEW NATIONALISMS OF THE DEVELOPED WEST: TOWARDS EXPLANATION. Edited by Edward A. Tiryakian and Ronald Rogowski.FIRST AMONG EQUALS: Prime Ministers in Westminster Systems. By Patrick Weller.

In this thesis I study Indigenous activism in the inner-Sydney suburb of Redfern in the 1970s. I explore the establishment and operation of five Aboriginal organisations: the Aboriginal Legal Service, the Aboriginal Medical Service, Murawina preschool and childcare centre, the Black Theatre and the Aboriginal Housing Company. The histories of these organisations, how they were set up and by whom, have not previously been comprehensively or collectively studied in an academic context. Yet they were the first to provide welfare services for Aboriginal people by Aboriginal people in the fields of law, health, education, culture and housing. This in itself makes it an important topic to explore.Furthermore, Aboriginal organisations in Redfern were among the first to experience self-determination as a Commonwealth Government policy, which accordingly supported Aboriginal- run welfare services. However, none of the organisations limited their activities to providing welfare services, such as health or legal services, to their community. Rather they became political power bases that extended their influence beyond the local to the state and national levels. Their representatives took part in articulating Aboriginal nationalism and in the daily practises of the organisations strived for Aboriginal control and their definition of Aboriginal self-determination. Yet, in order to receive funding they had to negotiate the scope and the limits of their activism with the representatives of the newly established Department of Aboriginal Affairs at a time when the non-Indigenous state was most committed to universalist welfare under the Whitlam government.As part of their aspiration for self-determination the Aboriginal organisations in Redfern assumed a central role in strengthening urban Aboriginal identity and community in a settler colonial city which in non-Indigenous minds had been discursively emptied of Indigenous presence. In their activism they challenged the notion of urban space as void of Aboriginality and in their struggle for self-determination claimed Indigenous ownership of social and geographic spaces in the city.

This book challenges conventional wisdom by revealing an extensive and heterogeneous community of foreign businesses in Australia before 1914. Multinational enterprise arrived predominantly from Britain, but other sender nations included the USA, France, Germany, New Zealand, and Japan. Their firms spread out across Australia from mining and pastoral communities, to portside industries and CBD precincts, and they operated broadly across mining, trading, shipping, insurance, finance, and manufacturing. They were a remarkably diverse population of firms by size, organisational form, and longevity. This is a rare study of the impact of multinationals on a host nation, particularly before World War One, and that focuses on a successful resource-based economy. Deploying a database of more than 600 firms, supported by contemporary archives and publications, the work reveals how multinational influence was contested by domestic enterprise, other foreign firms, and the strategic investments of governments in network industries. Nonetheless, foreign agency -- particularly investment, knowledge and entrepreneurship -- mattered in the economic development of Australia in the nineteenth as well as the twentieth centuries. This book will be of interest to students and researchers in Australian and international economic and business history, the history of economic growth and scholars of international business. Simon Ville is Senior Professor of Economic and Business History and Associate Dean Research at the University of Wollongong, Australia. He is a Fellow of the Academy of Social Sciences in Australia and will be the Whitlam-Fraser Professor of Australian Studies at Harvard University in 2022-3. He has written widely on big business, foreign investment, the rural and resource industries, the natural history trade, social capital, transport history, and the Vietnam War. David Merrett is a Professor Emeritus at the University of Melbourne. He has published widely in Australian economic and business history. His current interests include the rise of big business and the internationalisation of the Australian economy in the twentieth century. He has numerous publications on foreign firms in Australia, notably ANZ Bank (1985), but also on Australian firms as multinationals.

Book Reviewed in this issues. Van Diemen's Land. By James Boyce Mapping Colonial Conquest: Australia and Southern Africa. Edited by Norman Etherington Selling Sex: A Hidden History of Prostitution. By Raelene Frances Colonial Ambition: Foundations of Australian Democracy. By Peter Cochrane Lucy Osburn, a Lady Displaced: Florence Nightingale's Envoy to Australia. By Judith Godden Australia's Muslim Cameleers: Pioneers of the Inland 1860‐1930. By Philip Jones and Anna Kenny Bishop of Magnetic Power: James Moorhouse in Melbourne, 1876‐1886. By Moma Sturrock Summer in the Hills: The Nineteenth‐Century Mountain Resort in Australia. By Andrea Inglis Anzacs and Ireland. By Jeff Kildea Designing Australia's Cities: Culture, Commerce and the City Beautiful 1900‐1930. By Robert Freestone From the Hustings to Harbour Views: Electoral Institutions in New South Wales, 1856‐2006. By Marian Simms Jean Beadle: A Life of Labor Activism. By Bobbie Oliver The Coalminers of Queensland: A Narrative History of the Queensland Colliery Employees Union. Volume Two: The Pete Thomas Essays. By Pete Thomas and Greg Mallory The Little History of Australian Unionism. By Sean Scalmer The Voice of the Thunderer: Journalism of H.G. Kippax. Selected and introduced by Harry Heseltine Sir Ronald Wilson: A Matter of Conscience. By Antonio Buti Power without Responsibility: Ministerial Staffers in Australian Governments from Whitlam to Howard. By Ann Tiernan John Winston Howard: The Biography. By Wayne Errington and Peter van Onselen History's Children: History Wars in the Classroom. By Anna Clark John Grote, Cambridge University and the Development of Victorian Thought. By John R. Gibbins A.J.P. Taylor: Radical Historian of Europe. By Chris Wrigley Deutsche, Juden, Völkermord. Der Holocaust als Geschichte und Gegenwart. Edited by Jürgen Matthäus and Klaus‐Michael Mallmann Prague in Black. Nazi Rule and Czech Nationalism. By Chad Bryant Prague in Danger. By Peter Demetz Why is there No Labor Party in the United States? By Robin Archer Anti‐Americanism: History, Causes, Themes, 4 volumes. Edited by Brendon O'Connor Equality. By Stuart White The Political Communication Reader. Edited by Ralph Negrine and James Stanyer The Right Road to Radical Freedom. By Tibor Machan Enhancing Evolution: The Ethical Case for Making Better People. By John Harris

1.The Road to Russell --External Affairs 1945 --International Security Issues: 1950 and beyond --Defence Management in the 1950s: A view from Canberra --External Affairs and Defence cooperation --The grip of the past in the strategic outlook --America's definition of the ANZUS obligation --Interlude in India --After India: Where to move? --The Defence Department appointment --Defence Minister Fraser: His strategic outlook --The scope of the Defence Group empire --Five Defence Group Ministries: Previous unsuccessful reforms --Managing the Department with limited powers --Fraser's initiatives--and conflicts with Gorton --Gorton the Defence Minister --Fairbairn: Minister for Defence 1971 --The Department's 1972 'Defence Review': New ideas --Final months of McMahon's Coalition Government --2.Labor in Office --Labor's policies --Consultations and plans for merging five Departments --Strategy for making the changes --Abolition of the Service Boards: Reasons --Direct discussion--The Secretary and four Service Chiefs: Conclusions reached --Civilians and Service Officers: Their relative authority --Ministerial acceptance of the Recommendations --Members of Parliament and others: Reactions in Parliament and elsewhere--extent of command power --Some objectives not achieved --Interim arrangements--changes needed in the Department --Managing the Department--The 1973 political environment --Disclosure of the American presence--Conflict with Labor Left --The Joint US-Australian Defence Facilities --Limited disclosure on Pine Gap and Nurrungar --Labor's problem with the North West Cape Naval Communications Station --The Lloyd affair--Barnard's rebuke of Tange --Redefining the threat basis for Defence planning --Barnard's negotiations with Washington --Other decisions for Barnard --New problems for the Defence Department under Labor --Reshaping the force structure under Barnard --The Darwin cyclone --A retrospect on Barnard --Whitlam's Royal Commission: Enquiry into Intelligence Services --Reflections looking back: Whitlam and the Central Intelligence Agency --The 1975 changes: A new Minister, Chiefs of Staff and 'the Dismissal' --3.The Early Fraser Ministry --James Killen, Minister for Defence --Problems to overcome in the new system --Public perceptions in the politics of Defence --Differing views on our strategic interests --President Carter and the Indian Ocean --Inflation: Its consequences for Defence in the 1970s --Differences with the Royal Commission on Intelligence --Experiences serving Malcolm Fraser --A refuge in the mountains --The Defence Science Laboratories: Management --Planning the Defence Force Academy: Obstacles --Using soldiers in support of police --Final months in the Department --The gap between the strategic guidance and Defence preparations --Personnel policies and practices in the Services --Defamatory media fabrications --Post retirement experiences --On serving Ministers --Reflections on a personal journey.

Book reviewed in this article:GODLINESS AND GOOD ORDER. A HISTORY OF THE ANGLICAN CHURCH IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA. By David HilliardA PLACE OF LIGHT AND LEARNING. The University of Queensland's First Seventy‐five Years. By Malcolm ThomisTHE WHITLAM PHENOMENON. Fabian PapersHIGH HOPES: THE MEN AND MOTIVES OF THE AUSTRALIAN ROUND TABLE. By Leonie FosterTHE AUSTRALIAN PEACE MOVEMENT: A SHORT HISTORY. By Malcolm Saunders and Ralph SummyWHITE WOMEN IN FIJI 1835–1930. The Ruin of Empire? By Claudia KnapmanKANAKA. A HISTORY OF MELANESIAN MACKAY. By Clive MooreGOOD AND MAD WOMEN: the Historical Construction of Femininity in Twentieth Century Australia. By Jill Julius MatthewsRATIONS, RESIDENCE, RESOURCES. A History of Social Welfare in South Australia since 1836. By Brian Dickey with contributions from Elaine Martin and Rod OxenberryASBESTOS—ITS HUMAN COST. By Jock McCullochFROM THE CRADLE TO THE GRAVE. A Biography of Michael Joseph Savage. By Barry GustafsonAMERICAN LAKE: NUCLEAR PERIL IN THE PACIFIC. By Peter Hayes, Lyuba Zarsky, Walden BelloPROTEST AND DISSENT IN THE COLONIAL PACIFIC. By Peter Hempenstall and Noel RutherfordWAR WITHOUT MERCY: RACE AND POWER IN THE PACIFIC WAR. By John W. DowerASIA'S NEW INDUSTRIAL WORLD. By Michael Smith, Jane McLoughlin, Peter Large and Rod ChapmanRED BROTHERHOOD AT WAR: Indochina Since the Fall of Saigon. By Grant Evans and Kelvin RowleyTHE DEMOCRATIC IMAGINATION IN AMERICA: CONVERSATIONS WITH OUR PAST. By Russell L. HansonTHE ORIGINS OF EUROPEAN DISSENT. By R.I. MooreTHE POLITICS AND ECONOMICS OF APPEASEMENT: BRITISH FOREIGN POLICY IN THE 1930s. By Gustav SchmidtPOPULAR OPPOSITION TO THE 1834 POOR LAW. By John KnottTHE UNION OF ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND 1603–1608. By Bruce GallowayWEALTH AND VIRTUE: The Shaping of Political Economy in the Scottish Enlightenment. Edited by Isrvan Hont and Michael IgnatieffPÉTAIN: HERO OR TRAITOR? The Untold Story. By Herbert R. LottmanTHE POLICIES OF GENOCIDE: JEWS AND SOVIET PRISONERS OF WAR IN NAZI GERMANY. Edited by Gerhard HirschfeldFATEFUL MONTHS. Essays on the Emergence of the Final Solution. By Christopher R. BrowningTHE CRISIS ZONE OF EUROPE. An interpretation of east‐central European history in the first half of the twentieth century. By Ivan T. BerendOPEC: The Failing Giant. By Mohammed E. AhrariWOMEN AND CLASS IN AFRICA. Edited by Claire Robertson and Iris BergerINDEPENDENT AFRICA AND THE WORLD. By Peter CalvocoressiSOUTH AFRICA: A Plural Society in Transition. Edited by D.J. Van Vuuren, N.E. Wiehahn, J.A. Lombard and N.J. RhoodieARGENTINA: ILLUSIONS AND REALITIES. By Gary W. WyniaPOLITICAL THOUGHT IN MODERN INDIA. By Thomas Pantham and Kenneth L. DeutschCLAUSEWITZ AND THE STATE. By Peter ParetREVOLUTIONARY POLITICS AND LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES OF GOVERNMENT. By Richard AshcraftIDEOLOGY AND SOCIAL SCIENCE. Destutt de Tracy and French Liberalism. By Brian William HeadTHE LONGING FOR TOTAL REVOLUTION: Philosophic Sources of Social Discontent from Rousseau to Marx and Nietzsche. By Bernard YackTHE IDEOLOGY OF THE NEW RIGHT. Edited by Ruth LevitasPROTECTING THE VULNERABLE. A Reanalysis of Our Social Responsibilities. By Robert E. GoodinPOLITICAL TOLERANCE IN CONTEXT. Support for Unpopular Minorities in Israel, New Zealand, and the United States. By John L. Sullivan, Michael Shamir, Patrick Welsh, and Nigel S. RobertsSEXISM, RACISM AND OPPRESSION. By Arthur Brittain and Mary MaynardCABINET. By Peter HennessyADMINISTRATIVE ANALYSIS: An Introduction to Rules, Enforcement and OrganisationsThe Restrospective National Bibliography (RNB) Project

This book examines the planning and implementation of policies to create sustainable neighborhoods, using as a case study the City of Sydney. The authors ask whether many past planning and development practices were appropriate to the ways that communities then functioned, and what lessons we have learned. The aim is to illustrate the many variations within a city and from neighborhood to neighborhood regarding renewal (rehabilitation), redevelopment (replacement) and new development. Case study examples of nine City of Sydney neighborhoods note the different histories of planning and development in each. Features of the studies include literature searches, field work (with photography), and analysis. The authors propose a set of sustainability principles which incorporate elements of the twenty seven principles of the 1992 Rio Declaration on Environment and Development Part One explores sustainable urban planning, and the importance of planning tools that enable best planning outcomes for communities and investors. Common factors in the nine case study neighborhoods are renewal, redevelopment and development pressures affecting Sydney from the 1970s to 2014. Also discussed are the differing circumstances of planning faced by authorities, developers and communities in each of the study areas.Part Two of the book is focused on the case study areas in City of Sydney East area: Woolloomooloo and Kings Cross. Part Three covers case study areas in Sydney's Inner South area: Chippendale, Redfern and Waterloo District. Part Four surveys the Inner West suburb of Erskineville. Part Five looks at the City West area, including the Haymarket District and the Pyrmont and Ultimo District. Part Six concentrates on the North West area suburb of Glebe. Part Seven of the book looks at the growth area of South Sydney District, which includes the suburbs of Beaconsfield, Zetland and the new localities of Victoria Park and Green Square. The authors recount lessons learned and outline directions of planning for sustainable neighborhoods. Finally, the authors challenge readers to apply the lessons of these case studies to further advances in sustainable urban planning. Raymond Charles RauscherI have always been interested in town planning, being born in Brooklyn, New York City (1943) and graduating from the City College of New York (Bachelor of Engineering, Civil 1966). I later completed a first part of a masters degree at the Univ of Michigan (research submission on Detroit entitled A Solution to the Urban Crisis: Proposal for the Creation of Region Serving New Cities (unpublished 1969). The Masters of Town and Country Planning was completed at Sydney University (1971) with a thesis Community Response to a Redevelopment Proposal (University of Sydney Library Microfilm Dept). The thesis covered planning conflicts in Erskineville and measures to resolving these. Chapter 7 of this book refers back to the planning of Erskineville in 1971, and lessons learned. Delving into the subject of sustainable urban planning, I completed a PhD (2009) at the University of Newcastle, including the thesis Sustainable Area Planning Framework for Ecologically Sustainable Development: Case Study Wyong Shire, NSW, Australia.Wanting to research further the subject of sustainable urban planning, I published (with co-author Salim Momtaz) Sustainable Communities: A Framework for Planning - Case Study of an Australian Outer Sydney Growth Area (Springer 2014). Over the years I continued to study urban change in my birth place Brooklyn (New York). My interest was drawn to Bushwick (my old neighborhood), an area of Brooklyn that met its low point of urban slide in the 1977 arson fires. I did field work over several years, from 1979 onwards, to better understand reasons for USA style urban decline and renewal. This culminated in the book (with co-author Salim Momtaz) Brooklyn's Bushwick - Urban Renewal in New York, USA (Springer 2014). Still wanting to understand the urban changes in inner city neighbourhoods (beyond Erskineville of 1971), I continued (over a number of years) to monitor planning and development of the City of Sydney inner city areas. This monitoring focused on the question of how sustainable were the urban changes taking place in these Sydney neighbourhoods (given the rapid growth of Sydney into a global city). To prepare this book I spent five years (2009-2014) on the ground in the inner city of Sydney doing qualitative research field work, including photographing changes in City of Sydney neighbourhoods. During this research I recalled my involvement with community groups at the time of my earlier research in Erskineville noted above. At the time (1971-1973), neighbourhood associations were successful in calling on the New South Wales (NSW) Builders Labourers' Federation (BLF) to impose 'green bans' to stop NSW State or developer proposed developments which residents felt were inappropriate. This led to a number of 'green bans' imposed in inner city communities covered in this book, including Woolloomooloo (Chapter 3), Victoria St, Kings Cross (Chapter 4), Waterloo (Chapter 6), and Glebe (Chapter 10). Since 1973 I have been a member of the Australian based Social Developers Network (SDN) The Network commenced at the time of PM Gough Whitlam (1972-1975) (currently 98 years old, living in Sydney). As prime minister Whitlam (and Minister for Planning and Regional Development, Tom Uren) promoted and instituted programs in urban planning, regional development and community development. A number of those initiatives are included in the book (Woolloomooloo in Chapter 3, Kings Cross in Chapter 4, and Glebe in Chapter 9). I am currently a Conjoint Lecturer at the University of Newcastle, Australia. I am also a director of Habitat Association for Arts and Environment Inc. Under this body I continue to work on 'Visions Inner Sydney' (VIS). This is a program recording the changes in the inner city local government areas of the City of Sydney, and Municipalities of Leichhardt, Marrickville and Ashfield.Salim MomtazDr Salim Momtaz is a senior lecturer at the University of Newcastle, Australia. He teaches in the area of sustainable resource management. A geographer, environmental scientist and social planner by training, Salim's research interests include: environmental planning and governance, social adaptation to climate change, impact assessment and community participation. His recent publications include: Evaluating Environmental and Social Impact Assessment in Developing Countries, Elsevier: Oxford (2013) (co-author S.M.Z. Kabir); Sustainable Communities: A Framework for Planning, Springer: London (2014) (co-author R.C. Rauscher); and, Brooklyn's Bushwick - Urban Renewal in New York, USA, Springer (2014) (co-author R.C. Rauscher).

Book reviewed in this article:CLASS AND POLITICS: New South Wales, Victoria and the Early Commonwealth, 1890–1910. By John KickardLABOR AND THE CONSTITUTION 1972–1975 Essays and Commentaries on the Constitutional Controversies of the Whitlam Years in Australian Government. Edited by Gareth Evans (Melbourne: Heinemann, 1977).DESIGN FOR DIVERSITY: Library Services for Higher Education and Research in Australia. Edited by Harrison Bryan and Gordon GreenwoodLEGISLATIVE, EXECUTIVE AND JUDICIAL POWERS IN AUSTRALIA. By W. Ansteq Wynes.SOCIAL POLICY IN AUSTRALIA: Some Perspectives 1901–1975. Edited by Jill Roe (Sydney: Casseil Australia, 1976).OPPORTUNITY AND ATTAINMENT IN AUSTRALIA. By Leonard Broom and F. Lancaster Jones (Canberra: Australian National University Press, 1976).AUSTRALIA IN WORLD AFFAIRS 1966–1970. Edited by Gordon Greenwood and Norman Harper (Melbourne: Cheshire, for Australian Institute of International Affairs 1974).THE GOVERNMENT OF VICTORIA. By Jean HolmesTHE GOVERNMENT OF TASMANIA. By W.A. TownsleyTHE GOVERNMENT OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA. By D.H. JaenschPOLICE IN AUSTRALIA: Development, Functions and Procedures. Written and edited by Kerry L. Mike, assisted by Thomas A. WeberTHE AUSTRALIAN PRICES JUSTIFICATION TRIBUNAL. By J.P. Nieuwenhuysen and A.E. DalyGANDHI AND CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE: The Mahatma in Indian Politics 1928–34. By Judith M. BrownPANCHAYATI RAJ AND EDUCATIONAL ADMINISTRATION. By Iqbal Narain, K.C. Pande and Mohan Lal Sharma (Jaipur: Aalekh Publishers, 1976)CHINA: THE IMPACT OF REVOLUTION: A Survey of Twentieth Century China. Edited by Colin MackerrasINSIDE MAO TSE‐TUNC THOUGHT: An Analytical Blueprint of His Actions. By Yeh Ch'ing, translated and edited by Stephen Pan, T.H. Tsuan and R. MortensenSINO‐SOVIET DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS, 1917–1926. By Sow‐Theng LeongJAPANESE FOREIGN POLICY, 1869–3942 Kasumigaseki to Miyakezaka. By Ian NishORIGINS OF THE WAR IN THE EAST: Britain, China and Japan 1937–39. By Aron ShaiINDONESIA. Second edition. By J. D. LeggeTHE LESSONS OF VIETNAM. Edited by W. Scott Thompson and Donaldson D. Frizzell (Brisbane: University of Queensland Press, 1977).THE MYTH OF THE LAZY NATIVE A Study of the Image of the Malays, Filipinos and Javanese from the 16th to the 20th Century and its Function in the Ideology of Colonial Capitalism. By Syed Hussein AlatasINTELLECTUALS IN DEVELOPING SOCIETIES. By S. H. AlatasOCEANIA AND BEYOND Essays on the Pacific Since 1945. Edited by Frank P. KingTHE POLITICS OF CHANGE IN A ZAMBIAN COMMUNITY. By George C. BondECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT OF LATIN AMERICA: Historical Background and Contemporary Problems. Second Edition. By Celso FurtadoTHE HISTORIAN AS DIPLOMAT Charles Kingsley Webster and the United Nations 1939–1946. By P.A. Reynolds and E.J. HughesYOUTH, EMPIRE AND SOCIETY: British Youth Movements 1883–1940. By John SpringhallSYSTEMS OF STATES. By Martin Wight. Edited by Hedley BullEYE‐DEEP IN HELL: The Western Front 1914–18. By John EllisLORDSHIP AND FEUDALISM IN THE MIDDLE AGES. By Guy FourquinPLANNING, POLITICS AND PUBLIC POLICY: The British, French and Italian Experience. Edited by Jack Hayward and Michael WatsonMODERN SOCIAL POLITICS IN BRITAIN AND SWEDEN: From Relief to Income Maintenance. By Hugh HecloINTERVENTION IN THE MIXED ECONOMY: The Evolution of British Industrial Policy 1964–72. By Stephen Young and A.V. LoweTHE YUGOSLAV EXPERIMENT, 1948–1974. By Dennison Rusinow (London: C. Hurst & Company, for the Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1977).THE DE LORENZO GAMBIT The Italian Coup Manque of 1964. By Richard CollinTHE EMERGENCE OF POLITICAL CATHOLICISM IN ITALY: Partito Popolare 1919–1926. By John N. MolonySOCIAL THOUGHT IN TSARIST RUSSIA: The Quest for a General Science of Society, 1861–1917. By Alexander VucinichIRON AND STEEL IN THE GERMAN INFLATION 1916–1923. By Gerald D. Feldman (Princeton: Princeton University Press. 1977).THE SPANISH ARMY AND CATALONIA: The 'Cu‐Cut! Incident' and the Law of Jurisdictions, 1905–1906. By Joaquin Rornero‐MauraDIE ZElT DER WELTKRIEGE: Handbuch der Deutschen Geschichte, Band 4. By Karl Dietrich Erdmann (Stuttgart: Ernst Klett Verlag, 1976).PARLIAMENT, POLICY AND POLITICS IN THE REIGN OF WIILIAM III. by Henry Horwitz (Manchester: Manchester University Press. 1977).CHARLES STEWART PARNELL The Man and His Family. By R. F. FosterKING LABOUR: The British Working Class 1850–1914. By David KynastonESSAYS IN LABOUR HISTORY 1918–1939. Volume 3. Edited by Asa Briggs and John Saville (London: Croom Helm, 1977).THE POST OFFICE ENGINEERING UNION: The History of the Post Office Engineers, 1870–1970. By Frank Bealey (London: Bachman and Turner, 1976).MACAULAY AND THE WHIG TRADITION. By Joseph HamburgerTHE HOLLAND HOUSE DIARIES 1831–1840: The Diary of Henry Richard Vassall Fox, Third Lord Holland, with Extracts from the Diary of Dr. John Allen.THE FRENCH REVOLUTION: Extracts from The Times 1789–1794. Introduced and edited by Neal AschersonTHE FRENCH POPULAR FRONT: A Legislative Analysis. By Paul WarwickFRANCE 1870–1914 Politics and Society. By R.D. AndersonSTUDIES ON THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. Edited by Neville MeaneyFROM NATIONALISM TO INTERNATIONALISM: U.S. Foreign Policy to 1914. By Akira IriyeTHE IMPERIAL YEARS The United States Since 1939. By Alonzo L. HambyMASS SOCIETY AND POLITICAL CONFLICT Toward a Reconstruction of Theory. By Sandor HalebskyCRIME AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF MODERN SOCIETY. By Howard ZehrOLD AGE IN EUROPEAN SOCIETY: The Case of France. By Peter N. StearnsPOWER AND CONTROL: Social Structures and Their Transformation. Edited by Tom R. Burns and Walter BuckleyRULING CLASS, RULING CULTURE Studies of Conflict, Power and Hegemony in Australian Life. By R.W. ConnellJOHN STUART MILL, By R.J. HallidayMEASUREMENT AND ANALYSIS OF POLITICAL SYSTEMS: A Science of Social Behavior. By Stephen ColemanLANGUAGE AND POLITICS. Edited by William M. O'Barr and Jean F. O'BarrTHE SOCIOLOGY OF POWER. By Roderick MartinORIGIN AND SIGNIFICANCE OF THE FRANKFURT SCHOOL A Marxist Perspective. By Phil SlaterHOBBES AND AMERICA: Exploring the Constitutional Foundations. By Frank M. Coleman

Book reviewed in this article:THE GOVERNMENT OF NEW SOUTH WALES. By R. S. ParkerDOCUMENTS ON AUSTRALIAN FOREIGN POLICY 1937–49. Vol III: January–June 1940. Edited by H. Kenway, H. J. W. Stokes and P. G. EdwardsPUBLIC EXPENDITURES AND SOCIAL POLICY IN AUSTRALIA. Volume I: The Whitiam Years. 1972–75. Edited by R. B. Scotton and Helen FerberFROM WHITLAM TO FRASER: Reform and Reaction in Australian Politics. Edited by Allan Patience and Brian HeadILLUSIONS OF POWER: The fate of a reform government. By Michael SextonPOLITICS BETWEEN DEPARTMENTS: The fragmentation of executive control in Australian government. By Martin Painter and Bernard CareyCAPITALISM, SOCIALISM OR BARRARISM? The Australian Predicament: Essays in Contemporary Political Economy. By E. L. WheelwrightTRANSNATIONAL CORPORATIONS IN SOUTH EAST ASIA AND THE PACIFIC. Volume I. By Ernest Utrecht (with contributions by Kate Short)OWNERSHIP AND CONTROL OF AUSTRALIAN CORPORATIONS. By Michael LawriwskyFOREIGN INVESTMENT AND TRANSNATIONAL CORPORATIONS IN AUSTRALIA: An Annotated Bibliography. By G. J. CroughAUSTRALIAN URBAN POLICY. By Max NeutzeFEDERAL POWER IN AUSTRALIA'S CITIES: Essays in Honour of Peter Till. Edited by Patrick N. TroyAUSTRALIAN CAPITAL CITIES: Historical Essays. Edited by J. W. McCarty and C. B. SchedvinTHE LAND RACKET: The Real Costs of Property Speculation. By Leonie SandercockPROTEST AND PUNISHMENT: The Story of the Social and Political Protesters transported to Australia 1788–1868. By George Rudè'THIS SIN AND SCANDAL': Australia's Population Debate 1891–1911. By Neville HicksTHE CONFIDENT YEARS: Australia in the Twenties. By Robert MurrayDEPRESSION DOWN UNDER. By Daisy McWilliams and others. Edited by Len FoxTHE ECONOMIC STATUS OF AUSTRALIAN ABORIGINES. By Jon C. Altman and John Nieuwenhuysen. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979)KULINMA: Listening to Aboriginal Australians. By H. C. CoombsKAROBRAN: The Story of an Aboriginal Girl. By Monica ClareRACE POLITICS IN AUSTRALIA. By C. M. TatzERNEST GILES: EXPLORER AND TRAVELLER 1835–1897. By Ray EricksenJAPANESE PRISONERS OF WAR IN REVOLT: The Outbreaks at Featherston and Cowra during World War II. By Charlotte Carr‐GreggDIE LIKE THE CARP!: The Story of the Greatest Prison Escape Ever. By Harry GordonLEGACY: The First Fifty Years. By Mark LyonsPOLITICS IN A UNION: The Hursey case. By Tas BullBIOGRAPHICAL REGISTER OF THE NEW SOUTH WALES PARLIAMENT 1901–1970. By Heather Radi, Peter Spearritt and Elizabeth HintonA SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY OF AUSTRALIAN MILITARY HISTORY 1891–1939. By Jean Fielding and Robert O'NeillLAST OF LANDS Antarctica. By J. F. Lovering and J. R. V. Prescott. (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1979)PAPUA NEW GUINEA: Its Economic Situation and Prospects for DevelopmentPRACTICE WITHOUT POLICY: Genesis of Local Government in Papua New Guinea. By D. M. FenburyPOLITICS AND MODERNIZATION IN SOUTH AND SOUTHEAST ASIA Edited by Robert N. KearneyPEASANTS AND POLITICS: Grass Roots Reaction to Change in Asia. Edited by D. B. MillerMILESTONES ON MY JOURNEY: The Memoirs of Ali Sastroamijoyo, Indonesian Patriot and Political Leader. Edited by C. L. M. PendersPACIFIC ISLANDERS UNDER GERMAN RULE: A Study in the Meaning of Colonial Resistance. By Peter J. HempenstallTAIM BILONG MANI: The evolution of agriculture in a Solomon Island society. By John ConnellJAPAN'S POLITICAL SYSTEM. By Robert E. WardA THEORY OF JAPANESE DEMOCRACY. By Nobutaka IkeCHINA'S ROLE IN WORLD AFFAIRS. By Michael B. YahudaCADRES, COMMANDERS, AND COMMISSARS: The Training of the Chinese Communist Leadership, 1920–45. By Jane L. PriceTHE GOVERNMENT AND POLITICS OF HONG KONG. By Norman MinersCONGRESS AND THE RAJ: Facets of the Indian Struggle 1917–47. Edited by D. A. LowCOLLECTIVE IDENTITIES, NATIONALISMS AND PROTEST IN MODERN SRI LANKA. Edited by Michael RobertsDOCUMENTS OF THE CEYLON NATIONAL CONGRESS AND NATIONALIST POLITICS IN CEYLON 1929–1950. Edited by Michael RobertsARMIES AND PARTIES IN AFRICA. By Henry BienenA POLITICAL GEOGRAPHY OF AFRICA. By E. A. BoatengEXPANSION AND REACTION: Essays on European Expansion and Reactions in Asia and Africa. Edited by H. L. WesselingTHE IMPERIAL IMPACT: Studies in the Economic History of Africa and India. Edited by Clive Dewey and A. G. HopkinsRACISM AND POLITICAL ACTION IN BRITAIN. Edited by Robert Miles and Annie PhizackleaTHE ORIGINS OF ENGLISH INDIVIDUALISM: The Family, Property and Social Transition. By Alan MacfarlaneEMIGRANT GENTLEWOMEN: Genteel poverty and female emigration, 1830–1914. By A. James HammertonECONOCIDE: British Slavery in the Era of Abolition. By Seymour DrescherBEYOND ORANGE AND GREEN: The Political Economy of the Northern Ireland Crisis. By Belinda ProbertGERMANY 1866–1945. By Gordon A. CraigBONES OF CONTENTION: An Enquiry into East–West Relations. By Terence GarveyPOLITICS AND SOCIETY IN THE USSR. Second Edition. By David LaneSOVIET POLITICAL ELITES: The Case of Tiraspol. By Ronald J. HillTHE SHADOW OF THE WINTER PALACE: The Drift to Revolution 1825–1917. By Edward CrankshawWOMEN IN SOVIET SOCIETY: Equality, Development and Social Change. By Gail Warshofsky LapidusAPOSTLES INTO TERRORISTS: Women and the Revolutionary Movement in the Russia of Alexander II. By Vera BroidoMIDDLE EAST CONTEMPORARY SURVEY, vol. 1, 1976–77. Edited by Colin Legum and Haim ShakedARMED STRUGGLE IN PALESTINE: A Political‐Military Analysis. By Bard E. O'NeillTHE PHILOSOPHY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. By Morton WhiteU. S. OCCUPATION IN EUROPE AFTER WORLD WAR II: Papers and Reminiscences from the April 23–24, 1976 Conference held at the George C. Marshall Research Foundation, Lexington, Virginia. Edited by Hans A. SchmittPOLITICAL CORRUPTION IN AMERICA. By George C. S. BensonCORRUPTION: A Study in Political Economy. By Susan Rose‐AckermanPOLITICAL PARTICIPATION IN LATIN AMERICA. Volume I: Citizen and State. Edited by John A. Booth and Mitchell A. SeligsonTHE THIRD WORLD REVOLUTION. By Fred J. CarrierMY MISSIONS FOR REVOLUTIONARY BOLIVIA, 1944–1962. By Victor AndradeMODERN REVOLUTIONS AND REVOLUTIONISTS: A Bibliography. By Robert BlackeyCLASS IDEOLOGY AND ANCIENT POLITICAL THEORY. By Ellen Meiksins Wood and Neal WoodMARX'S THEORY OF POLITICS. By John M. MaguireTHE WEALTH OF SOME NATIONS. By Malcolm CaldwellTHE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF DISTRIBUTION: Equality versus Inequality. By Michael Don WardGRACCHUS BABEUF: The First Revolutionary Communist. By R. B. RoseCRISIS MANAGEMENT: Confrontation and Diplomacy in the Nuclear Age. By Phil WilliamsPEOPLE AND AGENCIES. By Bernard Schaffer and Elizabeth O'KeeffeLIBERALS AND SOCIAL DEMOCRATS. By Peter ClarkeVICTORIANS AT HOME AND AWAY. By Janet and Peter PhillipsTHE SOCIAL AND POLITICAL THOUGHT OF HERBERT SPENCER. By DavidNO MAN'S LAND: Combat and Identity in World War I. By Eric J. LeedTHE SCIENTIFIC PUBLICATION SYSTEM IN SOCIAL SCIENCE: A Study of the Operation of Leading Professional Journals in Psychology, Sociology, and Social Work. By Duncan LindseySPORT IN HISTORY: The Making of Modern Sporting History. Edited by Richard Cashman and Michael McKernan

Issue 50.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1991. ; Review Religious Volume 50 Number 5 September / October 1991 50 TM ANNIVERSARY VOLUME REVIEW FOR RI:.LIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Telcphonc: 314-535-3048. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO and additional offices. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:\'~EW Foa R~:I,I(;IOUS; 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 I.'Oa R~:t,tc, IOUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Michael G. Harter, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. 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This order is for [] a new subscription [] a renewal [] a restart of a lapsed subscription MAIL TO: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯ 3601 LINDELL BOULEVARD ° ST.LouIs, MO 63108 IIII III IIII II IIII III I PRISMS. What did you go out to the desert to see? A prophet? The question which Jesus asked his own people takes on a special poignancy for us toda~y in the Church. Our biblical tradition indicates that God raises up prophetic people in dark and difficult days. Because many see the time of renewal called for by Vatican II as a period of continuing strug-gle and tension--sometimes sadly with positions defended or fixed rather than with dialogue explored--affecting people and priests in parishes, bish-ops in national hierarchies, and religious in the same congregation, there is a greater tendency today to go running out, searching for a prophet. As usual there is also the temptation for some to play the prophet. But the prophetic tradition strongly emphasizes that tree prophets do not identify the role for themselves. God plucks people out of ordinary circum-stances, evokes some kind of personal conversion, and then speaks and works through them, even in their own reluctance for the role, and in their fear and trembling. Although we tend to apply the word prophet glibly to some modem-day leaders, educators, and writers, we perhaps are not far off the mark when we search for those movements and calls of God that come in incremental ways through ordinary-looking people and events. It is to acknowledge that prophets, like saints, have a range from "capital P" prophets (like our canonized "capital S" saints) with a major message of modeling and influence ~o the almost hidden (because of everydayness) small-letter prophets who in limited and confined ways raise questions, sug-gest new directions, make us uncomfortable, and at the same time give us hope. Prophets of lasting influence are s~arce at any time in our world's his-tory. Yet we may find it all too easy, even now, to mute the "smail p" prophet either ir~ our fixated search for major prophetic voices or in our disdain for less-than-radical calls. The even greater loss, however, happens when we may intentionally or unintentionally downplay our own lived (small p) prophetic witness to Christ's values--an integral part of our own chosen way of life. Review for Religious has been p~rivileged through the years to present voices of personal witness and articles of challenge and critique which repre-sent this common spectrum of our e ~eryday prophets. In this issue, "Inner Africa: A Journey of Conversion" by Susan Rakoczy is a personal witness to 641 642 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 God's continuing call to go beyond a familiar homeland and to pay its enlivening costs---costs borne more within oneself than without. Jean Steffes considers directly in her article the theme of the prophetic-witness aspect of contemporary religious life. The articles by Giallanza, Levey, Arbuckle, and Mueller give further reflections on various aspects of religious life that affect its present and future witness. From the area of contemplation, the ground of all prophetic activity, Joseph Tetlow uses a very simple image from the changing seasons of the year to present an understanding of God's calls and our responses for a com-monplace continuity of spiritual growth. In a similar way Gerard Luttenberger sees through the contemplative Fourth Mansion of St. Ter6sa a way of praying apostolically. A prophetic relationship of faith with our United States culture grounds Hoffman's treatment of creative leisure and, in a very different fashion, Hinojosa's suggestions for formation, as he espe-cially has the Hispanic candidate in mind. Rywalt shares his experience of the sometimes dark journeying required of religious trying to follow God's lead in the transfer process in this consecrated lifeform. The prophetic and priestly people which we are will find fresh insight into the manna-food for our joumeying in Billy's "The Bread Kernel," clari-ty in Meyer's restating of the ministerial priesthood foundation through a deeper appreciation of an ambassador's role, and consolation in the gentle wisdom of living reflected in McDonald's "Faithful Servant." Perhaps, in our effort to identify prophets, McDonald's theme goes right to the heart of the matter. No truer discernment or greater tribute can be given to any prophet, spelled with large or small p, than to be identified, like Moses, as a faithful servant of God. David L. Fleming, S.J. Four Seasons of the Soul Joseph .4. Tetlow, SJ Father Tetlow wrote "The Mirror in the Field" for our November/December 1988 issue. His current address is Jesuit Hall; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. I~uring the experience of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, you have a sense of movement and of progress. Particularly during a nineteenth-annotation experience of them, you have the sense of getting along with things and of genuine growth in God. When you have finished the Exercises, if you are like many exercitants, you miss that sense of movement and progress. Even though you continue to pray as long and as seriously as you did during the Exercises, you may well come to wonder where "growth" has gone, and a sense of your life in Christ unfolding for you. You know how times of consolation and times of desola-tion mark spiritual growth or its absence, but this is the microeconomy of the spirit, a topological map of a mountain that does not tell you which range it is in or even which hemisphere. You might find some sense of getting along by applying the traditional phases or stages of spiritual growth. You would recognize, to start with, the stages of the purgative, illuminative, and unitive ways. You have heard of the Dark Nights, of the Senses and of the Soul. But reading these stages requires great expertness and an intense concentration on the interior life. You may find them of limited help in reading your growth in the Lord while you live an ordinary life in the world. Furthermore, these traditional stages of spiritual growth have focused tightly on the individual spirit. They do not comprehend a lot of the "your life world." They do not illuminate the interplay of others' needs and inter-ests with your own, or the tension between remaining faithful to your self and growing more faithful to those whom God gives you to love and be 643 644 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 loved by. Each of these traditional ways of gauging where you are in your interior life instructs you how to pray at a given time and what to pray about. They do not much tell you what to pray for. Now that you know the Spiritual Exercises, you might find it useful to think of phases or stages of the interior life in terms of the Four Weeks. You can take the Weeks as seasons distinct from one another. They really do match the phases or stages of growth that we go through as we live contem-platives in the active world. If you interpret your experience in these terms, you will not find a lot of instruction on what to pray about (that instruction will rise out of your current experience), but you will find sound instruction on what to pray for. The Seasons of the Four Weeks Think of the seasons not as four parts of one whole life, but as a cycle that we all go through in our life world. Consider life as a whole at this given moment, and picture how it is colored seasonally. The first season would be like this: You go along working hard and praying easily. You feel like springtime, and your whole self sprouts new life. Your life world seems filled with promise. Life is given to you, rising up from within your self and teeming all around you. In such a time, you are in the season of the Fourth Week. The truth is that Jesus came to "give you joy, and to the full," and he was transcendently powerful to achieve what he set out to achieve. As you know, we are created to live in consolation, which means that we share the sureness of the risen Christ that the reign of God comes, for each one of us and for all of humankind together. So we live in the joy of Christ, as we have a fight to do, and this is the Fourth Week. You enter Christ's joy, in work and in prayer. Ask yourself: During this springtime, what do you ask for? You go through times, as all of us do, of confusion and darkness, your inner world and life world matching. Your life world itself may be in tur-moil, and perhaps threatens your family, career, or health. All of us have experienced these times as wars succeed one another and one national crisis after another: toxic waste, the Savings and Loans debacle, the awesome national deficit. In a very real sense, when we suffer these times we are bear-ing the sins of all peoples--the sins of unjust rulers, of greedy people with economic power, of self-centered people who feed on us. In these times you feel powerless and perhaps even helpless. You live in depression or doubt or perhaps even jeopardy. In such a time you are walk-ing with Jesus Christ in his Passion. This is not merely metaphor: our Master warned us that we would feel persecuted and hunted, for if his life world Four Seasons of the Soul / 645 treated him as it did, then we are to anticipate faring no better. St. Paul said that we are to fill up the sufferings that Christ Jesus has still to undergo for the sake of his body, the Church. Sometimes we live in the Passion of Jesus, feeling the terrible weight of taking up our cross daily. In this wintry time of the Third Week, what grace gives you a sense of growth and movement? Again, at times you seem merely to be working along from day to day. You do not feel any great consolation or any notable desolation. You trust God by enacting your own desires and conscience and by doing the next good thing. You do not feel any great pressure to have life all figured out, or the vexing pressure of strong temptation to this or that sin you are prone to. You pray to the Father and listen to the Spirit. You live out your discipleship faithfully and enduringly. This is the Second Week, as you walk with Jesus of Nazareth, either in the long decades of his hidden life or in the brief exertions of his public life. It is full summertime, and you are growing in God. You take summertime concerns to prayer and stay with Jesus proclaiming his Good News. But summertime can seem lazy and unmoving. What grace will help you sense progress? Finally, there come times when you feel the weight of your own sin. You do again something that you thought you had truly put behind you. You fail to do something that you had set yourself most resolutely to do. You are in the First Week again. You find out that your ideal has little of the noble in it, or that your self-image includes falsehood, or that you have been acting as though you loathe your self and despise your life. Then you feel the deep burning of shame. Or you realize that you have been violating your own conscience, deliberately deceiving your own self and spreading your poison around you. Then you feel the icy sting of guilt. Yet all of this time you already know how God loves you, even how God keeps on being your Creator and Lord. This is the season of fall, when you join the cycle of life and death that belongs to this earth of ours. You flirt with spiritual death, but you know that you will not die, but live. You cannot doubt that God forgives again and again, and you take into your prayer that utter confidence in God's forgiving love. This is the season of the First Week. Once you have asked God's forgiveness, what else are we to ask for in order to have the experience of movement and growth? It is to find the answer to this question that you think in terms of the sea-sons of the Four Weeks. Other stages and phases instruct us in the kind of prayer we might give ourselves to. The "unitive way," for instance, suggests a prayer of deep quiet. Other stages help us hold onto the kind of faith and 646 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 hope we need to exercise. The Dark Night of the Senses helps us know that it is, indeed, faith we are exercising, and not doubt. Other stages or phases name kinds of temptation and grades of consolation and desolation. A pray-ing person who has been drawn to apophatic prayer will readily recognize daydreams of food as a desolation. But the stages and phases give little instruction on the very humble question of what, specifically, we are to ask for. Or perhaps more accurately, what instruction they do give is not readily accessible to the majority of praying Christians. "I Ask for What I Want" Matching the Four Weeks with the seasons of discipleship suggests immediately and accurately what you ought to ask God for. Each of the Weeks has a specific grace. These specific graces are precisely what we need in each of the four seasons of discipleship. When we feel the burning of shame or the icy sting of guilt, obviously, we ask forgiveness. Equally obviously, we receive this forgiveness even before we ask it. Then what? You would immediately reject dwelling on the shame or the guilt. You would repudiate self-lacerating examination. What you need is a sense of your complicity in humankind's sin, and a sense of how the disorder manifest in your life world lies waiting to manifest itself in yourself. You can ask for that plainly, and you will have a sense of getting on with God's project. You can also ask another gift of the First Week: the answer to the three questions in the colloquy of the first exercise. The deepest grace of the First Week is to be given eyes to see Jesus Christ. While you stand under the cross of Jesus Christ, you ask yourself, "What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What might I do for Christ?" The growth and movement in answer to this prayer have to do with understanding the past and looking to the future. If you have been sinning, then start with how God succeeded in you, with what you have done for Christ. If you are acting sinfully, you need to attend to what else you are now doing: What are you doing for Christ? And as you repent yet again, you stand with Christ and ask what you might do for him and for his body the Church. This is the growth in the season of fall. A second season: of busyness. Your attention runs in a hundred direc-tions. You face concrete decisions hour by hour. You have to deal with oth-ers day after day. You have to remain authentic to your own self and grow more and more fully a member. Here, in this heated season of summer, you might ask most appropriately for the gift of the Second Week: to know Jesus Four Seasons of the Soul / 647 better, to love him more, and to go the way he goes. He has been through this summer and through the desert of busyness. For some the life of the Lord will be an inspiration (as Carl Gustav Jung said it ought to be). They will learn from Jesus of Nazareth how to relate in the dusty marketplace to the God who chooses to be father and mother to us. For others the life of the Lord will be an example for imitation (as the Church has taught since Jesus proclaimed himself Way, Truth, and Life). For all of us, growth in God means growth in loving Jesus of Nazareth who is the Christ. That is the grace you ask for in the summer, the Second Week. When winter comes upon your self and your life world, you cannot escape suffering. Well, in the Third Week, you have watched with Jesus through his Passion. Remember this accompaniment and what you asked for then. Perhaps you will ask to accept your suffering in compassion with Jesus suffering and to know shame "because the Lord is going to his suffering for my sins," while you have acted in complicity with all humankind in sinning. This is the grace of the first contemplation at midnight. In any pain or suffer-ing, growth will lie in and through compassion. You might be drawn, again, to ask that your own suffering somehow be "with Christ in sorrow, [your] anguish with Christ in anguish, [your] tears and deep grief because of the great affliction" Christ endured for you. This is a great gift, and those who embrace their own suffering in the world know what Jesus knew. This pain will end nothing, but will end; ifI can discern no movement toward life, I know my growth is where I am; God is faithful. This prayer to God transmutes a wintry time from merely a depression or recession or grave aggravation to a time of growth in Christ. Finally, when you live in happiness and your life world hums along in springtime, you can most reasonably beg God that you enter into the joy of Jesus Christ. There lies the way of movement and growth, first of all because you will not be immobilized by anxiety. We hold the happiness of earth tightly because it is given and taken away, apparently randomly. Unlike the joy of the earth, Jesus' joy is not given and taken away; it is given and to the full. Growth does not mean having things permanently or living secure or figuring everything out. All of these are illusory, and depending on any of them is writing on water. Growth for Christ's disciples entails precisely shaking off dependence on possessions and all defense against risks of personal encounter. You grow a more complete self with every deeper realization that God's is the initia-tive, the victory, which is Jesus' joy and glory. You grow more secure as you accept more and more fully that you did not earn life or joy and that, if you can make no demands, the One who gives constantly turns out more willing 648 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 to lavish gifts than you are to accept them. This is Jesus' joy and his glory. So in these springtimes we find our growth in begging "to be glad and rejoice intensely" not because of the great go6ds God is bestowing on us, but "because of the great joy and the glory of Christ our Lord." A Simple Matter of Moving Along Understand, the Four Weeks are not epigenetic stages that build one on another in succession, with the latest stage transmuting the earlier ones. This is the model used by Erik Erikson and the growth psychologists, and it is not appropriate here. The "seasons" mean something much simpler here. Nor does the word refer to an account of the adult life cycle, the "seasons. of a person's life" devised by Daniel Levinson and his colleagues. The "seasons" here are briefer and include not only internal dynamics but also the actuali-ties of your life world. As phases or stages, they would hardly be long-term and do not name permanent changes in the self. Think of it this way: Many skilled retreat directors begin an eight-day retreat by asking the retreatant what Week they are living. The retreat guide does not imply that the retreatant is going through a life cycle or.a phase with permanent effects--nothing so essential and long-range. The implica-tion is that we all go through certain seasoris and that we can usefully think of those seasons in terms of the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises. Many who have made the Spiritual Exercises yearn to keep the sense of progress and of forward motion that sustained them through the long days or months of prayer. They can help themselves do that by continuing one exer-cise that promoted that sense of progress during the Exercises: the preparato-ry prayer. Even those who turn to the Church's lectionary for the material of daily meditation or contemplation can ask for the special grace of the season they are in. They feel no unease or contradiction. On the contrary, they have a sense of familiarity and consonance, and a sense of getting on with life and with prayer. Few of us feel inclined to go back through the prayer texts and cycles of the Four Weeks, particularly over and over again. But you might find it useful to keep mindful of the special graces of the Weeks, and of the preparatory prayer. Re-creating Religious Life Joel Giallanza, C S. C Brother Joel recently completed his service in the ministry of provincial administra-tion and is currently Adjunct Retreat Director at Maryhill Renewal Center. His address is Maryhill Renewal Center; 600 Maryhill Road; Pineville, Louisiana 71360. /'~mong the principal tasks confronting religious life as the twenty-first cen-tury approaches is refoundation or, more descriptively, re-creation. While religious may not be completely comfortable with the demographics of increasing ages and decreasing numbers, they do not appear discouraged or despairing about the future: In fact, some communities have been reporting a modest and consistent increase in vocations and new apostolic ventures. Chapters, assemblies, and other gatherings of religious continue to search for the most effective means of responding to the needs of the Church and the culture in which they live. Among those means they assign high priority to ~'efounding or re-creating religious life itself. To that end, religious have explored the !ives and teachings of their founders and foundresses as well as the experiences and events which shaped the darly years of their communi-ties. The work now is to interpret those lives, teachings, experiences, and events for further practical application to contemporary religious life. The work now is to prepare for the future. Any creation, by its very nature, does not follow a predetermined blueprint. Nevertheless, there is one primordial model we can consider: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." These reflections will focus on the first three days of creation as a metaphor for the re-creation which religious need to undertake as they move toward and into the twenty-first century. In the Beginning During the first three days of creation, as Genesis relates the story, God 649 650 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 separates creation, giving each part a distinct identity. Only after this funda-mental work of separation and identification does God begin the cultivation of creation, filling it with a rich variety of living things, culminating in the appearance of humanity. Day 1 ~ Observation In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, covered in darkness; and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters. God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, one day (Gn 1:1-5). It is intriguing that, after the heavens and the earth, light is God's first creation. Light enables us to observe and to distinguish; light enables us to see what needs to be done. God was present and active, though creation was covered in darkness. The creation of light makes observation and identifica-tion possible. Thus, light is distinguished from darkness; the former is iden-tified as day, the latter as night. Re-creating religious life involves observation. Religious must look courageously and see clearly the quality of every aspect of their lives and then distinguish between what will enhance that quality and what will not. To some degree this self-observation has been going on as religious respond-ed to the Church's call to read the signs of the times. However, with chang-ing demographics and subsequent adjustments to communal life and institutional commitments, religious need to refresh their response to this call and examine their lives yet more closely. In recent years apostolic religious life has known what it is to be "with-out form and void, covered in darkness." Some of this experience stems from the demographics and economics which have signaled the significant change--if not the death--of the religious life of twenty-five years ago. Some stems from the communal, ministerial, and structural implications of those demographics and economics. Some stems from modifications which religious themselves initiated through the process of'revising their constitu-tions and the traditional practices of their personal and communal lives. The ways in which religious live and minister and organize their congregations have changed and no doubt will continue to do so. Clearly, religious life has responsed to the Church and the cultures in which it witnesses. That religious life has undergone change is by itself no indication that nothing further need be done. Could the formlessness, emptiness, and dark- Re-creating Religious Life / 65'1 ness which religious sometimes feel about their way of life be the result of not observing areas needing yet further clarification and identification? These observations of mine focus on one area central to the lives of apostolic religious: celibate community. There is an asceticism inherent in any way of life in which two or more individuals have committed themselves to one another. Principally, that asceti-cism involves maintaining the common good over personal preferences. The acceptance of such an asceticism is essential to a healthy marriage and family life and to a healthy celibate community. Without that asceticism, the basic mutuality of the commitment begins to erode, and eventually the passion and dynamism within the relationships dissipate, then disappear altogether. If we observe the quality of our celibate community life over recent years, we have to ask whether there are times when consecrated commitment degenerates into corporate complacency. This is not to imply that religious have lost the ability to live community. Rather, it asks whether we have suf-ficiently explored other models of living a celibate communal lifestyle with-in the heritage and tradition of our congregations. Frequently in the past, community "happened" in a relatively large resi-dence associated with a congregational ministry. The daily schedules and general patterns of life within the community were much influenced by the needs of the ministry. Generally, those schedules and patterns reflected and were consistent with individuals' expectations. As ministry diversified (and individualized) during the last twenty-five years, expectations also diversi-fied. Common schedules and patterns became less possible and less realistic, given the broad spectrum of responsibilities and time commitments of local community members. Unless those expectations are observed, articulated, and modified as necessary, particularly in residences originally associated with a single ministry, those members unable to be present at certain times and events can be branded as having lost their sensitivity to or even their appreciation of the value of community. The ways in which expectations are lived are not solely internal; others observe how we live together, for better or for worse. Coworkers and other associates shape their perception and understanding of religious life by the pattern and quality of life they observe among us. Though we cannot live our lives in slavery to the multiple, diverse, and often inconsistent expecta-tions and assumptions with which others characterize us, we should not for-get that religious life is a form of witness to the Church and the culture. It bears a responsibility to be a living example of the Gospel and a working model of Jesus' mission. We need to observe our life as celibate community with a probing and 652 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 questioning eye. Are our communities prayerful, hospitable, and happy? Do we take individual and collective responsibility for the house in which we reside? In our communities, can we comfortably and frequently discuss the Gospel, faith, and religious life? Do we invite and welcomethose consider-ing religious life? Do we enjoy one another? Do we know one another? Do we live our life together with passion? Day 2 -- Separation God said, "Let there be a space between the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters." God made the space and separated the waters which were under the space from the waters which were above it. And it was so.And God,called the space Heaven. And there was evening and there was morning, a second day (Gn 1:6-8). With the dawn of the second day, God begins to put order into creation. Specifically, he makes some working room, so to speak, space in which to continue and complete the work of creation. If the first day emphasized observation and identification, then this second day emphasizes separation and distinction. Re-creating religious life involves separation. In recent years religious have spoken and written much about the need for continuing renewal. Chapters and other gatherings have focused extensively, and sometimes exclusively, on the renewal and refoundation necessary for religious life to be a continuing evangelical and apostolic force. Chapter documentation often remains disembodied as the demands of ministry and the routines of daily life reassert themselves after the chapter closes. Patterns of life change neither quickly nor easily. Regardless of how sublime and profound chapter proceedings may be, we will never effectively legislate renewal and refoun-dation. We must provide space for patterns of individual and communal life to be re-created. For celibate community, the observation and articulation of differing and conflicting expectations may suggest creating some new space. Can quality of life be sustained and intensified if those expectations are left to coexist without enough space for coordination? But, on the other hand, if coordina-tion becomes synonymous with the lowest common denominator, is the effort to provide such space worthwhile at all? Sometimes, no doubt, coordi-nation will bring about re-creation, but this does not seem to be the normal pattern; more often than not, re-creation by separation should be considered. Separation will involve establishing new local communities. Alternative housing could be provided for members who are committed to exploring and implementing a communal lifestyle that will meet their expectations and Re-creating Religious Life / 653 maintain a consistency and an integrity which reflect clearly their commit-ment as religious. The assumption here is that such alternative communities would be established with the highest common denominator as the standard. Prayer and relationships and the practice of the vows would be regularly reviewed to assure that standard. Separation is not schism, it is not a condemnation of other communal lifestyles within a congregation. Twenty-five years ago it was possible to find striking, and even exact, parallels throughout the local communities of a sin-gle congregation. Often those parallels were evident among many congrega-tions, also. Today, even between large local communities of the same congregation, we can find striking differences. Separation has to do with dis-tinction, not division. It seeks to express the rich diversity of ways in which a congregational heritage can be embodied among those committed to it. Major superiors have a significant role in this, a multifaceted role. First, they can take the initiative of identifying people and providing resources for new ventures even if the original initiativecame from community members themselves. The major superiors' involvement could signal the validity of the venture for those whose first reaction is critical. Second, major superiors can offer their support, encouragement, and assistance as new communities get underway. When some "red tape" needs cutting or some bureaucratic procedure needs streamlining, they are usually in a privileged position for expediting whatever needs to be done. Third, they can serve as initial observers and objective consultants for new local communities, Their role is not to mold groups into their own image and likeness, but to see that the members remain faithful to the principles and practices they have agreed upon for their life together. Finally, major superiors can be a buffer between nascent local communities and the established community. Not everyone in the latter group will agree with new ventures and the direction they repre-sent. Major superiors should avoid any defensive posture which would make the new communities look like aberrations in the eyes of the established community. They should focus their explanations about these ventures on their continuity with the congregational heritage. Separation is a means of re-creating celibate community; it is an invest-ment in the future. No doubt there are risks involved, but the prophetic nature of religious life has always placed religious in precarious situations. The risks are a challenge to acknowledge God's providential presence and activity. As religious we must reaffirm our faith in providence and move boldly into the future. Without faith, we undermine the very foundation of our religious life; without movement, we betray any assurance we profess to have about the future. 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 The future will come, but not in a vacuum. The choices we make now will determine the quality of that future. In making those choices, we need to create a fresh space, to provide a place for the future. Day 3 -- Cultivation God said, "Let the waters under the heavens be gathered into one place, and let the dry land appear." And it was so. God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered he called Seas. And God saw that it was good. God said, "Let the earth produce growing things, plants bearing seed, and fruit trees bearing fruit containing their seed, each according to its kind, upon the earth." And it was so. The earth produced vegetation, plants bearing seed according to their own kinds, and trees bearing fruit containing their seed, each according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, a third day (Gn 1:9-13). The third day brings cultivation to what has been created. With the emergence of land, "growing things" can appear; each of these growing things contains individuality and generativity. Life--and all of creation-- will continue; there will be another day. "And God saw that it was good." With this third day, God has completed the foundation for what will appear on the succeeding days of creation. And the foundation was good. Re-creating religious life involves cultivation. The future quality of celi-bate community will not appear by spontaneous generation, nor will it be manufactured according to elaborate specifications. It must be cultivated. Establishing new local communities does not signal the dawn of the seventh day; it is not the time to rest and lay aside further efforts. Quite the contrary, it is the time to move forward enthusiastically and confidently with every-thing that has been initiated thus far. This is the time for "growing things?' The root of the word cultivate is a term which can be translated "to move around" and "to dwell," depending upon the context. This dual ety-mology is quite appropriate for these present reflections. Cultivating celibate community requires some moving around. Community compromises vitality if it stops moving according to its own informed choices; that is, if it begins to operate on automatic pilot. Vitality springs from the continuing observa-tion and articulation of expectations. Patterns of personal and communal life must be mutually monitored with integrity and without fear of reprisal. Relationships must be nurtured naturally With quality time and refreshed regularly through reconciliation. Cultivation assumes that expectations and patterns and relationships will evolve. Cultivation flourishes in an environ-ment of exchange, interest, care, and concern. Cultivation moves around Re-creating Religious Life / 655 within and among community members to prevent that stagnation which taxes commitment and tempts to convenience. Cultivating celibate community requires some dwelling. Cohabitation is not celibate community; it merely means that two or more people inhabit the same residential space and need not involve any interpersonal commitment. Dwelling goes beyond living together to include entrusting our lives to one another. If we do not have mutual trust with those with whom we live, then what grounds do we have for claiming we entrust our lives to the Lord? It is a basic tenet of faith that the quality of our relationships with one another verifies or falsifies the quality of our relationship with the Lord. Truly dwelling with one another, recognizing that our life together makes a home of the house, is a certification of our love relationship with one another and with the Lord, and a witness of integrity to others. There is no flawless formula for assuring cultivation; it involves all the effort, discipline, and asceticism requisite for any healthy relationship. There are, however, some principles which can support that effort, discipline, and asceticism. First, clarity of vision: Members must have a sense of the direction in which they hope the community to move. More than an in-house conve-nience, that vision is part of the apostolic character of celibate community. Second, communication of values: A common vision is built upon shared values. Without this sharing, there is little common ground to cultivate; com-munity quickly becomes an arid land. Third, cooperation for vitality: This is a discipline and an asceticism which positions the common good as the high-est priority. The vitality of vision and values can be cultivated only coopera-tively; it cannot be assumed. Fourth, concern for vocation: This is the foundational principle. Vision and values have no vital and substantive pur-pose and meaning unless community members share a sincere concern for the integrity of their commitment to the vocation of religious life. In practice, these principles are skrategies which must characterize the re-creation of celibate community. Cultivation is a daily enterprise which will mark the presence and activity of community members with one anoth-er. Thus, cultivation never comes to a point of sufficiency, beyond which no further efforts are necessary. There will always be both peaks and plateaus in the quality of life within any community. The principles of clarity, communi-cation, cooperation, and concern are reminders that neither the peaks nor the plateaus are places of permanence. We must cultivate celibate community if it is to have a prophetic place in the future and even if it is to have a future at all. We must cultivate it since the culture will not support it. We live in a culture whose materialistic, indi- 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 vidualistic, and sensualistic preferences and practices have compromised its capability for fostering the personal commitment which lies at the heart of both celibacy and community. The decline of marriage and the family is but one testimony to that compromise. Celibate community can stand as a prophetic sign that such a commitment is humanly possible. For the future, that sign may be the small seed which is cultivated into the means of trans-formation for the entire culture. In the Days to Come "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." As the story is presented, nothing existed before God began his creative work. Everything could be made as an original, without the pressing and pressuring influence of a long-standing tradition. God could, so to speak, work from scratch. Re-creating religious life, and celibate 'community in particular, cannot assume the absence of any influence. There are values and traditions and practices by which communal religious life has endured and prospe,red over the cen-turies. The observation, separation, and cultivation which will position reli-gious life for re-creation cannot dismiss that influence as unnecessary, nor distance it as untouchable. The influence of those realities which have shaped religious life can be incorporated and assimilated into the re-creation; thus will be their creative transformation. Admittedly, some refinement may be necessary to preserve the spirit of those values, traditions, and practices. Nevertheless, such refinement is not a ruling of inadequacy, but a rendering unto new life. In the days to come we must observe closely the ways and means of our religious life together. We need to articulate clearly and forcefully the values by which we will actually live.Prophetic statements from individuals or chapters or other gatherings that remain forever disembodied phrases will never be true characterizations of religious life. Indeed, they can become pharisaical, lofty ideals without living intent. Observation, as I have used the term, has more to do with enacting motivation than with simply gathering information. In the days to come we must separate ourselves from whatever patterns of life have compromised or constricted our desire and ability to live our religious commitment with intensity and integrity. We must re-create the spirit of being called, of being set apart for the Gospel. Without that spirit, the prophetic prowess of religious life is neither affectively experienced nor effectively expressed. Within that spirit, religious life claims the power and proclamation which are the inheritance of Gospel witnesses. In the days to come we must cultivate our life together. We need to re- Re-creat.ing Religious Life / 657 create the commitment we have made to God and to one another. We have at our disposal a power for and a promise of common life that can bring hope to a world broken by betrayal, gouged by greed, and disheartened by deceit. The passion with which we live our celibacy, poverty, and obedience will counteract the standards set by that betrayal, greed, and deceit. The convic-tion with which we re-create and realize our communal life will cultivate and confirm the presence and activity of the kingdom within and around us. "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." This is an old story, but one that may be enacted once again as religious life approaches the twenty-first century. Observation, separation, and cultivation are strategies which can support the work of re-creation; and yet we should never displace the fundamental truth that this is God's work, all is grace. The alliance between those strategies and that grace will enable us to speak of religious life and of celibate community with the same bold confidence which marked Yahweh's promise for the temple. "The Lord Almighty speaks: 'Is there any-one among you who can still remember how splendid the temple used to be? How does it look to you now? It must seem like nothing at all. But now do not be discouraged, any of you. Do the work that is needed, for I am with you, so do not be afraid . In the_days to come the new temple will be more splendid than the old one, and there I will give you prosperity and peace' " (Hg 2:3-4, 9). To the Bird of My Prayer Songster, your hymn of praise Never ceases in a melody all your own; Chanting a song--pleading, thanking-- With the sheer joy of having voice to sing. From highest pole to roof, you find your perch, No earth-bound bush can stifle flight to God. Anna Louise Staub, S.S.J. 217 W. Commercial St. East Rochester, NY 14445 Prophetic Witness in Contemporary Religious Life Jean Steffes, CSA: Sister Jean Steffes has been general superior for the Congregation of the Sisters of Saint Agnes. Her address is: 427 Gillett Street; Fond du Lac, Wisconsin 54935-4598. The notion of being prophetic in today's society can conjure up many images in us, depending upon our perspective. For some of us being prophetic might seem a quality to be admired in Dorothy Day, Archbishop Romero, the martyred Jesuits of El Salvador, and the Agnesians Maureen and Teresa of Nicaragua, but one to which we could never aspire. It wo~ld mean speaking, acting, or giving witness in larger-than-life situations that may never be the platform for most of us. Another perspective might give rise to images of angry demonstrations directed at society and culture or at our Church. The call for greater inclusion of women in roles in Church and society, for the right to life of the unborn, the unwanted, and the elderly, and for the preservation of our environment can result in tactics that seem or are angry. For those who shrink from such approaches, even the very valid and necessary content can be lost. A third image of the prophet (which we may enjoy) is of one who foretells the future. In our society there are those who use past patterns to predict our economy's collapse or other dire conse-quences. For those of us who live a Gospel faith, such prophets do not give the hope so necessary to engage in present realities and so make the world a better place here and now. The images I have shared are overdrawn stereotypes, but they show the difficulty in speaking on the topic of prophetic wit]aess. In this reflection I will explore three broad areas: (1) What does it mean to be prophetic? (2) prophetic witness and the current experience of religious life: (3) an agenda for the future. 658 Prophetic Witness / 659 What Does It Mean to be Prophetic? Walter Brueggemann says in The Prophetic Imagination, "The time may be ripe in the church for a serious consideration of prophecy as a crucial ele-ment in ministry."~ Prophets understood how change is effected. They knew the power of language, how to "evoke newness, 'fresh from the word.' ,,2 Let us develop at some length Brueggemann's ideas of prophecy. He states, "The task of prophetic ministry is to nurture, nourish, and evoke a consciousness and perception alternative to the consciousness and perception of the domi-nant culture around us . ,,3 I believe his approach can help us understand prophetic witness as it applies to the goals and meaning of religious life. Beginning with the story of Moses, we can learn what it means to form an alternative community. The story of the Exodus shows us how Moses and the Israelite people were brought out from their domination by an imperial religion and the politics of oppression and exploitation. The religion and pol-itics of Pharaoh worked hand in hand to keep him in power and control. Through the interaction of Moses and Aaron with Pharaoh and his regime, the Israelites began to see the difference between the freedom of God and the lack of freedom of the Egyptian gods. Belief in the Egyptian gods served to maintain a social order that allowed for oppression and exploitation. The God revealed to the Israelites is tied to no social order. God is a God of free-dom who calls for an alternative community built on the politics of justice and compassion. The alternative consciousness that Moses fostered in the Israelites was both critical and energizing. His critique, validated when the Egyptians were struck by plagues which their gods were powerless to counter, showed up false claims to power and authority which could not keep promises in the face of the free God. Prophetic criticism has an element of grieving in it as the prophet mourns the oppressions encountered. The Israelites were afflict-ed, oppressed, and ground down by the dominant Egyptian culture, and so they risked the freedom of the free God against the regime. The energizing happened not through what the Israelites already possessed but through what was promised. God went before them in pillars of fire and cloud and trans-figured this fear into energy. The people were energized to follow the free God to establish an alternative community built on justice and compassion. Though the Israelites left Egypt to live more freely, they, too, eventually developed a dominant culture. It was characterized by the reign of Solomon, whose whole achievement appears to have had the self-serving purpose of securing the place of the king and king's dynasty. Solomon did not welcome the ideas of a free God and an alternative community any more than did Pharaoh, for they threatened the established order. There were three bases 660 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 for Solomon's rule that generally mark any dominant culture. First, there was incredible well-being and affluence, though it was not equitably shared. Some went without enough so that others might have too much. Second, an oppressive social policy sustained the standard of living. There was a system of forced labor in which laborers met the needs of the state although unable to meet their own needs. The politics of justice and compassion disappeared, and the order of the state became the overriding agenda. Third, there was the establishment of a controlled and static religion. God and God's temple became part of the royal landscape. How could God, seen as living in a house provided by the king, say anything critical or abrasive? Solomon was countering the counterculture of Moses: the economics of equality was countered with the economics of affluence, the politics of justice with the politics of oppression, and the religion of God's freedom with the religion of God's accessibility. The dominant culture of Solomon managed to brush aside Moses' vision. The gift of freedom was taken over by the yearning for order, and the human agenda of justice was used for security. Against reali-ties like these, people are called to utter prophetic words. Moses both criticized and energized. Like him, Jeremiah is shown as proclaiming the critique while Second Isaiah offers the energy for the new vision. The prophets offer symbols that contradict a situation of hopelessness and give public expression to long-unspoken fears and hopes. They show us that the dominant culture leads people to despair of new life. They present an alternative consciousness, grounded in the unwavering faithfulness of God, that can energize the community to new forms of faithfulness and vital-ity. Jesus, too, is shown as a prophet who criticized the dominant culture of his day. "Jesus is remembered and presented by the early Church as the faithful embodiment of an alternative consciousness.''4 Jesus' ministry and death oppose the politics of oppression with the politics of justice and com-passion. The counterpart to the crucifixion is the birth of a new reality that finds full expression in the resurrection. What does this very challenging reflection on prophets and prophetic consciousness have to say to us in religious life? What is apostolic religious life's prophetic role in church and society today? It is important to reflect on this, recognizing that we have generous portions of both dominant culture and alternative consciousness within us. We recognize our conflicted nature, yet we aspire to a prophetic role in church and society. We must ask, then, whether apostolic women religious have been co-opted by our dominant consumer culture or whether we manifest an alterna-tive consciousness based on the freedom of a free God. Do we show a belief in community and interdependence as inherent in our way of life, or are we Prophetic Witness / 66'1 fragmented and self-centered? Are we motivated by a desire for justice and compassion, or do we prefer stability even at the price of the exploitation and oppression of "invisible" others? The questions are hard but necessary as we examine the religious way of life for evidence of prophetic witness. Prophetic Witness and the Current Experience of Religious Life Our challenge as women religious is to position ourselves to recognize the revelation of the future. One current writer, Mary Jo Leddy, N.D.S., speaks of the need to develop a postliberal model of religious life. Her thesis is that the basis for our contemporary religious life in North America is a declining culture that depends on the liberal thought fed by industrial capi-talism. While liberalism has made many contributions to modern society, it cannot deal with the reality of limits. If there can be no limits, ultimately there can be no meaning or values. Liberals tend to see themselves as contemporary or progressive and in conflict with the conservative or traditionalist ideas of Church and religious life. In Leddy's view, the more serious obstacle to the transformation and renewal of religious life results from the tension between the liberal and the prophetic approaches. The prophetic leads us to a more radical response in spirituality, mission, ministry, and community. The prophetic is risky, for it calls us to response to an unknown future rather than reaction to a no-longer-valid past. Leddy says, "We who live in a disintegrating empire today are summoned at prophetic moments to criticize the patterns of decline within our culture and within ourselves, to contemplate the holiness of God in the midst of these dark times, and to evoke the creative desire in one another for a meaningful alternative for the future.''5 These words are very similar to those Brueggemann uses to describe the prophetic imagination. The prophetic intersects with our apostolic religious life. Contemporary writers call religious to the same challenge the prophets faced in biblical times. Religious congregatiohs represent an alternative to the values of the dominant culture but do not stand apart from the people. Rather, apostolic religious recognize clearly the need for reflection, discernment, and a ground-ing in the holy as they criticize, yet energize, themselves and their peers to bring the values of the Gospel into contemporary society and culture. We have reflected on what it means to be a prophet. We have also recog-nized the challenge it presents to apostolic religious. Let us now look at cur-rent beliefs and responses regarding apostolic religious life in light of prophetic witness. I will consider mission direction, the meaning of member-ship, and some current realities. These areas provide us with the material to critique and energize our own prophetic potential. 662 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 Mission Direction Although expressed differently in each congregation, mission direction today involves in some way a commitment to transformation of the world, the Church, and ourselves through promoting systemic change for the quali-ty of life; justice for the economically poor; furtherance of the role of women in church and society; and mutuality, inclusivity, and collaboration in all relationships. Such mission direction clearly reminds us of our partici-pation in the mission of Jesus. When we call ourselves to systemic change for the quality of life, what do we mean? We are asking for two things, systemic change and quality of life. When we say the system is not working well, how do we want to change it so it will work better? For whom do we want it to work better? If we take a global view, we see that entirely too much of the world's popula-tion is forced to live at a level that does not meet its basic needs of food, shelter, health care, and education while a minority has more than its share. We see that, in order to feed the wants and needs of a market economy, rain forests are irrevocably destroyed, topsoil is depleted, deserts are expanded mercilessly, and the world's fresh-water supply is tainted and diminished. On local and national levels we 'must ask ourselves how the needs of the poor are being met. After all, Jesus was clear in showing us that whatever we do to the least of his people we are doing to him. The poor are receiving poorer education, less nourishing food, substandard or no housing, and inad-equate health care in this country so rich in resources and technology. We must use our ingenuity, gifts, and talents to change a system that has canonized greed and competition in order to satisfy wants. How can we in our own daily living point the way to change that would benefit those with least access to the system without denying the legitimate gains and goods of our society and culture? Such responses as simplifying our lifestyle by avoiding use of Styrofoam, recycling our disposables, and making thought-ful choices regarding food and other consumer goods can raise our con-sciousness and lead us to getting others involved and to networking with those already involved. Indeed, most changes begin as ordinary people change their thinking and the patterns that go with their thinking. We must know our values so that they, rather than the manipulative marketing of an over- consumptive dominant culture, will shape our choices and responses. We claim that we want justice for the economically poor. This value links with the goal of systemic change for the quality of life. Jesus' life and ministry showed us his love of preference for the poor. This is not to say that Jesus does not love all, but that his ministry was not directed in the main to those who were the power brokers of his day. These, of course, he invited to Prophetic Witness / 663 join him in loving God and neighbor, but the cost was generosity, sharing their possessions. Jesus was good news for the poor. Are we who are called to continue Jesus' mission also good news for the poor? Whether in direct service So the poor or in ministry with middle- and upper-middle-class peo-ple, are we focused on a more just distribution of and access to necessary goods and resources? Do we in our teaching and in our healing, pastoral, and social works always have in mind those who are less fortunate than we are? Are we willing ~o call others to this consciousness even when we see and know that the poor are not to be idealized? They, like us, have faults and failings and may not reflect Christ as we might want them to. A reverence for the poor calls us to a view of Christ very different from that of popular piety. While comforting, it is challenging; while open and inviting, it is demanding; and while satisfying, it never ceases to call out for more--more love, more generosity, more hospitality. Not all of us are called to direct ser-vice with the poor, but all of us are called to seek justice for the poor. In this quest we continually recognize that we, too, are among the needy and are enriched by those we serve. Another commitment common to religious is to the furtherance of the role of women in church and society. Worldwide, the conditions of women vary from those in countries where women have legal equality to those where brides are still considered property. Women the world over have the primary responsibility to feed and care for the children even though means and resources are not equitably at their disposal. In the United States a vio-lent crime is committed against a woman every three minutes, and a woman is raped every six minutes. Households headed by women are increasing while the rate of their income is dropping. Children are our most precious resource, but those who care for them are denied the necessary means. Our Church struggles with the role women are to play in its pastoral, liturgical, and philosophical reflections.In the U.S. the most recent draft document on women's role in the Church and society calls for equality for women in theory but holds back in p.ractice. As John XXIII said in Pacem in Terris in 1963, "Since women are becoming ever more conscious of their human dignity, they will not tolerate being treated as inanimate objects or mere instruments, but claim, both in domestic and in public life, the rights and duties that befit a human person.''6 The women's issue is more than an issue, it is a perspective that demands attention and response. Once unleashed, the forces of confusion and dissension drive towards resolution. In our lives we will use inclusive language, advocate for women, and net-work to help make society a friendlier place for women to develop and share their gifts and talents. Despite such a commitment on the part of congrega- 664 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 tions, there is dissension among women religious in language usage and other matters. Our heads and hearts find themselves in conflict here, leading to results that could be less than satisfying. Can we avoid being our own worst enemy in the search for inclusivity? Let us not deny the richness of our past, the demands of the present, or the call of the future as we work for justice and right for women in contemporary society and church. Another area of commitment of apostolic religious today has to do with mutuality, inclusivity, and collaboration in all our relationships. The values implied here are very positive, and yet to achieve them one must give in order to receive. The mystery of sacrifice is contained in these words in a way that is not apparent at first glance. For mutuality to occur, I must not only believe in myself, I must also learn to believe and trust in the other. With whom do we allow ourselves to be mutual? Do we let power, position, language, style of dress, or education prevent us from speaking our truth or hearing that of others? In terms of inclusivity, do we go to the extremes either of having no boundaries or expectations or of expecting everyone to fulfill every role or function in an organization? Inclusivity involves includ-ing others in the concerns affecting their own lives. Not all will do every-thing, but there must be input from those affected. In terms of discernment, though all are included, not all perspectives can be responded to or chosen. We often try to make inclusivity mean pleasing everyone all of the time even though this may be impossible. Finally, let us look at c.ollaboration. If we pull the word apart, we can see the meaning as co-labor or working with. At one time we may have considered ourselves collaborative if we hired lay teachers and nurses and more so if we hired lay administrators. Collaboration at its most radical, however, calls us not just to bring others into our projects and have them do things our way, but to work with others and to respond to the signs and needs of the times together. Unhe.althy com-petition or too rigid control in ministry or community strikes at the heart of the love which binds us together so that the 'risen Christ may be discovered among us and in our world. The Meaning of Membership The consideration of mutuality, inclusivity, and collaboration leads us into the meaning of membership. Community life is a topic, issue, and reali-ty that continues to generate much attention. As apostolic religious we have such different experiences, expectations, and definitions regarding commu-nity life and the meaning of local community. Sometimes when the phrase "local community" is used, the assumptions and expectations already in place cause us to "shut down," to become unable to continue a dialogu~ Prophetic Witness because we are really unable to h~ar one another. (I personally have felt anger, despair, defensiveness, longing, fear--and also hope--around this topic.) What has led religious women to this state and what can we do to move beyond shutdown and breakdown to a breakthrough? It is clear that, in this matter, apostolic women religious are striving, striving to understand meaningful bonding and to express it through authentic participation in community. Someone recently said that we may have so emphasized mission and ministry in the years of renewal following Vatican II that c6mmunity has become the shadow side of our way of life. If that is the case, the difficulties surrounding our efforts to deal with community life are deep and profound. We must face and deal with this central area of our way of life so that we are nok torn apart by unclear expectations and assumptions. I offer three perspectives for consideration in the area of community: human-growth issues, the importance of faith community and faith sharing, and l~ousin~ in community. We sometimes get bogged down by human-growth issues in our lives with one another on the local or on the broader community level even though our lived experience points to the need for human growth and development among ourselveg. Each of us knows how difficult it is to change herself and how truly futile it is to expect to change another. Each of us must deal with herself and her own issues in as healthy a fashion as 16ossible. Only when my behaviors and patterng are healthy may I be able to imiarove the dynamics between myself and those with whom I interact on a r~gular basis. The challenge here is to deal with my own behav-iors, realizing that I have no real or lasting power over the behaviors another may choose. My role is to try not to feed into unhealthy behaviors that may be pre.sent around me. Although unatteiaded human-growth issues can wreak havoc on healthy relating within community, still apostolic religious must recognize that we will never overcome all of these problems either individually or corpbrately. Gra~e biailds on nature; it will not replace or deny our humanness. We must realize how eadh sister's desire and motivation influence her choices regard-ing her behavior and interaction. We cannot choose for each other, only for ourselves. Each ~'eligious needs to be challenged to a self-knowledge and self-awareness leading to growth. Practices such as spiritual direction, the annual retreat, and the daily consciousness examen can keep us grounded in reality yet open to ongoing conversion. We must deal with human-growth-and-development issues, but not remain there. We must be committed to the making of or participating in faith community as a means of nurturing shared life, shared love, and shared vision. We must find ways to relate regularly and meaningfully with our sis- 666 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 ters in community in order to reflect on, renew, and recommit ourselves to the mission, charism, and spirit of our congregation in our daily lives. Depending upon our miriistry and the proximity of other congregational members, how we do this will differ; that we must do it if membership is to mean more than an annual touchdown or the reading of congregational mate-rials is the reality we face. Some Current Realities I. recogniz9 that each congregational member will have other communi-ties thai will lay claim to her time, energy, and affection. That is good and healthy. My point is that we must have quality time for our own congrega-tion as well, as part of the ordering rhythm of our lives. Sometimes one's commitment to ministry or to parish can become so all-encompassing that ther~ is. little or no time or energy left for her to express her membership in her religious congregation. For me, the making of faith community involves reverence for one another, presence to one another for celebration as well ag dialogue and reflection, honesty so that we can affirm one another or call each other to growth, and a commitment to the goals and developing agenda of our congregation. This topic of makirig and participating in faith community leads to another important topic: the difference between housing and local communi-ty: We often equaie the two and this ~quation may not reflect that community life is broader than housing. The recent lived reality of women religious shows that faith community on the "local" level is not necessarily synony-mous with where a sister lives. In some locales th~ sisters have committed themselves to hei,ng a faith community without walls; regular meetings, cele-brations, and gatherings among them challenge and deepen their member-ship in the cbngi'egation, in other locales the sisters in a particular house function well as a faith community. We must recognize such differing com-munity realities and encourage them on the local level as well as on the con-gregational level. A commitment to community in our current society of intenge individualism and consumer gratification keeps us involved in a prophetic role. An Agenda for the Future The prophetic nature of this life to which we are called leads us to cob-sider an agenda for~the future. Any living organization must be open to change or it will die. In a sense change is an ordered type of death, not death as final but rather death leading to new life. One of the greatest strengths of apostolic women religious is the serise that the agenda or common goals Prophetic Witness / 667 belong to all of us. This strength we will build on as we look at change and new life for us religious. Central to understanding ourselves as women religious is understanding our spirituality. I believe that the biggest challenge for each of us with regard to spirituality is to lead more integrated lives. Integration does not just hap-pen in a person's life. It must be worked at daily through a continuous blend of action and reflection leading to further action. Somehow the aspects of one's life must be part of a whole rather than segments that do not overlap. In an integrated life my religious commitment is not separate from who I am when I am at leisure. My response in mission and ministry is not limited to my paid professional work but may overlap into volunteer involvements in food pantries, visiting the sick or elderly, letter writing, and other activities. Community life is not an end in itself in an apostolic religious institute, nor is it merely a refuge that ought to be there when I want and need it. Community is a place or space where I share faith and vision, humanness, and the quest for the divine. My ministry is not all-consuming; I do allow myself necessary time for recreation and reflection. And my prayer life is more than specified exercises or spiritual reading. All these somehow fit together and reflect my spirituality, my integration of life. An integrated life has powerful witness value in a society that wants everything and does not want to be reminded of the need for balance. Integration is not synonymous with transformation, but it can surely open us to being transforming elements in the institutions and structures of society and culture. In our desire to be prophetic witnesses, we commit our-selves to transformation of the Church, the world, and ourselves~ I recently read that one way of understanding transformation is to look at the life cycle of the butterfly. First there is a caterpillar; next there is the chrysalis stage, in which the organic matter is quite shapeless and formless; finally, there is the butterfly. Transformation is what happens in the chrysalis stage. The process is not very appealing; it suggests a profound letting go as well as an openness to a different future. While transformation has global ramifications, it will not begin at the global level but rather at the local level, where we can encourage one anoth-er to let go of attitudes or practices that may have been more helpful to a known and comfortable past than to the needs of the present or the concerns of the future. The desire for transformation of the world, the Church and our-selves flows directly from our relationship to God, self, others, and creation. It is expressed in a commitment to justice, peace, and the integrity of cre-ation. Transformation is not something anyone can directly make happen by willing it. No one person caused the recent freedom movement in Eastern 668 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 Europe, nor can one individual move our economy from a military focus to a domestic and global focus responding to human and planetary needs in a humane fashion. Likewise, no ond person's recycling of materials will reverse our problem with excessive waste. Yet all of these and many other alternative responses can indeed lead to transformation. When such respons-es begin, networking or replicating starts to happen and systems begin to change. At the May 1990 meeting of the council of the International Union of Superiors General (UISG) in Rome, the following global challenges to evan-gelization were identified: the widening gap between the rich and poor; indi-vidualism characterized by greed, violence, terrorism, abandonment, indifference, and irresponsibility; loss of human dignity through political oppression, social discrimination, and economic injustice; the breakdown of family life; the destruction of the environment; inability to trust the human community, coupled with a preoccupation with survival. These challenges help us to formulate an agenda for transformation that is larger than ourselves, and they clearly link with the transformative ele-ments for religious life in the future developed by the major superiors of U.S. women's and men's communities (LCWR/CMSM) in August 1989: prophetic witness; contemplative attitude toward life; poor and marginalized persons as the focus for ministry; spirituality of wholeness and global inter-connectedness; charism and mission as sources of identity; change of the locus of power; living with less; broad-based inclusive communities; under-standing ourselves as Church; and developing interdependence among peo-ple of diverse cultures. These challenges and transformative elements reflect in broad strokes the goals and concerns ofapostolic religious. Though the future depends in part upon us and our efforts, it depends even more on the grace of God our Creator, the inspiration of the Spirit, and our cooperation with each other as members of the body of Christ, joined in a common humanity and gifted with a common creation. Our communion with and in Christ calls all humanity "to reclaim relationships with family, clan, and tribe, to choose the common good, to seek solidarity with one another and with the earth.''7 For transformation to occur, we must believe and act in such a way that we give the message that life has meaning and that, assisted by God's grace, our responses make a difference. The prophetic imagination described by Brueggemann remains viable as we respond in our own times with an alter-native consciousness, as we critique our dominant culture and yet energize one another for a more just and compassionate future. Our faith gives us the vision and the mission, our hope gives us spirit and energy, and our love Prophetic Witness / 669 grounds us in the mysterious blend of transcendence and immanence that is life. I close this reflection on prophetic witness and apostolic religious life with Isaiah's words: "Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" (Is 43:18-19). NOTES I Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), p. 9. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid, p. 13. 4 Ibid, p. 88. 5 Mary Jo Leddy, Reweaving Religious Life: Beyond the Liberal Model (Mystic, Connecticut: Twenty-Third Publications, 1990), p. 164. 6 John XXIII, Pacem In Terris, in Seven Great Encyclicals (Glen Rock, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1963), p. 297. 7 Helen Maher Garvey, B.V.M., excerpt from notes on the Meeting of the General Council, UISG, Rome, Italy, May 7-11, 1990, p. 2. Storms Tornado watch, the weatherman said, to last until ten o'clock. Four hours to wait for what may be or not. Storms of spirit come suddenly; swirl through the heart's towns and wash its skies to morning clean-- with no hours to wait for what so swiftly is. Sister Elizabeth deSales Dee, S.S.J. St. Joseph Convent 7300 Torresdale Avenue Philadelphia, Pa. 19136 Mission or Consecrated Religious Person: Which Comes First in Apostolic Institutes? Marie Therese Levey, R.S.~. Sister Marie Therese has taught school in country areas of Australia. Later she spe-cialized in teaching instrumental music: piano and violin. More recently she has done research in liturgical music and earned a Ph.D. Her address is St. Joseph's Convent; P.O. Box 472; North Sydney, N.S.W. 2059; Australia. In May/June 1988 this joumal published Sister Georgine Scarpino's article "The Unemployed Sister: Challenge and Opportunity." It defines the unem-ployed sister as a woman religious physically and emotionally capable of active ministry who, despite seeking work, currently has no formal position. It gives two causes for this modem phenomenon: the location of the work and the way ministry decisions are made. In summary, Sister Georgine points out the need for congregations of women religious to develop programs within religious institutes to address both employment and unemployment. Surprisingly, no published response has followed her article until now. Since women religious have sacrificed potential material wealth, marriage, and motherhood in order to serve the Church in institutes devoted to apos-tolic works, it seems unjtist that the situations described occur. However, occur they do, and the first step toward rectifying the problems is to admit them. One then asks why they exist and seeks an appropriate cure. Sister Georgine presents causes of these problems in the United States. Although here in Australia there are general parallels to what she describes, yet the causes and thus the cures seem somewhat different here. The present writer has, in religious life, personally experienced "job search" and the special type of demoralization which occurs in close-knit communities when one is the "odd man out." I thus feel equipped to write on this subject. Regardless of the differences between countries in reasons for the phe-nomenon of the unemployed sister, I believe that the two elements most 670 Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 671 needed in addressing the problem of appropriate placement in apostolic works of religious personnel in institutes of consecrated life are: (l) a correct balance in religious leaders between their attitudes towards responsibility for the institute's authentic mission and their attitudes towards the rights of the individual members; (2) adequate use of written media, particularly those which are internal to the religious institutes and which include forums for peer review and the opportunity for subjects to respectfully challenge those directives or oversights of superiors which seem to threaten the authentic mission of the institute or the rights of its members. Mission and Person The religious state belongs to the life and holiness of the Church (canon 574), and the primary mission of the Church is the care of souls. Ecclesiastical law insists that apostolic action for institutes of consecrated life should confirm and foster union with God (c. 675, §2). The Church has Msb a social mission, namely, to support and protect people's material well-being and to inspire and promote true civilization through Christian philoso-phy. 1 In the social category of mission can be placed the apostolic pati'imony of many institutes, and the Church insists that such patrimony, or intentions of the founder, should be.preserved by the institute (c. 578). Thus, leaders of institutes of consecrated life f6unded for apostolic works, in order to justify their ongoing existence and their acceptance of candidates, need to ensure that both the corporate entity and the individual members have a correct con-cept of this patrimony as well as machinery to implement it. Bearing in mind that the Church places the person at the center of the social order, religious leaders have a r~sponsibility to see that members of the institute are placed in apostolic works which are appropriate to the tal-ents and needs of each (see Perfectae Caritatis 18). The pastoral commit-ment of a leader in an apostolic institute does not remove--but, rather, ¯ increases--her obligation towards seeing to appropriate placement of per-sonnel. Although religious leaders nowadays delegate administrators for works for which members of their institute are the trustees, a large part of the responsibility of preventing serious damage to the person through long-term lack of appropriate apostolic work must lie, by the nature of their role, with the religious leaders. Moreover, the responsibilities leaders have to individtial persons within the institute vary according to how long and in what manner they have contributed to the institute (see REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 1989, p. 460). Since it is often claimed that consecrated religious are in short supply, the application of the above principles might seem straightforward. In reality 672 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 there are circumstances in the modem world in general, and here in Australia in particular, which cause it to be very difficult for congregational leaders. As in the United States, the location of the work in Australia affects the opportunity to do it, and the way ministry decisions are made in America has parallels h~re. Some details may clarify the differences between practices in the two countries. Conditions in Australia Prior to Vatican II, the missioning procedures in Australian apostolic religious congregations were relatively simple. Obedience, or the will of God, was equa~ed with doing what a superior told one to do and living where the superior told one to live. In larger Australian congregations, (over 1,000 members) often more than half were primary school teachers, and a large proportion of the remainder were either secondary teachers or nurses. Changes of residence for those "in the ranks" usually involved interchange between personnel engaged in similar works. This principle of interchange was fundamental to the smooth application of the third vow. When a difficult posting was required--for example, to isolated rural areas--younger reli-gious under perpetual vows were usually sent. Postings to apostolic works almost invariably came directly from a major superior, whether or not that superior's apostoli~c background was in the relevant work. Recruitment of staff for a school or a hospital by an administrator, or board, was foreign to most Australian apostolic religious congregations of women prior to about 1960, whether the mission was in the city or in the country. In the early 1960s a radical change occurred in the overall secondary education system in the most populous state of Australia, New South Wales. That change to what was called the Wyndham System, emphasizing science and the arts, was much more revolutionary in Catholic education for girls than it was either in state education or in Catholic education for boys. In the typical local Catholic school run by consecrated religioi~s women in Australia before that time, the girls remained in the same school, almost entirely staffed by r(ligious, from kindergarten through secondary school years. In state education and in Catholic education for boys, secondary schools were already separated at least from lower primary schools. Thus, state-school teachers and men religious in secondary education had been required to have university degrees before some larger institutes of w~men religious recognized such a need. When the more farsighted Catholic educa-tors pointed out that it would now be a problem to provide adequate sec-ondary education for the girls of less well-off families in local pa~:ish schools, some congregations saw in their higher grades a source of more Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 673 thoroughly trained religious personnel. That vain hope made difficulties in long-term planning for the transition from religious to lay staff. A further dramatic change in Australian education, which was to affect all ministries, occurred in the early 1970s. After a break of twenty years, the Australian Labor Party, headed by Prime Minister Gough Whitlam, was elected to govern the country. One of its earliest reforms was to make uni-versity education free. Although some criticized the extraordinary cost this was to the nation, the move brought the opportunity for tertiary education to the masses. Before that time, university education had been for the fortunate and the chosen. Now the initiative for tertiary education was up to the indi-vidual. The suc.c~'ss achieved by some "late starters," many in their forties and fifties, revealed how much talent had previously been unused. From about 1975, attitudes within religious congregations changed for both superi-ors and subjects. Superiors began to listen more attentively to those who did well in their tertiary studies, and subjects found their personal confidence and self-esteem strengthened by their academic achievement. With the advances made in the study of theology and the social sciences, it is now rarel~ pretended that apostolic religious life is simple, or that doing the will of God is always as clear-cut as that decided by another human being alone, whether or not that person h.appens to be a religious superior. Because of the broader scope of ministries open to women religious, modem specialization, and improved administrative techniques, the principle of interchange among personnel--which for many years had been integral to the practice of the third vow--is now becoming more and more difficult. In addition, although the median age of religious congregations is rising faster than that of the general population, many religious feel they have the right, and indeed the duty, to request proximity to aging parents. Religious congre-gations in serious decline have virtually no young sisters under perpetual vows who might be sent to isolated schools in rural areas. Since the majority of Australian sisters have reached the "winding down" stage of their lives, many now look to the cities from whence they originally came. In addition to these developments within the Church, the governments of Australia and New Zealand have acknowledged, in the form of funding, the benefits to the country as a whole of certain works of the private sector, including Catholic, and have thus made it necessary to rethink the ecclesias-tical structures for some ministries in which religious are involved. The equitable processing of government funding necessitated merging many local works, including parish schools within dioceses, into larger systems, most of whose personnel are now lay. These mergings required the develop-ment of policies acceptable to the relevant bishops, major religious superi- 674 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 ors, and state and union representatives for the management of the works, particularly those of healthcare and education. Making the policies work in practice required the establishment of sophisticated structures, which in turn required religious or lay personnel with the proper management skills. As a result, the power of the leaders of religious institutes with regard to the placement of personnel in traditional works in Australia and New Zealand has been lessened. Unlike lay staff, religious in Australia are not permitted employment status; this is not the case in New Zealand.2 Because of all of these circumstances, religious superiors have had to rethink how to preserve their true patrimony oi" authentic mission and what human cost would be involved. Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? The whole issue of the employment, or active involvement, of religious personnel leads to the question: Which is of greater importance to an insti-tute claiming to be dedicated to apostolic works, the works for which it was founded or the persons who will serve in those works? For leaders of insti-tutes whose acceptance of candidates demands that they offer them appropri-ate apostolic work, the answer is neither obvious nor simple. However, the Church has offered some very sound advice in the general area of human work. Of the documents which have come from the Vatican since the council, few could be more relevant to our times than the encyclical letter Laborem Exercens (LE) of the present pope. Pope John Paul II presents human work as "one of the characteristics that distinguish man from the rest of the crea-tures." It is "from work [that man's life] derives its specific dignity" (LE Introduction). Pope John Paul describes the "conflict between labor and cap-ital in the present phase of history" (LE 1 l f f). The Church, he points out, has always taught "the principle of labor over capital." Both are causes of pro-duction, but while capital is the mere "instrumental cause," labor is the "pri-mary efficient cause" (LE 12). In the labor-over-capital issue, Pope John Paul equates labor with per-sons and capital with the material returns from their labor. Consecrated reli-gious, even those who have employment, individually receive no capital }'or their labor. They have sacrificed this right for a stable form of living by which they can follow Christ more closely under the action of the Holy Spirit (c. 573). In Australia and New Zealand, more than half of the person-nel in apostolic institutes made their commitment in the years when religious superiors had supreme control over placement into works, and they are now beyond the stage at which they might have arranged for alternative security Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 675 in old age upon seeing that the original system in which they sacrificed pos-sible wealth, marriage, and motherhood was beginning to break down. So the competent authorities obviously have a serious question of obligation towards them now. Many of the religious have perhaps forty years of life which they could still offer in apostolic works within the Church. Pope John Paul also writes concerning the roles of the "direct and indi-rect employer" (LE 17). By the "indirect employer" he refers to many differ-ent elements in society which make up the human environment of the worker. He says: "The role of the agents included under the title of indirect employer is to act against unemployment, which in all cases is an evil, and which, when it reaches a certain level, can become a real social disaster" (LE 18). These are strong words from the pen of the vicar of Christ. The principal agent in the concept of indirect employer for religious personnel would be the wider Church in that country. Should not, then, sections of the local Church accept part of the responsibility to address any problems of unem-ployment for religious? As well, the question should be raised within reli-gious institutes: Is it justifiable for religious superiors to accept candidates to poverty and obedience within a particular institute when those superiors do not have the power to place them in suitable work soon after profession? Perhaps declining numbers in a congregation increase the temptation for superiors to do so, and perhaps they excuse their actions with the reminder that all should "trust in God." I believe that succumbing to such a temptation would constitute power abuse of a particularly destructive kind. The abuse would surely be more damaging if others within the institute were already searching for similar employment, and were exposed to the same market forces. Power and Recruitment for Apostolic Works The power of recruitment brings us to the heart of the present discus-sion, namely, the opportunity for or deprivation of suitable apostolic work for religious personnel. It is neither possible nor desirable to completely sep-arate apostolic persons from the society in which they live. Professed mem-bers of Australian religious institutes are exposed to the forces which are part of the sophisticated living of the decade leading up to the twenty-first century. In this society ~nd age, control of recruitment for works represents power. For religious personnel, recruitment can be translated into mission-ing. Procedures for the missioning of religious should be such that they lead to the spiritual strengthening of the members and the corporate growth of the institute. The immediate practical problem to be faced by governing bodies of religious institutes is to develop policies for missioning procedures that 676 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 are within their power to implement, that support evangelization, that are just and equitable and adapted to the personhood of each sister, and that accord with both canon and civil law. Nowadays apostolic work for religious may be broadly placed into four categories: (1) viable institutions of which the con-gregation is the trustee, (2) charitable works of the congregation or of other ecclesiastical bodies, (3) viable institutions of other ecclesiastical bodies which pay stipends or salaries for the work of the sister, and (4) viable and nonviable works found in profane structures at the initiative of the religious. (1) Viable institutions owned by a religious institute are, in a distinctive manner, part of its patrimony. They are, as well, material assets of the insti-tute, which its leaders should, in. poverty, care for "with the diligence of a good householder" (canon 1284). Viable works of religious congregations are businesses, and for businesses to survive and attract personnel today, they must be competitive. Vatican II (Gaudium et Spes 64) teaches that eco-nomic development through technical progress "must be fostered, along with a spirit of initiative, an eagerness to create and expand enterprises," and that the purpose of productivity "must be th.e service of. the whole human per-son, viewed in terms of his or her material needs and the demands of his or her intellectual, moral, spiritual, and religious life." Pope John Paul points out that "capital cannot be separated fr6m labor" (LE 13) though, of course, in the case of religious persons, the capital is, through poverty, directed elsewhere than themselves. Religious persons, knowing that they are materially contributing towards the whole, find in the capital "confirma-tion and support" (LE 13) for the work done. Sound economics and evangel-ical poverty should go hand in hand. In order to maintain the correct balance between responsibility to the institute's mission and respect for the rights of the individual members of the institute, congregational leaders (trustees of the works) must regard the work and those involved in it as separate entities: the work itself is important regardless of who does it. Individual members must have the same percep-tion so that they may practice the spirit of poverty, or detachment. There should, accordingly, be protective structures for the ministry, including sometimes the combining of similar works under one administration so that they will continue even in cases of illness or of anyone's taking longservice leave. It is particularly important that this principle of continuation be respected when works require only one person in the local area, for example, instrumental music practices.3 Setting up protective structures for ministries in order to maintain the institute's patrimony will include policies for recruitment of staff. In those works in which a number of religious and lay people, are engaged, religious superiors have the direct power to influence Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 677 administrators in the recruitment of personnel. It stands to reason, then, that---other things, like professional qualifications, being equal--in recruit-ment for works of which the religious institute is the trustee, preference should be given to its own members. (2) The category of charitable works might include refuges for the needy which are supported by the congregation and by external donations. Without viable works there can be no charitable works. The Church's teaching on a "preferential option for the poor," by which the poor should have a preferen-tial claim on the Church's resources, cannot be initially applied without the resources. Once competent authorities decide that a charitable work is authentic to the charism of the institute, then the congregation should set up, as it should for its viable institutions, protective structures to preserve the work, whether or not there are religious personnel to staff it. Indeed, true missionaries strive to make themselves ultimately dispensable--teaching the disadvantaged how to be self-reliant and how to recover the dignity which is their right (see LE 9). Protective structures would include finance arrange-ments which can be monitored, and the work should be the source of support for the individual religious workers; that is, their salaries or stipends should be fed back into the general system. Again, for a religious institute's own charitable works, other things being equal, one would expect that members of the institute who are under civil retirement age should be considered first when positions are vacant. In Australia, women over sixty years of age (men over sixty-five) who have limited assets (a category which includes religious) are eligible to apply for the Social Security payments from the government. With the pres-ent societal structures, it seems that religious who receive Social Security should not deprive others (perhaps more deserving) of needed employment positions. In some dioceses it is established policy not to accept into stipend-ed positions religious women who are over sixty. If protective structures for an institute's works do not include allocationof salaries, or stipends which are independent of Social Security payments, then receipt of the latter would generate for the ministry an artificial security which could destabilize long-term plans for it. (3) In the third category above, which here in Australia refers principally to Catholic education, lie the greatest current problems of placement of reli-gious personnel. In most of Australia, the recruitment of staffs for nonpro-motional positions in Catholic schools is in the hands of local principals. This power evolved with the gradual acceptance of lay staffs into the parish schools previously staffed by religious. Perhaps to our discredit, it is only recently (since about 1975) that there has been widespread acceptance of lay 678 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 teachers into promotional positions. In general, the power of religious supe-riors to place personnel in diocesan works is limited to those positions which were previously held by other religious of their own congregations. Declining numbers, and thus declining positions, led to some religious being exposed to market forces for ministries. School principals, whether religious or lay, still have the power and responsibility of staffing. This has now become an excessive burden for principals of Catholic schools in the coun-try, and an excessive power for those in the city. One solution would be to have staff recruitment moved to the systemic level so that consistent staffing policies might be applied across dioceses. This might lessen the number of religious who today feel forced into the fourth category above. The exposure of some religious to market forces in the area of ministry is quite a different method of missioning than the appropriate placement of a person by a religious superior. The question should be asked: Is it just for the two types of missioning to coexist ~within the same religious institute? The answer to this important question will require great honesty and humility on the part of religious leaders. Religious exposed to market forces are some-times refused employment in diocesan works or, when school enrollments drop, dismissed by school principals of their own congregation who have the power of recruitment. Such practices are effectively structuring out of Catholic education the few teaching religious who are left, and are a serious cause of unemployment amongst religious. Some religious teachers even turn to the state school system for employment rather than lose touch with the classroom and "real life." Considering the authentic commitment which the religious have made, this alternative seems to the present writer an anomaly. On the other hand, relatively little investment has been made by the wider Australian Church over the last twenty years for the education in theology of lay teachers for Catholic schools. The above problems can now be solved only by negotiations between diocesan and religious leaders who have in mind the well-being of both the mission and the persons. As well, past oversight in planning could perhaps be avoided in the future if religious are encouraged to contribute ideas through appropriate media. Adequate Use of Media There are two levels of written communication which are particularly important in preserving a correct balance between responsibility for authen-tic mission and respect for the rights of individuals. These levels are media within the wider Church and media within religious institutes. Media within the Wider Church. Recruitment of personnel for Catholic works is effected via both the Catholic journals and the metropolitan dailies. Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 679 Like most other countries, Australia has its regular Catholic state and dioce-san papers. Because these are virtually all the Catholic community has for information on what is happening in the Church, they warrant better support and readership than they receive~ In general, editorial staffs in this country strive to maintain an adequate standard of journalism. Despite these vehicles of communication, religious leaders sometimes offer only private invitations to coveted positions which become available. They would avoid much criti-cism if they were to justify, via the Catholic media, such private invitations, especially those to academic posts in Catholic theological institutes, which remain predominantly male. Media within Religious Institutes. If any group of people ever needed to be skilled in transmitting information to each other, it would surely be the members of a religious community. Today there is frequent reference to the "role of the prophet" within religious institutes. Prophets must have vehicles in which they can deliver the message, and the printed word offers the par-ticular benefit of time for considered expression and response. I believe that religious institutes need especially these two kinds of print media: directo-ries and forums for challenge. Directories. In order for general leaders to affirm a work as part of the institute's authentic mission, they must understand clearly what the work is about and be sufficiently convinced of its value to defend it, if necessary, at the general chapter. On the other hand, if chapter delegates believe that the congregation has more ministries than they can validly affirm, they should seriously and courageously argue that systematic steps be taken towards reducing the number.4 Chapter delegates, in order to make valid contribu-tions to discussions and debates regarding works, must have information about their nature and value. Since this is so, it stands to reason that those who elected them--namely, all members of the institute--should have it too. Therefore, each apostolic institute in today's world needs its own official directOry, revised and published annually and containing information on the residence and mission of each member. The directory, which would be an implicit demographic study of the institute, should contain, as well, an annu-al financial statement of the institute and its provinces, with statistics on works which had some elements in common. I believe this would assist greatly in the appropriate placement of personnel and act as a deterrent to increasing fragmentation in ministries. Forum for Challenge. If members of religious institutes with at least parallel qualifications to lay teachers are to have the same work opportuni-ties in the institutes' traditional ministries, then positions that are open should be advertised first within "the system." Trade unions insist on this 680 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 right for their civilly employed members, so it should not be too much to expect within the religious institutes themselves. As well, religious subjects often have insights and ideas for better management which are unknown to superiors. They should have the opportunity to share them. Their ideas may be of benefit to all so that problems like unemployment may be addressed before they gain a hold. Since religious women were, for over a hundred years, to an extent indoctrinated not to express an opinion, they will need to be encouraged to contribute. Therefore, internal journals which contain forums for challenge must have a mandate from a competent authority and must be frequent and regular. When what is written in them is not uncharita-ble- that is, criticizes a policy or a structure and does not attack a particular person--and is limited in audience to professed members of the institute, then it is not a threat to loyalty. Indeed, such a forum could become a c.orpo-rate examination of conscience and could preserve or restore the balance between responsibility for authentic mission and the rights of the person. It could also act as a specific prevention or cure of the evil of unemployment within the religious institute. In educating religious to the use of an internal journal, it should be pointed out that the institute, being made up of human beings, is quite subject to error and that it could be harmful to their beioved congregation to write only of its virtues and to overlook its faults, including possibly incorrect policies with regard to the placement of personnel. Conclusion More than twenty years have passed now since religious congregations first experienced declining numbers and lay teachers became an ac.cepted part of Catholic education here in Australia, so there has be~n adequate time to face up to problems which have occurred regarding recruitment for specif-ic works. Sister Georgine recommends that a program "address all the dimensions of employment and unemployment." However, "job clubs" and "comprehensive programs" are unlikely to take shape until religious leaders acknowledge that the problem is there. I believe that leaders also have the duty to provide those engaged in the works with information and reflection based on surveys or particular works so that they will know what the scope of that work will be in the future, how long the work itself is likely to sur-vive, and what the superiors are planning in that regard. There is no guarantee that any of the above proposals are a complete cure for the evil of unemployment within religious life. However, endeavor-ing to maintain a correct balance between responsibility f~r the mission and respect for the persons of the members of the institute goes to the causes of the evil and is more likely to effect a long-term cure. The use of appropriate Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 681 media is a method of achieving the "maximum feasible participation" in effecting a cure. We are living in a world at the brink of the third Christian millennium. It is a world which needs the commitment of consecrated reli-gious life as much as ever and perhaps more than ever. A life wholly dedi-cated to contemplation is a rare gift. However, there is plenty of evidence to indicate that apostolic institutes of consecrated life have an important place in contemporary society. The chief characteristic of Christian moral doctrine besides its Christocentric orientation is the integration of love and justice, the latter being "the strong and firm will to give to each his due.''5 For a reli-gious woman who has sacrificed potential marriage, motherhood, and career in order to serve the Church in an institute devoted to apostolic ministry, unemployment is a serious injustice. The Church and religious institutes should work together for both prevention and cure. NOTES I See R. Hoffman, "Mission," in The New Catholic Encyclopedia. 2 For the purpose of the present article, the word employment will sometimes refer to apostolic work, whether or not the religious has employment status in the civil law. 3 The present writer admits to a certain bias towards instrumental music teaching. I believe that this work is of great importance to the liturgy of the Church. One of the long-term effects of the mergings of parish schools and the employment of lay teach-ers in Australian Catholic education was the death of much traditional music prac-tice, which was not absorbed into the diocesan systems and had few protective structures. It seems to me that the most important strategy for preserving the practice of music is to remove revenue management from the hands of the individual teacher. Otherwise the work tends to become like that of a self-employed person--a situation which is not compatible with either poverty or obedience. Skilled musicians in parishes attract worshipers. I believe that budgeting towards producing musicians for the Church should be part of its primary mission. 4 The idea of permitting novices to have unlimited scope in "working out" their future ministry is, I believe, a recipe for disaster; apostolic congregations already have difficulty in staffing missions recognized as authentic to their charism. 5 New Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 8, p. 70. Quotation from St. Thomas Aquinas (ST 2 a2ae, 58.1). Inner Africa: A ,Journey of Conversion Susan Rakoczy, 1.H.M. Sister Susan Rakoczy, I.H.M., began ministry in South Africa in October 1989 and currently lectures in systematic theology and spirituality at St. Joseph's Theological Institute in Cedara. Her address is 21 Buchanan Street; 3290 Howick; South Africa. It was about 2:30 in the morning as the door of the plane was opened. The humid and steaming air of West Africa enveloped me as I was pushed down the stairs by the crowd onto the tarmac of Ougadougou airport. Swept along with women carrying immense bondles on their heads, children looking for their parents, and determined men striding forward, 1 suddenly thought, "I am on holy ground--I am in Africa." But if I had bent down to kiss the ground I would have been trampled--better to let myself be borne by the flow of humanity to the small airport terminal and the arrival procedures. In the rush and confusion of all the formalities I could sense that I had now entered something deeper than my own self for 1 was touching "mother Africa." Later, as we stowed our luggage in a friend's car for the drive to the hostel to spend what was left of the night I wondered, "What have I done with my life?" What indeed. ? The experiences of my years in Ghana (1982 to 1988) provided many different answers to that question. Most essentially they led me into the depths of conversion Which I can describe now as "inner Africa" for I soon learned that "mother Africa" would ask everything of me. The Call Some people dream all their lives of serving outside their own country, but that was not my experience. Not until I was finishing my doctoral studies in religion at Catholic University in 1980 did I sense a call to serve beyond North America. Through the months of preparation, prayer, and discussion 682 Inner Africa: A Journey of Conversion / 683 which preceded my journey to Ghana, people often asked, "Why are you going?" Slowly I clarified my own sense of call, speaking of my desire to share something of my gifts and education with the "young Church" of Africa. As I read about Africa and its needs, struggles, and promise I became aware of a continent and Church reaching towards maturity of faith and vision. Somehow I sensed very deeply that I wanted to be part of that. But it is not enough just to desire to serve in Africa. It is an immense continent, large enough to contain the continental United States two-and-a-half times. I received an invitation to teach in the major seminary in northern Ghana (our congregation had come to that section of the country in 1976) and so the plan was to come and spend a year getting acquainted with the culture and life of the people and then to begin teaching in 1983. As with many people who come to Africa, things did not turn out quite as I had planned. While I did work in Navrongo, a small town in Ghana for a year, the seminary door never opened wide enough to admit a woman theologian. But life at the Centre for Spiritual Renewal, a retreat center in the city of Kumasi, gave me a much wider scope for ministry with opportunities in retreats and spiritual direction, intensive leadership formation with prayer group leaders, and writing and editing, all of which enabled me to enter more deeply into Ghanaian life and culture. All the preparation I tried to do, while helpful in some ways, was still inadequate to the challenge of Africa. After I arrived I realized that what I needed was a radical openness, a sense of adventure, a desire to meet the continent and its people on their own terms. As the day of departure neared my own sense of expectancy of what was ahead increased. Shortly before I left I spent a few days on retreat at our com-munity hermitage. The entries in my journal for those days speak of praying for courage and joy and experiencing great wonder at this call I had received. The night before I left I wrote: Tomorrow~departure. I feel more than ready. Mostly I feel a deep free-dom and joy which has placed fear on the sidelines. Somehow 1 know I will meet the Lord--in and of his people--in ways never before imag-ined and experienced. And that is enough--more than enough--to move me across oceans and cultures. 1 go in utter joy and freedom. As the plane left United States soil the next day, ! remember how my whole spirit moved forward towards Africa. Soon I descended the steps of that plane that hot morning in Ougadougou. Inner and outer Africa now began. Call To Conversion As I reflect on my years in Ghana, I experience them in the images of 684 / Review for Religious; September-October 1991 "outer" and "inner" Africa. The first was the living of African reality in terms of my ministry; it describes what I did, with whom I lived, the rich-ness of my experience in those years. But "inner Africa" was the core of it all. My years in Ghana were fore-most an experience of conversion--a turning from, in order to turn to some-thing else, something which challenged everything I thought I was, knew, and had within me. Paul Robb, S.J., describes well the essence of conversion as a journey into the unknown: It is difficult to endure conversion because it seems to put into jeopardy our very lifestyle and ministry, but even more so because we sense that it touches the very roots of our life. It reaches deep into our being---our personality, our choices, our very self. It touches in places that are unknown, places where we are strangers. To begin a journey into an unfamiliar, haunting land is frightening, but not to know whether we will find life or death, blessing or curse, at the end can be terrifying. To enter the journey with all its uncertainties proves the possibility of finding life and life in abundance. Not to begin the journey, but to harden and steel oneself against it, is already death.2 The images are true and strong and evocative of my own African experi-ence. In my first weeks, as I entered "outer Africa" in its immensity with all the challenges of a new culture, 1 also experienced a sense of inner chaos. Some days I felt as if I were drowning, the waters of Africa enveloping me, About two months after I arrived I realized that I had to truly "walk through the door of Africa" ifI were to survive. In my journal I wrote: I have straddled first- and third-world existence in great disharmony. Today I felt that part of this is ended--it is within Africa now--that (God's) grace will work, from the inside out. It is as though 1 have now truly entered Africa. Once I had walked onto the solid ground of Africa never again did I feel this inner chaos. The work of conversion could now begin. These conver-sions were multiple and touched every dimension of my life as a North American woman of faith in a radically different culture: My first-world perspective was turned upside down; I was called from idealism to realism; I moved from giving to receiving; 1 experienced strength becoming weakness; I passed from death to life--from myself to God alone. Inner Africa: A Journey of Conversion / 685 First-World Perspective Turned Up-Side Down We come to a new culture as we are. If we are even halfway faithful to the challenges of cross-cultural experience, our own self-understanding of our home culture will change dramatically. This I experienced very pro-foundly. I discovered that I had brought a very large amount of cultural bag-gage with me. It was disconcerting to be criticized as "too American" at times--that is, too self-assured, too curious, too organized, too conscious of time; too ready with my questions and opinions. What was salutary, if painful, was the opportunity to allow my world-view to shift into new patterns. I first learned that the United States is not the center of the universe, even if it often acts that way and its military and eco-nomic policies impact the rest of the planet in such dramatic ways. It is one country among many, with its own strengths and weaknesses. I learned also how diverse and beautiful are the gifts of the people of other countries. 1 especially experienced this gift in the opportunities 1 had to meet people from so many different parts of the world and to enter into something of the richness of the world's cultural heritage, to see how differently people can feel, think, and organize human life. There were two central ways in which my world began to be "turned upside down": my experience of poverty and my attempts to learn new dimensions of the common life and hospitality. Poverty is a hard and often a "loaded" word. We fight it and yet some-how sense that in being poor we will find the key to new life in solidarity with others. The Gospel's call to detachment from riches and from every-thing that would hinder our response to the invitation from Jesus to disciple-ship has always challenged Christians profoundly. To come to Ghana was certainly to see poverty and share in it in some small ways. It was indeed a shock for me to see the extent of poverty and marginality: lack of clean and safe water for so many, schools with few books, hospitals and clinics without supplies, limited transportation, rudi-mentary communication, erratic electricity. Some of the practical details of my new lifestyle were a challenge. It was "farewell" to dependable electrici-ty, unlimited water, telephone service, easily available fuel, and to book-shops, movies, and regular postal service. It was, on the other hand, "hello" to a sense of living on the "edge of things" at times--lanterns and attempts to get kerosene for them, recycling every possible drop of water, limited food supplies, simple amusements, and difficulties in communication. All these changes were hard in different ways. I wrote: I am struck again by the gap between theory and practice in my life, for 686 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 example, to talk about poverty, being with the poor--and then not to embrace poverty wholeheartedly, as indeed Jesus did. The:conversion to acceptance of and a certain ease with my new simple lifestyle took time. I never did get used to the erratic postal system and its consequences for poor communication with family and friends. On the other hand, as the years went by I gradually experienced in myself a certain ability to live with much less and to find in that a real freedom. To have to do things simply and patiently experience inconvenience gradually became a way for me to share some sense of solidarity with the poor who have no options and no outside resources. I was becoming comfortable with the simplicity of Ghanaian life and my heart was slowly becoming centered on what was most essential. I was not poor in the way the ordinary Ghanaian is poor but I did come to experience in small ways the shocks and diminishments of poverty. 1 also learned new meanings of community life and hospitality because African life is lived in common. The extended family of several generations living together in one compound has been the normal pattern in rural areas. Daily activities take place outside, and people are inside only when it is rain-ing, or at night, or if they are sick. The atmosphere in both urban and rural areas is one of physical and psychological openness to friend and stranger. Entering into such a different cultural atmosphere of hospitality and availability also challenged my Western habits. In the West we live inside; people come into our lives generally at our convenience thanks to the cultur-al presuppositions that one lives by calendars and schedules. But in a situa-tion where the culture says "welcome" all that changes. People walk into one's life often unannounced, and the person at the door could bring the unexpected pleasure of a friend coming to visit or someone arriving for a retreat without any previous communication or someone coming to ask for prayer---or the bishop with overseas visitors. 1 learned to be always ready to adapt to people's needs and to realize that my life and my time were really no longer my own, Prayer time was often interrupted; reading and study had to be immediately abandoned to answer someone's need. Privacy became very relative since, although I had my own room and office, my own space and time were now the resources of the people I tried to serve. These demands taught me much about my own selfishness, the need to have my own way, my own schedule, my own plans. I never did become totally comfortable with being physically and psychologically available at all times. Yet gradually I learned to absorb something of the spirit of welcome and hospitality which are so important in Ghanaian culture and to live them in my halting way. Inner Africa: A Journey of Conversion / 687 The first dimension of conversion in my life then was a shift in con-sciousness from being a woman of the first world to one living in the third world and trying to enter fully into life there. My American perspective and cultural habits were turned upside down and inside out. The result was a double-consciousness for I saw, and felt, and experienced first- and third-world realities at the same time. Nothing could or would be the same again. From Idealism to Realism Soon after I came to Ghana I realized what a "good press" the African Church has in the West. The reading I had done before I arrived had given me the overwhelming impression of a "young Church" on its way to real inculturation as a true African expression of the Christian faith, with signifi-cant achievements already made in liturgy and catechesis. It is true that inculturation is happening, theological development and reflection are proceeding, liturgy is more authentically African in some places--but the pace of everything is slow and that is the pace of Africa. Idealism about the Church was gradually replaced by a realism about the Church as it is. To be a "young" Church is exactly that. In the southern part of Ghana modern Catholic