Suchergebnisse

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

Issue 37.5 of the Review for Religious, 1978. ; Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development Immortality, Old Age and Death Developing Constitutions and Directories Volume 37 Number 5 Septe~mber 1978 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. © 1978 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $8.00 a year; $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor September, 1978 Volume 37 Number 5 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gailen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Not As Demanding an Answer Mary Corona, F.M.D.M. Sister Mary Corona, nurse and mid-wife by profession, has been a religious for 23 years. After fifteen years of service in Zambia, she is presently w6rking at a nursing home of her com-munity: Mount Alvernia; Bramshott Chase; Portsmouth Rd., Near Hindhead; Surrey, En-gland. Recently someone quoted a sister as saying that she will remain in religious life until or unless Mr. Right comes along. With the greatest respect for those who see the crises which presently exist in our religious communities as lying e!sewhere, I would submit that here, in this attitude, is both nut and kernel of the~ pyoblem. How big this. problem is might be difficult to assess, but it would seem fair to suggest that it is as large, or as small, .as the number of sisters dragging along who are oriented in this way. It is true that religious life is bedeviled with all manner of other diffi-culties, but these will never destroy consecrated living. Indeed, they never could;;for consecration is of the heart, and is able to stand against the ebb and .flow of contrary tides--but not that of the uncommitted heart. An-chorless, it drifts aimlessly to and fro. One can only feel a deep compassion for sisters living in this way. They have missed out on both sides of life, and the wonder is that they stay so long. Our way of life has little to offer once theheart grows cold, for all that remains is an existence Centered on regulations, work, meals--and frus-tration. Religious life was never rheant to be like that. It was never meant merely to provide board and lOdging while our heart plays elsewhere. It was never meant simply to provide a base to which we return every so often to pick up our mail and clean clothes. We did not make vows of religion just to obtain financial security, material comfort, and freedom from the re- 641 642 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 sponsibility of rearing a family. Yet all this, and much more, is implicit in an attitude of waiting for some one or something "worthwhile" to come our way. If we come to the point where we see our:institute as something separate from the Person who calls us, there is little wonder we lose our love for it. No one can really love an institution on its own merits. No sane adult waxes lyrical over the government, or glows with love about the local housing department. Institutions, especially legislative ones, are just not things which warm our hearts. Our own institute can soon come to be viewed in much the same way.-.:Once we have lost our focal point all else begins to diSintegrate. Riales become restrictive, authority becomes oppressive, ac-countability is no longer acceptable, and our eyes start roaming the world for a way out. Ways out are not difficult to find, and so the further we get from our committed attitude of heart, the more normal it seems to be wandering abroad. We may still talk bravely about the love of God. But words do not feed a hungry heart, and we are hungry---craving for love as only a woman can crave. Separated from the trtie center of our lives, we will v.ery soon seek out its counterfeit. Borderline friendships, such as sincere married women would consider out of the question, are accepted as offering "meaning" to our drifting lives. Social activities unbecoming to a life consecrated by vow are welcomed as a relief from boredom. Fantasies, imaginings, unrealistic day-dreams eat away at us until, predictably, we file our petition for dis-pensation. What started off as something so glorious finishes with a slip of paper authorizing us to go our way. It would be pleasant to think that this unhappy pic(ure is an exaggeration. But one only has to look back through religious perio~licals covering the last few years, and pick out the articles written by sisters, to find a substantial proportion containing material,of this depressing kind. So, what should our lives be? Although we rub shoulders with many another on our journey through life, in the final analysis it is our own individual experience that shapes our views and convictions. My own con-victions concerning religious life have been crystallized and refined in many a furnace. Therehave been times when it seemed that I, like many another, just did not have the necessary courage to go on. St. Paul seemed to me to have missed the mark when he said, "You will not be tempted beyond your strength," for on those occasions I was being sorely tempted, in a way that seemed to have far outstripped my strength. , Yet it was at this very point each time that help came. Some tremendous force seemed to pluck me out of the fearful void and I was set down once again on firm ground. I now know experientially what I had known pre-viously only on theory, that St. Paul was right in what he said,just as I also know that my vows were a bilateral contract, and God on his side has an obligation to care for me--and he will. I know that however far he tosses Not As DemandinR an Answ~er / 64~ me, he will cradle me again. I know that my life is as inextricably bound up with his as his is with mine. He cannot do without me any more than I can do without him. I might be dispensable to others, but he will never throw me hway. He calls me by my name, softly and gently, not as demanding an answer, but as begging a surrender. I am his cherished one, his beloved child, and all that I do, all the wrong that is in me, will s6mehow be colored by his great ~lo~ve for me. As I grow on awarenes~ of his love, I begin to drop my masks and lower my barriers; I unfold and develop, unconscious of the strength of his con-cern. I'no longer worry~ whether I am worthy to be loved by him--such questionings are futile, for his love is already a fact. I no longer fear to accept his love, worried over my shabbiness, because near him my tatters are transformed. ~. I am aware of my weakness, my need for help, my sometimes inability to "go itS' alone. 1 know that I nee~d friends, I need. encouragement, I n~ed acceptance and love from those around me, for the stuff of my being is human and craves these ~hings. But I do not need a lover, I do not need a Mr. Right. I would have no room for him. I would not know what to do with him, for all the time I would spend with him my heart would be crying out for my true lover, my Lord and Master. I wear His ring on my finger and there it will remain until in death another will remove it, for then all need of visible signs will have passed. I know I have many faults--some glaring, ¯ some tucked away--so be it. He will not allow me to persist in dangerous or damaging attitudes for long, but he will love them out of me, and in his tenderness will leave no scars. I_will never leave him, not through any strength or goodness of mine but because he will not let me go. He bargained for me at too great a price. Why should I want to leave him anyway? What fault can I find in him? Where has . he failed? What promise has he not kept? When has his love grown cold and~ his eyes sought out anothe~r in preference to me? I can accuse him of none of these things. Through~ut my life others have let me down, but him-- never! I have pained and anguished him. I have demanded my head, and he has given it to me. I have argued and tossed the ball with him, provoking a reaction and, having exhausted myself, found his long, beautiful patience waiting quietly to take me back again. I have never received a reprimand, not even in the deepest places of my heart, but in any wrongdoing I have only ever been conscious of his heartbreaking quietness while he waits, and, as we set off together again; it is as though the wandering past had never been. And so my vows and my ~religious life are only means to a glorious end. They are not my life, but the !oom on which the fabric of my life, the fabric of my love is being woven. They will hold all things together for me until the One I have loved so imperfectlyin this life will invite me to quit it and come with him, where, because he will never leave my side, I shall do all 644 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 things perfectly. And then, in the words of that delightful English medieval recluse, Julian of Norwich, "All will be well. All manner of things will be well." This then is what was promised to us on making our religious profession. We were assured that if we faithfully observed all that was implicit in our vows we would attain to eternal beatitude. We took the unknown future on trust, and in its unfolding we have doubtless experienced great joys and rich blessings, both interwoven with a handsome share of heartbreak. Things have changed, people have changed, we ourselves have changed. No one ever promised that it would be otherwise. Yet in all the movement in which we are caught up, God has remained constant. He has not, he does not, he will not change. So infinitely lovable, tantalizingly beautiful, how is it possible for us to want another? We have our Mr. Right, maybe we never stood still long enough to recognize him. Maybe we have never moved in closely enough to experience him. It is never too late, for in his constancy he is still waiting. He has not moved. He will always be waiting while there is the smallest hope that we might turn back. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS HAS MOVED! As of June 19, the editorial office of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS has relocated from its Grand Boulevard location to its new address: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108 Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development Philip D. CristantiellO Dr. Cristantiello is a consulting psychologist to St. Joseph's Seminary, St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing, the Dominican Sisters of Newburg and to Elizabeth Seton College. He resides at 130 Sherwood Ave.; Yonk.ers, NY 10704. Once upon ~. time a person could reiy on .his certainties. They accom-panied him as comfortable companions throughout life. For example, just about everyone knew that the priestho6d was limited to men, that homo-sexuality was not only different but also deviant and that no child born Robert would become, an adult called Roberta. It wasn't even necessary to discuss such matters. They were considered self-evident. Now, however, we have come uncomfortably to the realization that society has taken many of our "knowns" and chan.ged them to."maybes." So it is fitting to discuss the subject of psychosexua! maturity with a certain degree of caution. The views expressed in this paper are directed particularly toward pro-grams of preparation for the priesthood. It is likely, however, that many of the comments will apply to all who have chosen a celibate way of life. After briefly identifying some of my working assumptions, I shall discuss toe topics of sexuality, psychosexual maturity, intimacy and celibacy. In ad-dition, some questions about the effects of a homogeneous environment on preparation for. celibacy will be raised. The final section of the paper will offer some guidelines to seminary educators. Since each of these topics is so complex, 1 have focused my thougl~ts on their psychological aspects. My intent is not to minimize the moral and theological dimensions of these subjects. They are simply beyond my competence and are appropriately left to others. ~ 645 646 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 Some Working Assumptions My discussion of psychosexual maturity is based upon certain assump-tions derived from empirical studies of healthy and mature persons and concepts of biological normality.~ These assumptions are: ---All forms of sexual expression are not equally reflective of normal psychosexual development; e.g., homosexuality. --The criteria for judging mature behavior in non-celibates will not necessarily be the same for celibates; e.g., procreation is normative ¯ for the species but trot for religious. --The absence of, or seeming immunity from, sexual striving and stresses is trot necessarily indicative of psychosexual harmony; e.g., the absence of conflict may be due to such mechanisms as repression. ---Mature individuals are not invariably stable or immune to dis-organization; e.g., a priest may have a personal crisis which tem-porarily disrupts confidence in his vocation, but over the long run the quality of his commitment can remain high. ---Strong, persistent motivations will assist the celibate in organizing purposeful-behavior; e.g., Christian directional stability helps one cope in an unstable, value-changing society. --The validity of concepts of psychosexual maturity does not rest upon their being evidenced in the personalities of most religious; e.g., in the Kennedy-Heckler stud), of the priesthood most priests were found to be underdeveloped. This does not mean, however, that psycho-sexual maturity is impossible in the priesthood. ---It is unlikely that I can propose a universally a6cepted concept of psychosexual maturity. The diversity and complexity°w, hich one may find in the experiential world of well functioning celibates has not been adequately researched and studied. Sexuality ' ~ ' The Sexualization of Celibate Life Sexuality is increasingly selected as a topic of discussion by celibates. The appearance of books, workshops, and articles devoted to various as-pects of this subject attest to this assertion. There is an apparent readiness on the part of many persons in religious life to address the phenomenon of "human sexuality. Indeed, there has been a curiously sudden emergence of "expert commentators" on the subject. In the past it was not that religious could deny that sex was a fact of life, but that many celibates simply did not regard it as a useful fact and could more easily avoid its role in their lives. It was not unusual for both religious and laity to think of celibacy as a state of being asexual. Today, with our widespread cul(ural relativism and appearance of psychological sophis- ~Douglas H. Heath, Explorations of Maturity (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1965), pp. 32-34. Warren J. Gadpaille, The Cycles of Sex (New York: Scribners, 1975), pp. 5-7. Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 647' tication, many old views are being displaced. "Experts," even though they be far removed from formation programs, seem capable of speaking at:great length and with great conviction about the preparation of men for priest-hood. However else we may describe these times, most certainly it will not be called an age of humility. Another sign of how sexuality has saturated our culture is that the noun "celibate" appears more and more frequently in print with modifiers like "sexual" or "genital." This facile use of terms does not automatically signify any real move toward maturity; it merely misleads some into think-ing they have made a substantial step in that direction. In such a climate we may start to believe that using the language of sexuality is,synonymous with being mature. The articulated vocabulary of sexuality doesn't easily trans, late into the nonverbal language of behavior. Despite the recent proliferation of publications and the shifts in attitude, I am inclined to believe that the practice of celibacy and the sexuality of celibates is I,argely an unknown. There is .little available evidence from serious, systematic study which adequately describes the impact of celi-bacy on the~lives of~priests and other, religious. We have operate~ with many assumptions and assertions about how difficult ',c, elibacy is, its"impact on personality functioning, and what resources prove us.eful, and which do not, in sustaining a p,erson in a celibate vocation. There is relatively little verifiable information about the d~gree of'sucCess which priests and reli-gious have achteved !,n rema~mng faithful, and not much common agree-ment as to the criteria for defining a healthy celibate life. In addition, the relationship of successful celibate commitment to type of preparation, per-sgnality, work satisfaction and age has not been clearly delineated. It may seem overly ~imple ~to state.my next observation in relation to the practice of celibacy, but sometimes the obvious is neglected. Sexual ab-stinence, like sexual gratification is a part-time, not a full-time experience. Persons who actively gratif.y t.heir sexual needs do not do so continuously any more than celibates have to rehounce genital e~prgssion continuously. The point is that sexual abstinence may have to be continual in religious life, but that d0es" not mean it i~ continuous." While it may be true that we now live in a society which insanely operates as though desire and gratificatio.n were synonymous and need to be experienced simultaneously, we may have been equally absurd in the past by overplaying the sacrificial nature of abstinence. Ih a sense, ~then, in efforts to redress some of the problems associated with an asexual approach, our concept of celibacy now seems to have become rather Sexualized, Education for Sexuality The celibate may a,,ccept~the~fact of his seXuality but it may not help him very ,much because the meaning of this fact keeps changing as the celibate zContinual refers to an indefinite succession or recurrence of events while continuous implies ,an uninterrupted experience with unchanging intensity and'withou~ modulation. Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 advances in age~ He soon learns that becoming an enlightened and re-sponsible sexual being is a life long challenge. Education for a celibate life is not just a task for the young seminarian. Sexuality presents different demands and has different meanings at different points in a person's life. For example, an individual may find the stresses ofa celibate priesthood. more manageable when he is young because a certain proportion of his interactions provide indications that he is regarded as an attractive male. As he ages, such reassuring experiences may0become infrequent and his self-image threatened. He may then become more imprudent in seeking con-firmation of his attracliveness as a man. In addition tothe changing nature of one's sexuality seminaries for the most part did not make it easy for students to acquire the knowledge, attitudes and skills which would enable them to understand what a celibate life-style entailed. While the introduction of courses on human sexuality has been of some help, there is still insufficient opportunity for students to discuss celibate life with priests and women religious because there still exists a sense of vulnerability and embarrassment among these groups. Preparation for a life of celibacy must involve more than such discrete events as coml61etion of a course in human sexuality, making vows or becoming ordained. Such events are no more a guarantee of mature sexual functioning for celibates than falling in love, gel~iing married and procreat-ing are for non-celibates. The seminary should strive: to impart to its stu-dents that the understanding, enjoyment and management of their sexuality is a continuing responsibility which must be shared wiih other persons. This responsibility does not cease with ordination. Al~ter a man leaves the semi-nary, he should be able to look forward to assistance from diocesan-spon-sored programs which will help him fulfill his commitment. Some Problems in Understanding Sexuality It is easy to assert that an understanding of the effect of sexuality on one's vocation depends upon comprehending the nature of sexuality. Such insight, however, is difficult to achieve. Our comprehension of human sexuality has been shaped as much by folklore and fantasy as by science and clinical experience. Our sources of knowledge have often been lacking in reliability. We have been limited as much by resistance in the scientific community as by social inhibitions. And what is perhaps more to the point, it is practically impossible for any individual to know at any given moment how his sexuality is affecting him any more than he generally knows how his circulation is affecting him. High sounding phrases like "sexuality is a fundamental aspect of personality functioning" are not much help in im-proving anyone's understanding of the role of sexuality in the priesthood or any other vocation. In fact, such statements often increase the dilemma because they make many persons feel secretly stupid not knowing more about what is so basic to their nature. For example, is a person':s sexuality minimally operative if he declares, "I do not need relationships with women Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 649 to know that I am male," because this is a fact that he can be sure of by referring to the anatomical evidence at hand? And is his sexuality maxi-mally operative when he admits "I need a woman to feel masculine," because masculinity is not a fact but a value which cannot be judged in the same .way?3 In the first instance the criteria to be used are physiological, whereas in the second they are cultural and subject to changes in value as circumstances of time and place vary. In short, discussing the influence of sexuality may be likened to dealing with a ghost. One can seek it out but never touch it. Psychosexual Maturity While we may readily acknowledge that sexuality is a real and com-prehensive aspect of our relationships with others, we are still left with the question of defining .psychosexual maturity. It is one thing to say that sexuality goes beyond genital expression, quite another to identify a healthy integration of the psychological and physical dimensions of one's behavior. Sexuality's potential is also its problem. A person brings to any human interaction a host of needs, vulnerabilities, attitudes and defenses, and he can manipulate them in a variety of ways. For example, if.an individual wishes to deny responsibility for his sexual acts he may rationalize by saying his behavior is determined by instinctive drives over which he has no control. If he is threatened by the changing roles of women he can extol the importance of tradition and the accuracy of existing male-female stereo-types. If he needs to reassure himself about his masculinity he can refer to the strength and passion of his sex drive. What I hope I am making clear is the complexity associated with psychosexual functioning. It takes a great deal of knowledge, experience and honesty to know whether one's sex-uality is operating as a mature or immature response to another person. There are several other reasons why it is difficult to define psychosexual maturity. First, the characteristics that constitute maturity may simply be those that are esteemed by the author of ttie definition, i.e., the definition may have little to do with objective reality but reflects the personal values of the author. It would be wise to acknowledge, however, that values do play a legitimate 'part in formulating a concept of psychosexual maturity. Even a developmental concept such as Erikson's eight ages of man which rests upon the assumption of an inborn sequence of phases coordinated to the social environment is not readily divorced from the issue of values.4 Secondly, mature men are not static stereotypes. Their individuality aFor a discussion of the differences between males and females, and the distinction between sex and gender, see: Ann Oakley, Sex. Gender and Society (New York: Harper, 1972) and Corinne Hutt, Males and Females (Baltimore: Penguin~, 1972), 4Some of the difficulties associated with defining maturity will be found in: Leon J. Saul and Sydney E. Pulver. "The Concept of Emotional Maturity." Comprehensive Psychiatry. Vol. 6, No. I. February. 1965 and reprinted in Cur~e.nt Issues in Psychiatry. Vol. 2 (New York: Science House, 1967), pp. 231-244. 650 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 remains viable because they haven't allowed themselves to be put into a mold. Studies indicate that "the further., a person develops, the more finely sketched is his individuality."''~ Stereotyped behavior is more com-mon with immaturity. Rogers has pointed out that a mark of maturity is openness to experience and that as this increases the less predictable the person's behavior will be. The person's behavior will be dependably ap-propriate, but not rigidly patterned.~ In short, we cannot expect that all psychosexually mature men will exhibit behavior which is exactly alike. Defining Psychosexual Maturity In offering a definition it is important to distinguish between appropriate and mature behavior. During childhood, adolescence or youth certain di-mensions of an =individual's behavior might be regarded as psychosexually appropriate. That is, his thought, affect or action might be suitable for or fit the appropriate growth period according to Freud's or Erikson's stages of psychosexual development. He would not, however, in my view be characterized aspsychosexually mature because he had not had the fullness of time to permit the development of a deep understanding, full acceptance and ample ripening of his capacities. Psychosexual maturity is evidenced in the fuller, accrued development and harmonious interplay of the individ-ual's psychological and sexual capacities within an ordered and ethical value system. Before discussing some of the behavioral aspects of this 9onstruct, several other generalizations may help clarify my position. Why is a reference to values included in the definition of psychosexual development? Menninger has stated that, "Insofar as choice determines behavior, it stems from some considerations of value.' ,7 Since it would be inconceivable to speak of mature persons without this dimension of choice, psychosexual development cannot be isolated from the influenc(~of values. There is no realistic way of separating the two. Adolescence is not successfully outgrown by sit'ply developing con-fidence in one's sexual and occupational identity. Development toward maturity rests upon the individual's ability to evolve an internalized value system? The individual making such progress, will not only recognize the personal reality of his sexuality, but will seek to identify, question, refine and incorporate a sexual ethic. Thus, the maturing individual discovers not only the vitality of his biological capacities, but also seeks to appreciate their value, understand their meaning and assume personal responsibility '~Roy Heath, The Reasouable Adventurer, A Study of the Development of Thirty-six Under-graduates at Princeton (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1964), p. 38. Also, Douglas A. Heath, Growing Up In College (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1968), pp. 4-19. 6Carl R. Rogers, "The Concept of the Fully Functioning Person," Psychotherapy, Theory, Research and Practice, Vol. I, No. I, August, 1963, pp. 17-26. tRoy W. Menninger, "'No Escape From Values," comment in Current Issues In Psychiatry, Vol. 2, p. 253. 6Warren J. Gadpaille, The Cycles of Sex (New York: Scribners, 1975), p. 338. Psychosexual Maturio, in Celibate Development / 65"1 for their use. His freedom to choose raises the prospect of making enduring commitments to fundamental values. This freedom to choose on the basis of what he values is a "strength-giving and maturing realization. It is the key that opens the door to adulthood.''9 Programs of spiritual development can make significant contributions toward encouraging this aspect of the matUring process. Psychosexual maturity is an approachable ideal but probably not an achievable end. It is more a direction than a destination. Psychosexual maturity is never completely static. Physical maturation, physical and psy-chological needs and human relationships are never finalized. The interplay of desire and control must be addressed again and again. The celibate cannot bank on earlier resolutions to provide certain and continuing pro-tection throughout life. Since personality resonates in response to life events, the celibate cannot be expected to acquire psychosexual maturity during his period of seminary training and possess it securely throughout his ministry. If he faces the vicissitudes of life, his development wili be an ongoing process. On the other hand, if he tended to avoid life's recurrent challenges his development will be retarded. Psychosexual maturity and immaturity will be basically reflected in the motives, feelings and actions that are part of one's interactions with others. In the following sections I shall try to identify psychosexual maturity and immaturity in more specific terms. Idehtifying Psychosexual Maturity Erikson has commented that "To know that adulthood is generative, does not necessarily mean that one must produce children. But it means to know what one does if one does not.''~° In assessing psychosexual ma-turity, one must ask what happens to the celibate's deferred generativity. Does it, like the poet Hughes puts it, "dry up like a raisin in the sun"?~ If we follow Erikson's thought, the potential to be generative exists in all celibates who concern themselves with the "establishment, the guidance, and the enrichment of the living generation and the world it inherits."v' It is clear, therefore, that potential ig not sufficient. Thus, the psychosexually mature celibate must keep his creative powers alive and utilize them in some publicly identifiable way. There must be a behavioral service to others, guided by an enlarged sense of communal responsibility for the enrichment and enhancement of the whole cycle of life. The mature celibate's generativity is principally demonstrated by an expansion of his ego-interests. An example of this might be a faculty mem-ber investing his energies in the development of seminarians. The young would not be suspect or feared. The faculty member would view his stu- ~Peter Koestenbaum, Existential Sexuality (Engelwood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall. 1974), p. 143. ~0 Erik H. Erikson, Dimensions of a New .Identity (New York: Norton, 1974), pp. 122-123. ~Langston Hughes, Selected Poems (New York: Knopf, 1959), p. 268. ~-"Erik H. Erikson, p. 123. 652 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 dents as a "welcome trust" for future generations. His work would be motivated by a caring commitment to help others share in the benefits that have accrued to him. The more mature a celibate is, the more his vision will extend beyond the topography of skin. Relationships with members of the opposite sex will be less a question of responding to a physically attractive person and more a caring response for what is good in the person. Such a view permits the celibate to direct his sexuality beyond genital expression. His attentiveness to others' needs is flexible rather than fixated. His sexuality functions not only to make him attentive to the sexuality of others, but also to be in-sightful. Without insight his sense of celibate commitment will not find appropriate expression. This means being able to experience and acknowl-edge the attraction between himself and a member of the opposite sex without, as Farber put it, "the intervention of sex as motive or compul-sion.'' 13 He experiences his sexuality without guilt or denial and he pursues his relationship without the motivation of physical union. When he touches another person it is an expression of warmth, not a covert maneuver to incite physical arousal in himself or the other. The psychosexually mature celibate loves individuals, not an abstract form of humanity. He can be psychologically intimate with persons of either sex without domination, possessiveness, jealousy or genital expression. When problems arise intra-psychically or interpersonally he assumes responsibility for getting help without protracted delays. The psychosexually mature adult is able to recognize and commit him-self to values, cope with value conflicts, and assume responsibility for the consequences of his choices. The more mature he is, the more voiced values will coincide with his private thoughts and behavior. His sexual urges will not put his value system and behavior "out of sync." In ad-dition, what he values will be prized and not treated routinely. He will see his ethical principles as having validity apart from, but not necessarily opposed to, the authority figures in his life. In other words, his valuing process is alive and well--not latent, deferred or unconscious. While it is impossible to delineate all aspects of psychosexual maturity, there are three additional points of reference which may be useful in as-sessing psychosexual functioning. The first is that the more mature a person is the more he will possess awareness. His mental life will not be walled off from his bodily functioning and powers. The mature celibate will be able to recognize and draw inferences from his sexual responses as they affect his interactions. The second is that his response to the requirement of celibacy will be more than acquiescence or conformity. He will have understood what he was choosing and was willing to accept it without bitterness. The more that an individual finds celibacy an ifiaposition, the more it will di-minish his degree of psychosexual harmony, just as the more he is re- ~Leslie H. Farber, "'He Said, She Said," Commentary, March 1972, p. 53. Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 653 pressed sexually the more his awareness will be constricted. The third point of reference is the individual's commitment to synthesis. If he is unable to take the various dimensions of himself and integrate them with his Christian commitment be'will be a fragmented personality. There must be a harmony bet.ween thinking, feeling, and acting if the individual is to move toward psychosexual maturity in religious life. Recognizing Psychosexual Immaturity When a celibate's thought, affect or behavior becomes absorbed with compensatory processes, his level of maturity may be questioned. Some examples of immature compensatory measures for the lack of genital ex-pression are: vicarious participation in the heterosexual experiences of parishioners or psychic over-involvement in seminarians' conflict about celibacy; absorption with making one's physical appearance attractive so as to gain admiration as a substitute for the absence of sexual contact; denying or demeaning the value and pleasure of genital expression.; and taking refuge in consoling fantasies of sexual gratification and conquest. A per-son's psychosexual development will not endure the challenges of celibacy very well if it rests upon a foundation of compensatory measures. The way in which a celibate experiences required heterosocial limita-tions and sexual abstinence is indicative of his level of psychosexual ad-justment. Neither gratification nor frustration exist in abstract form; both have cognitive aspects which affect emotions and behavior. For example, sexual abstinence can be experienced by the individual as frustration, i.e., lack of opportunity to achieve a desired pleasure, or it can be experien.ced as deprivation, i.e., something which he has been unfairly kept from en-joying. The difference between experiencing a sense of loss and sacrifice (frustration) and a sense of being forcibly dispossessed (deprivation) is a fine distinction in perception. Nonetheless, it is one which will profoundly color the celibate's response, influencing both his mood and behavior. The first type of perception can lead to the learning of tension and frustration tolerance which is an essential ingredient in healthy ego development. The second type of perception can lead to covert gratifications and severe intrapsychic conflicts. More generally, the more that a person's relationships are determined by subjective states of deprivation (e.g., loneliness) or physical drives (e.g., erotic urges), the more easily his judgment will be impaired, his behavior driven and his communication pressured. Under such conditions his sex-uality will keep him awake but not very alert or smart. It will be increasingly difficult for him to keep from narrowing the focus of his attention, and his interactions with others will be directed toward goals which he indepen-dently determines. The more that a person ,has been unable to accept and integrate his sexuality, the more he will use defense mechanisms like re-pression and projection to alleviate h.i~guilt. t554 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 Psychosexual immaturity is bound up with the individual's personality dynamics. A comparison may help clarify this generalization. A passive-submissive celibate is likely to wait for a seductive situation to short-circuit his own vague intentionality, while an obsessive-compulsive will rely on some feared imperative to insulate himself from his sexuality. The pas-sive- submissive tends to relinquish his own indefinite goals under someone else's influence while the obsessive-compulsive, unable to compromise his perfectionism, seeks an unquestionable tenet to banish doubt from his decisions. The first exaggerates the extent to which his behavior has been determined by external circumstance, the second invokes an authoritative precept to relieve him of personal responsibility. Both suffer from a de-ficient sense of autonomy which in turn diminishes the degree of psycho-sexual maturity. An attempt to recognize immaturity is not a trivial matter. There is no universally accepted compendium or list of mature and immature behav-iors. In addition, the attempt is to illuminate psychosexual behavior not codify it. One cannot take a complex concept like psychosexual maturity and reduce it to a systematic and definitive collection of behaviors. This does not mean, however, that questions about a celibate's psychosexual maturity are to be dismissed cavalierly. The difficulties associated with such an assessment do not negate the fact that the quality of a person's psychosexual functioning impinges upon the effectiveness of his ministry to others. Immaturity is not a private affair. Wherever it exists it draws at-tention to itself and spreads like a contagion sapping energy from the maturity of others. Celibacy and Intimacy , Intimacy The. term intimacy enjoys a leading place in the popular idiom of celi-bates almost to the point of being accorded reverential respect. Despite the difficulty of offering fresh comment on something so in fashion, the subject is ,too central to be avoided. One reason why intimacy attracts such concern is the interpersonal mobility required of priests. Many pastoral contacts are so compressed in time they end up being fragmentary relationships. In addition, each time a priest takes a new assignment, a certain number of friends are lost. Replacement of such friendships is difficult, especially for those with limited flexibility. These factors, combined with others (e.g. ,job dissatisfaction) can create an overpowering sense of isolation and thereby threaten one's psychosexual adjustment. In spite of our tendency to venerate intimacy, it is not a universally desired experience. The prospect of closeness may repel as often as it attracts. In intimacy one gives up control of what is seen by the other. One cannot enjoy privacy without being, in a sense, "public." Thus, a major question facing a person who commits himself to celibate life is deciding Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 655 whether he will share his real identity with that of others. If he did not choose the vocation to avoid intimacy, he assumes a major task in deter-mining how to share his personal self. To what extent can an adult ex-perience love or develop close relationships with other adults when geni-tality is renounced? A loving sexual union permits a truly intimate self-disclosure; an unfeared self-abandonment and loss of ego boundaries that non-genital friendships seemingly cannot match. How is the celibate to prevent an atrophy of his capacity for intimacy and not isolate himself with self-absorption? These questions are important because the strength de-rived from successfully managing the issue of intimacy vs. isolation is necessary for further psychosexual development. The usual answer to the questions posed is that a celibate can satisfy his needs for intimacy in non-genital friendships. This, of course, can be a normal and satisfactory means of self-disclosure for experiencing oneness with another. In this regard one of the usual cautions cited is that "celibate people need to be aware of the difference between intimacy, tactility and genitality.''~'~ I do agree with Goergen's suggestion that celibates need to distinguish these dimensions of relating. I think, however, that in otir warn-ings to celibates about the dangers of touch and sexual expression in friend-ships we have neglected an aspect of non-geriital relating that is more likely to impede a successful resolution of the intimacy vs. isolation question. This negative'aspect of relating to which I refer will be termed protective partnerships. Erikson has defined readiness for intimacy as the capacity to commit oneself "to cbncrete affiliations and partnerships and to develop the ethical strength to abide by such commitments, even though they may call for significant sacrifices and compromises.''~ While many men in seminaries do develop group affiliations and personal friendships, these relationships sometimes reflect an unhealthy degree of mutuality. We have all heard about the possessiveness of "particular friendships," but the issue I wish to address is more a question of protection than control. A protective partnership involves a largely unrecognized conspiracy of two or more persons to maintain isolation and distance from others. The partners in-dulge each other's' sensitivities in a form of pseudo-intimacy. ~his relieves them of having to deal with the challenges of being intimate with others outside their clique. The partnership also serves to protect those involved from psychic injury and thr~ats ofdisconfirmation (e.g., from the needs aiad ideas of those outside the group). Individuals caught up in such protective alliances are uncomfortable with expressing personal needs and feelings outside the partnership. It makes them feel infantilized or overly vulner-able. Intimacy outside the safe confines of the partnership is avoided be- ~'~Daniel Goergen, The Sexual Celibate (New York: Seabury, 1974), p. 159. ~Erik H. Erikson, "'Eight Ages of Man," reprinted in Current Issues In Psy,chiatry, Vol. 2., p. 253. 656 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 cause of distrust, anticipated ridicule, .fear of increased dependency or loss of control of emotion. They will rarely offer or accept intimacy outside the partnership. Protective partnerships are an inadequate resolution of the intimacy question. They pose more danger to an effective ministry than sexual in-discretions. Since they permit only weak identifications with persons out-side the boundaries of the partnership, such relationships discourage the development of empathy for others and set the stage for a righteous in-sularity. Thus, the celibate while believing he has become intimate has actually developed a Woclivity for provincialism and isolation. His further development toward stages 9f generativity and ego integrity is impaired. P. sychosexual maturity, particularly for the celibate, requires the ability to develop expanding rather than constricting identifications. Another thing which will hinder possibilities for genuine intimacy is an inadequate concept of celibacy. Individuals who have neglected serious examination of their own concept of celibacy or who operate with only a vague set of feelings about its meaning are unprepared for intimacy because they are unprepared for commitment. Celibacy without conviction is a form of sexual suicide. In an excellent paper on the psychology and asceticism of priestly celibacy Pable offers several sophisticated insights which can help remedy such limitations.'~ For the young person in a formation pro-gram, however, there are more basic points that need to be addressed, First, it is not uncommon to find that seminarians will become rather insecure if they discover a discrepancy between the degree of confidence they feel about a call to the priesthood and their acceptance of the celibacy requirement. Often they do not become aware of this lack of internal con-sistency until they are in advanced stages of preparation for their vocation. The way in which seminarians deal with this dilemma varies of course, but frequently the conflict is inadequately evaluated or avoided. Avoidant be-havior is not confined to students, however, for seminary educators are sometimes equally adept in delaying or delimiting opportunities to discuss celibacy. The inclusion of formal courses in human sexuality rarely rem-edies this situation completely. Often a main effect of such courses is to bring such conflicts to a level of consciousness without resolution of the concomitant anxiety. Secondly, when sexual fears and impulses are regarded as signs of weakness and as constituting a grave threat to one's vocation, attempts at emotional overcontrol are set in motion. A premature identification with celibacy is one means of putting such concerns to rest. Then, at some later stage, sufficient ego strength will have occurred permitting these concerns to resurface. For these reasons it is important to have competent counseling services on hand so that students can be readily assisted in understanding and dealing with such conflicts. Many of these students can eventually make a sound commitment to celibacy. ~nMartin W. Pable. ~'The Psychology and Asceticism of Celibacy," Seminao' Newsletter Supplement, No, 5, Vol. 13, February 1975. Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 657 Clinical experience indicates that one should not assume the existence of a secure, firm acceptance of the celibacy requirement simply because students do not verbalize their uncertainties. On the other hand, seminary educators should not be quick to judge a student as unsuitable if he does raise questions or expose his doubts. Instances in which the celibacy issue was deferred or submerged until some external circumstance disturbed an earlier, and sometimes premature adaptation to the requirement are not unusual. Such a state of affairs may simply indicate that other aspects of the individual's development (e.g., intellectual learning) had to occur before the meaning of celibacy could be faced. Increasingly, students are taking initiatives in bringing their questions about celibacy into an open forum. Yet, there still remain in the minds of many seminarians strong fears that, if one were to air his true feelings, reprisals in the form of peer rejection and dismissal from the program might result. Thus, many go their own way for protracted periods of time without assistance in dealing with such internal tensions, thereby creating more ¯ problems for themselves and others. It is essential that seminary educators provide the kind of climate in which students feel secure enough to expose where they are at in their development. In the absence of the trusting climate, self-concealment reigns. In an untrusting climate the prospects of self-disclosure are decreased. This leads students to believe intima~cY is only possible in exceptional relationships. In such a climate associations with peers and fa6uity will be reduced to role playing in which the student seeks to conceal important dimensions of his psychosexual development. Even when he seeks inti-macy his tendency will be to obtain reassurances rather than candid en-counters which could challenge self-assumptions and expand knowledge of the quality of his psychosexual functioning. While any move toward intimacy is fraught with risks, e.g., rejection, exploitation and protective partnerships, it is nonetheless essential for healthy personality development in the young. Intimacy helps attenuate attitudes of egocentrism, suspicion, jealousy and omnipotence--all of which represent substantive obstacles to an effective ministry. Human sexuality is a stimulus to move toward others and away from self-cen-teredness. Without the challenge of intimate relationships the seminarian's potential for genuine altruism remains quiescent. A third point deserving consideration is the common practice of re-ferring to celibacy as a gift. This gift analogy can be psychologically mis-leading to the young person. Much of one's youthful experience indicates that a gift is a material thing, and that one can (or must) accept a gift whether one wants it or deserves it? With such an orientation to the gift analogy the seminarian may fail to give sufficient attention to his own readiness for celibacy, thereby setting the stage for problems after ordination. For when celibate Status is viewed as a thing given rather than attained, it is more likely to be passively possessed until "stolen, lost or given away." Thus, Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 if one insists, on using the gift analogy it should be stressed that the gift is a sacred trust and that its possessor has an obligation to prepare himself before it can be put to proper use. The proper exercise of such a gift depends upon personal effort to acquire the necessary knowledge and maturity. It should be evident at this point that my discussion of celibacy has proceeded in an explicitly psychological fashion. However, the question of celibacy obviously has religious value and theological meaning. Have I, then, given short shrift to these important dimensions of the celibate com-mitment? Specifically, has my concentration on personal development and effort slighted the importance of God's call and grace? I think not. Indeed, .my persuasion is that psychological analysis and theological insight are complementary. Grace does not replace the human process of develop-ment. It strengthens and perfects that process. And for God's call to be fruitful, it must be integrated into the mature growth of the human subject. Thus, the theological language of "gift" must be complemented by the psychological insistence upon mature human development if the entire sweep of human experience is to be engaged and the full implications of commitment are to be grasped. Creativity in Intimacy and Celibacy In completing this section on celibacy and intimacy I want to introduce the~subject of creativity for two reasons. First, I want to counter the popular tendency, to view intimacy solely in term~ of close and affectionate personal relationships. Such a concept of intimacy is too limiting, particularly for persons who will be living a celibate life. There is need to recognize another kind of intimacy which, while involving deep understanding and sensitive response, does not depend upon a mutual opening of hearts. I am referring to what, fof lack of a better label, may be termed creative intimacy. The person who is capable of this kind of intimacy has reached a level of psychosexual development which permits committed and perceptive re-lationships without the reassuring prerequisite of secret emotional ties. The research physician who invents a novel and needed procedure, the archi-tect who designs appropriate housing for unique terrain and the scholar's treatise which brings order out of confusion are all examples of a com-mitment to intimacy. Each establishes a link between the complexities of external demands and inner personal resources. A celibate who is. capable of involved interest with a subject (e.g., Scripture), a place (e.g., his parish) or a group (e.g., the aged) is not apt to suffer from a sense of isolation. In short, it is possible to relate intimately to life by being deeply affected by and responsive to ideas, situations and problems without requiring sexual union or an emotional heart transplant as a condition for an enriching experience. The creative person's contributions to society are evidence of this unconventional form of intimacy. A second reason for focusing on creativity is that its place in the prep- Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 659 aration of men for celibate life has received insufficient attention despite the fact that it has long enjoyed a respectable status in educational circles. By way of illustration consider the following questions: (1) What priority do psychological screening programs place on identifying creative capacities in candidates for priesthood? (2) How much do we know (or utilize what is known) about how creativity may be linked to the sub-limation of the sex. drive? (3) To what extent are seminary educators con-tentto rely on those tired, thoughts which assert that creative individuals cannot survive seminary environments, are troublesome to superiors, and that creativity is largely a product of inheritance? It seems ironic that we who identify God as Creator, and man as having been created in his image can manage to prepare men for a celibate priesthood with so little emphasis upon the identification and encouragement'of creativity. Seminaries have yetto acknowledge through curriculum design that a celibate's creativity is a most valuable resource in coping with the daily stresses of life. In a previous section the question was asked, "What happens tO the celibate's deferred: generativity?" Perhaps another way of answering this question can be found in linking celibate status with creativity. Specifically, celibacy can be viewed as a distinctive means of being consciously cre-ative. In associating celibacy with creativity I am thinking of MacKinnon's statement that true creativity fulfills at least three conditions: (1)originality, (2) adaptiveness, and (3) realization .~7 As for the first (originality), celibacy is an idea that is always novel, unique, or at least statistically infrequent. As for the second point, celibacy is adaptive in that it serves to fit the situation of ministry to accomplish some recognizable g0al. And to the third condition (realization)~ celibacy involves sustaining the original work of Jesus and further extending it in time. With this perspective we may de-crease the likelihood that celibacy will be viewed as a static, asexual status. Instead, celibacy will be seen as a more active, generative relationship with the world. The Homogenous Environment Life in an all male environment is not an asexual experience. The stu-dent's premises about his sexual identity, his level of self-esteem and his interest in persons of either sex do not remain static during the seminary years as though preserved in a time capsule. They continue to be chal-lenged, modified and shaped' by the character of the environment. For many years the average seminarian lives, studies and recreates in an environment which provides minimal contact with or input from women. What lesson is learned by this absence of women? How well does this help seminarians make the transition to our highly seductive society? How does this prepare them to develop more than a theoretical understanding of the lrDonald W~ MacKinnon, "The Nature and Nurture of Creative Talent." Lecture given at Yale University,New Haven, Conm, April I I, 1962. 660 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 needs, abilities and conflicts of women who may come to them for counsel? Celibacy has to be lived in a heterosexual society. Rules against hetero-social contacts during periods of formation do not guarantee proper de-velopment. If seminarians have to compensate for the lack of women in their edu-cational experience, they will attempt to do so without the guidance of their faculty. They will use apostolic assignments or vacations to seek both heterosocial and heterosexual experiences which would otherwise be de-nied them during regular periods of education. In some instances, the relationships which develop will be maintained in secret. Such experiences are often invested with many romantic and sometimes bizarre fantasies of meaning. They also provoke much guilt and tension and sometimes incite fears which are repressed, producing unconscious conflicts with conse-quent anxiety. It has become increasingly evident that when problems of relating to women have to be faced in secret it makes for lonely failures. The seminarian who is separated and/or alienated from women for whatever reason (fear, ignorance, choice or official policy) must turn with more urgency upon himself or others in his immediate environment to meet his needs for recognition, affiliation and love. In such homogenous popula-tions, expressions of affection and physical contact are cautiously exposed and become over-invested with meaning. There is an ever present fear that such gestures will be interpreted as, or turn into, homos6xual intimacies. This kind of tension often remains unacknowledged, but is nonetheless virulent. It produces much frustration and resentment which is often en-countered by the psychologist in the form of depression, displaced ag-gression, problems of concentration, coldness in interpersonal contacts, compulsive masturbation, isolation, and the rise of tight cliques. Each institution should provide appropriate opportunities for seminarians to learn about, and become comfortable with, members of the opposite sex. "Social restrictions" and "sexual abstinence" should not be confused. The concepts are not isomorphic. Policies and regulations which forbid or delimit heterosocial contacts do not automatically insure healthy attitudes toward self-regulation or guarantee the development of the capacity for abstinence in later life. Celibates also need to realize that abstinence does not automatically confer the capacity to love people in general any more than incontinence in marriage increases love for someone in particular. Neither the frustration nor the expression of the sex drive is innately di-rected toward the good. The capacity for sex in humans simply endows them with the potential of becoming psychosexually mature. It is in inter-actions with others that opportunities for growth and understanding de-velop. The Environment's Models Seminary administrators must realistically assess the extent to which members of their faculty are prepared by virtue of education, experience Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 66"1 and personal disposition to participate in those aspects of the formation program which relate :to human sexuality. Many priests have had poor preparation and limited experience and would be ill at ease or unsuited for such responsibility. It would be unfair and unwise to neglect such con-siderations. If present faculty are not comfortable with their own sexuality or are incompetent in their understanding of it, they cannot project them-sel~, es as adequate role models or teach effectively. Example is stronger than precept. Students need visible proof that it is possible to be mature and well-integrated sexually in the priesthood. There is nothing more demor-alizing to seminarians than examples of underdeveloped faculty charged with responsibility for their preparation of a life of celibate ministry. Modeling is a powerful force for formation and growth. It assists the seminarian in coping with the stresses of his environment, aids in the development of responsibility and helps perpetuate the valu6s that define the priesthood. More than anything else, a seminary must offer models who are worthy of imitation. Such models should be capable of candid con-versations concerning celibacy. They should exhibit desirable patterns of male-female interaction. They should be persons who have not distanced themselves from their own sexuality. They should not be overly constricted academicians or overly eager confidantes who take students under their wing to protect them from conflicts with celibacy. The, y should be able to take questions from Students without becoming overly threatened, angry or embarrassed. They should be the kind of advisers who are not impelled to define venereal sin whenever a student discloses a sexual problem. I emphasize the importance of appropriate role models because they are the most available source of identification with the priesthood. Good mod-els teach and motivate simultaneously. On the other hand, poor models lead to unhealthy identifications and raise the anxiety leV,el of students. For example, seminarians exposed to poor models are apt to say to t.hemselves, "Will I turn out like him ?" when they should be saying about a good model, "I want to be like him." Healthy identification reduce~ fear and anxiety about the priesthood. When a seminarian can identify with an exemplary person, his sub-jectiv~ benefit is that he believes he is part of the exemplary person. When that happens, he is freer to ease away from infantile or regressive tend-encies. He gives up his more childish and selfish desires because he is acquiring positive, generative adulthood in return. Good faculty models can illustrate that genital expression is not the essence of warmth, masculinity, and friendship. Seminaries, like other educational institutions, have faculties which possess a range of competencies and wide variations in levels of maturity. This is not the issue. The significant issue is how we recognize this fact of life. This recognition should take the form of careful assignment of re-sponsibility in this area, use Of competent consultants, and support for regular in-service training and continuing education for the faculty. 662 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 With a view toward offering more specific suggestions for helping semi-narians' progress toward sexual maturity the following guidelines are offered: I. Maintain high standards in the selection of candidates. This would require'defining criteria, and training the admissions committee to do its job well. The seminary environment is not suited to be a place where major reconstructive therapy can be conducted. Persons of weak char-acter, sociopathic tendencies and serious personality defects may find the seminary environment a haven for their limitations, but once or-dained they do not make good priests. They eventually create compli-cated and expensive personnel-management problems, alienate the laity, perform po6rly and thereby threaten the work of their colleagues, and remain visibly inadequate models for attracting future vocations. 2. Provide professional counseling as a regular part of seminar3, services. This will enable students with relatively minor psychological problems to be assisted in their development. In addition, each seminary envi-ronnhent will inevitably produce certain situational dist~arbances in a proportion of its students. These are transient disorders from a mild to severe nature which occur without any underlying mental pathology. They represent normal reactions to such stressful factors as disruption of previously established interpersonal relationships, fear of faculty dis-approval and unfamiliar academic demands. It is important to detect and recognize such adjustment reactions quickly and have counseling ser-vices available to help students cope. Sometimes an orientation course for first year men will head off some of these situational disorders. 3. Course offerings in the area of human sexuality and the practice of celibacy should be characterized by providing: (a) competence: they should offer suffi~:ient scientific content and contemporary material to enable s, tudents to learn the facts, social attitudes and real problems associated with human sexu.ality; (b) comfort: opportunity to discuss, question and dialogue without threat of ridicule, embarrassment, or fear of faculty or peer censure; (c) conviction: conveying in unmistakable terms.that growth in psychosexual maturity is a life long task which is part of every individual's priestly responsibility. " 4. Include women in the program in more than token fashion. Women can contribute as lecturers, panelists, and consultants. A feeling of security with women and an appreciation of their needs, values and competencies cannot be acquired in an all-male program. Their inclusion should not be prompted by condescension. For example, they should be included not to demonstrate that "women think diffeyently," but rather that they do think. The exclusion of women .hampers seminarians' development more than it insures it. 5. Exercise greater care in assessing readiness for celibacy. Programs of formation may need to place greater emphasis on assessing an indi- Psychosexual Maturity in Celibate Development / 663 vidual's psychological readiness to commit himself to celibacy. One must not assume that a seminarian's advancement in academic prepa-ration is indicative of other aspects of his readiness for priesthood. Conclusion In this paper sexuality and maturity were discussed in relation to celi-bate development. By general comment and specific illustration I attempted to show that psychosexual maturity is not only an abstract concept .but also an identifiable reality. I also tried to indicate that progress toward psycho-sexual maturity is made more by choice than chance, more by intelligent effort than passivity. In the process of offering these comments much emphasis was placed on what seminary educators can do to foster healthy celibate development. It would be misleading to leave the impression that I wished to understate the role of the individual. The young celibate must be encouraged and assisted to develop an increasing level of personal accountability for his psychosexual functioning. This can only be accom-plished if we view immaturity as a responsibility, not a crime to be followed by punishment or self-hate. Now Available As A Reprint Psychosexual Maturity in , Celibate Development by Philip D. Cristantiello Price: $.60 ~per copy, plus postage. Address" Review for Religious Room 428 6301 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis Robert F. Morneau Father Morneau's name is familiar to our readers. He resides at Holy Reedemer Center and teaches at Silver Lake College; Manitowoc, WI 54220. In teaching people the truths about his Father's kingdom, Jesus often used examples from nature: the simple sparrow, the lush lilies of the field, the unfortunate fig tree, the nonverbal clues of the sky, the miraculous yeast. Through these concrete images, deeper mysteries were unveiled opening the minds and hearts of people to the marvels of God's gracious love. We can do no better than to fall back on nature to attempt, through the use of analogy, to ponde~ the multifold facets of our faith. From the world of biology comes the notion of homeostasis which can assist us in under-standing the necessity of grounding our lives on solid rock. Dr. Hans Selye summarizes the essential meaning of this biological principle: It was the great French physiologist Claude Bernard who during the second half of the nineteenth century--well before anyone thought of stress--first pointed out clearly that the internal environment (the milieu interieur) of a living organism must remain fairly constant despite changes in its external environment, lie realized that "'it is a fixity of the mi6eu interieur which is the condition of free and independent life.'" Some fifty years later, the distinguished American physiologist, Walter B. Cannon suggested that "the coordinated physiological processes which maintain most of the steady states in the organism" should be called "'homeostasis" (from the Greek homoios, meaning similar, and stasis, meaning position), the ability to stay the same, or static. Homeostasis might roughly be translated as 'bstaying power."'~ ~Hans Selye, M.D., Stress Without Distress (New York: J. B. Lippincott Company,1974), pp. 34-35. 664 Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 665 The homeostatic principle, as applied to the external world, needs little documentation as to its importance due to the writings in the field of ecology. What needs considerable reflection is the importance and meaning of spiritual homeostasis, that reality in our spiritual lives which is the force enabling us to maintain a certain level of stability despite radical and often-times violent changes in our external environment. Spiritual homeostasis is the cultivation of a certain internal stability, developed through grace and discipline, that enables a person to "weather" the trials, temptations and sufferings of life in a reasonable manner. Several examples from observable nature might help in understanding the notion of homeostasis. A palm tree survives the violence of a hurricane because its roots (homeostatic elemen~t) are deeply embedded in the soil; the March kite maintains a modicum of stability because of its carefully attached tail; the sailboat does not become the plaything of the strong breeze because of its rudder. Roots, a weighted rag, and a vertical board each provide stability despite elements of stress and strain. By way of comparison, each of us must face the demands of life, demands arising from within and without. If we are not to be carried away by the high winds of life, there must be some grounding element providing continuity and sta-bility. This essay is a consideration of this grounding, of our spiritual homeostatic principle. A note of caution is in order: the inward journey, made either to con-struct our inner principles or to examine the ones that already direct our lives, involves risks and the universal fears 9f travelers. Carl Jung wrote of these risks: Wherever there is a reaching down into innermost experien~:e, into the nucleus of personality, most people are overcome by fright, and many run away . the risk of inner experience, the adventure of the spirit, is in any case, alien to most human beings,z Of a!l the reasons for hesitating to make the journey, perhaps the great-est fear lies in the possibility that we will find nothing there--no homeo-static principle grounding our lives in "substance." For all our talk, re-flecting and apodictic shouting, the interior could be empty--and who could live if that were true? Dante, in describing the precious coin of faith (the ultimate homeostatic principle) and its fine attributes, dares to ask the fatal question: Well have we examined The weight and alloy of this precious coin; But tell me if thou hast it in thy purse? 3 ~C. G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, recorded and edited by Aniela Jaffa, translated from the German by Richard and Clara Winston (New York: Vintage Books, 1961). pp. 140-141. 3Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, translated by Lawrence Grant White (New York: Pantheon Books, 1948), Canto 24, p. 171. 666/Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 Just as the kite's tail needs periodic mending, just as the sailboat's rudder needs annual repairs', just as the tree's roots need constant contact with the dark rich soil, so each of us must make our own inward journey, despite risks and fears, to examine the quality and growth of our ho-meostatic principle. Let us take St. Paul as our "case study" and attempt to isolate his homeostatic principle. Even if the attempt fails, enough insight, might be provided for each of us to either clarify or construct our own spiritua! anchor. Pauline scholars might opt for one of the following passages as being central to Paul's spirituality, central in that all of life's experiences might be related to it for meaning and insight: Let your thoughts be on heavenly things, and n6t on things that are on earth, because you have died, and now the life you ha're is hidden with Christ in God.4 And I live now not with my own life but with the life of Christ who lives in me? Though not excluding the central~messages in the above two passages, my own personal choice of Paul's homeostatic principle comes from a passage in his letter to the Ephesians: Blessed be God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. who has blessed us with all ihe spiritual blessings of heaven in Christ. Before the world was made, he chose us, chose us in Christ, to be holy and spotless, and to live through love in his presence . ~ Taking as an hypothesis, that "to live through love in his presence" was Paul's spiritual cable, what are some of the implication's of this homeostatic principle? To Live: Union with the Spirit The Pepsi generation shouts out the challenge: Come alive! Whether or not a carbonated soda can achieve such a towering feat ~could be ques-tioned; the challenge cannot. We are called to choose life (Dt 30:15-20), to share in the fullness of life (Jn 10:10), to live injustice, love and faith (Mi 6:8). Yet, because of collective and personal sin, our existences are frag-mented and our potential lies dormant under piles of "shoulds," "tomor-rows," and "new years." We see but do not comprehend, listen but do not understand, touch but remain unaffected. Walter Kerr sees our dilemma in this light: If I were required to put into a single sentence my own explanation of the state of our hearts, heads, and nerves, 1 would do it this way: we are vaguely wretched because we are leading half-lives, halfheartedly, and with only one-half of our minds actively engaged in making contact with the universe about us.r 4Colossians 3:2-3. (All scriptural quotations are taken from the Jerusalem Bible.) ~Galatians 2:20. 6Ephesians 1:3-4 (italics mine, indicating the Pauline homeostatic principle). 7Walter Kerr, The Declhte of Pleasure (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1962), p. 12. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 667 Every so often someone crosses our path whose very spirit exudes life. Sparkling eyes, a lightness of voice, gentle responses, all mark a sense of meaningand motivation. A personal creativity overflows, smoldering wicks and healing,crushed reeds (Is 42:3). Such a presence is anticipated with longing and remembered with joy. He gives life because he has life within. A .quality of transparency allows all he meets to. taste and see life itself. In the presence of such a life-giver the question spontaneously arises: "What is all .this juice and all this joy (Hopkins)?" The Christian traces such a spirited life to the Spirit. God the Father and "therisen Lord haye sen't, into all creation their Spirit. Whoever receives this Spirit truly comes alive. Whoever refuses the Spirit or fails to recognize the the Spirit's presence lives in darkness, half-alive, wallowing in ignorance and fear, fretting'in anxieties and tears, doubting the meaning of existence. A spiritless Macbeth, no longer able to sustain his guilt, attempts to pre-serve. a modicum of sanity,by denying,the meaning of life: Out, bul brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And t.hen is heard no more;it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Sign.ifying nothing,s Without the Spirit darkness reigns and we curse that darkness. Life be-comes a burden too difficult to bear,and freedom a poisonous responsibility. St. Paul was graced with the gift of the Spirit. To live was to be in conscious, personal union, with this Reality and to act from this center. Three basic forms of acting out a Spirit-transformed mind and heart include a spirit of loving attention, a spirit of joyful mortification and a spirit of courageous action. Aliveness in Paul's life embraces a balanced life of prayer, asceticism and apostolate, all flowing from his being loved by God and attempting to live in return. The quality and tonality of,the response is crucial. Each of these three areas, though of significance in and of them-selves, is entirelydifferent when shared in fellowship with the Spirit and is essentially response, to a personal invitation to communicate with, to suffer with, and to work with the Spirit of the Father and the Son. This divine companionship doubles all the victories in .building up the kingdom and halves the apparent defeats. Spirit of loving attention. It is possible to be attentive to someone or something without love. The hostile stare or the crowded "personless" elevator ride are two instances. A vague'love is also possible, unable to center on a defined object: "I love humanity but find it difficult to love individual people." Such forms of attentiveness and unspecified love do not allow us to live fully, God's Spirit draws us to truly :see, perceive, com-prehend the creation in which we live. Pausing to be embraced by a spring 8William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act V, sc. v, lines 23-28. 661~ / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 flower, stopping suddenly to be swept heavenward by a starry night, being swept off one's feet by a warm night breeze are strains of deeper mysteries and realities. So many layers blocking our sensitivity must be penetrated if we are to be touched by outside realities; so much cluttering has made us inattentive to the voices of friends and the needs of the wounded, Poets are eternal prophets calling all of us to attention, to a loving attention of truth and beauty: Look at the stars! Look, look up at the skies! O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! 9 The homeostatic principle ("to love . . .") in the life of St. Paul con-tained a deep love and a profound concentration as he journeyed through life. Because of this not only the man but his writings are so alive. Spirit of joyful mortification. Paradoxically, life embraces death, self-actualization of necessity involves self-denial. Without reflecting on this phenomenon, most of us would have to struggle to accept the comple-mentarity of the living-dying mystery. Yet if we glance for a moment into the lives of people who have evidenced life to the full, we come across the fact of much voluntary suffering and dying. Teresaof Avila, called by God to reform her religious community, freely accepted the ridicule and ha-rassment that went along with this leadership role; Thomas More, request-ed by his king to sign his name to a document which would mean that his life would be spared, freely accepted death rather than lose his integrity and be unfaithful to his God; Cardinal Newman, drawn to the Roman Catholic Church, followed his religious belief in the face of the pain of being alien-ated from friends and kin by such a decision. In each case there was tremendous suffering; in each case there was new, powerful life. The de-mands were not limited to a giving of one's time and energy, rare com-modities in themselves, but a giving on a much deeper levbl: the giving of oneself. A denial of self for the sake of life we identify as mortification. Is it possible to speak of joyful mortification? Two considerations come to mind. First, there is joy in the act of mortification because the focus rests not on the suffering, though it is the immediate fact, but centers on the life that comes through the self-denial. Had Teresa of Avila dwelt on the sneers and raised eyebrows of some members of her order, her call to reformation could well have been delayed for some time; had Thomas More dwelt on the pain of execution, his commitment to the truth might have been threatened; if Cardinal Newman had centered on the anguish and affliction resulting from separating himself from so many dear friends, his conversion would have become increasingly difficult. The secret of their ability to deny them~ selves and accept the price of asceticism wasa vision of the good that would be achieved. "Joy is the knowledge that we possess something that is good" (Abbot Marmion). And though the good may well be miles down the road and a matter of long-range consequences, those who see are.enabled to joyfully deny themselves. 9Gerard Manley Hopkins, "'The Starlight Night." Spiritual Staying Power." Homeostasis / 669 A second, more powerful and more personal reason for joy lies in the fact that the Christian practices mortification in union with the. Lord. Just as Jesus suffered freely in reconciling the world to the Father, so too the Christian must pick up his cross voluntarily if he truly desires to share in the risen life. Failure to suffer in union with Christ runs the risk of self-righteousness, false pride and inevitable sadness. The grace needed is the generosity to do all things in Christ. Our fasting, our giving of time, our withhOlding that "brilliant insight''~° so that others might be free to speak, are all forms of denying self but in conjunction with the Lord. Joy results in sharing life together--whether that embraces health or illness, success or failure, peace or conflict--the important thing being the mutuality and not the positive or negative experience. Mortification takes on ful[ reality as one means of participation in the life of Christ. This fellowship, this partic-ipation, is the source of our joy. St. PauFs aliveness is characterized by both joy and mortification. His letters to the early ~Christian churches, permeated with so much suffering yet with an ex~ravaga~at generosity, provide us with sufficient evidence that Paul might well be a paradigm for all aspiring ascetics: For 1 am certain of this: neither death nor life, no angel, no price, nothing that exists, nothing still to come, not any power, or height or depth, nor any created thing, can ever come between us and the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord?~ We are only the earthenware jars that hold this treasure, to make it clear that such an overwhelming power comes from God and not from us. We are in difficulties on all sides, but never cornered; we see no answer to our problem, but never despair; we ~ have been persecuted, but never deserted; knocked down, but never killed; always, wherever we may be, 'we carry with us in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus, too, may always be seen in our body. Indeed, while we are still alive, we are consigned toour death every day,.for the sake of Jesus, so that in our mortal flesh the life of Jesus, too, may be openly shown. So death is at work in us, but life in you?z Paul's homeostatic principle dealt directly witch the external pressures that could have possibly destroyed his internal equilibrium. Graced with the Spirit of joyful mortification, those pressures and possible destructive forces were turned into growth experiences. Spirit of courageous service. Living involves doing. Through the in-carnational activity of enfleshing one's mission in word and deed, St. Paul strove to realize his calling as the apostle to the Gentiles and to bring about the reconciliation which was the work of Christ. Paul's metabolism was seldom low. ,~fter rechanneling his energies beginning with the Damascus experience., he responded to God;s call in building up the kingdom of God. His activism flowed from interior prayer and self-denial. Paul's life was balanced and full. ~o,,. and when he saw that the splendor of one of his pictures in the Exhibition dimmed his rival's that hung next to it, secretly took a brush and blackened his own." Essay by R. W. Emerson entitled "Character." ~Romans 8:38-39. ~z2 Corinthians 4:7-12. 670 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 One central dimension of Paul's apostolic work was bearing witness to the good news of Jesus Christ, God's love made visible to the world, A typical example is recorded in the Acts when Barnabas and Paul arrive at Antioch. How many times this type of sharing must have happened: On their arrival they assembled the church and gave an account'of all that God had done with them, and how he had opened the door of faith to the pagans.~3 In this particular instance the message and faith sharing was received with openness and joy, and they remained in Antioch for some time. More often, in attempting to fulfill the task of being an instrument of God's saving power among men, Paul was rejected and sometimes 6eaten (Ac 14:19; 2 Co l l:24ff). Speaking the truth involved paying a pric~. But since the truth - leads to freedom, the goal of the spiritual life, Paul had to speak it to remain true to his calling. He did not take the adx;ice of the old Turkish proverb: "He that would speak the truth must have one foot in the stirrup.''14 Missioned, being sent, seldom is limited to verbal sharing. Such was the case with St. Paul. He was commissioned to heal by living out the message he preached. Paul was a battle scarred disciple: Paul's concern for the poor, his gathering of money, evidence a social consciousness; his commitment to and vision of God's universal salvific will elicited extravagant energies to actualize this goal; his unwillingness to impose himself on others, thus being a burden to them, meant the retention of his tent mak!ng profession. Sensitive to'a variety of human and spiritual needs, skilled with the competencies and graced with love, Paul reached out to his fellow pilgrims helping them to grow as humari beings and preparing them to experience the good news of God's mercy and love. "To live" embraces loving attention, joyful mortification and coura-geous service. Paul is a fine model in that he followed Christ so well. Every Christian is challenged to get caught up into this way of living. The fi~st integrating ribbon on the tail of.our March kite provides solid material for homeostasis. It balances, stabilizes, as well as anchors the Christian in some depth realities. "To live" is to be one with the Spirit of Jesus and the Father; it involves a sharing in the Spirit ofcontemplatik, e prayer, voluntary asceticism and social concern. Through Love: Union with the Risen Lord The central experience of human life is being loved. So important is this experience that without it there is no hope of happiness and~minimal ex-pectation for sanity. The good news contained in the life of Jesus testifies once and for all that everyone is loved, "that our own existence in fact testifies to nothing less than our being loved by the Creator.''~5 Objectively 13Acts 14:27. ~'~See John W. Gardner and Francesa Gardner Reese, Know or Listen to Those Who Know (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1975), p. 233. ~SJosef Pieper, About Love, translated by Richard and Clara Winston (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1972), p. 31. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 671 this is the~ase; Subjectively, whether ornot we come to taste the truth of God's love, this is the most significant question of our lives. St. Paul experienced God's love: what was objectively true from the first moment of his existence became subjectively a reality when he surrendered to the call of grace. Love experienced meant a rebirth which radically changed his entire existence. Throughout the rest of his life's journey and beyond, he lived "through love" in God's presence. Though Paul knew that God's love for him was triune, it was in and through Jesus that the Father's fidelity and the Spirit's indwelling were revealed. Thus, we can focus on the quality and texture of Christ's personal love for Paul as we examine the second element in the suggested Paulirie h6meostatic principle. In doing this we realize that Paul knew that c~on-version was primarily an interior reality touching the mind and hdart. His being thus transformed interiorly showed itself in the external conversion of life-style. It is the transforming presence of Christ in our hearts and the knowledge of this love in our understanding that brings about spiritual renewal: Out of his infinite glory, may he give you the power through his Spirit for your hidden self to grow strong, so that Christ may live in your hearts through faith, and then, planted in love and built on love, you will with all the saints have strength to grasp the breadth and the length, the height and the depth; until, knowing the love of Christ, which is beyond all knowle~dge, you are filled with the utter fulness qf God.~ ' To live through love means to live in Christ Jesus; to allow his wisdom to shape our attitudes, to surrender'to his affectivity which transforms our hearts, and to .be enabled through his power to share with others the gifts that we have received. Jesus' Wisdom To live in union with the loving Lord necessarily means to be embraced by his wisdom and to share in that gift. In the book of Wisdom we are told that the gift of wisdom has these traits: 1) wisdom is the consort of God's throne; 2) to lack the wisdom is to count for nothing; 3) wisdom knows God's works; she was present when the world was made; 4) wisdom under-stands what is pleasing in God's eyes; she teaches this; 5) wisdom knows and' understands everything,lr Insight and deep knowledge can be cold and sterile. Such is not the case of the wisdom of Christ in whi~zh Paul shared. Rather it was a loving knowledge leading the intellect to true and full understanding. Throughout the ages various writers have noted the' relationship between love and the cognitive dimension of human knowing: Thus love is the parent of faith.l~ ~SEphesians 3:16-19. ~TWisdom 9:1-6, 9-11. iSJohn Henry Newman, "Holy Scriptures" in Essays and Sketches (New York: Longman, Green & Co., 1948), p. 328. 672 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 We could almost say he sees because he loves, and therefore loves although he sees?9 What ha~ to be healed in us is our true nature, made in the likeness of God. What we have to learn is love. The healing and the learning are the same thing, for at the very core of our essence we are constituted in God's likeness by our freedom, and the exercise of that freedom is nothing else but the exercise of disinterested love--the love of God for his own sake. because he is God. The beginning of love is truth, and before he Will give us his love, God must cleanse our souls of the lies that are in them.2° To live through love means that the truth given us enables us to see and to believe. Jesus' love provides us with a vision of reality thereby scattering darkness and ignorance. Wisdom is to know the Father, a Father of loving fidelity and infinite mercy; our wisdom is to live from this central insight. "Through love" contains both a passive and active dimension: we are first loved in truth (passive) and then are missioned to reach out in deep concern (active). In the spiritual classic The Cloud of Unknowing, the importance of living and acting within God's love is stressed: The work of love not only heals the roots of sin, but nurtures practical goodness. When it is authentic you will be sensitive to every ne6d and respond with a generosity unspoiled by selfish intent. Anything you attempt to do without this love will certainly b~ imperfect, for it is sure to be marred by ulterior motives,z~ St. Paul told the Philippians to have the same attitude that Christ had. This exhortation was grounded in lived experience, for Paul had himself put on the mind and attitudes of Christ. Paul's vision, his judgments and con-ception of life resembled those of Jesus who focused on the Father. In the letter to the Ephesians, Paul gives evidence of how gifted he was with God's loving wisdom when, in his letter, he describes the divine plan of salvation (Ep 1:3-14). Two verses of that magnificent passage provide sufficient wit-ness to that wisdom: He has let us know the mystery of his purpose, the hidden plan he so kindly made in Christ from the beginning to act upon when the times had run their course to the end; that he would bring everything together under Christ, as head, everything in the heavens and everything on earth.22 Jesus' Affectivity To live through love for Paul was to experience transformation of one's heart. Paul was a man deeply in love; how else explain his commitment and unmatched zeal. The love of the risen Lord touched the very center of Paul's being in an intimate and personal way, resulting in a response of deep affectivity; his heart was on fire with the concern that Jesus showed him. Several centuries after Paul, another Christian underwent a spiritual heart ~9C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (New York: The Seabury Press, 1961), p. 57. Z°Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1948), p. 451. ~The Cloud of Unknowing, edited by William Johnston (New York: Doubleday, Inc., 1973), ZZEphesians 1:9-10. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 673 transplant after much struggle. This was St. Augustine. He emerged from "surgery" with the strong convi6tion that true life must flow from the heart: Follow the Lord, if you will,be perfect, a comrade of those among whom he speaks wisdom, who knows what to distribute to the day and to the night, so that you also may know it and so that for you lights may be in the firmament of heaven. But this will not be done unless your heart is in it.~ If wisdom touches out.minds with truth, God's gracious love seeks to touch our hearts. Why is it that so many defense mechanisms come into play at this level? Perhaps the fear of intimacy makes us cautious; what will be-demanded if I allow the Lord entrance into my life? Paradoxically we seek and' need intimacy yet flee when it is offered. The conditions of intimacy--commitment, self donation, giving up self-sufficiency--give us cause to hesitate. The tragic possibility of "having no heart" or allowing our hearts to become hard and calloused are dreadful alternatives to intP macy. Literature often speaks to this point: But 1 feel nothing, she whispered to herself. I have no heart.~4 Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds'at every turn,~5 ¯ His sorrows will not be slight. His heart is proud and hard.2~ Jesus came to save the'whole person, and ali people. His love for us was integral and he sought a total response. Using the book of Deuteronomy, Jesus. teaches: "and you must love the Lord your God. with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength" (Dt 6:4-5). Realizing in faith that God first loved us, now weare to respond in love to a God who desires our hearts. Having' been gifted with love, we return that gift. by loving the Father as Jesus did and by serving in the building up of the kingdom. Jesus' Power As God's gracious love transforms the interior of the Christian life, creating a new heart and shaping a new mind, there are external mani-festations indicating a new, powerful wayof life. The power of Jesus was evidenced in his love, joy, peace, in his constant patience, goodness, kind-ness, in his trustful'ness, gentleness and self-control (Ga 5:22). Through these signs of the Spirit, the Father's love and mission were incarnated. Following the Master, Paul challenged the Galatians as well as hin~self~to live out these values. For the sake of clarification, Paul's letter to the people of Galatia also provided concrete instances of what happens when internal renewal of heart and mind has not taken place. The "old self" of indulgence and weakness surfaces when these results are present: ZSThe Confessio;~s of St. Augustine, translated by John K~ Ryan, Book XII1, Chapter 19 (New °York: Image Book, 1960), p. 350. 24Thornton Wilder, The Bridge ofSatt Luis Re3' (New York: Washington Square Press, Inc,, 1955), p. 112. ~Edna St. Vincent Millay's "'Pity Me Not Because the Light of Day." Z~Herman Hesse, Siddhartha. 674 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 fornication, gross indecency and sexual irresponsibility; idolatry and sorcery; feuds and wrangling, jealousy, bad temper and quarrels; disagreements, factions, envy; drunkenness, orgies and similar things. 1 warn you now, as I warned you before: those who behave like this will not inherit the kingdom of God'.27 In using the power given him by the Father~; Jesus brought about change and renewal in the lives of many. In calling Zaccheus down from the tree an entire household was converted; in washing the feet of the disciples they came to realize that to follow the Lord was,.t0 serve; in calling Mary by name in the garden, depression and fear gave way to hope and joy. The very presence of Jesus was power, transforming darkness~into light, doubt into faith, apathy into love. His gaze, the tone of voice, the transparency of the Father's love were creative for anyone with the eyes. of faith. When that faith, was not there, Jesus experienced the pain of powerlessness and he bore that cross with much pain: Wherever growth took place, Jesus, in humility, realized that it was rooted in the Father's abiding presence and an expression of the Father's love. Paul lived through love which Christ had for him; this love power m~ade the apostle to the Gentiles into a new man. Then, having experienced the burning power of God's call in Jesus, Paul was enabled in love to exert power in bringing others to the Father. In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul describes the source, purpose and strength of the Christian way of life: It is all God's work. It was God who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the work of handing on this reconciliation. In other words, God in Christ recon-ciling the world to himself, not holding men's faults against them, and he has'entrusted to us the news that they are reconciled. So we are ambassadors, for Christ; it is as though God were appealing through us, and the appeal that we make in Christ's name is: be reconciled to God.28 To accomplish the work of the Father, power was necessary. Paul was well aware that the gifts and energies given him were not for personal gain but for others. What mattered was that all people might be in union with God, that reconciliation become a fact. The vision of faith was translated into life through the strength and ~courage given by the Father. Paul became an ambassador; a messenger entrusted with precious news. Through the power of proclamation and the courage of deeds, Paul shared the message of God's loving forgiveness with the people of his day, and with. us who are privile'ged to read his letters in faith. To live through love, then, meant for Paul a dwelling in the love of Christ Jesus. Through grace he would take on the mind and heart of the Lord as well as the power of his hands. Living through love implied an imperative: through his personal love for his fellowmen, Paul must continue the process of conversion in the lives of those whom he was called to serve. The gift given, God's love and forgiveness must be passed on. 27Galatians 5:19-21. 282 Corinthians 5:18-20. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasisr / 675 In His Presence: Union With the Father Several years ago~ I was speaking with a friend about the well-being of a former classmate. His response was simple and profound: "He's all right, he lives in His presence." This type of centering provides peace and be-comes the source of a "holy" life. Monica, the mother of Augustine, lived in the land of faith. Her son writes: o ¯ . . and she h'ad you (God)oas her inward teacher in the school of her heart . Whosoever among them khew her greatly praised.you, and honored you and loved you in her, because they recognized your presence in her heart, for the fruit of her holy ¯ life bore witness to this3~ C. S. Lewis, after the death of his wife, recorded an experience of presence that analogously applies to the God-man relationship: ¯ . . she seems to meet me everywhere. Meet is far too strong a word. l don't mean anything remotely like an apparition or a voice. I don't mean even any strikingly emotional experience at any particular moment. Rather, a sort of unobtrusive but massive sense that she is, just as much as ever, a fact to be taken into account,a° Faith draws us to the basic fact that the Father is always with us in a variety of ways.~The:problem is not so much cognitive as it'is experiential; through a lack of pro~er disposition we live outside of God's presence (this is sin at the deepest I~vel). God is still with us but w~ live as though this were not the case. ,, In his excellent treatise The Problem of~God, John Courtney Murray emphasizes t.he importance of presence: Over against the inconstancy and infidelity of the people; who continually absent themselves from God, the Name Yahweh affirms the constancy of God, his un-changeable fidelity to his promise of presence?~ He (God) is present as the Power. Presence involves transparency; one sees through the veil.of otherness into the other and knows his quality, intentions, attitudes. Thus, through h~s mighty works, God becomes transparent to hts people. He ts known to be present m ffi~thful goodness. : . . In all h~s works of judgment as of rescue, Yahweh becomes transparent, known to his people, who name him'from their experience of his works,a2 St. Paul cam~ to experience the pror~ise of God's dwelling with his people throug.h grace. Then, empowered;l~y the Spirit and 'h~aled through the power of JeSus, Paul could write to the Romans that "everyone moved b-Y the Slbirit is a son of GoiJ'~ find that it is~this Spirit that "makes us cry 6ut, ~abba, Father! . (Rm ~: 14-!$). Assuming the identity bf h so~, Paul j.ourneyed to the Father. ' ¯ zaConfessions, Book IX, Chapter 9, p. 220¯ abA Grief Observed, p. 22. aUohn Courtney Mut~'ay, The Proble'm of God (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964), p. 11~ 321bid., pp. 14-15. 676 / Review for; Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 Father's Covenant The covenant theme is central throughout all of scripture. God's word reveals the mystery of his desire to dwell with his people in a close intimate relationship. God committed himself to beour Father~ and callS us to be his people. Thus in forming a nation through. Abraham; in giving the law and the prophets, in sending Jesus to reconcile, in forming a Spirit-filled Church, the Father continues to dwell in history, the God oftimg and space. St. Paul experienced the covenant relationship with the Father; he dwelt in the Father's tent, listening to the Father's voice and venturing f?rth to share that word with others. Refusal of God's covenant is sin. Acceptance of it is grace and life. Our home is to be with God. The psalmist knew the joy of dwelling with Yah-weh: A single day in your courts is worth more than a thousand elsewhere; ~, merely to stand on the steps of God's house is better than living with the wicked,a3 Paul had spent years living out the covenant relationship: With the encounter and surrender to Christ, he gained access to the Father'.s dwell-ing. Having tasted darkness, he now knew the warmth and light of grace. To live in his presence meant life itself; anything else was death: But because of Christ, I have come to con~ider all these advantages (of the Law) as disadvantages. Not only that, but I believe that nothing can happen that will outweigh the supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For him I have accepted the loss of everything, and I look on everything as so much rubbish if only I can have Cl~dst and be given ~ place in him.a4 Father's Kingdom and Will ,~ To live in the Father's presence means necessarily to get caught up into the kingdom and the will of God. "God's kingdom is no fixed, existing order, but a living, nearing thing. Long remote, it now advances, little by little, and has come so close as to demand acceptance. Kingdom of God means a state in which God is king and consequently rules."35 Indeed, for St. Paul the very presence of the Father within his life was synonymous with the surrender of his freedom. Decisions now w~re made in faith and out of love; freedom given meant freedom gained. By relating all to the furthering of the kingdom, a deep singleness of the heart (purity) governed and unified the apostle's life. All was new. The kingdom is achieved by doing the Father's will. Jesus' obedience unto death was the paradigm. Paul's highly developed sense of discernment allowed him to hear the voice of the Lord and the grace of the moment meant a response in faith. This listening and responding pattern charac- 3aPsalm 84:10. a4Philippians 3:7-9. a~Romano Guardini, The Lord (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1954), p. 37. Spiritual Staying Power: Homeostasis / 677 terized Paul's life; it meant that the Father's will was being accomplished. Paul's prayer for the Colossians indicates the centrality of God's will: ¯. we have never0failed to pray for you~ and'what we ask God is that through perfect wisdom and spiritual:understanding you should reach the'fullest knowledge of his will. So you~ will be able,~to lead the kind of life which the Lord expects of you, a life acceptable to him in all its aspects; showing the results in all good actions you do and increasing your knowledg~e of God.a6 Knowledge of the Father's will is no intellectual abstraction; it demands commitment and actions which are pleasing to God. This holy pragmatism stresses the dynamism of Paul's ministry and his challenge to those who follow tile Lord. To,~iive in his presence, with the implicit willingness to promote the kirigdom by doing the Father's will, means that selfishness and non-scrip-tural behavior are elements in opposition to the life of Christ. Yet these elements never t6t~lly disappear from life. There is that constant struggle to allow the Lord to truly be I~ord ofourqives; there are the perennial temff-tat~ ons that lead toward' idolatry and~ wedge things and people between ourselves and the Father. Paul's life had; to face the'se struggles; his life was one 'of continual conversion. His candid confession in his letter to the Rom~ins"(7:14-15) magnificently expresSes the inward division of every person. Only through the grace of Christ does healing take place and only through that grace can we center bn the Father's kingdom and will. Without it we flounder on stormy waters. Father's Honor and Glory 'Life invol~'es two essential questions: what we do and why we do what v~E ~o. This latter question deals with the motivation. Our intentions not only reve~al our philosophy of life bu~ ultimately give us our sense of iden-tity.~ The Christian challenge 'is to Center our lives on God, to serve and love for his honor and 'glory. Self-serving and self-preserving tendencies block purity of'intention. Constantly we a~e invited to ever deeper levels of convei~sion as we strive to focus our attention on the mystery of God. Often Paul directly called the people he served to recognize to whom all honor and glory belonged: Glory'be to him whose power, working in us', can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine3 glory be to him from generation to genera~tion in the Church and in Christ Jesus forever and ever. Amen.3r Glory to him who is able to give you the strength to live according to the Good News I preach, and in which I proclaim Jesus Christ. the revelation of a mystery kept secret for endless ages, but now so clear that it must be broadcast to pagans everywhere to bring them to the obedience of faith. , . . He alone is wisdom; give glory therefore to him through Jesus.Christ forever and ever. Amen.36 a~Colossians 1:9-10: aTEphesians 3:20-21. 38Romans 16:25-27. Review for ReligiouS, Volume 37, 1978/5 In return, my God will fulfill .all your needs, in Christ Jesus, as lavishly as only.God can. Glory to God, our Father, forever and ever. Amen.as Honor and glory are due to God because of his majesty. The believer breaks forth in praise when God reveals himself. It is, impossible to remain silent when Truth and Goodness and Beauty inundate the human spirit. Faith allows us to encounter the living and true God; Our response is that of praise. Using Thomistic theology, Gabriel Braso describes well the meaning of honor and glory: , Glory is clear knowledge together with praise of the excellence of a'nother: clara ' notitia cure laude. Honor is the ackno~vledgment of this same e~cellence. Honor and glory, then, are acts by which our intellect recognizes an excellence existing in another being and finds it worthy of praise. Our will, on its part, accepts this superi-ority as a good to which it is well to tend, and, rejoicing in that good which another. prssesses, proclaims it and bears witness to it before others.4° The atmosphere in which Paul lived, namely,0the loving presen~ze of the Father, provides the springboard for his work, personal relationships and prayer. Not only did the apostle~ attempt to do. what was good for the well.being of others, he also lived from a very specifi~ level of.inten-tionality; he lived for God's honor and glory. Certainly the quality of this motivation varied at times, but the ideal was ever before Paul and he strove for it with tremendous zeal and dedication. Because .of this, he could write to others that they should follow his example. Conclusion The spiritual life is our participation in the paschal mystery. By means of principles and guidelines we h~ive some directions providing a perspec-tive from which to live this life in Christ. A homeostatic principle,is .~n internal reality giving continuity and stability to the faith life, especial!y when experiences of fragmentation tend to upset that life or when doubts attack :the human heart stripping it of meaning and feel,i, ng. Each person is challenged to discover and cultivate a personal homeostatic principle; it may remain constant throughout life or be modified in various ways. Be-sides St. Paul, other believers have articulated well what possibly might be their grounding point in the Lord: Yesterday 1 had a good morning. Once again when I recollect myself, I again find the same simple demands of God: gentleness, humility, charity, interior simplicity; noth-ing else is asked of me. And suddenly I saw clearly why these virtues are,demanded, because through them the soul becomes habitable for God and for one's neighbor in an intimate and permanent way. They make a pleasant cell of it. Hardness and pride repel, complexity disquiets. But humility and gentleness welcome, and simplicity reassures. These "'passive" virtues have an eminently social character.41 3aPhilippians 4t29-30~ 4°Gabriel M. Braso, O.S.B., Liturgy and Spirituality, translated by Leonard J. Doyle (Col-legeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press, 1960), p. 59. o ~ 4IRaissh's Journal, presented by Jacques Maritain (Albany, NY: Magi Books, Inc.,1963), p. 71. Spiritual Staying Power: H~meostasis / 679 . my sole desire is that His name be praised, and that we should make every effort to serve a Lord who gives us such a reward here below . 4~ Lord, who has form'd me out of mud, And has redeem'd me through thy blood, And sanctifi'd me to do good; Purge all my sins done heretofore: For I confess my heavy score, And I will strive to sin no more. Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me, With faith, with hope, with charity; That I may run, rise, rest with thee.4a Human life is lived at various levels. At times the surface of our lives can be filled with turmoil and anxieties while there is peace deep within. At other times, extei'nal forces are calm but our hearts are agitated and rest-less. This essay suggests that St. Paul was able to deal with the pressures, anxieties and trials of life because his life was grounded in God's life. Paul's desire, was "'to live through love in His presence." This homeostatic prin-ciple provided' stability and continuity as he sought to "run, rise, rest" with God. 4~The Complete Works of St. Teresa of Jesus, translated by E. Allison Peers, II (London: Sheed and Ward, 1946), p. 268. 43George Herbert, "Trinity Sunday." All I Needed Was the Violet The overwheimin~ evidence of your magnitude, O God, i~sdisplayed in the sequ0yia forest,~ the snow,crowned towering mountains, the throbbing pulse of the swaying oceans, the~ measureless ga!axies of tinknown space, and also in the perfection and beauty of a tiny violet. To believe in you, an~l to bow down in worship, all I needed ' was the violet. Everywhere I find you, , Your bountiful, awe-inspiring, praise-producing, heart-stirring, mind-boggling, argument-ending remin~lers are just too overwhelming for me. Viola Jacobson Berg 5 Roosevelt Ave. Malverne, NY 11565 Mount Athos: The Holy Republic Michael Azkoul Father Azkoul, a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church, has taught Church History at St. Louis University, as well as in other institutions. Presently he is attached to Seminex (Luth-eran Seminary in Exile) of St. Louis. He is married, with two children. He resides at 912 Bellstone Rd.; St. Louis, MO 63119. Mount Athos or "The Holy Mountain" is situated in northern Greece, on the Chaicedonean peninsula. Since 1922 this colony of monks has been a republic, a legally constituted political entity, a cluster of monasteries-- stauropeion, as the Orthodox say--immediately subject to the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople. The Holy Mount is dedicated to the Blessed Virgin who, it is said, led its first inhabitants, perhaps as early as the sixth century, to establish this religious sanctuary where no female is allowed--nor "female animals-or beardless boys." There have been as many as 40,000 monks on this tiny strip of land jutting into the Aegean, but now Athos can hardly boast of 400 Who have surrendered themselves to the "life of the angels." The Holy Mountain has been crucial to the life of the Orthodox Church. Its monks have produced great music, art, theology, and given t6 the Church some of her greatest bishops and saints.1 Moreover, the history of Orthodoxy shows that monks, especially those of the holy mount, have been "defenders of the faith." No more typical example can be found than their behavior during the Iconoclastic Period when the Empress Theodora found the support of monks indispensable in her effort to restore icons to the Church. Her victory is commemorated on the first Sunday of the "Great ~Monk-saints of Athos are usually called Hagiorite, that is, of the holy (hagios) mountain (oros). 680 Mount Athos: The Holy Republic / 68"1 Lent," as the Sunday of Orthodoxy. This Christian triumph over Hellenism was as monastic as it was,ecclesiastical. The historical value of monasticism to the Church notwithstanding, its importance to Orthodoxy as the supreme embodiment of her Weltan- Schauung is what concerns us here: Mt. Athos as the microcosm of the whole, of Orthodoxy and monasticism, this is the special object of our attention. In truth, one cannot understand the Eastern Church unless one grasps the meaning of her monasticism. In other words, monks are not a class above the Church, but the highest stratum within the Church. They are "'the true and authentic Christians," as St. Basil the Great called them. Monks and nuns are the dynamis of Orthodoxy, its spiritual heroes, the archetypes of its piety, models of chastity, the totally committed who most perfectly express the first principle of Orthodox spirituality, "voluntary obedience.'" They are those Christians who mysteriously perfect the Church and the entire human race by perfecting themselves. Recognizing that the Church is divine and human, even as Christ himself, we come to understand what it means that they are eager to sanctify time, to bring creation closer to the end for which the Christian economy was re-vealed- the deification of the cosmos. The Nature of Orthodox Spirituality The Orthodox Weltanschauung is ascetical. This means that monks are not an erratic or exotic element in the Church, but her chief representatives. Their lives are a statement of denial as well as of affirmation: monks affirm the Christian revelation as the introduction of new life into an age domi-nated by the devil. Satan is the "god of the age," its very zeitgeist. He is the one to whom mankind was yoked by Adam's sin, the ancestral sin which rendered his posterity the heirs of bodily corruption and death. "Where-fore, as by one man sin entered the world and death by sin," St. Paul teaches, "0n account of death all have sinned" (Rm 5:12). In other words, man is not so much a scoundrel as a victim. Human suffering is not the result of God's punishment or vengeance, but the consequence of the devil's power over us through death--the last enemy. Thus, God became a man to destroy the devil and death, not to satisfy some debt incurred by humanity through the sin of Adam.~ For the Orthodox, there is no "original sin," as Augustine and the West have so long believed, only an act of disobedience which inaugurated de-monic tyranny. Baptism, therefore, does not eradicate an "inherited guilt" transmitted by procreation. How, indeed, as Pelagius asked the Augus-tinians, is "original sin" passed to the children of baptized parents if bap- ZSee J. S. Romanides, "'Original Sin According to Saint Paul," St. Vladimir Seminary Quar-terly. IV, I-2 ( 1955-1956), pp. 5-28. Fr. Romanides blames Augustine of Hippo for altering the Church's traditional understanding of Adam's sin and its consequences: and, therefore, the Christian theology of baptism. Review for Relig, ious, Volume 37, 1978/5 tism washes it away? Nor does baptism involve the complete regeneration of human nature--which would necessarily destroy even the capacity to sin. Rather, baptism removes the individual from the tyranny of the devil and incorporates us into the life of "the Second Adam," that is, the Church, the body of Christ, the new humanity, "the race of Christians," as St. Justin Martyr referred to the People of God. Moreover, the mystery of baptism initiates the process of deification--"the new birth," the process of our spiritual perfection through grace (which in Orthodox theology means God's "uncreated energy" extended to creation). We belong to that level of being in which the acquisition of the Holy Spirit, the "Giver of Life," becomes our r?tison d'ktre. In Christ, he is the Deifier. In the Church, the process of deification (salvation) involves, to be sure, prayer, fasting, the Mysteries (sacraments), saving knowledge (the "knowl-edge" of spiritual things, gnosis) and the constant struggle with the pas-sions, the struggle to overcome our Adamic nature, our mortal nature, .to overcome death, wrestling with devil while ascending the "ladder of per-fection," to borrow a phrase from St. John of the, Ladder (Climacus). The passions darken reason and enervate the will: they destroy freedom. Freedom is an internal condition, "the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free., from the yoke of bondage" (Ga 5:1). Thus, it does not mean, in the first instance, political or economic rights. These cannot exist unless we have been unchained from the Evil One who, as we have implied, seeks our negation through the passions, the perverse powers of our fallen nature, our nature yoked to death, to dying. We recognize the passions as pride or self-love, jealousy, lust, hate, contentiousness, despair, etc. There are passions of the body and passions of the soul, as St. Gregory of Sinai reminds us. They dwell in us from birth :and are aroused and strengthened by our environment, that is, by the devil working through our psyche, or by persons and things. The devil combats grace by the passions. Despite the Holy Spirit, our guardian angel, the ¯ intercession of the saints, we can lose our souls if we do not perceive the guile of the devil and undertake to oppose him; indeed, without the struggle, the Christian will soon fall away from the Church and into the power of the devil once more. As we have said, the passions are the means by which the devil seeks to recapture.us. He can get us back by winning our "heart," the spiritual citadel of man, the "subconscious," as some Orthodox theologians call it. (Orthodoxy, following the Fathers, has never viewed the "heart" as "the seat of the emotions~ especially love.") All instruments of reason are im-potent to search the abyss of the heart, although, as St. Symeon the New Theologian observed, discursive reason is given the role of "sentinel." The heart is that by which we believe unto salvation, by which we see God if our heart is pure (Mt 5:8: Rm 10:9), but also that from which, according to the Lord, "proceeds evil reasoning, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, lying, blasphemy .'" (Mt 15:19). Mount Athos: The Holy Republic No wonder, then, the Fathers admonish us to "guard the heart," to protect it from anything or anyone who might injure it, from any situation which leads to separation from God's grace. We may "'guard the heart" through obedience, humility, chastity, prayer, the Mysteries and, in par-ticular, by controlling the faculty of the "imagination." This is that power of the mind whereby it creates images, which forms sense-data into co-herent patterns, which allows the mind to visualize and, consequently, to judge and act. As the Greek Fathers say, every passion is the result of a "'sinful image." Reason may alert us to the danger, but if we cherish the "'sinful inlage,'".ifwe nourish and remember it--as one might past insult or betrayalBthen it overwhelms reason, penetrates the systems of conscious-ness and plunges into the heart. The "'sinful image" reemerges as a "pas-sion," the irrational force which comes to determine our thought and con-duct. Only strenuous ascetic exercise can purge the heart thereafter. The great weapon of protection and purgation is "the name of Jesus." His name is a terror to the devils, said St. Barsanuphius. We may pray, 'bLord Jesus Christ, Thou Son of God, have mercy upon me, a sinner." The "desert fathers" recommend that this prayer be repeated slowly, quietly, sincerely. When said with.faith and understanding, it is not "vain repeti-tion." It becomes important to spiritual and mental health. Some Fathers have been known to have recited the "Jesus rPrayer'' all through the night--a prayer "without ceasing." Rightly practiced, it will eventually pass to and mysteriously, effortlessly, beat witti the organ of the heart. The "Jesus Prayer" becomes.the automatic "'Prayer of the Heart." Admittedly, those who have reached this perfection are very few. They are also those men and women who may preview already on earth the joys of heaven."~ Let us make one thing clear before we proceed. According to the Ortho-dox Church, "the religious experience" is never wholly "private" and never "anti-establishment." To be sure, the quality and intensity of that experience depends upon the holiness of the individual, but it is an ex-perience which transpires within the Church. We may call it "mystical," if we wish, but it is not the "'mystical experience" of a special person, a psychedelic, insulated, isolated, exotic, mayhaps erotic experience. In Orthodoxy, the "religious" or "'mystical experience" of any of her mem-bers- including the holy monk and nun--is the experience of the entire Church, relative, as we said, to the degree of sanctity. The Church is a soborny, a mystical, organic fellowship of believers, if for no other reason than that of the Holy Eucharist, "the mystical supper~" as St. John Chrysostom called it, enjoyed by all the faithful. " In connection with this matter, too, is the teaching of'the Eastern Church that truth is the product of mystical experience, that is, dogma is the product of holiness, not of ratiocination. But if truth follows from holiness, 3The Orthodox Church rejects the idea of the "'beatific vision" if by that is meant beholding the Essence of God, whether in this life or the next. The saved will see only the deified Christ "'face to face" (see Vladimir Lossky, The Vision of God: London, 1963). 684 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/5 then there is no surer vehicle of divine revelation than the monk, he who has committed his entire life to the fight with the devil and the struggle with the passions. As a matter of historical fact, the greatest teachers of the Church have been monks, whether clergy or not. It is correct to say, however, that the supreme witnesses to the Christian faith have been monks who were also bishops, since bishops have almost invariably drawn from the monastery. The bishop has sometimes been an abbott or "'elder" (staretz, geron) whose reputation for holiness and wisdom is unsurpassed. Historically, he was the confessor and counselor of kings and queens. Furthermore, the Orthodox Church has never failed to contain .great women ascetics, many of whom have been found in the convent. Through-out the centuries, they have been persons to whom Christians have turned for wisdom and consolation. Although women cannot teach in the Church nor become priests, they have been miracle-workers, iconographers, poets, models of virtue. St. Mary of Egypt dwelt in the desert for more thanforty years. By her miracles and preachment, St. Nina was ,the converter of Georgia in Russia. Numerous women saints have been given the honorific title "Equal to the Apostles," such as St. Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine. The abbe

Issue 35.6 of the Review for Religious, 1976. ; ,,,,llllili,,,~,iililli REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is edited by faculty members of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copyright © 1976 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $7.00 a year; $13.00 for two years; other countries, $8.00 a year, $15.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor November 1976 Volume 35 Number 6 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to REVXEW yon RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REvmw voa RELICIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-yard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at $4th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Catholic Schools in a Declining Church: A Theological Reflection Donald J. Keefe, S.J. Father Keefe, on the faculty of the Department of Theological Studies; St. Louis University; St. Louis, MO 63103, has been a frequent reviewer in these pages. Presently he is on sabbatical leave and is residing in the Jesuit Community; Fordham Univer-sity; Bronx, NY 10458. Catholic Schools in a Declining Church, co-authored by Andrew Greeley, William McCready and Kathleen McCourt (Sheed and Ward, 1976) has attained a prominence in religious publication ,which is perhaps comparable to that of Hans~ Kiing's In[allible? An Inquiry. Their common success fol-lows a common formula: each purports to present a scholarly basis for a radical criticism of the institutional Church. Each is underwritten by a prominent figure in the Catholic world, Consequently, each has~a political significance which is independent of the intrinsic merits of its critique. Each has been given instant notoriety in th.e popular press and each, in its fashion, is symptomatic of what seems to be a pervasive dissatisfaction within Cath-olic academic circles regarding what are felt to be inappropriate responses of the Church to the contemporary world. Finally, each reflects a similar impatience with the "official" ecclesiology, one which understands the Church as "the sacramental sign of the Kingdom of God: KiJng's rejection of this ecclesiology, long since explicitl does not concern us here. Rather we are coficerned with the ecclesiology implicit in Catholic Schools in a De- ,clining Church, particularly insofar as this bears upon Greeley's judgment that the encyclical,.Humanae Vitae, is simply a disaster. Greeley's salient theological conclusion is that, by reason of a funda-mental failure in communication, the official Church, though, revivified by the reforms of Vatican II, has, in the publication of Humanae Vitae, entered 801 802 / Review ]or Religious,: Volume 35, 1976/6 upon a suicidal rejection of 'its own reality-in-history by rejecting the morality of artificial contraception; and this despite the fact that~ the greater part of the Catholi6 people find no impropriety in such practices. Certain normative presuppositions undergird Greeley's conclusion: .1 ) The Catholic Church is as fit a subject for sociological analysis as any other social .entity. It is quite as permeable to this kind of scrutiny'as, for example, would be the Democratic Party. 2) The actual meaning of events, as these occur in the history of the Church, is that meaning which this kind of investigation reveals. Thus, for example, an event is "disastrous" when its effects, as measured by sociolog-ical criteria, are found to be destructive. These presuppositions are merely expressions of the demand for auton-omy which every intellectual inquiry, regardless of its object, makes as a matter of course. Every science is in search of the unity of truth. The syn-thetic or conclusion-reaching aspect of any science is no more than an expression of confidence in the power of its own method to integrate into a comprehensive understanding all the scattered data which its inquiry un-covers. There.is a kind of arrogance associated with any disciplined attempt to understand, for it supposes an ability to transcend, to dominate, ultimately to comprehend its object. Such intellectual self-sufficiency at a naive level raises no particular theological difficulties. But when it is given sophisticated expression as a method O[ knowledge, it can become an ideology, one which would pretend to offer a comprehensive criterion of truth and reality that would be analogous to, and necessarily competitive with the Christian faith itself. Such methodologies in fact become ideological when they refuse to admit the existence of any truth, of any reality beyond their grasp. They become ideological when they place prior limits upon-what can be "known," upon what can be "true." Over the centuries of the Church's history, such ideological convictions have continually troubled the faith of its community. Such convictions have been woven out of the tangled threads of rabbinical Judaism, of the Medi-terranean mystery religions, of the He~llenistic philogophies which were contemporaneous with the early Church. With the dawn of the Middle Ages, the first introduction of Aristotle)~ logic prbvided a new challenge to the faith. In the late Renaissance, there was a c~omparableenthu~iasm for yet another powerful intellectual resource: "scientific method," with its ac-companying mathematics, began to be exalted as the ~nique mode of .access to certitude. By the end o~ the eighteenth century, this confidence had waned. The Romantic period then found in the humanistic study of history and in nascent sociology a new key to the human enigma. Truth is no longer to be r~garded as something "out there." Rather it is seen as the proper Catholic Schools in a Declining Church: A Reflection / 1~03 achievement of human societies in history--a history which is fundamentally in human hands, open to human analysis and exhaustive comprehension. This, too, fed the formation of ideologies. Common to all such ways of knowing iS the problem of their "conver-sion." The value ofthese works of human intelligence is enormous, in-dispensable. How can they be conformed to the Catholic faith, enter into a Catholic intellectuality? The claim that they cannot be. so conformed is still heard, both from those who too much love and from those who too much fear the new learning. For those who love too much, such a conversion would put an end to the "autonomy of science." For those who "too much fear," such a conVersion would end by relativizing the faith. Perhaps the simplest reply to such claims is to point out their futility. The objection that the "conversion" of an otherwise autonomous method of scientific inquiry would write finis to its independence rests upon an outdated notion of scientific method, the philosophical roots of which were undercut by Kant.~The intrinsic dilemmas of this method were demon-strated half a century ago by Heisenberg's0principle of indetermination. In point of fact, Descartes' dream of a universal science remains a dream, a dream tied to a time now remote. In our day, it survives only as an ideology of a peculiarly old-fashioned sort, kept alive' largely by social engineers' such as B. F. Skinner with his form of determinism. In such hands, this ideology becomes a kind of salvation, scheme by which the unpredictability, the enigmatic character of historical humanity is remedied by the elimina-tion of those human attributes which permit the emergence of historical' novelty: freedom and personal responsibility. The reduction of humanity to fungible integers thus finally makes possible a mathematically accurate calculus and control of the human. Such an ideology is really nothing more than eighteenth-century,Enlight-enment optimism, which wasn't even taken seriously by its own proponents. They wouldn't dream of submitting themselves to this~kind of salvation-scheme. Yet it is precisely in the. proliferation of ~such salvation-schemes that there comes,to be most clearly evident scientific method's need for a radication in a faith which transcends it. On the other hand, the point of view we indicated above as that which fears the relativizing of faith by any application to it of a free inquiry has its exemplars in the long line of rigofists who have always been present in the,Church. First there were the Judaizers of whom Paul complains. There was Marcion in the next century, Tertullian in the third. There have been the ever-present battalions of "hypertraditionalists," those who fear that a free future must :be open to~ sin and corruption, and would, on that account, foreclose the.History of Salvation in the name of salvation itself, 'quite as would their counterparts, the social, engineers. But their historical pessimism is the less excusable because the faith they are zealous to defend 804 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 is precisely a faith in the Lord of History whose creation is good and whose presence in. the world makes its history to be salvific. It is then as illusory for the scientist to fear the conversion of his methodology to the service of the Catholic faith as it is perverse for the committed Cathblic unduly to°fear the scientific inquiry which such a .con-version would unleash. Still, the mutuality of science and. of the Catholic faith is easier to envisage than it is to achieve. While the sunny confidence in a salvation-to- be-wrought-by-reason has waned somewhat since the age of optimism that was' ended in the blo~d,soaked fields at Verdun and. the Somme in World War ~, the practitioners of the social sciences, however mindful they ¯ be of the oft-cited perils of "Helleriization," still tend, to be less than troubled by the demonic potential of~their own saeculum, by the resistance of their own cultural commonplace--scientific method t6 conVersion. Not a little of this resistance is the fruit of the recognition by Vatican II that the world is not alienated from the concerns of the Church. Indeed, the autonomy of the secular in its own realm is there explicitly stated, bring-ing with it the enfranchisement of the scholar to do his work without con-cern for received opinions among churchme.n in regard to matters which are properly within his province. In Vatican II, historical and social re-search were liberated from all pious dishonesty. Catholic confidence in the ultimate goodness of fallen historicity required no less. " Since that time, Catholics have become accustomed, as they were not before the Council, to a view of an historical Church "with warts on." For many, perhaps for most,~ this new outlook was traumatic. Accustomed hitherto to think of the Church in terms of such attributes as militancy, witness, inerrancy, historical unity and the like, they were suddenly con-fronted by the countering of these commonplaces with other assertions of the Church's' documented cowardliness, conformism, error, division and so on. Indeed, these wer, e not seldom presented as conclusive refutations of the traditional faith in the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church: More, and worse, these charges had a kind of ecclesial warrant--the "spirit of Vatican II." This spirit more and more often found expression in terms, of an active antagonism to the Catholic past. In particular, the validity of tradition and of the authority of the Church were challenged in the heretofore sacrosanct realm of sexuality. In this realm scarcely any element of the Church's faith or practice was without its learned opposition. In its opposition, argument rested not on historical research--for the.con-stancy of the moral tradition was quite clear--but upon what was con-sidered to be "the religious insignificance" of sexuality. From the vantage point of modern psychology and sociology, Catholic emphasis upon the sacramentality of sex, which found expression in the condemnation of certain sexual practices as being immoral, in the prohibition of clerical marriage, Catholic Schools in a Declining Church." A Reflection / 805 and of the ordination of women, was viewed as simply mistaken. Sociology and psychology were thought to provide a sufficient explanation for the origin of these, rules and 'condemmitions, while at the same time, these same disciplines,seemedzunable to find any present justification for con-tinuing such norms. Underlying such. conclusions was the presupposition that "whatever can be given a secular explanation must be so explained." Of course, this is a denial of the sacramental'significance of historical humanity. It represents a retrogression to thht .primitive mentality which .identifies religion~ with magic. In this' way,~, all holiness, all religious value~in the everyday, non-marvelous, commonplace human life in the world comes to be ignored. In such a circumstance, the Church has nothing to say to this~world; for the Church is seen to exist ,only~to provide :illusion for a dwindling clientele. Whoever would challenge the Churchqn such terms really cannot expect a heating' .The Church must~refuse the postulates of.iany science-become-idei~ logy. (3riticis .ms of the Church based on the validity-of such postulates do not bear upon reality. ,They leave .no common ground fore discussion. The authenticity of the Church's teaching and practice does not--and can~ notqwait upon certification from any secular tribunal. Greeley, oin his critique, like Kting, fo~-gets ,this, ~though not to, the point of the latter's explicit denial of the Church's sacramental and causal' relationship to the fulfilled Kingdom of God., Rather, Greeley~ simply does not advert to it. Still, the net effect'is the same.~When the Church is treated for purposes of the laboratory as' merely*an empirical datum, its sacramental character is ignored. The laboratory is not concerned with the truth and effectiveness of a sacramental sign. Yet the Chur~h,~can be understooddn her reality only insofar as he'r history is aqknowledged to, be the~uniquely effective sacra-mental instrument through which humanity, regardless of its historical di-versity, its contention and sin, is~ ultimately redeemed from its fallenness and raised to fulfillment by the.Lord of History.°tf this sacramental reality is not admitted at the outset, the,~Church becomes something debatable, a matter for dispute,, bringing us back to the format of what is, .after all, an obsolete apologetic: a profitless debate over the Church"s worthiness and/or unworthiness. In Catholic'. Schools in a De'clining Church, the worthiness/ finworthiness preoccupation is' mdni[est: the-Church-as-worthy is~,seen to be the-Church-as-popular. ,: ¯ ~- And yet, if it qs right to be wary of an ecclesiology which w~ould, sub-mit the Church to some .sup'erior academic wisdom, it would be quite an-other thing to conclude that the., Church need not respond .to criticisms which the academy cannot but, offer it. Conversation _between the two, however, can take place only where there is a foreswearing of,funda-mentalism On the one hand_and of doctrinaire scientism on the other. Only thus could there, come" into being a common universe of discourse. Necessarily~,ifivolved in this is a recognition by the Church that its doc- 806 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 trine is given historical utterance for the sake of beginning new discussion quite as much as for the sake of punctuating an antecedent one. Necessarily involved is a recognition by the scientist that, when .all his data are collated, the inferences they support must be_ framed as questions, and as problems, not as doctrine in competition with the faith. It is by no means easy to preserve the conditions for such an exchange. Good will is, only the first of these. Ultimately the demand of such condi-tions is met by the recognition of what is actually taking place in such_a conversatibn. It represents an interchange between the faith of the Church and the questing reason of its members '(,which is called theology). It repre-sents the transformation of an otherwise purely secular scientific interest, a transformation imperated by its application to the Revelation.which is given in Christ.In this application, a given discipline accepts as the object of its inquiry a reality whose truth cannot be utterly controlled by its methodology, which it can only approach in a posture which is fundamentally one of worship. When .this attitude of worship fails, the exaggerated claim bf autonomy is thereby taken up again, and the transcendence~ of the Church's truth, of its faith, is rejected out of hand for the sake of "truly scientific objectivity." When such a rejection is misunderstood by'th~ Catholic faithful, when it is presumed to be normative for the scholarly enterprise, the opposite extreme becomes unavoidable: the sacramental holiness of the world and the historical character of the worship of the Church are equally sup: pressed. And the conversation which was originally ambitioned disintegrates into mutual recrimination. The changes rung on this theme are indefinitely numerous. In sum,. they preface and. finally constitute an aversion for the historical faith of the Catholic community in favor of those alternatives whose name is legion. All of this has been remarked sufficiently over the centuries. In the abstract, it is easy enough to see the need for a mutuality between Church and academy, but the realization of such a mutuality is continually im-peded byo the fallenness which mars us all. We are, all and. always in the sway of the~emptation to revert to a pessimistic status quo ante in terms of which the revealed compatibility of God and man, of the Church and the world; of faith and reason can be shown to be absurd, a fiction that is unworthy of man and derisory of God. Thisois a universal failing: It is no more characteristic of the academy than 'of the cloister, of the chancery than of the market. In either case, reductively we are seeking to denature God's good creation by rationalizing and objectifying its sacramental truth and unity.~By such devices we frag-ment our world: We trivialize and compartmentalize our world into isolated bits. And this becomes prelude for dismissing from our lives~ actual his-torical meaning, its sacramentality, the holiness of its totality. Whether done in the name of an ecclesial or a secular piety, what is Catholic Schools in a Declining Church: A Reflection / 807 achieved is a flight from the threatening mystery of our historical existence, from our need to be sustained in it by the Lord of History, and from our share in the crucifixion by which it is redeemed. Thus is worked out some very bad theolggy--and not only by theologians, but by anyone who pre-scinds, from the sacramental structure of reality for the sake of judging reality. A sociological examination 6f the Church simply cannot avoid at least an implicit theological component. If, .supposing it to have been clearly affirmed, an equation were to be drawn between the Catholic Church and the Aristotelian "perfect society," an explicit ecclesiology--however wrong-headed--- necessarily follows. If, on the other hand, one omits any definition of the Church, but then proceeds to analyze it precisely in the same way as one would analyze the United Mine Workers or ,the Democratic Party or the Marine Corps, in other words as an empirical organization of people, a group adequately understood as responsive to the laws which govern all social organization-- then the ecclesiology involved is. perhaps less explicit, but no less operative. In either case, the Church is measured by categories which are quite extrinsic to the worship which gives it its structure. The result for that older theology was a Church whose "perfection" was in contradiction to its involvement in the fallenness of history resulting in an antiseptic notion of a Church apparently immune to history. Comparable (if inverted) distortions in our own time profess to find the Church's patent~involvement in sin a fact entirely incompatible with its claim to transcendent sacramental stature. The contemporary excesses of this "low" ecclesiology are quite as responsive to the'preoccupations of its own day as had been the earlier baroque triumphalism--and with as little profit. The living Church cannot be understood by the use of devices which would separate its history from its meaning thiough a denial of either part of its reality. It is of course possible to concede these truisms and still resist their corollary: that the Church of .our daily encounter, with its monumental confusion, cowardice, ignorance and complacency--in sum, with all the ills the spirit is heir :to--can be and is the earthly community in which the risen Christ is present and active in the outpouring of his Spirit. Surely one may attend with sympathy Dr. Robinson's "but I can't be-lieve that!" Particularly is.it hard to give to such a.Church a cash value by admitting, even demanding, an infallible Magisterium'. Such notions, it may seem, were perhaps credible before the dawn of historical consciousness. But they can hardly survive our contemporary understanding of the social and historical conditioning of the Church. This~is indeed a very possible conclusion--especially if we forget that it is precisely from this kind of despair of the temporal and human as being the medium bf God's presence that humanity was lifted by the faith, first Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 of the Jews, and then of ourselves who are their heirs, in theJdord of History who is present to hiss, people. He is present to his people not as a timeless and universal principle,, but in his Covenant, by which alone time has unity and significance, and thus is history: sacramental time. The salvific content of the events of which we are a part is quite as hard to accept today as it was at Meribah. It is indeed hard to believe that the concrete deeds and words of the Church across the .ages constitute the unique mediation of the risen Lord, for the Church is so obviously trapped, blinded, sullied and fragmented by its own historicity, by its own involve-ment in Sin. But precisely such a belief is integral with the Catholic faith. It is simply not negotiable. It is no news that there has been a developing reluctance within Catholic academic circles to give full value to the ecclesial-historical character of our redemption in Christ. This hesitation on the part of the acaderhy had focused on the Church's assertion of ,doctrinal unity and authority. But it has since broadened its front to the. extent that tradition itself is held to be discon~ tinuous within its own history, whether we are dealing with the. historical unity of the Church's doctrine or its moral or liturgical tradition. Thus it is deemed to be discontinuous within its own history, intrinsically incoherent, without value or~significance~ for the present time. In,sum, the unity of the Church has no historical expression, according to this view. Consequently the historical record, whether doctrinal, moral 'or liturgical~ is of purely academic interest. It lacks the necessary unity to support its claim to sacra-mental significance. The heart of this argument, of course, is the ancient conviction of the incompatibil.ity of'~God and man, heaven and earth, the present time and the egchatological golden age of fulfillment. Its pseudo-Christian version, Gnostic in its roots, denies that the community Of sinners; which constitutes the Church, can be the effedtive symbol, the sacrament of the fulfilled King-dom of God. This denial relies upon the perceived incongruity between the sacramental sign, whichLis ~the historical Church, .,and the effect claimed for it: the completed and fulfilled redemption of humanity in Christ. It was the mistake of' the Counter-Reformation apologetic to contest this visible incongruity, even though it is simply indisputable. To pretend the contrary leaves the apologete open to all the sacred dishonesty which characterizes a triumphalist reading of Church history. It is .not.because the Church is Worthy that she is "the sacrament of our encounter with God." It is by virtue of the presence of the risen Christ in her historical worship that the Church has her reality and her mission, not by virtue of her own probity, nor by any "works" of her own devising. It is this insight, fundamental to any valid ecclesiology, which demands Of the Catholic scholar a subordination, of his critical method to~the prior truth of his faith together with~ a surrender o of an~y delusory intellectual Catholic Sch~ools in a Declining Church." ,4 Reflection / 809, autonomy. In this 'way, while maintaining as its object, the full sacramental reality of the historical Church, the scholar's inquiry also retains intact its full integrity. The radical consequence of a refusal or of a failure in this subordina~ tion of method is the equivalent methodological reduction of the ev~nt~ of the Church's history to merely empirical significance, and the: dissolu-tion of ~the sacramental value of these events. ,At such a point, any. re, sistance to this dissolution ~must then be accounted unscientific, irrational, unrealistic, benighted. Such resistance fails to justify itself before the court of scientific reason whose writ runs as ,.far as the mind may range. In such a context, when the Church, as the object of this kind of "scien-tific" scrutiny, claims, e.g., for its traditional sexual morality a trans-empirical and sacramental value, it is challenged to make manifest the .worthiness of its doctrine for the salvific role asserted for it~and,.of course, cannot do so. Its claim is then held .to be out of court, and. if it.is a~cepted at all, this is deemed a matter of private idiosyncracy, an affair de gustibus, not "really" true . ° In the criticism ,of Humanae l/itae presented in .:Catholic Schools in a Declining Church there is more thana little of this rationalist obscurantism. ~Instead of attempting to construct the sociological o theology which ,only Catholic.-sociologists 'are equipped to' offers,, this book provides merely a secular object of sociological investigation, a pseudo-church, one with which a secular methodology,~:may be entirely comfortable~ ~i~ This pseudo-church is' fashioned from., atoms oLempirical information gathered according to the canons of .that secular methodology. The struc-ture w~hich emerges from these atrms in their collectivity is entirely em-pirical. The resulting picture of the "church" is found, to no one's amaze-ment, to Square rather badly with the Church of Catholic tradition ~enunci-ated,, for example, in Lumen Gentium or Gaudium et Spes, and particularly with thb tradition repeated affew years later in Humanae Vitae. Among the particularly prominent discrepancies between the official Church of these documents~.and the empirical "c~hurch;' described by Greeley's team is the disrrgard on the part of.the latter of the sexual, moral, ity .~which was recently reatiirmed by Rome,. to which the Catholic hierarchy has subscribed. This, in its turn, must lead to; a dilution of that respect in which the teaching authority of the Church must'be held. ~ Greeley considers this .situation to be the result of a massive failure in communication in the. institutional Church. By reason of this, a badly informed pope came to insist, disastrously, upon a morality long since abandoned by his subjects. ~ . ~ Doubtless experts in the~fieid of his methodology will find reason to contest the adequacy of Greeiey's sampling~and analytical techniques. Per-haps they will reject the evidence of "decline" which this book infers. Review tor Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 Whether or not such deficiencies exist is not finally very important. No doubt a further examination of the data will contribute to the clarification of the structure revealed by the study and perhaps even require a recasting of previous inferences, thereby contributing to the accuracy of Greeley's findings. But no refinement of this methodology can bring it to bear upon more than an empirical entity. And when that entity is identified with the visible Church, a fundamental mistake has been made. If this mistake is insisted upon, it must lead to a rejection of the Catholic doctrine that the Church is a sacramental sign, having a significance which entirely transcends the empirical. This sign-visibility is the visibility of worship; ultimately, it is Eucharistic, the concrete historical actuality of the Eucharistic community, the visible structure of which is constituted by the sacraments of its worship. This c~mmunity, the Church, can no more be identified with the "church"~ discovered in Greeley's research than can th6 Eucharistic Lord be identified with the merely surface phenomena of the Eucharistic celebration. Such a refusal of this Catholic dbctrine of Church need be neither ex-plicit nor deliberate. In fact, this kind of rejection most frequently occurs inadvertently, when, for instance, a powerful new intellectual tool permits the achievement of results so impressive that its adepts forget that the faith transcends it, that the faith cannot be contained within it or be controlled by it. In the controversy which is bound to follow, a similar forgetfulness just as frequently afflicts their theological opponents. These, in rejecting the dominion of the new learning, tend also to ignore the possibility of its con-version, and so they, in their turn, underwrite the isolation of the Church from history. For a clear example of this, one need only recall the dispute between, the "old" theology and the "new" logic in the early Middle Ages. Such mistakes find their corrective in the conversion of the new device to the perennial task of theology, a process which, like all conversions, is always incomplete. While the sociological construct which emerges in Catholic Schools in a Declining Church' cannot be identified with the Church, it remains ~true that the people who responded to the questions of the study did so in the con-text of their actual involvement with Catholicism. If their response is to be given the kind of theological value and weight that Greeley suggests, it mtist be because the attitudes and opinions which~this survey reveals are under-stood as entering into the sign-which-is-the-Church, and therefore as an element of the visibility of the Eucharistic community and of its worship. In this c~ntext of Eucharistic worship, the reaction which Catholic Schools in a Declining Church has registered, whether .in regard to the value of°Catholic schools, to the changes introduced by Vatican II, or to Humanae Vitae, cannot be identified simply as the kind of Church consensus that Catholic Schools in a Declining Church: A Reflection constitutes the sensus fidelium, the living faith of the People of God. This is because the sacramental Church is a s.ign which is contradicted. Our living of the faith is not a clear and obvious thing, but rather is rendered obscure and enigmatic by the fallenness of humanity and of the world. We daily refuse the truth of the "good" creation; and that refusal continually finds its historical expression in the community of the Church in a failure of Worship. The Church's worship has its prior antecedent structure in the sacra7 ments. These are the form of authentic human existence in fallen history, and in their unity they constitute the sole criteria of visible membership in the Church. Their truth is that of mystery, i.e., it can be appropriated only through worship. ~But by this worship it is appropriated. And over the centuries, this appropriation emerges historically in the doctrinal, moral and liturgical tradition of the Church. This appropriation is also a continual conversion and enfranchisement of the People of God. That it does not fail is due to no excellence of the Church's members, but only to the promise and presence of Christ among them, by which they continue to be the Body of Christ, one flesh with their risen Lord~ That this union does not fail is therefore a matter of faith: neither its existence, its quality, or its extension can be verified empirically. Its worship is that of a community of sinners. Essential to it is that sacra-ment of repentance and reconciliation by which sin, as a personal concrete failure of worship, is acknowledged in an~act of worship by which 'personal solidarity with the Eucharistic community is given again. ~ The fortunes of this sacrament of reconciliation over the nearly two millennia of its history record the enormous resistance offered the Christian notion of personal moral responsibility. The primitive identification of "sin" and "crime" required centuries to reform.~The subsequent' privatizing of confession and penance began so to obscure the public aspect of sin as to reduce public morality once more to a mere obedience to law. In some Catholic circles, this tendency is now .so far advanced as to include the despotic proposition that "the law to be obeyed" is simply the public law of the civil society. In this view, the Church has nothing to say in re morali beyond a loving endorsement of ~the reigning pluralistic consensus. ~ Yet it is only through an existential familarity with the antecedent, mean-ing of-the holy that sin is recognized and acknowledged to be a violation of the human, of the sacramental existence which is structured by the Church's worship. This holiness, this human integrity is sustained and measured by this worship, and 'not otherwise. Only here does a valid consensus emerge as to the meaning of good and evil. This consensus, this discovery, keeps pace with the slow, reluctant response of the People of God, of the Church in its members, to its Lord and his Gift--which is to live in Christ, in light rather than in an undemanding darkness, in freedom rather than in a comfortable 1112 / R'eview ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 conformity, in history rather than without. significance. And finally, it is to live responsibly, rather than to abdicate that honor and burden in favor of a false transcendence which knows no .crucifixion and offers rio redemption. The pace of this pilgrimage is impeded by our straggling, by our desertion, our defection toward one or other mirage.~ This history of Exodus is our history--together with its' pain. All of us who think ourselves Catholic must hope to be within that his-tory, undergoing that reformation and salvation. But we cannot guarantee ourselves to be so, whether as individualS'or as representatives of the whole. We cannot suppose our personal assessm6nt of moral right and wrong to be definitive and assured. Particularly is this the case when.the mass of Catholic Christians have not yet come to terms with the Christian meaning of free-dom; when they tend still to'suppose that whatever is not forbidden by Church law or tradition is thereby moral, or at least morally indifferent. It is only when adult Catholics recognize, their responsibility for the realization into history of the truth of Christ and consequently acknowledge in prayer the possibility of their own wilfull violation of their own human symbolism, their own sacramental and historical reality, their~own inescapably sexual existence--it is only in this circumstance that they can form a Eucharistic_ consensus on this now excruciating question of' the consistency of the sacra-mental symbolism of marriage with that symbolism which is inseparable from artificial contraception, and upon a complexus of other questions of only lesser urgency which bear upon the sacramental truth~of human sex-uality. This condition is not now met. Only when it is met can the Church speak confidently 'upon these newly disputed points. The obstacle to such utterance .now is not that the twenty years since the discovery of "the pill'-', is insufficient for mature judgment, but that even now the basis for making the judgment is not clear--as Catholic Schools in a Declining Church makes very evident~ The Second Vatican Council indeed introduced changes in the Church. But the greatest of these is the most ignored: the quiet dropping of .the obediential "morality which was typical of Catholic moralists before the Council--and which, unfortunately, remains typical~ for many of them to this day~ Conformi~, rather than responsible personal participation in the worship of the Church, is still proposed as the basis for moral decision. The book under consideration~only joins a chorus long since formed. But it is still from the authentic experience of free Eucharistic worship and its achievement of ~free historical.truth that the Church must teach; the truth of Christ is available, on no other basis. This is the only information system there is. It falters always~ but it does not fail. ~ The Small Group in Religious Life William Barber, Ph.D. Dr. Barber is Professor of. Psychology at Eastern. Washington State College in Cheney, WA 99004. He also is a consulting psychologist with ot~ces in Spokane. Earlier drafts of this article were helpfully reviewed by Paul Fitter, S.J.~ Ellen Monsees, R.S.C.J., Henri Nouwen and Leo Rock, S.J. Introduction This paper analyzes religious community groups from a behavioral science perspective. "Commu.nity" here refers to a face-to-face living group, usually comprised of fewer than a dozen persons, whose members may ormay not include co-workers in one,s ministry: The attempt is to show how a group's psychological developmeiat, as a community relates to and interacts with the work of members in their apostolic ministries. There exists a ~vell-established theological basis for "church as com-munity,".~ much of which has. developed since Vatican 11,1 and a detailed historical and sociologi.cal rationale calling for intensive, committed com-munity group relationships has been presented recently by Fitz and Cada.z Leaders of. religious communities know about and agree attitudinally with the need for establishing strong and deep group relationships. . o It is the experience of the writer in providing consultation to leaders of religious orders and to particular groups of religious, that what is not known is how to integrate into religious life the concepts and skills needed to est~ib-lish strong, dynamic groups of religious. It is hoped that What follows~offers some goidelines, drawn from the be-havioral sciences, for bridging the gap between the theoretical and "the practical aspects of group development in religious life. 1Dulles, A., Models oi the Church (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1974). -"Fitz, R. L., & Cada, L. J., "The Recovery of Religious Life," REVIEW FOR RELI~OUS, 34, September, 1975. 813 814 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 The approach will be to describe ways in which groups differ from col-lections of individual persons, to distinguish religious communities from other kinds of groups, and to show how a religious community becomes an organi-zation for meeting the personal needs and at the same time the apostolic purposes of its members. A psychological rationale for community life is offered along with concrete suggestions for effective religious community life. Assumptions A group becomes more than a collection of individuals when all mem-bers need one another to accomplish a common task or goal. A dozen persons sunbathing near each other on a sunny beach are not a group in this sense; but if together they respond to a cry for help from a sinking swimmer they become a group as they work together on their shared.task of rescue. Once their task is completed, the group ceases to exist as a group, unless the members should decide to form an association to provide beach safety, in which case they would continue to be a group. Thus, being together doesn't define a group, even though all members have the same objective (in° this example to acquire suntans). It is when members need each other for some collective purpose; it is when they become interdependent, that they become a group? A community, such as a religious community is a special kind of: group in that it attempts to provide for more than support for the accomplishment of external tasks. A community~ is a group which attempts to meet the human and personal needs of its members as well: physical needs for food and shelter, social needs for recognition and friendship, and what Maslow calls the "ego needs''~ for meaning, and self-actualization as persons? Thus, a collectivity of individuals may become a group: a group may become a community for meeting physical, social and ego needs of members. At this highest level of motivation--the ego needs for actualization and fulfillment~it seems a religious community as a group attempts to meet another nee.d, the idiosyncratic need to develop its own "identity." And a re-ligious community's identity must be considered in relation to its ministry. Identity and ministry are like horizontal and vertical aspects of a group's religious life. The Vertical Dimension As a person needs to grow in self-knowledge, so a group becoming a community is drawn towards a deeper, more complete sense of identity. This is like a "vertical" dimension of growth--reaching down inside to ex-plore, to observe and to reflect upon the sense of '"~who we .are," and then aBass, B. M., & Nord, W., Leadership, Psychology and Organizational Behavior (New York: Harper & Row, 1960), p. 39. ¯ ~Maslow, A. H., Motivation and Personality (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1954). The, Small Group in Religious LiIe / 815 to come back up to the surface to test and to listen to what is being said in response. What do we mean by the discovery of identity? We mean finding out., real desires and characteristics . . . and being able to live in a way that expresses them. You learn to be authentic, to be honest in the sense of allowing your behavior and your speech to be the true and spontaneous expression of your inner feelings.~ Community identity then becomes established through sharing informa-tio~ n" in response to the question 'Who are we'?" More specifically this means generating information from the senses, the emotions, the intellect, and from the spirit for those who believe in a faith dimension to life. Transactions that provide such information for a community have to do with interper-sonal exchange: Who are we for each other? What do we want from each other? What will we offer to each other? These questions are continually asked and responded to, as persons tyy to moye from being a "group" to becoming a "community." As these questions are asked and responded to, "data"--i.e., information about thoughts, feelings, wishes are made avail-able for sharing, and thereby become integrated into the processes of decision and choice. Research indicates that more data from members produce higher quality decisions and greater member commitment to carrying them out.~ The Horizontal Dimension Identity needs to be expressed in life outside the community group; it needs to be expressed in apostolic ministry. This is like a horizontal dimen-sion of growth reaching out, listening openly and reflectively and respond-ing to what one is called upon to do and be with others. In the words of Maslow: Part of le~arning who you are, part of being able to hear your inner voices, is discovering what it is you want to do with your life. Finding one's identity is almost synonymous with finding one's career, revealing the altar on which one will sacrifice oneself,r As there are points of diminishing return in gains from individual per-sonal growth experiences s.uch as psychotherapy or encounter groups, so too are there limits to the gains to be expected from a religious community's developmental experiences--those aimed at developing a group's identity dimension. Community relationships and activities have as their raison d'6tre the support of tasks that further the work of apostolic ministry. It is analogous " to a couple's love for on'e another, in that their relationship, their "com- ¯ ~Maslow, A. H., The Farther Reaches o] Human Nature (New York: Viking Press, 1971), p. 183. GKelIy, H. H., & Thibault, J. W., ',Group Problem Solving," in Lindzey, G. & Aron-son, E. (eds.), Handbook o] Social Psychology (Cambridge, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1969), pp. 61-88. rThe Farther Reaches, p. 185. 816 / Review [or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 munity" in a sense, requires expression in accomplishing goals-~having and raising children, for example--in addition to developing the affective rela-tionship that draws and keeps them together. Such a relationship needs manifest expression in order to continue to grow. This does not mean each aspect of community life requires direct con-nection to members' ministries. On the contrary, support is often drawn from interludes from "tasks": activities of recreation, distraction and apparent irrele(,ance. It is important to remember the purpose for which the support is given: that is, the rationale and the dyna.mic force for religious community comes from the shared commitment of members to thee values and goals underlying their collective ministries. As such, community identity is incom-plete without outward expression; small group religious life is incomplete without being related to apostolic ministry for purpose and direction. Similarly, ministry needs cbmmunity. Ministry needs community: (1) to provi~le a support system for sharing, helping, caring; i.e., for providing "maintenance" for the work of ministry, and (2) to provide for the personal development of members for their own sake, apart ~'rom apostolic work roles. "For their own sake" must not be taken lightly. The intrinsic dignity and value of each person's humanity calls for emotional connection to sig-nificant others. This need, this expectation, can be responded to by persons who commit themselves to one another in community life In summary, it seems that religious community groups work on two "agendas"---one vertical, the 6ther horizontal--and these become interde-pendent. Work on the vertical (e.g., listening, sharing; and more systematic-ally at times, team building or role clarification interventions)~ allows the group and each member more to offer on the horizofftal, in ministries. ' Work on the horizontal, the ministries, enables the con~munity to insert it-self into the world. It brings the world through members' experience into the community in order (l) to infuse ndw life, (2) to offer new direction, and (3) to provide standards for evaluating effectiveness of effort. The result is a dynamic system in which energy and creative r~sources increase. The sy~stem is dynamic in that it generates energy, and it is self-renewing because of the interdependent, reciprocal', exchanging relationship between vertical "and horizontal dimensions. The Goal of Community: Synergy One cannot explore for very long questions Such as we have asked about the dynamics of community life and ministry without confronting the larger question: What should community experience be like? What is it we are searching for by our attempt to integrate identity needs with apostolic min-istry? Maslow was a student of the anthropologist Ruth Benedict and he draws upon her concept of synergy to describe activities within a group w,hich benefit both individuals and the group as a whole. Quoting Benedict, Maslow writes: The Small Group in Religious Lile / 817 I shall speak,.of cultures with low synergy where the social structure pro- ¯ vides for acts which are mutually opposed and counteractive, and cultures with high synergy where it provides for acts which are mutually reinforcing, ¯ . . I spoke o] societies with high social' synergy where their institution insures mutual advantage ]rom their understandings, and societies with" low social synergy where tile advantage o] one individual becomes a victory over an-other, and the majority who are not victorious must shi]t as tliey call. (Italics by Maslow).8 Note the images that portray sources of energy and strength in Bene-dict's synergistic group and that we strive for in the small community group: " . . . acts which are mutually reinforcing . " " . . . mutual .advantage frrm their understandings"; opposing activities whereby "the advantage of one individual becomes a victory over another. " (italics mine). The goal of small group religious community life from a psychological viewpoint is to tap and direct this energy to provide driving force toward purposeful objectives. And the content of Benedict's message i~ the syner-gistic communities offer understanding, support °and action and oppose win/ lose relationships among members. Criteria for Synergistic Community ~ One way to test the thesis offered: here is to observe and reflect" upon experience with alternate life styles among priests and religious. Certainly no single organizational structure' promises to bypass the struggles required to enable a synei~gistic community to grow. Comprehensive discussion is beyond the scope of this paper, but we wish to poi~nt to certain mechanisms that have been found helpful by some rdligious communities in developing open, prbblem-solving climates. Most of the traits mentioned require organi-zational consultation and experience-based learning methods to become operational.9 The starting point is the vertical dimension--to expand the experience of c~mmunity identity. Desirable characteristics and mechanisms have to do with group size, group norms, communication skills, information about members' ministries, shared prayer' and sacraments, and explicit contracts regarding time, tasks, territory'and role of members. A' small group of from four to twelve members enables differences in re-sources to be present and the opportunity for each person to become well known to the others¯ Norms--implicit rules governing behavior--must be developed to support the expression'of affection a~d warmth, confronta, lion and conflict, and to support bringing-in input and help for the group. Basic communication skills in paraphrasing, describing behavior, describing Sop, cit., p. 202. 'aBarber, W. H., & Nord, W., Healer RoleJ o[ Consultants and Need Orientations o] Clients (Spokane: Eastern Washington State College,~mimeo, 1975). Barber, W. H., and Lurie, H. J., "Designing an Experience Based Continuing Education Program," American .tournal o[ Psychiatry, 130, 10, 1973. 818 / Review [or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 feelings and giving and receiving personal feedback, facilitate interpersonal communication. Some initial didactic experience is useful, and the develop-ment of norms to support the use of communication skills in day-to-day practice is crucial. Since feelings about s'elf are strongly influenced by feelings about work, members who strive for interdependence need to have direct, first-hand in-formation about each other's apostolates. The group has the benefit of dif-ferent experiences and resources when it is comprised of members from different ministries. As there should be shared expression at an interpersonal level of posi-tive feelings and confrontation, as noted above, so there should be shared expression at a spiritual level through prayer, liturgical celebration.and other faith experiences. This serves the purpose of enabling persons who have a commitment to each other to share this special part of their lives. Keeping spiritual sharing separate from other community activities and allowing for differences in member participation is also important because these are valuable means of legitimizing the individuality of personal experience and expression. To be clear about and in control of boundaries the points of separa-tion- for the community in regard to time--when things happen; tasks-- what occurs; territo.ry--appropriate physical spaces for the separate and shared parts of members' lives; and role,delineation of special roles within the group (e.g., management, coordination, various maintenance roles). Summary: Culture and Open System Two ideas may help to summarize the characteristics of effective com-munity: they are "culture" and "open system." It is the hope of those estab-lishing a small group community to enable a particular culture to emerge, one that is unique and meets special needs for that group. A culture is characterized by its social organization--especially norms, roles and ex-pectations for member behavior--and by its "expressions," i.e., what is shared with the outside world by the group. We have said here that the culture of the religious community needs to develop through Particular norms, patterns and values regarding communication and the organization of tasks and roles and religious expression. An open system like a biological organism, is one characterized by in-take, transformation and export processes.1° Transactions occur with the environment: intake of new members, materials and information; and export of the "products" of members' work, and members who leave the system. It is through evaluating differences between intake and export that the quality of the group's efforts, its internal processes can be judged. To be. effective as an open system, a religious community requires management of its intake, export and internal transformation processes, in the latter case 10Rice, A. K., Learning ]or Leadership (London: Tavistock Publications LTD., 1971). The Small Group in Religious Li]e / 819 procedures for meeting individual and group needs for' control of boundaries of time, task, territory and role. Growth of the v~rtical dimension occurs as the culture develops; this growth can be measured by the quality of interaction among members. Open relationships occur as members share ideas, feelings and perceptions that have to do-with their purposes in being together. Trust develops enabling openness and personal sharing to occur appropriately (in contrast with some coercive group norms toward "confiding" or "revealing"). Norms support-ing individual differences in sharing grow and become explicit. When both openness and personal sharing occur and yet individual differences are en-couraged, a climate of genuine intimacy develops. Conclusions Openness, trust and intimacy are important because as human beings we are drawn toward becoming "the persons who we are" and toward being "in relationship.''~ But as a priest or religious one is committed to apostolic ministry--horizontal dimension. Community exists "in the service of min-istry"-~ and this is primary. But since vertical and horizontal dimensions are interdependent, the work of ministry will suffer unless it is anchored in re-ligious community experience that meets social and psychological needs of member~ along with spiritual and apoStolic objectives. One implication is that persons living in religious community may use-fully explore ways in which they are and are not, like the sunbathers men-tioned above, (1) a number of separate individuals in physical proximity to one another, (2) a group brought together because of an immediate, com-mon task, or (3) a special kind of institution, formed to support the work of members' apostolates and simultaneously to facilitate members' personal development. This paper has tried to distinguish among such groups in order to enable members to better cfioose the type of community to which they wish to be committed. The small group as religious community is a collectivity of persons unified by the overarching mission of faith--to facilitate the experience of Christ among persons. This paper attempts to describe how synergy develops and is maintained in the service of ministry thi'ough integrating, in a dynamic way, community needs and apostolic objectives of inembers.1~ XlBuber, M., I and Thou (New York: Scribners, 1970). tZThe ideas in the paper were presented at an assembly of provincial leaders of the Society of the Sacred Heart from North America, Australia, and New Zealand in September, 1975. Provincial teams of three to five persons worked for ten days at various experiential activities aimed at internalizing, in their own behavior, the char-acteristics which are noted in this paper. Their purposes were to strengthen their team relationships, to increase their own experience of Community and to apply the ideas in this paper to 'their concrete work tasks and roles. The women reported, and assembly observers documented~ significant movement toward integrating the concepts with be-havior and action. A paper summarizing behavioral science aspects of the assembly and follow-up data may be requested from the author. The Contemplative Attitude in Spiritual Direction William A. Barry, S.J. Father Barry, Director of the Center for Religious DevelopmeJat, has written on the subject of spiritual direction for our pages before. His last article for RfR was pub-lished in March, .1973. He continues to reside at 42 Kirkland St.; Cambri~lge, MA 02138. In a number of articles both William J. Connolly, S.J. and I have referred to contemplation and the contemplativ~ attitude as the kind of prayerful attitude which spiritual directors try to encourage in those who seek spiritual direction.1 We have tried to describe what we mean by these words. Suffice it here to say that we use the word contemplation in itsoetymological sense; we mean to refer to the act of looking at or listening to something. Webster's first definition of "contemplate" says some of what we mean: "to view or consider with continued attention." In our earlier articles, I believe, we have not been sufficiently precise in our use of the word co.ntemplation and contemplative attitude. We have spoken of contemplating .the Lord in Scripture and in nature and have not sufficiently distinguished between the contemplation of Scripture and nature 1Barry, W. A., "The Experience of the First and Second Weeks of the Spiritual Exer-cises," REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Vol. 32, No. 1 (1973), pp. 102-109. Bai'r~;, W. A., "The Necessity of Contemplative Prayer for the Teaching and Stu~ly of Theology in a Ministerial School," Church Society ]or College Work, Vol. XXXIII, No. I (1975), pp. 6-10. Connolly, W. J., "Contemplation and Social Consciousness in the Context of the Directed° Retreat: An Experiential Approach." An address at the 8th National Workshop on the Spiritual Exercises, Cincinnati, August 25-28, 1974, and published by The Program to Adapt the Spiritual Exercises, Jersey° City, New Jersey 07302. Connolly,.W.J., "Contemporary Spiritual Direction: Scope and Principles, An Intro-ductory Essay." Studies in the Spirituality o] Jesuits, VII, (1975), pp. 95-124. 820 The Contemplative Attitude in Direction / 8:21 and the contemplation of the Lord. Perhaps we have also not sufficiently attended to the nuance that one can have a. contemplative attitude and yet noi be contemplating the LordsIt is the purpose of these notes' to attempt some clarification of the meaning of and use of contemplation in spiritual direction. The Contemplative Attitude and Its Relation to "Transcendence" Have you ever been so absorbed in watching a game or reading a book or listening to music that you have been surprised at the end of the passage of time, by how cold or hot you are, by the anger of a friend (who has been asking 'you something for ten minutes)? Then you know the power of paying attention to something, and you have a personal example of the contemplative attitude. The most telling examples come from reports of how parents 'have been so concentrated on their children's safety in a fire or accident that they have only at the end felt the pain of their own wounds. Thus, one effect of the contemplation of something outside ourselves is that it can make us forget ourselves and our other suroundings. Contempla-tion leads to, or rather, is an experience of transcendence, of self-forgetful-ness of everyone and everything else except the contemplated object. '. Conversely, we find that self-absorption makes the contemplation of any-thing or an~yone else very difficult, if not impossible. Thus,. a starving man may well be unable to enjoy a sunset. One of the key elements to ministry in a hospital is the atte~apt to help the sick to become interested in others around them and in the outside world, that is, to help them todo something that will enable them to forget their own pain and suffering or to put it in another perspective. , . : Another aspect of the examples we began with should' catch our atten-tion, namely that the responses of absorption, joy, pain,: sympathy, love, gratitude which are associated with contemplation are not willed acts or willed emotions~ They are elicited from us by what we see and hear and comprehend.,~ (Of course; these responses~, do not arise qrom a blank tablet, but are conttitioned by our own past experiences~) Herewe have an impor-tant element to consider in all spiritual direction. Responses that are elicited by contemplation are not experienced in the first instance as willed acts. The clearest example, perhaps, is the response of love when one looks at the beloved; it seems to be a gift, something that arises because of the other, not because one has decided to love or fall in love. What one can do is to look it and to try to pay attention to the other, but ore cannot will one's response. At most one can hope that one will respond a certain way, This last point leads us to a further consideration. The person who con-templates in the way we are describing has to have an attitude of reverence and wonder before the other, especially if what he/she ~vants to see or hear is within the power of the other to grant 9r~withhold. In this case all one can do is to ask the other to reveal himself or herself and wait for it to Review 1or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 happen. This insight is behind the prayer for what one desires which Ignatius of Loyola puts at the begifining of every one of the exercises of the Spiritual Exercises. For example, in the Exercises I pray that the Lord will reveal to me my sinfulness, that I may have shame and confusion, that the Lord make himself known to me in order that I may love him and follow him. Here we see even more clearly the relation between contemplation and transcendence. When we are dealing with another person, we are not in the same position as we are when we are dealing with an object. Saint Exuprry's Little Prince on his small asteroid only needs to move his chair a bit in order to see another sunset, but he is powerless to see the reality and unique-ness of his flower until she chooses to reveal herself to him.2 But when the free other chooses to reveal him or herself, then the genie is out of the bot-tle, as T. S. Eliot said,~ and the mystery of the other is upon us. Thus we have a further observation on the relation of contemplation to transcendence. We try to control our perceptions. We are threatened by new-hess and strangeness, msa result we often see only what we "want" to see or what our perceptual and cognitive structures let us see. To try to contemplate means to try to let the other be himself or herself or itself, to try to be open to surprise and newness. To begin this process means to open oneself to mystery, ultimately to the Lordship of the Other. It is to let oneself be controlled by the other; paradoxically, one finds oneself free. The upshot most often is that one becomes less incapacitated by fear from accepting the mystery of life/ The experience of transcendence is, I believe, one of a continuum from total self-absorption to total absorption in the other--with the two ends of the continuum being ideal .states not found in nature. In any human experi-ence there is bound to be an.admiXture of both self-consciousness and. aware-ness of the outside world. The boundaries of the continuum might well be circumscribed by referring to the narcissistic person on the one hand and the enraptured mystic on the other. It might also be a help to those who are praying to realize that the contemplation of the Lord is no different from the contemplation of any other person in this regard, namely that one can be in the intimate presenc~e of a very dear friend'and still be'or become aware of the ache in one's feet, of wondering whether one put out the lights in the car, of the work still to be done for school tomorrow, and so forth. ZAntoin"e de Saint-Exuprry, Le Petit Prince, New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1943. " :~"But let me tell y~u, that to approach the stranger ls to invite the unexpected, release a new force, Or let the genie out of the bottle. It is to start a train of events Beyond your control ." T. S. Eliot, The Cocktail Party 4See W. J. Connolly, "Freedom and Prayer in Directed Retreats," REVIEW ]FOR REr LIGIOtJS, Vol. 32, No. 6, (1973), pp. 1358-1364. The Contemplative Attitude in Direction "/ 823 "Distractions," in other words, are a part of even the most intimate rela-tionships and should be expected in prayer too. Finally, in an intimate conversation reflection on what is happening or. on how well one is doing, especially with the idea of writing about it in one's journal or using it as an example for an article like this, can disturb the communication and be an instance of self-absorption. It happens, but it is better not to program it this way. Thus, the wisdom of. the tradition in spiritual direction of advising the person praying to do the reflecting after the period of prayer is over. Contemplation ~f the Lord in Nature and in Scripture Perhaps now we can clarify what we mean by contemplation of the Lord in nature and in Scripture. The Lord is invisible, and so hard to look at; he also seems pretty silent, and so hard to listen to~ Often enough, therefore, we try too hard to pray, :try too hard to listen and look. Too often prayer is seen as self-absorbing; our natural reaction when someone says, "Let us pray," is to bow our heads, close our eyes, and get serious--all of which is proper in its place. But we rarely get the impression that prayer can be an enjoyable experience, :that it can be a conversation, a dialogue, a relation- .ship. The spiritual director is confronted with the problem of,helping people to the enjoyment of God when much Of their past experience of prayer is one of labor, seriousness, brooding, and self-absorption. Many of us .who do spiritual direction have hit upon the idea of helping people to forget themselves for a while. We ask them what they like todo, what he!ps them just to forget their problems (besides going to sleep), and we try to help them to see that 0ihey already do contemplate in the way de- Scribed in the first note. We suggest that they spend a certain amount of time-~each.day, if possible-~-, doing whateVer it is that they like doing that is contemplative, and that they :consider this time as time with the Lord (i.e: prayer) in much the same way that they might want to share the same ex-perience with a close friend. We also suggest that they ask the Lord to make his presence known, to reveal himself. Then they look at and/or listen to whatever it is 'they enj'oy. After e~ch period of doing this we ask them to reflect on the experience: What happened?'What did they experience? Did the Lord make himself known? It is surprising what .happens wl~en people begin to do something like this. They often have objections at first: they.f.eel it cannot be prayer. More-over, being so conditioned to think that brooding and insights and resolu-tions are what prayer is all about they often need time and patience to get the hang of it and to find out that the director really means what he says. But then they begin to find such "prayer" times enjoyable and relaxing; they find themselves surprised by feelings of joy and gratitude and a real sense that Someone is present who loves and cares for them. They find that th~ey can 824 / Review ]dr Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 admit things to themselves that they were always afraid or ashamed to look at--and they feel better for it; they feel freed, healed. Agnes Sanford in her book The Healing Gilts ol the Spirit gives very similar advice. To people whosay "I can't find God," she suggests doing some simple things, especially things they like to do, that will put them in the way of God, as she says,0so "that he can find you.''~ That is the point, of course; as we saw in the first.section, ~the only thing we can do when we want to get 'to know another person is to put ourselves near and askthe person to reveal himself or herself. These reflections bring us to the question: Are there any privileged places or privileged events where we can go to put ourselves in the Lord's way? The traditional answer has been that there are, and. that these places and events include the sacraments, especially the Eucharist, the church teaching, the Scriptures, and the works of the Lord, especially nature, I will say something later about additions to this list, but now I would like to take up nature and' the Scriptures, Traditionally people have found peace and refreshment in the beauties of nature: The fact that most retreat houses, houses of prayer and monas-teries have been located in or near scenes of natural beauty testify to the belief that God is found more easily in nature and in solitude than, say, in cities. Traditionally, too, we have spoken of God revealing himself in the things he has made, "in plants and animals and in men, the wonders of Your hand," as the canon written ~by John L'Heureux puts it,~ I do not want to counter this tradition although I do believe that the Lord can be as present in the city; rather, I want to examine how the Lord is met and how we can help people to meet him in natt~re. First of all directors should suggest~ looking ~nd listening, not give ideas about God's continual creation, his indwelling, and so forth. We have to remember that most of us are conditioned by catechism, philosophy and the-ology classes to have beautiful thoughts about how. God is in all things, but that few of us have ever looked long.enough at a flower to let God reveal himself as the maker of that flower for me. Before a tree can become a symbol of God, it must first be seen and touched and smelled as a tree. The first suggestion, then is that people look at and listen to what.is around them. The second suggestion is that looking at natural beauty can in itself be a way of relat!ng to the Lord without any words~being said. Just as I relate to an artist by taking interest in what he has made, by taking time to look at it or listen to it, so too I can relate to God if I take time to contemplate what he has made. Creators lik~ to have people show interest in what they have done. All the better if I like" what I ~see and smile or sigh or express ~Sanford, Agnes~ The Healing Gilts 0! the Spirit (New York: Lippincott, 1966), esp. pp. 25-32. ~In Hoey, R. F. (ed.), The Experimental Liturgy Book (N,Y.: Herder and Herder, 1969), p. 97. ' The Contemplative Attitude in Direction delight in the presence of the artist. Such responses are elicited by what I contemplate, not willed by me, and they are communications to'the artist; in the case of God they are then called prayers of praise. Tfiey do not have to be couched in "prayer language." Indeed, the prayer is often made before a word is formed. The spiritual director might then be able to point out that the responses of the directee are similar to the responses that the poet who wrote Psalm 104 must have had and then tried to express in poetry. Not everyone is a poet, but almost everyone can be thrilled by a dazzling sunset or sunrise, the sun's light on fall leaves, and so forth, and feel a. deep sense of wonder. , Thus far we have been stressing the need to look and listen, the con-templative attitude. As I contemplate, I can also have desires, one of which is that the Lord reveal himself to me while I am looking at his works. If I begin my period of contemplation with a prayer that this desire be grant.ed, then.it is liable to happgn. I do not want to rule out high mystical experi-ences--~ because they do happen and more frequently than we tend to think --but here I would rather concentrate on the more ordinary ways the Lord reveals himself in,answer to this prayer. One can be walking along the beach at night and see a touch of silver from the moon on the crest of a wave and besides delighting in it suddenly feel at peace and in someone's presence who .himself delights in such things. Unaccountably one may feel that one is still loved, even though one does drink o'r eat too much or get angry with one's community members too often or even though one has just lost one's best friend or has just been turned down for graduate school or was not elected superior or whatever, and one may feel free to face ~oneself more honestly and with less self-pity. Or a person may sense her insignificance under the stars, and yet feel her own importance in the ~whole scheme of things, Or another may Sense a call deep inside himself to change his life style. In all these instances the person may be hearing or sensing the voice of the Lord revealing himself. When these kinds of experiences are real and exciting.and challenging as well as com-forting, then the Lord has begun to take on a new reality for the person. Perhaps now he or~.she can also pay attention to him and not just to his creatures. And here may lie the dividing line between contemplating the Lord and contemplating his works. The work of the spiritual director now becomes one of helping the per-son praying to discern, that is, to figure out what is going on, what is God's voice, what not. The discernment of spirits, begins when there are inner movements and the question is: Is the Lord revealing himself, and if so, what is he saying? The genie is out of the bottle, and now it is important to follow the genie's movements. We can look at the contemplation of Scripture in a similar way. Scrip-ture is not the Lord, but a privileged place to meet him. However, one must pay attention to the Scripture itself just as one has to pay attention to trees 1126 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 or sunsets or mountains. That is,"it is necessary to have a contemplative at-titude toward Scripture, to let the Scriptures be themselves and to listen to them and to ask that the Lord reveal himself while we are listening to these words. I do not intend ~here to delve into the arguments as to whether any other religious texts might be privileged places for meeting God; they could be and indeed people have met God while paying attention to St. Augustine's Confessions, to the prayer of St. Francis, to many other works of religious .literature, and even to secular literature. I am accepting as a given that Sgripture has primacy of place over all other literature as the Word of God. But we must listen to the Scriptures themselves, and not our projections onto them. One sometimes hears that modern scripture ,.scholarship with its de-mythologizing and its form criticism has been a blow to piety and has made it more difficult to use Scripture for prayer. Scripture scholars, it is some-times charged, have taken the mystery out of the infancy narratives of the gospels and other stories. We are not sure what Jesus actually said, or whether he actually did everything the gospels say he did. "How can we ever know him then?", people wonder. Those of us who take scripture studies and spiritual direction seriously have had to ponder these questions and charges as well as to take seriously our own and others' experiences in praying with the Scriptures. I think that we have not always been careful in our way of speaking, and it is my hope that this note will contribute to the clarification of our thought and ex-pression. , ,I want to focus on. the contemplation of the gospels and hope that the principles enunciated here can be analogously translated to the use of other scripture texts~ The first point is obvious: It does little good for prayer or Christian living to base both on a delusion. Hence, it is important to see the gospels for what they are. They are not biographies of J.esus, but four differ-ent expressions of the faith of the early Church and what it remembered in faith about Jesus. Each gospel has its own point of view, its own theo-logical focus, its own Sitz im Leben. Contemplation of°Mark's gospel, for example, means taking Mark's work on its own terms and trying to listen to his work of art. Secondly, it should be said that one need not be a Scripture scholar in order to be able to use the gospels for prayer. The Lord can still reveal him-self to someone who believes that angels actually did sing "Glory to God in the highest" at Bethlehem as long as one is open to having the living Lord reveal himself. But I do believe that the more one knows about the gospel, the better one can look at and listen to it and not to one's own cultural and personal projections of it. Thus, I believe that scripture study can be a help to contemplation. In other words, it helps, I think, to be able to con-template Mark's Jesus and know that it is Mark's Jesus and not necessarily The Contemplative Attitude in Direction / 827 the "real article" in all his historical reality. For one thing, one is not going to be thrown so much out of kilter by new discoveries of scripture scholars. More importantly, one is more likely to realize that the person one wants to meet' is not the Jesus of the past, but the present living Lord (who, of course,'is continuous with Jesus of Nazareth). Here we are at the heart of the matter. The purpose of contemplating the gospels .is to come to know the living Lord Jesus. Here again we can see the wisdom of Ignatius of Loyola. Before every contemplation of events from the gospels Ignatius has the retreatant pray for what he desires, namely "an intimate knowledge of our Lord, who has become man for me, that I may .love him more and follow him more closely.''~ Then I listen to the gospel text and treat it for what it is, as imaginative literature. I try to take the text ~seriously, and try to let it inspire my imagination, as it was written to do (as well. as to enkindle my faith). But my desire is not to know the scripture text better, but to know the risen Jesus better. I want him to reveal himself to me. And when he takes on reality and shape for me (not neces-sarily in a picture, by the way), then I talk to him, not to the text, and I listen to him, not the text. Those-who have not had this experience will not know what I am talking about, but hopefully they will be open enough to listen to the experience of those who have. The purpose of contemplation of Scripture is not to see Jesus. walking on water or to see him in Galilee or hear him say to Peter "Feed my lambs.~ The purpose is to hear the risen Jesus say to me: "Your sihs are~ forgiven,~you" and to know he means me; to hear him say to me." "Come,,follow~me.and be my friend" and.know that it is the Lord and that he is talking to me. Once again, discernment be-comes a necessity when I begin to feel moved by the Lord himself. I hope that by now it is clear that contemplation of nature or of Scrip~ ture is not in itself contemplation of the Lord, but that the former is a privileged way to the latter. Indeed, one can say that contemplation in the first sense is a technique or method, where contemplation in the second sense is relationship itself and no methods ~are needed. Finally as to the list of privileged places, it may be well to indicate that those mentioned earlier are still privileged places and also that different eras and different people may prefer one of the privileged places to others. It may also be that new privileged places may come into prominence. I am thinking especially of a shift from nature to man-made works of art or technique, a suggestion made by Josef Sudbrack, S.J? In our modern urban culture we may well find that human artifacts as well as human persons themselves may be more privileged than natural beauty. "l~here should be no difficulty here since the works of humans are ultimately God's handiwork. ~Spiritual Exercises (Puhl Translation), No. 104, p. 49. 8Sudbrack, Josef, Beten ist Menschlich: Aus der Er]ahrung Unseres Lebens mit Gott Sprechen (Freiburg in Breisgau: Herder, 1973). 828 / Review jor Religious, Volume 35~ 1976/6 On the Question of the Utility of Contemplation Recently in a discussion of contemplation someone mentioned that many people were advocating the 'techniques I have labelled contemplative for problem solving in management, for conflict resolution and that they worked without reference to God or the transcendent. That is, the contemplative techniques we mentioned in the,.earlier notes, were being used for secular purposes,, and people were feeling better, were more creative, more integral, and so forth. There is no question that the technique of contemplation by itself is very salutary. We need~ not bemoan that fact. But then what is the need to bring in God and prayer? ~ Here the only reply is to ask oneself to what end one uses contempla-tive techniques. If the answer is to solve problems, to feel better, to be more creative, then perhaps there is no need t~ refer to God and prayer. But for those for whom contact with the living Lord and the relationship itself with him are the goals, the question loses significance. It is like asking someone what he gets ,out of time spent with his wife that he could not get from others just as well. For those who seek the Lord, these techniques would be worthless no matter how good they. made them feel if in the process they did not find their Lord. Throughout.~these notes I have stressed that the purpose of contemplating nature, Scripture, or anything else is to meet the living Lord. When he is engaged, or rather when he engages me, there is no need of techniques or even of asking what the utility of prayer is. I want to be with him, and ttiat is enough. Without effort utility comes; one be-comes a better person and Christian. But relationship,is what is sought: In a Rut To get out of a rut a seed digs deeper. Edward A. Gloeggler P.O. Box 486 Far Rockaway, NY 11691 Individual Apostolates and Pluralism Community Identity in John T~I Ford, C.S.C. Fr. Fo~:d is Associate Professor of' Theology and Coordinator of Ministerial Studies in the School of Religious Studies at the Catholic University of America, WA 20064. Not too long ago, as our history is measured, the apostolic endeavors of American religious communities almost' invariably took a corporate or insti-tutional form. A typical example is the religious house all of whose members work in an adjacent school. Though there may be considerable variety in the occupations of individual religious (e.g~, ,~administration, teaching, coun-seling, maintenance, etc.), the work of;each is seen as contributing to the overall~ofunctioning of the institution. This corporate pattern is frequently paralleled in hospitals,~parishes, and other works religious communities un-dertake. ~ An.~important.consequence of this familiar pattern is aopervasive identi-fication, of religious community .with its institutions:' For example, this iden-tification is commohly reinforced through° a schedule that melds communal and institutional activities: if religious aren't working~in the institution, then they usua.!ly can be found together at some communal, activity in the near-bmyo rree sciydneinccale .h Tavhee c roemsuplatr iesd p wraitcht iicmapllryis ao n"mtoetnatl; .i nhsotwituetvieorn;.aalsi zwatiillo bne" nthoatet dthe later, a more apt.' comparison is with the communal life of the "family farm" or the "cottage industry" in agrarian societies. In brief, then, an "institutional apostolate" is a particular activity that members= of a religious community undertake as a corporate: effort; it is both a means of livelihood and a means of realizing the goals of the community. The melding of communal and institutional activities also affords a means ~f self-identity for religious. For example, the fact that religious (with 829 a30 / Review Jot Religioux, Volume 35, 1976/6 appropriate humility) speak of"'our school" is but one indication of the in-fluence of merged communal-institutional life on individual religious. Re-cently, when it has become necessary to close "our school," this identifica-tion has sometimes become painfully apparent. In other terms, the American tendency to identify a person with his occupation (e.g., John Smith is a carpenter, Mary Doe is a teacher) reached sort of a zenith in the case of religious; indeed, religious may be so identified with a particular institution that "outsiders" may not even know the proper name of the community whose members work there (e.g., "the sisters who teach at St. Mary's"). The liabilities of institutional apostolates are all too familiar. Perhaps the most burdensome is the tendency to subordinate the personal life of religious to the consuming demands of the institution. Illustrations are legion: fre-quently requests of a personal nature are refused if they are seen as inter-fering with the work of the institution (rather than as being alien to com-munity life). Another burden is an unrealistic subordination of communal life to institutional demands. While the acceptance of an institutional apos- ,tolate necessarily demands coordination with the life of the community, sometimes this is done by an additive process, as in the case of a com-munity that fulfilled its quota of religious exercises, one rapidly following another, after closing school for the day. Occasionally, the reverse happens: the requirements of an institutional apostolate are over-ruled by community procedures. An obvious, instance is the appointment of religious to in-stitutional positions for which their major qualification is membership in the sponsoring community. While post-conciliar renewal has (presumably?)caused the disappear-ance of the more conspicuous malpractices, still an inherent and recurring problem in institutional, apostolates is to maintain an appropriate balance between institutional work, living in community; and personal life. Any notable imbalance in these relationships is likely to occasion friction or dissatisfaction within a community. In addition to this perennial problem, there are other factors that have brought added pressures on institutional apostolates in recent years. For example, as a result of the post-conciliar decrease in the number of active religious, many communities have been. unable to staff their institutions in the same measure as formerly. Maintaining institutional 'commitments is seemingly so burdensome that some religious doubt the wisdom of institu-tional apostolates at all---even if their community would have sufficient personnel in the future. This feeling is frequently shared by those younger religious who are disenchanted with institutions in general and have entered religious life in view of a more personalized type of service. While this anti-institutionalism is~sometimes naively ex.aggerated, the fact remains that some communities have accepted members who simply do not identify with in-stitutional apostolates. Simultaneously new options have become available. For example, ~the Individual Apostolates and Pluralism / 831 closing of some schools has made it possible or necessary for religious to seek positions outside the educational institutions conducted by their own community. Again, recent developments in the °Church, have led to the creation of new positions that ~previously didn't exist--directors of religious education representing a common instance. And in some cases, religious have found employment in government agencies or public interest firms. An interesting relationship has emerged in many institutions of higher education. In order to qualify for governmental assistance, a legal separation has been effected between institution and sponsoring community. While the same religious may continue their apostolate within the institution, legal separation makes it incongruous for a community to continue to consider the institution "ours." The legal status of religious working in the institu-tion is also changed; for example, many religious now have contracts with institutions that were formerly controlled by theircommunities. Apparently, institutional apostolates are being "individualized." Individual Apostolates Such recent developments have led to the emergence of'a variety of "individual apostolates.''1 Here an "individual apostolate" is :taken to mean a particular occupation that a religious undertakes as a personal effort and responsibility; it is to some degree independent of the administration of the community as such; it depends more on the particular personal qualifications of the religious, not on membership in this or that community. The degree of individuality, however, may ~vary considerably: religious who continue to'work in what were formerly their community's institutions may find that legal separation is a more or less nominal change; other religious, however, may find that they have to qualify competitively for their positions. In the latter case, when a particular religious leaves an individual apostolate, the community can not expect and is not expected to furnish a replacement (as is frequently the case in institutional apostolates). An im-portant icharacteristic of individual apostolates is that the religious com-munity as such can not determine whether its members will be able to ob-tain specific positions. Speaking.of an: apostolate as "individual" does not imply that it~is in-dependent of church or community; rather (if it is to be considered an apostolate) it must be conceived in'some way as a service that witnesses to Christ and reflects the spirit of a particularjcommunity. Moreover, there is a sense in which every apostolate is "individual,". insofar as religious are individually responsible for "personifying" the Gospel in their particular occupations. l Just as some may prefer terms such as '!mission" or "ministry" in place of "aposto-late," some may prefer terms such as "special" or "experimental" to "individual." Whatever the merits of one or other term, the concern here is with the implications of the individuality of these occupations in relation to community life. 1132 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 However, one must admits, the arbitrariness of classifying practically any occupation as an "apostolate." For example, practically any occupa-tion- from farming to fine arts, from physical education to theoretical physics--has been placed under the generic umbrella of "apostolate" in various institutions conducted by religious. Given this precedent, it seems rather arbitrary to attempt to restrict "individual apostolates" along rigid lines.: In addition, individual apostolates have long-standing precedents in most active communities: the missionary stationed alone, the student i'e-ligious living outside a community residence, the traveling .retreat-master or fund-raiser, etc. Again on the'basis of precedents, it is hard to disqualify individual apostolates on .'the ground of separation from daily community life. Or is it justifiable to consider these instances "temporary," when in fact they last for years? Or is it realistic to consider these cases .exceptions or experiments, if they involve a relatively large percentage of a com-munity? The point in raising these questions is not to object to the legitimacy of individual° apostolates in active communities? Insofar as religious rules are guidelines~ not~ absolutes,, exceptions are allowable or, at times,.nece~sary; there does not seem to be any.a priori reason why individual apostolates can not be a justifiable exception. Likewise, communities have always had to experiment in their apostolates; accordingly, individual apostolates can be seen as a new type of apostolic venture attempting to respond to con-temporary needs. Still, it is hardly adequate to treat individual apostolates merely as exceptions or experiments~ First of all, a more positive view is necessary. Individual apostolates should be seen as a development that is appropriate, perhaps necessary, if the Church is to witness to Christ in the contemporary world? Indeed', individual apostolates have already proved beneficial in some communities; for example, their existence has occasioned a much needed delineation of lines of community responsibility in relation to all apostolates. Moreover, individu~il apostolates are a means whereby com-munities, instead of being constrained to fill various slots, can utilize their personnel in more creative ways. Perhaps the most attractive aspect of indi-vidual apostolates is their challenge to religious to develop fully their talents in the service of Christ. 2The question of what constitutes app(opriat~e occupations for r.eligious parallels that of appropriate occupatior~s for priests; cf. G. Murray, "The Hyphenated Priest," R]R (~'REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS) 25 (1966), 693-702; D. Hassel, "The Priest-Expert," Chicago Studies 3 (1964), 201-225. .~Whether individual apostolates can be defended in contemplative communities is a different question; the example of Thomas Merton suggests that the possibility should not be peremptorily rejected. :*Cf. M. Rondet, ',Choices of Religious Life in a Secularized Worldi" R]R 34 (1975), 574-579. ~Individual Apostolates and Pluralism / 833 On the other hand, since individual apostolates have seemingly arisen more by indirection than by intention~ it is easy to continue the pattern of temporary expedients ~ or ad hoc experiments"without facing broader issues. For example, it may be tempting to presume that individual apos-tolates are only a passing fad that will eventually go away; yet ~what if they are really introducing a new. and, distinct.form of religious,life?~ Again, it is tempting to assume that ,there is little difference.,~between religious, life for those in individual apostolates and those in institutional, apostolates; accordingly, the ~same mo~lel of religious' 'life should prevail in both. But what if there ,is-need for a new type of balance between occupation, re-ligiouslife, and personal life-style in individual apostolates? " The impl!cations of individual apostolates for religious life have been emerging, ,.like ~the apostolates themselves, only piecemeal. Though only partially apparent, these~implications need to be examined, for they poten- .tially constitute the raw material for either crisis or creativity---~r more ljk61y, a bit,of both. In other words,, a pattern is being established that affects,not only'the individual religious involved,,but the commumty as a whole~ For example, a relatively high proportion'of members in some communities is currently engaged in individual apostolates; even were it desirable to withdraw mem- .bets' from individual apostolates,.,it may no longer be feasible to do so without serious disruption (viz. problems in re-assignment, budget, resi-dence, etc.). Somewhat incongruously~ individual apostolates seem to have reached a point of institutionalization! On .the theoretical level, v~hat is at issue is a community's self-vision and self-identity. On the practical level is a complex of questions relating to the implementation of thi~ vision and the fostering of community identity Theoretical Level: A New Vision? Whatever the imbalances in institutional apostolates, they offer religious a sense of identity: "our community working in our restitution:" Quite commonly this sense of corporate identity ~s reinforced by a vision of religious life as a continual harmony of prfiyer ~nd Work, of w~or.k and prayer. Indeed, the identification of community and° institution, suggests something of an equation of,communal prayei and institutional work. If this'vision of religious~life was on~ convincingly painted in the novi-ti~ ite, such an interlocking matrix of p~ra~,er and work seems' alien 'to many religiohs today. The loss c~f this vision may'6ccasi6n feelings of ~talgia for a vision now blurred and a rhythm of. activity now. disjointed. Yet before ~Cf. R. Faricy, "Change in the Apostolic Religious Life," RIR" 34 (1975), 413-414. for a description of the "demonasticization of,apostolates." Should individual aposto-lates be seen as the cutting edge of this centrifug~al movement away from monasti-cism? o ' 834 / Review ]or Religious, l/olume~ 35, 1976/6 indulging guilt4eelings ab'rut, visions lost, it would be well to ask whether the vision is worth recapturing at all . . The vision of religious life as harmonious integration of prayer and work seems to presuppose a double model: a sociological model of an agrarian society coupled with a theological model of a divinely regulated universe.6 While an agrarian model may seem medieval, perhaps the. proximate in-fluence is the American frontier ideal of the self-sufficient family farm. Questions of historical origin aside, an agrarian model seems more influen~- tial in religious.life than is commonly acknowledged. For example, most religious communities were originally founded within agrarian societies; more importantly, an agrarian ideal of .community seems to survive in the expectations, of many religious. Indeed, one may suspect that efforts to "return to the spirit of the founder" may on occasion be similar to the flight from urban life and its mounting frustrations: a yearning for :a simpler life may be nostalgia for the benefits of an agrarian society. Or again, the once common practice of establishing houses of frrmation in rural settings ("where religious life could be lived at its ideal"), reflects something of the ideal of a self,sufficient family farm. Examples could be multiplied; varia-tions on the agrarian model could be added (e.g., religious~ community as "cottage industry" or "ethnic village," etc.). It seems worth noting the similar melding ~of work and communal life that characterizes both agrarian societies and institutional apostolates. Fitting: neatly with an agrarian model of religious :communityqs a the-ological :model Of a well regulated universe: iu~t as the universe is har-moniously ordered in every detail by an inherent set.of laws enacted by a provident God, so too is the religious community harmoniously regulated in every detail by a set of rules provided by ~a diyinely guided founder and subsequently administered, by omniscient superiors.7 While this is blatant caricature, it should be-remembered that every caricature hits uncomfortably close to life¯ ¯ Both models have become theoretically untenable. The~ agrarian model ~;Many different models have been used to explain the transition from one vision or world-view to another: for example, T. Nuij, "New Forms of Community Life," R]R 32 (1973), 59-64, coniraSts commtlnity in primitive, rural or pre-technological, and technological or industrial cultures. Among the abundant literature on this transition, cf. T. O'Meara, Holiness and Radicalism in Religious Lile (New York~ 1972); G. Moran, The. New Community (New York, 1970); L. Schaller, hnpact o[ the Future and The Change Agent (Nashville-Ne~ Yo.rk, 1969 and 1972, respectively); R. Weg-mann, "The Catholic Clergy and Change," Cross Currents i9 (1969), i78-197. The well-known works of C. Reich, The Greet,ing o! America (New York, 1971) and A. Toffler, Future Shock (New York, 1970) offer additional models and numerous illustrations. rThe influence of another model, the church as institution; is also evident; on the advantages~ and.~ limitations of 'this and. other ecclesiological models, cf. A. Dulles, Models o[ the Church (Garden City, New York, 1974). !t would be helpful to have a similar analysis of models of religious life. ~ Individual A,postolates and Pluralism / 835 is_Ansufficient in view of the complexity of urban, technological soCiety, while the theological model of-a s~,stematically directed universe is inade- - quate in the face of historical consciousness and philosophical pluralism. Accordingly, neither of these models .provides a suitable framework for a vision, of religious life. Nbnetheless, there is one reason ~for their tengcious survival:¢ they undoubtedly furnish a sense of security. It is ~spiritually reassuring to devote one's entire day in a harmonious blend of prayer and work dedicated to God: could a fervent religious want more? For some religious, then, the h'armonious vision is quite satisfying. For others, othe ~vision may~be~ feeble, but they are willing to live with;incon-sistency, because they are unable or unwilling to search for a new vision. If~a few havediscovered a new vision, many others are still searching. Aside from the fact that it is far easier to criticize a vision-become-problematic than to construct a replacement, visions are elusive and difficult to verbal-ize. More than likely, discussions within a community do notdebate visions but center on practical issues: traditional procedures versus new approaches. It is tempting, for example; to treat individual apostolates merely as another practical problem. Yet touch'more is at stake: competing visions of com-munity and apostolate that stand at the heart of personal and corporate self-identity. Not surprisingly, the .response to new visions has been varied. First of all, some would prefer to re-upholster the traditional vision by discard-ing out-dated elements" and .super-imposing sundry modern touches. Change is then cosmetic: the superficial appearance is different, but the funda-mental vision remains the same. Nevertheless, there are definite ad-vantages to this approach: it affords cor~tinuity with the past--a matter of concern to older members; it accommodates itself to new circumstances.--- a mattef of importance for younger members; and it introduces, ch~inges gradually sb that there is sufficient time to become accustomed to one set of changes before more_ are introduced--a matter of expediency in all social changes. Yet such an option Carries with it a'notable liability: it relies on a vision that is basically unattractive and unacceptable to many. ~ ~ ¯ Nonetheless-, the right of a community to take this option must be respected, for it may be the only option that a particular community can really live with.8 To follow an out-dated vision may not be wise, but it need not be wrong.dn fact, the attempt to .jerk away an apparent Linus blanket from those committed to a traditional vision is likely to be disrup-tive of both community and apostolate? .Without arbitrarily precluding the o sit might be well to develop a declaration of rights for religious similar to Vatican II's Declaration on Religious Freedom. '~Th6 hazards of adopti0g a new vision are forcefully, though stridently, indicated by J. Hitchcock, The.Decline and Fall o~ Radical:~Cbtholicism (New York, 1971); with-out accepting his viewpoint, one can still~adna!t the need for facing straightforwardly his criticisms. 83b / Review for Religious, Vrlume 33, 1976/6 possibility of future change, a community may.decide very realistically and very,' honestly that its capacity for renewal can only accomplish so much at~a ~iven moment of its history. Communities that decide to retain a traditional vision of community and'apostolate would be well advised not to"eng~ge any of their members in,individual, apostolates that require a life-styl~ that'is basically incompatible with the community,s traditional, vision and thus 'threaten its ~corporate identity. The predictable resulr~'would be serious dissension that.:the, com~ mfihity .may not be prepared to bear:~Yet this need not imply that such communities need to exclude ever~ type of individual.apostolate; what is implied is that~each proposed individual apostolate must be carefully ex-amined for its concordance.with the community's self-vision and self-identity. ,, The Problem, of Pluralism : If the traditional vision is~unattractiw or untenable, what is the new vision of ~community and apostolate? The ~option would be simple~ if a compelling new vision were~ at hand;'then at least-the choice would be.~ clear-cut: traditional or new. Unfortunately there is no one unifying vision that demands acceptance. If it is quite clear that modern life is techno-logical not agrarian, pluralistic not uniform, it is not clear how such aspr'cts .can be synthesized in a new vision. Instead of one new vision, there are~ any number of competing visions--each with advantages~ all'with their respective liabilities. The way to the future seems tobe: may. the best vision win! It is then quite understandable why many religious prefer to hold on to the~ vision they have, whatever.its deficiencies, rather than risk'the vague uncertainties of some apparently more problematic replacement. It is equally understandable why many other religious tend to hedge their op-tions ,by tentatively exploring new possibilities, while keeping a firm'grasp on,a traditional vision. Still., just as a diversity of liturgical practices and theological viewpoints has emerged in. the post-conciliar Church, so a similar diversity in life-styles and visions of community and apostolate has emerged in post-conciliar religious life. This ~variety is rooted in a greater theological awareness of the diversity in the mystery of Christ, the uniqueness of each person, and the temporal and cultural plurality of mankind.~° Where formerly uniformity was prized,as exemplifying the uhity of the Church, now pliJralism is seen as reflecting the Church's catholicity. Yet if it is easy~to pay lip-service to pluralism, it is much more difficult ~°Cf. E. Carter, "Pluralism in Christian Life," R[R 31 .(1972), 22~26; K. Rahner~ "Pluralism in Theology and the Oneness of the Churchs' Professiono o~ Faith," Con~ cilium 46: 103.123; A. Dulles', "Dogma as an Ecumenical Problem,'" 'Theological S~udies 29 (1968),~ 397-416 (reprinted in Dulles! The~'Survival ot Dogma [Garden City, New York, 1971], pp. 152-170). ,Individual Apostolates and Pluralism / 837~ to cope consistently with its implications. For example, some religious have adopted new life-styles, but have not related these to a new vision; and vice versa, new visions 'have been officially adopted in constitutions and rules without subsequent implementation in a community. ~ More importantly, the transition from uniformity to pluralism is both threatening~and enticing. Those who were trained for, or are congenitally inclined to, a life of uniformity and regularity can be severely confused by a,superabundan~e of choices and°the burden of responsibility inherent in a pluralistic situation:~°For example, obedience seems to furnish an excuse for some religious to become over-dependent on their superiors; or vice versa, obedience seems to allow some superiors to pre-empt most decision-making from their subordinates. If some r~ligious pale at pluralism~ it may be the threat of responsibilities that they are unwilling or unable to, bear; similarly, if some ~superiors resent pluralism, it may be through unwilling-ness to share their authority with former subordinates. Another dismaying aspect of pluralism is the potential loss, of com-munity support-systems; when familiar practices vanish, religious ma~' feel themselves ostracized from the group or isolated in their work. Change ih any form is unsettling to creatures of habit, but clinging to a traditional pattern may result in isolation. Since the prospect of losing the respect and understanding of one's companions is~unnervihg, pluralism can prove to be just as formidable to younger religious as to older. In the case of the younger, ,it can be the refusal to adopt the ~vision currently in vogue among their peers. Yet if pluralism ig threatening; it is also attractive. In place of the enervating burden of predictable routine there is the prospect of flexibility and variety in both communal and ~ apostolic life. Religious life is more easily seen as a challenging opportunity for'personal initiative and creativity in the service of Christ. For example, obedience may be seen~ as a commit-ment to Christ that takes the form of submitting one's proposed activities tO the critical encouragement and the charismatic~ evaluation of one's col-leagues; authority is pr!marily that of competent advice; ultimate responsi-bility is one's own before Christ and community. But such a revised view of~ obedience has to be accepted, not ~ofily by the individual but by the community, which may have fo ask whether it can function with a number of different and divergent views of obedience. Another attractive aspect of pluralism is the atmosphere which~ the community provi~tes religious for developing their self-potefitial both in their lives as Christians and in ~their apostolates; this implies a willingness and openness in sharing insights and successes, failures and feelings; in-deed, the diversity of apostolates undertaken by their colleagues can be-c~ me an incentive for religious to Work at~maximum capacity. The preceding contrast exemplifies some of the positive and negative aspects of pluralism. The examples may also help explain why individuals 838 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 react quite differently to the prospect of pluralism: some feel threatened; others are attracted; still others would like to have the advantages of both uniformity and pluralism without the liabilities of either.11 Insofar as pluralism seems to have emerged within religious life more as the result of a series of individual decisions and external trends than through precise planning for pluralism, its implications need attention. Earlier, pluralism in religious life tended to exist more as a collective phe-nomenon: different communities constituted a diversified spectrum of "catholic" religious life, but any one community tended to occupy only a section of this spectrum; each community enjoyed a fairly well specified corporate apostolic identity. The importance attached to this identity-via-apostolate is illustrated by the fact that some communities (even when personnel was available) refused to undertake certain apostolates, as incompatible with their constitutions; as a result, some communities originated as off-shoots of others, when a new apostolate was needed which the parent community felt unable to enter. "Of course, some communities have always allowed greater internal diversity than others. For example, if some communities have restricted their endeavors to one or two specific apostolates, others have undertaken a variety. At first sight, individual apostolates appear to be simply an exten-sion of this variety. And in fact, this seems to be the way most individual apostolates have come about: superiors have allowed individual religious to accept experimental apostolates as exceptions to accustomed practices. In fact, these exceptions have gradually reached the point in some com-munities- where a comparatively high percentage of members is involved; in some instances, proportionately more members are now in individual apostolates than are in some traditional ones. In effect, the exceptions appear to be constituting a new rule, though there is not always a new vision to accompany it. Thus, the introduction of individual .apostolates may precipitate a re-orientation of a community's self-vision and self-identity. In other words, individual apostolates seem to imply the acceptance of a plurality of visions, only some of which are com-patible with traditional vision(s). The basic question then is: to what extent is a community really willing to accept the implications of pluralism? Practical Options A community's Vision of its apostolate(s) is a vital element in its cor-por. ate identity; presumably its apostolic vision is an important factor in attracting, applicants ,and in training younger membersi presumably too, 11The reaction of any person to pluralism seems to involve a number of intertwined factors--personality, intelligence, education, age, occupation, etc.--so that it is im-possible to predict an individual's receptivity.to pluralism. Nor is receptivity~ merely a matter of age; the contrast "traditional-pliJralistic" is not identical with older versus younger~ Also, one may doubt whether it is possibl6 'to foster pluralism simply through instruction~ Individual Apostolates and Pluralism /839 apostolic vision is an essential motivation for the special spirit and dy-nainism of a community. Moreover, apostolic vision is necessary if a community is to avoid being victimized by the needs of the moment and to pla.n its activities on a long range basis. It is crucial, then, for a com- ~iinity to delineate its apostolic vision as clearly as possible, while recog-nizing that every option involves risk.1~ ,~ first option is for a community to continue its institutional aposto-late( s) as~ its primary and (probably) exclusive commitment. Presuming of course that its institutions are really viable, the most-compelling motive for this option can be found in the fact that this is what the membership recognizes as its proper charism and commits itself to do. The evident risk is that this option is not particularly appealing to those who want to work in a more personalized setting; thus, recruitment of new members and dis-satisfaction among present members could well be problems. Moreover, this option may yield to the temptation to abandon the struggle to live a religious life in the modern pluralistic world. The polar-oppbsite' is the option to make individual apostolates the primary and presumably exclusive emphasis in a community.~As a means of responding to challenges facing the Church in the modern world, thisop-tion presupposes considerable flexibility in community structures as well as Considerable self-reliance on the~part of individual religious. These pre-sumed strengths may be dissipated through excessive individualism on the one hand or through lack of traditional support-systems on. the other. While a few commuriities," or at least some segments .of communities, appear to be headed in the direction of this option, what may really be at stake is the creation of new communities (even though the present may not seem a particularly auspicious moment for new found~tiofis). L oA compromise between these two options is the attempt to. juxtapose ¯ institutional and individual apostolates. In greater or less degree, this is theo~present option of many active communities in the United States. In-deeid, it seems to be a typical bit of American pragmatism for a community to allow its members to dream different visions, to work in diffe~rent settings, oani:l, yet to unite, together as members of one family. If such diversity defies theoretical alignment, American religious will presumably be content, as long as their community lives and works harmoniously, however diversely. Compromise will tend to succeed as long .as religious are genuinely tolerant of the inevitable tensions that diversity introduces. The unavoidable risk is that s'uch a compromise will become unglued for example, through a wide-spread failure to fulfill responsibilities both in apostolates and in religious life, through favoritism or factionalism introduced when one group attempts to impose its views on others, or through the difficulty of attracting new members to a pluralistic life. r-'Cf, the interesting interview with a superior,general, C. Buttimer, "Is Religious Life Viable Today?" America 128/4 (February 3, 1973), 86-90. 840 / Review Ior Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 If compromise is to be successful, it is important for the members of a community~ explicitly to recognize the terms of the compromise. In other words, if the tensions arising from diversity in visions and a variety of life-styles are not to. be divisive, a community needs to recognize and to ,accept a spectrum of variant models of apostolic endeavor and of, community life. A community should specify the extent of pluralism that it is capable of tolerating. For example, some communities may be ,open to any type of individual apostolate; others may wish to restrict themselves~ tO select types. Without prior specification or evaluation, .there is potential for arbitrary decision-making, either real or imagined; there is also the likelihood of disillusionment among members if their expectations, ,whether realistic or idealistic, are :not met. (Disillusionment can affect both those who expect the traditional apostolates to be maintained, as well as~ those who, want ind~ividual apostolates to be introduced.) . ~ ~ The acceptance of pluralism should eventually. 'be expressed in bbth the constitutionS, which describe a community's aprstolic vision, and in the rules,~which attempt to concretize this vision in the life.of a community. Such, formulation is .a difficult endeavor, as the revisions undertaken after Vatican II amply confirm.13 Moreover, the emergence of individual aposto-lates adds to the.complexity: first, since the vision is pluralistic and personal, constitutions apparently can do little more than generalize about the limit-points of the pluralism that is acknowledged in principle~ secondly, if rules presumably reflect the lived experience of a community over a period of ¯ time, individual apostolates, in their present form, ar~ both recent and .still .experimental. Accordingly, .different communities may choose .to accept individual apostolates .in rather different ways. Some communities may find it feasible to consider tliem as extensions of existing apostolates; for example, a com-munity., whose apostolate is in education may decide to restrict the ac-ceptance of individual apostolates to educational endeavors. Other com-munities, which have defined their apostolates in terms of specific groups (e.g., poor,~ unevangelized, ethnic, etc.) may allow individual apostolates as a broadening of their ministry to these groups. Still other communities may encourage any~,type of new individual apostolate that displays some relation to witnessing Christ in the modern world.' At least as crucial as express recognitio,n of individual apostolates~ in :constitutions and rules is the way religious regard such formulations. For some, rules are principles that must be uniformly applied in partiCular in-stance. s; others would view rules as determinations that are to be supple-mented and emended according to actual experience. This contrast is given visual form,,in the first case, by those rules that are published in leather-l'~ Cf. J.l_~zano, "Revision of the Constitutions: Meaning, Criteria, and Problems," R]R 34 (1975), 525-534. Individual Apostolates and Pluralism / 841 bound, red-edged volumes resembling miniature Bibles; in the second.case, rtiIes migtit well be mimeographed on loose-leaf sheets and placed in folders to facilitate periodic revision and up-dating. At least this illustration may indicate tha~t attempting to specify'rules for a diversity of individual aposto-lates is a ~tenuous enterprise. In addition, it suggests that traditional rules; however well suited to institutional apostol~ites, should not simply be used as .an umbrella to cover the new situations encountered in individual aposto-lates. Since uniform rules for individual apostolates tend to be anomalous in theory and impractical in"fact, it seems necessary for commuifities whose members are engaged in individual apostolates to develop new approaches: It may well bethat'a community may decide to'formulate guidelines for community or .procedures~for administration or standards .for~professional life for those members in individual apostolates. In so doing, a community will need to face squarely both the advantages and the draffbacks that are encountered in attempting to live and work with quite different 'types of apostolates and life-styles within tile same community. o In any pluralistic situation, it is obviously impossible to lis't all the variables; yet it may be helpful to saml~le a few problem areas: administra-tive procedures, community life, and personal freedom. Administrative Procedures In the halcyon days of institutional apostolates, administration .may have been tedious, but it f~equently had the advantage of following a,stan-dard pattern of applying general norms to particular cases. This '.view. of administration is inadequate for dealing with individual apostolates (and, it should be added, With most institutional apostolates as-well). On the one"hand, individual apostolates tend to elude uniform norms, unless these a~'e~,extremely general; on the other hand, individual apostolates necessarily change the roles of and relationship between superiors and subordinates; This change in, roles" is graphically illustrated by the religious who occa-sionally employed the provincial' superior on a part-time basis. A prime factor in the:reorientation of roles is the fact that in most indi- .vidual apostolates, religious .need a fair amount of latitude to negotiate with prospective employeis and that, ~once employed, their work is not under, the direct supervision of community superiors. As a result; a superior's role tends to be narrowed to antecedent approval (for it is frequently unfeasible, if not counterproductive, for a superior to become involved in negotiations) ¯ and subsequent ratification, which may,be tantamount to rubber-stamping a iait accompli. Some superiors may find this process quite congenial; they have plenty of other problems and are quite relieved if some religious can successfully pursue their individu~ apostolates without supervision. Other superiors may feel more or less frustrated at wanting .to be helpful yet not being needed or at wanting to give daily directives yet being powerless; they may subcon- Review Ior Religious, Volume 35, 1976/6 sciously resent the apparent diminution of their authority. All of these reactions manifest, a lack of appreciation of the change in roles in the superior-subordinate relationship. If it is unrealistic to expect to transfer a set of relationships en masse from institutional to individual apostolates, what then is the role of the superior in relation to religious in this context? First of all, a superior has to take seriously the individuality of each apostolate as well as the personality of each religious; in effect, each apos-tolate must be considered as a separate and somewhat unique case, just as each religious ~is a unique individual. Instead of applying general norms to individual cases, a reverse process is needed: whether and how general principles apply needs to be discovered through an evaluation of each apostolate. The latter task can only be carried out as a joint effort of supe-rior and subordinate, acting as colleagues. . Accordingly, the role of the superior is less a matter of issuing com-mands and more a matter of fostering dialogue, discernment, and discre-tion. 14 Dialogue is necessary if the superior is to understand different apos-tolates from the viewpoint of participant religious; though this does not necessarily imply that a participant's view is always the best, still it should at least be the point of departure for productive discussion. Discernment, in the sense of raising appropriate questions to evaluate the potential, and performance for an individual apostolate, must also be a joint endeavor if the merits and disadvantages of a particular apostolate are to be appreci-ated. Discretion, which aims at deciding on an appropriate course of action among a number of alternatives, should also be shared; it is pointless to impose a decision that one cannot or will not be implemented. Obviously, such an approach to community administration requires a more personal type of communication than may have been customary in the supervision of institutional apostolates. Where a large number of indi-vidual apostolates are involved, such an approach may require that super-visory responsibilities be divided among more than one superior. Effective use of such an approach demands that superiors be skilled in interpersonal communication; in practice, this may mean that other administrative tasks, such as financial management, may have to be delegated to others. If a new administrative approach is required for individual apostolates, no approach is a panacea. While a more personal approach may be more human and hopefully more productive, both superiors and subordinates should realize that there is no advance assurance that their discussion will prove fruitful: if ~dialogue can result in agreement, it also may make any disagreement painfully evident; if discernment can raise crucial questions, l~One of the reasons-that dialogue, discernment, and discretion have become m~ajor concerns in post-conciliar renewal is linked to increased recognition of religious as persons; an added reason for the importance of these means here is the individuality of apostolates. Individual Apostolates and Pluralism / 843 it may also end in self-contented deception; if discretion can aid in deter-mining appropriate action, it is also an arbitrary selection among alterna-tives. There is no method that as such will guarantee success. For example, one question that dispels any roseate vie

Issue 34.4 of the Review for Religious, 1975. ; Review ]or Religious is edited by faculty members of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building: 539 North Grand Boulevard: St. Lot, is, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right @ 1975 by Review [or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A; Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.75. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor July 1975 Volume 34 Number 4 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humbuldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church Leonel L. Mitchell Leonel L. Mitchell, whose most. recent publication is: Liturgical Change: How Much Do We Need? (Crossroad Books, 1975), is an Episcopal priest and Assistant Professor, Department of Theology; University of Notre Dame; Notre Dame, IN 46556. It is the intention of this paper to treat the topic of the ordination of women quite narrowly. It will not deal with the general question of the biblical, historical, and theological considerations involved in the ordination of women to the priesthood, but will attempt the more modest task of reporting the con-temporary debate as it exists in the Episcopal Church. This debate has two related but distinct foci: (1) the desirability of amending the canon law of the Episcopal Church so as to permit the ordination of women to the priesthood, and (2) the "ordination" last year of 11 women to the priesthood by three bishops without diocesan jurisdiction in violation of the presently existing canons. There are many in the Episcopal Church who strongly favor the or-dination of women, but condemn the action th~it was taken in Philadelphia on July 29, 1974. ". The 1973 Canterbury Statement of the Anglican-Roman Catholic Inter-naiional Commission ( A R CI C ) entitled "Ministry and Ordination" detailed in 16 headings a common statement of Anglica.n and Roman Catholic understand-ing of the meaning of "ordination in the apostolic succession." A few quotations from this statement should make clear what ministry it is to which women seek ordination in the Episcopal Church, and why this debate is of con-cern to Roman Catholics: Despite the fact that in the New Testament minisiers are never called 'priests' (hiereis), Christians came to see the priestly role of Christ reflected in these ministers and used priestly terms in describing them . Not only do [Christian ministers] share through baptism in the priesthood of the people of God, but they are--particularly in presiding at 51~. / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 the Eucharist--representative of the whole Church in the fulfillment of its priestly voca-tion of self-offering to God as a living sacrifice (Rom 12:1) Nevertheless their ministry is not an extension of the common Christian priesthood but belongs to another realm of the gifts of the Spirit. (Par. 13) Ordination denotes entry into this apostolic and God-given ministry, which serves and signifies the unity of the local churches in themselves and with one another. Every in-dividual act of ordination is therefore an expression of the continuing apostolicity and catholicity of the whole Church. (Par. 14) What is involved, then, in the Anglican discussion is not whether women are full members of the Body of Christ and share in the priesthood of the Church, nor is the question one of their suitability to serve as Christian ministers. Women can and do serve in non-sacerdotal ministries in the Episcopal Church. The question is solely whether women can (not should) be ordained to the ministerial priesthood and serve as presidents of the Eucharistic assembly. I do not believe that arguments based on the inexpediency of ordaining women deserve serious consideration. It will always be inexpedient to do something we do not wish to see done. If women can be priests, then what but masculine prejudice prevents them from being so ordained? The question then turns on the hinge of "Are women proper subjects for the sacrament of priestly ordination?" Anglicans do not usually formulate the question in this way, but it is what they mean. Unlike the Roman Catholic Church, the Episcopal Church permits the or-dination of women to the diaconate. In 1862 the Bishop of London revived the order of deaconess in the Church of England by ordaining a woman by "im-position of hands." In 1885 the first such ordination was performed in the United States by the Bishop of Alabama, and in 1889 the American Episcopal Church regulated what it called the "setting apart" of deaconesses by ap-propriate canons. By setting up separate regulations for deacons and deaconesses, however, the canons raised the question of whether deaconesses were deacons, or ministers of some other sort. They did not wear stoles, nor assist in ministering Communion. In remote mission areas without a priest, deaconesses often led prayer ser~iices, officiated at Matins and Evensong, and conducted baptisms and funerals, but in ordinary parishes they served as sacristans, parish visitors, and directors of Christian education. They were, in fact, considered by many priests to be, as it were, "secular nuns" who could do useful things around the church. The fact that the diaconate itself was not well understood did not help to clarify the role of the deaconess. The apostolicity of the order of deacon has been continuously asserted by the Anglican Church, but in fact, deacons who are not fledgling priests have been almost totally unknown since the 16th cen-tury. The.revival of the "perpetual diaconate" for men in the period following World War II has produced a revival of interest in the diaconal ministry, and a beginning of the study of the diaconate as a ministry in its own right, not as a rung on the ladder of ecclesiastical preferment. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church In the Episcopal Church the question of the status of deaconesses was forcefully raised by the late Bishop James A. Pike, who (whatever his failings) was never afraid of a good fight. In 1965 he declared on his own authority as Bishop of California that deaconesses were women deacons, and proceeded to act on that assumption by recognizing Deaconess Phyllis Edwards of his diocese as a deacon. In a ceremony at Grace Cathedral, San Francisco~ he in-vested her with the deacon's stole and presented her with the New Testament from which she read the eucharistic gospel. She also assisted in the ministra-tion of communion in the manner usual for Anglican deacons, by ad-ministering the chalice. The lawyer-bishop was careful to explain that the ser-vice was not an ordination, since, in his view, Deaconess Edwards had already been ordained a deacon when she was "set apart" as a deaconess. Since most Episcopalians had never given any thought to the subject of the ordination of deacons of either sex, they were horrified. The bishops reacted (as Anglican bishops frequently do) by appointing a study commission to report on "The Proper Place of Women in the Ministry of the Church." At about the same time in England a similar report, entitled "Women in Holy Orders," was presented to the Archbishops of Canterbury and York. In 1968 the Lambeth Conference, the decennial meeting of Anglican bishops from all over the world, accepted the principle that deaconesses were "within the diaconate" and referred the question of the ordination of women to the priesthood to the various national churches or provinces, for further study. In 1969 the General Convention of the Episcopal Church, meeting at the University of Notre Dame, amended its canons to permit women for the first time to be licensed as lay readers and to administer the chalice. The 1970 Convention formally endorsed the position that deaconesses were women deacons and amended the canons to that effect. From 1970 on, therefore, men and women have been ordaindd to the diaconate in the Episcopal Church under the same set of regulations, by the same rite, and clearly to the same office. There was, of course, one important difference. Male deacons were either candidates for the priesthood, or they intended to combine service as a "perpetual" deacon with another occupation from which they expected to derive their income. The women, on the other hand, were go-ing into full-time professional ministry, like most of the men with whom they had graduated from seminary. Few of them saw their vocation as being to the "perpetual" diaconate, but the possibility of ordination to the priesthood was denied them. In 1971 the Bishop of Hong Kong and Macao, acting after consultation with his diocese and the Bishops of South East Asia, ordained two women to the priesthood. The previous bishop had pe~'formed a similar ordination in 1944, during World War II, but the Archbishop of Canterbury had formally refused to recognize the ordination, and the woman ordained, ki Tim Oi, renounced her orders for the peace of the ChurCh. This time the Anglican Con-sultative Council (which is a secretariat rather than a decision-making synod) interpreted the resolutions of Lambeth 1968 to permit him to act: ~i14 / Review for Religious, l~olume 34, 1975/4 This Council advises the Bishop of Hong Kong, acting with the approval of his Synod, and any other bishop of the Anglican Communion acting.with the approval of his Province, that, if he decides to ordain women to the priesthood, his action will be accept-able to this Council. (Resolution 28, Anglican Consultative Council, Limuru, Kenya, 23 February-5 March 1971) The resolution carried the Council 24-22, and it was on the strength of this ap-proval that Bishop Baker p~:oceeded with the ordinations. In that same year the American bishops were asked to endorse the princi-ple of the ordination of women to the priesthood and the episcopate, and to prepare legislation for that purpose. The resolution was presented by the Bishops' Committee on Ministry. The House of Bishops (in customary fashion) appointed a study committee of seven bishops. This was the second study commission of the American bishops on the ministry of women in l0 years. The complaint of women that the question has been sufficiently studied would seem to be justified. The report was presented to the bishops in 1972. A straw vote was then taken on the question of the ordination of women to the priesthood. This was a simple expi'ession of personal opinion, not a legislative vote. The bishops voted 74-61 in favor of admitting women to the priesthood. This is the approval of the bishops so often mentioned in the debate since. The report itself exhibits an internal schizophrenia, including two different versions of a section on "Scripture, Tradition, and Images," one favoring the ordination of women, the other opposing it. It was distributed, not only to the bishops but to all priests and other interested persons, in mimeographed form, and was later printed in the 1973 Convention Journal. It begins with the assertion that the Church admits both men and women to the diaconate, and cites New Testament precedents (Romans 16:i, Acts 9:36, I Tim 3:8-13) and the opinion of C. H. Dodd: We may fairly suppose that the order of deacons which emerged in the second century. had its origin in Paul's own time; and that it included women as well as men. (Dodd, C. H., The Epistle of Paul to the Romans, p. 235) The report describes the contemporary understanding of the diaconate as ':murky and confused" and calls for a fresh statement of the meaning of the diaconal ministry. It is interesting that the acceptance of women as deacons is not considered controversial by the bishops, but is the assumed starting ground for further discussion. Certainly no such consensus could have been obtained in 1965. Turning from the diaconate to the priesthood, the report describes the or-dained priest as "called of God and authorized by the body" to act for both the Lord and his Church "in ways far beyond our understanding." It asserts: His priesthood is not derived from the Church nor has anyone a right to claim priesthood; the priest is called to receive a gift in ordination, which comes from the Father. But his call and the gift are alike recognized and ratified by the Church; he acts for them in exer-cising the gift. Thus the authority and accountability conferred in ordination have a dou-ble reference. No man exercises priesthood in a vacuum. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church / 515 When it considers the possibility of the ordination of women to the episcopate, the report confronts the question directly: In the case of episcopacy, as in that of priesthood, the suggestion of a duality of repre-sentative roles raised in some of our minds the question as to the significance of male-hess as a necessary attribute or characteristic of the Bishop. Perhaps even more than the priest, the episcopal Father-in-God imagery is that of a male figure and none of us doubts the extraordinary tensions and problems which would confront the Church were women to be chosen to be bishops. But the question remains, in some of our minds, whether it can be said that female-ness is a diriment impediment to their consecration as bishops. I believe that this puts the question in proper terms. It is not a matter of whether one thinks a specific woman would or would not make a good priest. That is a pastoral question to be answered by those specifically charged with approving candidates for ordination. Some women, like some men, would make unbelievably bad priests. If this is true of some of the 11 women or-dained in Philadelphia in July 1974, it is demonstrably true of many of the already ordained male priests in the Episcopal Church, and, 1 assume, in other churches as well. The report then proceedes to two sections upon which the committee was divided. In the first it presents arguments again~st the ordination of women, and in the second it presents arguments for it. Most of the debate on the sub-ject in the Episcopal Church has been simple and straightforward. Opponents of the ordination of women have said that there is no support for it in Scripture or Tradition, that the Church has never ordained women, and to do so now would be stark novelty, and therefore both uncatholic and heretical, its ad-vocates have countered that there is nothing in Scriiature to forbid it, that there is no a priori theological reason for not doing it, and that the mere fact that it has never been done is no argument at all. They point out that to argue simply on the basis of contrary practice is to commit the Church to the view that change is either impossible or wrong--a doctrine which all admit has been widely believed, but which deserves to be relegated to oblivion--and which is demonstrably untrue in such cases as the Church's attitude toward slavery. A great deal of the literature which supports the ordination of women has argued with undeniable truthfulness that much of the opposition of male priests to the ordination of women stems from the men's insecurity in their own sexual and ministerial roles. Itis undoubtedly also true that at least some of the women seeking ordinat.ion have comparable problems, but neither point seems worthy of serious consideration, and the bishops' report does not raise it. It is, of course, theoretically possible to argue that although all of the people actually opposing the ordination of women are doing so from unworthy motives, the position itself is true. It is likewise possible to argue that although none of the candidates actually presenting themselves should be ordained, it is proper to ordain women. More concretely, it is hardly reasonable of the Church for it to set up a system in which all but the most stout-hearted will become discouraged long before they are actually accepted as candidates for ordination, and then complain about the lack of humility and modesty of the 511~ / Review for Religious, l/olurne 34, 1975/4 survivors. The principle of abusus non tollit usum needs to be applied with great rigidity here. The section of the bishops' report which opposes the ordination of women to the priesthood may be taken as representative of the best argumentation on this side in the Episcopal Church. The "prominent and honored place" of women in the ministry of the New Testament and the Early Church is freely admitted. Phoebe is recognized as a deacon, Dorcas as a "disciple," the daughters of Philip as prophets, and others as teachers and evangelists. It further affirms that women have an honored place in the ministry today, but that place is not in the presbyterate. It permits, even urges, the ordination of women to the diaconate, and condemns the failure of the contemporary Church, including that of many priests and bishops, to understand the meaning of the diaconate as ari order separate from, but not subordinate to the presbyterate. It makes a sharp distinction between the priesthood which is shared by all Christians, men and women alike, as full members of the community, and ad-mission to the cultic ministry: To belong to the cultic ministry is no part of the perfection of Christian membership in Christ. That the Church has acted as if it were, and as if lay-people were second class Christians is only too true. It is only too true that lay women have been excluded from the decision making processes of the Church; this is one of the causes of their present anger and frustration. But we cannot right this wrong by committing another. The actual arguments raised against the ordination of women to the priesthood appear to be two, one symbolic and one historical. The symbolic argument is summed up in the conclusion: The ordained Christian priest must act officially in the person of Christ, and male-ness is therefore required for a priest to act in this way. A woman priest, it is claimed "must lack the full symbolic meaning of Chris-tian priesthood, and to that extent must be defective." Masculinity and male-ness are seen as symbolizing the initiating creative and recreative act of God toward mankind, an act transcending nature, and constitutive of the Church. The historical argument is that, although women exercised a multitude of ministries in the early Church, there were no women presbyters or bishops. On the evidence, to admit women as Bish'ops and Priests is to overturn the practice of the New Testament Church, and the Catholic Church ever since. It considers that some evidence of an unmistakeable intervention of the Holy Spirit "such as we find in Acts" would be necessary for so momentous a change, and rejects the idea that the fact that some women genuinely believe themselves called to the priesthood is evidence of such an intervention. It has always been the duty of the Church to tell a man whether or not he has a true voca-tion to the priesthood, and the Church has this task today. If the Church says no to these aspirants, it would seem proper to assume that their question has been answered by the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church This section of the report concludes: This momentous step must not be taken by a small branch of a particular Catholic Church on its own initiative, without reference to the remainder of catholic Christendom, and, 1 am sure, against the convictions and sentiments of a majority of its members. The appeal to the consensus fidelium of the Catholic Church of the ages strikes strong responsive chords in most Anglican hearts, and their concern for the effect of any unilateral action on the Anglican-Roman Catholic or the Anglican-Orthodox dialogue is genuine. The section of the report defending the ordination of women compares it with the adoption of the Canon of Holy Scripture or the development of the threefold ministry as "legitimate developments of what was implicit in the revelation of Christ from the beginning." It makes extensive use of the article "Biblical Anthropology and the Par-ticipation of Women in the Ministry of the Church" by Professor Andr6 Dumas of the Protestant Faculty of Theology in Paris, which was published in 1964 in Concerning the Ordination of Women. a report of the World Council of Churches. This article contrasts the Jahwist account of the creation and fall in Genesis 2:4-3;24 with the Priestly account in Genesis 1, in which man and woman are both made in the image of God and given joint authority over crea-tion. According to Dumas, the only theologically significant reason for the ex-clusion of women from the Old Testament priesthood was the belief that woman's true vocation was to be a mother in order to perpetuate Israel until the coming of the Messiah. This, he says, Christianity specifically rejected as anti-Messianic. There is, he points out, nothing in the New Testament about motherhood as a sacred vocation, since that vocation has been fulfilled by the motherhood of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The report admits the power of the male imagery applied to priests, but comments: Its power is derived from deep springs in the human spirit and from important forces in our culture and his.tory. Insofar as it reflects truths about masculinity and femininity it can be a significant instrument in our grappling with reality. Its limitations lie, of course, in the fact that there is no analogy in Deity to such imagery, no way t6 identify in Deity the anguish and the beauty inescapably part of the man-woman differentiation in humanity. The overwhelming tradition of the Church against the ordination of women is freely admitted, but declared to be irrelevant. The profound changes in the roles of men and women in society, it feels, ~eans that any decision in-volves change: The problem for Christians is not how to get back to what was, but to bear witness in the midst of what is; and even the choice to stay where we are, if we make it, will be the choice of a new position which has got to be mai:le in the presence of real people, not ghostly memories. The report notes that thep0sition of other Churches is also changing, and the effect of permitting the ordination of women on the ecumenical scene may 51~! / Review for Religious, I/olume 34, 1975/4 as easily be positive as negative. It also points out that popular opinion, and the spirit of "women's lib" are not valid considerations, but the Church must deal solely with the question "Is God now calling women to Priesthood?" If the answer is yes, the Church must respond, whatever the cost, and if it is no, the Church must also take the consequences of that decision. The final section of the report raises a number of questions, on the answers to which the committee was presumably divided: Is it not true that Christ's priesthood is too comprehensive to be contained by the sym-bolism of one sex, that in fact its variety and d.epth call for full sacramental feminine ex-pression in order to represent a God who sustains both masculinity and femininity? If this is true, might we not be on the threshold of a new dimension and awareness of the un-searchable riches of Christ? Far from confusing sexual roles or affirming "unwise" values, might not the ordination of women assure the enrichment of our understanding of humanity in Christ by guaranteeing the presence of both its components visibly present in the offering of the Oblation which is Christ's and ours? Like many discussions of synods of bishops, the report ends with no recommendations, except to "meet the issue head on." The bishops concluded their discussion with the straw vote already mentioned. When the Anglican Consultative Council met in Dublin in July 1973, they reaffirmed their position that individual national or regional churches might proceed to ordain women, if they so decided according to their synodical processes. The vote in favor was 50-3, compared with the 24-22 vote in 1971. The next significant step in the process occurred when the General Conven-tion of the Episcopal Church met in Louisville in September-October 1973. Legislation. to change the canons to permit the ordination of women to the priesthood and the episcopate was introduced into the House of Deputies, and was there debated at length. The final vote fell short of the needed majority. Since this vote has been the subject of much subsequent controversy, it re-quires further elaboration. The General Convention is the legislative body of the Episcopal Church. It consists of bishops and clerical and lay deputies. The deputies are elected by diocesan synods, four priests and four lay persons from each diocese, regardless of size. On substantive matters the deputies vote by dioceses and orders and a majority is required in both orders for passage. The vote on the ordination of women was clericalmYes 50, No 43, Divided 20; Lay--Yes 49, No 37, Divided 26. The divided delegations were split 2-2 and therefore unable to vote either for or against the resolution. The result was that although the proposal had a plurality of votes, it did not receive the absolute majority re-quired. This situation is not a "fluke." The rule, like that requiring the ratification of amendments to the U.S. Constitution by three-quarters of the States, was written into the Constitution of the Episcopal Church to make it difficult to change basic items of Church structure, and to make it impossible for a bare majority to do so. The question of whether the majority of clergy and laity of the Episcopal Church actually favor the ordination of women to the priesthood is difficult to answer. Certainly many have made it abundantly clear that they will "leave Women Priests and the Episcopal Church / 519 the Church" if such action is taken. On the other hand, at least one bishop has promised to resign if the ordination of women is not permitted, and some women have indicated that they will withdraw from the Church if the ordina-tion of women is finally defeated. Since the resolution did not pass the House of Deputies in Louisville, it was neither debated nor voted upon by the bishops. "A Statement of Conviction concerning Ordination of Women'~ signed by 60 bishops was inserted into the minutes, on a point of personal privilege by the Bishop of Indianapolis. This was intended to encourage the women deacons, whose genuine disappointment in the failure of the Convention to authorize their ordination to the priesthood was recognized by all. I share the opinion of many of those present at the Louisville Convention that a number of those who voted against the ordination of women did so in the firm belief that the Church was not prepared for this step at that time. Their opposition was not absolute, but conditioned by the need to prepare the "folks back home" for such a radical change in practice. As the Anglican Con-sultative Council had phrased it in 1971: Anglicans have genuine difficulty in entertaining the idea that there might be women priests, and, lacking experience, they cannot forsee the consequences if any were to be or-dained. In the days following the defeat of the resolution by the Deputies, rumors spread through the Convention that some bishops intended to go ahead without authority and ordain one or more women. The House of Bishops, wishing to squelch these rumors, passed a resolution of collegiality and loyalty, pointing out that the Deputies had rejected the principle of the ordina-tion of women, and that the Presiding Bishop was appointing a "competent committee" to study the matter in depth. The resolution affirmed the adherence of the Bishops "to the principles of collegiality and mutual loyalty, as well as respect for due constitutional and canonical process." It was clearly the failure of four bishops to abide by this decision which caused the House of Bishops to react as it did to the July ordination in Philadelphia. They looked for a full discussion and decision in 1976 at the next General Convention. But the situation was not to remain static till then. On July 10, 1974, four bishops, all retired or otherwise without jurisdiction, met in Philadelphia, at the urging of a group of lay and clerical leaders, to con-sider the possibility of proceeding to ordain women to the priesthood. Bishop Charles Hall, retired of New Hampshire, withdrew after this first meeting. On July 20, the Rt. Rev. Lyman Ogilby, Bishop of Pennsylvania, in whose diocese the service was actually held, refused both his consent and his approval to the ordination. On July 25 the Most Rev. John Allin, the new Presiding Bishop, telegraphed the eleven women and three bishops, asking them to reconsider their decision. At this same time Bishop Ogilby notified his diocese that clergy who par-ticipated in the proposed ordination would be "conducting themselves in viola- 520 / Review for Religious, P'olume 34, 1975/4 tion of the Constitution and Canons of the Church," and would thereby be subjecting themselves tO possible discipline. He and the Diocesan Standing Committee also met personally with the Rt. Rev. Robert DeWitt, the former bishop of that diocese, and asked him to withdraw from the proposed ordina-tion. On July 29 the ordination took place. The ordaining bishops were the Rt. Rev. Robert DeWitt, formerly of Pennsylvania, the Rt. Rev. Edward Wells, Retired Bishop of West Missouri, and the Rt. Rev. Daniel Corrigan, formerly director of domestic mission work for the Episcopal Church and later dean of Bexley Hall Divinity School in Roches~ter, New York. The Bishop of Costa Rica, the Rt. Rev. Antonio Ramos, was present but did not participate in the ordainiiag. He was the only diocesan bishop in the group. On July 31 the Presiding Bishop called the House of Bishops into special session August 14-15 in Chicago to consider the situation. In the meanwhile, formal charges were filed against the participating bishops by the Bishop of Western New York. They were later withdrawn, then reinstated, and at the present writing are still pending. 146 bishops voted at tha~ meeting. They adopted this resolution by a vote of 129-9 with 8 abstentions: The House of Bishops in no way seeks to minimize the genuine anguish that so many in the Church feel at the refusal to date of the Church to grant authority for women to be considered as candidates for ordination to the priesthood and episcopacy. Each of us in his own way shares in that anguish. Neither do we question the sincerity of the motives of the four bishops and 11 deacons.who acted as they did in Philadelphia. Yet in God's work, ends and means must be consistent with one another. Furthermore, the wrong means to reach a desired end may expose the Church to serious consequences unforseen and undesired by anyone . Resolved, that the House of Bishops, having heard from Bishops Corrigan, DeWitt, Welles, and Ramos the reasons for their actions, express our disagreement with their decision and action. We believe they are wrong; we decry their acting in violation of the collegiality of the House of Bishops as well as the legislative processes of the whole Church. Further, we express our conviction that the necessary conditions for valid ordination to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church were not fulfilled on the occasion in question; since we are convinced that a bishop's authority to ordain can be effectively exercised only in and for a community which has authorized him to act for them, and as a member of the episcopal college; and since there was a failure to act in fulfillment of constitutional and canonical requirements for ordination. The resolution went on to call for the 1976 General Convention to recon-sider the issue of the ordinationof women, and for all involved to wait for that reconsideration. Apparently this is not going to happen. There have been several occasions on which various of the women have functioned as priests. The most publicized events were the celebration of the Eucharist at Riverside Church, and the ap-pointment of two of the women priests to the faculty of Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, Mass., with the provision that they will function as priests in the seminary chapel. There are at least two cases being prosecuted Women Priests and the Episcopal Church / 521 against male priests, for allowing one or more of the women to celebrate or con-celebrate the Eucharist in their parishes. The truly important aspect of the Bishops' August statement is not their disapproval of the ordination. No one seriously expected them to approve the flaunting of canon law and their own resolution of collegiality. It is the ap-parent acceptance of Bishop Arthur Vogei's theological analysis of the ordina-tion, and the bishops' refusal to accept the "validity," not simply the "regularity" of the ordination. It is freely admitted on all sides that the ordina-tion was in violation of the actual canon law of the Episcopal Church on several counts: 1. There is no provision for ordaining women to the priesthood. 2. The women were ordained neither by their own ordinaries, nor with their consent. 3. The required canonical consent of the Diocesan Standing Committees was not obtained. Two of the candidates did attempt to obtain this consent, but it was refused. One diocese (Central New York) has granted it post fac-turn. (The Standing Committee is an invention of the American Episcopal Church in the 18th century which sought successfully to limit the arbitrary power of bishops by requiring the formal consent of a Standing Committee of priests and lay persons to all ordinations, sales of church property, and certain other acts.) Prior to voting on the motion, the Bishops received the report of their Committee on Theology, delivered by the Rt. Rev. Donald J. Parsons, Bishop of Quincy, and formerly Dean and Professor of New Testament at Nashotah House Seminary, and the Rt. Rev. Arthur Vogel, Bishop of West Missouri, a member of the Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission and formerly Professor of Systematic Theology at Nashotah. The resolution adopted quotes verbatim from their reports. Bishop Vogel's view, expressed in his report, is that validity means "juridical recognition of a ministry by the Church." In this view to call a ministry "invalid" does not mean that it is not true, efficacious, or genuine, but simply that it is not juridically recognized. It is apparently this recognition which the House of Bishops denied the ordination of the women. My personal interest in this decision is that it shifts the ground of "accepted" Anglican theology from the old mhnual theology which calls sacraments valid if the criteria of proper matter, form, intention, minister and recipient are present, to a newer concept. There can be no doubt, in the old terms, that the ordaining bishops intended to ordain the women to the priesthood. They went out of their way to use the "right form," by using the official 1928 version of the ordination rite, rather than the commonly used provisional form of 1970. There has never been any dispute about the right of retired bishops to continue to exercise episcopal functions, and, in fact, many retired bishops have been the principal consecrators of their successors. The stand is taken by Bishop Vogel, and the House, instead, on the nature of the Church as a Eucharistic community, under the presidency of the Bishop. 522 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 The Holy Eucharist is offered by the whole community; the bishop unifies the action of the community by his presidency of the assembly. The bishop at one time, in a sacramen-tal manner, (1) represents the Son to the assembly, (2) represents the people of God, (3) represents the Church to itself. His actions in ordaining, then, are actions within the Community. He ordains "not as an individual but as the head of the eucharistic community." Bishop Vogel quotes the Orthodox theologian Dr. J. D. Zizoulas in saying, "There is no ministry in the Catholic Church that can exist in absoluto," and again, "there is no apostolic succession which does not go through the concrete com-munity." He comments: Within a diocese the bishop and presbyters form a college among themselves; the bishop and deacons constitute another community. The important point is that ordination, ac-cordingly, is entrance into a new community--the ministerial community--rather than the bare bestowal of a power. In ordination bishops do not pass on a power which they possess as individuals to other individuals who do not have it. That would be a baton-passing theory of ordination; the community would count for no more than the crowd watching a relay race. Here we find sacramental theology and theology of ministry tied solidly into ecclesiology, so that they are not left to wander in absoluto, causing endless problems for sacramental theologians. Ministry is within the eucharistic community of the Church. This is a primitive, and patristic view, often associated with the name of St. Cyprian of Carthage, and is, in the best sense of the word, "Episcopal" ecclesiology. Bishop Vogel concludes: The intention must originate in the community and be sacramentally personified by the community's bishop or his delegate within the episcopal college. Such authorization is necessary, or the people and bishop are not acting as a community--as one with the Church. Where there is no such authorization, where the jurisdiction of one bishop and com-munity is usurped by a bishop (or bishops) without jurisdiction, community and collegiality are broken . The ingredients of an ordination simply were not present. The bishops' conclusion that the group assembled in P, hiladelphia was not a real eucharistic community can, of course, be debated. On the other hand, the bishops, priests, deacons, and lay people who gathered in the Church of the Advocate in Philadelphia on July 29, 1974 did not claim to be a local con-gregation gathered around their bishops, nor did they claim to be the "rem-nant" of the True Church, separating themselves from a false institution. They claimed to be acting in and for the Episcopal Church, of which they were all members. But, the bishops object, they were not only unauthorized to act for the Episcopal Church in ordaining these women, the ordaining bishops were specifically bound by an undertaking with their brother bishops not to act in this way. The inevitable result is that the Church does not recognize their act. At this point, some people cry "Foul!" They object that they have meticulously followed the rule~ of the manuals to make sure that their acts would be recognized as valid, but the bishops have changed the rules, moving from a Medieval scholastic conce.pt of validity to a Cyprianic and Eastern one. Women Priests and the Episcopal Church / 523 The protest certainly has point, but it is paradoxical that most of the usual supporters of the kind of manual theology which the bishops rejected in Chicago are opposed to the ordination of women, while those most vocally concerned with the communal nature of the Church support their ordination. The idea, however, is not novel in Anglican theology, and fits well, in fact better, into traditional Anglican teaching than does manual theology. Both William Temple and Michael Ramsey spoke of the bish@ in ordination as not acting apart from the Church. This presentation, of its nature, cannot end with conclusions, but only with an observation, and a number of questions, which I believe to be those that presently face the Episcopal Church. They will, 1 believe, illuminate the dis-cussion of related issues in other Churches. The observation is that the Bishops of the Episcopal Church appear united in their belief that women have been given too small a share of the decision-making processes of the Church, and, whether or not the ordination of women to the priesthood is authorized in 1976, it seems clear that women will get more important positions in the "power structure." The questions are these: 1) Is female gender a diriment impediment to ordination to the priesthood? In this context the remarks of Robert F. Capon are exceptionally apt: If women are human, we can no longer go on talking about them as if they were some of our best friends. They are us. Any doctrine of the ministry, therefore, which effectively says that they are anything less must be abandoned. ("The Ordination of Women: A Non-Book," in Anglican Theological Review, SS 2 [Sel~t. 1973] p. 77) There are, nevertheless, a few Anglican theologians, and several bishops who would respond to our question with a solid yes. 2) If it is granted that women can be ordained, should a Church as numerically insignificant as ~he American Episcopal Church, even with the support of the worldwide Anglican Communion, alter 1900 years of contrary custom and proceed to do so? Many Anglicans would answer with the Orthodox that such things must await the summoning of the 8th Ecumenical Council. Anglicans are com-mitted to the view that they are only a part of the Catholic Church, and are reluctant to go out on a limb alone. Ordaining women will certainly cause the Episcopal Church problems in its dialogue with both Roman Catholics and Orthodox, but if it is right, then fear of unjust excommunication has never been an acceptable defense for failure to act. 3) Granted that it is possible, is it necessary for the Episcopal Church to ordain women, even at the cost of splitting our own Church? Certainly, if we do ordain women, we must be aware of the'havoc we shall raise with thestatus quo. There is already a shortage of"payingjobs" for priests in the Church and ordaining women will compound the problem. The women themselves are also likely to wind up underpaid and overworked in parishes that men have turned down. These dangers must be honestly faced. 524 / Review for Religious, lZolume 34, 1975/4 4) Finally, there are the large questions of the meaning of ordination. Can bishops, simply by virtue of their orders, and without the authority of the com-munity whose bishops they are, confer orders? Traditional Western sacramental theology has said yes, but that it is wrong for bishops to act in this way. Traditional Eastern sacramental theology has said no, that they act only in and for the Church. This is the position which the American House of Bishops took in Chicago. It is a position which seems to hold promise for a sacramental theology based upon the doctrine of the Church as the Body of Christ, and Christ Himself as the true minister of the sacraments. Reprints from the Review "The Confessions of Religious Women" by Sister M. Denis, S.O.S. (25 cents) "Institutional Business Administration and Religious" by John J. Flanagan, S.J., and James I. O'Connor, S.J. (20 cents) "Authority and Religious Life" by J. M. R. Tillard, O.P. (20 cents) "The Death of Atheism" by Rene H. Chabot, MoS. (20 cents) "The Four Moments of Prayer" by John R. Sheets, S.J. (25 cents) "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation" by the Congregation for Religious (35 cents) "Meditative Description of the Gospel Counsels" (20 cents) "A Method for Eliminating Method in Prayer" by Herbert Francis Smith, S.J. (25 cents) "Religious Life in the Mystery of the Church" by J. M. R. Tillard, O.P. (30 cents) "Profile of the Spirit: A Theology of Discernment of Spirits" by John R. Sheets, S.J. (30 cents) "Consciousness Examen" by George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. (20 cents) "Retirement or Vigil?" by Benedict Ashley, O.P. (25 cents) "Celibacy and Contemplation" by Denis Dennehy, S.J. (20 cents) "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat" by Herbert F. Smith, S.J. (20 cents) "The Healing of Memories" by Francis Martin (20 cents) Orders for the above should be sent to: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Revision of the ConstitiJtions: Meaning, Criteria and Problems Juan Manuel Lozano, C.M.F. Father Juan Manuel Lozano was Visiting Professor of Spirituality in the Divinity School of St. Louis University during the past semester. He is on the faculty of Lateran University and of his Institute's seminary: Claretianum; Via Aurelia 619 15, 00144 Rome, Italy. Religious communities are at present engaged in the final stage of the revision of their Constitutions in the aftermath of Vatican Council 11. Most of them, indeed, have already celebrated their first General Chapter after the Special Chapter of Renewal; and, according to the norms in force they must send the resulting text to the Holy See after the last touches are made by the next General Chapter. Institutes are still bustling especially because all the members of the various communities have been called to participate in the review of what had been their basic codes. Perhaps it will be helpful to set forth some personal ideas and experiences on the meaning of the present work of revision and on the problems which have been created by it. 1. The Starting Point The revision of their Constitutions by all religious institutes had been made obligatory by Vatican II in its decree, Perfectae Caritatis (par. 3). From the text of the decree itself, it is evident that the center of gravity of this paragraph was not the revision of documents, but rather the spiritual renewal and adapta-tion to the times of religious life in all its various aspects: the manner of living, praying and working, and the government of the various institutes. The revi-sion of the Constitutions emerges as a consequence of this in the second part of the paragraph cited: "Therefore let constitutions, directories., be suitably revised and, obsolete laws having been suppressed, be adapted to the decrees of this sacred synod." 525 526 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 The principle for the revision of the Constitutions, basic documents that are intended to inspire and rule the life of a religious community, is, therefore, to be drawn from the preceding paragraph of Perfectae Caritatis (no. 2) where both renewal and adaptation have been defined. In fact, even if in the text, probably because of Latin usage which prefers to join adjective to a substan-tive rather than two substantives, has the form: accommodata renovatio, in-stead of renovatio et accommodatio, the rest of the paragraph makes it clear that the council is referrit~g to two different realities by the term: a movement of spiritual renewal in fidelity towards the Gospel and towards the spirit of the founder, and another movement of fidelity to the real, historical condition of man: "renewal" and "adaptation." In speaking of the first movement, the council uses a biblical term: to go back, to return (sh~b) with God as its object is an expression commonly used in the Bible to designate conversion.~ A constant return to the sources of Christian Life and to the founder means, therefore, that a permanent move-ment of conversion must characterize religious communities. Religious life has always to return to being the privileged expression of Christian and authentic religious sentiment. Since this privileged expression was formulated in the past, in those historical periods in which the Church and the religious com-munity were founded, this conversion implies a return to the past, a pilgrimage back to the sources. Yet this return to the past happens only on the surface, since neither Christ nor the gifts of the Spirit that were granted to the founder belong!to the past; they are always alive. From this perspective, renewal might better be termed "a going inside" rather than "a going back." For its part, adaptation also should mean "a going inside"--an entering into actual, living humanity. And thus, religious life, following the logic of the Incarnation, must embrace both the Spirit that comes from God and the needs that come from society. Both renewal and adaptation, then, are two different expressions of a constant search for authenticity. This means that there are two basic facts, subsumed by the council in its recommendation of renewal and adaptation, that will influence the revision of the constitutions: human fallibility, and human historicity. In terms of these realities, religious life is constantly exposed to a series of trends that originate both from within (the community itself) and from without (society). And so religious life must constantly return to its double source of inspiration. As a matter of fact, human fallibility seems to have more effect on the daily life of the religious than it does on his Constitutions. For, even if the charism of infallibility does not extend to the spiritual doctrine that is ex-pressed in the Constitutions (they remain, after all, a purely human comment on the Gospel), it is nevertheless true that very often they have been written by one who was a faithful disciple of Christ, and that they have always received the approval of the Church. And this approval of the Church guarantees that the Constitutions are at least a sufficient guide by which to lead a life that is ICf. Jer 3,22; 4,1. Hos 6,1; Joel 2,12 . . . Revision of the Constitutions: Meaning, Criteria and Problems / 527 committed to divine service. On the other hand, the approval of the Church does not assure us that the text of a given Constitution will keep its value per-manently, or that it is the best possible expression of spiritual doctrine, etc. This reality, of course, is connected rather with human historicity than with human fallibility. Nor does it seem to me that the approval of the Holy See guarantees fidelity on the part of the community to what had been the idea of the founder. The Church, to be sure, gives canonical approval to those ideas that the com-munity believes best expresses its spirit. And in so doing, the Church recognizes that the community in pursuing its project has a right to exist within the People of God without interference in regard to the more technical problem of the fidelity of some later changes to the idea of the founder. There are some communities which have obtained from Rome approval for a change in the formulation of their ministries which research has demonstrated were not truly faithful to the idea of the founder; they are now going back to the older formulation. On this level of being faithful to the original idea of the founder, Constitutions are subject to human fallibility, just as is religious life itself; and a revision may thus be necessary. Historicity touches the Constitutions more deeply, In certain instances, even when they were actually written by the founder, Constitutions appear too strictly conditioned by the limits of a mindset that was common at a certain time and in a certain society. Founders were, thank God, real, living men; they were not only the recipients of a charism, but they were also the products of a particular ambience. Some Constitutions, composed in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, i.e., in a time when spiritual theology was in decadence, show an approach to some features of Christian religiosity that may hardly be kept as permanent, classical formulations: for example, a purely negative ap-proach to consecrated chastity, a negative way of expressing mortification, a passive doctrine of obedience. Now, can we honestly think that a text which spoke of chastity only to forbid any kind of sexual acts expressed the basic value of consecrated chastity? Or that a text which expressed a very austere image of self-denial without enlightening it by the glory of the Resurrection could be the direct reflection of the Gospel? Or, on the contrary, were these the fruit of the spiritual attitude of a particular culture the natural causes of which can be uncovered by historians? We have to come to the conclusion that in the area of spiritual theology there are obsolete expressions just as there are ob-solete juridical or disciplinary norms. Not only Canon Law, but theology, too, is a product of history. Other, more recently written Constitutions have a purely juridical-disciplinary character in that they reproduce with few variations the Normae secundum quas, a document that was elaborated by the Congregation for Bishops and Regulars at the end of the last, and beginning of this century.2 2Published, e.g., by L. R. Ravasi C. P. in De Regulis et Constitutionibus Religiosorum. Rome 1958, pp 187-226. 52~1 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 Now the Normae expressly exclude from the Constitutions every kind of text dealing with theology and spirituality.3 This was quite understandable as a reaction against the simple exhortatory booklets that had been sent to the Holy See by most of the founders during the last century. It was also the result of the juridical optimism which had engulfed the Church in years in which Congregations of simple vows received their first official acknowledgement as religious institutes, receiving for the first time definite norms concerning their status in the Church, and years in which the entire Latin Church became in-volved in the creation of its first Code of Canon Law. What we have is the product of a certain mentality, one which belongs neither to the basic evangelical values of religious life nor to the charism of particular founders. This mentality is connected with a certain historical situa-tion. And, of course, it is impossible for any text to be in complete abstraction from its own times. Even the Rules of St. Augustine, St. Benedict and St. Francis are historical monuments, the reflection of a particular period of human history, as well as source documents of profound spirituality. In calling for renewal, th~n, th6 Church is clearly not asking that religious remove their Constitutions from every historical context, since, in any case, this would be quite impossible. But there are different ways of being related to history. A classic text, even if it keeps the flavor of the times in which it was composed, can give a balanced formulation of values that are permanent, and for this reason it will appeal to many generations. Other texts, however, re-main more on the surface, and tend to be influenced more strongly by the limitations of the culture in which they were written. This should neither sur-prise nor disappoint us. It takes time, after all, to develop a classical master-piece! Immediately after the promulgation of the decree, Perfectae Caritatis on October 25, 1965, two tendencies began to emerge among religious. One tendency, the more conservative, tried to limit the revision of the Constitutions to the suppression of obsolete norms and to adaptation to the new decrees. Revision, understood thus, followed the criteria which had inspired the earlier re-edition of Constitutions that had been necessary after the promulgation of the Code of Canon Law in 1917. The other tendency, more liberal and aware of cultural conditioning, pres-ent in many texts, affirmed the need to adapt the entire text of the Constitutions to the "spirit of the Council," i.e., to the theological and spiritual vision which had been growing in the Church during recent decades but which has burgeoned enormously in the aftermath of the Second Vatican Council. Since the decree, Perfectae Caritatis, speaking in a very general way, could not fix precisely the extension of the revision it called for, the problem remained aNormae I, IV n 33: Ravasi p 183. The prohibition was practically abolished in the new Normae issued in 1921. Cf Ravasi p 231. But at that time most .of the Constitutions of the modern Congregations had already received their last form. Revision of the Constitutions: Meaning, Criteria and Problems / 529 unsolved until the motu proprio, Ecclesiae Sanctae, was promulgated, in which Paul VI fixed criteria for the revision that was to take place. Prior to this, it had been possible to suppose that the depth of any revision would de-pend in every case on the quality of the original basic text. But this was precisely what was at issue in the discussion between both tendencies within the various communities. 2. Criteria for Revision On August 6, 1966, Pope Paul VI published his motu proprio, Ecclesiae Sanctae, which looked to the implementation of four decrees of the Council, the second of which was Perfectae Caritatis. In this portion of the document, one section is dedicated to the laying down of criteria for the revision of Constitutions: Ecclesiae Sanctae II, 12-14. The motu proprio, in dealing with principles for the revision of Constitutions, showed genuine development. Not only did it fix some points firmly, but it traced the general pattern that all Constitutions must follow. The criteria he gave can be summarized as follows: A. Constitutions, as religious life itself, must have a twofold aspect: doc-trinal and canonical. "Doctrine" here embraces two different facets: 1) the common elements that are essential for religious life in its union with the Church; 2) the par-ticular charism of the institute, expressed by the original idea of the founder and developed by an authentic living tradition. The "canonical elements" are to define the character, purpose and means of the institute. Character refers to an Order with autonomous monasteries or with centralized government, a Congregation of simple vows, an Apostolic Society, a Secular Institute, etc. Purpose embraces the general goal of religious life, and the particular charism of the individual community. Some communities have special ministries. Others are oriented in general towards evangelization in all its forms. The universal or particular character of their mission in the Church should be clearly expressed. In the Normae secundum quas that is followed by most of the modern Congregations, the general and particular goals were separated in two different paragraphs? These two paragraphs can be blended into one rich formulation that reflects the living unity in which they are associated in reality. Means are all the particulars that further community life, the profession of the evangelical life and the special ministry of the community. Therefore, they include spiritual and canonical 4No~'mae 1901 il, I, 1 nn 42-46, Ravasi p 195. cf also p 234. In the Normae the two purposes were called primary and secondary, using a terminology which sounds at least strange when applied to institutes whose founders had been first moved by the idea of responding with an apostolic ministry to certain concrete needs of the Church. The apostolic purpose (sometimes expressed through a fourth vow, or an equivalent commitment) has been the core around which the religious life has developed in many Institutes, from the Knights of Malta, to the Dominicans, Jesuits, Lasalle Brothers, Claretians . This is the reason why the praxis of calling both purposes general and specific has prevailed. ~i30 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 norms, basicstructures of government, requirements of formation and incor-poration, and the works of the apostolate. The introduction of this first principle in the motu proprio, i.e., that both doctrinal and canonical elements are required in any proposed revision, con-stitutes a fortunate change of direction in the policy that had formerly been followed by the Church. We have seen that the Normae secundum iluas ex-cluded every kind of doctrinal expression. And even if the idea was later tempered, in actual fact Constitutions remained mostly juridical codes. Now, if this might have been acceptable for Constitutions of the Regular Orders which also have a "Spiritual Rule" as part of their basic documents, in all in-stitutes founded after the Mendicant Orderg, the Constitutions are their only basic code. Therefore they have need of a doctrinal definition of the vocation and spirit of their respective communities. B. Constitutions are to be a text of essentials. The motu proprio emphasizes this characteristic. Constitutions must con-tain "the principles of religious life/and/the necessary juridical norms" (no. 12). For this reason, all elements that are not related to the basic features of the kind of religious life professed by the particular institute should not be in-cluded in its Constitutions. This recommendation of the Pope offers a very rich idea of what Constitutions ought to be. Constitutions should be a "charter" of charity, of communion,5 in which all the members of the institute, though they belong to different times and cultures, are able to recognize their own vocation and spirit. This implies that only the really essential features, of that vocation and spirit should be defined in the Constitutions, leaving the res~ to the initiative of the Holy Spirit and to the inescapable pluralism that varying circumstances demand. St. Benedict had well expressed this idea when, in explaining why he is opposed to setting down many norms about food and abstinence, he states in his Rule: "Everyone has received from God his own gift, one in one way, another in a different way. So it is with some hesitation that we fix/any/ measures for others.''6 From this point of view, Constitutions should express a minimum--the essential minimum. C. The motu proprio explicitly excludes from Constitutions all elements which are subject to change, which are now obsolete, or which correspond to local usages. Behind this criterion lies the idea 'that Constitutions should, as far as possi-ble, retain a permanent value.A community cannot change its Constitutions frequently without jeopardizing the peace and stability of the community. Therefore Constitutions should now tend to be what the "Rule" was for the Orders: a permanent and undiscussed source of inspiration. D. Regarding the form of Constitutions, the motu proprio recommends concision and precision. SThis was the. title given by the Cistercians to their most ancient constitutional text. Cf PL 166,1377-1384. 8Regula 40,1-2. Revision of the Constitutions: Meaning, Criteria and Problems / 531 Concision: "necessary norms., not excessively multiplied" (no. 12, b). Precision: "in suitable and clear words" (no. 12, a); "in an adequate manner" (no. 12, b). 3. Conclusions and Problems The first criterion, viz., that Constitutions should contain both doctrine and laws, often de facto means the redaction of a new text. As we have already mentioned, many modern Constitutions had only a juridical-disciplinary character. This is probably the main reason why the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes, in a statement published on July 12, 1968, declared that the revision of the Constitutions could be understood as the writing of a new text. The only condition is that the individual community must remain within the limits set by the nature, aims and spirit of the institute. Another reason that recommended the composition of a new text was the great difficulty experienced by many communities when they began to in-troduce partial emendations such as new paragraphs on obedience, celibacy, community, liturgy. There were deep differences between two approaches to spirituality: the one being largely individualistic and ascetic, the other being communitarian, liturgical and ecclesial, and these began to appear more strongly. Some communities which had begun to modify the old text finally arrived at the decision to write a new text. Other communities had decided from the beginning to write a new one. In my own experience with different in-stitutes, this decision to rewrite has been a wise one. The application of the criteria laid down by the Ecclesiae Sanctae has given a new shape to Constitutions. This fact has provoked a certain uneasiness among many religious. At first, they did not know what to do with the new doctrinal style. They missed the old disciplinary norms. And we cannot blame them for this. They had been accustomed for years to another kind of legisla-tion. Some of them even expressed their suspicion that the suppression of prac-tical norms was of[en the fruit of a certain relaxation. This attitude seems to result from a twofold misunderstanding: First of all, the new texts do not really make concessions in the direction of relaxation. Certainly they show a more positive approach to the basic features of Christian life and, therefore, the negative vocabulary~ that had been cherished by the Christian spirituality of the last two or three centuries tends to disappear. But if emphasis is placed on the positive and central elements of Christianity, this does not dissipate the negative consequences. Even if new Constitutions focus on following Jesus, they do not forget that in order to follow Him, we have to leave everything for Him. We cannot forget that this is the precise perspective of Christian spirituality as it is presented in the Gospels. On the other hand, there are doctrinal statements which are much more exigent than practical rules prescribing certain austerities. The invitation to be "a sign of contradiction" found in a new text is much more exigent than the rule requiring permission every time a sister leaves the house. The second misunderstanding concerns the value of the doctrinal section. 532 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 Religious are commonly agreed that the new doctrinal texts express in most cases a very rich spirituality. But some of them do not seem to appreciate the exact value of these statements which seem to them to be less binding than the old, disciplinary texts. This is a mistake. The doctrinal texts of the Constitutions do not contain a mere theological reflection. They express the idea that the community itself has of its own vocation and spirit in the Church. And therefore, they bind all the members as long as they desire to remain in the community. Far from being a merely theoretical explanation, they contain what might be called a "constitutional doctrine." Religious who are uneasy with the new style of Constitutions should recall that a text which traces the basic features of a vocation and spirit, a text which describes a mode of existence instead of prescribing a set of practices, a text which prefers the indicative to the imperative is actually more in line with the evangelical idea of Law. The deep difference between the Old Law and the Sermon on the Mount is that Jesus proposes a vocation to men who are no longer servants but friends.7 And who will argue that the Beatitudes are less binding than the Decalogue, even though they move on a different level? The commandments of not killing, of not committing adultery, of not stealing re-quire a material observance, because they express a minimum. The beatitudes on peacemakers, on purity of heart and on poverty on the other hand require a growing fidelity to the Spirit. They express the basic features of Christian ex-istence. If, from one point of view, as has been mentioned, the Constitutions should be the definition of an essential minimum, at the same time the principle that states they should contain the doctrinal formulation of the vocation and spirit of the community makes them also to be the expression of an ideal maximum. They propose a calling which is never completely fulfilled; they show a path on which no one should stop; they set forth the means by which religious can grow in the Spirit. This, also, is the exact meaning of the Beatitudes. We are never completely "poor in spirit," but the poorer we are, the more blessed we are. "You came here to be one heart," writes St. Augustine at the beginning of his Rule for the Servants of God? But he knows that on this earth we are never completely "one heart.''a St. Benedict, too, is well aware of this fact, when he finishes his Rule with the invitation to grow and to grow yet more.~° Constitutions are supposed to reflect the dynamic tendency of Christian ex-istence. Consequently, their observance implies a double fidelity: fidelity to the letter of the essential common laws, and, more profoundly, a dynamic, grow-ing fidelity to the Spirit. 4. Constitutions and Complementary Norms The reduction of the Constitutions to an essential "basic rule" implies as a 7Saint Ambrose, De l~iduis 12,72-73, PL 16,256-257. aRegula ad Servos Dei I, PL 32,1378. Epistola 211,5 PL 33,960. aDe bono coniug. 18,21 PL 40,387-388. ~°Regula 73. Revision of the Constitutions." Meaning, Criteria and Problems / ~i33 consequence the need for a complementary code that should contain more detailed norms. The idea of this complementary "Directory" was suggested by the Pope in Ecclesiae Sanctae. Such a code formerly existed in many Congregations: called in French institutes the Directoire, in the Roman canonical tradition of other Congregations it has been called the Codex luris Addititii (the code of complementary laws.) This Directory is supposed to contain the norms that are ordained to im-plement the Constitutions in all the aspects of the life of the community; prayer, particular traditions, formation, government. All norms which can easily be subject to change should be inserted into this complementary text rather than into the Constitutions. The Directory remains under the exclusive responsibility of the General Chapter while the Constitutions, after their ap-proval by the Holy See, can no longer be modified by the community without approval from Rome. There is today an even greater need for a complete legislation in each in-stitute, for, if the criteria followed in the provisional draft of Canon Law in regard to religious becomes definitive, many norms which were before fixed by common law will be left to the initiative of the individual institute. Since such a "complete legislation" will be made up of two texts, the Constitutions and the Directory, the institutes which have postponed the composition of the second text should now begin to work towards the formulation of their Directory. In suggesting this, we are aware of the heavy burden that such a procedure places on the religious especially of smaller communities. On the other hand, it is worth cautioning against an attempt to fix rapidly an abundance of such com-plementary norms just for the sake of having a "complete legislation." However, at least the most important norms, such as those concerning elec-tions, requirements for certain offices, incorporation into the institute, re-quirements for formation, etc., should be fixed, and the decisions made by the General Chapter should be listed clearly and in order (following the same order as the Constitutions). Furthermore, the Directory should be provisional. Since it will remain within the competency of the institute, the General Chapter will be able to improve upon it in progressive fashion. 5. Definitive Approval of the Constitutions and the New Canon Law The announcement that a new draft of Canon Law in regard to religious is now under study seems to have introduced a new factor of uncertainty in the process that leads to the fixing of a definitive text of the Constitutions. And we can surmise that definitive approval for revised Constitutions will not be granted by the Holy See until the promulgation of the new Canor~ Law. Cer-tainly, since both the new Canon Law and the Constitutions of each com-munity will contain fewer details, there will be less possibility that some points of the Constitutions will be in contradiction to the new code. But there will be many points in which it would be better if the Constitutions used the ter-minology adopted by the code. Will this mean that the period during which the Constitutions will remain under the responsibility of the individual institutes 534 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 will be prolonged by the Holy See? Since religious seem now to have overcome in large part the insecurity which had accompanied the change of their con-stitutional norms, it is possible that the Holy See will study the possibility of giving more time to the maturation of both the Constitutions and the Direc-tory. But it is also possible that the Sacred Congregation for Religious will prefer to open a period of dialogue with individual communities in which the Constitutions will be subjected to examination from both sides, even if they will no longer be under the exclusive responsibility of the individual institute. Surely in either case Roman sagezza will find a way of avoiding the repetition of what happened in the first decades of this century when many Constitutions approved in the first fifteen years of the century had to go back to Rome ten years later to be adapted to the then new Code of Canon Law. Back Issues of the Review The following is a list of the back issues of Review for Religious that are presently available: The first twenty-five volumes (1942-1966) inclusive of the Review have been reprinted in twenty-five clothbound volumes. Volumes 1 to 20 (1942- 1961) sell at $6.50 the volume; volumes 2l to 25 (1962-1966) sell at $7.50 the volume. 1967: All issues 1968: All issues 1969: All issues 1970: All issues 1971: All issues 1972: All issues 1973: All issues 1974: All issues 1975: All issues (except January) (except January) Some of these issues are available only in small numbers. The issues cost $1.75 (plus postage) each and should be ordered from: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand Boulevard St. Louis, Missouri 63103 Affirmation: Healing in Community Sister Gabrielle L. Jean House of Affirmation, Inc., is an international therapeutic center for clergy and religious, located at 120 Hill Street; Whitinsville, MA 01588. Sister Gabrielle L. Jean, Ph.D., is Director of the Worcester Consulting Center; 201 Salisbury Street; Worcester, MA 01609. Founding of the House of Affirmation The House of Affirmation is an outgrowth of the Worcester Consulting Center for Clergy and Religious which was established in 1970 in response to the expressed needs of the religious professionals of the diocese. The impact of Vatican II had been strongly felt by the clergy and religious who had to meet increased pressures from the demands of decentralization and responsible in-volvement in social and ecclesial issues. The services of the Consulting Center provided a religious professional the opportunity for self-discovery through the contemporary approaches of psychiatry and psychology in ongoing dialogue with theological developments. The Vicar for Priests and Religious, Diocese of Worcester, when ap-proached by the members of the Interim Senate for Religious, was informed of the fact that a sister-psychiatrist was working at the Worcester State Hospital; it was suggested she would probably help in the organization of mental health services for the religious and clergy of the area. The sister, Anna Polcino, a Medical Missionary physician-surgeon who had returned from West Pakistan a few years earlier, was invited to membership on the planning committee which had been brought together to think through the logistics of the enter-prise. She then became the first director of what was to become the Worcester Consulting Center. A young diocesan priest, Thomas A. Kane, was then com-pleting his doctoral work in clinical psychology and he became co-director of the Consulting Center. 535 636 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 The overriding goal of the Consulting Center was to help the clients become fully human, consistently free persons within the context of their ecclesial calling and social insertion. Sister Anna and Father Kane undertook to meet this goal through a threefold program of service, education and research. Since its opening, the services and programs of the Consulting Center have included individual consultation, group consultation, group process communication labs, personal growth groups, candidate assessment, lectures and workshops. After two full years of operation, however, it became apparent to Sr. Anna that the outpatient facilities were not sufficient for some religious and clergy who had come to the Consulting Center; there was definite need for an inten-sive residential treatment program. Thus was the House of Affirmation con-ceived. It became a reality in October, 1973, when the doors were opened to its first residents in Whitinsville, Massachusetts. Dr. Anna Polcino assumed the responsibility of psychiatric director of therapy and Dr. Thomas A. Kane became its executive director. The residential center pursues the same goals as the Consulting Center; namely, service, education and research. Philosophy of the House of Affirmation The philosophy underlying the House of Affirmation's existence and operation can be succinctly stated as: treatment of the whole person in a wholly therapeutic environment. Mental health professionals adhering to this basic philosophy meet a real challenge when their clientele is constituted by other professionals whose religious values are central to their vocational choice and identity. Religious men and women have chosen a celibate way of life which jars with the usual Freudian model of therapy. And so an alternative had to evolve to meet the needs of this relatively important and clearly delineated sociological group of celibate religious professionals seeking psy-chological help. A group situation provides a favorable environment for the social relearn-ing that constitutes therapy. Modern psychology emphasizes the tremendous power of the environment on human development and behavior; our sur-roundings exert a molding influence on our behavior. In "milieu therapy," the expectancies and attitudes of the treatment staff are central to bringing about social rehabilitation but the "psychotheoiogical community" concept of the House of Affirmation goes beyond this milieu therapy with its inherent psy-choanalytic orientation and reductionism. There is an existential concern with rediscovering the living person amid the compartmentalization and dehumanization of modern culture. Interest centers on reality as immediately experienced by the person witl~ the accent on the inner-personal character of the client's experience. The therapeutic community supplies the type of accept-ing or impartial reactions from others that favor social learning. Besides, the therapeutic environment prevents further disorganization in the client's behavior by reducing his intense anxieties. Affirmation, Healing in Community / ~i37 Psychotheological Therapeutic Community The House of Affirmation has developed a unique model in its psy-chotheological therapeutic community. The expression "psychotheological community" implies a quest for communion with God and with man. It is an accepted fact that personhood can only be realized in community, and this phenomenological aspect of man's human predicament aligns the model with the existential therapeutic movement.-It seeks to analyze the structure of the religious professional's human existence in view of understanding the reality underlying his being-in-crisis. It is concerned with the profound dimensions of the emotional and spiritual temper of contemporary man. The importance of community looms large in the current psychological literature. Stern and Marino state that "religion and psychotherapy encourage community engagement with life; both can be distorted to emphasize a kind of pulling back in order to ensure personal safety. Insofar as they foster openness, they become true protectors of the role that love can play in cement-ing human relationships, and consequently, the reconciliation of society. The establishment of relationships is the first step in establishing the community. As a stranger becomes familiar, we are in a better position to reach out to him, to join our lives more closely. Our differences will never disappear and we will find it necessary to sacrifice a degree of autonomy.''1 Each person in the community remains a unique individual. He may grow and change in the community but he will retain his identity. Personal union of community members serves to bring out and enrich what is uniquely true of each individual. "Growth in community will be effected by all those active and passive elements that created favorable conditions for the growth of unity and charity: openness, receptivity, sharing, giving, receiving. Community connotes oneness without loss of identity, a sharing in the interiority of another without the sacrifice of personal integrity.''~ The adaptations recommended and wrought by the Second Vatican Coun-cil have changed the pattern of environmental demands on Christians at large, but it has wrought this change even more on formally professed religious men and women. Some have adjusted quickly and almost with eagerness to these changes wliile others have been.floundering in the insecurity of a slow and painful assimilation of change. The poignant experience of confusion, doubt and sense of loss has taxed the coping ability of many who, cut off from safe moorings, question their identity and authenticity in what they consider an un-charted land. The post-Vatican period demands maturity and balance on the part of those chosen to minister to the people of God especially because much risk is involved. ~E. Mark Stern and Bert G. Marino, Psychotheology (Paramus, N.Y.: Newman Press, 1970), p. 66. ~Sister Daniel Turner, "The American Sister Today," in The Changing Sister (Notre-Dame, Ind.: Fides, 1965), pp. 309-310. Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, emphasized the aspect of community when it spoke of the Church as a "sign and sacrament of man's union with God and of the unity of the whole human race" (LG, 1). The religious community as such cannot form the person although it should provide a setting in which the individual human being can emerge as a fully functioning adult. For too long, religious communities of men and women as well as priests in rectories have had. a task-oriented rather than person-oriented environment. Yet personal development is a basic prerequisite to a meaningful life in society at large and in the local community where the celibate lives. This follows logically from the principle that love of self precedes love of others. However, I can only know myself if another reveals me to myself just as I can only come to a real love of self when I come to the realization that I am loved by another. Likewise does man find his meaning and sense of identity in and through others. The person-oriented group helps man realize his personhood when, through the truth and goodness'of his con-freres, man's own powers of knowing and loving are released. In the therapeutic community of the House of Affirmation, the resident can formulate his own reactions, share them in social communication and thus become aware of the commonness of his own anxieties. By sharing his reac-tions with peers, he is practicing the very techniques of social interaction in which he has typically remained unskilled. In the reactions of his peers with whom he shares his daily activities, the resident finds the acceptance, support, protection, challenge and competition which enable him to develop more valid self-reactions. In addition, the therapeutic milieu provides the opportunity for social interaction among residents and staff. The House of Affirmation is neither a place of confinement nor a haven for "rest and recreation"; rather, it is a miniature social-religious community planned and controlled to facilitate the social learning of its residents. The professional staff members have accepted as the general goal of psychotherapy to help the "unfree," childishly dependent person become a genuine adult capable of "responding affirmatively to life, people and society.''3 The focus is on self-understanding and insight-building of an immediate and current nature in view of helping the individual to grasp the meaning of his existence in its historical totality. Ultimately, the mentally healthy client will attain freedom to choose, maturity in outlook and responsible independence. The life of the celibate can be viewed as an ongoing process of interaction with the religious, social and natural forces that make up his environment. The meaning that life assumes for a celibate depends on his personal response to these forces. The celibate community constitutes a union of persons who par-ticipate in a common love-response to the call of Christ.4 The key to a proper 3John Dalrymple, Christian Affirmation (Denville, N.J.: Dimension Books, Inc., 1971), p. 10. 'Sister Helen Marie Beha, OSF, Living Community (Milwaukee, Wis.: Bruce Publishing Co., 1967), p. 21. Affirmation, Healing in Community understanding of community lies in participation which becomes a unifying force which, at the same time, allows for individual differences. Is not willingness to receive from him one of the dearest gifts one can give to another? Participation characterizes the relationship of individuals united by love in community. All encounters assume meaning in that context; they become avenues to change. The difference his presence makes in the overall community process gives meaning to the celibate's life. Being human really means coming to grips, in a creative way, with the concrete situation in which we find ourselves. The ex-perience of here-and-now is crucial, for life is today--not yesterday or tomorrow. The same applies in the therapeutic situation be it individual or group: the ongoing, immediate experience of residents and therapists as they interact becomes the phenomenological focus in therapy. The total phenomena ex-perienced at any moment in time is what describes man's existential situation; the experienced event is what is brought to therapy. Listening to others as per-sons, looking into their eyes, mind and heart with deep sympathy, feeling that this person is suffering, is appealing to us as a person--is this not affirmative response to Christ's summons: "Love one another as I have loved you" (.In 13:34)? The call to Christian life is ideally expressed in the experience of the Eucharist which is the community experience par excellence. The Eucharist builds up a community of faith, and so it stands at the very center of the psy-chotheoiogical community that is the House of Affirmation; it reveals the solidarity of all members in Christ. It is the same solidarity that is expressed in the opening words of the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes: "The joys and hopes, the sorrows and worries of the men of our time are ours" (GS, 1). The House of Affirmation has thus accepted the challenge of the Fathers of Vatican II who urged, in the same document that we make appropriate use "not only of theological principles, but also of the findings of the secular sciences, especially of psychology and sociology" (GSo 62) to help the faithful live their faith in a more thorough and mature way. In its Decree on the Ap-propriate Renewal of the Religious Life, Perfectae Caritatis, the Council Fathers pursued the same line of thought: "The manner of living, praying, and working should be suitably adapted to the physical and psychological con-ditions of today's religious., to the needs of the apostolate, the requirements of a given culture, and to the social and economic circumstances" (PC, 3). In the article pertaining to chastity, religious are urged to "take advantage of those natural helps which favor mental and bodily health . Everyone should remember that chastity has stronger safeguards in a community when true fraternal love thrives among its members" (PC, 12). Celibate religious professionals who are trained in psychiatry and psychology can bring to bear their own experience in coming to a better understanding of the emotional problems of religious and priestly life today. Such is the case in both of our outpatient Consulting Centers and the residential treatment center of the House of Affirmation. ~i40 / Review for Religious, l/olume 34, 1975/4 For too long, celibates have been frustrated when seeking professional help since they were limited to psychiatrists and psychologists who had little un-derstanding of their religious commitment; the misconceptions that could arise often deterred religious and priests from seeking psychiatric-psychological help. Our residential treatment center has been set up to minimize the threat and the possible alienation attendant on presenting oneself to a professional-type establishment. A home-like atmosphere has been developed which has proved most therapeutic and which prepares the individual to respond to therapyin a very positive manner, and that contrasts with the resistance that is frequently found when working with the laity. At present, there are twenty residents at the House of Affirmation of which thirteen are men. An attempt is being made to establish a better men/women ratio but the fact is that more men than women are referred for residential treatment. The professional staff presently includes one psychiatrist, six psy-chologists, two pastoral counselors and one registered nurse. The basic com-ponents of the therapeutic program are: Mode of therapy Time per session Weekly Individual 1 hour twice Group (same therapist) 1 1/2 hours twice Intercommunication lab I 1/2 hours once Psychodrama 1 1/2 hours once Residents' group (no therapist present) 1 hour once Group design I hour once Ancillary therapies: Photography I 1/2 hours once Movement therapy 2 hours once Physical therapy 1 hour once Alcoholics Anonymous 1 hour once Ceramics 2 hours once Yoga 1 hour once Art therapy 3 hours once Lectures; Psychology/psychiatry 1 hour once Psychotheological reflections I hour once Spirituality 1 hour once An individual priest, sister or brother may be referred to the House of Af-firmation for the purpose of coming to a better understanding of his emotional problems and/or to resolve them. However, the client is always informed that unless he comes of his own free will, therapy will be of little avail to him. No resident is accepted for treatment on the mere recommendation of his religious superiors; the applicant must indicate willingness to come for therapy. The principle of confidentiality is crucial to the operation of the House of Affirma-tion; privacy is maintained at all times. This has produced a sense of security Affirmation, Healing in Community / 541 and trust and the clientele has grown geometrically. Since its inception, it has been stressed that the purpose of the House of Affirmation is not so much keeping the celibate in the religious or priestly life as helping him become truly human and consistently free. Through therapy, he can come to his own deci-sion about his future. In the course of therapy, the client comes to view his experience in wider perspective and he gains a better future orientation. Self-growth demands that the individual have something to aim for, a goal which can be brought into reality through committed action. The individual's task will then be to ac-tualize this possibility, to make it a reality. As a person begins to respond to his feelings, he sees possibilities in his future and makes attempts to achieve these; by so doing, responsible independence increases in his life-style. Many of the problems that have been presented at the consulting centers and at the residential center have been classified as deprivation syndromes and as what Freud has described as repressive neurosis. In the first case, lack of love and acceptance (lack of affirmation) has crippled the psychological func-tioning of individuals; in the latter case, one encounters priests and religious who have made excessive use of the defense mechanism known as intellec-tualization. Many of these individuals are not aware of their emotions and have even repressed anger in their life as celibates. The repression in this in-stance often came about by faulty training which presented the emotion of anger as "unvirtuous," an emotion not to be expressed at any time. Yet Christ found it appropriate to express His emotions: "The angry man who picked up a cord to drive the buyers and sellers out of the temple, who wept in sadness over Jerusalem, who was bathed in sweat before His arrest was not a stoical, emotionless man.''s Through therapy, individual clients become aware of their emotions, are informed that their emotions are basically good and are encouraged to express them in a healthy way within the context of a celibate life. Individual therapy is supported by group therapy where anger-feelings may be expressed and accepted as such. The re-educative process is somewhat long and painful but it "pays off" in a more personally satisfying and productive life. Having been af-firmed by a significant other in the course of individual therapy and, in turn, affirming others, the healed resident knows and feels who he is. He finds that he is different from others but that he is acceptable, that he belongs in com-munity, that he is contributing to it and changing it. He has come to realize that there is a unique place for him in society, that he has a unique contribu-tion to make to it, that he can choose freely to do and to love.6 The effectiveness of this model has already been substantiated by in-house research. It is very likely that it will find still further support for its claims with the passage of time. 5Dalrymple, op. cir. p. 111. nThomas A. Kane, Who Controls Me? (Hicksville, N.Y.: Exposition Press, 1974), pp. 75-76. Prayer: A Thematic Bibliography Compiled by David Ricken Mr. David Ricken is a seminarian of the Diocese of Dodge City, Kansas. His current address: 1501 Belleview--Apt. //3; La Junta, CO 81050. The purpose of this bibliography is to present some of the best authors and books on prayer to a variety of people who are in(erested in prayer for a variety of reasons. This bibliography is divided into several themes so that the reader may easily select that book which is best suited to his interest and purpose. Of course, division brings limitation, and the placement of each work into one particular theme is, on occasion, arbitrary and personal. Attempt has been made, however, to classify each work according to that theme which appears to be central to the book. Obviously, there are many more books on prayer which have not been listed here. However, better to have read one book and to pray than to have read many books and to not pray. l--Prayer: Introductions: Bloom, Archbishop Anthony. Beginning to Pray. Paramus: Paulist. This book is an experience in prayer and contains helpful suggestions and en-couragements to begin one's quest of love for God. Chapman, Dom John. The Spiritual Letters of Dora John Chapman. London: Sheed & Ward, 1935. This work is a compilation of letters, and does not pretend to be a survey or summa of the spiritual life; );et it has become a classic, mostly because of its sound advice on spiritual life in general and mysticism in particular. Guardini, Romano. Prayer in Practice. New York: Pantheon, 1957. 542 Prayer." A Thematic Bibliography / 543 Written by an excellent theologian of several years ago, Prayer in Practice is a thorough, highly intelligible introduction to prayer. The scope of the book is broad, and the author delicately intertwines and balances theory and practice. Jarrett, Bede, O.P. Meditations for Lay-Folk. St. Louis: B. Herder This book is a series of well-thought-out essays on every aspect of Catholic thought and living, but the few sections on prayer are especially fine. Father Jarrett shows prayer to be, in one sense, the "pondered love of God," the lifting of the mind through the heart, and the gradual taking on of God's point of view. It also tries to relate prayer to every possible circumstance of life, thus broadening the base of prayer, making it something more than a narrowly spiritual activity. Father Jarrett shows that there is a totality to prayer, as there should be a totality to man's life with God. He also shows that prayer is normal, since God is interested in every human being and every human being is called to a deep and intimate life with Him. For Father Jarrett, prayer is eminently the "'voice of faith," the living embodiment in one's life of what one believes. It is the natural blossom-ing of the knowledge of the Faith in one's life. It is the voice and nourishment of a per-sonal seeking of God. Maritain, Jacques and Raissa. Prayer and Intelligence. New York: Sheed & Ward, 1943. Comprising less than fifty pages, it is a study of prayer based on St. Thomas and St. John of the Cross. It is not written in philosophical or theological language, but sets forth in very simple language the path of prayer for Christians and is applicable not only to the learned theologian and religious teacher, but also to the ordinary housewife who is a child of God and called to a life of prayer. McNabb, Vincent, O.P. The Path of Prayer. Springfield, 111.: Templegate. This small book is written in the form of a "diary of Sir Lawrence Shipley," and in it Father McNabb embodies some of the fundamental principles of prayer, based on the theology of St. Thomas Aquinas. Prayer is shown to be the habit of leaning on God and the total ordering of one's life to God. It also shows that prayer does anything but produce passive men. Rather it opens up every human possibility and the use of every human gift in God's service. It is a careful reflection on the principles and implications of the life of prayer, enabling one to begin building a personal "pragmatic" of prayer. Rahner, Karl, S.J. On Prayer. Paramus, N.J.: Paulist. With that bold insight and careful respect for the truth so characteristic of him, Rahner has given us the fruit of his search for God. It is clearly discernible that for this eminent theologian, there is hardly.a distinction between theology and prayer. In a style which is easy to understand, he articulates his vision of prayer, one which is truly authentic and truly beneficial. ll--Prayer: Reflections: Caretto, Carlo. Letters From The Desert. Maryknoll: Orbis, 1972. This is prayer incarnate. Prayer as passion, as compassion, as the life and breath of a virile and contemplative mind in a passionate search for the core of his being. Prayer drove Carlo Caretto into the desert, where he could listen to the voice of God in silence and solitude. There is a freshness and primitive innocence to his words as God begins to take hold of his whole being. This is the chronicle of one man's desert experience. Caretto, Carlo. The God Who Comes. Maryknoll: Orbis, 1974. ~i44 / Review for Relibious, Volume 34, 1975/4 This is another presentation of Brgther Carlo's thoughts and reflections from his solitude in the Sahara desert. Written in a simple and direct style, the main thrust of his writing deals with man's hope for "the God Who comes." The book treats ofthe Church as an in-stitution of men and women and as a divine reality which through its renewal and change will evermore make known the gratuity of God. In parts, Brother Carlo speaks of his own life in solitude, his prayer, his contempla-tion and his own dialogue with Jesus. Farrell, Rev. Edward J. Prayer is a Hunger. Denville: Dimension, 1972. Father Farrell writes of prayer as a hunger to be intensely experienced and as a journey to be creatively undertaken. These reflections in solitude encourage the reader to keep a "journal" as an enticement to prayer. The book itself exemplifies this "'journal" ap-proach and helps one to begin to see what prayer is all about. Nouwen, Henri J.M. With Open Hands. Notre Dame: Ave Maria, 1972. With gentleness and authenticity, Nouwen has here developed an artistry which is at once rare and most welcome. With Open Hands is a prayer, for it helps the one who enters into it to allow the walls which he has built around himself to crumble. The author truly teaches the reader to open his hands. Turro, James. Reflections--Path To Prayer. Paramus, N.J.: Paulist, 1972. The beautiful blend of captivating color photographs and a profound text has produced a masterpiece which can lead to prayer with ease. Ill--Prayer: The Presence of God. Abhishiktananda (Henri Le Saux, O.S.B.) Prayer. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972. To be Christian is to be contemplative. To be Christian is to live in awareness of the presence of God. Contemplation is not the private possession of monks and nuns, priests and religious. It is a gift of God to every man to be exploited and enjoyed. Born in the West, this monk has completely immersed himself in the spiritual heritage of the East. He is one of those phenomenal men who has not lost the roots of his own tradition, but is himself a bridge between East and West. Brother Lawrence. The Practice of the Presence of God. Springfield, I11.: Templegate, 1963 (3rd Edition). This little classic is Franciscan in its primitive simplicity, almost like a page out of a diary of St. Francis. The sheer beauty of God has captivated the heart of Lawrence, and the glimpses that he gets of God in the world around him and in God's Word shatters his heart, developing a spirituality that destroys every last ounce of the fear and diffidence that once motivated him. The introduction by Dorothy Day puts the times of Brother Lawrence into focus and the trans.lation by Donald.Attwater is limpid and clear. This is an account of growth in genuine prayer and the gradual opening of one man's mind and heart to the loveliness of God. It is a paradigm of prayer of great depth and beauty. IV--Prayer: Hesychasm or Prayer of the Heart: Anonymous. The Way of the Pilgrim, and The Pilgrim Continues His Way. (translated from the Russian by R. M. French) New York: Seabury Press, 1965. Prayer." A Thematic Bibliography / 545 After hearing in an Epistle the exhortation of St. Paul "to pray without ceasing," a pilgrim sets out on a journey to do exactly that--to pray ceaselessly. In inspiring narratives, the author instructs the reader about continual interior prayer. This is an ex-cellent introduction to the "Jesus Prayer." Chariton, Igumen (compiler). The Art of Prayer: An Orthodox Anthology. London: Faber & Faber, 1966. Dove Publications. This great anthology is concerned chiefly with one particular prayer, the "Jesus Prayer." This simple prayer has become the edifice upon which many Orthodox have built their spiritual life and through which many have penetrated to truth. This compilation of texts from spiritual men of many ages demonstrates the depth and riches of such a simple prayer.*** Kadloubovsky, E., and Palmer, G. E. H., translators. Writings from the Philokalia on Prayer of the Heart. London: Faber & Faber, 1951. "Philokalia" means "'love of the beautiful" and it was the purpose of the Fathers of the Eastern Church to instill a sense of the beautiful and the sacred in their disciples. Concerned with hesychasm or prayer of the heart of which the "Jesus Prayer" is the prime example, these writings instruct and exhort the Christian in the way of the prayer of the heart.*** Maloney, George, S.J. The Jesus Prayer. Pecos: Dove Publications, 1974. George Maloney is steeped in the Russian hesychasm tradition, and this little booklet is an invaluable introduction to this form of prayer. A Monk of the Eastern Church. On the Invocation of the Name of Jesus. Ox-ford: S.L.G. Press, 1970. Nearly every sentence of this little book is loaded with power. To really appreciate it one must live with it, almost devour it. The author proceeds very logically from an explana-tion of the form of the "Jesus Prayer" to the explication of the theological implications and nuances contained in the "Jesus Prayer." A Monk of the Eastern Church. The Prayer of Jesus. New York: Desclee, 1965. This is considered the ciassic guide to, and explanation of, the "'Jesus Prayer." V--Prayer: The Scriptural Approach: The Psalms by God and man. Von Balthasar, Hans Urs. Prayer. Paramus, N.J.: Paulist Press, 1961. Father Hans Urs Von Balthasar has divided prayer into three main sections: "The Art of Contemplation," "The Object of Contemplation," "Polarities in Contemplation." He approaches the subject in a very masterly fashion, applying copiously many texts drawn from Sacred Scripture. He re-orientates prayer by re-orientating man, reminding him that he is redeemed, a son of God. Bro, Bernard. Learning to Pray. Staten Island: Alba House, 1966. 546 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 Despite his many assertions of generous disposition and openness to God, man always seems to find an excuse not to pray. Expanding on the texts, "Lord, teach us how to pray," and "could you not watch one hour with Me?" Bro sets out to show that prayer is a very necessary and vital part of faith. Johnston, William. "The Mystical Reading of the Scriptures--Some Suggestions from Buddhism." Cistercian Studies, #1, 1971. Johnston maintains that while Scriptural exegesis has "boomed ahead with great 61an," the understanding of Scripture at a deeper level than scholarship has made little progress. He suggests that Christians can learn from Buddhism ways of understanding Scripture at a deeper level--primarily through the use of the Koan and mantras taken from Scripture. Worden, T. The Psalms are Christian Prayers. London: Chapman, 1962. The purpose of this book is to re-orient andto change the reader's outlook on the ideas of the Old Testament. It attempts, and succeeds in creating a new mentality in the reader, one which assents to the truth that the Psalms are Christian prayers. VI--Prayer: Mental: Lehodey, Dom Vitalis, O.C.S.O. The Ways of Mental Prayer. Dublin: M. H. Gill & Son, 1955. Noted for its simplicity and clarity of style, Lehodey has succeeded in writing an excellent guide for mental prayer. The accomplishment of Lehodey in this work should not be dis-missed or overlooked because of what appears to be, in recent decades,, a declining in-terest in mental prayer. Rohrbach, Peter Thomas. Conversation with Christ: An Introduction to Men-tal Prayer. 3rd Ed. Denville: Dimension, 1965. Modeled after the prayer of St. Theresa of Avila, Conversation With Christ makes one point: mental prayer is "conversation with Christ." The style is simple and lucid. This makes an excellent introduction to this form of prayer. VII--Prayer: The Oriental Approach: Johnston, William. Christian Zen. New York: Harper & Row, 1971. Almost entirely practical in nature, this little book tries to make sense of Zen for the Christian by explaining some of the methods which can lead to "enlightenment." (cf. The Still Point, a book by this author which gives a psychological explanation of Zen and a discussion of the meeting point of Christian mysticism and Zen.) (cf. Silent Music, another book by this author which treats of the science of meditation. He writes of the similarities of the deep states of consciousness in various religious traditions. A good scientific evaluation.) Stevens, Edward. Oriental Mysticism. New York: Paulist, 1973. This is an integrated treatment of mysticism which combines experience, theory, and practice. Treading Buddhism, Zen, Hinduism, Taoism, the author discusses the necessity of meditation and the need of Western man to develop this ancient art. Temple, Sebastion. How To Meditate~ Chicago: Radial Press, 1971. Prayer." A iThematic Bibliography / 547 The author, a former Hindu monk, provides here n.ot only a "'complete guide to yoga techniques," but also an excellent resource book foi" meditation. VIII--Prayer: Contemplative and Mystical: ' Anonymous. The Cloud of Unknowing and the Book of Privy Counseling. (ed. William Johnston) Garden City: Doubleday, 11973. This is the classic Western exposition of the Byzan~tine tradition of mysticism which found its richest form in the writings of the "Pseudo-Dionysius." Recognizing that God is beyond all our concepts, that the Lord of Heaven add Earth is clothed in Mystery, the "Cloud," formulates a pragmatic of prayer based upon this profound insight into the transcendence of God. The unknown author recognizes that the vitality of prayer must be maintained and that the very obscurity of faith can deter from prayer. Prayer here is not understood as a static act, however, and that is where the author recognizes that he may be misunderstood: it is an attitude of mind, a "looking towards God," a life-style and a modality of thinking and acting. The Introduction by William Johnston is scholarly and thorough, linking the Cloud with other prayer traditions. The Cloud itself is a tightly reasoned book and is meant rather as an encouragement to those who find themselves quite alone in their searching and pursuit of God. This aloneness, this "forgetting," this "unknowing" is part of the pursuit, and the profound advice of the author of the Cloud leads to a number of important convictions in the whole business of prayer.*** Borst, J.M.H.M. "A Method of Contemplative Prayer." Review for Religious 33:4 (July, 1974), 790-816. The author makes an orderly recommendation of different "phases" of contemplative prayer and strongly urges that if one wants to be contemplative, he must practice con-templative prayer regularly. Catherine of Sienna. The Dialogues of St. Catherine of Sienna. Westminster: Newman Press, 1950. St. Catherine's dialogues are a lucid commentary on a living relationship with God and in them she mediates and articulates the full implications of theology regarding man's relationship with God. She lays down the conditions for growth in a vibrant and vital relationship and by the use of stirring and striking imagery communicates something of the scope and texture of true holiness. What is especially significant is the positive view of human things and the role of personal initiative and responsibility. From the theological point of view, she articulates the reality of a "personal providence," the intimate care and concern that God has for each one per-sonally and the tension and dynamics of this personal Providence. The end result is the strengthening of the spirit in a profound and personal hope in God and the growing ability to read the living signs of this hope in one's own life. This is "mysticism" at its best, but a mysticism completely devoid of subjectivity, opening up the mind to the rich possibilities of a personal encounter with God. Unfortunately, the translation is a bit archaic, but the living thought of St. Catherine still comes through.*** Higgins, John J., S.J. Merton's Theology of Prayer. Spencer, Mass.: Cistercian Publications, 1971. 54B / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 This study of Thomas Merton's theology of prayer shows the total consecration to com-panionship with God which was Merton's legacy. It shows the unity of Merton's thought and development, the spiritual passion that characterized his early years and the develop-ment of that passion to something close to spiritual genius. Merton's ability to nourish his prayer-life from hundreds of different sources, and the blossoming of that prayer-life in his varied writings reveals the depth and dimensions of this remarkable spiritual per-sonality. Prayer, in all its richness and beauty, is shown to be the result of normal faith and normal intelligence--but as fully exploited in a personal pursuit of God. This is different than is to be found in some other studies of prayer, in that it shows the embodi-ment of a prayer tradition in the life of one man, a man for whom God and prayer were the totality of life. Merton, Thomas. The Ascent.to Truth. New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1956. The finest introduction in any language to the mystical theology of St. John of the Cross. A lucid and clear exposition of the whys of prayer in the Juan de la Cruz tradition, with distinctions and clarifications which make it a very valuable theological work. Perhaps the finest of Merton's early works in which he shows himself to be a superb and masterly theologian. Merton, Thomas. Contemplative Prayer. New York: Herder & Herder, 1969. In Merton's solid "educated English," he traces the steps to an "educated awareness of God," the cultivation.of which is the finest fruit of faith. His thought ranges from the lim-pid simplicity of the early monks to the most brilliant insights of contemporary theology. This is adult spirituality at its best, with the Merton mind showing the full human and personal implications of a life of prayer. In this book, Merton becomes the guru, the prayer-tutor, sharing his own convictions and prayer-life with a wider audience. Merton, Thomas. New Seeds of Contemplation. N.Y.: New Directions. in this book, Merton covers all the elements of the interior life building up to a solid con-templative life of prayer. This is a very good psychological description of the experience of contemplative prayer. It is a revision of one of Merton's early works, perhaps the most enduring of the early writings. Morales, Jose L. (editor) Contemplative Prayer according to the Writings of St. Theresa of Jesus and St. John of the Cross, Doctors of the Church. An excellent compilation of texts about contemplative prayer by two great con-templatives.*** Underhill, Evelyn. Practical Mysticism. New York: Dutton, 1960. This highly competent and well-known author in the area of mysticism has here succeeded in clearing up the nebulous, ethereal thinking that is often characteristic of things dealing with the mystical. Voillaume, Rene. The Need of Contemplation. London: Darton, 1971. Contemplation is ndcessary for man's very survival, and it is time for man to begin to cultivate a contemplative attitude by proceeding to the heart of things. Love will overflow from the reservoirs of each individual's living contact with Christ. Love begets love; love begets contemplatives. Whalen, Joseph, S.J. Benjamin: Essays in Prayer. New York: Newman, 1972. An initiation into the world of wonder is an appropriate description of Benjamin. Whalen perceives the contemporary human situation and introduces the reader to the con-templative act--to wonder. Prayer." A Thematic Bibliography / 549 IX--Prayer: The Holy Spirit: Bennet, Dennis & Rita. The Holy Spirit and You: A Study-Guide to the Spirit- Filled Life. Plainfield, N.J.: Logos Int, 1971. This is an especially thorough and helpful explanation of that facet of the experience of God which is often called "the Spirit experience." Well done. John of St. Thomas. The Gifts of the Holy Ghost. (tr. by Dominic Hughes, O.P.) New York: Sheed & Ward, 1951. This classic work, using the framework of the traditional teaching on the Gifts of the Holy Spirit, focuses on the action of God leading a person to freedom, to openness to God and to a deep life of prayer. The book shows how the gifts and action of the Spirit prepare a man for his encounter with God, giving him clarity of vision, flexibility and resilience, making fertile his freedom, and leading him to explore the wonder and magnitude of God. The book is difficult reading in places, but the implications of the teaching are critical to any real life of prayer. John of St. Thomas shows that the gifts are purification, education, insight and are the full blossoming of faith and a vibrant love of God. By the gifts, the seeker of God begins to share, in some small degree, in the abundance and plenitude of God. In the words of St. Thomas, the gifts are the deep interior currents of a life of prayer, giving to a man a certain kinship, a connaturality with Divine Things. They make a man a lover of God, the~, bring about a state of intimacy with God and Divine Things, and give a foretaste of beatitude. By tl~e gifts, a man exchanges a human standard for a Divine one, and begins to measure his life and his expectations by a Divine yardstick. They open wide the horizons of loving God, enabling a man to "'dream the im-possible dream." Sherrili, John. They Speak With Other Tongues. N.Y.: Pyramid, 1964. A very skeptical journalist relates his contact with and eventual experience of the gift of tongues. This is a valuable explanation of the not-too-long-ago unusual phenomenon which has become wide-spread and highly significant. X--Prayer: Best Sellers: Carothers, Merlon R. Prison to Praise. Plainfield, Logos, Int., 1970. Praise and thank God for all things, even for bad situations and circumstances. This is the basic tenet of a series of books on praise, written by this author. Carothers uses l Thess 5:16-17 as the basis for this form of prayer which has proven itself a powerful aid in revolutionizing people's lives. Parker, Dr. William F. and St. Johns, Elaine. Prayer Can Change Your Life. New York: Pocket Books, 1957. This best seller discusses "prayer therapy," a psychological experiment in prayer which helped forty-five people to grow to greater emotional wholeness and to gain peace of mind. For a good understanding of the nature of Western Mysticism, see "The Nature of Mysticism" by David Knowles in the Twentieth Century En-cyclopedia of Catholicism. ***It is to one's advantage to bring to this book some experience in prayer and especially an understanding of the spiritual, theological and philosophical milieu of the age in which the author wrote, in order to appreciate the full impact of the work. it is also to one's advantage to read this book under the guidance of a spiritual advisor. Models of Poverty Gerald R. Grosh, S.J. Gerald R. Grosh, in addition to teaching theology at Xavier University in Cincinnati, is a member of the staff of the Jesuit Renewal Center; P.O. Box 289; Milford, OH 45150. In his latest book, Models of the Church,~ Avery Dulles elucidates five models2 of the Church which he finds operative "in the minds of the faithful. He analyzes each one in terms of the advantages and disadvantages that each model has in aiding Christian living. Ultimately, Dulles says that the Church is a mystery and that no one model can adequately encompass a mystery. Rather, he states that the models are mutually complementary like the ¯ different shades and colors that blend together to create a total picture. The book is very freeing since it allows for various models and opens up other dimensions of the Church--especially for those persons who are locked into one framework. The aim of this article is to do for our notion of poverty what Dulles has done for our notion of the Church. In our time religious generally are uneasy about their practice of poverty. Often it seems that specific features of our practice of poverty can be amply justified if they are taken one by one. But the features taken all together, the total picture, clearly leave much to be desired. What is wrong? Where do we fail? Perhaps the failure in poverty, if indeed it is failure, results from a too exclusive concentration on one model of poverty, from our failure to let our own dominant model of poverty be balanced ade-quately by other models. It is the belief of this author that a clarification of the 1Avery Dulles, Models of the Church (Garden City: Doubleday and Company, inc., 1974). 2A model is an attitude of mind or a mental framework. It is a way of looking at and understand-ing a particular phenomenon, it points more to a structure of the mind than to a particular con-tent. 550 Models of Poverty / 551 models involved would facilitate the discussion as well as the choices that are made. I shall delineate seven models which 1 see operative in our discussions of poverty. I shall briefly describe each model, indicate the spiritual value which it strives to encompass, indicate its advantages and disadvantages, and list some practical suggestions which might be in accord with a given model. 1. Pnverty as Cnmmunitarian Sharing The call to religious life is a call to living the vows in community. Religious life witnesses to the experience of community as we share our lives together and work toward the common goal of preaching the good news of Jesus Christ. The vow of poverty, then, calls us to share not only our living together and working together but also our material goods. This is rooted in the experience of the early Church: "The whole group of believers was united, heart and soul; no one claimed for his own use anything that he had, as everything they owned was held in common" (Acts 4:32). This model of poverty as communitarian sharing points to the fundamental unity which we have as religious--namely, a unity of heart. We are all believers. We share a common vision of faith and hope. We are united in love. Each person's value is not what he owns or has, but who he is. So deep is our oneness that we live in community and share our possessions. The goal is the underlying unity of mind and heart. One of the advantages of this model is that it aims at eliminating differences between "rich and poor" and focuses on the equality of all. It at-tacks the roots of ownership which can so easily foster vanity and greed. Thus whatever is given to one is given to the whole community and goes to "the common barrel." The spiritual foundation for this mutual sharing of goods is the mutual care that the members of a given community have for one another. The disadvantage of this model is that it becomes more difficult to live as life becomes more complex. We know that we need certain things for apostolic use. How, then, does one regulate the quality and quantity of goods that are needed? How does one maintain the equality of all and the non-ownership of all? The traditional response t6 this dilemma has been to link the acquisition and use of goods with receiving permission for them from the superior. The underlying purpose of asking permission has been to aid our acting as non- . owners and to help free us from the power that is present in ownership. But it has been difficult for individuals not to compare what they have with what others have and therefore to justify their own acquisition of the same thing or of something else. It has been difficult for a superior to say "no" to one where he has said "yes" to another. Furthermore, critics of the system have pointed out that an adult makes his own decisions and that this practice has often seemed infantile. Also, as superiors so readily grant permission, the require-ment has come to be seen by many as a formality to be gone through or even ignored. It has also been difficult to draw a fine line between what one needs and what one wants. 552 / Review for Religious, Volume 34, 1975/4 In the judgment of this author, in so far as poverty has been linked to ask-ing permission for goods, it has failed--whether one blames the notion itself or the persons who have failed to live it. However, the model of poverty as com-munitarian living does have something to offer us today. The essence of the model is the mutual sharing of material goods in community. It would seem to preclude the private appropriation of goods (personal TVs, personal cars, etc.). It would also seem to preclude the free disposition of one's salary, e.g., the buying of books or equipment, travel, relaxation, or even almsgiving. 2. Poverty as Simplicity of Life- The second model of poverty is that of the frugal life-style or "simplicity of life." This model focuses clearly on poverty as a fact, i.e., material poverty. The spiritual foundation of simplicity of life is that it aids to singularity of pur-pose and locus--namely on the Lord and His work. Nothing else matters that much. This model of poverty is easily linked with the model of poverty as un-ion with the poor. Stated simply, this model of simplicity of life points to the fact that a poor man does not have a lot of material possessions or the free dis-position of a lot of money. The advantage of this model is that it can act as a deterrent or as a negative norm for how we spend our money. Does a poor person have a color TV or is he able to jet across the country, or have a stereo set? How often can the poor person or family afford steak? Lavish spending is seen as an insult to the poor who struggle for their food and their meagre existence. Such spending is also seen to imply contempt for human w~rk and the dignity of man involved in working hard for a day's pay. Also, as with the model of poverty as com-munitarian sharing, this model takes away the sense of power that is involved in the possession of goods and in the lavish disposition of one's finances. The advantage, then, of this model of poverty is that it keeps one mindful of his union with the poor Christ and honest in terms of what he spends. Its primary disadvantage is that it can cause one to be so absorbed in bookkeep-ing and penny-pinching that he loses the perspective of apostolic service. However, there are also other possible disadvantages that can accompany this model. Too great an emphasis on material things can lead to a pharisaism which overlooks the more important poverty of spirit. It can also result in divisiveness and criticism within communities as some will need more things than others to carry out their apostolic work. The particular way of living according to this model would call a person to be continually mindful of how his or her standard of life compares with' the poor. Such things as careful personal and community budgets, economical automobiles, buying articles on s.ale, adjusting budgets to meet emergencies, are evidences of the

Issue 24.3 of the Review for Religious, 1965. ; Counseling and Religious Life by Vincent S. Conigliaro, M.D. 337 Mortification by William J. Rewak, S.J. 363 Mary and the Protestant Mind by Elsie Gibson 383 The Mass and Religious Life by Jean Galot, S.J. 399 Devotion to the Sacred Heart by Anton Morgenroth, C.S.Sp. 418 Priest as Mediator ~ by Andrew Weigert, S.J. 429 Religious Life by Sister Elaine Marie, S.L. 436 Election: Choice of Faith .by Carl F. Starkloff, S.J. 444 Our Old Testament Fathers by John Navone, S.J. 455 Poems 461 Survey of Roman Documents 463 Views, News, Previews 467 Questiom and Auswers 473 Book Reviews 478 VINCENT S. CONIGLIARO, M.D. Counseling and Other Psychological Aspects of Religious Counseling,* a technique and a philosophy of treat-ment and human relatedness, is a topic of importance to both psychoanalysts and religious persons, both in a general and in a specific context: in a general context, because both psychoanalysts and religious persons work with human beings and are committed to a profession of service; and in a specific context, because religious sisters may be affected by mental problems as often as other individuals. Thus, in reflecting on counseling in the religious life one cannot help reflecting also on the problems making counseling necessary, the problems, in other words, about which one administers counseling; and on the factors behind these problems, that is, why these problems occur in the first place. Members of religious orders have been the victims of diverse, benevolent and malevolent, prejudices for cen-turies. One problem with prejudice is that sooner or later its victim comes to believe the prejudice himself and begins to think, feel, and act along the prejudiced stereotypes culture and/or society set up for him; this is why prejudice is always detrimental. As an example, one may think of just one of the many prejudices that have been formulated against the American negro: the prejudice whereby the negro is "good-natured," "basi-cally lazy," "clownish," a. jocular Amos or Andy. Even- # This paper was derived from a talk given by the writer on No-vember 9, 1964, at the Maryknoll Mother House; Ossining, New York; the paper was sent to the REvmw in December, 1964. 4- Vincent Conigli-aro, M.D., a prac-tising psychoana-lyst and member of the faculty of Ford-ham University, ihas offices at 104 East 40th Street; New York 17, New York. VOLUME 24, 1965 337 + ÷ ÷ Vincent $. Conigliaro, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 338 tually, some negroes began to believe the stereotype themselves and behaved as if they could only be an ineffectual nice-guy Amos or a scheming, shrewd Andy-- or the other way around--I could never tell the two apart. Among the many prejudices formed about Catholic religious orders, there is one that proclaims that "mem-bers of Catholic religious orders are, by the very fact of being that, singularly immune from mental disorders"; or the opposite one, announcing that "members of Catholic religious orders are, by the very fact of being that, singularly prone to become mentally sick." Both prejudices of course are just that, pre-judgments, based on little factual evidence and substantiated by super-ficial experimentations. The facts actually suggest that (a) members of Catholic religious orders do not become mentally ill significantly more often or significantly less often than members of other religious orders; when they do become ill more often, this relates more to circumstantial problems (that is, poor screening of applicants) than to essential fea-tures of religious life; (b) members of religious orders do not become mentally ill significantly more often or less often than members of other tightly organized, rigidly structured organizations, for instance the Army; (c) neither the essential nor the accidental characteristics of religious life make, per se, a significant difference in the incidence of mental disease among the members of Catholic religious orders; (d) the occasional severity in degree of mental illness encountered among members of Catholic religious orders is not related to the essential or accidental characteristics of religious life, but to socio-cultural characteristics at large (for instance the socio-cultural concept that "to have a mental illness is dis-graceful"; treatment, thus, is sought too late, when the illness has been given the time to become severe); and (e) that the intrinsic and extrinsic features of religious life will be, psychologically, an asset or a liability ac-cording to the way each individual reacts to them in terms of life history, heredity, and childhood experi-ences. It may be of interest to examine both prejudices more closely. The first view holds that Catholic religious life is the best guarantee against emotional upsets and claims that members of Catholic religious orders rarely become affected by mental disease. This view is mostly held by members of religious orders; it was frequently expressed to me by the superiors of sisters I have treated or by the priest-counselors I have trained and supervised. The basis of this prejudice is wishful thinking and con-fusion between the natural and supernatural aspects of religious life. This view equates the symptoms of mental illness with the illness itself: ."There are no visible signs of illness; ergo, there is no illness . " I am reminded of an article recently published in a religious journal implying that religious life may actually "cure" neurotic symptoms. The writer of the article first listed some of the traits that may be symptomatic of a neurotic per-sonality, that is, self-centeredness, hypersensitivity, im-maturity; then observed, rightly enough, that religious life is essentially antithetical to such traits: and then concluded that religious life will thus automatically dis-pose of these neurotic traits: religious life, being theo-centered, will dispose of self-centeredness; being giving-hess, will dispose of selfishness; requiring spiritual ma-turity, will dispose of immaturity. One rather suspects that all theocenteredness, givingness, and spiritual ma-turity will do is to veil, temporarily, those neurotic traits they were supposed to have cured. This prejudice, actually, is quite unfair to the re-ligious sister. It suggests that the supernatural aspects of the sister's vocation will sustain not only her soul, which it does, but also her mind, even when natural causes, going all the way back to her childhood, act as a constant irritant; it holds that since she is isolated from the anxieties of the "real world outside," she should have no anxieties from the convent world (which happens to be equally real); and that since she is surrounded by the silence of the cloister, she will not hear the loud clatter of human problems: as if silence, at times, could not be many times louder than the loudest noise. This prejudice also engenders unrealistic attitudes; the religious sister feels supernaturally protected against the frailties of the human mind, and is led to believe that, by sheer virtue of the spiritual direction of her life, whatever factors there were that started operating, years before, toward the development of a psychosis or a neurosis will magically cease to operate. When she ex-periences signs of a mental illness, she feels disillusioned and as if God Himself did not live up to His part in a bargain He had never made; and she feels like a freakish rarity, the only one cursed by an illness that was not supposed to occur, the exception to the rule, thus adding to the anxiety and anguish of a neurosis the painful feeling of being an oddity. In a sister I treated, the latter feeling constituted a very intense symptom that, while mainly determined by a complicated intrapsychic proc-ess, was supported by the prejudiced belief that "reli-gious sisters are not supposed to become mentally ill . " This prejudice creates a problem also in treatment: the sister may be unwilling to unveil her problem to a superior who could take remedial steps; or, once treat- 4- 4- 4- Counseling VOLUME 24, 1965 339 ÷ + ÷ Vincent S. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 340 ment has started, may be little cooperative and may rationalize her resistance to change by believing that "she can only get better through prayer . " In a case I recently worked with, it was the patient's superior who felt sister should not receive psychotherapy and should only help herself with prayers: "Good sisters do not be-come mentally ill . " On the other side of the coin is the prejudice holding, equally erroneously, that members of Catholic religious orders become mentally ill significantly more often than other persons. This view is mostly held by persons who are not in the religious life, are not Catholics, and, fre-quently, not religious. I believe this prejudice is mainly based on hostility; or on a lack of understanding of what is entailed in the religious life. The danger of this view is that already unbalanced members of religious orders lead a life of trepidation based on the neurotic fear that they will become overtly mentally ill (psychotic, "insane") because "everyone says so . " Here, too, this fear is overdetermined and related to an unconscious intra-psychic process; here, too, however, these patients "latch on" to the prejudice to express unconscious needs. In a priest I treated, the idea that he was going to become insane---because everyone he knew believed that "all priests, sooner or later, become insane"--had become a true obsessional idea; it expressed, among other things, his unconscious desire "to become insane" (more exactly, his unconscious drive to lose all controls and inhibitions) and his need to impute the responsibility of his insanity to those who believed that "all priests, sooner or later, become insane . " At the basis of this prejudice is also the fact that the religious life does have features which, in borderline personalities, may tip the balance in the direction of mental illness. A better understanding of these features will help to understand how religious life may contribute to t,he development of a mental illness. I want to make sure that I am well understood on this point. I am not suggesting that religious life may be the cause of mental disorders; I am saying that some features of religious life, when operating on a personality that has been af-fected by specific childhood occurrences, may precipitate, or "trigger," mental illness. This "trigger effect," evi-dently, may be set up just as effectively by college life, army life, marriage, as it can by religious life: once the keg is filled with dynamite, the explosion may be set up just as well by a spark of electricity, a match, or a gradual increase in room temperature. Which features of religious life act as a trigger on what kind of personality-- this is what may be quite important to reflect on. One might start by reflecting on the spiritual essence of religious life. Considering that this journal is widely read among members of religious orders, there is a bit of "carrying coals to Newcastle" in reflecting on this sub-ject at all. It must be remembered, however, that the specialist, knowledgeable as he is on the most minute detail of his specialty, often misses what may be too basic for him to remember. Basic psychiatric and psy-choanalytic concepts have been pointed out to me by friends who were neither psychiatrists nor psychoanalysts; and I myself have been able to point out basic points on music or art to musicians or artist friends of mine. As a lay person, as a "non-specialist" on religious life, I understand religious life as a life of greater growth in greater union with God~ All of us are born with the potentials for greater and greater participation to a transcendental existence in God; but those in the reli-gious life have the greatest chance of achieving the greatest participation. This spiritual participation, how-ever, can only be realized if the personality is sound; and a healthy supernatural life cannot exist without a sound, well-integrated psychic life. The old Latin saying mens sana in corpore sano can indeed be complemented with religio, sana in mente sana. It must be realized that the accidental properties of religious life may appeal to different personalities for different reasons. Just as one may become a psychiatrist or a surgeon for a combination of healthy, unhealthy, conscious, and unconscious reasons--and a good psy-chiatrist is usually one who, finally, is in his profession more for healthy and conscious reasons than for un-healthy and unconscious ones--it is also possible to enter the religious life with a combination of healthy, un-healthy, conscious, and unconscious motivations. Un-balanced personalities, the individuals with the "keg of dynamite" beneath the placid exterior, may enter the religious life attracted not by its spiritual features but by what these persons unconsciously consider useful for their neurotic needs. When the latent neurotic individual has been attracted to the religious life, religious life will indeed have the "trigger effect" mentioned before. Some examples at this point may be helpful. Religious life, through its essence, offers, to the healthy, opportunities for spiritual and existential richness and for the fullest expression of one's personality; to the unhealthy, opportunities for an impoverished, restricted existence (again spiritually and existentially) and for the fullest expression of one's neuroses. Such features of religious life as the vows of chastity, obedience, and poverty, may attract the latent neurotic personality not 4- 4- 4. Counseling VOLUME 24, 1965 ÷ 4. + Vincen£ $. Conigllaro, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS because of their essential spirituality but because of the opportunities they offer for neurotic defenses and neu-rotic acting-out. The healthy religious sister has a greater chance of experiencing the transcendental union with God, not in spite of, but because of her vows; the unhealthy sister uses the vows to express instinctual drives and neurotic defenses. In the latent neurotic, the vow of chastity may be appealing for reasons having little to do with spir-ituality, that is, emotional frigidity, fear of love, fear of sex, homosexual tendencies. The all-female environment may be chosen not in order to be chaste to better serve God but because of fear of closeness to anyone. This sister will be fearful of any and all emotional involve-ments, will stand aloof, and will withdraw from every-one, God included. Similar situations have been found with regard to the vow of obedience. As it was once ex-plained to me by a sister student of mine, this vow is "a listening to the will of God as it is expressed through one's community, environment and, ultimately, supe-rior"; a "dialogue in charity," with the superior as the "master listener" fashioning the dialogue between the sisters and God and evaluating what has been heard as the will of God. The sister who enters the convent with healthy motivations can afford to be obedient: she can see God's will beyond the superior's will; the sister with unresolved authority problems cannot be obedient with-out hostility (and the superior affected by the same problem will tend to abuse her authority and provoke rightful resentments). In the obsessive-compulsive per-sonality, which, under a meekly submissive and ingra-tiatingly passive surface, much anger and rebelliousness are concealed, vows of obedience will have a strong neu-rotic appeal to begin with (unconscious wishes to placate authority~ neurotic resolutions of total passivity and total submission) and will trigger, later, serious conflicts. Sister may role-play complete obedience and submission to the point of making no contributions whatsoever to the community life; she may be passive and overdependent; have no intiative; obey automatically, making no repre-sentations even when representations are called for; and create a mockery of authority and a caricature of obedi-ence by indulging in what has been called "whole obedi-ence" as contrasted to "holy obedience." The vow of poverty, too, essentially beautiful (with no material possessions one can better pursue the knowl-edge of God) may be appealing not for spiritual.reasons but because of unconscious feelings about money, love, and possessions. A sister may enter the religious life because of insecurity and the semi-conscious realization that although in the convent she may not have personal possessions, her basic needs will be adequately met. A sister I treated equated having money and possessions with having evidence of being loved. She created a prob-lem in the community by hoarding things, demanding expensive clothes and privileges, requiring costly medical treatments (and feeling intensely guilty when her demands were acceded to). When she did initiate psy-chiatric treatment, the matter of payments was a monthly crisis. She reacted to the fact that the com-munity was disbursing funds for her health not with realistic gratitude--or realistic concern--but with intense guilt (at the fact that a neurotic fantasy about which she had much ambivalence was being satisfied). If the neurotic needs of the religious are actually met by some of the accidental features of religious life, why, then, is there a conflict? I[ a sister with neurotic feelings about authority enters the religious life to find a better disguise--or a better expression--for these feelings and, in some o~ the accidental features of religious life does meet this opportunity, then, again, why is there a con-flict? One way to understand this is by realizing that human drives are arranged by "polarities": we love and hate, like and dislike, are active and passive, assertive and sub-missive, dependent and independent. In the healthy personality these polar extremes are harmoniously inte-grated and blended in the overall economy of personality, and there is no conflict. In the neurotic personality each polarity, as it were, is treated separately by the executive agency of personality, the ego; and each holds separately and simultaneously prospects of security and insecurity, pleasure and pain. Thus, by being overdependent, one is taken care of, but one's needs for prestige and successful competition are frustrated; and by being over-assertive one fulfills one's needs ~or power and status, but one's need to be loved, cuddled, mothered are frustrated. As an example, a sister with unresolved authority problems enters the convent to placate her superego by total sub-missiveness; this will fulfill the polarity of dependency, passivity, submission; but the opposite polarity, which energizes rebelliousness and independence, will have to be vigorously repressed and will remain frustrated. This will result in a worsening of the authority problem; symptomatologically, there will be dissatisfaction (frustra-tion of one polarity); chronic fatigue (because of the need to divert psychic energy to the task of repressing the polarities of rebelliousness and independence); periodic explosions (during which the polarities energizing sub-mission and passivity are frustrated); feelings of guilt; and so forth . One is reminded of what is found in the neurotic marriage, in which the partners marry one + ÷ ÷ 343 4. Vincent S. Conigllaro, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 344 another because each offers the other the opportunity for the disguise and the release of unconscious drives. The man with latent homosexual problems marries a frigid, cold woman; the outwardly efficient, "strong" male (the type who exaggerates the outward signs of masculinity because of deep seated feelings of inadequacy) marries a woman who under a calm and restrained exterior is assertive and domineering; a woman with unconscious sexual anxieties marries an impotent male; and so forth . In these cases too, the neurotic bargain is fulfilled and the unconscious expectations which have led to the marriage in the first place are being satisfied: this is why the marriage fails or is beset by severe incompati-bility. I am reminded of a patient in my recent experience, a bright and attractive woman with severely disturbed ideas on sex and much anxiety and guilt about any type of sexual involvement; these feelings were unconsciously rationalized by the conception that sex is "always degrad-ing" and "inherently dirty." She did not marry until the age of thirty-two: the healthy, eligible males who had appeared on the scene up to that time had not been "attractive" enough to her neurotic expectations. She finally met the "right" man: an extremely puritanic, neurotically judgmental individual who consciously visu-alized sex as dirty and degrading; he would subtly "seduce" her into giving in to rather innocent exchanges of affection and would then reject her by sternly lecturing her on the basic depravity of all women. After sixteen months of formal engagement, she married him primarily because she had found in him the external counterpart of her own rigid, punitive superego. It can be easily antic-ipated that this couple's marriage was extremely un-satisfactory. They found each other unbearable; he felt she was shamelessly passionate and "se.xy"; she felt he was sadistically judgmental and critical; and they both acted as though neither had had any idea (in sixteen months of engagementl) of what the other was "really like." The neurotic polarities of each of these individuals were being fulfilled through the neurotic marriage at the expense of intense anxiety, rage, and guilt. In the latent neurotic personality, religious life may trigger neurotic symptoms through some of its accidental features. While the essence of religious life is immutable, its accidental elements, the ways this essence expresses itself, are necessarily mutable and in a state of constant transition and adjustment to changing socio-cultural conditions. The transition itself may be disturbing to the rigid, obsessive personality. A sister I once treated could have functioned satisfactorily only if the Church had gone back to medieval times. A priest once told a colleague of mine, with much anxiety and bitterness: "They are changing my Church, Doctor; they are chang-ing my Church" (in reference to the Ecumenical Council). Some sisters' neurotic structure is such that they only accept meditation and contemplation, to the total exclu-sion of action; and they do this more for neurotic than spiritual reasons. It is also important to realize that religious orders are a world of their own, a society with its own culture (some religious orders even call themselves "societies"). The fact that there are to be rules is inherent in any society; but the religious societies are particularly bound by rules (the etymology of the Word "religious" is "rule-bound"). Some religious societies are very rigidly set up; there may be a rigid ordering of time (the "horarium," the setting down of every hour and activity of one's day from rising to retiring) or a rigid ordering of authority, community rank, behavior (the book of cus-toms). This system of rules may indeed appeal to a rigid personality or to persons with problems about routines, schedules, and time tables. These persons, again, will be attracted not by the spirit behind the rules but by the rules themselves, the scheduling for its own sake, the opportunities thus offered for neurotic defenses or neu-rotic acting out. Religious life indeed may, with its essential or transi-tional features, trigger neurotic symptoms in the latent neurotic personality. It may seem that this point is being belabored. Yet, in reading the religious journals read by most sisters, one finds cause for concern over the explana-tions prevalently given as to the causes o~ mental dis-orders among the religious. While the situation has im-proved considerably in the last fifteen years, there still prevails a lack of awareness of what really should be remedied; and why; and how. Often, we still bark up the wrong tree or beg the issue or believe that sister is neu-rotic simply because she has a difficult superior or because her order is a very rigid one, completely overlooking the fact that most probably these sisters had a neurotic prob-lem to begin with and the environment to which they are now overreacting has only brought the neurotic con-flict to light. I am reminded of a question asked by a group of sisters (and recently published in a religious journal) on the subject of the measures suggested by the Church to reduce tensions among the religious. The answer, as given by a well known and justly respected priest, gives cause to ponder; it suggests that, while the Church has recognized the importance of childhood in the causation of mental disorders, and, at least by implication, the importance of counseling and psychotherapy--these factors (childhood) ÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling VOLUME 24, 1965 345 ÷ ÷ ÷ Vincent S. Conigliaro, M~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 346 and these measures (counseling and psychotherapy) are, too often, seen as the least important. According to the above source, among the remedies suggested by the Church are, mainly, such remedies as avoidance of a disordered and restless life, a minimum of calm and peace, avoidance of overwork, enactment of the rule of silence (thus the availability of cloisters), vacations and weekly days off, and so forth . All these measures, I suggest, are far from meaningless; but also far from sufficient. All these measures are important; without them there will be anxiety and tension, but there will be anxieties and tensions in spite of them. A restless and disordered life most often is not a cause of mental illness but a symptom, just as the ability to live a joyful and pleasurable life is a manifestation of good mental health, not a cause. I remember a sister I once treated for a severe compulsive character neurosis, with symptoms of depression, scrupulosity, perfectionism, and chronic fatigue. She had been told (innumerable times) to take some days off and have a good vacation; for at least two years her rigid, grandiose, self-punitive personality had prevented her from doing so: there was too much to do and no one could do it as well as she. Sister was not tense because of overwork: she was tense and overworked because of a deeper common cause. When she was finally ordered to take a vacation and have fun, she worked strenuously and grimly at having fun with no benefit whatsoever from either vacation or recreation. Committed Catholics and psychoanalysts will grow equally concerned over the fact that we still too often believe that emotional illness among the religious is caused by such spiritual reasons as spiritual frustration or the feeling of not having attained the vocational ideal of apostolic sanctity. Spiritual frustrations, again, are more often symptoms than causes of mental illness; and to relate them to incomplete spiritual formation, poor spiritual training, and so forth, is often inaccurate. The psychotic sister will not feel better mentally by leading a better spiritual life; she will lead a better spiritual life when she feels better mentally. The sister with an authority problem will not become more obedient solely by forcing herself to become more obedient; and the sister obsessed with impure thoughts will not be able to solve her problem only with prayer. All this does not question the supernatural power of prayer; it simply questions whether the neurotic or psychotic sister can truly pray, or, better, how receptive one is to grace while in a state of severe neurosis or psychosis. The point, at any rate, is that if these sisters were able to be spiritually obedient, religiously fulfilled, prayerful, and so forth, they would not have these mental problems to begin with. Thus it is often a mistake, for a spiritual director or superior, to simply demand of the neurotic sister to pray more, implying that if she does, this will resolve all problems. When sister finds herself unable to do so, she will feel guilty and become more anxious and depressed; or an emotional problem which could have been cleared in a relatively short time (had counseling or psycho-therapy been administered immediately) is treated psy-chiatrically after months of attempts at treating it by supernatural means, and it may be too late. Evidently, the total answer to the mental problems of the religious does not lie only in counseling and psycho-therapy; but the latter should play a larger role than it played up to five or ten years ago and even larger than the role played now, a time in which the Catholic Church has already made so many strides in pastoral counseling,x The mental problem of the religious, I believe, can only be approached through a holistic concept in which supe-riors, sisters, social workers or psychologists, spiritual directors, pastoral counselors, and psychotherapists make available to the disturbed sister all available means to 1 The history and development of the Iona Institute of Pastoral Counseling well exemplifies these strides and the Church's positive attitudes on mental health. In 1959, Dr. Alfred Joyce, a New York psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, offered his services for a program of talks and seminars on pastoral counseling at the St. Francis of Assisi Church and Monastery in New York City. The Franciscan Provincial, Father Celsus Wheeler, O.F.M., and a Franciscan psychologist, Father George Fianagan, O.F.M., Ph.D., supported the program enthusiasti-cally and the following year Dr. Joyce, this writer, Dr. L. Moreault, Mr. F. Peropat and Dr. J. Vaccaro, under the leadership of Dr. Joyce, founded the St. Francis Institute for Pastora! Counseling, a pioneer-ing institute offering a two-year curriculum on the theory and practice of pastoral counseling. With greater and greater support be-ing received from the New York Archdiocese and Francis Cardinal Spellman, and through the dynamic encouragement of Monsignor George Kelley, Director of the Family Life Bureau of the New York Archdiocese, in 1962 the five founders of the St. Francis Institute transferred to Iona College (New Rochelle, New York) and associ-ated themselves to Brother John Egan, Chairman of the Department of Psychology of the College, to form the Iona Institute for Pastoral Counseling, the only institute of its kind in the Eastern United States. Since 1962 the institute, under the leadership of Dr. Joyce, has offered to larger and larger groups of Catholic priests (total enrollment for 1964-1965 was just under one hundred students) a unique, com-prehensive, three-year curriculum of courses and clinical supervision leading to a Master's Degree in Pastoral Counseling. The Institute's program is designed to develop in its students greater awareness of the psychological dimensions of the problems encountered in pas-toral activity; to foster understanding of the conscious and uncon-scious processes operating in a counseling relationship; and, in general, to increase the effectiveness of the Catholic priest's pastoral work. The Institute's program, therefore, is quite consistent with recent directives of the Holy See, that is, directives which have emphasized the need for the development and refinement of the special competencies required for the pastoral ministry in the twentieth century. + + Counseling VOLUME 24, 1965 ÷ ÷ Fin~en~ $. Conigliaro~ M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS help herself, including prayer and spiritual self-improve-ment but also including counseling and psychological self-improvement. In a truly holistic approach one would also include preventative concepts and work toward the improvement of the existing screening procedures for the applicants to the religious life, the improvement and modernization of training programs for the religious, and the inclusion in these training programs of psychological considerations (mental hygiene concepts of education, group dynamics of training, and so forth). The latter, I believe, can be done very successfully without com-promising in the least the spiritual and religious con-siderations of training. One can think of counseling and the religious sister in many different ways. One may think of counseling admin-istered by a sister who has been trained in the theory and technique of counseling and who gives counseling to the sisters in her own house; the sister counselor may be the superior or another sister. One may think of counsel-ing administered by a trained sister who practices counseling as part of her own missionary, teaching, nurs-ing, or social work, in which case the counselee may be another sister or a lay person, male or female, adult, adolescent, or child. One may think of counseling in terms of "diagnostic counseling," "motivational counseling" and "therapeutic counseling." Finally, one may think of counseling as a philosophy of life, an existential commit-ment, a philosophy of deeper understanding of human psychology and human motivations, by which the trained sister becomes, in the house where she lives or at her place of work, a very valuable trouble shooter and "sig-nificant figure." One may think in terms of the superior of a house who has had enough training in counseling or psychology to do counseling with the sisters of her own house as soon as a problem arises and before it becomes too serious. This may be a "diagnostic counseling," in which the superior, after two, three, or four interviews, is able to recognize the "danger signals" of mental illness, can differentiate them from the symptoms of a strictly reli-gious or moral problem, and is therefore in the position of advising remedial steps. It may be a "motivational counseling," in which the superior has a number of sessions with the disturbed sister for the purpose of help-ing the sister to recognize the psychogenic nature of the difficulty and preparing her for therapeutic counseling or psychotherapy. It may finally be "therapeutic counseling" in which the superior, by using the technique of counsel-ing, helps the sister to help herself. I am convinced that it is administratively unfeasible for the superior of a community to do counseling with her own sisters; and, it administratively feasible, I am still convinced it would not be advisable therapeutically be-cause of the very nature o[ the superior's status in the community: the fact that she is, by virtue and necessity, identified with "authority" and because of the psycho-dynamic dimensions of being the "mother" superior. Better, then, for another sister to be the "house-counselor"; even in this case, however, it will be helpful it the superior is sympathetic to, and understanding of, the philosophy and the techniques of counseling; it will avoid friction between superior and house counselor and the unbalancing of the group dynamics of a religious community. Incidentally, should there be a "house counselor"? Should counseling be at all administered in the house, within the community, b~ an "insider"? I am convinced there are important advantages to doing so-- at least initially. This is in keeping with modem mental hygiene concepts, that is, the concept of "emotional first aid stations." Industrial psychiatrists have found that optimal results were often obtained by treating situa-tionally triggered emotional crises "on the job." In research on this subject I published a few years ago, I felt that the system of having a full time mental hygiene team on the premises is very advantageous. By having a house counselor, emotional emergencies can be handled on a truly emergency basis; situational and reactive crises can be approached more insightfully and with more perma-nent results. To conduct diagnostic and motivational counseling within the community appears advantageous also from a practical and financial standpoint. Finally, disturbed sisters may flatly refuse to see an outsider (especially lay) counselor or psychotherapist or may co-operate with the outsider only superficially. The presence of a house counselor on the premises and the fact that counseling is being practiced within the house may indeed have a disturbing effect on the group dynamics of a community, at least in some houses. This, however, is more an indication for, than against, the presence of a house counselor. If the community group dynamics can be unbalanced by her presence, then there already are neurotic processes operating under the sur-face. The processes would be triggered anyway by other "irritants"; they might as well be triggered by the house counselor, who can understand and treat group anxieties and individual anxieties. Some of the problems that may be triggered by the house counselor are: anxiety about the sister who is undergoing counseling ("There, but for the grace of God, go I"); resentments about the time she spends with the counselor or the superior (a form of sibling rivalry); anger (and envy) at the apparent fact that she is given ÷ Counseling VOLUME 24~ 1965 ÷ ÷ ÷ Vincent S. Conigliaro, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 350 special privileges and dispensations (a sister I once treated said about another sister also in treatment: "They are letting her get away with murder . "); and so forth. Some of these problems might perhaps be prevented by utilizing a house counselor from a different house. A Maryknoll superior I recently spoke with suggested that two trained sisters from the same order but from two dit~erent houses could be exchanged between the two houses and be "on call." Parenthetically, I do not believe that one needs to be alarmed at the thought of a nonmedical sister counselor practicing "diagnostic" counseling. Although the formal diagnosis of any dis-order, whether "physical" or "mental," remains within the province of the medical doctor (psychiatrist or medical psychoanalyst), a well trained counselor is quali-fied to evaluate the severity of a mental disorder, formu-late hypotheses as to its course and prognosis, and differ-entiate it from solely moral or religious problems. What one should fear, rather, are the "snap diagnoses" made by untrained individuals in any walk of life: in the case of the religious sister, the diagnosis, "spiritual problem," with the prescription, "prayer, three times a day," for a problem that is mainly emotional in nature and needs counseling (or psychotherapy) as well. I referred above to the "understanding superior." I wonder how many sisters, troubled emotionally and mentally, did not feel, at some point, that it was-"all mother superior's fault., if she only had more under-standing . " I also wonder how many superiors, whose sisters were in the throes of a severe mental problem, did not feel, at some point: ". It's all my fault., if I had only had more understanding . " (I also wonder if some psychiatrists, in treating sisters with emotional problems, have not at times felt that it was ". all mother superior's fault., if she had only had more understanding . "). I believe there is something significant here and worth-while looking into. At times, undoubtedly, the superior is largely respon-sible for a sister's emotional problem as a "trigger factor," as precipitating element. More often, however, the superior is blamed because of the need for scapegoats, be-cause of the psychological tendency to explain difficulties in simple black and white, "good guy, bad guy" terms, and, finally, because of a specific psychological function called "transference." The truth of the matter is that to blame it all on the superior is incorrect; and if it is incorrect, it is also unfair: unfair to the sister, who likes to believe that changing houses will solve all her problems (she will go through one, two transfers to realize, after several cycles of heightened hope and frustrating letdown, that nothing has really changed in her mental status); and unfair to the superior, who will unrealistically blame her-self for her sisters' emotional problems and use this self-condemnation as a nucleus for her own neurosis. The interpersonal relationship of sister--superior is necessarily a very complex one; here, too, we find that in both its essential and accidental characteristics it offers opportunities for spiritual and psychological enrichment to the healthy and for neurotic expressions to the neu-rotic. The superior has full and unquestioned authority, because she represents, supernaturally, the will of God; the healthy sister willfully chooses to submit and defer because she can see the transcendental aspects of her submission and deference; the neurotic sister or superior sees, rather, a symbolic relationship between an omnipo-tent mother-figure and an infantile daughter-figure. Once the relationship has been unconsciously visualized in these symbolic terms, the development of "transferential" reactions is highly likely, because the relationship is already a "transferential" one. "Transference," I believe, explains why the disturbed sister is too ready to put all the blame on the superior or why the superior is ready to put all the blame on herself (or, in opposite cases, on her "insubordinate daughters"). It also explains why everything the superior does, the rewards she administers, the punishments she metes out, the assignments she makes, the time she take to reply to the sisters' mail, even her very traits of personality, become, at times, a matter of life or death for some sisters. ~Vhat is "transference?" Transference is an unrealistic emotional posture which supposedly occurs only in psy-choanalytic psychotherapy but which also develops, in varying degrees of unreality, in other intimate emotional relationships (husband and wife, soldier and N.C.O. on the battle line, pastor and priest, superior and sister, and so forth). In transference, one feels about a contemporary figure not the feelings it deserves because of what this figure realistically is, but the feelings one felt about significant figures from one's childhood, whom the con-temporary figure symbolically represents. In transference, the patient sees his analyst not as what he is but as he saw his own father and/or mother; and feels about his analyst the quality and quantity of feelings appropriate not to the analyst but to his own father and/or mother. Similarly, in transference the sister sees the superior not as the superior objectively is, but as she saw, as a child, her own parents; and her feelings about the superior are not proportionately related to what the superior, objectively, is, does, stands for, but to the feelings the sister had, as a child, about her parents. Transference motivates behavior as well as feelings and thoughts; in transference, the sister will behave, toward 4- 4- 4- ÷ ÷ + Vincent S. Coniglia~o, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS the superior, not realistically but "transferentially," not as sister-to-superior but as daughter-to-mother. Transfer-ence is "remembering through actions and feelings." In psychoanalytic psychotherapy, the development of transference is facilitated by some of the essential and accidental features of the treatment itself and may be fostered by the therapist (a skillful therapist encourages the appropriate quantity and quality of transference and uses it for his patient's benefit). The accidental features of religious life will also encourage transferential relationships and painful, neurotic transferential reac-tions. But, again, not per se, but in direct proportion to the mental health of superior and sister. Such features as the fact that sisters are referred to as "daughters" and superiors are addressed as "mothers". the psycho-logica. 1 message that may be contained in the very word "superior". the reality of the superior's unquestioned authority over the sisters., the vow of obedience., and other accidental features of religious life will not by themselves "infantil-ize" the sister or "mother-ize" the superior; but the sisters will be infantilized (and the superior motherized) who, from the depth of their un-conscious and latent neuroses, had already looked go these features as opportunities for the release of latent neurotic drives. The very fact that there are so many obedient, submissive, and deferent religious sisters who are, at the same time, joyful, vibrant, productive creatures, with attractive, vital, and no less feminine personalities is a living admonishment against believing that the poten-tially infantilizing (to the neurotic) features of religious life must necessarily (that is, also in the healthy) cause transferential relationships and reactions. Whether the superior is a trained counselor or not and whether her qualities of "understanding" will be rightly perceived by sisters wearing or not wearing transference-colored glasses, there can be little doubt that the "understanding" superior will contribute to the pre-vention of emotional crises in her community. Too often one thinks of an understanding superior as someone who smiles, agrees, and gets emotionally involved with her sisters or who is gentle and unassertive and goes around giving realistic or unrealistic reassurances or who shows total approval of whatever neurotic behavior is exhibited on the part of her sisters. This actually is more the stereotype for a neurotic superior than for an under-standing one. I remember a priest counselor whom I once supervised. He was counseling a hostile, resentful, rebellious adoles-cent whose father was rigidly authoritarian and coldly punitive. The counselee acted out his hostility in the counseling situation itself by being.consistently late for his sessions or breaking appointments without previously canceling them. The counselor was extremely "under-standing," remarked about the patient's lateness only casually and gave him a full-session time by cutting into his own rest periods, feebly joked about the cancelations and, to his own great inconvenience, rescheduled make-up appointments, and made sure not to appear in the least annoyed at his patient's erratic behavior. The counselor's conscious rationale for his "understanding" was: "I want him to see that there are understanding people in this world . 1 don't want him to think that everybody is as bad as his father . " In reality his "understanding" covered his own neurotic feelings about hostility and assertion; he neurotically equated justifiable annoyance (at having his schedule continuously disrupted) with irrational rage and rigidly controlled the former to avoid the risk of expressing the latter. Another counselor I supervised managed to convey to his patient his tacit approval of the patient's practically delinquent behavior; in this case the "understanding" dis-guised the counselor's own neurotic rebelliousness and hostility against authority. The giving of unrealistic reassurances (also often seen as a sign of "understanding") may actually be a symptom of neurosis. I remember the case of a sister with a paranoid char-acter neurosis, very intelligent but extremely disagreeable because of her mistrusting, hostile personality. Sister believed the other sisters disliked and resented her be-cause of her scholastic accomplishments; and her superior usually reacted to these complaints by "reassuringly" telling her that when one is very bright one may be resented by those who are less bright, and telling her not to worry, the other sisters really liked her. The con-scious rationale of this "understanding" was: "Sister is too sick to be told that the other sisters do dislike her. and for her arrogance and imperiousness, rather than for her brilliance . " In reality, this "understanding" covered the superior's unconscious fear of the paranoid sister and only resulted in the consolidation and strengthening of sister's hostility and disagreeableness. Real understanding--whether in the knowledgeable superior or in the trained counselor--basically cor-responds to the ability to understand human psychology and, especially, the complexity of human motivations. This understanding, which the counselor obtains from training, the superior can only derive through her own studies, readings, and observation, since in the great majority of cases we are not born endowed with it. "Intui-tive understanding," "horse sense," the "knack of under-standing people," are either an altogether di~erent quality of understanding (the superficial understanding of ÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling VOLUME 24, 1965 353 ÷ ÷ ÷ Vincent S. Coniglidro, M.D. REV|EW FOR RELIG|OUS few, superficial situations) or the major ingredient of often catastrophic "snap diagnoses" (the simplified con-clusions on "what really bothers" our fellow human beings). If this is fully realized, the superior who has little understanding should not blame her constitution, heredity, luck, or intelligence~in most cases she only needs to study, read, and observe. I am not implying that every superior should go to medical school and eventually specialize in psychiatry. I am suggesting, however, that any investment she will make in courses and lectures on human psychology will pay huge dividends in terms of house morale, a smoothly growing community, and her own peace of mind. Actually, it is a wonder that so many superiors, in spite of very little training in human psy-chology, do such a creditable job as leaders of a com-munity. Industry or government would not expect such a performance from untrained leaders of theirs who were to operate under conditions as difficult as most superiors (unisexual environment, closeness of quarters, the ever present possibility of transferential developments and transferential reactions; and so forth). If real understanding is to work--for the house as a whole, for the sisters, and for the superior herself---it must be mature and loving. It must be loving, or there will r~ot be the concern, care, interest motivating one human being to want to understand another (or, at least, to want to apply this u. nderstanding for healing purposes); and it must be mature, or it may be a neurotically motivated understanding in ~which the superior distorts the sister's demands because of unconscious needs to do so or understands these demands rightly but out of proportion to the total picture and more for her own needs than sister's. The positive features and attributes of real understand-ing can best be discussed in reference to counseling and religious counselors. Some of these features will be of great interest also to the superior: the superior who, without being a counselor or without intending to be-come one, wants to achieve, through her own efforts, personal interest, and dedication, real understanding of her sisters. This superior, however, would not be fair to herself if she expected to attain the quality of under-standing of the trained counselor just by following "a few simple rules," listening to the house counselors' "talk-ing shop," or reading a few articles, like this, at best just glossing over a few aspects of counseling theory. Both in real life and in the understanding of human psy-chology, there are no short cuts; and there are no instant substitutes for the understanding that can be derived only from years of studies, readings, and observation. The trained counselor attains a specialized quality of understanding of human psychology. A house counselor, through the time and effort invested in a comprehensive curriculum on theory and technique of counseling, can recognize, diagnose (in the connotation given before), and prognostically evaluate the signs and symptoms of healthy and unhealthy mental functioning. She can determine which patients are an indication for therapeutic counsel-ing and which patients, an indication for motivational counseling, should be referred to a psychotherapist, psy-chiatrist, or psychoanalyst. With the patients with whom she practices therapeutic counseling she knows, after evaluating the patient,s ego strength, environmental conditions within which the patient functions, and the overall circumstances surrounding the counseling rela-tionship, what techniques of counseling to follow and for how long. The counselor knows that human behavior and the symptoms of emotional disturbances are always over-determined (related to multiple causes and factors) and that the more disturbed is behavior, the more distressing a symptom, the more critical a crisis, the less likely it is that just one or two factors are responsible. Consequently, she will not "jump to conclusions," oversimplify, dispense quick, superficial "diagnoses" ("What really bothers you, Sister, is this and that"). She also knows that presenting symptoms and initial complaints are often a disguise for more distressing and intimate problems. Thus she waits beyond the first few sessions before concluding that sister has told her the "whole story" or even the "real story." She knows the inherently devious and implicitly mimetic nature of defense mechanisms; within herself, therefore, in the process of privately evaluating and understanding her counselee's problems, she will not take "no" (or "yes") for an answer, will not accept every-thing at its face value, will try to read between the lines of the counselee's manifest verbalization, will obtain clues from nonverbal communication, and will, in fewer words, constantly try to understand the dynamic motiva-tions, the "why," the "latent,'.' of her counselee's com-munication. (The really understanding superior may well try to remember this. Sister may come to see her to discuss problem "A"; whether sister knows it or not, she may actually be in the superior's office to discuss problems "B" or "C." The patient, knowledgeable, and, especially, un-hurried superior, will help sister to come to the real problem by prolonging the first interview, by non-direc-tive prodding--"is anything else on your mind, Sister?" is much better than "Is this (or that) what is really on your mind, Sisterl" and, especially, by asking sister to come in again "to talk more about problem A or any-thing else that might be on your mind, Sister . ") 4- 4- 4- Counseling + ÷ Vineent S. Conlgliaro, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 356 The counselor knows that even truly distressing symp-toms may only be a first line of defense the personality uses against even more distressing problems and con-flicts. The counselee of a priest I supervised was literally torn apart by persistent masturbatory behavior con-sistently accompanied by vivid heterosexual fantasies; yet this behavior was only a cover-up for very frighten-ing, still unconscious, homosexual problems. A sister I treated was painfully convinced (and so was her superior) that she had a severe sexual problem as she was mainly obsessed with obscene fantasies and per-secuted by sexual compulsions; after several months (and a dream in which she discovered a knife hidden by stacks of pornographic literature) it became apparent that she was using obscene fantasies also to punish herself for unconscious fantasies of a sadistic nature against the superior (and her mother). Thus the counselor knows better than to prematurely remove symptoms or defenses, lest the problems so disguised come to the fore, thus causing disintegration of the whole personality and psychosis. The counselor knows that the best way to counsel is, often, by the "non-directive, minimal activity" technique. Within this technique the counselor, after having ascertained (with a minimum of activity and direction) the quality and severity of the counselee's problem, assumes an "actively passive" posture. She patiently listens; benevolently and calmly waits out pauses of silence; asks few or no questions; stimulates the counselee's continuity of communication by nonverbal means (nodding, assenting, saying "Uhm-uhm") or, verbally, by repeating the counselee's terminal sentence; echoes and reflects back, in simpler, clearer, more concise phraseology the counselee's utterances, and so forth. With the mildest counseling problems this approach is therapeutic in itself and is both means and end. The counselor becomes the counselee's oral vehicle; and the counselee, just by listening to the counselor's clearer re-formulations of the problem, can see solutions or the roads towards them. With most counseling problems this approach is very valuable as a means to an end, as it provides the counselor with material through which she will be able to help the sister to help herself. (A little tip for the superior: "true" listening, with minimal ac-tivity and direction, will cause the "true" problem to shape itself in its clearest outlines under her very eyes.) An important point, made just in passing before, is the one to the effect that light attempts at premature removal of symptoms can be catastrophic. Freud spoke of "wild psychoanalysis"; in a sense, one can talk of "wild counseling." In "wild counseling," the counselor tells the patient what to do; advises; judges; prescribes courses of action; removes symptoms or eliminates defenses; prods too actively, eliciting too much too soon, all this without knowing enough of his counselee's personality structure and whether the patient can safely ~ollow the prescription or in ignorance of the adaptive and defensive meaning of normal and abnormal be-havior. One of the most important discoveries of psychoanalysis was that psychic disorders have a meaning and represent partly successful attempts at defensive adaptation. Even the most distressing symptoms are a partly successful defense---without the distressing symptom of hysterical mutism, the hysteric would be hced with the more distressing problem of wishing to verbalize highly ex-ceptionable sexual desires; without the embarrassing symptom of "trigger-finger paralysis" (a hysteric condition of soldiers on the battle line), the patient would be ~aced with the more serious problem of wanting to press the trigger of a rifle aimed at his own sergeant; without the torturing symptom of persecutory thinking, the schizophrenic would be faced with the much more painful problem of having homosexual desires. The dis-comfort of hysterical mutism, trigger-finger paralysis, and persecutory ideation are a psychic bargain compared with the discomfort the psychic apparatus would experi-ence were it to face, in raw state, the sexual desires, the murderous aggression, and the homosexuality that mutism, paralysis, and persecutory delusions stand for. Thus, if we remove one line of defense, a more drastic defense will be set up and, with it, a more severe mental illness. I remember the patient who came to the emer-gency room of a city hospital in a wheelchair because of hysterical paralysis of both her legs. A brash and eager young psychiatric interne decided he would omnipotently remove the paralysis by hypnotic suggestion. The patient did walk out of the hospital on her own legs; once home, however, she became severely depressed and attempted suicide. The hysterical paralysis was, to her personality structure, an indispensable prop; deprived of that prop prematurely (that is, without any preliminary work on her ego), her personality could only cave in; the process could only be arrested by the setting up of more primitive defenses (more drastic "props"), for instance, the defense of depression. Counseling can be powerful medicine. Words and advice are to the counselor what scalpel and clamps are to the surgeon. Wrong counsel and ill-timed advice can have disastrous effects. I remember a patient "counseled" into borderline psychosis by her own G.P. A twenty-eight year old girl, beautiful and quite feminine, she had never been 4- ~,ounseling VOLUME 357 ÷ 4. ÷ Vincent $. Conigliaro, M~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS engaged, married, or romantically involved, She had consulted her physician because of ill-defined heart and stomach symptoms, fatigue, sleeplessness, and choking sensations; the physician correctly diagnosed hysteria. In discussing her social life, he was struck by the fact that she never went out with men; he took the explanations she gave (shyness, moral reasons) about her sexual isola-tion at their face value and proceeded to persuade her into going out. After several sessions of "counseling" she reluctantly agreed to go out on a date. Shortly after the first date (and having given in to a very minor physical exchange of affection) she became depressed and with-drawn. Again, the physician accepted the explanations she gave for her depression (moral guilt) at their face value and counseled her to be "more broadminded." She became more depressed and withdrawn and eventually attempted suicide. Several weeks after she had finally en-tered psychotherapy, it was found that at the ages of five and nine she had been sexually molested by a psycho-pathic father. Unconsciously, she had come to associate adult sexuality with the incestuous sexuality experienced at five and nine; and the guilt, horror, and remorse at-tached to the latter had become associated to the former; thus sexuality had to be shunned in all its forms and manifestations. Deprived of her defenses of shyness, ti-midity, and sexual isolation, the patient could only ex-perience severe anxiety, depression, and guilt. The above examples refer to situations in which "wild counseling" was both erroneous from a psychoanalytic point of view and faulty from an ethical and moral standpoint. Yet examples can be given of morally un-exceptionable counseling that is equally "wild" from a psychodynamic point of view. A judgmental and psycho-dynamically imprudent pastoral counselor once strongly advised a young man to give up compulsive masturbation at all costs; the counselee did, at the cost of severe homo-sexual panic and suicidal behavior. A couple was once treated in marital counseling; he was a drug addict, moody, manipulative, exploitative, sadistic, occasionally violent; she, the unnervingly patient and "holy" type of woman who goes through life proudly protesting her humility and vigorously proclaiming her martyrlike good-ness in the face of unbearable male provocations. The counselor did not see that this was a neurotic marriage and that this woman (fully aware of her husband's long record of addiction at the time she had married him) had done so to fulfill her masochistic needs and express her controlling and manipulative polarities in the least obtrusive way. The counselor also failed to realize that this woman had a need to foster her husband's addiction (for example, she used to express astonishment at the fact that her husband always managed to steal the groceries money to buy drugs; in actuality, it was she who would unconsciously "forget" some money [always just the right amount for "a fix"] on her dresser for her husband to steal) and that his addiction was an essential '"prop" to her personality. When the counselor finally persuaded her to separate from her husband, she became severely depressed and became an alcoholic. As indicated before, the counselor should be both mature and loving; without these qualities, the most sophisticated psychological understanding will be basi-cally vitiated; and counseling will remain ineffectual. The psychoanalyst's personal maturity can be assured, in most cases, by the fact that he is demanded to undergo inten-sive personal psychoanalysis before he is o~cially per-mitted to psychoanalyze others; the counselor's maturity can only be assured by rigorous screening procedures at the time he applies for training; constant supervision during training gives the additional opportunity to certify as counselors only those who have demonstrated the needed maturity. Why should the counselor be mature (the quality of "loving," I would like to suggest, is an inevitable by-phenomenon of maturity) is self-evident. The mature and loving counselor practices counseling in terms of his counselee's needs--not his own. He is actively passive and non-directive because he believes in the rationale of this technique--not because he is uninterested or because he wishes to work as little as possible. When he gives active counsel, he does so because he honestly believes that it is right to do s~not because, by so doing, the counselee will love, admire, and respect him or "get off his back.~' The mature counselor responds to his patients realisti-cally and not in terms of neurotic reactions set up in him by the counselee's attitudes, symptoms, or values. He can be acceptant of his counselee's behavior, without condon-ing or approving it. He does not "judge" the counselee's actions; rather, he helps him to understand why he acts this or that way and what results can be anticipated from these actions. In being loving, the mature counselor is also capable o~ the adequate measure of self-love and self-respect, without which, I might suggest, there may be no genuine and consistent love and respect of others. A few examples may be given which will clearly in-dicate the maturity or the immaturity of the counselor. A lay counselor I supervised always managed to ask his counselees very personal questions of a sexual nature not to clarify his views on relevant aspects of his patients' personality but to fulfill, vicariously, neurotic sexual needs of his own. Examples given before (while we were 4- Counseling VOLUME 24, 1965 359 ÷ ÷ + Vincent S. Conlgliaro, M~. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS on the subject of the "understanding superior" and "understanding coun.selor") indicated how the counselor (or the superior) responded in terms of their own neurotic needs rather than their patients'. One pastoral counselor's sternly judgmental reaction to the rage exhibited by one of his counselees was less related to the patient's prob-lems with sadism than it was to the counselor's fear of his own hostility. Sometimes the counselor's immaturity first creates problems to the counselor himself which will then be transmitted to the counseling relationship and the counselee. A counselor I once supervised, incapable of mature self-love and self-respect, became very anxious because of his inability to resist his counselees' manipula-tions and dependency. He allowed counselees to contact him at home, at all hours of the day or night; the more dependent they became on him (and the more they in-convenienced and disrupted his family life), the more he resented them and the more he felt he had to "make up" for his hostility by giving in to their manipulations and dependency, thus getting involved in a self-perpetuat-ing vicious circle. Immature~or insufficiently trained--counselors may want to terminate a counseling relationship for a com-bination of '"right," conscious reasons (that is, the pa-tient is too sick and needs psychotherapy) and uncon-scious, "wrong" reasons (that is, hostility set up by the patient's values, attitudes, habits, and so forth). These counselors may feel so guilty, unconsciously, for the "wrong" reasons that they may be unable to recommend termination on the basis of the conscious, "right" reasons. They may present the "right" reasons to their counselees in such ambivalent, confusing fashion that the counselees sense the existence of hidden hostility, perceive the recommendation to terminate as '"rejection," and neu-rotically cling to the relationship: "interminable counsel-ing." On the other hand, an untrained pastor I know (truly and genuinely loving--of others; not enough, per-haps, of himself) often feels he does not have the right to refuse or deny anyone and gets involved in intermi-nable counseling in a different way: the parishioner keeps on coming, once, twice a week, to the rectory, refuses to be referred to a psychiatrist, and clings to the unhappy and helpless priest for years. Sometimes it is a superior who makes herself un-realistically available to her sisters. She is "willing" to practice informal counseling at any time during office hours (and beyond) and is unable to turn down any sister's request for "a few minutes of time." This superior may be taking too literally the Christian, ethical, or professional obligation to make oneself available to those who suffer, forgetting the equally ethical and Christian obligation to be good to oneself. One superior I knew refused no one coming in to see her, no matter how busy she was, how many deadlines she had to meet, and how many unfinished tasks were before her. She made her-self available "so that sister won't feel rejected."; her inner discomfort and tension, however, inevitably diffused to the counseling relationship. She would listen superficially and be exposed to the risk of making super-ficial, premature comments; or, while she "listened," her eyes would dart to the typewriter or steal a glance at the wristwatch; or her hands would tap impatiently by the telephone or tug at the crucifix ("Dear God, help me be patient."). The sisters she "listened" to inevitably received the message and felt just as rejected as if they had been asked to return later. A more self-loving superior will do better (by herself and by the sister) by recognizing her right (and her duty, perhaps, to herself) to tell sister warmly but firmly that she will take just a few minutes right away to discusse the matter of an appointment: which will be given within the day if sister feels the matter is that important, later, if sister feels her problem is not that urgent. I am suggesting, then, that when counselor, superior, pastor have sufficient mature self-love and self-respect (at least enough of it to resist the temptation of making themselves unrealistically, or masochistically, available to others) they will, at the same time, be capable of mature, joyful, and genuine love of others. (Could it be that "love thy neighbor as thyself" really means that one has as much obligation to love oneself as to love one's neighbor? And that this beautiful maxim, read between the lines, suggests that without mature self-Jove there cannot be mature other-love?) ! On the subject of "mature and loving understanding," it may be very appropriate to conclude by briefly reflect-ing on the question of values and counseling. While the counselee's values should have little relevance to the counselor's effectiveness, the same cannot be said of the counselor's values. ("Values" here is meant on a broad ethical and philosophical plane, not only on a religious or moral plane.) At the risk of being considered an incorrigible idealist, I should like to suggest that the effective counselor (like the effective psychotherapist) must be, above all, a decent, good human being. If he is not to be, at best a sterile and antiseptic technician, at worst a manipulator and a hidden persuader, he must be committed to a philosophy of integrity, love and respect of others, self-love and self-respect. The attributes of maturity, loving-ness, and understanding will ulti-mately be inherent and intrinsic in the man's existential ÷ ÷ ÷ Counseling VOLUME 24, 1965 36] integrity and ethical commitment. He cannot be auto-cratic, manipulative, devious outside of office hours, and genuinely permissive, truthful (to himself and his work), and sincere in his office; by the same token, he cannot be weak, manipulable, neurotically self-effacing outside of his office and reasonably assertive, reliable, and helpful during office hours. He need not be "perfect" (whatever this word may connote in his personal weltanschauung), but honest. He need not feel that he must make no mis, takes; all he needs is mental alertness to the mistakes he makes and the emotional courage to recognize them and try to do his best to rectify them. He need not be a self-righteous crusader for love, freedom, and a democratic philosophy of life, but someone who does his best to love, be free, and set others free. I began by noting that "counseling, as a technique and a philosophy of human relatedness., is important to both psychoanalysts and religious persons. (who) both work with human beings and are both committed to a profession of service . " In closing, I should like to suggest that both psychoanalysts (or psychotherapists, counselors, and so forth) and religious persons (or pastoral counselors, house counselors, and so forth), be-cause of the specific quality of their relatedness to the human beings they work with, are alike also in this respect: the measure of their success in their work is, to a large extent, a measure of their existential richness and integrity. ,4" 4. + Vincent $. onigliaro, M.D. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS WILLIAM J. REWAK, S.J. Mortification: An Entry inta the Christ-Mystery I. Aversion of Modern Man In the spirit of the Church's aggiornamento, there is a great demand today for authenticity in moral and ascetical theology, a demand for new and valid expres-sions for the old values. A value is a value, after all, not because it is traditional but because it is an authentic expression of my personal relationship to God and to other people. We are aware of, and fear, the crystalliza-tion of the primary Christian experiences. It has often happened that the Church---or more exactly, institutions and individuals within the Church---have bequeathed to succeeding generations rites, methods, and customs with-out any inner ideal and spirit. Such a stagnation of the original value can occur in any human experience: mysticism can degenerate into magic and ritualism; prophecy is always in danger of crumbling into moral-lsm. So the original value, idea, must forever be reex-pressed; it must grow within the historical context and be reinterpreted in the light of changing modes of thought. At the same time, it must keep a strong hold on the primitive experience. It is for this reason we will investigate the New Testament doctrine on mortifica-tion. A theology of mortification is badly needed. The pres-ent doctrine is inadequate, for it has not kept pace with the advancements in Sci'ipture and other branches of theology. At the present, we are reacting against a moral theology that has emphasized sin and progressing towards a positive program of Christian life: doing good in the service of a generous charity. The idea of morti-fication, then, which according to many manuals is practiced either as a punishment for past sins or as a deterrent against future sins must be reappraised,x What ~$ee P. J. Meyer, s.J., Science o] the Saints (~t. Louis: Herder, ÷ ÷ ÷ William J. Re-wak, s.J., is a mem-ber of Regis Col-lege; 3425 Ba~.view Avenue; Wallow-dale, Ontario; Can-ada. VOLUME 24, 1965 4, 4, 4, William ~. Rewak, 5.1. REVIEW FOR REL]G~OUS 564 is objected to is not that sinful man needs mortification, but that theories of mortification seem to bypass Christ and have for their starting point, their raison d'etre, the fact of sin. Every natural philosophy tried to elimi-nate "sin"; the Stoics were concerned with perfection, but only natural perfection. A Christian existential view of sin cannot fall into this trap. Many wish to find their mortification in the daily struggle involved in working for their neighbor, in the apostolate. The absolute value itself of mortification is not always questioned; a blank rejection would be an act of infidelity to the Word of God. What is vehe-mently questioned is selpchosen mortification: corporal punishments, voluntary acts of abnegation of the intel-lect and will, all those acts, freely chosen, which hurt our pride or human respect. Their necessity is question-able in the light of the very real difficulties confronting the apostle in today's pluralistic society, in a world where the general breakdown of morality requires a new and more refined, more soul-searching response in his communication with his neighbor. There is no doubt about it: mortification is the daily fare for the dedi-cated apostle. Why opt for additional, self-chosen acts of mortification? Mortification has too often been identified with ex-traordinary corporal austerities. The ordinary apostle, not given to sackcloth and ashes, hairshirts, dank caves, and bloody lacerations, is sincerely seeking an "ordi-nary" saint. He wants as an example someone who must stay strong and healthy in order to perform manfully, joyfully, and effectively the tasks of a university pro-fessor, a retreat master, or a Catholic businessman. Besides, corporal austerities are currently out of favor as a result of the renewed "theology of matter." We have, it is hoped, at least theoretically banished all traces of Platonism and Jansenism from our books and lectures on spirituality. There is today an emphasis on the sacramentality of matter, an emphasis fostered by the late Teilhard de Chardin. The body, the world of the material and concrete, are all good and will con-tribute in their own specialized way to the glory of the kingdom to be revealed in us. If corporal austerities are to be retained, they must be based on a more solid foundation than the Jansenistic distrust of the ma-terial. 2 1902), pp. 88-91. Father Meyer's primary reason for practicing morti-fication is "as an atonement for past sins"; and it is "still more neces-sary as a preservative from future sins." This obviously needs quali-fication and completion. i We use the terms "Jansenistic" and "Jansenism" because they are readily intelligible to the modem reader. It must be admitted, how-ever, that the use of such terms is more for convenience than for Older spiritual books, books which influenced the ascetical teachers of the first half of this century, are notoriously negative in tone: If we were to count all the miseries of human life, we should never have done. Holy Job says, "The life of man is a per- Detual warfare upon earth, and his days are like the days of a hired servant that labours from sun-rising to sun-set" (Job vii. 1, 2). Several of the old philosophers had such a lively sense of this truth, that some of them said, they could not tell whether to call nature a mother or a step-mother, because she has sub-jected us to so many miseries. Others again used to say, it were better never to be born, or at least to die as soon as we were strict and complete historical accuracy. An explanation is therefore in order. We urge the reader to consult Louis Bouyer, The Spiritual-ity o] the New Testament and the Fathers, trans. Mary P. Ryan (London: Burns and Oates, 196~) for an excellent account of the problem of gnosis in the early Church. Contrary to modern popular belief, Father states, there was a legitimate gnosis sought by St. Paul and by the early fathers; one has only to think of the formulation of the First Epistle to the Corinthians on knowing God even as we are known (1 Cor 13:12; see also Eph 3:19 and Phil 3:7-11). And this is a knowledge which is really an experience of God, in the love of the Spirit. St. Ignatius of Antioch says: "Why do we not all become wise in receiving the gnosis of God, Jesus Christ?" (p. 246). Gnosis for primitive Christianity was an experiential knowledge of the mysteries of the Father's plan for salvation. But at the same time the natural Greek philosophers themselves were seeking ~alvation through a gnosis of their own. These influences came in turn to form Christian gnosis. "Eons or angels descended in endless cascades from a pleroma in which everything is divine, towards a foreign matter in which everything is mired and becomes degenerate. To this fall, which is one with creation itself, is opposed the mission of the Logos, more or less strictly identified with the man Jesus. But since salvation is nothing but the recovery of an con fallen into mat-ter, the incarnation could be only apparent. It must lead, in fact, to a salvation which is not a redemption of the whole of man, but a disengagement in man of what has never ceased to be immortal 'spirit,' that is to say, an escape from the bonds of the body and the world . The cross of the Saviour only frees our soul along with his from the chains of the body" (p. 223). It is immediately apparent that the grandfather of the heretical positions of the Jansenists, Puritans, Albigensians, Manicheans, is Greek Gnosticism--a corrod-ing rationalism which understood nothing of the true Gnosis, the Word of God. It is not the Logos of Hellenistic syncretism that we, as Christians, come to know, but the Word made flesh. This is why so many spiritual writers of the last few centuries have misfired with their ascetical doctrine; they were influenced by the same rationalism that has threatened Christianity from the beginning and is too often the error of Christian "humanism": the adoption of ascetical prac-tices for the purification and reintegration of the purely natural man, with no consideration for the priority of the interpersonal relation-ship between man and God. The early Greek Gnostic sought an apatheia: the calming of all disordered tendencies, rendering him insensible to outside influence. The Christian Gnosdc also sought apatheia, but it was attained through perfect submission to charity. This in no way meant an extinction of the human, "but rather its unification in which everything is taken up and transfigured which is worthy of being so" (p. 274). Christian asceticism must begin from faith, from the Word of God; it must proceed from the Spirit of love speaking within us. + + .I-Mortification VOLUME 24, 1965 365 4. 4. 4. William J. Rewak, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 366 born; nay, some of them have gone so far as to say, there are but few persons, that would accept of life after having made an experiment of it, that is, if it were possible to make a trial of it beforehand,s If one were to take this seriously, he would have to regret that God ever uttered a fiat. Having disposed of the object, the author turns to the subject: Cast your eyes on yourself, and you will find there motives enough of humility. Do but consider what you were before you were born, what you are since you have been born and what you are like to be after your death. Before your birth, you were a filthy matter unworthy to be named, at present you are a dunghill covered with snow, and in a short time you will be meat for worms.~ An adequate understanding of the Incarnation can surely dispel such gross misconceptions of God's creation. But it is precisely upon such misconceptions that the author--and other authors--have based their arguments for mortification. Little wonder modern man is repelled. An unhappy refrain running through most spiritual manuals of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is A bstine et sustine! Refrain and endure,s Cast unwillingly into a flaming abyss of sin where even the apostolate is fraught with unimaginable dangers, mortification alone will lead us to "perfection." And this is perhaps the worst aberration of rationalistic moralism: the use of ascetical practices not for establishing and maintaining a dialogue with God but for the stoical perfection of all the virtues. Most spiritual books of the last century offered detailed instructions on how to develop the virtues of fortitude, for example, or temperance, chastity. And the first means was always mortification--as they understood it. "We must possess more virtues; through them only can we reach our end. Here comes in the aid of self-denial and self-discip-line." 0 Another section of the book explained the ob-stacles to the acquiring of these virtues;7 and a third sec-tion enticed the reader with such titles as "Of the Spiritual and Temporal Advantages Promised to Virtue in this Life, s Rev. F. Lewis, O.P., The Sinner's Guide (Dublin: Richard Coyne, 1825), p. 162. ~ Ibid., p. 271. ~ See, for example, Alphonsus Rodriguez, S.J., Practice o! Perfec-tion and Christian Virtues, trans. Joseph Rickaby, S.J. (London: Manresa Press, 1929), p. 567; and Meyer, Science of the Saints, p. 97. °Moritz Meschler, s.J., Three Fundamental Principles of the Spiritual Life (Westminster: Newman, 1945), p. 80. The author seri-ously calls his book "Christian Asceticism in a Waist-Coat Pocket" (p. v). 7See John Baptist Scaramelli, S.J., The Directorium Asceticum, trans, at St. Bueno's College, North Wales (4 vols.; London: R. and T. Washbourne, 1902), v. 2. This second of four volumes is devoted en-tirely to the manifold obstacles to Christian "virtue" and the means for overcoming them--penance and mortification. and particularly of Twelve Extraordinary Privileges be-longing to it" s or "Some Easy Kinds of Mortification." 9 Such pragmatic spirituality, which is nothing but the victory of reason over animality, lacks a real Christian motive based on Christ's entry into our life through baptism and the sacraments. Fortunately, we have recovered the notion that per-fection is not the piling up of virtues, computer-fashion; it is more fundamental, it is Chrigt-centered. We see Christ as the focal point of all our religious activity, of all our apostolic activity, of all human relations; and when an author bids us go forth from our father's house because "in the shelter of the religious life, separated from the world, from all that might .have occupied your thoughts and your hearts, you live for God alone," 10 we cannot believe him. Or if someone counsels us: "If the religious vocation demands the abandonment of the parental roof, sons and daughters must sacrifice their affections for parents and relatives that they may gain thereby Christ's promise of eternal life," or asserts that friendships are dangerous because "friendship between proper parties that has for object their mutual spiritual advancement is rare and found only among saints," 11 we can hardly take him seriously. The author is too much like those of whom P~guy wrote that "they think they love God because they don't love anyone." Mortification and sacrifice have often been put in opposition to joy. Come, my children, when pain, sacrifice, and duty press heavily upon you, when you experience dryness and disgust, endeavour to make, if you will, a dry and bitter act of love of God . Fervour and sensible devotion is good for small minds; shake off these feminine ways, aspire to something more noble, more vigorous. As for ourselves, we have had not one quarter of an hour's consolation in forty years.~ Hard saying for a generation that is experiencing the ascetical consequences of St. Paul's theology of the Res-urrection. Surely sacrifice and consolation, as authentic expressions of God's Good News, must somehow be re-lated. But most authors of moral guidebooks struggled with this "problem" of pleasure, happiness, consolation, and could not easily reconcile it with Christ's example of suffering. There exists in fact the problem of pleasure. Readily enough ~ Lewis, Sinner's Guide, p. 85. ~ Meyer, Science oJ the Saints, p. 101. 10 P~re de Ravignan, S.J., ConIerences on the Spiritual LiIe, trans. Mrs. Abel Ram (London: Washbourne, 1877), p. 185. Italics mine. ~aMonsignor P. J. Stockman, Manual o] Christian Per]ection (Hollywood, Calif.), p. 611. ~ De Ravignan, ConJerences, p. 191. Mortification VOLUME 24, 196S 367 4. 4. William ]. Rewak, 8.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS $68 does the concept of pleasure evoke the idea of something which, morally, has little to recommend it, or at the most, something which is to be tolerated. Living in the memory of Christ, the Christian soul with difficulty separates sanctity from suffering. Is it not by the cross that Christ redeemed and sanctified us? How can pleasure, then, be integrated into the moral life? Does this life not seem, on the contrary, to exclude it? Is there a place for pleasure in the context of a life of selbcontrol?18 And the author solves this conundrum by consoling his readers with the distinction that the essence of an act is what determines it and not the pleasure that may sur-round or follow upon it. Pleasure is outside the moral law: if the act is good, the pleasure is good; if the act is bad, the pleasure is bad. It is, he states, permitted to renounce this pleasure for a superior motive; but it is sometimes better to accept it, especially if it leads to virtue; and it may not always be possible to exclude it.14 Such a treatment of pleasure and consolation strikes the modern reader as negative, moralistic, and exces-sively rationalistic. It has not embodied the spirit of St. Paul: "They will forbid marriage, and will enjoin ab-stinence from foods, which God has created to be par-taken of with thanksgiving by the faithful and by those who know the truth. For every creature of God is good and nothing is to be rejected that is accepted with thanksgiving. For it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer:' (1 Tim 4:3-5). One last remark, and this first part will have per-formed its function. Mortification has been strongly identified with the devotions centering around the idea of reparation. We supposedly mortify our flesh to al-leviate the pain of the lash as it struck Christ during His passion; we kneel for hours to repair for the sins which are causing Him pain and sorrow. Sentimentality has conjured up the image of a Sacred Heart, sitting on the banks of the Loire, weeping and bewailing the sins which men are committing. Such misguided devotions can readily develop into dolorism, a perverted anguish which plays on false feelings of guilt; and for the modern psychology-oriented intellectual, this" is territory to be shunned. Mortification, if it is to be Christian, must turn one away from the self and towards Christ and ="I1 existe de fait un probl~me du plaisir. Assez ais~ment le con-cept de plaisir ~voque l'id~e d'une chose moralement peu recom-mandable, d'une tolerance tout au plus. Vivant du souvenir du Christ, l'fime chr~tienne dissocie malais~raent la saintet~ de la soul-france: n'est-ce point par la croix que le Christ vous a rachet~s et sanctifi~s? Peut-on donc integrer le plaisir clans la vie morale? Ne convient-il au contraire de l'en exclure? Peut-on lui assigner une place clans le gouvernement de soi-m~me?" Dora Odon Lottin, Aux sources de notre grandeur morale (Editions de l'Abbaye du Mont Cesar, 1946), p. 32. a~ Ibid., pp. 33-4. man. Sentimentality has no place in the authentic Chris-tian experience of reparation. It is the sum of all these inaccuracies, these exaggera-tions, these inauthentic expressions of Christian asceti-cism, which are causing the current questioning, if not the rejection, of mortification. If we are to retain morti-fication and sacrifice as indispensable e|ements of Chris-tian life, they must be integrated into the scheme of the "Christ-life" of which St. Paul is the outstanding interpreter. We have to make what we mean intelligible to modern Christians so that, as Karl Rahner says, "they will not think that 'sacrifice' is an expression for that misanthropy and secret hatred of life felt by failures who are incapable of courageously enjoying life and this world and the glory of human existence." a~ H. New Testament Doctrine on Mortification We have been using the term "mortification" in its popular sense, meaning all those acts of abnegation, of sacrifice, which are commonly understood as "mortify-ing." It is time now, however, to clarify the meaning of the three words ordinarily used interchangeably as synonyms: abnegation, renouncement, and mortification; and we will present, in the main, Fr. Iren~e Hausherr's distinctions,a6 This analysis will lead us into a further study of the Pauline texts on mortification. The Synoptics have all preserved the saying: "If any-one wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me." a7 Fr. Hausherr has pointed out that in the Scriptures, when abnegate, "to deny," concerns a duty, there is always the same direct object: oneself. We cannot, strictly speaking, deny ourselves; that is, negate ourselves. We cannot deny what we really are. The abnegation demanded by Christ consists in denying, or not attributing to myself, that which I am not. The great truth about myself is that I am a creature ---or better, a son---of God; negatively speaking, I am not God. This elementary negation constitutes the es-sence of abnegate, of the "denial" of oneself. It is, to be sure, an intellectual judgment on my condition as a creature, a fully free human commitment to adore and praise the God Who has entered my life. But to stop here would enclose us in the same narrow straits of rationalism that hemmed in former ascetical writers. This basic abnegation--the adoration of God---demands that I act as a creature; but it demands primarily that ~ Karl Rahner, S.J., The Christian Commitment, trans. Cecily Hastings (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), p. 167. l~Iren~e Hausherr, S.J., "Abnegation, renouncement, mortifica-tion," Christus, v. 22 (1959), pp. 182-95. a7 Mt 16:24. See also Mk 8:34; Lk 9:23. Mortification VOLUME 24, a965 William ]. Rewak, $.1. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 370 my filial relationship to God, which is discerned by faith, take precedence over and therefore exclude the primacy of every purely natural reference to self, and this in consequence of the existential character of the supernatural order of redemption I am now living. Transposed into life, this principle demands acts of mortification. The commandment "to renounce" appears in only one text: "He who does not renounce all that he pos-sesses cannot be my disciple" (Lk 14:33). Christ is here again referring to all men, to whoever wishes to follow Him; it is therefore not a counsel but a command, a Christian duty. Obviously, the degree of embodiment of this renunciation will vary for every person and every state in life. Renunciation for a religious is not the same as renunciation for a layman. Although the specific command, "to renounce," does not appear elsewhere, there are related texts: "If your right eye is an occasion of sin to you, pluck it out . " (Mr 5:29); "If you wish to be perfect, sell all that you possess, give it to the poor, and come, follow me" (Mt 19:21); "And anyone who has left house, or brothers, or sisters, or father, or moth.er, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive a hundred-fold and shall possess life everlasting" (Mt 19:29). The first Matthaean text is hypothetical but is uni-versal in its application. The remaining two texts refer to those who have decided to follow the counsels, since "to leave" is not commanded, it is optional. Luke has seemed to use the same logion, but the tone is harsh: anyone comes to me and he does not hate his mother and his son and his brother and his sisters, and himself, he cannot be my disciple" (Lk 14:26). In this context, "to hate" someone is to love him less than God, or better, to discern by faith that love of the Father grounds our love for other men. "To leave" is not a duty (except in the hypothetical case of an occasion of sin); but "to hate" and "to re-nounce" are obligations which fall on every Christian, as they indicate the relation that should exist between a son and a Father. Abnegation, then, refers to the subject: my self-love will be characterized and determined by my love for the Father. Renouncement refers to the persons or things outside the subject: all created things will be loved in the Father and through the Spirit because they are ex-pressions of God's love for me. "The charity of God is poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (Rom 5:5). Transposed into life, both of these principles demand acts of mortification. It is St. Paul who uses the word "mortification," and the first text we wish to examine is Col 3:5: "Therefore, mortify your members which are on earth." Some have understood this text literally to refer to punishment of the physical body. The Greek word for mortify, nekro-sate, does mean "to cause to die"; but St. Paul is not asking for the physical amputation of our members, he has too great a respect for the body: "Learn how to possess your vessel [body] in holiness and honor" (1 Th 4:4). But neither should the word be weakened to merely mean "suffer," for this, too, would have no precedent in Pauline doctrine. The word "members," then, can-not refer to our physical members; and in the context of the passage, there is an interpretation given to the word. Appearing in apposition to "members" are: "im-morality, uncleanness, lust, evil desire, and covetousness (which is a form of idol worship)" (Col 3:5). What we must put to death, what we must "mortify," are the dis-ordered affections which proceed from blunted self-love, a self-love not grounded in the Father's love, in Paul's terminology, the "flesh," sarx. Now the works of the flesh [sarx] are manifest, which are immorality, uncleanness, licentiousness, idolatry, witchcrafts, enmities, contentions, jealousies, angers, quarrels, factions, par-ties, envies, murders, drunkenness, carouslngs and such like . And they who belong to Christ have crucified their flesh with its passions and desires (Gal 5:19-21,24). The effects of selfish egoism destroy the beauty and the harmony of the Christian person. All these sins which Paul enumerates set a man against his neighbor, against God, even against himself. We must "crucify" the source of this disorder, our "flesh," in order that we may "walk in the Spirit" (Gal 5:16). Mortifying the flesh will produce the "fruit of the Spirit: charity, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faith, modesty, continency" (Gal 5: 22-3). The primacy of the spirit of charity in our lives is evidence that we have "risen with Christ": If you have risen with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Mind the things that are above, not the things that are on earth. For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, your life, shall appear, then you too will appear with him in glory. ThereIore, mortify your members . " (Col 3:1-5). Paul is inviting us to the state of mortification, in the interests of our resurrected life. "If by the spirit you put to death the deeds of the flesh, you will live" (Rom 8:13). Egdism must be mortified and sensuality curbed; then we live in the full supernatural sense. And here we begin to touch upon a basic Pauline theme. For Paul, the fundamental law of the spiritual life is a dying and a living with Christ. This occurs sacra-÷ ÷ ÷ Mortifwatlon VOLUME 24, 1965 371 4, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 372 mentally in baptism and it is of this he speaks to the Colossians. Perhaps his most explicit statement is in the epistle to the Romans: Do you not know that all we who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into his death? For we were buried with him by means 6f baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ has arisen from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we also may walk in newness of life" (Rom 6:3-4). The spiritual life is union with Christ; but this is a fellowship with His death and life. We die and rise again sacramentally in baptism, an invisible action which must be fully manifested and made effective in our daily lives. The sacramental, ontological change we undergo in baptism must have a corresponding effect on our moral and ascetical conduct,is Only in this way, by uniting ourselves sacramentally and ascetically to Christ's earthly activity of suffering, can we obtain a freedom from sin and our final resurrection: For his sake, I have suffered the loss of all things, and I count them as dung that I may gain Christ and be found in him not having a justice of my own which is from the Law, but that which is from faith in Christ, the justice from God based upon faith; so that I may know him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his suffering: become like to him in death, in the hope that somehow I may attain to the resurrection from the dead (Phil 3:8-11). Fr. F. X. Durrwell states: These texts do not say that the remission of sin is gained in virtue of the merit acquired in the past by that death---one must not water down the reality of a single word of Scripture on the ground of reason being unable to cope with it; they say that it is gained in a communion in that immolationTM. Only by entering completely into the mystery of Christ, by uniting our sufferings to His in such a way that they are no longer our sufferings but Christ's--"l bear the marks of the Lord Jesus Christ in my body" (Gal 6:lT)-~can we truly become a "new creation" (Gal fi:lS) and enter upon the glorious life awaiting us. And so a radical transformation has already taken place at baptism: "As many of you as have been baptized in Christ have put on Christ" (Gal 3:27); "You were heretofore darkness but now light" (Eph 5:8); "The law of the spirit of life, in Christ Jesus, hath delivered me from the law of sin and death" (Rom 8:2). In the Chris-tian life, however, there is a vast difference between establishing a beachhead and the full experience of ~ Concerning this Pauline theme, see Alfred Wikenhauser, Pauline Mysticism (New York: Herder and Herder, 1960), pp. 149-56; and F. X. Dun'well, In the Redeeming Christ (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1964), pp. 84-90. ~ Durrwell, In the Redeeming Christ, p. 85. victory--the pleroma. In principle, Christ's death and resurrection and our sacramental participation in it have destroyed the inevitable domination of "the lusts of the flesh" (Gal 5:16); but the possibility of sin remains. The Christian life is a life of struggle, as Paul knew so well from his own personal experience and fa'om his ex-periences with the imperfections of the early Christian communities. But Christian suffering, the appropriation in our own person of the passion and death of Christ, must reflect the same motive that inspired the exinanitio: the redemp-tion of man and of the universe. "For we the living are constantly being handed over to death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus may be made manifest in our mortal flesh. Thus death is at work in us, but life in you" (2 Cor 4:11-2). Only to the extent that what is exclusively natural in us dies can the life of Christ become manifest in us in the form of apostolic activity. The death of the apostle is the necessary condition for the life of the Church and her members. And every Christian is an apostle. Only to the extent that we "bear about in our body the dying of Jesus" (2 Cot 4:I0) can we effectively continue the redemption by applying its saving activity to men. And here we reach the basic reason for all mortification: it is an entry into the mystery of Christ, a communion in His suffering, for the purpose of prolonging His re-demption in the world through the Church. His activity in Jerusalem two thousand years ago was not ineffica-cious for the present age; He effected the transforma-tion at that point in time, but He continues it in His glorified state through the members of His Church who recapitulate in their lives His redeeming experience. "Therefore I pray you not to be disheartened at my tribulations for you, for they are your glory" (Eph 3:13). The most important statement of this theme appears in Col 1:24: "I rejoice now in the sufferings I bear for your sake, and what is lacking of the sufferings of Christ I fill up in my flesh for his body which is the Church." Paul does not mean, of course, that he must supply by his sacrifices the defects in the sufferings of the historical Christ. Interpreting "the sufferings of Christ," Fr. Benoit says they are, in general, the tribula-tions of the apostolic life;2° while Fr. Wikenhauser ap-plies them more personally, stating they are Paul's own sufferings.21 These interpretations do not do injustice to Paul's thought; as he says elsewhere, "the sufferings ~o Pierre Benoit, "L'Epitre aux Colossiens," Bible de Jdrusalem (Paris: Cerf, 1959), p. 60, footnote (b). m Wikenhauser, Pauline Mysticism, p. 161. ÷ ÷ Mortification VOLUME 37~ of Christ abound in us" (2 Cor 1:5), meaning his own sufferings. At any rate, all reputable scholars agree with the general tenor of the text: Paul, and all Christians, must express in their lives Christ's passion and death for the salvation of the members of the Mystical Body, the Church. Quite simply, "they live no longer for them-selves" (2 Cot 5:15). And this salvation of the Body of Christ is a source of great joy for Paul, a joy that is a participation in the Resurrection: "For our present light affliction, which is for the moment, prepares for us an etei-nal weight of glory that is beyond all measure" (2 Cot 4:17). Com-munion with Christ in His death necessarily means com-munion in His Resurrection, for this too is the moral and ascetical prolongation of baptism. The Resurrection should be lived, as mortification and suffering are lived. The apostle is a man of joy: "For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so also through Christ does our comfort abound" (2 Cor 1:15). It is in the letter to the Philippians, written during a harsh and humiliating im-prisonment, that Paul overflows with joy--a word that appears in this epistle eleven times because of the fellowship he experiences with his converts who them-selves have endured suffering for the sake of the gospel: "I have you in my heart, all of you, alike in my chains, and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel, as sharers in my joy" (Phil 1:7). In summary, Paul puts great emphasis on the mystical and sacramental fellowship in Christ that is effected at baptism; but he is equally insistent that Christians must foster in their lives a personal relationship founded on imitation--and this can only be done by re-experienc-ing Christ's life, performing the same redeeming activity He performed. To be one with Him in glory, we must be one with Him in suffering. This is the only way we know, the only way given to us by which we can be saved: "If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny him-self, take up his cross and follow me" (Mr 16:24). III. Some Conclusions ÷ ÷ + William I. Rewak, Sd. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS And what then is mortification? Most basically, it is a state of having died with Christ so that we may live with him, We must make more explicit, however, a dis-tinction which until now has only been implied: St. Paul is speaking primarily about absolute mortification, the state we all must enter as a result of our communion in baptism with Christ. Every Christian is called to this state; and the requirements are the same: the "putting to death" of the disordered inclinations and affections that are ours as a result of original sin.2~ We do not "mortify" the body, properly speaking; we mortify our flesh, sarx, the urge we possess to disassociate our in-terests from God's interests. And we do this that through us the Body of Christ, the Church, may live the Res-urrection more fully. But a problem remains. For this absolute principle of the spiritual life must be appropriated by each Chris-tian and embodied in his daily life. The acts of mortifi-cation, therefore, by which we make St. Paul's principle our constant concern, we term relative mortification. For these acts are always relative, to our state in life, to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, and to the force of the disordered affections which remain in us. It is this we are concerned with now and it is under this heading we discuss selpchosen, freely imposed mortifica-tion. We live as members of a Church; all our Christian acts are ecclesiological--through, with, and in the struc-ture Christ set up for our sanctification. The existence of sin in any one of its members stops the flow of grace in a particular area and impedes there the growth of the Christ-life. Mortification does serve, then, as punishment for sin and as a deterrent against future sin, as the manuals have pointed out; but sin must be seen in the context of the Mystical Body, of charity: "For you have been called to liberty, brethren; only do not use liberty as an occasion for sensuality, but by charity serve one another" (Gal 5:13). We mortify our disordered affec-tions so that nothing will hinder us from entering into a meaningful dialogue with God and with our neighbor. We must make of our lives a dynamic redemption--a redemption that is continued through our Christian acts of prayer and mortification, in the Church, for mankind. It is in the light of this Christian experience, for example, that we seek the meaning of reparation. Acts directed to reparation are performed principally to further the penetration of the Christ-life in the members of the Church: the Church suffering and the Church militant. They are intended to "repair" the damage done by sin, to heal the wounds which Christ--in His members m St. Ignatius of Loyola insists that a "disordered affection" is an affection which does not take into account the action of God in our life. To mortify this affection, (I) w~ starve it by not allowing it to exercise its influence and (2) we pray that God may change this af-fection. It is obvious how important Ignatius considered both the initiative and the decisive influence of God's action in us; for this reason he puts great emphasis on the necessity of prayer when troubled by "inordinate attachments." See Spiritual Exercises, Nos. 16, 157. ÷ ÷ ÷ Mortit~ation VOLUME Z4, 1965 375 ÷ ÷ William J. Rewak, Sd. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS --has suffered, to open the channels of sanctification that we all may live healthy, grace-filled lives. Christ does not suffer, but His members do: the loss of grace, caused by the power of sin. The dialogue must be re-established, and our acts of mortification do effect, in ourselves and in our neighbor, through the mercy of God, the resurgence of the Christ-life. For within the mystery of the Mystical Body, there is room for mutual help--and this in the sphere of grace alone. This re-vealed fact in itself attests to the mysterious character of the organic union of this Body: "For we the living are constantly being handed over to death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus may be made manifest in our mortal bodies. Thus death is at work in us, but li[e in you" (2 Cor 4:11-2). But many Christians, agreeing with the general nec-essity of mortification, point to the apostolate, as we have indicated, as source enough of that "dying" Paul insists we must undergo for ourselves and our brothers in Christ. Failure in the apostolate, the limitations of our personality in dealing with others, the rejection of love, the inability to be effective--these are real crosses to be borne by every apostle. They point also to the one great abiding mortifica-tion, the acceptance of personal death. Karl Rahner has said: We have only to recall that death, as an act of man, is pre-cisely that event which gathers up the whole of the personal human life of the individual into one consummation. We have only, too, to recall, as Eutychius (A.D. 582) said, that there oc-curs "pragmatically" in death what had occurred mystically at the sacramental heights of Christian experience, in Baptism and in the Eucharist, namely our assimilation to the death of the Lord.~ And the death of the Lord was not an easy one. But self-chosen mortification, we affirm, performs ex-actly the same function, and that is one of the reasons it is so necessary. Just as personal death demands activity on the part of the Christian, so should our mortification, for mortification prepares us for and establishes a begin-ning and an acceptance of our final assimilation to the death of the Lord. Acceptance of suffering, of the crosses meted out to us in our apostolate, has great value; but it does not reach the depths of the personality as our self-chosen acts do. It is easier to accept .the loss of something we hold dear than to throw it away of ourselves. The blame can al-ways be put on circumstance, on someone else, even on God; and this is a consoling thought, for it is hard to ~a Karl Rahner, S.J., On the Theology of Death (New York: Herder and Herder, 1964), p. 77. blame ourselves, to freely commit ourselves to a dying in Christ. Penances imposed from without are .not free from the nonchalance and superficiality of routine. What may pass for a religious act may often be unthinking obedience. As Fr. Rahner says: One has only to have heard something, however little, about depth psychology, repression, substitution, self-deception, etc., to have to agree that thousands of "religious" and "moral" acts can take place in man which are induced by training, imitation, suggestion, mere instruction from without and a "good will" which does not reach to the real kernel of the person; acts which are not really religious acts because they do not stem from that level of personality, supernaturally elevated and ab-solutely individual, whose free fulfillment they must be if they are to signify, before God, the creation of an eternally valid life?' To maturely and effectively create a situation in which I turn back upon myself the hand of penance and deal a death-blow to self-love, is a fearful thing. Self-love is frightened of it; but self-love, inasmuch as it opposes God's interests and plans for me, must be hammered, molded, that a "new man" might appear whose affections are ordered to one end: that the Lord may appear in us. This creation of an act of mortification, then, reaches profound depths; it engages the whole personality, calls for a personal commitment that acceptance of suffering alone cannot command. What St. Paul calIs sarx--"im-morality, uncleanness, lust, evil desire and covetousness" (Col 3:5)---is rooted out only with dogged and ruthless persistence. "This kind can be cast out only by prayer and fasting" (Mk 9:18). Those who would reject all forms of mortification are, unwittingly, Platonists--any of the forms of false Gnosticism--for they make of us angels who do not need to be on the offensive against attacks of the "flesh"; they would not subscribe to a real Incarnation. Freely-chosen acts of mortification do prepare us for death because they anticipate it; but they also prepare us for the moral and physical suffering which we have admitted will be ours in the apostolate. There is no question of will power here: performing ten acts of morti-fication will not make my will ten times stronger than it was. It does increase our faith, our insight into the suffering Christ as He appears in mankind. We cannot make quick improvisations when Christ approaches in the sufferings we have not chosen. If we have begged for the grace of faith--for that is what we do when we "practice" mortification--it will not be lacking when the crosses He has prepared for us appear. To recognize Christ, where He is and who He is, is the fruit of a life of faith; this does not come full-blown from our hearts; it is the result of much hard labor. The Christian Commitment, p. 88. + + Mortification VOLUME 24, 1965 William ~. Rewak, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Besides, Christ has given us an example. It is surely not a coincidence that before His public life He fasted and prayed in the desert for forty days. This unique and signal attention to the Father for the good of men is our invitation to imitate Christ at this salvific moment of His life. We need not retire to the desert, conceived of as a geographical place. But the inner quiet, the fast-ing, doing battle with each one's personal "devil" re-stores an equilibrium that leaves us docile to the inspira-tions of the Spirit. Some type of solitude is necessary for every Christian, be he a contemplative, a diocesan priest, a lay apostle, or the busy parent of a large family. This solitude will take different forms, dictated by the person's own. spiritual potential, the age he lives in, the labors he must perform as a citizen in a highly complex social and economic structure. But some type of inner quiet seems mandatory for true growth in the Christian spirit: Solitude is a terrible trial, for it serves to crack open and burst apart the shell of our superficial securities. It opens out to us the unknown abyss that we all carry within us. And. soli-tude discloses the fact that these abysses are haunted: it is not only the depths of our own soul, unknown to us, that we dis-cover, but the obscure powers that are as it were lurking there, whose slaves we must inevitably remain as long as we are not aware of them. In truth, this awareness would destroy us, if it were not illuminated by the light of faith. Only Christ,, can open out to us with impunity "the mystery of iniquity, be-cause he alone, in us today as ]or us in the past, can confront it successfully.~ ~Bouyer, Spirituality, p. 313. Apropos of the "flight into the desert," Father Bouyer is at pains to dispel the misconceived notions surrounding the early Christian hermits. They were not inspired by net-Platonic spirituality; on the contrary, he states, there was nothing more evangelical than their primary motivation. Speaking of St. Antony, he says, "Anchoritism did not make Antony a con-templative unconcerned with the fate of his brothers; it made him a spiritual father beyond all others" (p. 315). He quotes the beautiful passage ~rom the Vita of St. Antony where, after twenty years, friends break down the hermit's door in their enthusiasm to be with him and to imitate him. This is what they find: "Antony came out, as one initiated into the mysteries in the secret of the temple and inspired by a divine breath. Thus, for the first time, those who had come saw him. They were lost in wonder: his aspect had remained the same; he was neither fat from lack of physical exercise nor emaciated by his fastings and struggle against the demons, but just as they had known him before his withdrawal. Spiritually pure, he was neither shrunken with regret nor swollen with pleasure; in him neither laughter nor sadness; the multitude did not trouble him, having so many people greeting him gave him no excessive joy: always equal to himself, governed by reason, natural" (p. 314). Antony recognized that solitude allowed him to discover the obscure forces he had within himself and to discover the means to cast these forces out. Solitude was not an end in itself: it was a victory of one Spirit over the others that made him seek it. "Men can no longer tempt him, separate him from God. On the contrary, it is he who now finds himself in a position to guide them, to lead them to God. Here Mortification in the form of a retreat, in the form of fasting, became a part of Christ's plan of the redemp-tion; we can do no better than to make it a part of the role we play in the redemption¯ And this is surely the key: by mortification we enter into the Christ-mystery. We become His Body, resuming in our lives His redemptive acts, pleading with the Father for the salvation of man; for mortification is a language, not a sign. It is a response to a Person who has initiated a dialogue with me through baptism and the sacraments and through His reve~led Word. God's action in history is a word to me now; I can only trespond by placing myself before Him as His son, by per~forming acts which indicate my willingness to accept His love, to treat Him as Father¯ I accept Him as the bes.t part of my life, the whole of my life. This is prayer, of course; and mortification, as a language, is an essent, al part of my prayer life. All of my acts as a Christian. are a prayer, and they all contribute to the consolation I should experience--as a Christian--in formal~ prayer. The formal prayer itself fills the reservoirs of f~ith and love, just as formal, self-chosen acts of moruficatlon do, so that my effectiveness in the Mystical Body, through Christ in me, is increased a hundredfold. My formal mortification will result in lived mortification. I The af-fections become ordered, their false security uhmasked by a judicious use of corporal and spiritual p.enances, and the inmost person is calmly and confidently la~d open to receive God's Word. I It must not be forgotten, however, that theseI acts are relative to my present insertion into the mystery of Christ; and so all must be ruled by an expertl discern-ment of spirits. To codify too carefully pemtentlal prac-tices in the novitiate, for example, destroys the'ir mean-ing and their effectiveness; it stultifies ~nventlveness and I often just creates matter for humorous stones. Young religious, no less than young lay people, must be edu-cated in the reality of sin in their lives, in the part they must play in salvation history; and only in this way, I ¯ through the direction of a wise spiritual father, ,will they discover the path of mortification which is suitable to them. result Uniformity of ascetical practices is often the~ of pragmatic spirituality. If everybody performs an act of mortification at a certain time in a predetermaned way, there is an implied assurance that all are r~ortifying themselves. This is hardly the case. St. Ignatius, la mystic who was keenly aware of the value of acts of Oortifica-anchoritism reveals how httle it is a way of escaping from charity. On the contrary, ~t ~s simply the means of effectively ga~m.ng integral charity" (p. 315). ÷ ÷ Mortification VOLUME 24, 1965 379 ÷ William ]. Rewak~ sd. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 380 tion, refused to set down any rules governing their performance: ¯. it does not seem good that in those things which regard ~Pgnsr,a ywear,t cmheindigtast iaonnd a ondth setru dayu,s oter rciotirepso,r aaln eyx reurclies essh souuclhd abse f alasti-d down for them except that which a discreet charity will dictate to each: provided, nevertheless, that their confessor is always consulted . ~ It is for this reason some countries and dioceses have cur-tailed or abolished the fasting rules. This action does not indicate the depreciation of the value of penance; it has been made obvious that the Christian obligation of penance now devolves upon the individual who, guided by the Holy Spirit and insured against error by the advice of his confessor, will perform more spontaneously and therefore more effectively the penitential practices suitable for him.27 It is not necessary that mortification be identified with corporal austerities, though these will ordinarily be useful to some extent. The best way 0f seeking mortifica-tion is in the sphere of human relations. There is much need here for broadening the scope of our penitential practices: seeking the solutions to others' problems, standing up for others' rights in the face of ridicule, intelligent obedience to legitimate authority--being a Christian individual, in other words, in a world where conformity is a despotic fashion. Father David Stanley says this was the real mistake of the Judaizers: they could not be Christian individuals in a society which con-sidered the cross of Christ a folly and a stumbling-block.~ s "As many as wish to please in the flesh compel you to be circumcised simply that they may not suffer persecution for the cross of Christ" (Gal 6:12). The state of mortification is a state of love; for love is the source of the dialogue that takes place between ~".non videtur in iis quae ad orationem, meditationem et studium pertinent, ut nec in corporali exercitatione ieiuniorum, vigiliarum aut aliarum return ad austeritatem vel corporis casti-gationem spectantium, ulla regula eis praescribenda, nisi quam discreta caritas unicuique dictaverit; dum tamen semper Confessarius consulatur . " Constitutions o! the Society of Jesus, P. VI, c. 3, n. 1 08~). ~ See Paul J. Bernadicou, $.J., "Penance and Freedom," R~vmw FOR Ra~LIOIOUS, v. 23 (1964), pp. 418-9, Father Bernadicou writes with conviction and persuasiveness of the need for expert spiritual guid-ance in the sphere of mortification. Karl Rahner applies this same principle of each one's unique entrance into and expression of the mystery of Christ to the problem of the relation between the indi-vidual and the Church, and here also insists upon the application of the discernment of spirits. See "The Individual and the Church," Nature and Grace, trans. Dinah Wharton (London: Sheed and Ward, 1963). ~ David Stanley, s.J., Christ's Resurrection in Pauline Soteriology (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1961)0 p. 78. man and God and results in man's response of faith, prayer, and acts of mortification. Love is forgetfulness of self because of the neighbor who is loved with the charity of Christ, and what else but this is an act of true penance? Kenunciation, then, cannot but be an exer-cise in joy, for where there is love, there is joy. Our self-chosen acts of mortification, performed at times in great spiritual unrest, are tokens of confidence: Man implicitly recognizes that he does not know where his true happiness lies and that it is hidden from him, but God knows it ~or him. He perceives it through the signs which reveal it to him: the escape from Egypt, the land of slavery, the crossing of the desert under God's guidance, the hope which dwelt in the heart of the wandering host making its way to the Promised Land. The desert is the apprenticeship of an austere joy which is like the dawn on the horizon of conscience.~ We do share in Christ's resurrection, having shared in his death; and consolation will ever be the keynote of authentic Christian experience. But the fullness of joy is not yet ours for we live in the eschatological age, an age of tension between time and eternity, hope and fulfillment. Acts of mortification take on, in this con-text, the character of witness. Asceticism is the eschato-logical attitude of the Church, an attitude that is most acute in religiou

Issue 11.4 of the Review for Religious, 1952. ; A.M.D. G~ Review for Religious JULY 15, 1952 Parallel Vocations . Nicholas H. Rieman Bibles . William M. Sfritch Unigeni÷us Dei Filius . Pope Plus x~ To a Master of Novices . Fra L. Ganganelli .Higher Education . Sister M. Bonaventure National Congress Questions and Answers Modesty Crusade Book Reviews VOLUME NUMBER REViI::W FOR RI::LIGIOUS VOLUME XI JULY, 1952 NUMBER CONTENTS PARALLEL VOCATIONS--Nicholas H. Rieman, S.J .1.69 BIBLES--William M. Stritch, S.J . 177 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 182 REPRINTS OF SPONSA CHRISTI . ¯ . 182 UNIGENITUS DEI FILIUS--Pope Plus XI . 183 BOOKS FOR.PRIESTS . 198 FOR ORGANISTS AND CHOIRMASTERS .1.98 LETTER TO A MASTER OF NOVICES--Fra Lorenzo Ganganelll 199 TEN-YEAR INDEX STILL AVAILABLE . 202 HIGHER EDUCATION AND "REAL RELIGION"-- Sister M. Bonaventure, O.S.F . 203 NATIONAL CONGRESS . 210 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 19. Prescriptions for the Chapter of Faults . 211 20. Precedence in Receiving Communion . . ¯ .212 SHALL I START TO DRINK? . 213 BOOK REVIEWS~ The Morning Offering; What is the Index?; The Seminarian at His Prie-Dieu; The Carmelite Directory of the Spiritual Life .214 BOOK NOTICES . 217 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 221 PROMOTE THE MODESTY CRUSADE . 223 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July, 1952. Vol. XI, No. 4. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September, and November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street; Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Jerome Breunig, S.J.; Augustine G. Ellard, S.J.: Adam C. Ellis, S.J.; Gerald Kelly, S.J. Copyright, 1952, by Adam C. Ellis, S.J. Permission is hereby granted for quota-tions of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U. S. A. Before writincj to us, please consult notice on Inside back cover. Parallel Voca!:ions Nicholas H. Rieman, S.3. ~yJE RELIGIOUS know the worth of our vocation. We rank it -W among~ur greatest blessin~gs. A precious gift in itself, it car-~ ries .with it numerouk other gifts, such as our. rpraye~-'and Mass, spiritual guidhnce', our companions," and our apostolic work'. We are glad we took the step knto religion, andewe miss no chance to draw others to religion too. .But perhaps we are not aware that our r~ligious vocation can be partly.sh'ared even with lay folks. A. molag the most effective ways we~h~ve of sha"ring our vocati6n ig encourag-. ing and conducting third 0rd~rs. confra:ernities, so'dalities and simi'- l'ar organizat!ons.~ The present article confines itself to. the parallel vocation as found in the Sodality'of Our Lads,. .' ¯ There is a special reason why tile possibilities of ~uch a Sqdality should be unfolded to religious.~ It is this: .while the director of-a Sodality must always beLa priest, yet"in a scho01or hospital the', actual l~andling of aSodality .is often left"to Brother Michael or to -Sister 3oan. Also, besides those who are moderators ofSodalities, many other religious superiors, principals, ¯floor. supervisors in.hos-pitals, teachers, nurses, he'ads of different ~ictivities--can help much. They.can lend interest and co0pfration to 'insure that the Sodality in their institutions be a true Sodality, and lay people bent on some-thing more than me.dioctity be drawn to its rankS. Many Feligious are, then, in a tposition to forward good Sodalities. By doing so;. they can share many of the benefits of a religious vocation with those who follow the la~; Sodal.ity vocation. - For m'embersbip in the Sodality is also a vocation. Our present Holy Fatber'has clearly in his Apostolic Constitution Bis Saecular~ placed the Sodality in the troop--sof Catboh"c ~-A "ctton. And Catholic Acti0n~-the words are thdse of Plus X'I is "a vocation strictly and properly so .called." ¯ It is not, of course? a religious vocation. Y,et if is ~ vocation, a way of life, a call to perfection.' The. S6d;ility is open only to those who are ready,.by Go'd's grace, to-adopt the'de2 .mandihg spiritual.and apostolic progr~am it involves. ' Btit'why is the Sodality such an ap't means for sh~iring With lay people something of our religious v6cation? 'F6r.the simple reason that the vocation, of a religious and that of a Sodalist are much alike. ¯ 1.69 NICHOLAS H. RIEMAN Review [or'Religiqus It is nottoo'mu~h t~ call them paraliel vocations, Only a~det~iled comparison will display how far-reaching this parallelism is. Of. course, only true Sodalitiei--those that follow the papal directives and the Sodality rules-~can prodiace this parallelism'and the result-' ant rich spiritual harvest. So, in pointing oot the resemblances.be-l~ ween t'he two vocations, I shall ~lso suggest how ~a Sodality must be co'nducted in order to secure these benefits. . What then. are some of the parallels between religious and So-dality life? First, becoming a Sodalist, like becoming a Franciscan or a.Sister of'Merry, is a lifetime,undertaking. Joining the So, dality is not like joining the staff of the school paper or the dramatic club. These latter are hobbies; the Sodality is a vocation, A Sodalist agrees to follow the Sodality way of life not just at school, but when on vacation, when working in a facto.ry or office, when married--in. short, for life. Pius XII. knows that very well: be never, says, "I wa~ a Sodalist, but always, '"I am a. Sodahst, although he took his act .of consecration and' entered the Sodality 56 years ago. More will b~ said later of the Sodality act of consecration. Here it isi'enough to.stress one thing. This consecration, and so the ac-ceptance of Sod, ality obligations that goes with it, is for life. True, a temporary act of consecration for 'a year can" be and sometimes is made in Junior Sodalities (those in grammar schools), since at that age level most of the candidates are sddom mature enough for a life-time dedication. But the ordinary act ofconsecration taken by teen-~ agers and adults is, as clearly, indicated in both its forms in the Sodality Rules, perpetual. The Sodality vocatioia, like a religious vocation, is perpetual. Besides being a. lifetime dedication, becoming a S6dalist is also, l'ike becoming a religious, a full-time occupation. One must be a Sodalist 24 hours a day. Just as being a Christian Brother .affects not only a. man's Mass and his meal-times, but his work and recrea-tion too, s6 being., a Sodalist doesn't mean only .attending meet.ings, saying one's rosary, 'and taking p~art in a cl0thes-for-I~or~a drive, 'Being a Sodalist must--and in a Sodality that follows the rules, does. --affect a boy's lock~r-room langu;ige, the kind of formal a girl wears to a prom, and every other action that fills the dajr of either of them. Tru.e, a Sodalist does not, as is generally true of religious, have his wgrk assigned by ~uperi0rs. 'Yet a Sodalist, just like any of us, has to show a good example and. beactively ap0s~olic every minute of his waking day. Nor is this an impossible ideal, a pipe. 170 dui~,1952 ~ARALLEL VOCATIONS dream. In Sodalities that follow Plus XII's stipulations and actually .require,observance of the. Sgdality rules, this is a normal result, re-alized, if not perfectly,. at least in large measure. The act of consecration to Our Lady which admits one tb the Sodality parallels very close.ly the vows of reli~ious orders. Even the .wgrding of the act of consecration in the St. Francis,de Sales fbrmula, ~clbsely resembles the vow formula of some religious. "It is not a vow, of. course, and so does not bind ur~der sin, but it is a solemn dedication. ~ And What doek the Sodalist promise? Pius XII gives us the'answer. "To apply oneself seriously to sanctity, each in his proper state: to dedicate .oneself, not in any manner whatsoever but 'with ardor, in ~the measure and manner compatible with each one,s social condition to the s'alvation and perfection of others: in a word[ to emplby oneself strenoously in the defense of the Church of Christ: such is the assignment of the Sodalist, freely, resolutely ac-cepted in theact of his con'secration." In short, he says, "conse-cration to the Mother of God in the Sodality is an entire gift of one-self throughout life and for all eternity." It is the solemn, acceptance of a way of life forall one's future vears. The act' of consecration is the cornerstone of the Sodality vocation, even though not absolutely required for valid reception. It should be for the incoming Sodalist a thing only a little less tremendous than. the taking of vows i's to .religious This act of consecration is often renewed by earnest So-dalistS, .just as rdligious often renew their vows, even though they are perpetual. The Sodality~onsecration is not specific~illy directed to vows' of r~overtv, cha'stity, and obedience, as are the.vows of religious. Still it implies that Sodalists practice these three virtues to a higher degree than ordinary Christi~ins. A special obedience to the hierarchy of the Church is requi.red by the Sodality's character as Catholic Action, and. was referred to by PiusXII as a prominent feature of Sodalities. A relative indifferdnce to material goods, is obviously necessary for the practice of a constant apostolate. Lastly, chastity--according to one's state, which doesn't necessarily mean celibacy--is naturally the ideal of one speci.all'y dedicated to.Mary. ¯ The Sodality, too, has its ~novitiate," call~d the probati6n. It is required of all candidates before admission. A religiolis,novitiate mus~ be a year lbng, and man~, orders and congregations require two years. How long is the Sodality probation? "Not less than two months" is required by.Sodality rules, but most effective Sodalitles ,171 NICHOLA~ H, RIEMAN " ~ x Revieu2 for'Reli~Tious rriake it.six months and quite a few of tlqem, especially thoke for hi~h" school students a.full ,year. The purpose of the Sodality p~b-bation is the same as that of a religious novitiate: tb acquaint, to test. t6 train. " " "It acquaints_ tl-i~'aspiraht with what the Sodality is.~ind how. it functions.'so that he can bi~tter "decide whether .hE wants to make-the" sacrifices inv~lved.It tests the candidate, and tries to find out whether~ he~ha~iwhat it takes.,to livEforevek the Sodality v~ay of life. It. trains him in" devotion to. Mary, in spiritual exercises ahd apostolic activi-ti~;: so that if- he ,is accepted, he ,will already-h'ave largely~, acquired the attitudes .and habits nee-ded to li,¢e and'act as/a Sodalist ghould. dust like.a, religlous novitiate. the Sodality 'probation is' heavily. weighted'on'the spiritual side. It stresses ingtructi'on, direction. 'and above, allT-prayer. ' " " '. ¯ -Like a religious.'order, or congregation. the S0dalit~ has its, rules. They.'are not-as demanding' as the rules of religious, btit tt~ey do clearly aim at a,high degree'of spirituality. They are all-in the pam-ph! et. Sodalit~l"Rule~. 'In his A1fostolic. Constitution of 1948 Pius XII.refers to them 25. times. It is clear that in. his mind an easy test of the calibre of"a Sodality.is whether it really keeps the rules. In a Sod~dity as."in religious orders the ~pirjt of the rules is always more important tha~ the letter, and'so Sodality rules w,hich refer only ,to procedure at, meetings and such topics should n'ot bd applied wood-enly . Yet the:rules embbdy the. spiril~ .of an organization, and if" th~yfallinto disregard and disuse, the rd'sult will be as disastrbus toa SQdality as: it would be to, a religigus'order.~ ¯ :-. In .its spiritual practices, and .to a. smaller exteni i~ its apostolic a.ctivity a °Sddality, clgsely parallels religious.c.ongreg~tions.- First, let.'us 'ma'ke a thorough survey of"it.s spiritual.exercises, for they are the dynamo on'wh.ich Sodality activities depend. Most .of these dai.ly duties are containe_d'in R.u:le 34 of the Sodality. This rule deserves to be quo,ted in full: ":Sodalist~ must be very careful, to p~actice'~hose exercises of piel~y which are most necess.a.ry for fervbl of life. Every morning.on ~i~jng,,let"them make 'the. acts of faith, hope, and'ch~r-ity; thank God our Lord for His.benefits:: offer Him their labors~ with the" intention of-gaining all",.the mdu.lgences~ they.can~.through-out that day;, and invoke 't~'e Blessed. Virgin'. by reciting thd Hail Mary three times. Le~t. tbem.':devote at least a quarter of an hour td mental prayer: be presenL if they can: a'~the adoiable Sacri}ice of,the Mass; and recite the most HolyoRosary, or some Office of Our'I2ady. 172 "dul~], 1952- PARALLEL VOCATIONS In the evening before retiring, let them carefully examine their con-science and make a fervent act of contrition, for the sins of-their whole life and especially for those committed on that day." The t~rst item mentioned on the day's spiritual schedule of a So-dalist is the prayers on rising:, faith, hope, love, thanksgiving, offering'of works, three Hail Marys. The aim of these brief vocal prayers is of.course to start the d~iy r.igbt, with and for God.They remind us at once of the "morning prayers~ . morning visit," or "first visit," of religious.They are a dedication of.the day to God. Next is mentioned daily mental prayer "at least a quarter of an hour:'" All religious institutes have, I believe, a half-hour of mental prayer, and some have more. The Sodality rule demanding daily mental prayer is as clear and unconditional as the rule of reli-gious c6n'gregations on. this point. The'only difference is in the length of time. The conclusion ought to be obvious. If a' religious-would not admit to vows a novice who did not regularly perform his meditation, why should we expect h S6dality to admit candi-dates who are not reasonably faithful in fulfilling this clear Sodality demand? Again, if novices need instruction in the bow-when-where- why of mental prayer to enable them to perform it profitably, won't Sodalists need the same? A Sodality in which the members are' faithful to their rule on mental prayer will be a Sodality that can move spiritual mountains, even if i~ has'only fifty members or even only ten. Further, says the rule, Sodalists must attend daily Ma~s "if they can." This practice, too. is modelled on that of religious. How-- ever,, for religious the "if they can" is gefierally an unneeded addi-tion: since their ~ommon life and work assignments are arranged so that it is a!ways possible for them to do so. Though daily Mass may sometimes be impossible for this or that Sodalist, such cases are rare. The trouble is that too often the '.'if they can" of the rule is taken to mean,"if th.ey choose': or'"if they do not find it incon-venient." But the John Carroll Univeisity Sodality, and marly another too, has sfiown that practically all Sodalists can atterld Mass seven days.a week if they want to. Daily Holy Cohamunion, of course, cannot be required of.Sodal-ists any more than it can of religious. But Sodalists in iheir Rule39, as all religious somewhere in their rules, are strongly urged to fre- ¯ quent and even daily Communion. Most Sodalities that observe the rules and require daily Mass find that all their members receive Corn- NICHOLAS H. RIEMAN . °. Reoie~o for ReligiO~s" .muni6n freq~uently, and the great majority of l~he.m~daily. Next the).Sodality rule requires daily, recitation of the rosary, or an Office of. Our La~y --- ~.g.; theOffice 6f the Ihamac~late .Concep-., tion. On day, s w.hen~the Sodality meets, such an Office, or part of it, is sometimes said or sung in common. ]3ut in their daily prac-tice, most Sodalists piefer the rosarY, and this .dail~ du.ty is o~ten perforrfied in"an ideal Way, with one's family. In religious orders and'congregation~, the daily rosary also forms, either by rule or by ¯ custom, part of th~ spiri(ual exercises, at least where the Office of Our Lady.is not required. Like most religious orders, the Sodality rules requir~.a daily ex-~¯ . amination of conscience at night. The reason is the same., We all know how a daily check on.our faults or virtues helps us to fiaake ,our following 0f Christ .a, practical thing, a love of deeds,and not. merely of imagination. The particular examen too, which focuses our attenti6n'or~ a "single virtue or fault, and in° which we religious find so much value, ought to be offerdd by us to Sodalists as well. A Sodalist, like a relig!ous,needs direction in this business;' of striving for p.erfection. Both need a ~piritual directo? to answer p.r~b~lems,.instruct, enc~ourgge. This i~ particul.arly trfie for the reli-gious nowce or the Sodality probationer, but it is true also for those who have already made their'lifetime consecration. S6dalists ought, to.~o to confession often; and to'get real spiritual direction from regular confessor. Rule 36 of the ~ddality is very clea~,on tl'Jis mat~ ter. .How, ever, although one's spiritual director is always a priest,~ still just as a novice-mistress can help her charges.greatly in their ori-entationto.~ eligious life, so fdr example in a girls' school, if'the So-dality moderator is a nun, she c~in on a more limited scale greatly "help her incoming Sodalists, ¯or those who are.already 'rnemb~rs, in their spiritual life.¯ Sodalis~s must make an annual retreat. Rule 9, which imposes" this i3b.ligat~on, does not set a specific l~ngtl~ of ti.me, b~t only says,¯ "There shall be a retreat every year for some days.-. " This rule does, however, str, ongly advise a clo~ed [etreat,° not fia~rely an ope,n retreat'in wl~ich the retreatants go home in the afterfioons. Also,-it cl,e.arly expects .tha~ the Sodali~(s' not only listen to t.alks, but perform meditations during the retreat~. For best rest.Its, too, the retreat h~uld, be fdr Sodalists only, just as theretreat a nun to be for nuns of her institute¯ only, not for a mixed gathering of nuns, priests, ' and .lay people. If such oa Sodality *r~treat is really im- 174- ¯ July, 19~2 -,~ PARALLEL VOCATIONS' possible, then even during the regular school or coll~ge retreat, Sodalists could make some speci~il m~ditations on their Sodality way of life,' and assign a special time for examen and for some spiritual readingdirected to" their own spiritual level. For~among Sodalists as ¯ -among re!igious the retre~it should be a powerhouse that makes its fotce'felt all through (he yea.r. It can do this best if it is adapted. to their'Sc~dality way of life., Closely" parallel in their spiritualduties a~d practices, the Sodal- .ity and.religious communities are para.llel, too,-though much less so,. .'in.their work, their apostolate. This is r;ot true of strict °contem-i~ lative orders engaging irf no outside activity, for while the prayer and penance and union with God of such contempla, tives'have an apostolic as well as a personal motive and .are in fact a tremenddus . apostolic weapon, yet they cannot, be called.external activity. 'But with religious communities engaging in external works, the Sodal, ity in its apostolate has certain likenesses. If'well understood, these, simi~ " larities will help us to cohceive,the Sodality more correctly; and mo~e.~ ¯ easily share with Sodalists our Own apostoli.c outlook, 'energy, and techniques. Apostolic work is, first of ,all, just as essential to the Sodality as to acfive:~eligious c~mmunities, and it is as deeply .rootedin pe"r-sonal sanctity. A teaching Brother who¯ recites~fill his pra~;e.rs me-ticulously but who is careless about preparing fo~ his classes is not' living.his rel~igious life f.ully.~ .Nor do~s a nursing ~ister have a-true view of he.r life.if she thifiks of holiness only as something personal,¯ and. does not see that.her.work demands sanctity, and depends 9n it. So .to_6 a Sodalist must see Sodality meetings and projects and his own day-to-d~iy contacts With his friends as part of his Sodality vo-. cation. He must clearly grasp, too, that ~11 Sodality action, since its aim is. to develop in men the grace-life, depends less on clever tech-niques. ~ban .on souls charged, with the grace of God. In the S0- dalit~ as in an active, religiohs ~c0mmunity, the spiritual and .the apostolic do not existside by side unrelated to each Other. The So~" dality does,riot have two goals; buta single goal; a spirit.ual- .apostolic goal. The.two facets, of that g0al are mutually dependent. One cannot exist without the other. Also, in the Sodality .as in religion, the apostolate is organized. 'Since the work of most S6dalists study and class, nursing,, office work, factory, work,, homemaking is riot, like the work ofia reli- ~ gious, °.directly. assigned by religious superiors, the activity-of the , 175 NICHOLAS .H. RIEMAN Reoiew ?or Religious S0dalists is both organized and individual. It .may be strictl~i or-ganized, that is, not only pl~nned in a meeting but carried out by a group. Such would be a weekly trip by S0dalists to theLittle Sis-ters of the Poor to help them care for their' charges. Sodality action may be planned together but cariied out individually, as in the con-tacting of busines~ firms to have them halt sexy advertisingor dis, play Christmas cribs. Or it may be completely indiv, idual, though inspired by Sodality ideals, as when a Sodalist persuades his or her non-Catholic roommate to go to Mass sometimes. Since we reli- -gious. even thdugh our work be hssigned, to some extent use these various apost'olic approaches ourselves, we can and should help So-d~ lli~ts with whom we deal to do the same. '"Among the primary ends of Sodalities." says Plus XI.I, "is to be reckoned every kind'bf apostolate. " " No form of apostolic ac-tion. therefore, is closed to the Sodality, and so the activities of a Sodality should be g~ired to.local needs. Such adaptation in the apostolate is a feature of not.a few religious orders and congrega-tions. We often kee the same order conducting schools on all levels, .foreign missions, hospitals, and sometimes, also parishesi Even if a congregation limits its work to education, its schools will not be car-bon copies.of, each other, but will be adapted somewhat to local con-ditions.'. The needs of each milieu are individual, and ju.st as our own apostolate ~as.religious is adapted to varying conditions, ~o we can show our Sodalists bow to do the same in their adtion for Christ. ¯ One thing more. It is almost to be expected of Sodalists that the choice of their future occupation b~ made due regard being had for their personal bent and quMifications on the basis of its al~ostolic Opportunities. One natural result of this is that'a vigorous.Sodality quickly becomes a rich source of vocations to priestly and religious life. But there are other implicatio~ns too. A Fuller-brush salesman can be an apostle, of course. But picture how much vaster are the apostolic p0ssibilities of a teaching position ' in a secular university, or of hel.ping to unionize the office-fforkers of America. . Certainly in a Sodality worthy of the name many of [he' membe.rs will choose their life's work from ~apostolic motivesl if we religious~ lay open to, ,them the potentialities. And we ought to. be adept at doing this, seeing that many of us chose our own life work .on that score. Enough has been said t6 show the fir-reaching similarity in various ways. ,between the religious life and the way of life of a true Sodalisf. The Sodality is not, of course, a religious order or con- 176 ¯ ¯ BIBLES' gregation, not even,'a~Third .Order, "among other reasons because.all Sodalities, except for the small minority in Jesuit, houses, are u£det i~piscopal direction. The Sodality has always tal~en care. to make this point clear.' Yet the Sodality does ~losely parallelreligious br-ders in their novitiate,and vov~s.and rules, in the spi~iti~al exercises they practice, and even in part in .their apostolate. These parallels are something we religious can. well ponder and utilize, for they have an important meaning for us. ~ They mean that we cannot expect Sodalities to be the kind of Catholic Action forces the Pope wishes them to be Unless we demand observance of Sodality .rules almost asreligious are expected to keep their rules. The~i mean that if we make our Sodalitie's,hll.that they should be, we can to ~.large degree and in a workable way shareeven with zealous laymen and laywomen, boys and girls, the multiple graces and advantages of our ownreligious vocation. Many of the same tools that we use to advance toward sanctity and to draw others to Christ can be used too by.our zealous lay people, ifwe con~luct Sodalities ascording to the mind of Pius XII,and en~ourage such lay people to membership in those Sodalities. By fostering viggrous So-dalities we can share with lay persons something, of the "pearl of great price" that is our religious vocation. For tb be a religious and to be a Sodalist are parallel vocations. Bibles William M. Stritch, S.J. THE following rare .and, curious editions of _the Bible, mainly non,Catholic, a~e famous either for so_me eccentricity of their ¯ translation or for some remarkable feattire o~ their publication. The Aitken Bible. The first whole English Bible printed in the United States,. by Robert Aitken;0Philadelphia, in 1782, and at l~i~' own expense. HeIost about $3000.00 on his ~renture, owing to the ,number of copies imported from England shortly afterwards. The title page, six by three and a half inches, bore the coat of arms of the State'of Pennsylvania, and says ~he project w~as appr'oved (bu~tnot sul~sidiz.ed)' and recommended by .the U. S. Congress assembled 177 WILLIAM M. STR[TCH .: ~ ~ RetJieto September 12, 1782. This edition" of 'the King James known.hlsQ as the "Bible of th~ Revolution," is more rare than even the Gutenberg Bible,notmore.than twenty-fiv~ copies .being known to exist. The~Library of. Congress copy Was acquired in 1891 for $650.00. The Breeches Bible. )klthough Wyclif in 1380, and Wm.Cax-ton in 1483,rendered the word translated "aprons" in Gen. 3:7, by the word "breeches." it ~emained for the .16th century Geneva Bibles to' be called ."Breeches-" Bible.' They were printed in England for only forty-one years, yet proved so ~p0pular .that even today those wl~o make no preterise to be Bible collectorslike t6. boast thaLthey, possess a "Breeches" Bible. The "Breeches"~ Bible of 1560 was the ¯ first Bible in English to be divided'into verses. The 1594e~lition is famous for havi.ng, the date "1495" on the New" T.es~am~nt title page~ ,The ~Bu~,Bible. An English,translation of th~ Bible printed,in 1551 ?by.John Daye; and so called from the rendering of the verse in Ps. 91:5, '.'Thou shall¯ not"nede' to be afrayde' f9~ eny bugges by nyghte~" A Copy of this Bible is, or was, until the outbreak0f'w~ir in 193.9, i~n .the library of the town'of Sc~uthampton, Ehglarid. : The Carey Bible. To Mathew Carey (1760-1839) of Phila-delphia gqes the ho.nor of publishing for'the first time {n the United States: . THE HOLY BIBLE Translated from lthe Latin ¯Vulgate ¯ Diligently compared ~vith the Hebrew, Greek. and other editions in divers languages., a.nd first published by The English College at Doway, anno 1609 Newly. revised and "c~rrected, acco'rding to ,¯ The Clementine Edition of the .Scriptur~es with annotations 'for elucidating The principal difficultie~ of Holy Writ , (Title page of Cafey',s B~ble, ~Ph~ilad~lpl~ia, .publishedDec. ¯ . The Caxto~ Memorial Bible. In 18~77.~ fou~ hundredy~ars after ,the introdu.ction of printing int6 England, one ht)ndredcbpies.of this Bibl~ were printed and bound in.twelve, hours to celebrate th~ occa-sion.' . ~ ~ The Ears-to-Ear. Bible. So named because of.a m~isprint in an editic~n of 1810~ inwhich Matt. ~3:13 reads, ~'wh6 hath ears to bar let him hear.r' ¯ Also has "good w6rks" for. "dehd'works" iri St. Paul's."Epist.le to.the Hebrews, 9: 1'~. 178 Jul~ ~ 195~ " BIBLE~ " "The Geneoa'Bible. '~ t~anslation printed in 1560. It was the work of E, nglish Protestant refugees living in Geneva, whence its name. - The Great Bibl-e." Being the Bible."in largest volume."' It pos" sessed a title page of elaborate design, in which Henry VIII ~w.as de-picted as.handing 'Zthe word of God" $0 Archbishop Cranmer and other clergy on his right Band, and to Cromwell and various lay-peers on hi~ left. Thi~" Bible is'also known as the "Chained Bible," due to the fact that s~x of ther~ were "upon divers pillars in .(St.:) P~ul'~ chi~rch, fi~ed unto the same with chaihs for all men to read in them that would." A copy. of. this Bible,,on'vellum, is now St. John's College, Cambridge, Er~gl~nd, containing the.statement at the end that it was.';fynished in. Apryll, anno 1539." " The Indian B~'ble. Tbi~ is the first Bible.printed .in what is now the U. S. A., by 3ohn. Eliot, the Apostle tO the North American In- ¯ dians. ¯.The first Indian translation of the Bible was iia th~ dialect of the-Naticks, a Massachusetts trib.e .of the' Algonkins,. and was made under the auspices Of tile Corporatior; fcff the. Propagation of ~,the Gospels among the Indi~ng~of Ne~ En.gland. .The Nev) Testa-ment appe.ai.ed.first in 1661, and two years aftei, the entire Bible. Some Of the Indian words used by Eliot are so" extremely long that Cotton Mather thought they :must hhve been stretching .themselves ever since the confusion of the tongues at Babel. A second revised edition, wasoprinted in .16~5, only" twelve copies of which are know~n to exist. A copy.of the edition Of 1663.:sold some years, agc~ for $2,900.00. The Jefferson Bible. "This is a compilation made l~y~ Thomas Jefferson during'his first term as pre~idknt of the U.S.A, ~nd c~nsists of passages from the Four G0sp~ls cut out and'pasted in a book ac-cc~ rding tO a scheme of his own. Jefferson began the work in 1804', In 1895 the federal gox;ernment purchased this curious book from-. the Jefferson~heirs, and the original is n~w in the Natiohal Museum in'Washin~t0n. The Fifty-Seventh Cbngress (.190.1-03) issued a limited edition of'the Jefferson Bible to its members. The" Leda Bible. An edition published in 1572 and so called becaiase the decoration to the'initial at the Epistle to the Hebrews is a startling and i~congrubtis woodcut of Jupiter visiting Leda in the guise of a swan. The Gutenberg Bible, In 1930, by speciai ac~ of ~ongr, ess, the Library of Congress. purchased the Vollbehr collectign of 3,000 in-o -. ~ 179 WILLI'AM M. STRITCH Revieto ~or. Religious cunabula which included 6he of the three known perfect copies on xiellum Of the Gutenber'g Bible. The price p~id for the colledtion was $1,500,000. .The Bible itself was not. pri~ed, separately, but Dr. ~ollbehr paid $250,000 for it, which was increased by interest charges and an export' tax to a total in excess of.'$350,000, the hBiigbhlee'sst ppurbicliec aetvioern .p iasi hdo f~o rk an opwrinn,t endo rb coaonk .i tT bh'ee deexfaicnti tdealyte a ossfe trhteed that it.was.printed by Johann Gutenberg at Mainz. A copy of this Bible in the National Library of Paris. contains two manuscript dates, August 15, 1456, and August 24, 1456. It is therefore ap-' parenf that the Bible was printed before August, 14.56. Bibliogra-phers agree that Mairiz was the city.whekein it was p~oduced. The name of Johann Gutenberg, universally acknowledged as the success-ful inventor of the process of printing from movable metal type, ap-pears nowhere in the Bible, but we do-kno~¢ from available and con-temporary evidence that he Was deeply interested in it, and for' that reason this Bible is c6mmonly referred to as the Gutenberg Bible. Printed in a large .gothic type, the edition contains 641 printed leaves. The two other perfect,vellum ~opies are owned by the Brit-" ishoMuseum in London and the National Library in Paris. No one knows how many capies of this Bible were originally printed, but at lea~t forty-five ~opies of this Bible. of which twelve are vellum copies, are extant today. The beautifully printed and well' preserved copy in the Library of Congress is appraised at $1,,000,000 and is known as "the choice~ book in Christendom,." The Leese~ Bible, Although parts of the Hebrew scriptures had been preyiously translated into English for Jewisl~ use, the first com-plete English Old Testament for that purpose was translated by Isaac Leeser and published in 1853. Leeser fOllowed the style of the' King James Versioh, but made so many changes in the text thai his work is essentially a.n independent translation. This monumental work held its place in English and American synagogues until it be-gan to .be replaced by. the Jewish version of 1917. ,The Murderers Bible. An edition of 1801 in which the mis-print murderers for murmurers makes Jude 16 read "These are tour- .deters, full of complaints,, walking according to their own desires." ¯ ThePtacemakers Bible. An editionof the Geneva Bible, 1562, so called from a ,printer's error in Matt. 5 :9 "Bles~ed are the place-makers (peacemakers) fo~ they shall be called the children of God." The Printers Bible. An edition of about 1702 which makes Da-i80 BIBLE~ vid pathetically complain that "prin~ers (princes) havepersecuted me" (Ps. 119:161)'. The Rebecca's Cdmels Bible. Printed ii~ 1823 in which Gem -24:61 tells us that "Rebecca .arose. and her camels." instead of "her damsels." The Standing-Fishes Bible.Bible printed in 1806 in which Ezek. 47:10 reads "but it shall come to pass.that fishes (instead of fishers), shall s~and upon it,'; , ~Tbe Smith'Bible: .Julia Evelina Smith (179~2-1886) of, Glas-tonbury, Conn., transla'ted the Bible into English from .Latin, Greek, and'Hebrew, ~ind h~s be~n the only woman to translate the Bible in any language. She started the project when she Wfi's 77 years of age and cgmpleted it when 84. Her translat,on of the Bible was published in Hartford, Conn., in 1876, arid at her'own~expense. The To-Remain Bible. Bible printed at Cambridge, England, in 1805. Gal. 4:29 read.s,. "Persecuted hini that was born after the ~pirit to remain., even' so it is now." The words "to remain" weie added in error by the compositor, the editor having answered a proof-reader's queryas to the comma after "spirit" with the penciled reply "to remain" in the margin. The Thumb "Bible~ An edition published in Aberdeen, Scot-land. in 1693. It measured one inch square and half an inch thick, and was calle~ "Verbum Sempiternum." A Mr. J. W. Bradley, Halifax, Nova Scotia, has what he bMieves is the world's smallest Bible. Measuring only-5/8 of an inch square with 500 thin pages. It was printed by the Oxford Un.iversity Press in 1859. ~ The Treade Bible. An edition of the Bible published in 1568, and so ~alled from its" rendering of J~r.' 8:22, "Is there no treacle (instead of "balm").in Gilead?" The Unrighteous Bible. An edition printed at Cambridge, Eng-land, in 1653, containing the printer's error, "know ye not that the unrighteous shall inherit (for "shall not inherit")~ the Kingdom of ¯ God" (I Cor. 6:9). The same'edition, gave Rom. 6:13 as "n~ither yield ye your members as instruments of righteous unto sin," in place of "unrighteous." ." The Vinegar Bible. An edition printed at Oxford, E.ngland, in 17i7; in which the chapter heading of Luke 20 isgiven as~ "The Parable of the Vinegar/' instead of the "Vineyard;',' It was printed by J. Baskett; becauseof manyother errors it soon ca~e to be styled' WILLIAM M. STRITCH a basketful:of errors.". Copies of this edition are. very rare. Christ Chu.rch at Shrewsbury, New.dersey, is said to have one of the few° known copies i~n existence. "The Whom/Who "Bible. Both versions, Catholic and non- Catholic, admit that grammatical blundbr which for centuries bas rasped the nerves of sensitive purists, namely, . the questio~a of Our Lord, (Matt. 16:t3), "Whom do men say that .the Son of-man iS?" The revised (1881) American standard version and the Cath-olic Confraternity t)f Christian Doctrine version of 1941 rectify that error by making it "Who." In connection with the AmeriCan standard.version of 1881. it may be news to many of our readers to learn that the Chica9o Tribune published the whole version of the New Testamentdn a single special issue on May 22, 1881. The Woman's Bible. The idea appears to have been born in the mind of Elizabeth Cady Stanton. ¯ In a stout pamphlet, published in New York, 1897, the lady having appointed a tentative commit- .tee of twenty-three women, .instructed each member to purchase a Bible and go through it from Genesis .to Revelation, marking all' .the. passages, in which women were mentioned, these passages were then to. be cut out and pasted in a black book, and correct readings and " comments thereon written underneath. OUR CONTRIBUTORS SIST]~ M. BONAVENTURE, of the Sisters of St. Francis of Sylvania," Ohio, has been teaching graduate courses in Engl,ish at the Catholic University, Washing-ton, D.C.', for more, than a decade. NICH(~LAS H. RIEMAN, who has directed So-dalities as a Scholastic, is now' studying theQlogy at West Baden College, West Baden, Indiana. WILLIAM M. STRITCH writes from Campion High School, Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin. " ~ REPRINTS OF ~PONSA CHRISTI In May and July, 195 I, we p~inted the Apostblic Constitution, Sponsa Christi, and'the explanatory in'struction of the Sacred Congregation. of Religious. We now ha~e~some reprints of thi~ material that we can sell in sets' 6f ten and multiples of t.en., . The .price is one dollar for ten copies, and a dollar for each additional set, of ten. Please enclose payment with yohr order and address it to: REVIEW'FOR RELI- 61OUS, St.'. Mary's College,. St." Marys," Kansas: '." 1~2. Un ,"g e"n ,kDu si eFili us Pope Plus XI Apostolic Letter Addressed to the Suprem, e Heads of Religious Orders on the Care of Religious DisciplineI [.EDITOR'S NOTE: The ptirpose of this important document, in the wdrds of its author, Pope Pius XI, is: "to urge members of religious institutes, both those who are already priests and those who are candidates for the priesthood, to the study of the sacred learning, the absence of which would~ prevent them from performing with full competence the functions of their vocations." 'It is printed here at the request of a number of our subscribers. Though directed chiefly to religious clerics, the content, particularly the'sections indicating how sound theological learning can deepen the interior life, may also provide other religious with material for fruitful meditation. Sub-titles have been inserted.] BELOVED Sons: Health and Apostolic Benedictioia. The only-begotten Son of God, entering the world to re-deem mankind, was not content with imparting those sp[r.itual precepts the observance of which brings ~ill men to their:appointed .end. He ~eclared. also that those who wished to follow His foot-stbps more closely should embrace and practice~ the evangelical counsels. Whoever pledges himself by vow to observe these counsels strips himself not only of those encumbrances which retard our progress on the road to ordinary sanctity--riches, family cares, or immod-erate liberty in the.use of material things--but mox~es so directly and unreservedly towards a life of perfection as to seem almost to have attained'the haven of eternal salutation. ' ~. Wherefore from the earliest Christian era there have never been wanting souls who have harkened to the whisper of¯ God and, nobly and' generously denying themselves all things, have entered the way of perfection and indomitably persevered therein. Histor~ witnesses continuously to the sacred army of men and women who have con-secrated and pledged themselves to God in various religious Orders and congregations which, through the centuries, the Church has solemnly approved and ratified. ¯ N~r do these _religious communities bear the same unvarying spiritual character. The life of perfection, though in essence unchangeabie, inanifests itself in a variety of fruitful forms. In. 1AAS 16:133-48 (1924) ~ 183 POPE PIUS XI Review for 'Relioiofis separate and distinctive manners, with diversified exertions of charity and zeal'do the varidus orders Of religious S6uls, according to the ~pecial ways of theii'institutes, pursue th~ ~16ry of Gdd and the sal- . vati~n of their neighbor. . , From this wide diversity of. religious orders, as ~rom trees "of." manifold species in God's spiritual garden, springs a.gloriouslvariety of spiritual fruit unto the salutation of men. Such striking complex- " ity of fo~m with basic unity of design, such identity 'of aim v~ith precise distinction of spheres, presents a .spectacle of impressive and monumental ,beauty. It is a dispensation of Divine Providence that new needs of,the .times should call forth and nourish r~eligious congregations specially adapted to the meeting of these fresh exigencies. And so the Apostolid See. under whose standard religious orders pHr~arily serge, mindful of th~ blessings which at all times they have cbnferred upon. the Church and Upo, n civil society, h~as ever cherish[d these holy instkutes with peculiar solicitude and affectl0n. , The sti~reme pontiff has always rdserved tohimself the approvin~ and confirming their constitutions and statutes: he h~is in times of crisis tirel~ss'ly defended them from their' adversaiies: and'. when. occasion.so demanded, he has not been slow in rec~illing them-to their pristine.observanCe and to their original reverence for the glori-ous ideals 0f their respective rules. This great concern of the Church that religious men Should be pre-erfiinent in adherence to the holy laws of thei? order and that they should constantly increase in perfection, is manifested by the solemn decrees and exhortations of the Council of Trent. "Let all regulars, both men and'-women, mold and regulate their lives in keei~ing with.the iule fhey. profess; particularly let them faithfully -observe whatever pertains to the perfection of their professibn, the vows 0f poverty, chastity, and.obedience, and any others which may be peculiar to.their particular institute or ha~,e bearing ,on th~ ,ob-servance of common life, both in food and in clothing.''z ~ The Code of Canon Law, in its.preface to the section on regula-tions for religious men and women, b_r[efly describes and defines th~ religious life as'being ao"stable mode of. living in common by which ,the faithful, undertake, besides the ordinary precepts of the faith. ~he evangelicalcou~asels through the'instrumentality ~of the yows of obedience, chas~ity~, and poverty . . . and thus proceed in the way,of ZSess. XXV. c. I". De Reoul. i84 July, 1952 UNIGENITUS e~angdical perfection." Thi~ religious state, declares the Code dis-tirictlE, is: to be ."esteemed highly by all."3 Tb extent indeed of Our ~onfidence in the virtue ~f religiou's men, and in their helpful co-operation, We ha~e-already demon-strated in Our .encyclical letter Ubi Arcano, affectionately addressed tO the bishops of the Catholic world'. We ~said therein, that for,more. than one reason we relied ~r,eatly. on the regular clergy acthally:t.o apply the remedies We bad proposed to meet the many evils under which human society was laboring. ¯ Further, in Our former letter on the supervision of .clericfil studies, addressed to the Cardinal Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for Studies in Seminaries and Universities, in the identical embrace of Our purpose and~in Our deep solicitude to proyide for the training of clerics called to the sacred ministry, We included_equ~liy as~well' member~ of religiou~ orders, since what we ¯therein observ.e.d and decr~ed affectedthem in great measure too. at least such as are destined, for. the priesthood. Nevertheless, We are urged, dearly beloved sons. ,by Our loving and vigilant concern for your goo.d, to address, you byspeCial letter and to present certain admonitions to you which if your spiJ:itual sons will but observein their conduct and intercourse.thei'r pro-- -cedure and the whole tenor of,their lives will undoubtedly be such as is impera(ively demanded of them by. the truly unique and ~sub- -lime voc~ition.¯really divine, which is theirs. Revet:ence for Fot~nder First of all. We exhort religious men to ~'egard the founder of ~their order.as the supreme example to befollowed. The "religious who so regards the father" and lawgiver of his institute, will .more certainly and more abundantly partic'ipate in the divine grace deriv, ing from a religious vocatiofi. It is-abundantly clear that those men of" pre-eminent sanctity, When they established their religious congregations, obeyed a divine impulse. As long, therefore, as the son reproduces in his life °the special mode of sahctity conceived by th~ father as the distinctive mark 8f the congregation, the son will not be recreant to the obliga-tion'assumed whefi he entered religioh. Wherefore let religious men. as devoted sons, dire~t their thought and care to defend, the honor of their founder and father both by obedience, to hi~ .pre.s~'riptions and admonitions, and by imb,fing 31C 487[ 488 POPE~ PlUS Reoiew [or Religious themselves with his spirit. Nor will they. fall from their estate as long as they walk in the footsteps of their founders: "And their-children for their .sakes remain forever. Would that religious would so loyally adber,e to the rules of their institute and so retain the manner, of life established, that ithey would show themselves ever.y day more worthy of the religious state. Such fidelity cannot fail to win for the manifold ministries which they exercise' at all times the powerful support of heavenly graces. In all our activities let us seek only the kingdom of God and His justice: and this should be the sole objective in those works which, beloved son~, are wont to occupy the efforts Of most of your spit, itual subjects: sacred missions, and, the. education of youth. As for " the,apost.olate,-.let them take care thai in their'foreign missions, as My predecessor wisely admonishes,s they do not employ ~he Gospel to further the interests of their country or to increase its ppwer. Let them r~ither !ook'only to the eternal salvation of the infidels, while at the same time. elevating their material standards of living to the extent that this may fo[ward their progress to eternal happiness. Those religious whose duty it is rightly to instruct and educate youth-must be especially careful lest, too much preoccupied with training theik students to excellence in fine arts, they so neglect the religious development of their minds and hearts that their students enter the world wellZinstructed indeed in letters, but totally ignorant of sacred, science. LWhoever lac,,ks this is deprived of themost precious and most beautiful of all adornments and. lives in the greatest empti-~ hess of soul: "All men are vain, in whom there is not the knowledge of God.''6 The Seraphic Doctor speaks appositely in this .regard: "This is the fruit of learning, that faith should be built up in all men, tha.t God should be honored, morals elevated, and those conso-lations derived which/pring from the union of the beloved with. her divine.SpouSe through supernatural dharity.''z I. BENEFITS OF SACRED LEARNING Since it is of the highest importance that this knowledge of sacred science should be held in the greatest esteem and deeply imbibed by the mihisters of the Church, the chief concern, of this Our exhorta-tion is tO urge members of. religious institutes, both those'who are 4Ecclesiasticus 44 : 1 "~ 5Epist." Apost. Maximum Iliad, November 30, 1919 6Wisdom 13:1 7De Reductione Atrium ad Theol., n. 26 186 Ju/g, 1952 UNIGENITU~' already" priests and those Who are candidates for the priesthood, to the study of the sacredlearning, the absence of which would pre-vent them. from performing with full competence the functions of their vocation. For those who have conseciated themselves to God the one, or certainly the chief, obligation is that of prayer and the contemplation or meditation on divine things. How can they rightly fulfill tlqis solemn duty without, a profound and intimate compre- _hension of ~h~ doctrine of faith?. The necessity of such study'We 'urge on those pa~iicul~rly who devo'te their lives to divine contem-plation in the cloister. Such souls ~rr indeed if they believe that after having previously, neglected or later discontinued their theological "studies, the$ can, though deprived of that copious kn.owledge 9f God and the mysteries of faith which is derived from the sacred sciences, readily move in a high spiritual plane and be'lifted up and borne. aloft to interior union with God. 'Help in Apostolate As to those who are engaged in teaching or preaching or in the cleansing of souls in the sacrameht of penance, or are sent on sacred missions or pursue tti~ir ministry in daily familiar intercourse with people, shall not .the vigor and efficacy, of these manifold activities be in exact' proportion to the high degree of erudition" with .which they are perfected, and adorned? The Holy Spirit, too, the Paraclete, by.the lips of His prophet, has proclaimed the priest's n~ed of a comprehensive and in~imatel knowledge of sacred science: "The lips of the priest shall keep knowledge.''s How can solid theological learning be lacking in the legate of the Lord of wisdom,9 that legate who is minister and doctor of the New ;F~stament, ~alt of the earth,~° and light.of the-world,n the legate .by whose tongue the Christian people recei;ce the words of eternal life? " Let those trembl~ for themselves, therefore, who approach the sacred ministry with minds ill-equipped with holy learning:. Not unscathed shall they stand in their lack of preparation, before Lord, who has spoken the awful threat: "Because thou hast rejected. kn6wledge, I will reject thee, that thou shalt not do the office of pi'iesthogd to Me.;'~2 Moreover,.if ever in the past it behooved the 8Malachias 2 : 7 9I Kings 2 : 3 l°Matthexv 5 : 1 3 ~20see 4 : 6 187. POPE PIUS XI - " ' \ Rebietu For Religious ¯ priest to be adorned with le.arning, much more so is thai .quahty required of hin~ in thes~igresent times when in,.all spheres of human activity learning arid science are valued at such high ,price and are so closely bound" therewith that men, even thuse who are less wise-- as.is almostalwi~ys the case boast that whatever they do, the3/do in [he hattie of science:. So. let us strive with intense earnestness that the Catbolic /aith be sustained b.y the support and protection of human learning of every kind. In the light which thislearning casts th~ beauty of revealed truth will .be Unfolded before ~he eyes of, all and tile falsity of the ¯ captious chaYges ~vhidh pseudo-science is wont .to heap up against the ¯ ~dogmas i~f faith will be exposed as. occasion may requite. ' For. as'Te~tulliamhas so beautifully written: our faith "anxious-ly desires one, thirig.only, that she benot condemned unheard.''u In the same connection, let .us not forget the "words of Jerome: "Piety Without culture profits itself alone, find, however much by personal merit it builds up Christ's church, it yet equally harms her by silence in the faceof her adversaries . ~. It is the priest's duty, to answer whenever ~he law is calleqdue isnti o.n. -, And so the priest, "both secular and regular, must. propagate Catholic doctrine as widely as possible, and illuminate and defend it. This,doctrine of the Church not only contains all that is needed to" refute and disprove any objections which may b.e ¯urged against it, but., ~rovided it be,clear_Iv, explained, cannot fail to draw~ souls to " itself, if only they" be free from p, rejudice. This truth'was not missed by the great doctors ~Sf,the so-called Middle Ages. Led by Thdmas Aquinfis and Bonaventure they exerted themselves to, drink as defiply as possible of the waters'of divine wisdom and go comm,unica,te their knowledge to others. ' - Help for Interior Life There is, beloved sons, the furthe~ advantage that the v~y effort of mind and talent and powers which you~ members will expend in the pursuit Of.}hese studies will effect that they will imbibe the reli-gio, us. spirit more deeply and-will fittingly sustainthe honor and digni.ty of the exalted state of life Which they have embraced. For h~e who ~nters upon the study of theology addresses himself to a weig,.hty task indeed; and one invoIving, intense labor and'heavyin,- convenience. It is a task admitting no slothfulness or laziness, which ~3Apol., I . l~Epist, ad Paul.in,. LIII- (al. CIII) , 188 July, 1952 . UNIGENITUS is the mother and mistress of many evils.15 But the earnest student, applying,himself wholeheartedly to this truly hard intellectual labo} acquires the habi~ not onlyofcirc~umspection in ju~gmeht and' delib-eration in act, but repres~ses also and 'dominafes more easily hi~ pas-sions wh'ich, .if allowed loose rein,' grow steadily Wors~ and hu}ry the s.oul tothe abyss of all vices. In this iegard Jerome writes: "Love the scienc~ of Holy Scrip'ture and y~u will. not love the vices of the flesh.':16 And again~: "The knowledge of the S~,riptur~s begets virgins. 17 But the religious man shouldbe urged to these studies by a fur-t- her motive the.re~li.zation of the gra~city .of the obligation, arising from his very vo~atioi~, of achieving a' perfect degree of virtue. It is clearly imt3ossible for anyone to progress efficaciously toward perfec-tion and to reach it safely without practicidg the interior life. But can this interior life be developed and strengthened by an.y more effectiv~ means than the study of-things divine? ~Persistent and daily meditation on those marvelous gifts of nature and of grace and on ~individual men will cohsecrate one's thbugh~ts and feelings, and lift them. up to heavenly things; .nay more, it fills men With the spirit of faith and unites them in closest intimacy, with God. For, who reproduces in himself more perfectly the image of Christ, 2esus than he who ass~rnilates to his v.ery.flesh and blood the dog,matic and moral truths of divine revelation.?. 'Most wisely,, then, did the founders" of religious °orders. fol-lowing the lead of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church, ~ommend with more than ordinary earnestness to their sons the .study of the sacred sciences, o It has. bdsides, been proved by experience, beloved, sons, that those of your religious who most devotedly have'-applied their intellects to the study of the teachings of the faith, have as a rule been all the more successful in achieving a higher and more com-prehensive degree of sanctity; whil(on the contrary,.those who have neglected this sacred duty have often lfipsed into tepidi'ty and have sunk not infrequently into a condition of spiritual deterioration in- 'volving even the violati6n of their vowS. Wherefore, let all religious remember the words of Richard of St.Victor: "Would that each of us Would immerse himself in these studies all the day long until" the sun set, until the love of vain things graduallygrow weak. until the heat of concupiscence be extinguished and the Wisdom of~carnal pru- ¯ lSEcclesiasticus 3 3 : 2 9 ~6Epist. ad Rust. CXXV. (al. IV) ~TComm. ~fi Zach, ].II, c. l O 189 ¯ POPE PIUS XI : Revleu2 for Reliflious ~d~nce grow cold.''~s .We exhort religious men also to make their own .the prayer of St. Augustine: "May Thy Scriptures be mY ,chaste delight" may I not err in them, nor deceive because of them.''19 II. DIRECTIVES FOR TRAINING.OF CLERICS Since, then, the constant and attentive pursuit of sacred doctrine brings such rich emoli~ments tb religious men, it,is clear, beloved sons, how weighty, is your obligation to provide for your subjects every opportunity for theological study and' for continued contact, with theological science, at every subsequent stage of their religious life. We must realize, moreover, how much future, candidates for religion are benefited by a proper formation and training of their mind and will from their earliest years. In the first place, in these courupt times Christian education is sadly neglected, in the home ~nd the young, exposed to widely prevalent snares of evil, are deprived of , that solid religious instruction which alone has power to mold char-acter in conformity with the divine commandments or even with a .humanly decent.mod~ of life. It follows, therefore, that yqu can take no more advaptageous measure in this regard than the establish-ment of preparatory seminaries and c011~ges for yourig men who give some indication of possessing a religious vocation. We observe with deep satisfaction that in a goodly n, umber of places such insti'tutions are in fact being founded. In this matter, however, you are,to take to heart the admonition.addressed by Ou'r predeces~sor, 'Pius X, of 'holy memory, to the superiors of the Dominican Order. The Pontiff warne'd against admitting too readily, or ifi too great numbers youths whose aspirations after that hol'y manner c;f life are not certainly i~- spired from on high.-,° After having given long and prudent consid7 eration therefore to the selection of young men as candidates for the religious life, ~ou "will take great care that, along with instruction in piety suited to their years, those lower subjects be taught them which are usually taught in the q~mnasia,~'I so that'they do not enter the ¯ novitiate before they have finishe'd the humanities, unless indeed a sufficiently, sound reason advises otherwise in a particular instance. It is an obligation not only of charity but even of justice that you should display the utmost assiduity and diligence in this matter¯ of the education of your young candidates. If by reason of the small 18De ditT. sacrif. Abr. et Mariae, I 19Conf., lib. XI, c. 2, n. 5 20EpiSt. Cure Primum, ad Mag. Gem O.P., August 41 1913 ~1IC 589 190 dulg~ 1952 UNIGENI ,TUS: number of members in an institute, br for other reasons, a province¯ has insufficient facilities fo} imparting this education prescribed by canon law, let the young men be sent¯ to anothe~ province or to another seat of learning where they can be properly taught according to the directions of canon 587. Preparator~l Schools In i'he lower ~chools, however, let the injunction of canon 136~4 " be religiously followed: ':The most honored place in the curriculum is to .be awarded to religious instruction, diligently imparted in a manner suitable to the ability and age of each one." For this instruc-tion, furthermore, only those books are to be used which are approved by the ordinary. It is to be remarked incidentally ~hat even students of scholastic philosophy should not omit this study of Christian doc-trine. They will most profitably use that golden book, the Roman Catechism, a work in which one is at a loss which to admire more, the wealth of sound doctrine or the elegance bf the Latin style. If your clerics, from tbeir earliest youth, accustom themselves to draw their knowledge of sacred truth from that fount, they will not. 9nly come to theology better prepared, but also, .from familiarity with ¯ that "excellent book they will learn how to teach the peopl,e wisely and to combat with skill the lie~ which are wont to be chattered against revealed truth. , , Those iniunctions which, in Our Apostolic Letter Ot~ciorum Ornnium, We addressed to the diligent attention Of the Catholic bishops concerning study.of the Latin tongue, We urge and co.mmand youalso, beloved sons, to observe in your literary schools; for to you also pertains that law of the Code which, concerning students pre-paring for holy orders, says: "Let them be carefully taught languages~ particularly. Latin and their native tongue.''22 The high imp.ortance bt~ an accurate knowledge of Latin in your young religious is sug-gested by a multitude of reasons. Not only does the Church.employ that lang.uage as a servant and bond of unity; but we also iead the .Bible in Latin, we chant and offer the Holy Sacrifice in Latin, and we perform.in .that tongu~ nearly all ttie sficred rites. The Roman Pontiff, besides, addresses and teaches the Catholic world in' Latin, and the Roman Curia employs no other tongue in ,tra6sacti~g its business and in formulating decrees which apply to all the faitht~ul. He who is n~t well 'versed. iri Latin is much embarrassed in his ap- 2alC 1364, 2° 191 POPE PlUS XI Review for Relig~ous, proach to,~thos( rich v61ume~ of the Cht~rch's Fathers: and Doctors, many of whom used no' Other medium of expression in explaining '.and defending Christian.dbctrine. -Let it then.be your earnest aim that your clerics, destined for ".the .future ministry of the Church, shall attain a real:mastery of'and a very practica!.familiarity with that language. Novitiates " ¯ Their p~ri~paratory studies concluded, the students and all.c~andi-dates, whose determination to consecrate themsel~ces "to Godhas been proved and whose good character, more than mediocre mental gifts, spirit of piety; and integrity of morals have been established to the satisfaction of their dffectors, may be admitted to the novitiate. I~ th.e"'no~ritia~e, as in a sort of training ground, they shall, learn .by actual practice the principles and virtues of the religious life. How impc~rtant it is that.the souls:of the candidates should be " mos~ carefully trained during-this period of n6vitiate may be learned. not only from the testimony of masters of the religious life. but "most of all from experience. This latter teaches that no' one reaches and maintains'himself in a state of religiou~ perfecti0n~unless he has first laid in his soul the foundations ofall the virtues. Wherefore let the novices, eschewing all profane studies and othe~ attractions. concentrate entirely, under th'e guidance of their directors, 6n the exercises of theinterio.r life and the acquisition, of virtues, tfiose par-ticula. rly .which are most intimately connected and associated with the vqws Of religion poverty, obedience, and chastity. "Extremely helpful to this end will be the reading arid considera-tion of the Writings of St. Bernard, of ,the Seraphic Doctor Bona-ventuie, and of Alphonsus Rodrigud-z, as well as.~of those spiritual masters who are the special ornaments of each particular institute. Time has dot only failed to dim or lessen the, force and e~cacy of these teachers~ but has even heightened their Val~e in this our day. Nor should the novice ever forget that such as h~. is in the novitiate. so shall he be during the rest of his hfe: and after a tepid, or misspent noviceship the possibility of,supplying for what has been missed in the novitiate by renovation of spirit is usually~a forldrn and base-less hope. Philosophy and Theology . ~ Thereupon you shotild see to it, beloved sons, that your subjects. after.completing their noviceship, be ass!gne.d to houses distinguished 192 ,Iu!q. 1952 UNI~ENITU$ for ~obs~'r~ahce of your' holy ~ules. Tl~ese houses should offer also° facilines for the most profitable and exact course of philosophy and theology, made" in accordance, with definite and ordered procedure. Definite and or'tiered procedure, ~Ve said: that' is, not only should there be no promotion to a. higher grade without sufficient evidence of p~oficiency in the lower, but there must not even be any~¢u.rtail-ment or~omission of any part of.a course, nor any abbreviation of the t~ime t6 be devoted to a branch of study, as prescribed by the ,Code. Unwise, thereforev--to speak conservat.ively are those superiors who," pressed perhaps by time and necessity and desirous of availing themselves of their subjects' ministries as soon as possible, wish their subjects to receive their trai.ni~g for the priesthood by a sort .of accelerated method. Has not experience proved that those who h.av.e made their studies hurriedly and wittioiat thoroughness c~n scarcely .ever, if at' all, remedy this defect in their training, and that whatever little ,advantage may at timCs have been gained from this advanced reception of orders eventually fades away and vanishes, since these religious must of ne~cessity be less .apt for t~ ministry? Take care. moreover, lesf your youiag religious, .while studying philosqpfiy and theology, should grow yold in their struggle for virtue. On the con-" trary they should continue to a~rail themselves of the services of the most learned masters of the spiritual .life, so that finally, as behooves religious men, they shall display in themselves solid, learning joined to holiness of life.- And here We cha.rge you with special earnestness to exercise care in selecting eminen.tly suitable instructorsin the higher studies, mas-ters who~elife will be wo~rthy models for the imitation of all. Their proficiency, too, must be pre-eminent .in that subject which it is their office to teachl And~so, no one'should act either as.professor.,or instructor unless he has completed with merit the course of philos-ophy, theology, and allied branches, and has proved his possession of sufficient equipment and skill as a teacher. We .c.all your attentionfurthermore, to this injunctioh of the Code of Canon Law: "Provision must be made th'at there be separate masters for at least the following subjects: Sacred "Scripture, dogmatic theology, moral theology, and ecclesiastical history,"~ These m~is- "ters should spare no effof~ to'ffansform, th,eir sthdents into holy and tireless apostles of Ch. rist, equipped with those ornaments of learnirig 1,93 POPE P~usXI Reuieu~ for R~ligious and prtidence by" which they Will b~ abl4 not only"to instruct the simple and ignorant, but also to refute those, puffed up by what. is fallaciously called science. They will. be able likewise to preserve' all. from the contagion of error which, because it usually is presented so speciously and cunningly, is calculated to beget and inflict greater damage on souls. . But if happily, by God's grace, your subjects p.roceed wi'th gen-erous spirit in the straight paths of Christian learning and become greatly proficient therein, the labor which you best6w,-beloved sons, on this so salutary task will reward and rejoice .you with a most abundant fruit beyond .your. fondest expectations. ¯ Further, We exhort you to regard as holy and inviolable those words which, in accord with the spirit of canon law, We wrote in Our'apostolic letter on seminaries and the studies of clerics. Therein We urged that, in teaching the precepts of 15hilosophy and theology, masters should follow faitl~fully the scholastic methdd according tO the principles and doctrines of Aquinas. For who ~an deny that the scholastic discipline and the angelic wisdom of St. Thomas--that discipline and method praised so repeatedly and enthusiastically by Our predecessors--have a native efficacy both f6r tl'Je illustration of divin~-truth and for the marvelous refutation 6f the errors of every age? In the words of Our predecessor of immortal memory, Leo XIII, the Angelic Doctor "so abundantly rich in divine and huma.n science, so comparable to the very sun . has by his sole efforts brought it hbout that all the errors of past ages have been refuted by one man, and invincible alms have beeh supplied for the defeat of th.ose errors which will arise in endless succession through the ages.''2a Most a'ppositely contintJes the same Pontiff: '"Let those who Wish to be truly philosophers~and such must be the. especial desire of religious men--let those l~ay the first principles and foundations of their doc-trine in Thomas Aquinas.''25 How much it behooves your spiritual sons to hew close to the . general line of scholastic doctrine is abundantly evident. Perceiving the intimate relationship existing between philosophy and revelation, the Scholastics-d, eveloped and synthesized that wonderful mutual concordance, in such wise that philosophy and revelation afford each other light and the maximum of support." Nor can these two s.ci- 24En~ycl. Aeterni Patris 25Epist. Nbstra Erga, N6vember 25, 1898 194 ,Iulg, 1952 UNIGENITUS ences contradiqt each oth'er, as some madly assert, for both derive from God, the suprem'e and eternal truth; and while philosophy manifests the findings o'f reason, re~elation displays the firm data of faith. Indeed the two sciences are so mutually in harmony that each c.ompletes the other. Hence it follows that from an ignorafit and untrained philosopher a learned theologian can never be educed: and, contrariwise, he w~o is igno.r~ant of divine truth can never be a per-fect phil.osopher. In this regard St. Thomas says truly: "From the principles of faith .new knowledge is derived for the faithful, as from.the prin-ciples of natural reason new knowledge is derived for all; hence theology is a science." In other words, just as from reason, which is a participation in divine Wisdom, philosophy derives'the basic prin-ciples of nattiral cognition, and declares and ex.plains them, so from, the light of supernaturaI revelation,, which by its splendor" illumines and completes t, he intellect, theology borrows, develops, and explains the truths of faith. These two sciences are two rays f~om the same sun, two rivers from the same source, two edifices resting,on the same foundation. Of high dignity indeed is human science, provided it submits obediently to the truths of faith. If these truths are disregarded, human science must i,nevltably ~nd inexorably fall into numberless errors and deceits. But if, beloved sons, your subjects command the sum of human knowledge which they have beap'ed up for tbem~elg.qs to'act as handmaid and servant to that science which is divine; and if~ besides~ they glo,w with an arderit love and desire for revealed truth, they will be true men of God and will be .universally regarded as such; and'by word and example, they will.do much fo'r the peop!e ~of God. For, "'all Scripture is inspired by God"--or as the Angelic Doctor explains this passage( sacred doctrinal is perceived by the light .of divine revelation--"and useful for teaching, for reprovifig, for. correcting, for instructing in justice; that the man of God ma) be perfect, equipped for every good work.''26 Spirit of Faith .But in the ,case of young religious, the first {equirement is that 'their spirit of faith should be" nourished to vigor. Otherwise.they, shall to no avail engage themselves in this boundless field of divine and. human .knowledge: for, if the spirit of faitb is weak, the stu- 262 Timothy 3 : 16-17 ¯ PoPE PIU~ XI Review fbr Relipious dent,"like one. blind, cannot penetrat~e into the. profun, dities'.pf .super-na~ ural truths. Nor is itof less importance'that the religious shpuld albproach °his studies with a,pure intention. -"There are some Who wish to 2~arn,'~ warns St. Bernard, ".solely .in order to l(arn; and ~his is base curiosity . There are o~her~ who wish to learn in order to sell their knowledge, perhaps for money, perhaps for honors: and. this is ba~e t~affic. But there are also those who wi~h tO learn in order that'they themselves m~y.be buildedl and this, is prudence,''27 In their above-mentioned studies, therefore, your young religious should propose to. themselves this one aim: that they "please God and, . win for themselves "and for their r~eigbbor the. greatest, pbssible spir-itual emoluments. And in science disjoin, ed from virtue there is more of offense and danger than of true utility for those who b~come proud by reason of their learning lose the gift of faith and blindly plunge headlong t° their souls' destruction--your sons must with all .assiduity cultivate the virtue of humility,, necessary f0~ all indeed~ ' but especially to bestriven after by students: and ~they must plant it firmly.in their hearts mindful as they are that God alone is sub- ~tantial wisdom and whatever man possesses, no matter, how.pro-found, is .as nothing compared with the vast sum of learning of which he is ignorant. Beautifully to the point speaks St Augustine: '" 'Knowledge,' says the'Apostle, 'puffeth up.' What then? SbSuld you flee knowl-edge and ch6os~ to know nothing rather than to be puffed up? Why should I address you i~ it is better.to b'e ignorant than learned? Love knowledge', but prefer charity. Knowledge, if it, be alone. "puffeth up. But because charity~buildeth up, it permits no( knowl-edge to be puffed up. Knowledge puffeth, up therefore where cbarity-do~ s not build up; where charity bu!IdL yp, knowledge is made Your sons, therefore, if indeed'they pursue their' studies with: that spirit 0f~charity and devotion frbm which all other virtu'es have their Origin and b~ing, would be like a medicinal fragrance warding. off ,the fear" of corruption: and by. their gifts of doctrine will ~ c~r.tainly becbme all the more pleasing in God's sight'and all the more useful toHis Church. " ¯ III. DI~RECTIV~S FOR 'LAY RELIGIOUS~ it now remains for us to turn our thoughts to those" religious ~7In Cant. serrao XXXVI~, ~Sermb CCCLIV ad Cont., c. ~I _duly, 1957. . UNIGENITUS who,ltl~ough not called to.the dignityof the priesthood, have pro-nounced, the same vows, of r~l.igion as the priests, and are .not less obliged to God ahd bound by the duty of acquiring perfection. That they .also, though unversed in letters or the higher mental disciplines, may achieve the loftiest grades of sanctity i~ evident from',the fact. that many of them indeed have won by reason of the eminent holi-ness' of.their lives the loud.and, constant praise of the Catholic world, or have even been" inscr!bed.by the authority of the Roma~ Pontiffs in .the number of the saint~, to be regarded and invoked as patrons. and intercessors before God. These con~ersi, or lay,, religious, "who, because 6f their special status are free from those da'ngers which not infrequently :'fac~ the priest 15y reason of the very dignity of his office, enjQy substantially the same spiritual privileges and aids which religious institutes with mater~al:providence commonly share indiscrimina~tely .with itheir ~hildren. It .is just. thin, that the lay religious should value highly- ¯,the gift of their vocation, and return thanks to God for the gift. often renewing the determinatiQn which they made on the d~y'of ~:heir ~orofession. that they would live.according to the spirit of their reli- . gious bule to their last bre~ith of life. And here., beloved-sons, We cannot refrain from remindilag you how weighty is youy obligation to see to it thatthe !ay.religiotis, both" during the time of their probation and during the remainder of their -life, are adeqtiatels~.:supplied With those spiritual hell~whlch~th£y. so much need to make progress and to persevere. They are perhaps all the haore in need of these aids by.reaSon c;ftheir humble eondition.hnd hurfibl~ ministries. " ~Vherefor , .superiors, in selecting the.dwelling places and duties " of the la~y religious, should take careful account of the character of each and the possible weaknesses of each;.and if'sometimesthese spir-itual sons should show a decrease of ardor in the'performance of their 'obliga~tions.as religious, no paternal solicitude and effort should be sl~afed in recalling them g~ntly but firmly to holin.ess, of life: And particularly should superiors make it their constant concern either themselves to instruct the lay religious in the eternal and fun-damental truths ofthe faith, or to commit this.duty of instrtic~ion to ~competent priests. The knowledge and frequent meditation off these truths will be a powerful spur to th~ virtue of all, whether those whose,work is confined to the cloister or thos who live in tl~e world. The,above admonitions We wish to extend also to all ,congrega- 197 t .POPE PlUS XI tlons Of lay religious. For. t-he'members of these congregations there is indeed ~required .a fuller 2knowl~dg~ Of Chri_stian doctrine and an~ erudition beyond mediocrity, since theY are. frequently .engaged, according to their institute, in the instruction of boys and young men. Such are the thbughts, beloved sons~ which We desired from a heart filled with phternal~ love to address to you concerning the direc-tion of your curricula of study, as well as concerning some other matters of scarcely, lesg importance. These thoughts and injunctions, We.feel sure, you will follow with alacrity and devotion, both be-cause of your affection to'cards Us and because of your zeal for the advancement of your respective institutes. May Our words be fixed deep in the hearts of your novices and scholastics, and bring, by the intercession of your founders and fathers, an abundance of blessings and benefits. In conclusion, as an augury of grace and an evidence of Our. paternal love towffrd .yoursel;ces, beloxied sons,, and all tl-ie religious commit}ed to your charge~ We bestow upon eacl~ and all of you, with the deepgst affection, Our ApoStolic Benediction. '" Giveri at Rome, ih St~ ¯Peter's, the nineteenth day of March, on the Feast of. St. Joseph, spouse' of the Virgin .Mary Mother of God, in the year 1924, the third of of Our pohtificate. Pius PP.XI . BOOKS FOR PRIESTS Two re~ent books of help for priests are THE PEOPLE'S [SRIEST, by' John C, Heenan, and PRIESTLY BEATITUDES, by Max Kassiepe, O.M.[., translated by A. Simon, .O.M.I. Both authors, the former who is now Bishop of Leeds in England, and the latter, an experienced ,German missionary, chaplain, and superior, know what they are talking about. The Peotgle's Priest, written for diocesan priests by one of them, is full of-practical, common sense, pastoral guidance, that is inspired throughout by an enlightened appreciation of the beautiful relationship that exists between the good i~riest.and his peo~ple. (New. Y0rk: Shoed ~ Ward, 1952, Pp. xi q- 24'3. $2.75.) Priestly Beatitudes contains twenty-two sermons.for a priest's retreat. In general, the talks follow the usual development according-to The Soiritual Exercises of St. lynatius with the merit of a constant advertence and application to a priest's life. The ring of authenticity is unmist'akable. (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co., 1952. ,Pp. v + 393.S5.00.) '. FOR oRGANISTS AND CHOIRMA~s'rERs Father \Vinfrid Herbs.t, S.D.S. has helpfully 'got,herod together in a convenient booklet answers to many questions that often confront church musicians. This pamphlet, lnformdtion /'or Organists and Cboirmdsters, can be obtained from the Salvatnrian Fathers,' St. Nazianz, Wisconsin. Let:i:er !:o a Mas!:er-ol: Novices. L. Ganganelli [ED1TOI~'S NOTE[ This letter is said to have'been written by Fra Lorenzo Ganga-nelli, who late.r .became Pope Clement XIV, to a ,Jesuit in England 4¢ho had been .a former student. We cannot guarantee the authorship, but-the content of the letter is of value to every one.] Reverend Father, The office that you discharge requires as much gentleness as firm-ness. You must bear in mind that although a religious should be .circumspect in his demeanor, yet you cannot expect the same gravity from a young man as from. his elders. Ttie special gift of a nbvice master ~ons]sts in bei'ng able to recogni.ze the source from which.his novices' shortcomings proceed, in order to humble them if they are due to pride, to stimulate them if they arise from indolence,, to mor-tify .them if they p.roceed from sensuality, to check them if they spring*from impatiense. You must see .that your.young men are always .occupied. Besides .fixing their minds and restraining their imaginations, emploYment brings out their talents. In the case of-some, these develop slowly, but with a little patience and insight it is not hard to tell whether the cloud will be pierced at length by the sunbeams.o~ is.doomed to remain dark forever. If you suffer yourself to be carried away by a zealthat is wanting in sweetness, .you-may someday or other dismiss those who" would have been th~ glory of your order. '.They who have most ability are often those who have the most impulsive dispositions, and if one is not,sufficiently master of himself, it may, happen that certain, little sallies of humor, which are nothing more than mere bits of levity, will ruin a young man forever, by causing him t'o be excluded from a state of life where he would have rendered important services to ~b~ Church. ~ Take special care not to observe the same method of direction for all. Onemay need a sharp rebuke, for another a mere glance is enough.Let your silence itself speak, and you will seldom be obliged to give a reprimand. The young almost always imagine that ;t is throtigh ill-humor or the desire to scold that they are constantly receiving admonitions, and often they are not mistaken. Watch carefully, bat without allowing it to be perceived, To betray an appearance of mistrust fosters a spirit of deceit and un- 199 L. GANGANELLI _r o R~view for R¢liqiot~s ~ruthfuln~s. A tone of friendship soothes a ~6vice's feelings, whilst an air ofseverity wounds and irritates him. Scarcely ever~allow a fault to pass unpunished when it goes directly against the religious s~irit, a~n~l give particular heed to whafever offends against, inorality, Purity belorigs to.all Christians. but it is required of priests and reli-gious abo~e all'. You must make a distinction between a fault cord-mitted on the sp.urt. of the moment and a habitual defect. Remember that true virtue is not harsh and that .a smiling countenance inspires~cgnfidence. A cold and severe exterior, ~Imost alx~ays re~els, because, it bears the appearance of pride. ~nusDt ob en owti speu sWh iptheirnf etchtei omne taosou rfeh ro.f f doirs mcreetni oanr.e Ontohte .r~wnigseel tsh, ea nydo u~nogu' will conceive an.aversion, for you. and will weary¯ of piety itself. It is: not the repetition of precepts wh!ch makes novices improve. One ¯ migh~ preach all day long without-accomplishing anything if-prin-ciples are,not inculcated. When the~mind is convinced by reasoning that tl~ere necessarily exists a God. and hence a religion, and that' the. only true one is that which we profess, it does not allow itself to be dhzzled by sophistry; if sin is committed, it is with the conscious-ness of doing wrong. Do~ away with the system of, spying, as a public nuisance. It accustoms people to play the part of hypocrites and false friends. Do not allow yourself to conceive a prejudice against anyone. It' is thr~ugh.such ,prejudices that the innocent are every day. persecuted, -whilst the guil.ty triumph. If something is reported~ to you about a third party; take care tc; inform yourself of the facts of the case. and never condemn anyone.without giving him an ,opportunity to clear himself. Do not chastise withoutprevious warning, unless there is ques-tion of an-offense that demands the immediate infliction of'suitable punishment. Be more indulgent towards ¯secret' faults, as they ,are ,not attended with scandal which is the grea~er evil. Follow the Ggs-pel rule in r~gard to g~ving charitable admonition ~o such as go astray. ",(Remember "seventy times seven" and the father "of the prodigal.) " Do not forager that the y6ung must hhve recreation, and that~the mind is as a soil,"which to yield, greater ,fruit has need of., rest. More-over, ~t is advisable that everything sh'ouldhavethe appearance of being done freely. Obedience becomes an intolerable yoke unless the-superior is careful to lighten its burden. 200 Julg, 19.52 MASTER OF, NOVICES Do not place iff the.hands ~)f your novices any of those apocry-' phal.books which St. Paul" calls old wives tales .--"ineptas autem et afliles fabulas devita." Faith is not supported by lying, and religion is truth itself. Vary the readings of your- young scholars, and for tear ofexciting or mis'directing their imagi.natio.ns, do not apply them exclusively to the contemplative styl~ of works.,¯ Besides, at an age s6.t~nde&the memory must have facts that it can-retain. Above a~ll preserve peace in the midst of your little flock', by endeavoring to lift up the souls entrusted to your care above all the little details of the life of the cloister which only too often degenerates into disputes, hatred, ~nd jeaiousy. Teach them to-be great in the smallest .things, and to impart a value to their:meanest duties by the manner in which they acquit tbemse|v~es.of them. Smother ambition; stir.up emula'tion. Otherwise you will train up proud men or boors. Instil] into your novices an espY'it de corps, but without anything exc.essive. ~ If one is not attached' to the insti-tute to which he belongs, he gra~lually grows weary of his state;" if one is so excessively, he thinks his order hecessary, despises all other religious" communities, and g6es so far as to canonizecertain ~buses t6 which he has become attached through routine or prejudice. Show yourself always even tempered. ¯There is nothing more .ridiculous thhn a man who is unlike himself. The young have a keim eye for deciphering a superior's character. - They are rarely mis-taken in the case of one who is odd or whimsical. It throws them ¯ otit in their calculations and Wins their esteem when they see a supe~ riot who pursues always the same even tenor, showing firmness on all occasions but without any sign¯of.ill-temper. ¯ Avoid familiarity: yet, be less the superior th~.n .the-bosom friend of those.who have been confided to you. Let tb~m find in you a fath'er, and let them understand that it is your grehtest pain to re-. prove them. Show no predilection except towards such as have more wisdom and piety, and let it be only in circumstances in which it may serve as a lesson for the indolent and flighty. Never employ artifice tO bring about the faults that you wish to discover. Such clever tricks" are not consistent With honesty. Let your ~unishmeffts~ be in pro-p~) rtion tO th~ gravity of the faults, and do not go.and make a crime out of certain light transgressions which imply neither malice nor disorder i~f the heart. .It is not by sho.uting that men are corrected. St. F~ancis de 201 L. GANGANELLI Sales used to say that he touched sinners more by professions of friends.hi~ for them than by scolding them. The language, of the Gospel is that of persuasion. Do not 'lead anyone by extraordinary paths and check those who would wish to follow them, unless there be evidence of a stiper-natural call; but these cases are so rare that they cannot serve as a 'law. The time for' mysticism and that sort of pure speculation is gone. It would be dangerous to rec'all it. ' Leave young men free to speak in your presence Without intimi-dating them. It is the way. to discover their interior. In a word, demean yourself as a kind father of a family who does. not wish to make his children either slaves or hypocrites .or dolts but subjects knowing how to render to God His due, to religion its rights, and to so'ciety what belongs to it. The first of all rules is to learn to l'ove the Lord, and to do nothing, that could displease Him. This is the one object of all religious institutions; for you know, Reverend Father, as well as I do, that our regulations would be often puerile, were they not meahs of leading us to God. Every founder has de- . vised such as he thought most suitable for his purpose. Beware of such pedantry as to po, se as one incapable of error and knowing everything. When I was teaching and ~som~thing was asked that I~ did not know, I admitted mY ignor~ance without make-shift of any kind before my pupils themselves, who only esteemed me the more for it. Young people like to ha'ce you put yourself on, a level with them. If I have drawn this paper out at length, it is because the life of a master of novices is a life of details. You might have addressed someone better qualified to speak on the points at issue, but it would have been hard for you t6 hit upon one who would have served you with greater interest. . FRA L. GANGANELLI Convent of the" Holy Apostles, Rbme (between 1760-1769) TEN-YEAR INDEXmSTILL AVAILABLE C0pies~ of the Ten Year Index of the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS '(1942-1951) are still available at one dollar per copy. Kindly enclose paym~ent with the order from: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, St.Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. 202 bligher I::ducat:ion and \ "Real Religion" Sister M. Bofiaventure, O.S.F. ALTHOUGH formal higher education is a relatively recent fac-tor in the spiritual life of S!sters, when viewed in the light of the g~neral history of religious .orders,. yet its. impact has already been felt deeply' enough to draw comp.laint, comment, and serious study. Beginning with a consciousness of inadequate.returns f~om university w, ork, as attested by members of various religious communities, the reaction has grown at times to a serious conviction of over-emphasis on intellectual and professional training and a fore-boding tendency to generalize that American religious women of the mid-century 'are more widely instructed but less cultured, less dis-ciplined and balanced than the Sisters of a generation ago. Since th~ blame cannot be lald upon higher education in itself without destroy-ihg the intrinsic meaning o~ the term, we face the alternative that the fault must lie in the relation between the r~ligious and the experi-ences of higher educatior~. The error must be sought in the .formula used for integrating these experiences. For mdst religious, the initi~l mental attitude toward higher educatiori, the acceptance or the denial of its necessity, basically con-ditions all furtbe~ reactions. This facto~ of "necessity" should no longer be debatable: its validity has been pointed out repeated.ly in the authoritatiye language ot~ papal encyclicals and in the exhorta-tions of religious leaders. Yet restatement might be in order. Through the centuries of her existence Holy Mother Church has constantly defined and demonstrated that the scope of education is the whole aggregate of human life, physical and spiritual, intellec-. trial and moral, individual, domestic, and social. Irt his encyclical on Claristian education Plus XI reminds the world that such an edu- .cation can be imparted only by good. teachers thoroughly grounded in the matter they seek to teach, teachers who' have learried to under-stand and evaluate properly all the various aspects of human life-- religious, social, political, industrial, economic, and scientific--in their modern dynamic setting. ~ : Our present Pontiff, Pope Plus XII, has h~ightened this empha-sis. The encycl!cal "Humani Generis" not only stressed the prepara-' 203 SISTER M. BONAVENTURE ," ~ory n~ed ,of higher education but ~reeminence in intellectual le,adership Review foc Religious also sounded a clarion call to : "It is well kn,own how highly the Church re.gar,ds human reason . But reason can perfgrm its functions safely arid well only when properly tiaine~i, that is~ when imbued with that sound philosophy, which has .long been,,as it were, a patrimony . For' this philosophy safeguards the genuine validity of human knowledge . Let them (Catholic teachers) strive with every force and effort to further the progress of the sdences which they teach.let them enga'ge in most careful research.". (N.C.W.C. translatibn, p. 13:) The present picture.of Catholic ~ducation in America.is patent proof that religious are making great efforts tb ~realize the educational ideals of the Church. Today we face smaller, threat of the old accu-shtion that Catholic education is not Catholic enough. But the need to implement .fully our understanding of ed[~cation, to "fulfill the tdrm" remains, and this need is identified with the need for higher education. Translated into specific language, i~means the need for an understanding of present day problems of health, labor, govern-ment. and pehce: fdr contact With the realities which condition mod-ern life--pr.!ces, wages, taxes: for common grounds on which reli-" gi~)us can closely contact those whom they would educate: and, above all, for the ialibre of leadership that will focus attention on the potentialities of Catholic education. To meet this need religious communities must supply active members who are thoroughly famil-iar with the directives of the Holy See for a confused world: leaders who have mastered'bbth the theory and prac.tice of Catholic" action: teachers who can recognize ~ind champion truth wherever.it is found, nor confhse tolerance of persons with the tolerance of false principles: scholars who can chart the course of modern science and ,speak the language of .modern art. Higher learning, then. seen in its true nature and 'function. becomes a necemary .religious activity. Not ~gnly is it completely compatible with spiritual grdwth, but it should be a vital factor in such growth. Since God is Infinite Knowledgeand Wisdom, there is reverent,logic in the observation that "nature rightly developed is a condition for and a more fit subject, of elevatlon to the supernatural order and a more precious dedication to God." The lack of proper , adaptation to modern needs has been with justice analyzed as a cur-rent grieoance against religious.life and one cause of its depreciation today. In his allocution to. members of, the First Congress for Reli- 204 " gio~us. (1950),-Pope Pius XII has 'emphasized.repeatedly the vital ,.relation betw~en.religioi~s life and higher learning. As Father Letter has concisely summarized it, the Holy Father points to. per-sonal sanctity as the essential object of religibus vocation, but at the same time underlines the obligation which binds religious in regard to the means of sanctification the avocations of religious life. "In these avocations religious rna~/and muststrive to be as up~to-date a's any of their contemporaries. That way, we may add. the~ will help. to remove a pretext for d~p, reciatinreg h g "l o" u~s' life.". (.REVIEW FOR RELm~OUS, Jan., 1952.) A'sense of precaution alone, might well lead to the same'cohclu-sion. Religious educators concerns&with th~ complex problem of training-new meinbers have been. raising stron.g"voices .against the dangers with which inadequat~ preparation for work ~hreatens reli-gious vocation. We cannot pass over,lightly ~he wa~ning of Sister Madeleva, C.S.C.: "No.group can deteriorate more quickly or, more terribly ~han young girls~of the type that enter our novitiates today without proper and adequate intellectual, cultural'and spiritual chal-lenges;' (NCEA Bulletin. 1950 .255)'. ¯ Granting. then. the vital need of-higher ~d~cation in the active religious life. it is at once-apparent that the adjustment of conflicts , arising from this need rests .primarily with religious superiors and community directors. Such problems may arise in regard to safe-guarding ~egular community life and observance.of rule under aca-demic schedules; the selection of religious for higher~trMning, and most pertinently, in providing adeq~iate religious formation and con-tinued guidance~in: the integration of educational e.xperience. in the' past twenty years religious communities have evidenced a gro.wing awareness of such problems. Some of the solutions sug-gested and attempted have proved highly significant. There has been self-examination and frank admission o~ the stagnation in eduCa-tional woik, which results from community inbreeding. Complete reorganization of educational programs in many communities is demonstrating concretely tl~at adequate syn,thesis, of religious voca-, tion and avocation is possible. Such programs have been tested. analyzed, and evaluated at meetings of the National Catholic Edu-cational Association in recent years. Where attention is seribusly .focused on such synthesis, religious superiors find greatest opportun-iiy to bring ripened experience and intelligent zeal to the aid of the individual religious caught in men~al tensions. Neveriheless, the fact 205 ~ISTER M. BON,~VENTURE Reuiew /:or Religiou}~, remains th~;t it is on the plane of personal, interior integrati'on that the decisive conflicts of religious life are resolved.-No religious, whether in the" active.or in the contemplative life, can escape the basic problem of knowledge: bow to transmute knowledge into wisdom. To keep the balance! T, bat is the goal which spells personal sanctification. On the other hand, it is precisely¯ thee lack of balance that vitiates the relation between higher learning and. religious iife, building up the pressures and conflicts that draw condemnation. And since, for the active religious, contihued growth in knowledge and culture, is progress toward perfection in her state of life,. ~he problem' of proper balance is a perennial one, It faces the matur~ as well as the young religious. There is consensus in the observation that where ~ducational ex-periences are hot properly integrated ~by religious the resulting pres-sures may produce'three types of personality reaction: 1. Worldliness: Loss of spiritual¯ perspective. A shifting of ifocus from God to human activity. The ¯religious is nolonger'a Catholic educator but a mere devotee of science or of art. 2. Scrupulosity: A false dichotomy which constantly demands ¯ choice b~tween prayer and study as two independent activities. The religious finds her spiritual life increasingly cramped and is~ no longer ¯ able to find sahctifying unity in the labor of the laboratory or library and spiritual exercises. 3. Discontent: Unanalyzed pressures, which¯ are not always, the "divine restlessness" of St. Augustine, but which '.drive the religious to seek escape measures .in change of occupation or vocation. The adjustment necessary to prevent such reaction or to resolve" the conflict when it does .occur demands self-knowledge. And though it may seem anomalous, the need of s~If-knowledge may grow~ apace with.higher learning. For the religious with university¯ degrees may still be .the dangerous man of "one book," if the ~legrees. represent a knowl.edge of books alone. A clear knowledge of the im-mediategoal can be a dangerous pressure when not integrated with an equally clear grasp 0f the proper means for reaching the goal. And since we cannot discount ¯human inertia with its tendency to stop at ge, neral principles, instead of making concrete applications, there is reason to review some of the factors essential to adjustment 6r read-justment in religious life. Because the heart of the higher-education problem is conflict, the 'solution ~rests on a¯choice of method and of means. 206. July, 1952 HIGHER EDUCATION Method Conflict grows from disorder. Butorder is the recoghition of ~i definite hierarchy of succession among the parts of a rational entity,. It is established and maintained first, by a proper evaluation of each" part in t~rms of the. whole: then by a complete; integration of these parts-into an organic whole in which'each individual activity is sub-ordinated to the good of the whole organism. Neither the pursuit nor the. results of learning can be allowed a position of dominance. A mastery of s~abject matter must remain always a mastery, a iecoilected control which rules out avidity and passionate intens.ity and the vain, curious study that makes of learning the curiosiiates philosophantiun) denounced by St. Bonaventure. For.the Seraphic Doctor had learned from his master, St. Francis, that all science leads the mind from the consideration of' the creature to the contemplation of the Creator only when it is rightly pursued. Given their proper subsidiary evaluation, the learning activities ---courses and lectures, problems and examlnations--must be con-tinuously integrated into the brganic whole of the interior life. This can be accomplished only through the medium of love, the "unction" of St. Bonaventure. Interior inspiration, the fruit of daily medita-tion and mortification, must inform tile activities of the lecture hall and laboratory. If the arts';ind sciences, as we are told, are "'forever waiting the spiritualizing influence 6f revealed religion," surely the religious cannot forego this apostolate. Nor is it necessary to follow an~ complex formula in order to integrate, empirical knowledge, in-tellectual principles, religious intuition, and emotional response into a meaningful and orderly whole. The means are the staples of reli-gious life: faith, obedience, humility, and love. MeaDs Faith is the basis of integration. Of the religious, who makes learning a ladder of sanctity it may be said in the literal sense, "Thy faith hath made thee whole." We know the threefold object of faith: 1) to enlighten the mind with regard to God; 2) to show us the proper relation of creatures to God; 3) to'direct our'activity towards God. The.religious who ~'xercises dail3; the habit of faith hold~ the unfailing sblvent for every interior conflict. To the eye of faith every person, every situation, every idea is a transparency through which shines the Divine Countenance. Wi~h a living faith it is possible to hear the voice of the Eternal Lawgiver above every 207~ ~ISTER M. BONAVENTURE " Review for ~eligious lecture on history, economics, or politi~s and to read glimpses,of His beauty written large "6r small across the pages of ancient liteiature and modern letters. TO liveby ~faith is to see, ~albeit darkly~ not a threat but a divine wisdom and p!an behind academic sthedules,,and challenging assignments. It is. above all, to have an unfailing source of confidence and courage to face¯ any God-given task in the" knbwl-edge that'the power of heaven is ours. For in .the words of. our Holy Father "we are rich in supernatural assistance through the grace poured out in the floodtides of the' Sacraments and prayer.'.¯ Wh~t room is left for confliCt,in the mind of th~ religious who learns to find under the mate'rial "species" of 1.earn!ng experiences the sacra-mental "substance" of a spirit.ual reality which is a part of her com-plete consecration? No more time, no argu'ment is n.eede~ for the finding. -- Active faith provides the religious with a second 'effective means of integration, a means which is at the same time a gtiarantee against doubt and.mental c6nflict. This gi~aranteeis obedience,-the hinge of religious life,',formulated by the vow.of ~onsdcration and in its full implication t6uching every act of the human will. If the entrance of a religious into the field of higher e~ducation is dictated by vocational need, according to the judgment of superiors, rather than by a desire .for personal achievement, obedience provides firm ground on which every situation can be met with the peace which is the fruit of faith. But to prove the perfe, ct safeguard against con2 flict obedience mus~ rise above passive resignation. It must be the active, personal element ol~ our friendship with God, the beneoolentia of St. Thomas'i by which we will what comes to. us by God's order .because it is the expression ~f His love for us. Through faith, obedi-. ence reveals as the core of each new l~arning experience the recogni-ti6n of a .Divine Provideiice. ¯ The abiding habit of such active obedience, is the foundation of the perfect peace ,recognized by,Dhnte, the peace of a mind relaxed not on the defensive-=therefore, a permeable mind that. absorbs and retains ~ith ~least. effort. TOO frequently well-meanifig,but confused religious, who fear to launch out into the depths of faith and trust, block by feverish activity and fearful tension the very channels' through which God is expected toanswer their pleas for aid, t~eir imagination, memory, understanding'. The r~li~ious who desires in obedience "to be to God what a hand is to a man" will be cdntent to do what G6d indicates as reasonable in any situation, as best-she can, HIGHER I~DUCATION° then without qualm or conflict leave the results to Him, even when. these results affect entire communities. Faith does not' lessen daiiy, responsibilities nor dilute .them with nonchalant optimism. But it does enable the religious scholar to bear the burden lightly, with the detachment and'joy that are the marks of ~ will surrendered tO God. " Perhaps the most subtl~ and least, recognized source of tension f6r the religious .studen~ is personal susceptibility and its tenuous roots of pride. The ignorance of a child reaches out.foi knowledg~ with a'joyous freedom and pliancy. The adult mind can grasp truth safely and without pain qnly by the grace of,humility. ForAearning is~always a' "receiving," ari acknowledgement of need. The mind that is undonsciously'on the defensive against such acknowledgement to superiors.in~tructors, fellow ~tudents, even. to itself is under a psychological pressure that brakes every :lear~aing process. Not only does such pressure pre~clude an open-mind but, more seriously, it is incompatible with recollection and inspiration. " The religious who ~onsi~tently strives for complete ~ integration of all" her activities in the field of higher learning by seeing every ex-. perience with the eyes of faith, recognizing p.eacefully its seal of providential design and accepting it with a humble and open-heart, will find within herself what is at once the fruit and lthe only valid-test of such integration. That fruit is know, ledge transformed into wisdom by the alchemy of love--wisdom which makes love come .full circle iia contemplation. This is the wisdom which, whefi~ com-municated, iadiates, transforming love and is the truth.which makes. men free. " But unless recollection and devotion draw knowledge within .the circumference i3f a personality whos~ center is God, its widest reaches W,ill mdrely parch the soul, leaving 6nly a" hard glittering surface. What is worse, this arid desert of surface knowledge is the soil which ~ fraelasdei lcyo ;npsrcoidenuccee,s sac rhuopslte os,f rfaatlisoen daliiczhaotitoonmsi.e Os'na nthde m oethnetar lh caonndf,l tihctes-: religious who remember'with Maritan,. that "just as. everything which is in the Word is found-once more in tt'ie Sp!rit, .so must 'all that We know pass into our power of affection " by love,", will find .th.a.t. every facet of ~aature on which man may concentrate can be made to yield fuel for the inner life,of re!igious perfection. Only the flafiae thus fed-can dispel the darkness of the cold materialism which sur: rounds "us. Need we hesitate to conclude that prop(r evaluation of educa- 209 NATIONAl; C(~NGRESS Review t~or Religious tional goals and adequate spiritual integration of learning experiences cannot fail to eliminate th~ conflicts and tensions frequently.associ-ated with higher education for religious? Will it not de~pen appre-ciation ~ religious life and underline the tragedy of the loss of voca-tion? Religious thus educated do not merely know more ~hings, but thdy understand the vivifying unity underneath all things and in this understanding taste the peace and joy of "real religion." Such religious respond fully ~o the exhortation of the'Holy Father, which cannot be repeated too freque.ntly: "Be what you are. Let your'live~s bear witness to the reality of rtehheg "lo "u's state, Then' men,within and without the Church, will understand and esteem the state of ~erfection." Nal:ional Congress [EDITOR'S NOTE: Fa~'her Francis J. Connell. C.SS.I~., the executive chairman of the National Congress of Religious Men, kindly sent us the following communica-tion about the Congress to be held at Notre Dame University in August.] The First National Congress of Religious will be held at Notre Dame, Indiana, from August 9th to August 13th this year. Both religious men and women will be present, but 'will hold se)arate meeting~, except for a few meetings in common. It ik hoped that all orders and congregations now having a foundation in the' United States will be ~epresented. Housing facilities for about 1800 will'be available on the campus at Notre Dame University. It has been agreed by those in Charge of the Congress that 800 religious men and 1000 religious women will be invited. , O~ Saturday evening, August 9th, an address will be made.to the assembled religious by the Most Rev. John F. O'Hara, C.S.C., Arch-' bishop of Phila°delpbia. Solemn Benediction of the Mos~ Blessed Sacrament will theft be given, with Father Arcadio Larraona, cele-brant; Father Elio Gambari, S.M.M., deacon; Father Joseph Giam-pietro, S,.J., subdeacon. These of~cials.have been deputed by the Sacred Congregation of Religious to be present at ~he.Congress as re-presentatives .of the said. Congregation. On Sunday morhing the~e will be a Solemn Pontifical Mass after which His Excellency, A. G. 210 dul~l, 1952 ~ QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Cicognani, Archbishop of Laodicea and "Apostolic Delegate t£ the United States, will ~ddress tbe oentire Congress. Undoubtedly .the main purpose of this Congress is to discuss p~obl.ems of. religious life' especially.pertaining to the present-day con-ditions in America. The Holy See isvitally interested in this sub-ject, and beyond doubt, many of the ideas which will be broached at this Congress will be brgugbt to the attention of the Roman au-thorities. The religious in Americi believe that it is possi,ble to main-tain a high standard ofreligious life in the United State~ i:lespite the materialistic and pleasure-loving tendencies of our country. With a view to attaining this objective, papers will be. read by representatives of the Congress on special subjects, e.g.,' stinlulation of vocations to the religious life in the United States; the obligation of superiors to fulfill their duties with p~oper regard for the innate love of indepen-dence of }:he American .people--in itself an admirable trait of charac-ter, and capable of being perfectly conformed to the higher.ideals of religious obedi(nce. Al~o, particular consideration will be given to the contemplative life, the sect~lar institutes, American religious of the Oriental Rites, and similar topics. The.dlosing ceremony" will be a Candlelight Procession to the Grotto of Our Lady at Notre Dame. It is very "evident that only a comparatively small proportion of "r~ligious in our dountry will be able to attend this gathering, but it is firmly boiled by'those in charge of the Congress that all will pray fervently that'God may bless this meeting with abundant fruits, and that Our Blessed Lady, on whose University grounds this first National Congress is being held, will obtain many graces for the par-ticipants and for all those whom they represent. ¯ .Questions and Akiswers 19 Please explain the prescriptions of the Church regarding the chap,fer of faults.in a religious community. " ' . : The chapter° of faults has beenpracticed 'for centuries in som~ form by'the older orders in the Church. As regards modern congre-gatipns, the Sacred Congregation of Bishops and Regulars had the following prescriptions in the Norrnae of 1901: . . 211 -- QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Review for Religious 1), It is'not necessary, that a congregation, prescri,be the chapter of faults in its constitutions. This does not.meah, howe~rer, thatthe religious is fre~ not t6 attend, if the constitutio'~as'.do prescribe the chapter of faults. (Art. 167.) 2). If it is prescribed, it should not be held oftener than 6nce a wed(. nor less frequently than once a m6nth. (Art. 167.) 3) . The accusation of faults~ which a religious makes to his supe-rior in the .chapter ro6m should be limited to faults and violations Of the constitutions that are external. 4) After-each accusation the superior imposes a penhnce. Obvi- . ously there Should be some pr, oportion~between the fault and the penance, and prudence and discretion should temper the penance ac-cording to persons, and circumstances. (Art. 169.) This exercise of fiumility and penance can be the occasion for the practice of virtue and for stimulating religious to overcome external f~iults to which they are prone. It al~o affords the.opportunity of" repairing th~ scandal (disedifi~ation) given to fell6w r~ligious by the faults. "" In some institute~' custom permits the members of the comr~un-ity to accuse one another of faults that they"have observed. If this practice is not already p.rovided for in the constitutions or book of customs, it should not be introduced without permission. Finally~. the superior may take the occasion of the chapter of faults to admon-ish the.community regarding external faults that aremore-or less common. This method of pate.rnal correction is especia.lly efficacious at the time of the devotional renewal o-f vows. -~-20--- At our novltlatewe have professed, novices, and postulant 'Brothers. who assist at Mass; which is served by novices. And on ~erta;n feast days the Sisters participate. Please cj;ve the cc;rrect order. ;n which Holy Com-munion should be distributed. - The Roman Ritual (tit. IV cap. ~I)- telis us that the priest:dis-tributing Holy Communion should begin with the Mass servers, if the~i Wish to cc;mmunicht~. A decree.bf the Sacred Congregation-of Rites (N. 107~, 3uly 13, 1658) sta'ted that the Mass server was to receivd Holy Communion before the nuns and other persons present. A later decre~ (N. 4271, lj permitted a lab, man serving~Mass,. ,~'though he do not wear the clerical garb, to receive Holy Communion. within the sanctuary, at the plat~orin of the altar. As there was a" '2"12 ¯ " . ' . ~ul~, 195Z .QUE~TION~ AND ANSWERS difference of opinion" in the interpretation-of these prescript{ons, the. Sacred Congregation of Rites gave the following detailed' regulations in a decree dated January 30, 19F5 (AA$, VII 1915, 71-72) : "The term Mass server or server at the altar includes any cleric or layman who serves l~/Iass at the altar.and he is to be preferred to others in the distribution of Holy Communion with the.following precautions: clerics are to be preferred to alayman serving Mass, and. clerics in major orders are to be preferred to cl~rics in~ minor orders , who are serving Mass." Keeping these various presc,~iptions {n mind,- w~ may now answer our question as follows: The Mass server, whether cleric or.layman, recei~res Holy COmo reunion before others ~who may be present, unless some are clerics; all clerics receive Holy Communionbefore a Mass server who is a lay-man: if the server is a cleric, he should receive first in his lank of clerics, precedenc~ being given to clerics 6f higher rank. Lay religious, Brothers and non-cleric~il religious, that is,.r~ligious not yet tonsure.d though destined for the priesthood, as well as Brothers and Sis: ,ters, all.receive Holy Communion after the Mass server, l~e he a cleric or a layman. " Finally,. an exception is made at a NuptialMass, at which the bride and groom may be given Holy Communion before, the. Mas~ server. As to the order of precedence in receiving Holy Communion at the Communion rail 6n the par,t of non-clerical religious, there are no regu'lations. Hence local customs may be observed if the consti~ tutions do not prescribe the precedence. It may be well. to recall here that a reserved instruction by the Sacred Congregation of Religious, December 8, 1938, said there should be no "rigid and quasi-military order" in coming to the Communion rail. Many commentators on ¯ this instruction suggested that the order prevailing in numerous reli-giou~ communities of receiving Communion.in a definite order should be changed. For the text of the instruction se~ Father Bouscaren's Canon'Law .Digest, II, 208 ft. ; ~nd for an article on the instruction, as well as a digest of the text, see REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, III (1944), 252-70. SHALLI START TO DRINK? . . Shall 1 Start to Drink?, by 3ohn C. F6rd~ S:d., p~esents a clear discussion of ¯ the moral and ascetical aspects of total abstinence. A pamphlet; published by The Queen's Work, 31 15 South Grand Boulevard, St. Lohis 18, Missouri. .213 I THE MORNING OFFERINGs. By Thomas ML Moore, S.~. °Pp~ t69. .Ap0stl~shlp.o~f Prayer, New York, '1950. $3.00. 40,000,000 members of. the Apostleship of Prlayer" scattered throughout the world, priests; ~ligious, men and women and chil-dren of every race and clime, recite "The Morning Offering".~laily. This formidable army of prayer is sending up unceasin~ petition to the Throne of God tbrdughout thehours of the day and night that "through the [mmaculate Hdart, of Mary" He may.acdebt their "prayers. works, joys and ~suff_erings of the day for all the int,entions of the Sacred 'Heart. in union with' the Holy. SaCrifice. of the Mass throughout th'e world, in reoaration for sin. for the intentions of all the Associates. and in particular, for all the intehtions"of the Holy Father." ¯ The last half of Father Moore's book .is a detailed expl~natio, n 6f the mo~ning offering. The chapters o'n the Immaculate Heart.of Mary the Comfiaunion of" Reparation.and the /kpostleship of* Suffering d~serve special mention. . o The first half.of the book contains a simple, untechnical expla-nation of the fundamental notions of theology, which underlie the Morning Offerifig': -cre'ati0n, end of man, tlSe love~ of God and of the Sacred Heart for men as.shown in the.redemption, man's free co-opei'atiori in~he work of God. the nature and .efficacy O,f prayer. union with ~hrist, especially in the Eucharistic Saerifice. The history a'nd*development of the Apostleship of"Prayer as well as. itS adapta-tion to-modern times, especially through the S~cred Hear( Radio Pr?grgm, bring the book to a close. - " This bpok is ~arnestly recommended to all religious for their own personal use in order to get-acquainted wi'th the Apostleship,of Prayer if they,are not. members as ye~.and to help' the~rfi spread.the °Ap0stl~ship far an~l wide among the faithful who come under their ¯ influence.' "It i] v/ell suited.: fo~ spiritual reading, either .privately or .in' common.--ADnM C." ELLIS[ S.J. WHAT IS THE iNDEX? By Redmond A. Burki~, C.S.V. Pp. x -k" 130. Bruce Publishing Company, Milwaukee, 1952. $2.75. . Thislohg needed book gives a brief but'solid expos.ition of the. origin, .nature, and extent of the laws of. the, Church re~arding censorship and~ p.~oh!bition of books. It is. directed not merely to theological students and the pra~.icin~ clergy, b~Jt primar!ly "to, the 214 . BOOK REVIEWS intellige~nt laity, whether Catholic or.no~-Catholic, and it attempts~ to discover th~ effects of e~clesiasti~al regulation~ with 'reference to, the entire world of literature. For this reason the termsare, as far as possible, nontecbnical.'~ After gi,ving the~ historical, background of the Church's .legisla-, tion in chapter.ond. [he author goes on to treat the foliowing sub-~ jects in subsequent chapters:, censorship of books in adyance of pub! lication:0condemfiation of ,publisl~ed books: general classes Of for5 bidden literature: methods of examining books by the Holy Office: I'ndex of forbidden, books: penalties for. violations of book regula-tions: permission to read forbidden books: and promotion of' - re~ding. Perhap.s the most valuable chapter in the book is that in which he treats general classes of forbidden lit~ratu're.' It is. in reality, commentary on canon 1399 of the'Code of Canon Law. Too many Catholics including some priests and religious, labor under the false impressio.~i that as long as a book,is not listed in the Index of For-. bidden Boobs it .may be read w. ith impunity. Most forbidden books are not listed in theIndex. ~Inste, ad. their are t~) be judged by. probi-bition-~ f different classes Of books as determined in canon. 1399. The author gives ~ brief, but satisfactory comm~n,t on each clas~ of books contained in this canon. Of special importance also is the chapter telling.how to bbtain permission to read forbidden books. This .will prove very.helpful for st~udents doing ~esea.rch work, as well as those in professional schools. - In an appendix the aUthor g~ves various listings of books ~n~the Index: 7We are deeply" indebted to him for l~a, ving given us'also Abbd Bethleem's valuable lists of selections of the work of F~ench authors which.may be :read,.in spite ot: the fact that the authors' works.are forbidden in ge'neral. A final app, endix on "The C;reat Book~ Program" completes the work. Af~er,.poi~ating out the,-valu'e of this praisewo'rthy project, the autho~ lis~s the booksbn the pro'gram which'may not be read with-out permission. This excellent book should, be~on thesheJv, es of every Catholic school !ibFfiry beginning with the high school, and on up to college and university lentil. Likewise, every religl6us community .engaged in teaching in secondary schools and co!leges should have a copy in the faculty library. Other religious engaged:in act.ire works will als0 find it useful. ADAM~C. ELLIs. S.O,. 215 BOOK R~VlEWS . . " ". Reoieto for Ret(gious " THE SEMINARIAN AT'HIS PRIE-DIEU. By'Robert.Nash; S.d. Pp. 312. The-Newman Press, We~fmlnster, Md., 1951. $3.50. This is a book of meditations for seminarians. Fr. Nash's thirty-eight meditations are aimed at hdping s~mingrians gr~ow into p, ray-erful priests who will be ready for the!r work in the p,resent world of social unrest, of threatening Communism, of secularism, and the rest. As in histwo previous companion works, The Nun at Her Prie-Dieu and The Priest at His Prie-Dieu, each meditation containsa prepara-tory prayer, the setting or cdmposition of place, the fruit desired, three or four points (each of which the author rightly suggests could serve for one or more meditations), a brief, summary of the points, and a tessera or catchword to be recalledduring the day. Particularly well done is the setting,, which can help a busy'stu-dent cast aside extraneous thoughts and.apply his mind more readily to .the subjec~ matter of the meditation. Though this book cannot remove all the thorns that beset the paths of mental przyer, s~mi-narians, t~erhaps more especially those fresh from the "world," will find in it plentiful material and a good method to follow in their meditation. It could also be u~ed profitably for spiritual reading. JOHN F. MOORE,. S.J. THE CARMELITE DIRECTORY OF THE SPIRITUAL LIFE. Translated from ~the'Lafln. Pp. xxlv -F~ 575. The Carmelite Press,'.Chlcag.o, II1., 1951. For Carmelites themselves, for their followers, and for students of their spirituality, this directory will be an invaluable and almost inexhaustible gold mine of doctrine. It is official, being introduced and commended by a letter, of the Prior General. It dales not bear the name of any writer or corn'piler, but seems, to be put forth l~y the ~armelite Order itself. It is recent/ the Latin o6ginal being dated 1940. Its purpose is t~ complement 'and implement the Rule ~nd Constitutions. ~ The work consists bf four major parts. Parts one ~ind two, en-titled, respectively,. "Dogmatic Fundamentals of the Spiritual Life" and "Principlesof Religious Life," are of a general and Catholic, ha-. ture and prepare for what is specifically Carmelite. This is presented in tile latter tWO.l~art,s.Of these the third is headed "A Holy Heart~" and deals mostly "i¢ith the conquest of bad habits, the acc~uisition of ¯ the virtues, and the pursuit of perfection. The last part is devoted to ."The Contemplative Life." Some people no doubt will note with surprise how little space is. given.to the m3~stical phase of the spiritual ~ life. (pages 525-551)'. . , 216 July, 1952 . BOOK I~OTICES It is interes'ting to observe, in view of Wl~at certain welJ-known authors on prayer, for instance, Saudreau an~t Arintero, hold, that where "the higher degrees of mental prayer wl~ich can be attained by ordinary grace" are treated, we find the statement that "there are two higherdegrees x~hich today are usually called affective pra~,er and the prayer of simplicity or filso acquired contemplation" (p. 425). Toward'the end of the section on the gifts of the Holy¯ Spirit it is affirmed that persons who cultivate them carefully "may :lawfully expect to_be led day by day to greater perfection and to work great things for the glory of God and*His kingdom" (p. 299). No promise is made of mystical favors. The 'Prior General has a sentence in his letter that is enlightening about the spirit of Carmel: "In this book.will be found fully explained those key principles of Carmel: to give our whole selves to God--to stfi.ve for purity of conscience--to foster intimate union with God" (p. xxiii). Lastly, the delicate problem of the historical connectibns of the Order witch "our Holy Father Elias" is handled devoutly but-Cautiously. ~-~AUGUSTINE G. ELLARD, S.J. BOOK NOTICES Som~ years ago Father Henry Davis, S.J., rendered an invaluable ser'vice~to the English-speaking clhrgy, as well as to theology-minded laity, by publishing a 4-volume work on moral and pastoral the-ology. Before his death at the age of eighty-five, in January of this year, he had increased his measure of service by preparing a 1-volume SUMMARY OF MORAL AND PASTORAL THEOLOGY. The book covers the whole of moral theolpgy: principles: precepts, and sadraments; and it includes much sound pastoral advice. It is a very useful book for priests, libraries, and those 9fthe laity who wofild like t6 become. acquaifited with a standard manual of moral .tl~eology. One' caution might be added for the laity. The treatise on the Sixth Command-ment, since it follows the pattern of the theological textbook, con-tains certain technicalities that might be more confusing than help-ful. The laity'who "irish to read on this subject for their personal benefit would do better to use a book written expressly for them. (New York: Sheed ~3 Ward, 1952. Pp. xxxvi -b 486. .$5.00.), A decidedly readable explanation of the doctrine of the Mys~fical, Bddy of Christ is THE LIVING CHRIST, by John L. Murphy. The t .217 BOOK NOTICES - Revi~ for Religious explana~tion is based o~n Pius XII'~ encyclical." M~/st, ic[ Co?~oris. The author avoids the use of technical terms as much as possil~le and plains those that must be used. The style i~ marked by clarity, simplicity, "ahd. a certain down-to-ear~hnes~ that contributes con-creteness without losing digni

Issue 69.3 of the Review for Religious, 2010. ; ANew Chal!en~e Models of Spi~rituali, ty Liv, ing Religious Li£e ' Foliow~ing Christ QUARTERLY 69.3 2010 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope' Paul Vl said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih reviewrfr@gmail.com ¯Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2010 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~ gournalof Ca~ho~c ~piri~ua~y rel Editor Associate Editor Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho SJ Martin Erspamer OSB' Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 69.3 2010 contents prisms 228 Prisms 230 238 a new challenge ~ Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age Daniel P. Horan OFM reflects on the role technology currently plays in both supporting and challenging Christians in their fellowship (koinonia) as church. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Hear and Far Hedwig Lewis SJ probes the inclusive meaning and reach of frontiers for spiritual enhancement and effective ministry. The term frontiers, contained in Decree Three of the 35th General Congregation of the Society of Jesus has gained popularity among many religious. 226] 255 268 models of spirituality ~ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross Judith Metz SC explores a central element of St. Elizabeth Seton's spirituality: her realization of the importance of losing her life for the sake of living in closer union with Christ. A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth Avis Clendenen finds in an aging sister's simple tale a vision of the humility that our dangerously narcissistic culture seriously needs. Review for Religious 281 297 living religious life Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice Robert Nogosek CSC proposes that in order for religious life to be authentic discipleship it demands of us an ongoing reevaluation of what is required to be a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God. Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious Jeffrey Mickler SSP brings together some observations and practical suggestions on how to deal with problematic religious. 3O9 316 following Christ The Liturgical Year: History or Mystery? John M. Samaha SM examines the movement of the liturgical year in order that we might enter more fully into this time of grace. Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Discipleship and Clinging to God Damian C. Ilodigwe writes on how letting go opens us to true discipleship, and we are invited to detach ourselves from wayward affections in order to attach ourselves to God. departments 324 Scripture Scope: Reading and Understanding the Prophets 328 Book Review 227 69.3 2010 prisms 228 In the middle months of a secular calendar year, we find ourselves in what is identified as "ordinary time" in the church's liturgical year. As we likely have been told many times, the liturgical "ordinary time" refers to a way of counting (the Latin word ordo meaning "an ordering") the Sundays from one to thirty-four. These are the Sundays that are outside of the special seasons of Advent and Christmas, Lent and Easter. Yet for us Christians, there is a kind of lovely paradox in living within what we call the "liturgical season of ordinary time." While in many ways it may seem that all time is ordi-nary (since time is always countable), in other ways we can view all time as rather extraordi-nary. The ordinariness of time is caught up in our usual round of family or community life, of work and recreation, of the accustomed interaction of friends, neighbors, and fellow-workers. Some people try to break out of the day-to-day routine by deliberately scheduling in a special time for a dinner out, a day-trip to an unfamiliar town, or a different recreational activity such as biking or bowling. Review for Religious A number of people find each day an adventure and cannot imagine that there are some who would call life ordinary. These people find a newness in the chang-ing weather of this day, in the surprising interactions with their own children or friends, and even in the mes-sages of the mail, the internet, and the iphone. They have retained a certain childlikeness that retains a won-der,. about life in all its forms. For them life is not so much ordinal, that is, "countable," as it is caught up in "moments" that have no countable passage. For exam-ple, moments of insight and moments of being inflamed by love--spiritually identified as consolations--are truly beyond the countable. We Christians are blessed and graced to recognize these kinds of "moments" in prayer during which we feel caught up outside of time in our relationship with God. Surely it does not happen all the time; in fact, the "ordinary" is our "slugging away" at our prayer time. We can also know these moments when we are engaged in our various times of joy, happiness, and love. The wonder of it all is that these moments for us--those who are caught in finding life ordinary and those who are gifted to live in wonder--are actually moments that happen in the ordinary course of our daily living. Perhaps that is why it is important for us to enter fully into the paradox of our church's liturgical season of ordinary rime. There i~ the reality of the ordinary and there is also the reality of the moment. The church's liturgical year reminds us that God is always present to us both in the ordinary and in the moment. We need only to pray each day of our liturgical year to be gr.aced with the gratitude that finds God in all times and places. David L. Fleming sJ 69.3 2010 a new DANIEL P. HORAN challenge 2301 Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age If Jesus had been born in 1980 and began his public ministry in 2010, would he have "friended" the twelve apostles on Facebook instead of visiting the Sea of Galilee? While this question might at first seem comical, it reflects concern about how the church as the Christian community relates to the world in which it exists today. The world is very different from the world of Jesus' ministry. The way many people experience interpersonal communication, develop and maintain relation-ships, and share information is strikingly dif-ferent from the ways of previous generations. In an era marked by advances in technology, communication, and virtual space, we must be attentive to how much our church community is being influenced or shaped by its new envi-ronment. To understand some of these matters Daniel P. Horan .OFM has written on Franciscan the-ology, philosophy, and spirituality. He writes from Holy Name College; 1650 Saint Camillus Drive; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. Review for Religious in what we may call the "digital age," we must look first at what unites us in faith and then at how our changing world affects that unity. What Is Koinonia? Early in the Acts of the Apostles, we are told that members of the nascent Christian community "devoted thems'elves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship (koinonia), to the breaking of bread and the prayers" (Ac 2:42). In Greek, koinonia was one of the marks of Christian identity, but what does it mean? It literally means "communal-ness" (community, communion, "in common") and thus fellowship. In the Christian con-text, however, this is more than club mem . bership or casual social connections. The New Testament scholar Luke Timothy Johnson sug-gests that this under-standing of koinonia includes our unity in Christ, which explains how the Christian com-munity was able to maintain unity amid the ~hallenges it faced in the first centuries. In a 1999 lecture at St. Louis University, Johnson offered four aspects of this Christian fellow-ship: fellowship among persons, in writing, in material resources, and in convictions.1 Even in diverse cultures, regions, and languages, Christianity was unified through these four aspects of koinonia. The fellowship among persons is seen in the way net-works of New Testament figures, including the apostles The fellowship in writing is most clearly seen in the way .that. early Christian texts,. were shared among the early believers~ [231 69.3 2010 Horan ¯ Koinonia and the Cburcb in the Digital Age and their successors, helped to unify the various com-munities of believers. Johnson believes that these per-sonal connections helped to maintain coherence in the early Christian movement. The fellowship in writing is most clearly seen in the way that early Christian texts, which would later be canonized as Scripture, were shared among the early believers in different locations. The exchange of these compositions, sometimes letters and sometimes longer narratives, concretized the common experience of the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. The communal reflec-tion on these compositions proved to be an important means of developing koinonia. The fellowship in material resources united the first Christians in a seemingly calculable way that was under-stood more deeply as symbolizing a spiritual connec-tion with other believers. We see in both the Acts of the Apostles and in the Letters of Paul references to offerings for the benefit of the local community ("no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common," Ac 4:32), and the greater Christian community spread throughout the land ("conc+rning the collection for the saints., on the first day of every week, each of you is to put aside and save whatever extra you earn," 1 Co 16:1-2). Sharing financial resources represented spiritual koinonia. The last form of fellowship is that in convictions. Johnson notes that in the New Testament we see con-flicts arising over interpretations of some mat(ers, but that some convictions are never contested. Three of these are monotheism (identifying the one God as the God of the Torah), knowledge that Jesus was human and died, and belief that Jesus was now living with God and would share in God's triumph in the future. Review for Religious All four forms of koinonia that Johnson highlights contribute to the unity amid diversity in the early.church. We see that they have continued to unite the church. The Possibility of Digita! Koinonia With the understanding that this fourfold koinonia continues even today, we can now look at how it relates to us in our technologically advanced and technologically permeated world. It seems there is nothing that does not have a digital or virtual counterpart: Much of today's communication takes place on the Internet in such sites as Facebook and MySpace. Interacting in a completely digital environment where simple laws of nature, com-mon social mores, and geographical limits are no longer applicable is becoming more common through programs like SecondLife. These new forms of communication and social interaction allow the users to create, modify, and experiment with their identities in unprecedented ways. These new "identities" can participate in what are often called "online communities." Is it possible then to express koinonia in a digital format, to have "church" or a community of believers come together in an authentic way online? It would seem at first glance to be a possibility. The clearest congruency between koinonia and the digital age is likely found within the context 6f the fel-lowship among persons. The Second Vatican Council's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen gen-tium, says: "All of the faithful, scattered though they be throughout the. world, are in communion with each other in the Holy Spirit" (LG §13).2 Earlier in Lumen gentium we are told that the church "transcends all limits of time and confines of race [and is] destined to extend to all regions of the earth" (LG §9). Transcending the 69.3 2010 Horan ¯ Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age boundaries of temporality and human differences sug-gests that connecting and communicating with others through digital media and the Internet is indeed a con-temporary manifestation of fellowship among persons. Additionally, the "blog" (short for "weblog") and other digital media make written compositions and reflections on normative religious texts more read-ily available. Even in graduate theological schools, the ubiquity of technologies such as BlackBoard or WebCT has reshaped the way students of Scripture and theology read about, reflect on, and share their faith. It would seem that Christians are no longer limited to parish Bible study, adult catechesis, or other forms of faith-sharing face to face. Instead, thecommunica(ion of biblical and theological reflection now transcends the previous spatial and temporal boundaries. You can read about, reflect on, and share your faith at any time and from nearly any place. The fellowship in material resources in contempo-rary Christian communities occurs largely by way of the Internet. Technology enables the faithful to share their material resources directly or indirecdy with other communities at the click of a computer mouse. When natural disaster, crime, or war affects the people of God on any continent or at any time, the Internet has allowed Christians to assist others instantaneously. This has been the case in recent years with aid to victims of the Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004 and victims of hur-ricane Katrina in New Orleans in 2005. The sharing of material resources in these instances also represents the spiritual unity of the people of God, spread around the world though they are. The final dimension of koinonia that Johnson has highlighted for us, fellowship in convictions, can also be for Reli#ous seen in the new technologies of the digital age. From the beginning of the Internet, digital "communities" formed to share ideas and information. Early on, this occurred in what were called "chat rooms" and "message boards," where one could connect with others and contribute to a continuing conversation about a particular subject. Today the successors to those early formats might be Facebook "groups" and personal blogs. Centered on commonly held beliefs and convictions, these digital "spaces" allow people to connect with others without regard to temporal or geographic boundaries. Given the apparent compatibility of Luke Johnson's fourfold definition of koinonia with the technological advances of our digital age, it seems we could advocate a form of "digital koinonia." There remains, however, a piece of the puzzle that is not accounted for in this digital koinonia. The church is not united in this form of fellowship alone, but is also a Eucharistic community. From Facebook to Eucharist However great the possibilities for increasing koi-nonia among the Christian faithful, we must recall the passage from Acts cited above wherein the community was also devoted to the breaking of the bread. Cardinal Walter Kasper, in his book That They May All Be One,3 reminds us that the church is not simply an organization or club in which we have become some sort of mem-ber, and that we are brought into participation in the mystery of Christ as a part of Christ's Body through the sacrament of baptism. The participation--the set of relationships we enter through baptism and maintain through koinonia--comes to what Kasper calls "the summit," namely, participation in the Eucharist, a theme from Sacrosanctum concilium, 69.3 2010 Horan ¯ Koinonia and the Church in the Digital Age the council's Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. In this light we can understand Christian koinonia as being both a communal or material unity and a sacramental unity. Kasper is in line with Johnson's fourfold koinonia, but reminds us that this koinonia is inherently sacramental, rooted in our shared baptism and Eucharist. Understanding koinonia as being fundamentally sac-ramental while also communal, we see two sets of rela-tionship in the church's koinonia, The first one Kasper calls the horizontal dimension of koinonia. It is what we have seen in Johnson's fourfold framework: fellow- - ship among persons, . , ~ in writing, in material resources, and in con-viction. The second set Kasper describes as the vertical dimension: the explicitly sacramental fellowship of believers, who in baptism are united to Christ and thus brought into the life of the Trinity. This dimension, the vertical or sac-ramental, cannot be replicated on Facebook, MySpace, SecondLife, or any other technological medium. People cannot have their SecondLife avatar baptized online and cannot participate in the celebration of the Eucharist online either. In light of the ideas of'Luke Timothy Johnson and Cardinal Walter Kasper and in line with the vision of the Second Vatican Council, the church in this digital age of ours is clearly aided in living its koinonia, but not, of course, in the matter of baptism and the Eucharist, with their water, bread, and wine. The horizontal dimension We can understand Christian koinonia as being both a communal or material unity and a sacramental unity,° 236 Review for Religious of koinonia could very likely benefit from more engage-ment with online technologies that transcend some of the usual limits of place and time. At the same time, there is a need to move beyond this digital koinonia to fully include the sacramental and vertical dimension in the celebration of baptism and Eucharist. Had Jesus "friended" the Apostles on Facebook, he would have veryqikely sent an "e-vite" to each one for an in-person gathering shortly thereafter. Notes ~ Luke Timothy Johnson, "Koinonia: Diversity and Unity in Early Christianity," Theology Digest 46 (1999): 303-313. 2 All references to conciliar documents are to Vatican Council II, ed. Austin Flannery OP (New York: Costello Publishing, 1992). 3 Walter Kasper, That They May All Be One: The Call To Unity Today (New York: Continuum, 2004). Questions for Personal Reflection and Group Study 1. In what ways do you experience koinonia in today's church? 2. How do you see technology impacting the way we live out our call to Christian discipleship? Are there other positive or negative dimensions associated with this reality? 3. What are the ways we might better use technology to support authentic communion within the Christian community today? 23.7 69.3 2010 HEDWIG LEWIS Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 23,8 ~reOvarle daStt intuotd oens.l yI nc o2m0m06u,n tihcaet es lmanega n"icnogo blu"t walasso said to be the most popular word of the year. It had acquired a new set of meanings and suggested a specific mindset. The word, however, did not affect Jesuits: they were warming up for a general congregation (GC35) to be held in early 2008. When it was finally in session, the delegates wanted to set the world on fire. A special decree (D2) defined the Jesuit as a "man on fire" at the frontiers of humanity. Decree Three (D3) is tided "Challenges to Our Mission Today: Sent to the Frontiers." "Frontiers" became the theme of several docu-ments and the new buzzword of the Jesuits. It is no longer just a romantic term, but has evoked enthusiasm and captured Jesuit imaginations. It has become popular also among other religious worldwide.~ Hedwig Lewis SJ writes again from St. Xavier's College; P.B. 4168; Ahmedabad 380 009; India. His website is http://joygift.tripod.com. Review for Religious Understanding Frontiers The word frontier has varied meanings: the edge of empires, a place for adventure and heroism, technologi-cal testing for new industries, conquest or rich cultural exchange. In Europe it refers simply to the boundaries between nations. The colonies the Europeans established in the rest of the world became, first of all, European societies and cultures on farther frontiers. In the United States the frontier, in history and popular culture, has meant the setting for adventure and prosperity, valor and villainy. The national character is seen as having been forged in the trials and triumphs of life on the frontier. The pioneer experience supposedly pf0duced the best traits of the American people--their tenacity, individualism, love of democracy, patriotism, inventive-ness, and much more. Many historians today question such views, but few would deny that "frontier," broadly understood, has had an influence not only in North America but in the rest of the world as well. The expansion of European peo-ples brought a variety of complicated changes to human society and to the physical world itself. The frontier was an unsetding force--socially, culturally, politically, and ecologically) No longer just a geographic term implying some restrictions, "frontier" is also used in referring intel-lectual aiad scientific advances and ideological visions. Today "ideas, information, merchandise, technology, and capital circulate freely; persons also circulate, though with many more restrictions. Frontiers have become porous, and in many cases they have disappeared. The world has become multireligious and multicultural. There is no longer a notion of Christendom with delim-ited frontiers beyond which lies mission territory.''3 69.3 2010 Lewis * Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far A New Concept of Frontier Decree Three of GC35 redefines frontier accord-ing to. the interpretation Pope Benedict xvI gave it in his allocution to GC35. It implies "geographical and spiritual ,places where others do not reach or find it dif-ficult to reach . The obstacles challenging those who announce the gospel are no longer seas and vast dis-tances; rather they are the boundar-ies of a superficial vision of God and of man, which place obstacles in the way of faith and human knowledge, faith and science, faith and the commitment to justice.''4 The new frontiers exist everywhere, and we are sent to the frontiers with the very concrete mission of open-ing up passes and of "building bridges" between those who live on pne side of the frontier and those who live on the other. What is more, we are asked to be our-selves "bridges in a fragmented world" (D3 17). The frontiers have to be recognized in their variety and diversity. "The frontier is everywhere--in cyber-space, in the inner space of retreats and counseling, in the depths of depression from infirmity, in the homes that have been broken by separation or misunderstand-ing, in the midst of the secularized globalized post, modern world, in old places that call for new ways of speaking God's word. It is anywhere and everywhere that the joy and peace of the Good News is still not felt. And we are asked to go there, and 'our mode of proceeding is to trace the footprints of God. know-ing that the Spirit of Christ is at work in all places Frontiers have to be recognized in their varietyand diversity: 240 Review for Religious and situations.' . . . We turn also to the 'frontier' of the earth, increasingly degraded and plundered. Here, with passion for environmental justice, we shall meet once again the Spirit of God seeking to liberate a suf-fering creation, which demands of us space to live and breathe" (D2 10&24).s On the spiritual front, particularly for Ignatian spiriZ tuality, "~e frontiers are in giving Spiritual Exercises to every kind of person. There are frontiers in constructing an I'gnatian spirituality that can energize political action and, a renewed evangelization of faithful Christians. And there are ~frontiers in places: Moscow, for instance, and the virtual place called the web. There are older fr.on-tiers too: each human hea~;t that has to decide to follow and serve Christ the ¯K' in"g6. Jesm" t s"pirituality, because it is holistic and inclusive, "sustains the Jesuit at individual and collective, personal and strg.ctural levels for collabo-ration and networking at all levels--provincial and uni-versal in an attitude of solidarity . Jesuits are invited to build a new future in Christ for a 'globalization in solidarity, a globalization without marginalization.'''7 Those who "really try to listen" to, the Spirit end up in strange, surprising places!''s Jesuit Frontiersmen ~ Since the-foundation of the Society of Jesus, Jesuits have considered themselves frontiersmen and pioneers in .the proclamation of the faith. Pope. Benedict alluded to this in his allocution: "In its history; the Society of Jesus has lived extraordinary experiences of proclama-tion and encounter between the gospel and world cul-tures- it suffices to think of Matteo Ricci in China, Roberto De Nobili in India, or the 'Reductions' in Latin America. And you are very rightly, proud of them. I feel 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 242 it is my duty today to urge you to set out once again in the tracks of your predecessors with the same cour-age and intelligence, but also with an equally profound motivation of faith and enthusiasm to serve the Lord and his church." He was echoing the words of his predecessor Pope Paul vI, who spoke of ~'crossroads" and "the front line" when he addressed GC32 in 1975: "Wherev.er in the church, even in the most difficult and exposed fields, in the Erossroads of ideologies, in the social trenches, there has been or is confrontation between the burning exigencies of humanity and the perennial message of the gospel, there have been and are the Jesuits," The Jesuit historian John O'Malley, writing about "the first Jesuits," said that their ."ministries and how they went about them were quintessential to the Jesuits' self-definition" of being frontiersmen. In their minis-tries, Jesuits excluded no person or place in the world. They operated at the edges of life: they preached, taught catechism., proposed _n_ew liturgical practices, and sought to .help orphans, prostitutes, prisoners, and people in hospitals. They were simultaneously writing plays, teaching in universities~ and acting as theologians at the Council of Trent. Within seven years of their papal approval, they founded and operated schools.9 Today our mission is to, go with both spiritual vigor and intellectual rigor to the "new frontiers" where we learn again that our "Jesuit identity [and mission] are relational; they grow in and through our diversities of culture, nationalities, and languages, enriching and chal-lenging us" (D2 19).1° In keeping with their vocation, therefore, Jesuits are sent beyond all frontiers "to serve faith, promote jus-tice, and dialogue with cultures and religions. The basis Review for Religious for reconciliation is Luke 4:18-19, which announces the good news to the poor, the release of captives, the recovery of sight by the blind, and freedom for the oppressed. In proclaiming God's message of love and compassion, Jesus crosses over physical and socio-religious frontiers. In the same manner, Jesuits are invited to preach the kingdom to those living outside their physical and spiritual frontiers: tax col-lectors; prostitutes; sin-ners; refugees; displaced; trafficked; women; chil- ,To cr, gss frontlers demands a strongfaith, courage, ,open ness others, and a willingness to take risks. dren; minorities; outcasts; indigenous peoples; victims of communal, caste, and ethnic violence; and persons of all kinds who are marginalized and excluded.''~l The frontiers are difficult and often uncomfort-able places. They provide none of the security of one's home turf and often require excursions, into unfamiliar or even uncharted territory. To cross frontiers demands a strong faith, courage, openness to others, and a will-ingness to take risks. It requires the ability to adapt the message of Christ and his church to cultural, linguistic, and religious realities that work with altogether differ-ent categories and reference points, as modeled by some of the great Jesuit missionaries of the past.~2 '.'Going to the frontiers," Father Adolfo Nicolfis pointed out, "means study, research, entering into the life of the people, soli-darity, empathy, inculturation, and respect for others. Going to the whole world turns out to be more difficult than we had thought. We feel like children. Perhaps we have discovered the kingdom of God.''~3 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far Father Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, when asked to define "catholic" by Georgetown University trustees visiting Rome in May 2007, replied, "I have always understood 'catholic' to mean bringing the experience of those at the frontiers of the church's mission back to renew the center.''14 For the effectiveness of our mission, we need to carefully "discern" the frontiers. This demands "three important qualities: creativity, daring, and great humil-ity!" according to Father Nicolfis. "Every Jesuit work, be it in justice, spirituality, educati6n, or whatever, should ask the question, 'How are we at the frontiers?'''is That is what this article addresses. The full mean-ing and scope of "frontiers" will take much research and extensive reflection. This is, then, an introductory study from three perspectives: (1) interior frontiers, which involve (2) spiritual frontiers and (3) outreach frontiers. 244 Interior Frontiers Saints have implied that the spiritual life is the adven-ture of crossing interior psychological frontiers to reach the ever expanding horizons of the soulscape. Spiritual life always involves letting go so .that, unburdened by self-seeking, one can go forward in communion with the divine. This adventure entails a striving to compre-hend "the 'breadth, and length, and depth, and height" of Christ's love (Ep 3:18). In this regard, and with regard to the papal definition, frontiers envisage inscape and landscape--the personal and the social, the vertical, horizontal, and panoramic reaches within one's power with the help of divine grace. Frontiers can envision our environs, our neighborhood--its breadth and length-- and those living on the edge or at the fringes of our neighborhood or our society. Frontiers can include depth Revieva for Religious and height, interior knowledge that grows and expands to vision and ideals, to community and commitment. As religious men and women, committed to this journey of the soul, we are called to be "bridge-builders" on all fronts. To be effective in this mission of bridging, we have to grow unceasingly in our familiarity with the "territories" at both ends, the spiritual and the worldly. "The church is in urgent need of people of solid and deep faith, of a serious culture and a genuine human and social sensitivity, of religious who devote their lives to stand on those frontiers in order to witness and help to understand that there is in fact a profound harmony between faith and reason, between evangelical spirit, thirst for justice, and action for peace.''16 This spiritual adventure has'its own thrill and attraction. With our inner vision set on new~ and farther horizons that our Lord graciously opens up for zealous seekers, the path is "straight and narrow" (Mr 7:13-14), but along it there are obstacles and frontiers. For those disposed toward Ignatian spirituality, any discussion on "frontiers, will inevitably involve the magis, the openness to being and doing more. "We must discern our mission according to the criteria of the magis and the more universal good" (D2 22). The magis challenges one toward seeking greater depth rather than wider avenues, non multa sed multum (not many but much). The spirit of the magis transforms us into fron-tier persons, desiring to find themselves called to what is greater and better. St. Ignatius, "the pilgrim," explored the dark inte-riors of the cave of his heart before he undertook the journey to Jerusalem to "save souls." His Autobiography describes how the journey inward meant resisting dev-ilish pirates and surviving death-threatening squalls in [ 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far order to cross the frontiers to peaceful havens. An exam-ple from more recent times is that of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, who indicates in her "private writings" that for the last fifty years of her life she had struggled pain-fully to feel God's presence. Through her "dark night of the soul," neverthe- The Ignatian magis brooks no comfoi't zones; it expands ou~ horizons and opens up ever-new frontiers within the heart and the world around it. less, she shone forth as an extraordinary woman of faith, who continued crossing frontiers of a more ordinary kind. The Ignatian magis brooks no comfort zones; it expands our horizons and opens up ever-new frontiers within the heart and the world around it. Only Love can satisfy our inner craving for fulfillment: Love of God, love of self, love for others. Only unconditional love breaks barriers and enables us to cross over life's various frontiers. We will reach the last frontier only when "the soul feels sat-isfied." But this will happen only with our dying breath, for, .as Augustine tells us, our hearts are resdess till they rest in God. 246 Geography of Prayer/Spiritual Frontiers To assist us in our "restless striving" to cross spir-itual frontiers, St. Ignatius has given us his Spiritual Exercises. "One tries to find one's way to the place where one desires to pray now and, when I find my way to that place, I try to stay there 'until I have been satis-fied' before moving on to a new place." This method Review for Religious applies to where I place my body (in the literal sense) and where I give my attention. This discipline of seek-ing the place of my heart's desire and trying to stay there until I have been satisfied makes a powerful disci-pline for living ordinary life as well as for finding guid-ance in prayer. A Jesuit has written: "When I pray, I pay attention to where I am (geographically, professionally, tempo-rally). I try to follow the lead of my inner disturbances (Ignatius's word for consolations or desolations), which can help me find my way to where I desire to meet, and be met by, God. If I pay attention to where I place myself in the world and where my life circumstances place me, my place in the world becomes grace for me. I can form a habit of asking whether I am called to remain in that place or whether I am called to find my way to a new place. 'Place' here can mean a given neighborhood, a particular job, a professional organization, an informal network of friends, and so forth.''~7 Familiarity with this "inner geography" helps us translate our prayer into our ministry as contemplatives in action. Hence we need to deepen our interior lives so as to better integrate our vision and mission as fron-tiersmen. Without a demanding and vigorous interior life, we allow ourselves to let go of the "contempla-. tive" side of our lives, forgetting that "in what we do in the world there must always be transparency to God" (GC35 D2 10). Without seeking and finding the paths of interiority which the Spirit of God oPens up if we are docile, we rian the risk that our apostolic generosity will wither, the meaning of our strongest commitments will become confused. Without seeking God with our inner eyes, we do not recognize how God is working in our efforts. We are likely to stop making them.~8 247 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 248 Outreach Frontiers Frontiers "beyond geographical definitions await us, 'nations' that today include those who are poor and dis-placed, those who are profoundly lonely, those who ignore God's existence, and those who use God as an instrument for political purposes. Thereare new 'nations,' and we have been sent to them (D2 22). At the frontier, then, we encounter the tragedies of poverty, hunger, thirst, pain, and death--a world in need. But this discovery need not discourage us, for we also discover that God is already there at work, and God will accompany us. Be.cause God is already there, Jesuits and their collaborators will receive new energy and new life, even when mingled with anguish where 'the Divinity'is hidden.'" 19 "Ignatius and his first companions understood the importance of reaching out to people on the frontiers and at the center of society, of reconciling those who were estranged in any way. From the center in Rome, Ignatius sent Jesuits to the frontiers, to th~ new world, 'to announce the Lord to peoples and cultures that did not know him as yet.' He sent Xavier to the Indies. Thousands of Jesuits followed, preaching the gospel to many cultures, sharing knowledge with and learning from others. He also wanted Jesuits to cross other types of frontiers between rich and poor, between educated and unlearned. He wrote a letter to the Jesuits at the Council of Trent on how to behave, and insisted that they should minister to the sick. Jesuits opened colleges in Rome and in the great cities, of Europe, and they taught children in villages across the world" (D3 15). The metaphor of bridge-building is used often' in D3, "signaling a desire to link thoroughgoing incul, turation to a commitment to dialogue. The.strategy proposed is clear: Go to the frontiers, immerse your- Review for Religious selves in the cultures you encounter, and share in the conversation. These orientations are to drive Jesuit and Ignatian activity in the postmodern era.''2° "This tradition of Jesuits building bridges across frontiers becomes crucial in the context of today's world. We become able to bridge the divisions of a fragmented world only if we remember and live from three Ignatian principles: the love of God our Lord, the union of minds and hearts reflected in the personal bond of Francis Xavier and Ignatius across the seas, and the obedience that sends each one of us in mission to any part of this world" (D3 17). The "universal mission" of the Society of Jesus flows from Ignatius's vision at La Storta. He would "deploy Jesuits in a wide variety of apostolic ministries around the world. Jesuits were to go where the need was great-est, other religious were not already there, the good to be achieved was wide and deep, and their service would better society0while giving glory to God (see Constitutions SJ §622).''2~ Christ-centered Many tasks may call on us urgently, but we know that it is not only urgent tasks that define the Society's missions: "it is Christ's mission, of which we desire to be the servants, that is our urgency.''z2 Pope Benedict, in his recent encyclical Caritas in veritate (§20) empha-sized this IZhristic orientation behind all human endeav-ors toward social change for a better world: It is Christ's charity that drives us on: "caritas Christi urget nos" (2 Co 5:14). The urgency is inscribed not only in things, it is not derived solely from the rapid succession of events ahd problems, but also from the very matter that is at stake: the establishment of authen- [249 69.3 2010 Lewis * Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far Our o treach programs must begin from the heart, tic fraternity. The importance of this goal is such as to demand our openness to understand it in depth and to mobilize ourselves at the level of the "heart," so as to ensure that current economic and social processes evolve towards fully human outcomes. Our outreach programs, then, must begin, from the heart._ This demands that we be person-centered rather than project-oriented. Our service must touch hearts. In this outreach we will encounter personal and social frontiers, as" Christ did, but we must cross them all to get to people's hearts; for the kingdom, coming from within God's heart, is within. "The crossing of frontiers is a larger human experi-ence and is not only a matter of religious frontiers. An open church willing to relate to the world, the larger society, and many types of identities will increasingly face the question of how to go about the reality of frontiers. It is the modern version of the question of love of neighbor . Traditional Christian rec-onciliation has to express itself today in the way we face complicated frontiers and boundaries and how we cross over and reach out. :. By negotiating the frontiers and communing across them, Christians will continuously discover new dimensions of their own faith identity. ¯ Much of the Christian future lies on the periphery, in the frontier-zones. Encounter with new identities need not signify a threat to a church that understands itself as universal because it is a communion in difference.''23 "Jesus, in his outreach, embraced difference and new horizons. His ministry transcended boundaries. Review for Religious He invited his disciples to be aware of God's action in places and people they were inclined to avoid: Zacchaeus, a Syro-Phoenician woman, Roman centurions, a repen-tant thief. As water bringing life to all who thirst, he showed himself interested in every parched area of the world; and in every parched area of the world he can thus be welcomed, for all who are thirsty can understand what living water means. This image of living water can give life to all Jesuits as servants of Christ in his mission because, having tasted this water themselves, they will be eager to offer it to anyone who thirsts and to reach out to people beyond frontiers--where water may not yet have welled up--to bring a new culture of dialogue to a rich, diverse, and multifaceted world" (D2 12). The Gospels offer a vivid insight into Christ's modus operandi in his healing ministry. "Look at any healing story: the way Jesus heals the paralyzed man brought in by his friends through the roof; the leper; the woman with the issue of blood. Jesus first responds to a concrete, immediate need: the healing of a sickness. But then he goes on to respond to a deeper need: the burden of guilt or the sense of hopelessness or rejec-tion and isolation. Finally he goes deeper still and offers what they long for most, often without knowing it: the gift of the kingdom of God, of friendship with a God of unconditional love, in a way that transforms them at the core of their persons.''24 "In proclaiming God's message of love and com-passion, Jesus crossed over physical and socioreligious frontiers. His message of reconciliation was preached both to the people of Israel and to those living outside its physical and spiritual frontiers: tax collectors, prostitutes, sinners, and persons of all kinds who are marginalized and excluded. His ministry of reconciliation with God 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far and with one another knew no boundaries. He spoke to the powerful, challenging them to a change of heart. He showed special love for the sinner, the poor widow, and the lost sheep. The kingdom of God which he constantly preached became a vision for a world where all relation-ships are reconciled in God. Jesus confronted the powers that oppose this kingdom, and that opposition led him to death on the cross, a death which he freely accepted in keeping with his mission. On the cross we see all his words and actions revealed as expressions of the final reconciliation effected by the Crucified and Risen Lord, through whom comes the new creation in which all rela-tionships will be set right in God" (D3 14). Words from the Heart We often fall short of being imitators of Christ in our frontier ministries. Our very words betray our attitudes: we "plan," "coordinate," "organize," mostly at the head level. "These are organizational verbs, very important, necessary for moving ahead," Father Adolfo Nicolfis noted. He added that in contrast, when Jesus commis-sioned his disciples to ministry, his words revealed the heart of it. He used "verbs of life, verbs of giving life": preach the gospel to the poor, heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, expel demons, raise the dead. This clearly indicates that "the mission of God in Jesus, the business he is about, is making life flow more abundantly for humanity wherever it is lacking or blocked. And the real secret of mission is not to get rid' of the organizational verbs or the gospel verbs, but to somehow make the organizational actions that we have to perform expres-sions of the life-giving actions of the gospel.''2s Words are symbolic. When we set out with the mindset of Christ to discern "how we are at the fron- Review for Re.ligious tiers," is our definitiofi of "frontiers" congru.ent with that of the Church and the Socie,ty? Does the spirit of the magis urge us to seek and find God's presence everywhere--across the frontiers, deep and high, near and far? Notes 1 Adolfo Nicolas sJ, "Challenges and Issues in Jesuit Education," keynote address on the 150th anniversary of Jesuit education in the Philippines, Ateneo de Manila University, 13 July 2009. 2 Elliott West, Frontier, Grolier Online. 3 Marcos Recolons SJ, "What's New in the Decree on Mission?" Promotio Iustitiae 98-99 (2008/1): 18. 4 Pope Benedict XVI, allocution to the delegates of GC35, 21 February 2008. s Josd C.J. Magadia SJ, homily for the celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the Philippine Province, 27 July 2008. 6 Joseph Tetlow SJ, "At the Frontiers," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 95 (2000): 17. 7 Joseph Marianus Kuiur SJ, "Sent to the Frontiers--Decree on Mission," Jivan (August 2008): 4-6. s Nicol~is, "Challenges and Issues." 9 John O'Malley sJ, The First Jesuits (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), pp. 3 and 18. 10 Paul L. Locatelli SJ, "To Be Sent: Mission, Frontiers, and Contemplative Action," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 119 (2008/3): 27. 1~ Kuiur, "Sent to the Frontiers." 12 Len Altilia SJ, "The Inspiration for Frontiers," Frontiers 1, no. 1, online. 13 John Borelli SJ, "Frontiers of Dialogue for Discovery and Renewal," National Jesuit News (November 2008). 14 Borelli, "Frontiers of Dialogue." ~s Adolfo Nicolas SJ, "Jesuit Mission Today," address to Jesuits and friends at Gonzaga College, Ireland, 12 September 2009. 16 Pope Benedict XVI, allocution. 17 John Staudenmaier sJ "The Inner Geography of Prayer in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius," UDMcasts on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, The University of Detroit Mercy, Detroit, 7 March 2007. 69.3 2010 Lewis ¯ Beyond Frontiers, Deep and High, Near and Far 18 Franqois-Xavier Dumortier SJ, "The Same Path as Ignatius," Review of Ignatian Spirituality 119 (2008). , ,9 Locatelli, "To ~Be Sent," p. 33. 20 Adria~ Lyons SJ, "From Centre to Frontiers," Province Express, Australia, 28 May 2008. 21 Locatelli, "To Be Sent," p. 27. 22 Dumortier, "The Same Path." 23 Felix Wilfred, "Introduction: The Art of Negotiating the Frontiers," Concilium, 1999/2. 24 Nicokis, "Challenges and Issues." 2s Nicolfis, "Challenges and Issues." Equinox 254 I was once certain of so many things Certain of light and dark life and death f!'lled and empty hatred and love I was once certain of so many things But grief broke me open and they tumbled out as one jumbled mess Certainty tumbled out among them. Kathleen Atkinson OSB Review for Religious JUDITH METZ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross In the back flyleaf of her prayer book, Elizabeth Bayley Seton wrote a modification of the Anima Christi: Soul of Jesus sanctify me Blood of Jesus wash me Passion of Jesus comfort me Wounds of Jesus hide me Heart of Jesus receive me Spirit of Jesus enliven me Goodness of Jesus pardon me Beauty of Jesus draw me Humility of Jesus humble me Peace of Jesus pacify me Love of Jesus inflame me Kingdom of Jesus come to me Grace of Jesus replenish me Mercy of Jesus pity me Sanctity of Jesus sanctify me Purity of Jesus purify me Cross of Jesus support me Judith Metz SC is the archivist and historian for the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati. Her address is 5900 Delhi Road; Mount St. Joseph, Ohio 45051. models of spirituality. 69.3 2010 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross Nails of Jesus hold me in life, in death - in time and Eternity - in the hour of Death defend me, call me to come to thee, receive me with thy Saints in glory everlasting.I Elizabeth loved this prayer, writing several paraphrases of it as she contemplated at various times the outpour-ing of Jesus' love in his suffering and death. From when she was young, her spirituality found a focus in his love, shown in his giving of himself, in his willingness to suf-fer for us--and in her wish to return this love. Her father gave her a cross which she often wore, remarking that she loved it "as the mark of my Captain and Master whom I was to follow so valiantly" (3a:514). There are many references in her letters and journals to this cross, such as: "looked at my crucifix"; "Calvary is the rendezvous"; "we must be crucified." As she was nursing her dying husband, she wrote: "Not only willing to take up my cross but kissed it too" (l:257).During a tumultuous time after her return to New York, Elizabeth observed: "When people say 'so much trouble has turned her br~in' - well, I kiss my crucifix, which I have loved for so many years, and say 'they are only mistaken'" (1:401). People sometimes comment that they find little affinity with St. Elizabeth Seton because her spirituality seems negative. For them she dwells so much on suf-fering and the cross--on joy at embracing hardship in imitation of Jesus--that her spirituality does not attract them. ~ Yet the imitation of Christ must be the center of every Christian life. Holy people through the ages have shown us by their lives that the more people recognize God's outpouring love, demonstrated by Christ's sacri-fice on the cross, the more they need to imitate that self-giving love: "If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, Review for Religious let him renounce himself and take up his cross and fol-. low me. For anyone who wants to save his life will lose it; but :anyone who loses his life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it" (Mk 8:34-35). Although Ignatius Loyola did not write the Anima Christi, which we have already reflected on, he placed it at the beginning of his Spiritual Exercises and often referred to it. And he did write the Suscipe that most of us are familiar with: ."Take, Lord, ~ receive all my liberty, my mem-ory, my understanding, my entire will; all that I have and possess." In her lnterior Castle, Teresa of Avila observed: "His Majesty could not grant us a greater favor than to give us a life that would be an imitation of the life his beloved Son lived. Thus I hold for certain that these favors are meant to fortify our weakness., that we may be able to imitate him in his great sufferings." Like these great saints, Elizabeth Seton was also com-mitted to living in imitation of Jesus. She wrote in her Journal: "The cup which our Father has given Us, shall we not drink it? Blessed Savior, by the bitterness of thy pains We may estimate the force of thy love . . . and therefore, if thou so ordainest it, welcome disappointment and pov-erty; welcome sickness and pain -welcome even shame, and contempt, and calumny. If this be a rough and thorny path, it is one which thou hast gone before us. Where we see thy footsteps we cannot repine" (3b:21). Elizabeth was able to enter into Jesus' life, to expe-rience his outpouring love in the events of the passion narratives, in a way that made them very real and rele-vant to her life. She recognized that Christ's story was her Elizabeth Seton was O mitted t0 living in ,imitation of ]esus: 69.3 2010 258 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton °s Spirituality of the Cross story. Her part was to enter into her own life and joyfully embrace the cross as a way of being in union with her beloved. She experienced overwhelming gratitude at what Christ had done for her, and she knew that her response must be to "drink the cup" and be "baptized with the baptism" of which Jesus spoke. This spirituality of hers permeated her prayer and supported her through many difficult times. One of these was the month she spent in the lazaretto with her desper-ately ill husband and young daughter upon their arrival at Livorno, Italy, in November 1803. She described the experience to her dearly loved sister-in-law Rebecca Seton: "You could not rest in your bed if you saw [me] as [I am] sitting in one corner of an immense Prison bolted in and barred with as much ceremony as any monster of mischief might be - a single window double grated with iron thro' which, if I should want anything, I am to call a sentinel, with a fierce cocked hat, and long rifle gun." "On the ship-mattresses spread on the cool floor my Willy and Anna are sound asleep, and I ~trust that God, who has given him strength through a day of such exertion will carry us on - He is our all indeed -. God is with us - and if sufferings abound in us,his consolations also greatly abound, and far exceed all utterance." "What shall we say - this is the hour of trial, the Lord support and strengthen us in it. Retrospections being anguish - press forward toward the mark and prize" (1:251,253,254). As the Setons passed their weeks, of quarantine, Elizabeth strove to keep her equilibrium by prayer and her "hidden Treasures,;--her Bible, commentaries, ser-mons, and The Imitation of Christ ~that she had carried with her from New York. She poured out her heart in her Journal, where she lamented time and again how she "read, prayed, we.pt, and prayed again" (1:256,257,265). Review for Religious But as she contemplated her situation she was also able to note: "Not only willing to take up my cross but kissed it too . I find my present opportunity a Treasure - and my confinement of Body a liberty of Soul which I may never again enjoy whilst they are united . If I could forget my God one moment at this time I should go mad -but he hushes all - Be still and know that I am God your Father" (1:257,258). With the passing days William Seton's health con-tinued to worsen so that by 5 December a doctor was called. Though he feared that Elizabeth's beloved hus-band "might be gone in a few hours," he continued to hold on. On 14 December, Elizabeth wrote: "The damp-ness about us would be thought dangerous for a pdrson in health, and my W's sufferings - Oh well I know that God is above. Capitano,. if I thought our condition the providence of man, instead of the 'weeping Magdalene' as you so graciously call me, you would find me a lioness willing to burn your Lazaretto about your ears . But O my Heavenly Father I know that these contradictory events are permitted and guided by thy Wisdom, which only is light" (1:270,271). Released from their confinement on 19 December, the lit-de family traveled to lodgings in Pisa. On Chrisunas Day Elizabeth put a little wine in a glass and said differ-ent portions of psalms and prayers which she had marked in her books, hoping for a happy moment. "We took the cup of Thanksgiving setting aside the sorrow of time, in the views of the joy of Eternity," she noted (1:273). Elizabeth then began the deathbed vigil that ended two days later. She recorded, "On Tuesday morning 27th December - [William's] soul was released - and mine from a struggle next to death." She continued, "In all this it is not necessary to dwell on the mercy and consoling 69.3 2010 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of tbe Cross 260 presence of my dear Redeemer, for no mortal strength could support what I experienced" (1:274,275). The tears, prayers, and anguish Elizabeth suffered during her long watch with her sick and dying husbandincreased her trust in God and led her to a deeper identification with her suffering Savior. Her experiences became a part of her spirituality. Her continued trust in Divine Providence during her remaining time in Italy led her along paths that she could not have imagined. Impressed with the Catholic faith and practices of her Italian hosts, the Episcopalian Elizabeth entered into a long and anguished discernment over whether to remain in the church of her birth or to join the Catholic Church. For nearly a year she considered the argu-ments on each side, trying to listen to the voice of God. Longing for support and advice, she wrote to her Italian friend Antonio Filicchi: "Judge of my disappointment when only a few lines [from you] rewarded my anxious anticipations - however, at. the foot of my cross I found consolation, and kissing it over and over I repeated and repeat, there only I am never disappointed" (1:326). Elizabeth's uncertainty seemed to grow through the months, and she wrote of being "half dead with the inward struggle" (1:372). Yet, she confided to Antonio, "when some hours of consolation come, I think 'hard as the trial is, yet it is sweet' - I never knew till now what prayer is - never thought of fasting - though now it is more a habit than eating, never knew how to give up all, and send my spirit to mount Calvary, nor how to con-sole and delight it in the society of angels - 'Patience,' says my soul, 'He will not let you and your little ones perish, and if yet your life is given in the conflict, at the last he will nail all to his cross and receive you to his mercy'" (1:339). Review for Religious Elizabeth's decision to join the Catholic Church gained her inner peace and certitude, but led, as she later recorded, to "most painful remembrances now - yet grateful for the order of our Grace, so evident through all" (3a:519). The three years that she remained in New York after her conversion were difficult and gave her ample opportunity to share in the sufferings of Christ. Anti-Catholic sentiment made it hard for her to support her children and deprived her of much that her friends and family had provided. Her choice also occasioned some other troubles. Her two youngest Seton sisters-in-law, Harriet and Cecilia, and their cousin Eliza Farquhar were drawn to Elizabeth's Catholic fervor. When family members expressed disapproval, Cecilia's enthusiasm only grew stronger. Having been raised by Elizabeth from age seven, this young woman felt close bonds that were' strengthened by their shared desire for a devout living of their Christian faith. As she was. departing for Italy, Elizabeth had cau-tioned he.r young prot~g& "If you find that there are any obstacles in.your way, and doubtless you will find many as every Christian does in the fulfillment of his duty, still Persevere with yet more earnestness, and rejoice to bear your share in the Cross which is Our Passport and Seal to the Kingdom of our Redeemer" (1:224). Now, as Cecilia adamantly pursued the course of following Elizabeth into the Catholic Church, the younger woman met with severe opposition and even threats from her family. Elizabeth supported her as best she could, writing on Christmas Eve 1805: "My dear dear child I beg, beseech, implore you, to offer up all your pains, your Sorrows, and vexations to God that he will unite them with the Sorrows, the pangs and anguish which Our adored Redeemer bore for us on the Cross 261 69.3 2010 Metz ¯ Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of tbe Cross "Dwelling under :the Shadow of His Cross we will cheerfully gather the thorns which will be t~urned hereafter into a joyful crown" 262] - place yourself in spirit at the foot of that cross, and entreat that a drop of that precious blood there shed may fall on you to enlighten strengthen and support your Soul in this life and ensure its eternal Salvation in the next" (1:398). When Cecilia joined the Catholic Church, a violent storm broke in the extended Seton family. For a time she was confined to her room, threats were made to send her to the West Indies, and even to burn Elizabeth's house down over her head. Eventually the new convert tied her clothes up in a bundle and went to liv~ with Elizabeth for a time.2 During Cecilia's period of trial Elizabeth kept a daily spiritual jour-nal. In it she shared her own prayer expe-riences, along with offering counsel, and encouragement. In one entry she noted: "Pain and Resignation instead of the Treasure [Eucharist] this day -but He is then most near - while Weeping under his Cross we are there content to stay" (1:470). In another, Elizabeth encouraged her young relative: "May we never leave the sheltering wing, but dwelling under the Shadow of His Cross we will cheer-fully gather the thorns which will be turned hereafter into a joyful crown" (1:473). When Elizabeth Seton made the decision to move her family to Baltimore in spring 1808, her only hesi-tation was leaving her young relative and confidante behind in New York. Cecilia wanted to accompany Review for Religious Elizabeth but also felt an obligation to care for her brother James's children. Elizabeth missed Cecilia terribly and buoyed her-self with the thought that "there is no distance for souls united as ours" (2:6). During the year the two were sepa-rated, Cecilia continued to face difficulties and obsta-cles to her hopes of joining her beloved "Sister," as she referred to Elizabeth, while Elizabeth was peaceful and delighted with her new situation. In this light Elizabeth wrote to her "most precious child": "It is poor Sister who must beg you to pray for her --I am at rest my darling while you are mounting the heights of Sion - often too I sleep in the Garden, while you are sharing the bitter cup, but it is not to be so for long, his mercies are end-less and I shall not be left without my portion" (2:21). The two were joyfully reunited in June 1809 when Cecilia arrived in Maryland with plans to join the newly forming community of the Sisters of Charity. She enthu- ¯ siastically plunged into this new life, but her delicate health continued to decline. By early 1810 Elizabeth wrote to her friend Eliza Sadler: "My heart faints when I think of this separation. No one can conceive of.what she is to me - but - but-fiat" (2:111).,,Cecilia died of tuberculosis within several months, having well learned the spiritual lessons offered by suffering., ,As Cecilia Seton passed from Elizabeth's life, another Cecilia became an intimate companion. Cecilia O'Conway, a young woman from Philadelphia, was planning to travel to Europe to become a nun. Instead, On the recommendation of her. priest-director, she became the first woman to join Elizabeth at her school in Baltimore~ These two women shared many of the same spiritual goals and became friends almost .at once. Cecilia was enthusiastic about becoming a Sister of 69.3 2010 Metz * Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross Charity, and through the trials of the early years offered loving support to Elizabeth, who referred to her friend as "the angel of the Community. a true. and solid comfort" (2:141). Cecilia was indeed a true comfort as Elizabeth struggled through the difficulties of establish-ing a religious community and bore the sorrov¢ of'the deaths of two of her daughters. In August 1817 the two women were separated when Cecilia was amongthe first sisters sent to take charge 6f the .Catholic orphafi asylum in New York City. She was not happy to be separated from Elizabeth or to be thrust into the bustle of city life. But her spiritual mother chal-lenged her: "My own Cecilia - going on her heavenly errand and to crucify Self- . . . if you suffer, so much the better for our high journey above - the only fear I have is that you will let the old string pull too hard for solitude and silence, but look to the Kingdom of souls -, . this is not a country, my dear one, for Solitude and Silence, but of warfare and crucifixion- You are not to stay in his silent agonies of the garden at night, but go from post to pillar to the very fastening on the cross and mind, my lady, how you dare glahce a thought at pull-ing out a nail which he put in with my hand, while his own so dear will hammer it up to the very head I expect - I beg him with a mother's agony to do it softly and tenderly - would wish so to hold your dear head while he does it, but he answers, 'no one held his'., but yet he will hold it himself supporting with one hand, and fastening with the other" (2i498-499). During Cecilia's years in New York, she and Elizabeth maintained a lively correspondence .chal-lenging each other to an ever deeper union with their Redeemer. In their letters they exhorted each other to accept the sufferings, both physical and emotional, that R~view for Religious they were experiencing, and to receive them in the spirit of participating in the Lord's passion. "May you enjoy true peace in Him who has nailed us," Elizabeth wrote; "I would not pull the smallest nail out for a thousand worlds" (2:682). In her newsy letters Elizabeth kept Cecilia apprised of her declining health, telling her in July 1818, "I have no symptoms now of hastening Death as when I wrote you [earlier] - slow, slow and sure" (2:569). A few months later Elizabeth reminded her spiritual daughter of "how little is all that passes with this life . therefore we must be so careful to meet our grace," She then contin-ued: "Isaac come forth - the wood and fire are here, let not the Victim be wanting" (2:595). And the following month Elizabeth urged the younger woman to "take the abundant sweet heavenly grace from day to day, only seeking and seeing him in all our little duties . . . and taking from. the hands of all around us every daily cross and trial as if he gave it himself" (2:600). After two years in New York, Cecilia returned to the motherhouse in Emmitsburg, where she could again share her days with her beloved friend. With Elizabeth's health continuing to decline, Cecilia became one of her nurses. Staying close by her bed, she made sure Elizabeth had a crucifix available to assist her prayer, and she was present among the mourners when Elizabeth's last hour arrived. Am6ng EliEabeth's writings meditation on "the communion lof the cross." 69.3 2010 Metz * Elizabeth Seton's Spirituality of the Cross 266 Among Elizabeth's writings is a meditation on "the communion of the cross." In it she speaks of "the hap-piness of receiving our Lord and Savior in the holy Eucharist," yet points out that "we also receive him by the communion of his cross." "So," she continues, "when he invites us to come and receive him in afflic-tions' and sufferings, we should receive his chalice with the same ardor, and drink his Blood by faith . The great advantage of the communion of the cross is that we receive it when our Lord himself pleases and at the time he sees best." "Unhappily," she reflects, "we are. apt to think the very least suffering is too much, because we are lovers with our lips rather than our heart, while the true lover of Christ can never have enough of his cross." "All he asks of us is our good Will," but we. also "should bring the burning fire of love and gratitude" (3a:419-422). Elizabeth's burning love of God and desire to imi-tate Jesus was something that grew within her as she matured through her life. It gave her a deep insight into the necessity of losing herself in order to gain union with God: She understood, as had many holy women and men before her, that she was invited to emulate Jesus' self-giving love - that "the true lover of Christ can never have enough of his cross," and as they, carry the cross they "should bring the burning fire of love and gratitude." ~ The spirituality of the cross has been part of the Christian message from the time Jesus taught on this earth. Great saints, theologians, and spiritual guides through the centuries have stressed this same message. Today's Christian leaders continue to stress, as essential of our spirituality, our participation in Jesus' self-giving love, The German theologian Jiirgen Moltmann sees a kind of alchemy of Review for Religious love, where all the negativity and suffering of the world is touched by God and transformed into the victory of life.3 Johannes Metz, in his classic Poverty of Spirit, writes: "The legacy of God's total commiunent to humankind, the proof of God's fidelity to our poverty, is the cross [and] no one is exempted from the poverty of the cross.''4 Jessica Powers, in her poem "The Sign of the Cross," offers this same wisdom:5 The lovers of Christ lift out their hands to the great gift of suffering. For how could they seek to be warmed and clothed and delicately fed, when He the worthy went forth, wounded and hated, and grudged of even a place to lay His head? This is the badge of the friends of the Man of Sorrows: the mark of the cross, faint replica of His. Choose it, my heart. It is a beautiful sign. Notes ~ Regina Bechtle SC and Judith Metz SC, Elizabeth Barley Seton: Collected Writings, 4 vols. (New York: New City Press, 2000, 2002, 2006), vol. 3, part 2, pp. 74-75, hereafter cited in parentheses, thus: (3b:74-75). 2 Annabelle Melville, Elizabeth Barley Seton (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1951), p. 119. 3 Jiirgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, as described in Elizabeth Johnson, Consider Jesus: Waves of Renewal in Christology (New York: Crossroad, 1990), p. 121. 4 Johannes B. Metz, Poverty of Spirit (New York, Paulist Press, 1968), pp. 19-20. ~ Regina Siegfried ASC and Robert E Morneau, Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers (Kansas City: Sheed and Ward, 1989), p. 150. 267 69.3 2010 AVIS CLENDENEN A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 2,68 Lheard a story a few years ago that got into the arrow of my bones and became a "dangerous memory." This term was coined by Johann Baptist Metz, who described it as an earlier experience breaking into our present lives and revealing new and provocative insights for the future. Such a breakthrough casts light on the deceptive nature of something we considered an evident good. It is a dangerous and incalculable visitant from the past. This memory has future content,~ The memory I wish to share is a story told by Sister of Mercy Betty Barrett on the occasion of her sixtieth jubilee as a vowed religious. Sister Betty Barrett entered the congregation in 1945. She devoted most of her ministerial life to education, becoming the president of Saint Xavier College in Chicago in the turbulent 1960s. In 1966 she supported an innovative idea to invite major Avis Clendenen most recently wrote for us in 2008. She is pro-fessor of religious studies and the Sister Irene Dugan RC Scholar in Spirituality at Saint Xavier University; 3700 West 103rd Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Review for Religious theological architects of the Second Vatican Council to the college for the inaugural symposium of the newly formed Pope John xxIII Institute. The tag line of the John xx]II Institute quoted John xxJII's call "to dedicate ourselves to that work which our era demands of us. ¯ remembering we are not on earth to guard a museum, but to cultivate a flourishing garden of life." . Imagine this small U.S. women's Catholic college thinking itself capable of hosting at one symposium Yves Congar, Jean Dani61ou, Charles Davis, Henri de Lubac, Johann Baptist Metz, John Courtney Murray, Edward Schillebeeckx, Karl Rahner, and others as well. The European theologians would for the first time bring the insights of the council documents to North America. For some, this would be their ~first trip to the United States. They all came. This gathering is exactly what President Sister Betty Barrett accomplished in early 1966, only four months after the council's close.2 The formation of the John xxlII Institute and the plan for the symposium became controversial. Archbishop John Cody of Chicago expressed reserva-tions about the symposium. He wrote to Sister Betty saying that such a gathering of theologians did not coin-cide with his norm for theological activities. He then issued a public decree that all ecclesiastical entities in the archdiocese must first obtain certification of cre-dentials from him before inviting to Chicago any priest from outside the archdiocese. All the council theologians invited were priest-theologians. The situation became an international story that saw the canonical authority of the local bishop as opposing academic freedom in institutions of higher education. The American press described the symposium, which drew more than three thousand participants to the little-known campus, as "an 269 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 270 event of unprecedented proportions," "an intellectual feast," and "a complex and strange event in the history of Catholic colleges at that time in North America." Interesting as it is, this event is not the key story of this essay. It is background for discussing the matter of dangerous memory. Sister Betty saw.the Second Vatican Council as Pope John xxIII did. She saw that aggiornamento was intimately tied,to justice and peace. While president, she became the first woman religious to be named to the Illinois Human Relations Commission. After her presidency she continued to advance the vision and mis-sion of ecclesial renewal and the claims of the social gospel through a variety of positions such as her min-istry with the Eighth Day Center for Justice and the Catholic Interracial Council. In her seventies she went to Central America to work with the poor, Though she tried desperately, she never learned Spanish well enough to speak or truly understand it. In her eighties she was asked at her sixtieth jubilee in April 2003 to share memories with those gathered to celebrate with her~ I shall paraphrase Sister Betty but speak for her in the first person. You know that when I went to Central America I could not speak the language of the people. You know I hold degrees of all kinds and functioned at a tremendous level of responsibility for many years while in the ministry of higher education. Yet, even after years and years of living among these beautiful people and interacting with them every day, I never managed to speak with them in their native tongue. So I was forced, so to speak, to plumb new depths of human communica-tion. While there, I came to realize that "being Review for Religious there"--presence--is what is most important in our ministry. Presence conveys a meaning that tran-scends even the need for words. This I learned very late in my ministerial life. Honoring this jubilee year of mine and know-ing that my ability to travel would only continue to diminish, the community offered me airfare to travel a last time to Honduras to see my friends. So a few weeks ago I took that trip. I went to the home of a family with whom I had been present during moments of joy and pain in their lives over a span of years. I walked into their humble living room and noticed something. There on the wall surround-ing the crucifix, were four pictures, each rever-ently hung near the cross. There was, of course, a picture 6f Our Lady of Guadalupe; a picture of Mother Catherine McAuley, the founder of the Sisters of Mercy; a picture of Archbishop Oscar Romero; and . a picture of me! What can I say to you about that moment in my life? Seeing the cross and our Lady, seeing that this family was so deeply touched by the min-istries of the Sisters of Mercy that they placed a portrait of a !9th century Irish woman near their own beloved Oscar Romero--and then to see my picture in that company! It was a moment of abject'humility, wonder, awe, an'd gratitude I will never forget. I could never really talk with them the way I am talking with you now, yet I was present to them over the long haul of many years. I share this story with you as an act of gratitude and humility for the gift of these sixty years of ser- 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Faring Myth 272] vice, and as a testimony of wonder to 'a God who can do more in us than we can "ask or imagine" (Ep 3:20). I was mesmerized by her tale. In hearing it, my own consciousness was altered forever about ministry and mystery, about growing old yet remaining ever new, and about the lost art of humility. I recognized her story from'the past as a memory bearing future content. This elegantly simple parable resounded in me, taking on the force of a great myth; it became part of the life I desire. I say this not with any intention to mimic her experience, but in the inspiring hope of living the nearly lost art of humility. Sister Betty told a little tale about one family, and they--all unaware--became a dangerous memory precisely because she knew her telling it could break into the present moment and bring us new and danger-ous insights. Such lives disrupt self-interest and ambition by being a vivid picture of largeness of mind and heart, which our noisy egos often do not notice. The mythic story of this elderly nun speaks :to the truth of the poet Mary Oliver's words: What I loved in the beginning, I think, was mosdy myself. Never mind that I had to,. since somebody had to. o That was many years ago. Since then I have gone out from my confinement~s, though with difficulty. And I have l~ecome the child of the clouds, and of hope. I have become the friend of the enemy, whoever that is. I have become older and, cherishing what I have learned, I have become younger. And what do. I risk to tell you this, which is all I know? Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.3 Review for Religious Living in an Age of Entitlement That last line is not an easy task in today's world. More than a decade ago I read, "The narcissistic per-sonality has become the most prominent~ personality type in the Western world.''4 At that time the statement caught me up short. Now I find it the lens through which I view the world I inhabit. In their new book The Narcissism Epidemic: Living in the Age of Entitlement (2009), the psychologists Jean Twenge and W. Keith Campbell have documented and analyzed the troubling cultural trends of the past three decades. They suggest that North American culture itself is in the grip of a narcissism epidemic. According to Theodore Millon, professor of psychiatry at Harvard University, profes-sor of psychology at Miami University, and leading authority on personality disorders, "the label narcissism connotes more than .mere egocentricity. Narcissism sig-nifies, more specifically, that these individuals overvalue their personal worth, direct their affections toward themselves rather than others, and expect that others will recognize their unique and special value.''5 While I hesitate to labor the point, I think the fol-lowing list of traits and behavioral tendencies of the narcissistic personality can give us pause, in which to examine human consciousness. Those leaning toward narcissism tend ¯ To grandiosity, haughtiness, snobbishness, arrogance; ¯ To feelings of entitlement; praise for performance; ¯ To exploitation of and insensitivity toward others; ¯ To crave attention, which they see as deserved without need for reciprocity; ¯ To flout conventional rules and expectations of shared social living; 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare I-Iumili~y and a Future-Facing ~4yth ¯ To assume and often find that others feel hon-ored by their relationship, or to quickly train others to admire and obey them, with the result that the admirers insulate, them from self-aware hess of their limitations; ¯ To idealize those who satisfy their needs while treating contemptuously those who do not; the shifting of overvaluation to denigration occurs frequently in the same relationship; ¯ To preoccupation with personal adequacy, . power, prestige, and status; ¯ To heightened sensitivity to any form of criticism; ¯ To intolerance of perceived affronts to self-esteem that question their assumed inherent specialness; ¯ To take liberties with facts by embellishing them to maintain illusion of self-worth; ¯ To exaggerate abilities and accomplishments; to inflate and justify what they feel is due them, while depreciating those who refuse to accept or enhance their self-image; ¯ To use rationalization as a regulatorymechanism to cope with the inevitable personal failures or social humiliations by devising plausible reasons for self-justification and doing so with litde con-cern for others; and ¯ To lack interpersonal empathy.6 This detailed list of a narcissistic character is now embedded in the general population (and culture) where once such a description of human personality would have qualified as clinical narcissistic disorder. Ttie ethos of selfishness, individualism, utilitarianism, and instru-mentalism is taken for granted, not seen as problematic, and thus often remains unexamined. In turn, the values of community, altruism, and the life of the virtues are Review for Religious being undermined. A few years ago I heard the coor-dinator of the Jesuit Volunteers report that there was a lot of interest among young people who wanted to serve on their own terms. He referred to this as narclsslsnc idealism." According to Twenge and Campbell, no single event initiated the epidemic; instead, the values deep in the American psyche shifted Slowly toward individu- ~ alism, self-admiration, materialism, incivility, and entitlement. "Like a disease," they write, "narcissism is caused by certain factors, spreads through particular chan-nels, appears as various ~ ~ ~' symptoms, and might be ° - halted by preventive measures and cures. Narcissism is a psych0-cultural affliction rather than a physical disease, but the model works remarkably well.''7 Six years before The Narcissism Epidemic, Dr. ,Robert Moore, professor of psychoanalysis, culture, and spiritu-ality at Chicago Theological Seminary, in his book Facing the Dragon: Confronting Personal and Spiritual Grandiosity, announced the new contemporary crisis as "the epidemic of unregulated human grandiosity." Grandiosity refers to holding fantasies or embracing desires that are greater than your real life can support. According to Moore, either grandiosity makes you manic in running around to meet unrealistic demands or makes you depressed because your desires are essentially unachievable. Moore rallies our intellects and emotions to break through the existential denial of our "naive male" and "naive female" ,Cultural narcissism is d estructively shaping a :collusive and self-promoting ' way of livi g: 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 276] approach to the human situation by courageously con-fronting the aggressive cultural selling of pathological narcissism as a normative vision for human life.s The Narcissism Epidemic is replete with examples that reveal how cultural narcissism is destructively shaping a collusive and self-promoting way of living. In a chapter tided "Superspreaders!" they tell a tale from the televi-sion series "My Super Sweet 16": "Atlanta teen Allison tells a party planner she wants to block off part of Peachtree Street so there can be a parade for 'my grand entrance.' Peachtree is a major thoroughfare, the plan-ner reminds her. She responds, 'My sweet 16 is more important than wherever they have to be.' But there's a hospital across the street, the planner cautions--what if an ambulance can't get to the hospital? 'They can wait one second. Or they can go around,' she says cavalierly. Amid all of this, Allison's mother just listens. When the planner finally turns to her in exasperation, she says, 'If Allison wants it, make it happen.' So much for that dying person in the ambulance." The narcissistic "enti-dement" expressed here by the mother points to the odd perpetual adolescence of many American adults. Twenge and Campbell say that adolescence, the most narcissis-tic time of life, is being extended beyond all previous limits.9 Clearly such happenings are not isolated aberra-tions; they are cultural markers of the superspreading of a distorted collective psyche, that needs attention, fast. In Waking Up in Time: Finding Inner Peace in Times of Accelerating Change, the physicist and futurist Peter Russell said, "Our power to change the world may have made prodigious leaps but our internal development, the development of our attitudes and values, has pro-gressed more slowly. We seem to be as prone to greed, aggression, shortsightedness, and self-centeredness as Review for Religious we were 2,500 years ago . If we are to survive the critical times we are now passing through, it is essen-tial we undergo a profound shift in values and awaken to our inner truths and our full spiritual potential.''1° Effecting such a shift and awakening has been the mis-sion of Benetvision: A Resource and Research Center for Contemporary Spirituality founded by Benedictine Sister Joan Chittister. Interestingly, Twenge, Campbell, Moore, Russell, and Chittister11 all suggest a return to the lost art of the virtuous life as a way to stem and bring healing to the epidemic of entidement and grandiosity that marks and mars our current North American culture. Risking Humility The final chapter of The Narciss#m Epidemic, "Treating the Epidemic of Narcissism," sees the recovery of authentic humility as the way to lessen the narcissism in our lives and in our culture. Humility is the counter-balance to narcissism, the creative opposite to its viru-lence. Modesty, lack of pretense, absence of arrogance, and refinement of character--so evident in Sister Betty's jubilee tale--are vitally necessary in today's personal and communal reflection. Her unaffected wonder at finding her own picture in the company of Oscar Romero's, and Catherine McAuley's, and Our Lady of Guadalupe's, at the foot of the cross has to make you and me wonder: Do we truly believe that God can do more in us than we ever imagined--or could ever imagine? Her awe at seeing what she and her ministry meant to this poor, loving family puts us in awe, even a feeling of danger. What does this mean for the many in our country whose lives are far too self-focused and comfortable? Has a cer-tain impoverishment accompanied i:he world's material progress? Have we--ourselves, our communities, our 69.3 2010 Clendenen * A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 278 Humility is the ancient ever-new ~irtue that ke~s us rooted in our earthiness and able to savor our human limits as gifts. culture--settled into a certain mediocrity, an exagger-ated feeling of entidement? Is our ministry simple and un-self-conscious enough to be a wondrous conduit for God's goodness and inspire a needy people's transcendent gratitude? Is the path to greater human success and hap-piness much more toward inwardness than upwardness? Humility is the ancient ever-new virtue that keeps us rooted in our earthiness and able to savor our human limits as gifts. Sister Betty felt her lack of facility with Spanish as a weakness, and therein was her humble open-ness to receive new graces and new skills, even in her seventies. She brought those graces to some of God's people in their times of joy and grief. Twelve-step recovery has something to say about this. It advises people to strive for spiritual prog-ress, not perfection, and to admit their powerless-ness, accept their limits, and thereby find true freedom. Such yielding in honesty to a Power greater than ourselves enables people to risk humility. In that humility they find themselves able to understand the Beatitudes (Mt 5:1-12) and to risk living in meekness, gentleness, empathy, self-donating love, and freely chosen accountability. The word humility comes from the Latin word humi-lis, meaning "low," which, in turn, comes from the Latin humus, which means "earth" or "dirt" or "soil." The 12th-century Benedictine abbess and mystic Hildegard of Bingen understood the dangers of not paying atten- Review for Religious tion to nature and all natural things. She devoted one of her many writings to virtues and vices. She was con-vinced that virtues are more than moral habits: they are therapeutic forces within human nature that can produce wonderful transformations. In her legendary Scivias (a Latin abbreviation for. "knowing the Lord's ways"), she said, "Virtue is like a warm garment in a cold world; it is the source of charm in a harsh world" (~1.1.4). Hildegard also wrote the following in one of her many letters of advice to religious leaders: Walk through the valley of humility and know peace. Lose your titanic, hard-to-satisfy ego. A greedy self-esteem is just a steep mountain you'll find dangerous to climb. It's also tricky (if not impossible) to come down from such heights, and anyhow the summit is too small for community. Focus on Love's splendid garden instead. Gather the flowers of humility and simplicity of soul. Study God's patience. Keep your eyes open.12 Sister Betty Barrett's humble, warm, and charming story carries a wallop, as myths do. It is much more than an elderly sister's pleasant memory. It is a dangerous memory. It can affect the future. Notes ~ Johann Baptist Metz, "The Future in the Memory of Suffering," Concilium 76 (1972), p. 15. 2 [See The Word in History: The St. Xavier Forum, ed. T. Patrick Burke (New York: Sheed and Ward; 1966). Ed.] 3 Mary Oliver, "To Begin With, the Sweet Grass," Evidence (Boston: Beacon Press, 2009), pp. 38-39. 4 L. Sperry and H.L. Ansbacker, "The Concept of Narcissism and Narcissistic Personality Disorder," Psychopathology and Psychotherapy (Washington, D.C.: Accelerated Development, 1996), p. 349. 5 Theodore Millon and George S. Everly Jr., Personality and Its Disorders: A Biosocial Learning Approach (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1985), p. 70. [279 69.3 2010 Clendenen ¯ A Rare Humility and a Future-Facing Myth 6 Theodore Millon, Personality-Guided Therapy (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1999), pp. 433-463. 7 Jean M. Twenge and W. Keith Campbell, Living in the Age of Entitlement: The Narcissism Epidemic (New York: Free Press, 2009), p. 2. s Robert L. Moore, Facing the Dragon: Confronting Personal and Spiritual Grandiosi~y (Wilmette: Chiron Publications, 2003), pp. 61, 68, 69, 145-146. 9 Twenge and Campbell, Living, pp. 100.101,234. The TV stoW and other insights in this article also appear in "Book Notes," Horizon: Journal of the National Religious Vocation Conference 35, no. 1 (Fall 2009): 34-35. 10 Peter Russell, Waking Up in Time: Finding Inner Peace in Times of Accelerating Change (Novato, California: Origin Press, 1992), pp. 38, 154. 11 See Joan D. Chittister, "Pride and Humility," in Heart of Flesh: A Feminist Spirituality for Women and Men (Grand Rapids: ~William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998), pp. 89-106. ~2 Carmen Acevedo Butcher, Hildegard of Bingen: A Spiritual Reader (Brewster, Massachusetts: Paraclete Press, 2007), p. 159. You who calmed. You who calmed the winds and sea, Jesus, calm and center me. Draw me in and hold my gaze Soothe and silence me these days. Deep is calling unto deep. I give you all my cares to keep. You who calmed the winds and sea. Jesus, calm and center me. Mary Jan6 Higgins RSM Review for Religious ROBERT J. NOGOSEK Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice When I was nineteen years old and a university student, I made a weekend retreat in the Gethsemani Trappist monastery in Kentucky. I was ~rying to decide whether or not I should enter religious life. At one of the retreat con-ferences, an elderly monk printed in block let-ters on the blackboard the word success, putting two vertical lines through each S to make it a dollar sign. He said the world sees success as making money, but real success in life is not about dollars. We needed to turn one vertical line sideways and make a cross. ~ This said a lot about the Trappist life I was observing. The white-robed monks seemed to live a foolish life not at all conducive to hap-piness° keeping silence, arising in the middle Robert J. Nogosek CSC has been a ~heology profes-sor and a parish pastor among other responsibilities. His address is P.O. Box 929; Notre Dame, Indiana 46556. liv!np religious life 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 282 of the night to chant psalms together in a cold chapel, and eating crusty bread in a diet often deprived of meat. But I saw in the monks a remarkable humor I had never seen before. It seemed that for them life was a big joke. I decided I wanted the joy they had, and their way of seeing the meaning of life in this world. Back at college I returned to my sophomore classes. One of the courses was on the four Gospels, printed in parallel columns to show similarities and differences in the story of Jesus. As I s~t in class somewhat bored one spring afternoon, it suddenly occurred to me that the Gospels were practical--that living the Gospels made good sense. I saw this in the story of the rich young man in Matthew 19. He already had more than enough money and possessions while keeping all the command-ments, but was still discontented. He asked what more he could do to have a better life. Jesus graciously invited him to join the community, of disciples, but first he must sell all he had and give the money to the poor. This is how the Trappist monk had explained success. It helped me to see that by joining a religious community I could live the gospel in a literal way, like those who had fol-lowed Jesus in Galilee. The greatest day in my life came some months later on my clothing day. Upon receiving the religious habit with many others that day, I saw myself as having left. the world to join with the others in a life centered on friendship with Jesus Christ. It would consist in living a religious rule. That did not seem to be a great sacrifice, but rather the way to be myself, apart from a world that ran after money and other false values. This freedom to be myself did not initially translate into becoming a gift for others, as St. Paul describes it in Galatians 5:13--"you were called for freedom, brothers. Review for Religious But do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; rather, serve one another through love." Instead, I concentrated on having a direct relationship with Jesus. It was only much later that I realized that God created me to live as a member of the human family, and that this meant sharing my heart with others. Gradually this was extended to seeing myself as a brother to any other human being I might meet. Seeking Perfection I began to see that progress in union with God involved seeking what was called "the perfection of charity." Vatican Council II would state that the pur-pose of religious life is to make the perfection ; of charity a "very clear symbol" (Flannery) or ~ a "blazing emblem" (Abbott) of the kingdom of God (PC §I). Our love for Jesus is to flow out in love of neighbor, which, as Pope Paul VI . . ~, wrote, is to be extended to the whole human race (Ecclesiam suam, §58). As the ancient hymn Ubi Caritas had stated, charity (caritas) united with heartfelt love (amor) makes God present in the world. Vatican II also stated that religious profession of the evangelical councils is to free us from obstacles that might draw us away not only from the fervor of char-ity, but also from "the perfection of divine worship" (LG §4). This perfection of divine worship would be our response to the Orate Fratres at Mass in praying I began to see that progress in union with GOd involved ~seeking what was called ~ '~the perfection of charity. " [283 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 284 that our sacrifice "be acceptable to God, the Father Almighty." But this perfection of divine worship also requires the perfection of charity, as St. Paul suggests by saying that the loving gift the Philippians sent him is the "fragrant aroma'.' of "an acceptable sacrifice, pleas-ing to God" (Ph 4:18). Vatican II calls the Eucharist "a sacrament of love" and "a bond of charity" (SC §47), not unlike St. Thomas saying that Holy Communion incites into action our dispositions to be charitable (ST III.79.1 ad 2)~ He cites 2 Corinthians 5:14--"the love of Christ impels us." This could be why the new liturgy has shortened the time after Holy Communion. We are not to bury our face in our hands in private adoration of Jesus in our heart, but rather to ready ourselves for reaching out to others. It calls me "to put off the old man" (Col 3:9) of self-centeredness, and put into action the command-ment of loving others as Jesus has loved me. Jesus wants to be loved in his people, as a religious sister once heard in her heart when, upon kissing the crucifix before retir-ing, she heard the words "Kiss my people." Personal Fulfillment Even though I had often heard women religious speak of their quest for "fulfillment," it took years for me to revise my original desire for success in life into a language of personal fulfillment. I had not expected to be "fulfilled" as a person by the sacrifice represented in religious profession of poverty, chastity, and obedience, any more than I had seen the austerity of the Trappist life as a way to personal fulfillment in this world. Making life seem like a joke could hardly be called "ful-fillment." My thinking was changed, however, in part by a parable in C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity (Bk 4, 9). Review fir Religious According to an adaptation of the story, you invite a friend to live with you in your house. After some time, you notice blueprints have been spread out on the din-ing- room table. Inspecting them, you realize your guest has elaborate plans to transform your little house into a great palace--"throwing out a new wing here, put-ring on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards." As C.S. Lewis comments, it is as though your guest wants to make it a home worthy of himself. To think of Jesus as actually living with me in my heart was not something I had learned in catechism. We had been told that the Holy Spirit was the divine guest in our heart, bug the real presence of Jesus was only in the host in the tabernacle, except when Jesus cam to us in Holy Communion and stayed for seven minutes.~ But during novitiate I had read some books of Raoul Plus SJ, especially one entitled In Christ Jesus, showing from the writings of St. Paul that by baptismal grace we have, abiding in our heart,, the real presence of Jesus. It is the same Jesus as resides in the tabernacle--body and blood, soul and divinity. In Holy Communion he does not come for a visit; he comes to stay. Others around me disagreed, but I was sure Plus was right about this teaching of St. Paul. Later I would also find it in St. Teresa of Avila's Interior Castle. If the real presence of Jesus dwells in us, then we also meet him in others, and what others share in truth and love could well be a gift to us directly from Jesus in their heart. This makes our mutual sharing of life crucial to our relationship with Jesus. It took me beyond the Little Flower's Way of Spiritual Childhood, which long before I had been drawn to by the Trappist monks. There is something more than putting as much love as possible into each action; I am also called to make a 69.3 2010 Nogosek * Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice gift of myself to others so as to communicate the love of Jesus, who dwells within my heart. This amounts to being a grace to others. It is the language of spiritual gifts or charisms. Charisms During formation I. was repeatedly urged to rec-ognize my special talents and gifts, since religious life involves a commitment to strive for personal and spiri-tual growth. I was told that "grace builds on i~ature." So what is my nature as an individual? What talents and personality had I brought with me into religious life? These efforts at self-scrutiny often left me feel-ing quite discouraged. I lacked so much of what others around me had in talents and personality. Only much later would I see this differently, in part because of the parable in Mere Christianity--that inviting Jesus into my heart could result in my being radically changed as a person. In calling me to discipleship, Jesus may well be planning to have me express myself in wonderful ways, just as he had promised his disciples that they would do greater works than he had done (Jn 14:12). We know that by receiving his Body we become his Body, so that, like him (LG §5), our words, actions, and personal presence can reveal the kingdom of God on earth. This could represent the "abundant fruit from the grace of baptism" which Vatican II says we will be enabled to have by religious profession (LG §44). If I am to be a grace to others by charisms, I have to come out ofmy shell. This is like a cartoon I once saw. In the first frame, there is a big egg bouncing up and down. In the next frame a duckling has poked out his head through the shell, and looks around in fright. In the final frame he has dived headfirst back into the egg. It is much Review for Religious the same with charisms. We have to drop our defenses and risk being a person in new ways before others. Walking on the Water Underlying Vatican II's Pastoral Constitution of the Church in the Modern World is the story of walking on water in Matthew 14. Jesus is walking on the waters of today's world, and -- - invites us, like St. Peter, to get out of our boat to ioin him. This is to fol-low our discerning "the signs of the times" (GS §.4), which are the ques-tions and yearnings of people today.2 - It means trying something new. In leaving our comfort zone, we will need to keep our eyes on Jesus. St. Peter started sinking only when he looked around and felt the wind blowing hard against him. This suggests that charisms do not form part of our personal identity. Although we have been given the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit at confirmation, these are not graces to give grace to others, but rather a disposi-tion to be sensitive to the breath of the Spirit, which, as Jesus said, may come and go like the summer breeze (Jn 3:8). Our personal defects remain; it is as "earthen vessels" (2 Co 4:7) that we carry Christ's grace to others. Maybe, in our self-gift to others, the power of Jesus will be conveyed, even through our defects and vulnerability. St~ Paul says in 2 Corinthians 12:10--"when I am weak, then I am strong." Jesus is walking on the ¯ wafers bf today's world, and invites us, like St. Peter, . "to~et out Of our.boat to join him. 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice The opportunity for that came up early in my reli-gious life. Just as I completed studies in biblical theol-ogy, I received a letter assigning me to teach dogmatic theology. Upon arriving in the classroom a few months later, I steadied my nerves by recalling G.K. Chesterton: "If something is worth doing, it is worth doing badly." But the course turned out quite well. The students enjoyed my attempts to use the Bible to understand dogma in place of the traditional Neo-Scholasticism they had been hearing. Again, many years later, I was invited to join a team in southern California doing evangelization among Mexican immigrants. I told God that if he wanted me to do this, he would have to teach me Spanish. Initially some of the people rejected me because they sensed I did not understand what they were saying. That was quite true, but, when with them, I would repeat a word or phrase they had said just to keep them talking. Since I loved the people, I was quite happy to be able to communicate even a little bit and to keep on listening. After they came to see I really liked being with them, they began showing that they liked being with "Padre Roberto." At the same time I was making a big hit with their children, maybe because I saw each child as just as much a person as I was. With their kids so fond of me, as time went on their parents became more satisfied with me as I was. 2881 Inner Resistance to Grace Like the companions of St. Peter on the lake that stormy night, we are likely to have a lot of reluctance "to get out of the boat" to join Jesus walking on the water. This is typical of the resistance described by St. Paul's discussion of Christian freedom in Galatians 5. He calls it "the desire of the flesh." When I first arrived at Review for Religious Coachella, California, as the new pastor of an Hispanic parish, I was determined to follow the example of St. John Vianney, who had started out as cur4 of Ars by knocking on doors to visit the people in their homes.3 To make this happen, I put it on my schedule for cer-tain evenings each week. As I got into my car at 7 p.m., usually I would not feel like going, but I went anyway, and once I was interacting with the people I enjoyed it--and they did too. In Sunday homilies I would tell the people that, if they wanted to experience the Holy Spirit (and I knew they did), they should do something for someone. I said the presence of the Holy Spirit is felt mainly in our actions. Others say the same: that when they visit the sick, or even someone in jail, they "get more out of it" than they give. We may feel like new persons in our spontaneity of interact-ing with others out of our love for Jesus. People even relate that they have said things that surprised them, things they had never thought of before. This recalls the promise of Jesus about the gift of the Holy Spirit-- that we should not prepare what to say beforehand, for in our witness itself the Spirit would give us the words to say (Mt 10:20). 'The presence of the Holy: Spirit is felt mainly .fin our actionS. Charisms and Renewal In its call to renewal, Vatican II invites us to aspire to have charisms typical of the early church. Both Pope John xxIII and Pope Paul VI called for a "New Pentecost," to restore to the church today the youth- 69.:~ 2010 Nogosek * Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice fulness and enthusiasm it had when it first came from the hands of Jesus. When we look at early Christianity in comparison with the church today, we wonder what caused the rapid growth in the number of believers. Rodney Stark in The Rise of Christianity estimates that during the first three centuries the number of Christians increased by forty percent every ten years, beginning in A.D. 40 with about 1,000, and' attaining more than 33,000,000 believers by the year 350 (p. 7). As a soci- ,ologist of religion, he suggests that .the best explana-tion for this phenomenal growth was the way Christians responded to the epidemics in. the empire, which would ravage the entire population at least once every century, with mortality rates of up to thir.ty percent (pp. 73ff). Even the emperor Marcus Aurelius was among the vic-tims in the year 180. At such times the pagans would flee in panic from their homes and cities, abandoning without food and water their loved ones who had fallen ill, and even refusing to bury the dead. The Christians, however, by reason of their love of Christ, would care for their sick and with devotion bury their dead. This care was extended not only to fellow Christians but also to the many pagans married to Christians, and to some of their pagan friends as well. Stark concludes: "This meant that in the aftermath of each epidemic, Christians made up a larger percentage of the population, even without new converts. Moreover, their noticeable better survival rate would have seemed a "miracle" to Christians and pagans alike, and this ought to have influenced conversions." Typically at the beginning of religious communities there was a phenomenal growth in the number of new members, who were attracted to the founder's charism in response to a critical need, even at great sacrifice. In Review for Religious founding my own Holy Cross community, Blessed Basil Moreau was responding not only to the secularization of France after the French Revolution, but also to pleas for help from European missionaries serving in Africa, North America, and Asia. After forming a community of men and women committed to the hearts of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he put many of them at risk by sending them abroad with few material resources, saying that as Holy Cross religious "the Cross is our only hope." He meant that, when as a community we suffer great trials while engaged in service of others, it is a sign from divine providence that our efforts will produce fruit beyond human possibilities. With such words derived from St. Paul, Moreau was transforming the French school of spirituality, with its devotion to the mystery of the incar-nation, into a trust in the paschal mystery. This fostered a bold reliance on divine providence in undertaking dif-ficult apostolates in new environments, to which we were being invited as a new apostolic religious community committed to serving the church. A New Image of the Church According to Vatican II, the church today needs a critical reform of its image, that it be much more a sign of the good news of the kingdom of God. By his 1964 encyclical, Ecclesiam suam, Pope Paul vI challenged the council fathers on the eve of the third session "to com-pare the ideal image of the church, just as Christ sees it, wills it, and loves it. with the actual image the church projects today" (§ 11). This entails, he says, "correction of the defects that conscience denounces and rejects, as if, standing before a mirror, we were to examine interiorly the image of Christ that he has left us." These "necessary reforms," he says, will be "delicate and difficult" (§12). 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 292 One delicate task of the council was that of altering the image of the church that Pope Pius XIl had presented in 1943 in his renowned encyclical Mystici Corporis. Pius identified the church as the Body. of Christ by being "a perfect society" in its juridical structure. Some of the council fathers would describe this image of the church as the "barque of Peter," with the clergy and religious as the crew and the laity their precious cargo to be transported safely across the treacherous waters of the world to the safe harbor of heaven. The council saw, however, that this is not the way the church should be. Gaudium et spes would call us out of the boat, and especially the laity, who were to see themselves as the primary evangelizers of modern society (LG §31). They were called to this and equipped for it in their baptism and confirmation (LG §33). The obligation came from Christ's commandment to love our neighbor, and the equipment would be the spiritual gifts called charisms. Their ordained pastors were to help them discern their charisms, form them as lay apostles, and give them "room for action" (LG §37). As a preferred image of the church, the council chose the biblical term "people of God." It was remi-niscent not only of the Hebrew people freed from the slavery of Egypt and guided by God through the desert, but also of the story of the multiplication of the loaves and fish in Mark 6, where Jesus has the multitude sit down on the grass in groups of hundreds and fifties. Rather than mainly showing itself as a well-defended and highly organized juridical body, the church is to make itself seen in the world as a movement of faith-filled people. The world today needs to experience the presence of God, and that can best happen where mem-bers of the church form small Christian communities Re'view for Religious through "familial love" of one another and collaboration for the faith of the gospel (GS §22). This encourages an "ecclesiology from below" char-acteristic of the way St. Paul in Ephesians 4 describes members of the church being formed into the Body of Christ. By sharing our truth in the spirit of love, we are to "grow in every way into him who is the head, Christ." The sharing is by dialogue, which had been promoted by Pope Paul vI in Ecdesiam suam and would be declared by Vatican II to be the special charac-teristic of the mis-sion of the church today (GS §82): "In virtue of its mis-sion to enlighten the whole world with the message of the gospel and to "r ~ gather together into one spirit all women and men of every nation, race, and culture, the church shows itself as a sign of that amity which renders possible sincere dialogue and strengthens it." By this we are challenged as religious to evaluate how we form ongoing community life, and what sign value it provides for others. Are we living "that amity which renders sincere dialogue and strengthens it"? At Coachella we did receive something of a posi-tive answer regarding the sign value of our community life. Three years after we arrived, the diocese conducted a thorough evaluation of the parish put into our care. One group of parishioners reported that before we came to the parish they were highly critical of one, another as parishioners. But, having noticed that the Holy Cross , 'We are challenged as religious to evaluate how we form ongoing .,community life, and what sign value it prov!des for others. 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice 294 priests and brothers never voiced a word of criticism towards one another, they decided they also should act that way toward one another. This had not happened sim-ply from our faithfulness to prayer and our apostolic zeal as a religious community. We had made the sacrifice of having weekly house chapters, where we shared with one another what was on our minds and in our hearts. Atoleast in this respect, we hhd succeeded in being "a sign which can and ought to attract all the members of the church to an effective and prompt fulfillment of the duties of their religious vocation" (LG §44). Certainly the religious vocation of all the parishioners was to live out the New Commandment byloving one another aiad making it vis-ible. We also knew that the parishioners were .to see us as a sign that "heavenly blessings'? were already present in this wtrld, foretelling "the resurrected state and the glory of the heavenly kingdom" (LG §4). For that to take place, we would have to show the people that we loved them just as they were, and in very concrete ways. The Rich Man and Lazarus According to the council, religious are "to give an increasingly clearer revelation of Christ," which includes his choosing to live as a poor man, as also was chosen by his virgin mother (LG §46). Here Vatican II was not saying anything new. What was new, and espe-cially challenging, was that as members of the church we are to evaluate the image we give to the world in light of the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Lk 16): "Everyone must consider his neighbor without excep-tion as another self, taking into account first of all his life and the means necessary to living it with dignity, so as not to imitate the rich man who had no concern for the poor man Lazarus" (GS §27). Review for Religious Here again we are challenged to evaluate our sign value as a religious community. According to Gaudium et spes (§88), if we are living in a nation where "a majority of citizens who are counted as Christians have an abundance of this world's goods," we are in grave danger of causing scandal to the many nations where the majority are not Christian, and where the citizens "are deprived of the necessities of life and are tormented with hunger, disease, and every kind of misery." The council says that this is "as if Christ himself were appealing to the charity of his followers through the mouths of these poor people." How will Jesus see our life as a religious congrega-tion when he comes on the Last Day? How certain are we to be among those at his right hand when he comes in glory to judge the members of all nations by the cri-terion of how they served the needy? An Acceptable Sacrifice .Since Vatican II saw the mission of Jesus being con-tinued by the church, Pope John Paul II liked to repeat that the way of the church is to be the way of Jesus Christ. Jesus said we must lose our life for his sake in order to find it (Mt 10:39). He told those who wanted to follow him: "Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head" (Lk 9:58). St. Paul wrote that by our bearing affliction "the love of God will be poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us" (Rm 5:5). Like St. Paul, we do not want Jesus to have died in vain, nor that his presence touch only those who believe in the Eucharist. As friends of Jesus, we want to help him make the world better, that the pleasing aroma cre-ated by his presence in us may indeed be, as St. Paul says, not as "an odor that leads to death" where people 69.3 2010 Nogosek ¯ Religious Life as an Acceptable Sacrifice reject gospel values--but rather "an odor of life that leads to life" (2,Co 2:16), where people are attracted to a gift of freedom to be themselves through sharing the wisdom, help, and love of the Holy Spirit. But today, as consecrated women and men "eval-uating the contemporary world wisely in the light of faith" (PC §2), we must ask whether the way we live our religious profession is truly becoming "an accept-able sacrifice." Jesus said that before he returned "the love of many would grow cold" (Mr 24:12), and he asked whether he would find faith upon the earth when he came again (Lk 18:8). Notes ~ It takes about seven minutes for the host to dissolve in the stomach and the consecrated host to be no longer present. 2 Although some church leaders interpret these signs as today's troubles and thus may see the world as especially hostile to the gospel, I would argue that according to Vatican II our times are today's evangeli-cal opportunity prepared by God's Spirit breathing over the world. 3 Francis Trochu, The Curi of Ars (Rockford, Illinois: TAN Books and Publishers, 1977), pp. 116f. 296[ Gamble If l but touch his clothes. Mark 5:28 Did the soldier who won and wore the seamless robe allow it to touch him? Irene Zimmerman OSF Review for Religiou~ 'JEFFREY MICKLER Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious Itw"googled" the term "difficult people" and instantly o hundred million sites were found. Business managers, owners, and employees are all seeking answers on how to cope with people who are genuinely difficult to get along with. The hilarious 1980 movie Nine to Five told of the revenge three female employ-ees took against their male chauvinist boss. In real life, however, revenge is never a solution, and dealing with difficult people is never really funny. Hence, there are books like Sandra A. Crowe's Since Strangling Isn't an Option. Difficult people drain others' enthusiasm and suck the life out of organizations, as the title Working with You Is Killing Me by Katherine Crowley and Kathi Elster suggests.' Dealing with difficult people in the workplace is one thing. Living with them in a religious commu- Jeffrey Mickler SSP has worked in formation and various other min-istries and was provincial of the Paulists' United States Province. His address is Box 595; 9531 Akron Canfield Road (Rt 224); Canfield, Ohio 44406. 69.3 2010 Mickler ¯ Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious 298 nity raises the bar. Although all of us can be difficult at times, some religious are chronically difficult and even hostile. Augustine Poulain SJ in his 19th-century spiritual classic The lnterior Graces describes one type of difficult religious: Another trial., is living with an irritable person who finds fault with everything, never speaks a pleasant word . These difficult characters often have the reputation of being very amiable abroad because they are full of attention for those whom they need, or those who would not allow themselves to be bullied. These nervous natures may be likened to torpe-does on account of the charges that they let fly at those who .approach them. It is impossible to arrange any matter with them clearly and quietly. Above all, let no one try to excuse himself when they accuse him of anything or [try to] prove to them that they are mistaken . The volcano will then be in full eruption. Such minds will never be in the wrong; they alone are endowed with sound judgment. This behavior shows., a grave lack of charity. In community, characters of this. nature make life very difficult for others, and are sometimes the cause of abandonment of vocations.2 Father Stephen Rossetti, of St. Luke Institute in Silver Spring, Maryland, in his recorded conference Spirituality of Christian Leadership, describes such people as suffering "chronically impaired social functioning." These individuals have "inflexible, maladaptive ways of dealing with other people." Wherever they are sta-tioned, they divide and disrupt communities. Their nat-ural charm ensures that they will have some supporters, but their anger at the world for not revolving around their needs makes them almost impossible to live with. When confronted by authority with a long list of com-plaints, these people blame others and are unable to Review for Religious grasp that they themselves have caused any problems. Father Rossetti points out that they have narcissistic personalities. When confronted, they erupt into a rage that sends shock waves through a community.3 Some of them end up living in their own apartments because provincials can find no communities willing to tolerate daeir divisive behavior. Rossetti says the chances of changing them for the better are extremely slim. Traditional therapies have proven fruitless. He advises giving such persons honest feedback, together with strict and clear guidelines for their behavior. Leaders must be compas-sionate towards them, but firm. ¯ theses.temperaments. The leadership has a responsibility to do all in its power to prevent them from terrorizing the community and running roughshod over people.4 Rossetti's position that modern therapy can do lit-tle to change such characters corresponds to Poulain's 19th-century assessment: "I have seen very religious persons try to cure themselves of this irritability. They have been unable to succeed . I think a miracle is required to overcome these temperaments.''5 Se~in Sammon of the Marist Brothers has done extensive research on dealing with difficult people. Drawing upon the works of Robert M. Bramson, Charles J. Keating, and Robert L. Veninga and James P. Spradley, he has developed a pragmatic and effective ~ have seen very religious persons try t6 cure themselvesof this irritabiiity. I think a miracle 'is rdqyire~:to overcome 69.3 2010 Mickler * Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Religious 300 approach that is presented on tapes from St Pauls/Alba House, Coping with the Genuinely Difficult Person. Like Poulain and Rossetti, Sammon acknowledges that efforts to change truly difficult people are basically fruitless. He suggests, however, ways we ourselves can change in order to better cope with them.6 He lists seven types of difficult people.7 He calls all of the first three types hostile-aggressive: they are "Sherman tanks," "snipers," and "exploders." The Sherman tanks are convinced of their ideas and dominate meetings by discounting out of hand the suggestions of others. They present their own ideas as the only rational, workable thing for the community or committee to adopt. They refer to other approaches as "stupid," a "waste of time," or "ridicu-lous." Sammon suggests meeting the Sherman tanks with calm strength. When the Sherman tanks begin to roll over a meet-ing, the chair should let them go on for a while but then abruptly intervene: "Stop right there; we have heard your objections; now we need valuable input from others." Sherman tanks will most likely add a few new objections until the chair or the presenter interrupts: "We will be covering those objections and discussing them as the meeting goes on!" Participants, present-ers, and leaders need to stand up for themselves against the Sherman tanks, clearly explaining their positions, not backing down, but avoiding a fight. Hostile-aggres-sive individuals almost always "win" in a fight, but the Sherman tanks usually respect such strength. They often do have valid insights that the community can benefit from; it is their ways of behaving that make it hard for the community to consider their input fairly. "Snipers" will make remarks that are just barely audible to the person being targeted. The remarks are Review for Religious biting and sarcastic, and the victim is supposed to laugh them off. These are different fr

Issue 48.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1989. ; R~,vw:w voR R~:I,~cIous (ISSN 0034-639X) is published hi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Mis-souri Province Eduealional Inslilule of the Society of Jesus; Editorial Office; 3601 Lindell Blvd., Rm. 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid al St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: $12.00 per year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add U.S. $5.00 per year; for airmail, add U.S. $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Ri~v~i~w t:oR R~:,ucous; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:v~:w voR R~:,.~(aot;s; P.O. Box 6070; Dululh, MN 55806. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard .A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors JulylAugust 1989 Volume 48 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rv:v~:w voa R~:u{:lot~s; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~:v,v:w vo~ R~:uctous; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service fl~r the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society fl~r the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. PRISMS . Religious life in no way merits the descriptive word dull. Currently conferences, workshops, and books deal with the theme of "refounding religious life." Another approach looks more towards a "creating of re-ligious life," often with the addition of "for the 21st century." Along with the recent publication of Pope John Paul II's letter to the United States bishops responding to the findings of the 1983 papal commission study of religious life in this country, we find ourselves confronted with various challenges which indicate that religious life remains a valuable concern not only for those who are dedicated to this special form of Chris-tian living, but also for those who support it and are the collaborators and recipients of its service. Religious life takes on its many different forms as a response by those people to God's call to point the way in bridging anew the gap be-tween the lived values of Gospel and culture. Any particular grouping of religious challenge the rest of the Church peoples (including other re-ligious) to a continuing conversion call in one or other aspect of their Christian living. Religious frequently make uncomfortable the govern-ing and teaching authority as well as their own benefactors and friends by their witness and service in those very areas where the Church may b~ slipping into more secular values and ways of acting than gospel val-ues and gospel acting. It is not surprising that religious have been in the forefront of the liberation theology and base-community movement in Latin America. The charism or grac~ which identifies the special call to a particular religious grouping often attracts some kind of participation by both di-ocesan priests and laity. The Third Orders of some of the older religious institutes and the sodalities of some of the more modern apostolic oiders are examples of a long-standing tradition of affiliation. Today there are many more questions about various ways of belonging within the relig-ious grouping--often referred to as "memberships" in the religious fam-ily. Sister Maryanne Stevens, R.S.M., raises some of these issues in her article, "The Shifting Order of Religious Life in Our Church." We are still in the early stages of this new focusing of collaboration in life and in ministry, and there are difficulties and obscurities still to be resolved. We will continue to find it necessary to clarify the identity and responsi-bilities for members dedicated in a specially graced form of life from 481 41~2 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 other parties with different vocations and yet somehow drawn by grace to a similar model of discipleship. As part of the special spiritual legacy which monastic life, particu-larly in its more contemplative form, has been to the Church, this spe-cial form of religious life may have its own contribution to offer in terms of ecumenical efforts. Fr. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., opens up some possible ways of considering this question in his article, "Monasticism: A Place of Deeper Unity~" The AIDS crisis predictably draws forth a religious life response since it presents a special need calling for a gospel ministry. Robert Sirico, C.S.P., calls us to reflect upon our own reactions of fear and stigma concerning those with AIDS .within our own religio.us groupings as well as those AIDS patients whom we intend to serve. The issue of confidentiality is a particularly sensitive point both in our religious com-munity life and in our ministry. His article, "An Improbable Fiction?: Religious Life Confronts the AIDS Crisis," was originally printed in the October 1988 In-formation, the bulletin of the Religious Formation Con-ference. Re!igious life, with all its graced attempts to respon~l to gaps between the Gospel and culture, today finds itself, along with the wider Church and with the contemporary world, caught in the gap itself. As a result, the questions and issues will necessarily have only tentative and at-tempted responses while the Church and our world remain in this in-between time. Reflecting this kind of ongoing response, in FORUM we publish two recent letters from Father Stephen Tutas, S.Mo, president of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, to its members. All of us continue to need prisms through which we might more quickly catch the movements and fleeting images of God's grace alive in our everyday religious life world. Each time we come to see a new aspect or see in new ways, we face the personal challenge of reinte-grating the truth of our lives, our relationships, and our work. May some of our writers in the articles in this issue be those prisms for us. David L. Fleming, S.J. Reproducing the Pattern of His Death John McKinnon, S.T.D. Father John McKinnon is a priest of the Diocese of Ballarat in Victoria, Australia where he is currently the Vicar for Religious. He works extensively with the various Ministry to Priests Programs and has played a pioneering role in the development of lay spirituality in Australia. His address is the Center for Human Development; 24 Custance St.; Farrer, A.C.T. 2607; Australia. ]n speaking about spirituality, I think that we Often tend to focus immedi-ately on the various ways by which we may seek to foster it--prayer, reflective ministry, and so forth--rather than on what it is we are seek-ing. Spirituality to me speaks of the way we look at life and respond to it. It is the assessment and response that we draw from the level of our own spirit, from that inner point of our self, that is closest to God. It is made up of the values, beliefs, convictions, insights, and so forth, ab-sorbed and developed over the years, which enable us to give meaning and pattern to the myriad experiences of life, and on which we base our deliberate choices. Basic Attitudes for Christian Spirituality For us as Christians these values, beliefs, convictions, and so forth are powerfully affected by our faith in tl~e person of Jesus and our'con-tact with him. This faith in Jesus and contact with him need to be per-sonalized and deepened through time spent intimately with him in prayer. The truth of any person is leai'nt most deeply only by opening to that per-son in love. Friendship is built on time spent together; it is expressed and nourished in devoted action. And it seems to me that both are equally indispensable. In his Epistle to the Philippians, in a very intimate and personally revealing passage, Paul writes about himself: 483 tlS~l / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. In this way I can hope to take my place in the resurrection of the dead (Ph 3:10- ~). In writing this he was merely outlining his own response to the invi-tation of Jesus, recorded in Mark's gospel: "If anyone wants to be a fol-lower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and fol-low me" (Mk 8:34). Paul wanted to follow Jesus into the triumph of his resurrection, but he clearly realized that following Jesus meant firstly shar-ing his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. The motivation for Paul's choice to follow Jesus was based on his knowledge of Jesus. Knowledge. in the Hebrew mind was not an aca-demic "knowledge about," but an enfleshed knowledge made possible only by love. I would think that only in this "love-knowledge" rela-tionship could any of us find the inspiration to face life as Jesus faced death, and to run the risk of "losing our life in order to find it," sus-tained only by trust in Jesus and the subtle intuition that in that way we might in fact find our life and live it to the full. Paul's comment in Philippians 3:10-11 seems to sum up for me the essential features of any disciple's looking at life and responding to it. It sums up the authentic Christian spirituality. Indeed, the pattern of Je-sus' death reveals the deepest dimensions of Jesus' own spirituality. I presume that Paul was not a masochist, and that Jesus was not in-viting his disciples to suicide. Jesus loved life. There is a sense in which we can say that in his moments of dying Jesus was never more truly alive and, indeed, living life to the full, at a depth and with an intensity that he had never had to muster before. The conclusion drawn by the centu-rion in Mark's gospel, who had known Jesus only in his dying moments, is also very revealing. Mark writes: The centurion, who was standing in front of him, had seen how he had died, and he said, 'In truth this man was a son of God'(Mk 15:39). In wanting to reproduce the pattern of Jesus' death, Paul was paradoxi-cally expressing his own desire to live life to the full. The Source of Salvation The Epistle to the Hebrews (5:9) says that Jesus "became for all who obey him the source of eternal salvation." We open ourselves to salvation as we in turn obey Jesus, as we attune our hearts to his, and through his to the Father's. It becomes ours, therefore, as we plumb the Reproducing the Pattern of His Death truth, as we accept the dignity and worth of every other human person, and as we commit ourselves to that dignity totally. That is why St. Paul dan write in his Epistle to the Philippians that he wants "to reproduce the pattern of Jesus' death." He sees that sim-ply as the way to become fully alive, and eventually "to take his place (with Jesus) in the resurrection from the dead." To obey Jesus and to find salvation mean to reproduce the pattern of his death, or, as the gos-pels put it, to take up our cross and to'follow him. What does this involve, then, for us? It means that we commit ourselves, too, to the vision and the priori-ties of Jesus; that, like Jesus, we let life touch us; that we respond to these temptations in the same way that Jesus responded to his. Our spiri-tuality is to be modeled on the spirituality of Jesus, on his values, be-liefs, and resources. Sharing His Sufferings No one can,be protected from the vicissitudes .of life. We do, how-ever, have some control over the nature of the inner suffering consequent upon these vicissitudes. In the face of the evil of the world we can choose our response. W.e can choose the inner suffering of absurdity and despair, of the sterile meaninglessness of a world without God, of the superficial and unsatisfying logic of the short-term, of the poisoning and paralyzing choice of bitterness and the refusal to forgive. We can face life with no hope and look on everyone as beyond redemption and on the world as condemned to an unchanging sameness. The other alternative is to taste the suffering involved in living the consequences of our own integrity with its seeming powerlessness; the feelings of irrelevance and nonserise involved in trusting a God who, we believe, makes sense of the meaningless sometimes only in the long-term; the dying-to-self ,involved in forgiving and the price of the perse-verance involved in pouring oneself out for others, trusting against hope that they may one day change and be converted. When St. Paul prayed to share the sufferings of Jesus, he was pray-ing that his sufferings would be those involved in the second alternative. Those were the sufferings of the dying Jesus. Those sufferings were the way to life. Context of Commitment It is the context of our life that gives flesh to the living out of our spirituality. I would like briefly to allude to a few consequences of this 4~16 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 spirituality of Christ as it touches the lives of all involved in active min-istry, priests, religious and laity. To some extent we can shield ourselves from the difficulties of life by choosing not to love. That, however, would be to betray our call to discipleship. The source of Jesus' experience of failure was his commit-ment to love. Luke makes this point quite clearly in his final prelude to the public life of Jesus, the meeting at Nazareth of Jesus and his fellow townspeople. There Jesus declared his manifesto in the words of Isaiah: The spirit of the Lord has been giv~en to me, for he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden free, to proclaim the Lord's year of favor (Lk 4:18); and it was there that he was violently rejected by the former companions of his childhood. The starting point of our imitation of Christ is a~commitment to depth in ourselves and to share with others the wonderful good news of God's love for all, and consequently to allow our own liberation to grow, to share in the liberation of others, and to work together for justice and free-dom for them. The Call 1. Being Authentic The choice to be authentic means firstly that, like Jesus, we accept and respect both the wonderful dignity of our human nature and at the same time its limitations. It means that we accept the' fact that to be human is to grow. To re-fuse to grqw is to be untrue to the thirst for life and fullness imprinted on our nature by our creating Father. But growth is painful. It is some-times easier to refuse to grow and to change, to opt instead for the fa-miliar and the unchallenging, even to obstruct and to attack change both in ourselves and in the institutions that we make up. Integrity means that we make peace with gradualness and that we re-spect the laws of sequential growth in ourselves and in others. It means that we accept the need for performance and ambition in the establish-ing of our own sense of identity, and it equally means that we be pre-pared to relinquish in time our reliance on performance in order to sur- Reproducing the Pattern of His Death / 487 render to the risk of intimacy, of forgiveness, and of grace. Eventually it means that we move to the even broader task of universal love and of generativity. Each of these transitions can be painful, and the tempta-tions to stay as we are, to secure our own comfort and peace, are strong. We do so, however, at the price of our integrity and the call of our cre-ating and redeeming God who sent. Jesus that we might live life to the full. Being authentically human means that we need to make peace even with our weakness. We have some strengths, but we do not have them all. What we admire in others is often beyond our own reach, and vice versa. We cannot do everything. None of us is "superman." We live, for example, in a day that has only twenty-four hours and not twenty-eight. We are not called to do whatever is good, but to discern what God is asking of us, to do no more than that, and to surrender the rest. Jesus had to choose between consolidating where he was, or going "to the neighboring country towns, so that I can preach there, too" (Mk 1:38)-- he could not do both. With time the very process of aging brings us in touch With new weakness and limitation. Eventually we have to make peace even with our sin. At the price of our sense of self-reliance we have to surrender to the need for forgive-ness and of mercy. In doing so we find our true dignity, and learn to re-spect ourselves because we are loved by God. A further consequence of the choice for discipleship is that we com-mit ourselves to follow our own duly informed and educated conscience. Jesus allowed himself to be led by the Spirit. It is so easy to avoid fac-ing truth and its .consequences and to persuade ourselves that what we are really doing from fear of the opinion of others or from a concern for our own comfort is being done for the sake of pastoral flexibility or main-taining peace or some other equally inadequate.excuse. And yet, at the same time, we also have to recognize that often we are not sure what our conscience is asking of us, and we have to live in uncertainty. Basically the commitment we make to ministry is a commitment to love. We know that love is the only kind of power that can ultimately give life and bring freedom. The commitment to love immediately rules out the possibility of using other kinds of power, all other kinds of power, even ostensibly for the good of people. It applies across'the board, within the Church as well as in the broader world outside. It pre-cludes manipulation, coercion, persuasion. It is notoriously ineffective. It raises whole issues of the interrelationship of institution and individ-ual person, because institutions made up of imperfectly converted and 41~1~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 motivated people necessarily require some kind ofsanctions. It requires clear perceptions of priorities; and the constant readiness to change and to repent, because our ongoing experience and reflection reveal that we do not consistently discernpriorities clearly and choose appropriately. The commitment to love also involves a commitment to non-violence (which is not the same as non-resistance to evil). It is the un-willingness to counter violence with violence; it is the choice to over-whelm evil with love, rather, than to double it by retaliating. Non-violent resistance sometimes calls for total self-sacrifice; more often it means apparent ineffectiveness. There are plenty of champions of jus-tice who are prepared to seek it~with violence. That was not Jesus' way. His non-violence made him unpopular, no. doubt, to the Zealots, the "ur-ban guerillas" of his day; it makes his followers equally unpopular in our day. It is~also ineffective. It ensured the inevitability of Jesus' arrest when he was apprehended in Gethsemane, but also elicited his strict cen-sure there of the violent response of one of his followers (Mt 26:52-54). It makes sense only in a world where God is the basis of meaning. It means that we may have to leave free, to go their own way, even to walk into disaster, those whom we love or for whom we have respon-sibility. That was the experience of Jesus. He had to let his ow.n special friends, hi's own diSciples, walk unheedingly into unfaith. He could not, and would not ev.en if he could, live their lives for them. He could not, would not, make their decisions for them. He had to let them_, grow up. Handing them over into the loving hands of his Father did not help all that much. He had learnt the requirements of love precisely from that same Father. As far as the Gospels are concerned, Judas did not come back. On the other hand, the Peter whom he had to leave to walk into utter perplexity and loss of faith did grow up and was a wiser and greater man. We follow the same paths as Jesus. The choice to love makes us notoriously vulnerable. Where our way of life is one that involves our working closely with others, an option for love may mean at times all the pain and frustration of working for consensus. The democratic vote can sometimes simply mean the coercive imposition on the minority of the will of the major-ity. At times it may be appropriate. Often it is not. An honest commit-ment to consensus will mean for many the readiness to devote the time and effort needed to develop the necessary skills of listening, assertion, and negotiation. We need to face the temptation to ineffectiveness, at times even to irrelevance, the jibes of naivete and so forth, and, like Jesus, explore the Reproducing the Pattern of His Death depth of our own authenticity, listen to his heart and to the heart of our creating Father. We need to listen to our own hearts, and somehow trust that integrity, truth, and love make sense, the only sense, and that our God is a God of the long-term, and not of efficient and immediate re-sults. 2. Forgiving We are familiar with the temptations to bitterness and to unforgi-veness. Not only is our world polarized; in some ways, too, our Church is also. Forgiveness is a decision. It is a decision that has consequences. When we decide to forgive, we surrender our right to use the memory of the wrongs again, either for our own self-pity or to store up and accu-mulate them in order to attack again whoever has hurt us. In a situation of ongoing disagreement or.difference, forgiveness in-volves a commitment to seek whatever common ground there is and to work for reconciliation and even at times for consensus. It involves the need to move beyond the words or the positions we may have adopted to listen to our own hearts and to the hearts of those with whom we dis-agree. It is a consequence of choosing the spirituality of Jesus. It leads to life and to peace, but it has its price. ~Forgiveness can seem like the surrender of our own dignity and self-respect, or of our loyalty to our friends and respect for them. 3. Committed . Perhaps our greatest temptation is to lose hope in people. We get hurt through life. We lose o~ur enthusiasm, even our courage. We try some things and our efforts are rejected. We know the temptation to cut our losses: we do our job; we do what is expected of us. But we lose our com-mitment, and we do little or no more than seems necessary. It is difficult to keep pouring out our lives, to keep working enthusi-astically or to try to introduce innovations only to be met with little or no response. It is easier to settle down, to look after ourselves, to make life comfortable to lose hope. But to lose hope is tochoose against life. Jesus faced blankness, in-difference, rejection, mockery, and blasphemy. In the face of that he chose to pour out his life "for the many." He knew the temptation, but he also listened to his own depths and to the heart of his Father. He died still hoping against hope in people. And for many his hope and his com-mitment bore fruit. There is in the depths of every human person an open-ing towards truth and a connaturality with love. Jesus believed that. He saw it in himself. He wanted to set it free in everyone. He would never 490/Review for Religious, July-August 1989 give up hope in people's changing and being converted; he would go to death for the sake of that hope. A truly Christ-based spirituality calls for a commitment in 'hope to people. The Outcome Our active ministry and lifestyle, therefore, whether we be priests, religious or laity, present us with infinitely nuanced temptations tO,work other than in love--to compi:omise and to find our way around our con-sciences, to choose :power in one or other of its many forms, to lose pa-tience with the apparent ineffectiveness of non-violence and love, to avoid the risk of intimacy and to settle instead for subst.itutes. We lose confidence in our God who gives meaning, sometimes too late and only beyond the grave, to our striving, for integrity and authenticity, and we prefer more tangible results and accountable successes, even at the price of what we know we are really called to be. We know we can give lip- ~service to forgiveness but not have the energy.to follow up its conse-quences. We feel the enticing attraction to settle down, to make life com-fortable, to. be "realistic." It is by facing these temptations, recognizing them and naming them, and then by choosing instead to be authentic, to trust, to forgive, and to hope that we work out our salvation and come to savor that life in abun-dance that Jesus wishes to share with us. As we respond to life as Jesus did, we know his peace and his joy, and we get in touch with the "blessedness" he spoke about in the be-atitudes. There is ai~ irrepressible quality to these experiences. We do not have to force 6urseives to find them. They come of themselves. They do not depend on circumstances beyond our control, and require no "fly-ing- carpet" ride through life. Like Jesus who could thank his Father even on the night he was betrayed, like Paul who could write: ". as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so, through Christ, does our conso-lation overflow" (2 Co 1:5), we, too, find the unexpected presence and power of peace and joy within us. Even in the very moments of our "re-producing the pattern of his death," we "know Christ and the power of his resurrection" (Ph 3: 10). It might seem to be paradox, but our ex-perience knows it to be truth. The victory that Jesus has won over evil, and in Which we share, is not a victory in which everything has been done already for us. The vic-tory won for us by Jesus means that we now have within us the resources to face whatever comes and to. triumph in love. It is a victory in which we actively participate, and through-which, precisely by our own par- Reproducing the Pattern of His Death / 491 ticipation, we ourselves become more fully alive and more authentically human. No one can do that for us, not even Jesus. But he does do it with us as we allow his Spirit scope to breathe within us. Mission to the World A~ccording tO John's gospel, on the night of his resurrection Jesus ap-peared,~ to his disciples and commissioned them to do what he had done: As the Father sent me, so I am sending you (Jn 20:21). Jesus had been sent to engage with evil and to overwhelm it with truth ~r~ love. He showed the way to us. The Epistle to the Hebrews writes: As it was his purpose to bring a great many of his sons into glory, it was appropriate that God . . . should make perfect, through suffering, the leader who would take them to their salvation (Heb 2: 10). The same Epistle consequently recommends: Let us not lose sight of Jesus, who leads us in our faith and brings it t6 perf6ction (Heb 12:2i. We follow the path that Jesus has trodden. He has commissioned us to show the same way, to others. That is our mission: we show the way, and we show it by living it ourselves. We cannot live the lives of others for them, any more than Jesus could live ours. But we can show them and, by our love, we can empower them, as Jesus has done with us. Though we might all feel embarrassed to say so, really our mission to others must be summed up in the words of St. Paul, "My brothers, be united in following my rule of life" (Ph 3:i7), or, more succinctly, "Take me for your model, as I take Christ" (1 Co I1:1). Like Peter we would all like to follow in the footsteps of a popularly acclaimed and universally accepted Christ. But there is no such Christ. Like the two sons of Zebedee, we would like to share in a victory where struggle is not necessary. But there is no such victory. Jesus has won the victory, but it was won on the wood of the cross. We share in his vic-tory, but we do it as we drink his cup and are baptized with his baptism (see Mk 10:35-40). As with the mission of Jesus, so, too, then, with our own: the suc-cess of our ministry will be counted not by the numbers of those who may listen to us or cooperated in our projects but in the ones who are encouraged by our example and empowered by our love to engage with the evil in their own breasts and meet it in love. It will be found in those 492 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 who allow the failures of their lives and of their relationships and the .fail-ure of their projects to touch them, and who feel the consequences of those failures, but choose, whether wearily or resolutely, to continue to reach out lovingly in trust, in forgiveness, and in hope. Jesus' message really is one of love, of peace, ofjgy, and of happi-ness- but not as the world understands and gives them. His message is one of victory, but of victory through the Cross, even for his followers. They have to engage with life and they have to let life touch them. It will hurt, not because God wants it that way, but because of the sin of the world and the mutual destructiveness in which it takes shape. This sin of the world can be overwhelmed. Jesus has made it possible. But where it touches people, there people have to engage with it. Conclusion A truly Christian spirituality is one that responds to life as Jesus did. That is the only Christian spirituality. "All I want is to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection, and to share his suffering by repro-ducing the pattern of his death. In this way I can hope to take my place in the resurrection of the dead." As we treasure our experience and pon-der it in our hearts, as Mary did, I believe that our pondering can fruit-fully be done only by relating it to the pattern of his death. Other values and~insights will modify many forms of this basic Chris-tian spirituality; various lifestyles will determine the concrete shapes that it takes; and wisdom and experience will dictatehow best to ponder and to get in touch with those spiritual depths of Jesus. But all must be based firmly on him or they will fall short of salvation. And he wants so much that we share hig experience of life and taste that life "to the full!" Work and Leisure: Our Judeo- Christian Foundations Melannie. Svoboda, S.N.D. Sister Melannie Svoboda, S.N.D., is currently dividing her time between teaching and writing. She recently completed six years as novice director. Her address is Notre Dame Academy; Route one, Box 197; Middleburg, Virginia 22117. Recently I was asked to give a workshop on leisure and spirituality. As part of my research, I looked in the Reader's Guide to Catholic Periodi-cals to see what already had been written on the topic within the past few years. When I looked up the word leisure I was surprised to find very few articles listed under it, but I noticed, there were many articles under Lent. I looked up the word play and found even fewer articles under play, but there were many under Plato, and planned parenthood. Next I tried the word celebration. I found several articles under celebration but many more under celibacy, cemeteries, and censorship. Finally, I looked up the word fun. I found no :articles under fun, but plenty under fund raising, fundamentalism,, and funerals. This experience made me realize how little has been written on the topic of leisure and other related topics which, I feel, are fundamental to our Christian faith. This article will discuss the Judeo-Christian un-derstanding of leisure. It will begin with an exploration of the biblical understanding of the nature of work. Then it will look at the tradition of the Sabbath, the great 'leisure day,' and show how a balancing of work and leisure is essential to a healthy Christian spirituality. Let us turn first to the book of Genesis. What does Genesis tell us about work? It tells us many things. First, it says something extremely significant: God works. This concept of, a working God was something of an oddity among the peoples of that time period. Many other civiliza- 493 494 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 tions envisioned their gods as beings who did not work. Their gods lei-surely romped around on mountain tops or lay around sleeping all day. But the Hebrews, based on their unique experience of God, saw their God differently. At the beginning of Genesis they posted a large orange sign with big black letters on it: Go~)AT WORK. But Genesis tells us something even more revelatory than the fact that God works. It tells us why God works. He works not because he has to work; he works because he wants to work. His work, creation, is not for his sake; his work is for others' sake, for humankind's sake, for our sake. In Genesis, God chooses to work because he chooses to share some-thing of himself with someone else. So already in the opening pages of Scripture, work is seen as being intimately associated with the act of self-giving-- a self-giving for the benefit of others. A third thing we notice in the creation narrative is how God works. He seems to enjoy it! God is not portrayed as someone who hates his job or finds it mere drudgery. We do not see God complaining, for exam-ple, at the beginning of the fourth day, "Darn it! Today l've got to make those stupid birds! I'll never get them to fly--I just know it!" On the con-trary, God takes delight in the work process, pronouncing creation, the product of his labors, as "good" at the end of each day. In Genesis, we also notice that leisure or rest is an integral part of the work process. God rests not merely on the last day; he rests, he takes "time off," between each day of creation. The ending of each day brings closure to that particular day's activity. The seventh day, the Sab-bath, is just a longer rest period--an entire day of complete rest. But throughout his work, God has been taking other rests--"mini-Sab-baths"-- all along, Rest or leisure is part and parcel of the work proc-ess. Leisure, like work, must be good if God himself does it. In the creation account, Adam, like God, works. "The Lord then took the man and settled him in the garden of Eden, to cultivate and care for it" (Gn 2:15). Work is not a punishment for Adam's sin. It is one of the ways Adam is made in the image of God, A working God means a working Adam. Adam's work is a sharing in the creative activity of God. Adam's work, like God's work, consists primarily in cultivation and care. But something happens to work after the Fal!: Adam sweats and Eve had labor pains. Genesis 'seems to be saying that after their act of dis-obedience, Adam and Eve suffered some serious consequences. All work--whether bringing forth new I.ife through farming or giving birth-- would now necessarily involve fatigue, frustration, and pain. Work and Leisure / 495 In summary, then, Genesis presents some fundamental attitudes to-ward work. Work is .good--even God works. Work is an act of self-giving directed toward the good of others. It consists primarily in culti-vation and care, in the bringing forth of new life. Work should basically be a joyful activity even though it often entails fatigue and pain. Rest or leisure is good, too. It is somehow integral to the work process. Altfiough Genesis beautifully describes work and leisure, it is in Exo-dus and Deuteronomy that we learn more precisely where leisure comes from and, more importantly, what leisure is for. For the Israelites, the concept of leisure is identified with the tradi-tion of the Sabbath. This tradition is expressed explicitly in the fourth commandment: "Remember to keep holy the Sabbath Day" (Ex 20:8). The key phrase in that commandment is "keep hol~,." What exactly does "keep holy" mean? The remainder of that commandment explains what it means: "Six days you may labor and do all your work,, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, your God" (Ex 20:9-10). The implication is that to "keep holy" means "not t.o work." But wl~y were the Israelites directed not to work on the Sabbath? The reason is found in Deuteronomy's version of the fourth command-ment. This version adds the following: Remember that you were a servant in the land of Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and out-stretched arm; because of this, the Lord God has commanded you to keep the Sabbath (Dt 5:15). The reason for not working is found in the words "because of this." What does the "this" refer to? It refers to the exodus--the great work of Yahweh. In other words, the Israelites were directed not to work on the Sabbath in order to take time to remember their deliverance from bond-age in Egypt by a powerful yet loving God. In his book, Confessions of a Workaholic, Wayne Oates says that the chief motive for keeping the Sabbath was gratitude to God. It is not fear of God, nor the need to hew the line of ritualistic practice. Rather it is the motive of gratitude for deliverance from slavery, grati-tude for the gift ~f freedom. ~ But the Israelites were to do more than to set aside a day on which to thank God for their freedom--as important as that is. They were to express their gratitude to God by the way they used their precious gift of freedom during all the days of the week. Just as God had used his free-dom to free the Israelites from slavery, so, too, were they to use their 496 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 freedom to free others from slavery--the slavery of ignorance, poverty, hunger, ill health, fear, old age or whatever form that slavery took. In his book, Flowers in the Desert, Demetrius Dumm, O.S.B., has written a beautiful section on the Ten Commandments. His treatment of the fourth commandment is especially relevant here. He sees the fourth commandment as a "transitional commandment"--one that comes af-ter the three commandments that are concerned with the Israelites' rela-tionship with God and one that comes before those six which govern the Israelites' relationship~with each other. The first three commandments called the Israelites to affirm the mystery of God, writes Dumm. They called the Israelites to trust in God's basic goodness, to see him not only .as powerful but as loving. The last six commandments direct the Israel-ites to affirm that same divine mystery present in every human being by the fact that he or she is created by God. Durum writes: Every creature deserves, therefore, to be respected because of its share of divine mystery. One of the most powerful tendencies of man is to eliminate mystery in his life because it cannot be controlled and thus seems threatening to him. The most natural way for man to control the mystery in :creation is through his labor. The Sabbath commandment or-ders the Israelite to interrupt his labor every seventh day as a reminder that that labor is intended by God to release the mystery in life and not crush it.2 What does all of this have to do with me personally and with my Christian faith? Maybe we can answer that question by taking a few "lei-sure moments" to reflect on these questions. What is my. attitude toward my work? Do I see it as a way of self-giving for the benefit of others, or do I view it as a drudgery or, worse yet, asia punishment? Is my work a way of earning God's love, or is it an expression of gratitude for God who loves me already? Is my work a way of serving others, or has it become my sole means of earning the esteem and respect of others? How is my work helping to free others from slavery--no matter what form that slavery might be? In my work, do I respect the divine mystery in creation and people, or is my work an attempt to control or manipulate creation and people? Have I become a slave to my work, or am I free to let go of it at times? Can I, for example, freely walk away from my work when lei-sure calls me to praye~, to relaxation, or to sleep? Have I learned the art of bringing each day.to a close, entrusting the fruits of my labor to the Lord? Do I set aside regular.time for leisure--for "mini-Sabbaths" and for longer ones? Do I use this "wasted time" to remember God's deliv- Work and Leisure / 497 erance.of me from sin, to reflect on his goodness to me, and to thank and praise him for his power and love? Can I just be with God or must I always be doing for him? Do I find the Lord both in my work and in my leisure? Do I take time to be with others, to enjoy their company, to play with them, to appreci-ate the divine mystery present in them? Or is the only time I am with others when I am working with them or for them? In conclusion, then, we have seen how a healthy balancing of work and leisure is essential for our Christian faith. In his article, "The Spiri-tual Value of Leisure," Leonard Doohan explains how work and leisure manifest our faith in God. Unlike those who profess some religions, we claim to believe that God is near to us, in us, in others, in the wonders of the world. Only in lei-sure dowe prove this belief by giving time to developing attitudes nec-essary to meet him. We also believe we can experience God personally and in community, but does our faith show this to others in the life we live? Are we "working" tourists who look at everything and see noth-ing, or do we pause, appreciate, wonder, and praise God who, we be-lieve, reveals himself in creation? It is not by work that we earn salva-tion, but in leisure that we appreciate that it is gift. Leisure is the cor-rective that puts work in perspective and shows forth our faith.3 NOTES ~ Wayne E. Oates, .Confessions of a Workaholic: The Facts about Work Addiction (Nashville: Abingdon, 1971), p. 35. 2 Demetrius Dumm, O.S.B., Flowers in the Desert: A Spirituality of the Bible (New York: Paulist, 1987), pp. 14-15. 3 Leonard Do6han, "The Spiritual Value of Leisure," Spirituality Today, 31 (June 1979), p. 164, Positive Wellness: Horizon for Religious Experience Jerome A. Cusumano, S.J. Father Jerry Cusumano, S.J., is a member of the Japanese Province of the Society of Jesus. He is currently engaged in studies at Arizona State University. His address is B:'ophy College Prep; 4701 N. Central: Phoenix, Arizona 85012. In this article I show how the integrated approach to health as exemplified in the holistic health movement can serve as a vehicle for opening a per-son's consciousness to the religious dimension of life. Since the goal of holistic health is "positive wellness," it is meant for those in good health who wish to achieve even better health, those who, in other words, are no longer focused on the negative problems of health such as giving up smoking, controlling drinking, losing weight, and so on. Holistic health encompasses at least the following four dimeffsions: nu-trition, exercise, awareness, and lifestyle. Since numerous self-help books as well as much scholarly research have more than adequately ex-plicated what is essential to each particular dimension, I do not intend to repeat here what has been better said elsewhere. However, I will briefly summarize what seems to be generally accepted in each area in order to establish a basis for the reflections which follow. 1 will treat the four basic factors in ascending order of importance. Nutrition Quantitatively, one should systematically "under-eat" in such a way as to maintain his body weight at the level it was when physical growth was completed, usually about the age of twenty. Qualitatively, one's diet should be based primarily on whole grains, raw vegetables, and fresh fruit. The diet should be, in yogic terms, sattvic, that is, nei- 498 Positive Wellness / 499 ther making the body sluggish nor stimulating it, but rather leaving it en-ergized and calm at the same time. Since one needs energy for exercise and calmness for awareness, a sattvic diet disposes the body properly for the next two dimensions of holistic health. Exercise Good food will not be adequately assimilated if the blood and oxy-gen circulation of the body are poor; conversely, a body kept in good condition will be healthy even on a poorer diet. Thus exercise is more important than nutrition for positive wellness. One needs to do some form of stretching exercises every day in order to maintain flexibility and alignment in the musculo-skeletal frame. What is gained during exercise times should be maintained at other times by sitting and standing in pos-tures which keep the shoulders and pelvis in line and the back straight. One also needs some form of daily aerobic exercise done for at least twenty minutes a session in order to revitalize and refresh the cardiovas-cular and respiratory systems by increasing the oxygen supply in the blood. The amount of time one devotes to exercise serves as a good gauge of one's desire for positive wellness. Nevertheless, even exercise is of less importance for positive wellness than the next dimension, aware-heSS. Awareness A period of at least twenty minutes a day should be devoted to some method of systematic awareness in the form of relaxation or meditation. The possibilities range over the spectrum from Feldenkrais's body aware-ness exercises or Jacobson's progressive relaxation method done in the prone, position, through the measured movements of Tai Chi done stand, ing and walking, to the one-pointed focusing of zazen or yoga done in the more demanding postures such as the full lotus. ~ Turning one's con-scious powers in on oneself while in slow m6vement and/or remaining still for a good length of time not only revitalizes the conscious mind and relaxes the body, but also provides a place where unconscious material, such as negative emotions, can .surface and be disposed of through aware-ness. While aerobic exercise refreshes one through an expenditure of en-ergy, in awareness one gathers his energy, concentrates it, and so re-charges himself. Furthermore, while it is possible to both eat well and exercise enough, and yet still lead a harried life, this is not possible for one who wishes to practice awareness regularly. The daily period set aside for purposefully quieting both body and mind through awareness presupposes a lifestyle conducive to such an activity. Thus awareness is 500 I Review for Religious, July-August 1989 both the support of and the fruit of an ordered lifestyle which is the fourth and most important dimension for positive wellness. Lifestyle In proportion as a stressful lifestyle has deleterious effects on the physical and psychical organism, so also a relaxed lifestyle is the single most important factor in promoting positive wellness. Such a lifestyle in-cludes a job ohe feels satisfied with and sees as worthwhile, as well as a personal life that has sufficient rest, satisfying human relationships, and some absorbing interests. Requisite to such a lifestyle, however, is a I . clear conception of the purpose of one's life, which serves as an implicit criterion by which one can judge which activities are to be undertaken and which relationsh.ips fostered. With a relaxed lifestyle and a clear pur-pose in life a man may reach a state of positive wellness even though he does not scrupulously follow all the directives with regard to nutri-tion, exercise, and awareness. Actually, a clear grasp of the purpose of one's life gives a meaning to striving for positive wellness. "Maintain-ing good physical and mental health is like preserving two fine instru-ments which can be used to carry out the purpose of life . Thus it is clear that the basis of holistic health lies in one's understanding the purpose of his life and learning how to achieve that purpose."2 Religious Experience The state of positive wellness, achieved and maintained by the inte-grated approach of the holistic health movement as summarized above, can dispose one to be more receptive to the transcendental and religious dimension of life. One becomes accustomed to an habitual state of vigor, energy, and wellness which hecan no longer do without. To use Glas-ser's term, one has developed a positive addiction to health itself. This addiction to positive wellness has its source in the good feelings gener-ated through the "spiritualization" of one's body by the increased vi-tality attained through conscious effort and the "physicalization" of one's mind by the greater calmness achieved through attention to bodily processes. At peak moments this dual action issues into a harmony which Glasser call the PA (positive addiction) state. "In the PA state the mind flows with the body. The two cease completely to be antagonistic to each other and blend into one. The state of positive addiction to health is experienced as a drive from within oneself, but not an instinctual drive such as that for sex, nor as a drive stemming from the force of one's will. One feels that he has tapped into another force which is now pulling him to higher levels of Positive Wellness health. Yoga terminology calls this force the Self as opposed to the self. However, it might just as well be conceived in terms of health itself. The healthier one becomes, the more he makes contact with the body's own innate drive to good health and experiences the power of that drive. He gradually opens his consciousness to the life force within him and allows it to work of itself. The healthier one becomes, the more he can tap into this life force. Paradoxically, this means that one becomes a "spiritual" person not by ignoring the body in the pursuit of higher interest, but rather by infusing the body with spirit, that is, by directing one's consciousness to the health of the body in such a way as to energize it as fully as possible. As a result one becomes a more suitable vehicle to channel the energy of life within himself and to others. "As you continue to develop your channels of energy, you will notice differences in your entire being, and these will likewise be observed by those around you, who also benefit from the increase in energy flow."4 Energizing the body through sustained, systematic daily care of one's health puts one into contact with a Life greater than one's own. It is this Life, more than individual will power, which makes possible the main-tenance of a sane lifestyle and consistent attention to nutrition, exercise, and awareness demanded for positive wellness. For some this may be the first step to recognition of transcendent being. For others it may be a preparation through a new experience of satisfaction from taking respon-sibility for one's life. As Bloomfield says, "There is joy in taking full responsibility for your health and happiness.''5 Children at play, fully alive and vibrant, exemplify the joy he speaks of. Theirs is a joy spring-ing from the flexibility and agility of their bodies as well as from the care-free state of mind in which they live. Paradoxically, Ardell notes, it is only as one grows older that he can fully enjoy youth.6 Conclusion If pursued within the holistic health framework the current quest of many for youthfulness and positive wellness can become the occasion for opening oneself to transcendent and religious experience. For positive wellness makes one aware of the source of Life itself. NOTES ~ M. Feldenkrais, Awareness Through Movement, (New York: Harper and Row, 1972), E. Jacobson, You Must Relax, (London: Unwin Paperbacks, 1980). 2 S. Rama, A Practical Guide to Holistic Health, (Honesdale, Pennsylvania: The 50~. / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 Himalayan Publishers, 1980), p. 13. 3 W. Glasser, Positive Addiction, (New York: Harper and Row, 1976), p. 56. '~ R. Shames, The Gift of Health, (New York: Bantam Books, 1982), p. 140. 5 H. Bloomfield, The Holistic Way to Health and Happiness, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1978), p. 274. 6 D. Ardell, High Level Wellness, (New York: Bantam Books, 1981), p. 67. Full Circle Morning did come! Rise with the full-day Sun! Work begun. Thy Will be done! Day half-spent, Rest in the noonday Sun! Renewed, refre~shed--run! Day-work, toil done. Daystar, noon, setting Sun. Rest! Be still! Tomorrows come . . . maybe? Glory be! Walter Bunofsky, S.V.D. 1446 E. Warne Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63107 Striving for Spiritual Maturity: Ideals as Obstacles Wilkie Au, S.J. Father Wilkie Au, S.J., has been working in psychological counseling and spiritual direction. He served for six years as novice director for the Jesuit California Prov-ince. He may be addressed at Loyola Marymount College; Jesuit Community; P.O. Box 45041; Los Angeles, California 90045-0041. The metaphor of a journey captures well what most adults come sooner or later to realize about spiritual and psychological growth: it is a never-ending series of changes and struggles. In a word, it is a hard road to travel. It is tied to the ways we respond to the crises of human life. These crises are both predictable and unpredictable. The predictable ones have been outlined in the literature of deve!opmental psychology, which de-picts the pattern of adult growth, not as an undisturbed straight line, but as a zigzag process often full of setbacks and frustrations. The unpre-dictable crises are easily recognized: sudden illnesses, career disappoint-ments, interpersonal misunderstandings, the loneliness of ruptured rela-tionships, the separation of death or divorce. When faced with the strug-gles that are the inescapable conditions of growth, people frequently ask themselves: "Why go on? Why keep trying, if there is no chance of suc-cess? What difference does it make any way?" The frustrations of seem-ingly endless change--new jobs, new residences, new relationships-- force many to question whether it is worth all the effort. These are nei-ther theoretical nor abstract questions. They emerge from the concrete experience of striving to grow in holiness and wholeness. These quan-daries frame the struggle to love as Jesus commanded. An effective spirituality today must strengthen the individual's com-mitment to the ongoing process of sanctification and maturation. It must 503 ~i04/Review for Religious, July-August 1989 do this by reminding us that God is always close by with divine love and power to help us in our struggles. As followers of the risen Christ, we are called to believe that "the power.by which life is sustained and in-vited toward wholeness is no human creation and abides and remains steadfast even in a world where death does have dominion over every individual." ~ As in other human journeys, we reach the destination of our spiri-tual pilgrimage only gradually. However, there is a paradoxical nature to the spiritual sojourn. While alive, we will never fully reach our goal of union with God and others. Yet, being on the spiritual path is already a way of attaining that end. God is to be enjoyed not only at the end of the search, .but all along the way. The Christmas story of the magi illus-trates this truth. God was present to them not only when they joyfully arrived at the cave in Bethlehem, but also in the original stirrings that sent them off in search of the promised Messiah. God's presence was also experienced in a guiding star that directed them through dark nights and in a dream that warned them of Herod's threat. They experienced God's support, too, in the encouragement they gave each other through-out an uncharted search that took them miles from home. God is more present to us than we think. Our search for union with God is life-long, often a strenuous trek punctuated by dark passages. If we are to persevere, we must take cour-age in God's abiding presence all along the way. Even as we are travel-ing towards God as destiny, Emmanuel is already with us in manifold ways. The disciples of Jesus were once given a dramatic lesson about how Christ is ever-present. One day they were crossing the Lake of Gali-lee when a fierce storm enveloped their little boat. Frightened by vio-lent winds, the apostles were stricken with panic. Suddenly, Jesus ap-peared to them walking on the water. He told them, "It is I. Do not be afraid" (Jn 6:21). Jesus then calmed the storm, and the boat quickly came to shore. The significance of Jesus' words is clear when we look at the original text. The Greek has Jesus saying "ego eimi" which liter-ally means "I am." In the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament, the phrase "ego eimi" is used as a surrogate for the divine name (Ex 3:14). It is Yahweh's response to Moses' question, "Who shall I say sent me?" In placing these words in Jesus' mouth, John ex-p~' esses the early Church's belief in the divinity of Christ. The good news affirmed in this Johannine passage is identical to that contained in Mat-thew's story of the magi: God is always with us in our journeys through life. This truth must permeate our consciousness, especially when our Striving for Spiritual Maturity / 505 fragile boat is rocked by waves of worry and troublesome torrents. In our fear and confusion, we need to recognize the presence of the risen Jesus drawing near to us to still the storm. Calm will descend on us when we hear Jesus say, "Do not be afraid. It is I." Letting Go of Flawless Images ~The journey metaphor most accurately reflects reality when it is seen as a zigzag pattern i'ather than as an uninterrupted straight line. Human growth is not a process that moves relentlessly ahead in a single direc-tion. It, rather, is a mixture of progressions and regressions. At times, we experience forward movements; on other occasions, slips indicate re-gress; and sometimes, no matter how much effort we expend, we find ourselves at a standstill, seemingly stuck at a developmental plateau. Is this wrong? To the contrary. Accepting the jerky aspect of growth and relinquishing the illusion of a forever smooth-flowing journey is not only necessary but will bring serenity to our striving for maturity. Failures should not produce despair; temporary plateaus need not trigger paraly-sis. The expectation of a flawless journey is counterproductive because it misrepresents the process of developmenta~l growth. It also distorts the truth of what it means to be a human being. A view of the human person which does not acknowledge that sinfulness casts a shadow on every person is unrealistic. Such a notion can also have harmful effects. Our sinful condition renders us radically weak. In an iron'ic way, not to admit to our weakened capacity leads us to a sense of perversity and guilt rather than worthiness and self-acceptance. The refusal "to recognize the persistent ambiguity and the final impotence of our lives tantalizes us with an optimistic promise of self-evolved be-coming," concli~des theologian LeRoy Aden. It also "stands in danger of giving us a sense of failure and despair to the extent that we do not achieve it. ,.,2 Thus, failure to acknowledge the shadow aspect of human personality, diminishes, not enhances, self-esteem. Aden elaborates on the harmful effects of a naively optimistic view of human development in the context of a critique of Carl Rogers, the father of client-centered therapy and a major influence in the field of pas-toral counseling. Aden objects to a basic hypothesis of client-centered therapy: the belief that persons have within themselves the ongoing ca-pacity to reorganize their lives in the direction of maturity and fulfill-ment if the proper psychological climate is present. Concretely,. this hy-pothesis presupposes that if the counselor communicates empathy, warmth, acceptance, and genuineness, a client wil~ naturally begin to manifest behavior that enhances the true self. According to Aden, "Ro- 506 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 gers' faith in the individual's ability to choose the good is absolute. He entertains no qualifications. He allows no doubts.In fact, therapists who begin to question the hypothesis and who shift to another mode of inter-action only confuse the client and defeat their own purpose."3 Roger~ clung tenaciously to his belief in the individual's absolute ca-pacity for constructive and enhancing behavior. Aden recounts an inci-dent in Rogers' life in which he nearly destroyed his own psychic health by maintaining at all cost this article of faith. Rogers once dealt with a very disturbed woman who continually demanded more of him--more time, more warmth, more realness. Although he began to doubt his own adequacy and to lose the boundaries between himself and the client, Ro-gers was very reluctant to let go. Finally, when he realized that he was on the edge of a personal breakdown,he swiftly referred the client to a psychiatric colleague and left town for an extended period. He eventu-ally sought therapy to overcome feelings of complete inadequacy as a therapist and deep worthlessness as a person. According to Aden, this "event shows that Rogers would doubt him-self as a therapist and as a person before he would question his basic faith in the individual.''4 Rogers had provided his disturbed client ~,ith un-derstanding and acceptance over an extended period of time. Neverthe-less, she got progressively more dependent and sicker, bordering on psy-chosis. Her behavior explicitly challenged the very foundation of his the-ory. Thus, it was easier for him to doubt his own worth as a clinician than to reexamine the linchpin of his therapeutic creed. Belief in the in-dividual's indomitable capacity for ongoing growth and actualization had to be maintained at all cost. Forgiveness: The End Point of Life Carl Rogers has made many contributions to pastoral counseling, but his trust in the absolute ability of individuals to grow continually toward fulfillment is a harmful assumption for Christians. It contradicts Christi-anity's deepest insight into the human person as radically good, yet bur-dened by sinfulness. This sinful condition impedes our struggle for growth in holiness and maturity~ It often leads to imperfect fulfillment. Unlike the contemporary tendency to absolutize fulfillment as the basic truth and the final goal of human existence, Christian faith reiterates the good news proclaimed by Christ: forgiveness is the endpoint of human life. Thus faulty fulfillment and incomplete development need not worry those who trust in the forgiving love of God. In thelend, we will fully enjoy the unconditional acceptance of God, not because we are flawless, Striving for Spiritual Maturity / 507 but in spite of our imperfections. Our merciful God's gift of forgiveness means that we "cannot and need not measure up to any conditions of worth."5 When forgiveness, and not fulfillment, is seen as the endpoint of our lives, we can live with greater acceptance of our weaknesses and with greater hope in God's power to complete what grace has started. No longer will the ambiguity of our fulfillment judge us, nor the impo-tence of our efforts condemn us. With St. Paul, we are "quite certain that the One who began this good work" in us "will see that it is fin-ished when the Day of Christ Jesus comes" (Ph 1:6). As Aden states beau-tifully., the promise of ultimate forgiveness "allows us to be incomplete and yet complete, estranged and yet related, distorted and yet fulfilled." When our journey reaches its termination, we will be wrapped in God's merciful arms, like the prodigal son. Because "you are forgiven" will be the final words we will hear, we are freed from the compulsive need to actualize perfectly our human potential and are released from the guilt that accompanies falling short of that goal. "Success and failure are accidental," writes one spiritual writer. "The'joy of the Christian is never based on . . . success but on the knowledge that (one's) Redeemer lives."6 Thus, the author encour-ages us to learn to li~,e peacefully to the end of our life with a certain imperfecti6n: The Lord will never ask how successful we were in overcoming a par-ticular vice, sin, or imperfection. He will ask us, "Did you humbly and patiently accept this mystery of iniquity in your life? How did you deal with it? Did you learn from it to be patient and humble? Did it teach you to trust not your own ability but my love? Did it enable you to under-stand better the mystery of iniquity in the lives of others?' ,7 Our lack of perfection will never separate us from God because the Lord's forgiveness is always perfect and total. What to Do Until the Messiah Comes Until that day of Christ Jesus, when we will receive "the perfec-tion that comes through faith in Christ and is from God," we are called to strive for the goal without ceasing (Ph 3: 9-10). We are to imitate St. Paul in his deep yearning "to have Christ and be given a place in him" (Ph 3:9). We have not yet won, but are still running, trying to capture the prize for which Jesus captured us. We too must forget the past and strain ahead for what is still to come. We must, in Paul's words, race "for the finish, for the prize to which God calls us upward to receive in Christ Jesus" (Ph 3: 14). Review for Religious, July-August 1989 Paul's expression of the Christian goal is beautifully poetic. We must look to a contemporary spirituality, however, to translate it into real-life terms. As a guide to Christian living, a spirituality' must spell out the prac-tical dimensions of that vision. It should keep the Gospel ideals eve~r be-fore the Christian sojourner. These ideals are meant to help Christians finish the spiritu~.l race and to receive a place in Christ. They can be use-ful in our spiritual odyssey. Like the stars, they may never be reached; but they are useful to steer our lives by. Ideals can hinder us, however, and discourage us from trying when the fear of performing poorly para-lyzes us. The French saying, "The best is the enemy of the good," il-lustrates this attitude of fearfulness. Ideals impede our spiritual progress when we use them as an excuse for mediocrity, thinking to ourselves: "Christian holiness is something for saintly people, not ordinary folks like us. ". Furthermore, ideals are injurious when they lure us into think-ing that we can earn God's approval by doing everything perfectJy. Paul refers to this as seeking a perfection that comes from the Law rather than from faithin Jesus (Ph 3:9). When striving for holine~ ss deceives us int6 thinking that we can stand in pharisaical judgment over others, we have been seduced by pride. Finally, ideals are harmful when they lead to cyni-cism and disillusionment. That no one fully lives up to espoused values should not undermine the importance of having high aspirations. The fail-ure of sincere efforts should not disillusion us, but the apathy of not try-ing should appall us. Dreaming is not the same as doing. Ideals should inspire us to act, not merely to dream. Thoughts of what could be tomorrow should lead us to do what we can today. When lofty aspirations lead to romantic pre-occupation rather than realistic pursuits, they retard our spiritual devel-opment. In a letter to a friend, C. S. Lewis makes this point nicely: We read of spiritual efforts, and our imagination makes us believe that, because we enjoy the idea of doing them, we have done them. I am ap-palled to see how much of the change which I thought I had undergone lately was on!y imaginary. The real workseems still to be done. It is so fatally easy to confuse an aesthetic appreciation of the spiritual life with the life itself--to dream that you have waked, washed, and dressed and then to find yourself still in bed.8 No matter how grand our ideals, they can only be achieved through small but steady steps. As the Chinese sage Lao Tze stated centuries ago, "The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step." We must bear this wise saying in mind as we let the star of idealism lead us, as with the magi, incompanionship to the Messiah. Striving for Spiritual Maturity / 509 Activity and Passivity in Spiritual Striving Striving for spiritual maturity is paradoxical. It requires us to be si-multaneously active and passive. We are called to exert our efforts and use our God-given talents to develop ourselves. And, at the same time, we must remember that our efforts alone can never bring us to holiness and wholeness; only God's grace can effect our transformation into Christ. While we ultimately cannot save ourselves, we must neverthe-less cooperate with divine grace. We must dispose ourselves to be re-ceptive to the sanctifying action of God's touch. In our spiritual journey we have to negotiate a delicate passage between the Scylla of presump-tion and the Charybdis of despair. Presumption, according.to St. Tho-mas Aquinas, is "an unwarranted dependence upofi God."9 It is the at-titude that God will do it all and that our efforts are not important. Fos-tering irresponsible inaction, it keeps us from doing our part. Despair, on the other hand, is losing hope in God's saving power. It stems from an exclusive reliance on our efforts, without any trust in God's power to make up for Qur human limitations. It results from thinking that eve-rything depends on us alone. Only ongoing discernment can help us main-tain the right balance in our spirituality between personal effort and trust-ing reliance on God. Both dynamics are encouraged by Scripture. Many New. Testament passages attest to the need to rely on God's power in order to bear spiritual fruit in our lives. A beautiful expression of this is the Johannine image of God as the vinedresser. Jesus is the vine and we are the branches. The Father prunes us so that we might bear fruit (Jn 15: I-2). Spiritual growth is passive in the sense that purification and progress are the direct results of God's action upon us. The evangelist Mark reinforces the centrality of God's action in his parable about the seed growing by itself. This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man throws seed on the land. Night and day, while he sleeps, when he is awake, the seed is sprouting and growing; how, he does not know. Of its own accord the land pro-duces first the shoot, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the crop is ready, he loses no time; he starts to reap because the harvest has come (Mk 4:26-29). Notice that the farmer's work is described with a minimum of words. The emphasis falls on the mysterious process of growth. Just as the earth produces fruit spontaneously, so God's reign comes by divine power alone. Once the seed is planted, the result is as sure, as dependable, and as silent as the forces of nature. Stage by stage--first the green shoot, then the spike of corn, and then the full grain in the ear--the seed of S10 /Review for Religious, July-August 1989 God's reign grows to harvest in a way that the farmer does not under-stand. This parable reminds us that nature (God's creation) contains a power which humans do not make or~direct. Similarly, God's grace will bring about conversion and growth in us in ways we may not understand. In human lives, the Spirit of Jesus is the divine power that brings God's kingdom from seed to harvest. When we remember that God's 'work-ing in us,.can do more than we can ask or imagine' (Ep 3:20), we will be protected from the pride and anxiety that stem from the myth of total self-sufficiency. But Scripture also stresses the importance of human effort. Luke's gospel strongly urges followers of Christ to translate words into action. "Why do you call me Lord, Lord," asks Jesus, "and not do what I say?" (Lk 6:46). Everyone who comes to me and listens to my words and acts on them ¯ . . is like the man who when he built his house dug, and dug deep, and laid the foundations on rock; when the river was in flood it bore down on that house but could not shake it, it was so well built. But the one who listens and does nothing is like the man who built his house on soil, with no foundations: as soon as the river bore down on it, it col-lapsed; and what a ruin that house became! (Lk 6:47-49). Jesus not only challenges us to practice his teachings, but also warns that our very hearing of his word must be done with care. In the parable of the sower and the seed, he describes the fragility ofthe seed of God's word. If it is not received by the right soil, it will not take root and grow. Grains that fall on the edge of the path represent people who have heard the word of God, but have it stolen from their hearts by the forces of evil. Seeds that fall on rock are like people who receive the word in a superfi-cial way, and give up in time of trial. Those that fall in the midst of thorns are Christians who let worries, riches, and pleasures of life choke their growth, preventing it from reaching maturity. Grains that fall in the rich soil signify those of generous hearts who have let the word take deep roots in themselves and have yielded a harvest through their persever-anc. e (Lk 8:11-15). Emphasizing the importance of human effort in dis-posing the soil of the inner self for receiving the word, Jesus concludes with a warning: "So take care how you hear" (Lk 8: 18). While Mark's parable of the seed growing by itself stresses the power of God actively bringing about growth, Luke's parable emphasizes the necessity of en-ergetic human cooperation. Another Lukan parable about a fruitless fig tree highlights the im-portance of personal effort. When its owner realized that his tree had Striving for Spiritual Maturity been barren for three years, he ordered his gardener to remove it. In-stead, the caretaker pleaded, "Sir, leave it one more year and give me time to dig round it and manure it: it may bear fruit next year; if not, then you can cut it down" (Lk 13:8-9). We too are called to actively tend the seed of God's word so that it can take deep roots in our souls and can bear fruit for the world. A classical biblical text used to illustrate the need for docility to God's formative action in our lives is Jeremiah's visit to the potter. Watch-ing the artisan working at his wheel, the prophet noticed that he contin-ued to shape and reshape the clay until he created what he was envision-ing. Then the word of Yahweh came to Jeremiah as follows: "House of Israel, can I not do to you what this potter does?. Yes, like clay in the potter's hand, so you are in mine, House of Israel" (Jr 18:1-6). While the image of the human person as clay being shaped by the divine Potter testifies beautifully to God's active involvement in our spiritual development, it should not be used to justify excessive passivity or in-fantile irresponsibility. While trying to be malleable to the fashioning in-fluence of God, Christians are called to take adult responsibility for their growth. This means taking active means to deepen one's love for God and neighbor. Activity and passivity must coexist in dynamic tension, if we are to remain.spir!tually healthy. In describing her Jeremiah-like visit to a pot-ter at work in Provincetown, situated at the tip of Cape Cod, a recent writer shed light on the active-passive dimension of spiritual formation. The observer discovered that the artist,, a woman-of more than seventy years, was a wise person as well as a potter. After conveying her belief in the direct relationship between the pliability of the clay and its strength, the artisan added, almost as an aside, "If you can't bend a lit-tle and give some, life will eventually break you. It's just the way it is, you know." ~0 The visitor noticed that the potter worked with both hands: one placed inside, applying pressure on the clay; the other on the out-side of the gradually forming pot,. Too much pressure from the outside would cause the pot to collapse, while too much pressure from the in-side would make the pot bulge outward. The old potter spoke wisely about life: Life, like the pot I am turning, is shaped by two sets of opposing forces ¯ . . Sadness and death and misfortune and the love of friends and all the things that happened to m~ that I didn't even choose. All of that in-fluenced my life. But there are things I believe in about myself, my faith in God, and the love of some friends that worked on the insides of me. ~ 512 / Review for Religious,. July-August 1989 Like Jeremiah, this modern day potter sheds light on the Lord's ways of dealing with us. The Lord who calls us to be holy is also the One who forms us into the image of Jesus, the living icon, of God. This divine Art-ist works on us with two hands: one shaping us from the inside and an-other molding us from the outside. Like the clay pot, we need to be mal- . leable. And, paradoxically, our pliability will give us strength to per-severe ac~tively in the process. Knowing how to bend a little will keep us from breaking. Experience as Manure in the Spiritual Field In the spiritual project of transformation into Christ, effort is what counts, not unremitting success. Acclaiming the value of practice in spiri-tual growth, the Eastern guru Chogyam Trungpa speaks of the "manure of experience and the field of bohdi." ~-~ Bohdi represents the search for enlightenment. If we are skilled and p~tient enough to sift through our experiences and study them thoroughly, we can use them to aid our en-lightenment. Our experiences, 'our mistakes, and even our failures func-tion like fertilizer. According to Trungpa, to deny or cover up our errors is a waste of experience. When we do not scrutinize our failures for the lessons they contain, we miss an opportunity. What appears to be use-less trash contains potential .nutrients for life. But, to convert our defi-ciencies into positive value, we need to pile them on a compost heap, not sweep them behind a bush. Hiding failure is to store it like rubbish. "And if you store it like that," the guru remarks, "you would not have enough manure to raise a crop from the wonderful field of bodhi.''~3 In a parallel way, experience can be said to be manure in the field of Christian development. Like manure, past experiences must be plowed into the ground to enrich the inner soil of the self, making it more re-ceptive to. the see.d of God's word. Then, we will reap an abundant har-vest base~l on our perseverance. Mistakes need not ruin our spiritual jour-ney, if we learn from them. Even saints like Augustine of Hippo and Ig-natius of Loyola learned how not to make mistakes by making many. The Lord who desires our holiness can bring good out of everything, can work in any and all of our experiences to transform us. In our fragmen-tation, we rejoice in the power of God to bring wholeness. If we bring our weakness before the Lord, humbly asking for the help of enabling grace, we can then trust that the Lord will produce an abundant harvest. Spiritual Growth Through Trial and Error The ideals of Christian spirituality cannot be achieved without im-mersing ourselves in the messiness of nitty-gritty experience. Learning Striving for Spiritual Maturity how to love God and others in an integrated way comes only through daily practice. The way of trial and error, not book learning alone, will teach us how to fashion a dynamic and balanced life in which there is room for solitude and community, ministry and leisure, autonomy and intimacy, personal transformation and social reform, prayer and play. Striking the right balance is a highly personal matter. No one can attain it for us; we must discover it ourselves through personal experience. As theologian John Dunne states, "Only one who has tried the extremes can find this personal mean., on the other hand, trying the extremes will not necessarily lead to finding the mean. Only the [person] who perceives the shortcomings of.the extremes will find it. 14 Blessings for the Journey Achieving wholeness and holiness requires traversing the difficult ter-rain of real life with all its challenges and crises. Even at the end of a lifetime of effort, we will still need to be completed by the finishin~g touch of the divine Artist. God will .then bring to completion in us the eternal design of persons destined to love wholeheartedly. While await-ing that unifying touch of divine grace, we pilgrims are called to follow the way of Jesus. And the Lord who walks with us assures that we will always be blessed. The blessings sent our way may not always be enjoy-able, but they will always nudge us forward in our efforts to love as God i'ntended. °~ A rabbi was once asked, "What is a blessing?" He prefaced his an-swer with a riddle involving the creation account in chapter one of Gene-sis. The riddle went this way: After finishing his work on each of the first five days, the Bible states, "God saw that it was good." But God is not reported to have commented on the goodness of what was created on the sixth day when the human person was fashioned. "What conclu-sion can you draw from tha~?" asked the rabbi. Someone volunteered, "We can conclude that the human person ~s not good." "Possibly," the rabbi nodded, "but that's not a likely explanation." He then went on to explain that the Hebrew word translated as "good" in Genesis is the word "tov," which is better translated as "complete." That is why, the rabbi contended, God did not declare the human person to be "toy." Human beings are created incomplete. It is our life's vocation to collabo-rate with our Creator in fulfilling the Christ-potential in each of us. As the medieval mystic Meister Eckhart suggested, Christ longs to be born and developed into fullness in each of us.~5 A blessing is anything that enters into the center of our lives and expands our capacity to be filled with Christ's love. Therefore, a blessing may not always be painless, but Review for Religious, July-August 1989 it will always bring spiritual growth. Being blessed does not mean being perfect, but being completed. To be blessed is not to get out of life what we think we want. Rather, itis the assurance that God's purifying grace is active in us, so that our "hidden self (may) grow strong" and "Christ may live in (our) hearts through faith." In this way, we will with all the saints be "filled with the utter fullness of God" (Ep 3:16-19). NOTES I Sam Keen, "Manifesto for a Dionysian Theology," in New Theology No. 7, eds. Martin E. M~irty and Dean G. Peerman (New York: Macmillan, 1970), p. 97. 2 LeRoy Aden, "On Carl Rogers" Becoming,"Theology Today XXXVI:4 (Jan. 1980), p. 558. 3 lbid, p. 557. 4 Ibid. 5 lbid, p. 558. 6 Adrian van Kaam, Religion and Personality (Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books, 1980), p. 15. 7 lbid, p. 15. 8 C.S. Lewis, The3, Stand Together: The Letters of C.S. Lewis to Arthur Greeves (1914-1963), ed. Walter Hooper (New York: The Macmillan Co., Inc. 1979), p. 361. 9 Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Latin Text and English Translation, Introductions, Notes, Appendices, and GIossaries,~Vol. 33 (Blackfriars, with New York: McGraw-Hill and London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1966), II-II, Q 21, a I, ad 1. ~0 Paula Ripple, Growing Strong at Broken Places (Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Ma-ria Press, 1986), p. 68. ~ Ibid, p. 69. ~z Chogyam Trungpa, Meditation in Action (Boston: Shambhala, 1985), p. 26. ~3 Ibid. ~4 John Dunne, The Way of All the Earth (New York: MacMillan Company, 1972), pp. 37-38. ~5 Meister Eckhart once said: "What good is it to me if Mary gave birth to the son of God fourteen hund'r~ed years ago and I do not also give birth to the son of God in my time and in my culture?" As quoted in Matthew Fox, Original Blessing: A Primer in Creation Spirituality (Santa Fe, New Mexico: Bear & Company, 1983), p. 221. The Shifting Order of Religious Life in our Church Maryanne Stevens, R.S.M. Sister Maryanne Stevens, R.S.M., is currently Assistant Professor of Theology at Creighton University. She had served as formation director for the Sisters of Mercy, Province of Omaha from 1977-1982. Her address is Department of Theology; Creighton University; California at 24th Street; Omaha, Nebraska 68178. The difficulty of thinking thorough questions about religious life today should not be underestimated. Such reflection is often complicated by the fact that those straining to see and articulate what the shifts in relig-ious orders mean for their future in our Church are often themselves mem-bers Of religious congregations. Thus, the efforts to make sense of vowed living can be blindedoby both self-interests and past~ ways of understand-ing. Th6 blindness feels to me like the fuzzy sight of Mark's blind man who could see people "but they look like trees, walking" (Mk 8:24). It was only after the man "looked intently" that he was able to see ev-erything clearly. This ~article is more an attempt to describe the "tree walking" than to asser(any.de~finitive conclusions. Two circumstances in particular have sparked my own reflections on the changing order of religious life. First, we continue to have members "leaving." They do not leave in the dark of night as they did in the 1950s; rather many stand before us in assembly or community saying that their integrity prevents them from +ontinuing to live the vowed life, but they wish always to remain ""sister" or "brother" to us. Many are not immediately interested in a different lifestructure, for example, marriage, personal wealth, and so forth; rather, they are no longer able to connect celibacy, poverty, and obedience to any understanding of their life. Secondly, those within religious communities primarily vested with 515 516 / Review for Religious~ July-August 1989 the role of discerning vocations and incorporating new members are no longer called the "formation-vocation" team. They are now referred to as the "membership team." Some of these new membership teams are made up of non-vowed associates of the community~ as well as vowed members. The job description of these teams is unclear even though it includes the discernment of vocation and the incorporation of new mem-bers because vocation and membership have taken on new meanings. Vo-cation is not necessary to the "vowed" life and membership does not necessitate professing the vows. The new terminology and the alteration in the constitution of the teams are profound symbols of a "changing order." These two realities--members continuing to remain attached to con-gregations even though they "leave" and the development of "mem-bership teams"--can allow for i~ew insight into how, with decreasing numbers,,religious orders will continue the legacy of their foun~lresses or founders, women and men whose gifts have been confirmed as a vivi-fying influence in the Church and the world.2 These gifts or charisms are the animating characteristics for the style of life, witness, and apostolic action within the congregations. Membership within a congregation has meant at its most basic level that a person'believes he or she is called to re-offer the charis~m of the founder to the contemporary world. This offering is buttressed by the belief that the gifts of the founder or foun-dress are not time-bound and will continueto contribute to a further ap-proximation of the reign of God in history. Thus the Sisters of Merc~y (the "order" to which I belong) present the foundation for their exis-tence as the desire to continue the story of a nineteenth-century Irish woman, Catherine McAuley, in theChurch and in the world. This par-ticular goal is expressed by tfieir fourtti vow of gervice and through the wording of their present Constituiions which point to the ideals of their congregation as well as the way they presently understand their congre-gation and words the way they presently understand th6ir mission as a community within the Church. By the vow of service we commit ourselves to exercise the spiritual and corporal works of mercy revealed to us through~ t~,h.e life of Jesus. En-riched by his love, healed by his mercy and0taught by his word we serve the poor, sick, and ignorant. To celebrate our corporate word in a discordant society requires the courage of a deep'faith and interior joy. We believe that God is faithful and that our struggle to follow Christ will extend God's reign of love over human hearts. We rejoice in the continued invitation to seek jus- The Shifting Order of Religious Life tice, to be compassionate, and to reflect mercy to the world.3 The thesis of this article is simply that the clues for how to continue the legacy of a particular founder or foundress will be found by looking intently at how the tradition of the founder or foundress continues to be lived, seeking to confirm all those ~'ho focus their discipleship of Christ through the prism of his or her life and legacy. In order to amplify this thesis, I will discuss eight understandings that result from an attempt to "look intently," and then present several ideas intended to help the "re-ordering" of religious communities. But, first, one caveat is necessary. No matter how blind men and women religious feel as they grope toward an understanding of their .lives, they must trust that they faithfully embody the tradition of the par-ticular foundress.or founder. When I was in formation work in the 1970s, I was fond of telling the newer .members that the Sisters of Mercy were made up of the names in the current directory and the names on the tomb-stones in our cemeteries. This was the most concrete way of describing what they were getting into~companionship with persons who were char-acterized by a variety of shapes, sizes, quirks, personalities, sickness, gifts, skills, weaknesses, ideas, and so forth--but with one thing in com-mon: they all believed they were called to focus their discipleship through the story of Catherine McAuley. It seemed essential that each member act toward the other with the belief that each sister was a part of this tradition and that all were searching for what was necessitated by the call to appropriately renew the story (or tradition) in the light of the sources of Christian life, the original inspiration behind the community and the changed condition of the times.'* At that time I was pointing the novices toward the vowed members of the group, the Sisters. Now the names in our directory include asso-ciate, that is non-vowed, members who have made a contract with us in which we promise our support for their attempts to live the tradition of Catherine McAuley and they promise specific ways in which they will contribute to the offering of Catherine's gifts to the Body of Christ. There-fore, wl~ether we be Sister JaneSmith, R.S.M. or Jane Smith, Associ-ate of the Sisters of Mercy, we must believe in and support one another as we seek to embody the tradition of our foundress. Each of us brings only a part of the story, thus each person who focuses his or her disci-pleship through the same tradition helps focus the present and the future "order" of one's specific congregation. Part I The following are my understandings of religious life today: I ) Men and women in religious orders are disciples of Jesus. We be- 511~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 long to a pilgrim people searching for the reign of God. We are blinded by sin and limitation as we seek to discover the ways of our God as re-vealed through Jesus. We learn how to follow Jesus in our times and in our circumstances. The primary mode of ou'r learning is experiential. It is complex and it calls us to struggle with our daily realities to see anew w,hat patterns in 6ur lives need conversion. The greatest threat to our dis-cipleship is to think that we have learned enough or to reduce the reign of God to the glimpses of glory which we see in our own time. Liberation theology is probably the clearest indication to today's Church that it is still on pilgrimage. Begun with Moses' vision of a God who had heard the crying out of the Israelite slaves, reiterated in Han-nah's canticle that praises God as one who will raise up the lowly, and reborn in the 1970s through the efforts of those struggling to see God and understand God's ways from the experience of twentieth-century op-pression, this theology reminds us as a Church that we are still learning not only how, but where to find Jesus.5 2) Members of religious orders are those who are disciples of a par-ticular charismatic leader recognized by our Church. Recognizing that our stories do not belong to the time and culture of the founder or foun-dress, the charisms of these characters and their companions are a way of expressing discipleship in Christ. To be members ofa religious con-gregation~ is to take one way of interpreting discipleship of Jesus, namely the life of a founder or foundress, as a way to focus discipleship. Again, congregational members are disciples of this way of focusing, that is, there is no profession, ministry, office, or role, no direct service or in-stitutionalized ,ministry, that exempts members frorri continually learn-ing what it means to pattern their lives or focus their discipleship of Je-sus through the prism of this great man or woman. All of our lives are mystery, not in the sense that they defy explana-tion, but in Gabriel Marcel's sense that the more we are involved in them, the more inseparable we become from their depth.6 Our Church has confirmed the legacy of some men and women as mysterious, that is, there is within these persons a depth of discipleship that calls and be-comes involving for others. Nano Nagle, Francis of Assisi, Ignatius of Loyola, Elizabeth Seton, Angela Merici, and Catherine McAuley are some of these people. Their gift to the Church is mysterious to us, and that is why they can properly have disciples. The more their lives, their stories are considered, the more insight we gain into what it might mean to be a disciple of Christ in our time. Thus, many religious congregations acknowledged with Vatican II The Shifting Order of Religious Life that reflection on what it meant to follow Christ and to plead the radical nature of the Gospel through the focus on their particular founder or foun-dress meant that they must be learners of new ways. The call for renewal necessitated a refounding and a reordering of these congregations that con-tinues into the present.7 This challenge reminds many in a very profound way that they are indeed learners. 3) We are co-dikciples. There can be no doubt about this. Baptism incorporates us into a community of disciples. As members of religious communities, we are co-disciples, learners with the other clergy and la-ity. Appropriating Gospel values and finding patterns of life that typify holiness are calls received by all within the Christian community, whether they be married, single, or vowed. The sixth-century understand-ing of Pseudo-Dionysius who envisioned the grace of God as descend-ing through three hierarchical angelic choirs into two earthly hierarchies of clergy and laity respectively was normative until Lumen Gentium's statement that "in the Church, everyone . . . is called to holi-ness . ,,8 No longer do lay folk stand below those ~who profess the evangelical counsels nor do the latter stand below those who are ordained to the priesthood in the Church. Paul VI reiterated the Vatican Council's hierarchy-shattering words when he said that the whole Church received the mission of Jesus--"the community of believers, the community of hope lived and communicated, the community of love. ,,9 The consideration of volunteers, partners, and associates who claim the life and charism of a founder or foundress of a religious order in our Church as their way of focusing discipleship reminds us that we are co-disciples. These new relationships can intimidate as well as inspire and so we must continually remind ourselves of John Paul ll's challenge to the whole Church to embrace mercy. In Dives in Misericordia, he de-fined Christian mercy as "the most perfect incarnation of "equality" between people., love and mercy bring it about that people meet one another in that value which is the human person., thus mercy becomes an indispensable element for shaping mutual relationships between peo-ple, in a spirit of deepest respect for what is human . ,,~0 4) As members of apostolic congregations, ministry is our reason for existence. A common life and the vows have constituted the order of re-ligious life, but the purpose of this order for apostolic communities has always been service. Many founders and foundresses wrote words simi-lar to those of Catherine McAuley, the foundress of the Sisters of Mercy, when describing the qualifications for an aspirant to apostolic groups. Catherine stre'ssed "an ardent desire to be united to God and to serve 520 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 the poor" and a "particular interest" in helping the sick and dying. ~ The rereading of the history of apostolic orders, which was occasioned by the cali of Vatican II to renew, led many congregational members to realize that "order" or common patterns in the style and structure of the lives of men and women who focused their discipleship through the charism of a particular founder, is negotiable, but the reason for the or-der is not. This should help women and men religious to open themselves and their ownership of the legacy of their founder or foundress to those who do not "order" their lives in the same way. If the purpose of the order is service,or ministry, then should those who do not profess the evangelical counsels be excluded? This can be a very challenging ques-tion, because throughout history the only way to claim concretely many of these charisms or legacies was to order one's life through the evan-gelical counsels of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. But, as Dorothy noted in the Wizard of Oz, "Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore." Men and wom'en who do not profess these vows are desiring both to minister after the fashion of these great men and women and to receive the sup-port of congregations dedicated to these legacies without maintaining a common living style or divesting themselves of marriage possibilities or ownership of property. 5) It is not order, but mission that describes our lives. John O'Mal-ley, S.J. claims that the history of apostolic religious orders might more properly belong to the history of ministry than to the history of institu-tionalized asceti~cism. ~2 Groups that banded together for the sake of serv-ice presented a whole new trajectory within our Church, as they were a break from the ascetical tradition. However, the Church in its concern to regulate these groups modeled their "order" on the flight of Anthony into the desert in 275 A.D. Many of the great women foundresses, in par-ticular, found their desire to gather others for the sake of service to a par-ticular need frustrated by an order of enclosure, profession of vows, and obedience to an ecclesiastical superior. ~3 For example, the Sisters of Mercy often reflect on the history of Cath-erine McAuley whose companionship with other women grew around their mutual attention to the poor in early nineteenth-century Dublin. In-dependently wealthy, she commissioned the building of a "House of Mercy'r in which women could gather to devote themselves to the relief of suffering and the instruction of the ignorant. She resisted and ex-pressed discomfort about the "order" of the lives of those in congrega-tions of nuns, to the point of abhorring the thought of spending time in the Presentation novitiate to learn the ways of an established canonical The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 591 institute into the Church. However she submitted to the "ordering" be-cause without it her mission would have failed. ~4 The time in which she lived demanded that women engaged in companionship for the salve of service be organized as vowed religious women. Among many active congregations of religious in the United States, especially congregati.ons of women, the question of whether or not to re5 main canonical has arisen. This question is motivated primarily by the difficulty involved in gaining the Congregation for Religious and Secu-lar Institute's (CRIS) approbation for Constitutions and the reordering of "religious" life so that it more properly aids in fulfilling the particular mission of the group. ~5 The question, however, is not whether religious congregations will choose to remain canonical, that is, of some standard within our Church; the question is how their "order" will be specified within the Church,-that is, how will they organize themselves as women arid men embodying the charisms of great founders or foundresses within the Church. Ignoring for a moment the enormous difficulties of dealing with a bureaucratic power structure that often seems less than open to anything irregular, let us look at the question before us. Can we, as disciples of the great founders and foundresses in our Church, make a distinction be-tween vocation to a particular lifestyle or life structure (that is, marriage vows/the choice of single life/vows of poverty, celibacy, obedience) and the vocation to a particular charism and mission within the Church (a deep identity with the spirit and gifts of a particular person who focuses our discipleship of Jesus)? I think that the movements of associate membership, volunteers, part-nership (all of which imply non-vowed varying degrees of membership in religious "orders"), mighi be a tremendously important break within the history of what have come to be called "active orders" in our Church, but these movements will further our ability as a Church to do ministry as baptized disciples of Jesus. 6) One of the most pressing questions for: religious congregations is what life structure or "order of life"facilitates discipleship of Jesus focused through the mission of their founder or foundress. The current documentation abou( the life structure of those called to follow a foun-der or foundress organizes it around the three vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. Both the Vatican II document on religious life and the 1983 Essentials of Religious Life promulgated by the Vatican Congrega-tion for Religious and for Secular Institutes present the evangelical coun-sels as not only "essential," but also as the basis for the organization 522/Review for Religious, July-August 1989 of life for those in religious congregations. However, both Sandra Sch-neiders and John Lozano, show effectively in their recent and widely read treatments of religious life that the vows cannot be taken as impor-tant in themselves. 16 The vows, if taken at all, need to be placed in the context'of a statement of desire to,pursue the mission of the community, how we promise to accept the responsibilities of this mission in our lives, and how others dedicated to this mission accept us within their group. Furthermore there is more and more recognition (fueled by the relatively new science of psychology) t.hat intimate, committed relationships to per-sons, ownership, and autonomy do not make one less holy. Along with this, New Testament scholars have shown that these counsels do not flow from the gospels as such, but were constructs of our Church at a later time. And, even without Vatican ll's assertion of.the universal call to holiness, experience tells most of those who are presently members of religious congregations that they are no more holy than thos6 who choose to marry and have children, own property, and center their autonomy dif-ferently. Indeed, if men and women are going to structure their lives by pro-fessing the evangelical coufisels, (thus sacrificing the gifts of sex, own-ership, and autonomy), then these must only be given up for the sake of mission. Johannes Metz is perhaps the most clear and the most chal-lenging on this point. In his Followers o.fChrist: Perspectives on Relig-ious Life, he argues that the vows are both mystical and political. Thus, poverty demands not only a protest against the tyranny of having, pos-sessing, and pure self-assertion; it also impels those practicing it into a practical and situational solidarity with those poor whose poverty is their condition of life and the situation exacted of them by society, rather than a matter of virtue. Celibacy, as a state of being radically seized by a long-ing for the reign of God, impels one toward those unmarried people whose not having anyone is not a virtue but their social destiny, and to-wards those who are shut up in lack of expectation and in resignation. And finally, obedience is the radical and uncalculated surrender to God and it impels one to situate oneself .among those for whom obedience is nota matter of virtue but the sign of oppression and placement in tute-lage.~ 7 It is only in this way that these counsels can ever be real signs of eschatological witness. Metz has called vowed communities "shock therapy instituted by the Holy Spirit for the Church as a whole.''~8 Us-ing Metz's ideas, if I read him right, many more of us might call our-selves "associate members" of religious congregations than already do out of integrity. There may be many who want to focus their discipleship The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 593 of Jesus through the legacy of a great founder or foundress, but their ac-commodations to the culture would indicate not that they are lesser dis-c! ples, but rather that the functions they perform and the gifts they bring to the reign of God are not th6se that necessitate or call them to the vowed life. That is, "association" may be more appropriate for those who draw support from the tradition or story of a great founder or foundress and find the mission of that congregation an animating principle for their dis-cipleship. Whereas formal vowed commitment to one another, relinquish-ing of goods and full authoring over one's choice of service might be re-served for those whose discipleship leads them to more radical under-takings. The question here concerns the life-structure (or "order") that has traditionally been associated with claiming followership of a specific mission in our Church. Are there ways to embody the tradition of minis-try defined, by a great founder or foundress in our Church as one group in which some are vowed to poverty, celibacy, and obedience and oth-ers are not? Those who are vowed in the traditional way choose a life-structure which more clearly binds them to the ~reedom to move around and respond to unmet needs among the poor, alone, and oppressed. 19 Those who do not profess the vows but do center their discipleship on the founding charism might be called to a,life-structure which points to-ward a certain stability within a local Church community. One could as-sert that there must be ways to accommodate this diversity because even using the traditional ordering of religious life, which included the vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience as part of the package, I would sub-mit that there are some within religious congregations who have the free-dom to live the vows as Metz proscribes and others whose lives point toward and demand a different modi~ of discipleship. That is, the vows may not be absolutely constitutive of focusing one's discipleship through the charism of a great founder or foundress.2° 7) There is a need for enabling ministers who are not constrained by local church boundaries. According to O'Malley, one of the most re-markable characteristics of the development of active orders is that it in effect created a "church order (or several church orders) within the great church order and itdid this for the reality to which ~:hurch order primar-ily looks--ministry."z~ That is, pontifically erected religious orders en-joy a warrant and exemption from the bishop of Rome to act publicly on behalf of the Christian community wherever the needs to which their charism responds arise. This has, throughout history, caused some ju-ridical as well as cultural complications. However, despite difficulties, 524 / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 needs have been' attended to that would never have been served if it was necessary to rely only on the personnel within local boundaries. As the order of religious life shifts, this is a very important compo-nent of our history that should not be lost. This "pontifical warrant" for the sake of ministry has allowed for tremendous creativity in meet-ing the needs of the people of God. Glimpses of the reign of God are seen in the histqry Of religious orders who have brought literacy, heal-ing, and economic stability to the uneducated, sick, ahd poor around the world. 8) Finally, men and women in religious orders need to realize the gifts they can sh~are with the Church. The emergence of the laity is very new to our Church, and the long history that religious orders have of do-in~ ministry leaves many' within them unskilled at enabling and serving with others. But vowed men and women need to recognize that one of the gifts they may have is 6ffering those who have taken to heart the mes-sagegf the gospel and the spirit of Vatican II both some encouragement and some means for realizing their call. Many who~desire a more intense following of Christ may find that the sp, iritual, intellectual, and apostolic life in their parishes does not encourage these needs and aspirations. Thus, they only feel frustration in their call to maturity and co-responsibility in the Church. Religious orders ha~,e a wealth of experi-ence in thinking through methods for spiritual development and encour-aging other adults in gro~vth. Many find in religious life rich resources of the heritage of the Church not avail~.ble in local parishes. They find a focus and discipline for spiritual growth, a unifiedvision of the pur-pose of discipleship, .and a structured identity with a family in a living tradition of the Church. The challenge is to share these gifts, without thinking people have to become "mini-religious'"l~o acquire them. An extension of our charisms beyond those in the vowed ranks might mean that many more can become effective ministers in the parish and the Church at large. Part II We should not be surprised that a "new ordering" is difficult for us to think about and may even create controversy, dissention, and fear when we attempt to talk about it with one another. Anything new always brings a death to something within the present. Many of us love our way of ordering our .lives. We have lived the vows and known ourselves and our companions to grow through the experiences they have presented to us. We want to share our-lives, extend them, and see the "ordering" that has facilitated our growth be embraced by others. Yet this "order" The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 525 may have to die so that discipleship focused on the great charismatic lead-ers in our Church might continue. We are challenged to refound our con-gregations. This challenge implies the freedom to consider reordering our lives for the sake of mission. From the above understanding flow the following ideas that may help religious congregations to reorder their membership and to reorder the perception of religious life in the Church. I) We, as those who vowed ourselves to the legacy of great founders and foundresses within the order specified by the Church, must continue to think about what that means. Imitating her tongue-in-cheek, I quote the twentieth-century Jewish philosopher, Hannah Arendt, "what I pro-pose, therefore, is very simple: it is nothing more than to think what we are doing." The thinking, although allegedly simple, is.indeed quite com-plex and we of.ten try to escape it, precisely because we did it once be-fore during the 60s and the 70s. Even though new life was born in our midst, many of us remember the struggle and some among us have not quite recovered. Thifiking usually means that we risk conversation of sub-stance. And conversation of substance usually implies the same kind of controversy as that depicted in the Gospel account of Jesus asking Peter a question of substance. "Who do people say .that I am?" is the query of the man who had just multiplied loaves and then cured a blind one. Peter knew who Jesus was. "You are the Christ." But Peter did not like the implications of the insight. "Get behind me, Satan" is the rebuke heard when Peter tried to squirm out of the new order specified not only for Jesus but also for his own discipleship. Insights gleaned from thinking and from conversation of substance can be threatening. But we must remember that even more threatening is the possibility that some valuable offerings to the further approxima-tion of the reign of God will be lost if we are unwilling to gain and ex-press the insights of our experiences. If our experience is that the vows do not make meaning in our lives, but the charism of our founder does, then perhaps we must search for other ways to order our lives so as to offer more fully the charism of our. community to the Church. And, if our experience is that others who are not vowed can claim the legacy of our founders, (and more importantly if their experience confirms this), then they must be allowed to do so in an equal fashion. 2) We must effect reconciliation and a spirit of interdependence within our Church, especially with persons and groups claiming the same charism. As stated earlier, a tradition specifying that God's grace flowed toward the non-vowed and non-ordained last was reinforced in 596 / Review foUr Religious, July-August 1989 popular piety until the Second Vatican Council. This distanced many re-ligious from other laity and created a perception ihat vows or ordination meant that one was more graced and clos+r to God'. Men and women in religious; congregations must actively pursue reconciliation with other la-ity because, intentionally or non-intentionally, some disunity has been effected within .our Church. We can take a cue from Paul, ambassador of reconciliation, who was .furious with his community at Galatia when they entertained the idea ofclassifying and categorizing the early Chris-tians. In Christ, there is neithe~ Jew nor Greek, slave nor free person, male nor female, women religious nor lay women, Dominican from Mercy, associate member from more traditionally ordered mem-bers . Often former members of religious orders continue to claim the charism of the order as a way of focusing their discipleship. We must reach out to these people and ask them if,. even though they found the "order" of our lives restrictive, they still find themselves drawn to the charism asa focus. We need to confirm the existence and continuance of the charism in these people, and perhaps just as importantly, let them confirm the continuance of the charism in us. A more concrete way of symbolizing our reconciliation and interdependence on one another is a very simple, yet awkward thing. We need to re-form our vocabulary so that "sisters" and "brothers" does not refer to a closed group of vowed women or men. Just as many have committed themselves to the use of gender inclusive language, we need to change the language specific to our communities, so that "sisters and brothers" becomes a way to refer to all, vowed and non-vowed, who find themselves bound to the same charism. 3) Within our working places, we must announce what inspires us. We must claim our founder or foundress as inspirations, as stories that aid our belief in and discipleship of the Christ. Many people look for a way to focus and sustain their belief, and there appear to be few heroes of a depth able to sustain followers in our contemporary life. Since many of us have been inspired by and nurtured in the founding spirit of a great man or woman disciple of Christ, we must share the gift. We must let others know what moves us, inspires us, and keeps us going as disciples in a world where the odds against the fullness of God's reign dawning seem to be mounting. Perhaps we need ways to be again inspired and again encouraged in our own focus before we will feel enthusiastic enough to inspire others. In many cases, our associates are formally rethinking and reaffirming The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 527 their commitments each year. They renew their covenant with the leg-acy of the community, and they reconsider and recommit themselves to their association with others who share the same focus. Might we not learn from them something about animating our own commitments by using this model? Let us not merely resurrect the passivity of receiving an appointment card with our job and the provincial's name on it, even though there was important symbolism there. Let us every year rework and represent our covenant with the legacy of our founder or foundress. Let us reconsider and recommit ourselves to the implications of disci-pleship and association with others who share the same mission. These understandings and recommendation are initial forays into a very difficult, yet timely, topic. They are intended to spark further thought and discussion. Although I doubt there is danger of them being considered a "last word," let me close with a few lines from T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets. They reflect, 1 think, what it means to see trees walking, to be fuzzy in our sight, and what it means to face this period of time as religious men and women in our Church. These are only hints and guesses Hints, followed by guesses, and the rest Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought, and action. The hint half guessed, the gift half understood is Incarnation. Here the impossible union of spheres of existence is actual, Here the past and future Are conquered, and reconciled . -~-~ NOTES ~ An associate member is defined for the purposes of this article as one who wants to share in the life and apostolate of a religious institute and to become a member to a certain extent. "They are members associated and not incorporated by profes-sion. For a discussion of the variety of such groups and their notation in the new code of Canon Law, see Elio Gambari, Religious Life According to Vatican II and the New Code of Canon Law, (Boston: Daughters of St. Paul, 1986), pp. 625-635. Also, David F. O'Connor, "Lay Associate Programs: Some Canonical and Practi-cal Considerations," REview For~ REt.~;~ous 44, 2(March-April, 1985), pp. 256-267. 2 How to continue the legacy of the founder or foundress or how to continue the mis-sion of the congregation is understood to be the underlying concern of those who e.xpress dismay of the declining numbers in religious congregations. 3 Sisters of Mercy of the Union, Constitutions (Silver Spring, Maryland, 1986), nos. 29-30. Most active congregations use wording similar to this to describe their mis-sion. 521~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1989 4 This describes the call to religious men and women from the Second Vatican Coun-cil, See Perfectae Caritatis, the "Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Relig-ious Life," no. 2 in Walter Abbott (ed.), The Documents~ of Vatican !I (The Amer-ica Press, 1966)." " 5 For a concise description of liberation theology by two of its most challenging pro-ponents, see Leonardo and Clodovis Boff, Introducing Liberation Theology (Ma-ryknoll: Orbis Press, 1987). 6 See his Being and Having, (New York: Harper Torchbook edition, 1965), p. I 17, 145. 7 For some initial strategies presented to and used widely in the early 1980s by men and wom,en religious struggling with the call to '~refound," see Lawrence Cada et al, Shaping the Coming Age of Religious Life, (New York: Seabury Press, 1979). s "The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church," in Abbott, no. 39. 9 Evangelii Nuntiandi, "On Evangelization in the Modern World (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference, 1976). no. 15. ~0 "Rich in Mercy," (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Catholic Conference,. 1981), no. 14. ~ 1836 letter to a parish priest in Nass, Ireland, Quoted in Kathleen O'Brien's Jour-neys: A Preamalgamation History of the Sisters of Mercy, Omaha, Province (Omaha, Nebraska: Sisters of Mercy,1987), 6. ~20'Malley conceives of "active orders" as a '~critically important phenomenon in the history of ministry claiming "apostolic" inspiration," rather than as the insti-tutional embodiment of an ascetical tradition traced back to Pachomius. See -Priest-hood, Ministry, and Religious Life: Some Historical and Historiographical Consid-erations," in Theological Studies, 49 (1988), p. 227. ~3 The sweeping 1298 decree of Boniface VIII (repeated by Pius V in 1566) com-manded that "all nuns, collectively and individually, present and to come, of what-soever order of religion, in whatever part of the world they may be, shall henceforth remain in their monasteries in perpetual enclosure." Insight into the unfortunate ef-fect of this decree throughout the centuries following on women's attempts to or-gaoize associations for ministry can be gleaned from reading histories of women foun-dresses, such as Angela Merici, Nano Nagle, Mary Ward, and Louise de Marillac. ~'~ For more information about Catherine McAuley, see Sr. M. lgnatia Neumann, R.S.M., ed., Letters of Catherine McAuley (Baltimore: Helicon Press Inc., 1969) and M. Joanna Regan, R.S.M., Tender Courage: A Reflection on the Life and Spirit of Catherine M~Auley, First Sister of Mert3, (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1988). ~5 Note the history of the Glenmary Sisters of Cincinnati or the Los Angeles I.H.M.'s in addition to the more recent stories of Agnes Mary Monsour, Arlene Violet, and Elizabeth Morancy, all Sisters of Mercy unable to continue their ministries as vowed women ifi religious congregations. Consider also the present renewal attempts of the Association of Contemplative Sisters. For brief surveys of these cases, see "Inside- Outsiders" chapter three of Mary Jo Weaver's New Catholic Women: A Contempo-rary Challenge to Traditional Religious Authority (New York: Harper and Row, 1988) . ~6 See Sandra M. Schneiders, New Wineskins: Re-imaging Religious Lift, Today (New York: Paulist, 1986) and John M. Lozano, Discipleship: Towards An Understand-ing of Religious Life (Chicago: Claret Center tk)r Spiritual Resources, 1980). Also see O'Malley, "Priesthood," p. 249 tbr the same point from a different perspec- The Shifting Order of Religious Life / 599 tive. ~7 J.B. Metz, Followers of Christ: Perspectives on the Religious Life (New York: Paulist Press, 1978), chapter 3. ~8 lbid, p. 12. 19 Being "bound to freedom" appears at first sight to be an oxymoron, however the phrase is an attempt to reflect the demands made by the vows. ~0 Of interest in this regard is that even though various documentation from our church and the recent writings on religious life avert to the vows as important, if not essential, the Fifth Interamerican Conference on Religious Life, inclusive of leader-ship from men and women religious of North and South America, did not name the vows as essential. In a preparatory paper, the Leadership Conference of Women Re-ligious named mission, community, freedom, ministry, participative government, pub-lic witness, apostolic spirituality, spirituality of the founder, and ecclesial character as characteristics of religious life. None of the descriptions of the above included the vows. See The Role of Apostolic Religious Life in the Context of the Contempo-rary Chu'rch and World: Fifth Interamerican Conference on Religious Life (Ottawa: Canadian Religious Conference, 1986). 2~ O'Malley, p. 236. 22 T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets (London: Faber and Faber, 1960), lines 212-219. Monasticism: A Place of Deeper Unity M. Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O. Father Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O., well-known for his many publications on prayer and the contemplative life, may be addressed at Assumption Abbey; Route 5; Ava, Missouri 65608. In 1976 for six months I had the privilege of living among the Orthodox monks on Mount Athos, the semi-autonomous monastic republic in north-ern Greece. There the Gospels are the law of the land and day-to-day liv-ing is governed by the writings of the great spiritual fathers of the past, most notably those of Saint Basil, Archbishop of Caesarea, named the Great. I noted the remarkable affinity between the life lived on the Moun-tain and that lived by the monks of Saint Joseph's Abbey in the United States, from whence I came. The one great difference that struck me was the way lay visitors were incorporated into the life and worship of the monks. It was evident that there was no gulf between the life and wor-ship of the monks and that of the ordinary devout member of the Ortho-dox church. Orthodox monasticism is at the heart of the Church and all the rest of Church life is deeply influenced by it. In Western Christianity, monasticism is further removed from the life of the ordinary church member. Yet the historical influence of the monas-tics can not be denied, even among those Christian Churches which have largely disowned monasticism. Catholics generally revere monasticism, especially the more contemplative variety, and hold it in reverence as something vital to the life of the Church. The Second Vatican Council affirmed this strongly. Quite generally Catholics frequent monastic guest houses and retreats and find there something that speaks deeply to them. Protestant Christians from such contacts are beginning to reclaim this part of the common Christian heritage. The Anglican or Episcopal church 530 Monasticism and Unity/531 has been in the forefront in this. But the most notable Protestant monas-tery is one within the reform tradition--the monastery of Taize which is found in a part of France filled with monastic resonances: Citeaux, Cluny, Molesme. Most re~:ently the General Conference of the United Methodist Church has authorized the exploration of the possibility of es-tablishing an ecumenical monastic community in the United States. ,Monasticism is, then, a widespread phenomenon within the Chris-tian community and is becoming ever more present. It would be difficult to exaggerate the role of monasticism within some of the other world religions. Tibet, before the recent Communist take over, could have been called, like Mount Athos, a monastic coun-try, more a theocracy than a republic. In many Buddhist countries it has been the expected thing that every male would spend sometime within a,.monastery as part of his preparation for life. Although secularization is having an increasing effect within the Buddhist world, the monastic influenc

Issue 48.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1989. ; R~:.vn~w voa R~:.t.~c,~ous (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Mis-souri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindcll Blvd. Rm. 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: $12.00 per year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add U.S. $5.00 per year; for airmail, add U.S. $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rl~v~'0,, ~:o~ Rl-:t.~c;ous; P.O. Box 6070: Duluth, MN 55806. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to Rt:v~t:w roa RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. David L. Fleming, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Editor Associate Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors September/October 1989 Volume 48 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to Rv:vt~w you R~:~.~;~otJs; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709-1193. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from Rv:\'~v:w voa Rr:~.~;~o~JS; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY I0010. PRISMS . We Christians come to know our calling to a certain kind of minis-try in the Church through our fidelity to prayer--a continuing dialogue in our relationship with God. By way of analogy, those in the vocation of married life know that the sacramental celebration of matrimony rep-resents only the start of a new relationship together with God. It will take a married lifetime of dialogue with each other and with God and of so living to make the reality of the sacrament come true. Similarly, those in the vocation of religious life signify in some way (commonly through some kind of vow-taking) that they are professing and aiming at a spe-cial relationship with God with the wholeness of their lives. Again re-ligious are well aware that vow or profession day is only the beginning of the dialoguing and of the living out of this "aimed-at" relationship. In these vocations of married and religious life, the Christian prayer of both the individual and the community (marital or religious) is a neces-sary part of the continuing dialogue which keeps alive and nourishes the particular vocation undertaken by our first responding to God's initia-tive. The call to minister in the name of Christ and officially authorized in the service of the Church also remains grounded in the prayer-dialogue. Ministry, not rooted in prayer, is no ministry at all. Good deeds done may represent admirable humanitarianism which we honor and appreciate, but we do not grace it with the identity of ministry. Min-istry flows from a consciousness of God and God's ways of acting and from a sense of responsibility in acting in the name of Christ's Body, the Church. The pervading consciousness of God and the connatural way of acting as God acts are the fruit of a prayer life, which is consistently fostered "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health." This dialogue pei'meates and empowers our Christian life as well as our ministry whatever it may be. In this issue, we highlight two aspects of this continuing dialogue so necessary for our vocation and for ourmin!stry. The passion or fire in our Christian way of praying is reflected in the articles "The God of the Scriptures: An Invitation to Passionate Prayer" .by Anthony Wieczorek, O. Praem., "Romantic Relations with the Sacred" by Richard J. De- Maria, C.F.C., and "A Joyful Supp!ication for Justice" by A. Paul 641 642 Review for Religious, September-October 1989 Dominic, S.J. The passion--meaning self-emptying and often a sense of dying--is also a part of our Christian experience of growth in prayer; the articles "Negative Floating" by Barbara Dent and "Spiritual Dryness: Some Practical Guidelines" by Eamon Tobin give some insight into these always difficult moments. Three articles, viewing various aspects of our religious life vocation, are written within the specific prayer context of our lives. "Religious Formation: A Contemplative Realignment" by Jane Ferdon, O.P., con-siders the formation task. "Discernment and Elections in Religious In-stitutes" by Marcello De Carvalho Azevedo, S.J., focuses the very spe-cial moments of leadership choice and policy-making in religious in-stitutes. Finally, "Rituals of Death, Denial, and Refounding" by Ger-ald A. Arbuckle, S.M., reflects on the importance of religious celebrat-ing in a truly Christian manner the dying and death moments in their con-gregational life if revitalization or refounding is to occur today. In the northern hemisphere, the summer months are coming, to an end, with the traditional vacation time behind us for another year. We move on to another "work" year and whatever our ministry may be. With the help of God's grace, .we find ourselves at an opportune time to assess again how our lives, our ministries, and our prayer truly form one healthy and supportive ecological system. May our various authors in this issue contribute to our insight and give us perspective in our quest. David L. Fleming, S.J. The God of the Scriptures: An Invitation to Passionate Prayer Anthony Wieczorek, O.Praem. Father Anthony Wieczorek, O.Praem., is currently chaplain of the Sign of God Deaf Ministry office which serves the Deaf and Hearing Impaired community of the Green Bay diocese. He also directs the Theological Institute, a summer program at St. Norbert College in De Pere, Wisconsin. He continues to write a weekly article for the local diocesan newspaper. His address is St. Norbert Abbey; De Pere, Wiscon-sin 54115-2697. We all have them. Most of us have learned to control, even ignore them. But for some, they appear unasked for and when they do they are toler-ated with all the patience we have for a head cold. They are our emo-tions, our deep seated emotions, the dark and passionate side of our hu-man nature. We enjoy them when, at sports activities, we give ourselves permis-sion to act outraged or triumphant and they suit our moods. We like it when they sneak out quietly in the form of tears at the end of a touching movie. They may also try to make their presence known during prayer, but here they are often considered most distracting and least desired. And yet, if there is a time for emotion, if there is a time for passion at all, it is during prayer. Prayer is a naturally revealing activity. Ii is natural that passionate emotions should arise within us during.prayer. They are conduits to the parts of ourselves God wishes most to go. It is little wonder we should find them straining to emerge. Could it be that they are even called forth by a God eager to touch this part of ourselves so seldom shared? Unfortunately, they are the parts of ourselves we least of all like. Most often, they are corridors to the side of ourgelves we fear. They lead 643 60,4 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 into the cauldron of emotion we have not yet learned to control. We may not be really sure what lurks there but we are fairly confident that God has no part of it, that it is best shielded from God,-that what surges there is best atoned for in secret, not something to be proud of and shared openly with God. But are passionate emotions like anger and jealousy and lust called forth during times of prayer so that we can "confess" to them? Or are they summoned at God's own invitation? Can it be, might it be, that God can desire a passionate prayer as well and as much as a prayer that is con-templative, tranquil, and serene? Might it be that the God who appears ¯ throughout the pages of the Bible speaks to us best and can identify with us most through the part of ourselves we keep most hidden? The God of the Scriptures is indeed a passionate God. This article is an exploration of that theme and of the constructive relationship that exists between passion and prayer. The Passionate Nature of God Pascal was right when he said that there seemed to be two Gods: the God discussed by philosophers and the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of the Scriptures. Most people prefer the philosophers' God. That Being is reasonable, controlled, logical. The God of the phi-losophers thinks, plans, orders, foresees. There is, of course, a "feel-ing" side to this God too. God does, after all, feel compassion and love for creation. But those "feelings" are held well in check and are dis-pensed cooly and properly. This God seems to resemble a fine Victorian gentleman/scholar. And, very often, especially here in the Western world, that is the image we would like to have of ourselves. That is the standard and goal we set for ourselves. The point is not that this image of God is false. But is it all there is? Is it only one side of a much more complex personality? Do we, with a too exclusively philosophical model of God, lose some of God's mys-tery because we fail to pay proper attention to God's emotion and pas-sionate nature? Perhaps such a theology is no more complete than an anthropology that deliberately ignores the emotional and passionate side of human be-ing? The point of human growth is to integrate and harmonize the parts of our nature i'nto one. To ignore our emotions is to ignore half of our selves. In addition to being rational, thinking creatures, human beings also love, feel anger, jealousy, crave revenge, desire, and feel pity. We are indeed complex beings. Can we dare imagine a God who is any less? Moreover, if we are so thoroughly emotional and if we were made in The God of the Scriptures / 6t15 God's own image and likeness, what can we conclude about God? Scripture tells us that "God is love." Love is, to be sure, more than an intellectual attitude or disposition toward life. Love is an emotion. Peo-ple in love are known sometimes to do strange things, spontaneous things, unpredictable things. Or so they seem to us. But to them, fol-lowing the "logic of love," their actions have a rationality, a purpose, an order. Finding it, though, and seeing the reasoning behind such ac-tions can be almost as hard as finding the sense and reason behind some of God's actions in our lives. God is not illogical nor is God emotion-ally unstable. God is simply love. God is simply in love with us "and with ¯ all of creation. God is a Being of great and passionate emotion. That, at least, is what the Scriptures tell us. Perhaps, to beg the question a bit, that is why God chose the Jews in the first place as recorders of divine revelation. The Jews, and all Near Eastern people for that matter, were extremely emotional and passionate people. Check the papers--they still are. But if you were God, would you have chosen them to write the record of your revelation? Many people would probably have preferred the Greeks. Their philo-sophical bent would more likely have appealed to us. And indeed, they would probably have done an admirable job at revealing God's mind. But could they have matched the Jewish brilliance for revealing God's heart? The Jewish passion for life was a most fitting medium for the man-ner of God's message. For the Scriptures reveal in emotional and pas-sionate imagery and terms the heart as well as the mind of God. Maybe, we argue, the Jewish people were simply transferring their own emotional nature onto God and that God no more has passionate feel-ings than God has legs withwhich to walk around in the garden of Eden. Yet, even though they were not meant to be read literally, all the images and words do reveal and communicate something about God. To glean this, though, the Scriptures must be read with an open mind and heart. God's Emotional Involvement in Life What do the Scriptures tell us about God? The Bible reveals a God who is very much alive and near. The biblical God does not observe the glories and follies of creation from afar. This is not a God who aloofly administri~tes creation and human history. Rather, this is a God who min-isters, to it and within it. The God of the Bible is pastorally involved in human life. We know that because the Scriptures reveal a God who is emotionally involved in human life. There are levels and degrees of involvement in community, in fam-ily, in politics, in everything regarding life. One criterion for measuring 646 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 or determining the depth of involvement is the amount of emotional in-vestment shown. In community living, for example, it is easy enough to state one's involvement in community affairs. One may even show up at community meetings and functions. But does that person's words and presence communicate an active involvement or a benign disinterest? Does body language alone, for instance, tell the others present that, "I am here to observe. Really, I couldn't care less what happens. It is some-what interesting, even humorous though. Just continue and pretend I'm not here." No words may communicate that. But the message is made, communicated through posture, through sleepy eyes and flacid facial e~- pression. On the other hand is the person very much involved in the pro-ceedings. Like the other, thi~ person says not a word. Yet through all the same means the message communicated is much different. This per-son exhibits interest through a tense body, through a face that while si-lent is red with anger or aglow with satisfaction. The eyes hold an inter-est, the palms sweat, a leg fidgets nervously. This person is truly and pastorally present and alive. Why? Because the person is visibly emo-tionally involved. And that is what we want from each other and from God. Similarly, why do we become upset with the "professional" pastor who runs the office well and administrates the parish efficiently but who cannot feel his people's pain, who cannot rejoice at someone's birth or mourn at another's death? Why do we feel cheated? Why does the per-son seem pastorally out of touch and somehow less a priest than the pas-tor who is able and willing to be emotionally present to the people? Why does the emotionally uninvested pastor seem to communicate less God's presence? Why do we feel disappointed? For what reason do we feel we should be able to expect and receive more? All of this speaks to an image or a set of expectations we have about God. Because God cares, God's ministers should also care. Because God is able to and does feel with the people, so should God's priests and pas-toral workers. We want and need to feel God present in our lives and feel cheated by those who serve in God's name if somehow we cannot sense from them a deeper presence of God than the merely physical. We want and feel a right to expect an emotional presence and involvement. We want our pastoral workers to be passionately present and active. We want and expect that because we feel God is passionately present and ac-tive. But why? Does that expectation and feeling originate within us alone? Or is that the image Of God that is mysteriously and boldly com- The God of the Scriptures /647 municated through almost every page of the Bible? Indeed, God is most emotionally present and involved in the lives of the Jewish people. That is true from exodus to exile, from restoration through resurrection. God communicates through the Scriptures a presence and involvement that is intensely passionate. The Passionate God of the Prophets Nowhere is this more evident than in the writings of the prophets. Within the prophetic books we see a picture of a God at wits' end. The people had rebelled from God's love and were running headlong toward destruction. We hear a response from God that is the emotional equal of what is politically, socially, and spiritually at stake. Read with the emotion befitting the texts Amos 8:4-8 or 4:!-3 or Hosea'l !:1-11 or Jeremiah 7:i-20 or Isaiah 54:78 or any of the other prophets, and you find the words of a person on the edge, the words of a person who is not at all detached or even mildly interested. In those words and so many others we receive a message of a God filled with pas-sion for the welfare of his people, a God who is truly emotionally in-volved in the life, past and future, of his people. If there is anger in God's words, it is the anger of a parent or lover, the passion of someone who cares tremendously about another. It is an anger born of frustration and love. Who has been in love without feel-ing anger? Love is a powerful emotion that opens us up to other equally powerful feelings. And what of the energy invested in both love and an-ger? Passion has a high price in emotional energy that is paid only by those truly sincere about what they feel. The quality and quantity of God's emotion so naked and strong throughout the prophets is testimony to the sincerity of God's passionate love. Moreover, it is a passion and sincerity that God expects in return. Love that is deep and intense expects a return in kind. One of our ways of showing love is through our prayer, both private and liturgical. Note, then, in Isaiah I:11-16 and Amos 5:21-25 and Jeremiah 7:21-28, the re-action of God to worship that is liturgically correct but void of sincerity and feeling. God expects a worship from the heart, a worship that is a reflection of our love. To be proper and true to the rubrics is not enough, not even the most important thing. What God seeks is what God gives, a prayer that is emotionally sincere. What God "hates" and "detests," what is "loathsome" to God is prayer empty of affect. That does not mean that worship must be a wild and ecstatic affair. However, it must be sincere; it must reveal an authentic human warmth. Worship, prayer, is more than so many words or lack of them. We can 648 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 meditate quite correctly and all without opening our hearts in love. A prayer that is emotionally fl~t.and cold is the sacrifice displeasing to God. Perhaps that is why Paul tells.us that because "we-do, not know how to pray as we ought, the Spirit makes intercession f~or us with groanings that cannot be-expressed in speech" (Rm 8:26). That is an invitation to pray our feelings, to pray from and with our emotions. That is what God asks for and longs to share, for it is that which is most truly in our hearts. The Spirit helps us to raise what we are feeling in prayer, even if it can be expressed in no other way than by a groan. Since we are to live as we pray, God expects from us a life that is emotionally honest and open. How often we repress our feelings and hold in check our passion. We refuse to allow ourselves to feel and that pre-vents us from being as effective and compassionate as Jesus was and calls us to be. The "cry of the poor" is too painful to hear so we learn to close to the poor not only our ears but also our hearts. We dull our abil-ity and willingness to feel and so lose a major motivating force behind Christian action. Pity is not the issue here, rather compassion and jus-tice. Perhaps it was because Jesus was a man of such strong emotions that he was as compassionate and sensitive as the Scriptures say. Yet not only did Jesus have strong feelings, he was willing to live with them and feel them. Because he did not repress what he felt but lived what he felt he could be moved enough to touch and heal the leper (Mk 1:41) and raise the widow's son (Lk 7:11-17). If Jesus was the troublemaker and law-breaker the Pharisees claimed, it was because he allowed his emotions to so move his charity and inspire his faith that he saw not simply the law but the people the law did not and could not serve. God's Call for a Passionate Faith Jesus' emotion is most manifest in his faith. Many people were raised to believe that faith is something we do with our minds, that faith is an intellectual act of agreement or obedience to a tradition or set of beliefs. While it may be that, it is not only that. This is clear from the way Jesus lived and how he believed. For Jesus, faith was an emotion that gripped not only his mind, but his heart and body as well. Oftentimes one emotion is held in check by another. A boy, for in-stance, may want to introduce himself to a girl. The "love" he feels for her is held in check, though, by his "fear" of being rejected. He de-cides to say nothing. Fear has overruled his young love. Similarly, a per-son may feel inclined to speak out on a justice issue. That person too feels fear. But this time the person's convictions on the matter, the per- The God of the Scriptures / 649 son's belief, is the stronger of the two and bids the person to speak out. Here faith overruled fear. All of us know what fear is, all of us have felt it. Reflect for a mo-ment what happens when you feel fear. The mind freezes, it becomes difficult or even impossible to think. The entire body is also affected. Knees shake, palms sweat, the mouth runs dry. If the fear is sharp enough we may even close our eyes and prefer to block out the cause of our fear. Fear, to be sure, is a powerful emotion. It would require, then, an equally powerful emotion to counter it. Only two emotions give us the courage to overcome fear: love and faith--although the two are intimately related. A mother stands terrified at the sight of her burning home when she hears the cry of her child from within. Her fear of the flames and smoke cause her to stand for a mo-ment paralyzed until love for her child overpowers the fear and forces her in to rescue him. Jeremiah the prophet stands equally terrified be-fore the people gathered at the Temple. He too, however, hears--or rather feels--an inner voice, the call of God bidding him to speak in God's name. For a moment his fear prevails before the faith within his heart overwhelms it and causes him to cry out. . How many of us have had our faith compromised by fear? By clos-ing ourselves to our feelings, by repressing our emotions, we have been eliminating a source of strength that could well empower our faith to ri-val that of tl~e prophets. If our faith is solely intellectual it is but half, at best, of what it could be. Faith is authentic when it flows from our hearts, when it flows from our love for God. Jeremiah, for example, and Jesus after him, may have seemed like people without faith because they spoke against the traditions and cus-toms of the people. They could rightly be asked, "Have you no faith, Jeremiah, in the Temple and the promise God made to dwell in it always? Why is it so hard for you to have faith in what our traditions teach.? Why can't you agree with them?" Faith in this sense is an act of the intellect. But for Jeremiah, for the other prophets, and for Jesus, faith was an act of love; its motive force was an intuition of God's abiding presence within. They felt God's love and returned it as they could (that is, they believed) and it was that faith in God's love that enabled them to stand up and say what their hearts could not deny. The love they felt empowered them, gave their faith the spirit of cour-age. All of us are given the gift of that love. All of us have within our-selves the courage to truly use our faith. But so often in closing ourselves to our emotions, in denying them, we deny ourselves the grace, the love, Review for Religious, September-October 1989 that gives us the courage to truly believe. Jesus and the prophets before him were not ashamed of their emotions. Indeed, they prayed with them (Jeremiah's lamentations, for example) by bringing them before God in-stead of hiding them in the dark recesses of their spirits. By so doing, they provide an example for all us of authentic living and prayer. Praying with our Emotions Oddly enough, it is the emotion of fear that most inhibits us from bringing our.other emotions to prayer. As mentioned earlier, prayer is a naturally revealing activity. In prayer, the love and union we share with God is revealed and made known to us. We may receive the revelation of truths and intuitions about questions and problems we may have, as well as insights into God and ourselves. It is this that often scares us into emotional and spiritual repression. In the quiet, centering communion of prayer with God, we forget to maintain many of the blocks and barriers we place between our conscious selves and our more disquieting emotions. Suddenly and quite unexpect-edly we can find the composure of our prayer compromised by unwel-comed feelings. The person whose thoughts continue to center upon feel-ings of passion for a lover, the religious whose heart is suddenly filled with anger and resentment toward a superior, the person who becomes aware of his or her jealousy and envy--all of these people find the re-warding calm of prayer ruined by the onslaught of emotions. In each of these cases, whether or not prayer has been ruined de-pends upon whose agenda is being followed. Prayer is a dialogue. How-ever, especially with meditation, prayer can become a monologue of si-lence. Our meditation can be but another way of saying, "Listen God, there are just some things I'd sooner not think about. Why don't we just sit here quietly and ignore them together." Our prayer agenda calls for some peace and quiet, a bit of reprieve, a break in the action of confron-tation. Yet we find ourselves continually pestered by thoughts and feel-ings we've decided not to share. Might it be, however, that their contin-ual interruption is an effort on God's part to make it part of our prayer? Might God have an agenda too? And might that agenda include the very feelings we are so desperate to ignore? It might do well, then, since prayer is a dialogue, to "ask" God about what should be shared. One way of doing so is by beginning our prayer with a bit of soul searching journaling. We might record what and how we are feeling, any significant encounters we have had with peo-ple, good and bad. The point is not to dwell on any of them. Rather we acknowledge what is already inside of us. We acknowledge it to God and The God of the Scriptures / 651 to ourselves. Then, having done that, we set it aside and open ourselves to God. Yet, the very action of having been honest with ourselves about what we arefeeling has already opened the doors to our deepest selves to God. We have laid everything bare and have effectively told God, "Well, now that you know, what do you say?" Then if our prayer is quiet, perhaps God is saying, "Let it rest for now," and so we should. If, however, we find the emotions returning, perhaps we should pay them some prayerful attention. It is one matter to continually harp on a feeling and another tO at-tend to one that finds its way to the surface. Yet it is here that fear can overcome all else and totally inhibit our communion with God, not to mention any communion with ourselves. We are afraid of what may come if we allow our emotions to flow. We are afraid of what God may think if we stood before God with emotions bare. Perhaps most of all, we are afraid of what we would have to admit about ourselves if we al-lowed our spiritual vision to focus upon our feelings. Especially in times of stress, when we need prayer most, we are most reluctant, most afraid to pray because the emotions we so fear are so close to surface, so hard to dispel. In such cases the fear and shame we so strongly feel should be the opening movement of our prayer. But here is the test. Have we the faith to share what we fear? Here we become the shy person struggling to talk to a friend. Here we become the mother rooted in fear or stirred by love into action. Here we find the revelation, not of God but of ourselves, that prayer so powerfully conveys. Here we find a truth about ourselves. Prayer is a dialogue. Has God been speaking, shouting through hands pressed tight against our ears, trying to get through? Summary We can repress our prayer and weaken our faith because we are un-willing to face the passion of our own emotions. Why? Is it God's rejec-tion or wrath that we fear or is it facing the truth about ourselves? Some people are simply ashamed that they are emotional people at all. Some-where many of us have learned that we should be rational at the expense of being emotional. Emotions are something to master, signs of weak-ness, occasions for sin. To be holy is to be emotionally controlled. Pei-haps. To be sure, some emotions need to be held in check. Some need to be confessed. But not all. Our emotions are occasions for grace, provided we let our God work through them. They can be conduits leading to deeper prayer. They can be the means for facing and overcoming our fear of living. For indeed, 652 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 without emotions we are less than human. We were made in the image and likeness of a living, feeling God who is revealed in the pages of Scrip-ture as a truly passionate lover, a God who, for example, is quite honest about being "jealous." We were made to have feelings and to use our emotions to feel and act alive. If Jesus was not ashamed of the force of his emotions, why should we? As Christians we are called to become fully alive. That means learn-ing to live with and harness our emotions. Truly, our emotions are gifts from God, gifts to be enjoyed, gifts for which we can be grateful. But before any of that can happen, our emotions must first be accepted. The Dancer Is falling in love with you autumn leaves swirling in the wind, fish swimming in the flooded ,,;hallows after a heavy rainfall? Is this love a meditative symphony, where the listener is impelled to pause, be attentive to the secret voice talking with his heart? Is this love a walk without fear into the forest of Solitude, where I go to plant my tree of hope? Is this love an ancient la Jota, sometimes graceful and slow, at other moments fast and exciting? How do I overcome my reluctance? Become like David, who danced before the Lord because it was pleasing to him? Brother Richard Heatley, F.S.C. De La Salle Centre 45 Oaklands Avenue Toronoto, Ontario M4V 2E4, Canada Romantic Relations with the Sacred Richard J. DeMaria, C.F.C. Brother Richard DeMaria, C.F.C., currently serves as Executive Vice President and the Vice President for Academic Affairs at lona College. His address is lona Col-lege; New Rochelle, New York 10801. In the recent, surprisingly successful film, Th~rOse, based on the life of St. Th6r~se of Lisieux, there is a scene that has remained with me for months. Th6r~se's sister visits her during what was to be a terminal ill-ness, and noticing that Th6r~se has pinned a small crucifix to her pil-low, observes: "So you two are back together again." To which, as I recall it, Th6r~se blushes and nods in agreement. The audience--a New York City audience--to my amazement did not laugh here or at any time during a movie which portrayed Th6r~se as a woman engaged in a ro-mantic relationship with Jesus, a relationship characterized by falling outs, jealousies, reunions, disagreements, and coquetry. And by love. And by passion. The film places Th6r~se in a very old tradition of spirituality, a tra-dition which uses the language and ways of romantic love to describe a person's interaction with the sacred. The romantic poem "The Song of Songs" comes immediately to mind: the longing of a bride for her bride-groom is used as an image of the human experience with the sacred. Ap-parently that image was found sufficiently apt among the Hebrew peo-ple for the poem to be included and preserved in its canon of sacred litera-ture. We find in other religions similar spiritualities linking sexual im-agery and prayer, the link sometimes explicitly recognized and cele-brated, at other times, we assume, camouflaged and unrecognized but fairly apparent to those who read between lines. As R. Zaehner, the Oxford authority on mysticism, observes: 653 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 There is no point at all blinking at the fact that the raptures of the theis-tic mystic are closely akin to the transports of sexual union, the soul play-ing the part of the female and (~od appearing as the male. ~ In the history of religion, one finds many spiritualities that approach life as if there were two lovers involved. In Hinduism, one finds among the different paths by which one can yoke himself or herself to God, the path of bhakti in which one takes on the Lord as lover. Kabir, the fif-teenth- century Indian mystic, as translated by Bly, uses the term "the Guest" to name the inner lover: My body and my mind are in depression because you are not with me. How much I love you and want you in. my house! When 1 hear people describe me as your bride I look sideways ashamed, Because I know that far inside us we have never met. Then what is this love of mine? I don't really care about food, I don't really care about sleep, I am restless indoors and outdoors. The bride wants her lover as much as a thirsty man wants water. And how will I find someone who will take a message to the Guest from me? How restless Kabir is all the time! How much he wants to see the Guest!z The existence of a relationship between mysticism and sexuality is clear and widespread in the historical record. The question is: how shall we interpret and understand the presence of romaritic and sexual lan-guage in religious writing? More to the point are the following questions: Is it possible to carry on a love relationship with an invisible, non-human lover? Does this spirituality find any basis in the way things are? Is there someone there to love? Is this use of romantic language healthy? Unless we at least advert to these questions from the outset, they stand as obstacles to our ability to approach this tradition with openness. There are many analysts who interpret experiences of romantic spiri-tuality as situations in which sexual energy, having been denied its usual outlet, finds a (distorted) outlet in the religious arena. Accordingly, mys-ticism is in reality sexual energy that is misdirected. Although this sub-limation is usually unrecognized by the person involved, its true nature can be readily recognized by the perceptive observer. In sum, people in-volved in religious romanticism are victims of misplaced energy; their lives are based upon an unreal perception of the way things are. Other analysts suggest that the situation is quite the opposite: a ba-sic drive, a basic need within humans, is for union with the transcendent. Romantic Relations with the Sacred / 655 According to this theory, the mystic is a person who is responding quite directly to this basic drive. Other humans respond to this drive by en-gaging themselves in sexual, romantic relationships with other humans. This is a valid way of fulfilling this need. The power of human, inter-personal sexuality, and the way that relationship is experienced and de-scribed, derive from the more basic desire of the human to interact with the sacred. Because the inter-human sexual experience is one form of the more general mystical experience, it should not surprise us that the lan-guage of human love and the language of mystical 10ve are quite simi-lar. Alan W. Watts, in Myth and Ritual in Christianity makes the fol-lowing observation: But a sexually self-conscious culture such as our own must beware of its natural tendency to see religion as a symbolizing of sex, for to sexu-ally uncomplicated people it has always been obvious that sex is a sym-bol of religion. That is to say, the ecstatic self-abandonment of nuptial love is the average man's nearest approach to the selfless state of mys-tical and metaphysical experience. For this reason the act of love is the easiest and most readily intelligible illustration of what it is like to be in "union with God," to live the eternal life, free from self and time.3 Perhaps it will never be possible to prove convincingly which of these two theories is true. Some look to an epistemology which concen-trates its attention not on questions about the way things are but rather on questions about what ways work. Such an approach considers a the-ory to be true, or a path to be true, when it works. Pragmatic approaches to understanding our lives can reflect a careless and shallow attitude about truth, but not necessarily so. The form of pragmatism discussed here, recognizing the complexity of the human psyche and the mystery of the sacred, and recognizing the inability of the human mind to under-stand these with any clarity, reasons that if a particular construct or the-ory works, it works because it approximates the way things are. This is an epistemology often used in the physical sciences. Consider, for ex-ample, the solar system model of the atom. No one has seen an atom. Serious scientists do not think that the atom is composed of electrons, circling a nucleus of neutrons and protons, like a solar system. Scien-tists, however, have used the construct of a solar system when thinking about the atom, because when they have followed out the implications of that model, they have been able to explain many past experiences (ex-periments). And, even more importantly, when they devised new experi-ments and applications suggested by the model, these led to important new discoveries. Science has done well, then, to think of the atom as if 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 it were a solar system. Even if the atom is not a solar system, the solar system picture predicts how the atom will work. And it is not unreason-able to conclude from this that in many ways the solar system model ap-proximates the reality of the atom. In sum, while recognizing that a con-struct is an imagined picture, a person follows it because she believes that it will lead her close to the way things are. Against the background of this epistemology, we can now turn our attention to those paths in which a person is involved in a relationship with a person who is not physically present but who is perceived to be real, important, and worthy of ~ittention; a relationship which according to the person herself and according to observers, gives direction and strength. Whether the other is perceived as guru, teacher, patron, guide, angel, patron saint, or--as in the particular spirituality we are discuss-ing-- as the romantically loved one, the relationship has a real effect upon the growth and behavior of the participant. In his play Big Shot, Jack Gelber portrays the positive, powerful influence which two "imagi-nary" persons--a wise, aged prophetic man, and a seductive woman-- have upon a young man's ability to make decisions about his life and to move toward maturity. (Interestingly, these two visitors never appear to-gether in the boy's thoughts; the appearance of one signals the exit of the other. At the play's end, however, they interact with one another and exit together, perhaps symbolizing something of an integration of the re-ligious and the sexual in his consciousness.) According to what was said above, one should evaluate the tradition of romantic spirituality by asking: What happens to persons when they act as if there were an inner sacred person there? Does it lead to desir-able ends? In this approach one judges a religious path worth consider-ing if it has "worked" for many people, in many religions, in many dif-ferent ages. What is meant by "worked"? The validity of this or any path is established by its ability to lead practitioners into that special con-sciousness which is called "religious." In the Christian faith, people in that consciousness are said to be in the state of sanctifying grace and ex-hibit characteristics such as love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Ga 5:22). History attests that the path of devotion, of romantic love, is a path that has led many to that consciousness; the way works. The seeker of God who utilizes the con-struct of romantic love does not need to know for certain whether there is a real person with whom she can interact in love. She does know that when she acts as if there were such a person, wonderful things do hap-pen. In Bhakti Yoga, the author writes: Romantic Relations with the Sacred / 657 All our attitudes, moral or emotional, as well as religious are due to the objects of our consciousness: the things which we believe to exist whether really or ideally along with ourselves. Such objects may be pre-sent to our senses or they may be present to our thought; in either case they elicit from us a reaction and the reaction due to things of thought is notoriously in many cases as strong as that due to sensible presences. It may even be stronger . 4 How does one follow this path? By undertaking the same practices which a man or woman utilizes in establishing a love relationship with a human being. By conversing. By sharing feelings. By trying to please. By actions of union. By admiration. By efforts to merge into one an-other. By writing poems of love. By singing songs of love. By making sacrifices. By exchanging gifts. By establishing rituals, special places, and special times. By secrets shared. By anger expressed. And by hurts told. By arguing. By compromising. How does one advise or counsel a person on this path? As one would advise or counsel a person struggling with any experience of love. The spiritual director will help him to recognize the stages of love. The di-rector will lead her to expect periods of doubt, of loneliness, of seeming neglect, of loss of attraction--the dark nights of the soul. He must be assisted in learning the art of conversation, and especially the art of lis-tening. (For let there be no doubt about it: the person does experience conversation, responses and answers that surprise by their unexpected-ness. Where do these answers come from? Suffice it to say that when questions are asked of this inner lover, this inner guest,' one "hears" answers.) The director will need to counsel the practitioner about the im-portance of fidelity, to help recall the good times in moments of dark-ness, and to point her to better times ahead. The person engaged in this path does experience another actor in his life. Outside observers may wish to interpret this experience as the ef-fects of the "alter ego," or the "subconscious," or the "repressed self." These interpretations should not be allowed to discourage the lover, if forhim the experience of this other is real, and if the effects of carrying out a relationship of love with that "person" are beneficial and if they are leading her into grace. This path does not work for everyone. In New Wineskins,5 Sandra Schneiders observes that in earlier times it was assumed that all women entering into the religious life would find in this romantic spirituality a comfortable and effective path. Women religious, on their day of pro-fession, came to the altar dressed as brides, as the choir sang "Veni Review for Religious, September-October 1989 Sponsa Christi," in a ceremony that was designed to imitate in many ways that of a marriage. Schneiders suggests that in fact many Sisters did not find this path to be effective for them. For many, it was a kind of play.acting, which in later years---especially if they were influenced by Freudian thinking--they came to regard as a childish effort to subli-mate energies better redirected in other ways. Today, almost all traces of this bridal spirituality have been removed from the rituals and from the language of contemporary religious women. Women who have en-tered religious life in recent years may not even be aware of this spiritu-ality. By way of conclusion, two questions about this path of spirituality suggest themselves. First, in this relationship, does the soul always take the role of the feminine to the masculine God, a role in which the hu-man seeks to be filled, empowered, or taken over by the other? The male poet, Kabir, cited before, who wrote in a culture which knew of both male and female gods, always--at least in translation--describes him-self as feminine in relationship to the sacred. Listen to the following poem: I played for ten years with the girls of my own age, but now I am sud-denly in fehr. I am on the way up some stairs--they are high. Yet I have to give up my fears if I want to take part in this love. I have to let go of the protective clothes and meet him with the whole length of my body. My eyes will have to be the love candles this time. Kabir says: Men and women in love will understand this poem. If what you feel for the holy one is not desire, then what's the use of dressing with such care, and spending so much time making your eyelids dark.6 Can one approach the sacred as masculine? Or must one utilize the feminine side (the anima) in one's relationship with the sacred (assum-ing of course that every person, regardless of gender, is both animus and anima)? And if this is true, will this path of spirituality come more natu-rally to women than to men? Or, again if it is true, would the fact that a person has a gay or lesbian orientation affect the attractiveness and ef-fectiveness of this spirituality? A second questign.: what (if any) is the connection between this spousal spirituality and celibacy? Clearly, spousal spirituality does ap-peal and does work for non-celibates as well as celibates. Does celibacy enable one to pursue this path more quickly or more deeply? Does the fact that one is not pursuing the path of romantic human love dispose one Romantic Relations with the Sacred / 659 toward this path more urgently? Or, to take the quite opposite position, would familiarity and experience with human romantic love give one the lexicon and the understandings that enable one to move more quickly into this more interior love? To conclude: the spiritual path of romantic relationships with the sa-cred has been neglected in recent years, perhaps because twentieth-century psychology has called into question so many of the foundations upon which it was based. There is, however, a way of understanding our ways of knowing, consonant with contemporary science, which gives 'permission' to those so attracted to follow this path, to see whether it leads them into grace. While the path will not attract, nor work for, eve-ryone, a knowledge of its history and dynamics should be made avail-able to those who are searching for ways into the world of the sacred. NOTES ~ R.C. Zaehner, Mysticism, Sacred and Profane, (New York, 1961), p. 151. 2 Robert Bly, trans., The Kabir Book, (Boston, 1977), p. 20. 3 Alan W. Watts, Myth and Ritual in Christianity, (Boston, 1968), p. 104. 4 "Bhikshu," Bhakti Yoga, (Chicago, 1930), p. 19. 5 Sandra Schneiders, New Wineskins, Re-imagining Religious Life Today, (New York, !986), p. 116. 6 Bly, p. 42. Negative Floating Barbara Dent Barbara Dent, mother and grandmother, has been for eigthteen years a Secular Carme-lite. She published "The Floating Prayer" in our issue of March/April 1988. The current article is a part of a book-in-process called Floating in Endless Love. She may be addressed at Poustinia; 7A Cromwell Place; Pukekohe, New Zealand. In this article I use the word "floating" to indicate the kind of detach-ment and freedom that is attained once we have ascended a certain dis-tance up the nada path. When I write of "floating in endless love," 1 mean the traditional self-abandonment to divine providence as exemplified by holy people of any age, and written about by such recognized saints as Teresa, John of the Cross, Francis de Sales, Jane Frances de Chantal, Caussade, Th~r~se. Our Lady is, of course, the supreme exemplar, and her "Be it done unto me according to your word," a succinct summary of the doc-trine. Divine providence is God's endless love. It had no beginning and will never have an end. It is conterminous with his Being and expresses itself throughout his creation. When he made us in his own image, he gave us the ability to be ef-fortlessly immersed in this love, borne along in the currents and eddies of its movement in time and space, as it ordained and controlled the cir-cumstances of our lives, and we rejoiced in its faultless wisdom and ten-derness. At that beginning-time we had our Creator's discerning Spirit within us, and joyfully cooperated with the process of floating in the divine will, for through it the perfection of his love for us expressed itself, and we were fully open and receptive to it. We were in the state of innocence, which means single-mindedness and wholeness of heart. 660 Negative Floating / 66"1 Then came the "aboriginal catastrophe"--in one, or many, of a num-ber of possible forms. Its basic effect was to confuse, divide, and mis-lead us about the nature of our relationship with our Master. We were, and are, no longer in that original state of love-union's positive, effort-less floating. Instead, we are too often thrashing about in protest at being in the water at all. We persist in struggling to reach some imaginary shore, strik-ing out against the current, gulping water, feeling terrified that we are drowning, pushing away Love's hand held out to draw us to safety, and generally being at odds with our spiritual environment. Our innocence lost, we have become acquainted with sin--actual or potential, deliberate or involuntary. Floating in endless love does not any longer seem to be the obvious, healthy, joyous thing for us to do. We have lost the art, and have to be taught all over again by grace. And because we no longer learn the mys-teries of God effortlessly through direct infusion, the Spirit's modes of teaching us often register on us as nay-saying, destructive, painful, and incomprehensible. This is because God's endless love flowing into us is constantly encountering obstacles of self-love and self-will within us. These cause the flow to be interrupted, dammed up, diverted, and im-peded in numberless ways. We now have to re-learn what we were fashioned to know without even thinking about it. This learning is painful and arduous, and regis-ters on us as a state of negative floating. It entails erasure of all those obstacles against floating--whether personally manufactured, handed on to us by our families and social milieu, or inherited and buried so deeply in our mysterious inner being that we shall never even catch sight of them, let alone drag them up and free ourselves from them, unless the Spirit helps us in a very special way. We are weighted down so that we are more likely to sink to the ocean bed than to float in delight in the surface currents of God's purpose, rev-elling in their effortless, exact progress towards our ultimate fulfillment in him. Positive and negative floating are part of the normal cycle of conso-lation and desolation in the spiritual life. If we persevere in floating in God's loving purpose for us, there comes a time when, just as his crea- ¯ tive energy evolved birds out of fish, he somehow dispenses altogether with the metaphorical liquid element in order to lift us up so high in the Spirit that we are suspended in midair. We usually think of such suspension as bodily levitation and miracu- 662 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 IOUS. But the essence of free-floating in the atmosphere, metaphorically speaking, is entirely spiritual and interior, a flight of the spirit that usu-ally has no physical, exterior signs at all. It is the result of an opening up to God's love that on our part includes the complete abandonment of our whole selves to his usage, and on his part such lavish infusion of his grace that its energy elevates us temporarily into his own Being. This is the ultimate in positive floating. It mysteriously and paradoxi-cally also includes the ultimate in negative floating, for in order to give ourselves up to it, we need to have renounced all the not-God elements so that there is now nothing at all in us or our lives opposing his desire to take full possession of us. God is non-corporeal. When this moment of total possession takes place, he draws up our non-corporeal spirit to merge with his own. This merging, can be accomplished in both, or either, of the positive and nega-tive floating states. After about six months of intensely positive floating immediately af-ter my reception into the Church in 1956, I was gradually translated into the negative floating state and remained there without any remission for nearly twelve years. During my conversion year, 1955, I had already learnt to enter Christ's passion with him by uniting my personal suffering with his in Gethsemane and throughout the various aspects of his passion, especially his cross-carrying and crucifixion. At one particular time in 1958 when I vividly experienced what I came to call the crucifixion of my heart, something extra happened within me that I could at the time define only as "entombment." Yet the crucifixion did not cease. I was somehow still on the cross with Christ even while I was lying dead with him in the cave tomb's cold darkness. I cannot explain how this was. I only know it happened, and was spiritually and interiorily real in an agonizing way. I think I was able to endure these years of intensely negative float-ing only because, during most of them, I was fully occupied being a daily Mass-goer, solo mother, housekeeper, teacher, breadwinner, writer, and student. There was not much opportunity for what my mother disparag-ingly used to call "navel-gazing"--adding, in exasperation, "Why don't you go out and have a good game of tennis!" In spite of immersion in an undoubtedly and unavoidably active life (my form of a good game of tennis!), I yet received insights from time to time that infused some sense into the non-sense of my relationship Negative Floating / 663 with God. For this was where the nonsense, the absurdity, occurred. My rela-tionship with Jesus in his incarnational work of suffering redeemer and crucified Lord made very good sense to me, and gave me the courage to go on enduring. It was from God and his ways that the conundrum originated. Once more he had become for me the "cruel, sadistic mon-ster" who, during the early war years, had caused my rejection of my personal and inadequate version of the Christian religion. One of the key insights I received in the earlier of these negative float-ing years of the 1960s came about as follows. I can visualize clearly where it happened, just as I can vividly recall .where other significant, instant comprehensions occurred, for example, those about "the abyss of corruption" and the self-love involved in my mechanism of setting out to "fascinate" certain people. Such instant dis-cernments come to me like a crystal globe enclosing the truth, and put whole and clear in my mind all at once. The experience is completely different from arriving at a similar conclusion by the laborious process - of ratiocination. It is a matier of immediate comprehension received as a whole and in passivity. In fact, in a floating state, as it were. On this particular occasion I was sitting one morning at the desk in the home of my eldest daughter and her husband, alone in the house ex-cept for a sleeping child. Then in one instant the insight came whole-- just like a very bright light being turned on in my mind, then extin-guished almost immediately, yet leaving behind it the vivid impression of a particular mystery made plain in its illumination. In this case, I "understood" what caused Jesus to cry out, "My God, my God, why have you rejected me?" Just as I had become one with him in other aspects of his passion at various times, now I had become one with him in his cry of derelic-tion. His cry was one with the cry of my own heart to an alien, absentee God, whose face was turned away from me in contempt. Jesus' despair-ing question was to do with his having consented to be "made sin" for us. This was the central point-of the illumination given me. I had bought my Knox bible in 1956 and used it until I obtained the Jerusalem version in 1969. The texts I have marked in the Knox were the ones that had very special meaning for me personally during these darkest years of the cry of dereliction. I have underlined, "Christ never knew sin, and God made him into sin for us, so that in him we might be turned into the holiness of God" (2 Co 5:21). I "saw" that sin was absolutely abhorrent to and automatically re- 664 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 pudiated by God because it was the antithesis of his own unblemished holiness and purity. "God was in Christ, reconciling the world to him-self, establishing in our hearts his message of reconciliation, instead of holding men to account for their sins" (2 Co 5: 19), and "In Christ the whole plenitude of Deity is embodied." Hanging on the cross, dying for us, "made sin," Jesus, though God himself, consented to be relegated in his manhood to the furthest possi-ble distance from God--as f~ir as pure sin must be, of its nature, dis-tanced from pure holiness. It must have been the most elemental, cata-clysmic, schizoid split of all time. In and through this alienation Jesus endured, "the world"--all of us sinners of all time--could be "reconciled" to God instead of being eternally severed from him in self-induced banishment. In effect, Jesus willed to go through the experience of damnation as our proxy, as vic-tim instead of us. This meant knowing God only through the aching void of his ab-sence; submitting to the punitive action of the total recoil of pure holi-ness from pure unholiness; being invaded by a sense of rejection so ab-solute as to know what the hell-state meant, and to be engulfed in it. There is impenetrable mystery here, a paradox so extreme that the human mind cannot encompass it. How could Christ, in whom "the whole plenitude of Deity" remained unimpaired, yet experience himself as "the totality of sin" rejected by that Deity? The how, the mystery, is beyond our human comprehension. The paradox is mind-blowing. I cannot explain fully what I "saw" in the illumination. At the time, I knew it without intellectual explication. This came later, as I meditated upon what I had received, and thought more about what Paul said, out of what was obviously his own personal experience and given insight. Enli/~htenments about this mystery hidden within Christ's dereliction cry have continued to come spasmodically to me up to this present time. "All alike have sinned, all alike are unworthy of God's praise. And justification comes to us as a free gift from his grace, through our re-demption in Christ Jesus. God has offered him to us as a means of rec-onciliation, in virtue of faith, ransoming us with his blood" (Rm 3:23- 25). I had already understood how the solidarity of the human race was such that the salvation or damnation of any one of us must involve and concern all of us. In pouring out in his shed blood his "free gift of grace" for us, Jesus excluded no one, for none of us is sinless. We are all inevitably born programmed for possible disaster by the racial accu- Negative Floating mulation of wrong turnings made while trying to reach a destination whose nature and location we are confused about. Our tendency to get lost is in our genes. ~ "In sin my mother conceived me," is not a reference to the sexual act as such, but to the fact that the whole of humanity is in a state of at least partial alienation from God and can be reconciled only through Christ. Jesus entered the furthest reaches of this alienation when, as the vic-tim for our sins, he uttered his cry of dereliction on the cross. I saw in my moment of illumination that, once I had in 1957 told God he could have me as a victim for the salvation of souls (if he wanted me), I had implicitly consented to enter in some way into this dereliction of Jesus, and keep him company. At the same time, I was not certain God had accepted my offer, for no one had yet confirmed that I was indeed a victim, and I was not to have that assurance for several years yet. It was only then that everything fitted together coherently. But I did see in that moment of revelation that here was the meaning and purpose of the annihilating experience of my-self as spurned and rejected by God, even while at the same time, in my will, I refused to let go of him, and clung on with all my strength. Much later, I realized that even while God "rejected" me, he gave me that very grace I needed to cling tenaciously to him. At the same time, the illumination did not bring me any comforting reassurance, for I could not really believe it applied to me. This may seem a contradiction, but the grace of comfort is an extra grace, and for those years of torment God chose to withhold it from me, no matter what insights he gave my intellect. That I already had a well-established, deep-seated rejection syn-drome as part of my emotional makeup made it simpler and easier for all of this to happen. Grace had only to activate and utilize what was al-ready there, so deeply rooted in my inner being. I believe that God did this in order to use me for others as I had pleaded with him to do. In the terms I have since evolved for myself, I was "floating". in the negative way with Jesus on the cross, as part of "the Dali image." I was there tb help my neighbor, any neighbor--it was for God to choose whom, I never asked to be shown who, how, or where. "Enemies of God, we were reconciled to him through his Son's death; reconciled to him, we are surer than ever of finding salvation in his Son's life. And, what is more, we can boast of God's protection; al-ways through our Lord Jesus Christ, since it is through him that we have 666 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 attained our reconciliation"(Rm 5:10-1 I). "We who were taken up into Christ by baptism have been taken up, all of us, into his death . We have to be closely fitted into the pat-tern of his resurrection, as we have been into the pattern of his death" (Rm 6:3, 5). Sin and salvation, death and life, crucifixion and resurrection, Jesus and all of us--inseparable. It is all mingled together like the confluence of two mighty rivers flowing as one towards the ocean of eternity and infinity. We have to "share his sufferings if we are to share his glory" (Rm 8:17). Some refuse the suffering and do not believe in the glory. Proxies must, in their stead, agree to be immersed in the passion with Jesus, so that the glory will permeate them, too. He came to save all. His will to redeem the whole of humanity can-not and will not be thwarted, but we are all one with him, and so those who are willing must help him save those who are unwilling. He expects and requires this of his lovers, though not necessarily as explicit victims, for this must be a given vocation. "For thy sake, we face death at every moment, reckoned no better than sheep marked down for slaughter. Yet in all this we are conquer-ors, through him who has granted us his love" (Rm 8:36-37). In the "inscrutable judgments" and "undiscoverable ways" of God is hidden the mystery of the redemption of the human race, in which all participate, consciously or unconsciously. The willing "offer up their bodies as a living sacrifice" because "though we are many in number" (trillions and trillions of us back to the beginning and on to the end of time), we yet "form one body in Christ and each acts as the counter-part of the other" (see Rm 12). Paul insists we are "Christ's body, organs of it depending upon each other" (1 Co 12:27), and therefore "the sufferings of Christ overflow into our lives"--together with divine comfort (2 Co 1:5). For Paul, shar-ing in the sufferings of Christ in order to bring forth spiritual children for him, is a fundamental Christian vocation. He writes, "It makes me happy to suffer for you, as I am sufferi.ng now, and in my own body to do what I can to make up all that has still to be undergone by Christ for the sake of his body, the Church. I became the servant of the Church" (Col 1:24-25). All these teachings of St. Paul, marked in my Knox bible, had had dynamic personal meaning for me ever since 1956, the year of my re-ception into the Church. They had been fortified and elucidated by stud-ies of such theological works as The Whole Christ by E. Mersch, S.J. Negative Floating / 66"/ (Dobson, London, 1956). They were in the very fiber of my interior life, yet, though I knew, believed, and lived what Jesus exemplified and Paul taught and lived, no felt comfort and consolation resulted. I was given strength to endure (while experiencing myself as weak and destitute) and that was all. But to endure and to persevere is at the very basis of the nada path journey, and the grace given me to do this was among the supreme ones of my life. Father Basil had now become my director, though, as he had been transferred, we seldom had the chance to meet. What he wrote to me in a letter of July, 1963, is relevant to the above. I quote: God does love you very dearly. Think of the tremendous graces that you have received from him. Your desire to give him everything in return is all that matters. You give, generously, only to the One whom you love . I am not so much concerned about the aridity and difficulty that you are experiencing at your prayers and the seeming loss of God. What I am concerned about is your loss of peace and near panic, because of the difficulties. The temptation to discouragement is one of the most insidious and dangerous for an interior soul. If you are patient and do not allow this temptation to dictate any change in your program of the day, you have nothing to fear. In his own good time he will give you the light and the warmth that seem to have disappeared. There is noth-ing in your day that is not worthy of being offered to him. This means that you are every hour united more intimately with him. You are grow-ing in charity and all the virtues, without being conscious of the growth. The increase in charity is all that matters. His reassurance was a blessing, calming me until the next spasm of self-doubt and apparent rejection by God afflicted me. Then I would re-read what he said, and be comforted again. In a queer way it was as if God himself was telling me, "Don't worry. Everything's all right-- even though it seems to be all wrong." Again he was loving me through "a soul in which he had established himself," just as he had promised as I lay so ill and weak in the hospital. One or two entries in my journals record various aspects of my nega-tive floating at this time. In the following, I think my way through to a grace-enlightened conclusion in faith, hope, and trust. It was not given to me in~stantaneously as a crystal globe. I quote from a 1963 rare entry: It is the risen Lord who permeates the whole of creation. 1 have been experiencing the suffering Christ. The climax came in the crucifixion of my heart. Then entombment and silence. Only the dead Christ there, un- 668 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 stirring~ and myself numb and seemingly dead with him year after year, waiting and praying and longing for the resurrection. Now I see the the Lord is risen. He fills my soul and the whole of his Mystical Body. He has risen as he said he would, even while I mourned him dead in me, and I dead with him. He is risen. How can this become more real to me, so that I too rise with him? Let me think . It is the risen Lord who permeates the whole of creation. Therefore he is not dead in me~ for his resurrection truly hap-pened. But something did die in me and was entombed. What was it? The overwhelming sense of entombment. Christ dead and in the tomb. And it was a significant turning point. What died? My attachment to and need of natural love? But the process of purgation through hu-man relationships still continues. Yet it is different. How? What died and was buried? "You have undergone death, and your life is buried and hidden away with Christ." I made a heartbreaking renunciation of my own free will, and I gave up--what? What died? My heart died. Yet I found other loves. "Christ, having undergone death, cannot die any more . He is not here; he has risen as he told you . We have to be closely fitted into the pattern of his resurrection, as we have been into the pattern of his death . We'know that Christ, now he has risen from the dead, cannot die any more. Death has no more power over him . " It was not Christ who died in me, for he cannot die any more. It was something in myself that died. And all the while I have been entombed, he has been living in my soul the life of the risen Lord. His resurrection is continuous just as much as his passion is. Somehow I have to become united with this.risen Christ. Like La-zarus called forth from the tomb, I have to shed my grave clothes and answer the call of the Lord, but "how? How? I don't know how. He has to say, "Come forth," and then I shall be able to move. Yet he eternally says, "Come forth," inviting me to share his life of glory in the Trinity, the life he is already living in my soul all the time I am in a state of grace. Only somehow I cannot unite myself with it, because the tomb wall seems in the way. What is the tomb wall? My compulsion to suffer psychologically in a certain way? Perhaps. Lord, give me light. Holy Spirit, whom he sends, lead me forth. Pray in and for me. I have been in a state of inertia, feeling I could do nothing till Christ rose in me--but he has never been dead in me. It was a part of myself that died, not he. All the time he has been waiting for me to come to him. Perhaps he has already said, "Come forth," only I have been so busy with my self-inflicted mourning, that l haven't heard him. My anguish was the death of some form of self-love, the crucifix- Negative Floating / 669 ion of some kind of seif-will, some aspect of the "world" that I clung to. "The people that lived in darkness have seen a great light . And he shall reign forever and ever . Come and bring forth from the dungeon the prisoner sitting in darkness and the shadow of death . " The shadow of my death. Just one of the excruciatihg deaths one must die before one can mount to a higher level on the nada path. Death and renewal. Part of his passion, but the passion is always inseparable from the resurrection, and the resurrection is. I don't have to wait for it--it is. 1 am already in it by the power of g~:ace and the presence of God in my soul. How then do I.realize and live consciously this risen life? That is the question. The "how" was to remain unrealized by me for some years yet. In the meantime I had to live in pure faith the reality of the crucified, en-tombed, but already risen Lord in me and in the whole of creation. 1 had to stay on the cross and in the tomb till God himself chose the time and way for my personal resurrection. I could not raise up myself. It had to be a work of pure grace. The words I use in another brief entry near the end of 1964 all re-veal a state of unalleviated negative floating. They are: Emptiness. Noth-ing. Waiting. Search. No finding. Grief. No.comfort. Dryness. Frigid-i'ty. Impotence. Waiting. Alone. Loneliness. Wa, iting--on and on. Dead-ness. ~umbness. Insensibility. No tears . . . too dry . . . But I believe. I hope. I suffer. I love. I wait. He loves. 1 know he loves. I believe he loves. Amen. In her Life Teresa of Avila tells of a spiritual state that reminds me of what I call "negative floating." First she mentions how St. Paul wrote about "being crucified to the world." Then she comments on how this reminds her of the soul that is receiving comfort from neither heaven nor earth, nor from any other source either. She says that in such a/ state of suspension and denial the soul is "crucified between heaven and earth; and it suffers greatly, for no help comes to it either from the one or from the other." It is "sus-pended by (its) distress, just as in union and rapture (it is) suspended by joy . It is a martyrdom." She records that when she is not physically occupied so that her mind is on something else, she is "plunged into these death-like yearnings." The "pain is so excessive that (she) can scarcely bear it"; she feels as though she has "a rope around (her) neck, is being strangled, is trying 670 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 to breathe . . . and crying out for help to breathe." She longs and longs to be able to talk to someone "who has passed through the same torment, for she finds that, despite her complaints of it, no one seems to believe her." (See Life, Ch. XX.) It was not till my own darkest years were past that I came across the above and was forcibly struck by its similarity to what I myself had ex-perienced. When actually immersed in that suffering, I remember having read that one of the worst sufferings of Jesus on the cross must have been be-ing stifled by his inability to breathe. This was caused by the constric-tion of lungs, heart, and ribs in his hanging posture. To ease it he must have had to heave himself up repeatedly on his nailed feet--an extra ag-ony. I think Teresa is describing the spiritual equivalent of this condition for those in the negative floating state of union with Jesus hanging on the cross. John of the Cross, using different metaphors, writes of what I take to be a similar state. He says it is caused by "purgative contemplation" during which the inflowing of God's presence into the soul "in order to renew it" reaches down into its depths, into its very "spiritual substance." The soul seems to itself to be "drowned in darkness," to be "melting away" and to be enveloped by "a cruel spiritual death." Metaphorically it is like Jonah in the whale's belly. (In relation to this present article, it is worth recalling that Jonah's ordeal has been accepted as a scriptural symbol for Jesus' entombment.) John writes that "in this sepulcher of dark death (the soul) must needs abide until the spiritual resurrection which it hopes for." It is consumed by "the lamentations of death., the pains of hell ¯ . . the clear perception that God has abandoned it, in his abhorrence of it, and has flung it into darkness." It feels "itself to be without God, and chastised and cast out, and unworthy of him; and it feels he is wrathful With it." John also speaks of spiritual stifling and "afflictive suffering" that consists of the soul's feeling as though it "were suspended or held in the air so that it could not breathe." The state is intensified by the fact that the sufferer cannot find help or understanding from any human be-ing. He concludes by writing, "Of such are they that in truth go down alive into hell" (purgatory). (See Dark Night H, Ch. VI.) Negative Floating / 671 I do not know whether what I experienced during these years was the same as what is described by Teresa and John. I only know that when I read them now, as in the above passages, I feel I understand exactly what is being reported, because I myself have been through it. Shall it be N or N plus I lamN. I accepted that. I buried deep in my mind My mathematical knowledge Of what N could really be. Not satisfied with status quo But dreading the pain That moving might mean, I embraced N-fixed, safe and therefore undemanding. Memory would not be stifled. Knowledge that N can be expanded Would twist and turn and peek out Coming to the surface unexpectedly And at times unwanted. There is more. Why not N plus one? Expanding toward potential Could hurt, could be dearly bought. Surely, only here is progress, Expansion toward great goals. Why else do I exist? Except to know N is not complete Without Him as plus One. Sister Marjorie Sweeney, S.S.J. St. Joseph Convent 734 Willow Street Lebanon, PA 17042 Spiritual Dryness: Some Practical Guidelines Eamon Tobin Father Eamon Tobin, having completed the Master's degree in Formative Spiritual-ity at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, is currently pastor of a parish in Cocoa Beach, Florida. His address is Church of Our Savior; 5301 North Atlantic Avenue; Cocoa Beach, Florida 32931. The Lord, your God, will circumcise your hearts., that you may love the Lord, your God, with all your heart and all your soul, and so may live (Dt 30:6). Blessed. is the person who can call the darkness holy, who can desire its purification, who can rest in its presence. Such a person will grow rapidly because the process of purification is facilitated by generosity (Source Unknown). [~'very praying person sooner or later experiences what is called dryness in prayer. In spiritual dryness we have no felt sense of God's presence. We may,even think we have lost our Beloved or feel abandoned by him. In the sch~)ol, of prayer, few things are more important to understand than the nature and role of spiritual dryness, I intend to deal with this impor-tant dimension of the spiritual life by responding to five important ques-tions that one can ask about prayer in the desert. Question 1: What is it that praying people experience during the desert periods of the spiritual"jou~rney? The actual desert experience of praying persons will vary depending on the level of faith and spiritual maturity. For example, for the beginner in prayer spiritual dryness fre-quently means not just the absence of a felt sense of the presence of God 672 Spiritual Dryness / 67'3 but also feelings of what Saint Ignatius calls desolation--that is, feel-ings of anxiousness, sadness, or lo.ss of peace flowing from the thought, "I have lost God," or "God has abandoned me." On the other hand, for the person who is more mature in faith and advanced in the ways of prayer, spiritual dryness may not be an experience of desolation. The ex-perience will be one which lacks a felt sense of God's presence but may be accompanied by the conviction: "Even though I can't feel his pres-ence (at least on the external level), I do believe he is close and active in my life. Even though I cannot feel his presence (that is, spiritual dry-ness), I don't feel anxious, sad, or abandoned (that is, desolation). In fact, I feel peaceful." ~ To believe that God is present and active despite his apparent absence can be considered one of the greatest blessings of the spiritual life. For most of us, particularly in the early years of prayer, spiritual dryness usually includes the experience of desolation ("I have lost God; God has abandoned me"). Usually it is a time of spiritual suf-fering. We think we are getting the "silent treatment" from God. We "call out to him all day long, but he never answers" (Ps 22:3).2 Spiri-tual dryness is like journeying in the desert with no water in sight. Prayer is no longer exciting; rather, it is a weary struggle. Spiritual exercises that once nourished us now are empty, and we have little or no desire .to do them. Another dimension of the desert experience may be a feeling of dis-couragement as we become keenly aware of our own sinfulness. (We may not yet know that one of the surest signs of growth in the interior life is a growing awareness of our own sinfulness.) We may begin to think we are regressing rather than progressing. We may begin to expe-rience one of the great paradoxes of the spiritual life: the closer we come to God the further it seems to us that we are away from him. As we get closer to the all-piercing Light of God, the more our own darkness will show itself. Our lives will appear to be hollow and mediocre. The Scot-tish priest, the late Father John Dalrymple, writes: "It is as if I were to bring the sleeve of my coat toward the window of the room, and as I move into the light, the dust and dandruff on the sleeve become more obvious. It is not that as I moved the coat got dirtier, but that the light got brighter.''3 All in all, the thing that scares us most and even hurts us is the thought, "I have lost my Beloved; he has abandoned me" (See Song of Songs, Chapter 3). This thought or feeling is the experience of desolation described above. To sum up, we can say that while the actual experience of the desert will be different for different people, for all of us it will mean a felt sense 6"/4 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 of the absence of God. And for those of us whose faith in God is still fragile, it will frequently involve the experience of desolation (the "I have lost God" feeling). In reading the above description of spiritual dryness, one may think that it is something only experienced by monks, religious, and the ex-ceptional lay person~ Yet spiritual directors tell us that this experience is quite .common in the lives of many average, prayerful people who dis-cover somewhere in the midst of their spiritual journeys that spiritual ex-ercises that once nourished them spiritually now do nothing for them. Question 2: Why is an understanding of this dimension of prayer so important? There are at least three reasons why some understanding of spiritual dryness is important. First, if we do not know the role of the times of dryness, we may think that we have "lost God" and that our prior, positive feelings in prayer were not a gift from God but the crea-tion of our own imaginations. This frequently happens. Many people who have a genuine conversion and get all excited about prayer quit when the well runs dry. This is sad because it is now that God wants to do his real work in such persons. Second, lack of knowledge about the purpose of spiritual dryness may cause us to continue praying in a way that, at this particular stage in our spiritual journey, may be more of an obstacle than a help to our spiritual growth. Many people are unaware that at some stage in the spiritual journey God calls us to become less active in prayer so that he can be more active in our spiritual transfor-mation. Third, the experience of spiritual dryness may be something caused by ourselves or something permitted by God. When it is permit-ted by God, it is meant to purify us and bring us closer to him. Such dry-ness is a gift to be accepted and embraced. When spiritual dryness is our doing, we need to work at removing the causes of such dryness. Lack of knowledge about the nature and role of spiritual dryness may lead us to believe that a particular experience of dryness in prayer is authentic and God-given when in fact it is something brought on by our own infi-delities. So the time of spiritual dryness is a critical time in the spiritual jour-ney. How we respond to it will determine whether we move forward spiri-tually or stagnate. Question 3: Why does God permit us to experience desert peri-ods in the spiritual journey? So I will allure her 1 will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart (Ho 2:16). Spiritual Dryness / 675 God permits us to experience spiritual desert periods in order to pu-rify us of those things that hinder our spiritual transformation and to teach us some important lessons about the spiritual life and how it works. In our answer to this question we will look at some specific purifications that God works in us and lessons that he teaches us in the desert. Purifications of the Desert In the desert God will want to purify us of any excessive attachment we may have to consolation in prayer. If in prayer God blesses us with a lot of consolations (or "spiritual highs" as we often say today), there is a danger that we may seek and love "the consolations of our God more than the God of our consolations" (Saint Teresa of Avila). In time of spiritual consolation it is easy to pray. The challenge is to remain faith-ful to prayer when we experience little or no felt sense of God's pres-ence or action in our lives. During such dry periods God is asking us to love him for himself and not just for the spiritual highs or consolations he offers us in prayer. He is asking us to show that we are not just fair-weather friends but all-weather friends. And he is teaching us the im-portant lesson that he is to be found more deeply in the desert than in the garden of superficial delights. Secondly, in the desert God purifies us of spiritual vanity. John Dal-rymple explains sp!ritual vanity in this way: Someone taking to religion in all zeal, becoming caught upI in a cam-paign of prayer, fasting, spiritual reading, liturgical practice, and retreat weekends might be indulging unawares in one big ego-trip. Conversion of the soul from a worldly life to a spiritual life is at first s, uperficial only. The convert has been given new, spiritual goals; but the conver~- sion is only external. In itself the sofil is as full as it ever was of unre-generate tendencies to vanity, arrogance, acquisitiveness, the only dif-ference being that after conversion these tendencies are now attached to spiritual instead of worldly objects . The zeal of such a person is infectious, but it is, as yet, chiefly the expression of the person's vanity or self-centeredness, dressed up in Christian clothes.4 For God to do his work of spiritual transformation in us, he must pu-rify us of such spiritual vanity. God often brings about this purification in us by bringing to naught our best efforts to change ourselves and eve-rything and everyone around us. As we sit on the ruins of our self-made temples and projects, we are purified of spiritual vanity and arrogance, and we learn the meaning of spiritual poverty, which is realizing our com-plete dependence and need for God to bring about any spiritual growth 676 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 in others or in ourselves. In the desert, God's intention is not to punish us but to purify us. In the journey of life we consciously or unconsciously become overly-attached to persons or things--so much so that they become idols (that is, more important to us than God). This happened to Israel after she lived in the Promised Land for some time. She became so enamored with the blessings of the land that she forgot the One who gave her the land. To purify her of this idolatry God led Israel into the desert for a second time where she would be free of all her attachments and free to listen anew to the Word of God (See Hosea, Chapter 2). Lessons to Be Learned in the Desert Now let us briefly look at some of the lessons that God wishes to teach us in the desert. When God takes away consolation in prayer (that is, the felt sense of his presence), he wants to teach us the important lesson that he can be encountered at a deeper level than our emotions. He wants to teach us that we are no longer dependent on emotional returns to know we have encountered him. As we grow in our relationship with God, the more we will "learn to be at home in the dark because we are sure, in faith, that the potter is truly shaping the clay, even though the clay sees nothing of what is happening."5 An example about eating food might help to illustrate this point more clearly. Sometimes we may immensely enjoy eating a delicious meal. We may savor every morsel of the food. All in all, it is a delightful ex-perience. On another occasion we may not enjoy at all another type of delicious meal. We may not be feeling well, or the food may not appeal to us. Yet from a nutritious point of view, both meals are equally good. Our lack of enjoyment of the second meal in no way diminishes its nu-tritious value. The same principle is at work when it comes to prayer. Sometimes when we pray we really feel and savor God's presence and love. At other times the prayer is empty and dull. Who are we, though, to say that the latter time is of no benefit to our spiritual growth or is less pleasing in God's sight? A second lesson God teaches us in the desert is that spiritual conso-lation is his p.ure gift to us and not something we can earn by being good or by praying :in a particular way. In prayer God teaches us this impor-tant lesson by "dropping in" on us when we least expect him and by "failing to show" when we very much want to experience his presence. A third lesson that God wishes to teach us in the desert is that spiri- Spiritual Dryness / 677 tual growth is totally dependent on his work in us and not on anything we do. Our task is simply to be flexible and cooperative with the move-ment of his Spirit. In the spiritual life, "working at it" often means "be-ing still," "just being there" and exercising discipline over our doing and achieving self which so often wants to run the show. This is a diffi-cult lesson for us because so much of our training for the outer journey of life has told us to be "take-charge" and self-sufficient persons. It is not easy for us to switch gears in the inner journey. In the spiritual life God is the Chief Actor; we are the acted-upon. Mary, at the Annunciation (Lk 1:26-38), is our perfect model. When God mysteriously breaks into Mary's life and invites her to become the mother of Jesus, she doesn't respond, "Sure, Lord, I'll do it!" Rather, she says, "I am your maidservant; work in and through me as you want." Mary's response was, "Fiat, be it done unto me," not, "I'11 do it." This attitude is one of active receptivity, and it is the secret of Christian spirituality and spiritual growth. Active receptivity is charac-terized by the effort to place our energy, will, and freedom at the dis-posal of God so that he can do with us and in us what he wills, Finally, when God our Father allows our prayer to run dry, he is in-viting us to participate in the cross of Jesus. In times of dryness we are experiencing the thirst of Jesus on the cross. If the cross was Jesus' way to the Father, then surely we, the disciples of Jesus, cannot expect to travel the scenic route free of all pain and hardship. When we experi-ence darkness in prayer or in the marketplace, we are being invited to identify with Jesus in his suffering, in his experience of feeling aban-doned by the Father. Also in the desert we are being invited and chal-lenged to trust that our God will not abandon us but will come to rescue us and redeem us (See Exodus, Chapter 16). Question 4: How can I tell when a particular desert experience is caused by my own infidelity or is something permitted by God to help me to grow in my relationship with him? When dryness occurs in prayer, particularly in the early stages when God is giving alternating periods of dryness and consolation, wemay tend to blame ourselves for dryness. We may wonder what latest infidelity we committed to bring about this dryness. The fact may be that we have done nothing wrong . to occasion the dryness. God may be allowing us to experience the dry-ness bechuse he wants to teach us some lesson and/or purify some as-pect of our relationship with him. On the other hand, we may think the dryness is from God when in fact it is caused by our own laxity and sin-fulness. Therefore, it is important that we be able to discern the true 6711 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 cause of the dryness because our response to it will differ, depending on whether the dryness is permitted by God or is something brought on by ourselves. Let us now identify several ways that we can bring about our own spiritual desert. ( 1 ) Indifference to a Sinful Pattern of Behavior: If we are indifferent to some sinful pattern of behavior in our lives, then we can expect diffi-culty in prayer. In a human friendship a negative pattern of behavior (for example, a critical or lying spirit), which we make no effort to ,change, will have a destructive effect on the whole relationship. Likewise, if in our relationship with God, we are deliberately ignoring a sinful pattern of behavior (for example, involvement in an illicit relationship, unfor-giveness, unethical business practices), then we can rightfully expect ten-sion in our relationship with God. When we do the above, we are delib-erately excluding the Lord and his influence from some area of our lives. In such a situation we should not be surprised that we do not feel God's presence very much in prayer. Here it is important to note that I am not referring to a sinful pattern of behavior that we are trying to change and that we are bringing before the Lord in prayer. In this case we are rec-ognizing sin and struggling with it. Instead of keeping us from God, our struggle with a particular sin or weakness may be the very means that God will use to allow us to experience his love, mercy and power. (See 2 Co 12:7-10 for Paul's famous example of how his thorn in the flesh became the very means of God's power.) In the former case, we are not even confronting our sin or seeking God's help with it. Instead we are deliberately ignoring its existence or trying to rationalize its O.K. 'hess. In the latter case, our sin grieves us and we are doing what we can to remove it from our lives. (2) Repressed Anger at God: Two highly-respected spiritual direc-tors, Fathers William Connoily and William Barry, write in a co-authored book: "When prayer flattens out, or appears tO be facing an iron wall, the director must always suspect the presence of unexpressed anger."6 To add to this problem, many of us were raised in a culture where appropriate expression of anger was socially unacceptable. "Hence resentments, holding a grudge or subdued rage, when they are present, are all likely to be given other names like indifference and ra-tional analysis."7 When someone hurts us, our relationship with that per-son will diminish, even if we decide to present an affable, friendly front; but in reality we will distance Ourselves emotionally from the person. In a similar way, if we become angry with God about something, we may Spiritual Dryness / 679 continue to be faithful to our prayer time, but on an emotional level we can be fairly sure we have distanced ourselves from him. (It is impor-tant for us to be aware that if life is handing us a raw deal, we may well be unconsciously blaming God, the Source of all things, for our lousy situation.) (3) Separation of Prayer and Life: The spiritual life is all of life and not just one segment of it. The Lord refuses to be a compartmentalized God; he wants to be a part and parcel of our whole life. When we try to keep God in church or in our prayer closet and not allow him to guide all the activities of our day, we can be sure that we are setting ourselves up for dryness in prayer. If we exclude God from the activities of our day, then we should not be surprised if he is missing from our prayer time. Even on a human level, no one likes to be a "tag-along" in some-one else's life. (4) Overwork: When our prayer life dries up, it is good for us to ask if we are pushing ourselves too much on the vital and functional dimen-sions of life. "Am I overworked? Am I over-tired? Am I coming down with the flu? Am I neglecting physical exercise? Do I have a tendency to make leisure time work? Or do I have leisure time--period?" These are important questions to ask. These things affect our prayer life. If we fail to care properly for our bodies, then we are neglecting a dimension of ourselves that we depend on to help us to pray. When we are very tired and overworked, prayer may well be seen as just another duty or thing to do. (5) Lack of Honesty in Prayer: Just as shallow or dishonest sharing dulls human relationships, it also dulls the Divine-human relationship. If our prayer is no more than "sweet talk" to "sweet Jesus," we should not expect Jesu~ to be too interested in our conversation. We must learn to talk to the Lord about the real stuff in our lives. (6) Halfhearted Efforts at Prayer: On a human level two friends may fail to really connect with each other because their conversations are "just words," words that fail to express what they are truly thinking and feeling. The problem may be that deep down they don't want to or are scared to encounter each other in a deep way. When a relationship is char-acterized by this type of communication, then we should expect it to be empty and unfulfiiling. In a similar vein, when our prayer time mainly consists of the rote recitation of certain prayers or of inattentive spiritual reading--if beneath the "saying of prayers" and the acts of piety there is no real desire to encounter God and grow in relationship with him-- then we should expect little or no satisfaction in prayer. In fact, our spiri- Review for Religious, September-October 1989 tual exercises may become a substitute for a real relationship with God. If we discern that we are the cause of our spiritual dryness, we should do all we can to remove the particular obstacle. For example, if the problem or obstacle is that we are holding onto a grudge and doing nothingto let it go, then we may need to pray for forgiveness for that person and/or we may need to have an open chat with the person with whom we are having a problem. If we discern that our experience of spiri-tual dryness is due to our tendency to separate prayer and life (see ob-stacle number three above), then our solution will be to work at allow-ing the Lord to walk with us in all the activities of our day. In short, when we discern that we are the cause of the spiritual dryness, then we ought to do something to remove the obstacle. It is the experience of most, if not all, disciples of the Lord that once they begin to struggle with an obstacle, prayer again becomes alive and they experience a new closeness to God. Finally, it should be noted that in trying to discern the cause of our spiritual dryness we would be well advised to seek the coun- ¯ sel of a good spiritual director. When we experience spiritual dryness most of us have a tendency to think that it is due to some infidelity on our part. The truth may be that God is permitting us to experience the desert so that he can continue his purifying work in us. This brings us to the second part of our response to Question 4: "How might we know that it is God and not us who is calling us into a spiritual desert?" While we can never be absolutely sure--since we live by faith and not by clear vision--when spiritual dryness is being per-mitted by God, we can say that the following are good indicators that the dryness is the purifying work of God: --If during the time of dryness we remain faithful to prayer. --If our prayer is honest and flowing from the real stuff of our lives. --If we are trying to integrate prayer and life. --If we are trying to live a life of charity; if our prayer is helping us to be more loving. --If we are genuinely trying to avoid sin and live our lives accord-ing to God's Word. --If we thirst for God as we walk in the desert. (It is crucial that we, remember that our desire for God is in itself a tangible sign of his pres-ence in our lives. We couldn't even desire God if he didn't place that desire in our hearts.) You will notice that the above signs are pretty much the opposite of the ways that we ourselves bring about our own spiritual desert. Prayer, like so many other things in life, is a series of "arrivals" Spiritual Dryness and "starting points." We arrive at a point where we feel good. We ex-perience the grace of consolation. But that only lasts a little while and then a certain discontent (a kind of desert) sets in--a discontent that may be caused by ourselves or permitted by God. Then we are faced with the challenge of discerning who is causing the discontent: "Is it God or me?" The purpose of the discontent caused by him is to create in us a longing for more, to create in us a desire to move closer to God. In the spiritual journey God brings us to a particular point or state; he lets us rest there and enjoy that plateau for a little while, and then he says, "O.K. Let's move ahead and seek for more" (see Ex 40:36-37). Of course, it is not easy to move when we are not sure where he is leading us. All he says is, "Move and trust that I'll take you to a new and bet-ter place." Finally, if we are in doubt about the cause ofour discontent or dry-ness, then we should talk to a spiritual guide or, if that is not possible, simply say a prayer like this: "Lord, if this dryness I am experiencing is due to some failing of mine, please reveal it to me. Until you do I am going to assume that I am not the cause of the dryness." Question 5: What are some resources available to us to sustain us in the desert? Four resources that will sustain us in the desert are: --a wise spiritual director; --a strong faith; --fidelity to prayer; --the support of fellow pilgrims. Our first help is a wise spiritual director. By wise I mean one who understands the role of the desert in the spiritual life and hopefully one who has experienced and grown through the desert in his or her own spiri-tual journey. Many people whom God led into the desert for purifica-tion have suffered much at the hands of well-intentioned but misinformed spiritual guides. Saint John of the Cross reserves some of his harshest words for such misinformed guides.8 For example, a misinformed guide may insist that a directee continue to meditate and do a lot of spiritual reading when God is calling her to the prayer of contemplation. In the desert a good spiritual director will be a source of guidance, encourage-ment and inspiration. When we are in a spiritual desert, it is important that we learn to place our trust in a good spiritual director. But, as most of us know, wise spiritual directors are nearly as scarce as palm trees in the northern states of America. The truth is that the road to authenticity is dangerous, hard, and narrow, and few decide to travel it. In the ab-sence of a wise spiritual director (and there is really no substitute for such Review for Religious, .September-October 1989 a person), one may receive some guidance from books that are written or recommended by people who are recognized guides of the inner jour-ney. A second important resource is a strong faith--a faith that enables US" --to believe that God knows what he is doing when he allows us to ex-perience the desert (Rm 11:33-36); --to believe that in the desert God is not punishing us but is purifying us (Dt 30:6); --to believe that God grows his best flowers (virtues) in the desert (Ho 2); --to believe that God works in us while we rest in him (Mk 4:26-29); --to believe that in the struggles of life God is on our side fighting our battles (Ex 14:13-14 and Dt 1:30-33); --to believe that in the desert God's seeming absence is just a different type of presence, one that we may not as yet have recognized (Ex 16); --to be secure with insecurity (Rm 8:28); --above all, to generously abandon ourselves to the purifying work of God (Lk 23:46). A third important resource as we struggle in the desert is fidelity to prayer. In the desert, prayer is usually dry and therefore all the more dif-ficult to remain faithful to. When it comes to praying in the desert, spiri-tual guides counsel us to avoid two extremes or temptations. The first temptation is to quit prayer, thinking that our best efforts are leading us nowhere. The second temptation is to "junk up" our prayer time with extra prayers, rosaries, Scripture reading, and so forth, thinking that if we only try harder maybe we will feel the presence of God. This second temptation needs to be resisted not only because it blocks what God is about in the desert but also because it is (usually unconsciously) our at-tempt to stay in or get back into the driver's seat. In general, prayer in the desert will become much less active, more passive--less us, more God. The challenge will be to learn to sit quietly in the presence of God, trusting that he is at work in us while we rest in him. Le~.rning to "waste time doi.ng nothing" in prayer is, without a doubt, one of the most difficult lessons we have to learn in the school of prayer. Unfortunately, most of us never learn to waste time gracefully in the presence of God. Such a practice goes completely against our west-ern, work-ethic nature that is usually driven to do, to achieve, and to pro-duce-- that likes to see tangible results for its efforts. Because of this need in us, most of us fill the vacuum that we feel in the desert with read- Spiritual Dryness ing or prayers of some sort. For those of us who are willing to try and do less (that is, to be less active) in prayer so that God may do more in us, the following suggestions might be helpful. -Spend some time just "being there" with the Lord, aware that as "we rest in him he is at work in us." We put aside all effort to achieve because now we are learning that achievement (growth) is God's work. By periodically spending some time "doing nothing" in the presence of the Lord, we are expressing our faith in an important spiritual dictum: "God's activity in prayer is more important than my activity." -Spend some time slowly repeating prayers like: "Incline my heart to your will, O Lord." "Make me want you, O Lord, more than anyone/ thing in my life." -Take a phrase of Scripture like "You are my beloved Son" and dwell on it. -Simply take one word like "Jesus" or "love" and repeat it gent-ly and slowly, letting God work in us, leading us beyond conceptual thoughts, images, or feelings to wordless depths. -Image and be present to Mary in the Temple after she lost Jesus (Lk 2:41-50) and at the foot of the cross (Jn 19:25-27) which must have been a real dark night of the spirit for her. Ask Mary to intercede for you so that you may have something of the faith which she had when she thought she had lost Jesus. -Finally, you may want to read something on spiritual dryness. By simply reading and rereading portions of a book like When the Well Runs Dry, I am encouraged to persevere in the desert. Personally, I need to hear over and over again the teaching and encouragement that a book like Father Green's offers. In prayer our role is to be faithful in coming aside, to be at God's disposal. What actually happens in prayer is God's business. For me this piece of wisdom has always been very consoling. It helped to free me from thinking that it was up to me to make things happen in prayer. Now I am more relaxed, knowing that my role is to be faithful in coming aside, to do what I can to eliminate distractions from within and with-out, and to pray as I feel led. ("Pray as you can, not as you can't.") The rest is in God's hands. If he chooses to bless me with a deep sense of his presence, I am indeed very grateful. If he chooses to bless me with his seeming absence (God is always only seemingly absent), then I try to be grateful for that, also believing that God knows what will best help me to grow. "Our prayer is good when our hearts are fixed on God, even if it is filled with boring aridity or passionate turmoil.' ,9 Review for Religious, September-October 1989 A fourth resource in the desert is the prayer and personal support of fellow pilgrims. While each person's inner journey is very personal and unique, still we can learn much from the journeys of co-pilgrims. Only the foolish try to travel the inner jou~rney alone. In the desert we are all beggars sharing morsels of bread with each other. Also, if we are blessed enough to be a part of a small, faith---sharing group, then we have avail-able to us an excellent resourc_~e for the dry times. In the dry times the prayers of'fellow pilgrims are usually a big help. I wbuld like to conclude our discussion on spiritual dryness with a prayer that I have found to be a source of great encouragement during times of spiritual desolation. Dear Lord, in the midst of much inner turmoil and restlessness, there is a consoling thought: maybe you are working in me in a way I cannot yet feel, experience, or understand. My mind is not able to concentrate on you, my heart is not able to remain centered, and it seems as if you are absent and have left me alone. But in faith I cling to you. I believe that your Spirit reaches deeper and further than my mind or heart, and that profound movements are not the first to be noticed. Therefore, Lord, I promise I will not run away, not give up, not stop praying, even when it all seems useless, pointless, and a waste of time and effort. I want to let you know that I love you even though | do not feel loved by you, and that I hope in you even though I often experi-ence despair. Let this be a little dying I can do with you and for you as a way of experiencing some solidarity with the millions in this world who suffer far more than I do. Amen.~° NOTES ~ See Thomas H. Green, S. J., Weeds Among the Wheat (Notre Dame, Indiana, 1984), Chapters 6 and 7. Also see Thomas H. Green, S.J., When the Well Runs Dry (Notre Dame, Indiana, 1979), p. 92. 2 Some other Psalms that reflect darkness in the prayer of the psalmist are Psalms 60, 69, 74, and 88. 3 Father John Dalrymple, Simple Prayer (Wilmington, Delaware, 1984), p. 69. '~ lbid, p. 93. 5 Thomas H. Green, S.J., When the Well Runs Dry (Notre Dame, Indiana, 1979), p. 119. 6 Fathers William Barry. and William Connolly, The Practice of Spiritual Direction (New York, 1982), p. 73. 7 Ibid. 8 Saint John of the Cross, The Collected Works of John of the Cross, translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. and Otilio Rodriguez, O.C.D. (Washington, D.C., 1979), pp. 620-634. 9 Father John Dalrymple, Simple Prayer, (Wilmington, Delaware, 1984), p. 66. ~0 Henri J. M. Nouwen, A Cry for Mercy: Prayers from the Genesee (Garden City, New York, 1983), p. 102. That God Might Be Father .Laurel M. O'Neal Sister Laurel O'Neal, a solitary (hermit), is familiar to our readers. Her address is Stillsong Hermitage; 80 Lafayette Circle; Lafayette, California 94549. Perhaps the only question more problematic than that of the possibility of prayer is the question of its, genuine significance and necessity. Sur-prisingly, however, this is also a question we generally fail to consider explicitly or face squarely. More typically, the meaningfulness and re-quisiteness of our prayer are matters we tend to take for granted, even though the notion of prayer may lie at the heart of important or even fun-damental expressi6ns of self-understanding and definition. But the ques-tion is an important one, and one we cannot easily afford to avoid or care-lessly dismiss, if we intend to take prayer seriously or maintain a proper sense of its place and role in our daily lives. After all, why really are we called to pray? What, if anything, is truly and uniquely at stake in our prayer? Is there any reason to regard our own personal prayer as a matter of compelling urgency and real ne-cessity, or is the matter really more nugatory? Clearly, as Christians we are called to believe that our prayer is a meaningful, even indispensable activity, vital to the transformation and healing of all we know, and the realization of all we are made and hope for. But how do we justify such a belief? What is it about prayer that makes such claims credible? The answers to all of these questions are based in our recognition that in prayer something deeper and even more fundamental is at stake, some-thing in which all healing and human growth in wisdom and sanctity are rooted, and upon which all our hope depends. Like Christianity in general, and like God himself, prayer is pro-foundly paradoxical, and this is particularly true of the question at hand. 685 Review for Religious, September-October 1989 Although we must acknowledge that prayer is the gift and activity of God attended to by sinners (that is, by persons whose lives are fundamentally marked and marred by fragmentation and alienation), we must also af-firm that the deeper truth is the paradox that prayer is primarily some-thing we undertake on God's own behalf, insofar as prayer is the experi-ence of God as the One he wishes to be for us. Quite simply, what is truly and uniquely at stake in our prayer, at each and every moment we pray, is nothing less than the life and destiny of God himself. As Chris-tians, as persons who pray--that is, as persons who share as heirs of God in the obedient Sonship of Jesus Christ, we do so primarily that God might truly be the Father he has willed to be from the beginning. This insight is easy to lose sight of, something that occurs particu-larly whenever God's paradoxical nature is obscured or forgotten, and an immutable or even (as commonly misunderstood) "triune" God is substituted for a Living One. Most of us are well aware that on the one hand, our God is the "High and Holy One," the one who reveals him-self in sovereignty and self-sufficiency. Indeed he is Yahweh, "the one who will be who (he) will be," ~ in absolute authority and awesome auton-omy. But this dominant Old Testament image is just one side of the para-dox whom we Christians know as God; and if on the one hand he is the High and Holy One who is absolutely self-sufficient, he is also the one who has determined not to remain so, but rather has resolved to make his own destiny subject to the responsiveness of his creation. Our God is on the one hand without beginning or end, absolutely self-sufficient, in need of no one and no thing. Yet on the other hand he has willed from all eternity not to remain alone but to turn to another--a person who will be his counterpart. He is the eternal decision to speak to this other and to hearken to the word which this other speaks. He is the eternal deci-sion to love this other and to accept this other's love. [The God of the New Testament] who is eternally self-sufficient wills not to be; God who is eternally of and for himself wills to be for another.2 This means quite simply that God has determined to be for us as well as dependent upon us. We must allow this determination to be realized, and let God be who he wills to be for us. This is indeed the most human thing we can do, just as it is the most loving. Those who truly appreci-ate that our own destiny is dependent upon the proper exercise of human freedom should not be surprised that God too is dependent upon it. In fact, we should be aware that the Christ event reveals that it is human freedom which is the true counterpart to divine omnipotence. For many, this will be an astounding assertion. However, if we reflect on precisely That God Might Be Father / 687 what occurred in the Christ event, perhaps this critical point will become more acceptable to most people. Certainly such reflection is necessary if we are to truly appreciate the importance and urgency of our prayer. It is true that in the Christ event--in the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus--God drew near to every moment and mood of his creation. This is truth but the truth cuts far more deeply than even this awesome reality. In the Christ event something absolutely s'ingular and unsurpassable occurred. For the first time in human history someone, in this case Jesus of Nazareth, in living a life wholly responsive to the God who would be Father, accomplished two things. In the first place, he lived the first genuinely human existence ever known in the history of humankind, and secondly, in his proper exercise of true human freedom he allowed God to become the Father he had willed to be from the be-ginhing. In the dialogue which existed between Father and Son, both hu-man and divine life reached a fullness for which they had yearned and groaned through time and eternity, the realization of human and divine destinies were forever linked, and divine omnipotence and human free-dom were inextricably wed as counterparts of one another. Nor is this all. In Jesus' resurrection from the dead, this abundant life was made a continuing and unconquerable reality in our world. It is in prayer that we enter most deeply into participation into this abundant life, and in prayer that Jesus' Sonship becomes our own and the Fatherhood of God is further realize~t. Through our participation in the Sonship of Jesus, we come to know genuine human life, and we become aware that it is a life characterized and constituted by an ongoing and all-consuming dialogue with the Fa-ther, who is in turn constituted as Father in this dialogue. In the Christ event Jesus responded to God as Son. He allowed God to be the author of his life, and he allowed God to be authored as Father in the process. Truly human existence is nothing less and nothing other than daughter-ship or sonship to the Living God whose own inner truth and dynamism is realized in Fatherhood. Prayer is simply and always the mutual out-working of these inextricably linked divine and human destinies. God is Father neither before, nor apart from, the response of Jesus as Son; neither is he our Father apart from our participation in that de-finitive Sonship which we call prayer. (Note well, in all of this it is im-portant that, according to the prologue to John's gospel, we are very clear that it is not the Logos that is Son; rather it is Jesus as Son in whom the Logos is incarnate. The two realities are quite different, and are often tragically confused. As the term is commonly but perhaps naively used, Review for Religious, September-October 1989 the Logos is "preexistent"; the Son is not, and whenever this confu-sion occurs, it becomes impossible to appreciate the true significance of the obedient Sonship of Jesus or of our own prayer.) Although he is the one "who will be who (he) will be," the God of the New Testament turns to the world as the one who would be Father, that is, as one who would find his counterpart and true completion in those who would turn in response as daughters and sons (that is, as those who are of him and from him) and, as one whose deepest identity would remain unrealized and unrealizable apart from this response. What are the implications of all this for our prayer? In the first place, we must concede that our prayer has real meaning and urgency, not only and not even primarily because we are saved through God's activity in our lives, but because in our prayer we concern ourselves with the very life of God. Whether or not prayer is a profound experience for Is, it is a significant experience for God since it is in prayer that he is allowed to achieve Fatherhood and truly realize himself. Whatever we perceive happening or not happening in our prayer, we must not lose sight of the fact of what does occur there. In prayer God is given the chance to love fully, and thus to fully be. It is not simply the'case that God is love; it is also true that in loving, God is (and it is this fact which allows us to speak of prayer in terms of the glorification or magnification of God). Prayer is possible only to the extent that our God has willed not to remain remote, that is, only to the extent that he has drawn near. But prayer is meaningful and necessary for the most part because the God who has refused to remain remote has also willed not to remain self-sufficient and has, in a very real way put his own destinyinto the hand of those to whom he would be Father, and whom he has thus willed re-spond to him as daughters and sons. Without our prayer, God remains the High and Holy One who has drawn near to us in all of life's moments and moods, but who remains deprived of real presence, and thus whose deepest will and identity remains unrealized and frustrated in our regard. It is particularly telling that the first word and entire Lord's Prayer is contained in the invocation "Father." Jesus' whole life and prayer, which were essentially synonymous, were devoted to allowing God's will to Fatherhood to be accomplished. Claiming this realization of the Fatherhood of God is the heart of all prayer. Allowing him to love us in the way he wills is the heart of all truly human activity. It is impor-tant that our prayer remain the God-centered activity it is meant to be. This is the reason Jesus gave his life and his way of praying as a "para-digm of perspective," and in fact, in what is most essentially and pro- That God Might Be Father 689 foundly the lesson of the New Testament, taught his followers to pray. We lose proper perspective if we forget that God has drawn near, but it is at least as tragic to forget that prayer is the way nearness is transformed into real presence. We said in an earlier essay3 that prayer begins, ends, and is sustained by our concern for and commitment to the life of God. Let us remember why we are present to him and what our appreciation of his nearness means for him, and may this knowledge sustain us in even the driest of moments. NOTES t The usual translation of "Yahweh" in Exodus 3:14 as "I am who am," or even the more cryptic "'I am" is inadequate insofar as it disregards the dynamic element, and promise of active and effective presence also contained in the Hebrew (see Ex 3:12). A better translation is "I will be who I will be". 2 Dwyer, John C., Son of Man attd Son of God, A New Language For Faith, (New York: Paulist Press, 1983). 3 O'Neal, Laurel M., "Prayer, Maintaining a Human Experience": R~.vl~.w R~.~.~¢~ous; Nov/Dec 1987, p. 883. Musing Fragile as a crisp autumn leaf, Hard as flint on flint, Soft as nestling down, Resilient as blue tempered steel-- You and I--this planet ours-- Cradled in God's tender arms Of Grace. Walter Bunofsky, S.V.D. 1446 E. Warne Avenue St. Louis, Missouri 63107 Mary of Bethany-- The Silent Contemplative Carlos M. de Melo, S.J. Father Carlos de Melo, S.J. is professor emeritus of Canon Law and Spiritual The-ology at the Pontfical Athenaeum of Pune, India. His address is Papal Seminary; Nagar Road; Ramwadi; Pune 411 014 India. Teresa of Avila, that incomparable mistress of the spiritual life--"Mater spiritualium" as she is called in the inscription at the foot of her statue at St. Peter's, Rome--was never tired of repeating to her daughters of the Reformed Carmel that prayer is not so much a matter of much think-ing as of loving much.~ The soul of prayer is faith and love. Going through the gospels ! found this basic truth or principle beautifully illus-trated in the attitudes of Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, vis-~t-vis our Lord. Bethany is a small hamlet about three kilometers southeast of Jerusa-lem, separated from the capital by the Mount of Olives. Mary of Bethany appears in five places in the gospel narratives: I) Luke 10:38-42; 2) John 11 : 1-53; 3) John ! 2: i - l l ; 4) Mark 14:3-9; and 5) Matthew 26:6-13. The last three references cover one and the same episode, that of the supper at Bethany, in the house of Simon, the "leper." True, the material is not over abundant, yet it is sufficient enough to give us a fair idea of the personality, the mind and heart, the ways and attitudes, the character of this well-known biblical figure. However, I wish to bring out in this es-say one particular trait that distinguishes her, and that is her contempla-tive attitude of life, as it comes across to us in a striking manner in two of those passages--Luke i0 and Matthew 26 (see Jn 12; Mk 14). Symbol of Contemplative . Indeed, in these passages, Mary stands out before us as a symbol and 690 Mary of Bethany / 69"1 teacher of the contemplative life particularly inspiring and helpful to per-sons "consecrated to God," whether they live in convents and monas-teries or elsewhere in the world. She thus becomes our guide, silent yet sure, to a simple, intimate relationship with our divine Master, such as will not only bring us true fulfillment but can even radically transform our life. For, as the saying goes, tell me with whom you walk and I shall tell you what sort of a person you are. When did Mary first meet Jesus? In Luke 10 the new Rabbi figures as an already familiar guest in the house of Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, one whom they all highly esteemed, loved and revered, a dear friend whose visits were eagerly looked forward to and whom they welcomed with undisguised joy and profound satisfaction, as though they could never have enough of him. From him they held no secrets; they could share with him their every thought or sentiment, every joy or sorrow, and in him they were always sure to meet, in any life situation, under-standing, sympathy, guidance. First Meeting Decisive True, the gospels do not tell us when it was that Mary first met Je-sus. One thing, however, seems to be certain. Whatever might have been the time, place or occasion, that first meeiing was decisive in Mary's life; it made a lasting and ineffaceable impression on her youthful, sensitive nature. It reminds us of another such decisive encounter narrated in an-other gospel--that of the Master with the beloved disciple (Jn 1:35-39)-- one of those unforgettable events that make an impact for good and give a new turn to life. Like that of John, Mary's life, too, was deeply touched by her meeting with Jesus, for, from then on, that mysterious guest became as it were everything for her, the center of her thoughts, sentiments, deeds. It was as though interiorly taught from on high, Mary sensed in Jesus of Nazareth not only a new rabbi, or a great religious leader who taught as one having authority (Mt 7:29), who spoke as no man ever did (Jn 7:4-6), or even a worthy prophet like Moses, Isaias or Jeremias of old, but--in a way she herself was not able fully to under-stand or explain--the very incarnation of the Father of Israel, of Yah-weh himself, and at the same time, her own personal friend and guide-- her 'guruji' we might say, with all this term, and the reality it represents, means in Indian life and tradition. This explains Mary's unconditional surrender to him, her loving contemplation of him, her total openness and docility to his word, her silent "adoration"--attitudes proper to a creature before its God, its divine Lover. 692 / Review for Religious, September-October 1989 Lovable Character Mary is a lovable character--lovable because she is so

Issue 47.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1988. ; R~vw.w ~:oR R~L~C~ff)us (ISSN 0034-639X). published every two months, is ediled in collaboration with lhe facuhy members of the Dcpartmcnl of Theological Studies of St. U)uis University. The edito-rial offices are located a~ Room 428:3601 Lindcll Blvd.: St. [~uis, Me. 63108-3393. R~v~w R~a.ffm~us is owned by the Missouri Province Educalional lnslilule of the Sociely of Jesus, St. [~uis, Me. 01988 by R~v~w FO~ R~JG~OUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year: $22.00 for two years. Other countries: add $5.00 per year (surface mail); airmail (Book Rale): $20.00 per year. For subsc~iptioh orders ur change uf address, write: REVIEW ~'o~ RELIt;IOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors JanuarylFebruary, 1988 Volume 47 Number I Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor shuuld be sent to R~:wt:w FOa R~:L[t:mus; Ruom 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence abuut the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be urde'red frum Rt:\'~t:w voa Rt:L~t;n~us; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, M! 48106. A major pnrtion of each issue is also available on cassette recurdings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New Yurk, NY 10010. Review for Religious Volume 47, 1988 Editorial Offices 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428 Saint Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is published in January, March, May, July, Septem-ber, and November on the twentieth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edition of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is available from University Mi-crofilms International; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48 ! 06. Copyright© 1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. A major portion of each issue of REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is also regu-larly available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually im-paired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The Consecrated Lives of Apostolic Religious Today Mary Linscott, S.N.D. Sister Mary is on the staff of the Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes (CRIS), specializing in the area of constitutions and general chapters. Her previous contri-bution to these pages was "The Service of Religious Authority: Reflections on Gov-ernment in the Revision of Constitutions." Sister Mary resides at her motherhouse, Suore di Nostra Signora di Namur; Largo Berechet, 4; 00152, Roma, Italy. When a group of sisters came to my office recently to discuss a theme for a presentation, we had little difficulty in finding one, and the focus seemed to sharpen almost of its own accord. The topic of religious con-secration was an evident subject for at lea~t three main reasons: I) its in-trinsic importance; 2) its importance in renewal; 3) its importance as be-ing at the heart of much of the crisis in religious life since the Second Vatican Council. It is also the key to future development. We concentrated on the consecration of religious, and more espe-cially of sisters whose institutes, are dedicated to works of the apostolate. We assumed as a starting point, that all religious of whatever style of life are both contemplative and apostolic by the fact of their vocation and profession. They express the contemplation and the apostolic effective-ness differently in accordance with the founding gift of their institutes or of the branch of the institute to which they belong, but the dimensions of contemplation and of apostolate are common to all. Having agreed on this, we addressed ourselves to those religious who express their contem-plation and apostolate in an active dedication to works of mission. For the sake of brevity, we called them apostolic religious. 3 4 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 Three lines0of thought emerged: 1) the challenge to sisters of apos-tolic life twenty years after the Second Vatican Council; 2) consecration as the heart of apostolic religious life; 3) living that consecration in the Church today. The Challenge to Apostolic Religious Twenty Years After Vatican II A Matter of Identity The challenge facing many apostolic religious is a matter of identity. The fruitful period for the foundation of religious congregations of sis-ters dedicated to apostolic works was approximately from the end of the French Revolution to the first third of the present century. Emigration, the exploration of new continents, the consequent expansion of the Church, the needs created by the industrial revolution, and the political and social developments of the nineteenth century, all called for a Chris-tian service inspired by the works of mercy. The need was met largely and often heroically by institutes of sisters who responded to the call and founding gift of God by undertaking works which expressed the grace ,' he gave: works of education, health care, social rescue, pastoral serv-ice. At that time, few other people were concerned about these areas of need. The sisters were identified, exteriorly at least, by their works, their dress, their convents, their mode of life. They were easily recognized, usually respected, and sometimes put on a pedestal. But whatever the re-action to them, their own identity was secure. They knew what they were about and what they had come to do. Their future seemed predictable, and a young woman presenting herself as a postulant could have a rea-sonable expectation of what her life of serv.ice would be like. The fact that security of works has changed is a natural historical de-velopment. Evolution is necessary and inevitable. Some religious who identified their vocation with what they were doing, certainly had a cri-sis over this. But even the extraordinarily rapid rate of change which has marked the evolution of apostolic works in the past thirty years, was not enough in itself to challenge the religious of apostolic life as they have been challenged since 1966. The issues are deeper. Two great insights of Vatican 1I have had a profound effect on the sense of identity of the apostolic religious: the universal call to holiness, stated in Lumen Gentium, chapter 5, numbers 39-42, and the criteria for renewal of religious life, ~;tated in Perfectae Caritatis, number 2. The universal call to holiness blurred the traditional notion of religious life as a state of perfection, and the criteria for renewal sent religious back to the gospel, .the primitive inspiration of their institute and the changed Consecrated Apostolic Lives conditions of our times with unexpected results. Let us look briefly at these two insights of the Council since they have both obliged sisters of apostolic life to go tothe roots of their identity and to find these in their religious consecration. The Universal Call to Holiness Originally chapters 5 and 6. of Lumen Gentium were conceived as a single entity so that the universal call to holiness actually did embrace all the members of the Church with no chapter distinction between laity and religious. Even in the present separated presentation, the thought of the two chapters is unified and continuous. Lumen Gentium sees~the Church as the people of God, chapter II) hierarchical (chapter III) lay (chapter IV) and called to holiness (chapters V and VI). The Code of Canon Law follows approximately the same pattern, dealing first with Christ's Faithful and then with the hierarchy and institutes of consecrated life. The decree on the Apostolate of Lay People (Apostolicam Actuosi-tatem, 18, XI 1965) develops much more richly the role of the laity in the Church, and Gaudium et Spes opens.up clearly and strongly, the enor-mous role that is theirs precisely because of the call to holiness. The emer-gence of the laity is the logical fruit of chapter 5 of Lumen Gentium ~nd it is not surprising that some of the best writing in preparatio.n for the coming Synod on "the vocation and mission of the laity in the Church and in the world twenty years after the Second Vatican Council" uses terms that a few decades ago would have been thought proper to relig-ious. The concept of the laity as the people of God and the exploration of the depths of, baptismal consecration havebeen slow to leaven the think-ing of the Church and, like all great truths, may have been liable to ex-agg,~ ration in the process. There has been error both by defect and by excess. One school of thought has argued that, if all are called to holi-ness, no way of life is in itself more holy than another; baptism is every-thing, and there is no consecration~beyond that of baptism. Th~is would cut the ground from under all forms of what the Church specifically calls '"consecrated life." Another school of thought has taken the line that, if all are called to holiness, then all, in some obscure way, are called to echo or model the way of life long recognized in the Church as a ~'state of perfection." This confuses the style of life with the substance of ho-liness and moreover does not do justice to number 31 of Lumen Gentium which insists that "their secular character is proper and peculiar to the laity." 6 Review for Religious, January-February 1988 In practice, a remarkable renewal of the laity is actually going on. This is not simply a matter of effective lay movements such as St. Egidio, i'Arche, the Focolarini, the neo-catechumenates and charismatic groups, all of which are especially attractive to young people, but also of a ground swell in favor of the laity. There is a quality of spirituality, of mission, of responsibility in the Church, of active participation that was not known before the Council l Whereas formerly the lay person was identified negatively as one who is not a c!eric or a religious now the nega-tive description is complemented by something much more positive; the laity are "the faithful who by baptism are incorporated into Christ, are placed in the.People of God, and in their own way share in the priestly, prophetic~.and kingly office of Christ, and to the best of their ability carry. on the mission Of the whole Christian people in the Church and in the world" Lumen Gentium .31). The sense of identity is much surer, and it is very clear that one does not have to be a religious to be called to holiness, .to be in .mission in the Church and to be responsible for many of the things that religiOus of apostolic life have done since their foun-dation. This has been a challenge.for many. if all are called to holiness and our work can be done by others, why be a religious? Some Effects of Renewal At the same time as the movement connected with the laity, there has been the parallel movement for the renewal of religious life. Perfe~tae Caritatis (n. 2) called for a renewal and an adaptation of religious insti-tutes in the changed conditions of our times. It is a matter of history that the adaptation, which was the easier and the more evident of the two un-dertakings, happened with great rapidity. In some cases it took place be-fore the implications of true renewal were grasped. In many instances it was not so much an adaptation as a complete transformation which moved an institute away from the expression of its founding gift that had been visible, identifiable and a lived tradition. Adaptation was necessary but the Council assumed an adaptation resulting from and in conformity with the renewal of basic values in religious life. Renewal was to, give a focus to the adaptation~ and criteria of discernment to guide it. With-out such parameters, the attempt to be one with the changed and chang-ing conditions of our times could only involve religious in an endless spi: ral of charige to the point where their identity would no longer be in them-selves but in their conformity to current conditions. The ada.ptations of the past twenty years have gone very far. In a re-action to being identified by their works, many institutes in the early 70s Consecrated Apostolic Lives / 7' laid a heavy emphasis on being rather than on doing. Then a counterac-tion, stressing the idea of mission without adequately defining it, moved back to doing, although this was expressed in new terms, often with a strong social emphasis.~ The shifts were evident in most aspects of apos-tolic religiouslife: There was a far more immediate insertion into soci-ety than .in the past: an active presence and outreach characterized by soli-darity with and preferential option for the poor, the oppressed and the marginalized. The types of work done, while not giving up the traditional health, educational and pastoral services where these remained neces-sary, included a wide variety of new ministries, often in the fields of hu-man promotion and some times of socio-political involvement. Forms of community changed. There were fewer large, institution-like convents but a multiplication of small, loosely structured, inconspicuous resi-dences with a relatively short life span. Structures of government cailed for participation and shared responsibility. Prayer had to be adapted to the new forms of life and work and often became largely individual. For-mation was sometimes uncertain because the life itself was not clear. Too much was left to the Choice of the person entering. The dramatic reduc-tion in numbers posed a problem in itself, and there was a lack of confi-dence on the part of many sisters with regard to their own future. Unless there was a strong grasp of the root values of religious life and a genuine renewal of these, the adaptations of the late 60s and 70s could bri.ng sisters to the point of asking serious questions about their idi~n-tity as religious. The crisis was sharper for sisters of apostolic life since their apostolates brought them into close contact with the crisis that the Church was living at the same time in her effort to be open to the world and be a Church of the poor. Those same apostolates also brought to-gether the sisters and the laity. More than one religious asked: what is the difference between me, who am a sister of apostolic life, and my sis-ter at home, who is a professional Christian laywoman?'It is not prayer; it is not work; in many cases it is not dress; it is not home conditions or lifestyle. The question: "why be a religious?" was being posed from adifferent angle. Some sisters left religious life because they could not answer it with any degree of integrity. Convinced that all share the same call to holiness, the same baptismal consecration, that all take part in the same mission of Christ, that we build the same body of Christ in the com-munion of the Church, that we are all members of the priestly, prophetic and royal People of God, and not seeing much evident difference in the works by whi(h religious and laity express all this, these sisters virtu-ally asked whether there was a difference at all. I~ / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 This is the crux of many a vocation crisis for apostolic religious. The answer in individual cases is never easy because the question itself im-plies that there is already doubt and insecurity. The important thing is the basis on which the doubt and insecurity are met. Two points matter. One is to su[gport and encourage all that is said of the dignity and great-ness of the lay vocation. Religious do not find their own identity at the expense of the laity or by playing down the-laity. On the contrary. The stronger and greater the lay vocation, the more it can help religious to develop their own, and all that the laity have by baptism is also the basis of'the Christian life of.the religious. The second point is to make the ques~ tion concrete and positive. In one sense: "How are we different?" is the wrong question if it is a defensive attempt to fix on what separates us. We should rather ask: "What is it that makes us religious? What does it commit us to? How do we live it?" Many sisters who, possibly could not put that essential specification into words are yet s~ufficiently con-vinced to give their lives because of it--and that speaks for itself. When we do try to put it into wgrds, it comes to the Christian call to holiness and to union with Christ in mission in the Church expressed, not in secu-larity as is the case with the laity, and not through ordination as is the case with the c.lergy, but through religious consecration: a consecration of the whole person which is a new expression of baptism and which is effected by public vows accepted by the Church and made in commu-nity. Our identity, our raison d'etre, our place in the Church have their roots in our religious consecration. For many of us this consecration is specifically apostolic. Consecration The Nature of Our Apostolic Consecration The new Code of Canon Law is very clear that consecration is the basis and specific characteristic of our life as religious, and it has two fine a~ticles to this effect. The first is canon 573.1 which says: "Life consecrated through the profession of the evangelical counsels is a sta-ble form of living in which the faithful follow Christ more closely under the action of the Holy Spirit and are totally dedicated to God who is su-premely loved. By a new and special title they are dedicated to seek the perfection of charity in the service of God's kingdom, for the honor of God, the building up of the Church and the salvation of the world. They are a splendid sign in the Church, foretelling the glory of heaven." The second is canon 607. I: "Religious life, being a consecration of the whole person, shows forth in the Church the marvelous marriage established Consecrated Apostolic Lives by God as a sign of the world to come. Religious by their consecration consummate a full gift of themselves as a sacrifice offered to God,. so that their whole existence becomes a continuous worship of him in love." All the important elements are there: the reality of a consecra-tion to God which takes the whole of life; the rootedness in baptism; the newness; the response of love to the love of God which calls to a rela-tion which is mutual gift like marriage; the commitment to a personal fol-lowing of Christ more closely; the form of the consecration which is by public vows; its public nature; the ecclesial dimension which is in the Church and for the building up of the Church; the stability and specific-ity; and the fact that it is for others: a witness to.the fact of God, of heaven, of the reality of the invisible things of faith that is for the good of all God's people. For us, sisters of apostolic life, there are two other very important articles: canon 673 which states that the apostolate of all religious consists primarily in the witness of their consecrated life and canon 675 which makes clear that, for institutes dedicated to apostolic works, apostolic action is of the very nature of the consecration. Such action is to come from union with God. It is to confirm and foster this union and is to be exercised in the name of the Church and in commun-ion with her. Let us look at some of these ~lements more closely. . Consecration involves, at least implicitly, choice by God and the dou-ble idea of separation for him and dedication to him. In the Old Testa-ment, it came to mean a declaring sacred, a setting aside a reserving or separating out for God which recognized his holiness. In the case of per-sons, Yahweh himself consecrated as, for example, in the wonderful call of Jeremiah (Jr 1:5) whom he foreknew, loved, called and set aside for his ~own service even before he was born. In the new dispensation, Jesus is consecrated and sent (Jn 10:36): "For them do I consecrate myself" (Jn 17:!9). His Church is a consecrated nation, "a people set apart to sing the praises of God" (1 P 2:9). From this consecrated nation God° freely chooses and calls certain ones, as he did the prophets and apos-tles, to live their sharing in his covenant in a way which involves a fur-ther or new consecration. This may be sacramental, in the case of priests; secular, in the case of members of secular institut+s; religious, when it is made through religious profession. In each case it is an unmerited gift of God which, like love, cannot be rationalized. It is something that God works in us and to which we respond. The woman called to be a relig-ious is invited by the Father to a closer following of his Son, is given a particular intimacy with the Lord and is transformed by the Spirit in a-unique relationship of love given and love returned consciously, freely, Review for Religious, January-February 1988 totally. She is separated for and dedicated to this and she gives her life to it in joyful hope and gratitude. She finds in it the inexhaustible source of her own growth in holiness and of her effectiveness and fruitfulness at the service of others. Such a consecration is deeply rooted in baptism and is a fuller ex-pression of the baptismal commitment. Baptism, by which we receive the fruits of the redemption in Christian initiation, establishes a relation with God which is trinitarian and ecclesial. Any further bond with God will be marked by the same characteristics. It can only develop further the relationship of baptism. That is why religious consecration is a dedi-cation; not to the following of Christ to Which we are already bound by baptism, but to the closer following; not to the love of God and neigh-bor because that is already contained in baptism, but to God supremely loved and to service as a pledge for life; not to being Church because we are already fully members of the Church by baptism, but to taking that particular place and role in the Church which are indicated by our religious profession. The consecration is rooted in baptism yet it is new. It is not given to all the baptized and is not an automatic consequence of baptism. It is new because it binds us to new dimensions of the bap-tismal consecration. It is new because it is made with awareness and choice; new as a response of love to a particular call; new because it com-mits us to constant ongoing conversion; new because it constitutes a new iife for God in Jesus Christ (see Redemptionis Donum, n. 7). This new consecration has a particular character: it is marked by a love that is mutual gift--the love of choice and self-giving which is the 10ve of one spouse for another. The Code of Canon Law chooses the im-age of "the marriage established by God as a sign of the world to come" as its description of religious life. From the depth of the love of Jesus comes the call'to Consecration, and this saving call by God's grace, as- -sumes in the depth of the person called, the actual form of profession of the evangelical counsels. ~In this form is contained the answer of the religious to the call of Christ's love: a love of self-giving responding to the divine self-giving. This is the heart of religious consecration: a mu-tual surrender of love which embraces the whole person. The words of Isaiah: "I have redeemed you, you are mine" (Is 43: I), seem precisely to seal this love which is a love of total and exclusive consecration to God. However, mysterious as it is from many points of view, religious con-secration is no abstraction. It involves a particular way of life here and now in a form approved by the Church. Of its very nature such-a way Consecrated Apostolic Lives of life wiil include prayer, mission, service and communion with others who have the same consecration in a particular religious family. It is in a down-to-earth community, in the Church and world as they are today, and in accordance with a specific set of approved constitutions in a given institute that we live our religious consecration. Moreover, consecration takes place through the profession of public vows. The vows are public by their nature and they pledge those who make them to a fraternal life in common (see can. 607). Not only do they set apart and dedicate the consecrated person to God but, as a chief means of fostering this new relationship, they incorporate the person into a religious institute which has its own law and which encourages growth in consecration in its own way. We sometimes talk about religious consecration generically but, as a matter of fact, it is always both specific and concrete. There is no such thing as vows made in general. They must be according to the constitu- .tions of a given institute. In their turn, the constitutions express the found-ing gift given by God to a person or group: Francis, Dominic, the seven founders of the Servites, Mary Euphrasia Pelletier, or Julie Billiart. Each of these lived their own consecration in a way which attracted others, and the institutes which they brought into being are channels for the'~work of the Holy Spirit continuing the gift of God in later generations. Fidel-ity to the identity which is rooted in the gift of God is, therefore, of high importance to any institute. It is transmitted through the consecrated lives of the members and through the consecration of new members, for the consecration itself reflects something of the specific grace, purpose, na-ture and spirit of the religious family in which it is made. It is clear that, although religious consecration involves a stable way of life, it is not a once and for all act. It is the beginning of a new phase of the inner journey to union with God, but it requires a lifelong growth that we call formation, and structures of support and order that we call governmept. We deepen our consecration all our life long. Nor is con-secration self-regarding. It is directed to the fulfillment of God's kind purposes and so is:for the sake of the whole Church. It benefits all God's people. The present Holy Father has expressed this very beautifully when he said that by the fact of consecration the heart of the religious is sealed with the sign of the biblical spouse (see Sg 8:16) and at the same time opened to all the sufferings, needs and hopes both of individuals and of the world. Receiving the love of the Father through the heart of Jesus, the religious enters in a particular way into the economy of the redemp-tion: the transformation of the entire cosmos through the human heart from within. This transformation takes place through the love which con- Review for Religious, January-February 1988 stitutes the very substance of religious consecration. It is by their conse-cration itself, then, that religious take part in the most complete and radi-cal way possible in the shaping of the new creation which must emerge from the abundance of the Paschal Mystery. (see Redemptionis Donum, nn. 8 and 9). This is their deepest sharing in the saving mission of Christ. The consecration of the apostolic religious, however, has a special note. In their case the deep, consecrated sharing in Christ's mission has an expression in apostolic and charitable activity which is of the very nature of their religious life. This activity is a "holy ministry entrusted to them by the Church, to be performed in its name" (Perfectae Carita-tis,. n. 8). It is a ministry closely connected with the founding gift and identity and rooted in consecration. To accomplish it, the entire relig-ious life of the members should be imbued with an apostolic spirit, and all their apostolic activities with a religious spirit. Here we touch the heart of apostolic religious consecration in practice. The apostolate is not something added on to our life of consecration: it is essential to that life. Everything in us~must be "imbued with an apostolic spirit." There is nothing outside it. It embraces the whole of life. We are apostolic, not because of What we do or do not do, but because we are consecrated in such a way that all is done as one sent by God in the name of Jesus and in the power of his self-giving love. The complementary side of thee coin is equally important. The works that we undertake to fulfill the "holy ministry entrusted to us by the Church" are not simply professional ac-tivities. By the fact of consecration, they are to be "imbued with a re-ligious spirit." We are consecrated for God, for the Church, for his peo-ple, not simply to do works which, however good, can be paralleled by many a generous person,° whether Christian or not. Our service is to be a sign of Christian vocation, witnessing to realities that are unseen but eternal. That is why our apostolic action must always proceed from un-ion with God and must confirm and foster that union. We are apos-tolically effective to the extent to which we live ourconsecration. The Place of O~r Apostolic Consecration in the Church Our consecration as apostolic religious is an ecclesial reality, exist~ ing only in and for the Church, the sacrament of salvation of the Christ who is consecrated affd sent. The Code says that we exist to'build up the body of Christ (can. 573.1). Certainly, our consecration is mediated through the Church. The public vows of religious are recognized and re-ceived by ecclesiastical authority, and the life to which they give rise is a divine gift to the Church which does not exist outside her. The Church r(cognizes, fosters and encourages the establishment and growth of re- Consecrated Apostolic Lives ligious institutes. She has the responsibility of discerning gifts and of ap-proving the individual constitutions according to which consecration by vows is made. She also gives the particular apostolic mandate according to which we have a specific, visible and public share in the saving mis-sion given to her by her founder. Our consecration commits us to a dou-ble service in the Church. In the first place, by a free expression of God's will, we are called to do and be intensively, exclusively, publicly and with our whole lives what all Christians are called to do and be by the universal call to baptism described in Lumen Gentium. Our consecration by vows in community frees us from many preoccupations and respon-sibilities of daily life in the areas of possessions, affectivity and choices precisely in order that we may be completely given to this one priority. If we are not living for the sake of others, we are not living our religious consecration because it is for them every bit as much as for ourselves that God has given his gift. We see a kind of parallel in civil life. All citizens have a responsibility for public o.rder and the well-being of so-ciety. Usually all strive to keep the peace. But some do it as a service to the others which is a life commitment. They do it publicly, exclu-sively, giving all their time and energy to it and, in some cases, life it-self. They are not more citizens than those who have chosen other ca-reers, but they express their citizenship in.a specific way for the benefit of all. God has always acted in a similar way with his people. All share the covenant; all are a royal,, prophetic, priestly nation; all are a conse-crated people set apart for God. But it is precisely ,because of this uni-versal call to holiness that God has called individuals and groups to im-age the covenant, to recall it, to live it in a way that is a constant re-minder, so as to help their sisters and brothers to be faithful to it. This call from among the people of God and for the sake of the people of God is not merited but free. It does not argue personal sanctity and does not imply any form of superiority. There were kings who failed, reluctant prophets, unfaithful priests, and apostles who betrayed or denied their Lord. But there is aneed for persons in the line of the prophets and apos-tles who are called by God, set. apart and dedicated to him, and who give up everything to follow him more closely. They focus the common call of God's people and keep it before the eyes of all as a challenge, encour-agement and truth that give meaning to life. The first service that results from religious consecration stands in this tradition. The second service is the more obvious one of apostolic works. There is an intimate connection between the founding gift which originated an institute, the consecration by which members are incorporated into the "14 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 institute, and the works which express the institute's corporate sharing in the mission of Christ. The three cannot be separated. In recognizing an'd approving an institute and mediating the consecration of its mem-bers, the Church acts on a discernment which she has made of the action of the Holy Spirit responding to.the needs of God's people. This divine action usually involves a perception on the part of the institute's foun-dress of some aspect or attribute of God which enables her to see human needs in a particular way and to respond concretely. My own foundress' wonderful awareness that God is good made her want to share her per-sonal experience of his goodness with the people of her rural area of north-east France who had never he~ird of him. This corresponded with the des-perate need for social and religious formation which followed the French Revolution. The result was a sharing in Christ's mission by an aposto-late of catechesis and education. Educational works are not one option among many .for Sisters of Notre Dame. They are the apostolate by which we share and continue St. Julie's founding insight and they are mandated for us by the Church because of this. Most apostolic institutes can trace the relation--founding gift, consecration, apostolic works-- pretty clearly. For example, the very name, Sisters of the Good Shep-herd, is a summary in itself. The Sisters of Mercy are another case in point. So are the Sisters of the Good Samaritan and the Little Sisters of the Poor. In each case, the Church is enriched by a concrete service in an area which she herself has approved and which has its roots in a di-vine initiative continued in consecrated life. Such a service is a matter of faith as well as of professional 'competence. It has a solid ground of continuity as well as diversity in its ongoing development. Both in itself and through the forms of service to which it has given rise, religious consecration is a witness in the Church to the reality of things hoped for and believed but as yet unseen. Consecration is a re-sponse of love in faith. The apostolic religious, by the fact of her conse-cration, asserts her conviction about the reality of God, the truth of Je-sus Christ, the presence of the communicating Spirit. She gives her life to this. In full consciousness of her personal inadequacy, she accepts the responsibility of being salt and light, sign and reminder. She accepts it, moreover, corporately in community with others shar.ing the same un-merited gift, and in a stable way--not simply when she feels like it, or when things go w~ell, or for a certain time, but for better or for worse as a life commitment. The ChurCh has the right to count on the witness and works of consecrated religious. Consecrated Apostolic Lives The Place of Consecration in Our Lives At this point it might be helpful to sum up briefly the place of our apostolic religious consecration in our lives as individual members of our institutes. What does it commit us to? First, to a closer following of Christ, .personally and loved above all, and, in him, to a continuous wor-ship of God in charity. This involves a life like that of the apostles: not a knowing about the Lord but a knowing and loving the Lord himself, taking on his mind and heart in the ordinary things of every day, letting ourselves be transformed by him until to live is Christ (Ph 1:24). This deep love of the person of Jesus gives meaning to our consecrated lives and the foundation of any apostolic spirituality. It is expressed in the vows and it alone can ensure the poverty of heart, the surrender of love and the free obedience that we strive for through our vows. Secondly. we are committed to a sisterly life in common precisely because the un-ion with Christ through love also unites us among ourselves. Commu-nity is characteristic of the religious form of consecrated life. It is the expression of a spiritual bond, a communion, which is Christ among us, our hope of glory (Col 1:27). This bond reflects the Church a~ commun-ion: the aspect so strongly brought out at the 1985 Synod of Bishops. It is also the bond of apostolic following: of sharing the same mission of Christ, in the same way and under the impulse of the same Holy Spirit. This bond is stable, and has its concrete expression in commu-nity as our form of life. We commit ourselves in the third place to a shar-ing in Christ's mission which is corporate, personal and ecclesial. We each accept our personal Part in the mandate which the Church gives to the institute as a whole and we carry out our own mission under the author- ~ity of our institute and according to its traditions. Fourthly, we commit ourselves to fidelity to our own religious institute as God's gift to the Church and to us. This means fidelity to its nature, character, purpose and identity, to its way of life, to its spirit, to its mission, apostolate and works. Such fidelity has to be both honest and creative, respecting both the need for continuity ant] the necessity for change. Finally, implicit in all this is that we commit ourselves to Christ's goal and to Christ's means: prayer, service and the cross in the very apostolates that we do with him for the Father's glory and the salvation of the world. Our con-secration requires that our works come from and lead to union with God. That is one reason why our commitment in faith is a source of confi-dence, joy and hope. Review for Religious, January-February 1988 Living Our Apostolic Consecration Today. The Conditions of Our Times (Perfectae Caritatis n. 2) Perfectae Caritatis pointed to the conditions of our times as one of the three major criteria of renewal. They certainly play a great part in the way that the apostolic religious lives her consecration today. Some sisters bemoan them, others exult in them, others a~ain try to escape them or pretend that they are not there. One good way to approach them is to remind ourselves that we are not living our religious life in 1988 by chance. It might seem easier to have been a "Mother of the desert," or a seventeenth-century pioneer, or even one of our pre-Vatican II sis-ters, sure of her predictable horarium and occupations. However, the fact is that it is here and now that we are living our religious consecration because that is God's choice for us. Of all the possible periods of his-tory, this is the one that his love found best for us. It is not a mistake or an oversight. We know and have believed in his love and this is how he shows it. Our first response has to be a wholehearted Yes to the fact that we INe in our own times. This is our hour. We do not have any otfier, and if we do not accept it,'something will be forev~r lost to God's glory and to the Church of Christ. It is here in this place, now .in this time, with these sisters, in this Church, in this society that each of us carries on the saving work of Christ to which our consecration c6mmits US. What are our times? Certainly they are a period of very rapid change, not to say upheaval, both in the Church and in the world. The years since the Council bave seen significant shifts in long-accepted values and atti-tudes and the raising of questions probably unthinkable in a previous gen-eration. Moral problems are complex. Instant communication has brought nuclear issues, violence, the uncertain striving for world peace, questions of human dignity,~ world hunger, armaments into many peo-ple's homes. Computer technology is easing work on the one hand and on the other posing some deep problems about the future of human de-velopment. One thing is sure. The clock will not turn back. These are our times with their hopes and fears and challenges. We have to know them if we are to live our consecration according to the mind of Christ, because they raise questions about the adaptation of our style of conse-crated life and work. Four areas have been particularly affected by social and ecclesial de-velopments since Vatican II: community, works, formation and govern-ment. The extent of the pressure has varied from culture to culture but Consecrated Apostolic Lives / 17 the general lines are worldwide, and I will confine my observations to the English-speaking world as being the one I know best. Community has moved from the accepted model of a more or less en-closed life with its own traditional .interpretation of being-in-common through uniformity of timetable, prayer, presence, habit, to a present state of considerable diversity. There have been successive phases. Im-mediately after the Council,there was a false dichotomy between com-munity and apostolate and, in reaction to this, the tendency to absolu-tize either one or the other. Then there was the cry for small communi-ties. In the late seventies, by a misunderstanding, anything that was termed "monastic" was considered nonacceptable for apostolic life. Then there were cluster communities, intercongregational communities, international communities, and the cases of sisters living alone. Much of the discussion centered on structure, size, location, style of living and form of government. All these are important, but the considerations need to go deeper if we are to renew,community in a way that corresponds to our times. What is needed is a living witness to the possibility of unity among people. The quality and evidence of community living: that is, the fact of persons living like the apostles did, united to Christ, and to each other because of him, is part of the good news that we bring. Com-munity exists as the expression of communion ir~ the Lord. For this rea-son it is an obligation for religious; notan obligation which is imposed, but an obligation of love which flows naturally from our consecration. It is by the values of consecration and corporate mission that commu-n. ity life is to be evaluated. Certainly, there are changes in the require-ments and possibilities of community life, but probably what needs prayer-ful reflection is the connection between present.trends in community styles and structures and the v~alues of consecrated religious life that these are meant to promote. The touchstone is our consecration: the basic ele-ment which determines the.raison d'6tre., the purpose, the relationships and the nature of community. It is not a~clearcut area. There are good apostolic reasons for many of the changes that are taking place: new needs evident in both the Church and society; much greater specialization and professional mobility; fewer sisters; less stable corporate com-mitments because of the variety of demands; a different kind of outreach to the needy and the marginalized. But the criterion for discernment in decisions that have to be made must first of all be the consecration in which religious community is rooted. What kind of community are we building? What values are we trying to support? If the bottom line is our consecration, our communion in Christ will be such that the witness of Review for Religious, January-February 1988 our community living will be an apostolate in itself. "By this all shall know that you are my disciples, that you have love one for another" (Jn 13:35). If the communion of consecration does not solve all the struc-tural problems, it gives the one sure context for the evolution of com-munity. Something similar has happened in regard to works, and this is not separate from but closely related to developments in community. Ours is a corporate mission: a joint sharing in the one mission of Christ which is an ecclesial mandate taken up by the fact of our consecration to God in a parti.cular institute. It has both the strength and the limitation of its specificity. It is strong because it commits the whole institute to a cer- (ain direction: the service and works which express its founding gift. It is limited because it requires us to forego other kinds of works which are not part of that gift or which are more properly done either by the clergy or by the laity. One of the difficult things to foster in recent years has been the poverty of heart that can accept the limitations of consecrated service for what they really are: fidelity to God's will as expressed in the founding gift and lived tradition, and not some kind of failure in gener-osity. We do not look for variety of works for its own sake. We are not called to act as if all the social, political, economic, educational, pas-toral or medical good in the world depended on us. We are not seeking our own fulfillment. But we are living our consecration to the Christ who was sent in ways which are much more sophisticated than they were twenty years ago. We need a good deal more specialization. We find our-selves called by a wider range of needs. We have more collaboration with other religious, with the laity, with public bodies. We find ourselves faced by increasing demands just when our diminishing numbers and ris-ing median age seem to give less possibility of meeting them. Here it is the mission to which our consecration commits us that is the stable cri-terion for discernment. What are we sent to do? For whicl~ service in the Church of today did the Lord prepare our particular institute? That is where our fidelity must lie. It is our fidelity to our institute's part in Christ's mission that determines our corporate decisions and, within the corporate identity, the works of the individual religious. With regard to formation, I want to make only one remark at this point: namely, that the conditions of our time are one important element in the formation process. We donot carry on our formation in a vacuum or, please God, in some airborne way that is out of touch with reality. The young women who come to us come from today's society with its attitudes, values, habits and ways of acting. It is twenty years since the Consecrated Apostolic Lives Second Vatican Council, so very few of our candidates will have expe-rienced the often healthy security that marked pre-Vatican II religious life. Although conditions change from one culture to another, most young women have known only a rapidly changing world and a suddenly changing Church. Why come to institutes in process of changing their lives and revising their constitutions? At the same time, older sisters, em-bracing or resisting or avoiding the changes of the past twenty years, have been faced by the challenge of an ongoing formation which has to take into account the conditions of the times while it deepens and fos-ters growth in all the areas of consecrated life. Alike for the candidate and for the golden jubilarian, the focus is consecration. The candidate is preparing for it. The older sister is deepening it by her daily ongoing formation in community. How do we ensure this process today? How do we set formation in the late 1980s squarely in the perspective of our con-secration to the God who sends us in mission? Finally, government has been greatly affected by the values, particu-larly the political values and principle~s, of our times. Democracy, par-ticipation, subsidiarity, consensus, shared responsibility, collective de-cision making, due process appear in some shape or form in most drafts of constitutions. There is a stress on collectivity and leadership and on the gifts of the individual sister. All this is a curious amalgam of much that is good in the tendencies of our times but it has three striking char-acteristics: it usually avoids with great care any clear authority, organi-zation and general structure, all of which are necessary if government is to work; it makes no a~;sumption of faith, but seems to aim at effi-ciency of function rather than efficacy of purpose; it does not necessar-ily relate the government structures of an institute to its founding gift and tradition, yet this relation is critically important. The influences on gov-ernment have real potential for good but they cannot be accepted uncriti-cally or simply because they seem to be the trend of the times. How do we discern which ones will be helpful? Allowing for the existence of our own traditions and of the general law of the Church, which processes and structures will best promote our religious life and service? Again it comes down to which ones will support and foster our consecration in mission. It is evident that values have to be clear and deeply accepted, but the touchstone for decisions is consecration. Response to Our Times What we offer to the men and women of our time is the dedication to God, to the Church and to the saving work of Christ in our world that is contained in our consecration. It is a self-giving which witnesses to "20/Review for Religious, January-February 1988 love through service: a witness of faith which makes us signs of the God we cannot see, and of the invisible realities that everyone hopes for. It need not be dramatic. Most of the time, it seems very ordinary and rou-tine. But we must be deeply convinced of its necessity and validity. God has chosen each of us before the creation of the world to live through love in his presence and to continue actively the mission of Christ in our world here and now. These are his "kind purposes" (see Ep 1:5). We have, therefore, three centers of focus in our one consecration: Christ, the Church, and the world, and it is from these interrelated centers that our style of response to our times takes its shape. I suggest that the Church and society today need among religious~ not so much planners, as contemplatives; not so much professors as proph-ets; not so much public servants as apostles. It is witness rather than words or works which speaks in our time. It is therefore as contempla-tives who are one with Christ, as prophets who hear and communicate his word in the Church and as apostles sent in our own world that we live our consecration, whatever our work may be. That is the heart of our response. We are to be contemplatives, not because of a lifestyle that is en-closed, but because we have committed ourselves by our vows to live always the particular response of faith, hope and love by which we open ourselvesto the revelation of the living God and to communion with him through Jesus Christ in the Holy Spirit in every aspect of our lives. The contemplative dimension of our consecration is basically a reality of grace. It is a gift of God by which we know him as Father (see Jn 14:8) in the mystery of the Trinity dwelling within us (see Jn 14:23). By it we savor what Saint Paul calls "the depths of God" (I Co 2:!0) and. by the gradual purification of the paschal cross all our lives long, we come more and more to meet God in everything and in everyone, to serve him in our sisters and brothers, to. love, adore and praise him in the daily round of our duties. Our consecration commits us to this: to live, be and serve in the perspective of God no matter what our workg may be. Our joys and our sufferings, our immediate tasks and the responsibilities which take time, attention, patience and professional competence are very much part of our lives and are the occasion both of our apostolic .effectiveness and of our personal growth, but we can never afford to let them obscure the vision of faith by which we witness to the reality of what we hope for: to the truths that we cannot see. It is in this contem-plative faith suffusing our lives and publicly expressed as the basis of Consecrated Apostolic Lives our consecration that we find the conviction of the validity of our life and of the value in the Church and world of today. We also serve as prophets. Individuals were called from among the people of Israel to listen for God's word, to hear it and communicate it. They were members of a pro.phetic people at the service of that people and they were one of God's ways of keeping the people faithful to the covenant. In the Church, too, the Lord of history has called some, for the sake of all, to a prophetic role among his people. Jesus is the grea~t prophet: the one who is both message and messenger. In him is the full-ness of the Holy Spirit who is the Spirit of prophecy. It is in him and to him that we are consecrated as religious. In that consecration there is a distinct sharing in his prophetic mission. We are to be united with God o in our contemplation but, both individually and corporately, we are also to listen to his word, to recognize it in our own times, to speak it in the way that we live and serve and relate to others. This is no easy matter. A look back at Jeremiah or Isaiah or Jonah or Ezekiel will remind us that we cannot talk lightly about being prophets. It is significant that none of the prophets wanted the role. Moses objected. Jeremiah re~proached the Lord. Jonah ran away. Yet something of their vocation is ours, and we have to face the devastating challenge to complete poverty of heart that they recognized and feared. What does it involve? In the first place; a humble acceptance of God's choice and of God's message. Itis his teaching through Scripture, through the Church, through a tested discern-ment of our own situation properly approved, that we are to speak by words, by action and by life. We do not preach our own .message, we do not decide to whom we will go nor with whom we will work; we do not choose where we will give witness. We do not have an eight-hour prophetic day; it is a calling that takes our whole life. We forgo our own security to depend on God. We accept the cost of prophecy: the suffer-ing, the likely rejection, the misunderstanding, the self-giving that may cost life itself. We are sharply aware of our own inadequacy and defi-ciencies, of our inability to be and do anything without the power of Christ acting in us. And most of the time that power acts in secret. The most effective prophets are often the ones who are least a~iare of their prophetic work. But the very fact of our vows, publicly professing val-ues that speak pr.ofoundly to sex, possessions and self-determination, the fact of our life in community, which speaks to the segregation, aliena-tion and marginalization of so many people, and the fact of our service. in mission given out of love, not out of compulsion, all make us a part of a presence and action in the Church that is distinctly prophetic. Review for Religious, January-February 1988 As apostles, we are sent to carry the good news. Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. He is alive now and among us. We have met him; he knows and loves us and all those whom we serve. The fruits of our con-templative faith and our prophetic calling are in our apostolic mission. "As the Father has sent me, I als0 send you" (Jn 20:21). This is why t.he element of missioning: of sending and bei.ng sent, is of so much im-portance in our religious life. We are sent into the world, sent to our works, sent to our communities. We accept the" sending, which is the most effective expression of our obedience, with the same love and free-dom as Christ accepted his, because he makes it possible. Through the Church and through the" mediation of our own institute structures we con-tinue in our own times the work of the Christ who was sent. This is a critically important value in setting up p.rocesses of missioning today. Christ, the Church, and the world combine in the consecration of the apostolic religious to give a commitment to God in community in mis-sion which, in, the concrete reality of the conditions of our times, is a witness eloquent in itself. It has to be lived with full generosity and fi-delity if its potential, is to be realized. Rooted in consecration and ex-pressed in apostolate With the rest of our community, it can be a truly prophetic witness and it is on this level above all that we have something very valid tb bring to our times. Conclusion Despite the questions with which we began these reflections, it must be clear that the consecration of sisters dedicated to apostolic works has a particular place in today's Church. It is by vowed consecration lived in community and approved by theChurch, that we are religious at all, and it is as religious that we receive our particular sharing in the Church's mission. This sharing involves witness to God and a service to our sis-ters and brothers in Christ, that can take many forms but the forms have to be consonant with our consecration, with our founding gift and' tradi-tions, and with the Church's mandate. Our life needs love, faith and fi-delity; it needs a constant sensitiveness to Christ, to the Church and to ~he world; it needs a firm conviction as to its own validity. All these are components of the formation we receive and in which we continue to grow. So long as that growth is centered on what is essential to our life: the vowed consecration in community to the Christ who Was consecrated and sent, not to condemn the world but to save it, we will be increas-ingly what God intends us to be in the Church: witnesses of faith, signs of hope, evangelizers through service. The side-effects of this will come of their own accord: the quiet evidence of a way of living that offers al- Consecrated Apostolic Lives / 93 ternate values to those of sex, money and power; the long-term impact on society of educat.ional 'or pastoral works that consistently operate on Christian principles; the witness of service willingly given for reasons that have nothing to do with professional advancement, ambition or per-sonal gain; the existence in the Church on a permanent and reliable ba-sis of persons and institutions who are channels of God's love in action mirroring the presence among us of Christ the teacher, Christ the healer, Christ the reconciler, Christ the Good Shepherd. This is what we are about today as apostolic religious. May the Lord who consecrated us and began his good work in us, bring it to its completion (see Ph 1:6) for it is only in him that we bear fruit for the Father's glory (Jn 15:8)and he has promised to be with us, even to the end of time (see Mt 28:20). The One Prayer of Jesus David P. Reid; SS.CC. Father Reid, whose interests are "peace, family and the relationship between life and religion,;' teaches New Testament at the Washington Theological Union. He is especially grateful to Sr. Margaret Therese Evans, S.N.D., for encouraging him in seeking publication of this article and for editing its text. Father Reid may be ad-dressed at: Washington Theological Union; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Md 20903-3699. The power to praise is itself your gift. ~,.very prayer is ultimately some shadow and some part of the praise of God. To be able to praise God, of course, is itself God's gift. The fact is we do not pray on our own strength; we pray out of discovering a strength within us. We just hope that our presence, our attempt, is itself prayer. In other words, we come with a tremendous sense of humility into the act of prayer. We hope that our effort at doing certain things re-ally is prayer offered to God. There is only one "pray-er": that is Jesus. Anything we do is a par-ticipation in the one prayer addressed to God through Jesus. When we go to pray, we can be mindful of the Japanese Buddhist in a shrine in Kyoto, or the Hindu taking care of a poor man on the streets of Calcutta, or all the people of the world wanting to pray. In the light of the Gos-pel, we believe that we all share but one prayer: the prayer of Jesus. All the prayer of the whole world reaches God through Jesus because God's ultimate revelation to the human is Jesus, the Christ. We enter into a stream, a wide stream of life. We can have a great sense of solidarity with our human family of brothers and sisters through-out the world as each tries to pray in his or her respective way. Some- 24 The One,,Prayer of Jesus how or other, the prayer of each is nudged this way and that, is cele-brated this way or heard that way. Somehow or other the prayer of each is taken by Jesus and offered to the Father. When we pray we hope that we have heard the prayer of Jesus and that we are releasing his prayer into the world. As we enter into prayer, his prayer is released through us into all the nooks and crannies of this huge, complicated world of hu-man beings. "The power to pray is itself your gift." Who is this gift of God? Je-sus! The power to pray is Jesus. Theologians speak about the "anony-mous Christian" and about the convergence of all things towards God as the "omega point." We, even with our.feeble efforts, are a part of that wide drama. Sometimes it is hard to keep .our footing in this mar-velous procession through Jesus to the Father. We want to bail out. But we were never asked to succeed. Rather we have been invited to become pari of the prayer who is Jesus. "Accept my effort, Good God, and make it part of the prayer of Jesus." Deep down we know that all we do is to offer ourselves. The point is made clearly each time we pray at ,.the Eucharist: "Pray, brothers.and sisters, that our offering may be ac-ceptable . " Our offering is united to the offering of Jesus. The of-fering of Jesus is lovingly accepted by the Father. It becomes a sacrifice. We do not presume to call our offering a sacrifice. Only God makes holy. Only God makes a sacrifice. Only God's action accepting our of-fering makes it a sacrifice. Jest]s' prayer, acted out in his loving self-donation on the cross is totally and completely acceptable to God. Jesus is God's gift. Jesus is God's power to pray. Only in his power do we pray to God. Only his prayer fully resonated with the Father's desire to redeem the world. Perhaps all of us experience problems with prayer. These can be prob-lems of all shapes and makes; at times, problems of faith, at other times, problems of discipline. It will help to solve.some problems to underscore the humility and honesty with, which we come to prayer. We place ~ur-selves in the presence of the praying Jesus. The evangelists portray Je-sus in prayer with the intention of inviting us to be with him. The sim-ple statement: "I prayed this morning," may in fact be too proud. All I did was place myself alongside of the only pray-er there is, Jesus. This is the most exciting and beautiful part of prayer. Recall the scene in Luke's gospel where the Pharisee and the publi-can pray. One of them trots up to the front of the temple and pours out his prayer, while the other one i~ depicted as hanging back, terribly con-scious of the small offering that he is making; he knows that this whole 96 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 thing of praying could fall apart in his hands at any moment. I suggest that this reaction is central to the experience of prayer. "I must decrease, he must increase." We come to pray with a deep sense of our frailty but secure in our awareness that Jesus is the pray-er to whom God has re-sponded. God raised Jesus from the dead, sure sig~'J that God heard the prayer of Jesus. His whole life was prayer because his whole life led to the response of God in raising him up. In prayer we are asking that we be heard as was Jesus. This brings a beautiful unity to our prayer and a deep consolation. All the many ways we pray are efforts to enter :the prayer of Jesus. It would be unwise to evaluate the various ways of praying and declare one way better than another. Each comes from our broken lives at a par-ticular moment and is offered through Jesus who likewise knew many ways to pray to his Father. We give a very concrete interpretation to the idea that we should pray always. Many persons have experienced a whole new creativity in prayer by choosing to call up6n this gift of God in a whole.variety of situations. The gifts of God are not to be compared but only identified as God's gift for this time and in this place and in these circumstances of my life. So it is wise not to compare gifts of prayer but to marvel at the way in which God enables us to pray as we need at any given time. This is true also of the prayer of dryness, even the "prayer of distraction" if we are permitted to coin such a term. Distractions in prayer are a big problem. The problem is not, how-ever, that we have distractions but how we handle them. When we find ourselves distracted, we must re-read the distraction. We must put our-selves in touch with the feelings that were experienced in the distraction. It could be that the distraction is what God wants us to bring to conscious-ness and sur~'ender to him in this prayer. When we offer our distractions to God often we are offering our real selves at that moment. We are "praying from the gut." That's what~.~God wants. God wants our real lives, here and now made part of ever-being-prayed prayer of Jesus. Our distractions are putting flesh on the prayer of Jesus now. How? We are enfleshing his prayer in the midst of that distraction. We are taking the prayer ofJesus and allowing it to become part of our world. It may mean praise, it may mean glory, it may mean healing, it may mean contrition. All the more power,fully therefore do we conclude our time of prayer with the simple refrain: "tht:ough Jesus Christ our Lord." As I conclude my prayer'with this refrain I am greatly consoled. It is not just a nice way to end a prayer; itis the only way both to begin and to end. Often I am distracted during'those prayers at the Eucharist when we recall all The One Prayer of Jesus / 97 those for whom we pray. And before I know where I am we are praying the final doxology. If I trust Jesus praying in me, I can abandon myself in that final sweep as our prayer reaches out to God in the outstretched arms of Jesus: "Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all honor and glory is yours, almighty Father, for ever and ever." As the Amen of the community resounds in my ears, I can letgo of my frailty and recognize again that all our strength comes from our being rooted in God. If God could be so "distracted" as to take up his abode in our midst, we can see our distractions as an invitation to take up our abode in God. So our i~sue then is to be very much in touch with the prayer of Je-sus, to believe deeply that we are baptized into his prayer. That prayer is going on inside of us constantly. To take time to pray is to tap into that deep vein, that deep thrust of life which is going on inside. We are in Christ. We are profoundly in Christ.~We are far more in Christ that we shall ever imagine. To pray is to come home to ourselves in the depth to which we are being plunged into Christ. To live is to belong to the community of praise. Now what is Jesus Christ doing in his prayer in the midst of us? He is leading us into the community of the praise of God. We become part of his prayer because his prayer is access to the community of praise. In the imagery of the Letter to the Hebrews, it can be said that Jesus leads us into the Holy of Holies. We are ushered into the presence of God. The wildest dreams of the Old Testament people are fulfilled. Many longed for the joy of going to Jerusalem. Three times a year the pious Jewish person went up to the Holy City. These visits were the high points of the year. All the remainder was lived in the valleys of expectation. Hear the psalmist say it in words of unspeakable beauty: For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand elsewhere. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the ,house of God than dwell in the tents of wickedness (Ps 84:10 RSV). For them the annual pilgrimages to Jer.usa!em expressed a hope that God would grant such a request: access to God's presence in the midst of the community of praise. They set out for Jerusalem hoping and pray-ing that.they could make the journey and then be .found not unworthy to enter into the very presence of God. Only the high priest could enter the Holy of Hblies once a year. That is what it meant to be alive: to be given access in the community of praise to the very presenc.e of God. 91~ / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 This image of the community of praise is a very powerful image. To develop it I suggest a reading of the healing of the Samaritan leper in Luke's gospel. The story is known to all: On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Gali-lee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their'voices and said, 'Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." When he saw them he said to them, 'Go and show your-selves to the priests." And as they went they were cleansed. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned b_ack, praising God with a loud voice, and he fell on his face at Jesus' feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then said Jesus, 'Were not ten cle-ansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" And he said to him, 'Rise and go your way; your faith has made you whole" (17:11-19 RSVi. A painful part of being a I~per was that one was denied access to the community of praise. Jesus sent the lepers off to thd priests to be read-mitred to the community of praise. They discovered that they were healed while on the way there. The Samaritan did nbt need a priest to declare him readmitted. In a daring move, he stepped out in faith and declared that the new situation~ in which he now stood was indeed the community of praise. He rejoiced and praised God. " Jesus' purpose in preaching the kingdom of God was to direct peo-ple °again to the community of praise. He had come from that~commu-nity of praise and he ,was leading people back to that community of praise. He would give us access to the community of praise to the glory of God. And th'e proclamation of the kingdom was to overcome the things that held us back from that 9ommunity. Call it Satan, call it the reign of Satan, call it whatever you will. But he set himself very directly against those things that held back people from allowing that formula of praise to really resonate in their hearts. It is interesting that the person healed is not only a leper; he is also a Samaritan. There was only one thing worse than being a leper in a Jew's eyes; that was being a Samaritan. Here there is one, both a Samari- ,tan and a leper, who finds that all that Jerusalem ever stood for is right here now before him as he praises God for the gift of Jesus. It is won-derful! One finds a whole new redefinition of Jerusalem, of temple, of Samaritan and of what it means to belong to the community of praise. How lovely i~; thy dwelling place, O Lord of Hosts. My soul longs, yea, fainis for the ~ot~rts of the Lord; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God iPs 84:1 RSV). The One Prayer of Jesus In all of the gospels, but especially in Luke, there is an emphasis put on the response of the people to a miracle performed in their midst. It is part of telling the story to underscore the reaction of the participants. Here Luke gives a story which outdoes all others in presenting this reac-tion of praise. The favorable reaction is proportionate to how much the person felt bound by the particular malady. Every miracle restores a per-son to the community of praise; the story of the Samaritan has as its spe-cial purpose to point out that Jesus restores one to the community of praise by removing the blocks that hold back people from access to God. The purpose of the miracles and the purpose of recounting the miracles is less proving that Jesus was divine than illustrating how Jesus gave ac-cess to the Divine. Only God can give access to Godself and Jegus as God's beloved Son rejoiced in giving to humankind access to his Father. Such access is life. Jesus restored the dead to life as a pledge of the Father's power at work within him to lead us all finally to the praise of God's glory forever. Jubilate Deo As our singing in harmony fades and dies Jubilate Deo the music of the silence rises from within our hearts set free by the Spirit who loves to play in the stillness of united hearts. Noel Davis 257 Abercrombie Street Chippendale, N.S.W. Australia 2008 A Word About Praising John Sheila Galligan, I.H.M. Sister John Sheila resides at Mary Immaculate Convent; 10th and Moore Streets; Phila-delphia, Pennsylvania 19148. Without doubt, even a cursory reading of Scripture reveals that the theme of praise pulses in the depths as well as on the surface of the biblical tra-dition. We are swept along at an almost breathless pace as explicit prayers of praise, invitations to praise, and reflections on various aspects of the act of praising come to the fore. With enthusiasm and confidence the Psalmist proclaims resolutely: "I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall be ever in my mouth" (Ps 34:2). God himself praises his gen-tle servant: "Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom my soul delights" (Is 42: 1). In the Gospels these words are reit-erated in reference to Jesus: "This is my beloved Son, on whom my fa-vor rests. Listen to him" (Mt 17:5; see Lk 9:35; Mk 9:7). A close ex-amination of the countless references to "praise" shows that praise is not merely an emotional outpouring, but a theological statement of depth ¯ and seriousness. Throughout Scripture the central meaning of praise seems to indicate the human person as receptive and responsive: recep-tive to the discernible presence of God, responsive in the expression of wonder and awe. Praise is a key element in the life of the spirit. Abraham Heschel, a noted Jewish theologian, makes an incisive comment: The secret of spiritual living is the power to praise. Praise is the harvest of love. Praise precedes faith. First we sing, then we believe. The fun-damental issue is not faith but sensitivity and praise, being ready for faith. ~ 3O A Word About Praising Little do we think about the nature of praise--though nowhere does the might of the spirit appear so openly, so directly and tangibly present as in the act of giving praise. What does it mean--to praise? Surely, an examination of the nature of praising and its place in our lives would be an enriching endeavor. Praise: Its Nature Several passages from the writings of the acclaimed Christian apolo-gist and literary critic C. S. Lewis offer substantive material for reflec-tion and application. The theme of praise is etched into his works with a laser-like intensity of conviction: conviction crystallized in his experi-ence. An understanding of its determinative importance in human life per-meates his works. The tenor and thrust of Lewis' insight are most fully developed in a chapter of his book Reflections on the Psalms. There he affirms that praise is an expression 9f approval, a positive affirmation.2 To praise God is to acclaim, magnify, honor, and glorify him. Praise is a commin-gling of wonder, awe, adoration, and thanksgiving. To praise is to ac-knowledge lovingly and accept gratefully not only what God is in him-self, but what he is for the human person. Authentic praise involves ex-altation, sensitivity to the sacred, awareness of indebtedness to God. It seems to be born when the mystery of God and the mystery of the hu- ¯ man person meet. Praise, Lewis maintains, is th~ dynamic response of a creature who knows himself or herself to be the object of God's infinite love. Lewis personally gave "praise" for coming to this discovery after a slow and hesitant faith-struggle of more than thirty years. With. straightforward sim-plicity he writes of his conversion: The Prodigal Son at least walked home on his own feet. But who can duly adore that Love which will open the high gates to a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance to escape?3 Here again we see that praise is essentially a receptive and respon-sive attitude, the diffuse and grateful conviction of being known and loved by God. Lewis draws our attention to the fact that praise is a response to an objective value and, therefore, an expression of the will. As such, he sug-gests it is not just something sentimental, nor does it primarily refer to a special intensity of feeling. Rather, it concerns the extremely solid and sober matter of responding to an objective good. Praise is the "correct, 39 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 adequate, and, appropriate response" to someone or something that de-serves it.4 Therefore, the Psalmist can state, "Praise is rightfully yours, O God" (Ps 65:2). In every conceivable case praise signifies much the same as approval.5 We find that the Psalms frequently issue an invita-tion to praise with a "because" as they proclaim the reason for honor and praise: "Praise the Lord, for he is good; sing praise to our God, for he is gracious; it is fitting to praise him" (Ps 147:1; see Ps 33:1). Thus, the issue of praise is not primarily our feelings and our words; the issue of praise is God." Essentially then, to praise is to discover a value, appreciate it, and in some way express this appreciation. Overtones of ampler meaning emerge from Lewis' attempt to clarify the meaning of "appreciation." The word appreciation for him, means to "love and delight in. ,,6 The beginning of praise is appreciation--and the beginning of appreciation is a sense of humble awe in the face of the mystery of the enduring love and goodness of God. In the light of this we could perhaps say that praise is a form of the truth to be grasped by the spirit. Lewis stresses, too, that to praise is to forget the self and break down the walls of self-absorption and resistance to God. Praise is fueled by love; therefore, selfishness smothers praise. With a dash of daring and characteristic dry humor, Lewis points out his discovery that "the hum-blest, and at the same time most balanced and capacious minds, praised most, while the cranks, misfits, and malcontents praised the least.''7 Praise and Creation: Matter Really Matters Not surprisingly, Lewis constantly affirms the sheer "goodness" of all that God has created. There is no good trying to be more spiritual than God. God never meant man to be a purely spiritual creature .He likes matter. He invented it.8 This marvelous truth is illustrated with a clear and steady focus through-out Scripture and in consequent theological reflection. "God saw that it was good" is a refrain repeated seven times within the first thirty-one verses-of Genesis (see Gn 1:4,10, 12, 18,21,25,31). Heschel's comment is apt: The biblical words about the genesis of heaven and earth are not words of information but words of appreciation. The story of creation is not a description of how the .world came into being but a song about the glory of the world's having come into being: "And God saw that it was good" (Gn 1:25),9 A Word About Praising The whole earth is full of God's glory. Psalm 148 calls us to recog-nize the wonder of God's work and express it in word. Because God has clothed creation with loveliness, the Psalmist sings: "All "your works praise you" (Ps 145:10). We find the theme frequently in poetry, per-haps most beautifully expressed in the Canticle of the Sun by St. Fran-cis. Throughout his works Lewis indulges his delight in the reality of the world with i~nthusiasm and zest. Readers find themselves immersed in powerful imagery and scenes which create the memorable impression that matter really matters. Lewis constantly celebrates the "profusion of pleasure" which lies about us. Always he extends the marvelous in-vitation: Come out, look back, and then you will see--this astonishing cataract of bears, babies, and bananas: this immoderate deluge of atoms, orchids, oranges, cancers, canaries, fleas, gases, tornadoes and toads.~° in the. mystery of creation he sensed the presence of God. It filled him with wonder and gratitude. According to Lewis, not to praise what God has crea~ed is not to see. He would agree with Elizabeth Barrett Browning's pertinent observation in the poem "Aurora Leigh": Earth's crammed with heaven And every common bush afire with God; And only he who sees takes off his shoes-- The rest sit around and pluck blackberries. The world is "crammed" with the marvelous. Yet our perception is frag-ile and lacks intensity. We can be blind and deaf and dull. Therefore, Lewis is adamant: We may ignore, but we can fiowhere evade, the presence of God. The world is crowded with him . The real labor is to remember, to at-tend. In fact, to come aware. Still more, to remain awake. I I Lewis' insights are unambiguously positive. He urges us to rejoice in the "joy, pleasure and merriment which God has scattered broad-cast.''~ 2 He thrilled to the genuine delight which one should discern in the patterns of pleasure that God has created. The inexhaustible fecun-dity of the "glad Creator" provides a riot of light and color, taste and smell. ~3 Even Sci'ewtape, the senior devil in Lewis' Screwtape Letters, attests tO the truth that God "is a hedonist at heart . Out at sea, out in his sea, there is pleasure and more pleasure. He makes no secret of 34 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 it; at his right hand are pleasures forevermore." 14 Praise and the Present Moment: Time Touches Eternity Without doubt, Lewis roots praise, in an appreciation of what is "ex-traordinary" in the ordinariness of the present moment. An intuitive and pervasive perception of the fact that every moment is significant, draw-ing its power from God's presence and efficacy in it, under,,lines Lewis' assertion that the "Present is the point at which time touches Eter-nity." ~5 That God's loving and caring presence is~prismed through the present moment strikes the core of his understanding of the nature of praise and its intimate connection with Providence. This notion is crucial in the great theological vision of Julian of Nor-wich, whose statement "All shall be well" is rooted in the reality of "All is well.''~6 A splendid text in Romans also embraces the vision: "We know that God makes all things work together for the good of those who love him" (Rm 8:28). Reality and actuality exist only in the present moment. Because of this, Lewis exhorts us to reflect upon the question, "Where, except in the present, can the Eternal be met.9''~7 A disciplined and intelligent grasp of the art of appreciatipn of the present moment permeates Lewis" works. In his science-fiction novel Perelandra we are told that Maleldil (God) is in every place, "even in the smallness beyond thought." Realizing that a glimpse of God's hand at work in the zigs and zags of our experience can be bewildering, yet providential, he writes: The pattern is so large that within the little frame of earthly experience there appear pieces of it between which we can see no connection, and other pieces between which we can . Before the world was made, all these things had so stood together in eti~rnity that the very, signifi-cance of the pattern at this point lay in their coming together in just this fashion.~8 And in a letter to his friend Arthur Greeves, he shrewdly observes: The great thing, if one can~ is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptionsOof one's own or "real" life. The truth is, of course, that whht one calls the interruptions are precisely one's real life--the life God is sendingone day by day. 19 Thus, a realization that the present moment is enlivened with an incar-national intensity and. vision is crucial to spiritual growth. And in the won-der of this awareness we respond with. praise. To prai~se thi~ singularit.y A Word About Praising of the moment is the fruit of spiritual maturity. Praise and Joy: The Serious Business of Heaven Praise, according to Lewis, is an outburst of the heart, an act of buoy-ancy and spontaneity. Praise transmutes feeling into delight. He urges us to remember that praise is the "mode of love which always has some element of joy in it.''2° It is immediately apparent that here Lewis is as-serting something that strikes at the heart of the meaning of praise: In human experience praise is intimately intertwined with joy. In short, we are confirmed in our sensing that profound joy can generate praise and praise is the springboard for joy. Again Lewis observes that "all enjoy-ment spontaneously overflows into praise."2~ He states, "I think we de-light to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses, but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation . The delight is incomplete until it is expressed.' ,22 The richness of this state-ment rests on its suggestiveness as well as on its explicit message. It brings to the fore that fact that a sense of admiration, permeated by love, is drawn to completion in praise. Praise and Suffering: A Sacrifice of Praise If a primal and central quality of praise is joy, what are we to under-stand in Scripture's invitation tooffer the Lord a "sacrifice of praise" (see Heb 13:15; Ps 50:14; Ps 54:8)? It is a remarkably powerful and some-what unsettling image. Perhaps further exploration of the truth that a proper and healthy awareoess of our "dependency" on God is the most fertile soil for growth in spiritual maturity would be helpful. We have already noted that a reverently' surrendered heart is the wellspring of praise. Nothing so ham-pers the capacity to praise as the desire to control and the temptation to manipulate. The focus of praise is not the self; therefore, praise is part of an asceticism. :Lewis comes to grips with this notion in the summary statement: The proper good of a creature is to surrender itself to its Creator--to en-act intellectually, volitionally, and emotionally, that relationship which is given in the mere fact of being a creature . In the world as we now know it, the problem is how to recover this self-surrender.23 "Self-surrender" demands courageous fidelity to the demands of disci-pleship. It urges that we cut through all the swaggering and petty indul-gence of the ego, .that we crack the hollow of self-reliance. The death 36 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 to self that constitutes surrender becomes an instrument of hollowing and hallowing, a means of rooting our security in God. Bluntly challenging, this "self-surrender' '--and almost more dismay-ing than comforting! A superficial reflection might give the impression that this is a negative kind of experience, with no connection to the act of praising. 'Delving more de.eply, we find yet another level of meaning. For praise must flow out of and then back into the reality of a silent sur-render to the mystery of God's love for us--love most fully exemplified in the crucified and risen Christ. In reality, there are no deep expressions of love, no deep experiences of love that are not in some way the consequences of a sacrifice of self. We may deny it, ignore it, or repress it, but deep down we know it is true. Yes, we are involved in a paradox here. Marvelously concrete, Le-wis states: "We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the suf-ferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to him; throwing away all defensive armor."2'~ Through offering a "sac-rifice of praise," we are drawn out of the shallows of life to greater depth, to newness of life. God provides us with situations in which we must be more faithful, more patient, or more loving th~in we ever imag-in( d being before. This draws attention to our experience of contingency and limitation. Our fickle natures shy away from offering a sacrifice of praise because the "sacrificial" element hurts. Lewis' insight is on target: "We shrink from a too naked contact [with God], because we are afraid of the di-vine demands upon us which it might make too audible.' ,25 The rich in-terplay between love and suffering is acknowledged in his assertion that Christianity is "hard and tender at the same time. It's the blend that does it; neither quality would be any good without the other,''26 To be poised and ready to plunge into living out this surrender is to desire conformity to God's plan for us. Thus, "obedience" is at the heart of offering a sacrifice of praise. In his book Perelandra, the man Ransom jolts us with the challenging question: ".Where can you taste the joy of obeying unless He bids you do something for which His bid-ding is the only reason?''27 The paradoxical meaning of offering a sacrifice of praise is evidenced in the experience of great joy. A deeply appreciative perception of truth, beauty, or goodness triggers a reaction, or rather a response, in which the feeling of joy is linked with a feeling of lack. Lewis develops this notion by describing his moments of greatest joy as experiences of :'in- A Word About Praising consolable longing."28 Our inability to rest in such moments, to grasp and cling to and somehow claim them, reveal them as an anticipation, a,preparation for full enjoyment of their source: God. Lewis. reminds us that we have "a root in the Absolute''29 and therefore he can state, too, that "all joy reminds; it is never a possession."3° God's design is to keep us on tiptoe, to nourish our thirst for himself with little "glimpses" into what will some day be forever. The painful lack that is constitutive of these '"patches of Godlight" in the woods of our experience"3~ summon us to move beyond. To offer a "sacrifice of praise" is to allow our innate appetite for the Infinite, our thirst for God himself, to dislodge us whenever we are inclined to settle down. Praise and Adoration: Fused Moments of Felicity Authentic praise sometimes goes beyond the scope of emotion; it is the threshold to the transcendent. Thus Lewis speaks of praise in con-nection with what spiritual theologians would call contemplative prayer. He notes that praise is intimately linked with what he calls "Apprecia-tive Love." This love rejoices in exclaiming, "We give thanks to You for Thy great glory." Appreciative love, Lewis writes, "gazes and holds its breath and is silent, rejoices that such a wonder should exist." and he adds that God "can awaken in man, toward himself, a supernatural Appreciative Love. This is of all gifts the most to be desired."32 In an-other place he calls this special love "the gift of adoration.''33 In such a profound and pervasive spiritual experience, knoffledge 'and love are so intimately united that they can actually be identified with each other. To understand what happens here is to enter into the lovely land of the mystique of the heart. "Praise" at such moments involves ~imazement, not understanding; awe, not reasoning. Seized and refreshed by.the overwhelming spell of the loveliness of~God's words and works we exclaim, "How right it is to love You!" (Sg 1:4). In the smallness beyond thought we discover a level where we are stunned by the ineffable: "Who can utter the mighty doings of the Lord or utter all his praise?" (Ps 106:2). There are insights that lie beyond the power of expression; the heart perceives more than the word can convey. At such moments the human person deeply expe-riences the disparity between desire for expression and the means of ex-pression. We are stunned at the inadequacy of the spoken word to inter-pret the heart's knowing. In a sense, then, the highest form of praise is silence-~creative si-lence pervaded by an awed sense of the grandeur of God. A reverential and sacred silence best expresses our admiration and love. This kind of Review for Religious, January-February 1988 silence touches the face of the Father, embraces Christ, and experiences the reality of the Spirit. Even though a loving heart has no words, it cannot contain itself. St. Augustine gifts us with a memorable image: "Love grown (old is the heart's silence; love on fire, the heart's clamor" (En. in Ps 36: 14). He gives us a rich and comprehensible description of the heart's clamor, the melody of the heart: This kind of singing is a sound which m~ans that the heart is giving birth to something it cannot speak of. And who better to receive such "jubi-lation" than the ineffable God--ineffabl~ because you cannot talk about him. And if you cannot talk about him; and it is improper just to keep silence, why, what is there left for you to do but "jubilate"--with you, r heart rejoicing without words, and the immense breadth of your joy not rationed out in syllables (En. in Ps 32:8; see En. in Ps 99:5). In this marvelous fusion of thought and feeling, in the heart's rejoicing without words, praise and wonder are born. In her poem Interior Tree Anne Morrow Lindbergh echoes Augustine. She describes one of those rare moments of ecstasy, one of those inexpressible "joy touched with glory" (see I P 1:8) moments when a whisper of eternal truth overwhelms one with its beauty: Fused moments of felicity, When flame in eye and heart unite Come they from the earth, or can they be The swallow of eternity? Authentic praise springs like a song from the depths of our hearts~. It steps beyond the act of giving thanks because it often becomes an ex-pression. of adoration. In an act of ardent praise we turn to God in de-light, attend to him with loving appreciation. Therefo.re, Lewis can fit-tingly link up praise as we know it on earth with the idea of the ultimate joy of praising God in heaven: If it were possible for a created soul fully to "appreciate," that is, to love and delight in the worthiest object of all and simultaneously at every moment to give this delight perfect expression, then that soul should be in supreme beatitude.34 In saying this Lewis follows a very ancient Christian teaching which can be traced back to the writing of Augustine. Delving into his works, we find he mulled over the meaning of heavenly beatitude: There it will be our whole task to praise and ~to enjoy the Presence of A Word About Praising God . . . all our sorrows will be taken from us, and nothing will remain but praise, unmixed and everlasting (En. in Ps 86:8). He states it again with typical depth and clarity: What shall we do? . . . What will be there? What business shall we have? . . . What activity? . . o This will be our activity, the praise of God (En. in Ps 85:23). The tenor and thrust of this vision introduces into the meaning of praise the essential components of love and joy. Here Lewis writes with com-pelling suggestiveness: The Scotch catechism says that man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. But we shall then know that these are the same thing. Fully to enjoy is to glorify. In commanding us to glorify him, God is inviting us to enjoy him.3'~ Lewis' vision is baianced; therefore, he moves beyond the present exis-tence-- calls us to reflect upon the untold resources Of meaning in the es-chatological dimension of praise. Conclusion This exploration into the nature of praising reveals that if we seek to grasp the reality of praising in its full breadth and depth, we must strive to live in the light of the truth of who God is and who we are. What elicits, inspires, and sustains pra.ise is the word of God, the Scripture. Fed by this word the response of praise will become the leitmotif and ba-sic tenor of our lives. Its ordinary, transcendent, and eschatological di-mensions will mold the soul-line, the inscape of our hearts. The contemporary milieu, with its unhealthy emphasis on utilitari-anism and materialism, continues to strangle and corrode our sense of wonder. Its hollow hedonism tends to smother~radical amazement and appreci~ation and their consequence--praise. Perhaps we have bartered a sense of wonder and praise for facts and function and gradually numbed our senses and darkened our vision. Even 'so, the human person has the capacity and power to grasp the lasting values of beauty, harmony, tenderness, and truth. Little wonder that Augustine invites us to glory in the splendor of the truth and good-ness of praising with our whole being: Sing praises with your whole being; that' is, praise God not only with your tongue and your voice, but with your conscience, with your life, with your deeds (En. in Ps 148:1-2). 40 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 This straightforward invitation underlines the truth that praise is a way of understanding, insight into a way of "being" in touch with God. Scrip-ture invites us to sing praises with our "being"--to sing praise like David, of whom it is written: With his every deed he offered thanks to God Most High, in words of praise. With his whole being he loved his Maker and daily~had his praises sung (Si 47:8). NOTES t Abraham J. Heschel, Who is Man? (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1965), p, 116. z C. S. Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms (Glasgow: Collins, Fount Paperbacks, 1977), chapter IX, pp. 77-83. 3C.S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early L~ ife (Glasgow: Collins, Fount P.aperback,, 1977), pp. 182-183. 4 Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms, p. 78. 5 Further clarification on the etymology of the word praise is helpful. Praise is de-rived from the Latin pretiare, "to prize," which in turn derives from pretium, "the prize." To prize something is to value it highly, to appreciate it. Appreciation is a.n essential element of all praise. See Paul Hinnebusch, Praise: A Way of Life (Ann Arbor; MI: Servant Books, 1976), p. 247. 6 Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms, p. 81. 7 Ibid, p. 80. 8 C, S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan Paperbacks, 1960), p. 65. .9 Heschel, Who is Man?, p. 115. ¯ ~0 C. S. Lewis, Miracles (New York: Mac~nillan Pape~'backs, 1978), p. 66. I~ C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1964), p. 75. ~z C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (New York: Macmill~in Paperbacks, 1962), p. 115. ~3 Lewis, Miracles, p. 114. ~4 C. S. Lewis, The Screwiape Letters and Screwtape Proposes a Toast (New York: MaXimilian, 1961), pp. 101-102. ~5 Ibid, p. 68.~ ~6 See Julian of Norwich, The:Revelations of Divine Love, trans. James Walsh (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1961), Chapters 34, 35, and 82. ~7 C. S. Lewis, "Historicism," in Christian Reflections (Glasgow: Collins, Fount Paperbacks, 1981), p. 146. ~8 C. S. Lewis, Perelandra (New York: Macmillan Paperbacks, 1965), pp. 147- 148. ~9 W. Hooper, ed.,'They Stand Together: The Letters of C. S. Lewis to Arthur: Greeves (1914-1963)(New,York: Macmillan Paperbacks, 1979), p. 49 I, December 20, 1943. A Word About Praising Lewis, Letters to Malcolm, p. 90. Lewis, Reflections on the Psalms, p. 80. Ibid, p. 81. Lewis, The Problem of Pain, pp. 90-91. C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1971), p. 170. 25 Lewis, 26W. H. novich, 27 Lewis, Letters to Malcolm, p. 114. Lewis, ed., Letters of C. S. Lewis (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jova- 1966), p. 250, July 17, 1953, to a lady. Perelandra, p. I 18. 28 Lewis, Surprised by Joy, p. 65. 29 Ibid, p. 177. 30 Ibid, p. 66. 3~ Lewis, Letters to Malcolm, p. 91. 32 Lewis, The Four Loves, p. 191. 33 Ibid, p. 178. 3,~ Lewisr Reflections on the Psalms, p. 81. 35 Ibid, p. 82. Expressing the Feminine: In Search of a Model Marietta Ger~iy, O.S.B. Sister Marietta is a member of the Department of Religious Studies at the Univer-sity of Dayton where she may be addressed at 300 College Park; Dayton, Ohio 45469- 000 I. In The Flight from Woman (1965) Karl Stern wrote about the defeminiza-tion of society caused in part by the scientific revolution of the last three hundred years. The rejection of feminine wisdom, he explained, contrib-uted to a dehumanization which has affected us relationaily. Today a movement flows from deep within the unconscious, that in-vites us to value and express our total personhood, to act in a holistic manner. The strong opposition to the feminine in our culture and tradi-tion is one of the reasons for this movement and for the corresponding interest in rediscovering feminine images. Whenever individuals or the human race are imperiled, something begins to stir within and move them toward the fullness of graced human living. Today we are becoming aware that both femininity and masculinity are innate in each of us and that both are to be valued and given expres-sion. Just as in a musical creation there can be a melody and counter-melody which alternate in prominence, so our femininity and masculin-ity ought to alternate in prominence. Even though in music these melo-dies can stand alone, the presence of the other enhances and creates a fuller, stronger, more pleasing effect. So if either masculinity or femi-ninity is suppressed or dormant, our manner of communication will be less effective or even less destructive. This, in fact, has been the situ-ation in our Western culture. Now that the sleeper, femininity, is awak-ening, new energies are being activated. When activated, those energies 42 Expressing the Feminine / 43 begin to personify themselves and to seek expression. How this creative power will manifest itself will depend in part upon our fantasies, our crea-tive imagi.nation which needs to be stimulated by the symb.ois and mod-els of both our culture and our Christian heritage. A musician receives inspiration hearing a number of different interpretations of the same com-position, yet her own performance flows from her inner well of sensitiv-ity. In such a way the new awakening of our femininity urges us to look beyond ourselves in a new way to reflect upon the lives of people in our tradition, to search for ways of expressing this femininity, ways which resonate with and enhance our own imagination. Virginity Regina Coil draws attention to an ancient understanding of virgin-ity. In her article "Challenging and Reclaiming Symbols" Coll states that at one time the word "virgin" meant "a woman who had grown, to some kind of integrity and wholeness." ~ Esther Harding in Women's Mysteries writes that it meant being "one-in-herself."2 Helen Luke is on to the same sense as she indicates virginity "is so thin a concept when confined to the physical plane."3 It takes On a full and beautiful mean-ing when the older and broadermeaning is recovered. The ancient mean-ing is significant today because it applies to both men and women. It calls for a unified way of being and of relating. It calls for non-fragmentation. David Knight writes about virginity in a similar manner by suggesting that virginity is an active and harmonious oneness of our bodies with every other part of our being.4 He states that virginity means a refusal to respond out of only a part of ourselves, a refusal to promote separateness or disintegration; it is an intense .yearning for integrity. Knight further indicates that virginity accents our unity with others, not an easy task when we have built up our egos and relied on our false identities. Alienation of selves, building of walls, setting ourselves apart; above, over and against, insensitivity and a lack of intrapersonal and in-terpersonal connectedness are violations of this integrity. And so our past exclusionary emphasis on personal autonomy needs to be modified. Hans Urs von Balthasar also speaks of virginity as unity as experienced within someone who is free of division. Such an approach also seeks to retrieve the lost meaning of this important reality. This emphasis on unicity invites us to let go of all that holds us back and prevents the release of energies so necessary for a full life. A musi-cal analogy says it well: for music to be music the musician must involve the entire physical, mental and emotive self in expressing the music. Just as the musician must be totally involved to render the music in an aes- 44 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 thetic manner, we too must be totally involved, be fully alive in order to be effective relationally. Today's movement toward the rediscovery of the feminine is a move-ment toward the fullness of personhood which ought to render us more cap~ble of unrestricted responses. Femininity This present movement toward the feminine is flowing from our new consciousness. Today femininity is being acknowledged and valued. Be-cause of this, various modes of expressing femininity are being sought. Does Mary as Mother present an image for the expression of femi-ninity that can be honored today? Before addressing that question a clari-fication or description of femininity is necessary. F.J.J. Buytendijk de-scribes it as that adaptive dynamism (which) does not elicit any resistance and leads to the discovery of quality and .stature, to encounter with things as they are, and thus to the discovery of value. This discovery, however, is never complete; there is an inexhaustible wealth of value in being that never ceases to elicit a meditative and tarrying contact with being.5 Openness, receptivity, creativity, gracefulness and tender caring are considered characteristics of this adaptive dynamism. This adaptive dy-namism or femininity, according to Buytendijk, manifests itself as a way of being-together-with that is both giving and receiving, that is recipro-cal, and 'not one-sided. This adaptive dynamism is not to be equated with the female sex, though it is woman who is capable of giving the clearest expression of femininity, just as man gives the clearest expression of masculinity. No individual existence in the concrete is exclusively masculine or ex-clusively feminine. It is not possible for an existence to develop so en-tirely according to one mode that it lacks all traces of the other. Mascu-linity and femininity are both possibilities of human existence as such, understood in terms of consciousness or an approach to reality, which is necessarily intentional and equally necessarily a "togetherness" with other being.6 When we are dealing with real people, all that we often can see is a predominance of masculinity or femininity. However, full human dig-nity flows from a balanced harmonization of botlq dynamisms. Without a balance of masculinity we would have a feminine imbal-ance getting lost in a chaos of pathic connection without any ability to stand apart or to objectify. Unbalanced masculinity may be described as Expressing the Feminine the projection of a world of hardness, of stubborn resistance, of precipi-tousness. ~On the other hand, this masculine capacity for expansiveness, functioning in a supportive role, provides a precious balancefor our femi-nine capacity of being~together-with, of connectedness. Motherliness Forms are being sought today for expressing our adaptive dynamism, femininity. This femininity is not to be limited to one form or manifes-tation. A variety of forms is possible, one being motherliness. Motherli-ness is best characterized as a fostering, supporting, cherishing, caring manner which flows from a receptive, adaptive dynamism. It is a man-ner of being that sets aside the temptation to analyze, to plan, to project. It can be described as a presence which receives the other into self and sees and feels with the other. Feeling, though essentially involved, is not all tfiat is involved. "Motherliness" or "caring presence" is basically an empathic presence. It is a receptive presence that invites an inner trans-formational change. If "caring" is truly motherly, the one cared for will feel ~he recognition of freedom and will grow under its expansive sup-port. "Motherliness" need not smother. The one cared for will be free tO respond as herself, to follow her own interests without fear and anxi-ety. Motherliness, as a respectful, careful togetherness in selfless giving, fos-tering, nourishing, cherishing and caressing, is always the powei'.ihat everywhere elicits the unfolding, the realization of hidden potential of what is good, tender, fragile or subtle, whether in human beings or in nature or in culture. This is what happens in human relationships of friendship and love, in real education and in loving work.7 Buytendijk speaks of motherliness as caring, as feminine fruitful-hess. 8 The transformational effect of caring can only happen if the car-ing person conveys that he values the intensity of the connection with the other and if the caring person is genuine. A Contemporary Model: Mary Today's renewed interest in rediscovering our feminine images, in-cluding our scriptural Marian images, flows from our new consciousness, our movement toward the feminine. 19Iodels and images are needed to stimulate our imaginations, to aid in the shaping of our feminine energies. A variety of models is needed because femininity can be expressed in various ways. Mary, as repre-sented in Scripture, is one of those models. 46 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 The images of Mary as the attentive, Virgin, Mary as Woman, and Mary as Mother are receiving renewed interest and are taking on a new meaning. The ancient meaning of virginity as a holistic and integrated way of being is expressed by Mary. She possesses a unity which can help other people find their unity. In the Magnificat we see the fullness of her re-sponse: decisive, responsible, total and caring, a response that made and continues to make a difference to the world. This way of Understanding virginity can give us reason to pause and give the image of Mary as Vir-gin further consideration. The representation of femininity through motherliness can be seen in the scriptural passages which presentoMary as a "caring presence," a presence which encourages a change of heart, a personal togetherness where there is a call of one heart to another, a call to the other in the freedom of each to realize self. Some of these passages are Mary's visit to Elizabeth (Lk 1:39-45), the Magnificat (Lk 1:46-56), Mary at the wed-ding feast at Cana (Jn 2:1-12), Mary at the foot of the cross (Jn 19:25- 27), and Mary gathered together with the disciples in prayer at the birth of the Church (Ac 1: 12-14). Each presents Mary manifesting this genu-ine way of being-together-with, of acting holistically, and with integrity. These scriptural representations, as well as others found in tradition, can serve a dialogic function in our movement toward the rediscovery of the f+minine. By pondering them in our hearts we too might conceive creative ways to shape our lives in response to the invitation from the unconscious to accept our femininity, to live out our total personhood. NOTES ~ Regina Coil, "Challenging and Reclaiming Symbols," Religious Education 80 (1985), p. 381. 2 Esther M. Harding, Woman's Mysteries: Ancient and Modern (New York: Harper Colophon Books, 197.1), p. 125. 3 Helen M. Luke, Woman, Earth and Spirit (New York: Crossroad,. 1981), p. 48. '~ David Knight, The Good News About Sex (Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press), pp. 30 I-312. 5 F.J.J. Buytendijk, Women: A Contemporary View (New York: Newman.Press, 1968), p. 299. 6 lbid, p. 299. 7 Ibid, p. 357. 8 Ibid, p. 355. Collaborative Leadership in Apostolic Ministry: Behavior and Assumptions David Coghlan, S.J. Father Coghlan reaches management and organizational behavior and works as a proc-ess consultant with groups on planning and change. He may be reached at the Col-lege of Industrial Relations; Sandford Road; Ranelagh; Dublin 6, Ireland. The ~zontext of religious apostolic leadership has changed a lot over the past twenty years. Twenty years ago religious had a very definite pre-dominance in institutions of ministry. They were dominant numerically. They were the sole formulators of policy. They created the culture of the institutions. Lefidership was exercised in an autocratic manner that did ¯ not readily allow for dissent or question. Since Vatican II there has been a gradual~change. Religious life has been renewed, in terms of spiritual-ity, structures, and culture. The number of religious has declined, chang-ing the way religious are present in their ministries and provoking ques-tions about the future of particular ministries. On the level of values there has been growth in an appreciation of the ministry of the laity. Overall there has grown a neff focus of ministry---evangelization--with its en-couragement of a greater openness to the contemporary world and the articulation of the integral relationship between faith and justice. Lead-ership too has changed. In research on leadership there has been a move-ment away from a focus on the person of the leader toward a focus on the process of leadership. Leadership is no longer understood in terms of personal traits but in terms of a process between roles, a group, and a situation. In the religious-life context terms like "collaboration," "sharing ministry" are prominent. Decision-making appears to have be- 47 48 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 come a group activity, with, perhaps, the consequent role of the formal leader sometimes ambiguo.,us. It is the purpose of this article to chart the issues of leader behavior so as to clarify the implications in the develop-ment of contemporary apostolic leadership in an environment of change. Patterns of Leadership Styles Thirty years ago an article written on leader behavior posed the ques-tion, "Should a leader be democratic or autocratic in dealing with sub-ordinates-- or something in between?" That article became a standard text on the complexities of how leaders behave. ~ In the article the di-lemma of leader behavior is presented in terms of a scale, with points on the scale related to the degree of authority used by the leader and to the amount of freedom available to the group of followers. The extreme left end of the scale represents the leader behavior that maintains a very high degree of coAtrol in decision-making, while the extreme right of the scale represents the leader releasing a high degree of control. The points in between represent varying degrees of the use and release of control. On the extreme left point.of the scale the leader makes the d~cisions and informs the followers. The definition of the problem, the diagnosis, and the selection of a solution from among alternatives is done by the leader. He provides no opportunity for the followers to participate di-rectly in the process. Coercion may or may not be implied. Further to the right of the autocratic position is where the leader, rather than sim-ply announcing a decision, persuades the followers to accept it. This ap-proach might assume a resistance to the decision, hence the persuasion. The next point to .the right on the scale is where the leader Presents his idea and invites questions. The followers get the opportunity to under-stand more fully the leader's thinking. The leader is still in control of the decision-making process. The point to the right of this is where the leader presents a tentative decision which is open to cha0ge. The leader continues to have the initiative of defining the problem and choosing the solution, but he is open to influence. This is more or less the midpoint of the scale--all the points to the left are those where the leader's use of authority predominates. The points to the right are those where the followers have an increasing degree of freedom in terms of a decreas~ing use of power by the leader. To the right of the midpoint is the point' where the leader presents the problem, invites sflggestions, and then makes the decision. Here there is a critical change. The leader no longer presents a solution. The followers get the opportunity to suggest solu-tions, from which the leader may select. Giving the followers more free-dom is the point where the leader defines the limits of the problem- Collaborative Leadership / 49 solving process and gives the followers the right to make the decision. The point on the extreme right of the scale is where the leader permits the group to make decisions. The question then follows: How does the leader decide where his be-havior should be located on the scale? How autocratic must he be? How democratic can he be? There are three areas to be considered in answer-ing such questions. Fir~;tly, there is the leader himself. The leader must ask himself questions about his own values, needs, motives, skills, goals, and assumptions about subordinates. His value system and assumptions about people, particularly his subordinates and how they are motivated, are significant elements in leadership behavior.2 Th+ leader needs a de-gree of self-awareness to be in touch with what personal needs are being met in a particular leadership style. The leader's tolerance for ambiguity is another key element. The leader's self-image and self-knowledge are the ground on which an individual style of behavior is built. Secondly, there is the group of subordinates to be considered. The leader, besides looking at himself, must look at the group he is leading. He must con-sider the expectations, motivations~, knowledge, experience, competence, skills, and goals of the subordinates, and how they are interested in and committed to the issues. There is the added complication of the effect of the leader on the group, intended or unintended.3 What a ieader per-ceives to be flexibility the group may perceive to be inconsistency. So leader will need to be clear on °the impact of his behavior, particularly an unintended impact.4 Thirdly, there is the situation to be considered. The leading of~groups does not occur in a vacuum. There is the effect of the nature of the issue to be considered. An issue that has far-reaching effects on the life of the group may require a more participa-tive approach .to a particular decision than would a practical decision that has a less significant effect. There is the amount of time available to be considered. Some emergency decisions can often be appropriately made in an autocratic manner because there is not the time for consultation. The organization or wider cultural context may set limits to the ways de-cisions are made. In a context where participation is perceived as hav-ing a high °value, autocratic decisions may not be appreciated or permit-ted. In summary, there are three areas to be considered in the decision on choosing an appropriate leadership behavior. There are the leader's own values,, assumptions, skills, and self-confidence. There is the actual group of subordinates, with its level of experience, skills, and commit-ment. There is the situation, whicl~ includes the organizational context, 50 /ReviewforReligious, January-February 1988 the amount of time available, the nature of the issues, and the cultural assumptions. The effect of the leader on the group is a significant fac-tor. From a sensitive balancing of each of these three areas, the leader chooses what is appropriate behavior. This requires the leader to be self-aware and have diagnostic skillsin the areas of organizations, groups, and individuals in relation to particular tasks. The emphasis on "appro-priate" is the emphasis that emerges from the definition of leadership that is , ontin, gent on the process between a specific role, the group that is constituted as followers, and the situation. Leadership is situational. The Dilemma of Contemporary Apostolic Leadership The above framework for understanding the choices of behavior a leader has in contemporary apostolic ministry has very cleai" uses. There has been a definite movement from the autocratic, nonconsult~itive style of former generations to a more participative, collaborative style. This has grown out of a number of factors. From Vatican II there has devel-oped a new sense of the ministry of the laity which has opened up ques-tions of how the laity can be colleagues in ministry with religious. Re-ligious themselves, because of the renewal of religious life and the de-cline in numbers, have reviewed their approach to their apostolates. There.remains a~dilemma. The search for the appropriate point on the leadership behavior scale is a real search. There is a discomfort with an apparent slide to the right along the scale from autocracy to abdication of power. There is an ever-growing sense in religious, through renewal of the charism of each congregation,' that the values the religious stand for are central to a congregation's ministry. Religious do not want sim-ply to hand over their apostolates, for they value the mission they have in those apostolates. They want their mission to continue, perhaps with-out them, and certainly not in the same way as formerly. That isthe first area from which an appropriate choice is made. The leader values the mission of the~congregation and wants that to continue to be enshrined in the new situation or in a new structure. At the same time the leader values c'ollaboration and the s.haring of ministry. Sharing is an activity that implies mutuality. Ministry can perhaps only be shared with those who are willing andable to be in a sharing relationship. Therefore, the group with which sharing is hoped for must be evaluated in those terms. Thirdly, there is the situation. The decline in the numbers~of religious must be faced. The state of the world demands an urgent response. The issues are deeply significant. So the choice of appropriate lehdership style is made in the weighing up of the values of the leader, the assess-ment of the group, and the nature of the situation. In those terms it seems Collaborative Leadership that the choice is that of a collaborative style, that is, of a position some-what to the right end of the scale discussed, but not at the extremity. I am attempting to clarify what is actually happening so that relig-ious, by having a framework, can understand it. My hypothesis is that, in seeing that the choices are not simply the two extremities of the scale, the dilemma can be intelligently faced and appropriate choices made. Organizational Leadership A great deal has been written on leadership in organizations over the years. Famous leaders of organizations have written their autobiogra-phies to share with the world how their particular approach to leadership was successful in their organizations. In abstracting from all these ac-counts it seems that a leader of an organization has three roles.5 The leader is an "organizational leader," by which is meant that he leads the organization in a general management role. This typically in-volves being responsible for the accomplishment of the organization's stated plans. It means creatively maintaining and developing the organi-zation's capabilities in its external and internal domains so that achieve-ment of its taTsks is possible. The organizational leader integrates the mul-tiple functions and specialist areas within the organization. These are com-plex tasl~s and require all the qualities of efficiency that are accepted as being a core ingredient of a high management role. Secondly, the leader is a "personal lead+r," a leader of people. He must be personally able to create loyalty. He personally stands for and promotes the values of the organization, and so his actions must be congruent with those val-ues. It is his behavior as leader that forms the culture of the organiza-tion. Thirdly, the leader is the "architect of purpose." In this role he is the custodian of corporate objectives,'establishing and presiding over the setting of goals and the allocation of resources, and making choices from strategic alternatives. He defends the organization from external threats and internal erosion. The instillation of purpose in place of im-provisation and the substitution of planned progress instead of drifting are the most demanding tasks of the leader of the organization. It requires great intellectual capacity to con(eptualize corporate purpose, and it re-quires creativity to recognize strategic alternatives. It requires a critical capacity to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of proposals on paper. A novel system in an American company is one where the pension of the retired chief executive officer is reviewed five years after he has re-tired. The rationale is that after five years the co .mpany will know how good a leader he was when he was in office! 52 / Review for Religious, January-February 1988 There is a parallel in relation to religious apost61ic leadership. A ma-jor superior or a director of an apostolate has those same roles. He is an organizational lead,r, a personal leader, and the architect of purpose. He is entrusted with thb effective administration of the organization, be it a region, a school, or a hospital. The organizational leader role is exer-cised in the day-to-day desk work, the eternal round of meetings and re-ports, all working to keeping the organization in operation and fulfilling its mission. As personal leader there is the maintenance of the charism and values of the congregation. The personal care of one's fellow relig-ious is akey responsibility of a major superior. As architect of purpose, the apostolic leader integrates the processes of planning and renewal in terms of the congregation's charism, the needs of the external environ-ment, and the internal resources.6 It involves going beyond the immedi-ate arid everyday decisions and emergencies to thinking strategically about a future to be created. These three roles of high-level leadership can be applied to the di-lemma of leader behavior. The choice of leader behavior in terms of the scale of options and in terms of the three areas of consideration is fun-damental to the roles of organizational leader, personal lead

Issue 42.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1983. ; Notes on LitUt~!y REVIEW FOR REIAGtOUS ( ISSN 0034-639X~, published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. REVU-:W FOR REI.IGIOt~S is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO, © 1983 by REVIEW FOR RE~.~G~O~JS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S,A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW I.'OR REI,W,~OtrS: P.O. Box 6070:, Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor May/June, 1983 Volume 42 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELtGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW t'O~t RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and attic, s not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart Paul J. Joncas Rev. Joncas, whose M.Div. is from the Northwestern Lutheran Theological Seminary, is pres-ently pursuing doctoral studies at Fordham University. He describes this paper as an exposition of Kierkegaard's Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing in which each discourse carries a consistent theme of Complexit'y and Simplicity as opposing modes of life. Tracing each of these modes through the book provides a picture of the style of life that Kierkegaard regards as exemplary. Rev. Joncas may be addressed at 102 Washington St.; Morristown, NJ 07960. When a woman makes an altar cloth, so far as she is able, she makes everyflower as lovely as the graceful flowers of the field, as far as she is able, every star as sparkling as the glistening stars of the night. She withholds nothing, but uses the most precious things she possesses. She sells off every other claim upon her life that she may purchase the most uninterrupted and favorable time of the day and night for her one and only, for her beloved work. But when the cloth is finished and put to its sacred use, then she is deeply distressed if someone shouM make the mistake of looking at her art, instead of at the meaning of the cloth; or make the mistake of looking at a defect, instead of at the meaning of thk cloth. For she could not work the sacred meaning into the cloth itself, nor could she sew it on the cloth as though it were one more ornament. This meaning really lies in the beholder and in the beholder's understanding, if he, in the endless distance of the separation above himself and above his own self, has completely forgotten the needle-woman and what was hers to do. It was allowable, it was proper, it was duty, it was a precious, duty, it was the highest happiness of all for the needlewoman to do e~brything in order to accomplish what was hers to do; but it was a trespass against God, an insulting misunderstanding of the poor needlewoman, when someone looked wrongly and saw what 321 322 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 was only there, not to attract attention to itself, but rather so that its omission would not distract by drawing attention to itself.1 The needlewoman of this story serves as an example of what Kierkegaard sets out to develop in his book Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing. In her concern for the work that is set before her the needlewoman approaches it with a reverence, straightforwardness, unity of thought and purpose, and simplicity that speaks not of her, but of the duty which she was fulfilling. The viewer who looked on her work as something more than she had intended is the example of what it is to be guilty, as we all are, of double-mindedness and thus unable to see the beauty of what lies before them. It is my purpose in this paper to examine the guilt of the viewer in terms of a life of Complexity. This life is filled with double-mindedness, duplicity, evasion, attention to "the crowd," and a denial of the self. All of this is set up by pride which presents the person with many difficult pitfalls. There is also another side to what Kierkegaard has to say in his book which will be discussed in this paper. That is the story of the needlewoman, or the person who wills one thing. This is evidenced by a life of Simplicity. This life unfolds as one which is a unity, through which the "individual" is capable to "will one thing" and have a knowledge of self that enables the person to take risks. The result of this life is a sense of humility which is transparent, pointing to the "Good." I will discuss these two opposing modes of life under the titles 1 have assigned to them: Complexity and Simplicity. After describing how they each have an influence upon us, 1 will conclude with some more general observa-tions about the two categories and their relationship to one another. Complexity Throughout his book, Kierkegaard remains true to the Lutheran notion that humanity by nature is sinful. This sinfulness is lived out within the tem-poral order of the creation, and has a natural resistance to the "Eternal." In resisting the Eternal we are confronted with a multiplicity of life choices that may give the appearance of leading us to the "Good," but they are only delusions and actually hide the true, the Eternal from the seeker. We are led down the blind path of complexity that cuts us off from that for which we were created and we attempt to postpone what we know to be inevitable in our journey toward God. Alas. the temporal order and the press of busyness believe that eternity is so far away. And yet not even the foremost professional theatrical producer has ever had all in such readiness for the stage and for the change of scenes as eternity has all in readiness for time: all--even to the least detail, even to the most significant word that is spoken; has all in readiness in each instant--although eternity delays? Busyness, the continual search for meaning in the temporal order, the continual search for permanence in what is only transitory, the constant run- Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart ning in search of what is already before the seeker. It looms over the entirety of life and "clouds the heart, keeping it ever unknowing and bound to the tem-poral. We look on the procession of life and see the changes that occur in relation to the temporal. The fear that feeds the life of Complexity reminds us over and over that we are approaching the end. We turn in upon ourselves and try to find the key to not changing. We live with the false hope of delaying that which, in view of the Eternal, never happens. "For in relation to the Eternal, a man ages neither in the sense of time nor in the sense of an accumulation of past events."3 In.relation to the Eternal we are set free from the burdens of temporal existence and begin to see the Good and in turn the Good becomes visible through us. This temporal life is characterized by double-mindedness which draws us into an endless maze of dead ends that prevent us from apprehending the Good, the Eternal. Kierkegaard calls this double-mindedness by many names: pride, passion, denial of sell fear, cleverness, self-deceit, despair, impatience, the "crowd," evasion, and false humility. They are names of conditions we all know intimately. Kierkegaard shows us his magisterial knowledge of the human condition by naming those things which we all share in common, those things which tie us all together in our state of sin, and lead us down the path away from God. In order to understand the gu.ilt of the above mentioned viewer, and ourselves, we need to take a close look at the life of Complexity and the conditions that define our human situation. Pride 1 begin with pride because it appears in Kierkegaard's system that pride sets us up to fall into the other traps of double-mindedness. Once we have established what we consider to be our worth in the world we can begin to evaluate all our other actions in light of this worth. In this fashion the lazy man always has a disproportionate power of imagination. He thinks immediately how he will establish himself, and how fine it will be for him when now this and now that is done: he is less given to thinking that he should do this and that. And in reflection this logks very inviting, but when he must step out upon the road (for reflection is up above the road) then all is changed.4 Once the road is entered upon and the true demands of the journey are seen, as prideful people we begin to reassess our position and conclude that the course we are undertaking is act.ually beneath us. Pride plays to our predilec-tion to overvalue ourselves. It whispers to us ever so quietly, "Oh, you poor soul, just see what the world is asking of you. You have more important things to be involved with. Why go about wasting your time on what is trivial?" In listening to this voice we become further enamored with ourselves and we fall prey to grandiose dreams of what we can give to the worl~d, as if we had anything of our own to give. He wills that the Good shall triumph through him. that he shall be the instrument, he 3~4 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 the chosen one. He does not desire to be rewarded by the world--that he despises: nor by men--that he looks down upon. And yet he does not wish to be an unprofitable servant. The reward which he insists upon is a sense of pride and in that very demand is his violent double-mindednessP We exhibit our sinfulness since we do not just want to be an instrument of the Good in the world, but we want to be the instrument. We insist that God's will should be our will, his way should be our way--and we stretch the dis-tance separating us from God even further than before. That is the only power we have. The power to drive ourselves further away from God and think that we are drawing ever nearer. Kierkegaard does not let up in his insistence that the greatest damage we do is, above all, to ourselves. The grandness of our dreams, to be more than what we actually are, is the banner of our sinfulness that we carry into eternity. Pride widens the gulf between humanity and God by its pervasive nature: It creeps into every facet of our existence and tricks us into thinking how right we are when we are actually wrong. This is the self-deceit which pride leads us toward, and after we have already turned our backs on God, we begin to turn the tables on ourselves. For when hate, and anger, and revenge, and despondency, and melancholy, and despair, and fear of the future, and reliance on the world, and trust in oneself, and pride that infuses itself even into sympathy, and envy that even mingles itsdf with friendship, and that inclination that may have changed but not for the better: when these dwell in a man--when was it without the deceptive excuse of ignorance?. This ignorance is called self-deceit. : And to be ignorant of the fact that there is one thing and only one thing, and that only one thing is necessary, is still to be in self-deception.6 Self-deceit exists as a precipitate of pride. It is the only thing that is left after the ashes rendered by pride are sifted. Self-deceit has a way of turning everything upside down and it tries to give us the excuse we need when our efforts come to nothing. This overturning by self-deceit is much like the words of St. Paul "For the good that 1 wish, I do not do; but 1 practice the very evil that I do not wish" (Rm 7:19).7 This self-deceit has a way of masking our efforts so they may appear noble to ourselves when they actually bring about harm. Not only harm to others, but harm to ourselves. We are open to the suggestions of the world and hear a voice that appeals to our pride and thus we deceive ourselves again. But there is a wisdom which is not from above, but is earthly and fleshly and devilish. It has discovered this common human weakness and indolence; it wants to be helpful. It perceives that all depends upon the will and so it proclaims loudly, "Unless it wills one thing, a man's life is sure to become one of wretched mediocrity, of pitiful misery. He must will one thing regardless of whether it be good or bad. He must will one thing for therein lies a man's greatness.TM It is in the willingness to do even what we know to be bad that we start the process of selling out to whatever whim or fancy the world throws before us and we enter deeper into the self-deception that has already grasped us. The greater our self-deception the more we become oblivious to the "Good" and we enter into the next realm that dominates our earthly life--fear. Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart / 325 Fear And spiritually understood there is a ruinous illness, namely not to fear what a man should fear: the sacredness of modesty, God in the heavens, the command of duty, the voice of conscience, the accountability to eternity.9 Our pride and self-deception have led us to the point of forgetting the things which we know to be desirable and the absence of these elements in our lives is not viewed as a great loss. The eternal element of our life is gone and we no longer understand what true fear is all about. Our concept of fear becomes entangled with what we perceive to be punishment. "For punishment is indeed not what a man should fear. He should fear to do wrong.''~° The concern we have is not for our eternal life but for our temporal life. "Yet double-mindedness seldom dwells on eternity's punishment. The punishment it fears is more often understood in an earthly and temporal sense."~l How often do we find ourselves doing things, not out ofthe goodness of our hearts, but out of fear for the punishment that may be inflicted upon us if we do not do it. This type of fear seems to be inbred from childhood when parents gladly point to the threat of punishment in order to get even a small degree of cooperation from the child. A full life cannot be lived from a defensive posture and God's attempts to break through our self-protection fall on ears that are deaf. Kierkegaard is trying to show that in taking away the will for the "Good" the person lives a second-class life that inhibits the individual in all rela-tionships with and in the world. What a terrible existence it would be to fear every action we take not knowing if we will receive accolades or be stoned. Kierkegaard rightfully puts this condition into the category of illness. But then, in a spiritual sense, there is another illness, a still more destructive one: to fear-what a man should not and ought not to fear. The first illness is defiance and obstinacy and willfulness. The second is cowardice and servility and hypocrisy.~' We are slaves to our fear and jump to its command. We are cowards in our actions, afraid to take any risks that may bring about punishment. We are hypocrites who smile in order to disguise our fear, thinking that we are being judged by the world while at the same time we are judging and condemning it. Kierkegaard wants to make clear the incredible power that sin can have over us in this world, it has a way of creeping into our lives silently, and just as silently tears our lives apart. We soon start to exhibit another means of self-defense which is not to risk anything. Another says, "1 have not the strength to risk all." Again evasion, an evasion by the aid of the word "all." For the Good is quite capable of reckoning and computing its demand in relation to the strength that this man has.~-~ We are unwilling to take risks because we cannot adequately judge the scope of the task. We do not truly know the risk that we are called upon to take since we stand in fear of what may happen to us if we do take the risk. Our lives are paralyzed by fear and that which is in us to lead us to the Good begins to atrophy. The result is to take even more desperate measures that lead us further away from the Good. 326 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 Cleverness The above mentioned evasion is not solely a device to escape risk but also starts us on ihe road to thinking we are very clever. By the help of evasion, namely, one does not come into danger, and neither does he lose his honor by running away in danger--on the contrary one does not come into danger--that is one advantage. And one wins great honor as being especially clever-- that is a second advantage.~4 In our cleverness we have the ability to weave a complex of schemes that isolate us from the world. We are able to construct an ivory tower out of our plotting and slowly raise ourselves up in the eyes of the people who see us. Our cleverness allows us to look down upon the world below and gives us the illusion of achievement. The other poor souls we look down upon are seen as a threat, but as a threat that is a long way off. These same schemes also play into one of the primary traps of cleverness. Alas, there is in every man a power, a dangerous and at the same time a great power. This power is cleverness. Cleverness strives continually against the commitment.~5 Since we are not committed we give the appearance of being free but that is all we have, the appearance of freedom. We have no idea of what we may have lost in exchange for this appearance. We are not free as a true Christian enjoys freedom. We live in a cloud that, like a drug, keeps us temporarily sedated until it dissipates. The lack of commitment through cleverness does not affect the temporal life alone. Kierkegaard sees an even greater danger ahead. If he uses cleverness to hinder commitment to the Eternal, he is double-minded. He is and he remains double-minded, even if temporal help did come and he did revel in the Cleverness by which he managed his shrewd escape: yes, one should still believe that it was a calamity that he cleverly managed to evade commitment to the Eternal. Com-mitment to the Eternal is the only true salvation.~6 We have now achieved the dubious distinction of having temporarily escaped from a moment of danger and at the same time cutting ourselves off ¯ from salvation. What is left for us? Do we simply wander aimlessly through time being free from any commitment or does something else arise to take the place of this commitment to the Eternal? Kierkegaard would say that there is something else that fills in the gap created by lack of commitment and that is the passion that lives inside each of us. For if passion continues in a man, it changes his life into nothing but instants and as passion cunningly serves its deluded master, it gradually gains ascendancy until the master serves it like a blind serf.17 We are now slaves to our passions and are led about without regard for the people around us. Our passions consume us like a ravenous wolf that leaves the refuse behind. What could be left for us once we have descended to these depths? It seems that we have lost the last thread of our humanity, but there is still something more towards which Kierkegaard points the reader. Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart Despair Now that we have been blinded by our passions we no longer see what lies before us. We are now ready for the final descent. We have left the world behind and our attention is turned to the only place left for us, that is, totally into ourselves. When the attention has been focused within, it brings with it the danger of not being able or willing to accept what is found therein. It is as if our attention has been focused to the point of a laser and it holds the potential to destroy. In our nonacceptance we find that we are "at variance with our-selves." Kierkegaard uses the.following example of the gravity he sees in this moment of "variance." ¯. at each man's birth there comes into being an eternal vocation for him, expressly for him. To be true to himself in relation to this eternal vocation is the highest thing a man can practice, and. as that most profound poet has said: "Self-love is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting." Then there is but one fault, one offense: disloyalty to his own self or the. denial of his own better self.~8 We have now reached the point where there is nothing else to which we can turn. We have reached the point in our "double-mindedness" when we can go no further. We have reached the point of despair. "Is not despair simply double-mindedness?'n9 In denying ourselves have we not abandoned ourselves, who we are, our purpose for existence? Will you in double-mindedness of mind despair? Have you considered what it is to despair? Alas it is to deny that God is love! Think that over properly, one who despairs abandons himself (yes, so you think); nay, he abandons God!20 There it is! The terminal point for the life of complexity, the abandonment of God! There is nowhere else to turn. We could turn to the "crowd" but that is just a delaying tactic., a dead end. "For many fools do not make a wise man, and the crowd is doubtful recommendation for a cause.TM In Kierkegaard's estimation, to follow this mode of life is to take the path to eternal death, to be forever outside of the love of God. Now that the discussion of the life of Complexity has been finished as Kierkegaar&has outlined it in his book it is possible to look at the opposing mode of life--Simplicity. Simplicity It would be a dangerous mistake to think that the life of Simplicity is a life characterized by naivete. There is no room for an unsophisticated meandering through life. That would only serve as an invitation to the elements of double-mindedness in the world, alerting them that a pigeon is on the loose. A life of Simplicity has many facets to it bht it is "simple" in the fact that all of these facets are present for the cause of the' Good. The Good is the all-consuming goal of the person who lives a life of Simplicity. Our every atten-tion and energy is directed toward the Good and finds its telos in eternity. The move from Complexity to Simplicity is not just a shifting of gears but rather: 3211 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 It is indeed like a changing of raiment to lay off manyness, in order rightly to center down upon one thing: to interrupt the busy course of activity, in order to put on the quiet of contemplation and be at one with oneself. And this being at one with oneself is the simple festival garment of the feast that is the condition of admittance. The many-hess, one may see with a dispersed mind, see something of it, see it in passing, see it with half closed eyes, with a divided mind, see it and indeed not see it. In the rush of busyness, one may be anxious over many {hings, begin many things, do many things at once, and only half do them all. But one cannot confess without this at-oneness with oneself.22 Kierkegaard in giving his advice for preparation to confess points out that it is necessary to leave behind the manyness that presses in and confuses us in our moment of examination. It is necessary that we become focused, simple in our thoughts, in order to come to our confession as whole persons. His notion of "a changing of raiment" is not merely to do so for the moment, but rather, in the fashion of metanoia, it is a complete change of direction. Life is trans-formed and our life takes on the same shape as that of the above-mentioned needlewoman with all of its attendant expressions, The life of Simplicity is not as easy to dissect as that of Complexity. The categories that exist in this life overlap a great deal, with each one helping strengthen the other. Since they all combine to form a unity, a oneness of purpose, a simplicity of expression, any attempt to categorize wouid be arbi-trary and would not remain true to the method of presentation used by Kierkegaard. In view of this, the life of Simplicity will be dealt with as a whole. It is a mode of life that stands in opposition to the life of Complexity and as such it does not exist as a positive response to a negative stimulus. It is a distinct mode that stands on its own without need of outside impetus beyond the call of God to the sinner. In Kierkegaard's schema of the life of Simplicity it becomes clear that the style of life we live reflects the internal unity or disunity we are currently experiencing. True Simplicity reflects an attention to life and the things that are necessary to be done and it does not allow us to be overcome by the miasma of Complexity. We are able to stay in the world without needing to be exclusive in our relationships. We find what is good in life and participate in it fully. Do you live in such a way that this consciousness is able to secure the time and quiet and liberty of action to penetrate every relation of your life? This does not demand that you withdraw from life, from an honorable calling, from a happy domestic life. On the contrary, it is precisely that consciousness which will sustain and clarify and illuminate what you are to do in the relations of life. You should not withdraw and sit brooding over your eternal accounting. To do this is to deserve something further to account for. You will more and more readily find time to perform your duty and your task, while concern over your eternal responsibility will hinder you from being "busy" and busily having a hand in everything possible--an activity that can best be called: time-wasting.23 As we have seen, busyness for Kierkegaard is another expression of double-mindedness. This double-mindedness captures our will and makes the will captive to its perceptions of time available and the talents that we have at our command. We have a distorted view of the task at hand and soon think we Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart / 329 do not have the time needed to do the Good. The life of Simplicity will not stand for this sort of distraction because it is God who calls us to this life and it is God who is left behind in pursuit of the manyness of life. But to will one thing, genuinely to will the Good, as an individual to will to hold fast to God, which things each person without exception is capable of doing, this is what unites.24 Unity is important in order for us to continue in willing the Good. Without this unity it is not possible for our life to become a reflection of the Good nor is it possible for us to "unconditionally serve the Good in action." As persons who are united, there is an awareness of the freedom in our lives for service and commitment to the Good. We no longer fear for what may happen to us since we are now united to the Good, and our concerns have been turned from the temporal to the Eternal. "He that wills the Good in truth even hopes for the punishment;"~5 and this serves as an indication that we have beenset free from the fear that has prevented service and commitment to the Good. Once freed from fear we are empowered to act in a manner that is consistent with our new understanding of duty in relation to the Good. If, then a man in truth wills the Good, then he must be willing to do all for it or he must be willing to suffer all for it.~6 Our commitment to the Good is visible through action or suffering. Suffer-ing in this context does not have the same power it holds over the double-minded person. Suffering is understood in a different way because we now live in a new relationship to the world. It is not something thrust upon an unwilling victim. It is accepted in the knowledge that what happens to us in this world is insignificant when viewed in relation to the Good. When the sufferer, on the other hand, willingly takes up his appointed sufferings, he is willing to suffer all for the Good, that is, in order that the Good may be victorious in him.27 Suffering is not a badge worn before others in order to win accolades. It is worn as a simple garment, It is quietly endured and quickly forgotten." When we suffer for the Good we know deep within ourselves that it is the Good which is being accomplished through us and that our God is right here with us in our suffering. ~ Oh, you sufferer, alone and abandoned as you are by the generation to which you belong, know that you are not abandoned by God, your creator. Everywhere you are surrounded by his understanding ~,hich offers itself to you at each moment. In it you unite your will to the Good. And the edifying contemplation is always ready to remind you of that presence; and its very existence is a source of security to the living.28 As sufferers who "will one thing" we live in the world knowing that what we are experiencing will be long forgotten in ~he realm of the Eternal,, and in this knowledge we receive consolation while still in the temporal order. This is the only reward we are willing to accept because the "understanding of God" is sufficient. There is nothing more necessary since, in time, everything will be 33[~ [ Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 finished for us in the temporal order. If we are forgotten by the world, that is no problem. If we are rejected by others, that is no problem. If we lose all that we have in service to the Good, that is no problem. For this world's memory is like the moment: a series of moments. Eternity's memory, that he is certain of. When he leaves the world, he leaves nothing behind him, he takes all with him, he loses nothing, he gains all--for "God is all to him.'~9 The total focus of energy is toward God and God alone. The will is a complete unity with itself and with the Good which resides in the Eternal. We have now reached the point when our unity also reflects a purity of thought and desire. When this point is reached, Kierkegaard begins to talk about the roles of hope, faith, and love in light of "death's decision." And it is here that the evidence of a life that is truly Christian may be seen. Yet sad as it is with the wish, how joyful it is with hope! For there is a hope that is born and dies; a shortlived hope, that tomorrow is forgotten; a childish hope, that old age does not recognize; a hope that one dies away from. But then--in death, in death's decision, a hope is born in death. By this hope the sufferer, under the pain of the wish, is committed to the Good. So it is with the hope in which the sufferer, as though from afar off, reaches out toward the Eternal . With faith it is still more joyful. For there is a faith that disappoints and vanishes; a faith that is lost and is repented of; there is a faith, which, when it droops is like death. But then--in death, in death's decision, a faith is won that does not disappoint, that is not repented of, that does not die: it seizes the Eternal and holds fast to it. By this faith, under the pain of the wish, the sufferer is committed to the Good. So it is with faith in which the sufferer draws the Eternal nearer to himself . But with love it is the most joyous of all. For there is a love, that blazes up and is forgotten; there is a love, that unites and divides--a love until death. But then--in death, in death's decision, there is born a love that does not flame up, that is not equivocal, that is not--until death, but beyond death, a love that endures.~° All of life is understood in terms of the Eternal and the very being of the individual is grounded in eternity. All of the trappings of this world are seen for what they are in their impermanence. A new permanence is given to be understood by us in our new found unity and depth of being. We no longer seek for anything for ourselves in this world and it is that which seeks nothing for itself that is truly transparent and pure. The Good alone is visible in and through us. The entirety of our being is bonded with the Good. For commitment to the Good is a whole-souled decision, and a man cannot, by the craft and the flattery of his tongue, lay hold of God while his heart is far away. No, for since God is spirit and truth, a man can only draw near to him by sincerity, by willing to be holy, as he is holy: by purity of heart. Purity of heart: it is a figure of speech that compares the heart to the sea, and why just to this?. On this account we compare the heart with the sea, because the purity of the sea lies in its constancy of depth and transparency)~ To achieve true depth of mind, true depth of will, true depth in unity, is to be transparent as Kierkegaard regards the true Christian to be. Everything is done for the sake of the Good ~ind it is, at the same time, a complete uniting of the will with the Eternal, and the will has reached its telos with the Eternal. This is the end point of the life of Simplicity, bringing us to wholeness in the Kierkegaard on Purity of Heart / 331 presence of God as opposed to losing "self" in the manyness of the "crowd" as in the life of Complexity. Conclusion Kierkegaard wrote his book as a collection of addresses which could be read at different times, with the reader still finding them of value. The result is that many of the same themes are used over and over. Although each section has a distinct flavor, it is also connected to all of the others. This makes it difficult to identify any clear line of development from the beginning to the end of the book. However, general comments about both styles of life can be made, now that the pattern within each mode has been made clear. For the life of Complexity there is a general shape that could be described as an inward and downward curve. This characterizes a concern to find mean-ing within the person. There appears to be a reliance upon the natural abilities of a person as a means of self-justification. This self-justification is indicative of the notion that everything a person needs for life can be found just by looking inward hard enough to locate it all. Schleiermacher could be used as an example of a theologian who placed a great amount of emphasis on the person being able to find God by looking inward. This mode of life is dependent on the belief that there is an intrinsic value to the person as a separate entity. Once the search is conducted and, as Kierkegaard believes~ the person comes up empty in the inward search, there is a sudden reversal of direction, and the search continues by looking to other people. It is hoped that what could not be found within the person may be found in the "crowd." Once again the empha-sis is on what human beings are capable of doing for themselves, and to Kierkegaard that is unacceptable. The natural shape of the life of Simplicity would be outward and upward. This time there is an emphasis on God, who is outside of humanity, as the basis of movement on the path toward the Good. God provides all that is necessary for the journey and God gives the person value in his sight and at the same time in the eyes of the world. There is no need for justification beyond that which God has given. In the life of Simplicity God is sufficient for the person who "wills one thing." Movement toward the Good is a long, slow process since it is not natural to humanity. On the other hand, movement toward double-mindedness comes easily since it does not fit our sinful nature like a well-worn glove. The tension between the two of them is intense because Complexity has a way of imitating expressions of the Good. Life is not looked upon as a black and white matter. Life has immense areas of grey that the person depends upon God to be led through. There is another contribution that Kierk.egaard makes in his book. There, he preserves the integrity of what it is to be human and, at the same time, acknowledges the absolute sovereignty of God. We do not need to be more than what we are as persons. There is no call to greatness beyond the greatness 339 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 that we have as creations of God. The holiness of our existence is a gift of God to us. We are attracted to God because of the love he has shown for us through his Son. Our humanness has been blessed, and yet God has not been com-promised in any way. Many of the theologians of Kierkegaard's day looked for justification within humanity or within creation as represented by the natural world, but this was not something Kierkegaard could accept. He took on the difficult task of pointing to God who stands over and above all creation, and to humanity, which held a special place in the created order. Kierkegaard was clearly Lutheran in all of his basic presuppositions, and remained consistent in this position. I would suggest that an area for further study would be to see how these modes of life carry over into Kierkegaard's other writings and perhaps into his own life. NOTES ~Soren Aabye Kierkegaard, Purity of Heart Is to Will One Thing. trans. Douglas V. Steere (New York: Harper and Brothers Publishers, 1948), pp. 27-28. 21bid. p. 107. 31bid. p. 38. 41bid. p. 116. 5Ibid. p. I00. 7New American Standard Btble. 9Ibid. p. 80. ~2Ibid. p. 8 I. '~Ibid. pp. 126-127. ~81bid. p. 140. 2~Ibid. p. 191. 241bid. p. 206. ~71bid. p. 148. 3°Ibid. p. 150-151. ~Ibid. p. 52. SKierkegaard, Purity of Heart. p. 63. ~°Ibid. p. 79. '~Ibid. p. 88. ~31bid. p. 129. ~4Ibid. p. 127. ~6Ibid. p. 168. ~71bid. p. 51. ~91bid. p. 61. "-°Ibid. p. 151. nlbid, p. 47. "-31bid. p. 197. ~lbid. p. 93. ~6lbid. p. 122. 2Slbid. p. 158. ~91bid. p. 147. 311bid. p. 176. Withstanding Sunbelt Sectarianism David K. O'Rourke, O.P. Father O'Rourke is Associate Director of the Family Life Ministry for the Diocese of Oakland, CA and Adjunct Professor of Pastoral Theology at the Graduate Theological Union of Berkeley. He may be addressed: 2446 Estand Way: Pleasant Hill, CA 94523. In recent months two of America's leading scholars have made statements that bring the current direction of education for religious life seriously into question. Both of them, professors at the University of California at Berkeley, speak out of personal scholarship and accomplishments so respected that their comments merit a hearing. Speaking at the annual meeting of the American Association of Colleges in Boston, Professor Charles Muscatine, a Chaucer scholar and, from our point of view even more important, one of the most respected university educators in the United States, noted that American education has abandoned its proper role of teaching students how to make ethical judgments in favor of a concern with technical skill teaching. Speaking of the bachelor's degree, Professor Muscatine said it has become a "marvelous convenience for a mediocre society, putting passive acceptance.ahead of questioning, and propagating the danger-oias myth that technical skills are more important than ethical reasoning." His address received favorable comment in a New York Times editorial.~ The editorial continued "What am lherefor? is the student's and the teacher's perpetual question. To gain and give life skills and a glimpse of life's larger possibilities seems an appropriate answer to each of them." in a recent article in Commonweal~ Robert Bellah, Ford Professor of Sociology and Sociology Department chairman, described a structural change in American religion. Using categories of Ernst Troeltsch, which are com-monly used by students of religion, he notes that there has been a shift from the "church type" of religion, which ". we may briefly characterize as an 333 3311 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 organic conception of the religious institution for which the defining metaphor is the Pauline image of the Body of Christ," to the "sect type" which ". views the Church primarily as a voluntary association of believers." and which sees itself"., primarily as the gathered elect and focuses on the purity of those within . " This shift, he says, parallels other shifts. There is a shift from the civic and religious ideals which provided the underpinnings to the social ameliorization we saw in our past history in the United States to an "ever growing dominance of bureaucratic individualism." There is the shift in American political power from the eastern establishment to the sunbelt capitalists of Texas and California. And there is the shift in importance from the heavy industries of the north and east to the "technologically innovative industries of the south and west." I believe that we can synthesize the statements of these two scholars into a picture of a culture, both religious and civil, that is changing the religious life we see herein the west. It is also producing the candidates for religious life we are receiving here. And because of California's influence through its control of the media it is influencing the entire United States. The dominant influence in religion is a view of church life that is religiously subjective, personally pious, politically uninvolved, technically skilled and culturally unlettered. I believe that this view can be summarized as sunbelt sectarianism. Living, teaching and ministering in Berkeley for the past fifteen years, I have had the opportunity to see the rise of this new phenomenon. In October of 1966 I joined ten other Dominicans in establishing the first Catholic com-munity at Berkeley's pioneering Graduate Theological Union. Since that day hundreds of other men and women have come here for studies. The Berkeley venture has, itself, become a model for religious, theological and pastoral studies and formation. Those studies and formation, I believe, are more and more becoming a mastery of those same technical skills that Professor Musca-tine described, and less and less a development of the art of ethical reasoning which he sees as the goal of all education. Make no mistakeabout it, the level of skills he is referring to is high, in-deed. The University of California has few equals in its ability to train men and women in the scientific, social and professional skills that make our society run. However, as the Times editorial suggests, it is far less well equipped to teach its students how to answer the question "What am I here for?" The ministerial skills we are teaching in our pastoral training centers are also of high caliber. The art of working in the community as an effective leader and on the one-to-one level is taught at least as well as in other professions, like medicine and law. Current understanding of Scripture is well taught. Tech-niques in liturgical design and performance are also taught. The broader questions, however, like the one posed by the editorial writer of the Times are not explored in a way which allows the Church's traditional answerings of the question to be brought into the discussion. 1 do not dehy Withstanding Sunbelt Sectarianism / 335 that they are answered. I suggest that they are answered from within the context of sunbelt sectarianism. They are not explored within the context of church as Body of Christ. The questions are answered in light of the individual's personal religious experience, frequently an experience that led to entering into religious life. They are not explored in the light of the Catholic theological tradition to which the individual is exposed after his or her arrival into theological educa-tion. The latter may be used to establish some theological foundations for ministry. It is not really used, in my experience, to establish the theological foundations for the minister. These remain what they were when the man or woman arrived. Professor Bellah points out that each of the definitions of church that he uses in his article, including the idea of the organic church and sectarianism, has found a welcome within the Christian tradition. That is true. But within the Roman Catholic tradition the view of the Church as the Body of Christ comes closer to the religious and theological tradition that lies at the heart of the Church's life than do any of the other views of church. I am suggesting, it should he obvious, that we religious have followed much the same route as the universities. In our case, however, the deviation from what we should be about is more serious. An argument could possibly be made for universities devoted to transmitting technical skills. Less°argument can be made for Catholic religious orders that are not concerned, first and foremost, with answering the question "What am I here for?" and trying to answer that question, at least in part, by drawing on the Church's theological tradition. I would like to look a bit more into the situation described by Professors Bellah and Muscatine, especially as it can be related to education for ministry and religious life, by examining three sets of opposed values drawn from their statements. The opposed values are skill mastery versus life purpose explora-tion; creativity versus passivity; ethical reasoning versus affective moral intuitionism. 1 will begin discussing skill mastery versus life purpose exploration by illustrating the differences with a story. When I first began my theological studies many years ago I was taught by one of the country's leading moral theologians. Nearing retirement age, he went on instead to become editor for the moral theology section of the Catholic Encyclopaedia. In his years as a teacher he was respected for his ability to bring speculative principles to bear on concrete issues. We were all gathered in the lecture hall for the first class of the year, and he entered the room and climbed the three steps to the large platform from which the professor lectured. Since this was the first day of class we were all waiting for him to outline the course of lectures he was to deliver. Instead he did something quite different. After walking back and forth, and pausing to look out the window obviously thinking about something, he turned and just looked at us. Then he began to talk. "Increasingly in profes- 336 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 sional education, and commonly in seminaries, it is the practice to give the student enough training and adequate skills so that he can go about his work with competence and confidence. Here," he added, "we are trying to do some-thing fundamentally different. We are trying to provide you with a framework, conceptual and personal, within which you will be able to make sense of your own lives. Then we hope that you will be able to go out and help others do the same." And then, without further comment, he began his lecture. The difference between mastering a curriculum and making sense of life can also be seen as the difference between fitting into a world of someone else's design and establishing the moral and ethical parameters of your own world. I believe that this difference is also the difference between a skilled technician and a religious leader. 'Within the context of religious education it is the difference between accepting someone else's priorities for life and recognizing the need to establish your own, and ~oing this not as a duty but as a real, personal need. Professor Muscatine's statement, translated into the context of pastoral training and religious education, would say that specialization as a self-defini-tion has replaced religious and ethical probing as a means to self-definition. And skill training for ministry has replaced learning the art of making ethical judgments as the model for education itself. The second set of opposed values, passivity versus creativity, follows from the first. The individual learning technical skills begins his learning recognizing that what he wants is the possession of another, the mastery of a technique. What is of value, the particular skill or technique, is in someone else's hands, and the student works to gain what he does not yet have. The message communicated by the learning medium values the technical master's knowl-edge, not the student's lack of that knowledge. Life-purpose clarification, on the other hand, values the student's ability to probe and explore, and assumes that, here and now, he or she possesses creative abilities. In the process of trying to make sense of life all are equal participants. While some are further along in the attempt, and the teacher, in principle, has achieved some mastery of these human arts, all have the oppor-tunity to be creatively involved. The third set of opposed values is ethical reasoning versus affective moral intuitionism. Learning to reason ethically, as opposed to an affectively directed intuition of right and wrong, let it be said, is a supremely difficult task. Deciding what to do through a rational process of assessing the proper goals and the means to those goals is a far cry from deciding, based on feelings. In effect, it means abandoning a non-effort--intuiting right and wrong, based on how the individual feels about it--for the difficult effort of establishing internally coherent and systematically logical principles of human action. 1 submit that this is an effort of prime intellectual and personal asceticism. I believe that in our education for religious life and pastoral work we are institutionalizing affective intuitionism in the place of ethical reasoning, passiv- Withstanding Sunbelt Sectarianism ity in the place of creativity, and skill mastery in the place of life-purpose exploration. I am not so naive as to suggest that the replaced values were realized goals in the past. What I am saying is that they were stated values. Further, I believe that we are moving from these stated values to the newer ones in response to the influence of the current view of the Church as sect. We are living with a view of church in which it is effectively defined, as Professor Bellah describes it, as a voluntary association of believers. The difference between the two views can both be pictured and symbolized by the differing means of entry into each. In the Church seen as the body of Christ new members are baptized into a community of believers and become members of Christ. They are members in the root meaning of the word, a physical part of an organic body. In the Church seen as sect the new members make a decision for Christ, and are members in virtue of that decision. The membership is not organic as much as voluntary. The new values we are institutionalizing in our training for ministry and religious life fit comfortably within the definition of church as sect. They are at odds with the view of church as an inclusive body, the Body of Christ. The values being replaced fit comfortably within the view of church as Body of Christ. They do not fit within the functioning of a church defined as sect. There are obvious advantages to the view of the Church as sect. It draws clear lines between those who will live by its values and those who do not. So it is equipped to judge those who belong and those who do not. And in an age of clashing values, it helps to know who is with you and who is not. The function-ing of the Church as sect fosters clarity of values. Greys are washed out to the advantage of the stronger blacks and whites. There are also disadvantages. A church which distinguishes between the elect and the sinners will leave the sinners behind. Placing a value on the process of making that distinction will also surface a means to do so. Since the traditional theology of the church maintains that the distinction cannot be made, an extra-theological means will have to be found, like an affective in-tuitionism. And such systems, like a zealot's hunches, can prove unreasonable. The organic view of the Church, the Church seen according to the Pauline model of the Body of Christ, has many disadvantages. It is an inclusive Church, and an inclusive church is morally muddy. Combine this moral muddiness with the emphasis on moral decision making which I advocate, and which I admit is an art very difficult to master and beyond many people, and it can be a disheartening combination. It means that we will live beset by the suspicion that our moral decisions may not be definitive. But it is also quite possible that it is this very suspicion which has led religious leaders in the past to stress the importance of learning how to make ethical decisions. Technical skills can be mastered in a way that ethical decision ' making cannot. And this fact may lead some to see skill mastery as a more worthwhile goal than moral decision making. Our current education for reli-gious life and ministry seems to embody this view. But 1 would suggest that 3311 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 religious leadership can be,benefited more by an emphasis on moral decision making, an emphasis that is more at home in the Church seen as Body of Christ than in the Church seen as sect. NOTES I Jan. 22, 1982 2Dec. 3, 1982 The Coming Down ~Going up to Jerusalem . . ." I got used to-- There was such a dearness to it. A digging-in, yes-- A putting-t he-face-to-t he-wind . Going up to Jerusalem had its hardness. But, oh, the coming down . Coming down from Jerusalem The purpose is gone And even the trees forget their bareness and bloom again As if my journey had not been-- As if I did not leave my Love to the wind and the stars Under the snow--on a hillside . "Going up to Jerusalem." had its price, But, oh, the coming down (alone) Is beyond the counting . Sister Ann Maureen, 1.H.M. 11201 Academy Road Philadelphia, PA 19154 Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education: Some Tentative Theses Michael J. Buckley, S.J. Father Buckley gave this as a paper at the annual meeting of Jesuit academic vice-presidents in 1982. This year Father Buckley is Barman Scholar in Residence at the University of Santa Clara, on leave from the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley. Introduction In the pages that follow, 1 have tried to suggest certain reflections around the general and troubled topic of the Jesuit, Catholic university. I do so because 1 suspect that a central problem for many administrators of such institutions lies within the vagueness or even chaotic understanding of this governing issue: what it is that they are administering. What do you mean by a "Jesuit university"?. Is it basically the same sort of thing that any Catholic university is--something clear enough in purpose, however imperfect in reali-zation; but at the same time something variant, in that the Jesuit university is staffed in part by a different religious coterie and marked by a particular historical tradition, so that one speaks primarily about "Jesuit presence" when one talks about these institutions? Or are we talking about something that is radically different when we talk about a Jesuit university? Are we talking about a university with a cultural orientation and a peculiar set of emphases that make it profoundly different from other Catholic universities, granted any number of similarities among them all--differences and similarities which the administrator should be at pains to foster? Or is there something in between? When one assumes administration of such an institution, it is not unreas-onable for such questions to be asked. Especially in a university, there is a unique value in knowing what you are doing! 339 ~141~ [ Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 Appropriate as such a set of questions is, however, it presupposes too much. It presupposes that the content of "Catholic university" is itself already determined--a "cluster concept," at least, which all can recognize, agree upon, and discuss within. I think, though, that this presupposition is false. I think that "Catholic university" is as much of an ambiguity as "Jesuit university," and that many of the problems in understanding the latter stem from an incoherence in this more fundamental premise. Since that is my conviction, 1 have structured the theses of this article accordingly. 1 have first set down a series of statements which I think are true about Catholic universities in general, and then I have stated how I think these either have been or could be realized in the Jesuit university. The normal difficulties of such a task of description or definition are increased enormously for American Jesuits by a second fact, one which also touches the presuppositions for a series of questions on the nature of Jesuit higher education: American Jesuits are almost universally unaware of, or indifferent to some central foundational documents in their tradition. A strik-ing example of this was provided by a remark of Father George Ganss~ on the initial options posed byProject One:2 The second feature of Project One (Volume 4) which strikes this writer is the virtually total lack of references to or use of Part IV of Ignatius' Constitutions, the locus where he most succinctly, clearly and authoritatively enshrined his educational theory or rationale. That theory is his own application of the dynamic and apostolic world view towards which God led him . In Part IV of the Constitutions, he applied it to the formation of Christian persons in the secondary schools and universities which he founded and administered.3 In a subsequent discussion with Father Ganss, a prominent Jesuit educator remarked that the Fourth Part of the Constitutions was not only absent from the written reports of Project One, but from almost all of its discussions as well. It would be instructive, perhaps, to discover how many Jesuits have some knowledge of the characteristic elements which Ignatius placed in the Fourth Part of the Constitutions, as distinct from those which subsequent Jesuit educators specified in the Ratio studiorum.4 If Jesuits do not know the unique genius of their own origin in education, they cannot define a present stand for themselves in education by "dialoguing with their tradition." They are left to follow in their adaptations: (a) usages within their own memories and (b) the patterns and directions they find in American secular education. Perhaps the reason for the repeated failures of commissions, conferences and programs for Jesuit higher education is that these have represented individual or collective initiatives at particular periods, but initiatives without continuity with the organic development of the Society. Isolated from this continually evolving tradition, these initiatives lived briefly and died. Whatever be the accuracy of this reading of our present awareness of our Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education / :341 historical meaning, 1 have tried to formulate the theses of this article with one such central foundational document in mind--the most important document, in my opinion: the Fourth Part of the Jesuit Constitutions. 1 do so, not because 1 think that American Jesuits of the twentieth century can or should copy or repeat these individual provisions, but because these spell out in the concrete Ignatius' view of higher education. Perhaps by looking at what might seem, at first blush, quaint or antiquated, the contemporary Society could sketch more perceptively an outline of what it is about today and enrich its self-understanding by drawing from its tradition some of its unrealized possibilities. The difficulty of any de~nitional inquiry is that its language must be prescriptive as well as descriptive, i.e. it must say something about what this thing is to become as well as describe what it de facto is. Consequently, any discussion of the idea of a university will always suffer from the accusation of irreality. But the value of such prescriptive discourse is that it can present something of a vision of what the institution might become and a goal towards which human beings might marshall their efforts. Finally, these theses are insistently entitled tentative. They are my first attempt to do something along these lines, and I am anxious to obtain modifi-cations, corrections, and suggestions of alternatives. The value of the Renais-sance "thesis method" was that positions were laid down which reflected a serious judgment and were stated with a precision and in a common language which made discussion and disagreement possible. The liability of the thesis method was that it tended towards defensiveness, polemics, and inflexibility. Let me attempt to allow for these deficiencies by positing these theses as "exploratory," as being a number of statements that I think are true and which are stated as directly as possible in order to invite the reflections of the reader. Hence, to speak again from the customs of an earlier time: "salvo meliore iudicio . " 1. The Nature of a Catholic University Thesis 1: The problem of the Catholic university is falsely stated if it is framed as if this university and the Church were two distinct, though inter-connected institutions. Counterposition: Father Timothy Healy, S.J., in "Belief and Teaching," Georgetown Magazine (January-February, 1982), p. 3: How does the Church live within a university? How do the two institutions interact on common ground?. The Church also lives here [in a Catholic university] in two distinct ways: first, it leads its own life on our grounds; secondly, the Church joins in, shares and influences the life and the work of the university itself. Comment: Such an understanding does not do justice either to the historical nature of the Catholic university or to its intrinsic uniqueness. Father Healy's "two distinct ways" could describe the presence of the Church within any major secular society, such as the City of New York. Catholic universities, in 342 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 contrast, are institutions founded by the Church, supported by the Church, and oriented to a unique service of the Church. Such a university is "Catholic" in a way that no city or state could be. Thesis 2: The Catholic university cannot be defined simply as a university where there is a strong Catholic presence. Counterposition: Father Ladislas M. Orsy, S.J., "A Catholic Presence," Amer-ica, (5 April 1969), p. 397: A human institution is not transformed into a supernatural one; it simply offers an opportunity to persons with religious belief to share the life and the work of a university community--in freedom and sympathy that supports them . The quality and intensity of their presence will make its mark on the university . To have a Catholic university, then, means to have a Catholic presence at the university. Comment: The same cricitism could be offered of this understanding as of the first, with the added remark that it is actually a description of a secular university with an active and influential Newman or Catholic Faculty Club. Both this and the previous descriptions attempt to determine the Catholic university as being a university in which the Church is one important element. Thesis 3: The Catholic university cannot be described as Catholic simply through the activities of campus ministry, the presence of religious and Catholic lay faculty, and a requirement in religious studies. Counterposition: "Goals and Guidelines of the University of Santa Clara," January, .1979: If we are to honor our heritage, we must assure that Santa Clam remains a Catholic and Jesuit university in more than name only. We do this now in many ways: the activities of the Campus Ministry Office: the involvement of Jesuits and campus lay people in all areas of campus life: the presence of spiritual counselors in the dormitories; the com-mitment of men and women in the Christian Life Community to service of God and mankind; the exposure of all undergraduate students to courses in the Department of . Religious Studies; and the role of the Mission Church as both the symbol of Santa Clam's heritage and a dynamic focus of Christian activity. Comment: In this understanding, the purpose in the Church which the Univer-sity of Santa Clara is to serve is not articulated. Most of the presence of the Church is assigned to campus ministry and segregated off from the formally academic integration of the university and its more general intellectual life. The university exists for mental culture, but, aside from religious studies, Catholic reflection and theology are allotted no pervasive place within the development of such a culture. Thesis 4: The Catholic university is one form of the Church, one of the communities which are integral to the universal Church, as much a Catholic community as is the parish, the monastery, the family, a secular institute, a communidad de base, and a diocese. These differ radically among themselves, each having its own members, constitu-tion, government, origins and purpose. Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education / 3113 Comment: "Such an ecclesial origin of the university cannot have been fortui-tous. Rather it seems to express something more profound. But why does the Church need the university?. The reason for this need should be sought in the very mission of the Church. In fact, the faith which the Church announces is a tides quaerens intellectum: a faith that demands to penetrate human intelligence, to be thought out by the intellect of the human person. Not by placing it alongside what intelligence can know by its own natural light, but by permeating from within this same knowledge" (Pope John Paul II, "The Church Needs the University," March 8, 1982, L'Osservatore Romano, Eng-lish edition [3 May, 1982], p. 6). In the same address, the pope refers to these institutions as a necessity for the Church. Thesis 5: The Catholic university is that Catholic community in which the Church "strives to relate all human culture to the gospel of salva-tion" (Gravissimum Educationis, no. 8). This relationship is con-cretely to be realized both in the development of its students and in the advancement of this integral knowledge by its faculty. Another way of making this claim: "Secondly, the university is Catholic in its deliberate determination to render the Church this unique service: to be a forum where in utter academic freedom the variant lines of Catholic tradition and thought can intersect with the most complex challenges, contradictions and reinforcements of contemporary thought, moving towards a unity of world and Word, that all things be assimilated into the Christ. No other institution within human culture can render this critically important contribu-tion to the Christian community (as a whole), and without it the commitments of faith disintegrate into sectarian polemics whose only strength lies in their isolation from contradicting contact" (Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "The Catholic University as Pluralistic Forum," Thought 46:181 [June, 1971], p. 208). Comment: The Catholic university, then, essentially includes within itself the presence and the unique contribution of non-Catholics as well as the academic freedom which makes open discussion possible. Without the presence of vari-ant tradition it would be impossible that the Church could sponsor this rela-tion of the Gospel with "all human culture." Both Catholic and non-Catholic faculty have an appropriate contribution to. make to the advancement of the life of the Catholic university, and what is asked from faculty and students is not a particular credal affiliation, but that they be willing to enter into the conversations about those questions which constitute the formal academic character of the Catholic university (theses I 1 and 12 below). This integration of the Gospel with .culture demands especially the presence and contribution of non-Catholic Christians whose perspectives p~sh the radical questions about what Christianity really is, and what it really means, in the contemporary world. This means that the Catholic university is not the Church nor a microcosm of the Church nor even a community composed only of believers. Such a 3l~l~ / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 university is, however, rather one modality or form which the Church in-ternally develops in order to reach its full stature, in order to become what it must be. It is an assimilative sub-community of the Church, i.e. one that assimilates into the reflection consequently upon the Gospel the vast pluralism of persons and persuasions representative of"all human culture,"a community whose institutional determination is to render to the Church universal this unique service. The autonomy of the Catholic university from controls that would be properly exercised over a diocese or a parish is essential. This academic freedom from external controls is essential not only for its authen-ticity as a university, but for that comprehensive, free discourse which alone can offer the Church serious, disinterested, and uninhibited inquiry. Thesis 6: Hence, the Catholic university as a unique Catholic community is, like any Christian communit.v, essentially sacramental, i.e. that community which, with historical continuity and tangible percepti-bility, makes present for all human beings now the realit.v of Christ drawing all human culture to himself. Another way of making this claim: It is in and through the Catholic university that the mission of Christ to draw all human culture to himself is given historical continuity and visibility in the twentieth century. Comment: The Catholic university is not a university in which the Church has a strong presence. The Catholic university is itself, and as a whole, a presence of the Church. Thesis 7: The manner in which this understanding of the university is mani-fested in the Jesuit Constitutions is by (1) stipulating that the entire college[university is a residence of the Society, i.e., the entire college/university is a Christian, religious community (Formula of the Institute (5), (8)," Const. 289)," (2) orienting both the schools of humane letters and of natural science to their integration with theology (446-452); (3) insisting upon the Christian service for which these studies are undertaken, often concretized as .future teaching, and generalized as "the glory of God and the good of souls" (Const. 440; 289-290; 351; 446; 622). Comment: This orientation towards service received striking expression by Ignatius on December I, 1551: From among those who are now merely students, some in time will depart to play diverse roles--one to preach and carry on the care of souls, another to government of the land and the administration of justice, and others to other occupations. Finally. since young boys become grown men. their good education in life and doctrine will be beneficial to many others, with the results expanding more widely every day (Monu-menta Historica Societatis lesu. Epp. Ign. IV. p. 9). II. The Administration of a Catholic University Thesis 8: The academic leadership or administration within a Catholic uni- Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education / 345 versity is essentially a religious ministry. By "religious ministry" is meant something quite specific, namely that it is the. responsibility of the administration that the sacramental finality of the Catholic university be realized: the integration of human culture and the Gospel. This ministry is intellectual leadership, but that does not make it less religious. It bears directly upon the intellectual service of God, a pervasive ministerium verbi (Ministry of the Word), in which the Word is translated into varying cultures, in which a more accurate understanding is gained by its encounter with and advancement of these cultures and in which a new synthe-sis is obtained between faith and all forms of knowledge. This ministerium verbi is the first ministry which the Formula of the Institute lists in its enumer-ation of Jesuit apostolic commitments. The universities have a unique function in this ministry: to advance and to synthesize the Gospel and all forms of human culture. Comment: Thus the president, the academic vice-president, the deans, the provost--whoever de facto preside over the life of the university have a pro-foundly synthetic religious leadership as their primary task. Their leadership is not "religious" as opposed to "academic" or intellectual"---that is precisely the dichotomy that the university is to deny. But it must be stated that if the leader of any Christian community--be it a Catholic university or parish or family or monastery or hospital--is not persuaded of the appropriately religious charac-ter of his or her leadership, then the community drifts into secularization. Thesis 9: The manner in which this understanding of university[college administration is manifested in the Jesuit Constitutions is by the insistence upon the personal religious character of its rector (423) and upon the religious quality of his leadership, with learning and Christian life placed as a single finality (424, 490). Comment: There are no grounds for asserting that separate incorporation removes the essentially religious nature of Jesuit university leadership. It is not the case that the division of functions between rector and president meant that one was religious and the other secular: The rector of the community is the religious leader of the Jesuit commu-nity, and his function is to govern it in such a way that it is Jesuit in its life and supports this apostolate to which it is committed. The president of the Jesuit university is the religious leader of the univer-sity, and his function is to administer it in such a way that its life promotes that intellectual and moral integration of all human culture with the Gospel which is its purpose. See Pedro Arrupe, S.J., "The Image of the Jesuit University President," (August 8, 1975) Documentation 27/2. III. The Formal, Academic Catholic Character of the Catholic University Thesis 10: The formal character of any" university is not constituted by the 346 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 elimination or by the presence ~f any particular discipline. Comment: A university, to be a university, should include whatever passes as serious and disciplined knowledge. The exclusign of theology from a particular university does not mean in itself that it has excluded religious commitment; per se it means that it has fallen that short of being a university. On the other hand, the presence of Catholic theology on a university campus does not necessarily indicate that the university is Catholic; it indicates that it is just that much more a university. Thesis 11: The formal, academic character of any university is constituted by the order of the questions which are entertained and by the kind of knowledge which is considered most worth having. Comment: One would not expect restrictions upon discourse and study at the University of California at Davis, or at MIT, or at the University of Santa Clara. But the priorities in the issues to be investigated or the knowledge considered either fundamental or most important will be different in these different institutions. This trait will constitute the difference among them. " Thesis 12: The Catholic academic character of a university will be constituted by the quality and the influence of its theology, i.e. by the depth, rigor, and thoroughness with which theological inquiry is con-ducted and by the integrating influence of theology upon all of the other disciplines taught in the university. A Catholic university is one in which Catholic theology acts as an architectonic wisdom, one which draws the arts and the sciences and the engagements of the professional schools into an ongoing conversation about pre-suppositions, consequences, and common themes. Thesis 13." The Constitutions exhibit this understanding of the Catholic aca-demic character of the university primarily in the principal empha-sis which they give to theology (446). Literature, natural sciences and philosophy are oriented to this theological wisdom: their study prepares the students for the serious engagement in theology; theology unifies knowledge into a single understanding of the world, into a wisdom; the orientation of all learning tends to the same end ultimately as theology (447-451). Comment: The place of theology given by the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus is really quite different from that allotted to it by, say, Newman's Idea of a University. In Newman, theology would be one element among others in a circle of knowledge which forms the "philosophical habit of mind." In Igna-tius, theology is the principal and governing discipline in which the humane letters and sciences reach their natural completion (446, 450). Thesis 14: The formal academic curriculum of a Catholic university must be sustained by the surrounding presence of a more general Catholic culture that makes the daily life of the university itself. Jesuit, Catholic Higher Education / 347 Comment: Examples of this "more general Catholic culture" would be found in the quality and seriousness of its worship, the character of its collective morality and social concerns, the pastoral care of one member for another, the seminars and general lectures which it fosters, the atmosphere of intellectual and religious interests, and so forth (see Const. 481-489). IV. Agents of Integration of Faith with Culture Thesis 15: Granted this integrating function as the primary work of the administration, the principal administrator must be aided in his responsibility by subordinate officials whose ministry it is to see that this integration permeates the intellectual life (the Academic Vice-President), the social life (Vice-President for Student Affairs), and the religious life of the university (the University Chaplain). Thesis 16: Such an integral view of the Catholic university can never be realized if "campus ministry" is only or principally composed of those who are not part of the academic community and who confine themselves to the ob.viously liturgical and pastoral en-gagements of the university, i.e. if campus ministry confines itself to a "sacristy" or even to an "activist "function. Thesis 17: "Campus ministry" should be that interdepartmental committee whose function it is to assist the president in some aspects of his religious ministry to the Catholic university, i.e. the integration of faith with culture/life. Such a staff or committee is necessary because too many of the possibilities for such an integration can-not be realized in the present departmental divisions: members of the various departments should be invited to become members of this interdepartmental staff, composed of the University Chaplain and members of the university faculty, and full-time staff members. These are some implications and possibilities envisaged by this thesis: 1. The head of "campus ministry" should be the University Chaplain of the school, with the rank of vice-president to assist the president in his general religious ministry of the integration of faith and culture. 2. The majority of the members of the "campus ministry" committee or staff would also be members of other departments and schools. 3. Areas of religious integration which are open to such a "campus ministry" would be for example: a. Sponsorship of a religious/academic bookstore which would be a cen-ter of regular discussions, lectures, and seminars on the integration of faith and culture. b. Introduction into the campus of the great range of prophetic and intel-lectual movements within the Church, such as the Catholic Workers, Charis-matics, liturgical groups, Pax Christi, Rural Life Conference, Christian Family Life, Jesuit Volunteers--for the possibilities both of critique and of assimila- 341~ Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 tion into the life of the university. c. Sponsorship of prolonged engagements in Christian service which would be planned, supervised and reflected upon for their Christian elements and which would be of such an academic quality that the theology department could recognize them as legitimate courses. d. Through the presence of campus ministry on various academic commit-tees, planning groups, and other representative bodies, a continual source of the questions about the integration between these plans or programs and the purpose of the university. e. Through their presence within placement offices, career planning and counseling centers, a challenge to the university community, that the teachers would understand their lives and the students plan their futures as vocations rather than simply careers,.i.e, as a way of life and service within the world which is a response to the call of God in their lives, rather than a positive evaluation of obvious and secularly justifiable options. f. Organization of a rich and full liturgical life, which embodies such possibilities as the Morning and Evening Prayer of the Church, a eucharistic liturgy which follows the variations and harmony of the liturgical year, a series of "university sermons," etc., and which so integrates the university as a whole at certain solemn occasions that it is the university, as this form of the Church, which is at prayer. Thesis 18: To act as an architectonic wisdom, Catholic theolog.v must be restored as an integral discipline, distinct both from the more gen-eral "religious studies "and from an eclectic amalgam of disparate courses in Scripture or ethics or spirituality. "Theology "is here understood as an inquiry into the natu~'e, influence and claims of God as revealed in Christ, and "religious studies "as an investiga-tion of the nature and varieties of religions or confessions which have emerged in human history. Comment: As the architectonic discipline which integrates and marks a Catholic university, theology should be in constant interchange with the other sciences and arts, with the other schools, studies, and activities of the univer-sity. Theology gains in content and in method in its encounters with other disciplines; the other disciplines are drawn beyond themselves into a general academic unity by their discussions with theology. What kind of presence or curriculum-order is necessary to obtain such a dialogue can only be deter-mined by experience, but it should be of such a character as (a) to maintain theology as a serious and systematic study and (b) to constitute it in a synthetic unity with all the other aspects of the university. Thesis 19: Thus both theology and "campus ministry" have an integrating function within the university. Everything within the university is the object of the theological faculty as it attempts to move towards a synthetic vision which is a Christian wisdom, and of "campus Jesuit, Cathofic Higher Education Thesis 21: ministry" as it attempts to introduce that vision into practice and expand it in areas not under the purview of various departments. The manifestation of the sacramental nature of the Catholic uni-versity, i.e., of the historical presence of Christ drawing all human culture to himself, is to be found in every aspect of the university: in the priorities among the questions investigated and in the knowl-edge thought essential," in the quality of the intellectual, moral and religious life on campus; in the criteria by which decisions are reached and investments made; in the kind of recruitment informa-tion, of students admitted, and of faculty hired, and so forth. The Jesuit community is that local community of Jesuits who both collectively and individually minister to this kind of university. How it does so would be the subject of another twenty theses,t NOTES ~The Reverend George E. Ganss, S.J. is the distinguished translator and editor of the English version of the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus. 2Project One was an attempt of the American Jesuits, initiated in 1973 and extending over the next four or five years, to identify and evaluate their goals and efforts in the apostolate of education. 3Project One, Volume #5, pp. 194-195. 4The Ratio Studiorum is the successively revised Jesuit plan of studies, an organization of curricula and of instructional methods rather than an exposition of educational theory. "What Should I Wear Today?" Thomas Ryan, C.S.P. Father Ryan is associate director of the Canadian Centre for Ecumenism. He is the author of Fasting Rediscovered: A Guide to Health and Wholeness for Your Body-Spirit and Tales of Christian Unity (Paulist Press). He may be addressed at the center: 2065 Ouest, Rue Sherbrooke; Montreal H3H IG6; Canada. I got up this morning and stood before my closet and asked: "What should I wear today?" Not so long ago the question felt like a helpful freedom; more and more it is feeling like a bother, and I frequently find myself resenting the loss of time and energy as I stand there in morning grogginess trying to answer the question. Where 1 live we probably face it more than would be the case elsewhere, yet Quebec is certainly not the only place in North America where the religious uniform has been traded in for secular dress. The history here is unique, but some of its consequences are shared with the rest of the continent. Some twenty years ago in a cultural revolution in Quebec, Canada, the Church was perceived to be too friendly with a government that had permitted the English to keep the key positions of economic influence and kept the French down on the farm. Both the Church and English economic dominance were thrown off like unwanted and resented yokes by the increasingly nationalistic French majority. Education and the university became the new place of worship and the leaders of the Parti Qubbbcois, the new high priests of the society. In the period of anticlericalism that followed, the French clergy traded in their clericals for ties and turtlenecks, and the sign of contradiction was reduced to a cross on a suit-coat lapel. "The anticlericalism was so pronounced," explained one sister who lived through it, "that at any public meeting we would go to, we were condemned by our apparent association with the Church before we even opened our mouths. We priests and sisters began dressing in 350 "What Should 1 Wear Today?"/ ~151 civies just to get a fair hearing and have what we were saying evaluated on its own merit." Among the English clergy in Quebec, there are enough "ties" or enough "collars" present to leave one genuinely feeling free in either direction. In other words, there is an unpressured climate for each person to sort through the value questions involved and make a choice, knowing the "tie" will not mean "radical" nor clericals mean "conservative." When I said jokingly to a confrere this evening that 1 was going to submit an article to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS entitled "What Should 1 Wear Today?" he immediately responded, "Oh, you mean, 'Who am I going to see today?"' He was quite right, and that's part of what bothers me. When l'm going to be meeting with Orthodox clergy, I wear black. When l'm going to be meeting With Protestant clergy, ! wear a tie. When they're both going to be there, 1 find myself playing one off against the other in my mind in a kind of who's-more-important- to-me game. What I am uncomfortable with is that it's my projection of the other's reaction to me that guides the decision. Where are my own convictions in the matter? 1 was thrown back on that question because I caught myself feeling like l'd made the "wrong" (political, not moral) decision. One day I put on a suit and tie to speak at a clergy study-day in the neighboring province of Ontario. When I arrived and saw all the collars and religious habits I was reminded again of what a different world Ontario is from Quebec. "Are you a local minister?" (he meant Protestant) asked one clerically-attired person who turned out to be a permanent deacon. The irony was rich. So I asked myself on the way home, "What are your values on this question?" Some years ago I was in an identity group of seminarians as part of a training program for counselors at the Center for Religion and Psychiatry in Washington, D.C. We spent a few sessions on the question, "What does it mean for me to wear or not wear a collar?" It's certain that not all of the participants drew the same conclusions from those discussions, but the operating principle that evolved for me from our reflections was a variation of "The habit does not make the monk." Dress that identifies me as a religious person is a means. If it will be likely to help advance some pastoral situation, use it. If it is likely to get in the way (as may be the case on college campuses with university students), don't use it. During that formative period, the important thing seemed to be secure enough in my own identity that I didn't need the collar as a crutch. Satisfied that my identity as a priest and religious was anchored within, and not in what I wore without, I proceeded to live these past years with no consistent external mode of dress. Yet, the question is not settled with me. Where the above rationale breaks down is in the presumption that I can always accurately project which mode of dress will be a pastoral asset or liability. In our secularized society, there is a growing Catholic consciousness of our mission for evangelization. We are becoming more aware of the importance of each of us witnessing, according to 359 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 our occupation and way of life,to a faith-centered existence. This awareness is perhaps renewing our appreciation of sacramentals and their potential to be an occasion of reflection for the casual passerby. To the extent that a mode of dress conveys a religious meaning, it qualifies as a sacramental. On this question of sacramentals, Sacramentum Mundi notes that "the statements of the Constitution on the Liturgy point to an emphasis on their character as a sign. But they do not answer the fundamental question, whether the sacramentals are not part of a special religious world which may be outdated by. the present-day experience of existence in the world. This [question]. has particularly far-reaching consequences for the usage of the sacramentals and hence for their theology, which must concen-trate fundamentally on their apt and proper use . Religion must not be seen in purely transcendental terms or merely as a dimension in depth. It must be classified in the category of a sphere of religious manifestations . The difference between nature and grace, and between the present and the coming age, justifies the existence of an order of sacred signs which express and manifest this difference." The habit, the collar, the cross, have not lost their power to be a sign of transcendence or of contradiction, a symbol that casts a question. But I do not always have the courage or the desire to stand apart. Or sit apart, for that matter. When I'm on the bus, I've noticed people will generally not sit next to "a collar" if there's another choice. On a plane, where people don't know who they're choosing to sit next to, 1 often feel more-than-the-usual hesitancy on the part of the other to normal social discourse. Or the reverse happens and one finds oneself in a not-so-private counseling session. And on the street corner while waiting for the light, I try not to notice the out-of-the-corner-of-the- eye glances that indicate one is being coolly appraised: "Hmm! What is a young (median clergy age today: 50!), intelligent-looking (well, at least my sister says that my receding hair line makes me look more 'intellectual'), athletic (I confess: it is getting harder) person like that doing in the priesthood?" When 1 was living for a time with a family in France, the mother said to me one day, "If you catch our guests kind of staring at you sometimes, don't take it personally. It's just that for us a young priest is, well, a very curious beast." What I'm coming to recognize is that there's going to be a negative reaction on the part of some people whichever way one dresses, and a positive reaction on the part of others. Furthermore, the guideline, "What will help or hinder my pastoral effectiveness in any given situation?" seems more and more presumptuous to me. Who can ever really know what happens in the hearts and minds of people when they see a priest in his clericals? If presumptive guesses about what others want, will be pleased by, or will derive benefit from are unreliable, then what is there to guide me? My answer is: my desire to make my life an articulate sign of the gospel I am trying to live. I am closer now than 1 was five or seven years ago to seeing how religious symbolism in dress can be an effective concretization of that desire. But as long "' What ShouM I Wear Today?"/ 353 as religious garb is connected with actions or life-styles that do not clearly reflect gospel living (which will always be the case to some extent), clericals or a religious habit will never be an entirely reliable symbol of communication. Thus it is that my choice on any given day is made with a certain flexibility and tentativeness, and with a sense of its built-in limitations in either direction. I was recently in a conversation with a group of priests and one of them told a story on four of the others that illustrates the point. "When I met you at the port on the first stop of your Caribbean cruise, 1 was surprised to see you were all wearing clericals," said the recounter of the tale. "Ah yes," one of the four affirmed, "we were not pleased with the cabins we'd been given, so we were trying to influence the ship's captain." "And?" "Oh it worked quite nicely. For the rest of the trip we were given any available suite." That's why many of the priests in. Montreal have switched to ties and coats. But I wonder sometimes on the buses and subways and street corners whether anybody sees that little cross on their lapel, and I wonder if we're using all available means of witnessing to the presence of God in a society hungering for meaning and ready to respect people who stand for something. If you and I should meet, what will I be wearing? Well, I'll probably be wearing the question inside and wondering if I made the best choice that day! The Incarnation and Chariots of Fire Halbert Weidner, C.O. Father Weidner published an account of the spirituality of the Oratory in our issue of November, 1979. He continues to reside at South Carolina's Oratory, the mailing address of which is P.O. Box 11586; Rock Hill, SC 29370. The Liturgy of the Hours has been enriched with an appendix of poetry and among the most recent poets represented there are the remarkable British pair of Edwin Muir (1881-1959) and Kathleen Raine (born in 1908). Muir is a poet much admired by such different writers as T.S. Eliot and Thomas Merton. Kathleen Raine's work on William Blake remains current and widely read. Her poetry, autobiographies, and critical works have drawn much praise and attention. Both authors are religious writers in the most profound sense of the term and, as poets and pilgrims, have something to say to both believers and unbelievers. Muir is relatively unknown in this country despite a sojourn at Harvard and, with his wife Willa, being established as the first and most popular translator of Franz Kafka. Muir is not a consciously modern poet. In fact, his devotion to tradition and accessibility may put off the professional literati. Still, T.S. Eliot said of him: He was first and foremost deeply concerned with what he had to say--and by that l do not mean that his purpose was ever didactic or that he was striving to convey a "message." But under the pressure of emotional intensity, and possessed by his vision, he found, almost unconsciously, the right, the inevitable way of saying what he wanted to say.~ The best introduction to the poet is his own story, An Autobiography. He was born in the Orkney Islands, off the north coast of Scotland, and so is claimed by Scots. Muir himself says his native language was really a mixture of Incarnation and Chariots of Fire / 355 Norse, Scots, and Irish. Indeed, such words as creels (fishing baskets), bannocks (a fiat, unleavened bread), and byres (cow-sheds) are evenly woven into the narrative of his childhood. For Muir, the islands were not on the edge of the world, but were the "heart of civilization." The seasons nurtured each their own phase of an ancient culture. The Winter gathered us into one room as it gathered the cattle into the stable and the byre; the sky came close; the lamps were lit at three or four in the afternoon, and then the great evening lay before us like a world: an evening filled with talk, stories, games, music and lamplight? This winter time gave Muir his first introduction to poetry. The early ballads sung in the home came from an oral tradition about James V and Sir James the Rose. These songs were sung with full voice and personal confidence. Other ballads, late in the tradition, were "chanted in a literary way, in honor of the print in which they had originally come, every syllable of the English text carefully pronounced, as if it were an exercise."3 Spring carried the sacred rituals of breeding and killing--both aspects of farm life his mother tried to prevent him from seeing. He made sure, of course, that he saw both--though the activities of the bull and cow were not understood and the excitement was all in the activities of the men directing the affair. He did not, in the slaughtering, pity the animals, but somehow touched the terror and the need which were inextricably bound up in the process. "There was a necessity in the copulation and the killing which took away the sin, or at least, by the ritual act, transformed it into a sad, sanctioned duty.TM The spring, a series of vivid happenings, gave way to the summer, its opposite: a "motionless blue" in which "nothing happened." This nothingness demanded acceptance as the pivot marking the time of growth. This in turn gave way to the hard work of autumn and the feasts that defined the line between harvest and the winter. And so it went with each winter being favorite season of the farmer's child because it was the family time for play and song and story. The family religion was a fundamentalist Calvinism which combined early baptism with the stern demands for a later conversion and personal claim to being born-again. Muir's conversion, under severe pressure from his family, was sincere, but barely a prelude to his lapse from Christianity. His disbelief was, moreover, also the result of pressure. This time the strain came from the deaths of his parents and of two of his brothers when the family moved, in hopes of better employment, to the industrialized city of Glasgow. It was as if the Muir family in a few short years had been required to pay the price of the industrial revolution's whole century of devastation. "All that time," Muir remembered, "seemed to give no return, nothing but loss; it was like a heap of dismal rubbish in the middle of which, without rhyme or reason, were scattered four deaths.''~ The great city of free enterprise could not replace the agricultural community that once bridged birth and death with faith and ritual. As a young man forced out early on his own, Muir moved just south of 356 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 Glasgow to earn his living in what might have been the Checkpoint Charlie of hell: a bone factory. "The bones," he tells us, "decorated with festoons of slowly writhing, fat yellow maggots, lay in the adjoining railway siding and were shunted into the factory whenever the furnaces were ready for them." There was only one major problem: "There were sharp complaints from Glasgow whenever the trucks lay too long in the siding, for the sea gulls could gobble up half a hundredweight of maggots in no time, and as the bones had to be paid for by their original weight, and the maggots were part of it, this meant a serious loss to the firm."~ Thus necessity introduced the factory's most important ritual: a shotgun blast into the air over the trucks each half hour. It was in this atmosphere that Muir began a ferocious personal quest which included reading philosophy seriously. This led to Nietzsche and to a kind of socialism. He abandoned the tough Christianity of his family for a soft belief in "process." "Be hard' was one of Nietzsche's exhortations," Muir tells us, "but I was not hard enough to give up Nietzsche." Muir's hunger for ideas, as well as for communicating them, attracted the attention of A.R. Orage, editor of the New Age and a genius for gathering talented, left-wing, and sometime elitist writers. Muir had a high opinion of Orage, but a low one of his own work for him. Muir's column, "We Moderns," revealed, said Muir, that "whenever I hit upon a paradox which lay conveniently near the surface I took it for the final truth."7 Still, Muir was the rarest of twentieth-century beings: a non-university educated revolutionary. A marriage, "the most fortunate event of my life," led to a move into London for economic reasons. Eventually journalism and translation work allowed them the adventure of moving to Prague. This city became for them what Paris was for American expatriates: a city riding the crest of a billowing tradition and arriving at the edge of revolutionary changes. Now in his mid-thirties, Muir began writing poetry. "I had no training; 1 was too old to submit myself to contemporary influences; and I had acquired in Scotland a deference towards ideas which made my entrance into poetry difficult. Though my imagination had begun to work I had no technique by which I could give expression to it." He was a poet in the middle of life caught between a change in poetic consciousness. "There were the rhythms of English poetry on the one hand, the images in my mind on the other. All I could do at the start was to force the one, creaking and complaining, into the mould of the other."s In Muir's case, the distance provided by his experience of Prague as the far country, and some early psychoanalysis and dream work, led to a recovery of the childhood geography and the roots engendered there. If poetry incarnates meaning, as Muir believed, then this geography literally provided the ground for Muir's poems. He acknowledges this in his life's last poem: I have been taught by dreams and fantasies Learned from the friendly and the darker phantoms And got great knowledge and courtesy from the dead Incarnation and Chariots of Fire / 357 Kinsmen and kinswomen, ancestors and friends But from two mainly Who gave me birth? This healing recovery of his roots and reconcilation with much of his unconscious gave birth to his poetry at the very time that Europeans were destroying their past: "They were lost and on the road to greater loss, and ready to accept any creed which would pull their lives together and give them the enormous relief of finding, even under compulsion, a direction for their existence, whether it had a spiritual meaning or not.''~° Muir saw the political left and right taking over the violent spirit of his native country's religious past: they were like the old Scottish covenanters who went into battle with banners reading "Christ and No Quarter." During the time of no quarter, Muir returned to Britain and began his eight-year association with the British Council, an organization promoting British culture. Prior to the war, Muir's office in Edinburgh set up houses for refugees and introduced them to British life. During this time Muir wrote more poetry in the midst of administration and the central issues of the day than he had in previous and more solitary jobs. British Council work eventually led him to Rome and his first major encounter with cultural Catholicism. It was here that he had his encounter with the Incarnation: During the time when I was a boy I attended the United Presbyterian Church in Orkney. I was aware of religion chiefly as the sacred Word. but nothing told me that Christ was born in the flesh and had lived on earth. [But in Rome] that image was to be seen everywhere, not only in churches, but on the walls of houses, at cross-roads in the suburbs, in wayside shrines in the parks, and in private rooms. I remember stopping for a long time one day to look at a little plaque on the wall of a house in the Via degli Artisti, representing the Annunciation. An angel and a young girl, their bodies inclined towards each other, their knees bent as if overcome by love, "tutto tremante," gazed upon each other like Dante's pair; and that representation of a human love so intense that it could not reach farther seemed the perfect earthly symbol of the love that passes understanding.~ Before Rome, a friend had pointed out to Muir that he was Christian in his images and his metaphysics. It had not occurred to him, but he accepted it. What the encounter in Rome did for Muir was to support him in his conclusion that mystery was at the source of life, that it lived and touched us, incarnate in what were not "mere" symbols, but the final reality. Symbols, which Yeats said united the "sleeping with the waking mind," also unite us to each other and to the generating reality that cares for all, past and present. Incarnation was a delight and good news to Muir, for whom nothing airy and abstract could hold the truth: "A religion that dared to show forth such a mystery for everyone to see would have shocked the congregations of the north, would have seemed a sort of blasphemy, perhaps even an indecency. But here it was publicly shown, as Christ showed himself on the earth."12 In the conclusion to his autobiography, Muir anticipated the theologians of our time in their interest in the theology of story: ~1511 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 As I look back on the part of the mystery which is my own life, my own fable, what 1 am most aware of is that we receive it from the past, on which we draw with every breath, but also--and this is a point of faith--from the Source of the mystery itself, by the means which religious people call grace.~3 When we read of this mystery in Muir's poems, we are struck by the plain language. But the poems demand rereading before the light that comes from the depths of human experience begins to dawn. One poem in the Liturgy of the Hours is called "One Foot in Eden" and may be taken as an example. It is composed of twenty-nine short lines of ordinary words~ but in it Muir has communicated a highly developed reflection on the necessity of choosing experience over innocence and then given depth to the Easter cry of O Felix Culpa.t Muir's Eden is both a place of innocence which must be given up and an impossible Utopia which must not be succumbed to. The world outside Eden awaits a judgment for its failings, but also attention to its special value: Blossoms of grief and charity Bloom in these darkened fields alone. What has Eden ever to say Of hope and faith and pity and love. Strange blessings never in Paradise Fall from these beclouded skies.~4 The other poem in the Hours collection is "The Killing." In it there is a remarkably graphic description of death that reaches back to Muir's childhood memories of farmyard slaughters. Muir suggests in the poem that an incarnate God is not what people want, and they will kill in their disappointment. The Incarnation, rather than being an easy myth that a longing humanity desperately creates, is really an affront and a capital crime. The poem ends with the question of an agnostic, a stranger, who wonders if, in the very act of dying, an incarnate God crossed his path. The wonder is a real enough grasp of the mystery and a crack for grace to move through. Muir did not come to a church and an orthodox form of Christian faith. But his insistence that meaning can only reach its fullness in the real world of flesh and blood, and his embrace of the world in beautiful language can certainly help us ordinary Christians to remain orthodox. Muir's acceptance of limits and his belief in their necessity so that there can be both definition and a grace that can take hold is a challenge to any spirituality that wishes to escape the human condition. This poet from the North Sea islands could, then, help us to purify and enrich the language of our prayer and our pulpits and lead us to embrace, and be embraced by the Word made flesh. Kathleen Raine If Muir i~ the poet of the Incarnation, Kathleen Raine writes of the Transfiguration. She is a pilgrim like Muir and now a stranger to orthodox Christianity though she had joined the Catholic Church for some years. She presents an interesting problem. Her experiences have led her to believe more rather than less, and so she moved away from Catholicism: Incarnation and Chariots of Fire / 359 To me it seemed absurd to find one aspect of a total symbolic event less acceptable than other parts: mythical events (so I thought) are not to be verified (did they or did they not take place) but rather to be understood, as is poetry. If anything, I still continued to find the Christian myth, as comparett with the pagan richness of symbol, too meagre, and welcomed any addition.~5 She means here, of course, no denigration of the Christian faith by calling it poetry and myth. For her, the truths of existence cannot be expressed any other way. This is a position that she fought to get to and promote all her life. To get to it, she had to overcome the assaults of a narrow Christian upbringing and an even narrower philosophy at Cambridge University where she studied science. Writing of the Christian poet Vernon Watkins, who came to Cambridge at about the same time, Raine says: "Years later Vernon Watkins wrote a ballad on Abram and Sodom; but at the time acted like Lot and quickly left a town past praying for. He was not deceived by the prestige of ignorance in high places."~6 The scientific materialism prevailing in the university spilled over into a Marxist politics in one direction and into an analytically dry and thin literary criticism in the other direction. While at Cambridge, Raine began to write poetry that was in a romantic and mystic vein, twin heresies, which Cambridge literary leaders tried to tear out. She did have two great privileges in her time in the scientific Sodom. She was in the audience when Virginia Woolf came to read her manifesto for feminists, A Room of One's Own, and, because he was unpopular and unread there, she discovered T.S. Eliot on her own. Kathleen Raine's poetry is obviously based on her experience of the sacred, and in her three autobiographies, she is plain about some of these ecstatic and enlightening encounters with nature. What is reassuring to Christians is that her hints of the transcendent are not limited to impersonal experiences, but are also to be found in encounters with other people. What is constant in both is her belief that poetry and imaginative truth are intimately related in both experiences of nature and persons. Her devotion to the imagination as a voice and a revelation echoes a favorite quotation from William Blake, whose works Raine has really helped to make popular in our own century. Blake tells us: If the Spectator could enter in these Images in his imagination, approaching them on the Fiery Chariot of his Contemplative Thought . . . or could make a Friend and Companion of these Images of wonder, which always intreat him to leave mortal things (as he must know), then would he meet the Lord in the Air, then he would be happy.~6 Raine quotes Bede Griffiths, now a monk in a Christian ashram in India, to the effect that "the function of art is. to evoke the divine presence."17 She not only quotes the insight, she believes and preaches it fervently in her criticisms of much modern literature. Materialism and naturalism, she says, betray the material and the natural. She believes that the peasant had it right when he answered the question, "How can bread be God?" by replying, "What else would it be?" Of course, the difficult side to Raine is the superfluity of belief. She 360 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 remembers with joy the seriously considered polytheism of her old friend and Nobel prize winner, Elias Canetti. He told her, "If I believed in one God, I should be obliged to hate him." He would, she says, "rather watch supernatura supernaturans than relegate the supreme gods of all the ages from gold or stone to iron and the machine, to the ethnological section of any museum, or the files of case-histories."~8 Perhaps Cardinal Newman's dictum that the superstitious are infinitely closer to the truth than the rationalists might help us understand Raine's extremism. Extreme or not, in the poem "Word Made Flesh" is captured some of Raine's ability to convey an experience that uses Christian symbols well, even if they spill outside of Christianity. "Word" is described over and over in eight short stanzas: "Word whose breath is the world-circling atmosphere. Word traced in water of lakes. Word inscribed on stone. Grammar of five-fold rose and six-fold lily, Spiral of leaves on a bough, helix of shells. Instinctive wisdom of fish.and lion and ram. Flash of fin, beat of wing, heartbeat, beat of the dance." And finally: Statement of mystery, how shall we name A spirit clothed in world, a world made man?~9 The descriptions are all authentic application of the word or "logos," and challenge the Christian to find a more beautiful poetic expression of the Cosmic Christ of I Corinthians 15:28. Another test of authenticity is Raine's real ability to conjure the evocative power of language, not in the mechanical control of formula or the mystification of gibberish, but in the power which comes from the choice of images that resonate with the inner nature of things around us, including all and excluding nothing. One of the poems in the Liturgy of Hours comes from the 1952 collection called The Year One. The book title comes from a friend who said the historical applied only to humans and their toil because for nature "it is always the year one." The title of the poem is Northumbrian Sequence IV. Northumbria is a border county of wild weather, moors merging into seascapes and the site of Hadrian's wall built by the Roman emperor to keep out the barbaric Scots. The poem offered as possible food for prayer begins: Let in the wind Let in the rain Let in the moors tonight. The storm beats on my window-pane, Night stands at my bed-foot, Let in the fear, Let in the pain, Let in the trees that toss and groan, Let in the north tonight. The evocation continues to the heart of the matter: Let in the nameless formless power That beats upon my door. Incarnation and Chariots of Fire / 361 Let in the ice, let in the snow, The banshee howling on the moor, The bracken-bush on the bleak hillside, Let in the dead tonight. The poem continues to link individual aspects of nature with even more powerful figures symbolic of various dark sides of humanness. Then there is a question and a short response: Oh how can virgin fingers weave A covering for the void, How can my fearful heart conceive Gigantic solitude? How can a house so small contain A company so great? Let in the dark, Let in the dead, Let in your love tonight. The answer must be a gentleness and pity that understands the immensity of the forces at hand and does not shrink from them: Gentle must my fingers be And pitiful my heart Since 1 must bind in human form A living power so great, A living impulse great and wild That cries about my house With all the violence of desire Desiring this my peace. Whether an interior demand of self or of others, here is a promise of a presence that cannot be articulated or tamed, but is full of promise. The poem concludes with this stanza: Let in the wound, Let in the pain, Let in your child tonight. This conclusion is at once crushing and comforting: the alien forces so powerful, so destructive, so all-inclusive are nevertheless one child to us in need of father-mother. These forces, these other presences are not us, and yet are as close to us as possible, and so we need to claim them. The spell Raine invokes brings them home as one child. As in Muir, the acceptance of all promises pain. Raine is, in fact, afraid of anything that would take away the pain: "Buddhism;" in her view, ~"offers'release from suffering;~C- hristianity the Cross, heavy with all the anguish of the world, to be lived arid known as the very heart of a Mystery. I wished to understand that mystery, not to be freed from it."~0 In the other poem to be found in the Hours, we read: Sorrow is true for everyone--a word That illiterate men may read By divining in the heart God's human name, and natural shroud. 369 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 In that last image, perhaps we have the echo of the hard-won wisdom of another woman of sorrow, Cornelia Connelly, who saw in "accepted suffering" that "one simple remembrance of his presence that unwraps all the windings of the heart and makes us true as he is true." Kathleen Raine's poetry is grounded in earthliness and suffering, but she also sees more burning bushes than we do, and she seems to be constantly taking off her shoes in awareness of the sacred and the spiritual. She is a reminder to those with other vocations about the nearness of the transcendent and how the Word evokes its presence in a terrible beauty. NOTES ~T.S. Eliot, Preface to Selected Poems by Edwin Muir, London, 1965, p. 10. 2Edwin Muir, An Autobiographov, London, 1980, pp. 30-31. 3Ibid., p. 30. 4Ibid., p. 36. ~lbid., p. 104. 61bid., p. 130. 7Ibid., p. 151. Slbid., p. 205. 9Edwin Muir, Selected Poems, p. 96. ~°An Autobiography, p. 229. ~lbid., pp. 277-278. ~21bid., p. 278. ~31bid., p. 281. ~4Selected Poems, p. 80. ~SKathleen Raine, The Land Unknown, New York: 1975, p. 183. ~6Kathleen Raine, Defending Ancient Springs, London: 1967, p. 55. tTQuoted in Kathleen Raine, The Lion's Mouth, London: 1977, p. 25. ~81bid., p. 49. ~gKathleen Raine, Collected Poems: 1935-1980, London: 198 I, p. 20. ~°The Land Unknown, p. 188. Currents in Liturgy Notes on Liturgy Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Father Diederich has been professor of liturgy at St. Louis University School of Divinity and at Weston Jesuit School of Theology. He is presently an associate pastor at St. Francis Xavier Church; 3628 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. I want to offer a service in the area of liturgy to the readers of the REVIEW by furnishing them with a survey of current literature not easily accessible to them. I intend to focus on issues which are likely to be of greatest interest, namely, those dealing with the relation of present day liturgical practice to the forming and nourishing of Christian piety and spirituality. In the present survey in addition to calling attention to the themes of the national and international liturgical meetings of 1983 about which I have information at this writing, I have focused on articles and books dealing with concerns which have arisen around what I might call our post-conciliar, popular eucharistic practice and interior spirit. Unless I have overlooked some significant articles, I found in my reading that almost all the articles on the Eucharist were something of a critique of present popular eucharistic practice and theory, sometimes imply-ing, sometimes stating explicitly that it is somewhat unbalanced. By way of introduction to the survey of the articles on the Eucharist, I have summarized current evaluations of the overall liturgical reforms and their effect. I have also included a very brief, perhaps overly simplified sketch of the eucharistic piety and practice of the last one hundred years. National and International Liturgical Meetings of 1983 December 4, 1983, will mark the twentieth anniversary of the Constitution 363 364 / Review for Religious, May-June, 1983 on the Sacred Liturgy. This has set the spirit for some of our national liturgical meetings. From April 19-22, 1983, the Sixth Annual Pastoral Musicians' National Convention took place in St. Louis, Missouri. The title given to the convention was, "Remembering Into the Future." It was intended to help ". musicians and clergy of the United States and Canada to step back and look at the past twenty years--the changes, controversies, and developments of the American musical scene" (quoted from the program). A special feature of the program was a survey of the history of American liturgical music for the last twenty years, with presentations in five different sessions by a liturgist and a musician. The Notre Dame Liturgical Conferences are well-known for their uniform high quality presentations. The Twelfth Annual Conference, June 13-16, 1983, has as its theme, "Renewal! Perspectives on Twenty Years of Liturgical Change." Boston College is sponsoring a National Liturgical Consultation, June 19-22, 1983, with participation by invitation only. "The purpose of our meeting, expressly called a "Consultation," is to appraise the present liturgical situation in the light of (I) the pioneering efforts of the "40s and '50s, (2) the directives of Vatican 11, and (3) the experience of the last twenty years, with an eye to those measures that might be adopted in the immediate future" (from the program). The names of 16 participants appear on the pages sent with the program. It promises to be an important gathering, with a significant number present who were involved in those "Pioneering efforts of the '40s and '50s." The theme of the International Congress of the Societas Liturgica, August 18-22, 1982, in Vienna, Austria, is "Liturgy and Spirituality." When the topic for the 1983 Congress was discussed in Paris in 1981, the need was expressed for greater prayerfulness in our liturgical celebrations. We need to identify the spirituality of the liturgy because, "Spirituality, the life of grace in those who seek to live anew in Christ, finds communal expression in patterns of worship, ministry and service--in a word, in liturgy . In short, worship and piety, liturgy and Christian life.are tightly interwoven" (quoted from the program for the Congress). The 1983 Synod of Bishops is not a liturgical meeting, but its topic should have important consequences for the liturgy. The topic is, "Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church." The Synod Secretariat at the Vatican sent out a kind of working paper to all the bishops on the theme and invited the national bodies of bishops to reply to some questions which were enclosed. The paper deals explicitly with sacramental penance but does this within the broad context of the Church's mission of reconciliation. We can expect a good bit of writing on the topic after the Synod.~ It is clear from the themes of the national meetings that there is a strong pastoral urge to evaluate our experience of the liturgical reforms, We remember the vision given us through the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. Notes on IJturgy / 365 The active participation at which it aimed is now in place in all the major sacramental rites of the Church. The changes have given us a new house of prayer. At least it has been renewed, remodeled, and rehabilitated. The ques-tion in the minds of many is whether the post-conciliar liturgical reforms are really renewing the Church. We were very optimistic that it would twenty years ago. We had hoped that the renewal of the liturgy would be the renewal program for the whole Church. Now the existence of so many different renewal programs in parishes in our country makes us doubt that it was. A possible answer, of course, is that we are not giving enough energy and effort to the liturgy. In 1980 the NCCB Committee on Parish Development reported to the U.S. bishops. The Committee stated, "The central responsibility of parish leadership is worship and the spiritual development of the people . In spite of this, the parish activity least often directly addressed in the parish development programs we have reviewed is liturgy . It appears that we do need to adopt a more direct approach to the development of liturgy and preaching."z Pope John Paul II still thinks that liturgical renewal should renew the whole life of the Church: "A very close and organic bond exists between the renewal of the liturgy and the renewal of the whole life of the Church" (Letter to All the Bishops of February 24, 1980). The Societas Liturgica Congress should be a stimulus to all liturgists to take a second look at how the promoters of the liturgical movement in the first decades of our century tried to make the celebration of the liturgy the primary and indispensable source of the true Christian spirit, as St. Pius X said that it was. His pastoral judgment that active participation in the liturgy is the pri-mary and indispensable source of the true Christian spirit, spoken near the beginning of his pontificate, November 22, 1903, has proved to be the most durable of all authoritative pastoral judgments made about the liturgy. It inspired the beginning of the liturgical movement in 1909. It seems to challenge us still. The theme chosen for the Societas Liturgica Congress bears this out. Evaluation of the Liturgical Reform There has been a significant trend in the liturgical journals during the last ten years to evaluate the ongoing experience of the liturgical reform. An Italian liturgist, Domenico Sartori, C.S.J., has done us the great service of making a brief summary of each of these evaluations.3 After summarizing them he identifies their converging points. First, he says that the writers agree that the enthusiasm and pastoral fervor with which the reforms were received in their first stages has waned and that now we find a certain weariness, routineness, and even downright regression in the communities which have implemented the reforms. Secondly, all are basically positive in their evaluation of the reforms themselves. There is convergence around what their positive elements are. These are the emphasis given in the reforms to salvation history and to a dialogical conception of the liturgy, to its ecclesial dimension, to the principle of adaptation, and to the relationship between faith and sacrament. They also ~166 / Review for

Issue 42.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1983. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty mem.bers of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. REV|EW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus,.St. Louis, MO. © 1983 by REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOrdS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $17.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW Fort RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Sept./Oct., 1983 Volume 42 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Bivd'.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from Rt:vlt:W EOn Rt.~LIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Letters of Gratitude-- II Robert F. Morneau The issue of September/October, 1982, carried the beginning of an experimental series of "Letters of Gratitude" addressed to various authors who have been important to Bishop Morneau's own spiritual development. Reader response has encouraged a continuance of this series. Bishop Morneau may still be addressed at Ministory to Priests Program; 1016 N. Broadway; De Pere, WI 54115. This series of letters of gratitude continues the purpose of an earlier series, i.e. to express my appreciation to certain authors who have enriched my life and to encourage the readers of these letters to read the primary sources of these authors. These Letters of Gratitude are written to Augustine of Hippo, Ra~'ssa Maritain and Dag Hammarskfi~id. Augustine (354-430) shares his innermost life with us in his famous Confessions. This masterpiece speaks to all ages and articulates movements of the inner life. that are universal No one can read this classic without being changed. Raissa Maritain (1883-1960). the wife of Jacques Maritain, has left us two precious treasures in her Raissa's Journal and We Have Been. Friends Together. The first of these works records the daily experiences of a deeply sensitive and spiritual woman; the second work narrates the story of key people who .influenced her own life as well as her husband's. The third letter of gratitude is addressed to a former secretary general of the United Nations. Dag HammarskjSld (1905-1961) was a distinguished statesman and advocate of international cooperation. In his famous Markings, HammarskjSld, candidly and with consummate skill, shared his journey. The depth of his spiritual life and the range of his concern are moving indeed "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood . "so the poet Robert Frost tells us. We cannot travel many roads personally but we can vicariously. And it is on the road that we share many hours of dialogue and rich experience. The 641 642 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 companionship of Augustine, Ra~'ssa Maritain and Dag HammarskjOM is well worth having, if only for a few minutes or a few hours'.; Augustine Hippo, North Africa Dear Augustine, I write in gratitude for the candid and direct sharing of your journey in the Lord. How many hearts have been touched through your confession of sin, confession of God's goodness, confession of deep struggle will probably never be known. But I write you to say that I am one who has been moved and challenged by your story; your conversion has led to my own. ¯ Where to begin? With the people who were instruments of the Lord, with the historical context of time and place, with the struggle toward freedom that drove you from darkness to light? Perhaps the last point presents a pattern that helps to explain the whole. You share well how you were held in the bonds of slavery on various levels. First of all, the slavery of sensuality! Passionate by nature and living in an environment that would activate the seeds of license, you were held fast by the desires of the body. In this darkness. you struggled for so many years and, even after the grace of conversion, continued to struggle violently with concupiscence. In this weakness you found your strength because, in the frustrating powerlessness of it all, you were forced to turn to the Lord for true liberty. God's mercy helped you not to become discouraged in the fight for purity and light. A second slavery, much more binding than the first because so much closer to the heart .of your person, was the hold that your intelligence had on you. If your finite mind could not reason to something, then that something had no value, indeed no existence. Your reason reigned supreme, thus your inability over many years to read Scripture. Not conforming to your rigid laws of logic, you lacked the simplicity to comprehend spiritual reality which was immaterial. These chains held you fast and, once again, only through the working of grace, teachers and certain philosophies were you able to be set free and to allow faith to give go. vernance to your rationality. Here we see that your strength became your greatest weakness, keeping you from Truth. The Lord in his own timing drew you into the embrace of love, and there you also found truth and purity. The two slaveries that held you captive, sensuality and rationality, also are the forces that sweep through our times, incarcerating our spirits and our lands. These forces have also moved through every age and thus your autobiography is for every season because it touches so deeply our experience. Letters of Gratitude / 64~1 Your modeling is so important because it reveals that order and peace can be had, that slavery excludes true happiness, that victory can be achieved with effort and grace. ¯ Just as you have touched many lives, likewise many people had a powerful hand in shaping your mind and heart. I think of your mother, Monica, loving, praying and pursuing you in great fidelity. God rewarded her and you with that powerful experience at Ostia--sheer grace. I think of Ambrose, bishop of Milan, whose fatherly tare and keen sensitivity helped you to work through your intellectual crisis. I think of the life of St. Anthony whose example of deep asceticism and total commitment caused your heart to burn for action. I think of Adeodatus, your brilliant son, whose death caused your heart such deep. grief. I think of your concubine and her deep love and fidelity toward you, severed from you by the dictates of culture--whatever did happen to her? I think of Alypius, your dear friend, with whom you shared so deeply and who later became bishop of Tagaste, your home town. I think of St. Paul whose writings helped to finalize your conversion. This awesome compahy made their mark; your receptive spirit eagerly took in their gracious gifts. Several incidents in your life are symbolic of deep patterns. The stealing of pears, relatively insignificant in and of itself, reveals the mysterious realm of motivation--to steal not because of the fruits but because of peer pressure. In narrating this event, you manifest a profound grasp of human psychology, a deep grasp of self-knowledge. You teach us here to go beyond our actions and thoughts .and to discern the deeper recesses of our,behavior: moving from the "what" to the "why," which in turn reveals our true values. Then you share that powerful mystical experience, communal in nature, that you and Monica had shortly before her death. Together in conversation you entered deeply into discussing and experiencing the dwelling place of God, already tasting in this life what was to be forever. How you must have treasured that moment throughout the rest of-y.our life, a touchstone experience against which to judge your many future dec~slons. Then you speak of reading Cicero's Hortensius, a work that inflamed your soul in its search for wisdom. Herein we see the importance of a single book in our lives, able to set us in a direction never before pondered. You tell further of Alypius' compulsion in regard to gladiatorial shows; how this otherwise kind and learned man was held captive by a game. In this you were taught a lasting lesson, one that touched the core of your person: freedom is a precious gift that must be carefully tended or it is lost. Given all these circumstances and people, the most compelling reality in your life was the ever present hunger you had for God--more accurately, God's hunger for you. Your sensual and intellectual passions and avarice could not be satiated; always you came away empty and unfulfilled. It was your spirit that ached for meaning and presence, the meaning and presence of a Person. Only God could fill you but the sensuality and rationality had to accept that radical poverty of spirit that makes room for God. The charting of your 644/ Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 journey, with the carefully described anguish and pain that necessarily accompany growth, is a helpful log for all of us, your fellow pilgrims. Your legacy has been prodigious." ~)61~mbs of comprehensive theology, vas~ and subtle philosophical reflection, powerful exegesis on the word of God, stirring exhortations, a model for community living, moral discourses of a challenging nature. But for me your greatest legacy is your humanness. Within the genius of cognitive excellence, we find a human heart that is torn and twisted by the winds of human experience. Your confessions are free from pretense, from the too common masking that infects most of our lives. For this the centuries are in your debt. You tell us that it is possible to reach the heights of holiness within the maze of failure and trial, within the morass of sin and slavery. You brought all of your life, n° part being excluded, to the Lord, and he healed and blessed you. It was your heart and not your head that became the portal for divine encounter. Your desire and passion for love was, at bottom, the key to your life. The only regret that I sensed came from your late loving. As long as history lasts, these words will touch the human heart: Too late have I loved you, O Beauty so ancient and so new, too late have I loved you! Behold, you were within me, while I was outside: it was there that 1 sought you, and, a deformed creature, rushed headlong upon these things of beauty which you have made. You were with me, but I was not with you. They kept me far from you, those fair things which, if they were not in you, would not exist at all. You have called to me, and have cried out, and have shattered my deafness. You have blazed forth with light, and have shone upon me, and you have put my blindness to fligh!! You have sent forth fragrance, and 1 have drawn in my breath, and I pant after you. I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst after you. You have touched me, and I have burned for your peace. (254-255) Your fond admirer, RFM Death language My heart was made dark by sorrow, and whatever 1 looked upon was dea-th.~ My native place was a torment to me, and my father's house was a strange unhappiness. Whatsoever I had done together with him was, apart from him, turned into a cruel torture. My eyes sought for him on every side, and he was not given to them. 1 hated all things, because they no longer held him. Nor could they now say to me, "here he comes," as they did in his absence from when he lived. To myself I became a riddle, and 1 questioned my soul as to why it was sad and why it afflicted me so grievously, and it could answer me nothing. If I said to it, "Hope in God," it did right not to obey me, for the man, that most dear one whom she had lost, was more real and more good to her than the fantasy in which she was bade to hope. Only weeping was sweet to me, and it succeeded to my friend in my soul's delights. (98) 1 had learned from you that nothing should be held true merely because it is eloquently expressed, nor false because its signs sound From The Confessions of St. Augustine, translated and annotated by J. G. Pilkington, M.S., by permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved, 1943. Letters of Gratitude / 845 Prelense Fear Anger Disposition Integration Friendship harsh upon the lips. Again, 1 learned that a thing is not true because rudely uttered, nor is it false because its utterance is splendid. I learned that wisdom is like wholesome food and folly like unwholesome food: they can be set forth in language ornate or plain, just as both kinds of food can be served on rich dishes or on peasant ware. (119:120) That man of God (Ambrose) received me in fatherly fashion, and as an exemplary bishop he welcomed my pilgrimage. I began to love him, at first not as a teacher of truth, which 1 utterly despaired of fir~ding in your Church, but as a man who was kindly disposed towards me. (130) But as often happens, just as a man who has had trouble with a poor physician fears to entrust himself even to a good one, so it was with my soul's health. (138) What another man would take as an occasion for anger at me, this sincere young man took as a reason for becoming angry at himself and for loving me more ardently. Long ago you had said and had inserted it into your books, "Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you." (143) From experience, 1 knew it is no strange thing that the bread that pleases a healthy appetite is offensive to one that is not healthy, and that light is hateful to sick eyes, but welcome to the well. (174) It is one thing to behold from a wooded m~untain peak the l~nd of peace, but to find no way to it, and to strive in vain towards it by unpassable ways, ambushed and beset by fugitives and deserters, under their leader, the lion and the dragon. It is a different thing to keep to the way that leads to that land, guarded by the protection of the heavenly commander, where not deserters from the heavenly army lie in wait like bandits. They shun that way, like a torture. In a wondrous way all these things penetrated my very vitals, when I read the words of that least of your apostles, and meditated upon your works, and trembled at them. (180) Let a brother's mind do this, not a stranger's mind . Let it be that brotherly mind which, when it approves me, rejoices over me, and when it disapproves of me, is saddened over me, for the reason that, whether it approves or disapproves, it loves me. To such men will I reveal myself. (23 I) II Ra~'ssa Maritain France Dear Ra~sa, I write in gratitude for the insights and sensitive reflections that are contained in your journal and autobiographical writings. I have read them with excited interest and deep admiration. My only hesitancy in picking up 646 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 your journal was my concern as to whether or not you really wanted it read; your husband Jacques and your friends decided after much thought to publish it. Though questioning the principle behind their decision, I in no way question the advantages that flow from such intimate conversation. A most powerful pattern expressed in your journal revolved around the .experience of suffering. I refer both to its intensity and pervasiveness. Not having had such experiences, 1 doubt that I comprehend its full import or the depth of such pain. What seemed to be central to such a way of life is your ability to accept, in grace, that suffering as part of God's plan and, in some way, to be able to identify with the Lord in the tasting of the pain. Otherwise the result could well have been deep resentment and hostile anger. You have taken a universal human experience and dealt with it in a healthy way. Such modeling is important in an age that tends to flee from all suffering at any cost. I have tasted and now savor your response to this path of pain; your courage throughout the ordeal is inspiring. I reflect, too, on your sister who lived with you and your husband. Unheralded, without great talent, fulfilling the role of servant, she represents an entire core of people in higtory who, through their quiet dedication and humble service, have made it possible for others to be creative and productive. Your sister was fortunate in being appreciated for who she was and what she did, an uncommon fate for many like her. These unsung heroes and heroines whisper of the many flowers that are "born to blush unseen." How did you come to integrate your personal relationships so well? Did it involve a painful struggle? In reading your journal it becomes obvious that God had priority in your life; he was indeed the ground of your being; all of life's meaning came from your deep faith. Yet, from other reflections you have shared, your husband Jacques and other individuals were extremely close to you as you were all friends together. Theoretically this is no problem: love for God and our fellow creatures is certainly not exclusive. Yet on the practical level, given the reality of making choices that necessarily exclude other options, such balance in our lives is not easy to come by. Perhaps you could send me further reflection on this. Two incidents from your life impressed me deeply. One was the time you and Jacques were studying at the university in Paris and in your searching were unable to find sufficient meaning for life. So intense was the search that you both opted for suicide, if you could not find meaning. Such was the seriousness of your endeavor and such was the grace given by God that you discovered Thomistic thought. Cpming out of this rich theologic and philoso-phic loam you were to find a perspective sufficiently sustaining that suicide no longer remained an option. Our own age stands in need of meaning-systems to provide us with a reason to live, a reason to die. The great metaphysical and cosmological questions continue to haunt the human mind and heart, prodding us until some type of resolution is found. Too often suicide becomes a "viable" option. Recently I heard of several people who had picked up some Letters of Gratitude of Jacques' works. He has become an instrument for passing on a wealthy tradition enabling the human spirit to deal with movements towards insight and hope. Your personal contributions to the poetic world have served the same purpose. The second incident that sounded a chord in me was the remark that Bergson made to you: "Always follow your inspiration." What a challenging statement, one not free from danger as he realized when sometime later he commented that he could not say that to just anyone. Your interpretation of the advice was to always act freely so that your true self could emerge. What wisdom when we are in touch with our deepest selves; what danger when, on some superficial levels, our personality seeks expression regardless of the effect on ourselves or others. At bottom, in a faith context, our inspiration is not really ours but the Lord's. Without knowing it, Bergson became an instrument of God calling you to foster and nourish a discerning heart, a core element in the development of the spiritual life. Inspiration is a fact, a part of everyone's experience; how it is interpreted and whether or not it is responded to depends upon the disposition of each person. You responded well to the movements of God's Spirit. Simplicity, as a virtue and way of life, was a constant call for you. What simplicity as well as its sister, purity, mean, boggles my mind. Certainly they are inseparable but they contain such mystery and are so grace-laden that it is hard to describe their essences. To will one thing, to be transparent, to possess unmixed motivation and a sense of detachment--all of these are hints and clues. Only experience allows their meaning to enter the heart. By contrast, complexity disrupts our !onging for the simple as compromise discolors the pure stream of love. Testing the reverse side of the coin draws us painfully into the poverty of our lives. Your writings are expressions of deep honesty. You state what you feel and think, not what others might expect you tO say. In going before God, you bring your real self, warts and all. In dryness of spirit you bring your emptiness and nothingness before the Lord. In the joy of friendship, you recognize its source with gratitude. All these reflections center on one thing: truth. Again the confidence that truth can be comprehended; certitude is possible. With the truth comes freedom from moral, psychological, and spiritual paralysis. Time and again the hunger and thirst for truth, which at bottom is that infinite desire for God, emerges and demands constant bnergy. You, your husband and friends were searchers; your find has been graciously shared with us. Three loves helped to shape your life: theology, philosophy and poetry. Many individuals helped give you insight into these three loves: Thomas Aquinas, Plotinus, Augustine, Pascal, Bergson. My heart rejoices to find the formative influence of poetry in your journey: It brings the soaring and majestic flights of theological insight and philosophical reflections back to the concrete and specific. This happy triumvirate makes for a well-rounded disciple of the Lord. 641~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 You were a part of an exciting movement within the Church. The goal was a quality spiritual life based on strong principle and dedicated service. One senses the importance of community and friends in such an adventure. Herein is a lesson for our times: spiritual growth happens through deep participation with and among a community of believers. The search is painful but the joys are deep. Your contribution has not been forgotten; more, it continues to touch many hearts. Deep peace always, RFM Ego Virtue God Envy God Peace Truth Experience The ego is an obstacle to vision and possession. (28) Yesterday 1 had a good morning. Once again when I recollect myself, 1 again find the same simple demands of God: gentleness, humility, charity, interior simplicity; nothing else is asked of me. And suddenly I saw clearly why these virtues are demanded, because through them the soul becomes habitable for God and for one's neighbor in an intimate and permanent way. They make a pleasant cell of it. Hardness and pride repel, complexity disquiets. But humility and gentleness welcome, and simplicity reassures. These "passive" virtues have an eminently social character. (71) I get nowhere by looking at myself; I merely get discouraged. So I am making the resolution to abandon myself entirely to God, to look only at him, to leave all the care of myself to him, to practice only one thing, confidence; my extreme wretchedness, my natural cowardice leaving me no other way open to go to God and to advance in good. (83) A proud man envies the superiority which surpasses him. A humble one, on the contrary, loves good wherever he finds it, and by this love, in some sense appropriates it to himself. I enter into the presence of God with all my load of misery and troubles. And he takes me just as I am and makes me to be alone with him. (225) Sources of peace: God and trees. (328) But before all else, I had to make sure of the essential thing: the possession of the truth about God, about myself, and about the world. It was, I knew, the necessary foundation for my life; 1 could not, without letting the ground be washed away from under me, give up the pursuit of its discovery. Such was my deep instinct. And by assiduous work must I prepare myself to receive the hard secrets of the spirit. All the rest, 1 thought, would follow, would come in its time--music, the sweetness of the world, the happiness of life. (3 I) 1 began to read Plotinus outside class with great joy. Of this reading one single dazzling memory stands out for me, and throws all the rest into shadow. One summer day in the country, I was reading the Enneads. I was sitting on my bed with the book on my knees; reaching Citations from Ra~'ssa "s Journal are reproduced by permission of the publishers, Magi Books, Inc. Letters of Gratitude / 649 lnspiratibn Honesty Fa~h Suffering one of those numerous passages where Plotinus speaks of the soul and of God, as much in the character of a mystic as in that of a metaphysician--a passage I did not think of marking then and which I have not looked for since--a wave of enthusiasm flooded my heart. The next moment I was on my knees before the book, covering the passage I had just read with passionate kisses, and my heart burning with love. (96-97) One day, trembling all over, I went to Bergson to ask his advice about my studies, and even more, no doubt, about my life. It was the first time 1 had ever done anything of this kind. A few words of what he said to me are forever engraved in my memory. "Always follow your inspiration." Was this not to say, "Be yourself, always act freely'?. Much later, when I reminded him of this advice, which 1 had set about following indeed, Bergson, smiling at his imprudence, said kindly: "That was not advice I could have given to many people . "(97) Bloy appeared to us as the contrary of other men, who hide grave failings in the things of the spirit and so many invisible crimes under a carefully maintained whitewash of the virtues of sociability. Instead of being a whited sepulchre, like the Pharisees of every time, he was a firestained and blackened cathedral. The whiteness was within, in the depth of the tabernacle. (I 19) 1 think now that faith--a weak faith, impossible to formulate consciously--already existed in the most hidden depths of our souls. But we did not know this. It was the Sacrament which revealed it to ¯ us, and it was sanctifying grace which strengthened it in us. (178) This question of suffering in Beatitude, and of suffering in God himself, had already been raised by Bloy in Le Salutpar les Juifs. This conjunction of suffering and Beatitude is allowed neither by theology nor by Aristotle. Beatitude means absolute fullness, and suffering is the cry of that which is wounded. But our God is a crucified God: the Beatitude of which he cannot be deprived did not prevent him from fearing or mourning,~or from sweating blood in the unimaginable Agony, or from passing through the throes of death on the Cross, or from feeling abandoned. "Every imaginable violation of what one is accustomed to call Reason can be accepted from a suffering God," says Bloy in Le Salut. (189) III Dag HammarskfiSM c/o United Nations Building, New York Dear Secretary General, I write in gratitude for the markings of your life which you so carefully ¯ noted in your now famous diary. While busy with the affairs of the/world, while leading the United Nations in its struggle for an elusive pea(e, while 650 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 interacting socially and professionally with thousands of people, you took time to trace the movements of your spirit. Did any of your knowledgeable associates suspect the depth (or even existence) of your spiritual life? Was there anyone sensitive enough to feel the pulsating rhythm of your mind and heart? Perhaps their blindness and your own reticence kept too well hidden your dialogue with God and with life. And, as often happens, only after death is life fully manifest! We have the blessing of your journal which tells the story, a story that both inspires and challenges. So many themes! So many movements! The struggle with self and against self not being the least. Enslavement to pride and vainglory that so strongly contended with the haunting desire for self-surrender. Given your giftedness and international recognition, the self found humility no easy virtue. Yet you were able to name the struggle, you were able to admit your intrinsic weaknesses toward egoism and this already provided impetus to new freedoms. What a powerful instrument your journal must have been in this whole process. By it you kept in touch with the truth and that very truth was the gateway to authentic liberation. And even more deeply, within that whole struggle with self, was your relationship with God and your deep faith. Slavery to self was not broken through mere human discipline and strength. At the core of your religious life was the desire for purity and its most noted effect, transparency. No admixture of foreign elements into one's nature, thought or behavior. God was pure; he was love which is the essence of purity and permits transparency. You sought this God in faith, knowing that constant contact with him would bring about a personal renewal. Nor was all this a rugged individualism: all action is social, all holiness involves the well-being of other:s, all are part of a large symbiotic existence. As a youngster, I recall hearing in the dead of night the haunting whistle of the freight train cutting through the darkness with its small beacon of light. So, too, in reading your markings, I sensed the loneliness that is part of the lot of those chosen to lead. Genius and responsibility remove the engine from the rest of the cars and cause a perception among the masses that fails to take into account the real inner self. That loneliness finds expression in your reflections and these reflections come from the silence of the night. Whatever the pain, silence and loneliness are elements in the atomic formula that spell a rich imeriority. Without these qualities superficiality and mediocrity predominate. Every so often we come across vast visions contained in a nutshell; multiple truths captured by an adage; diverse beauty gently painted in a masterpiece. Your prayer is a rich theological gold mine: Give us A pure heart That we may see Thee, A humble heart That we may hear Thee, A heart of love That we may serve Thee, Letters of Gratitude / 651 A heart of faith That we may live Thee. (214) The emphasis is not on the mind or action but on the heart. Herein lies the wellspring of human life: what happens in the heart determines our fate. Thus we truly see when our hearts are pure; we hear for the first time when our hearts are humble; we serve well under the condition that our heart has made room for love; we live in God's piesence if in our heart there dwells the gift of faith. How simple! How profound! How challenging! And all of this is gift: "give us"! Not a selfish prayer made only for one's own growth, but a collective prayer asking for all peoples these gifts of single-mindedness, rich obedience, deep affectivity and spiritual vision. Only so blessed can peace come to the world; all politics must be grounded in spirituality, if any meaning at all is to be had. Resistance is for many of us a way of life. We resist our limitations, we feel hostile to the unknown, we are non-accepting of those things that do not fit into our plans. So much time and energy are consumed through the negative force of resistance that there is little, if any, left over to live a positive life. We shout a continual no to life and wonder why we are not happy. You related how one day you stopped this pattern in your life and shouted (or whispered) your yes. (205) In that moment of surrender all was different, all was new. However ambiguous and undefined this religious experience was--you were not clear as to who even put the question--that leap into affirmative acceptance was the point of conversion. A new person was born that day and with it came the precious gifts of meaning and freedom. What would, be your response to the condition of world government as it exists today? Was all your work worthwhile? Despite the powerlessness of the United Nations, despite the wars that go on daily and the fragile peace in the non-military sections of the planet, despite the narrow supercilious nationalisms causing incredible blindness, your work was not in vain. Your expertise, dedication and world consciousness have made their mark and furthered the cause of peace that is absolutely crucial for the family of man. The ideal has been kept alive and your contributions to the common good are inestimable. Hopefully, others will follow who will carry on this ministry to world peace and justice. The ultimate meaning in life which emerged time and again from your journal is love. Beyond obedience, beyond fear, beyond openness to life is this great force and power of radical care. Without it, division and alienation rage; with it, there comes the joy and peace of those who touch and have been touched by God. The beauty of life is that love found expression in action which you see as "the road to holiness" for our times. You walked it well; may we be but a step behind. With gratitude, RFM 652 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 Friendship Lislening Love HMmor Love Growth Within-hess Purity Holiness Obedience Instrumentality Fa#h Hum~ Every deed and every relationship is surrounded by an atmosphere of silence. Friendship needs no words--it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness. (8) The more faithfully you listen to the voice within you, the better you will hear what is sounding outside. And only he who listens can speak. Is this the starting point of the road towards the union of your two dreams--to be allowed in clarity of mind to mirror life and in purity of heart to mold it? (13) Perhaps a great love is never returned. Had it been given warmth and shelter by its counterpart in the Other, perhaps it would have been hindered from ever growing to maturity. It "gives" us nothing. But in its world of loneliness it leads us up to summits with wide vistas--of insight. (42) A grace to pray for--that our self-interest, which is inescapable, shall never cripple our sense of humor, that fully conscious self-scrutiny. which alone can save us. (43) Our love becomes impoverished if we lack the courage to sacrifice its object. (56) If only 1 may grow: firmer, simpler--quieter, warmer. (93) To be able to see, hear, and attend to that within us which is there in the darkness and the silence. (97) To be pure in heart means, among other things, to have freed yourself from all such half-measures: from a tone of voice which places you in the limelight, a furtive acceptance of some desire of the flesh which ignores the desire of the spirit, a self-righteous reaction to others in their moments of weakness. (109) In our era, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action. (122) Beyond obedience, its attention fixed on the goal--freedom from fear. Beyond fear--openness to live and beyond that--love. (129) Rejoice if you feel that what you did was "necessary," but remember, even so, that you were simply the instrument by means of which He added one tiny grain to the Universe He has created for His own purposes. (143) We act in faith--and miracles occur. In consequence, we are tempted to make the miracles the ground for our faith. The cost of such weakness is that we lose the confidence of faith. Faith is, faith creates, faith carries. It is not derived from, nor created, nor carried by anything except its own reality. (145) Humility is just as much the opposite of self-abasement as it is of self-exaltation. To be humble is not to make comparisons. Secure in its reality, the self is neither better nor worse, bigger nor smaller, than anything else in the universe. It is--is nothing, yet at the same time one with everything. It is in this sense that humility is absolute self-effacement. (174) From Markings, by Dag HammarskjiSld, translated by Leif Sjoberg and W. H. Auden, by pernaission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. All rights reserved, 1964. Crisis in Personal Prayer: Reflections of Pope Paul VI J. Michael Miller, C.S.B. Father Miller is an Associate Professor in the Department of Theology of the University of St. Thomas, where he may be addressed: 3812 Montrose Blvd.; Houston, TX 77006. Shortly after his election to the papacy twenty years ago, Pope Paul VI confided to his friend Jean Guitton, "Montini has disappeared, Peter has replaced him."~ Of his interior life, consequently, we know very little: no Journal of a Soul, no published diaries, few unedited notes. The silence that had always surrounded his own life of prayer became absolute after he was elected pope. Nothing undoubtedly would have embarrassed this shy, inward man more than the revelation after his death that he often wore a hair shirt under his white cassock3 The fascinating spiritual biography of the pope who led the Church in its most tumultuous days since the Reformation remains to be written. Can nothing then be said about his prayer life? its difficulties? its structure? its emergence from a soul steeped in the anguish of the twentieth century's alienation and loneliness? Not a buoyant optimist as was John XXIII, Paul VI disappointed those who desired a charismatic, powerful personality to lead the Church in the wake of his popular predecessor. Especially in the last years of his pontificate, his tired and stilted movements (caused by painful arthritis) inspired little optimism. He was accused of being indecisive, lackluster, too progressive and too reactionary. Sharply aware of the "formidable burden" of his office and of his "apparent incommunicability," Pope Paul was thus no stranger to humani-ty's doubts and anxieties. Despite his reticence and his quasi-mystical assump tion of the ministry of Peter, Paul VI has nonetheless left us some reflections on the contemporary crisis in the practice of personal prayer--instructions which he shared with the people of God over the course of fifteen years of catechesis, exhortation, and homily. We can glean from these talks, which he 653 654 / Review for Religious, Sept,-Oct., 1983 wrote himself, some understanding of his own prayer life of which they are an echo. His remarks on prayer spring from a soul enmeshed in this "sad, dra-matic, and magnificent earth," as he described human existence in his last will and testament. The pope was a sensitive and compassionate man whose life of prayer was filled with a serenity and hope which belie those who thought him to be crushed by his own sense of responsibility and the suffering of both the Church and the world. While Pope Paul elaborated no systematic doctrine on prayer or the spiri-tual life, he consistently exhorted the faithful to pray and dedicated numerous discourses to the specific theme of personal prayer. On occasion he set aside for the topic two, three, or even four discourses in succession--as in August 1969, Eastertide 1970, or after Pentecost in 1976. The Holy Year of 1975--its preparation, realization, and aftermath--also stimulated his reflections on prayer. Nonetheless, Paul VI never presented a long and sustained theology on this theme such as that which John Paul II delivered in 1980 on marriage and sexuality in the opening chapters of Genesis. For this article, then, I have organized thematically material drawn from disparate talks over Paul's fifteen-year pontificate (1963-1978). At every point my primary interest is to allow the penetrating insights, concise and chiseled language, and ever-present serenity of Paul VI to speak for themselves: they reveal the contemporary person before personal prayer, the difficulties it entails, and its fundamental conversational structure. Is There a Crisis in Personal Prayer? Not infrequently Pope Paul lamented the declining practice of prayer in the modern world. He noted "with regret that personal prayer is diminishing'~ and that "unfortunately today many people no longer pray, do not pray at all. ,,4 In several discourses on prayer he mentions this decline and uses it as his point of departure: "A simple enquiry on the religious habits of the people of our time would yield sad findings on the complete, or almost complete, absence of personal prayer in a very large number of persons, now alien to, and alienated from, all expressions of inner religious feeling.'~ The crisis reaches "even those who are consecrated to the Lord [who] pray less than was once usual.TM Yet, despite, this grim evaluation of the contemporary situation, Paul VI did not take refuge in complaint. Instead he observed attentively in order to discover the reasons for the decline and, finding the reasons, to encourage hopeful signs wherever they appeared. More the pastor than the judge, he wanted to draw Christians, especially the young, to return to per-sonal prayer. Because Paul VI did not divorce his ministry from service to the world, he sought to reawaken humanity's thirst for the interior life by leading it to dis-cover in its own sterile experience of the world the foundation for prayer. He therefore tried to explain why modern men and women find it so difficult, so joyless to pray. Again and again he returns to his own straightforward ques- Crisis in Personal Prayer / 655 tion: "Why js interior life, that is the life of prayer, less intense and less easy for people of our time, for ourselves?''~ His assessment spurred him to try to ac-count for this unfortunate situation and thereby turn it to pastoral advantage. Reasons for the Crisis While Pope Paul never neatly outlined all the reasons for the contempo-rary crisis in prayer, his many discourses, however, reveal at least five explana-tions which touch the heart of the matter: Exteriorization. According to Paul VI, "we are brought up and educated to live exterior lives.TM A concentration on the marvelous and exciting things of this world has so displaced "equal training in the interior life" that few know its laws and satisfactions. The decline in practice is less a matter of man's deliber-ate unwillingness to pray than of his preference for more gratifying diversions. The ~'fascinating" media of film and television, for example, militate against the cultivation of a prayer life. If these media are watched "assiduously or obsessively," he says, they can "take the place of speculative thought, fill the mind with empty fantasies (see Ws 4:12), and urge it on to what it has seen." The human mind is reduced to the sensory world alone and "exteriorized." Given this situation, Paul goes on to ask, "Where is there any room for spiritual life, prayer, dependence on that prime principle which is God, when the consciousness is habitually crowded with these intruding and often futile and harmful images?"~ This first point is simple: a mind and heart filled with vain images leaves neither room nor interest for prayer. Materialism. A "deluded consideration that reality, the whole of reality, is that of the sense order, that of temporal and material experience" increases humanity's obliviousness to its spiritual depths. Crushed by work, study, and absorption in worldly affairs, we are in danger of closing ourselves to the transcendent, to the call to prayer. When knowledge is reduced to physical and quantitative laws, and God is "excluded as the transcendent Principle of the universe, and therefore also of every free and wise intervention in the world of our experience," Pope Paul then asks, "how could man address a word to the unknown God, try to dialogue with him, invoke his loving Providenc.6?" Whenever nothingness is proclaimed at the summit of the universe, he con-tinues, then people are "made incapable of prayer." Instead they are forced to strengthen the "mystification of self-sufficiency."0 Materialism and secularism lead to "putting prayer out of public life and private habit.TM Scientism. The frequently vaunted capacity of science to explain everything without reference to a transcendent cause calls into question the value of imploring a provident and personal God. Paul VI often follows the Thomistic .nodel of first outlining and then answering objections squarely. He comments, ~or example, that we have "to keep in mind the classic and usual objection nowadays, about the uselessness of prayer for us modern men, who by means of scientific progress have a knowledge of. the cosmos and human life ~hich makes it useless to have recourse to God to intervene in the scheme of causal- 656 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 ity, over which we ourselves either have control or know its fatality." After thus fairly presenting the objection, he answers that science "does not deem the influence of divine action superfluous in the play of natural causes, but recog-nizes it and to a certain extent., postulates it, invokes it, prays to it with increased understanding of divine and human things."~2 Paul VI refused to concede that science and technology could provide a satisfactory excuse for not praying. Rather, he insisted that scientists should not curtail the metaphys-ical and: mystical possibilities raised by the depth and precision of their disci-plines. If honestly undertaken their study should lead them not to silence but to dialogue with their Creator. Lack of a Religious Sense. Coupled with the exteriorization of the human mind, secularism, and scientism is a decline in humanity's "basic religious sense." Without this sense a personal spiritual life is impossible. Even before a person consciously prays, the person must have "that perhaps vague, but deep, mysterious and stimulating sense of God which is the basis of prayer."Is Because this religious sense is the atmosphere from which our thin voices can be raised in prayer, Pope Paul admonishes everyone to "try to find the routes leading to the religious sense, to the mystery of God, and then to colloquy and union with God.TM A world which excludes the mystery and beauty of God sweeps away the foundation of the interior life. Social Activism. Another Pauline explanation for the declining practice of prayer is the false emphasis some Catholics place on social conct~rns. The pope of Populorum progressio (1967) and Octogesima adveniens ( 1971) warned that social activism threatens to displace the interior life of prayer. Those who maintain that charity towards one's neighbor is enough are tempted to regard prayer as an obstacle to action, "as if they were competing for time, now scarce." Quite simply, according to Paul, prayer is "an indispensable coefficient of apostolic action."15 Without prayer, loving communion with Jesus Christ, the Church is unable "to contest a society in which everything is staked on apparent efficiency."~6 Without prayer, the Church would be "some kind of philanthropic humanism, or some sort of purely temporal sociological organi-zation,"~ 7 but it would not be the Body of Christ which worships the Father through the Son in the Holy Spirit. Signs of Hope Despite the "formidable, but false" reasons why many people neither want to pray nor know how to pray nor do pray, the Church remains a "prayer association." It is in and through the Church, according to the pope, that humanity "has found the authentic way of praying, through Christ the sole high priest, that is, the way of speaking to God, of talking with God, of speaking about God."~8 Anchored deeply in the life of the Church and aware of her spiritual fiches, Paul VI was nevertheless able to discern within contem-porary secular experience an opening to prayer that many others brushed aside as irrelevant or unredeemable. Not satisfied with a mere description of the Crisis in Personal Prayer crisis, he always tried to dig deeper, to unravel, to make explicit the implicit, to reveal the hidden. The key to his theological and pastoral method was his indefatigable desire to "rescue" the potential of every twentieth-century philo-sophical and cultural movement--to unearth its latent possibilities. What many perceived as weakness or indecisiveness was really the pope's ability to grasp the multi-sided complexity of the modern world and his seeking to read the "signs of the times." In his discourses on prayer he applied his own method: to bring into focus the ways in which contemporary experience, especially that of the young, has within itself the capacity to promote a loving dialogue with God rather than a monologue with nothingness. Paradoxically, then, the modern spirit contains the seeds of its possible redemption. During the Holy Year, Pope Paul commented on the plausibility of a reaction setting in among young people which would turn them once again to the practice of personal prayer. Spontaneously alienated by the empti-ness of denying God, "these young people come forward, sad and tormented by the need of a real religion, which will make it possible still to talk to God, to pray to him, to know that he is accessible and close, provident and loving."19 Rather than despair at their denial of God and of the possibility and power of prayer, Paul VI chose to encourage them to reach deeper into their own experience and acknowledge their inner thirst for God. At a Wednesday audience two years before his death he said: Is there not, perhaps, at the bottom of the contesting bitterness of so many young people today a state of mind that is lamentation, poetry, invocation, which it seems permissible to classify under the sign of prayer, a sign that has survived the hurricanes of modern disillusionment? Yes, the temple of prayer opens its doors to the men of our time, and they, most certainly, feel that it would be wonderful to go in again. But they are hesitant: how dare they? And how to pray?--they think. It is worthwhile accompanying them and inviting them again to pray with us30 Ever anxious to accompany and encourage, Pope Paul perceived that "a need, an orientation, a sympathy for some form of prayer is being born again in the heart of the present generation.'~ From the experience of alienation can emerge a rekindled interest and thirst for the Living God. Such sentiments are certainly those of a man confident that truth will eventually prevail. In a moving description of the desperation of the young and their world, Paul VI strives to discern in their pleas an unacknowledged but real prayer raised to God. He recognizes in those who "hear no other call but that of a wasteland, on which they have fallen in an attitude of listless sadness to testify to the unhappy emptiness of their existence . a kind of existential moan of their innate desire to live, to survive." He does not hesitate to call this "a prayer; yes, a prayer conscious only of the desperate devaluation of every magnified modern experience, a kind of De profundis, to the atrocious inner torment." Like the Athenians who did not recognize the objective orientation of their longing (see Ac 17:23), so today the young do not often recognize in 65~1 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 their alienation their "innate, anguished need of Life, transcendent, rising again, divine." From out of the depths of this human anguish, according tO the pope, the possibility arises of encountering "a mysterious wayfarer, exhausted under a cross, who repeats his paradoxical but fascinating invitation: 'Come to me! And I will give you rest'" (Mt 11:28).22 In the very cry of those seemingly without God is revealed the first fashioning of prayer. Always intent on reaching to the crux of the matter and belie.ving that the human person "remains radically religious, essentially oriented towards the quest for God, towards a relationship with him, and therefore eager for, and capable of, personal prayer," Paul VI regards the spontaneous cries of the heart as the beginning of authentic prayer, the ''prayer-spark" which "bursts forth from the soul" in an "almost explosive" manner. Even for those untrained in religious conversation such a cry is a minimal, sometimes unno-ticed, expression of the soul's conversation with God.23 In this way, Paul seems to suggest the presence of a kind of"anonymous prayer" in the soul of many of his contemporaries. According to him, the drama of twentieth-century thought leads either to the failure of desolate skepticism or to "a science of God, which cannot remain just inert and passive, but experiences the logic, the vital urge to express a word; a word addressed to God: a call? praise? an attempt at dialogue? In any case, a prayer.'~4 If people would but open their eyes and their mind, they would discover in their own groans the beginning of prayer. Prayer as "Intoxicating Dialogue" Though Paul VI neither provided a manual on the practice of prayer nor described its dynamics in any detail, he frequently recalled the fundamental structure of personal prayer as God's call and an individual's response. The pope often reminds his listeners that even before a word is on our tongue, God himself is within us in "that mysterious and indescribable appointment which God, the one and threefold God, deigns to make with us, for filial and over-flowing conversation within our very selves."25 God reveals himself to us from within; he is closer to us than we are to ourselves. Paul never tired of calling to mind the mystery of the divine indwelling as the condition which makes all praying possible. Everyone needs to learn to pray inside oneself and by oneself, because God is with us inviting and beckoning us to interior.persona! p.m_ y~er. Despite our laziness, our being "slow and restive interlocutors," as the pope says, it is God who precedes and loves and goes in search of us first.26 Paul Vl's emphasis on personal, private prayer stems from his keen awareness that "the essentia! crossroads at which there is a meeting with the religious mystery, with God, is within us, in the interior room of our spirit and in that personal activity we call prayer.'~7 Liturgical prayer can never replace internal awareness and dialogue with the God who encounters us from within. Both God's sending of his Son in the Incarnation and of his Spirit at Pentecost provoke a "listening" in the heart of the believer. After listening to God's invitation, the pope said, "we cannot remain silent and inert" but must Crisis in Personal Prayer / 659 seek to respond.2s Paul VI was fond of referring to prayer as "conversation" or "dialogue"---terms dear to his theological method as it emerges, for example, in his first encyclical, Ecclesiam suam (1964). The simplest raising of the heart to God is already prayer when the mysterious Other is addressed, however inarticulately, as "thou." Nor is the individual disappointed "with the new joy of an intoxicating reply: Ecce adsum; here I am."~9 Prompted by the Spirit to recognize God within, and then to address him, the person is comforted with a reply. God listens. Dialogue unfolds "through filial conversation and concen-trated silence with him."~0 Prayer, then, is simple, austere and loving conversa-tion, an "intoxicating dialogue.TM In an address directed to rekindling the religious sense among men and women of today, Paul describes the dialogue which follows upon a person's awareness of God: Prayer is conversation: a conversation carried on by our personalities with the invisible companion, of whose presence we have become aware: the holy Living One, who fills us with awe and love, the indescribable Godhead, whom Christ (see Mt 11:27) taught us to call Father through his priceless gift of revelation)2 With his customary care to answer objections anticipated in the minds of his listeners, Pope Paul insists that prayer is authentic only when coupled with trust. The fear that our words are "a voice in the darkness" or merely "despair-ing poetry" is real. But once we remember that prayer begins with God and is established by Christ, it cannot be a monologue. Our very response is necessar-ily a dialogue.33 The "essential pattern of prayer" is that of a "conversation between God and the person,"a conversation which arises from a bilateral and beneficial relationship anchored in God's graciousness and an individual's trust.~ This model of prayer is readily accessible to contemporary human experience; it needs only to be'unlocked and directed to the God who waits. Conclusion Thus spoke Paul VI on prayer. To paraphrase St. John (20:30), there are many other things which Pope Paul said about prayer, but they are not ~ecorded in this article: his unceasing encouragement of liturgical prayer as the outflow of personal prayer, his esteem for the practice of simple vocal prayer, his promotion of Marian prayer. All these themes, and many more, together make up the rich legacy ori prayer which the pope bequeathed to the Church. Though not always highly original in his instruction, he taught assiduously the value and need for prayer if contemporary humanity is to survive. Paul VI restated traditional doctrine with a vigor and finesse attuned to our contem-porary self-understanding. More than all else, however, his calm and confi-dence that God is working through our barrenness to invite us to prayer is an encouraging testimony that from the very poverty of our existence might emerge the riches of loving dialogue with the Triune God. 660 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 NOTES ~Jean Guitton, Paul VI secret (Paris, 1979), p. 12. 2Ibid., p. 15. 3The Teachings of Pope Paul VI, vol. 3 (Vatican City, 1971), p. 145 (22 April 1970). All subsequent references are to the collected works published in ~e Teachings of Pope Paul VL I I vols. (Vatican City, 1969-1979, also reprinted by the USCC). The date of the original papal discourse follows in parentheses. 4Teachings 8, p. 86 (30 July 1975). ~Teachings 7, p. 14 (23 January 1974). 6Teachings 2, p. 219 (13 August 1969). 7Teachings 2, p. 220 (13 August 1969). STeachings 2, p. 220 (13 August 1969). 9Teachings 2, p. 228 (27 August 1969). ~°Teachings 8, pp. 8687 (30 July 1975). ~ Teachings 2, p. 223 (21 August 1969). ~2Teachings 7, p. 147 (23 October 1974). ~3Teachings 2, p. 226 (27 August 1969). ~4Teachings 2, p. 228 (27 August 1969). ~Teachings 9, pp. 105-106 (8 September 1976). ~rTeachings 8, p. 415 (12 November 1975). ~TTeachings 3, p. 144 (22 April 1970). ~STeachings 3, p. 143 (22 April 1970). ~gTeachings 8, p. 87 (30 July 1975). ~°Teachings 9, p. 67 (9 June 1976). ~ Teachings 7, p. 19 (30 January 1974). 2~Teachings 7, pp. 145-146 (23 October 1974). 2aTeachings 7, pp. 14-15 (23 January 1974). ~4Teachings 9, p. 66 (9 June 1976). ~STeachings 3, p. 145 (22 April 1970). 26 Teachings 7, p. 15 (23 January 1974). :T Teachings 2, p. 221 (13 August 1969). 28Teachings 7, p. 17 (30 January 1974). ~gTeachings 2, p. 221 (13 August 1969). ~°Teachings 2, p. 225 (21 August 1969). ~ Teachings 8, p. 63 (2 June 1976). J~Teachings 2, p. 226 (27 August 1969). J~Teachings 7, p. 19 (30 January 1974). ~Teachings 9, p. 68 (16 June 1976). The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63106 Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer Thomas E. Clarke, S.J. Father Clarke, theologian, writer and lecturer, is well known for his work with renewal efforts in a variety of communities. He now resides in a small pastoral community where he may be addressed: 126 West 17th St.; New York, NY 10011. It is well known that Jungian spirituality--approaches to human and Christian development which draw on the insights of Carl Jung--is experi-encing a high point of interest and influence.~ More specifically, the Jungian psychological types are attracting many, especially as these types are identified by the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), a preference measurement perfected over several decades by the late Isabel Briggs Myers.2 More particularly still, there is considerable interest in describing forms of prayer which correspond to the categories of the Jungian typology.3 In this context the present article seeks to identify and reflect on ways of praying which correspond to the functions and attitudes of the Jungian schema; it will also offer some suggestions and cautions towards the further exploration of such correspondences. It is written not only for those who are already acquainted with their MBTI types, but also for those seeking a basic explanation of this instrument in its usefulness for prayer. These observations are based on a dozen retreat/workshop experiences of six days which have sought to aid Christian growth by correlating Jungian type-categories with Gospel themes and Christian practices. They are also meant to supplement what has been said in a recent book transposing the retreat/workshop into print.4 The scope of this article is quite limited. First, it does not profess to know how people or groups belonging to any one of the sixteen types actually prefer to pray or, still less, ought to pray. Secondly, it does not seek to correlate each of the sixteen types with one or more forms of prayer. The basis of the correlations here suggested will be the four functions, with some consideration of the attitudes of introversion and extraversion. 661 66~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 The article does, however, go beyond the previously mentioned literature in three ways. First, it will speak not only of the prayer of individuals but also, though less in detail, of prayer in groups and in liturgical assemblies. Secondly, it will raise the question of prayer as a form of leisure, hence as a time for making friends with the shadow side of one's personality. And thirdly, it will raise the question of forms of prayer for individuals at different stages of life's journey. A Preliminary Observation One final preliminary re~ark needs to be made, on the method of correlation followed in our retreat/workshop, in the chapters of From Image to Likeness, and in the present article. Jungian theory and the Christian Gospel are two quite distinct and heterogeneous interpretations of what it means to be human. The properly behavioral and the properly religious dimensions of life are irreducible one to the other. Even where common terms, drawn from either sector, are used, we must be wary of assuming a univocal sense. Carl Jung presented himself principally as pursuing the science of the soul. Jesus Christ is God's Word of salvation, the founder of the faith community which bears his name. Nevertheless there are between the insights of Jung and the teachings of Jesus significant affinities, likenesses, analogies. As in the case of Plato and Aristotle, Darwin and Marx, penetrating Jungian insights into the human condition can meet, and be met by, facets of the Gospel. The method employed here, then, is one which centers on such resemblances. My impression is that much of the energy generated within Jungian spirituality today derives from the exciting discovery that these two basic perceptions of our humanity often converge in remarkable ways. The convergence on which we will focus here is that which obtains between the characteristics of each of the Jungian functions and different forms of Christian prayer. The Jungian Types My guess is that most readers of this article have already been introduced to the Jungian types either directly or through some such instrument as the MBTI. But a brief summary may be helpful, at least to those not acquainted with the types. Carl Jung's clinical experience acquainted him with the fact that while we all engage in common forms of behavior we also differ notably from one another in our behavioral preferences, and hence in the way in which we grow humanly. He used two generic terms, perceiving and judging, to designate the alternating rhythm, present in each person, of a) taking in reality, being shaped by it, and b) shaping reality, responding to it. Each of these two postures was specified, Jung postulated, in two contrasting functions. Perceiving (P) was specified as either sensing (S), the Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 663 function through which, with the help of the five senses, we perceive reality in its particularity, concreteness, presentness; or as intuiting (N), the function through which, in dependence on the unconscious and with the help of imagination, we perceive reality in its wholeness, its essence, its future potential. Judging (J) was also specified, in either thinking (T), by which we come to conclusions and make decisions on the basis of truth, logic, and right order; or in feeling (F), which prompts conclusions and decisions attuned to our subjective values and sensitive to the benefit or harm to persons--ourselves or others--which may result from our behavior. All four of these functions, Jung affirmed, can be exercised by way of extraversion or by way of introversion. He invented this now celebrated distinction to describe the flow of psychic energy inlany given instance of behavior. In extraverted behavior the flow of energy is from the subject towards the object of perception or judgment. In introverted behavior, the flow of energy is in the opposite direction, that is, from the object towards the subject. What makes the difference is not precisely whether the target of our perception or judgment is something outside ourselves or within ourselves, but which way the energy is flowing. Rather commonly, the impulse to share one's perception or judgment immediately with others or at least to give it bodily expression, signals the presence of extraversion (E); while a tendency to gather the perceiving or judging behavior and to deal with it within oneself marks introversion (I). Working independently of Jung, and on theoretical foundations previously explored by her mother, Isabel Briggs Myers developed an instrument which, on the basis of a preference questionnaire, indicated how the respondent prefers to behave in given situations. The typology is based on four sets of polar opposites: extraversion/introversion; sensing/intuiting; thinking/feeling; judging/perceiving. In tabular form: E-I S-N T-F J-P The four pairs of opposites in varying combinations yield sixteen types, each of which is identified with its code e.g. ESTJ; ISFP; ENFJ. In the process of decoding, which we cannot describe in detail here, one arrives at the order of preference of the four functions (described as dominant, auxiliary, third, and inferior), as well as the attitude (introversion or extraversion) of the dominant function. Thus one person's most preferred behavior will be extraverted feeling, another's introverted intuiting, and so forth. Also worth noting is that when the dominant function is a perceiving function (sensing or intuiting), the auxiliary function will be one of the two judging functions (thinking or feeling), the third function will be the other judging function, and the inferior function will be the perceiving function opposite to the dominant 664 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 function. A corresponding pattern will obtain where the dominant function is a judging function. This is one way in which Jung's view of"compensation," or the tendency of the psyche towards balance, is verified. Extensive research and testing, especially with respect to the professions chosen by people of various types, enabled Isabel Myers to construct profiles of the sixteen types. These in turn have won for the M BTI an extensive use in the fields of career guidance, personnel policy, and the dynamics of groups and organizations. The key psychological insight on which the MBTI capitalizes is that people's behavior, development, and relationships are strongly affected by their preferences in perceiving and judging, as well as by the extraverted or introverted character of the respective preferences. If one makes the assumption that persons are capable of enlightenment and growth through free exercise towards more human ways of living, this psychometric tool then becomes a vehicle of human development. Such is the conviction which has sparked enormous interest in the MBTI in recent years. Out of the work of these two American women has emerged the Association for Psychological Type, whose membership has reached 1500, and which has sponsored five biennial conferences for discussing numerous aspects of the typology. One of the interest areas provided for in APT covers religious education, spiritual growth, prayer styles, missionary service, and similar themes.5 With this brief outline of the various functions and the two attitudes which qualify human behavior, we now turn to correlating each of the four functions with forms of Christian prayer. In the case of each of the functions we will ask: What are some of the forms of prayer--individual, group, and liturgical-- which correspond to this function? Sensing Forms of Prayer Forms of prayer corresponding to the sensing function will be, in general, those ways of praying in which we pay attention to present reality in a focused way, whether with the help of the five external senses or through a simple perception of interior reality. Here are some examples of what we may call sensing prayer. l) Vocalprayer, such as the recitation of the psalms or the rosary, will be sensing prayer when the posture of the one praying is characterized by simple attentiveness, a certain contentment with each passing phrase, and an eschewing of rational thought, imaginative scenarios, and strong emotional investment. Sensing prayer tends for the most part to be simple, quiet, undramatic, contemplative, and down to earth. Vocal prayer, whether the words are recited aloud, gently murmured, or just expressed within, are apt vehicles for exercising this side of our personality. 2) The "prayer of simple regard" is a traditional term used to describe a kind of prayer which, I would suggest, has ~he characteristics of sensing prayer. It consists in just "being there," present to present reality, especially to God within the mystery of divine presence. It needs no words (except perhaps to Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 665 recall one from distraction) and does not involve strong y~arnings of the heart, but in simplicity accepts the "sacrament of the present moment." 3) The prayerful "application of the senses" may also be an exercise of sensing prayer. But here I understand this term as referring to the use of the five exterior senses, or any one of them, on their appropriate objects. The first part of Fr. Anthony de Mello's widely ready book Sadhana contains many such exercises which he lists under "Awareness.TM The sense of touch, for example, may be prayerfully exercised just by letting myself become aware of bodily sensation, beginning perhaps with the shoulders and working down to the soles of the feet. Touch is also exercised when I attend to how, in breathing, I feel the air as it enters and leaves the nostrils. Listening to sounds in a quiet posture of receptivity and enjoyment is another instance of sensing prayer. Provided I have entered this exercise with faith, I do not need to have recourse to the thought of God or to any devout feelings, even though, as Ft. de Mello suggests, a variation of this exercise might consist in hearing the sounds as God sounding in all the sounds made by nature and humans. Thus the chatter of voices, the purr of a motor in the basement, or the thunder of a ride on the New York subway, can be grist for the mill of sensing prayer. Something similar may be said for gazing as a form of sensing prayer. I may look at objects of devotion, at pictures in a book or album, at faces in a crowd, at the beauties of nature. Even taste and smell can be vehicles of prayer for a person exercising faith with a heightened consciousness. 4) Sensing prayer can also draw upon the interior sense, our capacity for paying attention to what is going on within us. Focusing on our breathing or our heartbeat can be a point of entry. Then we may choose simply to attend to what is happening in inner consciousness, to the words, images, or feelings which spontaneously bubble up from the unconscious. Sometimes this kind of exercise can induce a gradual slowing or cessation of inner chatter, and we can for a while just listen to the silence within. We may even come to a happy interior verification of the Quaker motto, "Don't speak until you can improve on silence." Sometimes people ask with regard ,to such exercises, "Is it really prayer?" Even if it were not, it would not be a bad way of disposing ourselves for prayer. But when it is situated within a life of faith and for the purpose of expressing and deepening our faith, it can be prayer---excellent prayer---even though we do not name God, converse with God, or experience any devout surge of the heart. Sensing Prayer in Groups So far I have been suggesting sensing forms of prayer for the individual. But groups can also pray with an accent on sensing. Various kinds of vocal prayer such as litanies or the Office in common, especially when they are engaged in with simplicity and even with a certain routine, enable the members 666 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 of a group to meet God and one another through the sensing function. It is also possible to create prayer services in which each of the five senses has its place, as, for example, by listening to the tinkle of a bell or to a guitar quietly strumming; by devoutly kissing a crucifix or extending a handclasp of peace; by smelling incense or flowers; by tasting a sip of wine; by focusing on the lighting of a candle. Sensing prayer in common leaves aside what is highly cognitive or interpersonal or imaginative. It calls the group to be together with a great deal of simplicity and quiet awareness of God, one another, and the environment. Sensing in IJturgical Prayer There are times when people come together in larger groups to pray, and particularly to participate in the official or public prayer of the Church. When we celebrate the Eucharist and other sacraments and the divine Office in large assemblies, prayer takes on what I would call a societal character, in contrast to the interpersonal character of prayer shared in small groups.7 The general thesis which I would propose is that a well-celebrated liturgy needs to attend to all four functions. Ideally, each participant and the congregation as a whole should have the opportunity to exercise both sensing and intuiting, thinking and feeling, in extraverted and introverted ways. In the present aspect, sensing prayer, liturgical celebration will meet our humanity when it evokes the exercise of the five senses in a congruous way by inviting the participants to look, listen, touch, taste, and smell, all in a fashion which nourishes their faith and deepens their solidarity. There is no need here to detail how apt the celebration of the sacraments in the Christian and Catholic tradition is for meeting this need of human personality. My impression is that consequent upon Vatican II the effort to break out of liturgical straitjackets sometimes brought an "angelism" insensitive to the importance of the senses in good eucharistic celebration. Heightened attention to the homily tended to move celebration excessively towards the cognitive, to the neglect of the sensate, elements of good celebration. To some degree we are today recovering the importance of the life of the senses in liturgy. This Jungian approach to societal prayer can assist in that recovery. Intuiting Prayer Intuiting prayer may be described as contemplative prayer drawing upon fantasy and imagination, as well as what might be called the prayer of emptiness or the "prayer of the vacant stare. The Jungian tradition uses the term "active imagination" to designate those behaviors in which we let images and symbols freely emerge from the unconscious and flow in consciousness. The term "active" could be misleading, if taken with a connotation of control or shaping reality. There is a sense in which this use of imagination is not active but passive, as the person's posture is one of receptivity. The orientation of such prayer is to what might be, to futuresdreamed of rather than planned. As Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 667 the five senses and the interior sense are the vehicles of sensing prayer, so the gift of imagination is what carries intuiting prayer. But, in my opinion, the intuiting function can be at work in prayer even when images are not freely flowing. The vacant stare into space aptly symbolizes a contemplative posture in prayer which is aptly subsumed under intuiting prayer. In such prayer the mind is not occupied with thoughts, the imagination is not delivering images or symbols, and the heart is not strongly surging toward the good. Such prayer of emptiness appears to differ sharply from the prayer of a simple regard, even though both forms are characterized by an absence of thoughts, images, and strong feelings. The difference consists in the focused or unfocused character of the gaze. To use a playful distinction which I once heard Brother David Rast employ, in the prayer of simple regard we are now/here, fully present to the present actuality of life, whereas in what I call the prayer of the vacant stare we are no/where (recall that the Greek term for nowhere is Utopia). Centering Prayer In this context it is worth asking just where "centering prayer" as developed by Fr. Basil Pennington is best situated from the standpoint of the four Jungian functions.8 My own inclination is to view it as a form of intuiting prayer. It is true that centering prayer makes use of a word in the journey to the center; and, as we shall see, the word in prayer belongs primarily to the thinking function. But here the word is functioning not as a mediator of rational meaning but as a carrier of the spirit to the beyond. Centering prayer .has a predominantly unfocused character and brings us to a certain emptiness. Hence I would put it with intuiting prayer. All of this having been said, here are some examples of intuiting prayer for the individual. 1) We have just discussed a first form, centering prayer in the proper sense. 2) The familiar "contemplations" of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius are appropriately listed under intuiting prayer. But it needs to be noted that these contemplations of the mysteries of the life of Jesus belong also to feeling prayer, as we will see. The imagination is exercised with freedom, but with a view to drawing the heart in love. It is the feeling function, we shall se~, which relates to the past through reminiscence. Perhaps a large part of the power of the Ignatian contemplations consists in the fact that both the dreaming imagination and the heart are drawn on to energize the retreatant engaged in the process of "election." Something similar may be said of the contemplation of the mysteries of the rosary. The imagination freely recreates a scene which contains in symbolic form deep Christian values. 3) Various kinds of fantasy in prayer have an intuitive character. Anthony de Mello's book here again contains some interesting exercises, Christian and non-Christian, under the general heading of "Fantasy." Some which might appear at first to be quite macabre can be a source of intense joy and peace: 661~ / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 attending your own funeral, or the "fantasy on the corpse" which Fr. de Mellow borrowed from the Buddhist series of "reality meditations." 4) Ira Progoff's "Intensive Journal," both in the sections devoted to dealing with dreams and in the various kinds of dialogues, offers an abundance of forms of intuiting prayer. The dialogues may be said to combine intuiting and thinking prayer, the latter because of the dialogue form of the prayer. 5) Praying with the help of symbols engages the intuitive function in a way that can energize us greatly. The journey, the cave, the house, the tree, the Cross, the City--these are just a few of the symbolic possibilities of intuitive prayer. Books of the Bible such as the Fourth Gospel and the Book of Revelation are a source of abundant Christian symbols which can be explored in prayer. 6) Finally, one may prayerfully explore God's call by asking the question, "What would it be like if . " envisaging oneself in alternative human situations, dreaming of new ways of one's pilgrimage. Intuiting Prayer for Groups Many of the approaches to intuiting prayer just described for the individual can be adapted for groups which are praying or prayerfully reflecting together. For example, a community which has gone off to the country or to the shore for some time together might have a very meaningful time of common prayer by having each member bring back some nature-object which symbolizes something important for that person. In planning for the year ahead, a community might put to itself the question, "What would it be like if . "making sure not to become too quickly pragmatic and sensible in dealing with the dreams of particular members for life in common. Another exercise of intuiting prayer in common might be to invite each member to select a Scripture passage which is symbolic of some aspect of the community's life, and to share the passages, taking care to be contemplative, without the need for discussion or response. Intuiting in Liturgical Prayer Lyrics from two well-known religious songs aptly characterize the intuitive element which ought to be present in any liturgical celebration. "Take us beyond the vision of this moment." and "Look beyond the bread you eat . "This note of "beyond," or (in Hopkins' poem, "The Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo") "yonder," corresponds to the eschatological quality of Christian faith. In sacramental celebration, it is the complexus of ritual gestures and of symbols which principally contains the invitation to dream, to be open to a limitless future which is God. Psychologically, this facet of good liturgy is effectively present when the congregation as a whole shares, in joyful hope, this unfocused contemplative expectation of future blessing. Though it may find verbal expression, for example within the readings of the celebration, its primary vehicle will be symbol, inviting to the "vacant stare.~ Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 669 Feeling Prayer Forms of prayer which correspond to the feeling function are rather easily described. They will be exercises of prayer characterized by affection, intimacy, and the devout movement of the heart. More specifically, feeling prayer takes place when the exercise of memory in gratitude or compunction brings us back to the roots whence our values are derived, when we come back home, so to speak, in the mysteries of the Gospel, the origins of a particular religious heritage, or the sources in our own personal life through which the gift of faith came to us. The third section of de Mello's Sadhana contains an abundance of such exercises of prayer. Here is a briefer listing of some forms: l) Any form of prayer in which affective dialogue takes place, with God, with Jesus or Mary or any of the saints, or with those who have been important in our personal life, verifies this kind of prayer. In the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, the contemplation of the mysteries leads to such affectionate "colloquy," in which the grace being sought includes a growth in intimate love. 2) Aspirations, when they are repeated with a view to stirring the heart, are a second way of exercising feeling prayer. The "Jesus prayer" of the Eastern tradition, when said with a view to engaging the affections, is a major example. 3) One can also wander "down memory lane" in one's own life, recalling the persons, the experiences, the behaviors, which have had great influence on one's growth. Such prayer of the heart can often be combined with the exercise of imagination, as we recreate a scene of childhood, for example, or tender moments later in life which make us grateful. Gratitude and compunction are the two distinctive graces of such kinds of prayer. For each one of us, the past contains both the gifts of God, especially in the form of the goodness of persons, and our failure to respond trustingly and generously to those gifts. 4) All of us have favorite hymns and songs, and sometimes in solitary prayer our hearts can be deeply mox~ed by singing them quietly, or letting their melodies flow through our inner consciousness. 7he Feeling Function in Group Prayer When groups pray together with some regularity, it can help occasionally if the prayer is directed toward the heart. This calls for discretion, of course, for even when the members know each other well there will remain considerable differences in the ability and desire to manifest emotion in common prayer. But experience will show just what is possible and desirable. Music and song is an easy vehicle, usually unembarrassing. The group might listen to an endearing hymn, or to some instrumental music which appeals to the heart. Story telling, the sharing of personal history about a theme important for the faith life of the group, is another simple and easy way of being together in an affectionate way. 671) / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 Spontaneous prayer, in which people are free to pray aloud and from the heart, can also deepen the bonds of affection within a community, and strengthen the common commitment to shared values. This is an appropriate place to mention the relationship of spiritual direction. At least in a broad sense it is part of the prayer life of both the director and the one being directed. It calls for the engagement of all four of the functions. But, inasmuch as it is an intimate relationship of two persons of faith and aimed at the fostering of Gospel values in the life of the person being directed, it calls particularly for the exercise of the feeling function. This is not the place to discuss the question of friendship within this relationship of spiritual direction, apart from observing that there are contrary views on the subject. But, whatever discretion may be called for to preserve the character of the dialogue as one of spiritual, direction, it remains a situation where the feeling function is expressed interpersonally. Feeling in Public Prayer From'what has already been said readers will be able to describe for themselves the aspects of liturgical prayer and other forms of public prayer which correspond to the feeling function. There is significant difference, of course, between the face-to-face prayer of a small group and the largely anonymous quality of public prayer in large assemblages. There will be corresponding differences, therefore, in the ways in which this side of our humanity finds expression. In my opinion, one of the imbalances of recent years with regard to our expectations of liturgy is that we have often expected it to nourish intimacy in ways beyond its power. Concomitantly, we have tended to lose contact with the deep enrichment which can come to our affective life from such experiences of faith. However one may be personally disposed toward the large gatherings of charismatics which have become such an important part of public prayer and worship, it needs to be said that the charismatic movement is more effectively in touch with this facet of our humanity than most people are. Some of the scenes in which John Paul II has been involved in his worldwide travels provide a further illustration of the energy which flows from religious values through societal prayer and worship. In particular, hymns sung by thousands of voices can be memorable in their impact, as anyone who has been to Lourdes or Rome can testify. The Thinking Function in Prayer I have left the thinking function till last for a few reasons. One is that I find it to be neglected and even, at times, disparaged. Why this is the case is understandable in relationship to the rediscovery of the life of feeling which has taken place in Roman Catholic circles in recent decades. Prayer had, in many respects, become too "cognitized," partly through a reduction of the Ignatian tradition to what was conceived as the Ignatian method of prayer as Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 671 exemplified in the well-known schema of a nineteenth-century Jesuit general, John-Baptist Roothan. In any case the thinking function in prayer has a rather poor press nowadays. Even Anthony de Mello writes, A word about getting out of your head: The head is not a very good place for prayer. It is not a bad place for starting your prayer. But if your prayer stays there too long and doesn't move into the heart it will gradually dry up and prove tiresome and frustrating. You must learn to move out of the area of thinking and talking and move into the area of feeling, sensing, loving, intuiting? Ft. de Mello is faithful to this conviction, for his book is divided into three parts, corresponding more or less to the sensing, intuiting, and feeling functions. There is no section on thinking prayer. Doesn't something more positive need to be said about our capability of meeting God through the rational mind? Surely it is no less important a part of God's image in us than the life of sense, feeling, and imagination. And, within the unity of the person, it is intimately linked in its workings with the operations of these other facets of our humanity. But instead of arguing theoretically for a place for thinking in prayer, let me offer some examples of how one may pray with the rational mind. l) A clear instance of thinking prayer for the individual is the famous "First Principle and Foundation" of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. I can ponder it during a period of prayer and, first, try to appreciate its simple logic in the linkage of purpose, means, and attitude. After savoring its truth I can then examine my life to see where there is order and-where there is disorder, and just what area calls for the struggle to be free from inordinate affections. Knowing that I cannot free myself, I can turn to ask God's help. Then I can make a few practical resolutions touching some steps on the road to freedom. Such highly cognitive activities in prayer are really prayer, and not merely preliminaries to prayer. 2) Prayer may also take the form of setting down a personal charter or set of basic principles by which I wish to live, e.g., "Every human being I meet is worthy of my respect." Periodically I can review this set of principles in order to evaluate and improve my fidelity. 3) I may choose also to draw up for myself a plan of life, which would include a daily or weekly schedule of prayer, reading, provisions for work and leisure, practice with respect to money, and so forth. 4) From time to time I may wish to take a book of the Bible, and, with the help of a good commentary, carefully and systematically over a period of some weeks seek a deeper grasp of God's word, attending to the structure of the work, its cultural setting, the precise meaning of terms, and so forth. I may wish to write my own paraphrase of the book, or use the text as the basis of my own reflections. Most of us are accustomed to contrast prayer and study. But when study of God's word takes place within a life of faith and for the purpose of fostering faith, I believe that it lacks nothing of the reality of prayer itself. 679 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 Thinking Prayer in Groups Not all group prayer needs to be self-revelatory and strongly interpersonal in its character. The common recitation of the Office or prayer of the Church is a good example of communal thinking prayer. Such prayer is characterized by clear structure, orderly procedure, and the absence of strong emotions. While it would be untrue to say that affectivity is absent, what prevails is a sense of meaning and purpose. Especially when such prayer includes reading a passage from Scripture or from some other source, the mind's desire for meaning is being fed. Spiritual reading, which is another form of thinking prayer for individuals which might have been mentioned, can also take place within a group united in faith. Thinking in Liturgical Prayer Liturgical celebration, especially when it occurs in larger assemblies of people, takes on a societal or public character. The very term liturgy conveys this, of course. Inasmuch as the movement from the private to the public in all dimensions of our life involves a significant shift of behavioral attitudes, it brings to the fore the thinking side of our personality. As we begin to relate to people outside the circle of intimacy, it becomes necessary to create conven-tions, etiquettes, structures, which provide us with supports and safeguards as we relate to larger and more anonymous gatherings of people. It is for such reasons that our liturgical celebrations contain a good deal of structure and ritual gesture, and tend to be less highly personal than informal prayer in small groups. More of the thinking side of our humanity needs to be engaged when we celebrate the Eucharist and other ceremonies on a large scale. Similarly to what was said previously about sensing prayer in public worship, I think that we can be helped to understand both the tensions and the failures which have characterized our experience of liturgical worship during the past few decades if we bring to bear on them an understanding of personality types. At the risk of being simplistic one might say that the Tridentine liturgy had become ossified and institutionalistic in its absolutizing of the thinking mode of public worship. This made it understandable that, in the swing of the pendulum in recent decades, we experienced some loss of the basic sense of structure, decorum, and ritual which needs to preside over our public prayer. Some (not all) of the negative reactions to the kiss of peace probably stem from an uneasiness lest the distinction of private and public worship be overlooked. The present juncture, I would say, is a time when we need to recapture, without returning to rigorism and institutionalism, the rich energies of a thinking kind contained in our sacramental and liturgical traditions. We will pray much better in public if we prize this aspect of our .humanity and of our Christian prayer. Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer Further Considerations Up to now this article has offered principally a correlation of forms of prayer, chiefly individual but also interpersonal and societal, with the four functions of the Jungian personality types. As has already been said, we should be wary of too easy identification of any of the sixteen types with one or other preferred way of praying. It is not one's type alone but a variety of factors which affect our attractions in prayer. Two of these factors will now be discussed briefly. They concern 1) prayer as an exercise of leisure; 2) prayer in the stages of human development. Prayer and Leisure One plausible theory which one hears voiced in Jungian circles would have it that, when we turn from the areas of work and profession to the exercise of leisure, there is a spontaneous inclination in the psyche to move from a more preferred to a less preferred side of our personality. In terms of the functions this would mean, for example, that a person whose work or ministry calls for a great deal of extraverted intuiting--being with people in situations which call for a good deal of creative imagination--will spontaneously seek relaxation after labor by some quiet exercise of sensing: baking a cake with careful attention to measurements, or working at one's stamp collection, or hooking a rug according to a given pattern. Similarly, someone whose work is highly analytical and impersonal, let us say in dealing with a computer, might want to relax by sharing a Tchaikovsky concert or a TV sitcom with a few friends. Such a suggestion makes a good deal of sense, especially in view of the natural mechanisms of compensation which seem to be built into our psychic life. If one then adds the similarly plausible suggestion that prayer is or ought to be an exercise of leisure, then we would appear to have a useful criterion for evaluating our forms of prayer, and for suggesting new approaches to prayer, particularly when we seem to be getting nowhere. In such a view, we might profitably ask ourselves from time to time whether our behavior in prayer does not tend to be too much a compulsive continuation of the kind of behavior which we prefer in our work or ministry. And we might, if such is the case, deliberately seek ways of praying which helped to disengage us from such compulsive patterns. Someone whose primary gift, for example, is introverted intuiting, and who spends a good deal of time in the course of the day exercising that gift, might deliberately choose some extraverted sensing forms of prayer, for example, praying the rosary with simple attention to the words, the touch of the beads, and so forth. Or someone whose ministry makes heavy emotional demands---caring for the senile or the retarded, or counselling disturbed people, for example--might find some interior exercise of thinking prayer to be balancing and eventually attractive. One small suggestion regarding this experiencing of leisu're in prayer. It should take place, like all prayer, not by violence but by attrai:tion. It might well be that, though one appreciates the value of shifting gears when one 674 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 approaches prayer, it is not so easy to disengage from one's favored behavior. One might have to make an entry through the preferred function, especially an auxiliary function, before learning to exercise a less preferred function, especially the inferior function, in prayer. This use of the auxiliary function to wean us away from too exclusive a reliance on the dominant function is part of a Jungian strategy of individuation. It would seem to be applicable to strategies in prayer. For example, if thinking is my dominant function and I exercise it abundantly in my work, I may find myself attached to it even when I come to prayer. Instead of directly trying to rouse myself to feeling prayer, I might begin by letting my auxiliary sensing direct my gaze to particular objects, interior or exterior, which in turn and in due time may stir my heart to affective prayer. The philosophy of non-violence has an important area of application in prayer. Prayer and Development Numerous are the theories which, in the present century, have sought to plot the course of human development, in its cognitive, affective, social and ethical aspects. The well-known names of Piaget, Maslow, Erikson, Fowler, and others have provided rich insights into the various facets of growth. One characteristic of a Jungian perspective on development is that, in the light of the diversity of personality types, it will be wary of imposing a monOlithic pattern on the wide variety of human preferences. When prayer is viewed in this light, there are some salutary cautions and perhaps some qualifications of long-standing assumptions .about progress in prayer. Dr. W. Harold Grant has, for some years, been investigating the hypothesis of our ~pe.riods of differentiated human development, starting at age six and ending at fifty, with major switching points taking place at twelve, twenty, and thirty-five. In each of the four periods, according to the hypothesis, the person would be developing one of the four functions: the dominant in childhood, the auxiliary in adolescence, the third function in early adulthood, and, from the age of thirty-five on, the inferior function. The hypothesis includes also an alternation of introversion and extraversion in the successive periods. Prior to age six and subsequent to age fifty development would be taking place more randomly, and not selectively, as in the four periods between six and fifty. If one accepts this as a plausible hypothesis, some implications for forms of prayer at the differe.nt stages of life would seem to be present. First, one would be open to the possibility that the spontaneous employ of sense, imagination, reason, and affection in prayer may not be uniform for all persons or types. Any such prevailing assumption that growth in prayer takes place first by the use of reason and imagination and then, in a darknight experience, by their cessation, might have to yield to a view which acknowledges more diversity in the way in which the attachment/detachment phenomenon takes place in different types of personalities. Jungian Types and Forms of Prayer / 675 Secondly, the hypothesis may help to throw light on crisis periods in people's prayer lives, by suggesting that the emergence of a new function-- especially of the inferior function about the age of thirty-fiv~e--may be signaled through the decline or collapse of previously fruitful ways of praying. It might also suggest that the person involved in such a crisis might do well to explore some alternative ways of praying, ways which would be in keeping with whatever function was seeking to find its place in consciousness. Let us think, for example, of persons in whom feeling is dominant, experiencing something of a crisis in prayer around mid-life. They might do well, with the help of a. director, to exercise their thinking side in prayer, for example, by keeping a journal in which reflection on the meaning of what they are experiencing, or meditation on the meaning of some scriptural passages, was cultivated. It should be obvious that these two factors, touching the question of leisure and the question of diversity in human development, do not exhaust the sources which make for different experiences in prayer. Factors stemming from each person's unique personal history will be at least as important in deciding what course we wish to chart in prayer. And ultimately, as has already been said, it is the attraction of the Spirit of God at every juncture of life which is the primary determinant of how we choose to pray. Conclusion But if it all comes down at last to attraction, why bother consulting the Jungian types for help in praying? For two principal reasons. First, such a consultation will make us wary of being misled by stereotypes of prayer and of progress in prayer, and particularly of the monolithic character of many descriptions of growth in prayer, even among the great classics. And secondly, when persons are in a time of crisis or barrenness in prayer, they may be helped in dealing with the situation if they have had some practice in a variety of ways of praying, and if they realize the affinity between these various ways and the different functions within the Jungian personality types. With the reservations we have indicated in this article, acquaintance with one's type through the MBTI can help foster better praying. NOTES ~See, for example, Morton Kelsey, The Other Side of Silence, (New York: Paulist, 1976); idem, Transcend: A Guide to the Spiritual Quest, (New York: Crossroad, 1981); John Sanford, Healing and Wholeness, (New York: Paulist, 1977); idem, The Invisible Partners, New York: Paulist, 1980); Wallace B. Clift, Jung and Christianity: The Challenge of Reconcilation, (New York: Crossroad, 1982); John Welch, Spiritual t~'lgrims: Carl Jung and Teresa of Avila, (New York: Paulist, 1982); Robert Doran, "Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality," P~vtEw FOr RELtatot/s 38 (1979), pp. 497-510; 742-52; 857-66. 2See Isabel Briggs Myers, Gifts Differing, (Palo Alto: Consulting Psychologists Press, 1980). 676 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 3See Christopher Bryant, Heart in Pilgrimage: Christian Guidelines for the Human Journey, (New York: Seabury, 1980), pp. 182-195; Robert Repicky, "Jungian Typology and Christian Spirituality," REVtEW FOR REMGtOVS, 40 (1981) pp. 422-435. 4See W. Harold Grant, Mary Magdala Thompson, Thomas E. Clarke, From Image to likeness: A Jungian Path in the Gospel Journey, (New York: Paulist, 1983). SAPT publishes a newsletter, MBTI News, for its membership, and is based at 414 S.W. 7th Terrace, Gainesville, FL 32601. 6See Anthony de Mello, Sadhana: A Way to God, (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1979). 7See Thomas E. Clarke, "Toward Wholeness in Prayer," in: William R. Callahan & Francine Cardman, 7he Wind ls Rising: Prayer Ways for Active People (Hyattsville, MD: Quixote Center, 1978), pp. 18-20. sSee Thomas Keating, M. Basil Pennington, Thomas E. Clarke, Finding Grace at the Center, (Still River, MA: St. Bede Publications, 1978). 9De Mello, p. 13. The Time for Figs There twinges in my heart A pity for that fig tree--barren-- Caught up within the eyes of Christ, Cursed by his lips. There echo in my soul Defenses for the tree's unburdened limbs Held light against the sky-- Perhaps because it's I who am the fig tree, content to wait the seasons out. But now is the time for figs-- Season or not-- IX, e looked for the sun too long, Yearned for the rain to come and comfort me, The earth to gather and to nourish. It is the time for figs-- The hungry and the weak pass by And the blossoms are an empty, bitter food. It is the time for bearing. Oh, Jesus. look again on me And cause in me such heaviness of fruit That it shall fall unreached for round your foot. The season is ripe: It is the time for figs. Sister Ann Maureen. I.H.M. 11201 Academy Road Philadelphia, PA 19154 Prayer of the Paschal Mystery: Sorrow in the Risen Lord's Company David Hassel, S.J. In this article Father Hassel continues to explore the subject of Radical Prayer (also the title of his recent book). His last article for us, "The Prayer of Daily Decisioning: Hungering for God's Will," appeared in the issue of May/June, 1983. He continues to live and teach at Loyola University, where he may be addressed: Jesuit Community; Loyola University of Chicago; 6525 North Sheridan Road; Chicago, 1L 60626. Prayer, taken radically, is a deep attitude towards life, a basic way of living in the world with God and with others. Thus prayer of reminiscence is characterized by an attitude of thankfulness; prayer of Christ's memories (Gospel prayer), by a deep wanting to companion Christ; prayer of listening-waiting., by a strong trusting in God's graciousness; prayer of contemplation; by an aCtitude of welcome to God and his worldJ How, then, would one characterize the attitude behind the life and prayer of the Paschal Mys~ery.'~ . One of the presumed grand masters of the spiritual life, Ignatius Loyola, 3 . challenges, even shocks, us when he describes the life of the Paschal Mystery and thereby implies the type of prayerful attitude of humility which, he thinks, animates this life: The most perfect kind of humility [its third stage] consists in this . Whenever the praise and glory of the Divine Majesty would be equally served, in order to imitate and be in reality more like Christ our Lord, I desire and choose poverty with Christ poor, rather than riches; insults with Christ loaded with them, rather than honors; I desire to be accounted as worthless and a fool for Christ, rather than to be esteemed as wise and prudent in this world. So Christ was treated before me.3 At first sight, this third stage of humility, i.e., this prayerful attitude of Paschal- Mystery life, appears to be incredibly negative. It is seemingly a rejection of contemporary incarnation theology which so strongly emphasizes creativity and the resurrection. In Ignatius' description of the Paschal-Mystery life, the 677 6711 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 crucified Christ seems alone to occupy one's vision, and the good Christian appears to ambition nothing more than poverty, ignominy, and degradation. In such a pessimistic, if not inhumane, way of life and prayer, Christ's resurrection and the Christian's consequent joyful creativity would seem to have little place. The shock increases when it dawns on the person praying within the Spiritual Exercises that Ignatius considered this third stage of humility the very heart of the Gospels for all Christians and not simply the storm center of life for his Jesuit sons.4 Could, then, this third stage be accurately describing the prayerful attitude and life of the Paschal Mystery? Is it possible that, in grappling with Ignatius' description, we could come to understand more satisfactorily this mystery of Christ's death and resurrection occurring within us? If such wrestling is to be worth our time, then our first effort should be to deal with those initial distracting fears and angers surfacing against the challenge of this third stage of humility. Having thus somewhat freed our hearts and minds, we could then more fairly check out whether or not Ignatius' third stage of humility expresses truly, though only partially, the Paschal Mystery of the Gospels. If it should do so, then we are ready to catch, within our experience, the four scriptural pulse-beats which may define our attitudinal prayer of the Paschal Mystery. Following this, we could seek out the signs of 'he Paschal Mystery felt within our prayer experience and later describe some imple ways of deepening this prayer within us. Here it is notable how Paschal- Mystery prayer may well be a basic attitude towards all of life even amid acute suffering. Could it possibly turn out to be a strengthening joy (the risen Christ himself?.) within our demanding apostolic endeavors? Fears Diverting Us from Praying the Third Stage of Humility On first hearing Ignatius' third stage of humility proposed, most of us experience deep fears. These quickly smother any attempts at considering, luch more praying over, this terrible challenge to our sensibility and to our .ationality. Consequently, before even trying to understand the third stage of aumility as an expression of the Paschal-Mystery life, we must face these powerful fears.5 One initial fear is that my educated skills will be lost in the muddle of becoming poor with Christ poor. My education is a richness not appreciated by the uneducated poor and not supportable in impoverished circumstances. Ask the U.S.-educated Filipino physician or Indian technician returned to his native city if this is not the case. This means that I will rarely get the time or have the equipment to pursue my art or music or sociology or psychology or computer mathematics or history or engineering~ My talents will lie dormant and later atrophied; my personality will be impoverished and made dull; my angry frustration, like a corrosive agent, will burn me out. Indeed, identification with the poor Christ would eventually strip away all prize possessions like my car; stereophonic tape and recording deck, modish Prayer of the Paschal Mystery / 679 clothes, well-stocked refrigerator, the social rounds with close friends, regular opportunities for vacations, long-distance telephone calls, comfortable bank-account, and a few other precious items. For, when one identifies with the poor in their work, neighborhood, and life-style, one inevitably assumes their ways no matter how skilled, talented or comfortably endowed one may be. A second source of fear is the call to identify with Christ dishonored. If my~ skills, talents and perquisites are enfeebled, I will certainly become less effective' in my work, perhaps, too, in my human relationships. Where once before I was respected for my skillful intelligence, artistic finesse, and guaranteed delivery of promised products; now; I am seen as the bumbler. This, in turn, could well involve a distancing from my friends, not simply because I no longer look good to them but more because our times together will be fewer, our interests different, and our cultural neighborhoods far apart. In other words, like Christ's poor, I will be gradually reduced to being a marginal person whose voice is no longer heard in the councils of the great or small. I will be lost in the masses. This last statement reveals the root-source of all ~my fears concerning the third stage of humility: self-annihilation. The fear of death, the most powerful dread of my life, repels me from the embrace of the third stage. I do not want to be the grain of wheat dying to produce a further harvest. I do not want to lose control of my life, my developing personality, my destiny. The third stage seems to demand a total trust--something which I am willing to award only to myself. Living the third stage of humility appears to be slow suicide. Historical examples abound to let me know that my fears are well grounded. Damien of Molakai identified only too well with his sick lepers and was rewarded with government disdain. Many founders of religious orders have discovered themselves made marginal within their own communities when they identified too fully with the maligned Christ; for example, Francis of Assisi, Madeline Sophie Barat, Cornelia Connelly, and Guillaume Chami-nade. 6 Teilhard de Chardin, a man all his life hidden in Christ, was considered a dangerous fool by the superorthodox Christians and a silly fool by those appreciative of his writings and paleontological competence but not compre-hending of his obedience to Church authorities.7 More recently in El Salvador, Archbishop Romero and Rutilio Grande were hated, disparaged, and then assassinated in the same way as their despised campesino friends with whom they identified,s In response to these fears stimulated by the third stage of humility, one may say that those living this stage can die to one career and then rise to a new one far more fruitful for the Church. Note how Mother Teresa of Calcutta moved out of the classroom and her congregation to dedicate her life to those literally dying in the streets of Calcutta and to the founding of a new worldwide congregation. One can also point out that those living the third stage develop new talents and skills to their own great surprise as when one priest of my acquaintance, being ordered under obedience to do spiritual 6111} / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 direction with some difficult personalities, discovered a new ability for counseling and a fresh realism of judgment which made him much more effective in classroom and pulpit, his first interest. As a third instance of victory coming out of defeat, notice how voices, suppressed or muffled with dishonor before the Second Vatican Council, now echo more strongly than ever within and outside the Church. I speak of Yves Congar, Karl Rahner, Henri de Lubac, and John Courtney Murray. Their sufferings, undergone in silent loyalty to the Church, have validated their insights and given new life to the Church. Just as the missionary letters of that long-dead "failure," Francis Xavier, populated the sixteenth-century novitiates and lured thousands to the missions; so, the lives of these contemporary heroes for Christ raise hope and ambition in countless Christians to serve the Church and her anawim (the marginal and powerless people). The above responses to fears of the third stage are unfortunately only slight glimpses into that Paschal-Mystery attitude which Ignatius' third stage of humility attempts to express. Their inadequacy is painful. Yet they indicate how greatly faith and trust enter into the living of the Paschal Mystery. This does demand of us a remarkable willingness to entrust our priceless skills, talents, possessions, reputation, friends, and hopes into the hands of the poor, dishonored, and unappreciated Christ. The great temptation is to refuse this ultimate trust lest one lose all comfort, much respect from others, and a satisfying career, when actually this "death" through trust may be the final and fullest growth of person in the Christian. The Third Stage of Humility and the Paschal Mystery If living the third stage of humility should turn out to be a deep living of the Paschal Mystery and therefore to be at the heart of the Gospel, then evidently one could never totally comprehend this third stage any more than one could exhaustively understand the Paschal Mystery. But at least one can attempt to remove some of the blinding misunderstandings of the third stage which keep people from appreciating and from living the Paschal Mystery. In other words, the best one can do here is to remove exterior obstacles for the one wishing to pray and to live the third stage of humility. Then, as this person enters into the Paschal Mystery, his or her life will be illumined and directed by a new wisdom--a wisdom which slowly dawns within any person attempting to identify more and more with Christ poor and dishonored. First of all, a frequent charge against the third stage of humility is that it is anti-creationist. This would be true if its expression of the heart of the Gospels did not fit well the first two chapters of Genesis, the first four chapters of the Letter to the Ephesians, and the first chapter of the Letter to the Colossians, where man and woman are to complete God's creation by mastering and developing it. Therefore, the third stage, if it be validly Christian, must mean that identification with Christ poor and dishonored is a creative act. It cannot be, even implicitly, a depreciation or suppression of those human skills, talents, Prayer of the Paschal Mystery / 611"1 and opportunities which make woman, man, and the universe more beautiful and more joyful. Otherwise the third stage as an attempted expression of the Paschal Mystery is inhumane and is to be regarded as unchristian. Consequently, it is vicious to interpret the third stage as insisting that we ask for and directly seek out sickness, business failure, loss of friendship, defeat, the misery of poverty, and the humiliation of dishonor in order to become closer to Christ. This would be to make the third stage a depraved description of the Paschal Life--as though it were requiring that we pursue evil in order to be more perfect Christians. Such a. style of life would not only destroy its pursuants but seriously injure all the people whom the pursuants are trying to serve and companion. Such spiritual athleticism based on a totally negative theology of the cross exemplifies more a gross pride than a Christlike humility. Man has been given a free and inventive nature so that he can cooperate with a free and inventive God to make the world more beautifully humane. In this way, man and woman attain full manhood and womanhood, that is, they become more like the risen Christ. Indeed, the Lord has promised his close followers that they will receive a hundredfold "houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and land--not without persecutions--now in this present time and, in the world to come, eternal life" (Mk 10:29-30; Mt 19:27-30; Lk 18:31-33- Jerusalem Bible). It is precisely those living the third stage who are more eligible, amid persecutions, for this hundredfold of creative joy based on interpersonal relationships. Secondly, this hundredfold is guaranteed by the Christ of today, the risen Christ, who is the present Lord of the universe and the future culmination of all history. Nevertheless this Christ, under the Father, has freely chosen, even preferred, for himself and for his followers, to win his kingdom through suffering as well as joy, through defeat as well as victory. For the risen Christ is also the Christ of the passion and death; he carries the wounds in his risen body. But because he is the resurrected, immortal Lord, no Christian's suffering or defeat will be without the joy of his strengthening presence. For this rea.son, underneath the sufferings described in the third stage of humility, there must be a strong and perduring joy, namely the strength by which the suffering Christian perdures without bitterness. This is, of course, the Paschal Mystery working itself out, as simultaneous crucifixion and resurrection, in the life of every true Christian. More specifically, this joy would be union with Christ and oneness with his Church. There is a third reason for suspecting that a joyful creativity strengthens the living of the third stage: God's every action in the universe is meant to make all the human participants more human. After all, God's glory, as extrinsic to his own being, is precisely and more fully the wholesomeness of humankind, the fuller womanhood and manhood of each person. The paradox occurs when the Christian is asked to trust that a particular suffering or sorrow will not end in a diminishment, but rather in an enhancing of his or her person, so long as 6112 / Review for Religious, Sept.-Oct., 1983 the pain is borne trustingly in and with Christ suffering. To look back twenty. years and to reflect with Christ upon a particular calamity is, often enough, to discover in oneself an important growth-period. But even if an objector to the third stage of humility were to agree that underlying this state would be a strengthening joy and peace, he could still accuse the third stage of encouraging individualism, simply a "me and Jesus suffering" type of piety. This forces us to clarify what is meant when the third stage urges us "to choose poverty with Christ poor, rather than riches; insults with Christ loaded with them, rather than honors." The question is: "Who is this Christ?" Is he only the historical Christ of Nazareth or is he also the mystical Christ which is the Church and which is unified by the one presence of the risen historical Christ? Because the Ignatian Exercises are aimed at enabling the retreatant to make decisions which will expand the kingdom of Christ according to Christ's standard, the Christ of the third stage must be also the Mystical Christ, the Church. Thus, the third stage of humility is basically other-centered. It makes little sense unless it represents a deeper loyalty to the historical risen Christ and to his people. Its inner dynamic is, then, to put the retreatant in contact with the poor, the abandoned, the lonely, the twisted, the sick, the unhappy of Matthew's famous last-judgment scene (25:31-46): "whatever you did to the least of these brothers of mine, you did to me." The third stage of humility, then, as an expression of the Paschal Mystery has a powerful apostolic thrust because it not only rises out of the deepest personal loyalty to the risen historical Christ of Nazareth but reaches out in wholehearted social loyalty to the Mystical Christ, the Church. Naturally, if the Christian lives deeply with these poor and dishonored of Christ, he will become marked with their characteristics. Let a priest or layman work closely with the homosexual community and he will be labeled a homosexual and treated accordingly. Let a laywoman or a nun work in a woman's rights organization and she will be labeled fanatic, abortion-minded, man-hating. The psychiatrist spending long hours with the mentally disturbed risks not only his own mental health but also the stigma of being considered "a mere shrink." It is literally dangerous to live the third stage and to identify with Christ's poor and dishonored. Thus this basic attitude of the third stage is no mere mental fiction--for example, a mental trick to be used for giving one balance against the inclina-tions of Original Sin towards the easier way of life. It is, on the contrary, a real preference to be with Christ's suffering people, a definite mind-set and heart-set which enable the Christian to do pioneer work wherever people are hurting most from neglect and weakness. Such an attitude also enables the sick person to accept his or her illness positively as an opportunity for knowing Christ better and for contributing in some hidden way to the good of Christ's people. It enables, too, the South American labor-organizer to risk his life in order to rescue his people from economic slavery and psychological degradation. Prayer of the Paschal Mystery / 15113 All this takes for granted that suffering and sorrow can be creative moments in the Christian's life. Not that suffering and sorrow of themselves are creative; they are destructive in themselves--unless good is drawn out of their evil. But the person living the third stage of humility as an expression of the Paschal Mystery is convinced in faith that God the Father intends to draw good out of the evils spawned by personal sin and by original sin. Further, he is sure that Christ the Son has preferred to achieve the liberation of man through suffering, and that the Holy Spirit prefers to achieve the unification of the Church and of mankind through human historical sufferings as he completes the universe. This is the central mystery of life, that God would want the world to reach its destiny through suffering and defeat as much as through joy and victorious accomplishment. Somehow, t.hrough suffering and sorrow, a depth of wisdom, patience and loyalty is reached, which in this present world is not available to those enjoying the easier life. Under the illumination of.Christ's resurrected life, this vital mystery of earthly suffering and joy is seen to be the Paschal Mystery of resurrection amid death, i.e., of creative power amid galling limitations and sharp agonies. This is why one can speak of creative suffering when dealing with the third stage of humility. In contrast to the stifling self-pity which arises in one who sees no reason for personal suffering except bad luck, the person of the third stage is aware that God does not waste a moment of human suffering. Instead, every twinge of pain, every throb of sorrow, every burning moment of fair and unfair humiliation, every blasted hope, can somehow, by God's providence, contribute to the final cooperative triumph of humanity and God: that Great Community of the Great Today and Tomorrow called the Communion of Saints. Man, however, must allow his sufferings and sorrows to become creative by identifying them with the risen Christ's passion and death. In this way a person wastes nothing. All his or her skills, talents, capacity to love, and opportunities to build a better world are focused positively on others and are not paralyzed by bitter self-pity. Indeed, this pers

Issue 41.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1982. ; The Jesuit's Fourth Vow The Post-Charismatic The Changing Role of Brothers Volume 41 Number 2 March/April, 1982 Rev~t-:w Eor REI.~GIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:.~601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis, MO 63108. REVIEW For RELIGIOU,':, is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus. St. Louis, MO. © 1982 by REVIEW FOR REI.IGIOIJS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year: $17.00 for two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year: $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write: Rt:vlt:w v'or Rt:LWaot~s: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Daniel T. Costello, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor March/April, 1982 Volume 41 Number 2 Manuscripls, books for review and correspondence wilh Ihe editor should be sent to Rl.:VlEW E(m Rl-:i.l(;Iou.~; Rnom 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. I.ouis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be senl to Joseph F. Gallen. S.J.; Jesuit Communily; St. Joseph's University; (Sity Avenue al 541h St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from R~-:v~-:w ~-ox R~-:LI(;~OUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms Internationah 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Principles of Discernment Robert F. Morneau The last article of Bishop Morneau to appear in these pages was "'Dives in Misericordia: Themes and Theses," which appeared in the September issue. Bishop Morneau may be addressed care of the Ministry to Priests Program; 1016 N. Broadway; De Pere, WI 54115. The journey of life is filled with many choices, the consequences of which can be far-reaching. But as we enter into the decision-making process we are not necessar-ily alone. Friends and counselors frequently give helpful advice. Also we have the advantage of both personal and collective experience from which we can extract patterns and principles that provide guidance and wisdom. This essay spells out ten such principles that can help us discern God'svoice and respond to the Lord's call with generosity and courage. A basic belief underlies this endeavor: growth is much more likely to happen when we critically reflect upon our experience and watch for reoccurring patterns than when we simply move from one spontaneous experience to another without~explicitly dealing with any of them. Reflection, done in prayer and with serious ii~tent, provides insight and energy for spiritual development. Growth in the Lord is greatly impeded when reflection and articula-tion are absent. A three-fold method will be used: l) the articulation of ten principles of discernment; 2) a series of quotations from various authors who reflect some dimension of the basic principle; 3) a tripartite commentary which includes a reference to Scripture, an image illustrating the principle and an example from literature providing a case study of our theme. Discernment is a gift to be exercised; principles are abstractions offering mean-ing. Both are significant for human and spiritual growth. This essay presents the principles; the reader brings the gift and the experience. The hope is that the roads intersect rather than run parallel. 1. Discernment is a prayerful process by which ~xperiences are interpreted in faith. 161 162 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 By discernment of spirits is meant the process by which we examine, in the light of faith and in the connaturality of love, the nature of the spiritual states we experience in ourselves and in others. The purpose of such examination is to decide, as far as possible, which of the movements we experience lead to the Lord and to a more perfect service of him and our brothers, and which deflect us from this goal.~ Basically, as I see it, Discernment may be defined as the meeting point of prayer and action. That is, discernment is the art of recognizing what God is asking of us--what he would like us to do with our lives, how he wishes us to respond to the concrete life-situations which we encounter in following our vocation? The Christian who reflects on his own experience and on that of the community, who seeks to discern in these the divine voice, and who wants to respond to it by redirecting his life, is--theologically speaking--engaged in prayer.3 "Then he (Jesus) bent down and wrote on the ground again.TM The adulterous woman stood before him; the scribes and pharisees made their accusation; the people observed with keen curiosity. We do not know exactly what happened in the mind and heart of Jesus as he leaned forward and wrote in the sand with his finger. We do know that this immediate experience needed an interpretation. Jesus was a prayerful person; his bending forward in silence may well have been a deep moment of communion with the Father. The Gospel records the Lord's response to the situation: the accusers could silently withdraw, the accused could depart without condemnation. This is but one example of Jesus' ministry. Many other times he also turned to the Father for guidance: the prayer on the mountain before choosing the disciples, the garden prayer before his passion and death, the prayer in the desert when tempted to infidelity. The n~cessity for discernment is the experience at a crossroads; the standard for discernment is whether or not the decision leads to God and more complete service; the act of discernment requires a posture of contemplative faith. The combine used in harvesting and threshing grain has given tremendous help to the farmer. It separates the grain from the straw, retaining the former for winter feeding and discharging the latter in neat rows. The wheat and the chaff, the good and the evil, the true and the false, the beautiful and the ugly--throughout history the human spirit has been challenged to distinguish one from the other. This is no simple process. The grey areas are vast, time is often needed and not available, the multiplicity of experiences tends to clog up the task. Even with these obstacles, the spiritual combine of a discerning heart must perform its duty as well as it can. Grounded in prayer and nourished with learning, the spirits of good and evil can ~Discernment of Spirits, introd, by Edward Malatesta (Collegeville, M N: The Liturgical Press, 1970), p. 9. 2Thomas H. Green, S.J., Darkness in the Marketplace (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Mafia Press, 1982), p. 69. 3Gregory Baum, Man Becoming INew York: Herder and Herder, 1970), p. 256. *See Jn 8:8. Principles of Discernment be sorted out and properly responded to. Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory is a story about spiritual discern-ment, its successes and its failures. The "whiskey priest" must constantly make decisions concerning his person and his ministry as he is confronted with the Mexican religious persecution. The failures of discernment may well be grounded in the reflection: "a prayer demanded an act and he had no intention of acting." His success would demand courage and sanctity; the vision is given but not its reality: He felt only an immense disappointment because he had to go to God empty-handed, with nothing done at all. It seemed to him at that moment that it would have been quite easy to have been a saint. It would only have needed a little self-restraint and a little courage. He felt like someone who has missed happiness'by seconds at an appointed place. He knew now that at the end there was only one thing that counted--to be a saint) Discernment is that prayerful process allowing each individual and the larger community to move in the direction of sanctity. 2. Discernment must deal with many voices seeking to capture our minds, hearts and energies. Since the mysterious voice of the Spirit is not the only voice we hear but comes to us accompanied by the tumultuous sounds of our own conflicting impulses and the clamorings of the entire creation, it is essential for us to be able to discern the presence of the Spirit in order to choose to say "yes" to him.6 So the soul that waits in silence must learn to disentangle the voice of God from the net of other voices--the ghostly whisperings of the subconscious self, the luring voices of the world, the hindering voices of misguided friendship, the clamor of personal ambition and vanity, the murmur of self-will, the song of unbridled imagination, the thrilling note of religious romance. To learn to keep one's ear true to so subtle a labyrinth of spiritual sound is indeed at once a great adventure and a liberal education. One hour of such listening may give us a deeper insight into the mysteries of human nature, and surer instinct for divine values, than a year's hard study or external intercourse with men.7 While his mind had been pursuing its intangible phantoms, and turning in irresolution from such pursuit, he had heard about him the constant voices of his father and of his masters, urging him to be a gentleman above all things and urging him to be a good Catholic above all things. These voices had 9ow come to hollow sounding in his ears. When the gymnasium had been opened he had heard another voice urging him to be strong and manly and healthy and when the movement towards national revival had begun to be felt in the college, yet another voice had bidden him to be true to his country and help to raise up her language and tradition. in the profane world, as he foresaw, a worldly voice would bid him raise up his father's fallen state by his labors and, meanwhile, the voice of his school comrades urged him to be a decent fellow, to shield others from blame or to beg them off and to do his best to get free days for the school. And it was the din of all these hollow sounding voices that made him halt irresolutely in the pursuit of phantoms. He gave them ear only for a time but he was happy SGraham Greene, /Tie Power and the Glory (New York: The Viking Press, 1940), p. 284. 6Discernment of Spirits, p. 9. 7Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf(New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1963), p. 43. 164 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 only when he was far from them, beyond their call, alone or in the company of phantasmal comrades.S The parable of the good shepherd stresses the importance of recognizing the voice of the master.9 Eternal life depends on this; only those who hear and respond enter into the fullness of life. But Jesus' voice was one among many. Competition for the sheep was great and, given the gift of freedom, there could be no forcing of individual liberty. Though Jesus called some directly, they refused to listen: the rich young man, Judas, the scribes and pharisees. Others, men like John, Stephen and Paul, heard the loving call and became committed disciples. The voice of the risen Lord continues to compete with the sounds of our times. He can be heard in our sacraments of faith, in the sights and sounds of nature, in the revelation of Scripture, in the community of believers, in the words and deeds of our fellow pilgrims. Life itself is a summons to reach out and fulfill our task of becoming fully human in order that we might glorify our God. Radios have a selective apparatus called a tuner through which we can choose the station that pleases us. Many excellent possibilities are available: beautiful music, intelligent conversation, educational programs. Other options expose us to dissonant sounds, inane banality, devious propaganda. With a twist of the dial we have the power to position ourselves in any one of these environments and thus grant permission to certain ideas and images to enter and shape our perspective. In the spiritual realm, discernment tunes itself to God's message of love and forgive-ness in Jesus and lives this deep mystery in word and deed. A novel by Chaim Potok entitled My Name is Asher Lev presents an artisti-cally gifted young man who has to discern among many voices. Early in life Asher Lev recognizes that his ability to draw had not only the potential for self-fulfillment but also the possibility of a serious rupture with his parents and the Jewish community at large. In anger and confusion he argues with God: You don't want me to use the gift; why did you give it to me? Or did it come to me from the Other Side? it was horrifying to think my gift may have been given to me by the source of evil and ugliness. How can evil and ugliness make a gift of beauty?~0 The pressure from the leaders of the community, the warnings of frie,nds, the intrinsic urgings of the gift, the delicate relationship with his parents were all voices seeking attention and action. Would the gift be heard and exercised regardless of the cost? Discernment calls for radical fidelity to God, self and others. Wisdom and courage are needed to hear the truth and implement it in our personal history. 3. Discernment is cultivated in listening love that allows one to hear the .felt-experience of good and evil movements within oneself, others and society. a James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (New York: Colonial Press Inc., 1944), pp. 83-84. 9Jn 10: I-5. ~°Chaim Potok, My Name is Asher Lev (New York: Fawcett Crest Books, 1972), p. 116. Principles of Discernment / 165 For these souls, their hearts tell them what God desires. They have only to listen to the promptings of their hearts to interpret his will in the existing circumstances. God's plans, disguised ,as they are, reveal themselves to us through our intuition rather than through our rea.son. I I Love gives freedom. Love accepts another person as he is, and discerns in the other person hidden strength. Love communicates to the other a new kind of self-possession, and enables the other to act with self-confidence.~2 Only by the supernatural working of grace can a soul pass through its own annihilation to the place where alone it can get the sort of attention which can attend to truth and to affliction. It is the same attention which listens to both of them. The name of this intense, pure, disinter-ested, gratuitous, generous attention is love.~ It is not blind love that is the enduring love, the love that God himself is. It is a seeing love, a knowing love, a love that looks through into the depth of the heart of God, and into the depth of our hearts. There is no strangeness to love; love knows; it is the only power to complete and lasting knowledge?4 Jesus was a listener and a lover. In a powerful exchange with Peter,15 Jesus listens to Peter's profession that his master is indeed Messiah; Jesus also hears Peter's unwillingness to embrace the fact that the Messiah must suffer and die. As he listens with love Jesus discerns the first response of Peter as coming from the Father and the second movement and response as coming from mere human standards. This beautiful example of double discernment resonates with many of our own experiences in which we act out of mixed motives and according to diverse and sometimes contradictory criteria. Authentic discernment is possible only when one has the graced ability to listen in love to the deepest impulses, urges and longings of the human heart with great care and exquisite respect. Jesus models for us the very essence of discernment. The sunflower delights both our eye and our imagination. In the morning it faces the east awaiting the dawn; by evening it gazes to the west as though pursuing its god. Two qualities are evident in this docile plant: the "listening" power ena-bling it to take in the sun's warm rays and its ability to respond to the flight of the sun in loving fidelity. This image highlights the importance of sensitivity in the discernment process. The slightest, impulse, urging and prompting must be absorbed and responded to if we are to faithfully follow the call of the Master. Such listening and responding is grounded in love. Love pulls us out of self-preoccupation and the parochialism of our narrow lives. The sunflower images a type of listening and love characteristic of a discerning heart. Would that the simplicity, spontaneity and flexibility of the sunflower were ours! ~Jean Pierre De Caussade, Abandonment to Divine Providence (New York: Doubleday Image Book, 1975), p. 105. ~2Man Becoming. p. 50. ~The Simone Weil Reader, p. 333. ~'~Paul Tillich. The Shaking of the Foundations (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1948), p. II0. ~SMt. 16:13-23. 166 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 The movie, Ordinary People, presented a scene in which an emotionally dis-turbed young man reached out to a psychiatrist for help: Initially the relationship did not go well. Later, with time and patience, the deep loving concern and listening skills of the doctor won out. The boy revealed his story and partial healing took place. More than simple listening'happened here: a deep discernment of the movements of the heart surfaced, were owned and dealt with. More than superficial concern was demonstrated here: a profound, radical trust resulted in giving life and well-being. In such instances heart speaks to heart (cot ad cot) and even though religious language is not used nor God mentioned explicitly, a person of faith can recognize his presence in such an encounter and appreciate the exercise of the gift of discernment. 4. Discernment relies on two mirrors: Jesus and revelation. The disciple living today.does possess one ultimate criterion for correct discernment: i.e., Jesus himself.~6 With the help of the Holy Spirit, it is the task of the entire People of God, especially pastors and theologians, to hear, distinguish and interpret the many voices of our age, and to judge them in the light of the divine Word. In this way, revealed truth can always be more deeply penetrated, better understood, and set forth to greater advantage,t7 Jesus is our m~.ster to whom we do not pay enough attention. He speaks to every heart and utters the word of life, the essential word for each one of us, but we do not hear it. We would like to know what he has said to other people, yet we do not listen to what he says to us.~ The miracle of the loaves as presented in John's Gospel~9 involves an example of discernment. Many of the disciples who had followed Jesus up to this point now walked away, finding incredible the claim that Jesus himself was the bread of life. The Lord turned to the Twelve and asked if they too would go away. Simon Peter's. response: "Lord, who shall we go to? You have the message of eternal life.'~0 The specific choice that was made was based on a person and his word. No abstract philosophy here; no esoteric theology; no subtle psychology. Discernment and decision flowed from a relationship of trust and faith. Implicit in such a discernment process is fidelity: decisions are made in terms of personal commit-ment. Such fidelity secures personal identity because in such an exercise of free-dom we protect both the reality of the Creator and the creature. No lies are possible with authentic discernment. The keystone of an arch is in a precarious position. Its presence makes the arch integral, but it is dependent on the two columns which it unites. If either column is missing there simply is no arch and the stone meant to be a key remains just an ~6Jon Sobrino, Christology at the Crossroads. trans. John Drury (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1978), p. 129. ~TThe Documents of Vatican IL Gaudium et Spes New York: Herder and Herder, 1966), p. 246. taAbandonment to Divine Providence. p. 53. ~'~Jn 6:1-71. Principles of Discernment ] 167 ordinary stone. Discernment rests on the personal column of Jesus Christ: his values and affections are the very substance we use in sorting out the many options of life. Discernment also rests on Sacred Scripture which provides a vision of salvation history and the backdrop for measuring what is spiritual and what is not. Blessed are the poor, the peacemakers, the ones who hunger and thirst for justice; ungodly are the self-indulgent, the self-serving, the lukewarm. Revelation clarifies those actions which are life-giving and those which are death-dealing. The person of Jesus leaves unambiguous the path we are to follow. Such lights as Jesus and Scripture are rich and necessary graces for our journey. The Confessions of Augustine of Hippo reveal a man for whom the word of God and the person of Jesus were vital sources of power. It was in St. Paul's letter to the Romans that God's word overwhelmed the struggling Augustine; it was in personal relationship with Christ that he perceived reality from a faith perspective. Augustine's hunger for the truth, nourished for years by the classic philosophers, now found sustenance from Scripture. Augustine's deep affectivity, once franti-cally seeking fulfillment in an unbridled sensuous life, found its home in the Lord. With these two resources it is no wonder that the bishop of Hippo is noted for his keen, incisive decisions. Both as a judge of human affairs and as an exegete of Scripture, he brought much life to many because his process of discernment was rooted in the Lord and in biblical faith. 5. Discernment assumes that God is continually working in the depth of every individual and community. He (God) revealed himself several times reigning, as is said before, but principally in man's soul; he has taken there his resting place and his honorable city. Out of this honorable throne he will never rise or depart without end. Marvelous and splendid is the place where the Lord dwells; and therefore he wants us promptly to attend to the touching of his.grace, rejoicing more in his unbroken love than sorrowing over our frequent failings.2~ But whatever we do, we do it because we are diawn to this particular acti6n without knowing why. All we can say can be reduced to this: ~'1 feel drawn to write, to read, to question and examine. I obey this feeling, and God, who is responsible for it, thus builds up within me a kind of spiritual store which, in the future, will develop into a Sore of usefulness for myself and for others." This is what makes it essential for us to be simple-hearted, gentle, compliant and sensitive to the slightest breath of these almost imperceptible promptings.22 Ah, but it is hard to find this track of the divine in the midst of this life we lead, in this besotted humdrum age of spiritual blindness, with its architecture, its business, its politics, its men!2J The realization that God is active in all that happens at every moment is the deepest knowl-edge we can have in this life of the things of God?4 ~°Jn 6:68. 2~Julian of Norwich: Showings. trans. Edmond Colledge, O.S.A., and James Walsh, S.J., Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1978). p. 337. 2~Abandonment to Divine Providence, p. 81. ~Steppenwolf, p. 35. 24Abandonment to Divine Providence, p. 117. 1611 / Review for Religious, March-Apri!, 1982 Creation is God's presence to us in beauty; the cross is God's presence to us in our brokenness and twistedness.2~ God's creative and redemptive power is at work wherever there is life. Whether or not a given individual responds to that presence is dependent upon the working of grace and freedom. The point is that God is always working. John's Gospel drives this fact home.26 Accepting this in faith, we. are challenged to become increasingly conscious of divine stirrings deep within our individual lives as well as our communities. Focal awareness, a high intensity consciousness, may not be that frequent, but subsidiary awareness, a sense of a background presence, can become a way of life.27 As our faith deepens we become ever more sensitive to the working of God's Spirit in our minds and hearts. The life story of the grape can provide an image of the discernment captured by the vines and their energy transformed into grapes. Upon. beir~g harvested and crushed, the grape enters into a fermentation process. Through the hidden work-ings of bacteria surrounded by proper temperatures, darkness and sugars, the grapes are converted into wine. So, too, in our spiritual journey, the need for ongoing conversion is a constant call and is made possible through the perennial movements of God in our innermost being. The sourness of the unredeemed areas of our inner life are turned into the succulent sweetness of a life of union. In her sensitive allegory Hinds' Feet on High Places, Hannah Hurnard has us journey with the main character Much-Afraid through a fermentation process that eventually results in "much-trust." At first our heroine is enslaved by fear, oppressed by human respect, devoid of joy. Gradually she begins to sense the stirrings of grace within her soul. God's promptings lead Much-Afraid into free, dom and then on to acts of courage. Her story is symbolic of all those enslaved by fear. Her liberation in grace is greatly aided by an exercise that could well become the model for many: To this place she was in the habit of going very early every morning to meet Him and learn His wishes and commands for the day, and again in the evening to give her report on the day's work.28 Such conversation and accountability enrich the discerning heart. 2~John Shea, Stories of God: An Unauthorized Biography (Chicago, II1.: Thomas More Association, 1978), p. 152. ~Jn 6. 271n an essay entitled "The study of Man," Michael Polanyi writes: "We may say that when we com-prehend a particular set of items as parts of a whole, the focus of our attention is shifted from the hitherto uncomprehended particulars to the understanding of their joint meaning. This shift of attention does not make us lose sight of the particulars, since one can see a whole only by seeing its parts, but it changes altogether the manner in which we are aware of the particulars. We become aware of them now in terms of the whole on which we have fixed our attention. I shall call this a subsidiary awareness of the particulars, by contrast to a focal awareness which would fix attention on the particulars in themselves, and not as parts of a whole. (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1959), pp. 29-30. 28Hannah Hurnard, Hinds' Feet on High Places (Old Tappan, New Jersey: Fleming H. Revell Com-pany, 1973), p. 13. Principles of Discernment / 169 6. Discernment respects the nature of time and is willing to wait freely for a decision that has need of clarification, detachment and magnanimity. Ligfitning and thunder require time, the light of the stars requires time, deeds require time even after they are done, before they can be seen and heard,z9 Simply by making us wait he increases our desire, which in turn enlarges the capacity of our soul,/naking it able to receive what is to be given usP0 The poet contrasts us in our waiting and in our going ahead. For those who take initiative into their own hands, either in the atheism of pride or in the atheism of despair, the words are weary, faint, and exhausted. The inverse comes with waiting: renewed strength, mounting up, running, walking. But that is in waiting. It is in receiving not grasping, in inheriting and not possessing, in praising and not seizing. It is in knowing that initiative has passed from our hands and we are safer for it.3~ Many of the Lord's parables deal with the notions of time and waiting. One of these tells of the necessity of being ready for the master's return from the wedding feast.32 Happy for those who are awake and prepared for the unexpected. Fear, weariness and even impatience are moods that threaten our call to decide to respond to God's call. Milton's "they also serve who. only stand and wait" expresses a situation that only the most courageous can accept. Timing in decision-making is most subtle; in'deed, God's time (kairos) is often not our time (chronos). A basic guideline in the spiritual life is that we "act on our clarities." When things are too muddy we wait, however painful that may be. Without expecting a certi-tude or clarity that is unrealistic, we gradually 'become comfortable with that faith fact that seeking and waiting can be as meritorious and grace-filled as finding. The important thing is that God's will be done.33 Telephone companies provide a service by which a person can find out the correct time by dialing a certain number. Wo~uld that our inner seasons were as clear as our chronological time frame! It is hard to discern in winter when dor-mancy and coldness immobilize our hearts. People are counseled never to make decisions of major import when depressed; it is simply the wrong time. No~" should decisions be made when romanticism sweeps through the heart blinding the indi-vidual to the shadow side of life. We discern on level ground, not on the peaks nor in the valleys. The correct time is known more through intuition than rational deduction--we sense discernment more than figure it out. The phone number locates us and orientates us according to the sun; discernment provides bearings in reference to a much brighter Light. Shakespeare's King Lear provides an excellent example of timing and dis-cernment. The king was aging and decided to distribute his property and wealth among his daughters, each being given a share in proportion to her profession of mPeter Berger, A Rumor of Angels (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1969), p. I I. 3°Thomas H. Green. S.J., When the Well Runs Dry (Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press, 1979), p. 113. 3*Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress Press, 1978), pp. 78-79. J~Lk 12:35-40. 17t) / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 love for her father. Not only was Lear unwise in his standard of division, he was misguided in his time. The consequence was eventual insanity and death. Dis-cernment demands a standard, one based on knowledge of reality and deep faith. Discernment demands awareness of the Lord's timing. Until that surfaces we wait, trusting that the Lord will show us his plan. Detachment allows us to accept whatever is asked; magnanimity provides room to welcome whatever is given. Discernment needs much grace and graciousness. 7. Discernment is a gift which comes to those who are properly attuned through obedience and surrender. In everything else, this soul will preserve a perfect liberty, always ready to obey the stirrings of grace the moment it becomes aware of them, and to surrender itself to the care of providence.34 When a soul has reached the third stage, the love of friendship and filial love, her love is no longer mercenary. Rather she does as very close friends do when one receives a gift from the other. The receiver does not just look at the gift, but at the heart and the love of the giver, and accepts and treasures the gift only because of the friend's affectionate IoveP~ The hearing of God's Word requires complete self-surrender.36 The Annunciation narrative in Luke's GospeP7 presents Mary in a perplexing situation. Her future with Joseph had been determined; plans were made; impor-tant decisions were set in motion. Suddenly God breaks into the "best-laid schemes o' mice an' men." What is to be done? To whom does one listen? What price the surrender of one's will to the call of God? This biblical account gives us a classic example of discernment. The divine will summons and history hangs in balance. Though struggling with fear and the unknown, Mary discerns the voice of the Lord and in prompt obedience and generous surrender commits her life to the providence of her God. That gift of discernment was rooted in her identity as the handmaid of the Lord. Mary knew who she was and it was from that giftedness of her graced filled life that such an extravagant and total response poured forth from her heart. A hearing aid is a grea't blessing for those individuals for whom deafness is an encroaching reality. This technical device helps restore the precious gift 6f hearing. One can once again listen to a variety of sounds and calls and through surrender render personal obedience. Physical listening has its counterpart in the spiritual realm, as does deafness. Often we do not hear. Sometimes this is a matter of choice, sometimes a matter of circumstance. Regardless, we fail to discern the words and movements of the Lord because the gift of discernment has not been activated. Hearing aids can be adjusted, even turned off. When God asks what is a~Julian of Norwich: Showings. pp. 195-196. ~Abandonment to Divine Providence, p. 88. J~Catherine of Siena, The Dialogues, trans, and introd. Suzanne Noffke, O.P., Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), p. 134. ~6Meister Eckhart, t~ans. Raymond B. Blakney INew York: Harper Torchbooks, 1941), p. 33. ~TLk 1:26-38. Principles of Discernment / 171 demanding or unpleasant we can unconsciously or blatantly turn from his sum-mons and fail to respond. Here we see that the discernment process has'high mutuality: the call and gift from God, thefree response of obedience and surrender from the human person. God respects our freedom too much to force a response. Gradually it becomes evident that discernment isnot just one gift among many: it is a crucial gift determining~destinies. Story of a Soul, the autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux, is a candid revelation of a deep love relationship. Surrender and obedience were qualities that gave constant direction to the saint's life; these dispositions opened her to the gift of discernment. Therese realized that Christian living demanded not only recogni-tion of what is to be done but also the actual doing: As little birds learn to sing by listening to their parents, so children learn the science of the virtues, the sublime song of Divine Love from souls responsible for forming them.3~ Authentic discernment moves from listening to virtue. God uses many interme-diaries (parents, teachers, friends, "enemies") to both proclaim his message and model a response. In this environment the gift of~ discernment takes root. Therese's being was receptive to the stirrings of grace. The song of divine love was. heard, the r~esponding melody was also one of deep love. 8. Discernment happily blends faith and pragmatism: it searches out God's will in radical trust and does it. The People of God believes that it is led by the Spirit of the Lord. who fills the earth. Motivated by this faith, it labors to decipher authentic signs of God's presence and purpose in the happenings, needs, and desires in which this People has a part along with other men of our age. For faith throws a new light on everything, manifests God's design for man's total vocation, and thus directs the mind to solutions which are fully human)9 The will certainly seems to me to be united ir~ some way with the will of God; but it is by the effects of this prayer and the actions which follow it that the genuineness of the experience must be tested and there is no better crucible for doing so than this.'~ Every activity is related to good and evil twice over: by its performance and by its principle.4~ While teaching one day,~2 Jesus was interrupted when some men, carrying their paralyzed friend and lowering him through the roof, ingeniously got' ev-eryone's attention. The story is familiar; two things ~hould be noted for ohr pur-pose. These men had a deep faith in Jesus. They truly believed that this teacher had power and concern. Second!y,~their faith was active. They expended much energy JsStor), of a Soul." the Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux. trans. John Clarke, O.C.D. (Washing-ton, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1975), p. 113. 3gThe Documents of Vatican II, p. 209. 4°The Complete Works of St. Theresa of Jesus. ed. and trans. E. Allison Peers (London: Sheed & Ward, 1944), 2:238. 4~ The Simone Well Reader, p. 292. 42Lk 5:17-26. 172 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 and subtle creativity.in allowing t.heir faith,filled hearts to be nourished by divine healing. Both their trust and activity were rewarded in the cure of their friend. Discernment is both relational and functional; it is contemplative and active; it is faith-filled and pragmatic. The contemporary concern for integration is similar to the ever present call to discernment. A person of true discernment is integral. No false dichotomy here: action must be consequent to principle. Grounded in deep faith discernment pushes from below; drawn into active response discernment calls us forth to be agents of change. ¯ H20 is the chemical formula describing our precious gift of water. The blend-ing of these two elements produces a substance necessary for life. Hydrogen without oxygen fails to give us our refreshing liquid and vice versa. So in the spiritual domain: faith without action is dead; action without faith loses its ulti-mate significance. The water of the spiritual life is the grace of discernment; its basic elements are faith and deed. Depending upon the developmental phases of the community or individual, the w~ight will shift more towards faith, more towards action according to the level of maturity and the needs of the people. Here we realize that. spiritual laws are much more subtle than those of nature. In his journal entitled Markings, Dag Hammarskjold records the diverse movements of his inner life. We come to realize that this inter:national figure, busy with multiple responsibilities of the United Nations, had a very well developed and nurtured spiritual life. He speaks often of faith; he notes the importance of action. One passage will suffice: We act in faith--and miracles occur. In consequence, we are tempted to make the miracles the ground for our faith. The cost of such weakness is that we lose the confidence of faith, Faith is. faith creates, faith carries. It is not derived from, nor created, nor carried by anything except it~ own reality.4J The mixture is right; the roots of the tree blossom forth through the branches carrying and bringing much life. Discernment makes this possible. 9. Discernment looks to consequences for its authenticity: decisions are of God if ultimately leading to life and love. I am quite sure that no one will be deceived in this way for long if he has a gift for the discernment of spirits and if the Lord has given him true humility: such a person will judge the~e spirits by their fruits and their resolutions and their love.'~ To estimate the worth of a spiritual decision, we thus have three criteria at our disposal: the authenticity of our union with God, the unity of the different elements of our being, the cohesion which our action assumes in relation to ourselves, .to others and to the world,aS The work of love not only heals the roots of sin, but nurtures practical goodness. When it is authentic you will be sensitive to every need and respond with a generosity unspoiled by 4~Dag Hammarskjold, Markings (N~w York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. 1966), p. 145. ~The Complete Works of St. Theresa of Jesus, 1:378. 4SFrancois Roustang, S.J., Growth in the Spirit. trans. Kathleen Pond (New York: Sheed & Ward. 1966), p. 122. Principles of Discernment / 173 selfish intent. Anything you attempt to do without this love will certainly be imperfect, for it is sure to be marred by ulterior motives.46 Authentic Christian living results in action and explicit concern. Jesus draws our attention to the fig tree that is rich in foliage but devoid of fruit.47 For a hungry person the fruitless fig tree is worthless, we discern its worth in this case by whether or not it achieves its essential destiny. In our spiritual journey discernment is tested by the effects of our action and the concomitant affectivity. Does our activity give life, i.e., does it foster an increase of love, joy and peace? Or do our actions lead to death, i.e., apathy, sadness and anxiety? Discernment registers at the deepest level of our humanity--in our guts! We come to sequester that which nurtures from that which enervates. As in economic affairs so in spiritual matter we come to the bottom line: the financial world looks to profit/loss and the spiritual world looks to life/death. The stethoscope allows medical personnel to become attuned to the inner physiological movements of the patient. The trained ear can evaluate the proper functionings or pathological stirrings of vital organs. What the naked eye has no way of knowing, the ear with the aid of the stethoscope can easily ascertain, Discernment is a process of listening to the stirrings of the many different spirits constantly at work within the complexity of our lives. A good spiritual director intuitively senses how our life-style and motivational field is impacting on the inner terrain. If congruence is sensed, then God's word is tak~ing root and bearing proper fruit. If there is dissonance, then dialogue is in order to understand where it is coming from. This is no easy task. The movements of the spirit are mixed and often ambiguous. At times God's word will cause dissonance while the work of the evil spirit causes apparent harmony. These uncharted waters make us hesitate and call out for help from a good spiritual navigator! Sophie's Choice, a novel by Willim Styron, narrates the many decisions thata young woman had to make in very dire circumstances. The choice of letting either her son or daughter be sent to the gas chambers is symbolic of the horrendous decisions that confront the human spirit~ Throughout ttiis novel we witness people making choices and dealing with the powerful effects that shape their destinies. These effects basically fall on one or other side of the line: life or death. Sad to say, most of the decisions were not life-affirming~ Any good novel is essentially a study of discernment from an experiential point of view. Situations arise, choices are made, life or death follows. No one is exempt from dealing with the script of his or her own life. The process is universal. Grace is necessary if we are to discern wisely and act with courage. 10. Discernment leads to truth and, through truth, into freedom. The very word "truth" filled my heart with enthusiasm. The beauty of the word shone in my 46The Cloud of Unknowing and the Book of Privy Counseling. ed. William Johnston (New York: Doubleday Image Book, 1973). p. 64. "1"/4 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 eyes like a spiritual sun dispelling all shadows--those of ignorance, of error, of deceit, even those of iniquity, which is an error of measure and a lie. "Knowing the truth"--a pleonasm. With truth there is already knowing, as there is reality and being. To think the word "truth" is to assume a spiritual faculty, in which alone truth can be found. It is to assume the capacity of such a spiritual faculty to conform itself to being, to reality, in order within itself to produce the truth. It is also to raise the question of knowing whether such a faculty exists,as And ira will of iron represents one aspect of the liberated soul, flexibility and detachment of spirit represent a complementary aspect. To obey the inspirations of grace moment by moment, t9 adjust oneself readily to the promptings of a living Master, is a task which demands the glorious liberty that is the high prerogative of the sons of God.49 But at this moment I came upon myself. Previously I had existed, too, but everything had merely happened to me. Now I happened to myself~ Now I knew: I am myself now, now I exist. Previ~ausly I had been willed to do this and that; now I willed.~° God's w~)rd calls us to truth and freedom. Mary Magdalene wandered in the garden in deep dejection because her master and friend was dead.5~ Death appeared to have had the final say and such news caused enslavement to fear and depression. Then the experience of the Lord! The truth is exposed: sin and death are overcome by the cross and resurrection. God's fidelity and power are everlast-ing. The bond of sin is broken; the sting of death destroyed. With this truth came freedom, a freedom overflowing into joy. Mary sees and is able to act. This narrative helps us to see that the gift of discernment brings vision and responsibil-ity. In recognizing the risen Lord we contact reality; in being graced, we become gracious. Through the word of God we deepen our sense of identity and mission. This process allows us to find meaning which allows for motivation, enabling us to risk the use of time and energy in new and creative ways.'For Mary, Jesus was the truth that leads to freedom; for Mary, his person allowed proper discernment. Scientists use two instruments in their work of discovery and invention that are, by nature, tools of discernment, the microscope and telescope. With awe and wonder, we use the microscope to probe cellular structures revealing the deep patterns of life; with anticipation and excitement; we find the telescope pulling us into galaxies undreamt of by our ancestors. Gifted with such tools we come to know invisible worlds and incredible spaces. The spiritual realm is no less astound-ing. With the tools of subtle interior silence and perceptive wisdom we scan the vast plan of God's creative love. Such dispositions are crucial in coming to know truth and to exercise our freedom. Discernment falters amidst noises; it is blinded and cannot know what is pleasing to God. Discernment is seeing, a seeing that leads to freely doing the truth in love. Lavrans Bjorgulfson, speaking to his wife, says: "I know not. You are so strange--and all you have said tonight. 1 was afraid, Ragnfrid. Like enough 1 47Mk I 1:12-14. ~8Raissa Maritain, We Have Been Friends Together (New York: Green and Co., 1942), p. 80. agE. Herman. Creative Prayer (Cincinnati. Ohio: Forward Movement Publications, n.d.), p. 79. 50C. G. Jung, Memories. Dreams. Reflections. ed. by Aniela Jaffe and trans. Richard and Clara Winston (New York: Vintage Books, 1965). pp. 32-33. ~Jn 20:11-18. Principles of Discernment / 175 understand not the hearts of women."~2 In Sigrid Undset's Kristin Lavransdatter, we witness the tragedy of ignorance and the paralyzing power of fear that follows. Lavrans, a good man, does not understand the heart of his wife, Ragnfrid, nor that of his daughter, Kristin. Their loves were mysteries to him and, lacking proper discernment of the movements of their hearts, the tortuous pain of misunderstand-ing was bound to follow. The truth of the heart is a special knowledge all its own. Only when the heart is "informed" and well-known do the waters of freedom flow. Principles clash with the particulars of life. Helpful as they might be, life is lived in experience, not reflection. Yet we need to step back ever so ~ften for perspective and meaning. Hopefully this essay has fulfilled that task. My only hope is that these pages have realized the mandate oncegivEn by Emily Dickinson: Tell all the Truth but tell it slant-- Success in Circuit lies Too bright for our infirm Delight The Truth's superb surprise As Lightning to the Children eased With explanation kind The Truth must dazzle gradually Or every man be blind-- ~2Sigrid Undset, Kristin La,;ransdatter, I The Bridal Wreath, trans. Charles Archer and J. C. Scott (New York: Bantam Books; 1976); p. 232. Pope John Paul II to Jesuit Superiors, February 27, 1982i In fact, a special bond binds your Society to the Roman Pontiff, the Vicar of Christ oft earth . St. Ignatius and his companions., attached capital importance to this bond of love and service to the Roman Pontiff, so much so that they wished this "special vow" to be a characteristic: element of the Society . It is evident that here we are touching upon the essence of the lgnatian charism and upon that which lies at the very heart of your order. And it is to this that you must always always remain faithful. Prayer and Regression John O'Regan, O.M.I. Father O'Regan's "Unavailability as Poverty" appeared in the issue of July, 1981. His address is: 37 Woniora Road; P.O. Box 70; Hurstville, Australia 2220. i~|he~' wish to return to childhood is, in most instances, a regressive wish--a desire to abrogate adult responsibilities, and to return to a.state of dependence. But this wish may also have another aspect. To seek after the spontaneity and freedom of the secure child is a different matter and may, perhaps, be what is meant by the saying of Christ: 'Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.' This is no regression to childishness, but rather, an advance to such security and freedom with our fellowmen that we can be whatever we are and allow them to be the same."~ Scripture scholars may disagree with psychiatrist Storr's understanding of Matthew 18, but the general drift of his meaning is clear and points to an under-standing of scriptural childness that may assist us in our understanding of prayer~ Of course it is quite possible to have regressive prayer and it shows up in many subtle ways. The prayer of the "good Lord" who is a distant, benign, undemanding and wholly pardoning God is surely a childish way of boxing God into a conve-nient category. The prayer that makes one feel good and somehow seals out the rough and tumble of life is also a childish thing, for it is based on the pleasure principle and we asgume it is good because it makes us feel good, An altogether inistaken notion of spiritual consolation can easily have us thinking that good prayer is always less than painful. There are many variants of regressive prayer that one may use: here we have a general look at the possibility of regression and the proper form of childness that makes prayer authentic. ~The Integrity of Personality. A. Storr (Pelican: Middlesex, 1970), pp, 60-61. Prayer and Regression / 177 Time and Timing Many state that prayer cannot be programmed--that it arises spontaneously and when we feel we need it, we need it. Much can be said in praise of this as long as it is properly understood. Prayer as a habitual state of dependence on God and prayer as the more privileged moments of closeness to God--irrelevant prayer as Father Green calls it2--must be distinguished. The religious whose life is fully given over to God will surely see the need for stated times for formal prayer. Such prayer is often called lower case prayer, while the lifelong attitude of being given over to God gets a capitalized P for Prayer. The reverse may equally be the case, but for the purpose of this article we will stay with this distinction. Thus the religious whose prayer is clear will be bound to find times for prayer and these times will surely manage to have their own rhythm. And we, being creatures ofhabit, will find that such rhythms will be predictable. So that some form of programming will assert itself. Some of us are morning people and like to start the day with a stretch of prolonged prayer. Others are night people and feel more at home with God at that time. Each one to one's own preference here. The point at issue is that the natural rhythm of life itself will surely dictate a style and timing of prayer that will not be left to chance, still less to mood. Thus to pray when one "feels like it" may lead us into strife if that is the only criterion for prayer. Ruysbroeck, the Flemish mystic, has the idea of the indrawing and outpouring of God's grace in us: the same imagery may be applied to prayer. We indraw in prayer and we outpour in prayer. This means the withdrawal-involvement rhythm, while not needing the regularity of a metronome, will have its own inner impera-tive and clock for each of us. The harmony between contemplation and apostolic love (Perfectae caritatis n. 5) is still a task for all of us and we must always work at it. It seems to at least imply that this task (and gift) cannot be left to whim or mood: such a standard would indeed be childish. This of course is not to say that some people may find a long weekend of prayer somehow manages to suit them: all of this is assuredly matter for honest discernment. The well. may run dry rather easily and the land may become parched. For those o~" us whose moods have a sudden~and broad swing, the well and land may easily run dry or parched almost unknown to us. The length of time and the actual time for prayer are important factors when we take our religious commitment seriously. Time Spent At times there may be a veritable fissure in our lives: what we declare we are and what we in fact are, are often light years apart. We may have a fundamental falseness running right through our lives and manage to survive some way or another. Thus we may spend long hours at prayer and not have its influence felt in 2Opening to God. T.H. Green (Ave. Maria Press, IN, 1977). 1711 / Review for Religious, March-ApriL 1982 our lives or at best allow its impact to be unhealthily muffled. Father Maurice Lefebre, killed in Boliva in the service of the poor, said that "because we live a lie, the truths we bring make no headway." This division between prayer and life--between prayer and Prayer--is surely a result of seeing prayer as a regressive retreat from the harsh and dreadful things that living for love of God and others really means. It is a womblike withdrawal that marks the overdone need for security from the cross that life is bound to hew for each of us who claims to be a follower of Christ. We all know of the piously impatient religious who brooks no interruption of his prayer, no matter what the demands may be from those he is serving. Fair enough: we should try to set up a little poustinia for our prayer-time but to see every interruption on this chosen retreat as an encroachment on our time "with God" is not an adult response, but a petulant reaction. Such a prayer has all the marks of childishness. One is here reminded of Jose Ortega y Gasser3 when he ponders on Commander Peary's day's polar trek with his team of dogs. After a hard day's mushing towards the north, he found at evening that he was much further south than when he started off in the morning! He has been working all day northwards on an immense iceberg being taken to the south by a strong ocean current. Hard times and long hours at prayer that are effectively isolated from life may give the impression of much progress. But the context of this kind of prayer must be taken into account lest we have a disconnected life of prayer, removed from the prayer of life. Like Peary's hard day's toil on the iceberg, much movement did not mean any progress at all -- even the reverse! The child is very much his or her own person with a great deal of emphasis on how he sees life. His childish optics give reality meaning that is not always geared to the givenness of reality itself. His childish templet thrown over reality effectively screens out some of its harsher aspects and amplifies its more congenial qualities so that much of his little life is essentially idiosyncratic. Much of his reality lacks consensual validation---effective checking out by way of feedback is too much bother for him. So that a prayer life that is removed too comfortably from the painful course of life is a childish kind of demiolife. As Augustine put it:: we may make many strides, but all outside the course. Dabar This prayer/life dichotomy is always with us. Only in Jesus were word and deed perfectly and positively corelated and all we do is strive to lessen the abyss that exists for us between what we profess we are and we in fact live. Herbert, the English poet, caught the idea beautifully when he wrote Doctrine and life--colors and light in one, When they combine and mingle, bring A strong regard and awe: JMeditations on Quixote, .I. OrtEga y Gasser (Norton: New York. 1961). p. 104. Prayer and Regression But speech alone doth vanish like a flaring thing, And in the ears, not conscience ring. Doctrine--what we believe and say we are, and life--how we actually incarnate this--must be together, like colors and light. Speech alone, outward show and mere protestation, means little and touches no one's conscience. So that while we try to bridge the gap between doctrine and life, we must be ever aware that it is all too easy to allow the gap to widen. Being Christlike, adopting the mind and heart of Christ will always be an imperative for us, and we must ever be ready to "live the truth in love" (Ep 4:15). This living, or "truthing"--- making word and deed more closely aligned in our lives, is an adult task. It is not for children--they must come a long way to be able to shoulder this project. In us adults, this cleavage between word and deed keeps us humbly on our toes and saves us from arrogance. It is only when we become unaware of this split-level living that we have cause for alarm. Filial Posture Prayer's paradigm has been given us once and for all by Jesus when in response to a disciple's request, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples," he said to them, "When you pray, say: Father." (Lk 11:i-4). It need hardly be said that the assumption is that the disciple was inspired when he saw Jesus praying "in a certain place." This anonymous disciple, seeing Jesus praying nowhere in particular, may be seen archetypically: we are that disciple and the nameless place may just as easily be seen in the same light, for we have to pray always and everywhere (see Ep 5:20; 6:18-19). Jesus is a model of prayer for us not just because he prayed regularly or had an unwavering prayer schedule. In Luke's gospel, he prays in practically every third chapter~ but in Mark's gospel, as scholars tell us, his early morning rising for prayer (i:35) is a typical day in the life of Jesus. But such visible expressions of prayer are but the observable expression of the inner disposition of a Man whose whole being is given over to God. He was not just driven to his knees as in the Mount of Olives (Lk 24:41-44) when the pressure was on: he prayed always and prayed formally on regular occasions. It was the inner oblation of his whole being that gave rise to these intense moments of close union with the Father. He was always addressing the Father and he here tells us that we must have the same filial posture when we come to pray. When we come before God for the more privileged moments of closeness to him (despite the apparent absence we may experience in these moments of apparent closeness) we must come with the filial gesture of "Abba," Father. This cordial posture must be the basis and ground of our prayer, giving it its tone, direction and content. In this word of daring intimacy, "Abba," we come to God with all the confidence of a child and the undeviating trust shown by God's Son. "Abba" Some writers have almost drooled over this term of piety and have given it a "11~1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 sentimental flavoring that does no justice to the deep connotation it is meant to have. Terms like "Pappa," "Dad" and the like have been suggested. But the term refuses to bear this lightweight meaning. Apart from familiar uses of the word children use to address their fathers, and beneath it all, there is the deep sense of dependence and trust that gives rise to the closeness of the bond binding child and father. A father may engage in rough and tumble fun with his children, and the little ones delight in it. In the process they may get bumps and even scratches and there is not even a whimper. If these "wounds" were sustained in play with siblings, there would often be a far different reaction--tears and tantrums and the need for succor. But the child's utter trust in the goodness of the father is ,the rubric under which little aches and pains don't matter much, for the little one's unbounded trust makes all safe and sound in the affectionate ambience of a father's loving care. It is interesting to note that the child has been seen in different ways over the centuries. Time was when he was viewed as a miniature adult, and not a growing person in his own right. He was an adult-in-the-making, so what was good for the adult was good for the child. This gave rise to the assumption that the child saw, felt and judged as did the adult, so that education was getting him to sit still while adults instilled adult lore into his little head. Again the child was (and possibly still is) viewed as born in utter innocence and is tainted by contact with adults. This romantic anthropology seems to have a second inning in transactional analysis with its grossly overrated "child" state. This idyllic state seems at the mercy of interfering and imperious "adult" states. The truth of the child, like the truth of adults, is light and shade. Children are far from being only the cuddlesome angels of nappie commercials, and the endless and undiluted joy they appear to give to adoring mothers is plainly fiction. A child with its bundle of impulses with monumental rages can terrify even a hardy mother, who may easily want to vent her frustration on this demanding little tyrant who is so messily incontinent so much of the time. The incessant demands for neverending attention--the price of survival for the little one, makes life for the dedicated mother quite hectic for most of the time. For dependency is the hallmark of the little child, and his attachment to his mother for all his needs is close to being a symbiotic relationship. Apart from the child's survival, the groundwork for its wholesome sense of worth and goodness about himself is laid in this period of utter dependence: Not only the quantity of time and output of nurturing love but the very quality of this loving attention has so much to do with the kind of person the child will grow up to be. Childhood thus at this stage, is a state of absolute and almost one-way dependency, with little or no effective control or management on the child's part. Surely this image of the child has little to do with the childness that is meant to be our basic praying posture. The wish to return to childhood and to alleged lost innocence is surely a regressive wish and a desire to escape adult responsibilities in an effort to reestab-lish utter dependence. Such a desire, while not always on the level of full aware-ness, is fraught with secret urges to get back to a stage when all was well and no Prayer and Regression / 1111 pressm:es were experienced. In a deep symbolic manner, this is a wish to reenter the womb with its safe and secure amniotic protection. It is a yearning for a prepersonal stage where relationships do not need to be worked at and where needs were superabundantly granted in immediate supplies. It may be likened to a wish to become absolutely recipient to all desires and wants--to be the more or less content receiver of a bountiful providence. The kind of struggle that Paul says must attend our prayer, is anathema to this mentality and the perceptive notion of St. Thomas--that we are non solum provisi sed providentes, is rejected out of hand. St. Thomas was saying that God's fatherly care is so good that he invites us to share in his providential care: we are, he states, not just provided for; we are, in fact, coproviders. Father A certain style of diction in spirituality easily lends itself to this kind of regres-sive attitude. The "Good Lord" address-system to God fosters (wittingly or no) this kind of misplaced benevolence: he looks conveniently the other way from our aberrations and closes a grandfatherly eye when we sin. This is a God Who is not supposed to make demands and offers discipleship on the cheap. It is a God whose Son was not wholly in earnest when he laid down the cost of discipleship in totally inconvenient, uncompromising and uncomfortable terms (see Mk 8:31-38; 9:30-32; 10:32-45) and made stern demands of those who answered his call. Following him meant much more than the immediate disciples were ready to pay for they latched on to the "glory" aspect of the Messiah and refused to face the cross: be delivered, condemned, delivered to the Gentiles, mocked, spat upon, scourged, killed. Self-denial, taking up one's cross and follow-ing him are not exertions one expects of a child. They are adult commands and Christianity is for adults. While all of these directives come from a God who is love and who loves us without measure, he does not love us out of, but into suffering or pain or dilemmas. His attitude is a far cry from the "Good Lord" spirituality who gives all but expects nothing in return. Such an undisturbing deity makes for fascinating study of the adult who would want such a convenient Father. Other such possibly misleading ideas come from a notion of a God who holds us in the palm of his hand and whose massive palm cradles a sleeping babe. Such kitsch theology and art may serve a purpose and does have some merit', but it also fosters a kind of childishness that is not helpful in our faithgrowth. Isaiah 49 does speak of being held in his hand, and such an image has powerful evocations. But the infant in the palm goes a little much in the "childish" direction. Paul's "strain-ing forward" (Ph 3:13) and Ephesians' final admonition with its strongly martial tone (Ep 6:10-20) makes unrelenting effort the mark of the true disciple. "To that end keep alert with all perseverance," having on the breastplate, feet shod with the gospel of peace~ the helmet of salvation, the shield of faith, the sword of the Spirit. (Ep 4:14-18). This is the opposite direction to regression, in fact an honest progres-sion to a more mature humanity (Ep 4:13) that leaves behind the things of a child (1 Co 13:il). 1~1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 Childhood: Recovery? In what sense then may we see childness as a faithful image or symbol for prayer? Surely the sense of dependency must enter as well as the sense of freedom. Anthony Storr (op. cir.) says that: "To seek after the spontaneity and freedom of the secure child is a different matter (from regression) and may perhaps be what is meant in the saying of Christ: 'Except ye be converted and become as little children ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven' "(Mt 18:3). Storr sees the freedom and spontaneity of childhood as a decided advance rather than a stepping back. But this is hardly enough. The scriptural idea of freedom is, as are many scriptural themes, set in paradox. "Live as free men," we read in I P 2:16, "yet without using your freedom as a pretext for evil: but live as servants of God." If freedom is a keynote of Christianity, then we would have to understand it aright. In Christ and in Paul, freedom and bondage are reconciled. Jesus is seen as the self-emptying servant, whose utter abasement was the occasion and condition of his abiding freedom in unique exaltation. Kolb notes that Certain aspects of the personality may be arrested in their maturing process, with the result that a full and harmonious development never occurs. By.an anxiety-evading mechanism known as regression, the personality may suffer loss of some development already retained and reverting to a lower level of integration, adaption and expression. The retreat to a lower level of personality development is characterized by immature patterns of thought, emotion or behavior? It is not an uncommon happening that when a child gets a new baby brother or sister, and sees all attention of parents leave him for the new arrival he may begin to baby talk all over again and even wet the bed. He regresses to these earlier developmental stages so as to endeavor to recover the attention he had before the birth of his sibling. This is not necessarily pathological and in fact we all resort to nightly regres-sion when we sleep and dream. We let go of our hold on reality, bypass the world of logic, cause-and-effect, space and time and drift into a world of unrealistic ~antasy. This nightly spell of regression is a refreshing and even essential pause to enable us to face the morrow with a fair amount of poise.5 Most of the so-called mental illnesses include more or less severe regression but regression in itself is not an illness. When it goes beyond the level of efficiency and hinders effective relations with others, it is presumed to be unusual. The point of all this is to ask ourselves the question on prayer: is it possible to see ourselves in some regressed childish state when we say "Abba" to God? Before ~3od we may at times feel utterly useless and worthless. Our utter helplessness may even create the impression that once again we are back to a stage of childhood that 4Modern Clinical Psychology. Laurence C. Kolb (W.B. Saunders Company: Phil. 1977). p. 110. ~Personality Development and Psychopathology: Norman Cameron (Houghton Mifflin Co.: Boston. 1963), passim. Ch. 6. Prayer and Regression can in fact be childishness. God is a loving Father, to be sure, but an omnipotent God as well. Jesus is the Father's love made flesh for us, but he is Jesus just the same and our best efforts to "put him on" fall pitifully short. Faced with this kind of relationship, it is not possible to see a childish posture as somehow appealing. We may somehow cringe into littleness and close to nothingness and this is surely a childish regression. If we are to grow in moral reasoning and faith-living, then regression seems out. It is possible that our religious "life" lags painfully behind our general personality growth and thus makes for a stunted growth all round. Does it not seem better to see our religion as one for adults and only inchoa-tively for children? Is the Father-child paradigm used misleadingly, or is it a fact that we are simply engaged in child-talk when we come to pray? These are serious questions. I wish here to offer an understanding of childness that includes regres-sion but in a wholesome manner. Growing Regression In regression, the bonds with reality are loosened and we are in a world where logic and reason as we know them do not hold sway. Time and space evaporate, so we in fantasy flit from Disneyland to Shangri La and back again in a trice. Logical connections no longer bind and we are in a Walter Mitty world of make-believe. This kind of thinking and fantasying is called "primary process thinking" by Freud. One of his pupils, Ernst Kris6 followed up this idea and noted the intrusion of primary process thinking in art, humor and other creative mental functionings. Kris called this ego-controlled regression, or regression in the service of the ego, Kris noted that such regression has two phases: first, a rather passive phase when "the subjective experience is that of a flow of thought and images driving towards expression" (p. 59). He was careful to state that we must distinguish this from the second phase--creativity, "in which the ego controls the primary process and puts it into its service." This is clearly not the psychotic condition in which the ego is overwhelmed by the primary process. Prayer as Regression Kris says the inspirational and elaborational phases are part of the single process that comprises this adaptive regression. In the first stage the person is rather passive while in the second he takes charge and ideas are deliberately worked out and the secondary process involving logic and reality testing predominates. Applying this theory to the childness attitude in prayer, we may see that the beginning phase is one in which we are purely receivers. Prayer, as we know, is gift and all we do is to receive it. But this "regression" stage is but a preliminary one. It is a necessary but surely not sufficient cause for the posture of prayer. For prayer is never a nirvanic thing and demands effort on our part. Here is where phase two ~Psychoanalytic Explorations in Art. Ernst Kris (International Universities Press, N.Y. 1952). 184 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 emerges: having been passive to the grace of prayer we now respond more actively and strivingly. Paul stresses the earnestness and effortful response one must make in prayer when he states in I Th 3:10 that he "offers his prayer to God as earnestly as possible." The intensity of Paul's supplications are underlined to indicate that his is no mere quietistic slumbering in his prayers for those to whom he ministers. (see also 2 Th 5:!3; Rm 15:30-32; Col 4:12). Kecharitomen~ The posture of Mary as outlined in Luke offers a prime example of this two-fold phase in "regressive" prayer. When Mary has been given some clarifica-tion about her mission from the Angel, she said: "Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord" (Lk l:38)--"let it be to me according to your word." She had been given the title Kecharitornenb ("having-been-favored One") indicating that all she was and is now being done to her is grace or gift. Nothing she has done has merited this special visitation and unique grace. The humble virgin bethrothed to a man named Joseph was content to be quietly anonymous and was addressed by the messenger as one to whom all is done. She is purely receptive. She ratifies all this when she states that she is the handmaid (slave) of the Lord, She, the epitome of the Poor of Yahweh, was indeed a child, a helpless one, but God did mighty things to and through her. For all that mighty uplifting she calls herself a "slave." She is ready to receive the word and will of God. Yet that is not all. The way Luke would have us understand the response of Mary removes forever the almost inert caricature of a passive woman--an image the late Paul VI was at pains to dispel in Marialis Cultus~ From the receptive posture of receiving God's word, she is energetically and deliberately poised to do God's bidding. The "let it be to me according to your word" is an anemic rendition of the mind of Luke, It would be better to say that Mary's mind was that her most ardent desire was to seek and do his word. We often forget that the "with haste" of Lk 1:39 used to describe Mary's immediate departure to visit her kinswoman Elizabeth, may also be translated as "with deep pondering." In some way we may see Mary as harmonizing her contemplation and apostolic love (Perfectae Caritatis n. 5). Childness in Prayer This article sought to seek some insights on childhood as a prayer posture that would-,safeguard the maturity of the praying person. Some overenthusiastic preachers in speaking of the "Abba" with which Jewish children address their father, speak of an overdone sentimentalism that does little good for prayer. The notion of childhood evokes many elements in a child that are not in any way appealing. To suggest that we revert to a childhood innocence when we come to pray might seem to .foster an infantilism that inhibits true communion with God and does little to promote our prayer life. The threadbare "where we are shibboleth seems to lose any respectability it ever had as in such a case we have to go back to where we were to pray in this childish manner. The conception of Prayer and Regression / 185 "regression in the service of ego" seems to help here with its two-fold phasing of letting-go and becoming more passive or receptive and then responding in a practical manner by praying earnestly. This kind of "regression" in no way bespeaks immaturity or illness but is the kind of process used by artists in their creative work. Prayer is a work in which we are cocreators with God--we are allowed to share with him in his own inner life and in such a way we are cocreators with him. But this is not an effortless ex nihilo gesture; it is more often than pot hard work. Here is where we work as though it all depended on us. But all the while he is the one who inspired the beginning of the creative effort of prayer and it is due to his prevenient grace that we even dream of praying at all. Today God Spoke to Me Today God spoke to me. He didn't say it was God; I didn't see him; I heard him. It was God. I will never forget what he said-- It was something quietly enormous-- Wait till I tell you. Think of a powerful current on the sea floor. A burst of all-encompassing light shot beyond Jupiter. Music in which I was afloat and wholly dissolved. But that's only what it was like. I want to tell you just what he said. What he said was.was. Oh, the words. I can't remember them, none at all, Except one that swept up all the others in everlasting arms. It said everything. It was Love, Love, Love. Louis Hasley 3128 Wilder Drive South Bend, IN 46615 Currents in Spirituality Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World George Ashenbrenner, S.J. For the third year, Father Aschenbrenner offers a survey of the year in matters spiritual. He continues his apostolate on a national scale, while residing at the University of Scranton; Scranton, PA 18510. This article is the third in a series.1 The first, two years ago, looked at th6 spiritual profile of a decade in a highly summary way, while both last year's article and this present one, less so but still very summarily and selectively, each sketch the landscape of a single year. I owe much to the editor of this journal, for the opportunity of this assignment. The focused effort to observe, to reflect upon and to articulate some of the developing trends and issues in American spirituality has been instructive and rewarding. A word of thanks, too, to some of my readers. 1 have seriously benefited from reactions and suggestions I have received. When you think of it, the year past, even viewed coldly, has been startling. And yet, how fearfully accustomed, and how quickly forgetful, we become. We heard-- and saw--assassination attempts on President Reagan and Pope John Paul 11; the ecstasy, after 444 days of agony, of the freeing of the hostages from Tehran; the ongoing murders in Central America; the endless floods of refugees throughout the world, in Central America, Africa, Thailand; the persistent "small-scale wars," ~See Review for Religious, March, 1980, "Currents in Spirituality: The Past Decade." pp. 196-218; and March, 1981, "Trends of 1980: Some Themes and a Few Specifics," pp. 234-51. 186 Trends and Issues in a Secularizing Worm fully sufficient to keep alive the fear and plausibility of World War 111: the contin-ually escalating number of divorces and abortions across this land of ours; and those few, terrifying nuclear missile mistakes that accompanied the deliberate, quite unmistaken increase of nuclear armaments on the part of the major world powers, and minor powers, too. These events warn both author and reader of an article such as this that life is fragile, and that it may be viewed as very cheap; that evil is very real, and that we may easily get numb to its great, dark mystery; and that faith in God as a search for meaning and as love of the reality of our world is not easy--not easy at all. Obviously this article, following so closely upon two other similar surveys, does a good deal of repeating, presupposing, overlapping because spiritual trends and issues ordinarily do not simply appear and vanish within the narrow purview of a single year. Furthermore, the observing and the commenting remain distinctly the~ perspective and the insight of just one single person's opinion and point of view. And certainly, for this reader of the signs of the times, the four fundamental concerns of last year's article continue to be of paramount importance for all personal and communal spiritual life in the Church today: concern for the possibil-ity of a profound and faithful love, in the face of our culture's penchant for sensational, dramatic, immediate (and short-lived) sensual stimulation; concern for a more refined, a more other-centered, Christian personalism; concern for a shared companionship in faith; and concern for the paschal character and quality of faith, a paschal faith requisite to sustain, for the long haul, realistic, apostolic enthusi-asm.~ Indeed, because the cultural influences at work in these four areas of concern are still very strong, this present article will relate to them in many ways. In coming toward the close of these introductory comments, I would like to relate and distinguish two words of the title: trends and issues. A trend, here, speaks to a pattern of thought or behavior, the evidence for which would be sufficiently widespread to make it more than a local or exceptional occurrence. Whereas, an issue poses alternatives that, ur~less dodged, invite and eventually even demand a choice. And the choice, of course, often incarnates a whole series of values that relate to and reveal the meaning and un.derstanding of the trend. Often, it is through reflection on the trend that issues are discovered. The more valuable work, I feel, is to look as deeply as possible into current trends in American spirituality, with confidence that this exercise will be of assistance to us in facing issues that surface. Many of these issues, it seems to me, do and will continue to need further recognition and clarification before any firm resolution of them is either possible or suitable. Occasionally, however, an issue is so basic, and where one stands on it, where one shouM stand on it, becomes, even early on, so clear and so fundamental to Christian life, that I have not held back from making a clear judgment about the matter in question. And now to some trends and issues at hand. As 1 have traveled about, con- 2See ibid., March, 1981, pp. 235-243. 11111 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 suited, read, given workshops, courses, retreats and spiritual direction this past year, a very dominant, overarching preoccupation and theme, as I reflect on my own experience and listen to the experience of others, is secularity, secularization, secularism. Humfin spiritual life exists only in a world where ongoing pressures come at us, from every side, to secularize all our experience: of ourselves, of one another, and of all aspects of our world. Certainly, there is nothing new about this observation. The matter has been with us for a century, and more. And in very current forms, it has been an overt preoccupation of the religious community in this country at least since Vatican 11. But I believe that its strength as a trend in serious spiritual life continues very much to grow. And so, after looking about me, 1 have chosen to reflect here, at considerable length, on this tendency toward secularization. Following that, I will, more briefly, discuss a number of trends and issues which, whether implicitly or explicitly, whether as cause or consequence or corollary, relate to this central trend of secularization. In general, as I treat these other trends and issues, 1 will leave to the reflection of the reader their precise relationship to the general theme of secularization. Secularization It is not uncommon to divide reality into the sacred and the secular. And though this distinction and its significance can be of immense subtlety and compli-cation, with serious traps for the unwary, we can attempt a simple, hopefully usable description here of these two aspects of reality. John Coleman, using Huston Smith, makes the distinction for us: By the "secular" I mean "regions of life that man understands and controls, not necessarily completely but., for all practical purposes." These are regions toward which humans adopt a basically utilitarian attitude of mastery and control, making judgments on the basis of the technical adequacy of means to achieve stipulated goals) "Secular," then, speaks to a world of human domination, understanding and "control without, at least, any necessary reference to God or appeal to, or nourish-ment from, the experience of faith or of religious affections. Coleman then de-scribes the sacred: By the "sacred" I mean the area of mystery--the incomprehensible, indomitable, and seriously and supremely important; for "the sacred exceeds not only our control but our comprehen-sion." Our characteristic attitudes toward the sacred are all celebration, participatory contem-plation, and gratitude rather than mastery.4 "Sacred," then, points to the reverently mysterious, the awesomely (not problemat-ically) uncontrollable and, for articulated Christian belief, to a living, personal, experienced relationship with God in faith and hope and love. ~John A. Coleman, S.J., Theological Studies, December, 1978, "The Situation for Modern Faith," p. 604, citing Huston Smith, "Secularization and the Sacred,~ in Donald Cutler, ed., The Religious Situation 1969, Boston, 1969, p. 583. 4Coleman, Ioc. cit. citing Huston, art. cit., p. 587. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing Worm / 1119 The tendency toward secularization in a world of human believers is inevitable. It may foster religious faith, or it may corrupt it. The human heart, in this world, however lofty and transcendent its desires may be, is, ought to be, always histori-cal, definite, incarnational. However much travel and communication have mobil-ized us, limitations of space and time still shape our identity. These limits can seem very restrictive and confining. To live in America or Poland or lran as the twen-tieth century closes may seem a paltry destiny, when compared with the space address that may well be among the options of our twenty-third century descen-dants. But these temporal and spatial limits do identify us now and, rather than confining us, can call forth those precise creative responses which will bring about the reality of space living in the future. As human realities, faith and religion must be planted and grow within this world. And so, they, too, are susceptible to time/space limitations. Though faith will always call us beyond the world, its healthy development always lies in vigorous interaction with the world and its daily round of activities. Spirituality is never simply faith; but rather, it is faith's interaction with culture. It therefore grows and incarnates itself precisely through a secularizing process and trend. With its central focus on Jesus of Nazareth, and therefore on incarnation, Christian spirituality not only tolerates but embraces, for the sake of its own existence and development, this secularizing interaction with the culture of a specific people and time. And this secularizing process can positively foster faith, because the kingdom of his Father which Jesus preached and lived, for the people of first century Palestine, was meant to be lived in the world. In his parables, Jesus took illustra-tions from the culture of ordinary people, and he challenged everyone to a whole new way of imagining !ife in this universe. Granted that the fullness of his Father's kingdom beckoned beyond all this here and now, still the kingdom became an illusion if it did not take flesh in the daily circumstances of a specific culture. Over these twenty centuries, the continually limited situation of human faith has succes-sively called for multiple creative responses in the spirit-responses that lead to developments of both dogma and Christian life and that transform aspects of cultures, as each response incarnates, just a bit more, that loving reign of his Father which Jesus so desired for all. Though it is not always easy to interpret what is or is not providential, history is of course also dotted with instances of mistaken, or at least very tardy, responses of the Church to certain cultural challenges. Speaking summarily, then, we must be careful not to interpret the inevitable trend toward secularization as, of itself, destructive or weakening of Christian faith and witness. There is a healthy, permanent, indispensable secularity to Jesus' vision of loving and trusting his Father. However, having spoken to the essential character of its positive meaning and purpose, we must frankly notice that this inevitable secularizing tendency, when not carefully purified and focused, can be dangerously corrupting of the life of faith. And we are speaking here of no mere danger, it seems to me, but of an actual 190 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 trend of significant strength. The secularizing tendency of life in our world can and does easily, both consciously and unconsciously, settle into secularism, as an overall view of reality. John Coleman helps us again, this time quoting Guy Swanson: Secularism is the "denial that sacred order exists, the conviction that the universe is in no meaningful sense an expression or embodiment of purpose, the belief that it is unreasonable, other than anthropomorphically, to have toward the universe or its 'ground" a relationship mediated by communication or by any other interchange of meanings--to have toward it a relationship in any sense interpersonal."~ In this view, the world has become all, has become the ultimate: it has become God. Here we are entirely beyond any secularity, any inevitable and useful ten-dency toward secularization. As a vision of all reality, secularism has no time for faith, no basis for faith, much less for the intimacy of all true religion's interper-sonal relationship with God. In any explicit debate about secularism, of course, this corrupting danger for faith can be clearly percdived, and so the option to reject it is very available. But even at the theoretical, or notional level, rejection is not so easy, When the inroads are far advanced. However, it is at the operative level, the lived level, the level of heart and eyes and hands, where the danger is especially insidious, and much less detectable--in the midst of our busy, unreflecting life. The human heart, 1 believe, is essentially religious, with desires and Iongings for an interpersonal intimacy that far exceed anything and everything that is of this world. And often, by God's grace, a resentful, depressing frustration results when our hearts' settle for less than all that they are made for. But the sensationally sensual immediacy of much of the affective revolution occt~rring in our world can fixate our hearts and distract them from a reverential love of God.6 As the techno-logical explosion more and more shapes our world, and as we, often rightly, professionally train for work that is more secular, there can be less talk and reference to what should also be religious, even overtly religious. Letters, conversa-tions, sometimes, even, participation in religious ceremonies cease to involve any personal religious expression. 1 do not mean to imply here that religious faith is adequately, or even chiefly, measured by overt God-talk. But to keep the basic faith relationship of our hearts alive and growing, we surely need more than academic precision and culturally sophisticated reserve whenexpressing our faith. Faith, as a deep vision of heart, must be regularly expressed with appropriate personal devotion and affection. Otherwise, the vision and personal relationship of faith will, at minimum, lose any serious motivational force for our lives. It may even become something we are actually ashamed of. And when this happens, when our life of faith and devotion becomes entirely privatized, it can escape into a ~Coleman, art. cir. p. 605, citing Guy E. Swanson, "Modern Secularity," in Cutler, op. cir., pp. 803.-04. 6See Review for Religious, March, 1981, my article referred to above (footnote I), pp. 235-238. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World childish, uncritical pietism, because so rarely shared with anyone. But there is a third, more ominous possibility, Our faith, from lack of expres-sion, from lack of embodiment, may actually die. This is obviously serious, ,and it is often final, when a person's love relationship with God in Jesus loses all power, all effect in furthering a Father's loving justice in our oppressively unjust world. And there is nothing theoretical in this very inadequate thumbnail sketch. Are there readers who have not watched, in themselves or in a friend, as faith weak-ened, the movement from a growing silence regarding faith to an indifference or even an aggressive criticism, until every expression of faith has become uncomfort-able and unwelcome? Then, faith no longer plays a role either in choosing or in evaluating action. In a rapidly secularizing world, the possibility is very real that faith may harden into a cold, polite, sophisticated, professional stance to life, with very little warmly affective religious expression. But we always need to talk about our beloved with others, to keep the love affair alive and growing and to let it influence others. Appropriate personal expressions of our faith will usually serve the Holy Spirit's inspiration of others. And therefore Christian communities of every kind, whether in religious life, or the family, or the parish, become increasingly more valuable as supports of shared religious vision and experience within a world tending more and more to secularism. How can we avoid the ultimate denial of Christian faith that secularism is? One terribly important means is surely that ongoing faith experience which knows, and seeks to experience God as beyond and greater than all the world. We who can so easily shrink God and conveniently fit him into our small universe have Jesus himself, in his experience of his Father, as our example in this matter. As he came to know Yahweh of the Old Testament in his own growing Abba experience, Jesus related most personally to a God whose life and love neither depended on nor were equal to this world, though (and here is the adventure of it) Jesus himself was that Father's inextricable involvement in love with this world. His commitment to a God so far transcending, though intimately involved within, this world is dramati-cally revealed in Jesus' Calvary experience of finding a resurrection of lif~ and love (his Father) in his very worldly, earthly dying. There was Someone worth dying for. And so, a cruelly absurd death is rendered beautiful to us and encouraging for our own life and death in this world, in what it reveals of a fullness and presence of life and love that is, in a sense, beyond any experience here and now, but yet which is finally available to all of us in Jesus, our Father's kept promise of intimate hope. But how do we experience, before death, the Father of Jesus in his transcend-ence beyond this world?For some, it is available in the dramatic, peak experience of crisis, when choice is both forced and offered between the consolation of a God greater than this world's absurdity and--nothing. In the critical moment when all of this world seems absurd and inimical, loving surrender to a God greater than all of this and whose love conquers all averts ultimate despair and destruction. People led through this experience learn to root their faith more deeply in God than ever before. Born again, they learn to see the world very seriously, and as much more 19~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 valuable and precious than ever before, because it is the stuff of a beloved Father's kingdom. Not all are called to, or allowed, such a crisis. But this fundamental and essential experience of God is not available only through crisis. It is, at base, a contemplative experience, a conversion experience, of God which is available to every believer. Nevertheless, as Paul describes in Rm 6: I-I I, and whether it occurs in a resounding'crisis or in a quiet, secret, outwardly ordinary transformation, it does involve sharing Jesus' death to this world, in order to live for God. There is a choice. And we do make it, whether suddenly or over time~ Either God, or the world~ In being attracted to the choice of God above the world, one then', of course, can find and live with God, and for God, within the world.7 And then. the apostle is in sight: the one who, having chosen God and not the world, is now available to be called by God, sent by God. to serve the world. God's world, the world God loved so much he sent his only Son. Through this experience, then, whether critically peak or not, but genuinely assimilated, we learn neither to take the world too seriously nor to take it lightly, either. A heart stretched by such an experience of God is simply not susceptible to an involvement in this world such that this world seems to be its own and our ultimate meaning and justification. For this is secularism pure and simple: no God, really: but if acknowledged at all. a God locked into this world. Jesus in all his serious concern for this world was never involved as though it were all he had. His identity center was never in this world, but in his Father: in his dear Father, whose love was greater than life itself/This was what kept Jesus energetically free in his life in this world, for this world. And so, too, for any disciple of Jesus. This experience of God beyond this world, which is meant to identify all of us in baptism, also prevents a seriously unchristian making light of this world. An excessive dichotomy between heaven and earth can lead people to long for the former and tend almost to view this earth as valueless, or, at best, as dangerous distraction. Such a lack of serious concern for this world can never result from an authentic experience of Jesus' Father, but only from a failure to appreciate another aspect of Jesus' Calvary experience--his own embodiment of his Father's love and care for us sinners in this, however sinful, immensely beautiful and precious world. Jesus is not someone irresponsibly unconcerned with this world, but neither is he someone so in love with this world that his freedom and ultimate identity are limited to it. Rather, his centeris always a dear Father who is a source of all his worldly love and life. This special religious experience, of having our identity in a God beyond the world while being actively involved in it, is no once-in-a-lifetime experience. It is 7To speak of God above the world is, of course, not to make a spatial delineation. Rather, it is to speak of a God whose being and love isfar greater than this world. In .In 12:3Z .Iesus's words remind us that ultimately we are attracted ("seduced~ is the Old Testament word) to this experience of God. it is not simply our own, Pelagian choice. 8Ps 63:3. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing Worm / 193 rather a lifetime process renewing, deepening, remembering and repeating our God-in-Christ experience. We must recognize the means God sends into our lives to renew this central, identifying experience. We must also find regular (daily?) habits that assist to renew this central focus of our heart's vision. Together with many service situations each day, liturgy, a healthy practice of mortification, and formal praye'r can be regular reminders of a Father whose love and care for all of us point far beyond'the transitory world to a fullness of Spirit still gifting a dying Son's trust. The final beauty for us and for our world, God himself, not only shatters any narrow secularism, but invests our proper apostolic concern and action in the world with a paschal force which labors joyfully that everything may belong to Christ, who shall hand all things over to the Father, that God may be all in all? Against this background of a strong secularizing tendency in our world today, I will now treat a number of other trends and issues on the American spiritual scene. Some of these concerns are more directly affected than others by our secularizing world; But all of them, in my judgment, are susceptible to its influence. Related Trends and Issues 1. A Sacred-Secular Split A division of our world into sacred and secular is one of the chief tendencies of secularization. Father Philip Murnibn recently told the Catholic Theological Society of America that "we are experiencing (a) disaffection from faith and Church and a separation of private Church life from public social life that is the main feature of secularization."~° Many call for a political theology which would heal this split and bring the gospel more to bear on the persons and institutions of our unjust, sinful world. Such a view rightly understands that to theologize and to practice spirituality without a passionate concern for the specifics of our world only exacerbates the sacred-secular split and that the approach is, in any event, unchristian. But conversely, any merely external activity, however much on behalf of justice, is equally insufficient to heal this split wherever it exists, whether within an individual person or within a community. Any attempt at healing which ne-glects the split at the level of interior experience risks a fragile solution that will quickly slip into an unrooted, social externalism. Evangelization must aim deeply and broadly: it must essay healing the split deep within the individual human heart even as it confronts the systemic injustice in our society. Liberation theology needs to be rooted in a liberation spirituality for the individual believer.~l The silence and solitude, the healing purification and conversion of the encounter with God cannot be bypassed. Segundo Galilea articulates it exactly: '~See I Co 15:22-8. ~01n Origins, August 13, 1981, "The Unmet Challenges of Vatican I1," p. 148. ~Segundo Galilea, ~Liberation as an Encounter with Politics and Contemplation," in Claude Geffr6 and Gustavo Guttii:rez, eds., The Mystical and Political Dimension of the Christian Faith, New York, 1974, p. 20. 194 / Review for Religious, March-ApriL 1982 Authentic Christian contemplation, passing through the desert, transforms contemplatives into prophets and heroes of commitment and militants into mystics. Christianity achieves the synthesis of the politician and the mystic, the militant and the contemplative, and abolishes the false antithesis between the religious-contemplatives and the militantly committed.~-' The ~bility to deal in faith with a wide range of inner affective experiences in our hearts makes possible finding God in every inner experience. In this way all human experience gradually becomes religious experience and culminates some-how in God, thus healing the split between experiences which are either overtly religious or secular. Without this inner integration in faith of a person's ongoing experience, political theology and spirituality are both Unroofed, just as the inner faith integration, if left to itself and without the outer word and action, becomes unreal and, finally impossible. A careful discernment of heart expressed in a passionate concern for individual evangelical issues and in a courageous loving presence to the.serious social issues of our world will avoid any unjust, unfaithful, secularistic dichotomy 2. Global Societal Values As we look to the future, there is an urgent summons to transcend overly personalistic, or, perhaps better, individualistic values. In the midst of a growing, democratic stress on the value of each human person, Vatican 11 took as one of its central foci the value of the person. In last year's survey, while affirming this value as utterly central to the Christian mystery, I nevertheless treated the danger to personalism of a subtle self-centeredness. And 1 suggested we might be ready for a more refined Christian personalism.~3 As we look forward now to the year 2.000, when global and societal problems will be, even more than today, an inescapable reality, our education and religious formation must be founded on global, on societal, values rather than on simply personalistic ones. Learning to cooperate, throughout both national and international society, will become, will have to become, more and more the truest meaning of personal fulfillment. And questions such as these will face us if we take such a global perspective: How do we take account of the millions of poor starving people in our world as we arbitrate labor disputes for excessively high salaries, whether we are talking of air-controllers or of baseball players? How do we overcome the natural tendency to get as much as one can for oneself, rather than to think of sharing with millions upon millions who have much less? We have a long way to go in this shift of value perspective before the year 2000. The heavily personalistic approach (really, it is better to say. individualistic) with its stress on self-fulfillment, will not convert and develop easily~to a global perspec-tive. The conversion involved here will be a new way of thinking. But it must go beyond that, to a change of heart. This global view will finally be shaped in experiences, carefully planned and reflected upon, as a complement to serious ~21bid. p. 28. ~3See art. cit. pp. 238-39. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World / 195 study. True Christian personalism, of course, which is not narrowly individualistic, has no need to renounce any of itself, but will find a ready ally and field for service in global, societal concerns. Indeed, Christian personalism will become fully itself only in a communal, universal perspective which incarnates that justice, love and peace which mark the kingdom of Jesus' Father. For most of us, the shift we speak of calls for a change of heart that must run deep, get radical and become a revolution in our sensibility. 3. Unity and Diversity On April 8, 1979, at an academic convocation in Cambridge, MA, Karl Rahner, attempting a theological interpretation of Vatican 11, claimed that this Council "is.the Church's first official gelf-actualization as a world Church."~4 And Rahner claims that as the Church takes this revelation of her global nature ever more seriously, there will necessarily develop a pluralism of proclamations of the one Good News for many new cultures in Asia, Africa, and other places. How shall we find a true unity of faith within such a pluralism, and without again reducing it to a Western, Roman, overly centralized uniformity? Philip Murnion, in commenting on the unmet challenges of Vatican 11, feels that: "It is now the basic ecclesiology of Vatican 11 that confronts us as we grow weary and dissatisfied with so many superficial expressions of this ecclesiology."~5 As this basic ecclesiology of a "world Church" begins to be realized in practice, the pluralis~m which we know already can only radically increase. And as we are very well aware, such rapidly growing diversification often brings in its wake confounding disorientation, highstrung tension, and even hostile, angry charges of disloyalty. The problem is, and will be faith: to seek, and to learn to recognize unity of faith within diversity. That said, however, we cannot simply float with an almost infinite variety, as though diversity, in and of itself, were pure value. Finally, both human intelligibility and Christian faith require a unity. But a unity underneath and within diversity is not always easy to perceive, especially when diversification is rapid and recent. In a time of great diversity, before a clear, profound and pervasive unity has been found, we must learn to live both honestly and charitably, and with inevitable tensions. But even as we are patient, we must also continue to search for, we must ambition and work for, that unity which wiil help us understand how diversity is a blessin~ how it enriches and does not enervate. Simply to settle for a tolerance of plurality is not healthy pluralism. Whether it be a matter of the forms of ministry or orders, or of women priests, of religious garb, of doctrinal expression, or of forms of Church membership, we must continue to grow toward a "coherent consensus that can serve as a basis for common and confident Catholic identity."16 t4Karl Rahner, S.J., Theological Studies, December, 1979, "Towards a Fundamental Theological Interpretation of Vatican II~ (Leo J. O'Donovan, S.J., tr.). p. 717. ~Murnion, Origins, August 13, 1981, loc. cit. ~61bid. p. 147. ~TSee Jn 17:22. 196 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 As we search for a deeper coherence and discerningly reflect on much experimen-tation, we must reverence one another and the intricacies of ecclesial authority and development. And the best way we reverence both one another and the issues is by sharing our beliefs as best we can, from deep within our hearts, in the confident hope that a God who is so joyously one, precisely in terms of his own lovely diversity, will guide us together and will help us to see the extent and limit of diversity so that we may be one even as Father, Son, and Spirit are one.~7 When looked at institutionally, the area of ministry may especially seem to reveal a diversifying revolution that verges on the chaotic.J8 We speak of"ministry" now, where before we would have said "apostolate" or, simply~ "work." Many believers, especially tho~e professionally trained, now speak of having a ministry. This explosion of ministries has unhooked the word, and permanently so, I should think, from a past, unambiguous relationship to ordination. Now, in word also, as always before in fact, it is not only priests who minister. And this great multiplica-tion of ministries through the 1970's is no mere matter of a word. It signals an underlying ideological shift regarding ministry in the Church.J9 Various studies are trying to expose this ideological shift,' so that it can be seen for all that it may mean for the future, then discussed and carefully experimented with~ before any long-term decisions are made. This development in ministry is very complicated and needs to be studied from many perspectives. Perhaps serious consideration of the renewed ecclesiology of Vatican II will help us appreciate the theological source for much of the develol~men~t regarding ministry in the Church. For if the Church is seriously perceived as mystery and not just as institution, as community and not only, or even primarily, as hierarchy, as mission and not just as haven of the saved, then much of the ministerial multiplication becomes not only intelligible, but rich and welcome.20 Hopefully, then, such study will gradually expose the underlying issue here, so that we can choose our future in a diversity expressive of a profound, commonly shared faith-unity, rather than be trapped in a future diversity which is only the bitter sign of the disunity of unconcerned or warring parties. 4. Spiritual Witness of Religious Life Part of the explanation of the great expansion of,ministries is the urgent sense of the countless challenges with which the modern world confronts the Church. There are so many opportunities, and there is so much to be done. And we have not the leisure to wait; time is runnin.g out. This urgent sense of ministerial opportunity and challenge is affecting religious Congregations in at least two different ways. Some groups, over the past few years, ~sSandra M. Schneiders, I.H.M., The Way, October, 1980, "Theological Trends: Ministry and Ordina-tion I." p. 291. ~gSee John A. Coleman, S.J., America. March 28, 1981, "The Future of Ministry,~ pp. 243-49. 20Schneiders, art. cir., pp. 290-299. Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World / "197 have learned the futility of furious and relentless activity and are now involved in a serious, mature, realistic program of spiritual renewal. And they are doing this without any unrealistic or self-centered withdrawal from apostolic activity. But rather than trying to do as much as they "can," members are taking means and time to improve the prayerful quality of their presence and action in the world. Some leisure, to keep personal spirituality and humanity alive, is not seen as time wasted or selfishly spent, but is encouraged to provide the spiritual, faith motiva-tion requisite for a courageously loving and enlightened presence in the critical situations of our world. There are other religious congregations that would almost certainly not explicit-ly deny the necessity of serious spirituality to root serious ministry. But at the operative level, they at least seem so taken up with their difficult ministries that fatigue, often verging on burnout, prevents serious growth in prayer and in the inner resources for that personal love relationship with God which alone can motivate authentic apostolic service. In such Congregations, often there is not much specific encouragement from superiors and other leaders for prayer, for careful spiritual reflection, or for time taken for serious retreats alone with God. Members of these congregations sometimes look in vain for such encouragement, and they wonder at an apparent lack of appreciation for ongoing spiritual renewal. These groups are frequently grappling with the crucial issues of our age, and often with great courage. But they are also doing so, often, with an apparent lack of any realistic, informed and detailed concern for that inner life of the Spirit which keeps apostolic life prayerfully focused on Jesus' revelation of the kingdom of his Father. Within this significant, contemporary trend of religious congregations moving, not theoretically, but operatively, in two different directions, the issue is the subtle integration of the inner and outer, of prayer and ministry. I certainly have no wish or competence to sit in judgment on who attains this integration and who does not. Either of these two directions I have described can be exaggerated. Excessive care of spiritual practices can produce a "hothouse" pietism unconcerned with major issues in our world. And excessively busy activity in our secular world, without sufficient spiritual resources--and taking the time for this---can burn out faith and a prayerful spirit, in a way that does not further the kingdom. As we confront the fact that ministry is not a matter of staying as busy as possible, we can be led to the deeper~ more subtle issue of a careful concern for the quality of our action, a quality determined by the graced availability of our hearts and wills to God in all we do. We will struggle with the fluctuating mixture in our conscious-ness of grace and sinfulness, of consolation and desolation, and see how seriously related it all is to our service. An actively apostolic spirituality, never a matter of simple busy activity, is as much a matter of this inner quality of heart expressed in a special human faith presence as it is a matter of courageous activity and service for God's people. As this is more appreciated, the groups now moving in the two directions I've sketched above will not judge or belittle one another. No, the3/will increasingly cooperate in diverse ministries, through a shared and prayerful faith. A related trend here concerns the role and understanding of formal prayer in 1911 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 serious spiritual growth and in mature ministry. Obviously, mature ministry is impossible without mature prayer. Here, I do not simply equate formal prayer and mature prayer. By no means. The latter term stretches far beyond the practice of formal prayer, into a whole life of prayer, but only so, 1 suspect~ because of an appropriately regular practice of formal contemplation. Without regular, formal contemplation, a mature, prayerful life in ministry does not seem possible. Most serious believers 1 consult and listen to, in the course of many travels and work-shops, would readily agree with this. But many would then squirm a bit, perhaps, as they reflect on their own practice of formal prayer. 1 sense some widely divergent understandings today of"regular formal prayer." Without wanting to suggest any uniformity for all, let me pose some questions that may help us candidly face the issues in this trend. To practice regular formal prayer, does a person need a specific, daily expectation of length and time, rather than leaving it simply to daily spontaneity? Does this daily expectation or ideal then leave one open to days when God "excuses" one for various reasons (his), thus preventing the ideal from becoming ironclad and causing guilt? ls formal prayer always somehow a withdrawal from activity into the intimate solitude of our hearts to be with God there? Is praying formally once or twice a week what is usually meant by "regular" for a mature believer? Is it a different type and quality of prayer that one is capable of when one prays for thirty rather than ten minutes (without letting prayer become too, clock-oriented, like a prayerwheel)? Even in the case of quite advanced spiritual persons, is the disappearance of regular formal prayer, for at least thirty minutes, a bad, or at least very questionable, sign? I think individuals and whole religious communities must give serious thought to ques-tions such as these before they too hastily agree again, even in very beautiful words, how important formal prayer is for busy apostolic lives. I am not entirely sure what reaction these questions may call forth from various people. But 1 do sense a growing desire among religious and others to be more prayerful and to be more honest about the whole question of what it means to pray, and of the necessity of praying if one wishes to be prayerful. Many look for clear, specific guidance and encouragement in this matter. And this desire to grow in the practice of formal prayer, as a means toa life of prayer and service, is no monastic aberration for an active person. I sense we can be carefully more demanding of one i~nother in this area, after a period of vague, rather general guidelines which reacted to some past inflexible, detailed programs of prayer. How these questions about regular formal prayer can be answered by busy parents with small children at home must also be investigated. Though in general their spiritual ideal and program must be different from that of religious and priests, it is still not at all clear that they are incapable of some realistic, regular practice of formal prayer. Without proposing any seminary or convent style of spirituality for busy parents, we must not downplay either their desire for prayer, even at the cost of sacrifice, or the necessary interplay of protracted regular prayer and a developing life of prayer. But much more experimentation and study must be done on the adaptations appropriate to these people, but adaptations which will Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World / 199 not trivialize the often significant spiritual capabilities and desires of these lay men and women. 5. Religious Life: Life in Community Another trend seems also to be moving the understanding of religious life in two quite different directions. Is religious life now, and will it continue to be, life lived in community? Once again, more operatively than theoretically, there seem to be congregations that respond yes to the question, though they may understand "living in community" in various ways. And there are certainly congregations that, at least in the way they act, would clearly seem to be answering no to community life as a necessary element of religious life. Some congregations see the profound unity of the whole group as springing essentially from that shared experience of "being sent" which integrates religious authority, obedience and mission into one life and call.2~ This profound sense of community in mission is then incarnated in each and every person's living some-how as a member of a local community, with exceptions occurring only because of the necessities of geography or the nature of the particular ministry. In this way there is a clear incarnation of the belief that a member's heart is given over completely to God and his people, but it is given to God and it is given apostoli-cally precisely through belonging fully to this specific congregation. In this under-standing, apostolic community is not an end in itself, but it certainly is a continually essential means to ministry and service and thus is an essential aspect both of religious identity and of apostolic action. In other congregations, life in community seems experienced and desired and chosen as much less essential and pervasive in the group. And these groups are often composed of competently trained, talented, generous people. But their apos-tolic service seems more an individual concern. They are often found either living alone or, when they live together, they seem to do so more as a matter of conven-ience and/or compatibility than as anything required to express their identity. They often live the vows seriously and carefully, though where ministry is not an experience of "being sent," there would seem to be difficult questions about genuine religious obedience.22 Operatively, whatever the theoretieal aspects may be, there seems to be a different view of religious life here--something more akin to what we have traditionally understood a secular institute to be. The issue, it seems to me, is whether these two clearly differing developments are also contradictory and therefore unable to be seen as authentic variants of one reality: religious life as understood and lived in the Church. Will we continue to see religious life as life in community, which has seemed to be one of its essentials since :~See my article. "Prayer. Mission and Obedience." The Way Supplement, No. 37. Spring. 1980. pp. 50-57. 221bid., p. 55. 20{I / Review for Religious, March-April, 1982 Pachomius organized eastern monasticism? It is important not to see community here as simply a geographical, local matter. That is an important meaning, but it is not the first nor is it the essential meaning of religious community life. Rather, vowed community life is fundamentally a profound union and communion in mission, a sense of the corporate, which indeed ordinarily is incarnated in a shared local setting of life and faith. Even now there can be tension and friction between groups of these two very diffe~'ent understandings of religious commitment. And I am not sure that the issue would not become serious enough in the future to cause a break and division in our understanding of religious life. A major superior recently told me that she expected, after the relative peace and the low number of departures during the end of the 70's, that the early 80's would bring more upheaval and departures--but all leading to something deep and good, something more gospel-based. So there may be radical purification again! And a sizable part of this upheaval may well concern the precisely com-munal dimension of our lives as religious. People may leave either because of a desire for more shared life and faith than a particular group has to offer, or conversely, they may leave because of a loss of aptitude or affection for celibate religious living after years of individualistic living and working. In congregations committed to a healthy, contemporary sense of communal living, there is another issue developing: a growing need for leadership on the local level. Groups, in and of themselves, still seem to find it very difficult to make decisions. Rather, they often haggle over each side of a question and often cannot move ahead. Beyond the role of a provincial superior and counselor, a local leader seems needed, a leader who listens, who values the communal and the collegial, but one who is able also compassionately to confront and to call individual members to be honest and prayerfully discerning about their lives, ministries and vocations. Leaders, then, are needed who are willing to accept the burden and service of authority. Without the encouragement of such a leader on the scene, honest, prayerful discernment about serious issues frequently does not happen. Provincials know how often they are confronted with the fair accompli in serious vocational decisions that have had very little consultation and prayerful discern-ment behind them. Mature, competent, professional adults, overly involved in our secular world, often need this careful but honest dialogue, if they are to stay in touch with, and live out, their_deepest, truest desires in faith. But as provincials know, it is very difficult to find men and women of this leadership caliber, mefi and women both suited and willing to be facilitators and leaders of local community life. And of course there remain in some members authoritarian hangovers which militate against this move toward better community living. Another angle of this issue concerns younger members' entering religious life. Because of the serious decrease of members in the past decade, there is generally a real age gap developing between members who are about ten years professed and novices or temporary professed, who now face the prospect of joining for life. Can such young persons live and serve with members decidedly older than themselves? Can they live without much peer support? This is an issue which, in its detail and Trends and Issues in a Secularizing World developments and implications, is quite different from anything most of us had to face years ago as we entered religious life. Today, the decision for final profession, for such young religious, will require a strong sense of vocation indeed, a sense of vocation that is rooted in a special inner psychic strength and in a quite different type of trust in God than was asked for in the past. This sense of vocation and commitment must, finally, be rooted deeply in the inner solitude of the individual heart, where God's call continues to resonate deeply and very lovingly. Now the motivation must run palpably deeper than any horizontal peer support. The com-munity dimension of our vocation, important as it is, can never replace the unique-ness of a vocation rooted in the experience of solitude alone with God in one's heart. In many ways, today we are being called back to this rooting of the religious vocation in God--in and through, of course, but also far beyond the personal fulfillment of shared support and affirmation. As Ps 73 says of him: "you are.the future that waits for me.ms All these different aspects of this trend concerning community and religious life finally issue forth with decided impact on the level of felt membership. Today, unless one is a major superior or has been chosen for some other special responsi-bility in the congregation, the felt sense of belonging may grow dim. So many religious today, whether it be their own responsibility or that of others, fe~l dis-connected, left out. In past times, th

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

Issue 40.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1981. ; REVIEW ~:o~ RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. REvmw ~-oR REt.~_;tous is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1981 by REVIEW ~:o1~ REtAC;~OUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A.: $9.00 a year; $17.00 for two years. Other countries: $10.00 a year; $19.00 for two years. For subscription orders nr change of address, write: Rt:v~t.:w toR Rt:t.~(aous; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Jeremiah L. Alberg, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Book Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor July/August, 1981 Volume 40 Number 4 Manuscripts, bonks for review and correspundence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR Rt:t.l(aOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questinns for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Communily; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW I-'OR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms Internalional; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor. MI 48106. Spiritual Freedom John R. Sheets, S.J. Father Sheets. a frequent contributor to these pages, is a member of the Department of Theology at Creighton University. His last article to appear was "Let My People Go--The Passion for Jus-tice" (May. 1977). Father resides with the Jesuit community at Creighton University: 2500 Cali-fornia Street; Omaha, NE 68178. There are words which are "mystery words," words which somehow attempt to capture the mystery of existence, words like spirit, heart, love, freedom, person. Such a mystery word is "spiritual freedom." Often we tend to reduce the content of such words to what can be categor-ized in the same way as are objects. In this way, we tend to evacuate them of their depth meaning. With such words, more is left out than the little that is said. They are words which suggest and allude, rather than explain. I preface this article with these remarks, because ! would not want to give the impression that I am going to unravel the meaning of spiritual freedom. If it is explained in such a way that it is completely exposed to the gaze of reason, then it has been reduced to an object, and we will have missed ihe real meaning of spiritual freedom. If I were to do justice to the.topic, 1 would have to approach it at length from three different points of view: first of all, from a philosophical perspec-tive, seeing how it is rooted in human nature; then, how spiritual freedom is realized in Christ; finally, how the spiritual freedom of the Christian is the actualization, in some limited fashion, of the very spiritual freedom of Christ, since we are found incorporate in Christ Jesus through our baptism, lived out in faith. It is not possible, obviously, to deal with the subject adequately on any one of these levels, let alone all three. 1 shall move back and forth, therefore, among these three levels, the philo-sophical, the Christological, "and what can be called the Christian anthro- 481 4112 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 pological, realizing the sketchy nature of this approach. Again, if 1 wanted to do justice to the topic, it would be necessary to. explain at length what is meant by spiritual bondage. Spiritual freedom is always an overcoming of spiritual bondage. Except in Christ and Mary, spiri-tual freedom coexists with the enigma of evil. In us spiritual freedom is always a victory over evil. It exists in us in a way which is ongoing, fragile, subject to temptation, preliminary. Philosophy can get to some appreciation of the enigmatic character of human freedom. However, it is only through Revela-tion that we know the roots of this enigma in man's turning away from God, bringing about the unholy alliance of good and evil in his heart. The Polarities of Human Existence I shall use as a framework for developing the meaning of spiritual freedom the polarities Dr. Macquarrie uses to describe human nature (Principles of Christian Theology, Scribners, New York, 1977, #11 "Human Existence and its Polarities"). But before sketching out these polarities, I should attempt to give some broad description of what is meant by spiritual freedom. Spiritual freedom is that capacity we have to actualize authenticity, the potential of self-realization, the power to become genuinely, fully, integrally human. The path of spiritual freedom is not arbitrary. It is the response to our vocation in its most radical sense, the call to be human. There is within us the instinctive capacity for that call. It is a call from ahead, from the future, lead-ing, beckoning us, drawing us out of ourselves. Every act of spiritual freedom brings not merely more things into the world. In a mysterious way, it brings more humanness, and in this way even brings more of the divine into the world. It is our most creative act. To the degree that spiritual freedom releases spirit, as it were, into the world, to that degree does spirit stamp the world of matter, leaving its imprint. For this reason, spiritual freedom is always found in what is most the expression of man's spirit, as in culture, art, literature, language. Spiritual freedom, then, is always a reaching out to a new mode of being present in the world. It is always a growth in personal existence over the impersonal, of the spontaneity of spirit over the inertia of matter, of liberation from bondage. It is always costly, never cheap, until it acquires the wings of ¯ the spirit itself, to the extent (and this takes place only completely in the resur-rected body) that matter itself becomes spiritualized. However, since it is always only partially realized in us in this life, spiritual freedom will always meet with the resistance of spiritual bondage. I come now to the way that Dr. Macquarrie speaks of human existence in terms of different polarities. He in turn has borrowed the framework from the philosopher, Martin Heidegger. It is important to realize that when he speaks of polarities, Dr. Macquarrie is not speaking of polarizations, or opposites, existing in some kind of stand-off. Rather, the term polarity means a vital tension which is constructive in Spiritual Freedom itself. However, when the polarity is out of balance, then it can indeed become a polarization, or a destructive tension. Facticity- Possibility The first polarity is that offacticity-possibility. By facticity, Macquarrie means the "givens" in our life, those aspects of our life which constitute our limitations. Each of us has an innumerable number of limitations. We exist at a certain point of time and place, rather than at some other, with limitations of talent, intelligence, physical strength, with other limitations coming from our senses. We are ultimately limited by our life-span, which is terminated by that which puts a limit to all aspects of one's existence (if I am speaking merely from the viewpoint of appearances), namely, death. These aspects of the givens of my life come mainly because of the fact that 1 am not simply spirit, but embodied spirit. Through my body, I am related to the world of facticity, of space and time, having the same dependence on the "ecosystem" for life that any material thing has with its limitations. However, there is the other aspect of this polarity, the element of possi-bility. This is the capacity not simply for more things, but for more being, not only to become bigger physically, but to become more human. This possibility is rooted in our spirits. The very nature of spirit is.to expand what is con-tracted, to release from limits. There is a kind of imperative written within the human spirit that is like the words of Christ to the crowd after the resurrection of Lazarus, "Unbind him and let him go." The spirit in man is an enabling, freeing spirit, where the possibilities of the future reach into our limitations to draw us to new levels of humanity. The interaction of these two aspects of our existence, namely, facticity and possibility, make us realize that genuine creativity only exists in interaction with limitations. We often have the illusion that freedom is found ultimately in being free of all limitations. On the contrary, genuine freedom is always in process. It is the process of interacting in a creative way with limitations. "Creativity itself requires limits, for which the creative act arises out of the struggle of human beings with and against that which limits them" (The Courage to Create, Rollo May [Bantam Books, New York, p. 134]). Even in the growth of the natural sciences, as well as the arts, all progress comes only through the interaction of possibility with limitations. The present struggle to find new sources of energy, for example, is stimulated by the ex-perience of our limited supply of energy sources in conventional forms. Every artist knows that creativity is the result of dealing with the limitations of wood, words, paint, sound. The seeming unlimited gracefulness of the ballet dancer takes place within the most stringent of all laws, that of gravity. In the abstract, it is fairly easy to speak of dealing creatively with our limi-tations. In the concrete, however, the polarities of facticity and possibility are often out of balance. This can take place in many ways. One can refuse to acknowledge the limitations of his concrete existence, those which are part ~11t~1 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 and parcel of the life of any creature, or those which belong to him in a unique way because of his circumstances. In Greek mythology this is the primary sin, that ofhybris, pride, the refusal to acknowledge that we are not God. It is the demonic instinct in man, like that found in the many different versions of the same demonic mystery, the story of Dr. Faustus Who rebelled against his limi-tations seeking even from the devil possibilities beyond the human. On the other hand, there is also the resistance to genuine possibilities, those which call forth from the individual a creative response to his limita-tions. The norm of judging every genuine possibility is the degree to which response brings forth the enhancement of life. Where I r~sist this invitation to growth, there is a diminishment, not only in my own life, but in the world around me. Faced with a new level of possibility, 1 am also faced with costly freedom. There is the tendency, then, to retreat from risk, the risk of responsi-bility, there is the instinct to remain safe, where response to the call to greater being is a challenge to come alive on a new level. Whenever genuine possibility is resisted, the slavery to spiritual bondage becomes greater. Parenthetically, no one ever described this anxiety before creative growth more profoundly than did Soren Kierkegaard. His reflections did not proceed from some abstract philosophizing, but from his own experience of "dizziness" when confronted with the abyss of freedom, when confronted with creative possibility. The polarity of facticity and possibility can be out of balance, then, in dif-ferent ways: either through the denial of limitations (which is at the same time the unrealistic expansion of one's possibilities), or through the resistance to genuine possibilities, because of the fear of the cost of the commitment to a new, unexperienced form of life. It is the risk of faith. Applying this more explicitly to our topic of spiritual freedom, we can say that spiritual freedom is that power to deal creatively with our limitations, neither going beyond them through pride, nor resisting genuine possibilities through diffidence. There are, then, two fundamental dispositions keeping these two polarities in a creative balance: humility, acknowledging our limitations, and generosity, opening ourselves to new levels of the manifestation of spirit. It is the spirit in man which mediates the creative tension between these two polarities, respecting limitations, but not in a static way, and opening us to new possibilities. But with the gift of the Holy Spirit, there is the raising of this creative tension to a totally new dimension, both in terms of the realization of our creatureliness (our limitations), and also to as yet unheard-of possibilities, "things beyond our seeing, things beyond our hearing, things beyond our imagining, all prepared by God for those who love him: these it is that God has revealed to us through the Spirit" (I Co 2:9-10). Concretely the creative tension between limitations and possibilities means finding the will of God in our lives. The "will of God" is that creative bridge Spiritual Freedom / 485 between where we are and where we should be. The Holy Spirit is the source of this instinct for the more in our lives. The human spirit by its nature moves us toward the more in a human way by imprinting its stamp.on the world of matter. The Holy Spirit, particularly within the ecclesial community, reaches to the more of the kingdom of God. Another way of expressing this movement to the more is openness in our hearts to a master-vision and a master-commitment. The essence of spiritual bondage is fragmentation, wherein the different aspects of our human nature each seeks its own goals. We are not one self, then, but many selves contend-ing with one another. We are driven by forces from beneath rather than drawn by our call from above. The power to make a gift of our whole self to a center, a master-vision and a master-commitment, is the highest expression of spiritual freedom. In Christ we find the fullness of the master-vision and the master-com-mitment, the absolute gift of himself to the Father and his will. In the tempta-tions in the desert we find the demonic, in its uncanny shrewdness, tempting Christ to an imbalance between the recognition of his limitations and the falsi-fication of his possibilities. He is tempted to overcome the limitations of his hunger by a miracle. His imagination is tempted with the possibility of a way of saving the world better than that of the Father--a sensational rescue mission by the Father. Finally, all the kingdoms of the world are offered him if he but change the master-vision and the master-commitment, to serve Satan rather than the Father. All of Christ's teaching is the invitation to take upon ourselves his own master-vision and master-commitment, and in this way open ourselves to unheard-of possibilities. The Sermon on the Mount offers new possibilities of love. He speaks of new possibilities of lifelong commitment in marriage, and new possibilities of a celibate life for the kingdom of heaven. "Let those accept it who can"(Mt 19:12). New possibilities of single-mindedness: "lf you wish to go the whole way, go, sell your possessions, and give to the poor, and then you will have riches in heaven; and come, follow me" (Mt 19:21). However, the supreme realization of the creative tension between limita-tions and possibility is the overcoming of the limitation of death. This is not done through some kind "of change in our way of looking at death, as in eastern spiritualities. Because we become incorporate in Christ Jesus, the crucified-risen Lord, the Lamb standing with the marks of execution upon him, our limitations are taken up into his possibility, now realized in his resur-rection. This takes place in us in a real way even now, though it is still only in its dawning stages waiting for its full realization, as St. Paul mentions so often. There are limitations which are imposed by our existence, our creature-liness. There are others which are self-imposed, where we enter a structure of limitations, freely assumed, in order to draw forth a more creative response. This is obviously true in marriage, wh6re a man and a woman limit themselves 41~6 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 and their whole lives to one another in a bond of love. Depending on the way they respond to these self-imposed limits, their lives can become a progressive manifestation of spiritual freedom, or degenerate into a deeper form of bondage. Similarly in the self-imposed limits of religious life through the vow of obedience, life can become, through obedience to law, rule, authority, either a progressive manifestation of spiritual freedom, or degenerate into legalism, self-love, self-will. The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius are ultimately a way to attain higher and higher levels of spiritual freedom. The First Week is aimed at putting our lives in order, recapturing the master-vision and the master-commitment. The meditation which serves as the "Principle and Foundation" for the rest of the Exercises is the meditation on the Call of Christ the King. This meditation is aimed at fostering within those who have the gift of God's grace a response to new possibilities, to share in the possibilities offered by the Father to Christ himself, a life of service as the Suffering Servant. Then Ignatius describes the response those will make who "want to show greater affection and to signalize themselves in every kind of service of their eternal king and universal Lord." In summary, then, we can say that every act of love, faith, hope, forgive-ness, every movement to the more of Christ's own possibilities is an act of spiritual freedom. Such responses leave not only the stamp of the human spirit on the world of matter, but the stamp of Christ on the world. Rationality-Affectivity The second polarity is rationality-affectivity. As human beings we have the capacity to get beneath appearances, beyond the way that things seem to us, to what is real, true, good. This is a power in which our Godlikeness is consti-tuted. God is the God of the real, the particular, the genuine. We are created to respond to the call of the real, to things which are God's words in a natural sense, and, in the sense of Revelation, to God's special words and even more to the Word-made-flesh. We have the power, then, to reach the real. Otherwise, we are doomed to the world of phenomena, appearances and feel-ings. And the call of the real could not reach us if this were the case. There would be no greater monstrosity than man, with yearnings for the real, bur-dened with a radical inability to fill his heart with what alone can satisfy it. The element of rationality is our avenue to the real. But the real is not some kind of"lump" of reality like a chemical deposit. The real itself is bathed in love, God's creative love: "And he saw that it was good." One cannot know, then, only with the mind, but also with the heart. For it is the heart that picks up the signals of love within the real, whereas the mind picks up what is true. The polarities of mind and heart are to be kept in a creative tension. If they are not in balance, if mind excludes heart, then we become rationalists, cold, calculating, manipulative. On the other hand, heart without mind degenerates into sentimentality, mood, temperament. When this is so, mind follows the shape of the heart, and turns into rationalization and self-deception. Spiritual Freedom / 4117 St. Paul expressed the requisite creative tension very well when he said, "Follow the truth in charity" (Ep 4:15). Truth without charity is a kind of spiritual bondage that limits our response to the real only to the level of the rational. Charity without truth is not really charity, but a simulation of it. It becomes mere sentiment, without roots in what is real°, without any focus for the master-vision and the master-commitment. It would be instructive, if we had time to go through the gospels, to see how these polarities are lived in a creative tension in Christ. No one judged sin more really than he did; yet no one loved the sinner more. This love was not merely some cold act of the will, of choice as a kind of cold deliberative act. The love was in his heart, feelings, emotions, not only in whom he loved, but in what he liked. That is why all of the outcast felt at home with him, because he felt at home with them. His judgments were formed only on what he had seen the Fath6r doing (Jn 5:!9), what the Father had entrusted to him (Lk 10:210. He did not rely on the concatenated statements of human authorities, as did the lawyers, nor on poli-tical or party or ethnic lines, as did the Various factions among the Jews. There is the simplicity, clarity, transparency in his words which comes from direct and immediate contact with reality, somewhat (but in a much deeper sense) in the same way that reality shines forth through the words of a great author. On the contrary we find judgment without heart in so many of the inci-dents in the gospels where the notion of law degenerated into pharisaic legal-ism. Reason was isolated from heart. Too, we find the isolation of feeling from reason, from judging according to the truth. John's summation of the reasons for Jesus' failure with the Jews was, "They valued the reputation with men rather than the honor which comes from God" (Jn 5:44). In other words, they did not open themselves to the truth because they were too concerned about what others thought. They lived on the level of feeling. The description that John gives of the reasons for Jesus' condemnation to death shows how the imbalance in this polarity of reason and feeling can be so destructive. Caiphas gave as the legitimating reason for Jesus' execution: "You kn.ow nothing whatever; you do not use your judgement; it is more to your interest that one man should die for the people, than that the whole nation should be destroyed" (Jn 11:50). The supreme irony is that the "judgment" was merely the legitimation of feeling, the feeling that thi~ man was a threat to their own well-being. It was not a judgment in truth. In the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius wants us to be penetrated wholly by the whole truth: our feelings, our minds, our hearts. This 'basic orientation is stressed from the very beginning in the guidelines he sets: "For it is not to know much, but it is to understand and savor the matter interiorly, that fills .~ and satisfies the soul" (Annotation 2). In the meditation Lnvolwng the applica-tion of the senses he wants the whole of us to be taken into the mystery, and this includes our senses. In the Third Week, he wants us to "feel sorrow, afflic-tion, and confusion because for my sins our Lord is going to his Passion." But 41111 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 if Ignatius stresses feelings, he does not mean. mere mood. He means feelings that in some way are in touch with the reality, and carry an affective response to the reality. In us, then, spiritual freedom is that grace-given capacity to reach the truth in love. It is the overcoming of the bondage to the cold isolation of reason, or to the feeling divorced from reality. Hope-Anxiety The third polarity is that of hope-anxiety. Hope is the way that we pick up within the present the signals of the future. It picks up the element of promise in everything that attracts us. Perhaps this is the basis of the attraction we feel for the things that we perceive as still young, whether these be the seasons, like spring, or the youthfulness of children, or events which are filled with the future, which itself is like a gigantic canvas to be filled in during the rest of our lives. We witness this in those commitments which look to the whole of one's future: marriage, priesthood, religious life. Hope, then, is that disposition to live for the future as it offers genuine promise in the present. Hope implies effort. It is not automatic like the seasons. It is concerned with what has preferential value on a comparative scale. We really do not hope for things that are trivial. Hope implies persever-ance in the steps necessary to realize it. In other words, it involves fidelity, constancy to the means implicit in the commitment. Anxiety, as the other aspect of this polarity, does not mean a nervous kind of fear before something that threatens my well-being. It means a kind of keyed-up-ness that comes from the realization of the value of what I am seek-ing, of the need to be vigilant lest anything be omitted which might let my hope slip away. It is the same disposition stressed in the gospel as vigilance, being awake, not sleeping but watching. The elements in this polarity can be out of balance in various ways. Hope can turn into presumption when it fails to appreciate the unreachable aspects of certain goals 1 set for myself. Concretely, 1 presume that extrinsic help will somehow or other bridge some particular gap, or that I can achieve the goal by my own powers, whereas in reality the gap is unbridgeable in itself or by me alone. However, there is also the timidity which looks only at my own powers, instead of seeing that the fulfillment of my hope need not come from some kind of Pelagian self-achievement. It it always a collaborative effort, involving the help of others, those in the human community (society, Church, religious congregation), and the help of God. There is also the feeling of hopelessness or despair. This is one of the most radical aspects of spiritual bondage. It is the No Exit mentality of .lean Paul Sartre. Anxiety, ~hen, instead of being a kind of spiritual intensity which alerts to the signals of hope, can turn into a kind of spiritual bondage which paralyzes creative response to the promise in the present. It is the attitude of the man, described in the parable of the talents, who buried his talent because fear para- Spiritual Freedom lyzed him. He thought it would be enough to return simply what the master gave, not taking into account that a gift always contains a hope which has to be unfolded. In Christ we see the realization of both aspects of this polarity. "For the sake of the joy which was still in the future, he endured the cross, disregarding the shamefulness of it" (Heb 12:2). "1 have a baptism wherewith 1 am to be baptized, and how 1 am straitened until it be accomplished"(Lk 12:50). "With desire have 1 desired to eat this passover with you before 1 suffer" (Lk 22:15). What leads Jesus is the hope which is not merely future, coming at the end of what he does. It is a hope embodied in the present, in what he does. What he does holds the promise of the future. It involves constancy, perseverance, faithfulness to the end. "Having loved his own, he loved them unto the end" (Jn 13:1). He is alert, vigilant, never sleeping, not letting anything, any oppor-tunity slip from his hands to bring about the reign of his Father. Even where that alertness leads to the anxiety which shakes his whole being in the agony in Gethsemane, it is not the anxiety that paralyzes, removes from hope, but is lived in the realization that the Father will bring about the redemptive issue through the humiliation of the cross. In us, then, every act which is hope-full, responding to the genuine future which is in the present, to the promise which is like a seed at the heart of reality, is an act of spiritual freedom. In particular, every act which realizes the eschatological hope, the definitive hope brought to the world by Christ, is an act of spiritual freedom. Every act which overcomes meaninglessness, the sense of purposeless drift, is an act of spiritual freedom. Every act which is hope-raising, raising the level of hope of the human community, or the Church, provided it avoids presumption, is an act of spiritual freedom. It liberates not only oneself, but the human community. Similarly every act which has caught the urgency of the gospel calls for vigilance. This vigilance imposes by its own weight a sense of priorities, a per-spective from the perspective of Christ's own view at the right hand of the Father. Every such act is an act of spiritual freedom. On the contrary the reduction of human effort to the law of entropy which holds the world of matter in its grip, the "death-wish" in all things, the devalu-ation through natural processes of what is useful into what is useless, is suc-cumbing to spiritual bondage. Individual- Community The fourth polarity is that of individual-community. There are two insep-arable aspects to our personality as embodied spirit. Through our bodies we belong to a cosmos of things and a community of persons. It is through our bodies that we relate to a whole world of culture, language, ethnic identity, family, sexual differentiation. Because we are embodied spirit, we laugh, cry, feel good, feel bad, feel pain: and, because of our bodies, we suffer and die. The aspect of spirit in us belongs to the level of interiority, the power of 490 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 appropriating truth, goodness, beauty. It" is the capacity to grow through relationships. It is the power to reflect back on ourselves, that capacity to be what Heidegger terms the "clearing in the forest," where the light of Being enters into the world of things. In short, it is the gift of selfhood, one of those words which we cannot exhaust because the mystery of the self trails back into the realm of God's own spirit. The aspects of this polarity exist in a constructive tension where the indi-vidually liberated acts, acts manifesting spiritual freedom, become liberating for the community. We can see this in the history of a community where cer-tain individuals brought men to a new threshold of human consciousness, people like Socrates, for example, or the religious seers of the east, like Gotauma Siddhartha, or Mohammed, who brought a whole world from poly-theism to the worship of the one God, or Gandhi whose moral consciousness changed that of society. In turn the community mediates to the individuals that particular level of spiritual freedom it has reached. There is no doubt that the notions of liberty espoused in the foundational documents of the United States are both the culmination of a long history of individual effort, and have also mediated to the world at large a whole new level of awareness of the principles of freedom, never before realized in a civil community. On the contrary, the creative tension in this polarity can be broken when spiritual freedom degenerates into bondage. On the level of the individual, there can be closedness to the community dimension, through subjectivism, individualism, egocentricity, bringing about the fragmention of community. As cancerous cells in the body are in pathological condition in relationship to the whole of the body, the same is true of the individual who attempts to live a life in independence of the community. On the other hand, there can be the domination by the community which itself has become dispirited, where it has lost its roots in the creative aspects of the spirit. Perhaps there is no greater tyranny than that of the crowd. It is mindless, senseless, open to the demonic under the guise of the spirit. Instead of beckoning, drawing us into new vistas of hope and supporting basic human values, it becomes stifling. Bernard Lonergan speaks of the kind of darkness generated by a community which has lost its life: skotosis (borrowed from the Greek word). It means progressive darkening, dimming, cutting out the light. Finally the point is reached where one can no longer distinguish truth from mood, objective reality from what he feels and what he likes. It is the experience of this type of group-tyranny which drove someone like Kierkegaard into what perhaps was an extreme on the other side, namely, to a kind of stress on the individual which was antagonistic to group. But his basic insight was correct. There is nothing more overpowering and dehumanizing than the domination of the group which has lost the light, salt and leaven of the gospel. It is the danger inherent in the absolutizing of any particular truth, fol- Spiritual Freedom lowed by the diffusion of it through a group, where it turns into a movement. Then it gains its own dynamic, independent of the insight of the ones who generated it. It begins to live a life of its own, more ruthless in its tyranny, more intimidating in its coercion than any dictatorship which can be singled out and named. One thinks of the crusade that turned into a mob, sacking the city of Constantinople, and humiliating the Greek Church. The diffusion of a particular perspective to the point where it becomes identified with what has been called "group-think" takes place through a system of arteries which is already there: loyalties or resentments based on common ethnic roots, political affiliations, sexual roles, cultural affinities, economic interests. Soon convictions become slogans, slogans become labels, labels separate those who belong from the "outsiders." As we have seen in the other polarities which describe the complexity of human nature, in Christ there is found in a unique way the creative tension between the polarity of individual and community. In no other being do we find the situation where one could practically interchange person and com-munity. In fact he identifies himself with the community: "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?" (Ac 9:4). He is both a self, but also an extended self-in-his- members. In his treatment of the Trinity, Ratzinger describes how a whole new con-cept of person emerged through the struggles of the early Church councils to put into human language the trinitarian mystery (see Introduction to Chris-tianity [Seabury, New York, 1979, p. 130 f]). The concept of relation came to assume the same importance as substance. What is true in the trinitarian life is manifested in the human life of the Word-made-flesh. His whole existence is to be relative, from-the-Father, and for-us. This means that he is the only person who has ever verified in himself both the completeness of personhood and the completeness of community. For this reason, Paul describes the Church as the fullness of Christ, who has received all fullness from the Father (Ep 1:22-23). He speaks of the mission of Christ as community-creating: "Christ loved the Church and gave himself up for it, to consecrate it, cleaning it by water and word, so that he might present the Church to himself all glorious, with no stain or wrinkle or anything of the sort, but holy and without blemish" (Ep 5:27-28). Ignatius Loyola lived at a time when the Church appeared as anything but holy and without blemish. Yet, like Christ, he loved the Church, not in its invisible holiness which is an abstraction, but in its concreteness, as the bride of Christ. In particular, even beneath the blemishes of the Renaissance popes, he saw in faith the Vicar of Christ. Against the dictatorship of the milieu, he took the path of spiritual .freedom. In his "Rules for Thinking with the Church," included in the book of The Spiritual Exercises, he takes, point for point, the practices ridiculed by the Reformers, and asks that we praise them. At a time when private judgment was being extolled, he asked that we "lay aside all private judgment, keeping our minds prepared and ready to obey in t192 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 all things the true spouse of Christ our Lord, our holy mother, the hierarchical Church." In short, we can say that spiritual freedom is shown in every act that creates community, healing it where it is wounded, restoring it where it is floundering, raising consciousness to correct abuses which are hostile to genuine community. On the other hand, every act which divides and reduces community to factions, parties, group-interests, is an act of spiritual bondage. Am-Ought Finally, there is the polarity of the am-ought in our lives. It is the polarity of conscience, the sense of the ought, which lives in a tension with where ! actually am. Conscience is itself a mystery of the human spirit, which carries within itself the sense of its goal-orientation towards authenticity, and at the same time the awareness of where the person is in relationship to that goal. Conscience is not some "tiny voice." It is the imperative of the spirit to become what we should be. The ought is present in everyone. The content of the ought, the specifics, how we become what we ought to be, varies according to a person's forma-tion. This means that there is another "ought," namely, the need to bring the content of one's conscience into line with what genuinely fits authenticity. While there is the obligation to follow one's conscience, there is the corre-sponding obligation to check one's conscience, to see if it leads to spiritual freedom or to spiritual bondage. In Christ, his conscience is informed with a content which provides the sense of mission providing the master-vision and the master-commitment of his whole life. "Ought not the Messiah to suffer and thus to enter upon his glory?" (Lk 24:26). In the language of John's Gospel: "Look, there is the Lamb of God. It is he who takes away the sin of the world" (,In 1:29). Even when he trembles before the dreadful realization of the content of that ought in his agony in the garden, there is no attempt to substitute some other content. From start to finish, his life is marked by the ought of the Suffering Servant. This is again illustrated in the symbolic act of washing the disciples' feet at the last supper. The ought and the am, like the other polarities, can exist in a creative or destructive tension. In the first place, there is the deliberate going against one's conscience. Secondly, there is the refusal to examine the content of one's conscience, which can be aided and abetted unto error by rationalization. There is the tendency in all of us to reduce the content of conscience from what is genuinely human to what we like or feel or to what conforms to the milieu around us. There is the automatic need to legitimate what we choose to do which is the process of rationalization, to the point where one may be living a life that is a lie. On the other hand, there is spit:itual freedom where, in obedience to what is genuinely normative for human nature, we bring the disparate elements in Spiritual Freedom / 493 our life under obedience to what is true, real, good, beautiful. Conversely, every failure to obey conscience, particularly the conscience that has a sense of what is really, authentically human, is not only an act of spiritual bondage, but a progressive enslavement. "In very truth 1 tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave" (Jn 8:34). However, we should not equate the Christian ought with that which comes from ethics or moral philosophy. The Christian ought does not come from the reflection on what fits authentic humanity. Rather it comes from the implica-tions of what it means to be incorporate in Christ. The content of the Chris-tian conscience comes, therefore, from the implications of a whole new series of relationships, that our existence finds its norm now by being-with, being-in, being-for. All of the applications that Paul, for example, makes for Christian living come from the new existence that we have as related to the Father in a special way through Christ. It would be an act of spiritual bondage to live only according to the "natural law" when we have a new content to our conscience which is described in so many ways in the New Testament. Basically, it is putting on "that mind which is in Christ Jesus" (Ph 2:5). On the contrary, every act which shows forth what Paul calls a special kind of harvest is an act of spiritual freedom: "The harvest of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, fidelity, gentleness and self-control" (Ga 5:22). Conclusion I have attempted to locate the mystery of spiritual freedom in the context of the polarities which describe some of the many-faceted sides of human exis-tence: facticity-possibility, rationality-affectivity, hope-anxiety, individual-community, am-ought. 1 tried to show how spiritual freedom is realized in Christ (admittedly only touching the surface), and how, as incorporate in Christ, we to some degree share in his spiritual freedom. However, we have also seen that the "shadow" side of freedom, namely, spiritual bondage, is an ever present threat to our freedom, 1 would like to conclude by suggesting that it is in the Eucharist that we find both the meaning of spiritual freedom and the way that we once again, conscious of and confessing our spiritual bondage, re-incorporate ourselves into the act by which we were made spiritually free. In the obedience of Christ to the ought of his life we are saved. All gift is a manifestation of spiritual freedom. In Christ, in the supreme gift of himself to the Father for us, we find the supreme act of spiritual freedom: "This is my Body given for you. This is my Blood, the Blood of the new covenant poured out for you." We also pray, "May he make us an everlasting gift to you" (Third Eucha-ristic Prayer). Our spiritual freedom is measured by the degree to which we can enter into that gift of Christ to the Father and to others. By being taken up into that "procession" of Christ to the Father, our limitations and possibilities 494 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 undergo a change into those of Christ; we are in touch with the reality behind all appearances through faith and love; we live proclaiming that the hope to come is now present; we take upon ourselves Christ's own relativity to the Church and to the world; there is a new ought to our lives, to love as Christ has loved us. In conclusion, then, every act of spiritual freedom is in some way bringing back the world to the Father through Christ: "Such was his will and pleasure determined beforehand in Christ, to be put into effect when the time was ripe: namely, that the universe, all in heaven and on earth, might be brought into a unity in Christ" (Ep 1:9-10). The "Active-Contemplative' Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 426 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 On Spiritual Direction Jan Bots, S.J., and Piet Penning de Vries, S.J. Father Bots and de Vries are Dutch Jesuits. This article originally appeared in Geist und Leben in February, 1980, and represents a revision of a chapter from their book: Geestelijke leiding vandaag, Fen werkboek [Spiritual Direction Today: A Workbook], (Amsterdam: Patmos, 1978). As with other articles by the authors, this was translated by Sister Mary Theresilde, Assistant General of the Sister Servants of the Holy Spirit of Perpetual Adoration; Holy Trinity Convent; Helmtrudisstr. 23; 3490 Bad Driburg; West Germany. In all spiritual direction, the real spiritual director is the Holy Spirit. Hence the "spiritual" element in his direction is not opposed to what is material or bodily, but to what St. Paul calls "the flesh" (see Rm 8:7-17), to the sinful, self-encapsulating element in a human being. The word "spiritual" is derived from the New Testament word pneumatikos, meaning "determined by God's Spirit." Anyone who lives a spiritual life bases his whole existence on God's Spirit. The spiritual father, or pater pneumatikos of the Eastern Church, exercises an important but modest role: he himself does not lead but rather sees to it that his spiritual child lets himself be led by the Holy Spirit and grows in sensitivity to that Spirit's guidance. The Church Another reason why the spiritual director's role is a modest one is that it is totally subordinate to the mission of the Church itself as director and guide. The Church is the Spirit-bearer in this world; it is, then, the spiritual director, "Mother and Teacher" (Mater et Magistra, John XXIII). Its means are the liturgy, its Holy Scripture together with the traditions built thereon, and the teachings of the magisterium which assure that the truths handed on harmon-ize with its experience. Through these channels--often unnoticed--the faith-ful are given continual spiritual direction. Every session involving personal spiritual direction takes place within this 495 4~16 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 sphere of ecclesial activity. Accordingly, even the first encounter between a spiritual director and the person seeking direction does not take place between two total strangers. Actual practice proves this: the freedom with which peo-ple entrust their most private realms to a priest shows that these two persons were already related in the Church, even before they met personally. Faith creates a bond of trust between people, independent of feelings of personal confidentiality. Friendship and Spiritual Direction Therefore friendship is not a prerequisite for spiritual direction, though love is. Even where two people are not immediately related by friendship, there can be mutual esteem, trust, and union in prayer and love. Friendship on the other hand, rests on reciprocity, on mutuality. Friends like to be together, cultivate lengthy contacts, meet regularly, share conversation, do things together and have favorite times and places for exchanging experiences and views. One who makes friendship a condition for spiritual direction limits the effectiveness of the spiritual director to his circle of friends and excludes other Christians, and this without necessity. Friendship can surely help to overcome threshold anxiety and facilitate the first step into spiritual direction. This more comfortable beginning demands less self-conquest, but it can also become a hindrance. The ease itself of this friendly contact with the spiritual director can result in a loss of depth in the conversation, which in turn can tend to aimlessness instead of concentration on the essential. Too, personal friendship often increases the difficulty of speaking about things that the one seeking direction finds embarassing. On the part of the spiritual director, too, friendship can become proble-matic. As we have already said, it is essential for spiritual direction that, not the person, but the Holy Spirit be the actual center of the direction. This means that the relationship of friend to friend is subordinate to the relation-ship of both to Christ. Too close a union of friendship can be a hindrance in this regard. Hence, for example, pastoral work and spiritual direction attempt~ ed among one's relatives is often difficult. Spiritual direction given to friends and relatives demands a strong affective independence. All intimacy must open one to God and transcend the bond that unites the persons. The directee must feel so free regarding any tie of friendship that he can at any time reveal his interior to a priest-director in confession. As a matter of principle, then, friendship can be a help in spiritual direction, but it can also be a hindrance. Therefore we do well not to place any emphasis on it. A holy indifference should maintain one above the friendship. Objectivity and Spiritual Direction We may ask: even ifa relationship of personal friendship is not necessary, should not at least a common llfe-experience serve as the foundation.of spiri- On Spiritual Direction / 497 tual direction? Should not the spiritual director be married, if he intends to guide the married? Should he himself not have children, if he plans to direct parents? Even this is not necessary, for spiritual direction takes place on another level, it consists above all in the help a person is able to render because he himself is able to cope with his own experiences, whatever they may be. A good spiritual director, then, will not say: "This or that is the path for you. It's the same one I myself have trod. Just get behind and follow me.". Such a demand may be the right one for an organizer who is initiating people into a certain task or for a community leader who desires to lead his community in a certain direction. Or it may also be proper for a teacher who has to be a kind of model for his pupils. And, of course, on occasion a spiritual director's dealings with his directees may savor somewhat of this kind of action. In what concerns vital questions requiring decision and freedom, however, it is not the path and the experience of the director which is normative, but that of the directee. The spiritual director normally should not even advise toward anything of which he himself has experience, such as the priesthood or religious life. His own experience colors his outlook too much, and this could be prejudicial to the other's freedom. The spiritual diredtor has to seek his orientation elsewhere. His role does not consist in pointing out his own experiences and opinions. In fact, he should refrain from bringing personal experiences into the conversation and discussing them. It is the task of the director to bring the other into contact with his own experiences, to lead him to openness to the Spirit's impulses, to help the person form his own judgment and make his own decisions. It would, then, not be conducive to good spiritual direction to give counsel such as: "If I were you, I would do this or that." This could make the other dependent on the spiritual director, and hinder the true experiencing and finding of himself. A person should rather be led to self-motivation (intrin-sece) and to independence from motivation from without (extrinsece). Dependence and Spiritual Direction Spiritual direction can be falsified not only by giving definite counsel ("Do this or that"), but also by making a person dependent. This can be done, for example, by assuming a reassuring, generou.s, noble and optimistic manner of acting in a way that relieves the directee of doubt and uncertainty. Or one can let the other cry on one's shoulder responding to his tears with comfort and consolation. This is hardly fitting in spiritual direction, for the task of spiritual direction preventive measures. The privacy of confession and/or the secluded-hess of the confessional could be helpful here, for they contribute to a situ-ation in which the person has God and the Church more in mind than the can easily tend to nestle in his misery in order to continue receiving warm-heartedness and comfort. The spiritual director ought to see to it that no harmful counter- 498 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 transference takes place, for example, by his actually assuming the role of a father, a mother, or any other analogous role transferred to him by the direc-tee (usually unconsciously.) He should beware of playing father to, or mother-ing the directee. Therefore it is necessary to build into the situation of spiritual direction preventive measures. The privacy of confession and/or the se-cludedness of the confessional could be helpful here, for they contribute to a situation in which the person has God and the Church more in mind than the person of the priest. It is the penitent's perfect right to experience in the priest less the human being than the objective spiritual guidance he offers. Outward manifestations of love and affective attraction can, then, be inim-ical to spiritual direction. The spiritual director helps the directee, not by the witness of his own love, but much more by giving witness to God's love, out of love for the person, and b~. leading the person primarily to openness to God, not merely to openness to himself. Besides, by being over.y nice, one can give the impression that life is exceptionally sweet and ple~.sant. In this case the spiritual encounter would be unrealistic, and therefore ineffectual. It may be easy to show one's cordiality, but this can block the directee's way to the depths, to the heart of God. It can be painful for the spiritual director to silence his own heart in order to let the other discover the heart of God. But he can do it if he remains aware that he has something greater to give to the other than himself, namely, God; that he is supposed to give the other a stability that can be found only in God and not in a human being, a stability that is independent of momentary mood and relationships, including those of friendship with another person.~ ~This reserved, seemingly clinical manner is opposed by those who want to cling to a director in one way or another. Their disappointment with the conduct of the director is expressed in many and various veiled rationalizations. He is called unfeeling, hard, intolerant, inhuman, unrealistic, uncharitable and unsocial, lacking in pastoral intuition, too supernatural, too stiff, reflecting Christ too little, etc. The spiritual director with inadequate inner stability will let himself be easily upset by such accusations. The following advice of Freud could have a strengthening effect on him: I cannot advise my colleagues urgently enough to imitate during their psychoanalytical sessions the surgeon, who puts all his affections and even his human compassion aside and sets one single aim before his spiritual powers: to perform the operation as skillfully as possible. .This coldness of feeling required of the analyst is justified by its creating the most advantageous conditions for both parties--for the physician, the desirable protection of his own affective life; for the patient, the greatest measure of assistance possible today. An elderly surgeon had taken for his motto the words: Je le pansai. Dieu le guerit (I dress his wounds; God heals him). The analyst should be content with a similar attitude (Sigmund Freud. Collected Works. London, 1955, VIII, pp. 380 f.). In his faith, the spiritual director has at his disposal helps to psychic integration that a psychotherapist could envy. In addition, he has on his side the fact that an exclusive fixation on psychic recovery less often hinders the healing process in direction. Unlike the case of the psy-chotherapist, psychic recovery is not a "must," and that is an advantage. On Spiritual Direction / 499 Following Jesus By not placing himself and his stability in the foreground, the spiritual director gives the directee the opportunity to experience what is going on within himself. The director does this from the very beginning by having him confront Jesus Christ revealed in the gospels, in whom he will find the true orientation-point of his spiritual'journey. Here is his confidant, the one who, in the power of the Spirit, is discovered in his own inner self. Without this confrontation with Christ, conversation will remain on the intellectual, psychological or emotional level. What ultimately counts in a spiritual conversation is not ideas and ideals, nor mere feelings, but the expe-rience of following Jesus--what the person experiences in Jesus' presence, from Jesus and with Jesus. This is the decisive point. Many persons shrink back and break off the conversation when they sense that it is moving toward becoming deeply involved in following Christ. Yet the fundamental concern of the spiritual director must be never to let the conversation wander from this very decisive point. Questions can sometimes be helpful in this regard. For example, when someone brings up a certain problem, the director can ask, "Have you prayed over it?" or "How have you been able to master or integrate this question in prayer?" If it appears that the difficulty in question has not been prayed through, the spiritual director can recommend a Scripture passage to help introduce the directee into praying over the problem. Then the conversation can be interrupted for the present, and resumed later, after the person has prayed and, in that prayer, has found a spiritual experience. The Process of Spiritual Direction What we have just described can also be spread over a period of time. Here, too, one should beware of prescribing a path (extrinsece) instead of fostering an experience (intrinsece). A first conversation. The spiritual director simply listens sympathetically, so that the directee feels understood in his problem. The purely psychic emo-tions of the person, which on the surface can often be very vehement, ought to aid the director to see deeper and to understand the movements of good and evil in the other. Ignatius called this the "movement of spirits" and spoke of "consolation and desolation." The spiritual director has the task of endeavor-ing to sense how the directee, with all his positive and negative impulses, is taken up into the dynamic movement towards or away from God. Thus spiritual direction requires the ability to be both emotionally and psychologi-cally sensitive to the attitude of the other person as he or she stands before God. The directee's understanding "according to the flesh" has to be expanded and deepene.d into an understanding "according to the spirit" (2 Cot 5:16). When the spiritual director has--beneath the psychic utterances, as it were--made contact with the spiritual implications at work, and when he considers the human aspect of the person's life over against its Christian 500 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 possibilities, then he guides the conversation expressly out of the "fleshly" phase into the "spiritual" one. This happens: for example, by the director's recommending what Ignatius describes as those "spiritual exercises most in conformity with his needs" (Sp.Ex.17). The reflection after prayer. Only after the directee has considered his situation in prayer and meditated his way through it, using the pointers given by the spiritual director, is the conversation resumed. It corresponds to what Ignatius prescribes "after finishing the exercise" (Sp.Ex.77), and is a kind of stock-taking of what has gone on in prayer. It can be carried out by using questions designed to place all one's attention on one's attitude towards the Lord, such as Where was 1 when I was not with him? When was 1 with him? How do I feel towards him now after prayer?2 The expertise of the spiritual director consists in so placing his knowledge and experience of Jesus Christ at the service of his searching directee that the directee finds his way to Jesus, pours out his heart before him and works out any still unresolved experiences together with him. A second conversation has the purpose of talking over the difficulties that might have come up during reflection on the person's prayer. The first question mentioned above should have revealed what hindered the person in coming to a "spiritual" understanding and experience of his situation. The other two questions ought to show where the Spirit wants to break through to a new, liberating and redeeming view. A period of meditative prayer can now be repeated. The subject for pray-ers, for example, the gospel passage assigned, has already assumed a different aspect from that of the first meditation. One's own spiritual experience has deepened and cast new light on the text. The spiritual vision of the meditating person has been widened by this experience and by the conversation which has made him aware of it and clarified it. It is this alternation of prayer and conversation that leads the directee deeper and deeper into the question at hand. It ought to be continued until the person feels completely united to Christ. The spiritual director's conduct is similar to that required in the non-directive method of psychological therapy, but it is older and, above all, has a different motivation and purpose. Ignatius describes it as follows: ".in these spiritual exercises it is more fitting and much better in seeking the Divine will, that our Creator and Lord communicate himself to the devout soul, inflaming it with his love and praise, and disposing it to the way in which it can best serve him in the future. Thus, the one who gives the exercises should not 2See Father Bots' forthcoming ar!icl~. "Praying in Two Directions." in this review. On Spiritual Direction / 501 incline either to one side or the other, but standing in the middle like the balance of a scale, he should allow the Creator to work directly with the creature, and the creature with its Creator and Lord" (Sp.Ex. 15). Conclusion In conclusion, we present the following rules of thumb for the spiritual director. --Keep the relationship to the directee subordinate to your own relationship to Christ. --Let your conduct towards the other be such that he feels free with regard to you in every respect. A test of this is whether he could feel free to go to confession to you at any moment, if you are a priest. --Remain indifferent to any affection shown you. Neither sympathy nor antip-athy, but the other's orientation to God is decisive. --Pay at least as much attention to the manner in which the directee presents the problem, that is, to consolation and desolation, as to its content. --Pay attention not only to feelings and experiences in general, but to feelings for Him. --Keep every conversation as brief as possible. --On beginning, do not ask "sympathetic" questions, but rather let the other take full initiative to show in What areas he wants to share with you. --Maintain a maximum of distance, so that the other can remain as free as possible. --Do not proceed faster than the experience of the directee allows. --Constantly point out what the directee himself has already discovered by his own experience. --Avoid giving any advice from your own private experience on vital ques-tions which require the free decision of the directeeo --Give advice only on the way in which the other himself can discover God's will, and not on what God's will for him could possibly be. --Notice whether the directee--either consciously or unconsciously--ma-neuvers you into a certain role; take note of any gestures, words or attitudes that could indicate a harmful transference. --Notice what the other does not want to face, what he represses. --Normally keep silence; speak by exception and after mature reflection. --In repeating the experiences and feelings of the other, use the person's own words as much as possible, even though they be awkward. --Do not discuss, but do deal with the feelings that lie behind the thoughts expressed. --When the inner, spiritual experience has reached its deepest point, endeavor as soon as possible to channel it to prayer. --Hide your expertise and do not give reasons for your reactions; for you ought to direct the other's attention, not to yourself or to your reasons, but to Jesus and to his own experience. 502 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 --Do not try to keep peace and good relations at all costs. Even aggression can be beneficial, though one need not deliberately arouse it. --Do not attempt to give excuses for a situation which the directee describes as wrong. Rather remain with him in his darkness until he himself comes to light. --Emotions may be expressed during the conversation, but they should be worked through in prayer. Of course, pithy norms such as these are more beneficial if considered as suggestions, and not as rules to be followed slavishly. Novitiate, July 4 Recent pretender to Carmel's heights; eyes yet city-dazed, 1 watch the pyrotechnics in the plain below and wonder why the Beloved does not so oblige those who left such things as these for Him. When last have 1 a flash of color known, or sounds that take possession, strange islands or flocks of lambs that gambol through the rocky fastness? When will His fire work? In His own hour, my independence day. Terrence Moran, C.SS.R. Mt. St. Alphonsus Esopus, NY 12429 Psychology and Spirituality: Distinction Without Separation Stephen Rossetti Mr. Rossetti has a Master's degree in political science. After a period of teaching and research, he had studied spiritual theology for several years and is presently a graduate student of theology at the Catholic University (Washington) with a view to ordination. His present mailing address is 26 Reed Parkway; Marcellus. NY 13108. "1 think I'll go and meet her, "said Alice, for though the flowers were interesting enough, she felt that it would be far grander to have a talk with a real Queen. "You can't possibly do that, "' said the Rose, "'1 should advise you to walk the other way. '" This sounded like nonsense to Alice, so she said nothing, but set off at once towards the Red Queen. To her surprise, she lost sight of her in a moment, and found herself walking in at the front door again. A little provoked, she drew back, and, after looking everywhere for the Queen (whom she spied out at last, a long way off), she thought she wouid try the plan, this time, of walking in the opposite direction. It succeeded beautifully. She had not been walking a minute before she found herself face to face with the Red Queen, and full in sight of the hill she had so long been aiming at (Lewis Carroll: Through the Looking Glass). The Confusion of Psychology With Spirituality Recently a young religious on a retreat weekend was in a group session when one of the superiors (also the spiritual adviser) noticed the religious had his arms crossed. Perhaps recalling a popular psychology book about body language, the adviser said, "You've got your arms crossed. You must have a closed personality." In that hous'e, this was the ultimate criticism since the guest-lecturer's theme for the weekend was that the core of the Christian message could be boiled down to one thing: openness. While the comment was a spontaneous one without malicious intent, it 503 504 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 reflects a trend in modern spirituality--a trend which, if not recognized and checked, could condemn many spiritual lives to a great mediocrity, or eventu-ally lead to their total destruction (bearing in mind the spiritual axiom: the soul that is not advancing is retreating). This trend is a subtle confusion between what is proper to spirituality and what is proper to psychology, and the relationship between the two. In its worst case, spirituality has been totally reduced to psychology. More often, though, the proper balance and harmony between the two has been disrupted. This is a development the French philosopher, Jacques Maritain, feared. In his controversial work, The Peasant of the Garonne, he says: In spite of everything, it is very funny to imagine countless Christian families poring devoutly over copies, not of the Spiritual Combat. but of treatises on sexology: or to think of that Mexican monastery whose sturdy pioneering zeal prompted it to have the whole community psychoanalyzed, with the not unforseeable result of a number of happy marriages. It is also pretty amusing to picture to yourself superiors of seminaries or of religious houses, masters and mistresses of novices studiously and eagerly attending courses in dynamic psychology which initiate them in projection tests, Rorschach, and the pyschodrama of Moreno. In this way, they will acquire the science of human behav-ior, and will be able to tell souls who are or will be confided to their care "what to do," or, in embarrassing cases, send them to the psychiatrist, the man who really "knows". My only regret is that I am too old to look forward to being comforted by the young generations who are being prepared in this way to dedicate themselves to the Lord--fully flowering in their nature, poised, decomplexed, socially conditioned, spontaneously adapted to group reflexes, and, at last, happy to be alive3 Part of a Larger Trend: Theology Reduced to Anthropology There are many reasons for the tendency to confuse psychology with spirituality, the enumeration of which goes beyond the goals of this paper. But it should be recognized that this is part of a larger trend affecting the entire field of theology. Sociologist Peter Berger, in his book, Facing Up to Mod-ernity, points out the existence of this trend. He says the rise of a "secular theology" is a symptom of this trend and describes it as a denial, in various degrees and on different grounds, of the objective validity of the supernatural affirmation of the Christian tradition. Put differently, the movement gen-erally shows a shift from a transcendental to an immanent perspective, and from an objective to a subjective understanding of religion. Generally, traditional affirmations referring to otherworldly entities or events are "'translated" to refer to concerns of this world, and traditional affirmations about the nature of something "out there".are "translated" to become statements about the nature of man or his temporal situation.: Berger is thus noting the loss of the "transcendent" in our theology, with ~Jacques Maritain. The Peasant of the Garonne: An Old Layman Questions Himself About the Present Time. trans. Michael Cuddihy and Elizabeth Hughes (Toronto: Macmillan Co. 1968). pp. 179-180. ~Peter L. Berger. Facing Up to Modernity (New York: Basic Books Inc. 1977). p. 164. Psychology and Spirituality / 505 such results as the reduction of divine inspirations to subconscious drives, the kingdom of God being identified with material creation, and the confusion between a psychological peak experience and a true experience of the divine. Prayer then becomes a secondary occupation designed to prepare us for our worldly ministry or, as the guest lecturer of the religious' retreat weekend pronounced, "all liturgy, prayer and worship" must be oriented to our aposto-late of serving the poor. While serving the poor is an important vocation, one that is solidly based on scripture, the Catholic charism of an appreciation of the efficacy of prayer in its own right can be lost, and the subordination of the spiritual to the material can result. We then become not only people "in the world" but, unfortunately, people "of the world." Professor of psychology, Paul Vitz, recognizes the same trend that sociol-ogist Peter Berger does. Vitz claims that this trend today results in a substitu-tion of psychology for religion and has given rise to a form of psychology which he calls "selfism." In his work, Psychology as Religion: The Cult of Self- Worship, Vitz says: .it will be argued that psychology has become a religion, in particular, a form of secular humanism based on worship of the self. It is no doubt becoming clear that self-theory is a widely popular, secular, and humanistic ideology or "religion." not a branch of science . Self-psychology commonly functions as a religion. It is appropriate to use Fromm's definition of religion: "Any system of thought and action shared by a group which gives the individual a frame of orientation and an object of devotion."3 Summing up the whole movement in this area of theology, Berger says that "our movement thus replicates to an amazing degree, in form if not in content, Feuerbach's famous program of reducing theology to anthropology.TM The Goal of Modern Psychology vs. The Goal of Christianity When theology is reduced to anthropology, spirituality likewise is reduced to the secular sciences, notably psychology, and perhaps sociology. We might first point out the differences between the goals that the two disciplines hold out for humankind. In Christianity, the goal is communion with God. The Second Vatican Council affirmed this traditional teaching and cited it as the cause of the dignity of each person. Thus, any attempt to exalt the dignity of mankind without basing itself on this call to communion with God would be incomplete at best, if not counterproductive. In Gaudium et Spes we read the words of the Council Fathers: An outstanding cause of human dignity lies in man's call to communion with God. From the very circumstance of his origin, man is already invited to converse with God. For 3Paul C. Vitz, Psychology as Religion: The Cult of Self- Worship (Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans Pub. Co., 1977), pp. 9,37. '~Berger. Modernity, p. 168. 51~ [ Revi'ew for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 man would not exist were he not created by God's love and constantly preserved by it. And he cannot live fully according to truth unless he freely acknowledges that love and devotes himself to his Creator.~ In the language of the Christian tradition, this dignity has been expressed several ways: by St. Augustine's "God became man so that men might become God," or, "what God is by nature we become by grace," or "the deification of man." This traditional language is being replaced by a new description of the beatific vision: the state of being "fully human." The widespread appeal of this new phrase is mostly a reaction against the implication that in communion with God we no longer are human or perhaps become some sort of angelic being. That implication is certainly not true and it is a distortion of the proper understanding of our destiny. Nevertheless, there are limitations to the use of this new phrase: "fully human," and the phrase must be properly understood. Ontologically speak-ing, it is the best phrase to use if one defines the human as having an innate capacity for the divine, as St. Thomas did, or, if one defines human as having an obediential potency for the infinite God, as Karl Rahner does. Thus, ontologically speaking, when the person is in communion with God, she has realized her full potential and thus is "fully human." However, it is not an acceptable term when one speaks of the conscious-ness, the experiential dimension, of the person in the beatific state. Judging by the texts of the great mystics, in the beatific state one has a real perception of union with God when there is a oneness with the infinite. From St. John of the Cross' Living Flame of Love: Accordingly, the intellect of this soul is God's intellect; its will is God's will: its memory is the memory of God: and its delight is God's delight: and although the substance of this soul is not the substance of God, since it cannot undergo a substantial conversion into him, it has become God through participation in God. being united to and absorbed in him, as it is in this state.n And, in his Spiritual Canticle, John says even more boldly that besides teaching her to love purely, freely, and disinterestedly as he loves her, God makes her love him with the very strength with which he loves her.7 The ability of the human to love the divine with the same infinite love has been explained as the action of the Holy Spirit which, in the order of love, accomplishes what is not possible on the ontologic or essential order. To ~Walter M. Abbott, gen. ed., The Documents of Vatican If(Chicago: Follett Pub. Co., 1966), pp. 215-216. ~'Kieran Kavanaugh and Otilio Rodriguez, trans., The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross (Wash. D.C.: ICS Publications, 1979), p. 608. 71bid., p. 554. Psychology and Spirituality / 507 describe this state of complete communion with God as the state of being "fully human" thus lacks the descriptive power necessary to do justice to the state. In addition, the phrase, "fully human," carries with it an implication, a connotation, of autonomy that is not proper to the idea of love or commu-nion. Love or communion means relatedness--a total giving of self. The recognition of this subtle tendency in the use of the term "fully human" is important and brings to mind a similar difficulty in philosophy. Descartes' "1 think, therefore I am" likewise carries a connotation of autonomy of existence in the phrase, "I am." It is proper, rather, to say "I am caused to be." While the distinction may seem insignificant, just as the tendency in the" phrase "fully human" seems to be minor, it is not. It is proper only to God to say, "1 am," since he alone is non-contingent being. We are the ones who are contingent. Just as religion starts with the distinction between God and his creation, so too does it end with the distinction between human and divine which become, at the same time, fully one. Any term which seeks to describe the beatific state must clearly, and in proper balance, represent both the distinction and the union. However, if this lack of descriptive power in the term "fully human" were the only problem, there would not be a major difficulty in distinguishing between the goal of psychology and the goal of Christianity. But it is the next step after this where the heart of the problem lies. Once such phrases leave the hands of the professional theologians, they are subject to the mentality of the times. Unfortunately, the nuance that "being fully human" means precisely a capacity for the divine, for full union with God, is not always evident. With the massive popularity of psychology in our culture--and thus in the Church --the phrase "fully human" has often been equated, subconsciously or con-sciously, with the state merely of total self-realization or self-fulfillment, how-ever this be couched in such psychological phrases. This psychological conception of the goal-of-the-person, especially in "selfism" (Vitz' term), tends to be a state of complete emotional balance, a state of total se/f-possession, or a contentment with self. If modern religious were to try to define what the state of perfection is, many would come up with some similar image. This image, though, can't carry the full sense of the personal goal by Christianity: communion with God. What is lacking is pre-cisely what Berger says our modern theology is lacking: a full sense of the transcendent. Biblical and Mystical Images of the Christian Goal One of the best images we have of the personal goal offered in Christianity is found in the New Testament: "While he was praying, his face changed in appearance and his clothes became dazzlingly white" (Lk 9:29; see Mk 9:2-3). It is no coincidence, then, that the final state of union with God possible on earth, that of relative perfection, has traditionally been called "transforming 51~1~ / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 union," the union in which the person is utterly transformed by the Holy Spirit. The radiance of such holiness is not just a literary device, but expresses the reality of the heights of holiness to which all persons are called. It is a oneness with the infinite Holy which, of its very nature, radiates light, love and truth. Such an idea of holiness was not unknown to the Old Testament authors: As Moses came down from Mouht Sinai with the two tablets of the commandments in his hands, he did not know that the skin of his face had become radiant while he conversed with the Lord. When Aaron, then, and the other Israelites saw M~ses and noticed how radiant the skin of his face had become, they were afraid to come near him. (Ex 34:29-30). Whenever Moses entered the presence of the Lord to converse with him, he removed the veil until he came out again. On coming out, he would tell the Israelites all that had been commanded. Then the Israelites would see that the skin of Moses' face was radiant; so he would again put the veil over his face until he went in to converse with the Lord (Ex 34:34-35). A "radiance" of holiness is not uncommonly mentioned in mystical theol-ogy. In this science, it is called an "aureole." Thus Poulain speaks of it as fact: In the case of ecstatics we meet occasionally with the following phenomena which concern the body: I'. The body rises up into the air. This is what is termed levitation. 2. Or it is enveloped in a luminous aureole. 3. Or it emits a fragrance. These phenomena are not a necessary effect of the mystic union itself, like those that we have just described above. They are superadded to it. When God produces these excep-tional phenomena, it is usually with the object of giving credit to one of his servants whom he has charged with some important mission.8 While theologians might debate the historicity of such biblical citations or the authenticity of an aureole, the central importance of these images is that they dramatically point out the difference between a psychological content-ment and a radical transformation by the Holy Spirit. These are two distinct goals. It is of the greatest importance to seek the proper goal because, in scriptural terms: The idols of the nations are silver and gold, the handiwork of men. They have mouths but speak not: they have eyes but see not; They have ears but hear not, nor is there breath in their mouths. Their makers shall be like them, everyone that trusts in them (Ps 135:15-18). In a very real way, we become what we seek to become. We are trans-gA. Poulain, The Graces of Interior Prayer: .4 Treatise on Mystical Theology. trans. Leonora L. Yorke Smith (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co., 1950), p. 170. Psychology and Spirituality / 509 formed into what we love, since this is the very nature of love itself: love unites and transforms us into what we love. Thus, if we seek, as our final end, a goal of se/f-contentment, we might just end up with only that. In fact, to achieve a true, deep psychological peace, one that is not transi-tory or superficial, actually requires a full communion with God. Being fully human is a result of this transformation by grace. As St. Teresa of Avila put it so well in a poem that she wrote and kept in her breviary, "Who God posses-seth, in nothing is wanting; alone God sufficeth." But, in the same breath, we must also add that if one seeks just apsycho-logical peace, one might find that it is always one step out of reach. "Take heed, therefore, how you hear: to the man who has, more will be given; and he who has not, will lose even the little he thinks he has" (Lk 8:i8). The Means to Achieve These Goals Are Different As has been shown, the goal of a psychologist is usually different from the goal of a spiritual director. Likewise, the means to achieve their goals also tend to be different. The modern person often speaks of his emotional and spiritual needs, and calculates ways to fulfill those needs. Commenting on Carl Rogers' encounter group psychology, Vitz refers to a work by Thomas Oden: Oden's conclusion that the encounter group is a demythologized, secularized Judeo- Christian theology is consistent with the case we have presented here. He goes on to develop a theological interpretation of encounter group ideology which is important and generally convincing. He argues that the underlying basic questions of encounter theol-ogy (for our purposes, read "selfist" theology) are: I What are the limits of my being that frustrate my self-actualization? III How can ! actualize these possibilities in order to become more fulfilled.~ II What possibilities are open for deliverance from my predicament? As a result of this secular approach, one's concern turns toward one's self-growth and development, often under the guise of seeking God's will, and with the best of intentions. While it is certainly important to take into account one's needs when discerning God's will, when this consideration becomes too much at the center of our thoughts, there will exist an imbalance in our discernment process. Some have even argued that all the person has to do in discerning God's will is recognize his own needs! This statement itself reflects a growing lack of the transcendent in our lives. Such imbalance is decidedly 9Vitz. Psychology as Religion, p. 75. 510 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 un-Christian. Yet it can and does have a serious effect on our spirituality. Perhaps this seems like a small error, but it is not. Augustine said, I/irtus est ordo amoris (virtue is love ordered). When our love becomes disordered, it is, by definition, sin. Vitz outlines the values resulting from such an imbalance: .it is clear that the concepts and values of selfism are not conducive to the formation and maintenance of permanent personal relationships or to values like duty, patience, and self-sacrifice, which maintain commitment. There is every reason to believe that the spread of the selfist philosophy in society has contributed greatly to destruction of families. All this is done in the name of growth, autonomy, and "continuing the flux.''~0 A case in point: a young married couple was having marital difficulties. The wife started to see a psychologist on a regular basis. She uncovered the fact that, due to her childhood, she felt a strong need for affection and emo-tional affirmation which she did not feel she was getting from her husband. The result is predictable: divorce. She, with a small child, is now trying to make a meager living while looking for a man in his 30's who is very affection-ate and loving, and will give her what she needs. While there need be no doubt that the analysis of her childhood problems was correct, this young lady is now in a worse situation than before. It is also very unlikely that a tende~', affectionate man in his 30"s will want to nurse an "emotionally starved" woman. At any rate, such a marriage would begin with an unbalanced relationship. A woman who goes into a marriage with the idea of fulfilling her own needs as her primary motive is unlikely to be able to develop a deep, loving relationship. Love, by its very nature, gives. This woman was following the means that are designed to achieve the selfist goal of emotional contentment. She had a need; she did not believe her husband was capable of meeting that need; therefore, she divorced him to find someone else who could meet her need--a scenario that is becoming a very common one in this country. But the means offered by the Gospel are very different. In fact, the Gospel offers exactly the opposite approach. Its means are summed up: "Whoever would preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will preserve it" (Mk 8;35). This only makes sense since, as was stated above, the true nature of love is to give totally of oneself. The Second Vatican Council brought out this theme in Gaudium et Spes: Indeed, the Lord Jesus, when he prayed to the Father, "that all may be one.as we are one" (Jn 17:21-22), opened up vistas closed to human reason. For he implied a certain likeness between the union of the divine Persons and the union of God's sons in truth and charity. This likeness reveals that man, who is the only creature on earth which God wills for itself, cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of himself.~ ~Olbid., p. 83. ~Abbott. Vatican II, p. 223. Psychology and Spirituality / 511 Pelagianism and Self-Actualization There is a certain likeness between our modern situation and the anti- Pelagian campaign in the Church from 412 to 420 A.D. Pelagius, influenced by stoicism and the Roman concept of virtue, agrued (according to Augustine) that man was able to live a good life without the. grace of God, at least after an initial remission of sins and the infusion of grace so that one would be able to recognize the good. Augustine strongly disagreed and argued steadfastly for the need of grace throughout our lives to turn our wills to the good and empower us to attain that good. Pelagius, on the other hand, believed that our nature is grace. And, since nature is grace, there is no need for a continuing assistance from God. Taken to its extreme, this position would state that God has therefore contributed his part by creation and redemption, and now, in modern times, it is up to us to transform ourselves and the world by our labor. While this idea is attractive, and has a good bit of truth to it, it has a serious flaw: it lacks a full appreciation of the transcendent, of the relationship between God and his creation, which he continues to hold in existence at every moment. There must be a distinction between nature and grace, while, at the same time, we must recognize their profound interrelatedness--just as there must be a distinction between the human psyche and the human spirit, while we recog-nize their unity in the person. Without some distinction between grace and nature, there is no room for any true spirituality. And it is precisely the theological concept of grace that is usually the means of expressing one's dynamic relationship with God, and thus with his creation. Maritain insists on such a clarity of conceptualization: Between faith and reason, as between grace and nature, there is an essential distinction; and one sometimes tends to lose sight of it . But between faith and reason, as between grace and nature, there is no separation. One tends sometimes to overlook that, too. Whatever the dullness of our ancestors [failing to integrate the concepts] and of a good many of us [failing to distinguish the concepts], things are that way, and so is life: there is distinction without separation.~2 Augustine had added the fear that if our idea of grace collapsed into that of nature, this misconception would eventually lead to a feeling of self-sufficiency, just as it did for the Roman stoics: one achieves one's salvation on the basis of self-merit. The "Doctor of Grace" says: There is the added danger that when a man, miserable as he is, is leading a good life and doing good, or rather, when he imagines he is doing so, he will dare to glory in himself and not in the Lord, and put his hope for a good life in himself.~3 ~2Maritain. Peasant of the Garonne, pp. 166-167. 512 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 The Council Fathers recognized a similar danger in today's culture with respect to the secular sciences (thus including psychology). Gaudium et Spes points out: No doubt today's progress in science and technology can foster a certain exclusive emphasis on observable data, and an agnosticism about everything else. For the methods of investigation which these sciences use can be wrongly considered as the supreme rule for discovering the whole truth. By virtue of their methods, however, these sciences cannot penetrate to the intimate meaning of things. Yet the danger exists that man, confiding too much in modern discoveries, may even think that he is sufficient unto himself and no longer seek any higher realities,t4 To lose these "higher realities" is to lose the transcendent. To think oneself self-sufficient is the opposite of having faith. Faith implies a complete depen-dence upon God, which is nonetheless liberating. To glory in oneself, to be self-sufficient in this sense, is to set mankind in the place of God. In Old Testament terms, this is idolatry. On the other hand, Virtus est ordo amoris. Like Pelagianism, if men implicitly or explicitly replace spirituality with psychology, they will, as Augustine says, "imagine that they are doing good" but may lose even the little they think they have. Professor Vitz also sees parallels between Pelagianism and the use of modern psychology: The present form of selfism also contains strong Pelagian strands. But a strong element in his theology might, under the traditional and rather extreme interpretation of it, be viewed as akin Io humanist selfism. So it has been accepted by Fromm, who cites Pelagius as an ally and representative of what he calls "humanistic" religion, in contrast to the "'authoritarian" religion typified by Augustine . Like all popular heresy, selfism has some positive and appealing properties. That you should look out for yourself is nice (and useful) to hear; that you should love and care for others is a familiar and great moral position. What is excluded is the spiritual life of prayer, meditation, and worship--the essential vertical dimension of Christianity, the relation to God. Selfism is an example of a horizontal heresy, with its emphasis only on the present, and on self-centered ethics. At its very best (which is not often), it is Christianity without the first commandment.~S 1 would add to Vitz' statement that some of the better "secular theologies" do see a benefit of prayer, meditation and worship, but only ifwefeela need; only if it does something for us. This phenomenon, praying only if we feel a need for ourselves, is not new--just perhaps more widespread today, and now believed to be a good spirituality. The Mystical Doctor, St. John of the Cross, denounced such attitudes in his own day: Ah, my Lord and my God! How many go to you looking for their own consolation and ~3Augustine, Grace and Free Will in The Fathers of the Church. trans. Robert P. Russell (Wash. D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1968), vol. 59, p. 257. ~4Abbott, Vatican IL p. 263 [emphasis added]. ~sVitz, Psychology as Religion. pp. 94-95. Psychology and Spirituality / 513 gratification and desiring that you grant them favors and gifts, but those wanting to give you pleasure and something at a cost to themselves, setting aside their own interests, are few.~ While it is true that God desires only what is good for us, to pray primarily to satisfy one's owns needs is a self-centered approach. It is questionable whether such could be considered true prayer at all. One's own internal dispo-sitions and desires, in this case, are everything. Christianity and Its "Marvelous Reflux" As Professor Vitz pointed out, there is a lack of full understanding of the new Gospel message, especially of the first commandment. In the words of the New Testament, Jesus said to him: You shall love the Lord your God with your whole heart, with your whole soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments the whole law is based, and the prophets as well (Mt 22:37-40). It has always been difficult to reconcile these two commandments in one's own life--to love God with everything one possesses and yet to love one's neighbor as oneself. There seems to be an even greater confusion today in the wake of Vatican II. Many have charged forward with great enthusiasm into the world (including psychology). Our traditional spirituality has been charged by such persons with "verticalism," a rejection of the world that in its turn leads to a denigration of the individual person. However, it is time that we turn again to that other citation from the same council: "an outstanding cause of human dignity lies in man's call to communion with God." This final vocation of humankind must lie at the center of our dignity. It is, of course, true that "if anyone says, 'My love is fixed on God,' yet hates his brother, he is a liar" (I .In 4:20). It is also true that mankind must labor to achieve its salvation in the world. Thus, in the commentary accom-panying the text of Abbott's edition of Gaudium et Spes, the author notes: For the Christian, this constitution probably contains no bolder invitation to theological reflection than this brief allusion to the light divine revelation sheds on the meaning of man's vocation to find human and personal fulfillment in and through society.~7 ~'John Sullivan, ed., Spiritual Direction: Carmelite Studies #1 (Wash. D.C.: ICS Publications, 1980). p. 30. ~TAbbott, Vatican IL p. 223. 514 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 But it is also true that the Christian must keep his eyes on "a better, heavenly home" (Heb 11:16) and "run so as to win" (1 Co 9:24). Perhaps a more central reason for the confusion over the interpretation and execution of the two great commandments to love God and to love neighbor is that, like the failure to distinguish between nature and grace, there is often a failure to make the distinction between our neighbor and God in terms of the actions of our Christian lives. Without this distinction one easily falls into a secular humanism and such ideas as prayer and liturgy quickly become relegated to a secondary position. It is then that we lose sight of our goal, and our "Christian" actions toward our brothers and sisters become no longer Christian. Just as important, however, as it is to distinguish between God and our neighbor, it is also important to integrate these two great commandments in our lives. Vitz implies, as do many modern writers on spirituality, that there is a de facto separati.on between our "vertical" spirituality and our "horizontal" spirituality, that is, in our relationship with God and with our neighbor. They imply that the idea is a balance between the two dimensions. At first sight, this seems proper--to balance the two. But, on deeper examination, we find that this is not the way to integrate these two commandments. The reason precisely is that God is the infinite holy, the creator, the one on whom we depend for everything. Humankind is a creature, a subordinate being. To put humans on a par with God is an idolatry of man. And to "balance" our love is to put humans on a par with God. How then do we properly integrate the first commandment, love God, with the second commandment, love neighbor? Let us look at the works of three great people: a mystic, a philosopher, and a poet. The mystic is St. Catherine of Siena, named a Doctor of the Church yet a woman without any formal schooling. In a recent colloquium, Sr. Giuliana Cavallini, Director of the National Center of Catherinian Studies in Rome, spoke of how St. Cathe-rine integrated her relationship with God and neighbor: The fundamental revelation of that truth was one of the first teachings that our Lord gave to Catherine. He spoke to her one day and said, "Do you know who I am and who you are? You are the one who is not, and I am the one who is." So Catherine was instructed in that fundamental truth that God is the One who is, and that she. that we, are those who are not. Not that we do not exist, but that we cannot account for our existence, we do not find an explanation for our life, for our existence, in ourselves. The explanation must be sought elsewhere. It must be sought in God who is the One who is and who gives being to all created creatures. This is the foundation of all the spirituality of St. Catherine.~ This very basic perception is, interestingly enough, the very rock upon ~sSr. Giuliana Cavallini, O.P., "The Spirituality of Catherine," St. Catherine of Siena Collo-quium (Wash. D.C.: Dominican House of Studies, 1981), cassette tape side I. Psychology and Spirituality / 515 which the mystic's spiritual life was built. It seems rather negative, perhaps, appearing to lead to a denigration of the person. However, we find that this rock is absolutely necessary for the next truth that God revealed to this remarkable woman: Another aspect [of Catherine's spirituality] which is very beautiful is the great respect she has for God's work--for the human creature which is so beautiful and which is so worthy of being respected because it bears the image of God.~9 The second truth, the beauty of the human creature, is not possible with-out the first truth, God is the one who is, and we are the ones who are not. This certainly takes us back to the statement of Vatican I1, that the outstand-ing reason for our dignity is our call to communion with God. As Catherine points out, we are made in the image of God and are therefore beautiful. It is because we are God's image that this ultimate communion with God is possible. Sister Cavallini points out the necessity for us to realize this "double knowledge" of St. Catherine: If man only knew his nothingness, he would be led to despair. If he only had beautiful thoughts about God. perhaps he would take pride in his beautiful thoughts and go away on the other side. So the two have to go together?° But Catherine doesn't seem to explicitly offer us a way to integrate this "double knowledge." How do we love God and his creatures at the same time? Are we left with a balancing act between the two commandments? Catherine only offers us the image of a well: "the well where you have to go deep to find, at the very bottom, this double knowledge . ,,2~ As this great mystic implies, this knowledge is at the very core of the truth and, like most mystics, does not offer us a way to understand this truth with our intellects. She rather suggests that we too should go "very deep" to find this same knowledge. But the philosopher-theologian takes up where the mystic leaves off, trying to explain the penetrating insights of the deepest mysteries of our faith. Mari-tain, a man well-versed in mystical theology, often attempts such a task. Explaining St. Paul's statement, "For his sake 1 have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as a dung hill, in order that l may gain Christ" (Ph 3:8-10), Maritain says: And by a marvelous reflux, the more he despises creatures as rivals of God. as objects of a possible option against God, the more he cherishes them in and for him whom he loves, as loved by him and made truly good and worthy of being loved by the love which creates and infuses goodness in all things. For to love a being in God and for God is not to treat it simply as a means or mere occasion to love God, which would amount to ~91bid., side 2. 2Olbid., side I. ~ Ibid. 516 ] Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 dispensing oneself from loving it.: it is to love this being and consider it as an end, to desire its good because it deserves to be loved in itself and for itself, this very merit and dignity flowing from the sovereign Love and sovereign Lovableness of God. They are thus founded in God and, at the same time, placed beyond all quarrels and vicissitudes.22 This is the "marvelous reflux" of Christianity. To give oneself totally to God, to love him above all other things, is to recognize and thus serve other men in love. This love does not treat others as means, but rather as ends-- because God has made them worthy of such--though it is a love well-ordered. It is he who is the one who is; and we, as St. Catherine says, "are the ones who are not"; we must, like St. Paul, "suffer the loss of all things, and count them as a dung hill," so that we can truly know the beauty of man. Virtus est ordo amoris. This attitude is especially important for those in religious life, as was pointed out by the Council Fathers in their decree Perfectae Caritatis: Those who profess the evangelical counsels love and seek before all else that God who took the initiative in loving us (see I Jn 4:10); in every circumstance they aim to develop a life hidden with Christ in God (see Col 3:3). Such dedication gives rise and urgency to the love of one's neighbor for the world's salvation and the upbuilding of the Church. From this love the very practice of the evangelical counsels takes life and direction.23 This same intuition, it seems to me, was grasped by T.S. Eliot. In "Burnt Norton," one of the Four Quartets, we read: The inner freedom from the practical desire, The release from action and suffering, release from the inner And the outer compulsion, yet surrounded By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving, Erhebung without motion, concentration Without elimination, both a new world And the old made explicit, understood In the completion of its partial ecstasy. The resolution of its partial horror?4 This is the "double knowledge" of St. Catherine, the "marvelous reflux" of Jacques Maritain, Eliot's "concentration without elimination." It is such a concentration on what he earlier calls the "still point," the center of all that is, i.e., the Infinite Ground of Being that does not eliminate. Rather, things are "made explicit," "understood," and there is a "resolution" of the "new world and the old." It might be objected that this approach, to love God totally and thus love all creation in him, is fine on a theoretical level, but on a practical level one must devote a certain amount of time to prayer with God and the rest of the 22Maritain, Peasant of the Garonne. p. 58. ~3Abbott, Vatican IL pp. 470-471. ~4T.S. Eliot. The Four Quartets (USA: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich Inc., 1971), p. 16. Psychology and Spirituality / 51"/ time to "building up the Body of Christ in the world." While it is true that one must set apart dedicated times of prayer in quiet, the perception that there are times of work and times of prayer is to perpetuate the old error of splitting contemplation and action, or splitting prayer and work. Concerning this rela-tionship in Catherine's life we read: The balance of contemplation and action in the last twelve years of Catherine's life was not merely a relationship of complementarity. It was precisely what she experienced in contemplation that impelled her into action. And all that she touched or was touched by in her activity was present in her prayer. Indeed. in her later years she was.seldom physically alone when she prayed, except in her room at night. And her contemplation. on the other hand. was so present in her active life that she prayed and even burst into ecstasy within the text of many of her letters.2~ Like Catherine, a person living a full spiritual life will move at all times in concert with the divine love and will: the rhythm of quiet prayer, liturgical prayer and one's apostolate are all, and at the same time, both prayer and work. One's prayer, by the efficacy of God and the union of all in the Mystical Body, works to build up the Body of Christ. And one's work, done in har-mony with divine love, itself is a prayer. Certainly, Catherine was an unusual woman and the heights of love she reached must be a goal for us. It is also true that in the beginnings of a real spiritual life, we perhaps know scarcely little of a direct'love for God. This total self-giving to God is the goal. Yet we must be ever mindful of the Vatican Council's challenge to all people: Thus it is evident to everyone that all the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity. By this holiness a more human way of life is promoted even in this earthly society?~' And we must not substitute other goals for this end. If instead we seek for a psychological contentment, it can lead to "selfism" and perhaps the loss of everything. In a like manner, if we seek to balance the "vertical" and the "horizontal," that is, to balance a love for God and a love for neighbor, it might lead to an incomplete grasping of the Gospel message. This necessary goal of a total love for God, and, on a marvelous reflux, his creation, is especially important for those who have consecrated their lives explicitly to God. This explicit seeking after perfect charity and holiness, which the Council Fathers state all are called to, is nothing other than a total second conversion. The importance of this second conversion is a common theme in spiritual texts and a consistent theme in the lives of the saints. For those dedicated to God, it is of the utmost importance since it is an implicit part of their vocation. :~Catherine of Siena. Catherine of Siena: The Dialogues. trans. Suzanne Noffke. (New York: Paulist Press. 1980). p. 8. ~"Abbott. Vatican IL p. 67. 5111 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 Two conversions ordinarily occur in the majority of the saints and religious who become perfect; one, by which they devote themselves to the service of God; the other, by which they give themselves entirely to perfection . The reason why some reach perfection only very late or not at all is because they follow only nature and human sense in practically everything. They pay little or no heed to the Holy Ghost, whose appropriate work is to enlighten, to direct, to warm . The Holy Ghost waits some time for them to enter into their interior and, seeing there the operations of grace and those of nature, to be disposed to follow his direction: but if they misuse the time and favor which he offers them, he finally abandons them to themselves and leaves them to their interior darkness and ignorance, which they pre-ferred and in which they live thereafter amid great dangers for their salvation . The salvation oi" a religious is inseparably linked to his perfection, so that if he abandons care for his spiritual advancement, he gradually approaches ruin and loss. If he does not come to this pass, it is because God, wishing to save him, mercifully comes to his assistance before his fall. All the masters of the spiritual life agree on this maxim: He who does not advance, falls back.27 St. Paul likewise points out the importance of both recognizng the proper goal and running towards it, especially for those whom he calls the "spiritually mature": ! do not think of myself as having reached the finish line. I give no thought to what lies behind but push on to what is ahead. My entire attention is on the finish line as I run toward the prize to which God calls me--life on high in Christ Jesus. All of us who are spiritually mature must have this attitude. If you see it another way, God will clarify the difficulty for you (Ph 3:13-15). It is only with such an attitude that we are able to be "in the world" but not "of the world." If we perhaps had lost the first part of this idea in pre-Vatican 11 days (i.e., forgot we were in the world), we may tending to lose the second part in present times (i.e., forget we are not of the world but seek a better home). However, both poles in the tension must be maintained: "in the world" but not "of the world." It is only in this tension that we are able to bear witness to the light! Spirituality and Psychology Should Exist in Harmony Admitting that the goals of modern psychology and spirituality are often different, and that the means to achieve those goals are likewise different, it should also be recognized that this difference need not be antagonistic. Com-menting on the ideal role of the secular sciences in this service of God, the Council Fathers write: Therefore, if methodical investigation within every branch of learning is carried out in a genuinely scientific manner and in accord with moral norms, it never truly conflicts with faith. For earthly matters and the concerns of faith derive from the same God. Indeed, 27R. Garrigou-Lagrange, The Three Ages of the Interior Life: Prelude of Eternal Life. trans. M. Timothea Doyle (St. Louis: Herder Book Co., 1955). Vol. II, pp. 23, 25-26. Psychology and Spirituality whoever labors to penetrate the secrets of reality with a humble and steady mind, is, even unawares, being led by the hand of God, who holds all things in existence, and gives them their identity.28 However, Charles Tart, transpersonal psychologist, points out that West-ern Psychology implicitly rejects the notion of a god or of a universe that was created for a reason. In his article "Some Assumptions of Orthodox, Western Psychology," he says: Members of Western scientific culture in general, as well as psychologists specifically, basically assume that the universe in which they live has no reason for its existence. Because this is a somewhat depressing idea, we seldom give any thought to it. This assumption and other assumptions about the nature of the universe as a whole are incredibly audacious assumptions.?9 This "detachment" from spiritual matters when conducting the secular sciences is a widespread phenomenon in the world today, as Tart points out, and it is usually adopted in the name of objectivity or for the sake of not imposing one's own values on another. But the absence of true values does not result in objectivity nor freedom. Rather, the world and each person them-selves become unintelligible. And, in the field of psychology, it is especially dangerous since psychic health is impossible unless one is able to answer such basic, universal questions as, "Who am ,1? . Why do 1 exist? . What will happen after death?" Once again, the words of the Council Fathers ring true: But if the expression, the independence of temporal affairs, is taken to mean that created things do not depend on God, and that man can use them without any reference to their Creator, anyone who acknowledges God will see how false such a meaning is. For without the Creator the creature would disappear. For their part. however, all believers of whatever religion have always heard his revealing voice in the discourse of creatures. But when God is forgotten the creature itself grows unintelligible.30 Thus, psychology in one of its worst forms, "selfism," is not only insuffi-cient when it does not recognize the Beginning and End of all creation, it is also, in the words of Paul Vitz, "bad psychology": From the perspective of "depth" psychologists and others who work with the seriously disturbed, selfism is a superficial theory causing occasional short-term positive effects in people who are already healthy or in those with only trivial neurotic difficulties. In short, selfism is not only bad Christianity, it is bad psychology and any seeming benefits are merely short-term, superficial results that will quickly passP~ Unfortunately, it has happened that these sorts of popular "psychologies" receive the most public notice and are the easiest to understand. They have an :~Abbott, Vatican IL p. 234. ~gCharles T. Tart, ed., Transpersonai Psychologies (New York: Harper and Row Pub. Inc., 1975), p. 66. a0Abbott, Vatican IL p. 234. 3~Vitz, Psychology as Religion. pp. 38-39 5~0 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 immediate appeal and can produce, as Vitz says, positive effects that are merely superficial and pass quickly. Naturally, the passing psychological fads have affected the Church, too; as Maritain points out in a rather sarcastic tone: What tickles my funny bone is the rush of consecrated persons who, in spite of an incurable incompetence, can't wait to have themselves indoctrinated with the most pious (and least scientific) enthusiasm.3-' However, even some of the more professional psychologies cannot be used without careful scrutiny. Perhaps one of those leading the list of psychologists in vogue by more serious-minded studer~ts of spirituality is Carl Jung. How-ever, William McNamara, author of The Art of Being Human, The Human Adventure, Mount of Passion, founder of Spiritual Life magazine and of two contemplative communities, has this to say: .the prodigious talent and work of C.G.lung in the field of psychology is unassailable, but his attempts to engage the interest and sympathy of religious people by his references to God are bound to confuse more than enlighten. According to Augustine Leonard (1956), a man deeply and extensively versed in philosophy and contemporary psychol-ogy, the Divine Quaternity postulated by .lung is a result of confused deductions, and consequently: "Those who christen the psychology of .lung as a mystic psyehology are certainly not entirely wrong. That which .lung calls religion, that which he honestly believes to be religion, is not religion at all. even from the empiricalpoint of view. It appears to be only a very incidental manifestation."33 Toward an Integration of Psychology and Spirituality Nevertheless, even during the infancy of the new science of psychology, spirituality can gain much from it. One area receiving much atiention is that of dreams. Jungian psychologists have been a great help toward an under-standing of dreams, and a spiritual director might want to make occasional use of their analyses. However, it should be noted that whatever comes from the subconscious does not necessarily find its origin in God. In fact, it often can be in direct opposition to the Christian message. In addition, the subconscious is not the human spirit, or our "deep center" as William McNamara calls it: Lastly, man's deep center cannot be equated with what is popularly as well as psycholog-ically termed "the subconscious.'" There is a definite subliminal aspect to the deep center, however.34 To give an example,'there was a person who was very gifted, who certainly had an infused gift of wisdom. She had a dream that an owl flew and came to ~2Maritain, Peasant of the Garonne, p. 180. ~aTart, Transpersonal Psrchologies p. 399. ~41bid. p. 413. Psychology and Spirituality / 521 rest on her arm. The claws hurt quite a bit but were bearable. But other people rejected the owl and began to abuse and hurt the owl. Rather than see such an esteemed creature suffer so, she voluntarily released the owl and had it fly away, although she knew she would sorely miss it. This dream had its origin in the subconscious. The owl symbolized wisdom and the pain of the claws referred to the great pain she suffered in acquiring this wisdom. But the public often rejected such wisdom and she was beginning to think of hiding this precious gift. However, consciously reflecting upon the dream, she rejected hiding the gift since she knew that it was a gift from God which must be shared with the ones that would hear. She had to accept the abuse her gift would suffer in the same way that Christ accepts our continual abuse but does not withdraw from us. The dream, she saw, did not come from God. Nonetheless, in the course of spiritual direction, it was important for her to understand this impulse deep within herself and face it squarely. The area of dreams is but one needed addition that the field of psychology has made to spirituality. Other concepts such as sublimation, self-image, repression, projection, and neurosis are all psychological concepts, and the insights born of these have made their way into spirituality, often with great benefit. But we should keep the warnings of Jacques Maritain in mind, and not rush off to the latest enthusiasm without the proper understanding. Psychol-ogy is an instrument to be used by the student of spirituality, as by the spiritual director, carefully. Like a sharp knife in the hands of a surgeon, it can be used for saving lives. But all too often, it has been used by the unskilled, though with the best of intentions, and it has maimed and sometimes destroyed. It is therefore imperative that some of those in the field of Christian spirituality should be trained in the field of psychology. These people will then be able to guide and direct others in its proper use for spirituality. However, it would be unwise to send someone to study psychology unless he has a firm intellectual and experiential knowledge of Christian spirituality. Otherwise, a subtle warping of true spirituality could take place, and then instead of aiding his spirituality, psychology would damage it. Toward a Christian Psychology It should be apparent by now that what is needed is a Christian psychol-ogy. It would be a study of the human psyche using the insights and under-standings of professional psychologists yet permeated with the thought of the greatest depth psychologist--Jesus Christ. And this will be no minor task, no mere rearranging of ideas or just a substitution of Christian terms for psycho-logical ones (which all too 6ften is the case). Rather, the task will be akin to the integration of the secular science of philosophy with theology. Maritain comments on the Angelic Doctor's use of Aristotelian philosophy: 522 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 Because St. Thomas was a theologian, he was careful in choosing, and choosing well, his philosopher.and he was not content with choosing his philosopher; he made him over from head to toe . To say, as so many professors are fond of doing~ that the philosophy of St. Thomas is the philosophy of Aristotle is a gross error.35 We cannot just pour holy water over a particular psychologist's ideas and call it Christian psychology. °Like philosophy, it, too, must be "made over from head to toe." This paper cannot elucidate the form Christian psychology should take. But it is within our purpose to point out one pitfall that must be avoided. McNamara alluded to this pitfall when saying that the subconscious is not one's deepest center. More directly, any adequate Christian psychology must be aware that the human psyche is not identical with the human spirit. Just as psychology is not identical with spirituality, a full understanding of the psyche will not yield a complete understanding of the spiritual dimension of the person. Yet, like psychology and spirituality, though we distinguish between the psyche and the spirit, we must then unite them to understand the oneness of the person. Let me illustrate the difference between the psyche and the spirit. I know of a woman who was experiencing frequent short periods of rather intense agony which seemed to come from the brain. The periods lasted a short while (lesg than 30 minutes) and could occur any time although it usually happened at night. From all other aspects, she tested out normally, yet she continued to suffer these agonies which could not be explained. The woman feared for her sanity and was in a state of anxiety over these occurrences. After a rather lengthy period of discernment, it became evident that the problem was neither psychological nor physiological, though the anxiety was caused by her failing to understand the reason for her pain. It eventually became clear that the pain was the result of an intense "night." Through the infusion of grace, the senses of this persbn, the intellect especially, were being purified in a more intense way than is normal. Hence, instead of feeling the dryness and aridity that normally accompanies the night of the senses, she actually experienced the grace as pain because of its strength. Such a situation is clearly beyond the expertise of a psychologist, and illustrates well the difference between the psyche and the spirit. Spiritual realities, especially in higher contemplative and mystical states, can and often do conflict with "good'' psy6hology. It would have been easy for a psycholo-gist to misread such symptoms and even cause damage--just as could a direc-tor unskilled in the spiritual tradition. Fortunately this was not the case. Of the proper response to this night of the s~nses, Poulain says: "The only thing, then, is to resign ourselves to this terrible situation: frankly to accept a prayer the foundation of which is repose in suffering."36. J~Maritain. Peasant of the Garonne, p. 157. Psychology and Spirituality / $23 This the woman did, and the night of the senses eventually gave way to the peace of contemplation, as indeed it usually does. The pitfall of confusing the psyche with the spirit can be devastating for all Christians, not just for those living a contemplative life. There is a tendency to believe that a completely balanced psyche is identical with a healthy and holy spirit. This is true in the final states of union with God: perhaps the transform-ing union in this life, and certainly the beatific vision in the next. However, it is not necessarily true, and perhaps is not usually the case for those of us who are plodding along our way to our final goal. In fact, psychological impair-ment and spiritual imperfection are often the instruments by which sanctity is wrought by God! This spiritual reality is stated in the second letter to the Corinthians where Paul writes about himself: Three times I begged the Lord that this might leave me. He said to me. "My grace is enough for you, for in weakness power reaches perfection." And so I willingly boast of my weakness instead, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I am content with weakness, with mistreatment, with distress, with persecu-tion and difficulties for the sake of Christ; for when I am powerless, it is then that I am strong (2 Co 12:9-10). This is certainly in harmori~, with Catherine's double knowledge: "You are the one who is not; 1 am the one who is." This understanding of the salutary role of spiritual and psychological imperfection in our pilgrimage to God was one of the foundations of the spirituality of the sometimes neurotic Carmelite, St. Therese of Lisieux: Therese accepted her imperfections and wretchedness with a good heart. When she felt stirrings of her nature or yielded involuntarily to imperfections, far from being aston-ished, she took delight in it and drew benefit from it: "1 know the means for being always happy and drawing profit from my miseries~ Jesus seems to encourage me on this road . He teaches me to profit from everything, both from the good and the evil that I find in myself." This is the way saints react. They are no more exempt from weaknesses than we are. Far from grieving on their account, they accept themselves as they are and make use of their imperfections to raise themselves nearer to God.37 Thus it is not always true that psychological wholeness is of necessity what God seeks for us in this life, although like physical health, we should try our best to develop otir fullness as complete human beings, including our psycho-logical well-being. Nevertheless, this fullness will be unattainable for most, and it is the wise director who does not allow those he directs to dwell too much on their own ~'Poulain, The Graces of Interior Prayer, p. 157. 37Francois Jamart. Complete Spiritual Doctrine of St. Therese of Lisieux. trans. Walter Van DePutte (New York: Alba House. 1961). pp. 38-39. 524 / Review for Religious, July-Aug., 1981 deficiencies, lest dejection and finally despair result. There are certainly times when psychological problems must be faced, and it is rare that any spiritual problem will not have psychological overtones, and vice versa. However, one should beware of seeking psychological wholeness as the primary goal in spiritual direction, assuming that spiritual development will naturally be a result. This is not always the case. Nor should the disciplines of psychology and spirituality be taken as equals~° In spiritual direction, the individual must follow the promptings of the Spirit even if they might, though not necessarily, disagree with the individual's immediate emotional desires. For example, someone might feel the prompt-ings of the Spirit to work with the poor but have an initial feeling of revulsion. Certainly, if he overrides these passing emotional .feelings, and follows his deeper call, the feelings of revulsion will disappear. A vocation followed will eventually lead to a deep inner peace. However, we can only know this through faith and through our knowledge of the spiritual tradition of the Church. Many times the promptings of the Spirit will also be e.motionally pleasing, and thus it will be a spo