Suchergebnisse

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 40.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1981. ; 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. © 1981 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. 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 subscriplion orders or change of address, write: REVIFW I:OU RELIGIOUS; 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 May/June, 1981 Volume 40 Number 3 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW RELtGIOUS; 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 REVII-:w for 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 International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. The Feel of Apostolic Contemplation-in- Action David J. Hassel, S.J. Father Hassel's earlier article, "The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery," appeared in the November, 1980 issue. The present article is also a chapter from his projected book on prayer. Father's address is: Jesuit Community; Loyola University; 6525 N. Sheridan Rd.; Chicago, IL 60626. To contemplate is to see a thing or an event or a person as a whole. It is to grasp the totality of a situation and then to let wonder rise, deep fears and hopes surface, the fire of ambition be kindled, and the still-point of one's being touched. Thus contemplation not only views wholeness but also begins to instill it in the contemplator, an experience much needed in our fragmenting times. Persons lacking commitment to focus their energies, families lacking the love to heal their wounds, and nations lacking noble purpose to render them united--all need contemplation as much as the thirsty and starving need drink and food.' Now the power of contemplation appears in theaction which it structures and directs. Thus contemplation-in-action not only carries appreciation for the whole of a situation and thus renders the contemplator more wholesome but also enters into the very situation contemplated to make it more wholesome. For this reason, the more active a person is and the more deeply he or she interacts with others, the more important becomes contemplation for this person's every action. Indeed, the more explicitly tThis thirst and hunger for the meaning and wholeness of life is eloquently and poignantly record-ed in Studs Terkel's interviews with people from all walks of life. His contemplative book, Work-ing (Avon, New York, 1975, pp. xiii-xv) discovers "the happy few who find a savor in their daily job," and the many whose discontent is hardly concealed: 321 322 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 aware we become of contemplation-in-action within our experience, the better we can promote it in ourselves and in others for the healing of our wounded world. But, as always, difficulties arise which keep us from recognizing contem-plation- in-action and from living it more deeply within our experience. First of all, one can observe with envy the high intensity of secular contemplation in the action of artist or business person and can then expect this same intensity to occur within one's own religious contemplation-in-action. False expecta-tions always result in discouragement. Secondly, because monastic people do much of the writing about contemplation, one can mistake monastic contemplation for the apostolic type more characteristic of lay people, diocesan clergy, and active religious orders. Again, confusion here can dissipate religious energies. A third problem connected with recognizing contemplation-in-action is that the latter is an awareness permeating all one's activities. Therefore, it cannot be exposed by merely lifting off one or other layer of experience, nor be isolated by tracing its roots in one particular activity. Consequently--and this is the fourth difficulty--contemplation-in-action will express itself in a great variety of modes as it appears at diverse levels of experience and in different activities, even though it may be a single pervasive attitude. As a result, a person may be lamenting his or her failure at contemplation-in-action while unknowingly practicing it with some success. Perhaps the following exploration2 of these four problems may yield some inkling of what contemplation-in-action is and some recognition of how the contemplative-in-action feels. This, in turn, could be the source of new satisfaction in one's life, perhaps even the beginning of a certain settled happiness. Religious Contemplation-in-Action Out of the Secular The first problem facing us is the confusion of secular with religious contemplation-in-action--an understandable mistake since the first naturally leads into the second. Like all forms of contemplation-in-action, the secular variety discovers and promotes remarkable wholeness in the contemplator and in the object contemplated. For example, the portrait-artist, while center-ing her consciousness intensely upon the child to be painted, tends to fall in love with the latter as feeling and insight blend gradually into the beautiful whole of the portrait and of the person portrayed. The craftsman, too, is fascinated as the pitcher, shaping under his hands at the potter's wheel, is lifted out of the clay in a blend of graceful shape with smooth pouring. The 2I am greatly indebted to Vincent Towers, S.J., James Maguire, S.J. and Donald Abel, S.J. for their detailed comments on the rough drafts of this article, to Mrs. Mary Ellen Hayes for advice and technical assistance, to Dr. Julia Lane for expert encouragement, to the Warrenville (!11.) Cenacle community for their helpful.suggestions. Contemplation-in-Action / ~2~ novelist also shares in this disciplined joy of secular contemplation-in-action. Saul Bellow could not have given us Herzog, nor J. D. Salinger presented us with Holden Caulfield of The Catcher in the Rye, unless each had gone through a period of 'possessed aloofness' while in his imagination he watched and chronicled the full-bodied development of Herzog or Holden out of a vast variety of detailed activities. In the artist or craftsman or novelist, then, one witnesses the power of secular contemplation-in-action for producing that beautiful whole which delights the artist's own heart and the hearts of all beholders. But such contemplation-in-action is not limited to the sphere of the arts. Watch parents playing with their firstborn child and note their total concen-tration on eliciting new responses from it. As the child slowly unfolds before their eyes during its first twenty-four months, they become ever more dedicated to educating it to beautiful soundness of body, mind, and emotions. If this is not contemplation-in-action, what is? In a similar way, the neurosurgeon, carefully and even exultantly applying his previous week's study of X rays, medical research, and techniques to a brain operation, also experiences this contemplation-in-action as he restores wholesome life to his patient. So, too, the lawyer contemplates-in-action when she manages to see her way through the myriad details of a personal injury suit towards those underlying legal principles which will structure for her a forceful, tight case on behalf of her client, Nor is the business person without contemplation-in-action when intense ambition is painting a new vision and directing precise lines of energy to effect this vision. The resultant business organization is a daring orchestration of people and processes brought to total life for the wholesome delight of the business person's mind and heart and for the good of the community. Evidently, then, secular contemplation-in-action operates within any work, artistic or scientific, speculative or practical, to produce wholesomeness in both the contemplator and the action-situation. Explicitly, each of us has, in some way, experienced these types of secular contemplation-in-action and implicitly we compare their qualities with those of our own religious contemplation-in-action--to the depreciation of the lat-ter. Each of us asks in guilt: "Where in my religious contemplation-in-action is the intense centering, the fascinated.vision, the possessed aloofness, the total concentration and dedication, the exultant application to life, the deep satisfaction in wholeness, and the intense ambition of secular contemplatives-in- action?" Why should not the religious contemplative-in-action be \ discouraged--especially if he equates secular and religious contemplation-in-action and does not know that they are meant to nourish each other reciprocally and precisely out of their difference. To understand their respec-tive differences, let us consider how they cooperate. Religious contemplation-in-action completes the secular. For the wholes of self and of object discovered by secular contemplation-in-action take on fuller meaning and larger value witfiinthe more comprehensive wholes of the 324 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 everyday world and of God as these are found by religious contemplation-in-action. A dynamic reciprocity operates here between the two types of contemplation-in-action. As the secular contemplative-in-action (artist, business person, parent, neurosurgeon, or lawyer) enters more deeply into the object to find its wholeness, he becomes more aware of his personal wholeness since the intense concentration on the object demands full awareness of his powers. But such total awareness of object and of self eventually leads into fuller awareness of the everyday world since the secular contemplative must fit himself and the object contemplated into the larger world of, e.g., serving a client, supporting a family, relaxing socially with friends; wondering about the worth of the object produced by the secular contemplation-in-action. Eventually every secular contemplative-in-action has to ask those terrible questions: "How do I and my work fit into the ongoing world? Why should I continue to ply my art, trade, profession, parenthood? Where am I, my family, and my work heading finally?" Such questioning usually leads to the more religious questions: "Is there anything more than this total world? Is there someone or something permeating this world and leading it to a higher destiny, a fuller life? Can I contact this mysterious one or am I already doing so?" When such questions finally lead into the experience of a meaningful world and of a transcendent God, then religious contemplation-in-action has evolved out of the secular and now redounds to the enrichment of the latter. To see how this is possible, note what happens when a family friend at-tempts to heal a family quarrel. He listens intently as the various family members describe the events leading up to the quarrel. The friend tries to piece together (to do a secular contemplation of) this setting and the quarrel. Once he feels that he knows the whole scene, he endeavors to help each family member see this whole so that each can experience some healing-into-wholeness as each admits his or her own faults, the good points of other fami-ly members, the need to forgive each other, and the necessity of planning together for a better family future. This secular contemplation starts to become contemplation-in-action when each family member begins to act out of this vision. Such secular contemplation-in-action begins to move into its religious counterpart when each family member finds a reason to act beyond himself or herself for unified family action, e.g., the preservation of the fami-ly tradition or the hope for future family members. Later, this religious contemplation-in-action attains fullness when individually the family members think of themselves and act as Christians carrying Christ's presence within the family, and when socially this same family as a group does healing actions which image the future Great Community of the Great Tomorrow beyond the grave. But factually, this neat cooperation between secular and religious contemplation-in-action often breaks down. There is a tendency in each human to abort secular contemplation-in-action before it can rise into the religious. St. Augustine describes vividly how this happens when a person at- Contemplation-in-Action / 325 tempts .to control the world, his fellow human beings and himself apart from or in conflict with God's law and providence. In this case the secular con-templative so concentrates on another person or a business project or a grand scheme as to lose sight of the more comprehensive wholes of community-justice and of God's people. Here secular contemplation becomes divorced from religious. The result is that the secular contemplative becomes hypnotiz-ed by the object of contemplation (nothing else is of equal value), then abject-ly slavish to the latter (the object becomes the only hope), then frantically con-servative of this object (e.g., a beloved, a job, an ambition or fond hope, a favorite pastime like gambling or fishing, a power over others). Because all the person's efforts are so fiercely focused on saving his project, he tends to dissipate mind, heart, and imagination. Thus, in an ironic way, the con-templating person literally fragments himself in efforts to mold his private world into a lasting wholesomeness which fits his own self-image and peculiar needs, but which fails to fit the true wholeness of the world and the Transcen-dent One. As a result, even a person's secular contemplation-in-action tends to disintegrate when its religious completion is aborted. To put this positively, religious contemplation-in-action is a contempla-tion whose resultant activities aim to render man more wholesome within the wholing of the world as the latter develops within the dynamic whole of the Transcendent God. The vision of Teilhard de Chardin which sees the universe converging towards the transcendent Omega Point is one illustration of religious contemplation-in-action. The exuberance of such religious contemplation-in-action once achieved can then redound upon its secular counterpart to render the latter passionate for truth and eager for beautiful action within its peculiar sphere of influence. F~'om all this it should be clear that secular and religious contemplation-in- action are distinct and mutually modifying phases in the contemplative person's wholesome life.3 To confuse one with the other is, then, to neglect one for the other and even to risk diminishing both since they are so naturally interdependent. But even within.religious contemplation-in-action, there is a further clarification to be made. Its monastic variety is different from the apostolic, even though, again, both types are needed to stimulate and to enrich the life of God's people. Here, too, confusion of one with the other debilitates life. Within Religious Contemplation-in-Action, the Monastic and the Apostolic Differ Discouragement is just as apt to arise from confusing the apostolic and the 3Karl Rahner shows the intimate connection between secular and religious contemplation when he demonstrates that supernaturally elevated transcendentality (i.e., God's self-communication in grace) is mediated by any and every categorical reality, (i.e., by the world). For the Christian, there is no separate sacral realm where alone God is to be found (Foundations of Christian Faith, translated by William V. Dych, Seabury Press, New. York, 1978, pp. 151-152). 326 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 monastic within religious c0ntemplation-in-action as it is from equating secular and religious contemplation-in-action. For, to seek continually the qualities of one in the other is to be permanently misled and disappointed. Although all forms of secular contemplation seek for wholesomeness in con-templator and in object contemplated, nevertheless as many types of secular contemplation occur as there are types of contemplators, e.g., artist, lawyer, neurosurgeon, philosopher, business person, parent, novelist and so on. It should be no great surprise, then, that the monastic religious contemplation-in- action of the Poor Clare or the Carthusian will be different from its apostolic counterpart in the life of lay person or diocesan priest or apostolic religious. In monastic contemplation the monk or nun searches deeply, within the roots of his or her innermost being, for personal wholeness and for the mysterious wholesomeness of God's life within this being. Now such a demand-ing search becomes possible only if the person withdraws from the more active concerns of life in the everyday world of the apostle. In his Contemplative Prayer, Thomas Merton makes it clear that the monk must devote himself in a special way to renunciation, repentance, and prayer if he is to sound the depths of his being for God.' In monastic religious contemplation-in-action, the quiet sinking into self to find God requires a strict control of attention as one undergoes the rigors of hard manual labor, very close community living, sometimes deafening silence, and occasionally piercing loneliness. Thus the relief from cultural pressures which enables monastic religious contemplation-in-action to occur is hardly an escape from suffering the harsh demands of love and of the daily labor for survival. But it is a religious contemplation-in-action diverse from that of the apostle in the world of art, business, medicine, education, and family. Unfortunately, much less is writteri about apostolic religious contemplation-in-action than about the monastic varietywespecially from the view of the layperson.~ Because the apostolic contemplative is ordinarily working in a professional position or a ,trade or a skill-job (secretary, housewife, telephone linesman, and so on) and is frequently involved in team-work, he or she must give much attention to the daily concerns of the world--the very concerns from which the monastic contemplative explicitly withdraws. Ttfis apostolic religious contemplation-in-action is more depend-ent on secular contemplation-in-action for its dynamism because apostolic contemplatives are intently pursuing professional jobs, trades, and skills through eight to ten hours per day. As a result, the apostolic contemplative is more concerned with outer wholeness of self and world, whereas the monastic 'Thomas Merton, Contemplative Prayer (Doubleday-Image, Garden City, N.Y., 1971 pp. 19-20). ~Thomas Vernor Moore's Life of Man with God, (Harcourt Brace~ New York, 1956), though quaint, contains case histories of ordinary people enjoying strong contemplation in action. Contemplation-in-Action / 397 contemplative concentrates more on the inner wholeness. Evidently both types of concern are needed by the civic and ecclesial communities since they complement each other. The outer beauty of technological, scientific, and cultural wholeness must be appreciated and promoted if the inner beauty of man's ultimate meaning and destiny is to exist and to be known in depth. On the other hand, the inner beauty of such wholeness makes possible all the outer beauty since the loss of ultimate meaning and destiny in human activities renders technology, science and culture vacuous: if not vicious. Nor is the withdrawal of the mohastic contemplative to be considered unique to this type of contemplation. The apostolic contemplative must prac-tice a somewhat similar asceticism if he or she is to be a first-rank artist, lawyer, neurosurgeon, teacher, sports star, philosopher, business person, or parent. In order to focus intensely upon the contemplated object, such contemplators must withdraw steadily from distractions, occasionally from family life, often from comforts, not rarely from the spotlight of flattering attention. Though the person dedicated to apostolic religious contemplation-in-action may be immersed in the concerns of the world, still he or she must learn to live hidden within the teamwork of the institution and to withdraw from disruptive self-seeking of fame, fortune, and fun. Such withdrawal is essential if the contemplator is to discover better the wholeness of object, self, world, and God. For the aim of every contemplative is to become more whole in order better to see, in all their wholesomeness, other people, the tasks at hand, professional teamwork, family health, national purpose, ecclesial community and God himself. For this reason, the withdrawal should make one more attentive and appreciative of other people, of one's business, of art and music, of wholesome sanctity (a redundant phrase), of professional skill, of science and technology, and of oneself. Such wholesomeness, when appreciated, gives deep intellectual joy and is the fullest reward for disciplined suffering. Consequently, the various types of contemplation-in-action must be carefully distinguished so that each can be pursued with finesse. But since contemplation-in-action has so many ways of expressing itself according to each one's peculiar gifts, situations, aims, and tradition, it is no easy task to discover one's own way of contemplating-in-action. Since each type of con-templation aims at wholeness of object contemplated and of person con-templating, a major error here could fragment the contemplator's personality and induce shoddy activity within his or her specialized secular contemplation-in-action. With this caution in mind, one delves hesitantly within his experience for the feel of apostolic contemplation-in-action, especially since this experience runs so deeply and so uniquely. Towards the Feel of Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action Because apostolic contemplation-in-action is present deep within many actions of the secular contemplative, it can be approached only gradually 328 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 through four steps. The first step consists in answering a series of questions constructed to bring into better focus the secret unity of one's everyday ex-perience. Later, in a second step, reflection on the various levels of this every-day experience helps us to recognize at what level apostolic contemplation-in-action originates. The third step is to work out an explicit definition of such contemplation according to these levels. Here, in a fourth step, one can finally note the feel of contemplation-in-action as it happens within various levels and modes of experience. But let us now take the first of these four steps by leisurely answering for ourselves the following questions: I. Why do I usually get up on time in the morning and not let people wait? 2. Why do I bother to cook breakfast for others and not just for myself? 3. Why do I share my car with others and, on occasional rainy mornings, leave early to get them to work on time? 4. Why, at the job, do I help out on someone else's project when mine is not finished yet? 5. Why should I avoid the second beer at lunch because it makes me loggy at work? Who really cares about my efficiency? 6. Why scrimp and save for others--esp~ecially if they are likely to squander the savings? 7. Why take work and worries home from the~ job? Why bother studying at night to complete degree work or to be more competent in my next day's work? 8. Why keep up correspondence with friends or answer the third telephone call when I'm so tired at night? 9. Why be the one who usually corrects the children and who gets their resentment? 10. Why sometimes spend money meant for entertainment on the needs of others? 11. Why squeeze into the already packed day the Eucharist and another fifteen or more minutes of prayer? In other words, all these why's add up to a single last question: Why do we stretch ourselves out for others hour after hour, day after day, month after month, year after year? Could the answer be that, amid all our sneaky ways, our clever vanities, our downright sins, and our cute manipulation of others to our own desires, we nevertheless do have a strong practical concern for peo-ple, for their welfare and happiness? Could it even be that, deep within, we each feel God quietly encouraging us to stretch our lives out to others? Could it be that, deep within, we want to delight the heart of God? If so, then this is what is called "the stretch," the almost constant doing.of the more difficult out of respect for others and for God. It is, in other words, the willingness to bleed slowly for loved ones and even, at times, for mere acquaintances. This "stretch," then, turns out to be a dynamic unity running through all the day's events to give them meaning and direction. Could it be that this is our seeking Contemplation-in-Action / 329 for God, our God-hunger? Is this our restlessness with anything less than God--a restlessness which renders us mystified at the self-serving actions of the trifler, the super-ambitious, and the bun vivant? Indeed, is this "stretch" or God-hunger the apostolic contemplation-in-action for which we are searching? It would seem not. For such contemplation lies underneath "the stretch" to make it happen. We must yet distinguish various levels of experience and then move underneath each to find the deepest level from where apostolic contemplation-in-action originates. And we find that there are four levels of experience to distinguish. The first or sur-face level is where minor irritations, like the sound of loud rock-and-roll music or the itch of eczema or the sudden hiccup occurs and where minor joys like a satisfying meal or a long sleep or a relaxed laugh, happen. Underneath this surface level, lies the second or physical level where the pains of ulcers or neuralgia lurk and the joys of exuberant good health or of strong sexual pleasure energize one. Underneath these two levels is the third or psychological level where one trembles with fear of failure in one's work or shrinks at seeing the beloved suffer, and where one also is Warmed with the security of being .loved deeply and faithfully by an admired person, or experiences the deep satisfaction of witnessing one's children growing up well. Underneath these three explicitly conscious levels which we all can recognize lies a more hidden fourth level known only implicitly, i.e., by con-trast with the top three levels. Thus a person can feel great joy and serenity at this fourth level, while at the upper three levels he feels terrible suffering and apparent fragmentation. Or the reverse may be the case. "Everything is going my way in health, job-~atisfaction, family life; I've got everything--except that I feel uneasy and deeply restless underneath all of this." In both in-stances, the person feels almost schizophrenic--so clear is the distinction be-tween the top three levels and the deepest fourth level of experience, so direct-ly reverse is the flow of events between the top-three and the fourth levels. Puzzling as this experience is, it is also a revelation of the fourth level where the root of contemplation-in-action lies and it will eventually lead us to the "feel" of apostolic contemplation-in action.6 Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action Is a Heart-Awareness of God and His People To state matters bluntly, apostolic contemplation-in-action is not "the stretch," the disciplined reaching out to others and to God from the third level of experience. It is not the constant calling to mind of God's presence, nor 61 have given a fuller description of these four levels of experience in "The Fourth Level of Prayer: Mystery," (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, VOI. 39, 1980/6. pp. 808-810, 817-819). Confer also "Phenomenology, Psychiatry, and Ignatian Discernment" (The Way, Supplement #6, May, 1968, pp. 27-34) by Felix Letemendia and George Croft for a similar description of four levels of experience. 330 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 constant explicit aspirations, not the "Jesus prayer," nor one's favorite scrip-tural mantra on the second level of experience. It is not constant conversation with God on the second and first levels.7 Apostolic contemplation-in-action may cause these behaviors, but it is not any one or all of them. Rather, it is more like a heart-awareness of God, an affectionate and deep alertness to God in all events, a strong and warm conviction of God's loving presence at the fourth level underlying and yet permeating all life's experiences and hap-penings. 8 This heart-awareness seems to be always operative, like the buoyancy of a cork under water, always unobtrusive, like quiet background music in office or dining room, always implicit, like a mother's awareness of noisy children in the backyard while she is concentrating on a new cake recipe; always pulsing, like the tennis player's awareness of the beloved watching his match from the grandstands; always underlying, like the companionship between two friends whose attention is riveted on an engrossing motion picture; always growing osmotically, like the friendship between two people sitting in the front seat of a car and silently viewing the. countryside during a long trip. This heart-awareness appears not in the least to interfere with conversation or with algebra-solving or with. business-planning or with party-laughing or with landscape-painting or with surgical operating. Indeed, it can be said that this heart-awareness is actually a person's awareness of God's awareness of him while he works through the events of the day--much as when the lover tennis-star is implicitly aware of his beloved's awareness of him as she sits in the grandstand watching his play.9 This heart-awareness is like the alertness of the saints to God's providence in small happenings. God, like the air, is embracing the saints, enabling them to breathe, acting as the medium for all the surrounding events. In such an at-mosphere, nothing is insignificant. There is a second way in which this heart-awareness of God, called apostolic contemplation-in-action, can be described. It seems to be also a per- 'In reading Henri J. M. Nouwen's books and articles on spirituality, I have rarely felt anything but strong agreement--except for one article: "Unceasing Prayer" (America, Vol. 139/3, July 29--August 5, 1978, pp. 46-51), where Nouwen declares: "We convert our unceasing thinking in-to unceasing prayer when we move from a self-centered monologue to a God-centered di;~logue (p. 48)." Though he characterizes this prayer as contemplation, as attentive looking at God, and as presence to God, still the heavy emphasis on thinking and imagining in the article could lead the reader to a false mentalistic perception of praying always. 8In Love Alone (Herder and Herder, New York, 1969, p. 89), Hans Urs Von Balthasar compares the unceasing prayer of heart-awareness to the "the way a man is always and everywhere influenc-ed by the image of the woman he loves." 9 John S. Dunne (The Reasons of the Heart, Macmillan, New York, 1978, pp. 46-54) gives an acute description of this heart-awareness of God wherein one feels known and loved deeply by God. He puts it in Meister Eckhart's terms: this is a laughing between God and man which images the Trinitarian life of mutual joy between and in the three persons. Contemplation-in-Action / 331 son's awareness of God present within him and working out through him into the lives of others. It would explain somewhat Paul the Apostle's remark: "I live now, not I, but Christ lives in me." In this implicit heart-awareness there is even a sense of acting beyond one's capacities, or of being borne along to meet events for which one feels strangely prepared beforehand. This does not imply that such experience is without suffering. On the contrary, the heart-awareness has the tendency to make one more sensitive to the suffering of others and of one's self and even more ready to assume sorrow. For, remarkably, this heart-awareness opens one up not only to God but also simultaneously to God's people and his world. It would seem to contain a readiness for friendship, and for the obligations consequent upon friendship. It is not a state achieved by spiritual gymnastics, by much reading on the meaning of life, by the use of diaries, by experimental prayer-sessions, by con-stant aspirations, and God-conversation, or by psychological dynamics. Rather, it seems to arise within the disciplined service of others out of love. In other words, "the stretch" seems to set up the conditions in which this heart-awareness, this apostolic contemplation-in-action, occurs. The latter would seem, then, to he a natural development in a healthy life of service to God and his people. It appears to be an availability to others which is adaptive~to their needs, hopes, joys and sorrows and which consequently takes on emotional coloring and religious content by way of this adaptation. For this reason, it would seem that apostolic contemplation-in-action is not an esoteric gift but one which is given to many good people by a God eager to promote such heart-awareness of himself and of his people. After all, such awareness would seem to include a penchant for fulfilling the two Great Com-mandments under a vast array of different circumstances and, therefore, under many diverse modes of action. It is time, then, that we considered some of these modes. In this way we can experientially both test the understanding and get the feel of apostolic contemplation-in-action. Various Modes in Which Apostolic Contemplation-in-Action Is Felt Apostolic religious contemplation-in-action as heart-awareness of God is, then, a deep good will towards God, a warm desire for God, a loving remembering of him in his people and his universe. This single basic convic-tion naturally expresses itself in a thousand different ways according to the thousand diverse activities of the apostolic contemplative. Among these thou-sand ways are the following eleven (if you can recognize them in your ex-perience, then you have, I would ~hink, the "feel" of apostolic contempla-tion- in-action): 1. Hope: a pervading sense of the worthwhileness of one's present life and work for the future; a certain fearlessness in facing radical changes within one's community amid the sudden turnings of history. "Why is everyone so depressed?" 2. Patience: St. Paul's hypornone, the strength to stand underneath and to 339 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 hold everything together when all seems to be coming apart and others are deserting the supposedly sinking enterprise; a kind of dilapidated, yet dedicated, serenity amid much suffering and uncertainty. An ~'old-shoe" type says: "What's the big ~panic about?" 3. Need to be Hidden in teamwork: a wanting to contribute one's best quiet-ly; and yet, in times of stress, a boldness to take on the tough job of leadership. "Tell me what you want done--and if you can't tell me, I'll tell you." 4. Passive Alertness to Others: a willingness to wait, to listen, to hear out a person or a situation; a deep respect for the individuality of others; a refusal to domineer in conversation-work-dispute; no demand for a return on love given--because of trust in the other and in God. "I've got time to listen. Relax." 5. A Senseof Being Companioned through the day (at the fourth level): never being alone because at the centei" of one's heart and of the whole world'is the beloved: a turning to God, and frequently finding him there waiting. "Why worry about anything so long as the Lord is with me?" 6. Sense of an Intimate Providence in one's life, of being cared for with remarkable delicacy: events that at first put everything in jeopardy and turmoil eventually turn out to be fortunate; chancehappenings are later seen to fit together with precision; surprises'are taken as God's special attention to a person rather than as senseless interruptions to his or her life. "Someone loves me and is guiding me to himself over this rough road and dangerous terrain." 7. Sense of Belonging to God, to the Church (his people), to the mother of God, to one's community (parish, family, neighborhood, religious order, charismatic prayer-group): a sense of finally being at home--no matter where I travel; a deep content with God, world, oneself in the midst of contradiction. "Yes, my God owns the world--now what's the problem?" (". the world, life and death, the present and the future, are all your ser-vants; but you belong to Christ and Christ belongs to God" I Co 3:22-23.) 8. Firm Conviction of Doing Exactly What God Wants at the Moment and of not wanting to do anything else or to be anywhere else: a sense of rightness (without righteousness) about one's present action; a determined sense of vocation which is nevertheless ready for change; riding hard, yet sitting easy, in the saddle. "For the moment this is where it all is." 9. Constant Hunger to Serve Others: to give them joy, to help them expand their personalities in happiness-knowledge-commitment--even though the servant (e.g., teacher, counselor) will be soon forgotten and very likely will have little'to show for his or her services. "How can I be of help without getting in your way?" 10. A Steady Sense of Gratefulness to God: for the fullness of one's life--for each person, event, knock-at-the-door; a wonder at how much God has entrusted to oneself; gratitude, the mark of maturity and full humaneness. Contemplation-in-Action "How could you be so good to me, Lord?" 11. Finding God in Others: seeing by faith that this person is beloved by God; not projecting some Christ-image on the person so that the latter is not seen for himself and is therefore depreciated, but rather discovering this new value in the person, and therefore serving him more carefully, listening to him more attentively, finding his core-goodness. "He is my brother and Christ's brother.'" 0 These eleven modes (they could be a thousand) have an inner unity amid their diversity." First of all, each is concerned with the wholeness of both the contemplative and the object contemplated. For example, hope sums up the whole past and present to send the totality into the future without a constrict-ing fear; patience serenely holds the present fragmenting situation together; hidden teamwork binds the group together and offers leadership when fragmentation or misdirection threatens; passive alertness to others offers time and support for the healing process; the sense of being companioned at the center of one's being leads into a sense of providence intimately and delicately converging all events towards a full future goodness; the sense of belonging to God-community-worm produces a wholesome contentedness which paradox-ically can issue into fierce efforts to build a better community and world with the firm conviction of doing exactly What God wants at the moment; the con-stant selfless hunger to serve others naturally builds wholesome community; and the steady sence of gratefulness to God means gratefulness to other which, in turn, produces the close unity of friendship.'2 Clearly, then, this heart awareness of God, this apostolic religious contemplation-in-action, fulfills well the definition of contemplation as the perceiving and the building of wholesomeness in the comtemplative and in the object contemplated. There is a second inner unity among these eleven modes of contemplation-in- action. Evidently, each mode is itself an attitude (an habitually lived value) which inspires and molds the.activity flowing out of it. In other words, the mode of contemplation controls the actibn of apostolic religious contemplation-in-action. But each of the eleven attitudes embodies, in its own way, a single attitude common to them all: a total accepting of all reality (God, t°Yves Raguin, S.J. (Paths to Contemplation, translated by Paul Barrett, O.F.M. Cap., Abbey Press, St. Meinrad, Ind., 1974, p. 82), stresses that "the love of God teaches us to love others for themselves., just as they are, with all their defects and with all their hopes." Here he finds common ground between Eastern and Western schools of contemplation, but also great differences (pp. 4-11). "In How to Pray Always without Always Praying (Fides/Claretian, Notre Dame, Ind., 1978) Silvio Fittipaldi, O.S;A., speaks of prayerfulness as a basic life-orientation under!ying all one's activities (p. vii). He then deftly shows how deep questioning of everyday events (pp. 11-27) and a constant wondering-longing about life (pp. 29-40) can be a praying always. These are two more modes to add to the eleven already noted. '21n his Letter to the Colossians, St. Paul, when listing the signs of Christian growth (1:9-12), ap-pears to mention five or six of these modes of contemplation in action. 334 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 world, self, people) and a sense of being, in turn, accepted by all reality.' ~ This attitude is a deep welcoming of all the people and events of life--an attitude symbolized when one's arms are extended wide in service and one's face bears a confident smile of trust." Now among the eleven modes, one may rise in prominence to succeed a second which then recedes to be called upon at a later time for a different situation. Though a person~may temporarily feel, for example, less hope or less sense of intimate providence, nevertheless these attitudes remain even though submerged under the new succeeding mode of, e.g., passive alertness to others. Meanwhile, the single deepest attitude of simple acceptance or welcome is being expressed in one of the eleven (or one thousand) modes. The modes, of course, vary according to the needs of the situation, the type of work being done, or the growth-phase of the contemplative-in-action. But always the single basic attitude of welcoming acceptance knits them together with expectant trust in God and his world. Could it be that this unify-ing attitude is what enables the apostolic contemplative "to pray always"? Could it be, then, that this basic acceptance of God and of his world is the ac-tive embodiment of a man's fundamental option?" The negative side of this acceptance is dramatized in the death-bed rejection of family, God, and world, when the dying person implies: "God, you'v.e cheated me consistently with this harassing world of yours and with this demanding family of mine. Now stay out of my life forever." Such basic cynicism, bubbling corrosively in each of us, can eat away the roots of apostolic religious contemplation-in-action. To face our cynicism may be to see more clearly the radical source of such ~c.ontemplation. Human Cynicism Versus the Divine Indwelling Over our contemporary culture a vast cloud of cynicism rolls, paralyzing the self-sacrificing attitude which empowers apostolic religious contempla- "Hans Urs Von Balthasar, in his article "On Unceasing Prayer" (Theology Digest Vol. 25/1, pp. 35-37), takes this basic attitude to be a readiness to hear God's word at all times in all things, events and persons. "To pray always, therefore, means to make real what is--in turning to God and to the world." For Von Balthasar, such constant prayer is kept alive by articulated or formal prayer in which it is remembered. "The books of George Maloney, S.J., sketch this weldoming attitude in various ways. Inward Stillness (Dimension Books, Denville, N.J., 1976), sees it as a loving surrender in all things to God's loving guidance (pp. 91-92) and as a heart-prayer of constant thankfulness (p. 99). Nesting in the Rock (Dimension Books, 1978, pp. 86 ff.), develops this theme. The Breath of the Mystic (Dimension Books, 1974, pp. 181-183), speaks of contemplation-in-action as a "contuition," a simultaneous awareness of the creature and of the dynamic presence of God within the creature as its ground of being; it is, then, a lov, ing affinity for all with all b~ings. ~qn his How to Pray Today (Abbey Press, St. Meinrad, Ind., 1975, translated by John Beevers, pp. 40-41), Yves Raguin, S.J., finds that the basic disposition for prayer is acceptance of the human condition. Such acceptance first acknowledges that every good act is under the influence of the Holy Spirit and then enjoys this fact amid all the ups and downs of secular activity. Contemplation-in-Action / 335 tion-in-action. In the face of mammoth social problems, contemporary man is oftencounseled: "Always watch out first for Number One, otherwise you'll be suffocated by other people's needs." The human mind and heart then con-cludes: "Apostolic contemplation-in-action is impossible." And the Lord replies within the heart of each person precisely as he responded to Peter's similar complaint in the episode involving the rich young man: "Yes; it is im-possible- without God." This complaint often takes the form of an objection: "How can I who am so aware of my own fragmentation and partialness be expected to help others to wholesomeness? Who am I to attempt apostolic contemplation-in-action?" The very formulation of this objection is a humiliating experience, yet the humiliation happens to be the first step in doing such contemplation-in- action. Tho married couple raising three young children has known from the days of the first birth that the one spouse's partiainess will, paradoxically and often humiliatingly, be the source of the other's wholesomeness. Hus-band and wife need each other's partialness to become whole, just as they need their own growing wholesomeness to lure their children to wholesome living and just as they need their children's needs tO call them to greater wholesomeness of action. Christ, knowing thoroughly the agony of bringing fragmentation to wholeness, is there to help with Cana's sacrament of matrimony. Thus, apostolic contemplation-in-action, through this sacra-ment, can be intimate to the daily routines of married life; while at the same time the seeming impossibility of marital contemplation-in-action reveals to the cynical that the heart-awareness of God and his people is pure gift. Not rarely the most cyn. ical person of all concerning apostolic contemplation-in-action is the priest ministering the sacrament of reconcilia-tion, that efficacious sign of ultimate wholeness. In the confessional, his fragmented, partial self laments: "I should be confessing to this good pe{son, not he to me. His wholesomeness comes through the more deeply he sorrows over his failures to be of help to his wife and children, his friends and co-workers." Yet as the Lord permeates the priest's absolution to heal the peni-tent, he simultaneously heals the priest precisely through the iatter's humilia-tion at his own fragmentation. The gift of reconciliation for the penitent can often contain the gift of apostolic contemplation-in-action for the priest. Somehow, in allowing God to work through him, the priest has acted beyond his own capacities as a human being and has simultaneously increased the wholeness of the penitent and of himself. But this example is not meant to imply that apostolic religious contemplation-in-action is easily acquired and done. For this basic attitude of welcoming acceptance of God and world, this heart-awareness of God and his people, animates and directs "the stretch," that continuous, disciplined action of serving, healing and challenging others beyond one's own capacities. For the gift of heart-awareness of God and his people demands that the apostolic contemplative constantly and painfully grow in generous action for 336 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 others. To operate beyond one's capacities in this way means to take risks con-tinually and to undergo humiliations inevitably. There must, then, be some unique source of illumination and strength within the being of the apostolic contemplative-in-action. Otherwise, he or she would fragment under the pressures and demands of such a life. It would appear that the divine indwelling of the Trinity is this ultimate source for apostolic religious contemplation-in-action. In Christ's prayer for his disciples (Jn 17:18-23), a prayer of "wholing" action, he speaks of "send-ing" the disciples, and all his believers, just as the Father had sent him so that "All may be one as you, Father, are in me and I in you; I pray that they may be [one] in us, that the world ma.), believe that you sent me." Apostolic contem-plation- in-action becomes, then, the manifesting of the Son, Jesus Christ, to the world in the apostolic actions of the contemplative. But the very action promoted by Jesus within the contemplative has also contained Jesus' mani-festation of the Father to this contemplative. As a result the contemplative's action in the world reveals both the Father and the Son. In this way, the apostolic contemplative becomes Their living glory expressed for all to see in the contemplative's maturing manhood or womanhood. Such action enables Father and Son to be present incarnately to the world. At the same time, the Spirit, indwelling in the people of God and in the contemplative, inflames the contemplative's actions so that they become more truly and fully acts of love (caritas) which simultaneously cause wholeness in others and in the con-templative. Here apostolic religious contemplation-in-action is seen to go far beyond the human capacities of the contemplative as it heals the world into wholesomeness through "the stretch." At this point, the problem of apostolic contemplation-in-action becomes more evident. Misunderstanding of it makes one feel falsely guilty for not hav-ing mystical graces of extraordinary mental vision and will-strength, for not being able physically to see Christ in the other, for not keeping the morning's solitary prayer in unbroken continuity through the day, for not enjoying fre-quent upsurges of strong consolation during work. But rather, it would seem that apostolic contemplation-in-action is the gradual and painful explicita- ~tion of the divine indwelling operative in all the contemplative's actions. It is the slow bringing-to-consciousness of the Trinity's workings within the con-templative's actions, within "the stretch." Now this gradual awareness is, concretely and basically, the apostolic con-templative's developing attitude of welcoming acceptance towards God, his people, and his world. By operating unobtrusively behind and within all the contemplative's actions in the world, this attitude leaves the contemplative's senses, mind, emotions, decision-power, and imagination free to concentrate on the particular work and the persons at hand. As a result, the contemplative is not less, but more, present to the work and the people; not less, but more, alert to their needs; not less, but more, hopeful of their expanding wholesomeness. Such total dedication, made possible by apostolic religious Contemplation-in-Action / 337 contemplation-in-action, becomes that magnificent self-forgetfulness which Karl Rahner sees as "praying always" and as beautiful surrender to God." Consequently, this deep heart-awareness of God and his people which constitutes apostolic contemplation-in-action can be a gradual expansion of the indwelling Trinity's effective presence within the contemplative's "stretch." This presence rises slowlythrough the contemplatives's whole be-ing so that his arms can go out in self-forgetting welcome to God and his world. Thus, the contemplative's subsequent actions carry ever more passion, strength, intelligence, compassion and wholesome beauty. Such con-templative action can then manifest strong love without crushing the beloved and competent service without condescension to the beneficiary. For it will in-clude the fuller action of the indwelling Trinity seeking to make all humans one as the Father, Son and Spirit are one in their own eternal wholeness of the divine family. ~6Karl Rahner, The Religious Life Today (Seabury, New York, 1976), p. 49. 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 63108 The White Robed Citadins of Paris M. Grace Swift, O.S.U. Sister Grace teaches at Loyola University of the South. Her mailing address is: Box 192; Loyola University; New Orleans, LA 70118. Ancient bells begin their clamorous count-down of eleven hours. A hooded nun, enshrouded in yards of creamy white wool, rises from her place on the matted rug-covered nave floor of St. Gervais et Protais Church, Paris. She mounts the steps, bows deeply before the icon enshrined on the massive altar, and with her Easter taper, lights the seven-branched menorah standing in back of the Eucharistic table. The Sunday liturgy begins as the celebrant and choir proclaim the central theme: "All you who have been baptized in Christ have put on Christ, Alleluia." During the next hour and a half people from all corners of Paris, indeed from all corners of the world, will find themselves involved in a liturgy that is uniquely prayerful, reverent, dramatic, and stunningly beautiful. For this is why this community came to be--to provide for harried urbanites a setting where they could find an oasis of prayer, where a celebration of the sacred mysteries could unfold with the leisurely, spellbinding grandeur of a true monastic milieu. The people of Paris have voted with their feet for the effort. Before the liturgy begins, the monks (roughly about a dozen) enter individually and kneel on the left side of the wide nave, their prayer area en-cased on two sides by choir stalls. An equal number of nuns, wearing the same deep-sleeved white habit enter, with only one apparent difference in their clothing: the nuns wear the capuche on their heads, while the monks allow it to hang down the back. In back of the kneeling monastic communities, the nave is filled with worshippers whokneel, like them (and very close to them), on the reed rug. Others sit on benches or chairs at the sides and in front of the altar area. In France, one may look in vain in many churches for young people at- 338 Citadins of Paris / 339 tending mass, but here, they are conspicuously evident. One willowy lad sits cross legged on the floor, proclaiming by his rigidly straight back and tucked in chin that he has dabbled in Zen. At times, many of the youths uninhihitedly imitate the profound, fetal-positioned bows of the worshipping monks and nuns. Some wear the special metal cross that identifies them as youths who have spent a week at Taiz6. A turbaned black girl peals forth the French lyrics with the sobbing overtones her tribal ancestors once used to summon dark Senegalese spirits. No guitars, no cheap gimmicks draw them there, for this liturgy is designed to meet the tastes of some of the most cultured urbanites of the world. Along with the youths, a solid strata of bourgeois Parisians also compose the congregation. Everywhere one spots nuns of various congrega-tions, as well as many men who by their nondescript blue and gray suits reveal to a trained eye that they are French priests. They, too, need the nourishment of St. Gervais. As mass progresses, a drunk ambles down the side aisle and dazedly turns 360°. With a blank stare at the congregation and a gesture of appeal with his hands he mutters, "Mes fr~res." He provides no lasting distraction, for all attention is riveted on the liturgical drama. Its magnetism lies not only in its splendid integration of prayer and majestic Byzantine-style music, but also in the witness of the monks and nuns themselves. The communities in charge of this liturgy are now called Les Fraternit~s Monastiques de Jerusalem. The monks started life under the leadership of Pierre Marie Delfieux on November 1, 1975, with the invitation and blessing of FranCois Cardinal Marty of Paris. On December 8, 1976 a company of women formed in a neighboring area near the Church of Notre Dame des Blancs Manteaux. The Rule specifically states that there never was or would be any intention of having a mixed community; each group has its own separate establishment and administration, though they do celebrate the liturgy together and share the same spirit and aims--to be monks and nuns in the city, or citadins.~ They have no pastoral, sacramental, teaching, or organized charitable commitment. Signs notify the public that for weddings and sick calls, they can contact the neighboring churches. The members of these groups aim chiefly: 1) to be present in the city and 2) to celebrate the liturgy and divine office in company with the townspeople. The liturgy being a prime concern of their existence, they take time to plan and execute it with all the artistry their con-siderable, combined talents can effect. In choosing a style of.music for their services, the leaders concluded that much of the contemporary church music was shallow, both musically and theologically. Wanting a dominant style that would manifest a global unity, 'Two articles in French give some information al~out these communities: Jean Leclerq, O.S.B., "Tendances Monastiques Actuelles," Nouvelle Revue Theologique, 10e Ann6e, No. i (January- February, 1978), pp. 90-102 and "Naissance d'une Fraternit~ Monastique ~t Paris," Carmel (April, 1976), pp. 56-66. 340 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 they chose Byzantine modes to accompany their Roman liturgy. With lyrics based upon psalmic and patristic sources, translated effectively into French, the simple, strong, rolling harmonies are easily mastered. The result is almost total participation by the congregation. St. Gervais boasts one of the oldest and finest organs in Paris. It is used selectively and effectively at the end of the liturgy and during special times of meditative prayer. The sisters, with beautiful, clear voices, take an active role in leading the singing, in reading, and in gathering together the offertory procession, which always includes lay people and children. An abundant use of incense in the liturgy adds even more of an aura of Byzantine mystery to the ceremony. The Fraternit6 includes several priests. For the Sunday liturgy, the con-celebrants sing, in three harmonic parts, the canon of the mass. Some other parts of the mass, sung alone by the chief celebrant, are accompanied by a background of soft, harmonic melody, hummed by the monks and nuns. At communion time, the frdres and soeurs draw together to form a half-circle about the altar, completed sometimes by lay. members of the congregation. The priests chant in harmony: "Receive the body of Christ," to which the congregation responds in the same harmonic parts: "We receive the body of Christ." A huge host, the size of an American dinner plate, is broken and dist~'ibuted to the encircled brothers and sisters. The same sung ritual accom-panies the chalice. The result is a moving evocation of a truly shared banquet. The total impression given by all the reverent and graceful movements of the mass is that this is the most important event in the lives of the celebrating com-munity- which is just as it should be. The Monastic Fraternit6s The vocation of citadin was revealed to the founder of the F.raternit6s after profound searching in prayer. The rules for community life have been developed in stages, after actual experience in communal living. The guidelines (for communal use only) are now contained in two mimeographed volumes: l) Au Coeur des Villes, au Coeur de Dieu (At the Heart of the Cities, At the Heart of God) and 2) Le Livre de Vie(The Book of Life). Abundant scriptural references in the latter remind the reader that Mary lived, Jesus taught, the apostles evangelized, and prophets and priests of old sacrificed, in the city. Christ fought the devil and conquered him in a city; the fire of the Holy Spirit descended in a city. The beloved of the Canticle sought her Lover while running about the city, and one day He will make the city his beautiful spouse. Indeed, Heaven itself is a City. "It is there that we must remain," the Rule affirms, since God himself dwells there, and thousands of his brothers work, love, weep, sweat, sing, search, struggle and pray there. The Church of St. Gervais is surrounded by all the civic bustle entailed in commerce and governmental administration. It is near the Quais du Seine where lovers stroll l and tourists buy postcards. Its metro stop is H6tel de Ville, the seat of many offices of Parisian city government. Walking in another direction, a visitor Citadins of Paris / 341 soon meets Rue Rivoli, a thriving center of cheap stores and sidewalk vendors selling anything from ice cream to wool stockings. The picturesque Tie Saint Louis, an ancient area called the Marais, and le Forum des Halles are also located in its orbit. The Rule does not lightly gloss over the difficulties of trying to live a monastic life amidst the allurements of one of the world's most beguiling cities. But, the Livre de Vie asks, "Being torn in two directions, is this not the cross?" To be able to live in the city without succumbing to its worldliness, rules of life are spelled out in the Le Livre de Vie which provide for the monks and nuns an armor of fraternal charity, interior and exterior silence, and liberating poverty. Concrete community guidelines focus upon five related points: 1) Fraternal Life 2) Prayer 3) Work 4) Silence and 5) Welcome and Sharing. Fraternal Charity The Rule never ceases to demand love, both of humanity in general and, harder still, of each other. "Only a very great love can offer the world a legitimate and fair defiance," the Livre de Vie explains. "Our vocation is to be a theophany of the love of God, a living icon of the Trinity. There is no more beautiful liturgy, no more eloquent witness, than that of fraternal love. We must live in the heart of the city the mystery of that love." Along with such a sublimely beautiful articulation of theory, the rule gives some concrete sug-gestions for achieving it: "Ask each day that God pour into your heart love for your brothers, and also to place love for you in their hearts. God can refuse nothing to a community who prays this way., ask the trinitarian God to reveal to you the secret of his unity in plurality . In order to succeed in loving, become transparent. Let yourself be known and seek to know. Knowledge opens the way necessarily to love . Do not be content to be a brother of all; be also a friend of each . Pray that the monastic fraternity be entirely translucent to the Presence of the Word, as a foyer of Light . " Prayer Designedly, the community life of prayer has both very public and very private features. Compline is said in their own oratories, but for the monks, the other hours are sung in St. Gervais, with public participation. The p~riod of evening pra~;er begins around 5 p.m. At that time, monks, nuns and townspeople begin to gather for meditative prayer, followed by the evening office. The office flows into the liturgy about 6 p.m., which finally finishes about 7:15. On Thursday night, the monks keep a prayer vigil from 8 p.m. to 7 a.m. "Pray in the night in the center of the miseries and joys of the city, where ~God has placed you, as a watchman awaits the dawn," the Livre de Vie exhorts. The founders realized that the execution of such a horarium and liturgy each day could be draining; for that reason the communities have a poustinia (desert) time during Sunday afternoon and the full day of Monday, 342 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 which is spent in the country outside Paris. They join Parisians in the national custom of taking a grand vacance during the month of August. Work To support themselves, the members of the Fraternit~s must take jobs in the city. Guidelines demand that their work must be truly useful, prayerful, well executed, and bear witness to their professed poverty. In line with their vow of obedience, their job is chosen in consultation with the prior and council of the community. No job may be taken which could alienate or destroy their religious equilibrium. By a deliberate option to work only part time, they hope not only to free themselves for liturgical participation, but also to manifest to an acquisitive society their own disinterest in amassing wealth. Though they take menial jobs, there is no political aim or thrust to this option. "Ni Marx, ni Keynes, ni Mao. mais Jesus," declares the Livre de Vie. They are to have no role whatsoever in political life, since in that arena, divisions, confronta-tions and compromises are the rule of life. Instead, they are to manifest the Gospel of Peace in the polis by their lives of justice and truth. This alone is their "political" role. However, in an elocution to the community, Cardinal Marty urged them to be "revolutionary"-- but revolutionary in fidelity to their monastic commitment only. Silence To combat the noisy assaults of city streets, with their roaring, swirling masses of buses, autos, motorcycles and scurrying citizens, the monks and nuns are urged by rule to drink deeply of the wellsprings of prayerful silence: "At work, in the street, in your comings and goings, in the public transport, in the midst of the brouhaha of the city, carry interior silence with you. Take, each day, large expanses of silence, and when the evening comes, meditate on your couch in peace and silence. God lives in you; listen to him." Welcome and Sharing One purpose of the Fraternit~s is' to provide an enclave of such silence and peace for other Parisians. Guests are welcomed to full participation at the silent dinner served at their flower-bedecked wooden tables. In contrast to ~normal French custom, no wine, and little meat are to appear at the table. Round loaves of thick crusted, substantial bread form an important part of their diet: Though visitors are welcome, there are definite limits placed upon thepenetration of Paris (and the world in general) into the horarium of the monastic community. Afternoons are for lectio divina. The Livre de Vie tells the entering candidate to leave aside his address book, and to give up once and ~f for all shows and cinemas. Television has no part in their life, but a summary of the day's news is read at breakfast from the newspaper. Citadins of Paris / 343 Life-Style Guidelines for the community actually allow for a diversity of life-styles and a diversity of relationships to the community, within limits. However, only those who agree to follow the Livre de Vie may make final profession. Presently (1980) the Fraternit~s have the status of a pious union. After a postulancy of three months and a novitiate of two years, a candidate makes temporary profession "entre les mains" (between the hands) of the prior. After a period suitably long to discern a true vocation to the life, the bishop of the local church receives the perpetual profession of vows of the candidate in the local church, for the universal church. The coule blanche, the liturgical habit, has many sacred significances. It reminds the wearer of his white bap-tismal garment when he dons it. Its radiant whiteness recalls as well the Transfiguration and the angel on Easter morn, who wore a garment white as snow. The Ancient One in Daniel's vision had snow bright clothing, and a man in dazzling robes appeared to Cornelius in Acts. At home, the monks wear a short, blue hooded smock, topped by a wooden cross suspended from the neck. The latter is also worn with their street clothes. The sisters, like many other groups, have types of non-liturgical dress that vary with their jobs and mode of life. Several wear floor-length blue habits, veils and capes in the streets. Others wear the simple clothing of working women. Spiritual Wellsprings The founder acknowledges his debt to many traditions in developing the spirituality of the Fraternit6s: to Benedict, Dominic, Augustine, Theresa of Avila, the Early Eastern Fathers, Charles de Foucauld, and above all, to the first Christian community described in Acts, as well as the fraternity immediately surrounding Jesus Christ himself. The Livre de Vie and Au Coeur des Villes are liberally enriched with quotes from sources as widespread in time as St. John Cassian and Catherine de Hueck. Believing that communal self-sufficiency in spiritual matters is ossifying, members are urged to nourish themselves on outside resources. The candidate is encouraged to spend a week at a school of prayer at Troussures, France, and make a retreat at a monastery such as St. Benoit sur Loire. Finally, a month-long desert experience at a place like Assekrem, Morocco, is encouraged. Future Plans It is quite evident that this group has tried to proceed every step of the way attuned to the promptings of the Spirit. The Fraternit6s have been invited to bring their type of monasticism to various cities. So far, they have accepted one invitation: under the priorship of Bishop Michel Marie Darmencieo, a member of the Fraternit6, they now are situated at St. Victor's Church at Marseilles, the scene of a monastery established by St. John Cassian. By rule, the community is forbidden to own property or t6 build anything. Wherever they go, they must rent their dwelling place. Into whatever city they do go, ~i44 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 ~they will enter with the purpose expressed in the explanatory sheet distributed in St. Gervais; to "experien.ce the difficulties, alienations, struggles, work, constraints, fatigue, noise, pollution, pains and joys, the sin and the holiness" of the city. Wherever they go, they likewise bear with them the spirit expressed in the Livre de Vie: "Do not forget that the community where you live is the privileged part of the universe where you are to situate yourself. May your monastery be first of all a part of the world where there is life, where love is shared, where joy, work, fervor, praise and peace are to be found. As at home, so also in the world. Reveal and find God in the heart of the world; remember its first beauty and anticipate its happiness to come. In the desert of the urban world may your monastery be an oasis of peace, prayer and joy; an epiphany of Love." On the final page of the Livre de Vie, Psalm 136 is transcribed: . If l forget you Jerusalem, Maymy right hand wither. One does not easily forget a liturgy at St. Gervais in communion with Les Fraternit~s Monastiques de Jerusalem. End of Drought 1 half awoke last night And wondered if I'd heard Soft whisperings outside my window. 1 was about to go back and continue my dream Then 1 stopped--and listened again. Yes, it was true A gentle rain Soft falling on my lawn. The bone cracked earth and croaking grackles Could drink again. It was a stealthy rain Loathe to intrude on the silent sleepers. Then in the morning it blew full blast And blessed the farmers and the flowers. Sr. Mary Margaret O'Grady Holy Ghost Convent 301 Yucca Street San Antonio, Texas 78203 Transfer to a Contemplative Community Marie Beha, O.S.C. Sister Marie's last article in these pages, "The Discernment of the Contemplative Vocation," appeared in the January 1981 issue. Her address remains: 1916 N. Pleasantburg Dr.; Greenville, SC 29609. These very days of your transition are perhaps the time when everything in you is working at him. Rainer Maria Rilke Though the changes in religious life consequent upon Vatican 1I are still too recent for adequate evaluation, they are beginning, at least, to come into the focus of observable patterns. One of these is the phenomenon of transfers from one religious congregation to another. A small but significant number of religious have opted to remain in religious life, but to live out their vowed commitment in another community. Perhaps this .emerging pattern will have something important to say about the future of religious life itself, and about the kinds of communities that have a future. However, any such speculation seems very premature at this point. What is immediate is the process itself, and what it means for individuals and for their communities. A few workshops have been devoted to this process of transferring, and several articles have appeared describing some of its pains and joys. But, for the most part, what has been presented is the movement from one apostolic congregation to another. The present article wishes to focus on transfers from an apostolic community to a contemplative one, a process that relates not only to the transfer phenomenon but also to that growing concern for prayer, and 345 346 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 especially for contemplative prayer, which has been one of the most hearten-ing aspects of the contemporary renewal of religious life. Transferring from one apostolic congregation to another has its own dynamics, quite distinct from what is involved in making the transition into contemplative community life. Failure to appreciate this difference makes it more difficult for communities and for individuals to cooperate with the promise and to evaluate the phenomenon. At the same time there are elements common to any such transferring--questions, for example, of the danger in-herent in the change, the discernment of motivation, as well as the paschal grace of such uprooting and coming into new life. It is the purpose of this paper to present some of these aspects as they are experienced in unique ways by the "contemplative transfer." Dangers and Difficulties To begin with a warning is only appropriate when there is real danger and when the danger may not be immediately evident. Such seems to be the case in regard to transferring. The process of transfer can be dangerous and the danger remain somewhat hidden, since the holiness of the objective may obscure a faulty theology undergirding the process, some confusion about growth in prayer, along with some elements of escapism and/or mixed motivations. The consequences of transfer can be as serious as the loss of religious vocation for the individual and the disruption of peace for both communities involved. Faulty theology may present the contemplative, monastic community as a more "perfect" form of religious life, even downplaying the importance of apostolic involvement as "too worldly." Since any vocational choice can only be evaluated in terms of the person choosing, speaking of an objective "state of perfection" seems to miss the point. Just as religious life itself can be termed a more perfect state (even in the Vatican II terminology ofPerfectae Caritatis) without implying that it would be so for any particular individual, so too, could some such judgment be made about contemplative life. But what is "~ important for the individual to consider is what is better for himself, not what is "more perfect" in the abstract and the general. Moreover, a spiritual theology which rests on the assumption that "one must always do the more perfect" is doomed to run into danger on the rocks of human limitation. Such perfectionism threatens strain and excessive preoccupation with self, neither of which fosters a contemplative spirit. Even for those who are immune from such a false theology, there remains a possible confusion about development in prayer. Sometimes a call to contemplative prayer is translated into a call to monastic life--with conse-quent loss.for the whole Christian community. The transition from a form of prayer that is more active to one that is more passive is a difficult time for anyone. Thomas Dubay has called this the "crack" period in religious development, and it may be compared with the difficulties and crises that are Transfer to a Contemplative Community part of any of the transitions from one life-stage to another. Such critical times do not provide the stability that makes possible good life-choices. Growth into a more contemplative form of prayer is actually part of the development that can be considered "normal" for most persons who are serious about prayer. It says more about the munificence of God's gifts and his desire to be one with us, than about any need to change communities. The latter is a very different kind of call and consequently, one that needs to be discerned separately. Transferring to a contemplative monastery during a crisis time in prayer might mask a reluctance to face the difficulties of persevering in prayer during times of dryness. Individuals may imagine that once they are enclosed, distractions will disappear and consolations will return--in abundance. They will be quickly disabused of such hopes in the everyday of monastic living. Even the prospect of having ample time provided for prayer will prove to hold its own challenge. For "more time" can also mean "more demands": more awareness of distractions, more painful dryness. Add to this all the unsettle-ments that are bound to be part of such a radical adjustment as transferring and prayer may well prove to be even more difficult than before. Similarly, any secret desire to escape the challenges of renewal or to insulate oneself from painful community relationships will be tested in the closeness of contemplative community. Unfortunately, some religious seem to equate monastic religious life with the kind of structured life in community that prevailed before Vatican II. So the desire to transfer can spring from a search for a more compatible expression of apostolic religious life, rather than ~t'~a genuine contemplative vocation. In reality contemplative communities have been just as much affected by Vatican II renewal as have apostolic congrega-tions. Changes, for example, in the living out of enclosure have caused just as many painful tensions as have adaptations in apostolic involvement. Struc-tures have developed in both forms of religious life and will continue to do so. Renewal requires participation, not escape, no matter where one is called to live. Nor does a transfer necessarily ease the tensions of community relation-ships. On the contrary, living in the close, everyday proximity of enclosed community may only heighten such tensions. Spending all one's days with the very same people, in a restricted area and with a limited sphere of activity can never provide escape from the interpersonal. "Contempla(ive community" actually requires a well-developed capacity for sharing life with others, including a delicate balance between intimacy and a respect for solitude which enables one to live with others in a silence that communicates life. In a similar way, an authentic call to transfer is anything but an escape from apostolic involvement. On the contrary, what will be needed is a vibrant desire to be given to and for the sake of others, joined with a faith that is strong enough to translate this call into an everyday service that is not sustained by any immediately tangible results. So if a person is dissatisfied with the :348 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 results of his apostolic work, it would be foolish to try and escape into the even less satisfying life of faith that is the "labor" of the contemplative. And if anyone hopes to find a variety of stimulating options within the everyday tasks of contemplative community, he will be rapidly disillusioned. Even the more plausible motivation of resolving a conflict between prayer and activity can speak more of escapism than of genuine call. Vocation is not discerned negatively, but only through such positive signs as a genuine desire for a life of prayer (not just more time for prayer) and a belief that this self-gift will bear fruit in and for the Church. Such positive criteria for discern-ment will be presented in more detail in the following section of this paper. These, then, are a few of the hidden dangers rising from faulty theology, a confusion about growth in prayer, and tendencies to eseapism, which could prompt an individual to transfer for the wrong reasons. Still to be considered are some of the real dangers involved in the process itself both in terms of the individual and of the communities involved. When a person professes vows, the commitment is made to God, but it is made within the context of a particular community, and this communitarian aspect is not to be changed lightly. Though made by man and so changeable in itself, life in community embodies a call that is divine and eternal. In all its particularity, community gives a specific form to vocation. While not of the essence, still this form may be a very important, even necessary, condition for vocation to grow and flourish. Consequently, changing from one community to another risks undermining the stability of the individual's commitment. If the new community does not provide the hoped-for environment, return to the former one may prove to be impossible and so a vocation may be lost. Other risks inherent in transferring center around the extent of adjustment which will certainly be profound. "Culture shock" is almost inevitable. Even though the "natives" of the adopted community speak "English," still new values, different associations will make it difficult to discover the meaning of words and actions, of response, and of nonverbal communication. The result will be a feeling of lostness and confusion that cannot be met by something as simple as asking questions. For there are no words in which to phrase the ques-tions, no answers that make sense. There may even be an unnerving lack of awareness that something has been "misunderstood" until confusion has deepened into a cloud as indefinite and suffusing as fog: Similarly homesickness for one's community of origin can be even more profound than the feeling that accompanied one's first leaving home for the convent. For the home that is now being left has claimed more of one's adult life and so has called for a freer choice, a more committed response. To leave ~one's family for .the sake of forming new life-bonds is part of the naturalpro-cess of growth and development. But leaving the community of one's first choice for another is not so natural, and the consequences are often profound and disturbing. In the process a certain spirit of criticism can develop. This may even bea necessary part of discernment as one reevaluates call and response, one's own Transfer to a Contemplative Community / ~149 vocation and that of both communities involved. But such critical reflection can become a pattern of thinking that keeps one on the periphery, "watching" and judging way beyond the period when this stance is necessary. This spirit of uninvolved criticism chips away at commitment and makes participation in community impossible. Such are a few of the real dangers involved for individuals who are con-sidering transfer'ring. What are the risks for the communities? Loss of membership in the original community is one obvious area of concern--not just the obvious matter of a person leaving this community to join another. What may be far more painful is the kind of vocational questioning that can arise among other members of the parent community. Such reevaluation may be wholesome, if it leads to renewed discernment of and commitment to one's own vocational choice. But it can also be weakening if it simply adds to diminished morale, feelings of hopelessness and that sense of disillusionment that plagues so many during times of transition. Similarly, the community receiving the transfer can have its peace dis-turbed if the new member, already a formed religious, brings along an incom-patible spirituality together with an undocile mind and heart. Within the closeness of contemplative community, such lack of harmony can be pro-foundly disturbing to all, with consequent loss of service to the whole Church. Such are the dangers in~,olved, both for individuals and for communities. The difficulties are real; the cost is certainly not minimal. The basic question is, then: Is transferring worth theprice? Are the real risks offset by still greater advantages? Are there compensations for the dangers? Yes, if transferring ac-tualizes a more personalized call-response, leading to still deeper commit-ment. When such is the case, not only will the individual find fuller life in the Lord, but both communities involved will also be enriched; such is the unity of all members in the one Body of Christ. The whole question of transferring, then, seems to hinge on the validity of this new call-within-a-call. Theologically such development is possible since the only absolute fidelity in this special covenant relationship is found in a God "whose love is everlasting." The response of any individual can only par-ticipate in this love through an ongoing "creative fidelity" aimed at fashion-ing all life's choices in the light of an original baptismal commitment. The direction for such responsiveness will always be toward greater specificity, a more personal love. Though this ongoing response will be shaped within the context of a particular community, this form, while remaining important, is still only conditional. It may be changed, if this will serve to realize more closely one's first commitment t6 the Lord. Particularly, then, for our present purposes the issue revolves around discernment of an authentic call to transfer from apostolic to contemplative life. Discernment an Authentic Call to Transfer What might be some of the signs that one is being called to deepen one's ~i50 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 baptismal commitment by transferring religious profession from an apostolic congregation to a contemplative community? Here we shall suggest a few of the practical ways in which the traditional vocational criteria of desire, right motivation, and ability to live the life, are evidenced in the case of a proposed ttransfer. \ A long-term desire for contemplative life seems one of the clearest signs that someone should undertake the risks of making a transfer. In many cases, this desire was already present at the time the individual entered religious life but, for a variety of reasons, it was never actualized. Circumstances may simply have made it impossible; ignorance or poor advice may also have con-tributed. So the desire was put aside, perhaps completely forgotten. Profes-sion was made, and that commitment lived out wholeheartedly and with joy. But years later the desire for contemplative life reappears. Sometimes it is recognized as a familiar part of one's past; sometimes it comes as a new and surprising idea with recognition only following later. In either case, such con-tinuity with the past provides a sense of direction in the unfolding of one's per-sonal salvational history. Even when.the desire for contemplative life is not remembered or recogniz-ed as part of one's past, at some point in the present the emergence of this desire becomes so strong that it can no longer be ignored. When first en-countered consciously, the desire is more often a matter of wanting to live out contemplative values rather than a careful comparison/choice of active-i verSus-comtemplative community. A whole life devoted to prayer, supported and challenged by a community of other "pray-ers," by solitude and silence, combined with a very simple, even austere style of life: these are some of the values that become increasingly important. As desire for them grows, so, too, does the longing for a way of living them out more fully and completely. At first this may be met by providing more time for prayer, arranging to live in a prayer-centered local community or one which is experimenting with a simpler way of living. For some, such restructuring of life-style is the answer; for others this is not enough, and the desire continues to grow. A period in a House of Prayer may be another option and, once again, this may provide the right balance of prayer and active apostolate for certain individuals. For others, the quest must continue simply because the desire for a purely con-templative life continues, increases, and must ultimately be met in life. This longing for a way to live out contemplative values may lead one final-ly to a moment of realization and choice. Apostolic religious life can no longer ~provide the support, stimulation, structure for the kind of contemplative life to which the religious feels called. And at this point, transferring becomes a matter of vocational decision. Such recognition is eminently paschal, filled as it is with the painful realization that one must leave behind his "homeland" and "pass over" a desert of unknowns. Yet there is also joy, an anticipation that what lies ahead promises more life, deeper peace. Even the pain of leaving the congregation of one's first profession is somewhat tempered by the realization that unless he Transfer to a Contemplative Community had given of himself there, had truly identified, there would be no loss now. Nor would there be much hope of future success. This experience of having been fully part of one's original congregation, of having found peace and joy in community there, is almost a presupposition of any authentic call to transfer. Someone who has not been happy originally probably will not find any more satisfaction in contemplative life. On the other hand, an individual who has known what it means to give himself to community and in community may come to realize that another successful identification is possible, even though it will be made with some pain. This returns us to the whole complex question of motivation. Why should an individual who has already made profession consider transferring his com-mitment to a contemplative community? In the preceding section we examined a whole series of false motivations, including poorly founded theological prin-ciples, escapism, and an inadequate understanding of contemplative life. These need to be confronted, not in the safety of abstraction, but in the reality of one's own life-experience, and with the realistic help of others who know the individual and both forms of religious life. Of even greater importance is the discerning of positive motivation, since a mere lack of obstacles does not give clear indication that a person ought to go ahead in a certain new life direc-tion. Vocation is positive call, not just an absence of negative criteria. To ask the "why" of one's motivation is important and fruitful but only so long as one keeps in mind that the "answer" cannot be found by adding up worttiy reasons, for, in the last analysis, human motivation remains mystery. It can never be known in its totality, with certainty. The reasons we give are, at best, approximations, and the final answer to the "why" is found only in the living out of the decision. Having recognized that a list of reasons never adds up to certitude, still it can be an indicator that an individual should risk the time and energy of a fur-ther discernment in actual life. Very often the "why" of a transfer can only be phrased in an unsatisfying "because, somehow, I can do nothing else." Such an experience of almost necessity, of inability to do anything else with one's life until this pressing question has been answered, may be an uncomfortable, but true indicator of basic motivation. Such necessity, though, is not a matter of compulsiveness, but rather of a freedom that grows, once the internal logic of choice has been admitted and acted upon. A person may come to discover that his whole movement of life has been in the direction of contemplative vocation, though the surface geography of his activities has been quite different. These very differences may even have been unconscious protest. Such, for example, is the case of an individual who has been a strong advocate of apostolic spirituality, of social involvement, of variety in ministries. All the while, what the person has been seeking on the deepest level, is a way of giving himself completely to the Lord. All the above are real ways; all have been tried. But all still leave something "wanting." "How can I be more giving?" becomes less of a question to be considered. Now it demands an answer that must be made in life. ~52 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 Traditionally, someone entering the monastery is asked, "What do you seek?" If the first answer, not just in liturgy, but in life is "The Lord," then there is good hope that what is being sought will be found. This is not to say that the person considering transfer has not already "found the Lord." But, like the good Christian who considers religious life just because of his previous discovery of the Lord, so too the individual who seriously considers transfer should only be desirous of greater union, a kind of intimacy that, for this par-ticular individual, seems more realizable in contemplative community. Put in still more concrete terms, someone who is already a religious may apply for a transfer because he experiences a desire to give prayer an absolute priority of time, energy, life-focus. In apostolic religious life, consideration of the needs of others, and of one's response to these needs, must always be cen-tral to discernment; this seems to be the meaning of apostolic spirituality. In monastic life, however, the central concern is the totality of life of prayer, and it is this dedication to prayer which becomes one's service to others. Consequently, the desire to give oneself to others through total dedication in prayer is central to any discernment of contemplative vocation, and this becomes even more critical when there is a question of transfer. This is because the person desirous of transfer has already internalized a spirituality of active, direct service, and his transition to a quite different orientation may not come easily or quickly, But unless an individual can come to see silence, solitude, simple manual work, austerity of life-style as contributing to a life of abiding prayer, and further, believe that personal prayer, lectio and liturgy are one's own call to building up the Body of Christ, then contemplative, monastic life will seem empty and fruitless. Moreover, such belief cannot re-main an intellectual assent, nor even an abstract faith-value; it must become personal conviction and motivation for life. Ultimately, then, desire and motivation are just the beginnings of discern-tment for a contemplative vocation. Only by living the life can the presence or absence of God's enabling grace be discovered. So let us conclude by sug-gesting some of the areas which will be particularly relevant in the life-testing of a call to transfer from apostolic to contemplative religious life. Will the potential transfer-person be able to go beyond the initial obstacles of radical adjustment with all its attendant anxiety, of separation from the original community which has provided so much of his identity and emotional support? Put in more positive terms, will the person, first of all, "survive" the transfer? For some, the culture shock, already alluded to, is so severe that there is consequent loss of health or debilitating emotional disturbance. And this, not just in the first crisis of adjustment, where it might well be expected, but increasingly as time goes on. When this happens, life experience leads to a negative discernment. On the contrary, when the Spirit is truly inspiring a person to make the transfer, then, despite the pain, growth will occur. Radical adjustment, separation anxiety, culture shock will all be in the service of conversion. The Transfer to a Contemplative Community / 353 individual will grow and grow in contemplative ways. A new identity will begin to emerge when the more familiar response of teacher, nurse, "member of." are no longer applicable. There will be a new appreciation for one's unique giftedness as person, simply because one is and one exists as a special expression of the Father's creative love. Growth will also occur through positive identification with the new com-munity. Ac.ceptance takes time but gradually new relationships will be formed, an individual will fit in, and his suitability for the life will be confirmed by the response of the community. What begins in strangeness will end in familiarity. For example, enclosure will no longer be a matter of adjustment, perhaps of difficulty, but will evolve into a simple means of ensuring the kind of solitude necessary for prayer. Prayer, in its turn, will grow and deepen. The regular praying of the Liturgy of the Hours in choir will no longer be unfamiliar ritual, nor frequent "interruption," but regular nourishment and opportunity for praise. The simplicity of the life, far from being monotonous, will lead to peace, making possible a "richness" of response that can only be sustained within a somewhat austere life-style. All of this, however, takes time. It requires effort on the part of the one who transfers; it requires also acceptance and assistance on the part of the community. Above all, it requires the empowering grace of God's call. When all of these are present, and when the passing of months and even years has allowed for a new identity to be formed, then the transferred person will final-ly come to recognize himself as a contemplative, a member of his new com-munity. The past will merge into this new present and integration will occur. For example, former skills and talents will find new expressions or will be sacrificed, "counted as nothing," in view of something still more worthwhile. Painful parts of the past will be healed; grateful remembering will allow all that has been to be incorporated into the present and open the way to the future. In short, adjustment will make way for gradual growth, and this growth will be in the direction of incorporation into the new community. When this occurs, the transfer will have been accomplished, and a new identification will have been made. The individual, as well as both communities, will be enriched, because, whenever life is lived more fully, the w.hole Body of Christ is vitalized. Let me conclude with a comparison. Among the old Irish monks, the grace of martyrdom was described in three ways: the "red" martyrdom of shedding one's blood, the "white" martyrdom of desire to give One's life for the sake of the gospel, and finally, the "green" martyrdom of exile, of pilgrimage and ac-cepted separation for the sake of new life in Christ. The transferred person may well find the grace of this unique vocation expressed in the hope-filled "green" of separation from what is familiar, good, loved, for the sake of greater union-- in contemplative community. The Right to Solitude Roman Ginn, O.C.S.O. Father Ginn, a monk of Gethsemani Monastery in Kentucky, has been living as a hermit in Latin America for the past fourteen years. His last article, "The Ladder of Prayer," appeared in the January, 1980 issue. Father Ginn's marling address is: Apartado 44; Huajuapan de Leon; Oaxaca, Mexico. The renewed interest in hermitical life during the last three decades should not be viewed with alarm but as a rediscovery of one of the first and most traditional forms of contemplative life. This rediscovery is taking place at a time when men are becoming more aware of their essential needs and rights. Speaking in the Music Council assembled by UNESCO, the violinist, Yehudi Menuhin, declared some twenty years ago that silence is one of man's princi-pal needs and concluded: "I hope that the right to silence will be recognized as being as important as the right to pure water and air." But the same claim should be extended to solitude. For if man is a social being who cannot develop as a person in perpetual solitude, in a very true sense he is also an un-social being who experiences the impersonality and artificiality unavoidable in relations with others (excepting perhaps with those who form his intimate cir-cle) as a kind of violence. The person's relation with society is problematic and neither his need for communication nor for solitude can be left unsatisfied without damage. But how can solitude be called aoneed and a right? Neither primitive peoples nor children feel any such need. But this is because they do not see it as a positive value but as isolation. Even the ea,rly Hebrews missed its positive side. They regarded solitude as an evil, a co~nsequence of sin, and promised God's special protection to those .moist exposed to it: the poor, widows, strangers and orphans. The Greeks however attained a positNe view of it. The hero of the Greek tragedies lives in a solitude that is both a condemnation and 354 ~ The Right to Solitude / :355 a privilege. Sophocles, for example, presents Oepidus as passing from a period of painful isolation into a new form of solitude that has something divine about it. But even if the Hebrews never escaped from a negative concept of solitude, they discovered the key to its understanding as a positive reality. For they gradually realized that each must 'learn to separate from the collectivity and face God and his will as an individual as well'as a member of society. They also saw that God could call some individuals to positions of confrontation with society which would force them to live in isolation. But they never managed to transform this isolation into a privileged situation and a means of closer union with God. So, without grasping the value of their discovery, they passed on the secret that man's development as a person is somehow connected with his ability to temporally break his ties to society in order to take possession of himself as a unique reality, an individual and responsible I. They present Jeremiah, for example, living through an isolation he deplores without know-ing how it is slowly transforming him from a timid, village youth into God's iron, ~ The oriental religions appreciated solitude as something positive long before the coming of Christ. Early Buddhist texts are full of its praise as a means of spiritual development. Even though Buddha himself later prescribed communal life for his followers, he never lost his esteem for solitude. In a statement preserved by the Itivattka, for example, he says: "O monks, have your dwelling and delights in solitude. Rejoice in solitude, dedicated to mental calmness in the depths of your selves, without forgetting to meditate, penetrated .with intuition; seek your dwelling in desert spots." The Udana records the story of the monk Bhaddiya who lived in a mango forest. Passersby had often heard him repeating over and over: "What happiness!" When they told Buddha about him, he called the monk and asked for an ex-planation. Bhaddiya replied: ¯ Sir, before, when i was a layman and enjoyed royal power as the father of a family, I had guards distributed both inside and outside my palace . And in spite of the fact that I was protected and safeguarded in such a way, I lived tormented by fear, restless, suspicious, frightened. Now, sir, wherever I find myself in the woods, under a tree or in a solitary spot, even though I am alone, I live without fear, tranquil, trustful, without trepidation, unworried, in peace, with whatever others give me, with my mind as free as a forest animal. This is why I repeat: "What happiness, what happiness." The poetic sections of the Buddhist canon love to use images of forest animals to describe the advantages of the solitary life. "Like a lion that over-comes everything, that wanders victorious as king of the forest, visiting its most distant corners and unfrightened by rumors." The solitary individual is likewise compared to the elephant and rhinoceros. The localities chosen by the first followers of Buddha as most apt for the pursuit of their end are another indication of the positive value they saw in solitude: mountains, forests, caves and cemeteries. 356 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 When Christian monasticism appeared in the mid-third century, it manifested a similar love for solitude, inspired of course by Jesus' example (See Mr. 4). Like their Oriental brothers, the Christian monks regarded it as the mother of the spiritual life. Cassian felt that normally the more solitude a monk had, the greater was his perfection.He put his third conference on the lips of Abbot Paphnutius, who lived in such inaccessible places that even other hermits "only with great difficulty caught a glimpse of him every now and then." Such a man was fittingly surnamed the Buffalo. But the fact that most of the praises of solitude in the early Church originated with monks (or ex-monks like St. John Chrysostom) does not mean it was something that concerned them alone. If they exploited it more than others, it was only because in general they took Christian life more seriously, and experienced the positive role of solitude in its development. Their appraisal has been confirmed by modern philosophers. Kierkegaard among Christian, and Nietzsche among non-Christian thinkers strongly stress the importance of solitude for personal development, If they exaggerate, this is only a perhaps necessary reaction to modern society's fear and devaluation of solitude. Nietzsche makes it the supreme value, one indispensable for the growth of all others. For a Christian it can only be a means, even though one - greatly neglected today. As the Greeks saw and the Hebrews sensed without clearly understanding, solitude reveals man's deepest self to him making it possible for him to become aware of his interior resources and discover meaning in his life. Because of its value in helping the individual pass from the suggestion of the collectivity to the liberty of maturity, it is a basic human right that must be carefully p~eserved. For the Christian it is also the entrance into that most sacred and secret .region of the person--his interiority--where union with God takes place. As St. Augustine loves to repeat, God is in the most intimate part of us. He is more truly within us than we are. Even after one has experienced enough solitude to develop into a mature person, periods of it will continue to be necessary, during which one's self-possession may be renewed. Otherwise a gradual self-alienation can set in that will prevent the individual from entering into deep and lasting communion with others and will allow him or her to sink into the negative solitude of isola-tion. Positive and voluntary solitude is a good way to prevent negative solitude. Such periods of solitude should not be used to sleep or simply rest in, but to feel out one's roots actively and become more one's true self before God. Only by doing this will the individual again become fit for fruitful rela-tions with others. There is al~;ays a danger however that we will turn solitude into an ab-solute, and be tempted to stay there. This would not be right, for God calls very few to follow in Abbot Paphnutius' footsteps. Too many buffalos would upset the Church's spiritual ecology. The ideal in most Christian lives will always be a happy balance betw~ei~ solitude and s6ciety, as Jesus himself lived The Right to Solitude / 357' it. To stay longer in solitude than God wills can lead to spiritual sterility. But after all the danger of overstaying one's time in solitude is not great. For, as many who have attempted hermitical life during the last thirty years have discovered, if the solitude is real, it will become unbearable for someone who does not belong there. As one of the Desert Fathers remarked: "The desert vomits out those whom God has not called into it." Covenanl The Father knocks at my door seeking a home for his son: Rent is cheap, 1 say. I don't want to rent. I want to buy, says God. I'm not sure 1 want to sell, but you might come in to look around. 1 think 1 will, says God. I might let you have a room or two. 1 like it, says God. 1'11 take the two. You might decide to give me more some day. 1 can wait, says God. I'd like to give you more, but it's a bit difficult. I need some space for me. I know, says God, but I'll wait. I like what 1 see. Hm, maybe 1 can let you have another room. 1 really don't need that much. Thanks, says God. 1'11 take it. I like what 1 see. I'd like to give you the whole house but I'm not sure-- Think on it~ says' God. 1 wouldn't put you out. Your house would be mine and my son would live in it. You'd have more space than you'd ever had before. 1 don't understand at all. I know, says God, but 1 can't tell you about that. You'll have to discover it for yourself. That can only happen if you let him have the whole house. A bit risky, 1 say. Yes, says God, but try me. I'm not sure-- 1'11 let you know. I can wait, says God. 1 like what I see. Margaret Halaska, osf On Being a Superior Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Father Meenan resides in the Jesuit community of 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Though it may seem strange, .I would like to begin a treatment of the role of the superior by reflecting for a bit on the phrase we so often use, "Thy will be done." When prayed, as in the Our Father, does it make any sense at all, when you think about it? Is there, for instance, some ,super-God" to whom the prayer is addressed, asking that he take care of God so that he makes sure that God's will gets done? Or maybe God doesn't know what his will is, so we pray, "Hope you find out." Perhaps God is in a struggle, so that our prayer is equivalently, "Hope you win!" In other words, this phrase doesn't make much sense--if you just take it at its face value. But I think that the phrase does begin to make sense when ! begin to realize that, in using those words in prayer, I've taken a stand. Whether I join my will to his in prayer or not, his will is simply going to be done. What I am saying when I use those words is, "I want his will to be done. I 'want in' on the whole process. I want to be involved." And so there is a commitment of myself to the project when I say, "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done." Then the prayer begins to make sense because it takes me from the luxury of being a bystander and puts me right in the middle of things. It begins to make me hungry that his will be done. And then, in truth, it becomes the prayer of my heart. Then it becomes a real prayer--and a fruitful starting point for a reflection on the role of being superior. The problem is that the words come too easily. The problem is that I have grown up with the words, and I lose track of them, of what they say. The problem is that I have said them too often. I fiave gotten used to them. And so they lose the force they should have: that there is a great project afoot, and I want to be involved in it. And this, basically, is what this article on the role of 358 On Being a Superior / 359 / the superior is going to be about: God's will for the person who is superior in t the exercise of the office of being superior. For purposes of this article, I don't care about the sociology of leadership. I don't care about the psychological dimensions of community. And I certainly don't care about the canonical details of implementing the office. What I do care about is the~spiritual a___.__~sp.e__~c_t 9 fob_ei_.o.ng s__~up.e~r_ior, of getting a feel for the role of being a superior. I care about the conviction that one has in exercising the office of superior. Conviction is going to involve feeling, precisely because one's whole person is involved in the truth of what he is saying when he speaks or acts from conviction. What I would hope to evoke in the course of this article is a conviction, a felt truth, that locates the person, invests the person, identifies the person in what he knows. To this end, I would invite the person who is superior to share with me, through these pages, in a meditation. I.f we are going to make a meditation together, we ought to have a "com-position of place." For this, I have chosen Peter at the lakeside, after the Resurrection, when, according to John's gospel, Christ said to Peter, "Feed my sheep'." Just before this, he had asked Peter, "Do you love me more than these?" Isn't it a shame how cheap we have made the word "love" today? What does it mean to say, "I love you more than these"? The question is important because what is at issue is the building of a life on the love of God. But how do we know if we do love God? Is our confidence in our love go-ing to come out of our feelings? Well, for most of us, God isn't "real" enough for us to have very strong feelings about--except rarely. And probably in those moments, often enough, the individual is deluded. In point of fact, most of the days of my life, I don't feel love for God. How do I know, then, if I love him enough to be able to build a life on love? t/~ I f I love, I will do the work of love. I f love is there, the fruit of love will be there. If I am concerned about the things of the Lord, about him and his kingdom and his service and his glory, then I know I love. I don't care what I feel. I know I love, because the fruits of love are there. Even here, though, the issue is not all that clear, simply because I can also fake the fruits of love. I can ape them. I can do great and good things, noble and glorious things--without love. I can do them just because I am ambitious, or because I hate to leave things untidy and have a neurotic concern for neatness, or because I want to be noticed, or because I have career preferences, or because I have a developed sense of responsibility, or because the easiest way to be invisible is to be merely and conventionally competent since, if there are no problems in my sector, nobody is going to stick his nose into it--and that is what I want t'o be, invisible. What is done for any of these reasons does, I suppose, represent the "works of love," but these works stem out of my love for myself in one fashion or another, not out of my love for God. 360 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 In determining the presence or absence of the love of God, then, it is clear that the intention is going to be very important--not the expressed intention, but the real intention. And the real intention is in the heart and soul, lying under the words I use to express it. The grace of our meditation will be the grace not to be deaf to God's call, but prompt and diligent to do his most holy will. If being superior is a chore, a task for an individual, then that individual is going to fail. If it is not a work of love, then at best he will be merely a good administrator. At best, he will make the canonists happy. But if being a superior is a response to God's call, if there is an eagerness to be prompt and diligent to do his will, then the person will not be the performer of mere tasks: he will be a superior. 'From what has just been written, it is clear that I am convinced that being ¯ superior is a very definable, concrete, explicit vocation from Almighty God to a particular individual. In terms of this call, God says to those whom he sum-mons in this fashion, "Feed my sheep," which is the core reality of the voca-tion of being a superior. You see, being a superior is a vocation, a call from God. It is much more concrete than one's'~all to enter a congregation. It is more clearly defined than one's professional competence. In the present circumstance of the Church, superiors have a definite term: a beginning, a measurable beginning, middle, and end to this concrete call that they have. Their call includes definite areas of responsibility, rather more clear than in the usual run of job descriptions. The superior has a definite flock to be fed. Being a superior, then, is easily discernible. Is it really a call? We religious have a way of using all sorts of pious vocabulary with a great deal of conviction--so long as we are talking about somebody else. We have all attended at one time or another the circumstances of somebody else's tragedy, when it's easy for us to see that tragedy so clearly in terms of God's providence for them and for the victim. But when it comes to ourselves, somehow we find that our faith is rather more brittle. Too often for us religious, it is very easy to isolate "God's providence" into some abstract awareness of God as "Lord of History" because, for example, of what .he did to Israel, what he's done to the Church, what he's doing in the history of the world at the present time. Is God, though, Lord of your life? If he is Lord of yliofue,r then how can you explain the meaning of being superior, if not in terms of his Lordship? Is God faithful and loving? Because, if he is, how are you going to explain being superior save in terms of his faithful, loving exercise of Lordship in your regard? We can see how it gets to be a bit more difficult to be quite so confident of the "providence of God" when it begins to reach closer to home. It is much easier to see him as Lord of others than as Lord of myself. Does God care for the congregation? If he doesn't care for the congrega-tion, then he couldn't care less who was superior. If he does care for the con-d gregation, then he must care very much about who is superior--though this On Being a Superior does not mean at all that he has chosen the best possible person. It doesn't mean that he has chosen the most competent person. It doesn't even mean that he has chosen an able person. It just means that he has chosen a person. He has exer-cised a definite, deliberate choice in wanting you to be a superior of his com-munity for which he cares very much, in regard to which he says toyou, "Feed my sheep." It is time now to return to the reflection with which we begari regarding our earnestness for God's will. How earnest are we for God's will? Not out there, ~not in the future, but here and now. The,fact is that either God is not God at all, or he has call~ed you to b____~e a superior. If he has called you, he has expressed his will. You can choose to ignore it if you--want, but you cannot intelligently deny this fact without denying that God is God. b\ Being a superior is a vocation to do what? To feed his sheep in all the ways that make sense. His.sheep are workers in his vineyard, and the superior's feeding of his sheep is going to include nurturing their capacity to work in his vineyard--to be apostles. His sheep are your sisters or brothers in Christ. These are not vague groups of girls or boys that walk in the front door of an institution. These are your sisters or brothers in Christ, persons who have a call to the community that you say you love. These are the sheep that he has entrusted to you to be nourished by you. If all of this is true, then the only adequate approach to exercising the i office of superior is going to be as an act of religion. The alternative is to ex-clude God from your individual salvation history, the salvation history of your congregation, and the salvation history of the Church and world today. Therefore it follows that the key which unlocks the whole mystery of being a ~ superior is going to be found in the area of acts of religion--which is the same area that includes the taking of your vows in the first place. This is the same area, too, that envelops your whole prayer life. This is in the same area as your whole living for God. If this is true, then the individual is going to want to be a superior after the mind and thought and heart of Christ. His mode of being a superior is going to be the expression of his r~ligious involvement in God's will--or it is nothing. In seeking to make this act of religion real, the superior will make use of many aids to help him. But it is the act of religion that is going to give life to the whole process. So the superior will make use of whatever he can learn from management theory, from the psychology of the human person, from the sociology of community. He will make use of all these because they are tools given into his hands, tools that make it possible for him the better to enflesh into reality the act of religion that is his response to God's call. But if this religious response is not effectively there, if the soul of the pro-cess isn'~ present, all that's left is'a corpse. And no psychologist is ever going to make a corpse come alive. If all a superior does is to oversee the production of a corpse, then he would be better off seeking a position on a middle- 369 / Review for Religious, Volume 40, 1981/3 management level of some large corporation and make cars for the rest of his life. At least it would be a safer way of wasting his life; and he would only be touching others merely in their jobs. We religious like to talk a great deal about zeal. If you are serious about zeal, then you have to see in this call from God to be a superior a concrete way of enfleshing your zeal. Otherwise, you are going to be lost in a dreamland, phantasying about future generations of yet unborn souls whom you will "save" some time or other, some place or other. If you were serious about zeal, then you would be very much taken with God's will. If you were serious about his will, and thought that he was calling you, then your zeal would be a hunger to respond to his call, and he has called you to be a superior. In saying to you as superior, "Feed my sheep," he wants you to take unto yourself his sheep, those very special ones whom he has called in a very special way, and who, therefore, need a very special kind of nurtur- ~inagn,d he has sayiodu, You feed themsey sthheeapt, swo hat I have sown in their hearts may come alive." What we commonly see today is a great deal of reluctance on the part of } persons who are unwilling to become superiors for a variety of reasons. ~ From the beglnmng of time, but especially ~n the present age, a man would be out of his mind to want to be a superior. In fact, to want to be a superior is usually a guarantee of failure: not necessarily administrative failure, the failur--"~f-s~perficial effectiveness, but the substantive failure of one who, though called to be of and for Christ's kingdom, may live in exterior darkness, all the while doing great things with brick and mortar--and quite possibly destroying souls for the sake of his mere brick and mortar. So there is fear in the face of taking on such an office, and it is common today. Ther_e ar~t least tw_o~.possible_sources.of_this._~fear. One of them is healthy, eminently healthy, and the other is unhealthy. The healthy fear, I think, comes out of vision. The person who has this healthy fear, for instance, would usually have a fairly clear idea of what the founder wanted in starting the congregation. He has a pretty good idea of the value of a soul, and therefore also has a pretty good idea of the preciousness of each of those special souls called by God to religious life, and whom the superior is supposed to nurture in this vocation. In terms of such a vision, the person would have a very clear and distinct notion of the goal--not of the practicalities, but of priorities and purposes. A person with this kind of vision also recognizes that the vision is of God. And a person with that kind of clarity must see himself as unworthy. So he says, "No, not I. I can't do this." Now there are two t~ings that are healthy about that fear. One is that this sense of unworthiness comes out of self-knowledge of a sort that would arise ~when a person looks at himself against the background of such a vision. With this self-knowledge, in looking at the job, at what the call is, he is aware of his very real impotence; he has a sense of his utter helplessness. The other healthy aspect of such a fear flows precisely from this On Being a Superior / 3{}3 awareness: it is that the individual has a clear and distinct sense of one's need for God in responding to such a vocation. He cannot fulfill such a call, and therefore he would need God. Beingaware of his unworthiness, he has a very healthy desire not to be a superior--until it becomes clear that this call is truly from God. Then, retaining his sense of unworthiness, knowing that God chooses weak things of this world to achieve his purpose, the individual ac-cepts God's call and, in his need, turns to God. Such an individual truly has the spirit_of.a_superior's vocation. . Th~nheal~ the, but more common fear that has become particularly fre-quent" "--~---'---"-'-'during our time in religious life stems, for whatever reason, from a loss of vision, or, alas, from the fact that the individual never had a vision in the first place. When such a person is confronted with the job-requirements, he is often faced with something that is, for him, vague, blurred, unmanageable. He often asks, "What does obedience mean now? What do any of the vows mean now? What does the apostolate mean now? What does the vision of the congregation mean now?" And on, and on, and on. His fear is as blurred as is his sense of vocation itself. Without a vision, such a prospect for the office of superior does not look out to God's vineyard, but into the interior of the community. All he sees when he looks around is conflict, antagonism, varieties of resistance, burdens and crosses--and he wants no part of that kind of crucifixion. So, for his own security and comfort, he is afraid to be a superior. And that kind of fear, if the job is thrust upon him regardless, leads to paralysis, a paralysis that can find a variety of ways of expression. He can be .the do-nothing, the absolutely do-nothing type, who keeps his hands totally off everything except the signing of checks once a month--and this only if the treasurer has succeeded in making an appointment. Or he becomes the type who is only an~administrator. He becomes only the outside contact-person working with benefactors. He becomes only the friend of t

Issue 38.5 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; REVIEW FOR RE~.~(;~OUS (ISSN (~)34-639X). published bi-monthly (every two months), 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. © 1979 By REVIEW FOR RE~.~;~OUS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. Missouri. Single copies: $2.0(I. Subscription U.S.A.: $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 REv,~-:w VOR RE~.~;~OtJS: 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, 1979 Volume 38 Number 5 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to R~:v~v:w r'on Rv:~Ac,~oos; 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 College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues ahd articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Detachment in the Ascent of( Mount Carmel'. an Appreciation Judson Mather Dr. Mather, father of a large family and active in Catholic life Jn campus, is Associate Professor in the Department of Humanities of Michigan State Universitty. His address: 547 Charles St.; East Lansing, M148823. [ Whatever its actual content and overt interest, W.H. Auden said, every poem is rooted in imaginative awe. This is a dictum, worth keeping in mind in approaching St. John of the Cross. For John of the Cross was a contempla-tive, a poet, and a mystical theologian--in that order. His poetry flowed from his lived experience as a man of prayer and was the most immediate ex-pression of that experience. The Ascent of Mo~unt Carmel and the other works of mystical theology which he wrote are all c~ast as commentaries on his poetry. The books, of course, reveal other sides ~f his remarkable gifts: his sharp, systematic mind, for instance, and the exte~nt to which he was steeped in the Scriptures. But behind this always stands tt .~ imaginative awe commu-nicated in the poetry. The whole of the Ascent, adeed' is the exposition of one brief stanza: In the midst of a dark night, Yearnihg, and with love alight -- Ah, sheer fortune's fill! -- 1 went out hidden from all si ;ht, At last my dwelling being still. ¯ Author's translation. Prose passages quoted in the following pages are the E. Allison Pee~ translation: St. John of the Cross, Ascent of Mount Carmel (Garden City, N.Y.: Image Books, 1958). 641 649 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 Book One of the Ascent surveys this stanza as a whole; Books Two and Three concentrate in great detail on the "dark night" spoken of in the first line. He expounds the dark night of faith, which entails a. darkening of knowledge; the dark night of hope, which is accompanied byan obscuring 6f the memory; and the dark night of love which brings with it the dark night of the will. The poetic touchstone of the Ascent is important because throughout the book John is using the central metaphore of his poem -- a dark night-- as the symbol of his central theme: detachment. If we lose sight of the imagina-tive link here, we are also apt to miss his central insight that detachment is the gift of grace -- "sheer fortune" -- and not an accomplishment. The problem is not that the theme of detachment is obscured or buried in the text of the book. On the contrary, John seems to go at the dark night of detachment with a thoroughness, a grim relish, that could strike us as being masochistic. We find him, for example, telling us to "strive always to prefer" the most difficult rather than the easiest, the most unpleasant rather than the delectable, the wearisome rather than the restful, the worst of temporal things rather than the best. "Let the soul strive to work in its own despite, and desire all to do so" (Iil 3/6.,9). No one would urge that detachment is an easy matter. But wh~t is missing from passages such as these (and there are quite a few) is the sense of imagi-native awe communicated in the poetry. Where this sense of awe is lacking, there seems to be a suggestion that detachment is some kind of self-improve-ment project. This can hardly be the case. Self-preoccupation certainly was "~/ not something John wanted to instill in his re'~-~-d~:s; least ~-f-~]"would he re(-'. ommend the warped and twisted spiritual pride of masochism. Quite the con-trary, the whole issue he addresses in treating detachment is the issue of how God goes about cracking the hard shell of our egotism, so that the light of Christ can shine within. Much of therproblem I suspect, is the gulf between the culture in which we live and the culture within which -- and for which -- John wrote. John's way of discussing detachment was imbued with the rough-and-tumble individual-ism of six~teenth-century Spain. It was the world of the conquistadores and Don Qui, xote (who may have been mad but was not cowardly). It was what the anthropologists call a "courage culture," where one's very sense of being someone was apt to be tied up with his demonstrated bravery. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, for example, was a soldier in the days before his conversion. His leg was smashed by a cannonball. He had it broken and reset- twice, without anesthetic- so that he could once again cut a good figure in the hose stockings that gentlemen of the day wore. Nor did John of the Cross himself lead a sheltered life. There was a great struggle going on between the Caiced and the Reformed Carmelites; John had left the Calced Carmelites and joined the Reformed. Twice he was kidnapped by the Calceds. The second time he was imprisoned in a six-by-ten-foot windowless Detachment in the Ascent of Mount Carmel / 64:3 room; three times a week he was taken out-and beaten in the refectory for his stubborn refusal to renounce his Reformed vows. Only after a year and a half or so of :this treatment was he able to escape and return to the Reformed order~ Because John was writing in and for this kind of world, it is not surprising that he said tough-minded things in a tough-minded way. But detachment, not."assertiveness training," was his concern. We need not get bogged down in the individualistic, courage-culture way he talked about detachment. There are other traditions of detachment in the Church we can turn to for guidance in these matters. The much older Rule of St. Benedict, for example, treats the root and fruit of discipline as social rather than individual. That is, the touch-stone of detachment is not a matter of preferring the worst or the best or something in between. It is .living in a kindly and generous way with those rub shoulders with all the time. This may be less spectacular than preferringrr the worst, but it's not necessarily less demanding. The "dark night" of which John speaks begins with what we would prob-ably call a "difficulty in mental prayer." The difficulty emerges as a sense of deprivation. Prayer dries up. One loses, as it were, the capacity to think and pray at the same time. With this loss comes a loss of relish for prayer, the loss of a capacity to enjoy it, One seems to be losing hold of what he has most deeply desired. With this, not surprisingly, there also comes a sense of losing the way. One doesn't know where he's going. '.'~Progress" seems to have come up against a brick wail. Beneath all this, there's a loss of the sense of who God is -- and more directly who Godis in relation to one's self. Is faith itself evaporating away? This experience is probably fairly widespread, and can and does lead to giving up the whole business -- faith, prayer and the rest of it -- as a bad job. We can come to think of it all as a delusion -- and indeed there may well be a sense of relief that comes of thinking of it in this way. But the relief is bitter-sweet. Even Sartre, the atheist-existentialist, says that the world without God is a forlorn world, John goes beyond a perception of forlornness. He points out that what makes this darknes~ so paradoxical and so painful is that the dark night d6scends at the same time as one is "yearning, and with love alight." The sense of the loss of God's presence is accompanied by a deep longing for God. If this paradoxical and painful state is endured, John says, something happens. He calls it "sheer fortune." Now sheer fortune isn't something we do. It's something that "happens," unexpectedly. Such a happening, I want to stress, is not what we would normally call an experience. It only becomes an experience in retrospect--where we can look back on it and say, "Yes. That happened." What happens is described by. John in the second half of the stanza. "I went out hidden from all sight / At last my dwelling being still." In the midst 644 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 of obscurity and darkness, paradox and pain, while we were not observing it--indeed precisely because we were not observing it m we were drawn forth from ourselve.s_:__T_~e_.gi~ft of self-forgetfulness was somehow bestowed on the °lS~'~tered ego. ~,n"n'-d--~we ~-~ r--~-o-~, ~-l~rely, that this was indeed "sheer fortune." It was what down deep we really wanted all along anyway, while we were looking elsewhere for some other kind of answer. This, I believe, is the context for John's strong emphasis on detachment in Book One. Rightly used, detachment is a way of coming to grips with reali-ty- of getting our desires into order with reality instead of with illusion. Such an ordering is important to the contemplative prayer John describes be-cause the reality we are facing here is the reality of darkness. What we need is not a change of scene or the return of old feelings. We need the grace of en-durance. And that, of course, is what God is providing. John puts the point in a powerful metaphor: the Israelites, he says, "failed to find in the manna all the sweetness and strength they could wish, not because it was not con-tained in the manna, but because they desired some other thing" 0/5/4). There's a whole commentary of life in this sentence. It's easy to become so preoccupied with what God is not providing that we neglect to notice what he is providing. This is not to say that the grace of endurance will be experienced as some-thing noble and admirable. It's more likely to be a matter of stumbling on, we know not how. We wonder if we really should have meant to offer our-selves to God, and if he isn't asking of us more than we are able to give. This shouldn't be surprising. Our sense of an inability to cope on our own strength is an education in humility -- which is a good part of what we are up to in the first place. Of course, we'd prefer some other sort of education. We'd rather learn humility without humiliation. But that's not usually the way in which reality works. The point here also can be put in a more positive way. Detachment is important to contemplative prayer because contemplative prayer is a being called forth by reality-- the Reality, God himself. It's an adventure with all the danger as well as all the challenge that adventure implies. Because God is the Reality, he is so vast and awesome, so intimate and penetrating, that there is little if anything in our previous experience that corresponds to what has come upon us. So the expectation of the unknown, the surprising, the fright-ening conforms to the reality of the situation in which we find ourselves. Detachment is crucial to dealing with this because in the darkness we must continually be sorting things out. We need to sort the things that matter more from the things that matter less as we go along this unknown way. There are two further points to make about contemplative detachment. First, contemplative detachment is not passivity. It's an active wanting of what God wants in the particular, concrete circumstances in which we stand. It means not sitting back, but responding, to the particular moment, with all its opportunities and all its limitations. Second, contemplative detachment is Detachment in the Ascent of Mount Carmel / 645 not a cold, independent, isolated thing. Rather it's a matter of freely giving up as a part of freely giving. It is a willingness to take the risk of being shat-tered, of abiding in a shattered state--and of abiding with others in their shattered state as well. There is no other contemplative way. The shattered state is where the "sheer fortune of going out hidden from all sight" occurs. As we move from Book One to Book Two, it becomes apparent that de-tachment is central in contemplative prayer, and not just a preparation for it. That is, we don't let go of material things in order to grasp and possess spirit-ual things. The crux of contemplative prayer is a deep spiritual detachment. There is a reason for this. If the term, "spiritual growth" means any-thing, it means a growth "into Christ" m a being called forth into deeper union with him. And here the Christ of the Gospel confronts us with the uni-ty of his teaching and his deeds. When he said, "he who would save his life will lose it, and he who will lose his life for my sake will find it," he was giv-ing a commentary on what he himself was in the midst of doing in relation to his Father. He did not do o]ae thing so that we could do something else. He did one thing so we could do the same thing. He did not say "Take up your cross and go your own way," but "Take up your cross and follow me." The theological pivot of Book Two of the Ascent is Chapter Seven. Here John turns to a central paradox and mystery of the faith: Christ's utter deso-lation at the transformative moment of redemption on the Cro~s. There, out of annihilation, flows fullness of life. This is to say (among other things) that the wellspring of faith in Christ is the faith of Christ: his utter faith in his Father's goodness and triumphant strength. The issue here is not just theory, but practice as well. The story of the Garden oi' Eden--whatever else it means- is a story about the practical doubt of huhaankind in God's complete and trustworthy goodness. The story is universal because this doubt has had practical ramifications throughout history and throughout each one's life. It is universal, but not final. The Good News of Christ addresses the practical doubt of Eden. It proclaims that in Christ doubt is mended by its re~,ersal: Christ's practical trust in his Father's goodness to and beyond the point of death itself. As we are drawn toward union with Christ, we come to the faith that darkens our knowledge and supplants our reason. There grows on us a deep sense of the inadequacy and inoperativeness of our knowledge when it comes face to face with these issues which matter most of all. The theological sense of the~Unity of desolation and fruitfulness in Christ's saving work is no longer just an object of our knowledge. It overshadows us and lays hold of us direct-ly. John describes this transformative darkening in terms of the nearness of God -- it is like, he says, the nearness of fire to a burning log. A more human analogy of nearness may be more to the point for us. Humanly speaking, the full richness of faith is not so much belief in certain facts as a matter of loyal- 6415 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 ty and trust directed toward a person. Now, up to a certain point we can say why we trust a person. But the explanation of that trust is not the substance of it. The substance of it is the trust itself. Indeed, there is a kind of propor-tionality operating here. The more we need reasons, the less there is of trust; the more the trust, the more peripheral and inadequate the reasons seem. As trust grows, we find it bec.oming more mysterious.--going (as John would say) to what we know not by a way we know not. We can~su.spect that com-plete trust would have no need of reasons: it simply is. In prayer, the supplanting of reason and knowledge by the dark night of faith explains why meditation dries up. This is as it should be." Meditation is an exercise of the imagination, and as John says, "although a man imagines palaces of pearls and mountains of gold, because he has seen gold and pearls, all this is in truth less than~ the essence of a little gold or a single pearl" (II/12/4). The greatest imaginary thing is less than the least of the real. And what is being offered in the prayer of the dark night is a touch of the real. To try to hang onto the imaginary under such circumstances is to thwart the working of reality. It is desiring some other thing. This is important, because whfit is experienced in contemplative prayer -- certainly at first and probably for a long time--is more the loss than the gain. John speaks of the "prayer of loving attention." But this does not mean that we're likely to feel loving and attentive. Rather it's a matter of somehow trusting God's love and attentiveness. Much of John's exposition in Book Two is directed toward showing why it's right that this should be so. Here as so often, he goes directly to the root of the matter. He points out that theologically there is a finality about God's word when the Word himself became flesh and dwelt among us. Christ's life and teaching, as remembered and recorded by the faithful community, is full, c6mplete, and adequate. We need nothing more. Thus any qtlest for or reliance upon special signs or revelation or experience in prayer is wrong. Such prayer.-.experience either confirms what is already there -- in which case it is basically superfluous -- or else it is different from what is already there. In that case it is positively misleading. And in either case it reveals a certhin lack of faith -- a doubt that the full glory of God has already been revealed in Christ. Indeed, Jol{n sa3is that even if special experience in prayer were a good thing, it~is less of a good .thing than the pure dark night of faith. For it's only in this night that faith is maintained, noui'ished and increased. So we come upon one of the central paradoxes of contemplative prayer. It can genuinely seem--feel--lower and lesser. It canseem like a waste of timg, nothing at all. This is so because'its substance is simply that of a~tively willing whatever it is that God wants. This is a choice, and a choice that has to be continually remade. But it is not a matter of looking for or asking for something special for our own unique case: it is an intent toward trust. It is wanting to pra} without setting qualifications or conditions on what we ex-pect God to do with our offering of prayer. Detachment in the Ascent of Mount Carmel / 64Z In the Third Book of the Ascent,~ John moves on to discuss the dark nights of hope and love. For it is, John says, not just our knowledge but our memory and will as well that are overshadowed in the dark night of contem-plation. Here again, as in the dark night of faith, John's exposition aims at show-ing why this seeming loss is in fact the onset of a new and deeper freedom. That darkness attends hope is built into the very nature of hope itself. For hope, by definition, is for what we do not possess. The more specific hope is, the narrower its boundaries. The "purer" hope is, the less qualified and structured it is -- the more completely open to God. And the more complete the hope, the greater the darkness and mystery. Memoi'y provides the images by which we structure and limit experience. As we go by a way we know not to a place we know not, memory becomes in-creasingly useless as a guide and judge. For we more clearly recognize memo-ry for what it is: our distorted images and pictures, not the reality we seek. And yet we do not know, in having to let go of the help memory once brought, whether we are letting' go of everything J of our very self, ,It's an emptying even more searching than the dark night of faith. Yet such darkness is the right way. If God is in the process of making all things new- of t'ransforming us- we don't want to set boundaries to his activity. Qur business is to "let go." Of course, this is not to say that we can will such letting go and make it happen. Even if that were possible, it would just be possessiveness operatin~ on a deeper and more subtle level. The gift we await can only arrive on the o~her side of the memories we control and possess: arrive as a happy chance. The dark night of love J and its accompanying night of the will -- is the mo~t searching and awesome darkness of ~ill. It is also the most crucial. For without this final darkness and detachment, all that has gone before goes for fiau~ht. This is so because the° love of God is what the whole human enterprise of living and praying is about in the first place. And the ultimate calling of God's love is to a letting go of all the barriers we have to receiving and giving. It is arriving at a point where w.e have nothing to protect from God's own searching and limitless openness t6 giving and r~ceiving. Tl~e experience of this, however, is far more apt to be like falling com-pletely through the bottom--into complete loss, into nothingness. John links the dark night of the will with {he prayer of Gethsemahe which stands at the heart of the Lord's prayer: "Thy will, not mine, be~done.'' There is no other way. Practically speaking, wanting to love God most of all is a matter of wanting to w~int what God wants most of all, whatever that is. The cost is real. John puts his finger on this when he characterizes the dark night of the will as a le'ttin~g go of joy--joy remembered, joy experi-enced, joy hoped for. Darkness indeed, f6r how can we experience the letting go qfjoy as something other than the letting go of love itself? But it's not the letting go of love; "it's the letting go of control. Falling 648 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 through the bottom can be a fall into an unsuspected world of freedom, a new recognition of a capacity for joy. William Blake epitomized it in "Eternity:" He who bends to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy. But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sunrise. We come to recognize that possession is not God's business. We can talk, I suppose, about being "possessed by the devil." But we aren't possessed by God; we're loved by him, with all the freedom and mutuality that love im-plies. Our freedom lies in the recognition that he will enable us to respond in kind. In the dark night of love the need to possess and hang on have somehow been swallowed up. As John says, we can begin to enjoy things and persons and God "according to their truth," and not just according to their meaning and worth for us (III/20/2-3). When the need to control goes, the real joy of freedom arrives. All this may help to indicate why John makes detachment the central focus of the beginning stages of contemplative prayer. It also may indicate that the word "beginning" covers a good deal of ground. As both Dom John Chapman and Thomas Merton remark, in the spiritual life we're lucky if the beginnings last only twenty years or so. Indeed, there's a way in which the contemplative life is always a matter of new beginnings. Such alife (as one of the Zen masters says) is an invitation and quest to discover more fully the gift of a "beginner's mind"--a mind that is open and compassionate, with many possibilities rather than a few. Thus although the Ascent is the introductory work in the body of John's mystical writings, it deals with substantive spirituality, not with approaches or fringes. The Ascent is elementary in the sense of being basic rather than in the sense of being a prologue to be gotten through quickly. Nor is ~he Ascent just a technical handbook on prayer. Starting from the rather narrow base of a "difficulty in mental prayer," John suggests a broad-er panorama. He paints a picture of a way of living, of coping with reality, that is both distinctive and profound. From the standpoint of a biblical theology, his emphasis is like that of the Fourth Gospel rather than like that of St. Paul and the synoptic gospels. That is, he understands the moments of humiliation and glorification as primarily simultaneous, not primarily sequential. The Cross is, to him, the way of life, not just the way to life. This theological point has a practical bearing Qn both one's personal out-look and one's pastoral perspective. How are we to understand the trouble and the darkness that we and others pass through? Is it mainly a punishment or a testing? Or is it basically a calling into deeper union with the whole range Detachment in the Ascent of Mount Carmel /649 of the human condition, and a calling into the whole realm of human and divine caring that the human condition invites? John of the Cross furnishes the theological and spiritual basis for this lat-ter understanding of the burdensomeness of life: for seeing it as an invitation to deeper union, more caring. This is not (it should be said) a popular out-look, for it runs counter to some deep cultural trends in our society--the cult of self-awareness, self-expression, self-fulfillment, and all the other cults of narcissism. Against all such cults John sets the possibility of a better way: a hard but simple happening, rooted in God's generosity and our imaginative awe: In the midst of a dark night, Yearning, and with love alight -- Ah, sheer fortune's fill! -- I went out hidden from all sight, At last my dwelling being still. Now dies the sun under the cross-- I pity, Mary, thy fair face. And thy tears as downward they trace. Now dies the sun under the cross-- I pity, Mary, thy son and thy loss. Denver Sasser Morrill Hall 205 Oklahoma State University Stillwater, OK 74074 (A translation-adaptation of an anonymous English lyric of the 13th Century.) Mission and Commitment A ngelo M. Caligiuri Father Caligiuri is Vicar for Religious in the Diocese of Buffalo. His last article in these pages, entitled "Spirituality and Ordinary Human Experience," appeared in the issue of May, 1978. He may be addressed at the Office of the Vicar for Religious; 100 S. Elmwood Ave.; Buffalo, NY 14202. One of the faith-categories which post conciliar writings have opened up for us in an enlivening and challenging way is that of mission. Since the Council, theological and spiritual writings have unpacked more of the mean-ing of this word and have brought us to a deeper level of understanding, an understanding of mission as a defining characteristic of what it means to be Christian. In this radical sense, mission refers to an essential dimension of the way of life of anyone who has heard the good news and in faith responds to the Lord's invitation to share his life and further his kingdom (see, for example, John Paul II, RedemptorHominis, 9, 10, II, 12, 18, 19; Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi, 6, 13, 59, 60). While mission can be spoken of in rather general and broad terms, any consideration of the full phenomenon of mission will necessarily involve one in a consideration of three persons: the one who sends; the one who is sent; and the one to whom he is sent. To put it in more direct language, we could say that mission means: someone saying. to someone "Go to someone." 650 Mission and Commitment / 65"1 The Mission of Jesus As Jesus was aware of his being sent by the Father to make his message of love known to the world, so does he send his disciples into the world to con-tinue his mission of revealing the Father's love (see, e.g. John 17). Or in more direct language we might say that: as the Father said to Jesus "Go to my people." and tell them of my love for them and of the love that they should have for one another, so does Jesus say io his followers (the church) "Go to my people (the world)." and tell them of my Father's love for them and of'the love they should have for one another. This mission which Jesus received from his Father, he transmitted to the c~ommunity of believers drawn together by his Sp!ri~, i.e. to the Church, We who are the Church, then insofar as we are church, i.e. insofar as God's Spirit leads us to accept Jesus as Lord and Savior and as the revelation of the Father's love, share in the very mission of Jesus. himself. For it is to his Church, i.e. to those who believe in him, that hesays, go to the world and tell it of my Father's love and of the love humans should have for one another. Ecclesial Dimension of Mission To speak of mission, there, within tile Christian community, at whatever level, is also necessarily to spea~k of the Father, Son, Spirit, and Church. Hence the authentication of one's particular mission as Christian, that is, as continuous with the mission of the Son, will be rooted within the Church. Or, to say this in other words, there is an essential ecclesial dimension to all Christian mission. Mission as an Interpersohal R~ality In what was perhal~s.the last document signed by ~he late Pope Paul VI, a document entitled "Directives for the Mutual Relations Between Bishops and Religious in the Church,'_' we read the following. The mission of the people of God is one. In a certain sense it constitutes the heart of the entire ecclesial mystery . thus the Church, throughout her history, 'is by her very nature missionary' (LG, no. 17), in Christ and in virtue of the Spirit. All--pastors, -laymen, and religious, each according to his specific vocation--are called to be apostolically committed. This commitment arises from the love of the Father; the Holy Spirit, then nourishes it, "giving life to ecclesiastical structures, being as it were their soul, and inspiring in the hearts of the faithful the same spirit of mission which impelled Christ himself" (lAG 4], n. 15). 652 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 And the very next paragraph continues: Mission, which begins with the Father, requires that those who are sent exercise their awareness of love in the dialogue of prayer. Therefore, in these times of apostolic re-newal, as always in every form of missionary engagement, a privileged place is given to the contemplation of God to meditation on his plan of salvation, and to reflection on the signs of the times in the light of the gospel, so that prayer may be nourished and grow in quality and frequency (n. 16). As is clearly indicated in these passages, there is a radical personal level which the reality of mission reaches, a level which is more fundamental even than its corporate expression. It is to this more fundamental level that I would like to move in these reflections. It is at this level that mission is a faith-value that finds its ultimate ground in a person's presence to God, for it is at this level that mission does or does not become an existential reality, that is, an energizing and enlivening influence in the life of each follower of Christ. It is here that mission becomes part of the motivational structure of each religious. When we move to this level, we encounter mission as an interpersonal reality. For ultimately, mission is grounded in the reality of our relationships, our relationship with .the person who sends us and with the person(s) to whom we are sent. The strength and depth of our sense of mission then will depend upon the strength and depth of our relationship to the one who sends us. In other words, mission is intimately related to commitment. Mission and Commitment At the level of etymology, this interrelationship is clear. Both "mission" and "commitment" are radically from the Latin word, mittere, "to send." But it is at the level of our personal lives, as individuals responding to the Father's invitation to share his life and further his kingdom, that the truly in-timate relationship between mission and commitment becomes clear. The depth of our commitment to mission will depend upon the depth of our com-mitment to the One who sends us. When we speak about commitment, we are speaking about a reality that seems to be, at one and the same time, most personal, yet one which we can speak about rather impersonally. The very word commitment conjures up in our minds a feeling of security, a once-in-a-lifetime thing, a word that seems to "say it all"; and yet it also brings with it an unknown element, that dimen-sion of the cemmitted life that is revealed to us only in the living out of our lives. Commitment as Experienced The reality of commitment is best understood in terms of our personal ex-perience of it, in the context of our living of it. Indeed commitment is, and has been, a real dimension of our religious lives for however long we have been in religion. Mission and Commitment/ 653 If we ask ourselves just how it has been, and is now, a dimension of our lives, our first response might be to refer to that public act that we celebrated before the Church at the time of our final profession, one, ten, fifty years ago. Upon reflection, though I feel sure that we would not want to imply that this public act of commitment totally encompassed for us the full reality behind the words we uttered. That act, made once and renewed formally peri-odically, was, and is, simply an external sign, an outward expression of a deeper reality taking place in our hearts, at the level of our person. Commitment, then, has to do fundamentally with our person, with our presence to ourselves, with our awareness of ourselves. If commitment is to be more than an external act, it must flow from the ability each of us has to give ourselves not only in external acts but at the level of our awareness of who we are and who we are becoming; an awareness that is ours most clearly during those graced moments when we are frighteningly present to ourselves as we are before God, in naked truth and honesty. Commitment, then, has everything to do with ourselves, with our growing understanding of ourselves, a growth that takes place every day of our lives till the day we die, if we let it. Life itself is characterized by growth and change. Although this is quite obviously true with regard to our physical life, it is just as true, although not as immediately evident, in our lives as persons, as spiritual beings. It is in and through our lived experiences, that we grow in our understand-ing and acceptance of ourselves, that we grow as persons, a growth that has to influence the reality of the commitment we have made. It is our very per-son that we commit, that we give, ourperson that is alive and growing. And as we continue to experience life, as we grow in our self-understanding, we cannot help but come to a greater appreciation of what commitment means in our personal lives. The word "commitment," which, to an extent, remains impersonal, likb a skeleton, takes on flesh, begins to become incarnate in our real lives. Commitment and Spiritual Growth Just as our continued growth as persons influences our understanding of our commitment, so also is the opposite true. Where there is no personal 'growth, where an individual 'stagnates in his growth as a person, so also does his commitment become l~ss and less personal and more and more abstract. When this happens, his commitment runs the risk of becoming a cold and static reality, something that he begins to refer to in order to justify his com-placency and indifference towards his growth, as a justification for his lack of response to the ever present challenges of life, and as a justification for isolating himself more and more from his community, from the world. Under the false security of having "once and for all" committed himself, he can retire more and more into his own little world, becoming less and less sen-sitive to the life of the Spirit in the world, in the Church and in his fellow re- 654 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 ligious. Instead of commitment calling him to a greater giving of himself in the real-life situations of todaY,, instead of it calling him to a greater sense of mission, it becomes a needed excuse for seeing things only in terms that he finds personally acceptable, so that he becomes narrow-minded, unable to tolerate others. And because commitment ~ has become depersonalized and divorced from life,, it becomes, for him, something that must be expressed in the same way by all. ~ Commitment then has everything to do with our growth as persons, a growth that results more from.oiar attitudinal stance, than from our chrono-logical age. As a result, commitment can.be a truly influential and motivating force in our lives only to the extent that we are continually open to the life-giving Spirit who breathes where he will, to the Spirit who calls us to. deepen our relationship with Christ in the light of our growing understanding of our-selves. Commitment and Mission: the Person Who Is Sent Mission then is rooted in relationships. And the full reality of mission, which essentially involves the person who is sent, the person who sends and the person to whom he is sent, can well be described in interpersonal', rela-tional terms. First of all there is the relationship of the person~who-is-sent to the person:who-sends. At this personal level mission arid commitment are very intimately related, so ~that the depth and validity of our sense of mission will necessarily be related to the depth of our relationship to the person who sends us. Or, in 6ther words, our sense of mission is intimately related to our sense of commitment, a reality which has everything to do with our continual growth as persons. Ultimately, our personal sense of mission will depend upon the depth of the commitment of our person to the person of Jesus Christ in our lives. Now if our sense of mission is intimately related to our personal commit-ment to the one who sends us, then a fuller understanding of mission must necessarily include a more complete consideration of the commitment rela-tionship itself. And what surfaces in such a consideration is that the commitment rela-tionship is essentially bipolar, that is, one that necessarily includes not~ only we who give ourselves and who are sent, but also the person to whom we give ourselves, the person who sends. Commitment and Mission: the Person Who Sends Most religious and priests, if asked to express just who or what it is that they have committed themselves to, would probably answer in one of the fol-lowing ways: "I committed myself to God.-- to Jesus; I committed myself to serve God's people, to a particular way of life or' to a specific apostolate." Now while all of these responses are meaningful in themselves and are legiti- Mission and Commitment / 655 mate values to which we can commit ourselves, not all of them have the abili-ty to call forth from us a radical level of commitment that proceeds from our very person. Not all warrant a response from us or challenge us at the level of our person. In fact, there are certain things we commit ourselves to that never in themselves require more than a functional response on our part. However, when we think about our religious commitment, we are think-ing about a reality that does reach us at the level of our person. We are con, sidering Something that r.eally influences us not primarily at the level of what we do, but rather at the level of who we are, and of the kind of person we are becoming. The only reality we can commit ourselves to in such a way that it will reach us as persons, is the reality of another person. To be sure, we can and do commit ourselves to do things, to perform certain actions and rituals, and to.provide certain services. But these activities can be out of harmony with our basic personal commitment and instead of being expressions of our basic personal commitment and being a means of incarnating that commit-ment moreand more in our living situations, these activities can become ends in themselves and as a matter of fact, they can introduce into our lives a real dichotomy between what we do and who we really are. When this kind of situation arises, we begin to absolutize our activities. When speaking about commitment, we find ourselves always speaking about commitment to certain apostolates and activities, a type of commitment which is only a second-level commitment, since these activities of themselves do not necessarily reach us at the level of our person. When commitment has become primarily this kind of second-level commitment to functions and ac-tivities, no matter how good they are in themselves, commitment becomes an impersonal and static reality that no longer challenges to growth and to life. Rather, it becomes a reality which is continually threatened by persons who do things differently, or who do different things. Then, in the name of com-mitment, we can find ourselves becoming rather defensiv.e, distrustful and suspicious, becoming ever. more' cl.osed in on ourselves, more isolated, and hence with an ,ever narrowing sense of mission. To be sure, because mission is an e,ssential part of the call to follow Christ, Christian and religious commitment must o~bvigusly lead to doing things and to activity. The point is. that when w~ totally identify our Christian or religious commitment.wi.th ceriain activities or apostolates, then that com-mitment can become a hindrance .to our true personal growth in Christ, it can become an obstacle in.the way of what the Lord's love wants to do in our lives at the level of our hearts. Commitment to the Person Who Sends: Jesus Christ Now, while it is possible that commitment to things or activities can get in the way of our continued personal growth in the Lord's life, a sense of com-mitment is primarily a very positive influence in our spiritual life. However, it is this only to the degree that our commitment is to the person of God as he 656 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 reveais himself to us in his Son Jesus Christ. It is to the extent that it is to Jesus and to his life-giving word that we give ourselves, only to this extent does our commitment become radically personal and continually challenging at the level of the persons we are becoming and can become. When we become more and more personally aware of the fact that our primary commitment as religious is to the person of Jesus Christ who makes his love for us felt in the people and situations of our lives, we also become less hesitant to respond to new situations creatively, then we become less hesi-tant to act upon new insights both in our personal and communal lives. We are able to carry out our mission in an effective and creative way. Since it is to the living Lord that we have given ourselves and who missions us, it is to be expected that he will inspire us and continually lead us to new understandings of ourselves and of our deepening relationship with him, and both of these will of necessity have to find expression in the apostolic activities of our life. If we really believe that it is the Lord who is giving us this new under-standing, then we will have little hesitation oi" fear in allowing that new understanding to lead us to new activities, to new ways of doing things. The mere newness of these ways and activities will in no way cause us to feel that we are being unfaithful to our past or that what we did in the past was wrong or less than our best effort. The Lord normally calls us to grow in his life gradually, and it is only in the context of past experience and action that cer-tain new insights into the Lord's ways become possible. "Only if the seed die, will it bring forth new life." And only if we are free enough to let go of what we are, can we become what the Lord wants us to become. The more personally aware we become of the fact that our primary com-mitment is to the person of Jesus Christ, the less will we identify our religious selves with just activities and functions, the less will our sense of mission be limited to specific activities which must necessarily reflect the historical moment and culture in which they developed. Real life situations will always be changing, whether We like it or not. Unless we want to remove ourselves from life and begin to live in our own lit-tle world, a world that is real only in our own lives, we must as the Council has reminded us so strongly, continually read the signs of the times. However, although the situations in which we carry out our missions are going to be ever new, there is also a constant dimension in them. That con-stant dimension is our personal commitment to the person of Christ. Although we can't do much about most of our life situations, we can do quite a bit about the depth and sincerity of our commitment. And this is the kind of thing we do in prayer and in celebrating our faith life with those who share and experience the same love of God in their lives. As we grow in our awareness of the fact that our religious life is identified with this personal commitment to Christ and not with particular apostolates, practices and activities, then we can begin to allow our commitment to lead us to actions and attitudes that will make our Christian values just a little Mission and Commitment / 657 more incarnate in our changing life situations. Our commitment will give rise to and deepen our sense of mission. As we free ourselves from the slavery of our prejudices and preconceived ideas, we will be able to see more and more clearly what it is that the Lord wants us to do. We will begin to see that he really means it when he says that the heart of his message is love of God and love of neighbor. We will begin to appreciate that he really wants his fol-lowers to become one, to grow in true communion with others, and our sense of mission will become deepened and directed. Commitment, then, grounds our mission, and the depth of our personal commitment to the person of Christ, who sends us to tell all of the Father's love, will determine the depth of our sense of being sent and our willingness to be sent. Commitment and Mission: the Person(s) to Whom We Are Sent Having considered the person who is sent and the person who sends, in order to complete our reflection on the reality of mission, we must now turn to a consideration of the person or persons to whom we are sent. In a rather simplistic way, I would like to say that we are sent by Christ both to ourselves and to others. In saying this, I think that I have said an awful lot -- and have also left a lot unsaid. Sent to Ourselves In saying that we are sent to ourselves, I am not engaging in double-talk, nor stating a reality that is so obvious that it need not be mentioned. Rather what I am trying to describe is the fact that the good news of the Father's love which we are sent to communicate, is good news not only for others but also, and even primarily, for ourselves. Wecannot communicate the good news of the Father's love for all unless we have ourselves heard the good news and ac- .cepted it. As mentioned earlier, we are not sent in an impersonal way, after the fashion of mechanical instruments, but rather we are sent as the unique persons we are and are becoming. It is as persons loved into being by the Father and responding to that love in our own unrepeatable way, that we are sent to bring others the good news of the Father's love. And so before we bring the good news to others, we must hear and accept it ourselves. Through prayer and reflection we must constantly strive to be present to the promptings of God's life-giving Spirit as he tries to lead us ever more profoundly into union with the Father. The good news of the Father's love must continually confront us and challenge us to keep on dying to our old self, so that the new creature that the Lord would have us become might be born and mature. In a more traditional terminology we might say that we must be concerned about saving our own soul. The good news that we are sent to bring to others, then, is also, and first of all, good news for us personally. This is the sense in which we say that we are first of all sent to ourselves. 658 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 Sent to Others However, and perhaps more obviously, we are also sent to others. In Mt 28:18-20 we read: Jesus came forward and addressed them in these words: "Full authority has been given to me both in heaven and on earth; go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations. Baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Teach them to carry out everything I have commanded you and know that I am with you always till the end of the world" (confer also Lk 24:46-48; and Ac 1:8). ~ Clearly then, because it is in and through Christ that we have come to know the Father's love and have accepted the Father's invitation to share his life in faith, we also share in the mission he gave Christ, to witness to his love before all men. Because of our personal commitment to the person of Christ, we also share in his mission to the world. The "How. of Our Mission An obvious and legitimate question can be raised at this point in our re-flections, as to just how we carry out our mission .to others. How do we wit-ness to others of the love of the Father for them, and of the call they have to love each other? Of course this is the question that ultimately each of us must answer for ourselves in the light of our own personal salvation history andin the light of the real time and place in history where we are responding to the promptings of God's Spirit in out lives. , Even as we.acknowledge this radically personal dimension of the answer to this question of "how," we can also make some more general observations about this "how:" ¯ The first is that, if we are going to be true to the mission of Christ and not be sidetracked at some other level, we must, inall the different concrete situa-tions which make up the context of our lives, strive to witness to the reality of God's love among us. I know that this sounds trite, and that we have said it already. But yet we must really allow these familiar words to become opera-tive in our own evaluating of our daily life situations. Success or failur~ in our services or activities must ultimately be judged not so much according to whether or not we succeeded in doing what we set out to do, but rather in whether or not in our attempt to be of service we witnessed to the presence of God's love among us. Secondly, our ability to witness to the Father's love in the situations of our daily life, be they classrooms, hospital rooms, courtrooms, community rooms or wherever, will be dependent upon our own growing acceptance of the Father's love in our lives. No one can give what he doesn't have. And unless we are, in our own personal lives, secure in the Father's love, confident of our life in him and present to ourselves as we continually grow into the person God's Spirit wants us to be, we will not be able to respond creatively Mission and Commitment / 659 to the situations of our daily life in which we are called to witness to the Father's love, and the mission of Christ will be circumscribed by our limited perspectives. I guess what I am trying to say here is that there are two dimensions to our personal liveL One is the dimension of ourselves which we can call the core of our being, the "within," the person that we are and are becoming through our intimate involvement with God's life-giving Spirit. This is our ongoing attempt to ~become ever more present to ourselves, ever more in touch with the profound mystery of God's creative love which sustains each of us in our unique being. But if there is a "within," there is also a "without." There is also a very public dimension to our person. In fact, our very being as persons is "to-be-with." This is one of the mysterious realities of the spiritual life. While at first glance the person who gives himself over to a contemplative life-style seems to be isolating himself from others, in reality the more he becomes present to the real core of his being, the more he encounters the overpowering love of God in himself and the more he is aware of and present to that same love of God in others. As he gets more in touch with the core of his being, he discovers that "to-be" is really "to-be-with." There is,,then, a public dimension to our personal existence, and, as a re-sult, as persons we are necessarily called to give public witness to God's love. But in this sense,, our public witness is not something apart from our personal acceptance of the Father's love. Rather it is a necessary concomitant of it, since as persons, we are necessarily social, we are necessarily with others. Although we usually think of ourselves as witnessing to God's love, as carrying out our mission in terms of others who are not part of our immedi-ate, everyday surroundings, since as persons, we are necessarily "with others," by the sincerity and authenticity of our own personal growth in the Lord, we witness first of all to. those who are closest to us, to our brothers and sisters with whom we live in community, to our family, to those who, all too often, we take for granted because we are so frequently physically present to each other. Besides this. public dimension of our personal witness, there is also a pub-lic witness to the Father's love which comes in a communal way. The Church itself, as the body of Christ in time and space, and all the various structures which in the course of the ages have arisen as a means to help us to grow in the Lord, give a communal witness to the Father's love at work among us. Mission and Religious Congregations It appears that it is precisely this area of public communal witness, the area of corporate witness, that is giving rise today to rather serious and searching reflections in many religious congregations as they consider their institutional apostolates and discern their future commitment to them. As communities have begun to rewrite their constitutions, many are reflecting 660 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 upon their experience with "self-placement," and other attempts to involve individuals in a discerning process regarding their mission to specific aposto-lates. In this process, they have become aware of the need to acknowledge and identify, as clearly as possible, the ecclesial and corporate dimensions of mission as significant factors to be consciously brought into such a discerning. process. Indeed, without such conscious inclusion, the wide variety of activities and apostolates in which a community or an individual may engage, while good and productive in themselves, may be "de-spirited," that is, not enliv-ened by the inspired dynamic at work in the Church's carrying out of its mis-sion from Jesus its Lord, To be sure, in our rapidly changing world, in which religious in a special way have been asked to read and respond to the signs of the times, it is not a simple matter to discern which apostolates are legitimate extensions and ex-pressions of Jesus's mission at a particular time in history. For while the traditional apostolates are still very valid, we also know that new needs are arising that call for creative reponses in order to carry out the mission of Jesus in the world of today and tomorrow. Historically, the Spirit has en-riched the Church with religious communities which have been able to trans-late the mission mandate of Christ into ministries and apostolates that responded to the reality of particular ages, be it by redeeming slaves, by teaching the children of Catholic immigrants in the context of a pluralistic so-ciety, by providing medical care in underdeveloped countries, or by lobbying for issues of social justice. However, precisely because such a discerning process, reflecting as it does one's ecclesiology and understanding of the vows (especially obedience), is necessarily not a simple matter, congregations must resist the temptation to expedite and simplify the process either by not providing clear and challeng-ing ecclesial and congregational input to a person's discerning process, or by not taking a person's discerning process seriously. Persons, on the other hand, must search out this congregational and ecclesial input, and allow it to be a very significant dimension in their own discerning process. The current efforts being made by religious congregations to deal with the implications of their ecclesial reality for their congregational sense of mis-sion, are most encouraging. As congregations continue to address this area with greater intensity, they will find some direction and encouragement from the above mentioned document, "Directives for the Mutual Relations Be-tween Bishops and Religious in the Church," jointly issued by the Sacred Congregation for Keligious and Secular Institutes and the Sacred Congrega-tion for Bishops (see Chapter I I I, 10-12 and especially Chapter IV, 15-23). The entire second part of this document presents some directives and norms that deal with the practical aspects of such mutual relations. To get a sense of how this document could contribute to a congregation's discerning process, it might be helpful to cite a few of the directives. Mission and Commitment / 661 38. Major superiors will take great care not only to have a knowledge of the talents and possibilities of their religious btit also of the apostolic needs of the dioceses where their institute is called to work. Wherefore it is desirable that a concrete and global dialog be carried on between the bishop and the superiors of the various institutes present in the diocese, so that, especially in view of certain precarious situations and the persistent vo-cational crisis, religious personnel can be more evenly and fruitfully distributed. 40 . Bishops, in dialog with religious superiors and with all who work in the pastoral sector of the diocese, should try to discern what the Spirit wills and should study ways to provide new apostolic presences, so as to be able to deal with the difficulties which have arisen within the diocese. The search, however, for this renewal must not in the least lead to a depreciation of the still actually valid forms of apostolate, which are properly traditional, such as that of the.school (see S. Congregation for Catholic Education, The Catholic School March 19, 1977), of the missions, of effective presence in hospitals, social services, etc. All of these traditional forms, moreover, must be, without delay, suitably updated according to the norms and guidelines of the Council and the needs of the times. 41. Apostolic innovations, which are later to be undertaken, should be planned with careful study. On the one hand, it is the duty of the bishops through their office not in-debd to extinguish the Spirit, but to test all things and hold fast to what is good (see l Th 5, 12 and 19-21; LG 12), in such a way however, "that the spontaneous zeal of those who engage in this work may be safeguarded and fostered" (.4G 30); religious superiors on their part, should cooperate actively and dialog with the bishops in seeking solutions, in arranging the programming of choices made, in launching experiments, even com-pletely new ones, always acting in view of the most urgent needs of the Church and in , conformity with the norms and directives Of the Magisterium and according to the nature of their institute. Together with such guidelines, congregations must themselves, through their own reflective processes, arrive at clarity and consistency regarding their own understanding and usage of those potentially confusing phrases that often surface when a congregation considers how "mission" finds expression in its corporate life. I am referring here to phrases like, "corporate mission," "corporate witness," "corporate ministry," "institutional commitment," all of which perhaps need to be "unpacked" and reflected upon in the light of the congregation's own understanding of its charism and ecclesial reality. The necessity of institutions for the carrying out of certain, apostolates is obvious. However, given the changes in the society to which we are missioned to proclaim and witness to the Father's love, it might be necessary at least to raise the question as to whether or not institutions as such have become ends in themselves, institutions, that is, whose continued existence is justified more and more from their own intrinsic merits and strengths than from their relationship to the furthering of the mission of Christ. Honest struggling with these questions should help congregations to clari-fy, identify, and own just which dimensions of their institutional apostolates do incarnate their public communal witness to the Father's love and, in doing so, give the congregation some significant input for whatever process they 662 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 engage in, in trying to digcern l~he missioning of the congregation's personnel and the expediture of its financial resources. However even at this level of concern for a congregation's public com-munal witness, I think it is important to remember that since the community consists simply of persons coming together in the Spirit to share with and live out their common faith-vision, the vitality of a congregation,s public com-munal witness will also necessarily reflect the quality of the personal witness of the members of the community. Conclusion The thrust of these reflections has been to surface the essential inter-personal and relational dimensions of the reality of mission. For it is this di-mension which to a great extent grounds the ability of mission to be a truly enlivening reality of our Christian living. Because the phenomenon of mis-sion involves three persons, the person who is sent, the person who sends and person to whom he is sent, one's sense of mission and willingness to be sent will be very much rooted in his relationship to the person who sends. In other words mission is very intimately related to commitment, so that the quality of our Christian mission will be dependent upon the quality of our commitment to the person of Je'stis Christ who shares his mission with us. As a result, when religious, both personally and communally, enter a pro-cess to discern where and how they should carry out the mission that Christ shares with them, their process of discernment must include a very real sensi-tivity to the input of the Church -- especially the local church -- where alone one's mission is actually carried out. And it is this ecclesial input that will help r~ligious avoid the subtle dangers of becoming more concerned with self-perpetuation than with proclaiming and witnessing to the kingdom. And, correspondingly, it is a serious responsibility of the Church -- especially the local church -- to create and foster those structures that will enable it to sur-face and articulate its pastoral needs in a realistic and credible way. But, even more fundamentally, before religio6s, either personally or com-munally, can engage in such a legitimate process of discernment, one that'is aimed at discerning the will of the Father, they must already be in a loving and living prayerful relationship 'with the Lord. They must have already com-mitted their very selves to the person of Jesus. As' followers of Christ, we are necessarily on mission. While for religious this mission does receive some definite specifications in the light of congrega-tional charisms, still, the full reality of their mission must ~lso, necessarily, flow from and reflect its ecclesial, Christic and Trinitarian roots. Which is to say that ultimately for religious, as for 'all Christians, the quality of our sense of mission and our willingness to be sent, are very inti-mately tied up with our personal relationship with and commitment to the person who sends us, the person of Jesus Christ. For, like the Trinity itself, our mission is'rooted ultimately in relationships. Three Questions for the Spiritual Journey Joel Gia//anza, C.S.C. Brother Giallanza has contributed to these pages previously. His article, "The Counsels of John of the Cross Revisted," appeared in our January, 1978 issue~ He continues to reside at Holy Cross Novitiate; Bennington, VT 05201. Asking a question implies searching for an answer; also it implies a desire for the knowledge and valfie inherent in the answer. As expressions of a commitment to the spiritual journey, questions can be effective channels for.discovering ways in which the Lord has been and is operative in each one's life. Most of the great mystics do not use questions as a structural basis for their writings. However; they do seem to be addressing a query that could be formulated thus: "What is your experience of God in your own life?" Within this experiential context, mystical writers offer the reader profound glimpses into their relationships with God. Admittedly this is not the only query that shapes the writings of these authors. Other, more specific, questions emerge as they articulate their understanding of the spiritual life. Questions pertaining to each one's own spiritual journey should be neither accidental nor random. Haphazard questioning can have a significant impact on the direction that one takes; it can result in one's losing sight of the journey's end--union with the Lord. Questions for the journey rather should facilitate choices which have to be made, should be a guide along the road, should offer the support and the challenge necessary to continue faithfully even when the road is dark. Where can such questions be found? The spiritual journey is a move- 663 664 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 ment toward union with the Lord. Our questions, then, should come from the Lord himself. He alone gives the gi'ace to discern choices, to find support along the road, and to bring light to the darkness. This reflection will focus on three questions which come from the Lord and which seem to be of special importance for the spiritual journey. Identifying the Lord The first question is itself posed in the context of a journey: specifically, Jesus and his disciples are entering the district of Caesarea Philippi. First Jesus asks his disciples who others believe him to be; then, after a variety of responses, he asks the disciples themselves: "But who do you say that I am?" (Mr 16:13-15 and parallels). The question is a crucial one, an identi-fying one; the response to it immediately identifies each one's faith in, and relationship with, Jesus of Nazareth. This identification is fundamental to the spiritual life. It specifies the end point toward which the spiritual journey tends. Above all, it is a statement of faith. Faith is a lived reality. Its core is made visible by the whole of one's life, through one's attitudes, decisions, commitments, relationships. Contem-porary Christians, just as the disciples, must also confront this question, in faith, for it is ever-present. "Who do you say that I am?" Clearly, it is present as one prays, either individually or in a worshiping community. It is present in everyday decisions and encounters, as well as in those which have an impact on one's life beyond a single day, week, month, or year. In short, it is present throughout the spiritual journey. All of life responds, in some way, to it. The movement of the text in which this question appears is from general ("who do others say. ?") to particular ("who do you say. ?"). The disciples, doubtless, had been influenced by what others were saying about Jesus; hence, their answers to the generalized question. The challenge of the more particular question, however, is to respond personally on the basis of their own experience. So too, for contemporary Christians, the influence of others has some bearing on the development of personal faith; eventu-ally, however, the question must be addressed on the. basis of one's own faith and experience. The spiritual life, as a personal relationship with God, must contain a response to Jesus on a personal level. Finally, the identification of '~who Jesus is" in and for one's life is inseparable from the Paschal Mystery. "From that time Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised" (Mt 16:21 and parallels). To identify Jesus, in the words of Peter, as "the Christ, the Son of the Living God" is to accept the cross-and-resurrection. The Lordship of Jesus and his accomplishment of the Father's will by dying and rising are one. And so, the spiritual journey begins. One's vision of its end and of the road to be taken is focused sharply in each one's response to the question of Jesus: "But who do you say that I am?" Three Questions for the Spiritual Journey / 665 Acknowledging the Lord The first question, the identifying question, is not asked in a vacuum. It leads to, and is supported by, another question: "Do you know what I have done to you?" (Jn 13:12). The immediate scriptural context of this question" is the Last Supper, after Jesus had washed the disciples' feet. In this simple action, he gives them an example of how they are to serve others. For the spiritual journey, the response to this question is the acknowl-edgment and recognition of what the Lord has done in one's life; it is the recognition of specific graces that are given to each one throughout his life. This acknowledgment and recognition flow from, and support, what has gone before. To acknowledge the graces one has been given implies some identification of the Giver; to recognize those graces strengthens one's faith in Jesus as Lord. The gospel itself affirms this interdependence of the two questions; immediately after asking this second question, Jesus states: "You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am" (Jn 13: 13). Beyond its appearance in the context of the Last Supper, this question can refer to Jesus' entire life. In a sense, he is asking an all-pervasive question: "Do you know what I have done to you?" since you have been with me and I with you~uring all that has happened (will happen) to us since the beginning of my ministry? In this larger context the disciples must reflect on all that has taken place. They must begin to. see Jesus' life and ministry as a single incarnate expression of the Father's love. Jesus is the Exemplar (Jn 13:15), the one to whom.all Christian lives must point. This question, too, must be particularized. The Lord's actions surely have affected all people, but each in a unique way. The acknowledgment of that unique way in which the Lord has been operative in one's life shapes the response to this question. This is to know what the Lord has done. The second question appears very near the end of Jesus' life; thus, it, too, points to the cross-and-resurrection. The graces which one receives throughout life are intrinsically bound to the drama of Salvation History. Indeed, the gifts which the Lord bestows upon his people--individually and collectively~raw their power from his passion, death, and glorification. And so, the spiritual journey continues. Complete dependence on the Lord, by acknowledging his gifts, is highlighted in response to the simple, yet pervasive, question: "Do you I~now what 1 have done to you?" Seeking the Lord Jesus' first two questions are a type of prelude to his third. To identify Jesus in one's life, and to acknowledge his gifts, are the means of respond-ing to a final question: "Whom do you seek?" (Jn 18:4). This is asked by Jesus in the garden just prior to his arrest; his boldness stuns those who seek him, and so Jesus repeats himself. This question must remain a constant traveling companion on the spiri-tual journey. It must be answered again and again, at every fork in the road, as the spiritual life progresses. Its purpose, clearly, is to keep one's sight 666 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 fixed on the Lord alone. Thus, it is the raison d'etre for the entire spiritual ¯ journey. At any point .along the way, regardless of what one is doing, the manner in which his life is lived a.ctually proclaims his response to the 'question: "Whom do you seek?" That night, those who were seeking Jesus (to arrest him) were caught up in their movement as a crowd. It would have been~interesting to go through that crowd and ask each, indiviOually, whom he was seeking. Some may not have really known. Judas did, but he did not search alone. As odd as it may seem, a parallel can be drawn for the spiritual journey. Faith and gifts from the Lord can be. taken for granted, and so one can easily be caught up in merely doing what everyone else is doing. Then Jesus' question really has not been heard. Like the previous questions, this one ~must be particu-larized. To fix one's sight on the Lord alone clarifies the response; the alternatives are confusion and uncertainty. It is not to be inferred that confusion and uncertainty are never to be experienced in the spiritual life. Rather, the point here is that one's basic response is stable. From its context in the Gospel of John, it is obvious that this question leads to the cross-and-resurrection. To seek the Lord is to accept all that the Paschal Mystery e[atails. In a prophetic waY, Sirach emphasized this some two centuries before: My son, if you come forward to serve the Lord, prepare yourself for trials" (2: I). To seek the Lord leads to life, but it is a life that is born through death (Jn 12:24-25). And so the spiritual journey continues. At any moment and every moment, the Christian must know the road being traveled; constancy must be the hallmark of each one's response to the questibn: "Whom do you seek?" In Response Every Christian must respond in some way to these three questions of the spiritual journey. The ways in which each identifies, acknowledges, and seeks the Lord will be unique, based on personality, talents, experience, life-situation. Nevertheless, a common thread does run through all re-sponses. In the opening lines of his first letter, St. John makes a statement that addresses effectively all three questions. That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life--the life was mb.de manifest, and we saw it, and testify to it, and proclaim to you the eternal life which was with the Father and was made manifest to us--that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you. so that you may have fellowship with us;and our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son; Jesus Christ (1:1-3). Consider each question, and then read this text as a response. Jesus is identified as "the word of life"; he is acknowledged as the sour~:e of all that Three Questions for the Spiritual Journey / 667 has been received; and, he is the end toward which the proclamation points. Jesus is the common thread. It is beyond the scope of this brief reflection to explore this text in any depth; but one point in particular is worthy of note. Tactility and sensibility are emphatic elements of this text. The one about whom these things are written is known through experience: "heard," "seen," "looked upon," and "touched." These elements strengthen the testimony that is given. From his own experience, St. John proclaims "'the word of life," and invites others to "fellowship with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ." Responding to these questions throughout one's own spiritual journey must be the fruit of experience; it cannot be the result of academic gymnas-tics. These questions warrant a commitment, a fidelity to the spiritual journey. Only then does one's life--testimony, proclamation--identify Jesus as Lord, acknowledge his gifts, and seek him alone. Conclusion Three simple questions, Simple, yet interdependent. Simple, yet for the spiritual life they can be viewed as the most significant questions in the New Testament. To identify Jesus in one's life, to acknowledge what he has done and is doing, and to seek him above all else these constitute the spiritual journey. And, as always, the roads along which the journey pro-gresses are paved with the cross,and-resurrection. The spiritual journey requires onlyfidelity. That fidelity is incarnated through the Christian's lived response to the Lord's questions: "But who do you say that I am?" "Do y9u know what I have done to you?W .h.om do you seek?" Write a Gospel John Navone, S.J. Father Navone has written previously for REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. He continues to teach theology atthe Gregorian University; Piazza della Pilotta, 3; 00187 Roma, Italy. The Church employs the gospels as means for communicating and cultivat-ing its foundational experience of the love of God in Jesus Christ and in his Spirit given to us. A gospel is not an end in itself; it is meant to be used for fosteripg that gift of God's love which is the life of the Church. A gospel is written to serve the purpose of the grace and demand of God's transcendent love in Jesus Christ and his Church; it articulates and objectifies the meaning and value and demands of this love for us, both as individuals and as a com-munity. It symbolizes the call of a transcendent love empowering and sum-moning individuals to transcend themselves by accepting its grace and de-mand for life within the Christian community. Similarly, it symbolizes God's transcendent love summoning the Christian community to transcend itself in communicating its foundational experience to the world in iis distinctive ser-vice of the world. In a series of conferences given at the Gregorian University, in December 1978, Carlo Martini, S.J., sustained the working hypothesis that the four Gospels function as four manuals which correspond to the needs of four dis-tinct moments in the formation of the Christian. Adapting this hypothesis to the realm of God's self-investing love which the New Testament witness sym-bolizes, I suggest that Mark serves as the Christian community's manual for introducing the catechumen to the mystery of God's self-investing love in Jesus Christ. Matthew functions as the catechist's manual for helping the newly baptized to live according to the exigences of this self-investing love within the Church. Luke-Acts is the two-volume manual for learning how to bear witness to the meaning and value of this love for the world. John is Write a Gospel / 669 employed as .the manual for the grand synthesis of the mature Christian who has lived out the demands of this self-investing love in following Jesus and his (~hurch in the service of the world and now asks what is at the heart of his Christian experience. The self-investing dynamic of God's love is understood to be the origin and ground and destiny of the Jesus story, the Church story, and the world story. Not to have grasped this is to have missed the point of the dynamic which constitutes their ultimate meaning and value. Commu-nion with God implies a participation in the dynamic of his self-investing love on a level prior to that on which doctrinal systems and organized institutions arise. The Gospels symbolize the realm of God's unrestricted love to which humankind is constitutively oriented by presenting Jesus as God's self-revela-tion, or Word. They summon us to follow Jesus in his fundamental self-others- world-Mystery relationship for the authentic fulfillment of our humanity. The authenticity of our response to Jesus' injunction to love God above all else finds its measure in the deeds by which we follow his way to human authenticity through self-investing love for the neighbor. Writing a gospel is one way of learning to use a gospel for discovering the quality of our relationship to the transcendent love of God in Jesus Christ, in his Church, and in his world. Jesus symbolizes the meaning and value of this love, what it does and what it does not. The way we tell his story implies the way we comprehend the purpose of God's love in ourselves, others, and the world. The storyteller is in his storytelling. The gospel writer tells us about himself in telling us his story of Jesus. At the beginning of a course I teach on the spirituality of the gospels, I have had my students write a gospel in order to come to some experiential un-derstanding of what it means to be the author of a gospel. For an appropriate psychological state, they were to imagine that all the New Testaments throughout the world had been destroyed and that theirs would be the one and only written link with the original four gospels. They were to write their own synoptic gospel, using only the words of the four actual gospels. The ti-tle of the gospel would be "The Gospel According to (Student's Name)." Not more than two thousand words were allowed for telling the Good News. Each gospel was to have an architectonic unity, at least one parable, one mir~acle, one saying of Jesus. Between a fourth and a fifth of the gospel had to treat of the passion and death of Jesus. When the gospels had been written, they were exchanged. Each student wrote a commentary on the gospel that was given to him aimed at discerning (1) the portrait of Jesus and (2) the portrait of the author. What is the mean-ing and value of Jesus for the writer of this gospel? At what levels of con-sciousness does Jesus speak to the author? What does the author expect of Jesus? At ~what level of personal need does Jesus encounter the author? What is the author's particular interest in Jesus? What is his particular feeling toward Jesus? General questions for a critical reading of these gospels -- to help discern 670 / Review for R'eligious, Volume 38, 1979/5 the portrait of Jesus and of the author -- are the following, 1. Make a list of all the verbs which describe the agency of Jesus. What Jesus does in the gospel implies what he does for the author of the gospel. The author implies that Jesus will do this also for the reader of his gospel. 2. What does Jesus say in this gospel? This is what the author h~ears Jesu.s saying and, therefore, implicitly expects his reader to hear the same Jesus ad-dressing him with the same words. 3. Is the Risen Christ active in this .gospel? Does the gospel end with Jesus' resurrection from.the dead? ~ 4.How does the author see Jesus' basic self-others-world-God r~lationships? Is Jesus regarded as more solitary than social? As more receptive than active? As more suffering than joyful? As more among women than among men? As more among friends than among adversaries? As more a speaker than a doer? As more often rebuking than encouraging? As more often criticizing than approving? As more demanding than accepting? As more comprehen-sibly human than mysteriously divine? As more courageously confronting difficult situations than being welcomed by admiring followers? The original evangelists do not exclude one or the other of these elements in creating their balanced portrait of Jesus as both their crucified and risen Lord, illuminating the mystery which defines every human life. On the one hand, Jesus symbolizes the grace of God's love accepting persons wherever they are; on the other hand, he symbolizes the summons of that gracious love to transcend what we are in becoming sons of God. Some students wrote a gospel in which the third person prevails, creating the perspective of a detached spectator. Their avoidance of the second person suggests th~ absence of a personal relationship with the crucified and risen Jesus. It suggests that ~hey do not h~ar him speaking to them today. Luke's gospel, in contrast, underscores the ever-present grace and demand of God's love: "Today this scripture has been fulfilled even as you listen" (4:21); "To-day I must stay at your home" (19:5); "Today salvation has come to this house" (19:9); "Today you shall be with me in Paradise" (23:43). Luke's use of the second person, his use of such words as "today" and "now," implies that the transcendent realm of God's love, symbolized by the entire story of Jesus, is ever-present and summoning us. Its reality and goodness actually touch Luke's existence as an individual within the community of Christian faith, inspiring him to write a gospel about it for others. His gospel thema-tizes the immediacy of an understanding beyond words, his religious cgnver-sion, the love which he has received and accepted as the integrating center of his life. , The exercise of writing a gospel helps the writer to discover those areas of life that are most affected by the meaning and value of God's love in Jesus Christ. The writer should treasure whatever dimension of the Good News that especially moves or interests him. This is its special value for him. This is the particular sector of his consciousness where the mystery of God's love Write a Gospel / 671 finds itsl point of entry into his life; consequently, it must be cultivated with care so as to become frtlitful. Its fruitfulness will vary with the cultivation it receives. The radicalism of the New Testament message is an ideal towards which growth will always be slow and often uncertain. Inasmuch as our ac-tion must always be within the 'limits of possibility, a rigorism that would challenge us beyond our powers is counterproductive. Discouragement is the temptation of temptations. One person'~s effective freedom is limited to such a way that he cannot' achieve what many others find feasible. The focus of the gospel-summons is on the use, rather than measure, of our effective freedom. It challenges us to stretch the limits of our freedom, but not to the breaking-point. It manifests a readiness to meet us wherever we happen.to be and to lead us on from there. As William ~V. Dych notes: "What must I do to gain eternal life," Jesus is asked in the Gospel story. What I must do might be quite different from what somebody else,must do, and I am the one who has to discover it in the particular configuration of concrete circumstances which make up my life and existence. There is no antecedent blueprint~ in a book somewhere simply to be Copied or imitated. In fact, when "living by the book" makes me miss the very concrete realities rigl~t there before my eyes, then "the letter kills," as St. Paul says.' The most severe threats of the Gospel are for those who do not want to be led at all, those committed to the illusion of self-sufficiency: But alas for you who are rich: you are having your consolation now: Alas for you who have your fill now: you shall go hungry. Alas for you who laugh now: you shall mourn and weep. Alas for you when the world speaks well of you! This was the way their ancestors treated the false prophets (Lk 6:24-26). The gospels are rich in pedagogical resources for cultivating the gift of God's love at the 'many different levels where we had become conscious of its presence and summons. No situation of human life is too extreme to bein-cluded within the scope of its redemptive purpose. It implicitly invites every-one to write his own ,gospel within the effective limits of our freedom for responding to the gift of God's love in our basic :self-others-world-God rela-tionships. It invites us to witness to its reality and goodness. The exercise of writing a gospel, using only the words of the four evange-lists, has the advantage of not taxing the creative resources of individuals. The gospels provide a basic lingua franca which we may employ to describe our relationship to the mystery which defines our lives. The use of this lingua francarespects the privacy of the writer, who might not wish to publicize the events of his interior life; at the same time, it permits the individuality of the writer's perspective to emerge in the selection of material. The writer does not have to invent a religious language, or a set of religious symbols. The number of words is arbitrary; however, the fewer permitted, the more radical the 'William V. Dych, "The Logic of Faith,'" America 140 (March 19, 1979), p. 219. 672 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 selectivity and the clearer the manifestation of the writer's perspective. Students writing a gospel are generally unaware of how self-revealing their gospels are. The experience of becoming a synoptic writer of a gospel creates a context for a meaningful discussion of the process that brought the first four gospels into existence, and of the relation of this process to the reli-gious conversion which occurs in the immediacy of the subject's conscious-ness, in a supraconceptual, existential experience beyond words. Only when religiously transformed subjectivity begins to mediate itself through mean-ing, myth, narrative, stories of God and the like can religious community take rise. This mediation of conversion through the objectification of its meaning provides the context for the Church's use of the New Testament. Writing our own parables is an exercise related to that of becoming con-temporary synoptic gospel writers. In this exercise, however, students were not expected to use the texts of the New Testament. They were to compose a story, based on their own personal experience, to communicate one dimen-sion of their lived understanding of what it means to receive and share the gift of God's love. Creating our own parables is doing what Jesus did; in some respects, it can express a greater fidelity to the Gospel truth than the merely mechanical repetition of Jesus' parables. John Drury relates that the poet Edwin Muir in his autobiography saw his own life as a narrative on the two levels of individual difference and shared mystery, calling them story and fable.~ Story refers to a man's biography where fact is linked to fact: birth and parents, changes of address, marriage and jobs. It marks him off from other people. It is his alone. But the fable is always impinging on it. This is chain of images and archetypes which we do not entirely understand and which only become clear in dreams, visions and myths: the country of innocence, the fall, the journey and transfiguration. Thus story tells us that when the poet was a boy, the Muir family moved from a good farm on the Orkneys to a bad one, and then to Glasgow. But what is happening in the realm of fable is a fall from innocence into experience and alienation. It is in the realm of fable that we have our deepest connections with one another. In biography we are distinct. It must be to the fable that his Wife Willa refers when she says that "he never ceased to believe that his expe-rience resembled the experience of everyone else living on earth.''3 The quality of our experience ultimately determines the shape of our autobiographies, biographies, histories, novels, parables, stories of God, the-ologies. We express in these manifold ways what can be found within our conscious experience on successive, related, but qualitatively different levels: the empirical on which level we sense, perceive, imagine, feel, speak, move; the intellectual level on which we inquire, come to understand, express what we have understood, work out the implications and presuppositions of our 2John Drury, Angels and Dirt (London: Dhrton, Longman & Todd, i972) p. 50. Write a Gospel / 673 expressions; the rational level, on which we reflect, marshal the evidence, judge the truth or falsity, certainty or probability, of a statement; the respon-sible level on which we are concerned with ourselves, our own operations, our goals, and so ddiberate about possible courses of action, evaluate them, de-cide and carry out our decisions.' Our manifold ways of storytelling, of phi-losophizing and of theologizing, are indices of what is going on at the four levels of our consciousness and inten.tionality; they are objectifications of our conscious intending of the true and the real, of the good and the worthwhile, as unique individuals with a unique history. As such, they are objectifications which are not deduced from abstract laws about human nature in general; rather, they derive from the concrete life-stories of individuals in search of true meaning and value. The authenticity of our lives grounds the authentici-ty of the manifold ways in which we objectify our search. 'Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1972), p. 9. See also T. Patrick Burke, "The Theologian as Storyteller and Philosopher," Horizons 4/2 (1977), p. 207. Response to Psalm 137 How sing a song of the Lord in a foreign land? With muted voice probably, With tear-stained cheek most likely, With" breaking heart no doubt. But the Lord lives. So sing, then! Take your harp from the aspen tree! Sing not for your captors. Sing to the Lord who loves, Sing to the Lord who listens! Brother Franklin Cullen, C.S.C. Moreau High School 27170 Mission Blvd. Hayward, CA 94544 Jesus Christ, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life Frederick J. Deters, S.J. Father Deters is an assistant professor of theology at Loyola University (Chicago). He resides in the Jesuit community there, 6525 North Sheridan Rd.; Chicago, IL 60626. Periodically there have appeared through Church history numerous men and women, individually and in groups, claiming to be filled with the Holy Spirit but all the while separating themselves from the unity of that Spirit as he was working in God's People. Most of us have heard of the Montan-ists, the Albigensians and the Joachimites--to cite only a few. Such knowledge of the past should dispose us to careful discernment when it comes' to accepting the inspirations oF yet others today who also claim to be Spirit-filled. But we must remember that spiritual discernment is not a form of natural cynicism. Those whom the Gospel calls to the shrewdness of serpents, are also summoned to the simplicity of doves and the openness of children. The point I am making here is that we can do without phony enthusiasm or false mysticism, but we cannot do without the Holy Spirit and his ,gifts. Vatican 1I was explicit in reaffirming the giftedness of all God's chil-dren. There, Catholic pastors were encouraged to see that the people were in fact led by the Spirit of God and that the charisms of each Christian be recognized and readily employed for the upbuilding of Christ's Body. Catholic life is charismatic life. In the true meaning of the words, the Catholic Church has been, and will continue to be. charismatic--or it will cease to be the Church of Christ on pilgrimage to the Father. Though in the past the various charisms have. in theologizing within Roman Catholicism, 674 Jesus Christ, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life / 675 been.chiefly linked with both religious orders and ecclesial offices, there has never been lacking individual persons recognized for possessing the gifts of the Spirit. In such individuals, however, the genuineness of the gifts was ever attested by the loyalty and obedience with which they submitted to the guidance and direction of their communities and pastors. Given the: tension that must ever prevail between certain charisms and the exercise of, ecclesial offices, what, if anything, can theology point to as a touchstone for understanding their mutual harmony' and interaction? I am convinced that the answer to this question can be nothing or no one other than Jesus Christ, our One Lord and Mediator. In the following pages I propose a new look at both the Lordship and the mediatorial activity of Jesus Christ. As Jesus acts through the charismatic life of his people, he reveals the true character of his Lordship. At the same time, his authentic sovereignty manifests his mediation of life in charismatic activity. ~ What Does the Lordship o~ Jesus Mean? The emphasis that marks Catholic rehewal today is an ancient acclama-tion of faith: "Jesi~s is Lord!" This confession is chanted, sung and pro-claimed, not only by increasing numbers of men and women in the United States, but, ttiroughout th~ world. From early Christian times, it was the credal formula used in cofijunction with sacramental baptism. This practice was in evidence in the Roman Chur~:h. In his epistle tothe Romans, Paul writes: "For if you confess with y?ur lips that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your hearts that God raised~ him from the dead, you will be saved.''~ Baptism by im'mersion folloffed this professionl the descent into the water symbolizing death with Christ to a world of sin, the emergence from the pool manifesting a new walk with Christ in risen life. The washing both symbolized and celebrated the actual washing away of sin by the life-giving action of the Holy Spirit. God, the Blessed Trinity, was seen by faith to fill the" new Christian with his presence and life. Christian baptism was the authentic sign of°faith. Even so, the ,newly baptized and the com-munity gathered with him or her in celebration knew that this marked but the start ofc0mmunion with God's life. The ceremony brought with'it, a call tb live as Christ had lived, and, as the gra'ced opportunity was given, to die as he had died; to suffer death, that is, by witnessing to the hope of i:esur-rection. " ~ As the early Church lived and grew, Christians continued to know the power of ihi~ Lord's presence within them. In a true sense, there was no need for'anyone to tell these men'and women to "'know the Lord." They knew him and found a deep and salutary relationship with him in their lives. But they also knew one another through him just as they knew him through ~Ro 10:9. 676 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 one another by reason of his ongoing action in their midst. For Jesus continued to teach, direct, and sanctify through them. Their knowledge that God was interiorly within them as individuals was accompanied likewise by their awareness in faith that they were in Christ and that even the world of physical nature and material reality found its center in him. In fact, Jesus was known as Lord, not only of the visible elements of the Christian community, but of the external universe as well. He was Lord of all things, both visible and invisible. Paul voices this conviction when he speaks of the fullness of God in Christ: He is the image of the invisible God, the first born of all creatures. In him everything in'heaven and on earth was created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominations, principalities or powers; all were created through him, and for him. He is before all else that is. In him everything continues in being. It is he who is head of the body, the Church; he who is the beginning, the firstborn of the dead, so that primacy may be his in everything. It pleased God to make absolute fullness reside in him and by means of him, to reconcile everything in his person, both on earth and in the heavens, making peace through the blood of his cross.2 For Paul, the Lordship of Jesus is always related to Christ's humble obedience unto death. Just as the whole universe is depicted in the Epistle to the Romans as being in slavery to decadence due to sin, so the universe has, objectively speaking, been freed by Christ's death and is now in a process of renewal under his risen Lordship. But the Lordship of Jesus, whereby creation is renewed, represents a dominion won through Christ's suffering and death. This is also the theme of Philippians, Ch~apter 2, where Jesus' obedience unto death wins for him the title of Lord, the Name above every other name. Commenting on this latter passage, Robert Faricy writes: "In. his death Jesus descends into the heart of the world so that, in his resurrection, he can be the heart of the world, Lord in a true and even ontological sense, not simply appointed or named juridically, but Lord in such a way that to uproot him would be to make the world cease to exist.'''~ From this perspective Jesu~ has won his Lordship. He secured spiritual freedom from the dominion of the world of sin, death and the devil; not in the sense that he was personally held by these things; but, that vicariously he endured the Sufferings due to our sins in his own human nature in order that we might share his Lordship, his fieedom from them. So when the Christian, either of Paul~s time or our days says--"Jesus is Lord"--he professes the spiritual freedom of Christ in which his profession leads him to share. Since Jesus' Lordship is one that proclaims the reconciliatibn of every-thing, the Christian is called to a freedom that knows no base subjection to :Col 1:15-20. aFrank A. Sullivan, S.J., and Robert Faricy, S.J., lgnatian Exercises---Charismatic Renewal (Rome: Centrum lgnatianum Spirituatitatis, 1977). p. 36. Jesus Christ, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life / 677 anything or anyone for their own sakes. The Christian is one who belongs to Christ himself: "All things are yours, but you are Christ's and Christ is God's!''4 So we all await that moment when at last Christ will hand over the kingdom to the Father and God will be all in all) The paradoxical converse of this, however, is that Christ's Lordship calls the Christian to spiritual freedom through the same kind of humble obedience that led Christ to surrender his very life into the Father's hands for our sake. It seems to be in this same spirit that Paul tells the Ephesians: "Defer to one another out of reverence for Christ.''6 And Peter's First Epistle calls upon Christians not only to be subject to church officials but to "every human institution" . . . "because of the Lord" for ~'such obedi-ence is the will of God." 7 Note that in all these cases subjection is rendered ¯ out of deference to Christ, who for the sake of our freedom took the form of a slave. As the Gospel account insists, Christ came not so much to be served, but to serve in the sense of giving his life as a ransom for many. To be authentic, our participation in Christ's Lordship will involve a share in his cross. Our service for each other will entail a daily crossbearing; it will ~ilso involve subjection, out of love for Christ the Lord. Jesus Provides Gifts for Service and Freedom Here we have come to the heart of Jesus' mediatorial activity for the Mystical Body. Insofar as we know the presence of Christ among us com-munally as well as within us individually, we long for the total celebration of that life in communal fellowship. It is for such a life that Christ provided by the distribution of the charisms and charismatic gifts of the Holy Spirit. What is a charism? It is a gift given foi service of some kind. It is a new and special way of relating to the Lord. At the same time, it is a call to serve with the power of the Holy Spirit given to fulfill that call. The word "charism," from the Greek word meaning gift, appears frequently in the Pauline writings of the New Testament. There are a number of references that we might cite; for our purposes here we will limit ourselves for the present to an examination of Paul's epistle to the Ephesians: Each of us h'as received God's grace in the measure in which Christ bestows it. Thus you find Scripture saying: "When he ascended on high, he took a host of captives and gave gifts to men." He ascended--what does this mean but that he first descended into the lower regions of the earth? He who descended is the very one who ascended high above the heavens, that he might fill all men with his gifts. Then Paul continues by telling us what some of Christ's gifts are: 41 CO 3:23. ~1 Co 15:28. 6Ep 5:21. 7See 1P 2:13-15 and 5:5. 678 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 It is [Christ]~who gave apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, and teachers in roles of service0for the, faithful to build up the Body of Christ. till we become one in faith and in the knowledge of God's Son, and form that perfect man who is Christ come to full stature,s This passage tells us that Christ mediates God's favor for the Mystical Body through his gifts. Here Paul speaks of apostles, prophets,.evangelists, pastors and teachers; and the writer cites specific roles of service for up-b, uilding the Christian community. The enumeration includes charisms or gifts of the Holy Spirit given by Christ for the Mystical ~Body. In the development of the Church ,certain of these functions, would often, though not always, come to be exercised by those who held ecclesial offices. Evidence for this is already provided by Scripture in the Pastoral epistles. Here we are told how Paul, just before his death, entrusted the care of the Church at Ephesus to Timothy and that of Crete to Titus. These two men represent the first scriptural evidence for the appearance of bishops on the Church scene. With an eye to future continuity, they, in turn, are told in these epistles to establish, other bishops and presbyters throughout their respective territories in order to continue the pastoral ministry of the Church begun by the apostles. Paul is even represented here as ordaining Timothy. So we read: "'Hence I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands."%Whatever else these epistles tell us when read together, it seems true that certain of the charismatic roles of service mentioned in the,epistle to the Ephesians were likewise authenticated by visible sacramental celebration within and for the community. Consequently, there was nothing contradictory or in-harmonious between the charismatic gifts and hierarchical ,gifts present in the early Church. Outside of Scripture the ancient document called the Didache or The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles contains this injunction: "Choose for yourselves, therefore, bishops and deacons worthy of the Lord . . . for ttiey also exercise among you the ministry of prophets, and doctors." ~0 According to Roman Catholic theology, in fact, it is through the episco-pal office of the bishop of Rome and of those who are in communion with him (hat the charism of infallible teaching authority is assured to the Church. In order that the gates of hell should not prevail against the Church, bishops continue to exercise the pastoral and teaching role once committed to Peter and the original band of Apostles. If the episcopal office in union with the pope is not assured the charism of authentic pastoral and teaching authority, then no one has the gift of teaching, no matter how "See Ep 4:7-13. ~T Tm 1:6. l°Doctrina Doudecim Apostolorum, XV. # I. in Funk. Patres Apostolicae, 1901. Vol. II. pp. 32-34. Jesus Christ, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life / 679 charismatic he or she may seem to be. It was first to Peter and the apostles together with their successors in the episcopate that Christ's promise was made in a special way: "'You are Peter and on this rock I will build my church and the Gates of Hell shall not prevail against it."" And to this end also, Christ promises to be with them, and so with us, until the end of the world. Finally, it is to the bishops as authentic pastors of the Church that Catholics endowed with charisms must defer. Speaking of charisms, Vati-can 1I teaches that " . . judgment as to their genuineness and proper use belongs to those who preside, over the church and to whose special com-petence it belongs, not indeed to extinguish the Spirit, but to test all things, and to hold fast to what is good (see 1 Th 5:12, 19-20).''~z Because Jesus is the One Lord and Mediator of gifts (hat are hierarchical as well as the strictly charismatic ones, he assures a marvelous harmony between them. Because this harmony and. unity is a real gift and an authentic mark of Christ:.s Church, it calls forth an appropriate response from every member of the Body. So Paul exhorts the Ephesians: I plead with you. then, as a prisoner for the Lord. to live a life worthy of the calling ,you have received, with perfect humility, meekness and patience, bearing with one another lovingly. Make every effort to preserve the unity which has the Spirit as its origin and peace as its binding force. There is bul one body and one Spirit,just as there is but one hope given all of you by your call. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism: One God and Father of all who is over all, and works through all and is in ,,all.l:~ Disregard for Charism: and Office ~ Still it is today part of our sad inheritance that these words have not always been heeded. Heresies and schisms among Christians manifest the sin of our divisions. And this sin has been admitted and confessed in our time. Many of us are the descendants of Reformation and Counter- Reformation forebearers who themselves bore some responsibility for our presept divisions. So Vatican II officially recognizes that there were sins on both sides. BUt we today are no less .responsible than they. It is our vocation to open up our hearts to the.healing of such divisions that the Mystical Body of Christ on .earth might be made whole, and that the world might come to faith through its corporate and united witness. Some Catholic theologians today interpret the sin-sickness of Christian division as lack of openness to the presence and action of Jesus Christ in one another. From this perspective, the Reformation represents the Protes-tant rejection of the hierarchical gifts which the Catholic believes to be the ~tMt 16:18-19. ~ZDogmatic Constitution on the Church. Ch. II. "The People of God," ~ 12, in Abbot. p. 30. ~aEp 4: I-6, ~ Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 very heart of charismatic life in the Church. For the Catholic, to reject them is to reject Christ who said ".He who hears you hears me." The Catholic, Counter-Reformation era, on the other hand, manifests a certain deafness, or at least a hesitancy on the part of Catholics to attend to the charismatic voices of prophetic protest that should have been heeded sooner. Avery Dulles calls attention to the fact that within the Catholicism of the Middle Ages (the Pre-Reformation period) there was a lively and healthy tension between the prophetic and sacerdotal elements of the one charis-matic Church of Christ. It was the age of Bernard of Clair~,aux, Francis of Assisi and Catherine of Siena. But as time progressed, the institutional features began to assert themselves more and more. Reflecting on these facts Dulles concludes: The history of the Reformation might have been quite different if the church in the sixteenth century had been more open to searching scrutiny in light of the gospel. In post-Reformation times, the history of western Christianity is dominated by the prophetism of the Reformation churches and the sacredotalism of the Catholic tradi-tion. In a separation that ought never to have occurred, churches of the word were arrayed against churches of the sacrament?4 According to the foregoing analysis, the healing of sinful divisions and the restoration of a loving unity among separated Christians will depend on our openness to Jesus Christ, whether he comes to bring us fuller life through charismatic individuals (even those presently outside the visible structures of Roman Catholicism), or through the charismatic offices of the visible church. It seems that our closedness to either aspect of Christ life today is a tragedy that will only continue to bear bitter fruit. In summarizing some of" Karl Rahner's remarks on the charismatic element in the Church, Gerald McCool says very succinctly: The hierarchy has an indispensable role to play in the Church. Her founder has given I~gitimate authority to the pastors of his community. Nevertheless the Church's teaching and sanctifying mission has not been entrusted exclusively to her office holders and the Church must be extremely sensitive to the personal intimations of God's will and to the pastoral inspirations which have been given to charismatic individual Christians. The Church's leaders must not endeavor to manage everything in the Church "from the top down." They must rather encourage apostolic initiative "from the bottom up" on the part of charismatic individuals and charismatic pastors. The Church ideal is the harmonious cooperation of her hierarchical and charismatic elements. It should never be the absorption or the elimination of one element by the other.~5 This summary represents the position of Karl Rahner, a teaching whose basis was first enucleated in the Encyclical letter of Pius XII, Mystici Corporis, and whose substance finds expression in the teaching of Vatican II on cha~'i~m~ ~Avery Dulles. The Survival o.t'Dogma (Doubleday: 1973). p. 133. ~Gerald A. McCool, S.J., editor's introduction to the section entitled "'The Charismatic Element in the Church," in A Rahner Reader (Seabury Press, New York: 1975), p. 293. Jesus Chr&t, the Mediator of Catholic Charismatic Life / 681 The ideal harmony and unity described in this teaching is really the gift of unity St. Paul speaks of in the fourth chapter of Ephesians. It is the unity of the Spirit that can come from none other than the Lord himself. By this very fact, it is not just some obscure or impersonal unity; rather, it is the dynamic and living unity of a Body that lives from moment to moment in a surrender of agapeic love whose very center is Christ and whose goal is the Father's glory. The Vision and Faith of Authentic Charismatics Because this gift of unity speaks of love, it implies sacrifice in the form of death to any self-centeredness that would threaten authentic unity. For the charismatic individual as well as for the ecclesiastical office-holder it demands ". perfect humility, meekness and patience, bearing wil~h one another lovingly." An authentic Catholic charismatic might well be the "man for all seasons" who is willing to suffer martyrdom rather than reject the word of Christ in his legitimate pastor. And the good pastor, like a good shepherd, might be one who fulfills his charismatic office by acknowledging and encouraging Christ's activity in prophetic individuals who can further the life of the flock. An example of this might well be Paul VI, as evidenced in his Apostolic Exhortation On Evangelization in the Modern World. He wrote: It is certain that, side-by-side with the ordained ministries whereby certain people are appointed pastors and consecrate themselves in a special way to the service of the community, the church recognizes the place of non-ordained ministries which are able to offer a particular service to the Church. A glance at the origins of the Church is very illuminating, and gives the benefit of an early experience in the matter of ministries. It was an experience that was all the more valuable in that it enabled the Church to consolidate herself and to grow and spread. Attention to the sources however has to be complemented by attention to the present needs of mankind and of the Church. To drink at these ever inspiring sources without sacrificing anything of their values, and at the same time to know how to adapt oneself to the demands and needs of today-- these are the criteria that will make it possible to seek wisely and to discover the ministries which the Church needs and which many of her members will gladly embrace for the sake of ensuring greater vitality in the ecclesial community. These ministries will have a real pastoral value to the extent that they are established with absolute respect for unity and adhering to th.e directives of the pastors, who are the ones responsible for the Church's unity and the builders thereof.~a With an eye to past history, I think you will agree that this is a hearten-ing statement, one that manifests remarkable openness to the initiatives and inspirations of the Holy Spirit for our times. But the realization of such hopes for a vital, charismatic life whose fruit and goal is Catholic unity may still seem somewhat visionary. If it does, perhaps that is understandable. The authentic unity of the Church, in order to be fully realized, must await ~Paul VI. On Evangelization in the Modern World (Publications Office of the United States Catholic Conference: Washington. D.C.). p. 53. 682 / Review for Religious, Volum.e 38, 1979/5 ,the return of the Lord. Still, the degree of its realization in the time that intervenes mustdepend on our faith and expectation. So we might°conclude our remarks by asking the question that Christ himself once posed: "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth'?" Or again we might ask, Is Jesus Christ Lol'd? To which we proclaim: "'Jesus Christ is Lord!" "Come, Lord Jesus!" REPRINTS FROM THE REVIEW "Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Formation" S.C. for Religious . 35 "Prayer of Personal Reminiscence," D. J. Hassel, S.J." . 60 "Profile of the Spirit:,A Theology of Discernment of Spirits," J. R. Sheets, S.J . 50 "Retirement or Vigil," B. Ashley, O.P. " . 30 "The 'Active-Contemplative' Problem," D. M. Knight .75 "The Contemporary Spirituality, of the Monastic Lectio," M. Neuman, O.S.B . 50 "The Four Moments.of Prayer," J. R. Sheets, S.J. . : . 50 "The Healing of Memories," F. Martin . 35 "The Nature and Value of a Directed Retreat," H. F. Smith, S.J . 35 Orders for'the above should be Sent to: Review for Religious Room 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, MO 63108 Please include 75¢ postage and handling charge with preopaid orders. The Proposed Canons on the Consecrated Life Explained: III Joseph F. Ga/len, S.J. This is the third article commenting on the p~:oposed new canon law dealing with the consecrated life. Father Gallen's address is: Jesuit Community at St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Chapter V: Temporal Goods and the Consecrated Life Carl. 37, § 1. Norm and Right of Institutes Concerhing Temporal Goods. Norm. The law that her~'regu,!ates institutes of consecrated life is the section of the proposed canons on church possessions, or' ecclesiastical goods, which is the universal'law of the Chhrch on this matter. Institutes are to be guided by a different or co~trfiry norm that is established elsewhere on a particular matter in common law or that l~as otherwise been approved by the Holy See. . § 2. t~ight of Owning Property. a) Temporal Goods or Property. These are goods extrinsic to man that have a value in money, for example, money, real estate, stocks, bonds, furniture, equipment, clothing, books, and so forth. The present canon is concerned only with property owned by. an institute, province, canonically, erected house, or other public juridical person of the institute, not with that owned by individual religious. Goods of the former type are called church or ecclesiastical property, since the'y are owned by a public juridical person in the Church. b) Capacity: Every institute of consecrated life, province, or canonically erected house is~ an ecclesiastical public juridical person and possesses, in vir-tue 6f can. 13, the unlimited right of acquiring, owning, and administering 683 684 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 temporal property. This canon reads: "Any juridical person, whether public or private, is a subject capable of acquiring, retaining and administering temporal goods in accordance with the law." The capacity of an institute, province or house to acquire or own property is given by canon law and is not limited by canon law. The capacity extends to all species of property, for ex-ample, to immovable and movable goods. The former consists of things which are at least considered as being unable to be moved from place to place, for example, lands, a church, chapel, school, hospital, and so forth, and rights on such property. Movable property is that which can be so moved, for example, clothing, furniture, equipment, and so forth. The same capacity extends to all rights of use and/or receiving returns on property, for example, interest, dividends, and rents. c) Exclusion or Limitation of Capacity. The present proposed canon, .as in the past, permits the particular Rule or constitutions to exclude or limit the proprietary capacity described above. Such limitations are practically never found in institutes of brothers or sisters but they are encountered in some older institutes of men and women. Mendicant institutes are either complete-ly or partially incapable of possessing property from which they have the right to certain., and stable returns (Friars Minor of the Observance, Capuchins, Discalced Carmelites, and Jesuits). An institute may prescribe that the property acquired is to be spent for works and needs and that none or only a limited amount may be retained as capital. It may be enacted that the ownership of all property is invested in the institute, not in the provinces or houses or only subordinately in these. Acquisition by inheritance may be ex-cluded absolutely or through all or some of the members. Before adopting any such limitation, an institute should make a searching investigation into its efficacy as a means of poverty and its practicality in relation to the life and work of the institute. A constant emphasis on fundamental spiritual princi-ples and those specific to poverty can very likely be a more effective means than juridical incapacities or limitations. I have encountered practically no more recent institute of simple vows that has followed any of these practices of some more ancient institutes of solemn vows. The axiom that the decline of the consecrated life is caused by a decline in poverty or prayer may in fact be the reverse, that is, poverty or prayer declines because the spiritual life in general has declined. d) Ownership of Property. Can. 14 reads: "Ownership of goods belongs, under the supreme authority of the Roman Pontiff, to that legal person which legitimately acquired the same goods." Therefore, unless otherwise prescribed by the particular law, property is owned by the juridical person that acquired it. Houses, provinces, and institutes are distinct canonical per-sons; therefore, the assets and debts of one are not those of another. The Holy See holds the supreme administration of all church property in the sense that it is to be acquired, owned, and administered according to the laws and under the authority of the Church (can. 18). Civil incorporation has been ex, The Proposed Canons on the Consecrated Life: III / 685 plained under can. 9. In the proposed canons: can. 28, § 2, 2°,commands ad-ministrators of ecclesiastical property to observe canon and civil law; can. 42, § 1, commands that civil laws regarding the leasing of property should be observed; can. 44, that the provisions of civil law on contracts are also to be observed by canon law; and can. 45, § 2, that in dispositions to pious causes made by bequest, the solemnities of civil law should be observed whenever possible. e) Manner of Acquisition. A juridical person of the consecrated life may acquire property, temporal goods, in any manner that is lawful to individuals according to the natural law, for example, the fruit of one's labor, donations, purchases, inheritance, legacy, or according to the positive law of the Church or state, for example, by contracts or wills in conformity with such laws. f) Property of Institute and Province. The general funds consist of the payments of novices, the interest on dowries, and the dowry itself at the death of a sister. Donations, legacies, and inheritances, when given to either, also belong to the institute or province, as do the taxes on the houses for the general and provincial expenses. These are used for the expenses of the gener-al or provincial government, of the novitiate, juniorate, education and for-mation of the members, central infirmary, the erection of houses, the assistance of the poorer works and houses and, if possible, the establishment of a reserve fund for extraordinary expenses, and of a capital fund that will serve as a source of regular income for all or some of these purposes. g) General and Provincial Tax. The general and provincial expenses listed above are clearly necessary. They are for the good of the entire institute or province and must, at least in great part, be defrayed by contributions from the provinces and houses. Two species of taxation are found in constitutions: One-third of the Net Surplus of the Past Year. According to the Normae of 1901 (no. 294), each house was obliged to send this sum at the end of each year to the provincial or general treasury, if there were no provinces, and each province had to send the same fraction of its net surplus to the general treasury. This is still the norm of a sufficient number of institutes. The tax should be sufficient to take care of the general, and provinci.al expenses; it should not burden all or some of the provinces and houses excessively nor prevent the establishments of the institute from setting up a reserve fund for proper maintenance and development. An obvious defect of this system is that it is only a contingent payment. It depends on the fact of a surplus. The general and provincial expenses are absolute and constant; the tax should therefore be an absolute element of the house and provincial budgets. It should be condoned or lessened when a province or house simply cannot pay it. o. Determined Sum for Each Member. A more modern and preferable norm found in many constitutions more recently approved by the Holy See is that the determination of the amount of the tax is left to the general chapter, which can then increase or decrease it as the times and circumstances de- 686 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/5 mand. The chapter often determines that each house is to contribute a .fixed sum annually for each member assigned to the house. A fractional part of such a sum may then be assigned to the general funds when the institute is divided into provinces, or each pro

Issue 37.1 of the Review for Religious, 1978. ; pies of Discernment According Jesus of N~zareth Culti~atingthe Cegtering Pr yer 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 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. 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 January, 1978 Volume 37 .Number 1 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gai/en, 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. Review for Religious Volume 37, 1978 Editorial Offices 539 North Grand Boulevard Saint Louis, Missouri 63103 Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Miss Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Review ]or Religious is published in January, March, May, July, September, and November on the fifteenth of the month. It is indexed in the Catholic Periodical and Literature Index and in Book Review Index. A microfilm edi-tion of Review ]or Religious is available from University Microfilms Inter-national; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Copyright (~) 1978 by Review ]or Religious. Principles for Discernment According to Jesus of Nazareth Br. Jonathan of God and Br. Carith of the Incarnation Brothers Jonathan and Carith reside in the Elias Desert House of the Zion Carmelite Com-munity; R.R. ~1; Garnet, KS 66032. Our age is one of sincere sign seekers unlike the Pharisees and Sadducees rebuffed by Jesus in Matthew 16:1-4. The Pharisees and Sadducees came along, and as a test asked him to show them some sign in the sky. He gave them this reply: "In the evening you say, red sky at night the day will be fight, but in the morning red sky and gloomy, the day will be stormy. If you know how to interpret the look of the sky, can you not read the signs of the times? An evil, faithless age is eager for a sign, but no sign will be given it except the sign of Jonah." With that [the evangelist editorializes rather graphically] he left them abruptly.~ We long, with a deep interior lohging, to know God and to live in his truth. We are the generation that has spawned the Jesus Movement. We have responded, more openly than any previous generation, to the teachings of the Religious East. Titles like Swami, Guru, and Yogi as well as Eastern spiritual practices like Mantra and chanting are becoming well-known in the West. Messianic personalities .have appeared on nearly everyone's spiritual horizon. These wise men from the East speak with persuasion and attract many faithful devotees. All claim to speak the truth and present themselves as ambassadors of God. Religious communities in this climate of sincere aThe New American Bible, (New York: Thomas Nelson, Inc., 1970), p. 1089. 3 4 / Review for Religioas, Volume 37, 1978/I spiritual search have many men and women who feel called to a deeper life of prayer. For superiors this current direction has become an administrative problem by having to replace "good workers'" in now-vacated positions. For the religious seeker it has become a time of painful self-examination. Whether we are attempting to discern the words and actions of a particular spiritual teacher or determine if we have in our religious community a prophet or pious pm'anoid, we will do well to look carefully at the principles for discernment given to us by Jesus himself. Jesus gave ten very clear principles for the discernment of a person's spiritual claims. The principles are found in John's Gospel, chapter 5, verses 27-44.~ The verses are easily divided into two categories: 1) Prin-ciples for judging the person discerning: the subjective element that does come to play in every discerning situation. 2) Principles for discetvdng the person in question: the object of discernment. Since discernment of a religious phenomenon is of ultimate and not relative importance, Jesus was not satisfied with presenting a few static principles applicable by the spiritual and technical man alike. Just as a judge may know the law but lack wisdoml a person seeking to discern a spiritual matter needs more than a set of criteria, even if the norms used are the legacy of a great saint. Jesus insists that the "discerner" begin by scrupulous self-examination. The first set of principles, five in number, are for the purpose of self-discernment. Once the judge can assure himself that he does have the "gift" of discernment, he may turn his attention to the religious question to be reviewed. In testing the spirit of the person being considered, the discerner may use Jesus' second set of criteria, also num-bering five. Principles for Self-reflection The Father who sent me has himself borne witness to me. You have been deaf to his voice, blind to the vision of him, and his word is not continually present in your hearts; that is why you will not trast one whom he has sent (Jn 5:37). FIRST PRINCIPLE Men can recognize that one is sent by God if they are attuned to God and. his voice and vision, and if they continually have his word in their hearts. Commentary A group of teenagers from a street gang are not asked to review a new ballet about to open at the civic auditorium. Promoters of rock music do not solicit opinions from senior citizens. ~The Holy Bible, Trans., Ronald Knox. (New York: Sheed and Ward, inc. 1956), pp. 91-92. New Testament section. Principles fi)r Discernment According to Jesus of Nazareth / 5 With no reflection on teenage gangs or the aged, the pollsters are honestly judging the inability of these groups to evaluate the situations validly. According to this principle of Jesus a person must know God in more than an intellectual manner. He must know God and not only know about God. To put it in thi~ eloquent phraseology of the Carmelite hermit, William McNamara, "He must know the God of theology, not just the theology of God." You pour over the scriptures, thinking to find eternal life in them (indeed it is of these I speak as bearing witness to me) but you will not come to me to find life (5:39). SECOND PRINCIPLE Men fail to trust one as coming from God when they interpret scripture in a static way. Or when they subject gcripture to their own mind's inter-pretation. Commentary This is the problem of fundamentalism. Fundamentalism had tripped up many in the time of Jesus: "'The pharisees and scribes approached Jesus with the question: why do your disciples act contrary to the tradition of our ancestors?" Fundamentalism is the problem that has subdivided Chris-tianity. It is a problem we in the Catholic-Christian tradition, flatter our-selves in having overcome. We have become erudite in scriptural exegesis and are long removed, from the narrowness of the Inquisition. But who among'us can say that we look at reality without our limited personal perspective? Who among us is so egoless as to welcome in an unbiased manner God's messengers? I do not mean that I look for honor from men, but that I can see you have no love of God in your, hearts (5:41). THIRD PRINCIPLE Men fail to trust one as coming from God when they have no genuine love of God in their hearts. Commentary Just as "loving" our offspring by insisting that they become doctors may be a subtle form of self-glorification, so a .person's sincere love for the organization or institution can be a real bloc to God's plan of salvation. If the "temples" of our work are to be destroyed by a genuine loving response to a messenger of God, then we must have faith that better structures will be raised up in "three days." The demons that darken our vision in this area are the ones that Jesus suggests can be expelled only by copious prayer and fasting. 6 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 I have come in my Father's name and you give me no welcome, although you will welcome some other if he comes in his own name (5:43). FOURTH PRINCIPLE We welcome men with credentials from other men and fail to recognize a man who comes from God. Commentary When Saint Peter of Alcantra went to the bishop of Avila to seek his approve! for Theresa of Jesus to open a convent with no "fiked income" he. was rebuked and turned away because he was speaking poor economics. Francis of Assisi needed an introductory letter from ,Bishop Guido to see the pope and the intercession of a cardinal to keep him from being dismissed summarily. We are all beginning to realize that an academic degree does not tell us the degree of real knowledge, wisdom, a person has. The amount of technical information to which an individual has been exposed is indicated by a degree. True knowledge cannot be earned or discerned by degrees. How should you learn to believe, you who are content to receive honors from one another, and are not ambitious for the honor which comes from him, who alone is God (5:44). FIFTH PRINCIPLE Men fail to recognize a man from God when they look for honor from men only instead of being anxious for God's honor alone. Commentary This needs little comment. We are all wounded deeply in this area. Human respect is a serious problem. We all relate with the sentiment of Cardinal Wolsey: "IfI had but served my God as faithfully as I have my king, I now would not be naked to my enemies." Principles to Discern the Man from God As the Father has within him the gift of life, so he has granted to the Son that he too should have with him the gift of life (5:26). FIRST PRINCIPLE The man of God gives life like God gives life. Commentary The holy men of the East state it in this way: A flower filled with honey need not wear a sign to attract bees. The type of life referred to here is the kind Principles for Discernment According to Jesus of Nazareth / 7 we have the privilege of witnessing in the life and work of Mother Theresa of Calcutta. We stand in awe of the miracle of her activity but we are believers like Thomas. We have seen so much evidence of God's work in her life. Blessed are they who first commissioned her to respond to her "call within a call" and go live as the poorest of the poor. Many of us might have looked upon her proposal as a bit too idealistic. I cannot do anything on my own authority. I decide as I am bidden to decide and my decision is never unjust because I am consulting the will of him who sent me not my own will (5:30). SECOND PRINCIPLE A man from God does nothing on his own authority, only on God's, thus he is never unjust. Commentary The men and women who refused to cooperate with the "justice" of the Third Reich because of higher laws are the kinds of individuals seen operating under this principle. Acts done as an obedience to God, by interior realization or e.xternai vision, may contradict man's law but not the Law of God. Although Theresa of Avila seemed disobedient to her local superiors the day she opened her first convent of the then incipient Carmelite Reform, she had acquired permission from the pope and local ordinary. Theresa, also, had the support of her ardent admirer, the General of the Order, Fr. Rossi.3 The father., has also granted him the power to execute judgment (5:27). THIRD PRINCIPLE A man from God judges wisely. C6mmentary Wisdom is a gift that transcends technical thinking. Solomon's wisdom befuddled the two women seeking the custody of the child but the intuitive conclusion to which Solomon came did lead to justice. The words of the wise will often confuse those of us lost in our heads. All of life is mystery yet we want to "understand it." The wise person does understand by transcendir~g his thinking, limited and ego-filled, and begins to see reality through the eyes of God. 3The history of the Carmelite Reform of St. Theresa is immensely complex. For further reading see: Journey to Carith, Peter-Thomas Rohrbach, O. C. D. (Garden City, New York: Dou-bleday and Company, Inc., 1966), Chapter V., and The Carmelites, Joachim Smet, O. Carm. (Darien, Illinois: Carmelite Spiritual Center, 1976), Vol. II., Chapter If. I~ / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 lfl t'estify on my own behalf, that testimony of mine is worth nothing; there is another.who testifies to me, and I know well that the testi-mony he bears me is worthy of trust. You yourselves sent a message to John, and he testified to the truth (not that I depend on any human testimony; it is for your own welfare that I say this) (5:31). FOURTH PRINCIPLE A man from God gets testimony from holy men and from God, not from any human testimony. Commentary When it comes to discerning a spiritual person the otherwise hackneyed expression takes on a certain profundity, "it takes one to know one." The example of Peter of Alcantra's witness to the worthiness of Theresa of Avila as described under the commentary of section four of the first, set of principles is applic~.ble here. But the testimony ! have is greater than John's; the actions which my Father has enabled me to achieve, those very actions which I per-form bear me witness that it is the Father who has sent me (5:36). F~F'rn PRINCIPLE A man from God performs actions that are greater than a man can do on his own. Commentary Use Mother Theresa of Calcutta as a present day example of this principle in operation. The growth of her community is precisely the phenomenon that it is because it occurs in an age of vocational depression. Her efforts to sustain the efforts of thousands of Missionaries of Charity from alms alone, refusing any fixed 'income, is an economic miracle. Of simple peasant stock, Mother Theresa has been received as royalty by pontiff, prelates and presidents. Her resources she claims come to her on her knees. Rejecting the benefices of men who wish to tangle her work in red tape, Mother Theresa clings with childlike confidence to the only Benefactor she really trusts. The crowds were divided over the issue of Jesus. Some maintained "he is a good man" and others felt he was misleading the people: They were unable to comprehend how his knowledge surpassed his slight formal religious education. Some went so far as to voice the question: "When the Messiah does come, can he be expected to perform any greater signs than this man?" (Jn 7:31). We believe Jesus did come from God but many of his, and our, contemporarie's did or do not. It is grace that makes us free enough of our own perception of reality to believe that God, who is infinite, Principles for Discernment According to Jesus of Nazareth / 9 manifested himself in toto, in the finite son of Mary. Many of life's givens have been challenged, some taken away. Less of us are certain that those who cry, "the end is near" are mad. Living in a time of technological chaos and intense spiritual confusion, with salvation being offered us in monasteries and marketplace, how do we know who spi~aks with God's authentic voice? A sincere use of the principles given us by the Master will assure u~ of knowing whom he has chosen to represent him and to whom he has entrusted the words of etei'nal life. "Give beauty Retreat's End back., back to God" (G. M. Hopkins) I give you back this pure, full mountain morning, all leaping, blue as robins' eggsr here at Isaac Jogues where giving feeds, feeds the air. I give you back but keep the love, this gentlest affirmation of my need. Each moment as a specially-cared- for now, a nest of robins' eggs that could be eagles-- each one I give you back, but heart-wise I go down this mountain slowly, though light with love, renewed fidelities. I do not look back; the heart has eyes that memorize such mornings. Mary Enda Hughes, S.S.N.D. College of Saint Joseph the Provider Clement Road Rutland, Vermont 05701 Cultivating the Centering Prayer Thomas Keating, O.C.S.O. Abbot Keating's article is based on talks given at "Advanced Centering Prayer Workshops" given at his abbey, St. Joseph's, Spencer, MA 01562. A practical method of contemplative prayer based on the Cloud of Un-knowing, developed by Father William Meninger and called "Centering Prayer," has been made available by means of tapes, workshops sponsored by the Religious Life Committee of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, and the increasing number of retreats in different parts of the country designed to communicate this method. An introduction to the Centering Prayer by Father Basil Pennington appeared in the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in September, 1976. His book on the same subject, Daily We Touch Him, was published by Doubleday in March, 1977. In any form of prayer, listening, waiting, attending to God have an important place. This article deals with the kinds of thoughts that occur in the silence of listening and gives some indication of how to deal with them. How we cope with unwanted thoughts is of crucial importance since it affects the quality of prayer, its refreshment, and the presence or absence of tension. Considerations proposed in this article in reference to the prac-tice of Centering Prayer, therefore, may be applied, in a manner adapted to it, to one's own preferred form of prayer. Centering Prayer Centering Prayer is a renewal of the traditional prayer of the Church leading to contemplation. It is an attempt to present it in an up-to-date format and to put a certain order and method into it. This prayer is not meant to replace all other kinds of prayer. But it puts all the other kinds into 10 Cultivating the Centering Prayer / 11 a new perspective. It centers one's attention on God's presence within and moves on to discover his presence everywhere else. Thus it is not an end in itself, but a beginning. It is not to be done for the sake of an experience, but for the sake of its fruits in one's life. Here is a parable that points to what is happening in this prayer. There was a little fish who swam up to his mother one day'and said: "Mummy, what is this ocean I hear so much about?" She said to him, "You stupid little fis!! It's all around you and in you. Just swim up onto the be~ch and lie there for a while and you'll find out." Another time, there was a little bear who walked up to his mother one day and said: "Mummy, what is this air I hear so much about?" She said to him, "You stupid, little bear! It's all around you and in you. Just stick your head in a pail of water for a while, and you'll find out." Finally, there was a certfiin beginner in the spiritual life who was having a hard time. One day he went up to his spiritual director and said: "What is this God I hear so much about?" , The spiritual director should not, of course, say to him, "You stupid little novice! He's all around you and in you." But he is supposed to be able to tell him what to do to discover and experience this reality. Centering prayer is one way of doing this. By turning off the ordinary flow of thoughts, which reinforces one's habitual, way of looking at the world, one'.s world begins to change. It is like turning a radio from long wave to short wave. You may be used to a long wave set and the stations it picks up, but if you want to hear stations from far away, you have to turn to the other wave length.' In similar fashion, if you turn off your ordinary thought patterns, you enter into a new world of reality. To do this systematically, take up a position that will enable you to sit still Close your eyes. Half of the world disappears, because we think most of what we see. Then slow down the normal flow of thoughts by thinking just one thought. Choose a sacred word of one or two syllables with which you feel comfortable. It will be the sign of your intention to open yourself interiorly, to the mystery of God's enveloping presence. Keep thinking this sacred word. When you become aware that you are off on some other thought, gently return to this word. As you go to a deeper level of reality, you begin to pick up vibrations that were there all the time but not per-ceived. This broadened perspective gives you a chance to know both your-self and God in a new way. ' Method Our ordinary thoughts are like boats sitting on a river, so closely packed together that we cannot see the river that is holding them up. We are normally aware of one object after another passing across the inner screen 12 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 of consciousness: thoughts, m~mories, feelings, external objects.¯ By slow-ing down that flow for a little while, space begins to appear between the boats. Up comes the reality on which they are floating. The prayer of Centering is a method of directing our attention from the boats to the river on which they are resting, from the particular to the general, from the concrete to the formless. At first you are preoccupied by the boats that are going by. You become interested to see what is on them. You must train yourself to let them all go by. If you catch yourself becoming interested in them, return to the sacred ¯ word you have chosen, which expresses the movement of your whole being toward God who is present within y.ou. A familiar gesture of devotion consists in placing the palms of the hands together with fingers pointing upward. It is meant to express the movement of our body and soul toward God. All our faculties are gathered together and pointed toward God by this gesture. That is what the sacred word is trying to say. It is a pointer. The wofd itself can become vague or disappear. It can be only an impulse of the will. But it points one's whole being to God. Quieting the Mind Various kinds of thoughts may come down the stream of consciousness when one starts to quiet one's mind. The appropriate response is a little different for each. The most obvious are the superficial thoughts that the imagination grinds out because of its natural propensity for perpetual mo-tion. These should be treated like the weather which you just have to accept. The important thing is not to pay any attention to them. They are like the noise in the street which floats through the window of an apartment where two people are carrying on a conversation. Their attention is firmly directed to each other, but they cannot avoid hearing the noise. Sometimes they reach a point where they don't notice it at all. At other times the honking of horns may distract them momentarily. It would be useless to get in the elevator and g6 downstairs and tell the people on the street to shut up. You would have to discontinue the conversation, and you might not be able to take it up again where you left off. The only reasonable attitude is to put up with the noise and pay as little attention to it as possible. In this way you give as much of your undivided attention as circumstances allow to the person with whom you are conversing. The second kind of thought occurs when you get interested in something that is happening in the street. A brawl breaks out and attracts your curiosity. This i~ the kind of thought that calls for some reaction. Here is where returning gently to the sacred word is a means of getting back to the general loving attention you are offering to God. It is important not to be annoyed with yourself if you get involved with these interesting thoughts. That would be a great mistake, because any annoyance or any curiosity that you give in to is another thought, and that takes you farther away from the Cultivating the Centering Prayer interior silence which is the proximate goal of this prayer. Interior silence is always going to be relative. It is important not to reflect on what is happening while doing Centering Prayer. You can do that later. While in this prayer, dedicate the time to interior silence. Silence As we sink into deep peace and then silence, a third kind of thought may arise. Something in our nature--or maybe it is the devil--starts fishing. Brilliant intellectual or theological insights or what seem to be marvelous psychological breakthroughs, like tasty bait, are dangled in front of our minds and we think, "If only I can remember this fantastic insight!" But acquiescence to some beautiful or illuminating thought long enough to remember it afterwards will bring you out of the deep waters of silence. Any thought will bring you out. A very delicate but intimate kind of self-denial is necessary in this prayer. It is not just an experience of rest and refreshment--a sort of spiritual cocktail hour. It involves the denial of what we are most attached to, namely, our own thoughts and feelings---our very selves. This kind of asceticism goes to the very roots of our attachment to our superficial egocentric selves and teaches us to let go. It is the most thorough kind of self-denial, but also a delightful kind. Self-denial does not have to be afflictive to be effective. It is a question of choosing the best kind of self-denial and working at it. This is not the time to think about praying for yourself or somebody else. You can do that at another time. The basic principle for handling thoughts in this prayer is this: whatever thought, feeling or experience attracts your attention, always return to the sacred word. A thought can be anything you notice--inwardly or out-wardly. Even if you should have an overwhelming experience of God, this is not the time to think about it. As you quiet down and go deeper, you may come to a place that is outside time. Time is the measure of motion. With few or no successive thoughts, you may experience the time of prayer passing like the snap of your fingers. "It certainly did not seem like half an hour." As you settle down to deep peace and inner freedom from all thoughts, a great desire to reflect on what is happening may arise. You may think, "At last I am getting some place?' Or, "This feeling of peace is just great." Or, "If only I could make a mental note of how I got here so that I can get back to it whenever I want!" These are good examples of the fourth kind of thought. In deep tranquillity you are offered a choice between reflecting on what 14 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 is going on or letting go in faith. If you let go, you go to deeper silence. If you reflect, you come out and have to start over. There will be a lot of starting over. The presence of God is like the atmosphere we breathe. You can have all you want of it as long as you do not try to take possession of it and hang on to it. Nothing is more delightful than the divine presence. For that very reason we want to carve out a piece of it and hide it in the closet for safe-kee. ping. But that is like trying to grasp a handful of air. As soon as your fingers close over it, it is gone. The presence of God does not respond to greed. It has a different dynamism. It is totally available, but on condition that we freely accept it and do not try to possess it. This prayer is communion with the Spirit of God who is charity, pure gift. The possessive instinct in us wants to hang on to what is good for dear life and the tranquillity is so good and brings such a deep sense of security that the temptation to hang on is very great. But let it go. Accept each period of Centering Prayer as it comes, without asking for anything, having no expectations. In that way its fruits will grow faster. We always want to possess. That is why it is so hard to let go, why we want to reflect on moments of deep peace or union in order to remember how we got there and thus how to get back. But charity is non-possessive. It gives all back to God as fast as it comes. It keeps nothing for itself. The tendency to reflect is one of the hardest things to handle in deep prayer. We want to savor the moment of pure joy, pure experience, pure awareness. But if you can gradually train yourself to let the temptation to reflect go by,just like any thought, you will pass to a new level of freedom, a more refined joy. We are accustomed to think we do not experience something until we express it in a thought. It is difficult to be childlike, to enjoy what is happening and.forget it when it has passed--to savor the immediacy of reality. Reflection is one step back from experience. It is a photograph of reality. As soon as you start to reflect, the experience is over. Reflection on joy is an attempt to possess it. Then it is lost. This method of prayer is a t~-aining in self-surrender. It teaches us by our own experience and mistakes not to be possessive, but to let go. If in this prayer you can get over the inveterate habit of reflecting on what is going onnhave peace and not think about having peace--then you will have learned how to do it. Interior Purification There is a fifth kind of thought which arises in Centering Prayer. Any form of meditation or prayer that transcends thinking sets off the dynamic of interior purification. This dynamic is a kind of divine psycho-therapy. The experience facilitates the coming to consciousness of one's motivation Cultivating the Centering Prayer and evil tendencies, and sometimes enables the organism to release deep rooted tension in the form of thoughts. Generally, thoughts Which are the result of this process arise in the mind when one is most at peace, without one's knowing where they come from or why. They may introduce them-selves wih a certain force or even with an emotional charge. Once again, the best way to handle them is to return to the sacred word. If you can once grasp the fact that thoughts are not only inevitable, but necessary as part of a process of healing and growth initiated by.divine grace, you will be able to take a positive view of them. Instead of looking upon them with negative feelings as distractions, you see them in a broader perspective that includes both silence and thoughts--thoughts that you do not want or accept, but which, for the purpose of inward purification, are just as valuable as moments of profound tranquillity. Conclusion Take everything that happens during the periods of Centering Prayer peacefully and gratefully, without putting a judgment on anything, and just let the thoughts go by. It does not matter where they come from, as long as you let them go by. Don't worry about them. Don't fret about them. Don't judge the prayer on the basis of how many thoughts come. Simply follow the fundamental directive. When you are interested in a thought, either positively or negatively, return to the sacred word--and keep returning to it. This is fulfilling the Gospel precept to watch and pray. It is a waiting game to the nth degree. All through the Prayer of Centering your mind will be in and out of deep silencemlike a balloon floating in the air on a calm day. Just when it seems to be sinking and about to touch the earth, along comes a little zephyr from nowhere and up goes' the balloon. So it is with our consciousness. You should pick up the sacred word at whatever level you find it--a simple impulse of your will may be sufficient. Then you can go back into silence without delay. If you get angry--"O, I wish my mind would keep still!"--then you get thrown out farther. You must be non-judgmental about particular experiences of this prayer. The only way to judge it is by its long-range fruits: whether in daily life you enjoy greater awareness of the presence of God, greater peace, humility, and charity. Having come to deep silence, you see more clearly your capacity to relate to others at the deepest level, to pass beyond superficial appearances like social status, race, nationality, and personal characteristics. To know God in this way is to perceive a new dimension to all reality. The ripe fruit of this prayer !s to bring back into the humdrum routine of ordinary life, not just the thought of God, but the constant awareness of his presence beyond any concept. He Who is--the infinite, incomprehensible, ineffable Onemis the God of faith. In this prayer we are asking, "Who are you?"--and waiting for the answer. We Are No Longer Strangers. Ecumenism, the call of all Christians, is especially the apostolate of the Atonement Fathers who annually prepare special materials for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. along with their many other works. We present here two of the articles thus prepared which we deem of. special interest to religious. Contact: Rev. James J. Gardiner. S.A.; Graymoor Commu-nications: Graymoor/Garrison, NY 10524. Ecumenism- Source of Confusion or Renewal? Kenneth G. Stofft, S.A.* In 1889 a Southern Baptist pastor and editor proposed that "'representative men and competent scholars" from the churches come together to "con-sider the: differences of belief from the Bible standpoint." Thomas Tread-well Eaton was convinced that, even though scholars could not agree on all points, they could at least establish some agreement and clear the field of "much useless and cumbersome rubbish" impeding Christian reunion. This piea was taken up the following year by the Southern Baptist Convi~ntion in Fort Worth, Texas. Approvingly, the convention suggested that othe~ denominations appoint representatives to study together the biblical teaching on those points of doctrine and ecclesial government over which the churches were divided. At least, said the convention delegates, this concerted study could help achieve "a better understanding of the issues involved." In addition to the joint study, it was proposed that the *Father Stofft is Staff Officer in'ihe Office for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. 16 We Are No Longer Strangers results of such deliberations "'be Widely published in all denominational papers, so that the Christian public may be thoroughly informed" and that "progress may be made toward true Christian union" (see Proceedings of the SBC, 1890, Atlanta, GA: Franklin Printing House, 1890, page 22). Even though the pleas of Eaton and the Southern Baptist Convention of 1890 were generally ignored by the churches and communities, the prin-ciples espoused were continually taken up by lone voices who attempted to keep the evangelical call for Christian unity before the ecclesiastical public--no matter how small that public became. The cali for '~a better understanding of the issues involved" in Christian divisions was reiterated by a small group of missionaries who ushered in the ecumenical movement at the turn of the century. The suggestion by Eaton that "competent scholars, . . consider the differences of belief from the Bible standpoint" Was recognized and officially affirmed by the Roman Catholic Church dur-ing the early part of the Second Vatican Council in 1963. The need to keep the Christian public "thoroughly informed., that progress may be made toward true Christian union" has been one of the major aims of the annual Week of Prayer for Christian Unity (January 18-25), as well as of the national and international dialogues between the churches and Christian communions. Because of the pioneering vision of men and women like Thomas Treadwell Eaton and the Southern Baptist Convention of 1890, the biblical call for "conversion" through Christian unity is gradually being realized before our eyes in the present decade of human and ecclesial history. But has this perennial call become the source of unwarranted confusion among the churches or a true renewal of mind and heart for the sake of mission? As each Church tradition has reluctantly or enthusiastically entered various stages of renewal (liturgical, scriptural, ministerial), Christians have also entered a period when confusion, rath+r than a clean perception of renewed life and ministry in .the Spirit, seems to have grasped them. It is sometimes difficult to distinguish between what is an historical accident or custom of Church life, and what is primary and essential to Christian belief and life. The ecumenical movement began with a di~dication to the scriptural mandate to witness to all nations concerning the saving work of God in Jesus Christ. However, the movement has grown in strength and credibility because, of its critical, historical eye toward the past and present, having firmly placed its precarious future within the will of the Father through prayer, patient study and continued shared ministry for the sake of the Gospel. The 1978 Week of Prayer for. Christian Unity (January 18-25) has for its theme: "We are strangers no longer" (Ep 2:12-22). In this passage from St. Paul's Letter to the Church at Ephesus, the apostle from Tarsus stresses the need for the Church to ground its faith in Christ Jesus, its foundation. Review,for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 Within the Church we are no longer strangers, because we form together the household of God, are saintly citizens, and rise up as the building whose foundation is the Risen One. Since we are no longer strangers to one another, nor to the Lord, we are presumably fellow saints who understand the issues having to do with our household. If this simple fact is not reflective of reality, or even close to our daily lives, then perhaps we are treading on dangerous ground and following the way leading to confusion, rather than renewal. Scholars of our various traditions and communities have attempted to examine both the truths we hold in common as followers of the Lord and the numerous differences in understanding these truths which characterize us as distinct "churches." These same scholars have passed on their research and findings to church officials for examination and dissemination to the wider community of the Church. We are requested to examine the results of these national and international dialogues and ask ourselves: Do these agreed statements re-flect our living faith? The first step toward Christian familiarity has been taken: to consider our differences in light of Scripture. The second step has been attempted: to publicize the progress of these dialogues through denominational media. The third step along the path to an intelligent process of education and renewal has not adequately been taken: to ask, is this our faith? The third step, however, presumes a great deal about church people and churches. It presumes we are familiar with the unique heritage we possess as part of the Church universal, with the inherited gifts we have as churches. Each church or Christian community has its own history but it also shares a common, history with others. Are we familiar-with the development of the Church and churches? Do we appreciate our differences as factors of his-tori~ al development? What binds the Southern Baptist churches to the Roman Catholic Church, for example? What has been the history of our development under the guidance of the Spirit and the pressures of world society? What separates and unites us as part of the household of God, fellow citizens of the saints? An examinatirn of such questions may help to reduce prejudice and confusion and may well achieve in the power of God a renewal, conversion of mind and heart for the sake of mission. A thorough renewal in the light of Scripture and history may aid the people of God in becoming more visibly the Church, in attaining "true Christian union" in close relationship with our. Savior and Lord, who is also our brother and the Son of Man. The historical period we are entering today is critical because it chal-lenges all of us to identify ourselves as "church" in relationship to one another and the Lord. Without educated lay people, religious educators and pastors, the challenge will be a major source of chaos. We must be familiar with our ecclesial history as both the source of our divisions and the oc-casion for our "reunion" in the Spirit for the sake of the Church's identity We Are No Longer Strangers I 19 and mission in the world. Who are we? Why are we who we are? Ecu-menically, we may be able to clear the field of "much useless and cum-bersome rubbish" impeding our "access to the Father" as "fellow citizens of the saints, and members of the household of God." Oo Ecumenical Worship: What Do We Say to the Father? Charles Faul, S.A.* ~n those first "spring-time" days of ecumenical dialogue that followed soon after the Second Vatican Council, I became involved with an interfaith discussion group in my hometown. We knew little about each other and the tone of our discussions, while friendly, was also a good deal defensive. Most of us, in the beginning, felt the need to defend the rituals and doctrines of our particular segment of Christianity. This was natural enough, since we had been raised to believe that our way came closest to what Christ had ordered for his Church. Due no doubt to the breath of God's Spirit;-we gradually came to understand each other better and moved toward the vision of the faith we held in common. Certainly,. some favored a Church centered on sacra-mental life and hierarchical order~ while others favored the primacy of Word and less structure,, but we also learned that words like "Father," "Lord," "Spirit," "Baptism" and "Gospel" had much the same meaning for all of us. Most important, we came to this understanding as we learned to pray with one another. When our lips spoke the words of faith that sprang from our hearts, the commonality of our beliefs became apparent to us all. Ten years or so have passed since that time, and the historians, liturgists and theologians of Western Christianity have Confirmed in their speeches and writings what we discovered in our grass-roots dialogue ~uring the 1960's: the faith that we share as Christians, whatever our denomination, *Brother Faul is a theological student atAtonement Seminary, Washington, DC. 20 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 is monumental. ,Our common bonds reach back to the faith of the Fathers of the early Church and to the New Testament. Our traditions vary, of course, but our willingness to rethink our positions has led to some remarkable convergences. The Roman Catholic Church, forexample, has centered much 6f its renewal on the need to rediscover the importance of the Word for liturgical and doctrinal formulations, while, at the same time, the more evangelical churches have developed an ever-increasing awareness of the importance of sacramental life and, in particular, the centrality of the Lord's Supper in the expression of Christian life and witness. Dialogue between the theo-logians of major church bodies has produced statements affirming one another's ministry and express.ing a common view of eucharist and church order. Truly it has been a remarkable decade, but what does all of this mean for the personal and congregational level? We live', work and celebrate not with theologians or liturgists, but with each other. Each of us is that most enigmatic of figures, "the average Christian." The average Christian, how-ever, is the Church of Christ in miniature. The summation of our faith is the faith of the Church, and our worship, its prayer. How then in our joint worship can we express this valuable new insight? The theme selected for this year's Week of Prayer for Christian Unity is~'No Longer Strangers" (Ep 2: 19). It describes the feeling, mentioned at the beginning, that is experienced by those who have come to know that Christians outside one's own tradition are not competitors, but rather brothers and sisters in the journey of God's Pilgrim People. The question, then, is how might our prayer reflect this point of view? First of all, we must understand that all Christian prayer is ecumenical, since we pray to the one Father, in the name of the Lord Jesus, through his Spirit. This is the basis of prayer for all Christians. Thus, whether we pray privately or in a body, with our own congregation or in an ecumenical - setting, we are praying with and for the Church of Christ. We, in fact. come to a deeper sense of the universality of Christ's Church. Second, at those times when we engage in specifically ecumenical wor-ship, that is, when Christians of various traditions come together to pray, we need to recognize the bonds which join us together. We all suffer fiom brokenness and division, not only as a Church, but also as individuals and communities. However, our hope is found in the redemption won for us by Christ, won for all of us, and in the grace of his Spirit poured out freely on each of us. This is the source of any healing that might stem from our common worship. We share the belief that the dying and rising of the Lord is the model of Christian life for each of us. We must die each day to sin, in order to rise, though the grace of God, to a new life. Realizing we need each other's prayer and support in order that God's action in our lives might be fruitful, we come to a deeper sense of the unity of Christ's Church. Ecumenical Worship: What Do We Say to the Father? Finally, when we examine the liturgical heritage of the Christian faith, we can find the practical elements of ecumenical worship. Christians can pray together, not only for eight days in January, but on any and every.day, using the sources common to Christian believers in every age, namely: I) the words of Scripture and the early church writers; 2) prayers of praise, thanksgiving and intercession; 3) the church creeds, especially those com-monly known as Apostle's and Nicene; and finally and most important, 4) The Lord's Prayer which is the model for all Christian prayer. None of these elements is the possession of any one denomination. They are the liturgical inheritance of all Christians. In their usage we come to a deeper Sense of the holiness and apostolic foundations of Christ's Church. In coming together to pray for Christian unity, one group might want to follow the formats suggested for Morning Prayer (Lauds) or Evening Prayer (Vespers) in the revised Roman, Anglican or Lutheran Prayer Books. Another group might wish to use a more flexible structure, such as has developed in the many prayer communities which have sprung up recently. It is not the format that matters, but rather the act of Christians praying together. We must remember that Christ did not organize a discussion group. Heprayed "that all may be one" (Jn 17:21). Mutual dialogue is vital to the future of ecumenism. We must discern, however, that the most important, fruitful dialogue is the exchange between God and the com-munity of believers in Christ Jesus. If we are able to worship together in "Spirit and in Truth" (Jn 4:24), we will have advanced the cause of Chris-tian unity, for we will have come not to lament our divisions, but rather to realize our need for one another as sisters and brothers, "no longer strangers." Integration and the Sacrament of Reconciliation Robert F. Morneau Father Morneau is a frequent contributor to these pages. He resides and teaches at Silver Lake College of the Holy Family; Manitowoc, WI 54220~ Integration is concerned with "putting it all together." This admirable quality is sometimes ascribed to actresses who excel in their art, to pro-fessional athletes who have reached the peak of performance, to persons who live healthy, balanced lives. How common or rare these people are is a matter of dispute. Perhaps most of us could identify, not so much with the integrated universal man of the Renaissance, but rather with the plight of poor Humpty-Dumpty. Like him, all the king's horses and all the king's men cannot quite get us put back together again. The fragmented life of Humpty-Dumpty is a universal image in that all people of every age have had to contend with the realities of division, alienation and anomie. These forces are strangers to no one, though the intensity and longevity of each varies from person to person. Lest we despair in the face of this disinte-grative factor of reality, we must also come to recognize that the process of healing is a significant power in life. The healing process mends and restores persons, relationships and the world. A realistic view of life de-mands that the dialectical nature of division and healing, sin and grace, sickness and health all be fully appreciated for what they are. Despite the fact of disintegration, the Christian vocation has as its goal both individual and communal wholeness: integration in love is God's call to mankind. Our trust and hope is grounded in the Spirit of love who unifies and heals all of life. This love, God's gift of himself to his people, draws us into an intimacy with him that is the core of Christian living. Like a fish in Integration and the Sacrament.of Reconciliation / 2~i water or like a bird in the air, the very existence of the Christian demands the presence of God's love. St. Paul's message to the Ephesians summa-rizes this so well: "To live through love in his Presence." God's love is the source of all integration; living outside that love results in the darkness and estrangement flowing from separation from the source of light and peace. Those who have traveled before us have expressed well the central role of God in human life: the psalmist prayed, "You are my God. My happiness lies in you alone" (Ps 16). Augustine also summarized the nature of true peace: "For thou hast made us for thyself and our hearts are restless till they rest in thee." The succinct call to integration comes from scripture: This is what Yahweh asks of you: only this, to act justly, to love tenderly and to walk humbly with your God (Mi 6:8). Though we smile at the slight understatement ("only this"), the prophet presents a vision of life that is radically simple. The complexity of intricate theologies, the score of duties and obligations, the multiplicity of laws all seem less threatening when we can summarize God's will in terms of being and becoming a just, loving and faithful person and people. These qualities reveal the interiority of integration. Justice leads to peace and oneness, whereas injustice, by withholding from others their proper due, causes division. Love unifies through affirmation and support, thus providing hope to the weary and discouraged, whereas apathy and indifference isolate and separate person from person. Faith, the intimacy of a personal relationship with Christ, is an integrative power shedding light and warmth on the spirit of man, while faithlessness terminates in the despair of meaninglessness. Justice, love and faith are seen as the ingredients of an integrated existence. . The sacrament of reconciliation aims at fostering the vocation common to all of us: to-be-one with God, with others, with the world and with ourselves. As with all the other sacraments, the sacrament of reconciliation makes present God's love and forgiveness in a special way. Through the encounter with Christ, the penitent is offered the grace of healing which helps to put back together again all the spiritual.humpty-dumpties of his-tory, and we are in that number. God's gracious love hurries to friend the deep split within the person which Paul Tillich describes so well: It is important to remember that we are not merely separated from each other. For we are also separated from ourselves. Man Against Himself is not merely the title of a book, but rather also indicates the rediscovery of an age-old insight. Man is split within himself. But the depth of our s.eparation lies in just the fact that we are not capable of a great and merciful divine love towards ourselves.1 1Paul Tillich, The Shaking of the Foundations (New York: Charles Scdbner's Sons, 1948), p. 158. ~4 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 It is in Jesus that this divine and merciful love touches our lives to mak~ us whole once again. Integration: Personal and Communal--The HHH Principle The historical pendulum swings violently fl'om one extreme to the other. One period will stress the uniqueness of the individual withoutgiving prop-er attention to the social nature of the person. The rugged individualism of American history is a case in point. Then the pendulum, having reached its one extreme, swings its reactionary way to the other pole. Collectivism and totalitarian ideologies arise to stress the social whole to, the exclusion of individual rights. The twentieth century's political and social theories of fascism and communism are examples of this one-sided mentality. The truth of the maiter lies in the middle: both the individual and the social facets of human existence must be recognized, protected and fostered. Their interdependence and interrelatedness are principles of in-tegral living. Oneness involves both the individual person and the com-munity. The new rites for celebrating the sacrament of reconciliation carefully protect both dimensions. This fact must be kept in mind through-out the following description of.integration. The themes and principles of ¯ integration applicable to the individual are also, by way of analogy, nec-essary for an understanding of communal integration. On the personal level, there are three major elements seeking integra-tion. Anatomically, each of us has a head, a heart, and hands (HHH). Symbolically, these parts of the human body represent the capacity to ¯ know, to feel and to act. In the field of education, the concern for growth of the whole person is spoken of in terms of developing the cognitive, affective and behavioral domains. On a community level, these elements might be described as common beliefs, common sentiments and a common life-style. In~ofar as there i~ harmony (congruence) among these various . components, there is a sense of integration and peace; when these elements contradict each other or are unrelated, the result will be one of varying degrees of conflict and tension. Looking more ~losely at the personal level, we can discover the inter-relationships among the various elements seeking integration. Through cognitive powers we search out the truth, often at a high cost: ¯. who has given up much that he loved and prized and could have retained, but that he loved honesty better than name, and Truth better than dear friends,2 The consequence of living in the truth, as St. John's gospel points out, is that it leads to freedom: the truth makes us free while ignorance en,slaves and issues in fears. We were born to see reality in its deepest dimensions 2John Henry Cardinal Newman, Apologia Pro Vita Sua (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1956), p. 1 I. Integration and the Sacrament of Reconciliation / 25 and to act on the knowledge discovered there. Carl Jung in his autobiog-raphy shares a universal principle that deals with the relationship between knowledge and action: It is equally a grave mistake to think that it is enough to gain the understanding of the images and that kn.owledge can here mak.e a halt. Insight into them must be converted ifito an ethical obligation.3 It is through the cognit.ive capacities of reason and intuition that insights emerge, concepts and principles are formulated, conclusions are drawn and life is lived. Our creeds, constitutions, journals and discoi~rses attempt to i-ecord our mental travels. Though our perceptions are always limited and our articulations fail to capture the fullness of the reality, yet the extent of our knowledge is amazingly vast. The affective domain, symbolized by the heart, takes us into a rich though complex area of life. Feelings, emotions,, urges, tendencies, and drives are terms attempting to describe some of the powrrful and ambig-uous movements of our affectivity. Here it is that joy and sorrow, panic and calm, anxiety and peace .are experienced in degrees which only our unique person can narrate. Because literature claims for her own the mat-ters of the heart, it has universal appeal. So often the literary genius speaks of the affective level: When your own heart's been broken it will be time for you to think of talking.4 "1 do not know at all," said Martin. "'i should have to be in your heart to know.''3 The relationship between the cognitive and affective domain is complex. During certain periods of life a dichotomy exists between the two. (One calculation measured the distance from head to heart to be two light years!) How many Christians. know intellectually that God loves them and is al-ways present to them and yet do not experience this truth in their hearts? Possession of an accurate and sound theology does not guarantee an ex-perience of the heart. With integration between intellectual Conviction and personal affectivity, the distance seems to vanish and there is a mutual support and affirmation. Emerson's insight is profound:. "Our intellectual ¯ and active powers increase with our affection.''~ Truth experienced af-fectively and affections experienced in truth enrich life.7 ~C. G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Recorded and edited by Aniela Jaffe. Translated from the German by Richard and Clara Winston (New York: Vintage Book, 1963), pp. 192-193. 4C. S. Lewis, The Great Divorce (New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc., 1946), p. 97. 5The Best Known Works of Voltaire (New York: The Book Leagu~e, 1940), p. 142. 6"Friendship," Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson (New York: The Book League of America, 1941), p. 65. 7Two comments might be made at this point. Newman's well-known distinction between real and notional knowledge explains the dichotomy in more academic terms. Secondly, in light of the importance of affectivity in human and spiritual living~ our educational institutions must more systematically attempt to educate the affective area of life as well as the intellectual. 26 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 The old line, "Do as I say, not as I do!" draws attention to the third ingredient in personal and communal life, behavior. The question arises: do the words that I speak and the actions I perform truly express what is in my mind and heart? Do I live out my beliefs and values? Disintegration is experienced when a discrepancy exists between what I know to be true intellectually and a life-style that contradicts this truth, or when a dis-crepancy arises between that life-style and what I am feeling at the gut level. Every day life provides examples of such discrepancies: to know that a certain substance (alcohol) is dangerous in certain quantities and yet con-tinue to drink; to prize physical fitness as an important value and yet never take tim~ to exercise; to yearn for intimacyowith a loving God and never take time for prayer. Integration is realized when we channel into behavior our limited time and energy in such a way that this behavior parallels our thinking and feeling. A single stream is formed, a stream that contains truth, beauty and goodness. Integration and the Sacrament of Reconciliation The new rite of the sacrament of reconciliation delineates four basic and essential components: contrition, confession, satisfaction and absolution. These four elements directly foster both personal and communal integra-tion. The sacrament is the means by which the Lord Jesus makes us whole, healing the division within each person and the communal fragmentation resulting from injustice and apathy. The new rite speaks to the head, the heart and the hands, to the whole person. ~ In the new ritual, contrition is described as "a profound change of the whole person by which one begins to consider, judge and arrange his life according to the holiness and love of God" (Ritual, ~6). This is a call to integration, to put our lives together with God's help and to continue to grow in his gracious love. This process of growth implies an openness to God's word which transforms and molds us. It means that, as a pilgrim people, our lives are always in process and stand in need of conversion. Minimal self-knowledge exposes the dark areas of our life where selfishness flourishes and superficial change predominates. The new rite speaks of contrition as something that goes down to the very depth of our person, radically touching our ideas, attitudes and conduct. Integration is only possible at this level. Though conversion is a gradual process involving grace, time and en-ergy, it is not meant to be piecemeal. God calls the whole, person, not just one aspect of life. This realization helps to protect the unity of the person and implies that what affects one area of life will affect, if not immediately at least eventually, every other area. The ritual spells out the process of conversion as it touches upon three components of integration explained earlier: 1) Consideration. We are challenged to use our cognitive abilities to consider how our personal and communal lives measure up to the holiness Integration and the Sacrament of Reconciliation / 27 and love of God. 2) Judgment. After deliberation, we draw conclusions about how to improve our response to God and his will, employing the richness of our affectivity to sustain and give dynamism to that response. 3) Arranging life. Authentic contrition means that our life-style, what we say~and how we say it, the kinds and quality of our relationships, the reaching out to others, must at certain points be adjusted and modified. This broad, panoramic view of contrition challenges both the inner and outer man. The sacrament of reconciliation calls the whole person to turn to the living and true God in hope and fidelity. Confession, the second main component in the new rite, "comes from true knowledge of self before God and from contrition for those sins" (Ritual, ~6). Our sacramental system, concerned as it is with the covenant relationship between God and man, is obviously person-centered. It in-volves our worship of the person of our gracious Father, a deep partic-ipation in the paschal mystery of our Lord Jesus, the giftedness of peace and joy flowing from the Spirit. The trinitarian God is the core of all the sacraments. The challenge is to come to an even deeper knowledge of the living God, and from this perspective, to achieve our true identity. The crucial role of the scriptures becomes obvious in this framework. In God's word we find the revelation of his love and forgiveness; we enter into the rich world of faith. Cognitively we discover the reality of God's love which is the truth that creates freedom. Experiential knowledge of this most central fact necessarily touches the deepest affections of the heart. We are stirred interiorly to respond with our whole lives to this gaze of love. The canticle of Mary is a confession of being loved: My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant,a True affective knowledge works its way into the behavioral domain. Our life becomes different; our words and deeds originate from the wellspring of God's mercy and goodness. The confessing of sins will thus involve the whole person: what we know, what we feel, what we have done and will do. Confessing both expresses and promotes integration. Satisfaction or the act of penance is the third important element in the new rite. In a special way satisfaction reaches beyond the notion of per-sonal integration to embrace the larger community. In doing the truth, in correcting injustices, in serving more deepiy, we implicitly call others to witness and experience the newly gained integration of our own lives. The Roman Ritual states: "true conversion is completed by acts of penance or satisfaction for the sins committed, by amendment of conduct, by repara-tion of injury., to restore order"'(Ritual, #6c). Integration implies and aLuke 1:46. 21~ / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 necessitates order. Wholeness exists when things are in place just as frag-mentation is experienced in chaos. In a sense, sin is being "out of place." In Gibson's play The Miracle Worker, Annie Sullivan, the teacher of Helen Keller, speaks to herself in a mirror: '~Don't worry. They'll find you, you're not lost. Only out of place." The "hound of heaven" pursues us when we lose our way in the darkness of sin; in being captured by mercy and love, the Lord relocates us in the plan of the Father. For true satisfaction we must be aware and understand that the proper order of things has been broken (cognitive element); we must interiorly feel and be concerned about the anguish and restlessness caused by sin in our lives and the lives of those we touch (affective element); with God's. grace we must reconstruct the harmony shattered by our infidelity (behavorial element). This whole process of reconciliation is no abstract, nebulous role playing; it touches the core of our lives. It is based on fact and experience. Though somewhat overstated, Carl Jung's reflection that "in religious mat-ters only experience counted" does express the seriousness surrounding the sacrament of reconciliation. Satisfaction, the acting out of heartfelt sorrow in°experience, is a vital integrative force restoring that order that leads to justice and peace. Absolution is the fourth main element in the celebration of God's mercy. The new formula of absolution contains a wealth of theology, deserving in its own right a detailed explication. The minister, representing the Risen Lord and the Church, prays: God, the Father of mercies. through the death and resurrection of his Son,. has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace. And ! absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. The wholb person is drawn to respond to this majestic oration. The mind is nourished with the experience of a merciful God, with the marvel of the paschal mystery, with the fact of the instrumentality of the Church, with the knowledge that pardon and peace are gifts from God, with the under-standing that all three persons of the Trinity heal the sickness of the person. These insights liberate us from false fears and narrow slaveries, enlighten the darkness of our minds and enrich our faith, foster wisdom, allowing us to see what is truly essential and worthwhile. Our affectivity is also nour-ished by this prayer of absolution. Our heart is touched by the revelation of God's love and graciousness, by the joy of reconciliation, by the dis-pelling of anxiety and guilt, by the calmness of peace and pardon. The sacrament intends to soften the hardness of heart and to foster the gen-tleness that alone brings life. Full, active and conscious participation in Integration and the Sacrament of Reconciliation / 29 this encounter with the Risen Lord abets a richer, affective life. Integration proves itself in action and the prayer of absolution necessarily includes Christian living; it touches the transformation of our truths and feelings into words and deeds. The absolution formula provides an example of what forgiveness is, thus challenging us to forgive each other as God forgives us. We are called to participate in the death-resurrection of Christ in our daily lives, dying to our selfishness in being for others. Through the gift of the Spirit, we are empowered to enrich the world by sharing the Spirit's love, joy and peace. Our lives are different when we recognize experientially the price of our sins: the cross. The shadow of the cross calls us to repent and to believe. The prayer of absolution is a prayer leading us to authenticity. It provides the vision that harmonizes our visible life of daily conduct with the new mind and heart we have put on in Christ. Integration and the Holy Spirit The possibility of Christian integration is based on the gift of Spirit. The Risen Lord in union with the Father sends their Spirit into the world to complete the work of redemption. Through the sacrament of reconciliation this work of restoration takes on visibility and becomes efficacious in the lives of those who believe. The Spirit directs us in .our struggle toward oneness within ourselves and among all people. Within the framework of the HHH Principle, we can examine the role of the Spirit in the process of integration. The tradition of the Church points out that there are four gifts of the Spirit that aid the intellectual and faith growth of God's people: wisdom, knowledge, counsel and understanding. Through these "cognitive" gifts we contend with the ever-present forces of folly, ignorance, rashness and dullness of mind. God, coming to the aid of our finite minds, supplements our ability to grasp truth through the personal Light of his presence. The heart, often bruised and broken, also stands in need of special gifts. Through the Pentecost event, fortitude, piety and fear of the Lord are offered as powerfui nutrients enriching our affectivity. Thus we are enabled to stand firm in the face of fear, to struggle valiantly against hardness of heart and acedia, to deal honestly with the arrogance of pride seeking to remove God from the center of life. In the sacrament of reconciliation, these gifts are available with the coming of the Spirit. But discernment is a difficult task ih life. How do we know whether or not we are growing in the Lord? Are we really allowing the mind and heart of Christ to influence our lives? What are the signs of health and illness in our Christian lives? Through the writings of St. Paul, God has given us an evaluation system to aid us in testing the quality of Christian growth. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul spells out the evidence indicating the spirit of evil and the Spirit of God. If the signs of God's Spirit are present, we have some assurance that we are doing the will of the Father and that the gifts 30 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 of the Spirit are truly effective in our words and deeds. If the opposite signs are present, we are provided with some hard evidence that we are failing in our Christian responsibilities. Paul writes: But when you follow your own wrong inclinations your lives will produce these evil results: impure thoughts, eagerness for lustful pleasure, idolatry, hatred and fighting, jealousy and anger, constant effort to get the best for yourself, complaints and crit-icisms, the feeling that everyone else is wrong except those in your own little group~ and there will be wrong doctrine, envy, murder, drunkenness, wild parties, and all that sort of thing . But when the Holy Spirit controls our lives he will produce this kind of fruit in us: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gen-tleness and self-control? Conclusion The revision of the sacrament of reconciliation provides the contem-porary Church with a process and vision to bring about the oneness we all desire. Unity is something intrinsic to our lives. William Lynch beautifully expresses this need in every.person: What I want first to propose, as a sort of working point of discussion, is that the very deepest need the pe6ple have is the need for closenenss to, union with, things and persons and God. This principle underlies every need of man. It is not a luxury or a gimmick. It is fundamental, primitive; eternal and universal . Everybody knows, when it is put in his language, that real solitude is hell and that unity is peace)° The sacrament of reconciliation deals directly with that aspect of our life which obstructs and prohibits unity: the reality of sin. The great marvel is that God's love and mercy have conquered sin and death and through the sacrament of reconciliation bring us in touch with this victory of God. A schematic summary of this article might appear as follows: A. God's initiative: the call to justice love (lived out fully in the person of Jesus) faith B. Mankind's response: so much injustice / apathy / faithlessness (mystery of sin) C. Jesus came to reconcile all creation to the Father---continues to come in their Spirit to heal the whole person--to bring about integration Truth overcomes falsity Beauty overcomes ugliness Goodness overcomes evil Head Heart Hand Gifts of wisdom, knowledge, counsel understanding Gifts of piety, fortitude, fear of the Lord Signs: love, joy, peace, patience, kind-ness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. D. Result: Oneness with the Father through Christ in the Spirit. Wholeness, union, sanctity,' integration. gGalatians 5:19-23. ~°William F. Lynch, S.J. The Integrating Mind (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1962), pp. 134-135. Integration and the Sacrament of Reconciliation / 31 A growing appreciation of the depth and breadth of the sacrament of reconciliation is important if we are to fully enter into this great gift. The revised rite provides us with many advantages: the stress and variety of scripture, the personal touch with the face-to-face option, the emphasis on the communal nature of sin, the demand for authentic conversion, the joyful tone of celebrating God's mercy and love and not getting caught up in oneself. Our challenge is to understand as fully as possible the meaning of the sacrament and to experience its tremendous force in our personal and communal lives. .0 Now Available As A Reprint The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious 612 Humboldt Building 539 North Grand St. Louis, Missouri 63103 To Make Good Again: A Selected Bibliography on Reconciliation Mary Colurnba Offerman, P,B.V.M. Sister Mary Columba, a librarian, has contributed other bibliographies to these pages. She resides at 2360 Carter Rd.: Dubuque, IA 52001. The word reconciliation evokes many meanings. Its primary meaning is "to make good again" or "to restore." The need of reconciliation pre-supposes that some harmony has been violated or disrupted. Many times man has broken his bond with G~d. Man must choose to be reconciled completely. God's plan for the return to complete harmony involves God himself, man, his neighbor and his community. When God created the universe everything was good. The psalmist tells us that every-thing existed in harmony, peace. Man misused his power to be steward over God's creation. The way to restore peace and unity with God, our neighbor and our world is through repentance, conversion and reconciliation. There are various levels of reconciliation. There is a reconciliation with God and a reconciliation with one's fellowman. Reconciliation for the Catholic Church entails the relationships of the Church with other churches. Reconciliation Within society is required when we have differ-ences due to race, nation, class, degrees of economic and social devel-opment. Every person's life is filled with numerous calls to reconciliation. Oppor-tunities arise daily when we can reconcile with .brothers, neighbors and those around us. Reconciliation begins at home. By turning towards God, our Father, we can become aware of how little we are without him, we can 32 To Make Good Aga. in: A Selected Bibliography on Reconciliation realize the worth of each individual and our own personal worth in his eyes and create situations that promote cooperation and sharing. We can ob-serve God's goodness in all the events of life. The recent Holy Year of 1975 offers opportunities for reflection on those things and happenings that direct us toward Christ and the eternal reward of heaven. We had many occasions to be more concerned with our interior or spiritual life, rather than with the exterior and materialistic things of life. That year of reconciliation called us to promote works of charity, to do penance and to perform works of piety. The Holy Year theme of renewa[ and reconciliation has been an in-vitation to respond to interior renewal in order to become better instru-ments of reconciliation with God, neighbor and the world. By developing a true spirit of joy, compassion and kindness and by using our creative instincts, our love for life and for our fellowmen will contribute to holier years to come. The Church expects much of the religious man and woman. Religious have been urged to reflect on their way of life as this was asked of them by Vatican Council II. We are reminded to persevere in faithfulness to prayer, becoming more perfect followers of Christ and a radiation of joy in carrying the crosses that cannot be separated from our state in life. On each religious community rests its future destiny. The living out of the vows from day to day frees us to be a sign of reconciliation. The ministries of the religious woman have taken many forms. Some are in education, others turn to .nursing and still others perform one of the ministries of service which has emerged recently. The ministry which is chosen will become a healing ministry if the religious is a person of rec-onciliation, deeply rooted in Christ and proclaims him as her Lord and Master. How do we make our ministry h service of reconciliation? By being a peacemaker among the students, parents' and those with whom we work, by being more prayerful, reflecting on the gospels and on spiritual' reading, by showing enthusiasm, uniting our sufferings to those of Christ, by consoling, developing ,a spirit of forgiveness, "to come away from each new grief without bitterness in continuing service, to see no one as an enemy and everyone as worthy of my service. Such are the realities of reconciliation. And they are reflected in thequiet dignity ofa fai.th-filled valiant woman.''1 In an article on teaching children about reconciliation, Rod Brownfield says, "If they come to appreciate more their own worth as friends of God, loved individually for their own lovable selves, if they come to see all the material world as gifts for their use and for their sharing, if they come to appreciate other human beings, as images of God loved by God; if they learn the spirit of awe and reverence for a generous Father; if they come to qennings, Sister Vivien, O.P., The Valiant Woman (New York: Alba House. 1974), p. 33. 34 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 want to mend what is broken and right what is wrong; if they can pray as they experience the good gifts about them; if they promote peace among themselves, their religion is a reality, reconciliation is going on and the kingdom of God is nearer.''z This could be our goal and we wou~d be striving to "make good again." Our relationship with God would be renewed or strengthened and all would be right with the world and our conscience. The following selected bibliography has been compiled to provide spiritual reading on the topic of "reconciliation." Methods, ideas, exhor-tations, reflections and worthwhile knowledge on "reconciliation" can be acquired from reading these books and periodicals. Thus Pope Paul's ad-monition "to make good again," to reconcile, to renew, will keep the religious woman in touch with her God, in touch with her Church, in touch with her world, her feliowmen and in touch with herself. BIBLIOGRAPHY Books Abbott, Walter, S.J., ed., The Documents of Vatican 11. New York: Herder and Herder, 1966. Bailey. J. Martin, From Wrecks to Reconciliation. New York: Friendship Press, 1969. Paper. Banks, Robert, ed,, Reconciliation and Hope. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974. Barry, David W., Ministry of Reconciliation. New York: Alba House, 1975, Paper. Basset, Bernard, S.J., Guilty. 0 Lord, Yes. 1 Still Go to Confession. Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1975. Burghardt, Walter, J., S.J., Towards Reconci6ation. Washington, D.C.: United States Bishops Conference. 1974. Paper. Elliott, Ralph H., Reconciliation and the New Age. Valley Forge: Judson Press, 1973. Paper. Farrell, Edward, The Father Is Veo' Fond of Me. Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books, 1975. Chapter 3. Surprised In the Spirit. Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books, 1973. Chapter 2. Foley, Leonard, O.F.M., Your Confession: Using the New Rite. Cincinnati: St. Anthony Press, 1975. Paper. Guzie, Tad, What the Modern Catholic Believes About Confession. Chicago: The Thomas More Press, 1974. Paper. Hanson, Michael. O.M.I., and John Maronic'. O.M.I., The Pilgrim's Prayerbook (Holy Year Edition). Belleville, Illinois: Shrine of Our Lady of the Snows, 1974. Pages 25-32; 211-217; 237-287. Haring, Bernard, C.S.S.R., Prayer: The Integration of Faith and Life. Notre Dame, Indiana: Fides Publishers, 1975. Chapter 14. Harkness, Georgia, The Ministry of Reconciliation. New York: Abingdon Press, 1971. Paper. ZBrownfield, Rod. "'The Holy Year That Wasn't,'" The Catechist. IX, No. 3 (November, 1975). 9. To Make Good Again." A Selected Bibliography on Reconciliation / 35 Hellwig, Monika, The Meaning of the Sacraments. Dayton: Pflaum-Standard, 1972. Paper. Hessel, Dieter T., Reconciliation and Conflict: Church Controversy Over Social Involvement. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1969. Paper. Hinnebusch, Paul, O.P,.Friendship In the Lord. Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 1974. Chapter 6. Praise God! Denville, New Jersey: Dimension Books, Inc., 1972. Chapter 6; Chapter 23. Hunter, Gordon. When the Walls Come Tumblin' Down. Waco, Texas: Word Books, 1974. Jennings, Sister Vivien, O.P., The Valiant Woman. New York: Alba House, 1974. Chapter I; Chapter 4; Chapter 7. Nelson, John, Dare to Reconcile: Seven Settings For Creating Community. New York: Friendship Press, 1969. Paper. Nouwen. Henri, With Open Hands. Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 1972. O'Reilly, James, Reconciliation and Renewal. Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1974. Powell, John, S.J. He Touched Me. Chicago: Argus Communications, 1974. Paper. Rabalais, Sister Maria, Come Be Reconciled; Youth Penance Resources. Paramus, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1975. Schillebeeckx, Rev. Edward. O.P. Sacramental Reconciliation. (Concilium Series, Volume 6), New York: Seabury Press, 1971. Sisters of the Presentation, Witness to Love. Dubuque, iowa: Mount Loretto. 1977. Page 24. Stuhlmueller, Rev. Carroll, C.P., Reconciliation: A Biblical Call. Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1975. Paper. Tibbetts, Orlando L., Reconciling Community. Valley Forge: Judson Press, 1969. Torrance, T., Theology In Reconciliation. Westminster, Maryland: Christian Classics, 1975. Van Kaam, Adrian, C.S.Sp., Spirituality and the Gentle Life. Denville, New Jersey: Di-mension Books, 1973. Periodicals Abeyasingha, N., "'Penance and the Holy Spirit." REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, May, 1974, 565-573. America, "'1975: Holy Year of Reconciliation," America, January 11, 1975, 2-6. Baumer, Fred, "'An Hour of Reconciliation," Liturgy. August/September, 1975, 227-231. Bernas, Rev. Casmir, O.C.S.O., "' Reconciliation In Paul,'" The Bible Today. December, 1973, 1395-1400. Brungs, Robert A., S.J., "'Reconciliation: Man-the-Maker and Man-the-Made," Theology Digest. Winter, 1974. 324-333. Bryce, Sister Mary Charles, O.S.B., "'Reconciliation Means Change," Modern Liturgy, February, 1977.8-10. Callahan, William R., "'Reconciliation," National Catholic Reporter, May 16, 1975. 7-8. Cranny, Rev. Titus, "'Renewal, Reconciliation and Christian Unity," Onr Sunday Visitor. January 12, 1975. I. Deutsch, Sister B., "Operation Fervor," Today's Catholic Teacher. February, 1975. 40. Du Charme, Jerome and Gall, "Introducing Young Children to the Experience of Recon-ciliation." Modern Liturgy. February, 1977, 12-13. Every, Robert L., O.P., "'Theology of Reconciliation." Emmanuel. October. 1974, 404-41 I. Fitzgerald, Frances, "'Vietnam Reconciliation," The Atlantic.June. 1974, 14-28. Galluzzi, Alessandro. "Reconciliation Is Main Motive For Holy Year," L'Osservatore Romano, June 28, 1973, 2. Hatton, Sister Vianny, "'The Communal Rite of Reconciliation," Folk Mass and Modern Liturgy, January, 1975, 12-14. Jolliffe. P,, "'Prayer and Christ's Reconciliation," The Way, January, 1975, 66-76. Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 Joyce, Sister F., "'Reconciliation and the Teacher," Today's Catholic Teacher. February, 1977, 14, Krol, J. Cardinal, "'Human Rights and Reconciliation," Dimension. Winter, 1974, 148-151. Lynch, J. A. "'Meditation On Reconciliation," Sisters Today, January, 1975, 273-280. Maly, Rev. Eugene H., "'Haggadah,'" The Bible Today. October, 1975, 484-489. Miffletori, Rev. Jack, "'Rites and Lefts of Reconciliation," Folk Mass and Modern Liturgy. January, ~975, 23-26. Mossi, Rev. John P. S.J. "'A Reconciliation Service," Folk Mass and Modern Liturgy, January, 1975, 28-29. "Reconciliation Sevices For Children," Folk Mass and Modern Liturgy. August?September, 1975.25-26, North, Robert, S.J., "Yore Kippur and the Jubilee Year of Reconciliation," Theology Digest, Winter, 1974, 346-59. Notebaart, Rev. James, "'Symbols of Reconciliation." Folk Mass and Modern Liturgy, Janu-ary, 1975, 6-8. Paul VI, "'The Duty of Reconciliation," L'Osservatore Romano. April 18, 1974, I I. __, "Essential Characters of the Holy Year, Central Theme Is Reconciliation." L'Os-servatore Romano. May 17, 1973, 3. __. "'Human Rights and Reconciliation: Statement of Pope Paul VI and the Fathers of the 1974 Synod of Bishops," The Pope Speaks. Winter, 1974, 216-220. __, "'Peace Depends On You, Too," The Pope Speaks. Winter, 1974, 352-354. __, "'Reconciliation With God," L'Osservatore Romano. November 8, 1973, I. __. "'Renewal and Reconciliation," L'Osservatore Romano. June 14, 1973, I. Purdy. William, "'Holy Year and Reconciliation." L'Osservatore Romano. July 26, 1973, 10. Russell, John F., O.Carm., "'Reconciliation a Reflective Expression," Spiritual Lift,. Summer, 1977, 67-72. Saulnier, Rev. William P., "'Reconciliation: Let It Begin With Me," Modern Litargy. February. 1977, 8-10. Schaeffler, Sister Janet, "'Reconciliation Is Growth." The Catechist. November, 1975, 10-11. Schall, James, V., S.J., "'On the Mosl Dangerous Virtue." REVIEW FOR REI,I~OUS, November, 1974, 1301-1308. Seelaus, Vilma, "'Contemplation/Reconciliation/Inner Freedom," Spiritual Life, Summer, 1974.99-105. Senior, Donald, C.P., "'Resurrection and Reconciliation," The Catechist. Winter, 1974, 346-360. Seromik, Gary, "'The Holy Year: Renewal and Reconciliation." The New Covenant, January, 1975, 6-7. Stuhlmueller, Rev. Carroll, C.P., "'Reconciliation With the Old Testament," The Bible Today, October, 1975, 473-484. Wenz, Jack. O.F.M., "'The Cost of Reconciliation: An Interview With Anthony Padovano," St. Anthony Messenger, December, 1974, 14-19. Winiarski, M. "'Reconciliation Assailed, Upheld," National Catholic Reporter, May 13, 1977, 12. Bird With a Broken Wing: Christian Mysticism and Ministry Mar~ Ellen Dougherty, S.S.N.D. Sister Mary Ellen is director of novices for the eastern province of her community, in an interprovincial novitiate in Hinsdale. For this purpose, she is on temporary leave of absence from Notre Dame College in Baltimore where she is associate professor of English. Her present address: 427 S. Clay St.; Hinsdale, IL 60521. In his book A Third Testament, Malcolm Muggeridge says of the con-troversial personality William Blake that he was "sane to the point of sublimity." Blake, considered by some of his contemporaries to be mad and by others to be a mystic, was an early Romhntic English poet and visual artist who reported ea~;y dialogues with the spirits of Socrates, Milton, and Voltaire. At the same time he had the simplicity to urge his readers: To see the Word in a Grain of Sand ¯ And Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Etei:nity in an hour. Indicating Blake's creativity and originality, Muggeridge narrates the following incident: On another occasion, he told a visitor he had a great rarity to show him. This turned out to be "a naked figure with a strong body and a short neck--with burning eyes which long for moisture, and a face worthy of a murderer, holding a bloody cup in its clawed, hands, out of which it ~seems ea~ger to drink." "But what is it?" his visitor asked. "It is a ghost, sir," Blake replied. "The ghost of a flea~a spiritualization the thing!" Whether Blake was mystical or mad (o.r both), debates about him do suggest some of the standard tensions about mysticism. In current society, 37 31~ / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 sanity is one thing, sublimity another. Fleas do not have ghosts. As a result of lived history and the statements of Vatican II to religious, monastic traditions in most apostolic orders have diminished. There has been, concommitantly, an increasing emphasis on service. Many religious orders, at one time known for a single apostolic commitment, now embrace multiple commitments. Dress, daily orders, life-styles are frequently and often wisely subordinated to apostolates. There is a fresh and creative view of the needs of the Church. Ministry is a command. Any simple analysis of apostolic theology would indeed be simplistic. The practical effects are complex, and their reverberations are not totally without irony. For example, while contemplatives sometimes struggle to justify their existence to themselves, members of apostolic orders con-sistently apply for transfer to the cloister. Contemplative groups experi-ment with appropriate ways to expand a ministerial dimension, while apos-tolic religious seek credible ways to circumscribe activity with prayer. In this, there is more than just an intimation of the traditional contempla-tion- action dilemma. There are implicit questions about the authenticity of mysticism in this apostolic age. We return again to fleas and ghosts. Recently in the Chicago Tribune a cartoon entitled "The Now Society" featured a young man and woman seated casually at a cafe table. She is saying to him, "Oh sure, I've felt funny a couple of times, but I can't honestly say I've had a mystical experience." In popular concept, mysti-cism is often characterized by a withdrawal from reality. It is connected with everything from marijuana to sunsets. Even among serious thinkers, it is somewhat suspect as a way of prayer for a Christian, especially for apostolic religious. I have met more than one competent spiritual director who will not encourage directees of apostolic orders to contemplative prayer, even when they are so inclined, on the grounds that it is generally incompatible with their responsibilities. This, it seems to me, is a mis-understanding of contemplative prayer. In his book The Still Point William Johnston, S.J., speaks of Christian mysticism. He says: ¯ . . in the long process which precedes the canonization of a Christian saint, the Church never asks about the profundity of his enlightenment or the depths of his mysticism, but only about his practice of heroic charity; traditionally, mysticism is valued only as a means to something more imporlant--namely, the charity which is the center of the gospel message. When this charity expresses itself in mystical experience (that is, when the love of God becomes so violent that it drives the soul down into its very center in mystical darkness and existential abandonment of thought), then it is inestimably precious. On the other hand, he says, "Granted this . everyone must recognize that deep contemplative prayer is indeed a way (and perhaps the best way) to Christian charity . " The purpose of this article is not to describe the contemplative ex-perience that Father Johnston speaks of. There are numerous experts, Bird With a Broken Wing including Father Johnston, who do this well, namely Thomas Merton, and Evelyn Underhill, as well as more traditional writers like Tanqueray and Poulain, and, of course, saints like Theresa of Avila and John of the Cross. The purpose here is to suggest some of the practical effects of Christian mystical prayer, whether it is occurring in the life of a contemplative or an apostolic religious, to show that it is a way to the active "charity which is the center of the gospel message," to indicate that sanity and sublimity can coexist. Here, then, references to mysticism are meant to apply to the Christian tradition, not to other forms of mystical prayer. Mystical prayer as a way to ministry is verified if we look at the lives of those whose mysticism is judged by history and the Church to be authentic. If we focus not so much on their experiences in prayer as on the fruits of their experiences (their practices of heroic charity), we will see that they are concerned not with looking or sounding like mystics, or even with being mystics, but with acting out of their experiences, in accord with some call to service. St. Theresa of Avila, for example, steadily confirms this. As she grew in mystical graces, she grew in active service to the Church, and to her Order. One has only to read the works of St. Theresa to see that she is an assertive, energetic woman. Throughout her writings she integrates steadily emotional response with idea and daily experience. Unlike her companion mystic, St~ John of the Cross, whose prose is as austere as his message, and whose poetry is charged quietly with passion (and who, in his own life, apparently integrated the two), Theresa is never a writer of academic prose, or a poet. She is a narrator of the spiritual life whose warmth and intelli-gence fuse into an explication of mystical experience that is as loosely personal as it is loosely objective. She says in her autobiography ". sometimes love makes me foolish." In her prose we read of the pain, the joy, the humor of this foolish lover. We read, too, the history of mystical prayer as Theresa knew it, as well as the history of an active woman who believes firmly, as she tells us in the Interior Castle, that "what the Lord desires is works." Theresa's mission was to reform. And so she did. Theresa took the Carmelite habit at the Convent of the Incarnation in Avila at the age of twenty-one. It was approximately twenty years later that she experienced her first visions and locutions (after, as she tells us, going for the first fourteen years as a religious unable to pray without a book). In her early forties, then, she experiences mystical graces with some regu-larity. It is interesting to note that it is at this same time that she first engages in discussion about the reform of her order. It is at the age of forty-seven that she establishes the daring (and some might say devious) foundation of the convent of St. Joseph in Avila, a beginning that was to launch significant reform in religious life in the Church. At the age of fifty she completes the final version of her autobiography (written, as most of her works were, under obedience), and she begins The Way of Perfection. Both of these 40 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 works, especially the second, reflect a woman of deep contemplative prayer, and the recipient of significant, mystical graces. 'They lack, how-ever, the clarity and totality about the mystical life that is evidenced in The Interior Castle. It would seem fair to assume that between the composition of The Way of'Perfection and The Interior Castle Theresa's own experi-ences in prayer matured and expanded, so that clarity and totality were possible. The latter work is a portrait of a mystic Who has experiential knowledge ofeverything from the prayer of quiet to. the spiritual marriage, and who is thus able to order her observations in readable fashion. It is in this~work that she tells us, quite practically, that."perfection consists not in consolations but in the increase of love," and that "love exists not in the extent~of our .happiness but in the firmness of our determination to try to please God." It is here thb.t she. reminds us that "God's will is that no bounds should be set to his works." Theresa, herself, during these years, set no bounds. It was at this time, the interim betwee.n, these written works, that the bulk Of her endeavors for. reform occurs. In The Interior Castle Theresa says, '.'When I think of myself, ! feel like a bird with a broken wing . " Nevertheless, before her death at the age of sixty seven, this bird with the broken wing was responsible for the foundation of more than a dozen Reform convents; she served several terms .as prioress; she acted unofficially as spiritual director for many priests and sisters (for women in those days the role had to be unofficial); she was the author of several solid volumes on the spiritual life. And she was a mystic. One could do a similar, profile of St. John of the Cross, to the same effect. He died at the age of forty-nine, after a full life as a 6ontemplative. A prolific and profound writer, he is better known as mystic than he is as theologian, reformer, spiritual director and confessor, administrator. And yet it was these tasks that consumed his energies, that accounted for his imprisonment, poor health, and untimely death. An"accomplished poet ,whose lyrics reveal the mysterious rhythm of his spirit, he was also a writer 6f practical pros~e. He was capable of mystical poetry that was ap-propriately elusive and at the same time concrete: When the breeze blew from the turret Parting his hair He wounded my neck, With his gentle hand . He was also the author of stark precepts: "Endeavor to be inclined always not to the easiest, but to the most difficult; not to the most .delightful, but to the harshest; not to the most gratifying, but to the less pleasan,t; . desire to enter into complete nudity, emptiness, and poverty" . .I.n poetry and precept, he, too, knew that what the Lord desires is works. ¯ St. Ignatius of Loyola, another man of action~ demonstrated, too, the compatibility between mysticism and ministry. Unlike the Carmelites Bird With a Broken Wing / 111 Theresa and John whose actions seemed to flow from their mysticism, Ignatius' mystical experience, it seems to me, emerged from his action. In all three of these saints, there was, nevertheless, a mutuality between prayer and service. On a more contemporary scene we have Thomas Mer-ton who~e last years, and last books, suggest, too, a proportionate growth between contemplation and outward reach. The point seems evident. An authentic mystical experience does not begin and end in itself, nor does it begin and end in self and God. While a genuine encounter of this sort will, as St. Theresa tells us in the sixth mansion of The Interior Castle, create an ambivalence (on the one hand, the soul seeks much solitude; on the other "it would like to plunge right into the heart of the world . ") the final option is usually for service. In the seventh mansion, the ultimate of the mystical life, St. Theresa says of mystics, '~They have now ari unusually strong desire to serve Him . So what they desire.now is not merely not to die [the "delectable pain" of the sixth mansion was accompanied by a desire for death, and thus union] but to live for a great many years and to suffer the severest trials, if by so doing they can become the means whereby the Lord is praised." To "become the means" is perhaps what Christian mysticism is all about. Itis what prayer is all about. Whatever methods God chooses to use in cultivating us as his ~means is not the issue. Whether our prayer is like the songs of Blake on his deathbed ("They're not mine, you know. They're not-mine,''~ he said, implying, again, a current of mystical grace), or whether our prayer is the solid, structured meditation of prelude and point does not matter. Whether we are contemplatives seeking to clarify our service, or apostolic religious trying t.o deepen our action by prayer, perhaps does ri'ot matter either. It seems as erroneoog to say that all mysticism is an evasion of reality as.it is to say that we are all c~alled to be. mystics. Service is no more a contradiction in the life of a Christian mystic than mysticism is in ¯ the life Of an apo.stolic religious. History defies such.myths. It seems clear that while Christian mysticism ~s alw_ays characterized by service, Christian service need not be rooted in mysticism. It seems, clear, too, then, that the most practical of us in. the Church today have nothing to fear from an increase of Christian mysticism. That would mean, in effect, a fear of an ¯ increase of charity. In the contemporary drama "The Belle 6f Amherst," Julie Harris re-cords sensitively the insight of another poet, Emily Dickinson (no less eccentric than Blake)as she listens intently to a.warbler on a bush. Emily asks, "Why are y~ou singing, when there is no one here to listen?" The. warbler replies, "I was born to sing." With this, Ern, ily is affirmed as a poet. Watching the bird in flight, she says, "I, too, was born to sing.'" And so it is with each of us, whether we sing (or pray) as warbler or poet. Ministry in the Church and a Structural Concern for Justice Francis X. Meehan Father Meehan is Associate Professor of Moral Theology at St. Charles Borromeo Seminary; Overbrook; Philadelphia, PA 19151. Much has been written recently about theologies of social concern. This article is not an effort to review those theologies. Rather it aims simply to point out some very mainstream considerations on social justice as it per-tains to the Church. Its original context was an ecumenical gathering of Church leaders, and this revision attempts to keep a focus on those social insights that are by now practically consensus teaching. In any consideration of the Church and social justice one must start by citing both the clear problem and the challenge. The problem surely is that we have not been as outstanding as we should have been. Barbara Ward in a booklet written for the Vatican Commission Justice and Peace speaks of guests who are invited to the banquet but have other things to do. She then touches upon the key problem for Christians in developed societies; namely, the problem of not being exposed in any concrete way to massive poverty and of therefore not developing a prophetic voice. She says: In this general climate of indifference, the Christian does not yet stand out as prophet or catalyst. All too many of us aresimply relatively fortunate citizens who., are not exposed to the massive, growing miseries at the base of the world society. We are proving, if proof were needed, that it is very difficult for wealthy societies, like families or individuals, to get through the eye of the needle (The Angry Seventies, p. 61). 42 Ministry in the Church and a Structural Concern for Justice The Challenge Barbara Ward as an economist devoted to human life has given an example of single-mindedness. Throughout her wril~ing she remains hope-ful. She knows well the challenge yet she sees no reason why the Christian community cannot be a worldwide "catalyst of energy, devotion and re-form." She articulates the challenge in a way that sets the focus of this paper: ¯ . . if, then, with courage and persistence and the energy of true hope, Christian citizens are ready in season and out of season, to lobby legislators, rally voters, instruct fellow citizens, worry the indifferent, encourage the active and create a new kind of justice and world responsibility in the Church and in the nations, the world may be saved from the evident wrath to come (pp. 62-63). Notice she asks for a new kind of justice and world responsibility in the Church. Thus she speaks not merely of giving food to a hungry man, but of "lobbying legislators" and "rallying voters." If we take a look at official Church teachings over a long range, we can see in this past one hundred .years one broad and obvious evolution. It is a movement that is very well summarized in that key article of the Pastoral Constitution: The Church in the Modern World, that underscored social concern: Profound and rapid changes make it l~articularly urgent that no one, ignoring the trend of events or drugged by laziness, content himself with a merely individualistic mo-rality. It grows increasingly true that the obligations of justice and love are fulfilled only if each person . . . promotes and assists the public and private institutions dedicated to bettering the conditions of human life (n. 30). It is fitting that such words should be in a document concerned with the Church's relation with the world. For here, too, there is an evolution of awareness. The Church's moral concern gradually becomes, in the social documents of the last century, not only a concern over individual salvation, but also over the collec.tive future. She recognizes that certain structures of history are man-made and that Christians therefore must have a respon-sibility not only for individual men, but also for structures of history. The Church must not be worldly, but she is in the world and has a responsibility for the world. Perhaps such an evolution could be understood by pointing to one man's autobiography as a metaphor. I think the life of Thomas Merton capsulizes a whole movement of the Church. This journey of the Church is symbolized so very aptly by Merton's monastic journey. It has often struck me that his own evolution as a monk said something to us about a model of holiness in the Church of our day. A recent thesis by Sister Elena Maltis makes this point more systematically.~ She cites Merton writing, in his early work, Waters of Siloe: ~"Thomas Merton: Symbol and Synthesis of Contemporary Catholicism." Critic, Spring, 1977, pp. 26 ff. 44 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 It [monastic life] takes a man above the terrors and sorrows of modern life as well as above its passing satisfactions. It elevates life to a superhuman level to the peace of the spiritual stratosphere where the storms of human existence become a distant echo and do not disturb the center of the soul--no matter how much they may rage in the senses and the feelings (p. 28). Then she cites the later MertOn who, in his workFaith and Violence, writes with different images of the monastic life: My :own peculiar task in my Church and in my world has been that of the solitary explorer who [instead of jumping on all the latest bandwagons.at once] is bound to search the existential depths of faith in its silences, its ambiguities, and in those certainties which lie deeper than the bottom of anxiety. It is a. kind of submarine life in which faith sometimes mysteriously takes on the aspect of doubt.when, in fact, one has to doubt and reject conventional and superstitious surrogates that have taken the place of faith. (p. 30). Notice holy Mertonno longer conceives of himself as above and beyond the world. He is not in a stratosphere above the terrors and sorrows of modern life, but now, at the bottom of things where the phrase "submarine life" becomes a dominant image. His very spirituality of the 1940's does not cease, but in the 1960's it is a spirituality that takes integrally within itself the role of social criticism. He sums up who we are in the Church today when he says~: That I should have been born in 1915, that I should be the contemporary of Auschwitz; Hiroshima, Viet Nam and the Watts riots, are things about which 1 was not first consulted. Yet they are also events in which, whether I like it or not; I am deeply and personally involved (Contemplation in the World of Action, p. 145). What is central here is not only that a man's spiritual journey should lead him to the welfare of our fellow humans. Indeed this is true of all the saints. But what is central is that now such a spiritual journey leads also to a structural concern for others. Merton is implicated in the world's move-ment. He is, and we are, and the Church is, not only helping others socially in the world as a static theatre, but taking responsibility for the very move-ment of the world itself, for the very milieu of humankind. And the point of this article is that such an hwareness is now flowering in the Church and we ought not to miss it or take it for granted. Perhaps a concrete example will help us see more clearly. In 1830 a French pastor of good will may have courageously preached to factory owners that they must give their wo~kers a living wage. But what he could little understand was what Peter Berger and Thomas Luckman called the "social construc-tion of reality." In other wqrds, reali.ty had been constructed by humans themselves in such a way that ifa converted factory owner did pay a living wage, he would go out of business because of the competition. What was needed was--as we know today--a new construction of reality, namely some empowerment of the workingman through unionization. NotKze that such a new reality had to be created not only to allow workers to achieve . Ministry in the Church and a Structural Concern for Justice / 45 just wages, but also to allow an employer to pay a just wage while remaining competitive. Such an element of structural justice was recognized by Leo XIII when he said in Rerum Novarum that even though someone made an agreement, such an agreement (contract) could be invalid because of the unequal bar-gaining positions. In Leo's teaching we see the beginnings of an awareness in the Church of the meaning of a structural reality in morality. Justice is denied not only by the individually greedy man, but through the inheritance of circumstances embedded in social systems. Application to Ministry In the last eighty years such an insight has developed richly in Church teaching. John XXIII in Mater et Magistra and Paul VI in Populorum Progressio applied the teachings to inequalities inherent in relations with the Third World. There have even been some high points of pastoral ap-plication in the Church. For example it remains the glory of the American Church that she (unlike some of her European sister-Churches) did by and large keep faith with the immigrant workers in her midst. Yet while the insight is old enough to trace to even before Leo, it nevertheless remains a new insight in need of fresh application in many areas of social concern. Most of all it calls for fresh application in the Church's ministry. Ministry must concern itself not only over individual conversion, not only over healing hearts, but also over healing structures. Otherwise the healed heart will be unable to inscribe its fruit of justice on the world itself. In Reinhold Niebuhr's classic terms, "moral man" ~will remain powerless and ineffectual in an "immoral society." The word structure is not always an easy term to understand, It has many meanings in many contexts. A helpful articulation of a meaning sufficient for our purposes here is one given in the statement of the Appa-lachian Bishops. They speak of how the forces of corporate giants become perverted, and destructive growth patterns develop.The principle of ~'max-imization of profit" becomes an idolatrous power. Then they give a clear understanding of what an evil structure does: This power overwhelms the good intentions of noble people, it forces them to com-pete brutally with one another. It pushes people into "conspicuous consumption" and planned obsolescence. It delivers up control to a tiny minority whose values then shape our social structures. Then they point out how difficult it is for good individuals to change things when structures militate against change. We know that there are many sincere business people, zealous reporters, truthful teachers, honest law enforcement officers, dedicated public officials, hard working lawyers and legislators, who try to do a good job. But we know too that, the Way things are set up, it's hard for good people to do a good job. Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 Such an insight by the bishops into structural evil corresponds to con-temporary insights into scriptural understandings of the powers of evil. The simple phrase, ~'. the way things are set up, it's hard for good people to do a good job," is a perfect way to describe what theologians today mean by "'the situation of sin." So the power of evil becomes autonomous and embeds itself into structures. These structures entrap us. They tend not to draw good from us but to draw out our worst--sometimes despite good will to the contrary. We have what some see here as one perspective on the original-sin tradition in the Church. Obviously, then, the work of redemp-tion, in which Jesus has given his Body the Church a certain share, must include a healing of this history of sin. Thus the very baptismal function of induction into a saving community implies a ministerial work to heal struc-tures. The Domain of Gospel Ministry and Arthur Simon's Parable The foregoing ushers into focus a problem, namely, how can work for structures remain a gospel work and not merely become a social-secular work. Arthur Simon, the founder and leader of Bread for the World, a Christian Citizens Movement for world food resources, tells a parable that helps us understand this problem of placing work for structures into min-istry. The parable is basically this: Once there was a farming town that could be reached by a narrow road with a bad curve in it. There were frequent accidents on the road especially at the curve, and the preacher would preach to the people of the town to make sure they were Good Samaritans. And so they were, as they would pick the people up on the road, for this was a religious work. One day someone, suggested they buy an ambulance to get the accident victims to the town hospital more quickly. The preacher preached and the people gave, for this was a religious work. Then one day a councilman suggested that the town authorize building a wider road and taking out the dangerous curve. Now it happened that the mayor had a farm market right at the curve on the ~oad and he was quite against taking out the curve. Someone asked the preacher to say a word to the mayor and the congregation next Sunday about it. But the preacher and most of the people figured they had better stay out of politics; so next Sunday the preacher preached on the Good Samaritan Gospel and en-couraged the people to continue their fine work of picking up the accident victims. The parable illustrates what Paul Ricoeur says about man's new aware-ness, namely an awareness of being in relationship with others in structured ways, i.e. not merely as "neighbor" but as socius. Father Chenu, the French Dominican, calls it the.new way of charity. He says that man has always been social, but he adds: Today, not accidentally but structurally the collective event lends scope and intensity to the social dimension--human love treads these lasting paths, these organizations Ministry in the Church and a Structural Concern for Justice / 47 of distributive justice, and these administrative systems (in G. Cottier et al., eds., Eglise et pauvret~, 1965, p. 174). The problem then is very real. When is ministry for life religious and gospel, and when does it become secular? What work for life is natural and what is supernatural? What is gospel and what is humanism? The questions are age-old. And without presuming that the Church today has completely solved the problem, I do think a good part of the answer is already within the Church's official grasp and official teaching. In official meetings and synods, papal and episcopal teachings have addressed the problem and have given us enough of a theological answer to go on. Let us just cite chosen, illustrative texts from the Catholic context. First, the Constitution on the Church in the Modern World has many comments on the subject. But one celebrated sentence is as follows: While we are warned that it profits a man nothing if he gain the whole world and lose himself, the expectation of a new ean.h must not weaken but rather stimulate our concern for cultivating this one . Earthly progress must be carefully distinguished from the growth of Christ's kingdom. Nevertheless, to the extent that the former can contribute to the better ordering of human society, it is of vital concern to the kingdom of God (n. 39). The World Synod of Bishops of 1971 and 1974 both dealt with the problem. The famous statement of 1971 said this: Action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the gospel, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation. And in 1974 Pope Paul after citing the danger of losing the religious di-mension of our mission says this: There is no opposition or separation, therefore, but a complementary relationship between evangelization and human progress. While distinct and subordinate one to the other, each calls for the other by reason of their convergence towards the same end: the salvation of man. The continuity of the two Synods is sharply manifested in the Human Rights document of the '74 Synod. There the Bishops used a theology of the Divine Image and taught that the "integral development of persons" makes clearer in man the divine image. Then they say: Hence, she [the Church] believes firmly that the promotion of human rights is required by the gospel and is central to her ministry. Summarizing this brief set of quotes we can say that healing structures of irreverence for life and of injustice is part of the ministry of the Church because such healing is "of vital concern to the kingdom of God" (Gaudium et Spas), "a constitutive dimension of preaching the Gospel" (Synod '71), "required by the gospel arid central to the Church's ministry" (Synod '74). 41~ / Re~iew for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 Why take time to cite these examples of official documentation? First, awareness that such insights are now mainstream official teachings will keep us from being intimidated by those who would accuse us of humanism or of becoming social agencies. ' But more than that: it is to underscore that the concern for structural justice and the concern to place the struggle for structural justice within the mission of the Church is not merely a concern of a Daniel Berrigan, of a Helder Camara, or of a Latin American theologi~an, but rather it is official and central teaching within the Church. Most of all it is a matter of rejoicing that such an insight is found not only in official teaching, but is making its way into the popular religious psyche of our.people. At the Eucharistic Congress, when people struggled to touch Mother Theresa, they were struggling to touch, in this case, not someone known for mystic gifts such as Padre Pio, but someone known for simply picking men up offthe sti'eets of Calcutta. But more than that, the people also welcomed Dom Helder Camara. And those who knew his history, knew that his life has been a different struggle from that of Mother Theresa. Dom Helder symbolizes .not just an enormous interpersonal love for the weak, but also the struggle for justice against systems of dependence and exploitation. Dom Helder in the midst of his talk at the Philadelphia Civic Center walked over, picked up and embraced Mother Theresa. I like to think this embrace was more than a kinship of courageous people. Rather I see a symbol of two forms of ministries-in-the-Church meeting and embracing. And in a way, Dom Hel~ler's emphasis is a struggle that poses the most important challenge to Church leaders. His work is less clear, more risky, more apt to provoke misunderstanding even among one's own people, and yet all the more urgent today. The Problem of .Ambiguiiy Yet this ministry .that attempts to heal structures has a special problem connected with it. I would term it the problem of ambiguity. Many Church leaders can agree that gospel includes work for human life and human rights--even structural work. But they rightly fear choosing certain con-crete options that commit the Church to one economic or political view that may riot be the only valid Christian view. The point of Paul Ramsey'.s work Who Speaks for the Church? was to purify us of easy assumptions that the charism of leadership will lead us to right decisions in the complex area of socio-economic and political affairs. So there is a special need for a humility and tentativeness that, in the words of Paul VI, "will rid action of all inflexibility and sectarianism" (Coming Eightidth n. 48). We do not wish to preach our own ideology, but Christ crucified. So we seek to avoid easy partnership. This is a common caution perhaps needed today. But I would like to accent another side to the issue that sometimes Ministry in the Church and a Structural Concern for Justice goes unaccented. Namely, that not always what appears to be neutral ground is really neutral. And sometimes when the Church refi'ains from taking sides in an issue, for fear of partisanship, she sometimes, willy-nilly, by not taking a side has taken a side. Another way of saying it is simply that sometimes our silence speaks loudly. This may not be an everyday occa-sion, but it does happen that situations become radicalized to the point where there just is not ample neutral ground in which a large institution can find room. Historical examples may be easiest here. In the Germany of th~ 1930's was there a political neutral ground? Can we not at least in hindsight recognize that what looked like neutral ground was not so neutral? There was a personal heroism of many priests, ministers and bishops, yet in the episcopal statements of the German hierarchy (in the words of Gordon Zahn) there was "not even a hint of any question, of whether or not the Hitler war effort met the conditions set for a 'just war' " (cited in Paul Hanley Furfey, The Morality Gap, p. 13). Another example. In the bombings of Hamburg of July-August, 1943, the dead numbered 30,000. The raids on Dresden of February, 1945 killed some 135,000. On March 9 and 10 the raids over a four mile residential district of Tokyo are estimated to have killed 84,000. On August 6 and 9 the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki killed an estimated 68,000 and 38,000 respectively. My point here is that the killing of noncombatants was even at that time, clearly recognized as evil. Yet one can find no significant corporate criticism of these actions. Moreover, despite Pius XlI's pleas to statesmen for a negotiated peace, no official Catholic spokesmen gave sustained'protest against the allied policy of unconditional surrender--an omission John Courtney Murray called a "classic example" of a failure to apply moral principles. ¯ A third example concerns racism and segregation in this country. It could be summed up in a symbol. The symbol is contained in the words of Leander Perez, political boss of Plaquemines Parish in New Orleans. He was, you may remember, the man excommunicated for his opposition to the integration of the parochial schools (a courageous act .ot~ Archbishop Rum-mel). But Perez' comment was "How come we could have slaves, separate schools and churches for these Negroes for ages and ages and now all of a sudden it's a sin?" (see Paul Hanley Furfey, The Morality Gap). The point in all of these questions is not historical Monday morning quarterbacking. Indeed even at the time of these incidents there were clear teachings already in the mainstream of Catholic thought--teachings that were not applied. The point is that the Church took stances that at the time m. ay have seemed to be stances of moderation or may have seemed to be prudent neutral ground. But now we know they were not, Rather they appear to have been examples of an immigrant Church so anxious to be " established that it became absorbed in the zeitgeist of the times, and so lost its prophetic voice. 50 / Review for Religious, Volume 37, 1978/1 The main point is this: we may be right in our anxiety that the Church not be pulled into partisan blocs, in our anxiety not to provoke undue division in the Church by too quickly identifying one social option as the gospel option. But we must be careful not to allow this anxiety to bring us to a silence that really is an unwitting speaking in behalf of the status quo. There is a corollary to this problem. It concerns the matter of com-petefice. Often times it is stated that the Church or a churchman cannot speak on an issue because it is so complex and specialized. Surely we must be careful of easy and abrupt position-taking in the complex areas of so-ciooeconomics and international politics. But the deeper question must always be asked. Namely why is it that at times we choose certain areas in which to be competent, to research care-fully and to locate manpower and resources and other areas in which we do not? We must always ask ourselves what might be our cultural and theo-logical biases that predispose us to give certain questions a priority. Too many good Germans said they could not protest because, after all, they really did not know enough. Dualisms That Lead to Neglect Sometimes a certain idea about ministry can lead a man of good will to neglect a certain gospel reverence for life. For example, I am sure that the chaplains of institutions in which recent press releases have exposed cruel treatment would be men of good will. But if they observed some of the same things newspaper reporters saw, and if they did not complain in any effec-tive way, we must ask how did they conceive their ministry? What kind of dualisms between soul and body, between spiritual and physical, between creation and redemption must have been going on in their understanding of ministry? Has speaking in behalf of ill-treated mental patients, ill-treated children, ill-treated elderly in profit:making nursing homes, ill-treated pris-oners, ill-treated h