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INTRODUCTION: Stress fractures are a common injury in athletes in general, and runners in particular. Stress fractures are a chronic, or overuse, injury resulting from fatigue damage to the bone. They occur when the damage accumulated due to the repeated application of physiological loads exceeds the capacity of the bony tissue to repair itself. The incidence of stress fractures in athletic populations is up to 50% (Brukner et al., 1996). Tibial stress fractures in particular are very common in recreational and competitive runners and military recruits. The tibia is the most common site of stress fracture in distance runners, accounting over 40% of all stress fractures (Brukner et al., 1996). The typical recovery time from a stress fracture is between 6 and 12 weeks. This includes periods of rest and reduced activity, to allow the natural reparative process of bone to take place at a rate exceeding that of damage accumulation. Reduced training capacity for a period of two to three months is a significant amount of time for both runners and military recruits. Therefore, identification of injury mechanisms and the prevention of stress fractures in runners is an important area of study. RISK FACTORS: Many risk factors for stress fracture have been proposed. Some of these factors are intrinsic to the individual athlete; some are extrinsic and related to environmental factors. Many risk factors can be modified, whereas others can only be accommodated. Proposed extrinsic factors include those related to training, including the volume per session and per week, intensity level, running surface, and recent changes in the program (Bennell & Brukner, 2005). These factors can be modified, although other considerations such as competition scheduling or basic training requirements may influence this. Proposed intrinsic factors include anatomical structure of the lower extremity, muscle strength, flexibility, menstrual status, bone density, diet and nutrition, and running biomechanics (Bennell & Brukner, 2005). In order to investigate contributions to stress fracture risk from biomechanical factors, other risk factors should be standardized as much as possible between comparison groups. GAIT BIOMECHANICS: A series of investigations into the biomechanics of running in relation to tibial stress fracture have been conducted. The aim of these studies was to determine objectively whether running biomechanics are different in those who have sustained a tibial stress fracture compared to those with no previous lower extremity bony injuries. This may enable identification of those at increased biomechanical risk of tibial stress fracture and of potential strategies to reduce their risk by modification of these factors. In cross-sectional studies the influence of potential confounding factors can be reduced by matching characteristics of the participants across comparison groups. Factors including age, height, weight, sex, footstrike pattern, and monthly running mileage can be matched to reduce the variability between groups due to these potentially confounding factors. Given that tibial stress fracture is an overuse injury due to fatigue of bone tissue, early work in this area focused on loading characteristics of gait, primarily ground reaction forces. Studies focusing on peak ground reaction forces were inconclusive, with some indicating greater peak values after tibial stress fracture compared to controls (Grimston et al., 1991) and others finding no difference (Crossley et al., 1999; Bennell et al., 2004). However, greater loading rates were found in runners with a previous tibial stress fracture compared to matched control runners (average vertical loading rate 79.0BW/s vs. 66.3BW/s, P = 0.041; instantaneous loading rate 92.6BW/s vs. 79.6BW/s, P = 0.036; Milner et al., 2006a). Additionally, a more direct measurement of tibial loading, tibial shock (peak acceleration) measured using an accelerometer, also supported the hypothesis of increased loading of the tibia in those susceptible to tibial stress fracture compared to controls (7.7g vs. 5.8g, P = 0.014). However, further analysis indicated that tibial shock explained only 17% of the variance between tibial stress fracture and control groups. This finding supported the hypothesis that the risk of tibial stress fracture is multifactoral, and that other biomechanical factors are likely involved. FREE MOMENT: During running, the tibia is exposed simultaneously to a combination of shearing, bending and torsional loads, in addition to compression (Ekenman et al., 1998). While vertical ground reaction forces and tibial shock may provide an indication of the compressive load applied to the tibia, they do not indicate torque about the vertical axis. The free moment of ground reaction force indicates this torque at the point of contact of the runner with the ground (Milner et al., 2006b). Thus, it may provide an indirect measure of the torque acting on the tibia. Comparison of the magnitude of peak free moment during the stance phase of running between those with previous tibial stress fracture and matched controls indicated greater values in the stress fracture group (9.3 x 10-3 vs. 5.9 x 10-3Nm/BW*ht, P < 0.001). Further analysis suggested that this variable explained 27% of the variance between the two groups. It's important to note that the majority of runners exhibit an adduction bias in the direction of free moment during the stance phase of running (i.e. resisting toe out torque of the foot on the ground). This torque has been associated with pronation (eversion) in the literature (Holden and Cavanagh, 1991). These loading-related variables that exhibit differences during running between runners with a previous tibial stress fracture and matched controls occur in the earlier part of stance phase. During early stance, body weight is shifted rapidly onto the stance limb. Therefore, studying lower extremity biomechanics during this period of rapidly increasing loading may be critical in understanding differences between runners susceptible to tibial stress fracture and healthy controls. INITIAL LOADING: Higher vertical ground reaction force loading rates and higher tibial shock have been found in runners with previous tibial stress fracture compared to matched controls. The effect of external loading on the body can be modulated by body's the response to it. A good example is jumping off a wall onto the ground: landing in a stiff posture with knees maintained in extension results in higher loads transmitted through the body than landing with a large range of flexion motion at the lower extremity joints. In this respect, the knee is often considered to be of primary importance as a damper during landing. During running, each stance phase can be considered a single-legged landing, since the runner moves from a flight phase to single limb support. Thus, the initial loading part of the stance phase, from foot contact to the impact peak of vertical ground reaction force, may be important in terms of factors relating to tibial stress fracture. Vertical loading rate, which is calculated over the initial loading period, is greater in runners with a previous tibial stress fracture compared to controls (Milner et al., 2006a). Therefore, the body's response, in particular at the knee, to the high rate of loading during early stance may be an important consideration in injury risk. Knee joint stiffness was indeed found to be greater in runners with previous tibial stress fracture compared to controls (0.044Nm/(mass*ht) vs. 0.030 Nm/(mass*ht), P = 0.015; Milner et al., 2007). It was also positively correlated with tibial shock. However, there was only a moderate relationship in the stress fracture group between knee stiffness and tibial shock (r = 0.406). In the control group, the relationship was weak (r = 0.161). Thus, the body's response to loading during the early part of stance phase may also be important in understanding the complex relationship between loading and the occurrence of tibial stress fracture. PROXIMAL AND DISTAL FACTORS: While several studies have focused on ground reaction forces and tibial shock measures in relation to tibial stress fracture, it should be remembered that the lower extremity is a linked chain with several joints and segments. The position of each lower extremity joint is important in determining the position of each segment. While static alignment factors in general have not shown strong association with tibial stress fracture, there is some evidence that extremes of foot type (very high or very low arches) may increase the risk of tibial stress injuries (Barnes et al., 2008). It has been suggested that dynamic alignment during the stance phase of running may be important in relation to stress fracture (Bennell & Brukner, 2005). Abnormal joint kinematics within the lower extremity chain may contribute to abnormal distribution of musculoskeletal loads, including within the tibia. Both proximal and distal joint kinematics may contribute to the combination of factors predisposing some runners to tibial stress fracture, even in the presence of normal loads. Altered frontal and transverse plane joint positions may change the axial, bending and torsional loads in the tibia. Several important differences were found in a comparison of frontal and transverse plane kinematics at the hip, knee, and ankle in female runners (Milner et al., in review). In particular, peak rearfoot eversion (11.7° vs. 9.0°, P = 0.015) and peak hip adduction (11.6° vs. 8.1°, P = 0.004) were both several degrees greater in runners with previous tibial stress fracture compared to controls with no previous bony injuries.This ties in with other work that found peak hip adduction, peak rearfoot eversion and the absolute free moment were the most important predictors of previous tibial stress fracture in distance runners (Pohl et al., 2008). Currently, it cannot be determined whether the differences in the frontal plane at the hip are a proximal compensation for the distal differences in the frontal plane at the rearfoot or vice versa. DISCUSSION: While many factors, both internal and external to the runner, likely play a role in the development of tibial stress fractures, several biomechanical variables have been associated with this injury. It should be noted that the studies reported were retrospective and cross-sectional in design. Therefore, it cannot be determined whether the biomechanics of runners with a previous stress fracture measured after recovery from the injury are the same as prior to the stress fracture. While this is a limitation in relation to predisposing factors for tibial stress fracture, a large proportion of runners suffer multiple stress fractures after the initial occurrence. Thus, the information obtained in these studies is directly applicable to the case of recurring stress fractures. Future prospective studies may be able to confirm whether the high risk biomechanical features of running were also present in runners with tibial stress fracture prior to their injury. Primarily, several loading-related variables and joint angles have been identified and found to be greater in runners with a previous tibial stress fracture compared to runners with no previous bony injury. In terms of loading, the literature is somewhat inconclusive with regard to ground reaction force variables. While it seems intuitive that bony injury and fatigue fracture (i.e. stress fracture) are associated with damaging loads that exceed the body's ability to repair itself, tibial loading is only indirectly linked to ground reaction force variables. However, it appears that vertical loading rates (Milner et al., 2006a) and the absolute free moment (Milner et al., 2006b) may be increased in runners with previous tibial stress fracture. These variables may be providing an indication of the magnitude of compression and torsional loads that the tibia is subjected to during the stance phase of running. Given the lower magnitudes of these variables in healthy runners compared to those with a previous stress fracture, these aspects of running biomechanics may be modifiable. Decreasing their magnitude may decrease the risk of injury in susceptible runners. Similarly, the kinematic differences observed and abnormal peak angles reported at the hip and rearfoot in runners with previous tibial stress fracture (Milner et al., in review) may also be modifiable. Although a detailed consideration of interventions to modify running biomechanics is beyond the scope of this paper, several options may be considered. These may be mechanical or functional interventions. Potential mechanical interventions include orthotics or specialized footwear, or changing the running surface. Possible functional interventions include various types of instruction to retrain gait. CONCLUSION: While acknowledging the limitations of retrospective cross-sectional studies, several biomechanical variables have been identified as having greater magnitude during running in those with previous tibial stress fracture compared to controls. Loading-related variables include vertical ground reaction force loading rates, the magnitude of peak free moment, and peak tibial shock. Kinematic variables include peak knee flexion stiffness during initial loading, peak rearfoot eversion and peak hip adduction.

L'ermeneutica filosofica di Hans-Georg Gadamer – indubbiamente uno dei capisaldi del pensiero novecentesco – rappresenta una filosofia molto composita, sfaccettata e articolata, per così dire formata da una molteplicità di dimensioni diverse che si intrecciano l'una con l'altra. Ciò risulta evidente già da un semplice sguardo alla composizione interna della sua opera principale, Wahrheit und Methode (1960), nella quale si presenta una teoria del comprendere che prende in esame tre differenti dimensioni dell'esperienza umana – arte, storia e linguaggio – ovviamente concepite come fondamentalmente correlate tra loro. Ma questo quadro d'insieme si complica notevolmente non appena si prendano in esame perlomeno alcuni dei numerosi contributi che Gadamer ha scritto e pubblicato prima e dopo il suo opus magnum: contributi che testimoniano l'importante presenza nel suo pensiero di altre tematiche. Di tale complessità, però, non sempre gli interpreti di Gadamer hanno tenuto pienamente conto, visto che una gran parte dei contributi esegetici sul suo pensiero risultano essenzialmente incentrati sul capolavoro del 1960 (ed in particolare sui problemi della legittimazione delle Geisteswissenschaften), dedicando invece minore attenzione agli altri percorsi che egli ha seguito e, in particolare, alla dimensione propriamente etica e politica della sua filosofia ermeneutica. Inoltre, mi sembra che non sempre si sia prestata la giusta attenzione alla fondamentale unitarietà – da non confondere con una presunta "sistematicità", da Gadamer esplicitamente respinta – che a dispetto dell'indubbia molteplicità ed eterogeneità del pensiero gadameriano comunque vige al suo interno. La mia tesi, dunque, è che estetica e scienze umane, filosofia del linguaggio e filosofia morale, dialogo con i Greci e confronto critico col pensiero moderno, considerazioni su problematiche antropologiche e riflessioni sulla nostra attualità sociopolitica e tecnoscientifica, rappresentino le diverse dimensioni di un solo pensiero, le quali in qualche modo vengono a convergere verso un unico centro. Un centro "unificante" che, a mio avviso, va individuato in quello che potremmo chiamare il disagio della modernità. In altre parole, mi sembra cioè che tutta la riflessione filosofica di Gadamer, in fondo, scaturisca dalla presa d'atto di una situazione di crisi o disagio nella quale si troverebbero oggi il nostro mondo e la nostra civiltà. Una crisi che, data la sua profondità e complessità, si è per così dire "ramificata" in molteplici direzioni, andando ad investire svariati ambiti dell'esistenza umana. Ambiti che pertanto vengono analizzati e indagati da Gadamer con occhio critico, cercando di far emergere i principali nodi problematici e, alla luce di ciò, di avanzare proposte alternative, rimedi, "correttivi" e possibili soluzioni. A partire da una tale comprensione di fondo, la mia ricerca si articola allora in tre grandi sezioni dedicate rispettivamente alla pars destruens dell'ermeneutica gadameriana (prima e seconda sezione) ed alla sua pars costruens (terza sezione). Nella prima sezione – intitolata Una fenomenologia della modernità: i molteplici sintomi della crisi – dopo aver evidenziato come buona parte della filosofia del Novecento sia stata dominata dall'idea di una crisi in cui verserebbe attualmente la civiltà occidentale, e come anche l'ermeneutica di Gadamer possa essere fatta rientrare in questo discorso filosofico di fondo, cerco di illustrare uno per volta quelli che, agli occhi del filosofo di Verità e metodo, rappresentano i principali sintomi della crisi attuale. Tali sintomi includono: le patologie socioeconomiche del nostro mondo "amministrato" e burocratizzato; l'indiscriminata espansione planetaria dello stile di vita occidentale a danno di altre culture; la crisi dei valori e delle certezze, con la concomitante diffusione di relativismo, scetticismo e nichilismo; la crescente incapacità a relazionarsi in maniera adeguata e significativa all'arte, alla poesia e alla cultura, sempre più degradate a mero entertainment; infine, le problematiche legate alla diffusione di armi di distruzione di massa, alla concreta possibilità di una catastrofe ecologica ed alle inquietanti prospettive dischiuse da alcune recenti scoperte scientifiche (soprattutto nell'ambito della genetica). Una volta delineato il profilo generale che Gadamer fornisce della nostra epoca, nella seconda sezione – intitolata Una diagnosi del disagio della modernità: il dilagare della razionalità strumentale tecnico-scientifica – cerco di mostrare come alla base di tutti questi fenomeni egli scorga fondamentalmente un'unica radice, coincidente peraltro a suo giudizio con l'origine stessa della modernità. Ossia, la nascita della scienza moderna ed il suo intrinseco legame con la tecnica e con una specifica forma di razionalità che Gadamer – facendo evidentemente riferimento a categorie interpretative elaborate da Max Weber, Martin Heidegger e dalla Scuola di Francoforte – definisce anche «razionalità strumentale» o «pensiero calcolante». A partire da una tale visione di fondo, cerco quindi di fornire un'analisi della concezione gadameriana della tecnoscienza, evidenziando al contempo alcuni aspetti, e cioè: primo, come l'ermeneutica filosofica di Gadamer non vada interpretata come una filosofia unilateralmente antiscientifica, bensì piuttosto come una filosofia antiscientista (il che naturalmente è qualcosa di ben diverso); secondo, come la sua ricostruzione della crisi della modernità non sfoci mai in una critica "totalizzante" della ragione, né in una filosofia della storia pessimistico-negativa incentrata sull'idea di un corso ineluttabile degli eventi guidato da una razionalità "irrazionale" e contaminata dalla brama di potere e di dominio; terzo, infine, come la filosofia di Gadamer – a dispetto delle inveterate interpretazioni che sono solite scorgervi un pensiero tradizionalista, autoritario e radicalmente anti-illuminista – non intenda affatto respingere l'illuminismo scientifico moderno tout court, né rinnegarne le più importanti conquiste, ma più semplicemente "correggerne" alcune tendenze e recuperare una nozione più ampia e comprensiva di ragione, in grado di render conto anche di quegli aspetti dell'esperienza umana che, agli occhi di una razionalità "limitata" come quella scientista, non possono che apparire come meri residui di irrazionalità. Dopo aver così esaminato nelle prime due sezioni quella che possiamo definire la pars destruens della filosofia di Gadamer, nella terza ed ultima sezione – intitolata Una terapia per la crisi della modernità: la riscoperta dell'esperienza e del sapere pratico – passo quindi ad esaminare la sua pars costruens, consistente a mio giudizio in un recupero critico di quello che egli chiama «un altro tipo di sapere». Ossia, in un tentativo di riabilitazione di tutte quelle forme pre- ed extra-scientifiche di sapere e di esperienza che Gadamer considera costitutive della «dimensione ermeneutica» dell'esistenza umana. La mia analisi della concezione gadameriana del Verstehen e dell'Erfahrung – in quanto forme di un «sapere pratico (praktisches Wissen)» differente in linea di principio da quello teorico e tecnico – conduce quindi ad un'interpretazione complessiva dell'ermeneutica filosofica come vera e propria filosofia pratica. Cioè, come uno sforzo di chiarificazione filosofica di quel sapere prescientifico, intersoggettivo e "di senso comune" effettivamente vigente nella sfera della nostra Lebenswelt e della nostra esistenza pratica. Ciò, infine, conduce anche inevitabilmente ad un'accentuazione dei risvolti etico-politici dell'ermeneutica di Gadamer. In particolare, cerco di esaminare la concezione gadameriana dell'etica – tenendo conto dei suoi rapporti con le dottrine morali di Platone, Aristotele, Kant e Hegel – e di delineare alla fine un profilo della sua ermeneutica filosofica come filosofia del dialogo, della solidarietà e della libertà. ; The philosophical hermeneutics of Hans-Georg Gadamer – one of the cornerstones in the 20th century philosophy – certainly represents a compound, prismatic and articulated thought, i.e. a philosophy made up of several different dimensions entwined with each other. A simple look at Gadamer's major work Wahrheit und Methode (1960) can already clarify this point, since the book displays a theory of understanding which takes account of three different dimensions of human experience – art, history and language – obviously conceived as mutually related. But this picture gets a lot more complicated if one takes into consideration the many books and articles Gadamer wrote before and after his magnum opus which testify the presence of other interests and topics in his thought. Nevertheless the complexity of Gadamer's philosophical hermeneutics has not always been recognized by his interpreters, who often concentrated only upon Wahrheit und Methode (in particular upon the problems of the Geisteswissenschaften) and gave no attention to other subjects (in particular the ethical and political dimension of his hermeneutical philosophy). Moreover it seems to me that many interpreters didn't pay enough attention to the fundamental unity – which of course doesn't mean "sistematicity" – that reigns in Gadamer's philosophy despite its pluralist and heterogeneous character. My point is that the many dimensions of Gadamer's philosophical hermeneutics – aesthetics and human sciences, language philosophy and moral philosophy, dialogue with the Greeks and critical confrontation with modern thought, reflections upon anthropological problems and observations concerning our actual sociopolitical, scientific and technological condition – actually represent the different sides of one thought centered on what we could define the malaise of modernity. In other words, it seems to me that the whole of Gadamer's philosophy originates from the consciousness raising of the critical situation in which our world finds itself today: a deep crisis which, according to Gadamer, branches out into manifold directions and various dimensions of human life. My interpretation tries then to give an account of both the pars destruens and pars costruens of Gadamer's philosophy, namely of his attempt to investigate and take a hard look at this critical dimensions of human existence in order to let out the point at issue and propose remedies, alternatives and possible solutions. In the first section – entitled Phenomenology of modernity: the various symptoms of the crisis – I explain how a great part of the 20th century philosophy has been concerned with the idea and the feeling of a crisis of our culture and our civilization. In my view Gadamer's hermeneutics too takes part in this global philosophical discourse. I try then to show and illustrate the various symptoms of this crisis analyzed by Gadamer, such as: socioeconomic pathologies of our bureaucratic societies; world-wide growth of the Western way of life to the detriment of other cultures; crisis of our values and beliefs (and consequent spread of relativism, skepticism and nihilism); growing inability to have meaningful relations with art, poetry and culture; finally, problems concerning the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, the risk of an ecological crisis, and the disturbing, unpredictable consequences of some recent scientific discoveries (above all in the field of genetics). Once outlined Gadamer's critical view of our age, in the second section – entitled Diagnosis of the malaise of modernity: the spread of instrumental and techno-scientific reason – I try to show how, according to Gadamer, a common root lies at the base of the many symptoms of the crisis, namely the birth of modern science and its close, intrinsic relationship with technique and with a specific form of rationality that Gadamer – with reference to the analysis developed by such thinkers as Max Weber, Martin Heidegger and the so-called Frankfurt School – calls «instrumental reason» or «calculating thinking». I try then to give an account of the gadamerian conception of techno-science, meanwhile highlighting some aspects: first, how Gadamer's philosophical hermeneutics should not be interpreted as an antiscientific thought but rather as an antiscientistic thought (which of course is something quite different); second, how Gadamer's reconstruction of the malaise of modernity never ends up in a "totalizing" critique of reason, nor in some sort of negativistic and pessimistic philosophy of history centered on the idea of an inescapable course of the events guided by a polluted, "irrational" rationality; third, how Gadamer – despite all the inveterate interpretations that read his philosophy as a form of authoritarian, traditionalist and antienlightenment thought – never aimed to reject the modern scientific Enlightenment tout court but rather to "correct" some of its tendencies and so to regain a wider and more comprehensive concept of reason. After having analyzed in the first two sections the pars destruens of Gadamer's philosophy, in the third and last section of my work – entitled Therapy of the crisis of modernity: the rediscovery of experience and practical knowledge – I take into consideration the pars costruens of his thought, which according to my interpretation consists of a rediscovery of what he calls «a different kind of knowledge», i.e. of a rehabilitation of the all those forms of pre- and extra-scientific experience that constitute the «hermeneutical dimension» of human life. My analysis of Gadamer's conception of understanding and experience – seen as forms of «practical knowledge» different in principle from theoretical and technical knowledge – leads then to a global interpretation of philosophical hermeneutics as practical philosophy, i.e. as a philosophical elucidation of the prescientific, intersubjective and "of commonsense" reasoning which characterizes our «life-world» and our practical life. But obviously this analysis also implies a special consideration of the ethical and political implications of Gadamer's thought. In particular, I try to examine Gadamer's conception of ethics – taking account of his relation with Plato's, Aristotle's, Kant's and Hegel's moral theories – and finally I sketch an outline of his philosophical hermeneutics as a philosophy of freedom, dialogue and solidarity.

Tutkimuksen kohteena ovat ne muutokset, joita venäläisessä sanomalehdistössä ja journalismissa tapahtui 1980-luvun lopun poliittisten reformien aikana ja Neuvostoliiton hajoamisen jälkeen. Tutkimus kohdistuu alueelliselle tasolle ja tarkastelee Karjalan tasavaltaa esimerkkitapauksena. Teoreettisesti tutkimus perustuu ajatukseen siitä, että neuvostoyhteiskunta oli epätäydellisesti moderni ja sen modernit piirteet, kuten joukkotiedotus-välineiden runsas käyttö, olivat osaksi pinnallisia rituaaleja ja niiden modernisoiva vaikutus jäi puutteelliseksi yhteiskunnan esimodernien piirteiden aiheuttamien rajoitusten vuoksi. Yksi neuvostojärjestelmän hajoamisen syistä oli se, että järjestelmä ei neuvostoajan erityinen, epätäydellinen modernisaatio ei kyennyt käsittelemään niitä paineita, joita modernisaatiokehitys aiheutti. Tutkimus tarkastelee lehdistön ja journalismin muutosta kolmen eri näkökulman kautta. Niistä ensimmäinen tarkastelee lehdistön rakenteen kehittymistä Karjalan tasavallassa ja yksitäisissä lehdissä tapahtuneita muutoksia. Toinen näkökulma perustuu kyselytutkimukseen, jonka kohteena on eri lehtien yleisö helmikuussa 2000. Kolmantena on journalismin analyysi määrällisen ja laadullisen tekstianalyysin avulla. Neuvostojärjestelmän hajoamisen myötä entinen lehdistörakenne, jossa johtavassa asemassa olivat valtakunnalliset lehdet, hajosi ja alueelliset lehdet tulivat lehdistön tärkeimmäksi osaksi. Alueellisella tasolla muodostui uudenlainen lehtienvälinen kilpailu ja lehdistön moninaisuus. Esimerkiksi Karjalassa venäjänkielisten aluelehtien määrä kasvoi kahdesta yhteentoista ja suomen- ja karjalankielisten lehtien määrä yhdestä kolmeen. Kehitys on ollut samanlaista muillakin alueilla. Lehtien julkaisemisessa eri alueilla havaittujen erojen syinä ovat niin entiset perinteet lehtien julkaisemisessa, kansalaisyhteiskunnan kehitys kuin taloudellinen hyvinvointikin. Kyselytutkimuksen mukaan venäläisten lehtien lukijat ovat selvästi jakautunut iän mukaan sekä vähemmässä määrin sukupuolen mukaan. Skandaalinhakuinen, oppositiossa oleva lehti on osoittautunut menestyksekkäimmäksi lehtityypiksi, kun taas niin vanhat kuin uudet eliitteihin vetoavat "laatulehdet" saavuttavat vain pienen osan yleisöstä. Journalismin muutoksen tarkastelu kahdessa sanomalehdessä osoittaa että toimittajat ovat saaneet journalistisen tekstin tuottamisen selvästi valvontaansa. Neuvostoaikana sanomalehdet olivat täynnä ulkopuolista kirjoittajien juttuja ja lyhyen glasnostin ajan aikana lukijakirjeillä oli keskeinen rooli. Toisaalta, erilaisten tekstuaalisten rakenteiden joukossa professionaali uutismuoto on saanut enemmän suosiota vaikkakin kantaaottamaton monologi ja juttutyyppi, jossa lähteiden siteeraaminen ja toimittajan kommentit on yhdistetty ovat edelleen suosiossa. Ainoastaan pelkästään vierasta puhetta sisältävät tekstit ovat selvästi vähentyneet. Venäläinen journalismi on omaksunut vaikutteita ulkomailta, mistä osoituksena on esimerkiksi se, että Karjalan Sanomat on alkanut muistuttaa länsimaista journalismia nopeammin kuin venäjänkieliset lehdet. Tiedotusvälineillä oli tärkeä rooli neuvostojärjestelmän hajoamisessa ja tämä tutkimus väittää, että tieto ei ollut yksinomaan järjestelmän hajoamisen taustalla vaan suurempi merkitys oli siinä miten tieto neuvostoyhteiskunnassa esitettiin. Kun lehdistö alkoi vuodesta 1985 lähtien toimia entistä paremmin neuvostojärjestelmän perinteiden mukaisesti osallistumalla yhteiskunnan rakentamiseen ja tarjoamalla tilaa erilaisille mielipiteille, se osallistuikin yhteiskuntajärjestelmän hajottamiseen. Järjestelmä ei kyennyt sopeutumaan eriäviin mielipiteisiin. Neuvostoliitossa ei kyennyt kehittymään erityistä journalistista sfääriä vaan journalismi oli sekä poliittisen että kirjallisen toiminnan osa. Neuvostoliiton jälkeisessä oloissa journalistisen sfäärin kehittymismahdollisuudet ovat paremmat vaikkakin monissa Keski- ja Itä-Euroopan maissa läntisen moderni sanomalehti ja moderni uutismuoto ovat kehittynyt nopeammin. Yksi syistä on siinä, että ulkomainen omistus, joka on tuonut muihin alueen maihin mukanaan länsimaisia toimintamalleja ja -tapoja, on jäänyt Venäjällä hyvin vähäiseksi. Lisäksi omaperäisillä journalismin muodoilla on Venäjällä pidempi historia eikä niiden voida odottaa muuttuvan yhtä nopeasti. Myös poliittisen järjestelmän ja kansalaisyhteiskunnan kehityksellä on vaikutuksensa: journalismi, joka perustuu sitaatteihin ja niiden tulkintaan yleisestä näkökulmasta, voi kehittyä vain oloissa, joissa lähdeorganisaatiota ja kommentteja on helposti saatavana, ja joissa vallitsee yleisesti hyväksytty, yhteinen tulkintatapa. Nämä olosuhteet ovat toistaiseksi heikosti kehittyneet Venäjällä. Myös sillä on merkitystä, että vanhan koulukunnan toimittajien parissa uusien kantaaottamattomien ja standardisoitujen muotojen omaksuminen koetaan menetyksenä. Tutkimus antaa mahdollisuuksia ymmärtää lehdistön ja journalismin kehittymistä osana yhteiskunnallista muutosta. Lisäksi tutkimus tarjoaa kokonaiskuvan yhden Venäjän alueen lehdistöstä ja sen kehitykseen vaikuttavista tekijöistä. Tutkimuksesta voi olla hyötyä myös venäläisissä lehdissä mainostaville sekä venäläisiin lehtiin investoiville ulkomaalaisille. ; This study explores the changes which took place in the Russian press and journalism during the period of political reforms (1985-1991) and after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The study is focused on the regional level and uses the Republic of Karelia as a case. With the collapse of the Soviet system, the former press structure with dominant national newspapers collapsed and the regional newspapers, which preserved their circulation better, became the most important part of the press. At the regional level, a new kind of competition and pluralism emerged. For example, in Karelia the number of regional newspapers published in Russian grew from two to eleven and in the number of those in Finnish or Karelian from one to three. The development has been similar in other regions as well. According to an analysis of factors influencing the local newspaper publishing the circulation of local newspapers is higher in areas with the earlier traditions of newspaper publishing, the development of civil society and the economic welfare. Theoretically the study is based on the notion that the Soviet Union was a fake modern society and its modern features, like the extensive use of mass media, were partly rituals with little modernising impact. One of the reasons behind the collapse of the Soviet system was that the peculiar, incomplete modernisation of the Soviet era could not handle the pressures caused by the modernising development. After the collapse of the Soviet system a new round of modernisation is beginning although the collapse of economy and the forced forms of modernisation have also strengthened the traditional elements. The media had an important role in the collapse of the Soviet system and this study argues that it was not only the information itself which assisted in the collapse of the society but that the way in which the media presented that information was also important in discrediting the former system. After 1985, the Soviet media started to realise the traditional slogans of the media's participation in the construction of the society and offering space for various views. In so doing the press actually participated in the destruction of the social system, which was not equipped to adjust to conflicting opinions. Paradoxically, if Soviet journalism had functioned according to the Western journalistic practice of presenting the information in a way which leaves readers in a detached and non-participant relationship to politics, the collapse of the Soviet system would not have been so sudden. In the Soviet Union, no proper journalistic sphere could develop; journalism was an extension of both political and literary spheres. In the post-Soviet conditions the possibilities for its development are better but in many other Central and Eastern European countries the development of Western-type modern newspaper and modern news form has been more rapid. One of the reasons for this is that Russia has so far also remained outside major Western investments in the media sector which in other Central and Eastern European countries has been accompanied with imported formats and models of making journalism. Moreover, Russia has longer traditions in endogenous forms of journalism which could not be expected to change as rapidly. This study explores the changes which took place in the Russian press and journalism during the period of political reforms (1985-1991) and after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The study is focused on the regional level and uses the Republic of Karelia as a case. With the collapse of the Soviet system, the former press structure with dominant national newspapers collapsed and the regional newspapers, which preserved their circulation better, became the most important part of the press. At the regional level, a new kind of competition and pluralism emerged. For example, in Karelia the number of regional newspapers published in Russian grew from two to eleven and in the number of those in Finnish or Karelian from one to three. The development has been similar in other regions as well. According to an analysis of factors influencing the local newspaper publishing the circulation of local newspapers is higher in areas with the earlier traditions of newspaper publishing, the development of civil society and the economic welfare. Theoretically the study is based on the notion that the Soviet Union was a fake modern society and its modern features, like the extensive use of mass media, were partly rituals with little modernising impact. One of the reasons behind the collapse of the Soviet system was that the peculiar, incomplete modernisation of the Soviet era could not handle the pressures caused by the modernising development. After the collapse of the Soviet system a new round of modernisation is beginning although the collapse of economy and the forced forms of modernisation have also strengthened the traditional elements. The media had an important role in the collapse of the Soviet system and this study argues that it was not only the information itself which assisted in the collapse of the society but that the way in which the media presented that information was also important in discrediting the former system. After 1985, the Soviet media started to realise the traditional slogans of the media's participation in the construction of the society and offering space for various views. In so doing the press actually participated in the destruction of the social system, which was not equipped to adjust to conflicting opinions. Paradoxically, if Soviet journalism had functioned according to the Western journalistic practice of presenting the information in a way which leaves readers in a detached and non-participant relationship to politics, the collapse of the Soviet system would not have been so sudden. In the Soviet Union, no proper journalistic sphere could develop; journalism was an extension of both political and literary spheres. In the post-Soviet conditions the possibilities for its development are better but in many other Central and Eastern European countries the development of Western-type modern newspaper and modern news form has been more rapid. One of the reasons for this is that Russia has so far also remained outside major Western investments in the media sector which in other Central and Eastern European countries has been accompanied with imported formats and models of making journalism. Moreover, Russia has longer traditions in endogenous forms of journalism which could not be expected to change as rapidly. The problems with the development of civil society and political system also play a role: journalism based on quotations and interpretation from the universal, commonsense point of view can develop only in conditions in which source organisations and comments are easily available and where a widely accepted common sense point of view exists. These conditions are so far poorly developed in Russia. It is also important that among the old school of journalists the adaptation of detached and standardised forms of journalism has been seen as a loss. There is some evidence that journalism has adopted practices from abroad, for example, the Finnish-language Karjalan Sanomat started to resemble Western journalism more rapidly than Russian newspapers. According to a survey conducted in Petrozavodsk in February 2000 the audience is clearly divided on the basis of age and partly on the basis of gender. The scandalous, oppositional newspaper has proven to be the most popular and successful part of the press, while the old and new "quality", elite-oriented newspapers appeal to only small part of the audience. An empirical examination of journalism in two newspapers indicates that journalists have gained clear control of the production of newspaper text. In the Soviet era the newspapers were filled with articles by outside authors and official texts, while during a short period of glasnost the letters to the editor played an important role. On the other hand, journalistic control has not become complete inside the texts. Among the different textual strategies the professional news form has received more popularity although non-commentary monologue and a news form in which the citations from the sources are mixed with the comments by journalist are still common. Only the texts written solely by outside authors have clearly lost their share in the newspapers. This study explores the changes which took place in the Russian press and journalism during the period of political reforms (1985-1991) and after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The study is focused on the regional level and uses the Republic of Karelia as a case. With the collapse of the Soviet system, the former press structure with dominant national newspapers collapsed and the regional newspapers, which preserved their circulation better, became the most important part of the press. At the regional level, a new kind of competition and pluralism emerged. For example, in Karelia the number of regional newspapers published in Russian grew from two to eleven and in the number of those in Finnish or Karelian from one to three. The development has been similar in other regions as well. According to an analysis of factors influencing the local newspaper publishing the circulation of local newspapers is higher in areas with the earlier traditions of newspaper publishing, the development of civil society and the economic welfare.

The title of the Part I is "the history of limnological research about Lake Baikal and the Lake of Geneva". Studies about Lake Baikal and the Lake of Geneva have begun since the Antiquity but the 18th century was decisive. The two first scientists working about the Lake of Geneva were Fatio de Duillier and de Saussure, whereas only travelers, soldiers and exiles could write about Lake Baikal. Due to scientific progress and new political and economic conditions, the work of limnologists and other world-renowned scientific figures emerged at the end of the 19th century, Forel and Delebecque in the Lake of Geneva, Dybovskij, Čerskij, Obručev and Driženko in Lake Baikal. During the interwar period, the biologist Vereščagin was the leader of the new limnological station of Lake Baikal, whereas Collet was the great geologist of the Lake of Geneva. Since 1945, team work in the limnological institutes of the two lakes has taken over isolated researchers. The technologies are very high, especially on Lake Baikal, where oceanographic ones are used. The boundaries between France and Switzerland and between Russia and Mongolia, the differences between capitalism and communism had a great influence on the research about the two lakes. Today biologists and geologists working about the Lake of Geneva count in tens and especially study pollution and eutrophication. Geologists, biologists and geographers working about Lake Baikal count in thousands and especially study systematic, structure of the rift and conservation of the environment in the hydrographic basin. For our purposes, the main difference between the two lakes is the lack of geographic research in the case of Lake Geneva, while 250 researchers of the Institute of Geography in Irkutsk study Lake Baikal. The title of the Part II is "Geography of Baikal and the Lake of Geneva, analytic and synthetic lake-scale cartography". Since geography describes, lake-scale cartography squares with observer-scale cartography. Some forty analytic maps describe lake basins, waters and organisms. In a second time, two synthetic maps define the geographical problematic of the two lakes, i.e. their geographical individuality (fig. 46 and 47). The geomorphological, hydrological and biogeographical characteristics of Lake Baikal are of planetary importance because the ratio between the rate of formation of the lake basin and the rate of sedimentary filling-up is very high. The geographical individuality of the Lake of Geneva is based on the intersection of its medium horizontal dimensions, its young age and its great relative depth. The title of the Part III is "Geography of Baikal and the Lake of Geneva at different scales". The world-scale study of Lake Baikal and of the Lake of Geneva includes the influence of latitude and longitude on the climate and on the hydrological cycle of the two lakes, the plate tectonics, the biological evolution and endemism, the development of human technologies. The hydrographic basin – scale study includes hydrological balances, sedimentary filling-up, pollution and eutrophication. But both lakes provide feedback, they have an influence on the climate, the geomorphology and the biogeography of a small part of the continent. The region – scale study confirms the definition of the geographical individuality of each lake. The regionalization of Lake Baikal in five parts and of the Lake of Geneva in three parts is based on the criterion of the geographical individuality of the whole lake (fig. 67 and 74). ; Dans le livre I, « le temps et la recherche limnologique sur le Léman et le Baïkal », l'étude de l'histoire des recherches limnologiques sur le Léman et le Baïkal permet de mieux appréhender ce qu'on attend de nouveau de la part du géographe qui s'intéresse à des lacs examinés depuis des siècles. Les premières allusions écrites au Léman et au Baïkal datent de l'Antiquité, mais les études précises n'ont pas commencé avant le XVIIIème siècle. Les conditions de peuplement étaient cependant fort différentes. Fatio de Duillier et de Saussure furent les deux premiers savants s'intéressant au Léman, tandis que des voyageurs, des militaires et des exilés du tsar donnaient des renseignements sur le Baïkal. Les progrès scientifiques croissants et de nouvelles conditions politiques et économiques favorisèrent le travail de limnologues et autres personnalités scientifiques de renommée mondiale à la fin du XIXème siècle, Forel et Delebecque pour le Léman, Dybovskij, Čerskij, Obručev et Driženko pour le Baïkal. Pendant l'entre-deux-guerres, le biologiste Vereščagin, à la tête de la nouvelle station limnologique fondée sur les bords du Baïkal, mena des recherches dans tous les domaines et fit faire un bond aux connaissances qu'on avait du grand lac sibérien. Depuis Genève, Collet fut à l'origine des études géologiques de la cuvette lémanique. Depuis 1945, les travaux en équipe dans les instituts de limnologie des deux lacs ont pris le relais de ceux des chercheurs isolés. Les techniques mises à leur disposition sont devenues imposantes, surtout sur le Baïkal, où des moyens océanographiques sont constamment utilisés. Les différends, ou au contraire les coopérations, entre la France et la Suisse, la Russie et la Mongolie, le système capitaliste des premiers, communiste des seconds, finançant et orientant les recherches, ont été à l'origine d'une riche variété de possibilités dans l'étude des deux lacs et de leur bassin d'alimentation. L'optique des travaux récents et actuels n'est pas la même. Les chercheurs du Léman, quelques dizaines de biologistes et géologues, étudient en premier lieu l'eutrophisation et la pollution. Ceux du Baïkal, plusieurs milliers de biologistes, géologues et géographes, ont une prédilection pour la systématique, la structure du rift, ainsi que la protection du milieu naturel du bassin versant. Pour notre propos, la grande différence entre les deux lacs est l'absence de recherche géographique dans le cas du Léman, alors que 250 chercheurs de l'Institut de Géographie d'Irkoutsk étudient le Baïkal. Il s'avère finalement que l'attente principale est de cerner la personnalité de chaque lac. Cela doit être le but de la thèse. Il s'agit pour y parvenir de mettre à profit les qualités de la géographie, la cartographie, la globalité, les changements d'échelle. La mise au point d'une méthode géographique pour embrasser l'individualité de chaque lac demande d'être validée par son application sur des lacs très différents, comme le sont les Léman et le Baïkal. Dans le livre II, « géographie du Baïkal et du Léman, cartographie analytique et synthétique à l'échelle du lac », le lac est abordé à l'échelle de l'observateur, du géographe, qui commence par décrire. Une quarantaine de cartes analytiques sur la cuvette, l'eau et les organismes vivants permettent de prendre un premier contact avec le Baïkal et le Léman. Dès que cela est nécessaire, des éléments d'explication sont intégrés à cette étude à l'échelle du lac, conduisant ainsi par exemple à la construction de deux cartes géomorphologiques (fig. 17 et 18). Dans un second temps, la cartographie est utilisée pour définir la problématique géographique de chacun des deux lacs (fig. 46 et 47). Cette synthèse répond à la nécessité de déterminer la personnalité géographique de chaque individu lacustre. Les caractères géomorphologiques, hydrologiques et biogéographiques du Baïkal sont tous d'importance mondiale parce que le rapport entre la vitesse de formation de la cuvette lacustre et celle de son comblement est particulièrement grand relativement aux autres lacs. Le plus grand volume d'eau douce et la plus grande profondeur de tous les lacs du monde, et les innombrables conséquences de ces deux qualités, bref tous les records liés aux dimensions du Baïkal, en découlent. La plus grande ancienneté lacustre de la planète, et son influence déterminante sur l'endémisme biogéographique unique du Baïkal, c'est-à-dire tous les caractères liés à l'évolution dans le temps de ce lac, en dérivent aussi. Les deux ensembles de caractères sont en outre corrélés à un échelon supérieur. C'est parce que le Baïkal est si ancien qu'il est si profond et volumineux ; c'est parce qu'il est si profond et volumineux qu'il a pu traverser les glaciations sans bouleversement et être ainsi si ancien. La problématique du Léman, celle qui lui forge sa personnalité géographique, est fondé sur le mélange de ses dimensions petites à moyennes, de son origine dans le temps récente et de sa durée de vie éphémère, avec son seul caractère de grand lac, soit sa profondeur importante (non pas sa profondeur absolue mais sa profondeur relative à la superficie, celle-ci étant ramenée à une valeur d'exposant un par un calcul mathématique simple). Le Léman est ainsi à la fois un lac soumis à son bassin versant et tenté par l'indépendance, et c'est sur ce subtil équilibre que s'appuie toute son originalité. Le livre III s'intitule « géographie du Baïkal et du Léman, changements d'échelle ». La machine lacustre mérite, dans le but de saisir les mécanismes généraux qui en régissent le fonctionnement, d'être étudiée à l'échelle mondiale. Ce terme est entendu dans le sens large de la prise en compte d'un espace d'une taille telle que le Baïkal et le Léman peuvent être considérés comme des points. C'est l'échelle de la zonalité, de l'influence de la longitude sur le caractère océanique ou continental du climat, du cycle de l'eau, de la tectonique des plaques, de l'évolution des espèces vers l'endémisme, de l'évolution des techniques humaines. L'étude à cette échelle spatiale est menée en tenant particulièrement compte du rôle des différentes échelles de temps. L'influence des 100° de longitude séparant les deux lacs est énorme sur l'hydrologie du Baïkal et du Léman, faisant du premier un lac dimictique, donc remarquablement oxygéné sur toute sa tranche, pourtant très épaisse, et recouvert par une épaisse banquise chaque année pendant cinq mois, et du second un lac monomictique chaud, voire, près d'une année sur deux, méromictique, provoquant ainsi un déficit en oxygène dans les couches profondes, accentué par les conséquences de l'eutrophisation. La cuvette lacustre du Baïkal est un grand volume structural et une forme géomorphologique durable, à l'échelle de la dizaine de millions d'années. C'est un rift dont l'ouverture serait liée à la collision des plaques lithosphériques indienne et eurasiatique. La cuvette lacustre lémanique est au contraire une forme de détail du modelé et une forme éphémère, à l'échelle de la dizaine de milliers d'années. C'est un héritage morphoclimatique de la dernière glaciation, en train d'être comblé. La très longue évolution isolée du Baïkal a permis le développement de plus d'un millier d'espèces végétales et animales endémiques, comme la nerpa, l'omul' ou la golomjanka. Puis le Baïkal a vu arriver l'Homme, exploitant depuis peu ce lac vierge. C'est au contraire l'Homme qui a vu arriver le Léman, participant dès l'origine à ses caractères biogéographiques. La plupart des rouages de la machine lacustre fonctionnent en étant alimentés par les apports du bassin versant en eau et en sédiments. Les variations des bilans hydrologiques et des volumes des deux lacs sont étudiés à plusieurs échelles de temps. L'étude à l'échelle du bassin d'alimentation permet en outre d'intégrer le rôle de l'Homme, dont l'influence sur l'activité du lac est croissante. L'eutrophisation et la pollution du lac proviennent des rejets anthropiques dans le bassin versant. Le Baïkal est de ce point de vue un lac en sursis, que la fermeture, depuis si longtemps annoncée et reportée, du combinat de papier et cellulose guérirait définitivement. Le Léman est un lac au littoral construit, en convalescence depuis l'interdiction par la Suisse de l'utilisation des lessives à phosphates. Le lac agit en retour, de manière beaucoup plus réduite, sur une petite portion du continent. Nous essayons de délimiter une sorte de bassin de réception à cette influence. Elle concerne le microclimat lacustre, les héritages morphoclimatiques, comme les terrasses lacustres, la biogéographie de la partie aval des affluents du lac. L'étude à l'échelle régionale permet de conclure sur l'objectif de cette thèse, la tentative de cerner l'individualité géographique de chaque lac. Elle ne se contente pas de servir de toutes les données précédentes pour les appliquer à l'étude locale des paysages lacustres. Elle cherche à approfondir la réflexion sur la problématique du Baïkal et celle du Léman. La personnalité de chaque région lacustre doit en effet être déterminée par celle du lac tout entier. Le découpage régional est chargé de valider le critère qui avait été choisi dans le livre II pour définir une problématique lacustre. L'idée directrice du rapport, favorable à la grandeur et à la durée du Baïkal, entre la vitesse de la formation de la cuvette et celle de son remplissage sédimentaire conduit à distinguer cinq régions : le bassin septentrional, le seuil tectonique, le bassin central, le seuil sédimentaire et le bassin méridional, qui répondent de façon différenciée à ce critère (fig. 67). L'idée directrice de la soumission, légèrement nuancée par quelques velléités d'indépendance, du Léman au continent aboutit à un découpage régional du lac en trois régions, le Léman du grand affluent, le Rhône valaisan, le Léman des affluents moyens et le Léman de l'effluent, le Rhône genevois (fig. 74).

Issue 66.3 of the Review for Religious, 2007. ; Spiritual Legacy Challenges The Feminine Apostolic Direction QUARTERLY 66.3 2007 Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ Pontifical College Josephinum 7625 North High Street ¯ Columbus, Ohio 43235 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2007 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribution, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. ~gournalof Catholic Spiri~uali[y eview for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Webmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Clare Boehmer ASC Martin Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis csJ QUARTERLY 66.3 2007 contents prisms 228 Prisms legacy spiritual 230 Christian Mindfulness Ernest E. L~lrkin OCarm shares an understanding of Christian m~ndNlness that integrates this spiritual practice with recollection, the practice of the presence of God, and the sacrament of the present moment. This article is published in a slightly different edited form as chapter eight in Larkin's posthumously published book, Come'i~. plative Prayer.for Tod~y: Christian Meditations, Medio Media, 2007. challenges 248 Clericalism ,and the Religious Life Edward L. Krasevac oP discusses how various entidements that are mar,ks of "clericalism" manifest theinselves in seven different styles of living out the ministerial among male religious who are priests, priesthood Questionfs ,o' rR e felc t i o n is/Dcussion 265 Conversati],'ons on Eucharist Patrick Scan~ Moffett CFC suggests some ways of reviewing the role of ~e daily Eucharist in our lives as we face possible days when there is no Eucharistic celebration accessible. Prayer Review for Religious 276 283 the feminine ~ Mary and the Magnificat Damian C. Ilodigwe proposes that Mary's life challenges us to take seriously the responsibilities that accompany the privilege of being a Christian. Margaret, the Woman of Becchi Leo Hereto SDB relates the story of Margaret Bosco, the mother of John Bosco, and her influence on the beginnings of the Salesian mission. 288 apostolic direction Discernment in Common as Cooperative Inquiry David Coghlan SJ introduces cooperative inquiry as a form of action research that is compatible with the kind of faith activity that discernment is and accords with how discernment in common may be conducted. 302 Early Jesuit Strategies John P. Mossi SJ points out that early Jesuit strategies found in the Spiritual Exercises and Jesuit directives regarding discretion and empathic listening can be helpful in fostering reform and unity today. Questions for Reflection/Discussi0n 316 32O departments Scriptur,e Scope: The Great Journey in Luke's Gospel Canonical Counsel: Sharing Information in Confidential Matters 326 Book Renews 227 66.3 2007 prisms 228 P. rayer is a subject that merits consistent attention by writers in every age. In our own time it probably would take quite a long bibliography to list the titles of books written on prayer in any one year. In this issue of our journal, we feature the last article on prayer written by Father Ernest Larldn OCarm shortly before he died (1922- 2006). The article itself has been published as the eighth and final chapter of his book pub-lished posthumously, Contemplative Prayer for Today: Christian Meditation, Medio Media, 2007. Father Larkin's interest in prayer and his shar-ing of insights and personal experience mark his apostolic ministry of teaching, writing, and con-ducting retreats. Larkin served on our advisory board from 2001 to 2005 when because of health reasons he excused himself a year early from finishing his term. As editor I was especially delighted that he had agreed to serve on the advisory board. Surely he brought the gifts of his Carmelite her-itage, his teaching acumen, and his rich pasto-ral experience. But for me Father Ernest Larkin brought much more. He had been my mentor, along with Father Kieran Kavanaugh OCD, and my dissertation director during my doctorate Review for Religious studies at Catholic University of America. Both of these men initiated this Jesuit into the world of spirituality and mysticism, especially viewed from a Carmelite perspec-tive. I am forever grateful. Because of the intensity of dissertation supervision, Ernie Larkin and I spent a good deal of time together. He was always gracious, he was evidendy holy, and he could be gendy demanding--a most wonderful set of qualities to get a doctorate student to finish his dissertation on time. One example. After reading and research for one semester, I met with Ernie Larkin, who announced that he wanted a first chapter written now in two weeks' time. Weakly I protested that I still had more reading to do. He smiled and said I could read and I could also write. Ever thereafter I was kept to a regular schedule, and I finished within the semester. We always remained friends, though seldom interacting until he accepted my invitation to be a board member. Why would Ernie want to be remembered especially for his interest in and contribution to our lives of prayer? He would simply say that our most important relationship is with God. If a relationship is to develop and deepen, it demands time spent together. Conversation is most important as a way of sharing, but sharing takes many forms, often just being together in rest and in activity. We are talking about prayer, sometimes with words, at other times with still presence. Prayer, our relationship with God, was the center of Ernest Larkin's life. As he often said, "pray and God will ¯come." That is what he shared with us, even in his final book. May he be enjoying his eternal presence with God, the God of his life. ¯David L. Fleming SJ [229 66.3 2007 ERNEST E. LARKIN Christian Mindfulness spiritual legacy 230] Several classic disciplines in traditional Christian spirituality cultivate attentiveness and awareness of God and divine things. They are recollection, the practice of the presence of God, and the sac-rament of the present moment, all venerable exer-cises in the Christian life. Recollection, a concept and practice dear to St. Teresa of Avila, means in her words that "the soul collects its faculties together and enters within itself to be with its God.''1 She goes on to say that the soul is "cen-tered there within itself." Recollection allows one to meet God in the depths of one's being. The practice of the presence of God is cultivating alertness to one of the many ways God is pres-ent and relating to that presence by brief acts of recognition and prayer. The sacrament of the present moment sees each activity in life as an opportunity to meet God. Mindfulness is similar Ernest E. Larkin OCarm wrote on aspiratory prayer for us a year ago. He died shortly after writing the present article. Revieva for Religious to these three practices, but with its own emphasis. As a Christian practice it is a newcomer on the block. Its name and its particular approach come from the East, particularly from Buddhism. Christian mindfulness adds to God's presence special attention to the concrete and finite aspects of each action. The present article examines Christian mindfulness for the light it throws both on Christian Meditation itself and on conduct between the times of formal meditation. Mindfulness is precisely what we endeavor to do in the practice of Christian Meditation, in which saying the mantra is the prayer. In the rest of the day, we~ cultivate mindfulness to make it a prominent feature of our ongo-ing consciousness. The older practices highlight awareness of God's pres-ence and will be a diredt line of communication between the person and God. Here lies a possible limitation, which might be called abstractness. It is too easy for the remembrance of God's presence, especially on the run, to be a mere nod of the mind to a theological truth with minimal resonance in one's being. Mindfulness offers the missing piece, namely, a real presence to what one is doing at a given moment. Mindfulness emphasizes the presence of our total selves in the moment. Actually true recollection demands this too, but the full presence is too easily forgotten. Mindfulness will not let us forget this aspect. So the two disciplines, recollection and mindfulness, together and separately, emphasize full commitment of one's whole being to the moment at hand. They demand the aware-ness of one's self, the actidn, and the God who is there. The shorthand for true recollection and Christian mind-fulness is presence to the moment, a phrase we hope to elucidate in this paper. Presence to the moment is concentrated or focused attention; it means being "all there." Often we are only 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness Presence to the moment is concentrated or focused attention; it means being "all there." half there, present in body but miles away in thought. John of the Cross alludes to a well-known scholastic adage when he writes that "the soul lives where she loves more than in the body she animates.''2 The schoolboy is already out on the playing field as he impatiendy looks at the clock and waits for it to strike the end of the school day. In mindfulness we are present in love to what we are actually doing. We are present contemplatively, that is, with our whole person-- body, soul, and spirit--and not just with our mind or half-hearted will. We do not act absentmindedly or on automatic pilot. True presence is steady, nondiscursive attention, which at the same time is relaxed and self-possessed. St. Th4r~se of Lisieux is a perfect example of mind-fulness. According to Ida Friederike Gtrres, she "accom-plished the apparently impossible feat of being, every moment, in a state of sharply focused, intensely controlled alertness, and at the same time completely spontaneous in all that she did.''3 Monica Furlong says that Th4r~se gave up fantasies and impossible dreams in favor of living in the present and making her little acts of love and acceptance. "Her 'Little Way,'" she writes, "was, in some curious way, the reversal of everything she had been taught, the inflated form~of Christianity with its dreams of sanctity and mar-tyrdom. Now she saw that all you were asked to do was follow the will of God, whatever it might be, and to give yourself unreservedly to that life and to no other.''4 Thgr~se, according to her novice mistress, was "mys-tic, comic, everything . She could make you weep with Revi~ for tCetigious devotion and just as easily split your sides with laughter during recreation.''5 That is full presence to each chang-ing moment of the day. Hans Urs von Balthasar concurs with these words about Th~r~se: At each moment, her sole concern is to carry out the will of God as it was revealed to her second to second. ¯. Th~r~se never tries to dominate the course of events. In a very womanly fashion, she simply tries to receive everything, and to receive it lovingly. For her, every moment comes so fresh and immediately from the hand of God . [Th~r~se writes:] "I just keep concentrating on the present moment. I forget the past and preserve myself from worries about the future."6 There are also plenty of examples of the opposite of mindfulness. Here is one example from Tilden Edwards from the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes.7 Calvin does not like to relate to real experiences, because they are not clear; they are unpredictable and hard to figure out. He prefers to stay on the outside of things, and that is why he likes life filtered through television. That way he doesn't have to think. He can follow the action with "_,lazed eyes and partial attention. Everything is neat ano tidy, but very superficial. Reducing reality in this way is to take the mystery out of life. It is to fail to be fully present to the moment. Mindlessness is lazy thinking or failure to think at all. It allows one to gloss over things. But if we want to live intentionally with commitment to what we are about, we have to gather up ourselves in recollection and be involved in what we are doing. It is a short step to being in touch with the God hidden in the moment. That is what the Christian practice of recollection and mindful-ness attempt to do. Two entries in Thomas Merton's journals illustrate the contrast between mindfulness and mindlessness. They 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness occur at the end of the time he was working through an experience of falling in love with a young woman, the nurse who cared for him in the hospital. He registers in detail the emotional roller coaster he was on over a period of several months. Toward the end of the struggle he made this entry, which is an experience of mindfulness: June 15, 1966 . . . This morning for the first time, really since going to the hospital, I have real inner free-dom and solitude--I love M. but in a different way, peacefully and without disturbances or inner tension. I feel that once again I am all here. I have finally returned to my place and to my work, and am beginning once again to be what I am.8 Contrast this presence to himself with the fragmentation a month later, indicating that the struggle to deal with his emotions was not over: July 14, 1966 . . . Noted general dispersion and dis-tractedness all yesterday, obviously [because of being busy on errands in town], and all night. Only recovered a real awake mindfulness after about 3 hours of reading etc. this morning. The other state was of an anxious, disoriented consciousness, not properly centered, and making erratic and desperate acts calling on God, try-ing to recover orientation, thinking of M., questioning self, fearing consequences of imprudence etc.9 Note how Merton tried to regain mindfulness from his distracted mind by reading, reflection, and no doubt prayer. The need is to enter into one's, self; just being busy is a challenge, but often an excuse for many-mindedness or mindlessness. Mindfulness is one form of pondering events in the way Mary does in the Gospels. It is not enough to be amazed as the shepherds were at Bethlehem. We have to ponder them as Mary did and enter into them, seeking understanding, tuning in to the divine presence mani-fested there. We need to listen with a third ear and sit with mystery. Each moment is a revelation, a unique gift Revie~ for Religiou~ from God. We enter it with wonder and gratefulness and with a receptive heart. This is contemplative living; it is living in God's presence and cultivating the moment. Buddhist Mindfulness Mindfulness has an Eastern flavor and is practiced there in various styles of yoga and meditation and martial arts. In its Eastern practice it has a different philosophi-cal foundation and a different goal from the Christian form. But the Buddhist practice is transferable to a Christian setting by the simple but immensely important addition of the presence of - God. In Buddhist mindful-ness the only object is to be totally present to what one is doing. It does not make any reference to God, because Buddhism is non-theistic and has no personal God. The Absolute, the God of the Buddhists, is outside their purview of reality; God is unavailable and totally unknowable, beyond the grasp of the human mind. So Buddhist mindfulness settles for seeking total presence to the moment without distraction or divided attention. We believe that we can learn to be present from this practice, but also to include God in the presence. In this way we are baptizing it for Christian usage. We call it Christian usage. We call it Christian mindfulness. Our standing Christian tradition teaches us to go to God through creation, through the finite and the con-crete. All experience of God is mediated. The East can tell us something we always knew. It can help us see our tradition in a new light and realize how important the finite and the.concrete are in the spiritual life. We find The more down-to-earth i,we are the less we fly off in flights of fancy. 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness 236 God by going through the human. It is only a manner of speaking for us to say that we get beyond creatures to find God. Our goal is ultimately awareness of the Trinity and participation in life with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We attain this goal best by paying attention to the vehicle that brings us there, that is, our created activity. We are helped by being rooted in the existential moment. We are a sacramental people. The more down-to-earth we are, planting our feet squarely on the ground, the less we fly off in flights of fancy and the closer we are to reality and therefore to God. We are an incarnational people, and we believe we find Christ in every crevice of the human condition. Since the incarnation, and espe-cially since the resurrection, Christ is at the center of the universe and part of every human action. Listen to these words of Karl Rahner, who puts them in the mouth of Christ: "I am the blind alleys of all your paths, for when you no longer know how to go any further, then you have reached me, foolish child, though you are not aware to it."~° We find Christ by going through, not around, creation. This is to follow what is called the "analogical imagination" by writers like David Tracy, or the "Catholic imagination" by William E Lynch SJ or Andrew Greeley. Mindfulness helps us reclaim our birthright. The Buddhist teaching on mindfulness can help us see these truths more clearly. A signature example of the Buddhist mode is wash-ing the dishes when you are washing the dishes. It is the quaint trademark ofthe Vietnamese Buddhist, Thich Nhat Hanh, in his book The Miracle of Mindfulness. He writes: While washing the dishes, you might be thinking about the tea afterwards, and so try to get them out of the way as quickly as possible in order to sit and drink tea. But that means you are incapable of living dur- Review for Religious ing the time you are washing the dishes. When you are washing the dishes, washing the dishes must the most important thing in your life. Just as when you are drifiking tea, drinking tea must be the most important thing in your life.ll The inner meaning of the Buddha's teaching on mind-fulness is found in the Sattipatthanda Sutta, and it is summarized in the following words of a Buddhist com-mentator: Mindfulness deepens mental concentration (samatha) in the direction of meditation insight (vipassana). In mind-fulness the disciple dwells in contemplation of the body, feelings, and thoughts. Through being concentrated and mindful of these factors of our life, and by clearly comprehending through insight their true nature, the hate and greed, of sorrow and grief, is overcome and Nibbana [nirvana] is attained,lz Samatha and vipassana describe two different kinds of Buddhist meditation, the former seeking tranquillity and the latter insight.13 Both goals are the fruit of total pres-ence. Listen to Nhat Hanh's description of washing the dishes: "While washing the dishes one should only be washing the dishes, which means that while washing the dishes one should be completely aware of the fact that one is washing the dishes.''~4 The total presence is the heart of meditation in the East. A similar presence, but with the addition of a Trinitarian component, is the goal of Christian Meditation as taught by John Main. When I engage in the practice of Christian Meditation, I do not imagine God or anything else. I simply try to be totally present to my deepest self and to the God who dwells there. To the extent that I am successful, I am giving my full focused attention to my interior being and to the Trinity. I am not thinking about God or about any thing. I am practicing contemplation, that is, I am in communion with the real and the Real. 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness 238] It is important to know that John Main does not equate contemplation with special psychological experience of God. Contemplation for him is an existential act; it is participation or communion with God. In true mindful-ness I am acting at the level of my being's spirit, and I am truly free and loving. I touch both the reality of God and my own deepest reality. Free and loving presence to the present moment is the essence of mindfulness and meditation. You wash the dishes to wash the dishes, intentionally and with as little distraction as possible, not to impress your neighbor or even to provide clean dishes. These motives are extrane-ous and pertain to the future. You want to stay in the now. To accomplish that you need to be present to yourself. Here is a wise story from Mobi Ho, the translator of The Miracle of Mindfulness. She recalls in the preface an inci-dent when she was cooking furiously and had to stop and search for a missing spoon. She was obviously agitated. Thay came into the room and smiled and said, "What is Mobi looking for?" "The spoon," she answered, perhaps a bit petulandy. Thay answered with another smile: "No, Mobi is looking for Mobi.''15 Why Mindfulness Is Important Our distractions come from our divided and disordered selves. Our desires are the product of our many-minded-ness, and this in turn comes from our lack of integration. Our desires need to be integrated with our whole person and with what we are about at the moment. Our thought needs to be one-pointed and simple, an accomplishment that takes practice,, discipline, and grace. Practice in meditation and in mindfulness will develop the virtues needed and give me a handle on my desires. Perfect mindfulness will neutralize the warring factions within me and let me be absorbed by what I am doing. Review for Religious In this latter case I will have achieved what the psycholo-gists call the deautomatization of my desires. This means that I have neutralized the impulses and desires I do not want. Instead I can concentrate on my true wishes. The unwanted desires dry up and atrophy for lack of nurture.16 From a moral or spiritual point of view I have let my faith inform and animate all my behavior. I have attained true freedom and perfect love. I have achieved what John Cassian called purity of heart. Nhat Hahn celebrates the personal freedom in mind-ful activity in these words: The fact that I am standing there and washing these bowls is wondrous reality. I am being completely myself, following my breath, my presence, and con-scious of my thoughts and actions. There is no way I can be tossed around mindlessly like a bottle slapped here and there on the waves?7 The Christian adds the further element of the good inten-tion and remembering God's presence. I am present to God and receiving the impact of his presence, which is a fact before and after I am aware of it. I do not consti-tute that presence. I am alive with the presence of God. This aspect is not something extraneous and accidental. It belongs to the nature of things, to the immanence of God in all of creation. God's delight is to be with the children of this world, in our sorrow and in our own delights. This presence is for our sakes and our salvation. Christians emphasize the presence of God in all things, but they may tend to forget the envelope that contains it. Persons, actions, events are the medium through which God comes. The given moment is the only place one can meet God. In God there is no time, only the eternal now. God lives in that now moment on the other side of the veil that separates time from eternity. We enter the ves-tibule of that "now" when we concentrate on the present 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness 240 moment. Our beloved God is there, and it behooves us to be there as well. To enter the now moment is to let anxiety fall off our shoulders and to be renewed in hope by touching the God who loves us. The more that a person possesses herself, the more present she can be. She must be "all there," alert, aware, attentive, in a word, fully present. Intellectualizing or head knowledge is of little value. An abstract recall or thinking about God's presence in the here and now is not enough. The knowledge must be holistic and experiential, beyond mere thinking, beyond mind alone. What we need is heart knowledge. I am more than my thoughts or my mind, and therefore I must not identify with my mind or my ego. In mindfulness we stand before the Lord, "watching and waiting." We do not control the relationship, and we are there to receive a gift. Every moment is a gift from God, and we are aware of that fact. Every moment can be an occasion of contemplation, that is, an opportunity to realize God's love. The contemplative walks in the pres-enceof God in a moment-to-moment experience of God's love. The condition for the gift is to be present there, body, soul, and spirit. Mindfulness fights the enemies of wholeness and culti-vates full presence to God. The enemies of wholeness are what divide us, such as our addictions and compulsions, our unfreedoms and attachments, our sins and imperfec-tions. They undermine our love of God. Mindfulness faces these temptations head on by maintaining attention to the call of faith. We are thoroughly present to the moment because it is God's call for us at that time. Mindfulness recognizes distractions, calls them by name, then lets them pass, all the while gently focusing on the moment. As focused or nondiscursive attention, mindfulness helps us rise above what John Main calls the "monkey chat-ter" of the distracted mind. Mindless persons are unrooted Revie~ for Religio~s and tmcentered, so they tend to flit about from one distrac-tion to another, dissipated in their energies, prisoners of unrecognized consumerism and self-glorification. Mindless persons live outside themselves and engage only the part of themselves that is needed to satisfy the passing whim. They tend to be dilettantes and escapists. They have no depth or solid ground within themselves on which to rest commitments. They are more vulnerable to the winds of change around them and readily given to worry and anxiety simply because they do not realize that "God is near" (Ph 4:5). Excessive "busyness" is lack of mindfulness. Busyness is a cultural demon of our time, an escape or excuse from the hard work of concentration and the duty one is trying to avoid. Busyness is a wolf in sheep's clothing, because it looks like virtue but actu-ally is a whole array of self-interest clustered around pride or self-indulgence. It is an ego trip and the enemy of charity. Look more closely at its manifestations and you will find a driven and com-pulsive spirit that hurts one's health, peace of mind, and awareness of others. Over-busy persons are trying to prove themselves by the sheer quantity of their output. The more they do, the more they feed their self-satisfac-tion, basking in the imagined plaudits of the multitude. There is little charity in this addiction, appearances to the contrary notwithstanding. The motivation in busyness is ego-enhancement, the desire to impress, even to show up the neighbor, Busyness is ersatz zeal. The reason why mindfulness is good and its opposite bad is that one is the expression of the true self and the Our unfreedoms and attachments Undermine our loveof God. 66.3 2007 Larkin * Christian Mindfulness 242 other the offspring of the false self. The true self comes from the deeper strata of our being, from our spirit, and it carries body and psyche with it. Thus it incarnates more of ourselves in its choices than does the splintered false self. The true self acts from the heart and not from self-deception or flee-floating emotions. It acts virtuously because it is rooted in God. Sensibility, our superficial self, is the home of our false self, because ego is at home there and ego goes its own way. The false self is self-serving by nature. It comes out of primitive experiences of life that set in place ways of coping with threats to one's security or self-importance. Our sensi-bility has to be redeemed and put at the service of charity by being ordered and integrated into our lives. Then the ego serves rather than seeks to be served. In these cases the true self has taken over. Wholeness has been restored and the Holy Spirit has become the fountain of living water spring-ing up to eternal life (In 4:14 and Jn 7:3 6-3 7). Mindfulness is a sign that the good spirit is in possession. How Do I Get It? One important final question is the practice: how do I become more mindful? The answer is: cultivate a vibrant spiritual life. Mindfulness is a by-product of mature holi-ness. But are there special means for growing in the prac-tice and skill? How can I become more mindful? I want to suggest two special means. One is meditation itself; the other is the basic condition of all prayer, purity of heart. These are the two arms for embracing God, the pincer movements of the spiritual life. They will bring us to mindfulness. First, mindfulness is the outcome of faithfulness to the two periods of Christian Meditation each day, since medi-tation itself is explicit and prolonged mindfulness. Practice makes perfect; obviously meditation will foster the habit Re~ie~ for Religious of mindfulness. Conventional wisdom says: find God in daily prayer and you will find God everywhere. The Sufi came out of his prayer room and said: I went to the mar-ketplace and found God everywhere. The contrary is also true: without prayer life you will not find God. General mindfulness throughout the day is a diffuse presence to God. How could this be maintained, if it is not nourished by a focused or concentrated presence? How be mindful of God in the comings and goings of the day if one never takes time to meet God face-to-face? We need to focus on the Lord, to come aside and find rest for our souls. Otherwise we will not recognize God when he appears in the disguise of other people or works of charity. The two periods of Christian Meditation come from a long tradition. One of the outstanding teachers of recol-lection, the contemporary and early teacher of Teresa of Avila, Francisco de Osuna, recommended two periods of formal meditation a day, each of them an hour's length. Osuna writes: "You are to retire into your heart and leave all created things for the length of two hours, one hour before and the other after noon, at the most quiet time possible."18 During the rest of the day the mind is to be occupied with lectio divina, the author agreeing with St. Bonaventure that "no one can call himself devoted to the sacred passion unless he spends most of [the day] contem-plating it in one manner or another."19 The two hours a day suggested by Osuna may be beyond the possibilities for many people, and periods of twenty to thirty minutes have proved workable for most people today. The second way to cultivate mindfulness is. purity of heart. It is as important as formal prayer, because the measure of one's purity of heart is the measure of one's prayer. Again this is the constant teaching of the Christian tradition.from John Cassian to Teilhard de Chardin. What is purity of heart? It is detachment, and specifically affec- 66.3 2007 Larkin ¯ Christian Mindfulness Affective detachment comes from effective detachment, tive detachment. This is the freedom of the will before choices. This freedom is cultivated especially by effective detachment, which is the actual renunciation of what-ever stands in the way to one's service of God. Affective detachment comes from effective detachment. In the Western traditon, renundation is the way to recol-lection. Writers like Frandsco de Osuna, Teresa of Avila, and John of the Cross underline the gospel teaching that we must leave all things to follow the Lord. A recent exponent of this age-old tradition is Pope Benedict XVI, who put the teach-ing in fresh language to his interviewer, Peter Seewald, shortly before the death of John Paul 11: "When it comes down to it," Cardinal Ratzinger said, "everyone has to undergo his own Exodus. He not only has to leave the place that nurtured him and become independent, but has to come out of his own reserved self. He must leave himself behind, transcend his own limits; only then will he reach the Promised Land, so to speak,m° Christian teachers generally emphasize the physi-cal renunciation of legitimate goods and pleasures, such as marriage or possessions or worldly honors; they call for the renunciation of all desires. These are refrains in their writing, and modern readers are easily put off by such total demands. But contemporary readers need to be reminded that these classic directives are always in the context of God's will. God's particular will for each person is the controlling factor for renouncing goods. The wholesale rejecton of desires applies to disordered desires. Discernment identfies the immediate will of God, and this is the criterion for choices. 244 Review for Religious The language in this tradition can betray us. Osuna, for example, presents recollection as the way to divine union, and it involves transcending, that is, going beyond all creatures. The person must be "blind, deaf, and dumb to everything that is not God." We need to "guard the heart with all vigilance, unburdening and clearing it of all created things, so that the one who created it may emerge with the life of grace.''2~ The cost of divine union is "not less than everything." The sweeping language might make one think that the whole of creation must be rejected. Not so, these authors tell us. The everything to be by-passed is the all that is in competition or opposed to God. The teaching on recollection attributes the same high efficacy as mindfulness, but also makes the same demands for its functioning. Karl Rahner in an essay on the Holy Eucharist says that recollection demands letting go of all false and harmful things.2z The teaching is founded on the pas-chal mystery, the death and resurrection of the Lord, which is "the innermost law of our lives." Baptism initiates us into this mystery and the Holy Eucharist renews the commit-ment. Eucharistic life, he writes, embraces the total profane life of the Christian, the "everyday" of the followers of Jesus. We die and rise with Jesus Christ, not only at Mass and in Holy Communion, but in our everyday behavior. How can we manage so sublime a calling? Rahner's answer is recol-lection, which he defines as "withdrawing into ourselves" and from there making the right choices at each moment. Withdrawing into ourselves is not copping out or fleeing the scene. It is being our true selves and living intentionally. Get beyond the distractions, turn off the constant radio, stop the "empty talk and gossip," avoid wasting time with worthless reading, and pull back from the "over-busy and all devour-ing fulfillment of one's duty, [from the busyness which is] an excuse for avoiding our real duty."~3 Enter into yourselves, so that you are your true selves. 66.3 2007 Larkin * Christian l~lindfulness 246 Recollection is no flight from life, but "ricing uP to ourselves as we really are, confronting ourselves instead of seeking solace in chatter, conversations, mere external dissipations." Holy Communion commits me to "accept my everyday just as it is. I do not need to have any lofty feelings in my heart to recount . I can lay my everyday before [God] just as it is. in all its pettiness and trivial-ity." z4 Christian recollection is another word for Christan mindfulness, and these two are at the heart of our search for God that comprises the two daily periods of contem-plative prayer that are Christian Meditation. Notes I The Way of Perfection 28.4. 2 Spiritual Canticle B, 5.3. 3 Cited from Ida Friederike G6rres's Hidden Face in John Donohue SJ'S article "Th~r~se of Lisieux, Doctor of the Church," America 177 (13 December 1997): 16. 4 Monica Furlong, Thdr~se of Lisieux (New York: Pantheon Books, 1987), p. 96. s Cited in Donohue, "Th~r~se," p. 16. 6 Hans Urs von Balthasar, Two Sisters in the Spirit: Th~r~se of Lisieux and Elizabeth of the Trinity, trans. Donald Nichols and Ann Elizabeth Englund (San Francisco: Ignatius press, 1992) pp. 66-67. 7 "Valuing the Living Moment," Shalem News, cited in Kinospirit (November 1995): 2. s Learning to Love: The~ournals of Thomas Merton 6, ed. Christine M. Bochen (HarperSanFrancisco, 1997), p. 84. 9 Merton, Learning, p. 95. 10 The Great Church Year: The Best of Karl Rahner's Homilies, Sermons, and Meditations, ed. Albert Raffelt (New York: Crossroad, 1993), p. 51. 11 Thich Nhat Hahn, Miracle of Mindfulness (Boston: Beacon Press, 1987), p. 24. 12 Ven. Dr. Dhammarakkhita, "Mindfulness and Loving-Kindness Meditation," The Gethsemani Encount~ ed. Donald W. Mitchell and James A. Wiseman OSB (New York: Continuum, 1998), pp. 35-41, at 35. 13 William Rehg SJ, "Christian Mindfulness," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 34, no. 3 (May 2002): 1-9. Review for Religious 14 Rehg, "Christian." is Rehg, "Christian." t6 Philip Novak, "The Practice of Attention," Parabola 15 (May 1990): 10-12; Arthur J. Deikman, "Deautomatization and the Mystic Experience," Psychiatry 29 (1966): 324-338. ~7 Thich Nhat Hahn, Miracle, p. 4. ~s Francisco de Osuna, The Third Spiritual Alphabet, trans. Mary E. Giles (New York: Paulist Press, 1981), p. 388. ~90suna, Third, p. 177. 20 Paul Elie, "The Year 0fTwo Popes," Atlantic Monthly 297 (January- February 2006): 71. 2, Osuna, Third, p. 132. 22 Karl Rahner, "The Eucharist and Our Daily Lives," Theological Investigations 7, trans. David Bourke (New York: Herder and Herder, 1971), pp. 211-226. 23 Rahner, "Eucharist," p. 221. 24 Rahner, "Eucharist," p. 222. Metronome Fingers nimbly running up down over ebony and ivory Unfolding medleys of joy mourning glory Euphoric allegro highs., soaring Plummeting . soulful adagio lows Soothing largo interludes inviting Carefree scherzo playfulness., dancing With rhythmic rhapsodic blues Tapping to the tempo Of happy-go-lucky whim or deep contemplation A symphonic score of a life grace-fully written Melodically enjoyed harmonically played Ticking to a metronome's beating heart. Walter Bunofsky SVD 66.3 2007 EDWARD KRASEVAC Clericalism and the Religious Life challenges Many descriptions and definitions of clericalism have been suggested since the Second Vatican Council, and a number of them seem to have this characteristic: a sense of entitlement,1 as if the priesthood were something other than a ministry of loving service in imitation of Christ or as if its center of gravity were in something other than such service. Indeed, I understand clericalism largely if not exclusively as a spu-rious entitlement, an entitlement to privileges that do not stem from the following of Christ in his ministry of service, but rather from prosaic aspects of human nature.2 Clericalism has often been understood with reference to secular or diocesan pastors and their relation to the people under their pastoral care, 248 Edward L. Krasevac OP is professor of theology at the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California. In 1987 he wrote for us about Eckhart and John of the Cross and in 2002 about the relation of temperaments to lib-eral/ conservative stances. His address is 2301 Vine Street; Berkeley, California 94708. ekrasevac@dspt.edu Review for Religious to their peers and bishop, and to the structures of the diocese and church, rather than with reference to reli-gious priests, who usually live a quite different style of priesthood, one heavily influenced by the structures and charisms of their religious institute. But I surmise that clericalism is alive and well among religious priests also, although it is heavily colored--and often camouflaged-- by the dynamics of religious life) Clericalism is not the only source for the entidements I will describe below, but I think it is often operative in the seven styles of being a religious priest that I will describe. Each of these styles manifests habits that undermine the service character of the priesthood. The types are not exclusive, and some of us bear characteristics of more than one in our lives as priests. In what follows I hope to stir up self-knowledge among religious priests so that our priesthood may not easily become something other than it was meant to be. In reflecting unwarranted entidements, the various types appear "negative," but positive elements appear in them, too. I will take note of these in the hope of showing that at least some of the types are legitimate ways of being a religious priest. The Ambitious Priest The "ambitious priest" loves the possession or exercise of authority, with the accompanying prestige and perqui-sites. Some priests seek the simple possession of author-ity (in the congregation as a superior or in the church as a bishop); other priests seek not only the possession of authority but also its exercise. The religious priests who are ambitious only for the possession of authority often lack the drive and discipline to exercise it effectively; they are content with the prestige and perks of office. Their ambition may stem from a desire not to have to obey others or from their own insecurities. These priests are t249 66.3 2007 Krasevac ¯ Clericalism and the Religious Life Ambitious p iests are usually committed,to values of collaboration, consultation, or collegiality in! the exercise of authori usually not energized by authority itself. It is not author-ity itself that draws them, but rather the accoutrements of authority. Their possession of authority does not make them dangerous--they generally do not hurt others or the common good by their exercise of it--but, negatively, their office is not used for the good of their brethren and those the congregation serves. Other ambitious priests seek authority precisely in order to exercise it, and are often energetic and talented (they may, of course, also be interested in the prestige and perks of office). There are many reasons for this type of ambition: a need to control others, a desire to redress per-ceived injuries done to them by their brethren, the imposition of their own deeply felt values on others (in cases where more collegial methods of persuasion have failed), or sim-ply the exercise of power for its own sake. Ambition in these cases is usually ambition for author-ity as power over others in contrast to authority as service to others. And so ambitious priests, in either of the senses just described, are usually not committed to values of col-laboration, consultation, or collegiality in the exercise of authority,4 but tend to understand it as a personal privi-lege that should be possessed and exercised according to their own best lights and interests. Ambitious priests can have two quite different rela-tionships to ministry. In some cases they are not much involved in ministry at all, at least not very effectively, Review for Religious because they always have their eyes on "what's next," the further rung of the ladder (which requires, among other things, lots of time and energy given to internal politics). Those they serve often feel that they are only half listen-ing or responding, because their heart is elsewhere. In other cases ambitious priests throw themselves into min-istry because they know that a crowded rdsum6 can bring advancement sooner. But this success assumes effective- . ness that can be measured quantitatively, such as financial or building success. Nonetheless, ambitious priests in the second sense are often disciplined and hardworking and can appear outstanding in ministry. The entitlement operative here is for authority as power over others: a priest deserves to exercise authority and receive obedience, even if that authority and obedi-ence are not direcdy exercised in the service of his breth-ren or those whom he serves in ministry.5 Although ambition for authority as power over others is a false entidement of clericalism, ambition for author-ity as service to others may well be warranted, taking the form of actively seeking office or accepting it when prof-fered even against one's desires. Since holding office in the church these days is more often a burden than a blessing, the church needs those with the talent, motivation, and ¯ generosity for service to step forward. But, since ambition for power can be present under the mande of ambition for service, strict personal honesty is crucial. For this, dia-logue with others is essential to discerning Whether I wish to serve others in seeking or accepting a particular office, or rather wish to serve myself. Part of this discernment might be to ask myself whether I am willing to forgo perquisites of office that are not necessary for its effective exercise, or am willing to step aside if a more appropriate candidate emerges. Ambition for authority in the church requires, it seems to me, that people go through such 66.3 2007 Krasevac * Clericalis~n and the Religious Life a searching and often painful purification before being allowed to have authority in our lives. The gentleman priest is usually not bossy, and may be quite humble in his relations with others. The Gendeman Priest or Priest of Leisure As the ambitious priest loves the possession or the exercise of power, the "gendeman priest" loves the good life in at least some of its forms. Fine restaurants, the opera or symphony, the art museum, a rich social life among those who are well educated and well-off are often characteristic of this style of being a priest, as is a penchant for travel to culturally rich destina-tions. It is also impor-tant, when the gentleman priest is at home, that the table be a good one and there be enough employ-ees (or other religious) in the house to serve his needs in a style that might recall servants of old. Ministry is important to such a priest, but usually is carefully controlled so as not to interfere with the gentleman priest's other pursuits. He does not consider the real possibility of "breaking a sweat" in the Lord's vineyard, and the ministry of service is often seen as a distraction from more important callings. Comfort is important to the gentleman priest, and a decent cash flow is obviously required; poverty is not the queen of his vows. As in all forms of clericalism, a strong sense of entitlement is operative in the gentleman priest, an entidement not so much for authority as for a lifestyle that befits his education and tastes and, needless to say, his understanding of the priesthood. ¯ On the plus side, the gentleman priest is usually not very bossy, and may be quite humble in his relations with Review for Religious others.6 He is often a pleasant fellow, gracious and gener-ous to others in spontaneous and endearing ways. He is generally a person whom it is hard to dislike, and can be a delight in community (when he's there). The gende-man priest is, after all, a gendeman, one who is sensitive to other people, thoughtful, polite, well mannered. He treats others well and brings to religious life and ministry the values of culture and respect for others. And because, in the familial atmosphere of religious life just as in the domestic family, the familiar and familial may conceal or seem to excuse insensitivity to others in word and action, the formality that the gentleman priest brings--an infu-sion of genuine courtesy to and respect for others--can be a boon for both our communities and our ministries. The Gossiping Priest We religious talk a lot to each other, and a lot about each other, and about those whom we serve. This is a normal and essential part of the familial in our communal life. We should be interested in what our brothers are doing, in their ups and downs, in the joys and sorrows and accomplishments and failures of their lives. It is only when we have such knowledge that we can respond fra-ternally to them in their needs, and sometimes get some comic relief as we laugh at their foibles. Conversation and the knowledge of each other that flows from it are essential to the common good of our congregation and to the good of the individuals within it. The "gossiping priest" also loves to converse, but for very different reasons, sometimes having to do with "inno-cent curiosity," sometimes from less charitable motives (knowledge can hurt others as well as help them). Even in the case of curiosity, however, much damage can be done both to other individuals and to the common life by such conversation. Information may come to light and 66.3 2007 Kra~e~ac ¯ Clericalism and the Religiou~ Life damage or destroy a brother's good name by the very fact that it does come to light. Violations of privacy can often result from the need to know what everyone else is doing, and why; great amounts of energy can be expended in creating and maintaining elaborate networks of commu-nication, energy that could better be focused elsewhere; such networks can easily lead to an exclusivity in the com-munity that direcdy damages the common life; and the effectiveness of superiors who are trying to deal charitably and jusdy with complex personal problems of the breth-ren can be compromised by such a "need to know." In other words, "innocent curiosity" may have anything but innocent effects, and the gossiping priest (whose life is largely based on knowing and conversing about the lives of others) is too often not honest with himself concerning the reasons for and the effects of his gossip. In addition, the possibility that the confidentiality of privileged con-versations-- say, that of chapters--may be broken in the course of gossiping has a chilling effect on the freedom of a community to deal effectively with its legitimate but sensitive concerns. The entidement here is for knowledge of other peo-ple's doings, usually for the very sake of that knowledge. A priest, after all, is almost by definition one to whom secrets are communicated, one who is supposed to be privy to matters of conscience. The devastation that can be caused by the gossiping priest is in direct relation to those weighty privileges which are abused by the false entitlements of clericalism.7 More positively, in most cases the gossiping priest's life is centered on the concerns of his community, whether at the local or regional level, as on his family--and this is a good thing. In a time when the pressures are great which lead to detachment from the community and to "private life," the gossiping priest witnesses in his own Review for Relig~o~,~ way to the value and importance of our life together in the community, for the community is the major concern of his interests and his conversation. Once purged of its negative effects, the conversations of the formerly gos-siping priest can become genuinely community building and enhancing. The, Romantic Priest This manifestation of clericalism in the religious priest normally applies to those whose experience of the church is postconciliar, because the "romantic priest" is largely driven by nostalgia for the past--for what he did not per-sonally experience, but has read about and longs for. The romantic priest is not usually concerned with matters of doctrine or even authority (and thus is not necessarily a legalist); rather, he is more concerned with matters of dress, style of liturgy, the particular traditions and prac-tices of his congregation, the dignity of his priesthood, aesthetic matters, and certain (traditional and sometimes dying) devotions. He is often genuinely pious, one who is committed to his vows and the way of life that they entail. But the romantic priest loves to play a role which is largely defined by these kinds of things, and above all by the past. The complexities of contemporary life in the church and world hold little interest for him, as do the complexities of most ministries; his world and his inter-ests lie elsewhere. The entidement here is for the power to define the priesthood idiosyncratically, that is, in relation to his per-sonal interests rather than in relation to the following of Christ and the needs and interests of those whom he serves in ministry along with the needs of his brothers and sisters in religious life. The romantic priest is preoccupied with the dignity of his priesthood and tends to impose his romantic view of the church, the priesthood, and the fol- 66.3 2007 I&asevac ¯ Clericalism and the Religious Life lowing of Christ on others, both those whom he serves in ministry and those with whom he lives in community. The romantic priest brings to his community and to the church important values of Catholic culture that many people today miss; he brings a strong sense of tradition and its place in Catholic life. Grounded in something other than the contemporary and the rapidly changing, the romantic priest's rootedness in the genuine values of the past assures that he will not be enamored of every new fad in liturgy or ministry; he sees the present from the perspective of the past, because of his lively sense of the past, and can be an important witness to contemporary Catholic culture, if he does it with balance and without the entidements of clericalism. The Narrowly Focused or Dependent Priest On the face of it, the "narrowly focused priest" is a good priest indeed (much like the romantic priest). He is often quite dedicated, disciplined, prayerful, obedient, and in some (perhaps narrow) senses responsible and chari-table. He does everything that is explicidy asked of him in community and in ministry: he does what he is told, follows the rules, and is thus seen as a responsible priest, even a fine one. One of the roles he does not normally fill is to take the initiative either in ministry or community life. Others-- usually religious superiors (whom he scrupulously obeys) and statutes of his congregation--set the parameters for what is required of him. To deal with the inevitable and complex problems that arise in ministry and in the life of his community is not his calling; this is what supe-riors are for. The problems of community life in par-ticular-- at both the local and provincial levels--are their concern, not his. Further, the narrowly focused priest is often afraid to acknowledge the existence of problems Review for Religious within the ministry or community, because he might then feel the obligation to face them. Hence he may be naive about people in general and naive in choosing those who will bear the authority in his community. Much like the romantic priest, the dependent priest shies away from the complexities of real life, but rather chooses to live in a different world defined by his explicidy spelled-out obli-gations; he is content to bury his head in the sand and let others face the difficult challenges of the ministry and the common life. In both cases there is a kind of escapism to ideal worlds. Although incorporating many of the genuine values of the priesthood and religious life, the dependent priest is a burden on his community precisely insofar as he "leaves it to others," thereby escaping his own responsibility for the common good. Superiors of dependent priests appear "burned out" because they are left to deal with the dif-ficult and often intractable problems of their communities without concrete help or support. Their congregations can be severely damaged by the na'fvet6 that elects incom-petent or otherwise unworthy superiors because depen-dent priests prefer to remain uncritical regarding the real needs of their community and the character and ability of those whom they elect. Entitlement here is for the privilege to define one's obligations as priests and religious in the narrowest of terms, terms which, require litde personal responsibility, litde stress, litde compromise of one's ideals of an essen-tially trouble-free and straightforward ministry and com-munity life. The narrowly focused priest is very close to being a fine priest. He is not normally ambitious, nor a gossip, nor embittered, nor a legalist; rather, he is often humble and obedient, and loath to meddle in the affairs, of others. He generally prizes the "regular life," and lives that life 66.3 2007 Kras~ac ¯ Clericalis~n and the Religious L~fe in a disciplined and balanced way. He is, in a word, com-fortable in his role as a religious priest, largely identifying with it. And he serves both his community and those in his ministry in predictable and necessary ways. Perhaps the key to understanding and overcoming the dependent priest's perceived entidements is in recognizing that "not being of the world" as a priest and religious does not exempt one from having to deal with many of the problems of the world that nevertheless appear in com-munity life and in ministry. These problems cannot be ignored, nor quarantined to be dealt with by others. They are often very real and must be engaged as they arise, even if such engagement cause ruptures in the carefully worked-out and much respected routines of the narrowly focused priest. The Enforcer Priest One of the roles of the ministerial priesthood is to render judgment on people and their acts in the light of the gospel and the church's teaching and with a view to their repentance and salvation. The "enforcer priest" takes this role seriously and is constantly concerned that the misdeeds of others (both the laity and his own brethren) be corrected. Since he rarely if ever takes time off from this mission, his presence is generally felt to be a burden by those around him; he is rarely challenged, however, as his very presence is usually intimidating. Although judgment is a necessary aspect of the priesdy role, the enforcer priest seems preoccupied with it (and often with the punishment that should follow) to the extent that he forgets its end: human salvation. This can happen when judgment is isolated from or allowed to dominate mercy, when the enforcer priest lacks self-knowledge of his own need for mercy, when the ambiguity of all human actions in the external forum is forgotten, when prudence Review for Religious fails to suggest that a particular intervention may be inef-fective or even counterproductive regarding the person's overall good, or when he assumes an almost infallible ability to interpret the law (moral, canonical, liturgical) and its application to a particular situation,s The enforcer priest may be preoccupied with error and judgmentEboth in what people think (orthodoxy) and what they do (orthopraxis) for - a number of rea-sons. He may be threatened by the actions and beliefs of others to the extent that they are perceived to call into question his ° own (perhaps frag-ile) values, beliefs, and lifestyle. He may be emotion-ally unable to live with diversity, ambiguity, and the lack of psychological certitude. He may have fears of ecclesial anarchy if laws are not swiftly and effectively enforced. The entidement here is the ~resumption that a priest may speak for Christ and the church without mercy, with-out prudence, without the nuance that comes from expe-rience and compassion, that he may apply the letter of the law without regard to its purpose, and that (in some cases, at least) he may judge others without first judging himself with rigorous honesty. On a more positive note, fraternal correction is a gos-pel imperative and a crucial need in most religious com-munities (and, of course, in the church at large). We are Alfhough judgment is a necessary a~pect of t~ prestly role, the enforcer priest seems preoccupied with it to the extent that he forgets its end: human salvation. 66.3 2007 260 responsible for one another's well-being in all its aspects. But fraternal correction--if undertaken prudendy, effec-tively, and in a true gospel spirit--is also a particularly difficult task. One who corrects one's brother or sister risks anger, alienation, and the loss of friends. It is much easier to ignore the true needs of one another and to just get along with them peacefully. Real courage is necessary to practice fraternal correction, which sometimes compels us to confront those who need confronting for their good and for the common good. The enforcer priest can show us the way to this responsibility, provided that the cleri-cal entitlements associated with this style of priesthood are held in check. The enforcer priest must learn not to undertake fraternal correction according to his own likes or dislikes, desires, insecurities, preferences, or ideologies, but rather for the sake of the other's true and necessary good, or that of the community, and without intent to embarrass or punish. The Embittered Priest The "embittered priest" has been deeply hurt by cer-tain experiences in ministry or in the life of his religious community (usually the latter) and has tenderly nourished that hurt for a number of years. Perhaps he was slighted by notable others (whether in authority or.not), perhaps never given the responsibility in ministry or community that he thought he deserved, perhaps denied a second term as superior, or perhaps he has just never received the respect from others that he thinks he deserves. As a result, the embittered priest has largely disen-gaged himself from both ministry and community life. He "deserved better" in his many years of priesthood and has now "opted out" of the life that has treated him so poorly. Often older, and sometimes suffering from illness (including alcoholism), the embittered priest is unhappy Review for Religious himself and cannot but make those around him--who are often the ones taking care of him--unhappy also. He sees his clerical entidement as coming from the very fact that he is a priest and religious, rather than from his achievements, character, or talents. He feels this enti-dement so deeply that without it he must withdraw from his basic responsibilities as a priest and religious (although he still feels entided to the rights that his canonical status entails). The life and experiences of the embittered priest point to the reality that we do hurt each other in religious life and that the wounds we inflict can be lasting. We all have different tolerances for being hurt, and we need to be sen-sitive to the harm we can do to others less resilient than ourselves. In addition, the continuing presence of these men in our lives calls us to care for them in their distress even when they neither want nor appreciate our help, but need it. They call us to be Christ in ways that we might not otherwise be. Ideals and Compromises Our following of Christ and our loving ministry in imitation of him in the particular way characterizes the ministerial priesthood is a high ideal, one difficult to achieve and always at risk of compromise. The com-promises we sometimes make may simply stem from our manifold weaknesses and lack of love and then be rec-ognized, repented of, and borne in stride as we take up pursuit of the ideal once again. But our compromises may also stem from our conceptions of the priesthood itself and hence may be more difficult to recognize and repent of. These compromises stem from the ideologies of cleri-calism, 9 ideologies that affect the exercise of the priest-hood of Christ in particularly invidious ways. It is only by recognizing the clerical compromises in the ways we live 66.3 2007 Krasevac * Clericalism and the Religious Life 262] our priesthood in our religious communities that we can begin to address them)° Notes i It is interesting that a sense of entidement is a classic character-istic of all forms of narcissism. 2 How do these entidements arise from clericalism? Perhaps par-tially from an exaggeration and ideologizing of the sacramental differ-ence that holds between the ministerial priesthood and the priesthood of all the baptized, perhaps because priests who have "given up all" for the sake of the kingdom come to believe that they "deserve" some-thing by way of entidement in return, perhaps because the structure of secular society with its manifold entidements has unduly influenced the life of the church 3 Dynamics such as the manifold forms of governance in religious institutes; those institutes' often rich cultural heritages and particular liturgical, doctrinal, and aesthetic traditions; the familial contexts of most forms of religious life, with many religious living closely with each other for many years; and the educational and cultural possibilities generally available to religious priests, and also their mobility. 4 The roots of the word "authority" have to do with "causing to grow." This has obvious meaning for parents' authority over their chil-dren, but it also adds depth to the idea of authority as service; supe-riors and bishops bear a special responsibility to deepen the faith and the personal development of those over whom they have been given authority. 5 The desire for power that stems from clerical entidement may take a different form in religious priests who do not seek authority for themselves, but for those whom they will be able to control. Generally intelligent and shrewd, they care little for the prestige or perks of office, but seek control of those in office, perhaps because they believe that such power is a right of their intelligence and farsightedness. Often this ambi-tion stems from a fear that their brethren will not "get it right" through the normal democratic processes of deliberation and election, or from a fear that if their enemies were elected they would be vulnerable to their attacks. This ambition can also stem from their unwillingness to accept public accountability for their positions and actions. The dynamics of entitlement, however, are essentially the same in all cases of ambition-- entitlement for power over others rather than in service of others. 6 A variation of the priest of leisure is the "hobbyist priest," who loves, not so much the good life of culture, but other aspects of the good life, such as a fascination with computers or a preoccupation with Revie~v for Religious domestic concerns. Hours, days, even weeks can be spent on equiva-lents, with little attention given to traditional responsibilities of the priesthood. Here the hobby provides not a well-deserved respite from priesdy work, but a substitute for it. The entidement issues are essen-tially the same: the priesthood "deserves" (if not requires) a life of leisure, the time and resources to pursue their interests largely unfet-tered by the ministry. 7 One further negative dynamic often present in the lives of gos-siping priests is that they become friends with others who have similar habits of gossiping. Their friendship is not about something good that can lead to their growth as human beings and as religious and priests, but about something that can compromise their friendship at its core and impede their growth in goodness. 8 Unlike the romantic priest, the enforcer priest usually is a "legal-ist," that is, one who is so preoccupied with the letter of the law that he forgets the end to which the law is ordered (ultimately the realization of the good of human salvation) or sees it to be of secondary importance. A certain .myopia prevents the enforcer priest from understanding the relation of means to end, the relative nature of the former to the latter. The enforcer priest and the romantic priest usually believe that oth-ers should live according to the values they think important (values of right belief and conduct / romantic, values). One difference is that the romantic priest is usually not inclined to impose his values on others and is content to live according to them himself and to persuade others of their merit in more subde ways. 9 Ideologies are "views that serve to rationalize the vested interests of some group." "The ideology both justifies what is done by the group whose vested interest is served and interprets social reality in such a way that the justification is made plausible." Peter Berger, An Invitation to Sodology: A Humanistic Perspective (New York: Penguin Books, 1963), pp. 54 and 130. ~0 As mentioned above, a sense of entidement is a classic character-istic of all forms of narcissism (both individual and group), and hence one may expect that narcissistic attitudes will be part and parcel of the phenomenon of clericalism. This is displayed most clearly in those cases where the priesthood is understood as being primarily about the self rather than about Christ and service to others. In these cases the priesthood is seen to be primarily about me and hence is "defined" in terms of my needs and my desires, rather than the needs and desires of those I have been called to serve. In both the gendeman priest and the gossiping priest, there is often a fascination with things "churchy," that is, with the accidentals or outward trappings of church life; this may be true of the romantic 263 66.3 2007 Krusevac * Clericalism and the Religious Life and enforcer priests as well. This concern with "churchiness" may be an enduring aspect of clericalism and is probably bound up with the narcissism that is characteristic of clericalism--focus on the self in its more superficial aspects. Questions for Reflection]Discussion Whether I am a priest or someone exercising ministry in the service of the church, do I find myself described in one or other of the categories proposed by Krasevac? How would I want to add to Or negate some of the qualities? What other major catergories would I want to identify? Do people see a kind of "clericalism" in religious life as lived by both women and men? What forms does this "clericalism" take in religious life? How might we live differently if we religious were to be free of such a designation? 264 Review for Religious PATRICK SEAN MOFFETT Conversations on Eucharist T~Eucharist in its entirety, inclusiveness, and uni-sality is an integral engagement of the worshiping Body of Christ. It constitutes the singular act, par excel-lence, of the believing community. The lay people, priests, and religious of the Roman Catholic Church understand the Eucharist to be the source and summit of the spiritual life (LG §11, Catechism §1324). The Eucharist, and for many centuries the daily Eucharist, has provided aspirants to holiness with sustenance, moral instruction, corporate bonding, and strengthening of belief. No Mass today? On days when there is no Eucharistic celebration accessible, daily communicants might welcome, alone or with others, spiritual engagements that include some of these elements: word and act, thanks and praise, offer-ing and communion. Should such days multiply, daily communicants may need to revisit the grounding of our spirituality. Patrick Scan Moffett CFC wrote for us in 1984 and 2001. He may be addressed at Christian Brothers; 4949 N.E. 2nd Avenue; Miami, Florida 33137. 66.3 2007 ~loffett ¯ on~er~atiom on Eucharist 266, As we extrapolate current trends in priesdy vocations and the growth of the people of God, we perhaps see a time when Eucharist as we know it today will not be readily accessible to much of the church. Some feel called upon to anticipate such an eventuality by reducing the frequency of their own participation in Eucharist. For some formation directors, that decision is extended to those whom they prepare for future service to the church. Others prefer to engage fully in what is currendy avail-able, trustful that either the trends will change or that they will be blessed with the strength to confront such challenges if and when they occur. Age will be a factor in deciding for oneself. Older men and women might see no need to alter a way of life that can safely carry them through their remaining years. Deciding for others calls for serious discernment. No matter which strategy is chosen, we will do well to review the role of daily Eucharist in the spiritualities that have helped to shape .our lives and those of our dis-tant and more recent ancestors. Theologians, canonists, spiritual writers, and spiritual directors have much to contribute to a reexamination of theories and praxes of Eucharistic spiritualities. Conversations on Eucharist, such as those referred to in what follows, could be useful starting points. For purposes of this article and from the perspective of a psychologist, I will offer some preliminary samplings of the interface of Eucharist and the ongoing processes of belonging and self-definition. Varying perspectives will suggest what might need to be considered before defining new paths to holiness. The Eucharist in the lives of daily communicants Recently I have been inviting some daily communi-cants to engage in extended conversation about the place Review for Religious of Eucharist in their lives. The questions I ask and my understanding of responses they evoke are surely con-ditioned by my experience as a religious and as a psy-chologist. What I recognize as themes of agency, identity, relationships, belonging, and development have deeper and richer meaning both for those who are speaking of their insights and for their listeners, who bring their own experiential and intellectual perspectives. The selection of participants is by no means a random sample. Preliminary conversation has indicated that they have been daily commu-nicants for a significant '~ part of their lives and that they are comfortable in sharing their thoughts and feelings. Those who welcome the invitation need little prompting. They readily attest to the ~ centrality of the Eucharist with respect to most of the other engagements of their day. They describe the Mass as bringing together the sacred and the mundane, the joys and the struggles, the fears and the hopes, the hurts and the healing that shape their day. As the initial response concludes, I ask if any moments in the ritual have particular significance for them or bring together what they have just described. Some respond immediately, others pause and then report resistance to singling out any part of the entire experience. One religious, responding to my probing on such aspects of special focus during the Mass, identified the moment of Communion and what he saw as the "all too brief time after Communion." He went on to note that his ordained friends, on the other hand, tend to place the i ask ifany moments " in the ritual have particular significance for them. 267 66.3 2007 Moffett ¯ Conversations on Eucharist 268 emphasis on the Consecration or the Invocation of the Spirit over the gifts. I ask myself and.others: Who are the protagonists in this sacred event? We begin in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. How is the Trinity experienced? Who is With me at Eucharist? Who else is present :around the altar, in the pews, dispersed about the earth, or in the heavens? Who comes from afar, or from long ago? Who of my sisters and brothers, family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, acquaintances are especially present to me during the Mass? Whom do I make present with my thoughts, memories, and prayers? I understand that part of my role is to gather guests from the highways and the alleys. All are welcome. The Master seeks a full house for the sharing of the banquet. Levels of belonging Belonging, as an action and as a consequence of group engagement, contributes to the identification of both the individual and the group. Each member has a creative role in the formation of both the "I" and the "we." Eucharist ritualizes and celebrates who we are as a people and who we are becoming. Observers of human development chart stages of growth. Infancy, childhood, pubescence, adolescence, and young adulthood are seen as steps toward full maturity. So too in groups there are successive levels of belong-ing.~ Members move from acceptance to participation, from participation to engagement, and eventually from engagement to proprietorship. Individuals understand themselves increasingly in terms of the group. Eucharist provides a forum for affirming membership. I have been accepted into the people of God. I am a Catholic. I do what Catholics do. I believe. My engagement in the lives Review for Religious of my brothers and sisters in the church expresses the essence of who I am and who we are. We are the Body of Christ. While there might be a sense in which we "make belief," Pope Benedict XVI has urged caution: Here I think it is very important to stress one essential point: no one believes purely on his own. We always believe in and with the church. The creed is always a shared act: it means letting ourselves be incorpo-rated into a communion of progress, life, words, and thought. ¯. We must let ourselves fall, so to speak, into the communion of faith, of the church. Believing is in itself a Catholic act. It is participation in this great certainty, which is present in the church as a living subject. ¯ . . Day after day we must deepen our communion " with the holy church and thus with the Word of God . Only when we are united in the church do we belong to the church, do we become members of the church, do we live by the word of God which is the life-giving force of the church. And those who live by the word of God can only live it because it is alive and vital in the living church) Identity Those schooled in scholastic philosophy might recall the struggles around the principle of individuation. Prime matter, the amorphous "substance" common to all being, affords no differentiation as such. Form (anima) serves to distinguish between levels of being, but is common to all members of the same stratum of being. To arrive at differentiation, attention is directed to the baecceitas, the "thisness" of a particular being. Form is imposed on the universal matter in the here and now (see Th.Aq., De Veritate 2.6-7). The action yields an individual being. What might also be attributed to the seemingly infinite possibilities of constellations of DNA is explained as deriv- 269 66.3 2007 Moffett * Conversations on Eucharist ing its uniqueness from the moment of incarnation. Word is made flesh and dwells among us. At some moment in time and in a particular place I am, we are. A series of events earns me a name, a role, and a his-tory. They bond°me with clusters of other human beings, groups among whom I have an ever more distinct place as both individual and member. I belong to a family, a group of friends, of associates, a community, a country. I am an alumnus, a professional, a supporter of causes, a member of a party, or perhaps one of the group that shuns such memberships. These group-forming events may be circumstantial or intentional. I do not choose my family. My first friends tend to be those in Participation in daily Eucharist confirms an aspect self-definition and en ga ged,me in a process of ego ,extension. the immediate vicin-ity or at my school. Gradually I become more selective. I go away to a university. I choose a profession, opening new possi-bilities of bonding. I marry. I am ordained. I join a religious congregation. Each choice helps to define me and also the others I include when using the first per-son plural. Participation in daily Eucharist confirms an aspect of self-definition and engages me in a process of ego extension. 270 Prayer in the first person plural The Eucharistic ritual may be viewed as an exercise in gathering. Whoever is present joins with the priest and others "in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." Each successive "Amen" serves to expand and to confirm this bonding among those who Review for Religious seek mercy, offer praise, listen to the word, and proclaim "Thanks be to God." Together we express our belief in all that defines us individually and collectively as people of God. We ask God to hear our prayers. The celebrant invites us to ask that our sacrifice be acceptable. We lift up our hearts to the Lord. From the end of the offertory through the Eucharistic Prayer, the first person singular occurs only in the words of Jesus: This in my body, my blood. Do this in memory of me. We unite in the Memorial Acclamation and begin to acclaim our larger sense of who stands with us in the pres-ence of our God: our ancestors, saints, angels, all who have gone before us, our sisters and brothers, the church throughout the world. Together in the unity of the Holy Spirit we proclaim the great Amen. The Our Father makes repeated use of the first person plural. The first person singular returns with the Communion. I am not worthy, but I will be healed so that I may join with the others in sharing the bread. The ritual concludes in the communal blessing, again in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and with a com-munal Amen. In union with the holy sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world In the conversations on Eucharist, the daily partici-pants often express the belief that what is happening in their local church or chapel is part of a larger, continu-ous gathering of the church throughout the world and throughout the ages. They refer to the Last Supper as the initiation of an event that is as much a present reality as it is the deposit of the faith of their ancestors. Several reli-gious have noted that, while religious formation helped shape their understanding of Eucharist, they brought the practice from their families. 271 66.3 2007 Moffe~ ¯ Conversations on Eucharis~ They go on to indicate that the time of the Mass itself is not necessarily when they have the most powerful expe-rience of the presence of the Lord. They speak of cen-tering prayer, lectio divina, or moments in ministry or service as the source of a joy that they will later bring to the Eucharist. Visits to the Blessed Sacrament The preservation of the Eucharistic species for pur-poses of cult is minutely regulated by tradition and decree. Today's priesthood, the ordained and the nonordained participation of the laity, has reset the bounds of the sacred. Devotion takes new forms. The liturgy empha-sizes the immolation of the sacrificial Victim and the communal consumption of the divine banquet. Our times are marked by fewer priests, fewer celebrations, multifunctional worship spaces, limited visiting hours--scarcity issues and vagrancy concerns. Ecumenical unease marks practices that others might not distinguish from idolatry or superstition. And yet churches in retirement areas are reporting that the chapels of the Blessed Sacrament are centers of vibrant and steady worship. Youth leaders attest that silent time before the Blessed Sacrament has a unique attraction for many of today's adolescents. They willingly participate in quiet beholding. Behold announces some of the more powerful moments of the Scriptures. Adam and Eve have such a moment, and it evokes fear. Jacob experiences the Lord poised over Youth leaders attest thdt silent time before the Blessed Sacrament,has a= unique attraction for many of today's adolescentd. Review for Religious him and marvels: "Indeed, the Lord is in this place, and I did not know" (Gn 28:17). Mary is shaken by the words of the annunciation and responds, inviting reflection on what she is experiencing. "Behold the handmaid of the Lord." Generations have waited to behold the Wonder Counselor, the Prince of~ Peace. John the Baptist identifies Jesus: "Behold the Lamb of God" (Jn 1:35). And years later a peasant is asked to explain a daily ritual. Coming home from work in the fields, he visits a chapel, slips into a pew, and simply sits for half an hour before the tabernacle. To what end? "I look at Him and He looks at me." Perception The beholder and the beheld enter into a moment of profound access to each other. Each delights in the other, the Creator and the created, the Redeemer and the redeemed, the Spirit and the confirmed. Past and future converge in an experience of the divine Presence, Self-absorption? Me and Jesus? The communicants claim that the Eucharist makes it much more. There under the sign of bread are the lives of those, united in banquet and sacrifice, who do all in memory of the Lord: the priest called from among the people to articulate their hurts and hopes, one with. them in uniting their daily lives to that of Jesus, believers and those helped in their unbelief, those commemorated, the living and the dead, a communion of the faithful. This is the Body of Christ, the people of God, the church. Here I am at once at home and in the world, with those I know and love, with those I do not know but seek to love. We forgive and are forgiven. Agency Conversations afford an insight into the perceived "agency" of the speaker.3 In describing my actions I 66.3 2007 Moffett * Conversations on Eucharist acknowledge aspects of my engagement that come from within. I choose to go, I seek out, I attend, I listen, I pray. I work past dis.tractions, past reservations about the celebrant or my fellow congregants. Yes, I am an agent in the process. Those who accompany me are also agents. We chose to act together. The Lord is, in a similar sense, the principal agent of the Eucharist. Paul teaches that the Lord whose kingdom is among us and whose will is being done on earth and in heaven is transforming us as individuals and as a group. Scriptures reveal a God who is "forming a people particularly his own" (Tt 2:14). We profess that as we engage in Eucharist the Lord is doing great things among us. In the last analysis my agency is simply one of consent-ing to what the Lord is doing to me, to us. Here a psychol-ogist invites others to carry forward the conversation. Choosing to stay the course--the joy of the journey This brief summary of what I am hearing from a very small set of the faithful brings us back to the conclusion of the first recorded conversation on Eucharist. John had Jesus' listeners requesting "Give us always this bread." Jesus indicates that they do not fully understand what they are asking. '¢I'his is the bread that has come down from heaven; not as your fathers ate the manna, and died. He who eats this bread shall live forever" (Jn 6:59). Jesus challenges his listeners. Some depart. Others join Peter, a bit perplexed, but willing to stay the course: "To whom shall we go? You have the words of everlasting life.We have come to believe and to know that you are the Christ, the Son of God" (Jn 6:69-70). Peter does not always get it right. Paul calls him to task on the issue of who is invited to the feast (Ga 2:12). A postresurrection conversation on the way to Emmaus moves two early disciples. They seek out the others and Review for Religious share with burning hearts what happened along the way and in the breaking of the bread (Lk 24:33). That conver-sation continues and needs to continue in our day. Notes 1 P.S. Moffett, "Promoting Agency among Children and Adolescents at the Margins" (Invited Address, American Psychological Association), Journal of Pastoral Counseling 30 (1995). 2 Discourse/speech of Pope Benedict XVI with the Clergy of Rome, 2 March 2006. See the Vatican web page. 3 Dan P. McAdams, The Stories We Live By (New York: William Morrow and Company, 1993); David Bakan, The Duality of Human Existence: Isolation and Communion in Western Man (Boston: Beacon Press, 1996). Prayer Lord, do you now therefore, speaking through my lips, pro-nounce over this earthly travail your twofold efficacious word: the word without which all that our wisdom and our experi-ence have built up must totter and crumble~the word through which all our most far-reaching speculations and our encounter with the universe are come together into a unity. Over every living thing which is to spring up, to grow, to flower, to ripen during this day say again the words: This is my Body. And over every death-force which waits in readiness to corrode, to wither, to cut down, speak again your commanding words which express the supreme mystery of faith: this is my Blood. Teilhard de Chardin, The Mass on the World from Hym .of the Universe, p. 23. 66.3 2007 the feminine DAMIAN C. ILODIGWE Mary and the Magnificat 276 The church teaches us that the Blessed Virgin Mary was assumed into heaven body and soul at the end of her earthly life, to share in the glory of her Son. This is what the solemnity of the Assumption celebrates. It is the victory of Christ over sin and death. Mary was the first beneficiary of this victory, and that is why God preserved her body from decay, not allowing it to undergo corruption. But the victory of Christ is also our victory, as the church affirms in the mystery of faith when we proclaim "Dying you destroyed our death, rising you restored our life, Lord Jesus, come in glory." Like several other feasts of Mary, the Assumption underlines the place of Mary in Christian life. This derives from her privileged choice as the Mother of the Savior. It is not as if she was chosen for this important assignment Damian C. Ilodigwe'is a priest and a lecturer in philoso-phy at Ss. Peter and Paul Major Seminary; P.M.B. 5171, Secretariat P.O; Ibadan, Nigeria. dammychuks@yahoo. tom Review for Religio~s because of anything she was. The choice was gratuitous, depending wholly on God's grace. It is only fitting and proper that mankind should also honor her after she was so honored by God. From the text of Mary's song of thanksgiving in response to the greeting and commendation of her cousin Elizabeth, it is evident that Mary was not oblivious of the significance of her ~privileged choice. She was aware that it was the work of the Lord. And the reality of her choice filled her with immense gratitude and appreciation, to which she gave expression in the celebrated words .of the Magnificat: My soul proclaims the greamess of the Lord, and my spirit exults in God my savior, because he has looked upon his lowly handmaid. Yes, from this day forward all generations will call me blessed, for the Almighty has done great things for me. Holy is his name, and his mercy is from age to age for those who fear him. (Lk 1:46-50) Mary, Privilege and Responsibility We share in the sentiments of appreciation that Mary expresses here. We all enjoy one privilege or another, and, when we come to appreciate the value of what we have, it is often with gratitude. Consider, for instance, the joy of motherhood or fatherhoo& It is a unique privilege to be the father of a child just as it is a unique privilege to be the mother of a child. None of us ever chooses our parents. They are one of those things that are given to us. In the case of his only-begotten Son, God. made the choice of his mother and Mary was the woman. But the joy of mother-hood is not in any way diminished. On the contrary, it is elevated to a greater height because Mary's child is not just any child, but the savior of the world, the Son of God. It is one thing to say that .the joy of motherhood is unique. It is another thing to be a good mother. One is a 277 66.3 2007 llodig~e ¯ Nlary and the ~lagn~at privilege and the other is a duty. For every privilege there is a corresponding responsibility. Being a good mother is the responsibility that goes with the privilege of being a mother. In the case of Mary, she not only enjoyed the privilege but was also a good mother. She took seriously the duties that follow from being a mother. And this we can confirm from the various episodes in the life of Jesus right from the moment of his conception to the time he was buried.1 What we notice is an inseparable union between mother and Son, with the mother doing all she could .to care for her Son. She shared in the sufferings of her Son and remained with him when the going became tough and everyone deserted him. Little wonder she is called the mother of sorrows, given that she was fully united with her son in his passion. The two hearts were one in suffering. It is only logical, then, that when Jesus achieved his glory he should make sure that his mother shared in his glory. This is the logic that underpins the mystery of the Assumption of Mary into heaven. We can regard it as an explicit reward for Mary's fidehty,z True, by the privileged choice of God, she became the mother of Jesus, being preserved from original sin. But it was .by her own cooperation with the grace of God that she preserved her virginity and remained sinless all through her life, so that in her we witness the triumph of life over death, a result that awaits all who walk in the footsteps of Christ. 278 The Example of Mary and Our Contemporary Situation We might ask what all this means for us. The truth is that we too ~are privileged to be followers of Jesus. It is a privilege to be a Christian, and by virtue of our being Christians we carry Jesus in,our hearts. Jesus dwelt in the womb of Mary for nine months and through this medium Review for Religio~ was introduced to the world. Mary's womb was the origi-nal .locus of the mystery of the incarnation. The Word took flesh first in the womb of Mary before he was born in Bethlehem. By the power of divine grace, this same action takes place when we are baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus. The Word made flesh makes our heart his abode and dwells with us and among us, and through us he is intro-duced to the world. So it is always a unique moment when we step forward to receive Jesus . in Holy Communion. This moment is fundamental to the definition of our Christian identity in the sense that it invites us to become what we receive. While it is a privilege to bear Jesus in our hearts, we need to ask ourselves how well we fulfill the duties deriv-ing from this privilege. We need to ask how we are living as Christians. I suppose this is where the life of Mary speaks to us. We should be concerned to know whether we are giving our best to our Christian commitment. There is no question that the challenges of being a Christian are enormous. They call for a great deal of sacrifice, and it is unlikely that we shall measure up unless we are supported by the grace of God. To love God with all our hearts and serve him with a single-minded devotion is not something easy. It will often require us to do what we would rather not do. And sometimes it may mean having to put off our plan and agenda in order to allow God to have his place in our life. It means preferring God to self and to any other human being. This is what it means to love God in all things and above all things. ~ It is a privilege to be ,. . ~ a Christian, and by virtue of our being Christians ¯ we car~Jesus in,our hearts. 279 66.3 2007 Ilodigwe ¯ Mary and the Magnificat Given her status as protodisciple of Jksus, we can confidently turn to her to teach us how to be disciples of her Son. 280] The demand is radical. But we need not be afraid because in Mary we have an example of one who has passed through this challenge. We see, for example, how she strug-gled through the challenge of accepting God's plan and putting aside her original plan of marrying Joseph. It is not as easy as it sounds. We must consider that it was really a painful choice, as it will be in deciding for God in difficult circumstances in our life. With Mary, however, her faith was the secret of her success. We cannot forget easily her celebrated fiat, which should be our own attitude to all that life brings to us, especially when it seems to run contrary to our desires. "Let it be done to me according to your word" (Lk 1:38) was her response to the angel's invitation to be the mother of Jesus, despite all the confusion and trouble that the thought of this caused her. It is always best to prefer the will. of God to our own will or the will of any other mortal. We may not see the point immediately, but it always turns out that our peace truly lies in the will of God. There are probably no saints who did not come to realize this basic point at some time in their life. It is the same point that St. Augustine expresses at the summit of his search for God when he says, "Our hearts are made for you, O God, and we remain resdess until we rest in you." This has remained the deepest spiritual truth that all disciples of Jesus must learn if they are to attain the life of blessedness, which is the ultimate reward of discipleship. Mary was the first to teach this lesson and live it out by the manner of her life. Review for Religious Thus she was not only the Mother of Jesus, but also the first disciple of Jesus. She was the first to follow him as he deserves to be followed. And in following him she did not spare herself. She gave everything she could give, so that the bond between mother and Son was no mere physical bond, nor was it a mere biological bond. True, they were bonded physically and biologically. Yet the most crucial bond proved to be the spiritual bond, since mother and Son were one in heart and mind. Because of this deep spiritual bond, the mother was prepared to be spent for her Son and, true to Simeon's prophecy, her heart was pierced with sorrow,6 so that like the man of sorrows she became the mother of sorrows, identifying most fully with her Son's predicament (see Lk 2:21-3 5). On one occasion Jesus had been teaching, and there came a message that his brothers and sisters were waiting to see him. In his characteristic manner, he turned to the crowd and responded by asking, "Who are my brothers and sisters?" He then went on to answer that "my broth-ers and sisters are those who do the will of my Father." We may say the question is startling. But the answer conveys his meaning, that the spiritual bond is more important than the biological bond, so that it is not our physical affiliation with Jesus that matters as much as our spiritual affiliation with him. Of course there is no opposition between the two. Yet to ignore the claim of the latter at the expense of the former easily empties discipleship of its true meaning. We must say that Jesus' emphasis on the spiritual serves to preclude this possibility. No one other than Mary under-stood the demand of both affiliations. Indeed in her we find an excellent integration of both demands. Beyond the fact that she was the mother of Jesus, she sought above all to realize the will of God in her life even at the cost of great pain and sacrifice. 66.3 2007 Ilodig'we ¯ ~/~ary and the ~Vlaffnificat Given her status as protodisciple of Jesus, we can confidendy turn to her to teach us how to be disciples of her Son. We can turn to her to teach us how to love and serve her Son with all our heart. As she was always there for Jesus, she is always there for us, since by the gift of her Son she has also became our mother, and what a good mother she is! She continues her work still on behalf of us her children from her heavenly throne, where she reigns with her Son in the glory of the resurrection. She continues to labor to ensure the fulfillment of her Son's wish that all people be saved. Thus, on a day such as the solemnity of the Assumption, we must ask her for the grace to grow in our knowledge, love, and service of Jesus. We must ask her to obtain for us the grace to be faithful to our Christian commitment, so that at the end of our lives here on earth we shall .have the privilege of entering into the glory of the Lord. Notes ' See Federico Suarez, Joseph of Nazareth (Abingdon, England: Scepter, 1982), chapters 6-7. 2 See Mark Miravalle, Introduction to Mary: The Heart of Marian Devotion and Doctrine (Santa Barbara: Queenship Publishing Company, 1993), chapter 2. Review for Religious LEO HERETO Margaret, the Woman of Becchi Mthargaret Bosco was the mother of John Bosco, e diocesan priest who began the Salesian soci-ety for the education of poor and abandoned youth in Turin, a congregation that soon spread through Italy and around the world. Today it is in 192 countries. Hugh of St. Victor declared in the 12th century that the aim of all human activity is the recovery° of Eden and that Eden's very nature is to be unchangeable. In the garden two persons, a man and a woman, failed. The story is stark as narrated in Genesis 3:1-20. In John Bosco's life a woman played a most important part. It is a hundred and fifty years since this woman, Margaret Occhiena, passed away, but her profound influence remains in the Salesians of St. John Bosco. When we think of vocations to the priesthood and to consecrated life, we must never underestimate the feminine dimension. Vocations seem to spring from the womb of women devoted to God and his divine will. When her father in his patriarchal way decided on marriage for his daughter, Leo Hereto SDB writes from Don Bosco Technical Centre; Postal Box 124; Apia, Samoa. 66.3 2007. Hereto * Margaret, the Woman of Becchi 284 Margaret Occhiena married the widower Francis Bosco, a young farmer twenty-seven years old. He had lost his first wife after six years of marriage and was left with a three-year- old son, Anthony. At her marriage in June 1812, Margaret was twenty-three. This marriage saw the birth of Joseph in 1813 and John on 16 August 1815. Francis was to die in May 1817 after suffering what appears to be some type of pneumonia. Before dying he asked Margaret to "take special care of our baby John, who is just twenty-one months old." At twenty-nine Margaret was left with three children, her stepson and her own two boys, and her mother-in-law, the children's "Nonna." Her catechetical method was not what she learned from books, for she was unable to read, but she empha-sized living in the presence of God. The children were taught the importance of duty, openness to others, and never to say no to anyone in need, whether that person was a beggar or a fugitive from the police. Margaret would spend the night with dying people, holding their hands and consoling them. Her children were three dif-ferent characters. Anthony had lost his mother at three and his father at nine, and these deaths had left a scar on his character that made him hostile and nasty in the family. He was "like a bear with a sore head." When his grandmother ("Nonna") died in 1826, he often became violent. He had a deep dislike for his stepbrother John. When John set a book down on the table, the young man would toss it with a great deal of bravado into the wood stove, stamp his foot, and say, "We are workers, and only workers are accepted in this house." Margaret treated this little "Pharaoh" with great calm and concern, never beating him for his misbehavior and always treating him with great kindness as her husband's son. Anthony would sometimes hurl cutting and hurtful words at Margaret, often using the Italian word for stepmother (matrigna), a Review for Religious word with harsh and insulting overtones. Margaret never made an issue of this, but treated him gently but firmly. The Time of Great Decision. In 1835, as John reflected on his vocation, he felt the appeal of joining the Franciscans who had a center among the hills of Piedmont. Poor peasant that he was, he knew that his mother would find it hard to provide the fees for the seminary at Turin. So,he met the prior of the Franciscans, who made him sit for an examination. He passed it very well and was ready to begin his pos-tulancy that year. When John's parish priest heard about this desire of his to join the Franciscans, he rushed to Mama Margaret and told her in shock of her son's proposal to become a Franciscan. Faithful parishioner, the good lady listened to him and reflected on what he said. Later that day, when John came home, his mother with womanly wisdom said, "I have nothing to say to you regarding your vocation, except that you should do what God inspires you to do! Do not be concerned on my behalf. You owe me nothing. Never forget that I was born in poor circum-stances and have lived in poverty all my life. I am happy to die poor. I tell you this seriously. If you ever become wealthy, I shall never cross your doorstep!" John went to the seminary. After his first Mass at Becchi, Margaret had something to confide to her son. "John, you area priest. You will be , "!Neve~rforget that I was born in poor circumstances and ~ ' havk lived in poverty all my life. , i am happy to die poor." 285 66.3 2007 Hereto ¯ ~largaret, the Woman of Becchi 286] celebrating the Eucharist, and so you will be closer to Christ. Remember, John, that to begin to celebrate Mass is also to begin to suffer. You will not realize this at once, but you will gradually become more and more aware of it." In 1844 John finally finished his postsacerdotal stud-ies and began his apostolate for the benefit of boys and young men. He found that without some type of hostel his work for boys would be in vain, He managed to buy a place, the "Pinardi shed," in the "red light" area of Turin. Close to this shed was the villa Gioiosa, notorious for the characters that fitted into this industry. Don Bosco gradu-ally built up a kind of club consisting of boys who were orphans or were seeking work in the big city or had been driven there from the countryside that had been ravaged by drought in recent years. Spending time with these young men, he would have heard people cry, "What are you doing with these young-sters?" His mother was the answer to this problem. She was fifty-three years old, matron or rather queen in her home at Becchi, surrounded by her children and her chil-dren's children. But, when asked by her son to be a part-ner in his apostolate, she packed a small basket with her few clothes, her folded wedding dress and not much more, and went with him to face the chaIlenges of an apostolate among the rejected of society. With this wise mother of his, he would discuss things. And she did the cooking for two hundred, mending their torn clothes, looking after the sick. She became so involved in this apostolate that to.some it seemed rashness or misdirected faith. When a poor beggar came to the door looking for food, Margaret looked at her wedding ring and gave it to him to help feed his large family. Love is limidess. Her wedding dress sym-bolically became a vestment for the Lord. As the rough and at times uncouth young men streamed into the shed at night, she would offer them a thought for the day. Review for Religious In Salesian tradition this became what is called a "good night" (buonanorte) In November 1856 the little lady of Becchi was fast fading away. With deep faith she received her son's bless-ing and the anointing of sick. On 25 November, at sixty-three years of age, this woman of grace gave her soul back to God. Like Monica she asked John not to fret over her going but to remember her at Mass. In her little room were a few old clothes, patched and repatched. Pope John Paul II said of her, "She was a woman of God." Sonnet for the Fall The story of our ancient discontent, Or myth, or fable, or a rueful guess, Catching the heart's sense of slow, sad descent, From fresh to stale, from much to less and less; The arriving, never quite where we went, Words, never quite sufficient to express Exactly what we mean, or thought we meant, The failure even of seeming success. "You'll learn," we tell our children and they will, As we have learned, whose parents learned it, too - The lesson only living can instill, Teaching us Augustine's prayer anew: Lord, thou hast made us for thyself and we Fall, ever, till we fall to rest in thee. Ian T. White 66.3 2007 DAVID COGHLAN Discernment in Common as Cooperative Inquiry apostolic direction 288 The special issue of The Way Supplement in 1996 reflected on the experience of communal discernment. After what it described as a tidal wave of enthusiasm and unrealistic expecta-tions in the 1970s, it noted that "the process of group discernment now holds real possibilities for effective understanding and action."' It is in this context that I explore discernment in com-mon and introduce cooperative inquiry, a form of action ~esearch which is compatible with the kind of faith activity that discernment is and accords with how discernment in common may be conducted. The word research is associated in most peo-ple's minds with theories. Research is conducted in the world of ideas and their formulation. This model has shaped the social sciences since the 17th century. Research, on this model, examines David Coghlan SJ is a lecturer in organizafon development at Trinity College, Dublin. His address is 129 Morehampton Road; Dublin 4, Ireland. dcoghlan@tcd.ie Review for Religious an "objective" truth which exists outside of the world of the researcher and is disconnected from the action of everyday life. Research techniques are thus concerned with objective impartiality, with forms of knowledge that can be defended propositionally and so are considered to be valid and to apply universally. Social sci-ence no longer works with this model alone. When postmodern-ism began to emerge some thirty years ago, people became more aware of language, and in particular of how our experience is influ-enced as much by the language we use as by any objective reality. Others have come to regard human inquiry as seeking knowledge not simply for its own sake, but also for the enhancement of good practice in everyday life. Now, it is argued, is a time for science in action rather than just about action.2 Action research is such a science in action. Action research is research that aims at both taking action and c~'eating knowledge or ,theory about that action. What Is Action Research? As the name suggests, action research is research that aims at both taking action and creating knowledge or theory about that action. The outcomes are an action and some new knowledge, not knowledge only. In effect, action research is about creating forms of inquiry that people can use in the conduct of their lives and involves changing what we take as knowledge. It reflects a con-cern for an "action turn" to replace the linguistic turn of postmodernism.3 It has origins and roots in diverse fields: the social psychology experiments of Kurt Lewin, 66.3 2007 Coghlan ¯ Discernment in Common the pragmatic philosophy of John Dewey, the emergent field of organization development, the liberationist work of Paulo Freire, Catholic action, liberation theology, and feminist thought.4 Ignatian spirituality and action research have a lot in common, and action research contributes to spirituality research. There are some striking overlaps between motifs of Ignatian spirituality--a spirituality in which "action" is a central motif---and the features of this new pattern of thinking in the social sciences called "action research.''5 There are striking convergences between the idea of action research and Ignatian teaching about the interplay of prayer and action. The technical concepts developed by action research theory help sharpen the reflection encour-aged by Ignatian spirituality. Though the methods of the social sciences are sometimes reductive, either ignoring the religious or else translating it into other allegedly more accurate terms, the epistemology and processes of action research are quite appropriate to the knowledge born of grace and religious faith. In this vein, it can be proposed that there is an Ignatian approach to social science. It has been apparent to me for many years that Ignatius was very modern in his approach to reflexive inquiry. This article is a development of an earlier one and continues the endeavor to bring Ignatian spirituality and action research together.6 The purpose is twofold. First, I want to introduce a stream within action research prac-tice, balled cooperative inquiry, and show how it can have close links to discernment in common in the Ignatian tra-dition. Second, I wish to advance further the articulation of an Ignatian approach to social science research so that the practice of discernment in common may be given a voice as research. The contribution, therefore, is to those who undertake research in spirituality and may use action research in researching discernment in common. Review for Religiou~ One contribution that action research theory, can make to Ignatian spirituality comes from the idea that an integrative approach to research incorporates three differ-ent practices, which are called "first person," "second per-son," and "third person.''7 Ignatian first-person practice is concerned with how people find God in their own expe-rience. Ignatian sec- ~ ond-person practice focuses on people's relationships in their shared inquiry about their life together as Christians. Ignatian ~, third-person prac-tice moves beyond the direcdy personal ~ and seeks to enrich the life of the church and the world. In this article, I introduce cooperative inquiry as a form of second-person practice to link with Ignatian second-person practice of discernment in common. The knowledge born of faith and prayer (experien-tial knowing) is expressed in presentational form through our images of God, through the language of our prayers, through religious art and music. This experiential and presentational knowing is articulated in propositional form in the statements of our faith, in the creed, in how our beliefs are formulated and understood through theol-ogy. All this is expressed in practical knowing as we apply ourselves to trying to live the Christian faith. Action research, too, works with ways of knowing that go beyond the propositional form that we think of as research.8 With this brief summary of links between Ignatian spirituality and action research, I now introduce cooperative inquiry as a specific stream of expression within action research. Action, rese arch works with ways :of knowing that go beyond the propositional form , that we think Of'as research. 66.3 2007 Cogblan * Discernment in Common 292. Cooperative Inquiry9 John Heron and Peter Reason define cooperative inquiry "as involving two or more people researching a topic through their own experience of it in order to (1) understand their world to make sense of their life and develop new and creative ways of looking at things and (2) learn how to act to change things they might want to change and find out how to do things better.1° As John Heron puts it, "it is a vision of persons in reciprocal relation using the full range of their sensibilities to inquire together into any aspect of the human condi-tion with which the transparent mid-body can engage.''1~ In cooperative inquiry each person is a co-subject in the experience phases by participating in the activities being researched and a co-researcher in the reflection phases by participating in generating ideas, designing and managing the project, and drawing conclusions. Cooperative inquiry goes something like this. 1. A group agree on what they want to explore. The group may be formed specifically for this purpose. The group talk about their interests and concerns, agree on the focus of the inquiry, and develop together a set of questions or proposals the members wish to explore. As an example, Reason mentions a group of obese and post-obese women who met to explore their experience, how they were stereotyped in society, and how it was difficult for them to obtain appropriate attention from doctors. 2. The group bring actions from their everyday situ-ations into the inquiry after initiating some actions and observing and recording the outcomes of their own and each other's behavior. 3. The group members as co-researchers become fully immersed in their experience. They may go deeper into the experience, or they may be led away from the original Review for Religious ideas and proposals into new fields, unpredicted action, and creative insights. 4. After an agreed period engaged in phases two and three, the co-researchers reassemble to consider their original questions in the light of their experience. Cooperative inquiry works on iteration, or cycling through the four steps. Repetitions--perhaps between six and ten cycles on an inquiry topic--can help toward better understanding of an issue, an improved grasp of the whole issue and its parts. An important element of cooperative inquiry is that it works with the different ways of knowing we discussed earlier. In cooperative inquiry, inquiry is deeper and richer if the different ways of knowing work together, "if our knowing is grounded in our experience, expressed through our stories and images, understood through ideas which make sense to us, and expressed in worthwhile action in our lives."12 Cooperative inquiry is a way of doing research that is radically different from the traditional way. It involves people examining their own experiences and action in collaboration with others who share similar interests and concerns. The heart of the learning process is threefold.13 First, learning takes place through iterative cycles of action and reflection. Second, this learning takes place in a cooperative inquiry group of peers who provide mutual support and challenge. Third, through the process partic-ipants develop a quality of self-reflective inquiry whereby they learn to attend to their own experience and learn how to learn from experience. Heron emphasizes that there is no one account of cooperative inquiry and that his comprehensive presentation should not be construed as the account.~4 This is an important point, for it opens up the possibility of exploring discernment in common as cooperative inquiry. 293 66.3 2007 Coghlan * Discernment in Common Having presented a brief outline of action and research and a general introduction to cooperative inquiry, I now explore how cooperative inquiry and the Ignatian tradi-tion of discernment in common may be linked. To do this They held, as principle thatGod l .,. is kind and gift-giving~ndI ~ / that they should earnestly ;~ seek what God wantedoff ~hern~ .,,. ~ I focus on one partic-ular discernment in common, namely, that of the early Jesuits who met in 1539 to discern their future as a group.~s It is not my intention to focus on discernment in common as such, nor to explore its nuances and processes, nor to do a textual analysis or engage in discussions of the Deliberation's place in the development of discernment in common.~6 In this article my aim is first to introduce the Deliberation in summary form and second to see if the elements of cooperative inquiry can be found in the Deliberation. 2,94 The Deliberation of 1539 On 13 August 1534 at Monmartre in Paris, Ignatius and his six companions pronounced vows of poverty and chastity and a vow to go to Jerusalem, and then they dis-persed. In January 1537 the seven, joined by three others, met in Venice. They spent the next two years in Venice and Rome, preaching and working with the poor. This group of priests was held together by the love of Christ, dedication to apostolic work, the authority of the pope, and the leadership of Ignatius. The time came when dis-persal was imminent, for the pope planned to send them in response to requests from bishops all over Europe. The question was whether this would be the end of the group Review for Religious as a~ group or whether it would seek to establish itself more formally as a group. In 1539 the group deliberated on what it wanted to do. There was a diversity of nationalities in the group, French, Spanish, Savoyard, and Portuguese, and there was diversity of feeling and opinion. Accordingly, the first issue they dealt with was process. They held as principle that God is kind and gift-giving and that they should ear-nestly seek what God wanted of them. There were prepa-ration steps and procedure steps. During the day each man would meditate and reflect on the questions and in the evening share his thoughts with the group and in par-ticular share his reasons and judgments. The intention was that "all with one mind would embrace the truer way of thinking, tested and commended by the more powerful reasons and by majority vote" (187). The first question they confronted was whether to bond together so that geography would not separate them or to cut their ties and disperse. "In the end we estab-lished the affirmative side of the question, that., we ought not split apart what God had gathered and united" (192). The reasons were their shared history and the signs they saw of what God was doing in them. The second question was whether, along with their vows of chastity and poverty, it would "be advantageous [to] pronounce a third vow, namely, of obedience to some-one from among us" (194). This opened up the ques-tion of authority in the group and, in effect, whether the group would form a religious order or not. "Then we had persisted in prayer and thought for many days without hitting on any satisfactory resolution of our uncertainty. We. started to cast about for better ways of working out such a resolution" (195). Given the impasse they were in, would it be better for the group to go away to a hermitage and be secluded, 66.3 2007 Cogblan ¯ Discernment in Common 296 Each was to ready himself through prayer, Masses, and meditation to reach the or should they stay in the city and continue their apos-tolic ministry, or should they delegate a few to reach a conclusion on behalf of the group? They opted to stay in the city and continue their apostolic ministry and give half of every day to their deliberation. Each was to ready himself through prayer, Masses, and meditation to reach the right dispo-sitions. Second, none of the companions was to communicate with any-one else about the issue. right dispositions. Third, each was to think ' ~, ' of himself as a stranger ~ to the group and so to be more objective and not caught up in the emotions of a group member. These preparations were to enable each member to make an individual contribution to the whole process, presenting his personal view. When the group convened, it used another proce-dure, also aimed at shifting the impasse. "Each one was to declare all the disadvantages which could be brought against obedience [by vow, to one of our group], all the reasons which presented themselves, and which anyone of us had found in his own private reflections, meditation, and prayer. What he had gathered, each in his turn was to make known" (201). "On the next day we argued for the opposite side of the question, each one putting before the group all the advantages and good consequences of such obedience which he had drawn from prayer and medita-tion. Each took his own turn to present his reflections" (203). Eventually they reached their outcome. "During many days, from this side and that, we worked over a mass of Review for Religious data related to the resolution of our problem, we exam-ined and weighed the more forceful and important rea-sons and took time as usual for prayer, meditation, and reflection. By the Lord's help, we did at last, not [just] with a majority judgment but without a single dissenting voice, come to this conclusion: Obedience to one of us is highly advantageous and highly necessary in order to ful-fill more effectively and exacdy our primary desire of ful-filling God's will in all details of life, in order to preserve the Society more assuredly, and finally in order to pro-vide properly for all the detailed matters of spiritual and temporal business which arise" (205). The Deliberation took almost three months. As Jules Toner comments, the success of the more fully developed method for discern-ment was not only the reformulation of the process from the first question in order to deal with the more complex second question: it was also their establishing a method that they used on many other questions over a longer period of time (208). The Deliberation as Cooperative Inquiry Now I discuss how the Deliberation may be viewed in terms of cooperative inquiry, drawing on the four-point process that I oudined above. The first point is clear. A group had an issue that its members needed to explore together; the group met to seek where God was leading it, whether toward dispersal or formal ties between its mem-bers. While it had an informal leader of great influence in the person of Ignatius, the group met as peers. Second, it did not convene just to make a management decision but to engage in a reflective process that included each

Issue 47.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1988. ; 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 edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors Sept./Oct. 1988 Volume 47 Number 5 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to R~.wEw EOR R~.LtGWOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW ~o~t REI.IGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. The Social Dimensions of Religious Ministry Joseph P. Daoust, S.J. This is a slightly revised version of Father Daoust's well-received address on August 13, 1986, to the thirtieth national assembly of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men. He has been his province's assistant for social ministries and higher educa-tion. At present he is on sabbatical in Africa and Asia and has no fixed residence, but he may be addressed at Jesuit Provincial Office; 7303 W. Seven Mile Road; De-troit, Michigan 48221. In a terrifying image of where our civilization is leading us, a prominent Italian writer envisions Western 'man (and woman) becoming like an earth-worm: a simple organism having only mouth, intestines, and anus, do-ing nothing but ingesting, digesting, excreting. ! It is an image of pro-ducing in order to consume, and consuming mindlessly in order to move what has been produced through our societal '.~'gut." Any kind of con-sumption will do, just as the earthworm moves any kind of soil through its intestinal tube. Indeed, that is how the earthworm (and Homo con-sumens) moves ahead in dark, dank, endless underground burrows-- consuming, producing, excreting. When indigestion sets in because of overproduction, war serves as a purgative,°consuming the detritus of ex-cess lives and goods, relieving the constipation of our maniacally pro-ducing and consuming system. Such is one vision of what we are doing to ourselves as a society. There is another vision of what society can become: [God] will reign over many peoples and arbitrate for mighty nations; and they shall beat their swords into pl6wshares,.and their spears into prun-ing hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. But they shall sit, everyone under his vine and un- 641 649 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 der his fig tree, and none, shall make them afraid; for the mo~th of the Lord of hosts has spoken it (Mi 4:3-4). In this vision, peace comes when each peasant has enough of the earth's goods for simple sustenance and can sit in quiet contemplation of the goodness of a just and beautiful world. All of this is achieved by learning God's ways and walking in God's path.2 Neither of these visions is fully realized in our world today. There are forces at work leading toward the first; the Spirit of God continues the age-old struggle to draw us toward the second. We are called as citi-zens of this age, as Christians, as religious, to invest our lives in help-ing our society make the ancient Deuteronomic choice: "I set before you life or death, blessing or curse. Choose life, then, so that you and your descendants may live" (Dr 30:19). Life is what the reign of God would bring about in our midst; the flowering of a society of justice and peace. The reign of God has profound social consequences. Justice and God's Reign: Scriptural Considerations in Scripture the reign of God is inextricably linked with social trans-formation. When Israel came to know Yahweh, it was as a God who heard their groaning in slavery and delivered them out of bondage (Dt 10:18-19). Remembering their own deliverance by God, the Israelites were bound in covenant not to oppress the poor or weak in their midst (Ex 22:21ff.). For Yahweh is a God who hears the cry of the poor (Ps 34:6). Again and.again Yahweh intervened through the prophets to call Israel back to this elemental demand: Is not th'is the sort of religious p?actice that pleases me?--it is thb Lord Yahweh who speaks--to break unjust fetters and Undo the thongs of the yoke, to let'the oppressed go free., to share your bread with the hun-gry and shelter the homeless poor, to clothe the man you see to be na-ked and not turn from your own kin? Then will your light shine like the dawn and your wound be quickly healed over. Your in.tegrity will go be-fore you and the glory of Yahweh behind you (Is.58:6-8; see also 1: 16, 10:1, 42:5). The religions and gods of the ancient Near East were primarily con-cerned with the legitimation of the established order of things3 (a func-tion still all too current today!), Imperial power, divinely ordained class structures, codes of behavior which reinforced "the way things have al-ways been"--these were the trappings of (eligions whose gods could be captured in images, located in certain sacred places, and therefore con-trolled. The divine power was thus subject to purchase (propitiation), Social Dimensions of Ministry / 64:3 able to be administered and routinized so as to support society's estab-lished ways of proceeding. Israel in the Old Testament is constantly tempted to refashion God in controllable images. Royal leaders and wealthy classes are portrayed as the initiators of this "whoring after' other gods" so as to legitimate their oppression, wars, and sumptuous ways. What distinguishes ancient Israel from surrounding societies is the constant intrusion of an imageless God, who refuses to dwell in temples or in"gold idols fashioned and controlled by the powerful. Yahweh dwells only ineffably on high, and with the lowly (Is 56: 15). Israel's God is dis-engaged from the ways of worldly power and identifies over and over again with the marginal, the dispossessed in society.'~ Indeed the iden-tity of this imageless God cannot be captured in traditional religious ways, but is expressed only by what Yahweh does--primarily acts of so-cial liberation: I am Yahweh . . . who delivered you from bondage (Ex 20:1), who loves j,ustice (Ps 99:4), who sees justice done for the orphan and widow, who answers the poor and needy (Ps 86:1 ), who chooses the weak (Dt 7:7), who reduces princes to nothing, and annihilates the rulers of the world (Is 40:23). Jesus spends his public ministry extending the good news of God's compassion and reign to all. It was a scandal to his contemporaries that he especially~ included suspect classes (shepherds, publicans, tax collec-tors), social outcasts (lepers, prostitutes, adulterers, Samaritans), and the poor. He went to his death coffsciously assuming the role of the Suffer-ing °Servant of Yahweh, knowing that this was the only way to bring about the reign of his Father. Some sought his death because he reso-lutely presented an unconventional, iconoclastic face of God Ioying the outcast, the db'wntrodden, the poor--"He has blasphemed.'~ Others sought his death because' his proclamation of God's justice threatened the social order.5 The Scriptures, then, portray a God who cares passionately about jus-tice, indeed even a "pain-embracing" God6 who acts in solidarity es-pecially with the oppressed and the marginalized. Christ in his ministry and message seals this revelatioh of God constantly acting in the world so as to bring about its transformation. The Gospels close with Christ risen inviting us down through the ages to "Follow me." Justice and God's Reign: Cultural Considerations Down through the ages the Church has wrestled with that impera- 644 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 tive with varying degrees of success. Like the Israelites of old, the Church is often tempted to replace the radical, transforming call of the Gospel with something more palatable to the cultural and social powers that be. Oppressive divisions of wealth and power, wars to protect these divisions, sumptuous living for some and dire poverty for others--these still need legitimation as of old. The idols which legitimate today are ide-ologies, social and economic theories, materialism and consumerism apo-theosized as a way of life. Idolatry in a literate society is more likely to use words than precious metals to achieve its effects. But religion is still being domesticated so as to legitimate and maintain, rather than confront, these idolized patterns of injustice. One hundred fifty years ago, Alexis de Tocqueville visited America and found our culture and social institutions permeated with a new idea: Individualism is a calm and considered feeling which disposes each citi-zen to isolate himself from the mass of his fellows and withdraw into the circle of family and friends; with this little society formed to his taste, he gladly leaves the greater society to look after itself . They form the habit of thinking of themselves in isolation and imagine that their whole destiny is in their hands . Each man is forever thrown back upon himself alone, and there is danger that he may be shut up in the solitude of his own heart.7 This individualism intersected congruently, then as it does now, with the competitive pursuit of self-interest, defined in terms of material well-being. But de Tocqueville found these social "habits of the heart" coun-terbalanced and modulated by a strong tradition of biblical faith, with its emphasis on self'-sacrifice for the common good, supported by the re-publican virtues of our early democracy: public duty and civic equity. Modern commentators have found these modulating forces to be with-ering, and individualism, competition, and rampant pursuit of material self-interest becoming exclusive social preoccupations.8 Individualism, like any other human creation, has much to recommend it, much human value. But when it becomes absolute, unquestioned, unfettered, it dis-torts and truncates human interaction. Its idolization creates and sustains injustice in society on a mass scale. Recent studies of American life and religious values have shown the distortions that unfettered individualism produces ir~ our cultural patterns of faith and religion.9 Historically., the disestablishment of religion America may have helped compartmentalize religious faith away from public social concerns. But religious individualism has been the moving force for the privatization of religious faith and practice. Social and cul- Social Dimensions of Ministry / 645 tural patterns of our society have been immunized from religious critique or challenge in the faith of many. Religion is felt to deal only with per-sonal or family issues; it intersects with public policy only to challenge it if' it intrudes on these narrow issues. Other social policies and struc-tures, individualism itself, materialism, the competitive economic envi-ronment- all are beyond the competence of religious critique. God and faith have no relevance in the marketplace, the business or political world, or anywhere outside the "soft" inner realm of the personal and the familial. In fact, religion blesses "the way things are" in these secu-lar real-world social settings. It legitimates them and the results they bring about, as effectively as the compartmentalization of religion to tem-ple worship and sacrifices did in ancient Israel, with consequent uncon-cern for the oppressed, the hungry, the poor. Religion is seen culturally by most as an idiosyncratic choice, a strictly personal preference or conviction as to which "brand" each per-son would like to "consume." And American consumers of religion largely choose a faith distorted by cultural forces so as to give them res-pite from social chaos and from a sense of social destiny beyond their control. They do this by retreating inward, to focus on the inner self, or by retreating outward, to externally imposed structure coming, they be-lieve, directly from God. The first of these privatized patterns of religion, the dominant U.S. cultural preference, is the retreat inwards to the inner self. ~0 Personal ex-perience of one's inner self is the one secure basis for religious mean-ing. Self-realization, personal growth, is the highest aspiration. There is a great similarity to the goals and language of psychological therapy. Re-ligious practice is spiritual utilitarianism: "What's in it for me?" Spiri-tual experience is primarily individual and prescinds from the world and its problems. The world and even God are seen in terms of their impact on this inner self. Morality is individualistici commitments to others, to the world, are transient: "s(~ long as it feels right or helps me grow." The Church can be reduced to a kind of spiritual Kiwanis Club or psy-chological. therapy group in the individual's pursuit of self-fulfilling ex-perience. The second pattern of religious individualism is no less privatized. It is more prevalent among the less affluent, or among those whose self-image is not strong enough to found religious meaning there. Faith is placed in sources of meaning external to self and the real world. God speaks from "outside'"the ordinary world (and the inner self), directly giving rules and tenets which, if they are rigidly adhered to, will bring 646 / Review~or Religious, September-October 1988 about salvat.ion of the obedient individuai--there is little hope for the world. Fundamentalist adherence to biblical texts, magistral father fig-ures, or traditions gives meaning and some sense of security in a bewil-dering social Order. Morality is personalistic rather than societal; it deals with interpersonal and family relations in clear, simple answers; it leaves unchallenged the sociocultural setting in which these are played out. The world, society at large, is either beyond question or beyond salvation. In either case, faith has little to say to it. ., Both of.these cultural patterns of religion, therapeutic withdrawal to the inner self and sectarian withdrawal to external structure, are the prod-uct of individualism. It is individualism retreating from confrontation with a chaotic, seemingly uncontrollable social environment. Material-ism, competitive pursuit of self-interest, ruthless power pervade the secu-lar realm of business, politics, the media. Recent rapid shifts in social structures and paradigms destabilize a cultural setting already inhospita-ble to traditional religious values. Individuals, frightened, isolated, pow-erless, withdraw from the imperatives of biblical faith which might re-quire them to confront these social forces to work for the new creation of God's reign. A religion of inner escape or outer control seems to of-fer a haven from the heartless world. But both forms of religion lack the ability to integrate the self and/or God with the surrounding society. Per-sonalized religious experience supplants the "mighty acts of Yahweh" as the basis for belief. And such faith is fragile, fading when the per-sonal experience fades. There is only a faint hold on commitments, to faith itself and to the other-centered giv.ing which builds on faith. Church, rather than being the fundamental sacrament of God's insertion into the world, becomes a community of convenience or of protection from the world. In solipsism or sectarian withdrawal, religion stands apart from worldly matters. It is a pale shadow of robust biblical faith: the faith of a people on mission from a world-transforming God. This description of American religious behavior is not just the way millions.of lay believers of all religious backgrounds practice their faith. These are tidal forces affecting the faith life of all of us as members religious orders and congregations. We are equally tempted to withdraw from the fullness of biblical faith into therapeutic blandness or rigid struc-turalism. We too can live more easily with these idolized forms of relig-ion, which neither do justice nor admit the injustice of such unconcern. Religious life itself can become an enclave for self-realization or secu-rity, safely compartmentalized away from the rigors of God's call and mission to a troubled world wracked by social sin. Which one of us has Social Dimensions of Ministry / 64"/ not felt keenly the longing to huddle, Jonah-like, even in the belly of a whale, rather than face Nineveh? Justice and God's Reign: New Directions But also in our lifetimes as religious, we have witnessed a remark-able movement of God's Spirit. It is transforming the Church and relig-ious life, calling us again to our biblical roots. The God who cares pas-sionately about this world, who hates idols and the injustice they le-gitimate, is neither absent nor sitting quietly in a culturally designed com-partment. Embracing the pain of the poor and the marginalized, God broods over our bent world "with warm breast and with ah! bright wings." ~ In Vatican II, the Church chose to position itself as a people in serv-ice to the world, seeking to transform it in the biblical image of God's justice. ~- The 197 ! Synod of Bishops specified this further: J~stice and participation in the transforming of the world fully appear to us ~s 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 (Justice in the World, no. 6). The social teaching of the Church has gone~ beyond a reformist long-ing for organic, static society. In ,.magisterial teaching and theological de-velopment there is the commitment to struggle for and with the margi-nhlized to achieve justice. The spiritual is not compartmentalized from the affai'rs of this world, but integrated as a critical, driving force to shape '~'a new earth where justice will abide.''~3 In'theory and in prac-tice, from Medellin to the Philippines, in our inner cities and in recent pastoral letters of U.S. Bishops, we have witnessed the Church exercis-ing the ancient 'special love of Yahweh for the poor. ~4 Our challenging mission is newly clear, as are the many social forces which oppose it. It is the mission of our "pain-embracing" God, it is the mission of Christ see~king the reign of God.' It is fresh and new in our age, and as old as the prophets: "This is wfiat Yahweh asks of you, only this: to act justly, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly with your God" (Mi 6:8). What Justice Requires But what does it mean to do justice'? or to transform the world? or change social structures? The justice which flows :from faith in Yahweh has a dynamic, trans- 648 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 formative quality. Subtle philosophical distinctions may be appropriate for impartial, uninvolved observers. But there is a simplicity and stark-ness to biblical justice questions, which are raised in God's name from peasants (Amos, Micah), slaves (Moses), and exiles. ~5 The royal circles of Egypt, Jerusalem, or Rome are preoccupied with questions of pros-perity (how to get more) or security (how to keep it). The prophetic voices from below demand that freedom, sustenance, places of dignity in the community be given (back) to every one Of God's chosen people. Everyone has a right to these goods, as a birthright from God who cre-ated and gave them all to the community in the ~fi~:st place. God will act to make things right again if those in power will not listen. The primary expectation of God from Israel is the doing of justice, in this sense sharing with or restoration to those on the margin of society: the widow, the orphan, the stranger, the poor. Every other ethical norm or covenan-tal requirement flows from this reading of social reality. There is to be a redistribution of social power and goods to achieve a society where all can sit under their own vine and fig tree, with no one to trouble them. Or as gentle Mary puts it in Luke: "[God] has pulled down princes from their thrones and exalted the lowly. The hungry he has filled, with good things, the rich sent empty away" (Lk 1:52-53). The pastoral letter of the U.S. bishops, Economic Justice for All, contains an eloquent articu-lation of what justice requires in our times. The scriptural section of that letter is especially worth meditating upon, to touch i'nto our faith as the force which moves us to justice. The religious reality described there can be summarized as the community of the human race--the community in which and through which God creates each of us as individiaals-- building community. This community is given all of creation to enjoy, and God's love be-sides. In response, God asks in covenant that the community be com-mitted to care for one another, that they show the same resilient love (he-sed) and solidarity toward each other that God has Shown them, The touchstone of this solidarity, from the time of the prophets, has been whether the community cares for those at the margins of society, those without power to demand a share of what the community has been given by God. This preferential option for the poor is as ancient and as crucial to the covenant as Yahweh's earliest commands to Israel concern-ing the widow, the orphan, the stranger in the land (Ex 22:20; Dt 10:.18). In fulfillment of the covenant, the community needs to do more than distribute food and clothing to the poor~ It has to bring ,them in from the margins, allowing them to participate in the creative life of the commu- Social Dimensions of Ministry nity. Then they can provide for themselves in dignity and will no longer be marginalized. In this, the pastoral letter goes beyond the usual em-phasis, in Catholic practice, on works of charity. These are seen to be insufficient since the poor have a right to a creative place in society, not just to be passive recipients of our largess. Bringing the marginalized into full participation in community life will, of course, build up the community itself. It will then be more able to show solidarity to those still at the margin, bringing them into fuller participation, and so forth. The cycle of response to the covenant is also the cycle of the community regenerating and building itself up as a soci-ety of justice. The ~uli religious insight is that, in this dbing of justice to one another, God is made present, is found, is worshiped at the cen-ter of this communal re-creation. Faith and justice reinforce each other, even merge, as God moves us to transform our society. This cycle de-scribes positively how God cails us through justice to renew the face of the earth. But there is also resistance to the Spirit of God; it creates injustice in the structures of society and reverses the cycle of creating a commu-nity of justice. A community can tear itself apart by denying meaningful participation to the poor, ignoring the increasing masses of the margi-nalized, replacing communal solidarity with relentless pursuit of self-interest. This injustice the Spirit of God calls upon us to confront, for the Spirit "convinces the world concerning sin and justice and judg-ment" (Jn 16:8).~6 A practical example may clarify how social structures can resist trans-formation. Some one hundred fifty years ago, the Jesuits in Maryland owned slaves. When Jesuit authorities in Rome remonstrated with them over this situation, the American Jesuits responded that the slaves were being very well cared for and, indeed, would likelY suffer much worse if they wei'e given their freedom and turned loose in American society. The Jesuits of Maryland missed seeing the social structure--slavery-- which needed to be transformed, and focused on the personal dimension of care the slaves received. It seems so evident now, but to those en-meshed in the toils of unjust social structures, they often seem "natu-ral," "the way things are,", unquestionable and unconfrontable. The U.S. bishops of the last century were also unable to confront slavery as an institution until the Civil War settled the question for everyone. ~7 One wonders if the terrible price of that war would have been paid had the churches and religious .people of the land not resisted, by and large, the call of the Spirit to transform the structure of slavery. 650 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 While it is clear that God can work to bring good even from wars and great social cataclysms, this is not the way in which the Spirit of God desires to achieve the transformation of the world. The model of the Suf-fering Servant of Isaiah becomes normative for us in the cross of Jesus. Justice is a constitutive element of what the reign of God is about, but "suffering with" the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized is the man-ner of achieving God's jus.tice. We are called to follow our "pain-embracing" God, and our crucified Lord, in confr6nting the evil of this world. It is a manner far different from ou~ ordinary human institutions of violence, vengeance, and material power. God's ways are not ours, and God's just,~'ce cannot be fully achieved w. ithout a~lopting God's ways. Principles of Ministry for the Reign of God If I have been at all clear, it seems to me that two principles flow from what has been developed thus far. I would like to make these two principles explicit, go on to a couple practical strategies for implement-ing them, and then conclude with three sets of questions for considera-tion. What God has done for us and what God asks of us create a first prin-ciple. An essential part of the reign of God is justice, specifically the jus-tice which flows from living out a faith in Yahweh, faith in Jesus. There-fore, followers of Christ should have a concern for justice as a central focus of all their ministries. There are not justice ministries separate from other ministries, any more than there can be ministries separated from faith. Faith and justice are the complementary core of all Christian min-istry. Secondly, the "pain-embracing" love of God, especially inclusive of the marginalized in soc.iety, characterizes the ministry of Jesus "even unto death, death on a cross." The followers of Jesus are missioned to work for the reign of God in like fashion: through experiencing the strug-gle for justice "from below," at the sidle of the downtrodden, accept-ing the conflict or defeat which that entails, believing in the way of the Suffering Servant who is the Lord. Practical, Strategies The following suggestions are practical strategies for implementing these two principles. They are not new, but they might be helpful~ 1. Reflection on mihistry, and particularly on the justice dimension of ministry, should be based on experience. We experience the living God in ~'the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men [and women] of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way Social Dimensions of Ministry / 651 afflicted.'? ~8 Christ dies and rises again for us in sharing the struggles and visions of real people. Experience draws us beyond ideologies and preconceptions; it energizes us for our quest for the reign of God. But the experience must be reflected upon. Stream-of-consciousness ministry may be personally vivifying, but it does not help us understand the social forces that create what we experience, or how we habitually respond. Social analysis can gradually remove the limitations of our cul-tural blinders and make us more critically aware of the social structures which must be transformed to "make clear the way of the Lord" (Mr 3:3). But so~zial analysis is often sterile, immobilizing, unless it is joined with faith and reflection on what God is saying to us. Relating both our experience and our analysis to the wellsprings of our own faith life en-ergizes us to act, and inspires us to discern how to act, for the reign of God. Our ministry is, then, m~ade reflective and revivifieO. And it gives us. further experience, which can be further reflected upon, leading to fur-ther inspiration and discernment. And so on. Many of you will recognize this process for reflection on ministry. It has been variously called the hermeneutic circle, the circle of praxis, or the pastoral cycle. 19 It is a methodology for moving steadily and re-flectively toward more authentic ministry. It may sound a little ominous at first, with terms like "social analysis" and '.'theological reflection." But it can be done very simply. It has been effective among illiterate peas-ants. 2° All of us ought to be able to do it. As a strategy for ongoing re-flection on ministry, it is.best when done communally, as a form of com-munal discernment. 2. In all ministries, there is the opportunity to experience the joys, hopes, griefs, and anxieties of ordinary people. But at least in orders like the Jesuits, most ministerial settings provide scant opportunity to come into contact with the poor and the marginalized. This should not mean that these ministries are exempt 'from the imperatives of justice-seeking or that they are unable to carry out ministry for the reign of God authen-tically. Ministries such as education or pastoral work with middle- and upper-class publics can seriously commit themselves to the work of con-scientization for the reign of God. These ministries deal with those who exercise power and influence over "the way things are"; their publics can bring about or at least come to tolerate changes in the social order which lead toward justice for the marginalized. It is a crucial element of the mission of all these ministries to communicate the call of the liv-ing God for solidarity, especially with the marginalized, and to urge con- 659 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 sistently that social injustices be transformed to bring about the reign of God. But particularly in these ministries, the lack of any lived experience of the poor or oppressed strengthens ct]ltural-religious tendencies toward therapeutic blandness or conformist externalism. We should attempt to build into these ministries, and into the lives of their publics, some ex-perience of real people living at the margins, victims of unjust social con-ditions. There are immersion programs, social-service projects, inte-grated discussion groups, and other forms of contact between people whom our social structures tend to isolate from each other. Such ex-periences will often be episodic, ephemeral, perhaps even seem voyeur-istic. But they can be honed to a finer edge of reality if they are carried out in cooperation with people who are in consistent, full-time ministry or presence among the poor. Within religious congregations we can leaven all our ministries by missioning some of our best people to ministry among the poor, asking them to share with all of us the insights and challenges of their lived ex-perience. The enlivening experience of God present at the margins can be corporate, shared by brothers or sisters in widely divergent ministries, if conscious efforts are made to foster such sharing. For this leavening to occur, it is important that the religious we mission to ministry among the poor be among our best, mainstream people willing and able to in-teract with a wide range of our corporate membership. My experience has been that we too often allow the lone rangers, the disaffected, the angry, or the difficult to wander off in ministry to the poor. Or we so isolate good folks sent into difficult ministries of social justice that they burn out quickly. As religious communities we can become more effec-tively present with the poor, with consequent enriching of all our apos-tolates, if we will take care to engage in such ministry corporately and reflectively. Mere presence among the marginalized does not guarantee any re-flective stance, in terms of either social analysis or theological reflec-tion. There is ample evidence of religious, ministering regularly among the poor, who never question the social structures which afflict their peo-ple. Or worse, they adopt a benevolent one-way relationship of "giv-ing" to the poor, rather than living with and learning from them about the reality of God. To counter these tendencies, itis helpful to be in con-tact with those engaged in the direct ministry of social change, challeng-ing some aspect of social injustice from an integrated faith perspective. As a full-time occupation, religious ministry for social change is rare Social Dimensions of Ministry / 653 this country. There is every indication that God's spirit is calling us, through the Church, to make it more prevalent. But it is unlikely to be-come a dominant mode of ministry in any religious congregation. That does not mean that a few good men or women could not be missioned, in each of the larger ~ongregations, to engage in this newly urgent min-istry. Not only will this serve social transformation for the reign of God; it can helpail our ministries become more competent to deal with the so-cial and theological questions most pressing in our society. Small or large religious congregations can relate to interreligious social-justice centers in most major cities of the United States. And individuals in any minis-try can become advocates of social change in one area or another, as par-ticipants in coalitions of concerned people devoting time and energy out-side their ordinary works to transforming society.2~ There should be no religious congregation so burdened with maintaining historical com-mitments that it cannot find ways to mission at least some key members to collaborative or part-time work for social justice, so as to leaven the entire ministry of the group. In this strategy, then, every ministry can participate in some level of social action for the reign of God: conscientization of the more afflu-ent and powerful, ministry of presence and social service among the marginalized, direct ministry for social change of unjust social structures. Having all three levels of social ministry within a congregation, if there is communication and cross-fertilization among them, can enrich the mis-sion of all for the reign of God. Even where all three levels are not pos-sible, much the same effect can be achieved by collaboration with other religious and lay people committed to working for the transformation of society. No matter which ministries are present within a congregation, all must become imbued with a central concern for social justice. The reign of God and the love of Christ draw us all to this. Some Questions for Consideration Let me turn now to three sets of questions, for which, I assure you, I have no answers. But they may be worth wrestling with in thinking about the future of religious life. I. Most religious congregations had as part of their founding charism a special concern for ministry among the poor.22 Most of our congrega-tions several generations ago ministered mainly among the poor in Amer-ica: immigrant Slavs and Germans, Italians and Irish, still on the mar-gins of American society. Why now are the vast majority of American male religious working in ministries for the more affluent? Was it a form 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 of ministerial "bracket creep," where we drifted up the income ladder along with the traditional publics we served, moving with them in from the margins of American society? If we were to decide anew about where to focus our ministries, what might the Spirit call us to do for the reign of God? 2. Most young men and women coming into reiigious life have been formed by American sociocultural conditioning. They look to religion to foster their own self-realization or to shelter them from the world's turmoil through external authority. Our older veterans of religious life are subject to these same alluring siren songs of American cultural relig-ion. Doour models of early and continuing formation, with their empha-sis on psychosocial development or on external structures of religious life, challenge cultural limitations of religious belief and practice? How much therapeutic self-nurturing or sheltering in external authority do we allow? How can we transcend these tendencies in order to instill full bib-lical faith, which integrates God, society, and self? How form religious for mission, to join our suffering, pain-embracing God in transforming the world? 3. The last set of questions is not mine. They come from Archbishop Weakland when he was asked how Jesuits could help implement the so-cial vision of the Economic Pastoral. :His response went something like this: (a) You Jesuits have a lot of access to the powerful in society. They are your alumni, counselees, fellow board members. You turn to them to support~your own works. Will you use that access to power on behalf of the marginalized and their agenda of justice? (b)You Jesuits have ex-perience of the third world, knowledge of the marginalized. Will you bring that forcefully into the consciousness of the American people, who are so woefully ill-informed about the struggles and attitudes of the poor? (c) There are many good young people, in business, the professions, or factories, who are dissatisfied with what our society offers. They want to remain lay men and women, but long for a way of life, a vision, more consonant with the Gospel. Can you imagine, and then image credible lifestyles and life goals for these lay Christians? Archbishop Weakland's q'uestions are generalizable, I would think, for almost any religious con-gregation. Conclusion ¯ I would like to observe, in conclusion, that fait.h does not seem to be a question at the margins of society. Faith in God is very much alive in the third world and in the inner city. There the overwhelming ques-tions are those of justice. Faith seems most fragile and in doubt in the Social Dimensions of Ministry / 655 sterile, cluttered tunnels of our earthworm society of affluence. Faith with-ers here, though we overnurture it with self-concern, though we fence it in with our fears. But faith in the living God is a wild thing. It thrives at the margins, where struggle and hope for God's justice blaze brightest. If we go there, our own religious life may be rekindled, as we join our God in renewing the face of the earth. Let us go, then, without guilt or rage. Let us go in joy because our God draws us, calls us to join the struggle there for the transformation of the world. There, too, we shall meet the love of our lives, Jesus the Lord. NOTES ~ Alberto Moravia, The Red Book and the Great Wall (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1968);' pp. 12-21. -~ Mi 4:2. See Walter Brueggemann, "Vine and Fig Tree: A Case Study in Imagina-tion and Criticism," The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43 (1981): 188-204. 3 See W. Brueggemann, '~OId Testament Theology as a Particular Conversation: Ad-judication of Israel's Socio-Theological Alternatives," Theology Digest 32:4 (1985): 302-325. This excellent study of the conne~ztion between Old Testament theophany and justice in the social order was the Bellarmine Lecture at St. Louis University in 1985. I am indebted to it for many of the insights in this scriptural section. 4 See Norman Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh (Orbis, 1979), chapter 49: "Mutual Reinforcement of Yahwism and Social Egalitarianism." 5 Jn 11:48-51. See Jon Sobrino, Christology at the Crossroads (Orbis, 1978), pp. 201 ff. 6 The term is Brueggemann's. See his "A Shape for Old Testament Theology: Em-brace of Pain," The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 47:3 (I 985): 395-415. 7 Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, first published 1835-1840. Quota-tion is from Anchor Books edition (1969), pp. 506-510. 8 See J. F. Kavanaugh, Following Christ in a Consumer Society (Orbis, 1981), or his address to this Assembly in 1985: "Religious Life and Leadership in the Con-text of American Culture." From a different perspective, see Daniel Bell, The Cul-tural Contradictions of Capitalism (Basic Books, 1976). 9 An outstanding example of such studies is Robert Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart (Univ. of California Press, 1985). I have relied upon it heavily for this section: ! cannot recommend it highly enough. Another recent study of religious and social trends concurs with much of Bellah's findings: see J. Chittister and M. Marty, eds., Faith and Ferment (Augsburg/Liturgical Press, 1983). ~0 See Bellah, op. cir., pp. 235ff. ~ The phrase is from G. M. Hopkins's poem, "'God's Grandeur" (1877). ~2 See especially Gaudium et Spes, nn. I-3 and passim. ~3 Gaudium et Spes, n. 39. See C. Curran, "Catholic Social Ethics: A New Ap-proach'?" Clergy Review (Feb.-Mar. 1985). 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ~'~ On the history of the preferential option for the poor, see D. Dorr, Option for the Poor: A Hundred Years of Vatican Social Teachings (Orbis, 1983). ~5 See Brueggemann, Parks, and Groome, To Act Justly, Love Tenderly, Walk Hum-bly: An Agenda for Ministers (Paulist Press, 1986), a fine series of reflections on the Micah text and on justice. m6 See Pope John Paul ll's two recent encyclicals on sinful social structures, Domi-hum et Vivificantem (1986), no. 56; and Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (1988), passim. ~7 See Doris Gottemoeller's talk to this Assembly in 1985: "Challenges to Relig-ious Leadership from a Changing U.S. Church," p. 7. ~8 Gaudium et Spes, no. 1. 19 As developed, respectively, by Juan Segundo, The Theology of Liberation (Or-bis, 1976); by Paolo Freire, The Pedagogy of the Oppzessed (Herder & Herder, 1970); and by Holland & Henriot, Social Analysis (Center of Concern, 1984). The last has a simple, practical treatment in chapter I. 20 See Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname (Orbis, 1979). 2~ Examples nationally include: Amnesty International, Bread for the World, Catho-lic Worker, Fellowship of Reconciliation, Interfaith Action for Economic Justice, Just Life, Network, Pax Christi, to name only a few. There are countless local and regional grouPs as well. 22 From a brief survey of the self-descriptions of U.S. male religious groups listed in the latest vocation guide, Ministries for the~ Lord: A Resource Guide and Direc-tory of Catholic Church Vocations for Men (Paulist Press, 1985), this seems to be true for the great majority of nonmonastic religious congregations of men. I'd Love to, Lord, But. Paul Wachdorf Father Wachdorf's "Leading People into Prayer" appeared in our May/June 1988 issue. His address remains the same: University of Saint Mary of the Lake; Munde-lein, Illinois 60060. In the Gospel of Luke, chapter 4, Jesus returns to his home town of Naza-reth, goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath, and reads from the prophet Isaiah: The spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore, he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners, to announce a year of favor from the Lord (Lk 4:18-19). These words give a tone and a direction to the public ministry Jesus was about to begin. In 1971, the Synod of Bishops meeting in Rome produced a docu-ment entitled Justice in the World in which they state: 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 redemp-tion of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation (Justice in the World, Synod of Bishops, Second General Assembly, Nov. 30, 197 I). The teachings and the ministry of Jesus and the teachings of the Church have consistently proclaimed that action on behalf of justice is not simply an option, not just a matter of personal preference or inter-est, but is an integral part of the gospel message and the Christian life-style as we are called upon to live it. 657 Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Given the crucial importance of this ministry in the Church and in the world today, I would like to reflect on my own journey into and ex-perience of the ministry of social justice from two viewpoints. First, I will look at some of the common resistances people encounter in them-selves as they hear the gospel challenge of social justice. Then, I want to examine some possible steps which people might profitably pursue to help them break through their resistances and respond more fully to the challenge of social justice. Intellectual Assent vs. Active Participation For the past seven years I have worked with the social justice pro-gram at Mundelein Seminary. Prior to that, I served in a parish for six years. During my years in a parish, I always gave intellectual and verbal assent to the principles of social justice. After all, how could I as a priest do otherwise? But as I look back on those years, I realize that my no-tional assent was not often translated into real and different patterns of behavior. Practicing what I preached about social justice was no simple task, although I did not realize that at the time. Resistances, Excuses, Rationalization~ After my appointment to the seminary, I was elected as the faculty representative for our Peace and Justice Committee. Frankly, I was not enthused about this appointment. But since ! felt somewhat insecure in my new environment and in my new work, it seemed to be an offer I could not refuse. I began to think about my commitment and involvement, l won-dered, "What am I supposed to do?" Soon I recognized within me sev-eral resistances, excuses, and rationalizations. In the past, they had kept me from becoming involved in the ministry of social justice in any sig-nificant way. I wanted to say yes to the Lord and to respond to the call of social justice. But my excuses kept getting in the way. At that point, I realized that 1 would have to critique my resistances with honesty through dialogue and prayer. Otherwise, my resistances would effec-tively block me from ever becoming involved in any way at all. Prophets Are Not Popular Quickly, I recognized the first resistance. Prophets are not popular. From Old Testament times to the present day, men and women who sting the conscience of a nation, a people, or a Church become unpopular. They are often criticized; they have their motives questioned; and they are pushed to the fringes of society. I'd Love to, Lord, But. / 659 ! remember very clearly an incident that happened as I was growing up. In the early 1960s, Dr. Martin Luther King led a march through my neighborhood, a white Catholic stronghold, to Marquette Park. I remem-ber standing on the corner on which my parish church and rectory were located watching the march. There were hundreds of white people lin-ing both sides of the street. Many of them were shouting, cursing, or throwing things at the marchers. Two of the priests came out of the rec-tory and began telling the people to go home and leave the marchers alone. Some of the people responded by cursing at the priests and tell-ing them to mind their own business. I saw a man spit on one of the priests. The following Sunday at Mass, the priests spoke out in favor of the marchers and their cause and spoke against the behavior of the bystand-ers, many of whom were good parishioners, pillars of the church. A few people at the Mass got up and walked out. Those days, I helped count the Sunday collection. That week and for a few weeks afterward, the col-lection went down significantly. I have never forgotten that incident. I still admire the courage of my parish priests. At the same time, I am aware that my later reluctance in seminary and in my initial years of priesthood to become involved in the ministry of social justice or to preach about justice issues was strongly influenced by that experience. In my initial involvement with the Seminary Peace and Justice Com-mittee, I soon came to a basic understanding. ! must be willing with com-plete honesty to critique that part of myself that desires to be popular and to be liked by others. Otherwise, I would never say anything controver-sial or would never speak out or would rarely take action on behalf of issues of social justice. Poverty is Messy and Unglamorous A second resistance for me rests in a simple fact. Poverty is messy and unglamorous. For the past seven years I have volunteered on a part time basis at an overnight shelter for the homeless. Many of the people who come to spend the night there are not "pretty." They are dirty; they smell; they are often sick; some have head lice; some are alcoholics; some belong in a halfway house or mental institution. I have always been fortunate enough to grow up and live in a clean, healthy, and comfortable environment. Throughout much of my life I have been isolated and insulated from the poor and the homeless. I rec-ognized another need for honest critique. I needed to confront that part of myself that wants life always to be nice, comfortable, and pretty. Oth-erwise, I would never become involved. 660 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Myths, Stereotypes, and Prejudices A third resistance for me consists in myths, stereotypes, and preju-dices. Our culture is filled with them--about racial, ethnic, and relig-ious groups and about the poor and those who work for and with them. "The poor are lazy and would rather be on welfare . If they really wanted to, they could better themselves . They like being poor. See how happy they are . People involved in social justice causes are un-patriotic . All social justice organizations are communist inspired." The list goes on and on. I cannot go to a social gathering without hearing at least one joke that plays upon racial, ethnic, and cultural stereotypes. At times, I have told and laughed at those same jokes. I needed to confront and honestly critique my own myths, stereotypes, and prejudices. Otherwise, I would never become involved. Social-Justice Ministry is Disturbing There is a fourth resistance. I find this ministry disturbing. Working in the area of social justice has forced me to critique my own lifestyle, my attitudes about material possessions and wealth, and my use of the world's resources. I must admit that I like the good life. Conspicuous consumption is the name of the game in American society. In my early years of priest-hood when I was no longer a poor student but had a regular salary, I re-ally enjoyed having nice things. They compensated for my "great sac-rifice" of celibacy. I needed to honestly critique my own desire to live the good life and my tendencies toward materialism. Otherwise, I would never become involved. Fear A fifth resistance for me is fear. I found within myself a whole clus-ter of fears. I believed that if I worked with the poor and on behalf of social justice, I would be injured, harmed, or abused in some way. When I spent my first night at a shelter for the homeless, I was thor-oughly convinced that I was going to get head lice. TV news broadcasts and newspaper articles have always been filled with stories of crime and violence among the poor and in the inner city. When I was in college, I was robbed at gunpoint by two young black men. That experience re-inforced an attitude that had been drilled into me in all kinds of ways in my neighborhood: all black people are dangerous and to be feared. I needed to critique with honesty and courage that part of myself that de-sires security and safety at all costs. Otherwise, I would never take the I'd Love to, Lord, But. / 661 risk of becoming involved. An Overwhelming Sense of Poverty and Injustice in the World There is a final resistance. When I consider the extent of poverty and injustice in the world, I feel overwhelmed. I say to myself: What can one person possibly do to make a difference? My efforts will be futile and a waste of time. The work is innately frustrating. I will continually run into brick walls and have to deal with bureaucratic red tape and unsym-pathetic people and institutions. Progress is often measured in inches. You live with little or no sense of accomplishment. I realized that if I was not willing to honestly critique my own feelings of being over-whelmed and my own desire for instant results, then I would never be-come involved. Overcoming Resistances ~ It was not easy for me to look at my resistances. It is no easier to-day. Life seemed to be more pleasant when I closed my eyes to the re-alities of poverty and injustice as they existed all around me. Even after seven years of working with our Peace and Justice Committee, I find that I can still bring out of my storehouse old and new excuses which warn me to "back off," to rest because "I have done enough." As I con-tinue to come in touch with each of my resistances, I am aware that there are various steps that I have to enter into in order to overcome them. MyNeed for Challenge A first step is to allow myself to be challenged by others. I found myself challenged recently in a way I least expected. My sister who is a registered nurse and a certified nurse midwife recently volunteered to work for two years in Papua New Guinea as a lay missionary. I asked her why she wanted to do this. She told me that she was aware of the many talents, gifts, and blessings God had given her throughout her life. She felt that serving as a lay missionary was one way in which she could best express her gratitude to God. As I listened to what she had to say, I felt a lot of pride and admira-tion for my sister. At the same time, I felt a bit embarrassed as I realized that my own commitment to serving the poor at times looked pale in com-parison. I need people like my sister to challenge me and to keep me look-ing at my resistances. I need people like my sister to inspire me and to keep me in touch with my desire to bring to others the Good News that Jesus proclaimed in the Gospel of Luke as he began his public ministry. They need to say little. Their lives are bold proclamation. 669 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 As important as they are, such challenges are ~not enough for me. I have an amazing capacity to ignore or rationalize away the challenges that come from outside of me. To break through my resistances, I need to pray, to dialogue With others, and to simply begin. MyNeed for Prayer A second step for me is to bring my .resistances before the Lord in prayer. I begin by naming as honestly as I can my fears, my doubts, and my inner resistances. I express to God in my prayer what I am feeling and why I am feeling it. I ask God to break through my denial, to re-move from my eyes the scales that blind me to the,breadth and depth of my resistances so that I can see them for what they are. I place my resis-tances in the hands of God and invite God to respond. Here begins what I call the zone of discomfort in my prayer. To say to God "thy will be done" rather than "my will be thine" is~very fright-ening. What if God reveals to me something 1 do not want to see? What if God asks me to do what I do not want to do? At this point, I must qui-etly and patiently wait for God to respond, trusting that the God who loved me into existence will not abandon me or ask me to do anything that I am not capable of doing. MyNeed for Dialogue Prayer leads me to a third step. I need to talk to another person about my resistances. St. Ignatius in his Rules for the Discernment of Spirits, Week I [326] talks about the evil spirit as a false lover who "acts in or-der to keep his own suggestions and temptations secret, and our tactics must be to bring out into the light of day such suggestions and tempta-tions to our confessor or director or superior" (David Fleming, S.J., The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and A Contem-porary Reading [St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978], p. 213). Resistances need to be brought into the light of day so that they can be seen for what they are. When I do not talk to another person about my resistances, I find that they can gain power to control me, even after I have brought them to prayer. I can easily deny them or sweep them un-der the carpet. In hones( dialogue with another, I am given the gift of freedom of choice. In honest dialogue with another, I find challenge, new perspective, affirmation, support, and the courage to begin. My Need to Begin A fourth step is to begin. At Mundelein Seminary, there is a Spiri- l"d Love to, Lord, But. / 663 tuality and Justice group composed of faculty and students. Each mem-ber of this group has chosen a concrete action to pursue during the school year in some area of social justice. People have chosen to fast, to work at a soup kitchen or a shelter for the homeless, to deaccumulate their pos-sessions and to live more simply, or to pursue the Pax Christi vow of nonviolence. The premise behind this group is that we live ourselves into new ways of thinking, valuing, and behaving. The way to begin is robe-gin. The way to break through and break down our resistances is to be-gin doing something, no matter how small or insignificant. I have chosen the Pax Christi vow of nonviolence as my action for this year. In the sh"ort time that I haqe pursued this, I have already be-gun to experience ways in which my thinking, my attitudes, my values, and my behaviors are changing. I can feel my resistances to living out this vow b(eaking down in the very act of acting. The words of Mother Teresa are most applicable here: I never look at the masses as my responsibility. I look at the individual. I can love only one person at a time. I can feed only one person at a time. Just one, one, one. You get closer to Christ by coming closer to each other. As Jesus said: "Whatever you do to the least of my breth-ren, you do to me." So you begin . ! begin. I picked up one per-son. Maybe if 1 didn't pick up that one person, 1 wouldn't have picked up 42,000. The whole work is only a drop in the ocean. But if I didn't put the drop in, the ocean would be one drop less. Same thing for you, same thing in your family, same thing in the church where you go. Just begin . . . one, one, one. (Source unknown) MyNeed for Support A final step for me is my need for ongoing support. My commitment to working for justice in the world is fragile and tenuous. I find that I need ongoing challenge to help me keep looking at and dealing with my resistances. I also need the support and affirmation of others to keep me going when I experience moments of discouragement and frustration. The Spirituality and Justice group of which I am a part provides me with opportunities for ongoing challenge, prayer, dialogue, and action. At our initial meetings, we spent time praying about the commitment we hoped to make. We broke into dyads to talk to another about why we chose to be a part of this group, about the action we were planning to pursue, and about the fears and resistances we were experiencing inside of us as we prepared to begin. We came back into the larger group to share the fruits of our dialogue. We concluded with shared prayer. At this point, most of us in the group have chosen and have begun 664 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 to pursue an action. We see future meetings as an opportunity for us to take time for solitary prayer as we continue to bring our actions before God. The meetings help us to share in aone to one way and in the larger group the impact that our action is making on our thinking, valuing, and behaving. The meetings offer support and prayer for and with one an-other in our actions. Here we give witness and challenge to one another as we keep looking at and confronting our resistances. Conclusion The journey into the ministry of social justice is challenging, diffi-cult, and painful. There are many ~tesistances that cooe from within and without. There are many starts and stops. It is a journey that cannot be successfully negotiated alone. There can be no authentic journey with-out God and fellow travelers. My experience is that the journey is well worth the effort for my good and the good of others. May the Spirit of the Lord be upon us in our quest to "bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and release to prisoners." Understanding Novitiate Formation Wilkie Au, 'S.J. Father Au has just completed six and a half years as novice director. He is writing a book tentatively titled Acquiring Habits of the Heart: Holistic Religious Forma-tion. He may be addressed at Loyola Marymount University; P.O. Box 45041; Los Angeles, California 90045. Vatican II,s call for the renewal of religious life set into motion a radical reexaminatio.n of the purposes, processes, and structures involved in the formation of candidates for religious life. The aggiornamento of John XXIII required that those responsible for religious formation make the adaptations needed to prepare religious candidates fora lifetime of dedi-cation and service in a rapidly changing world and Church. Because sen-sible adaptation depended on having a clear sense of what objectives were sought, much of the discussion among formation personnel (forma-tores) in the postconciliar years centered on the purposes and goals of the different phases of the formation process. Consequently, the noviti-ate or initial formation in many orders was thoroughly evaluated in light of the renewed understanding of religious life in the modern world, and many dramatic changes followed. Nevertheless, more than twenty years later the question is still being asked today: "What should be the overriding aims and objectives of the novitiate?"~ According to Father Gerald Arbuckle, S.M., a former as-sistant general of his community, many formation personnel today agree that the experience and the efforts to adapt the novitiate program accord-ing to the requirements of Renovationis Causam have not always been as successful as they would have wished. Many are still uncertain about what to do in the novitiate. Many questions remain: "Should there be a one,to-two-year novitiate? . When should the formative apostolic ex-periences take place and what should they accomplish? . How much 665 666 / Review for Religio. us, September~October 1988 separation, if any, from the world around them should novices experi-ence?" In brief, many questions about the aims and objectives of novi-tiate formation persist.2 Today the drastic drop in the number of those entering the novitiate adds further reason for adaptations in novitiate formation. To be accept-able, these adaptations must, however, retain the essential goals of the novitiate. Precisely what these needed changes are and how they are to be implemented will depend on concrete circumstances of place and per-sonnel. But, more importantly, before any sensible adaptation can be made, it is imperative that there be a clear rearticulation of the basic goals of novitiate formation. Otherwise,. there is the danger that our ad-aptations will be misguided and essential aspects of novitiate training be inadvertently°lost. The purpose of this article is to articulate an under-standing of novitiate formation, based on my si'x years of experience as director of novices of the Jesuits of the California Province. It is my hope that this article will stimulate and contribute to a discussion of novitiate formation at a time when formatores throughout the world are attempt-ing to deal with the adjustments made necessary by, among other things, declining numbers. While this article will. reflect Jesuit documents and my ,own experi-ence working within a Jesuit novitiate (with a group averaging between twelve to fifteen,new candidates every year), I am hopeful that other re-ligious groups of men and 'women working with smaller numbers can dis-cover in my comments what is universally true of the novitiate process in general. In a word, I believe that any novitiate program that purports to embody the spirit of Vatican I1 must include three essential aspects: (1) vocation discernment; (2) religious, socialization; and (3) Qngoing in-dividuation. These three overlapping purposes of the novitiate must, in my opinion, be retained no matter what adapta!ions, are made to accom-modate changing circumstances. What follows is a discussion of these three major goals of the novitiate. Vocation Discernment The objective bf vocation discernment in the novitiate is to help nov-ices come to a peaceful awareness and a free acceptance' of God"s will for them in regard to their state of life. Candidates come seeking help in discerning wh(ther God is indeed calling them to a lifelong commit-ment to tile service of Christ with this particular religious group. Sev-eral considerations are helpi~ul in providing this assistance to them: Confirmation of a Call versus "Weeding Out" The nOvmate must be Viewed as a positive process, as a concrete aid Novitiate Formation / 66"/ to those trying to test out their call to religious lif~. The novitiate should not be designed or perceived as a "weeding out" system, something ,like the basic training of an elitist military unit or the strenuous audition for a coveted part in a chorus line. The novitiate process would be vitiated at its core if it were to be seen as a systematic attempt to test candidates by deliberately placing artificial obstacles before them and screening them on the basis of their ability to overcome these obstacles. The de-structive and dysfunctional consequences of this negative view of novi-tiate formation can be documented in the "horror stories" of many older religious. In addition to the regrettable pain and htirt inflicted on peo-ple, a negative approach ~to the novitiate is fundamentally flawed because it encourages fearful and anxious novices to circumvent, rather than in-vest in, the complex process of discernment. Vocation discdrnment requires an openness and attention to one's in-terior movements, especially in prayer, and an honest disclosure and dis-cussion of these movements in spiritual direction. These attitudes of open-ness and honesty cannot exist in the kind of atmosphere of fear and threat which a "weeding out" approach inevitably produces. Furthermore, such an approach focuses too much attention on external requirements that need to be met in order to survive, like ~'hoops one has to jump through" to make the grade. Dangerously distracting, such a pre-occupation with "making it" can seriously jeopardize the integrity of one's discernment process. Good discernment relies heavily on a per-son's ability to hear the voice of the Lord speaking deeply in the soli-tude of one's heart and in the concrete circumstances of one's life. In light of this, the novice director can be most helpful by imitating the posi-tive role of Eli, the priest, who directs the young Samuel to the place where he is instructed to respond to the Lord's summons by saying, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening" (1 S 3:1-9). The Dynamic of Election and Confirmation The term "election"' was used by lgna~tius of Loyola to designate the choice made by a person seeking the will of God regarding some con-crete matter in his or her life. For the last four centuries, Christians have found the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius helpful in making an elec-tion, especially when trying to determine how they should serve Christ. For Ignatius, such a determination was best done in the context of prayer, for "prayer is the place where we sort out our desires and where we are ourselves sorted out by the desires we choose to follow. ,,3 The spiritual discernment that takes place in the novitiate results in an election regard-ing the direction one's vocation should take. Besides providing direction, Review for Religious, September-October 1988 however, the election process in the novitiate also seeks to test out the depth and freedom of a person's desire to serve Christ through the life of the vows. The Exercises were designed by Ignatius to help in "preparing and disposing the soul to rid itself of all inordinate attachments, and, after their removal, [in] seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul."4 In a Jesuit novitiate the Exer-cises are usually made in the course of a thirty-day retreat soon after en-trance. This experience provides the context in which the Jesuit novice director helps the individual novice either to make an election regarding his vocation or to reaffirm his previously~ made decision to be a Jesuit. Those who make an election to pursue the Jesuit way of life must then generously engage in the novitiate process with the hope that the Lord will clarify and confirm their desire. Thus, vocation discernment in the novitiate involves a two-year period of' monitoring one's deepest desires and ascertaining whether the desire to serve the Lord as a Jesuit perdures and deepens throughout the course of the novitiate. If this desire per-dures, the novice can then express this desire through the first vows of a Jesuit. Michael J. Buckley, S.J., describes these first vows as an offering, following upon an election, made in perpetuity, very much like the initial election of the Exercises. Like this offering, they are con-tingent upon the subsequent confirmation by the Lord, worked through a human being's personal religious history over the next ten or fifteen years.5 Until he takes his final vows many years after the novitiate, "the Jesuit lives in a period of probation, testing whether the first offering of his life to God [through first vows] is accepted and confirmed by divine providence."6 Buckley summarizes this Ignatian dynamic well by explain-ing "the way in which one moves toward finding and giving his life over to the will of God" within the framework of the Spiritual Exercises. There isthe initial offer of a choice to God our Lord, an offering which is made according to a time for making an election and which is then presented before the Lord . What the dynamic of the election looks for after the moment of offering is the subsequent confirmation'by God. Election as a religious history, as an experience of Providence, devel-ops over time between these two major events: the time of human offer-ing and the period of confirmation by God.7 Clearly, then, the objective of vocation discernment in the novitiate is to help novices determine whether the depth and direction of their Novitiate Formation / 669 heart's deepest desires move them to make a self-offering of themselves through vows. Absolute clarity and certainty regarding the future can-not be expected at the end of the novitiate period, since the person's self-offering must await "the subsequent confirmation by God." As Buck-ley eloquently states, For a man who follows God, who listens to God throughout his serious experience, the future is unknown and mysterious--not unlike God him-self. And he moves into this mystery without prematurely forcing clar-ity because his experience of God directs this movement.8 The Test of Existential Validation Colloquially stated, the test of existential validation asks novices this question: "Does the shoe fit?" This is an important question for voca-tion discernment, and it must be asked on a regular basis. While the Ig-natian election helps novices find God's will for them in the deep de-sires of their hearts, the test of existential validation enables them to dis-cover God"s will in the concrete details of their lives. The method of existential validation is basically very simple. When they first enter, the novices are asked to live the life of a Jesuit as if they have already taken the three vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Then they are asked to pay attention to the "fit" throughout the course of their novitiate. In other words, they are asked to "try on the shoes of being a Jesuit" and check for the fit as they actually walk in those shoes. In their concrete experience, do they find that living the vows in an actual Jesuit community is life-giving and productive? Do they dis-cover that, with the passage of time, there is an increasing congruence between what they want for their lives and Jesuit ideals? As they grow in knowledge of what being a Jesuit involves concretely in this histori-cal time and place, do they find a match between what they desire and what life in the Society of Jesus offers and requires today? Another aspect of existential validation involves testing the authen-ticity of one's desire. This is done mainly by checking for the congru-ence between what one professes to value and desire and how one actu-ally chooses, decides, and behaves. Although all human beings live with a discrepancy between the ideal and the real, drastic and consistent de-viations from the norms and aspirations of religious life should make one question the genuineness and depth of one's desire to be a religious. Though painful and disruptive, getting in touch with authentic desires can be a liberating experience. Furthermore, while self-reporting is an important means for gather- 670 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ing data in the process of existential validation, the feedback of the re-ceiving community is also very important in testing out the existential fit between the individual novice and the peculiar charism of a particu-lar religious institute. Vocation discernment in the novitiate must ascer-tain not only if a person desires to take on religious life, but whether he or she has been given the gift and charism to live that life. A realistic assessment of this capability is a crucial aspect of vocation discernment. For example, from the concrete evidence of a person's life, can it be judged that the Lord has given the aspirant to an apostolic religious com-munity the following prerequisites: -- the ability to live in community with relative peace and joy? -- the capacity to love with celibate chastity in a non-exclusive man-ner? -- the.freedom to live with simplicity and detachment? -- the ability to be mobile and available to be sent anywhere on mis-sion? The underlying presupposition of this line of inquiry obviously is that one's God-given abilities, personality, and inclinations can indicate in helpful ways the precise form and manner in which one is being called to serve Christ. Not to pay serious attention to these concrete indicators is to disregard an important aspect of vocation discernment. Vocation Shortage and a ~,ranny of Numbers I would like to make a final comment regarding vocation discern-ment in the novitiate. It seems to me that the declining number of candi-dates c~n create a ,~ituation in which vocation discernment is not engaged in with seriousness and detachment. The disordered desire to keep the few that come can jeopardize and short-circuit the discernment process. At a time of drastic diminishment, external pressures to hang on at any cost to the few that do enter are sometimes exerted by formed members of the community. This pressure, as well as the interior unfreedom of formatores themselves, can impede a thorough discernment process.9 Fur-thermore, unconsciously treating novices with a "precious few" men-tality can lead to a form of coddling that would be unhelpful for relig-ious formation and spiritual growth. Religious communities that have had only a few candidates during the last decade and at present experience only a trickle from year to year are particularly susceptible to this dan-ger. Religious Socialization: "Habits of the Heart" The term "religious socialization" has been popularized by John Novitiate Formation / 671 Westerhoff III in discussing the question of how elements of religion and faith ,~are transmitted from one generation to another. While he does not apply the term to the formation of religious candidates, nevertheless, it seems to capture quite well one of the essential purposes of the noviti-ate, that is, the handing on of a religious tradition and lifestyle to per-sons desiring to enter the life of a religious group as fully participating members. Religious socialization, according to Westerhoff, is a process consisting of lifelong formal and informal mechanisms, through which persons stistain and transmit their faith (worldview', value ~syst~m) and lifestyle. This is accomplished through participation in the life of a tradition-bearing community with its rites, rituals, myths, sym-bols, expressions of beliefs, attitudes and values, organizational pat-terns, and activities.~° As defined by Westerhoff, religious socialization is a lifelong proc-ess and thus does not exactly describe the novitiate, which (to the relief of all involved) is limited to one or two years. Technically speaking, re-ligious socialization is equivalent to the whole process of formation, which more and more is being viewed as a lifelong affair. Because of ongoing liturgical renewal, biblical and theological reflection, and the rapidity of changing conditions of our times, religious have been urged to commit themselveS seriously to "continuing formation." ~ Neverthe-less, the ~oviiiate is the initial phase of the lifelong process involved in the assimilation of members into religious life. Viewed as such, Wester-hoff's notion of religious ~ocialization provides a useful way of under-standing an essential purpose of the novitiate. Adaptations of novitiate formation must be guided by the essential goal of religious socialization. The basic question raised by the task of handing on the tradition Of religious life to new aspirants is this: What is tO be~handed down and how? What values, beliefs, mores, and ways of proceeding has the receiving community judged to be of perennial worth, such that they should remain permanently .definitional of the group? To employ a phrase of Alexis de Tocqueville, the nineteenth-century French observer of democracy in America (a phrase recently popu-larized by a national bestseller), what are the "habits of the heart" that the receiving community deems absolutely essential for maintaining its group life with integrity and vitality'? In "habits of the heart" Tocqueville included "notions, opinions, and ideas that 'shape mental habits'; and 'the sum of moral and intellectual dispositions' " as well as habitual practices with respect to such things as religion. ~- Once the receiving community has come to a clear consensus on the 672 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 content which it wishes to transmit, then it must decide on the most ef-fective means for this transmission. The question of how to raises a num-ber of considerations which every novice director must ponder if the no-vitiate program is to have any intelligible rationale. Some of these im-portant considerations will be discussed below. The Question of Contact and Separation For the sake of effective religious socialization, there often arises the question of what contact novices should have with family, friends, those in ministry, and formed members of their own religious order. Arbuckle has provided a very useful framework to reflect on this question. ~3 Re-lying on anthropological data regarding initiation rites, he proposes three-stage process for the novitiate, which, according to him, is essen-tially an initiation rite: the stages of separation, liminoid, and the incor-poration or reaggregation. Stage I emphasizes separating the novices from the ordinary life they have left behind in order to dramatize the radicality of the transition from lay life to religious life. While this stage may be brief, the separation also symbolic. The symbolism must express to the candidate that in order to respond to the call of the Lord there must be a withdrawal from the world of "or-dinary" living with its roles and interests, its speed, and its distraction. The symbolism must convey the message that to follow the radical de-mands of the gospel message one must be prepared to "leave father, mother, brothers, sisters, and all things" for the sake of the Lord. 14 To convey this new dramatic reality, novices should, at this stage, be separated physically and geographically from other members of the group who have already gone through the passage of initiation. Not to separate them, "when the aims of the initiation process are so different from the aims of postnovitiate training, is to make the realization of the novitiate aims impossible to achieve."~5 The second stage, called liminoid (from the Latin, limen, threshold), requires the kind of seclusion that fosters strong investment in commu-nity building. It is precisely in the context of a vibrant community life that the novices are to experience the "habits of the heart" which the receiving community wish(s to transmit to its new members. This is the time for introducing the novice to the unique spirit of the institute, peculiar charism within the Church, and its characteristic way of proceed-ing. By so inculcating its spirituality, mores, history, and tradition, the receiving community aims to bond the new member to its past and thus Novitiate Formation / 673 to provide a foundation for the novice's identification with the group. According to Arbuckle, this second stage of relative seclusion should last about a year. The third stage is that of incorporation or reaggregation, a period when novices are reconnected with the religious family outside the no-vitiate. This stage should be as long as or even longer than the liminoid stage. Basically a time of "evaluated pastoral experience," this stage is to be seen as an integral part of the novitiate process. Arbuckle ex-presses the aims of the third stage by citing paragraph 25 of Renovationis Causam: Besides gradual preparation for apostolic activities, they [that is, the ex-perimental periods outside the novitiate] can also have as their purpose to bring the novice into contact with certain concrete aspects of poverty or of labor, to contribute to character formation, a better knowledge of human nature, the strengthening of the will, the development of personal responsibility and, lastly, to provide occasions for effort at union with God in the context of active life.~6 In my opinion, Arbuckle's three-stage approach provides a rich and comprehensive understanding of the novitiate process, as Well as a sound basis for determining the question of the amount of separation and con-tact that would be helpful for novices. That there be some kind of alter-nation between separation and contact has also been clearly endorsed by others. For example, the Jesuit decree on novitiate formation states: Although entrance into the novitiate should entail a real separation from the life previously led in the world, superiors should nevertheless pro-vide that the novices, while consistently maintaining a spirit of recol-lection, should have sufficient social contact with their contemporaries (both within and outside the Society). Likewise the necessary separation from parents and friends should take place in such a way that genuine progress in affective balance and supernatural love is not impeded. IV The Arbuckle model is useful because it enables the novitiate to ef-fectively bond new members to the religious group, which is the goal of religious socialization. The bonding is both with the past (the commu-nity's traditions and history) and with the present (its present members and ministries). By means of form'al and informal contact, then, the re-ceiving community links its new members to its group life. The Question of Structure and Nonstructure It is my opinion that both structure and nonstructure have important and different functions in the process of religious socialization. The no- 67'4 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 vitiate process must include times for both. Structured time is important for thi~ development of the habits and skills necessary for sustaining a lifetime of religious dedication. This time of structure is the period tra-ditionally known as "common order" during which the novices's day is regulated according to a schedule with definite periods for communal and personal prayer, for work around the house, for conferences and classes with the novice staff, for individual study, and for apostolic in-volvements. Because the development of habits such as those that con-tribute to a faithful prayer life and spiritual discernment requires regular repetition and practice, structured time for such training is important in novitiate formation. Equally important is time for more freedom and less structure in the novitiate learning process. These times of nonstructure provide an op-portunity for the novices to test out to what extent, they have internal-ized and appropriated what they have sought to learn during times of struc-tured learning. For example, has the individual novice found himself or herself able to faithfully sustain a regular prayer life when away from the structural supports of the novitiate? To foster personal responsibility among novices for their own development, the Jesuits' 3 i st General'Con-gregation stated that "a necessity is that the no~,itiat~'s way of life be not so rigidly determined that the novices, lacking in all initiative, can hardly ever practice spiritual discernment, or even obedience itself, ex-cept in the form of a passive and impersonal submission."~8 The non-structured periods of the novitiate allow the novices as aspiring religious to find out truthfully and behaviorally what changes in their lives and at-titudes have actually taken place as the result of their training in the limi-noid stage. Therefore, I believe that a rhythmic alternation between struc-tured and nonstructured time is an essential dynamic of the novitiate learn-ing process. The Question of Experience and Reflection Another important learning dynamic in the novitiate involves the com-bination of experience and reflection. This mode of learning, variously called experiential learning or praxis, calls for the novice's active engage-ment in learning experiences and a subsequent reflection upon those ex-periences, with an eye to what insights and knowledge can be.,gleaned from them. This form of experiential learning is applicable to many ar-eas in which novices are called to grow, that is prayer,t9 interpersonal relationships,2° and ministerial effectiveness. The goal sought through this mode of learning is, in the words of the Jesuits' 33rd General Con-gregation, "a transformation of our habitual patterns of thought through Novitiate Formation / 675 a constant interplay of experience, reflectipn, and action.' While experiential learning can be a powerful form of learning, there is always the danger that it can lead to anti-intellectualism, if it is not carefully applied. Experience is the indispensable raw material of expe-riential learning. But it remains unprocessed--that is, raw material-- without the equally important process of reflecting on the experience. The danger is effectively obviated when serious effort an~d sufficient time are devoted to dwelling on the experience in such a way that ideas and principles are abstracted out of it and feelings are symbolized. In addition'to serious reflection, there is a further requirement of ef-fective praxis. To be used intelligently, experiential learning must be grounded in a well-thought-out theory of experience. As John Dewey warned in 1938, "The belief that all genuine education comes about through experience does not mean that all experiences are genuinely or equally educative. Experience and education cannot be directly equated to each other."zz Mere insisten~ze on the necessity of experience, there-fore, is notenough. In Dewey's words, "Everything depends on the qual~ ity of the experience which is had."z3 Therefore, to use the experiential mode of learning in the novitiate effectively,formatores must ensure (!) that the quality of the learning experiences engaged in by novices be se-riously evaluated and (2)that the novices, with the assistance of a skilled facilitator, give sufficient time and attention to follow-up reflection on their experiences. The Ongoing Process of Individuation The third major aspect of novitiate formation calls for the ongoing fostering of the personal growth of candidates. While the agenda of the receiving community is stressed in the process of religious socialization, the individuation process respects the agenda of persons in their individ-ual growth process. Since it is the case, more and more, that candidates enter the novitiate at such diverse ages and at such different points of p.er-sonal development, novitiate formation must seriously recognize individ-ual differences and aid individuals to move ahead, not regress, in the de-velopment of their selfhood. After all, the ability to give of oneself in self-donation presupposes that one first possesses a self. According to Carl Jung, the process of individuation is a gradual growth toward whole-ness and harmony, involving the progressive differentiation and detailed development of all parts of the human personality. Since individuation is a lifelong project, entry into religious life cannot halt its progress with-out stunting the healthy maturation and development of religious as hu-man beings. 6"/6 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 Since Vatican II, religious have been strongly ehcouraged to take con-tinuhl human growth seriously and to take care that their commitment to religious life does not impede their prior responsibility as human beings to a~tualize their God-gi~,en potential. In the eyes of an increasing num-ber of c,~ontemporary theologians, the motivation for continuous human growth is clearly a religious one. Human life'is seen as a gift fr6m the Fi~ther. At the same time, God couples the gi~ft of life with a challenge to person~s to be cocreatorsof their lives, freely fashioning their lives into "something beautiful for God." In this ongoing process of human de-velopment,~ the Lord of creation and the human works Of his hand col-laborate. Therefore, for the person who seeks to respond to God's in-itiative, a commitment to continuous growth'is not only a choice, but requirement. To deny the inner impulse t.oward continuous growth is tan-tamount to not responding to God, because, in the words of Gregory Baum, "as d.estiny, as summons, as love., God is present in man's mak-ing of man."~-4 John Haughey, S.J., states that the refusal to take seri-ously one's vocation to be a cocreator with God also takes on a moral dimension. When the refusal to choose leaves the work of God's hands unfinished, then this peculiar kind of inaction takes on a moral dimension. Why.'? Because the unique way of manifesting some aspect of the fullness of God that every person is born to manifest remains potency. Refusal to come to the point of decision, choice, or commitment can leave some-thing of creation itself unfinished and hence God's glory incomplete. This constitutes evil at the level of:being itself. An individual thwarts the purpose of God's creating him by refusing to exercise the cocreator-ship that he could exercise. That which is called forth by God is ren-dered void by man.25 Consequently, religious life and novitiate formation must reinforce among no'vices the importance of continuing their commitment to the proc-ess of individuation as they are simultaneously socialized into the group. Growth in spiritual maturity depends heavily on integral human devel-opment. This truth has long been captured in the Scholastic adage that "grace builds on nature." Leo P. Rock, S.J., a former novice director, applied this truth 'to novitiate formation in a pithy way: "Grace does not substitute for nature, but fulfills it. Healthy, sane personality develop-ment is the most fertile soil in which grace can take root and grow. Growth in religious life can best happen in the situation which best fos-ters personal human growth.''26 The following considerations may be helpful toformatores as they consider how to best foster such prerequi- Novitiate Formation / 677 site human growth in the novitiate: The Developmental Nature of Human Growth Human growth takes place in stages, with each stage presupposing and building on preceding ones. As deveiopmentalists put it, these stages are. invariantly sequential. A person cannot, for example, go from stage one to stage four by skipping the intervening stages. This principle thus requires t~at every individual novice be met where he or she is on enter-ing the novitiate, and then helped to proceed ~forward, stage by stage, from tha.t personal starting point. This is especially important because per-sons entering religion today .vary so much in age, background, and de-velopment. An undifferentiated treatment of novices would prove to be an unenlightened and eventually frustrating appr6ach. Another key consideratibn is that, as a Jesuit formation document puts it, "human development does not proceed at the same pace in eve-ryone." z7 This fact calls for adaptation of the process to individuals. Therefore, in. fostering growth in the novitiate, it seems important that the focus be kept on the individual and the particular~areas of his or her life that stand most ready for development at any particular time. Force-feeding of any kind not only risks dging violence to people, but will ul-timately be countbrproductive in leading to any kind of significant, long-term learning. Personal Responsibility and Religious Obedience The renewal of religious life since Vatican II has certainly challenged men and women to understand and qive the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience in ways that do not impede personal maturity and psycho-logical health. Twenty years ago Jesuit John Courtney Murray spelled out this challenge in a talk to fellow Jesuits. He warned that religious obedience poses a real danger to personal maturity if it fosters the abdi-cation of personal responsibility for one's life and choices. Obedience is a perilous"path to personal maturity, according to Murray. This is be-cause the vow of obedience, if poorly lived out, produces people "who to a degree are purposeless, their lives not consciously and strongly pat-terned, not inwardly directed toward a determined goal with all the or-ganized power of the whole self.' ,28 Religious can succumb to the trap posed by obedience by being pas-sive and overly submissive to authority figures in order to gain accep-tance and approval or to enjoy a kind of infantile dependence free from the anguish of personal decision-making. Those who manifest these and othe'r forms of immature behavior often rationalize their way of acting Review for Religious, September-October 1988 in spiritual terms, thus disguising and denying what they~ are actually do-ing. When they say that they "just want to follow God's or the supe-rior's will," it is sometimes simply a rationalization to justify their to take responsibility for themselves.29 This becomes obvious when the superior clearly has no strong feelings or particular preference about wfiat should happen and in fact would like the religious to assume some independent initiative and to indicate a clear preference. Realizing this threat to maturity, ihe document on Jesuit formation makes clear that "the more the noviceg are stimulated to assume respon-sibilities with prudent and discerning charity, the more successfully will .they acquire Spiritual maturity and the more freely will they adhere their vocation."3° A correlative document on Jesuit obedience states that mature obedience is unattainable apart from the constant cultivation a spirit of initiative and responsibility.3~ A Discernment Model to Develop Responsible~Obedience To foster personal responsibility within the framework of religious obedience, I have used the following eight-step model to teach novices a way of practicing dis~zernment: Step 1" Identify the decision to be made or tl~e issu~ to be resolved. Step 2: Examine the underlying values or concerns (human, Chris-tian, religious, and Jesuit) involved. Step 3: Take time to pray over the matter, paying attention to how one is being drawn or led in prayer. Step 4: Discuss the matter with a spiritual director. Step 5: Dialogue with the superior and engage in a mutual search for God's will in the matter. Step 6: Strive for a state of lgnatian "indifference," that is, a state of inner freedom and equipoise which allows one to accept whatever decision or resolution would be for God's greater glory. If a person is unable to achieve "indifference," discussing the matter in spiritual direction can bring valuable self-knowledge and clarity about how best to proceed in the search for God's will. Perhaps, more prayer and dia-logue with the superior regarding conflicting values and perspectives may be needed before a peaceful closure and decision can be arrived at. Step_ 7: Accept the superior's decision with ,trust in God's. provi-dence at work within the dynamics of religious obedience. Step 8: Stay open to the emerging data of ongoing experience to check for confirmation. In a study of lgnatian obedience, John Futrell, Novitiate Formation / 679 S.J., states that "the principal means of confirmation of the decisions of the superior., are the mutual contentment of himself and his com-panion and the proof of living experience.' ,32 If there is serious doubt "that the superior's decision truly reflects God's will, the process of ,prayer, consultation, and dialogue must begin again. This discernment process promotes personal responsibility and growth because it requires the full engagement of the novices. In com-ing to a decision, they must work with.their religious superior, rather than have things fully decided or resolved for them from above. Step I requires them to invest in the process of defining the parameters of the issue from their personal point of view. Step 2 involves a process of val-ues clarification in which they state the values that are at stake in the de-cision. Steps 3 and 4 give them the chance to critique these values, both alone in prayer and together with a spiritual director. Steps 2, 3, and 4 press them to ask an important twofold question: "Am I free to pursue my values.'?" and "Are my values worth the pursuit?" By requiring them to come to some kind of tentative stance or decision before dialogu-ing with the superior, these steps promote their sense of selfhood, which is largely shaped in the process of personal decision-making. Finally, if attained, the spiritual attitude of Ignatian indifference provides them with the inner freedom which guarantees that their act of autonomous choice can be integrated with religious obedience. For, in the end, indifference allows them to accept whatever is decided with a sense of adult respon-sibility and commitment to the way of evangelical obedience. Summary Reflections Before ma~king a concluding recommendation, it might be helpful to summarize what has been proposed here: I. Adaptations in novitiate formation must always be guided by the three, essential goals of the novitiate: vocation discernment, religious so-cialization, and ongoing individuation. 2. Novitiate formation as it relates to vocation discernment must be seen as a positive aid concerned with the confirmation of a call, rather /han as a negative process of "weeding out" candidates. The process of election monitors the will of God being expressed in the heart's deep-est desires, and the process of existential confirmation searches for the will of God manifested in the concrete circumstances of one's life. 3. Novitiate formation as it relates to religious socialization is the proc-ess by which a religious community receives new members and bonds them to the community's past and present by (a) sharing with them its tradition, spirituality, mores, and "habits of the heart" and (b)welcom- 680 / Review for Religious, September-October 1988 ing them to its current fellowship and ministries. 4. Novitiate formation as it relates to ongoing individuation is the process by which the, personal growth and development .of individual nov-ices are fostered, even as the novices are being socialized into the com-munity. Towards this end the novitiate attempts to promote individual initiative and personal responsibility within the context of religious obe-dience. In light of what has been proposed above, I recommend-~that, wher-ever and whenever possible, communities with small numbers of nov-ices (for example, five or fewer) join together with,other compatible groups ~to form a larger formation community, Examples of compatible groups might be novices of different provinces of the same religious or-der (for example, an interprovinciai Jesuit or Dominican novitiate) o con-gregations with the same founding spirit (for example, Franciscans, Bene-dictines, Mercy Sisters, St. Joseph Sisters). In my opinion, the goals of religious socialization are. better accomplished in larger groupings and are very difficult to achieve with just two or three novices ~ibsorbed into a regular apostolic house. This is especially true of the liminoid phase of religious socializa-tion, which relies heavily on an experience of community. During period, novices are meant to acquire the religious values,mores, and spiri-tuality of the group by experiencing daily life in a vibrant community, whose central ministry is the socializing of novices into religious This regrouping for the sake of forming larger formatiow communities can be on a full-time or part-time basis. A very successful example a full-time merger has been Loyola House in Berkley, Michigan, which houses the joint Jesuit novitiate program of the Chicago and Detroit prov-inces. Part-time collaborative programs have taken various forms. For example, for two straight years the Jesuit novices of the California and Oregon provinces joined together for two months to experience the Ig-natian Exercises together. Last year three Jesuit novitiates'pooled their resources and spent five weeks together to study the history of the or-der. Another example of such successful collaboration is the intercom-munity novitiate experience in such places as Los Angeles and Denver. Large and autonomous formation communities can provide S'everal very important dimensions of novitiate training that communities of or two novices cannot provide. Briefly, they are the following: Peer formation. In my experience, peer formation is an important as-pect of religious socialization, As novices experience together the dif-ferent aspects of religious life and share theirjfaith and religious experi- Novitiate Formation / 681 ences with each other, they are supported and "edified," in the best sense of the word. Spiritual conversation among novices regarding the story of their vocation, their experience in prayer and ministry, their strug-gles with the vows and with community living can provide much needed support and insight. Liturgical formation. Larger, autonomous novitiate communities are more likely to have a well-planned, coordinated liturgical life, which can be very important in the spiritual formation of novices. When there are only two or three novices living together, chances are that there will be no orga0ized liturgical life in the community. Instead, the novices may merely join in a convenient parish liturgy. When this occurs, the peda-gogical function of liturgy within formation is greatly diminished. Staffing and programmatic advantages. Because of the growing short-age of active members in practically every religious community in the United States, the search for qualified personnel for the various apostolic works of a community often invites a subtle competition among the vari-ous ministries. As a result, there is a danger that novitiate formation will get short shrift because of the very small number of novices being min-istered to. A larger group of novices in some kind of interprovincial ar-rangement would provide a stronger claim for greater investment by the community (a) in qualified formation personnel whose work is given full-time status and assured of some continuity and (b) in some regular and relatively fixed program of instruction for the training of novices. With-out this kind of investment, it is hard to expect that a person asked to be a part-time novice director for one or two years will devote the time and energy needed to understand the complex process of novitiate for-mation and to develop the skills and knowledge needed to do a good job. When left to function on their own, communities with just a trickle of novices tend to create a makeshift, ad hoc arrangement to handle the for-mation of the few. It seems that having several ongoing, large-group, com-mon novitiate programs which could accommodate novices from vari-ous communities that share the same charism or spirit of a founder would be helpful for meeting the need created by the drastic drop in recent years. None of this would be complete without a word about the inherent, not to say mind-boggling, paradox of religious life and growth. While we are called upon to use all of the knowledge and expertise at our dis-posal, it is the Holy Spirit who effects growth, who gives life, and whose gifts shape the soul--a Spirit who, much to the surprise, despair, and con-fusion of our best-made plans, still blows where it will. This does not Review for Religious, September-October 1988 relieve us of the responsibility of bringing what expertise we can muster to fostering human, spiritual growth. But it reminds us that it is the Holy Spirit, whose ways transcend all our human expertise and wisdom, often confounding them, who effects and shapes the growth we hope to facili-tate. NOTES ~ See Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M., "Planning the Novitiate Process: Reflections of an Anthro.pologist," in REVIEW FOR REL~6~Ot~S (July/August 1984): 532-546. , 2 Ibid., 15.~ 532. ~' 3 Ann and Barry Ulanov, Primary Speech: A Psychology of Prayer (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), p. 20. '* Annotation # I, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, translated by Louis J. Puhl, S.J. (Chicago: Loyola Upiversity Press, 1951). 5 Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "Final Vows in the Society of Jesus," in National Jes-uit News, vol. 10, no. 7, April 1981, p. 8. 6 Ibid., p. 9. 7 Ibid., p. 8. 8 Michael J. Buckley, S.J., "The Priesthood as a Religious Event," in The Berkeley Jesuit, spring 1970, p. 7. 9 "In all selection and testing of seminarians, necessary standards must always be firmly maintained, even when there exists a regrettable shortage of priests. For God will not allow his Church to lack ministers if worthy candidates are admitted while unsuitable ones are speedily and paternally directed towards the assuming of other tasks and are encouraged to take up the lay apostolate readily, in a consciousness of their Christian vocation." Paragraph 6, Decree on Priestly Formation (Optatam Totius), in The Documents of Vatican !I, ed. Walter Abbott, S.J. (New York: Amer-ica Press, 1966). ~0 John Westerhoff III and Gwen K. Neville, Generation to Generation: Conversa-tions on Religious Education and Culture (Philadelphia: United Church Press, 1974), p. 41. ~ Nos. 138-140, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," in Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1977), pp. I I 1-113. See also no. 23, "Companions of Jesus Se~nt into Today's World," Decree # I, Documents of the 33rd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1984), p. 50. ~2 Quoted in Robert N. Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Com-mitment in American Life (San Francisco: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1986), p. 37. ~3 Arbuckle, op. cit., pp. 540-545. ~': Ibid., p. 540. ~5 Ibid. ~6 Quoted ibid., pp. 542-543. t7 No. 22, Decree 8, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 104. Is Ibid., no. 19, p. 103. 19 For an explanation of how praxis or experiential learning is applied to prayer, see my "Teach Us to Pray," in Company: A Magazine of the American Jesuits, vol. Novitiate Formation / 683 I, no. 3, April 1984, pp. 8-10. 2o For a discussion of the experience/reflection dynamic in learning about interper-sonal relationships, see my "Particular Friendships Revisited," in Human Devel-opment, vol. 7, no. I, spring 1986, pp. 34-38. 2~ Decree I, -#40, Documents of the 33rd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus. 22 John Dewey, Experience and Education (London: Collier-MacMillan Company, 1938), p. 25. 23 Ibid., p. 27 (emphasis in the original). 24 Gregory Baum, "Reply and Explanation," in Ecumenist, vol. 9, Nov.-Dec. 1970- Jan.-Feb. ! 971, p. 18. z5 John Haughey, S.J., Should Anyone Say Forever: On Making, Keeping, and Break-ing Commitments (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1975), pp. 23-24. 26 Leo lb. Rock, S.J., "The California Province Novitiate: What We Do and Why," an unpublished paper, September 1973, p. 4. 27 No. 24, Decree 8, "The Spiritual Formation of Jesuits," Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 105. 28 John Courtney Murray, S.J., " The Danger of the Vows," in Woodstock Letters, fall 1967~, p~ 42 I. 29 For a discussion of obstacles to mature religious obedience, see my "Dealing with Projection: Recognizing and Removing a Common Obstacle to Mature Religious Obe-dience," in Human Development, vol. 6, no. I, spring 1985, pp. 6-1 I. 30 No. 23, Decree 8, " The Spiritual Formation," in Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, p. 105. 31 Nos. II and 12, Decree 17, "The Life of Obedience." Documents of the 31st and 32nd General Congregations of the Society of Jesus, pp. 164-166. 32 John C. Futrell, S.J., Making an Apostolic Community of Love: The Role of the 'Superior According to St. Ignatius of Loyola (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 143. Some Thoughts on the Vocation to Celibacy Clifford Stevens Father Stevens has been, over the course of many years, a Trappist, a parish priest, an Air Force chaplain, an editor of The Priest, and a small-town pastor. He has pub-lished a novel, Flame Out of Dorset, about St. Stephen Harding, twelfth-century Cis-tercian. Last appearing in our pages in 1986, he writes from the monaste(y he founded: Tintern; Monastery Road; Oakdale, Nebraska 68761. The very foundation of the vocation to celibacy must be the complete free-dom from compulsion with which the choice of celibacy is made. Free-dom from external compulsion, in that no one can be forced by external pressures to choose the celibate vocation, and freedom from internal pres-sures, ascetic, moral, spiritual, which would make the choice of celibacy anything but a conscious, free choice, based on something within the vo-cation to celibacy itself. The choice of celibacy is not a rejection or de-nial of the excellence of marriage. ~ It is rather an affirmation of realities that transcend sexuality and marriage.2 This "anthropological" base of the choice of celibacy is a critical factor in celibate happiness, and that celibate happiness is based precisely on the facts that [ could find happiness in marriage, that in choosing celi-bacy3 ! am just as free to choose marriage, and that marriage has a good-ness and nobility all its own. There is a profound reason for this complete freedom from compul-sion based on the specific excellence of celibacy itself, and not in com-parison with something else. The profound reason is this. The gift of sexuality and its directedness toward intimate expression'~ in marriage comes, with our very creation, from God's goodness, his wis-dom, and his benevolence. It is an integral part of our humanity and our 684 Thoughts on Celibacy masculinity, and no power on earth can deprive us of it because it comes with the~very blueprint of our nature. (This article looks at celibacy from a masculine point of view, not because the feminine viewpoint is not im-portant, but becduse it is outside the author's experience.) The ,gift of sexuality, in fact, is the root reality of our bodily exis-tence and of our masculine nature, and has a power and a goodness that enriches human life immeasurably. However we want to describe it, you and I, men endowed with all the gifts of a masculine nature, are shaped and fashioned by every ripple and nuance of our living flesh for physi-cal intimacy with a woman. To hide this from ourselves in the name of celibacy would rob the choice of celibacy of half its meaning. The choice of celibacy can never be based upon a denial or ignoring of the inherent goodness of sexuality or the preeminent goodness of sex-ual intimacy in marriage,s Moreover, it is possible to possess one's sexu-ality in this full awareness of its essential goodness, in complete inno-cence, with a wholesome sense of dignity, freedom, wonder, apd joy in its possession and, with the same complete innocence, to look forward to and experience its joyous expression in marriage; or, if one is a celi-bate, to be profoundly appreciative of its joyous expression in marriage, with the same complete innocence.6 The choice of celibacy is not based upon a lack of appreciation for sexual intimacy in marriage or upon any conviction that the experience of marriage is in any way displeasing to God. These are simply unsound anthropological bases upon which to build a vocation to celibacy and, unwittingly, they can plant deep in.the recesses of one's motivation a time bomb ready to go off. It is unfortunate that in the history of Christian spirituality the voca-tion to celibacy has often been explained in terms that denigrate the value and beauty of sexual love in marriage. The impression is given that the choice of celibacy is somehow a flight from something radically unspir-itual and that the celibate looks upon conjugal intimacy as something be-neath his dignity, something that would mar his perfect purity. The choice of celibacy, if it is genuine, has nothing of this motivation about it, but is based solidly and squarely upon something more positive and something more exhilarating. Celibacy must be based on a profound appreciation for the gift of sex-ual intimacy as personal gift and endowment from God and as an inte-gral part of one's masculine inheritance. Nobility of soul does not fail to plumb and to appreciate the riches of masculine possibility which is the natural inheritance of an awakened and full manhood. Review for Religious, September-October 1988 This possibility, with all its splendor and enrichment, does not ex-haust the human possibility, but it does enshrine some of its noblest in-stincts, of the feelings and of the mind, and an intimacy that mirrors the very passion of God himself. As a celibate I set aside intimacy with a woman, with all its rooms of joy and beauty, only for a greater intimacy and its even more won-drous rooms of beauty, and its universe of joy. But in doing so, I will not deny the power, the significance, or the magnitude of the masculine expectancy that I set aside and turn away from. This intimacy, by what-ever name it is called, is riveted into my very flesh; the lineaments of this passionate preoccupation are traced and interlaced in the warp and woof of my very biology. The gift of manhood with all its passionate possibilities is one of the richest gifts of God. I set it aside freely, not with no appreciation for its beauty, and not with regret, but because I have stumbled on a greater beauty, a more powerful intimacy, and a more earth-shaking encounter. In the shadow of that intimacy and in the tremor of this expectancy, every other human possibility fades into insignificance. I do not hide from myself the shattering loveliness and singular beauty of the sexual intimacy that could be mine, but celibacy reaches out to something greater, fully as rich, fully as valid, and as fully a com-plement to my manhood as the rich experience of love in marriage. This is the sound anthropological base upon which the vocation to celibacy is founded. It may not be part of one's original motivation since, in the beginnings of a vocation, you are simply too busy and too taken up with the excitement of a new direction to reflect upon every element of your motivation. But ultimately what is implicit in your choice must be made explicit by thought, reflection, and personal exploration, and there must not be in the root motivation of celibacy anything resembling spiritual or moral snobbery or looking down on marriage. The choice of celibacy must be based upon some excellence in the vocation of celibacy itself, and not in mere comparison with something else. Only then can the specific excellence of the vocation to celibacy become part of your own life,~and--I am sure I do not have to repeat--thespecific excellence of celibacy is not the fact that you do not have a woman in your life or that you sleep alone. This is a necessary condition, but if that is all that celibacy means to you, you could end up being the most miserable of men, deprived of the crowning act of your masculine nature, the finest and noblest expression of your manhood, with nothing to take its place. That would be a deprivation of singular magnitude. Thoughts on Celibacy And this is something that we should never forget: As celibates we deprive ourselves of this crowning act of our masculine nature, the fin-est and most genuine expression of our masculinity that is sexual inti-macy in marriage. If that terrifying vacuum were not filled with some-thing that touched with joy the very roots of our manhood, the dep-rivation and emptiness would be almost too much to bear. This is one of the consequences of celibacy that has not often been touched upon, but it certainly explains some of the strange aberrations of clerical and religious life and some of the tragic consequences of an ill-motivated and immature commitment to celibacy. One of the major problems in the vocation to celibacy is that many celibates have not through deep personal reflection made explicit in their own minds what was implicit in their choice of celibacy and have ac-cepted, quite uncritically, an evaluation of sexuality in general, and of their own sexuality in particular, that is based on tenets of a Neoplaton-ist and Stoic anthropology embodied in an older type of spirituality. This evaluation notonly placed no value upon sexuality itself, but tended to denigrate as totally unworthy of the spiritual person the inti-mate expression of sexuality in marriage, thus negating the very mean-ing of sexuality and placing a negative judgment on the very possession of one's sexuality. Really, it all starts and ends there: What evaluation and judgment do you place upon the intimate expression of sexuality in marriage? If that judgment is a negative one, you can never really be com-fortable in the possession of your own sexuality. The true Christian evaluation of sexual intimacy in marriage, based upon the vision of sexual love embodied in the Christian revelation it-self, is that the intimate expression of sexual love in marriage is (i) the crowning act (in fa~zt, the primary and unique act) of one's manhood, (2) the finest, noblest, and most genuine expression of one's masculinity, (3) the unique expression of love between a man and a woman, (4) God's crowning gift to one's bodily existence, and (5) the gr,eatest earthly gift that God has given to the human race. This is implicit in the very choice of celibacy, even though that evalu-ation may not have been part of the conscious motivation when the choice of celibacy was made. Historically, the negative sexual tenets we have mentioned are part of a North African phenomenon that included Neoplatonism in Alexan-dria, the monastic movement in the same area, the spirituality of Eva-grius Ponticus, Tertullian, and St. Augustine (and the ascetic movement in the West), and the monastic spirituality of John Cassian, who reflected Review for Religious, September-October 1988 in his writings the sexual anthropology of the Alexandrian monastic move-ment. A healthier anthropology can be found in the robust passion for life in the classical Greek tradition, reflected in the best of Plato and the monu-mental work of Aristotle, later embodied in the Spirituality of the Greek Fathers and in the philosophical achievements of Saints Albertus Mag, nus and Thomas Aquinas. That anthropology recognized the inherent goodness of our senses and our sense life, the inherent goodness of hu-man sexuality, and the innate and preeminent goodness of the intimate expression of sex in marriage. This view, however, was never embod-ied in "traditional" spirituality and had little influence on spiritual doc-trine. The work of Aquinas, however, bore fruit in many areas over the cen-turies even though some of his basic tenets were condemned by an older "Augustinian" sChool soon after his death in 1274. In the documents of the Second Vatican Council, particularly, Gaudium et.Spes, the Aqui. nas view was recovered, and we have in the council documents a posi-tive and wholesome anthropology of sexuality7 which should have a pro-found influence on future spirituality. NOTES ~ "Students should have a proper knowledge of the duties and dignity of Christian marriage, which represents the love.that exists between Christ and the Church." Op-tatam Totius, Decree on the Training of Priests of the Second Vatican Council, ed. by Austin Flannery, 0.P~., no., 10, p. 715. 2 "They should recognize the greater excellence of virginity consecrated to Christ, however, so that they may offer themselves to the Lord with fully deliberate and gen-erous choice, and a complete surrender of body and soul." ibid. 3 Celibacy seeks, on the basis of personal:experience and personal judgment, a con~ tinual intimacy with God and with divine things; it provides that personal solitude without which, for this p_articular individual, such continual intimacy with God would be impossible or unlikely. Celibacy is not chosen because there is any value in mere sexual deprivation, but because it is a natural step towards a lifestyle totally or domi-nantly preoccupied with the eternal and the divine. Celibacy bears witness in one's own person to the eternal dimension, to the reality and significance of the eternal in human life. '~ For the purpose of this article, sexuality and sexual intima~3, have these meanings: Sexuality is a gift of God that comes with the act of creation, a personal endowment that should be borne with a certain masculine dignity and yet worn joyfully~ and lightly. Our sexuality is inherent'ly good, and so, too, is the intimacy with a wdman to which it leads. Sexual intimacy is a gift of God that comes with the very blueprint of our nature, Thoughts on Celibacy in the sense that the pattern of that intimacy is molded into our very bodies. Sexual intimacy is part of our human and masculine inheritance, and its expression in mar-riage the very crown of masculinity and femininity. But while sexual intimacy is a gift to our person and our nature, its expression is meant to be embodied in a personal choice based on love, embedded in the marriage covenant, and to be the setting and inexhaustible source of the deepest human hap-piness. Sexual intimacy comes with our nature and our personhood. It is the living expres-sion of the noblest human love and is itself the image and mirror of God's own love for human beings. By celibacy we freely deprive ourselves of this most enriching gift,'this crown of our masculinity, for the simple reason that we, called by God, have other plans for ourselves. 5 The nature of the vocation to celibacy is not a denial of the inherent goodness and sublimity of married love, but an affirmation, the affirmation of something beyond the sexual and beyond the earthly, the affirmation of another relationship and the cul-tivation of that relationship as the main occupation of one's life. Celibacy is a dep-rivation, but it is a freely chosen deprivation of something seen to be part of one's own human inheritance and something preeminently good. St. Thomas links celi-bacy to the virtue of magnificence, a certain exuberance in living, a bursting of the bonds of the ordinary to reach out to the extraordinary. It is based on a hunger for the eternal and for an intimacy as real and as stunning as the intimacy of man and woman in marriage. See Josef Pieper, The Four Cardinal Virtues (University of Notre Dame Press, 1966), pp. 145-180.' 6 Celibacy is part of the virtue of sophrosyne, touched upon in Aristotle's Ethics, with a fuller treatment in the Summa Theologiae of St. Thomas Aquinas. The object of sophrosyne is the body, and those things that are of the body (soma, somatos). There are several levels or kinds of sophrosyne: (I) joy and pride in bodily being itself (simple sophrosyne), (2) joy and pride in bodily well-being (dignity), (3) joy and pride in bodily senses (liveliness), (4)joy and pride

Issue 31.6 of the Review for Religious, 1972. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. QUESTIONS ANI) ANSWERS EDI'I'OR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editor, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be .sen.t to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Build-ing; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S,].; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval by I~dculty members of the School of I)ivinity of St. Louis University. the editorial offices beihg located at 612 Humboldt Bnilding; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright © 1972 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Printed in U.S.A. ¯ Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.25. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year, $11.00 for two years; other countries: $7.00 a year. $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or r~encwal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. cur-rency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Manuscripts, editori-al correspondence, and books for review shonld be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 tlumboldt Building; 539 North (;rand Boule-yard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. NOVEMBER 1972 VOLUME 31 NUMBER 6 CAttAL BRENI)AN DALY, D.D. Prayer in the Modern World [Cahal Brendan Daly, D.D., is the Bishop of Ardagh and lives at Bishop's House; St. Michael's; Longford, Ireland. The article was a lecture at the Carmelite College; Castlemartyr, County Cork and was first published in Mount Carmel, Spring 1972, pp. 204-12; Summer 19"72, pp. 23-35. The article is reprinted here with the kind permission of the editor of Mount Carmel. ] In the New Testament we not only find the example of prayer given us by Our Divine Lord, and the discipline of prayer as it existed in the first Christian community, but we find above all a theology of prayer. In fact, we find the whole message and mission of our Lord Himself presented to us in a context of prayer. The New Testament is, if you like, a whole theology of prayer. It is usual nowadays in modern theology to speak of Christ as the Man for others, and of course He certainly is; but we must not forget that before and above all else Christ is the Man for the Father. Christ is the Adorer of the Father; and it is only then and because of this that He is the Man for others. This is reflected in the commandments given by our divine Lord Himself in the form: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God" - this is the first commandment; the second, like to it indeed, but nevertheless, second to it, is the commandment to love our neighbor. In an age of horizontalism we do not need to remember this. But there is a crisis of prayer at the present time. It is a crisis, I think, which goes deeper than prayer, affecting faith itself. The contemporary religious crisis is one that involves our very sense of God, the reality of His transcendent Being, and of our relationship with Him. It could hardly be denied, l am afraid that through a one-sided emphasis on this-worldly values, we may be neglecting the direct service of the wholly Other who is God - the rights of man perhaps coming to rival, if not eclipse, in our consciousness, the rights and claims of God. But surely the first thing required of a People of God is "Godliness" - the sense of God which that untranslatable old English word "Godliness" conveys. Worship is God's "Worthship," our acknowledgement of what God is worth, it is our avowal that God is worth a lifetime of our praise, and admiration and adoration, and service and thanks - our attempt to pay tribute to the "worthness" of God. Is the crisis of prayer not just the obverse side of a decline in this recognition of God's "worthship"? But there are several prevalent themes of modern discussion which are contributing, I think, to the modern crisis of prayer. It is suggested, for example, that prayer should be spontaneous and not rule-regulated; that it should be communitarian rather than individual; that it can take the form of a dialogue and service among our fellow men, rather than of silent personal converse with God. The Bishop of Woolwich Perhaps one of the best known exponents of some of these themes is the former 902 Review fox Religious, Volume 31, 197216 Bishop of Woolwich, above all in his book Honest to God. This has a chapter on prayer - a chapter which contains many beautiful and profound things, including as I remember it, the opening sentence which is that "Prayer and Ethics are the two sides of one and the same coin." This I think is a very profound thought, that Christian morality is simply our prayer applied to living and our living is our prayer carried out in act. There are other helpful thoughts as well in that chapter. But the general thrust of the Bishop of Woolwich's thinking is away from the idea of personal withdrawal and aloneness with God: away from the contemplative aspect of prayer at least, to prayer as engagement, prayer as involvement, as dialogue and as service. The Bishop would, I think, regret having to withdraw from the world and the neighbor into what he might be tempted to call the ghetto of aloneness in order to pray. He would prefer to find God and to serve Him and to worship Him in the neighbor, in dialogue and service with the neighbor. Now this of course is excellent, but nevertheless one needs to ask some questions about this. It seems to me that some very penetrating questions have been put to the Bishop about this by a fellow Anglican called Martin Thornton in a little book, which is very impressive to my mind, called TheRock and theRiver. In this book, Martin Thornton remarks that while reading Honest to God,and, above all, this chapter on prayer, he finds himself on practically every page, scribbling in the margin cryptic letters "Y.B.H." and he said almost certainly if his books were being looked over after his death by his executors (or anyone else) they would wonder what on earth "Y.B.H." could mean, but he tells us that they mean "YES, BUT HOW?" The point that he wants to make is that it is magnificent to be able to find God in our neighbor; it is wonderful to be able to be conscious of the presence of God in the neighbor, and to be conscious of the presence of the adorable God in our work, in our apostolate, in whatever. It is possible, but very difficult. How are we going to arrive there? Then Martin Thornton goes on (because he is himself a specialist of the spiritual life, and of the history of mystical theology), to remind us that this is in fact what traditional spiritual writers called habitual recollection or the habitual sense of the presence of God. But, he said, you will find that the saints and the great doctors of prayer have all of them warned us that this is a culmination, a climax of the spiritual effort. It is what mystical writers and saints might hope to arrive at and to achieve fitfully and partially at the end of years and years of disciplined effort. Whereas he fears the Bishop of Woolwich thinks that anyone can do this at the drop of a hat. He says that this is too naive by half- it just does not happen that way. Spontaneity and Discipline The title that Mr. Thornton gives to his book, The Rock and the River, is deliberately symbolic. The river for him is the spontaneity of prayer - the habitual sense of the presence of God always, not requiring certain periods set apart for it, but coming spontaneously and naturally in the course of doing other things. This for him, spontaneity, is represented by the river - the river of the continuous novelty and joy of the finding of God. But the river flows from the rock - a deep Biblical theme - and the rock is fidelity; the rock is constancy; the rock is the discipline of fidelity and constancy in our relations with the constant and faithful God. He insists that all experience, including our own, will tell us that unless we practice this discipline, which Mr. Thornton calls the Rule, the Regula, and unless we are faithful to that discipline, we won't have the spontaneity either. By the regula, he is referring in a general way to the rules of disciplined prayer that have Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 903 been left to us in all the great spiritual traditions and religious families. Surely he is faithful to human pyschology and pedagogy in that insistence. Surely in this as in any other spiritual domain spontaneity does not come naturally, it doesn't just happen - spontaneity is acquired. If you want to acquire spontaneity in your practice and your love of music, you've got to go through the hard monotonous humdrum discipline of practice. If you do, but only if you do, then you will eventually arrive at an informed but spontaneous enjoyment of music. So it is surely with any other human skill. Spontaneity is acquired by discipline. We should not contrast the spontaneity with the discipline. Similarly it is only at the price of disciplined, controlled and persistent prayer life that we will arrive at habitual recollection, or have joy in the moments of our prayer. The Example of Jesus This is true, as I said, psychologically; it is true pedagogically. But what is much more important is to approach this problem of prayer from the standpoint of the New Testament itself, and what it tells us about the practice of our divine Lord Himself, and the insights it gives us into the place of prayer in the life of Christ and in the life of the Christian. A careful study of Christ's own personal prayer life in the Gospels shows that He adhered strictly to a daily discipline of rule-regulated prayer. The rules were precisely those prevailing in contemporary Jewish piety; but Christ deepened and extended their observance as he did with every detail of Jewish religious practice. Every pious Jew, for example, in Jesus' time recited the Shema, or the Jewish creed, first thing on waking and last thing before sleeping. The words are based on Deuteronomy: "The Lord our God is the one Lord - you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your strength." Jesus observed this custom faithfully as did all his disciples. For instance, when the rich young man asked our Lord "What must 1 do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus had only to remind him of the prayer he said that morning. This is what He does in fact when He says to him: "What is written in the law? How do you recite this?" (because the Jew normally recited his prayers aloud). Our Lord was simply asking him: "Do you remember your morning prayer? Do you remember what you said this morning?" This practice of morning and night prayer was regarded as an absolute minimum of religious practice and it is significant that in Jewish thought to omit morning and night prayer would be, in effect, to cut oneself off from the religious community. It was a minimum of recognition of God, a minimum of witness to the transcendence of God, without which one could not be regarded as a member of the praying community, the priestly community, which was the People of God. The pious Jew was further obliged to pray at least six times every day, and this of course is the basis of the Breviary, the Office, the Prayer of the Church, with its afternoon and evening hours. The many references that we find in the Gospels to Jesus' prayer are to be understood in relation to this rule of prayer. When Jesus impresses on the disciples the need to pray continually and never to lose heart, he is not referring, strictly speaking, to acquiring the sense of the habitual presence of God. The word "continually" has a technical meaning. Our Lord is referring to the regular, disciplined, rule-regulated periods of prayer in the course of the day; what He is requiring of them is faithfulness to the daily discipline of fixed times and rules of daily prayer. It is interesting that it is in that very same paragraph of St. Luke's Gospel that Jesus so poignantly asks "When the Son of Man comes, will he find any faith upon the earth?" a question which challenges every one of us always, but 904 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 above all now at this time of crisis. It seems to follow from this conjunction that to find faith on earth, according to the teaching of the Gospel, is one and the same thing as to find persevering prayer on the earth. It is also full of deep significance that each single one of Jesus' answers to the temptations of the devil are taken from the Biblical prayer-formulae prescribed for the daily prayer of the Jews. Every one of them is part of what one might call a domestic or personal liturgy of the pious Jew. The lesson surely is that prayer is our defense against the temptations which the devil continually brings against our faith. The Jewish Practice of Prayer We have in recent years had tremendous new light shed upon the prayer life of our Lord from a somewhat unexpected source - a Jew who knows very well the cultural tradition of the Jewish people. That is to say, it has been brought to public attention, because this man I am going to refer to has been of course depending a great deal on the research of more primary scholars. He is himself a more popular writer, but nevertheless one of impressive stature. He is a French Jew called Robert Aron; and he has written a number of books based on his knowledge of Jewish tradition and Jewish religious practice, to illuminate for us the pages of the Gospel. His two best-known books are: Les annbes obscures de Jksus (The Hidden Years of Jesus) and Ainsi priait J~sus Enfant (This ls how the Boy Jesus Prayed). Both are published by Grasset. Now Aron has shown how the whole life of the devout Jew in Jesus' time was saturated with prayer. One of the interesting quotations he gives us from Jewish tradition is: "Whoever enjoys anything whatever in this world without first saying a prayer commits an untruthfulness." The prayer or blessing which preceded and which followed every important act of the day would have been taught to Jesus as a child by His holy Mother and would have been part of His whole human religious psychology. The Apostles were faithful to Jesus' example and to His precepts. The Acts of the Apostles frequently referred to the observance of the fixed hours of daily prayer. St. Paul again and again talks of praying continually, praying without ceasing, praying day and night, praying always. He urges his converts to keep praying, to be "persevering in your prayers." Again I repeat, St. Paul is not talking about habitual recollection. He is talking about fixed and undeviating hours and rules of prayer. What he is urging in all these passages is fidelity to the regular hours of prayer. Indeed the whole of the day was, as I have just said, consecrated for the faithful Jew by prayer; there were prayers of thanksgiving or blessings to accompany every action, function, and happening, whether of work, leisure, or recreation, in everyday life. We know from the Gospels how Jesus observed these blessings, these prayers before and after meals, before journeys, before arrivals, before seasons, before preaching or teaching, before acts of healing, miracles, and so on. St. Paul followed His example when he bids us to be always and everywhere giving thanks to God who is our Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. There is a certain disaffection now from prayer of this kind, from the practice, for example, of blessings before and after meals, before and after journeys and undertakings; but it is salutary to remember that it came directly from Christ our Lord Himself. Of course it certainly is not part of the essence of our faith that we observe a particular set of fixed rules of prayer. Many of you know that this insistence could and sometimes did become a sort of legalism and a sort of spiritual burden which hindered rather than helped progress in prayer. One can bind heavy and insupportable burdens in this matter of devotions, trimmings, added to essential Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 9O5 liturgical prayer. Nevertheless, it is vital that there should be recalls of the presence of God in the course of one's day, and that in the course of one's life there should be moments of withdrawal from human contacts in order to be alone with God. This I think is absolutely fundamental in Christian life, both from psychological and from deeply theological reasons. Here again the contrast between spontaneity and regulation has been exaggerated and the contrast between love and law in this, as in many other spheres, has been overdone. After all, love creates its own self-imposed laws; and in any sphere you like to take of human relationships, you can easily see this. The man who says he is too busy earning money for his family, or for his wife or fiancee, to have any time to recall her birthday, or to remember her anniversaries, or to think of giving her a present, would be a humbug. Love is made of thoughtfulnesses of this kind. Love is the willing acceptance, the joyful acceptance, of certain patterns of conduct, which manifest our fidelity and which make our love to be real rather than just verbal. Law is the expression of love, and when it is, it is no longer felt as law, it is no longer felt as a burden. This perhaps is why some prayer practices became burdens, because they could not be assimilated into one's love of God. Nevertheless that there should be time for this withdrawal is indispensable, to remember what life is about, and what we are here for, to remember that we are a People of God. Those of us who are committed to the following, the exclusive following of Christ, have special need for these regular moments of intensive recall of who it is that we have chosen, or rather, who He is who has chosen us. Prayer and Eschatology A very meaningful contemporary way of expressing this is to say that these moments of withdrawal are necessary in order to give us an eschatological dimension, an awareness of what it is to be waiting for the Lord to come in glory. Schillebeeckx has some very interesting remarks in his book on celibacy. He suggests that the deepest meaning of celibacy is that a man who is really waiting for the Lord to come in glory has not time to be bothered with all the distractions and so on that are necessary to have a courtship and a marriage and to look after a family. He is too completely absorbed in the thought of the coming of the Lord and in the need of preparedness for the coming Lord to be bothered with anything else but the affairs of the kingdom. This 1 think is a very valid phenomenonological and existentialist explanation of the meaning and the relevance of celibacy. In passing, Schillebeeckx remarks, and 1 think that this too is profound, that this in fact is the basis of the Church's practice of fasting and of self-denial generally. Someone who is really intensely, excitedly waiting for a tremendous event to break through can't think of anything else, he can't think of eating, he doesn't even feel hungry. The Church, knowing that as an eschatological community we ought to have this feeling of excited waiting, on tip-toe of expectation for this great thing to break through, adopts the external behavior-pattern (e.g. not eating)which corresponds to the inner feeling. If we were really waiting for something important to happen, or for someone really loved to come, we couldn't be bothered to be hungry. The Church feels that we can as it were invert the process, induce the appropriate feeling by adopting the relevant behavior. Now it seems to me that in a similar way fixed times and moments of awareness of God are indispensable if we are to have the mentality of a people of faith, of a people of hope, of a people constantly aware that we have not here a lasting kingdom, but we seek one that is to come in Christ, "who is, who was, and who is to come." 9O6 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 Jesus, however, was not content with the rule-regulated prayer of the Jews; He deepened it, and He stressed the need for personal commitment rather than conformity, and for interior sincerity rather than routine. Jesus reinforced the rules, but He wrote them on the heart rather than as the Pharisees did on the palm and the forehead. You will remember what seems to us the incredible foolishness of the Pharisees in taking the words of Deuteronomy literally. Deuteronomy says: "You are to write this law on the palm of your hand and carry it perpetually before your eyes so that you shall never waking or sleeping, forget this law." The Pharisees did just that; they wrote sentences of the Law out on bits of paper and carried them in the palms of their hands and wrote them out on a phylactery, and carried it in front of their eyes and thought that this was carrying out the Law. But Jesus wanted the rules to be written on the heart, to be assimilated into our lives, rather than carried out legalistically. He told us therefore to pray to the Father in secret. Jesus' Solitary Prayer Jesus also extended the fixed hours of prayer, turning the regular evening prayer of the Jews into night-long vigils ending only with the dawn. The Gospels are at pains deliberately to emphasize that these were vigils of solitary prayer. The Gospels make a special point of remarking that Jesus left the crowds behind even when they needed Him, even when they clamored for Him and followed pathetically after Him, looking for His help and His healing. Jesus deliberately turned His back on people that needed Him, in order to be alone with His Father - this we must never forget. Here is how St. Mark described it: "That evening after sunset, they brought to Him all who were sick and those who were possessed by devils; the whole town came crowding around the door. In the morning, long before dawn, He got up and He left the house and He went off to a lonely place, and He prayed there. Simon and his companions set out in search of Him. When they found Him they said 'Everybody is looking for you.' " Later, St. Mark continues, after the miracle of the loaves, He Himself sent the crowds away, after saying good-bye to them: "He went off into the hills to pray, and about the fourth watch of the night, He came to His disciples." This was about 3 to 6 a.m. He came to His disciples after hours of vigil, hours of solitary prayer alone by night. "He came to them walking on the water." St. Luke is even more explicit. St. Luke says: "I-Iis reputation continued to grow, and large crowds would gather to hear him, and to have their sicknesses cured, but he would always go off to some place where he could be alone and pray." Not just once, not just a few times, but regularly, habitually, he would "always" go off "to some place where He could be alone and pray." Again, St. Luke writes: "He went out to the hills to pray and He spent the whole night in prayer to God." This was before the vocation, the calling of the disciples. "When day came, he summoned his disciples and he picked out twelve of them and called them Apostles." It is not fanciful, it is theologically accurate, to say that the vocation of each one of us was involved in that vocation of the twelve, for our vocation is only a prolongation of theirs; therefore, our vocation too was included in the prayer of Christ. St. Luke's Theology of Prayer St. Luke shows Christ's whole life as spent in an atmosphere of prayer. Indeed he interprets Christ's whole mission in terms of a theology of prayer. St. Luke's Gospel begins, remember, with prayer in the temple, and it ends with Jesus ascending into Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 907 lleaven in the posture of prayer, in the gesture of blessing. The blessing is not just any blessing, it is the blessing of the Holy Spirit and the promise of the Father. It is Jesus' prayer that brings this promise to fulfillment; it is Jesus' prayer that brings down the only true blessing, the gift of the Holy Spirit to the world. Then let us never forget that there is a continuity between St. Luke's first Gospel, the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and what we might call his second gospel, the gospel of the Church and of the Holy Spirit, which is the Acts of the Apostles. There is a parallelism of structure between the two. St. Luke's Gospel, his gospel of Jesus Christ, begins with prayer in the Temple and with the Annunciation and it ends with waiting in the temple for the promise of the Father to be given by the blessing of Jesus. The Acts of the Apostles begins again in the Holy City and the Temple where they are to remain continually in prayer, praising God all the time and waiting for the power from on high and for the mission which in the power of the Spirit will send them to the ends of the earth. There is a parallelism between the conception of Jesus and the conception of the Church in St. Luke which is most striking and is theologically very profound. The Gospel begins with prayer in the Temple and the coming of the Holy Spirit, which makes Mary the Mother of Jesus. The Acts of the Apostles opens with a description of the Apostles joined in continuous prayer with Mary the Mother of Jesus waiting for the coming of the Holy Spirit to give birth to the Church. In truth we have to say that St. Luke has a clearly developed theology of prayer in which Jesus' whole life and work are explained in terms of prayer. Now this is not just a personal idea of St. Luke. This is divinely revealed and inspired instruction about the mystery of Christ as a mystery of salvation consummated in prayer. This revelation occurs with particular intensity at four points in St. Luke's Gospel: the Annunciation, the Baptism of our Lord, the Transfiguration, and the Ascension. Now there are remarkable parallelisms between these four scenes, these four theophanies if you like, in St. Luke's Gospel. These elements are constant throughout the Synoptic Gospels of course, but they are presented with particular vividness and explicitness in St. Luke. In each of these scenes we note the manifestation of the shekinah, the cloud of divine glory which everywhere in the Bible marks the awesome presence of God. Again, let me remark in passing that there has been a lot of nonsense talked about the "myths" of the Gospel and the need to "demythologize" the Gospel in order to get at its fundamental truth. Often this turns out to be a parabolic kind of truth, which has nothing to do with facts but is simply a subjective conviction of being addressed by God now, in my existential situation in the present. But what we have in the Gospels is not myth at all, but a technical, theological language. You couldn't expect the sacred writers to use our kind of language wltich has developed in our sort of Greco-Latin culture. Inevitably what they had to use was the theological language of a Semitic culture and particularly of a Biblical people. They used the theological language of the Old Testament. But make no mistake about it, the language of the Bible is not just the simple anthropomorphic talk of a people who knew no better; it is the work of a highly sophisticated and developed theology, with its own clearly recognized theological symbols. One of these is the cloud. The cloud is a theological description of the presence of the all-holy God. We have this cloud of divine glory in all of these scenes that I talked about. One could of course write a whole library of books about the theology of the shekinah in the Old and in the New Testaments. This cloud of divine glory marks above all God's presence in the Tent or Tabernacle where He dwelt among His people in the desert and it marked His presence in the 908 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 197216 Holy of Holies in the Temple of the Holy City. The Transfiguration Now, with this background, let us look first at the scene of the Transfiguration. St. Luke is careful to point out in all these passages that our Lord was in prayer, before the manifestation of the cloud of divine glory occurred. St. Luke is careful, for example, to point out that it was to pray that Jesus took Peter, James, and John up the mountain of Transfiguration, and that it was as He prayed that the fulguration of divine glory pervaded His body. So St. Luke is not telling us only about the actual event in the life of our Lord. He is also, in parenthesis, implicitly telling us about our prayer life as Christians. Here again we have an instance of the great blessings and graces that modern exegesis has brought to the Church. We can see now that the New Testament writers were all the time recalling the actual words, the actual events of the life of our Lord in the context of the Church, in the context of the life of the Church, in the context of the liturgy, and above all in the context of the Holy Eucharist. Therefore we are getting two messages all the time in the New Testament, one about what our Lord did in the past, and one about how the Church experiences her Lord in the liturgy of today. That is one of the reasons why the Gospels are never merely an account of what did happen once, long ago in history. They are always also a revelation, an unveiling, of what is happening now in our liturgy of today, which is essentially the same as the liturgy of the early Church. To return to this scene of the Transfiguration. This was the epiphany of God made one with human flesh in the body of Jesus, and it reveals Jesus as the new Tent, the new Tabernacle, the new Temple, replacing the old Tent, and replacing the existing Temple, and becoming then and for all time the only place where God could be encountered and worshiped in all future history. This incidentally, is why St. Luke smiles as it were at the nffive foolishness of poor old Peter - Peter said: "Let's make three tents." St. Luke is telling us in part: "Poor Peter, don't mind him. He didn't know what he was saying, he didn't know that there is only one tent, not three. There is only one tent where God dwells with men, the Tent of Christ's Body." We enter that Tent in prayer; and every time we pray in the name of Jesus, we enter already into the glory of God present in the Body of His Son. That's why it is good for us to pray. It is good for us to be here in prayer with Jesus in the glory of the Father. Never are we more praying in the name of Jesus than when we are praying in the Mass or before the Blessed Sacrament, because this is the transfigured Body. The Body of Christ in the Eucharist is the Temple, the only Temple of access to the Father. After the radiant glory of God had transfigured Christ's body, the cloud became a dark shadow enveloping Jesus along with Moses and Elias who stood by to acknowledge Him as the author of the new and eternal covenant. Not only here, but frequently, in fact habitually, you find this ambivalence about the cloud of divine glory. It is at once light and darkness. It is radiant blinding light, but also impenetrable, mysterious darkness. These are not contradictory. God's glory is darkness by excess of blinding light. When the light of the sun is at its most luminous, it is fatal to look directly into it, for example during an eclipse. So it is with the radiance of God's light. That is what it means to say God is mystery. At this point, out of the cloud comes a voice - the voice of the eternal Father: "This is my Son, the Chosen One, listen to him." Now we know why the cloud is Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 909 dark. The darkness is the same as the darkness that covered Calvary at the time of Christ's death. This is not just an astronomical phenomenon; this is mystery, this is revelation, this is the language of Biblical theology. It was the cloud of God's glory that covered Calvary when Christ was dying. Here, in the dark cloud of the Transfiguration we have the revelation of the coming Passion. These words "This is my Son," are taken from the prophet Isaiah and they refer to the Suffering Servant, not just the Son, but the suffering Son. When we are told to listen to Him, we are being told to listen to the lesson of His Passion. Here we have the revelation that Jesus is God's Temple precisely in and because of His Passion. It is because Jesus suffers that He enters into glory and brings us with Him into the Father's glory. Jesus the True Temple This theology of the Temple is, again, a tremendous new insight of recent exegesis and of recent theology. Take for example something that always puzzled us, 1 think, namely the question of what it means that, at the death of Christ, the veil of the Temple is rent in two from the top to the bottom. We must recall that in the Jewish Temple there were separate compartments for different categories of worshipers. There was one for the women who were not allowed to come more than to just the outer precincts. Beyond this there were the ordinary priestly people, the lay men. Beyond this was the place set apart for the priests. Finally beyond the inmost veil, was the Holy of Holies where only the High Priest himself could enter, and he only once a year. Beyond this veil the High Priest dared to enter only backward, for fear of looking at where the glory of God dwelt. But when Christ dies, the veil is torn apart, the curtains are all drawn back. There are no separations, no boundaries, no barriers, any more. We can all come up without distinction, without exclusion into the very presence of divine glory. We do this every day in our Mass and at our Holy Communion. This is one example of the central importance of the theology of the Temple in the reading of the Gospel. But, to return again to the Transfiguration; here we are entering into the heart of the mystery of Christian prayer. When we pray we are made one with Jesus in His prayer. This means we become one with Jesus in His divine Sonship; and over us when we pray the same voice of the Eternal Father is spoken "This is my Son, my Chosen One." Again, another example of the supposedly mythological, but really theological language of the Bible is to be noted in the words, "the heavens were opened." This means that the separation between God and man which sin is, is abolished by the redemption of Christ, and that in Christ we already share in the life of heaven, we are already admitted into the presence of the Father. That is what the opening of the heavens means. This happens in Jesus Christ and happens in our lives every time we pray. Every time we pray, the heavens are opened over us and around us, and we are enveloped with Jesus in the same love with which the Father loves His Son. It is not so much we who pray then, as the Beloved Son who prays in us. Or, as St. Paul says, it is the Spirit of adoption, it is the Spirit of the Son making us sons, who is given us by Christ to pray in us with groanings that are ineffable. All that we have to do when we pray - because we do get discouraged in our efforts and we feel we are making such a poor fist of it - but really all we've got to do is to try to remove the distractions which impede Christ from praying in us. We have only, as it were, to stand back and let Christ pray in us, let the Holy Spirit pray in us, to remove the distractions which impede and try to create the conditions which permit the Son and the Spirit to pray in us. The word "pray-in" is familiar now, but all Christian prayer is really Christ's "pray-in" in us. Christian 910 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 prayer is essentially Christ praying in us, and the Spirit praying in us. Therefore in us and through us as we pray glory is given to the eternal Father by the Son in us, through the Holy Spirit in us, as it was in the beginning and is now and ever shall be for ever and ever. St. John's Theology of Prayer We note in passing that this revelation of the meaning and the mystery of Jesus and prayer in St. Luke's Gospel agrees completely with the Gospel of St. John. In the very prologue of St. John's Gospel, we read: "The Word was made flesh and dwelt amongst us." We know that these words are again a reference to the cloud of divine glory and the Tent of God's dwelling, because the words really mean "He pitched His tent [God's Tent] amongst us." These words are not just a description, but also a theology. Christ becomes in His very flesh the temple of true prayer, prayer which really encounters God, really gets through to God, really opens the heavens for us and reconciles man to God; and this is made possible through Christ's Passion. Note that the very first act of faith in Christ is that which is given by John the Baptist immediately afterwards in St. John's Gospel in the form "Look, there is the Lamb of God." This is the first act of faith in Christ, and we repeat it every day at Mass. Another reference to Christ's Passion is found when Jesus later says to the Samaritan woman that worship will not any longer be in any privileged place, but "true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth." A certain Protestant tradition, not a universal one, but a certain Protestant tradition has tended to interpret this in an anti-institutional and anti-liturgical sense. Worship in spirit and in truth would be something like Quaker worship where there would be no priesthood, no liturgy, and so on. This could not be further from the thought of St. John. St. John is the most sacramental, the most liturgical, the most eucharistic and the most ecclesial of all the evangelists. The words "spirit and truth" refer not to some disembodied deinstitutionalised form of spirituality; they refer to Jesus' own risen Body. There is no contrast between body and spirit. All the related contrasts, so often made nowadays between spirit and institution, between spirit and structure, are alien to the thought of St. John and indeed of the whole of the New Testament. Christ's Body is spirit, Christ's risen Body is life-giving spirit. To worship the Father in spirit and in truth is to worship the Father above all in and through the Holy Eucharist which is the Body of Christ. "Spirit and truth" is Christ's own risen and glorified Body become life-giving spirit. Here St. John is absolutely one with St. Paul. What Jesus is saying here is that His risen Body is the only Christian temple, and that it is only through His Body that we come to God. Therefore, the apex, what the Constitution on the Liturgy calls the source and the summit, of all Christian spirituality, is the Holy Mass, where God's Spirit (in the words of the Eucharistic prayer), "comes upon these gifts to make them holy so that they may become for us the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ." This is the moment when the words of our Lord to the Samaritan woman are realized and we become "true worshipers of God, the kind of worshipers the Father wants, worshiping Him in spirit and in truth." The Baptism of Our Lord Now, let us turn briefly to the Baptism of our Lord which contains another revelation of the mystery of Christian prayer. St. Luke again characteristically tells us that Jesus, after His own Baptism, was in prayer when heaven opened, and the Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 911 Holy Spirit came down upon Him, and the voice of the Father sounded over Him: "You are my Son, the Beloved, my favor rests on you." The mystery of our baptism is included in that of the Baptism of our Lord. We are baptized in order to pray - it is as siraple as that. We are baptized in order to pray in union with Jesus and indeed in His very person. Baptism, which the more traditional way of speaking called christening (a much more beautiful terns: christening) is our "oneing" with Christ. "One-ing" is another of those untranslatable old English words which you find in the medieval mystics - oneing with Christ. That is what our baptism means. We never realize this oneness with Christ more than when we pray. When we pray, as the Council puts it, we are "sons in the Son," and the voice of the Father is say-ing over us when we pray, as it said over Christ when He prayed - "You are my Son, the Beloved, my favor rests on you." Prayer is the highest exercise and the supreme fulfillment of our baptism. The baptized People of God are before and above all a praying people. The Ascension Finally we come to the mysteries of Ascension and Pentecost. The Ascension is another manifestation of the mystery of prayer. Jesus ascends to the Father enveloped in the cloud of divine glory. Remember the disciples were not interested in what the weather was like on the day when our Lord ascended, and the whole cloud is not something that happened to be there because it was a nice summer's day. The cloud is also the theological description of the glory of the Father into which Christ entered when He left earthly vision. Jesus ascends to the Father, therefore, enveloped in the same radiant cloud of divine glory that we have seen at the Annunciation, at the Baptism, and at the Transfiguration. He ascends in an attitude of blessing, the attitude of prayer which He keeps forever in heaven in the Father's presence. His blessing is above all else the gift of the Spirit, the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. The priest at Mass is acting in His name, vicariously giving Christ's own Ascension blessing to Christ's people when he says "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all." In a sense - in a very true sense - the liturgy, the Eucharist above all, is the proof that it is all true. After His Resurrection, Christ invariably greets His people, His community, with the words "Peace be with you." If in our liturgy we can be greeted by His representative with the words "Peace be with you," this is the proof that it is true that Christ has risen and is with us. Nobody can give us peace, nobody has the right to say "Peace" except Christ. Therefore, if peace is given to us, if it is present in our liturgy, this is the proof that it is all true and that Christ is living and is here. Pentecost and Prayer The coming of the Holy Spirit on the infant Church is also linked with prayer. This time it is prayer "together with Mary the Mother of Jesus." 1 have said in passing already that it is certain that St. Luke intends to call attention to the analogy between the conception of Jesus which he describes in the Gospel and the birth of the Church which he describes in Acts. In both the glory, the glory of God and the overshadowing of the spirit, marks the end of the separation between God and man, and it shows that in Christ, in the Church, God has come to live in the very midst of His own and in prayer we infallibly meet Him in Christ and in the Church. Mary the Mother of Jesus is there, with an indispensable place in the mystery of salvation and with an irreplaceable part in the prayer of the Christian. In 912 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 passing it might be worth asking ourselves to what extent some of the problems and troubles in the Church today are linked with the manifest and deplorable decline' in devotion to our Blessed Lady. The Our Father I have said that the People of God is above all a people that prays. Now this is shown very clearly in the Evangelists' account of how Christ gave a special prayer, the "Our Father" to His disciples. The disciples had just watched Jesus praying, and when He finished one of them said: "Lord, teach us to pray as John taught his disciples." For the Jews in that particular cultural situation a religious group was identified by its specific form of praying. So the disciples are really asking for a prayer which will mark them as members of Christ's new Messianic people, partakers already of the coming kingdom of God. In answer Jesus gives them the Our Father. Its most striking word is the word Father. Jesus never once prayed without calling God "Father." But what is not usually recognized is that neither the Old Testament, nor Jewish tradition ever addressed God as Father. This is a remarkable fact. It has been brought to our notice by (among others) a Lutheran exegete called Joachim Jeremias. This vocative use of the word "Father" in praying to God is new and unique in the prayer of Jesus and in that of His followers after Him. What is even more striking is that Jesus uses a special term for "Father" in speaking to God, the word "Abba." This is a family word, a child's endearing word for father, "my dear Father." It would be going too far and would suggest something childish to say that He called God "Dada" - "Abba" is a familial, not a familiar term - "my dear Father." Never before in history did any man dare to speak so intimately and so affectionately to God. Jesus in the Gospel, according to Jeremias' count, uses it 177 times. This term is something characteristic of Jesus' own prayer and of Jesus' own attitude to His Father. Jeremias in one of his books called The Central Message of the New Testament regards this as perhaps the central message and says that even if we had nothing else than this to prove the special, absolutely unique Sonship, the divine Sonship and therefore the Divine nature of Christ, His use of the term "Abba" for Father would be enough. This is the supreme manifestation of the unique filial relationship between Jesus and His Father. The disciples never ceased to be amazed at this way of addressing God. They were even frightened by it. They couldn't bring themselves without an effort to repeat the words after Him. The touching effect is that when they say the words after Jesus they always repeat his own words "Abba" in the very language that Jesus used, Aramaic, even when they didn't use or know the language. This explains the odd sort of repetitions, or duplications that you get in St. Paul, "Abba," "Father," the two words mean the same thing; but the disciples could not say "Father" to God without reminding themselves that Jesus said "Abba" and that He ordered them to say it after Him. This was as though to say: "We couldn't say it unless He did and He told us to do so." This is the explanation of our own introduction to the Our Father in the liturgy: "Because of the divine command and following the divine example we dare to say Our Father." I am afraid the translation that ICEL have given here is not a good one. "We pray with confidence." This is not enough. It does not convey the full force of the Latin words, "audemus dicere": "We make bold to say," "We dare to say." This is what the Church has always meant by this introduction to the Our Father. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 913 But the Our Father is not just a prayer that we say; it's a prayer that makes itself true as we say it. God becomes our dear Father, and we become His favorite children, in and through and with Jesus Christ when we pray. That is what our prayer is, our sharing in the mystery of the Divine Sonship, our entering into the unique relationship between Jesus and His Father which is expressed by His use of the word "'Abba" - "'my dear Father." The Our Father is the realization of our salvation, it is the proof that we are saved. If we were not baptized we could not say it. That is why every baptized person in the early Church was given the Our Father to learn by heart (which is perhaps a commentary on a certain reaction at the present time against prescribed forms of prayer for children). Here is what St. Paul says to the Galatians: "The proof that you are sons is that God has sent the spirit of his son into your heart, the spirit that cries 'Abba Father,' and it is this that makes you a son." The whole theology 1 have been trying to suggest to you is contained in that sentence - "the proof that you are sons is that God has sent the spirit of his son into your heart, the spirit that cries 'Abba,' 'Father,' and it is this that makes you a son." The kingdom has come when we pray Our Father. The glory of the final coming is already present and we share in that glory in the very heart of the blessed Trinity. Jeremias has said that the Our Father is eschatology making itself true as we say it - eschatoiogy realizing itself - a very profound thought. Infallibility of Prayer 1 have said that the Our Father, and indeed all Christian prayer, makes itself true as we say it by the power and in the person of Christ. Now we are bound by Our Lord's own words to believe that prayer is infallible, that every true prayer is infallibly heard. What then are we to say of unanswered prayer? There can be no answer to this problem, in the light of the Gospel, other than that no prayer is unanswered if it is in the name of Jesus. What Jesus Himself said was: "Whatever you ask the Father in my name, will be granted to you." Note the qualification, "in My Name." If a prayer is in His name truly, truly and really in His name, then it must be answered by the power and promise of our Divine Lord Himself. Jesus said something even stranger; He said: "Whatever you ask the Father in my name, believe that you have already received it, and it will be given to you." Is this some curious, almost pathological form of auto-suggestion? It cannot be. But there is a mystery here and it is the New Testament which gives us the key to this mystery. No prayer is unanswered, because every prayer admits us to the presence and the glory of God. In heaven's name, what else have we to pray for but that? What else do we want but that? Is God not enough for us? Every prayer gives us oneness with Christ, and again, in heaven's name, what are we praying for but that? What do we want, but that? What do we need but that? Is Christ not enough for us? St. Paul said "Since God did not spare his own Son but gave him up to benefit us all, has he not also with him given us everything." Is there anything he has refused? Like Jesus Himself, then, we can thank the Father before our prayers are answered. You remember our Lord, before the raising of Lazarus, said: "I thank You, Father, because You have heard my prayer." Prayer is our privilege before it is our duty. The same is true of our faith. Karl Barth says that what we should be saying now is not, "You are bound to believe," but "You are permitted to believe." The faith is a privilege, not a burden, and so is prayer. All our prayers are answered in Christ - Christ is the answer to our prayer. All our prayers end with "Amen." The word 914 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 does not mean so much "may it be so," but rather "it is so." It is so in Christ. Christ is God's Arden to our prayer. St. Paul says: "With Him it is always "Yes" and however many the promises God has made the "Yes" to them all is in Him." And He goes on to say: "That is why it is through Him, that we answer "Amen" to the praise of God." Prayer is in crisis in the modern world. T. S. Eliot in "The Rock" says: Endless invention, endless experiment brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness knowledge of speech but not of silence knowledge of words but ignorance of the Word all our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance. The cycles of heaven in twenty centuries brings us further from God and nearer to the dust. There is a certain truth even though a certain pessimism in what Eliot says. But it is consoling to recall another great man of our time, the outstanding humanist and servant of humanity who was Dag Hammerskjold. It was prayer and specifically the Our Father which inspired Hammerskjold to give his life for others. "Murderous Angels" notwithstanding, Hammerskjold was a very great man. "The only value of a life," says Hammerskjold, "is its content for others; and therefore in my great loneliness, to serve others. How incredibly great is what I have been given and how meaningless is what I have to sacrifice. 'Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done.' You wake from dreams of doom and then for a moment you know beyond all the noise and the gestures, you know the only real thing, love's calm unwavering flame in the half light of an early dawn." In this Carmelite setting, I am happy to end by suggesting that this is a contemporary echo of St. Teresa's epilogue of her life of prayer, written on a scrap of paper found after her death in her breviary in 1582: "Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you, All things pass, God never changes, Patience attains all that it strives for. He who has God is lacking in nothing. Only God is enough. Solo Dios Basra." SISTER MARY GARASCIA, C.I'P.S. Prayer and Spirituality ISister Mary Garascia is a member of the Theology Department of Gerard High School; 2252 North Forty-fourth Street; Phoenix, Arizona 85008.1 Introduction It is Fall as these thoughts are being written, and across the nation the past summer produced the usual spate of chapters and meetings which will in turn generate programs and conferences and discussions in the community houses of American religious this apostolic year. Private prayer continues to be one of the most frequently discussed topics, demonstrating the persistent concern felt by many sisters with this area of their religious life. The statements which follow are not a systematic development of the nature or methods of prayer; neither are they original. They are, it is hoped, things which are said too softly or too seldom, and which may help to give discussions of prayer and spirituality a certain perspective. Perspective on Prayer: Prayer as Positive Perhaps the idea that is most often not uttered at the beginning of prayer discussions is that prayer is supposed to be a positive human experience. It should be, in general, enjoyable and easy. Prayer is an experience of contact with God, and the God of Christianity is the Approachable One. Both the Old and New Testaments present God as a departure from the magical-mysterious pagan gods and the philosophical-mystery gods of the Greco-Roman world. God is revealed, instead, to be lover, friend, father, savior. Because that is the way God is, Jesus could respond with the simple and natural Our Father when someone asked Him how to pray. Certainly at times prayer will be difficult because life itself is, at times, difficult. But the times when prayer is a deeply rewarding experience should predominate. A God who must be sought in tortuous ways is not lovable or attractive, nor is He the God of Jesus. The "dark night" of the mystics is not meant to characterize the spiritual life of man. It is only a temporary stage, as all suffering and dying is temporary and is oriented toward resurrection and future life. Probably the first rule of prayer should be to enjoy God, to relax and pray naturally. It should be clear, whenever prayer is discussed, that behind all the words there lurks a God of nearness, approachability, and overflowing generosity. Perspective on Prayer: Prayer and Autobiography Possibly one reason why prayer becomes unnatural or strained is that it becomes separated from autobiography) Each person writes a story with his life. The story IMichael Novak, Ascent of the Mountain, Flight of the Dove (New York: Harper and Row, 1971), pp. 43-87. 916 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 is sequential and hopefully has direction and meaning. If a person is religious, his story is also religious. In other words, if he were to tell his story to another, he could not tell it merely in terms of vital statistics, places of residence or employment, achievements, and so on. All these things would be seen by the religious person in terms of a greater reality: the times, places, and experiences when God entered his life, the development of his own religious consciousness. Prayer needs as its ground an awareness and appreciation by the praying person of his own religious story. The person prays not to an unfamiliar God, but to a God whom he has come to know in a process of time and experience, to a God whom he can take for granted on the one hand, and yet to a God who enters his life so constantly and insistently that their relationship is a continual source of awe and rejoicing to him. With this consciousness of story, prayer takes place at the meaning core of the person. It can never become an exercise or a duty because it is always an extension of experience. It will more often be affectively rewarding, as it should be, and natural. An underlying assumption of this point of view is that a person is willing to trust himself and his own religious experiences. This is not to say that man never errs, becoming proud, presumptuous, idolatrous, or that it is not important to imitate others or seek guidance. But there quickly comes a point when the praying person must accept the fact that God has spoken to him, is really calling him in a unique way. Unless he accepts God in this way, believing and accepting his own experience of God, prayer will tend to be marked by insecurity, darkness, distance. Perspective on Prayer: Prayer and Conversion The notion of trusting one's religious experience in order to pray leads to considering how important the quality of religious experience is. All the methods, spiritual systems, directors, and rules with which prayer gets surrounded have only one purpose: to lead the person toward certain basic conversion experiences. These are the peak experiences of the person's religious story, the turning points when the person begins defining himself in terms of his relationship with God, the point of decision to believe in the face of insufficient evidence, the assent to take seriously certain gospel precepts. These conversion points are absolutely essential if prayer is to be more than a passing phenomenon. Once certain conversions have been experienced, changes in the cultural underpinnings of prayer, such as theological upheavals or the declining influence of organized religion, are not perceived as basically threatening to prayer life. Pseudo oppositions like work and prayer, God and neighbor, resolve themselves into situations of healthy and prayer-supporting tension, if they continue to be of concern at all. Preoccupation with how to pray or with the quality of one's prayer tends to disappear, and the person begins, in freedom, to seek out for himself his own prayer rhythm. Finally, through conversion the person becomes capable of handling suffering, the great testing-point of anyone's spiritual life. It is hard to stop being concerned about methods, rules, spiritual systems because of the recent past history of ascetical training which, unfortunately, came to be dominated by the personal spiritualities of Saints Teresa and John of the Cross. Thomas Merton, one of the most serious pray-ers of contemporary America, also said some of the most freeing things about prayer: Systems are fine, up to a point, but all they are for is to help you get to the point where there is no more system, where you deal with God absolutely in your freedom and his Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 917 freedom.2 There is really no opposition., between praying alone and being with people. Both are true, both are right, and you don't divide one against the other and say it's purely horizontal or purely vertical. It is both horizontal and vertical, and you should follow what is right for you at a given time. When you are dealing with people for as long as it works, go on dealing with people; when you get tired of dealing with people, go pray alone. There comes a time when you just get tired of a particular prayer form unless you have a charism of never getting tired of it! All right, that is your charism, your thing. But most of us should simply follow the natural rhythm of the way we are constituted, and follow the Holy Spirit. There is a time and a place for everything,a Sometimes statements such as Merton's are accepted up to the "yes-but" point. Yes, but is it not possible, if a person really lets himself go, does his own thing, that he may cease to pray, or pray very infrequently? Yes, of course, it is possible, because man always has the option of choosing things which bring him death instead of life. The reasonable person will be aware of the possibility and take reasonable precautions. However, this possible catastrophe will certainly be the unusual and extraordinary case. Every person who walks along a street risks being hit by a car, but only the neurotic stay home. Perhaps this statement sounds facetious, but it is based on some of the assumptions already developed: that prayer is, basically, a happy and rewarding experience and therefore even very busy people will come back to it with the naturalness of a man seeking recreating leisure; that prayer is an outflowing of religious experiences so deep that the idea of a converted man forgetting God would be as unthinkable as the Jews forgetting Jerusalem during the exile.'* Finally, fidelity is not something that can be produced by following a regimen: Fidelity does not come out of a personality we have safely banked. Fidelity arises from our inter-relationship with the flow of life. It is something that comes out of a person who is mature enough to deepen his convictions in moments when they are severely challenged. Fidelity, in other words, is not something that exists because we stay the same. It is a dynamic quality that exists because we are capable of growth and constructive change,s Out of the desire for God and the pleasure of his company will flow a certain discipline. Prayer will be chosen over other things because it is important, at the core of the meaning system of the person. The search for God will seem worthy of time and energy. The person who has experienced conversion will find it hard to forget the experience; he will tend to remain conscious of the possibility of future conversions and will work to keep himself open to conversion. Any worthwhile human endeavor has its built-in asceticism. Someone once pointed out that there are three ways of viewing man: as evil, as good but with certain dangerous impulses which need caution, or as growth-oriented. Everything written above opts for the growth-oriented view of man, who relates to a God of abundance and nearness, and a prayer life which feels good and is guilt free and peace-filled.6 2Thomas Merton, "Prayer, Tradition, and Experience," Sisters Today, February 1971, p. 28"/; see also the same author's "The Life That Unifies," Sisters Today, October 19"/0, p. '71. 3Thomas Merton, "Prayer, Personalism, and the Spirit," Sisters Today, November 1970, pp. 133-4. 4 Psalm 13"/:5-7. 5Eugene Kennedy, In the Spirit, in the Flesh (Garden City: Doubleday, 1971), p. 85. 6George A. Lane, S.J., Christian Spirituality (Chicago: Argus, 1968), p. 92. 918 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 Spirituality in Crisis For some time, even years, there has been talk of a prayer crisis; and certainly the universal and continuing concern with prayer among religious would point to the existence of many problems in this area. However, there is another way to see the situation. All types of prayer are problematic these days, personal private prayer, group prayer, formal liturgical prayer. It is possible that the reason why prayer problems are so resistant to solution is that there is an underlying spirituality crisis. There have been so many fundamental changes in Church and culture that prayer has been placed in an impossible position: it is expected to help the person combat secularism, to support his faith, to keep him from becoming lost in work, to save him from mere humanism, to aid him to achieve emotional calm and survive crises, to give meaning to his life, to put him in contact with God, and so on. No wonder there is a prayer crisis. Prayer is carrying the whole burden of what should be the shared task of a viable spirituality. Prayer has come to dominate spirituality when actually prayer is only one function or aspect of a man's spiritual life. Perhaps the best solution to prayer problems is to forget them for a time and turn to the task of finding paths to God which cut through and join together all the reaches of the world of the praying person. Space does not permit a description of forces which have caused a breakdown in spirituality, a discussion of schools of spirituality, or even a definitive definition of the word. As a working definition, spirituality can be thought of as a particular style of approach to union with God,7 an approach which encompasses elements like prayer, penance, activity, and so forth. Personal spiritualities will differ in accord with personality, level and type of intelligence, perception of reality, life experiences, and other individualizing factors. Yet much of a man's approach to God is shaped in common with other men out of the culture in which he lives. Today man's life is the product of a period of cultural erosion of faith and spirituality, and he confronts a world deprived of a generally accepted integrating principle. Many people have come to accept as normal a schizoid world of oppositions:8 individual-community, freedom-law, service-prayer, human-divine, and so on. The need is to seek a more unified approach to God, one in which the whole life of man, rather than mainly his prayer, becomes the point of interaction between man and God. This task belongs to the whole Church, to dialogue, and to time. Below are listed some rather obvious and not at all original areas where the discussion could begin. The reader will want to add others. Sacramentality "To be, so to speak, submerged by the 'divine milieu' of the whole universe., is the fundamental gift for which man can only pray: Lord, that I may see.''8 Seeing the world as a sacrament is a very Christian thing to do, for the Incarnation has transfigured all nature starting with the unique sacredness of the Son of God. A sacramental spirituality is probably the only answer to a world of increasing secularity since the sacramental order of things does not set itself in opposition to the secular order. Man needs, therefore, to come to experience the secular world as 7james Carroll, Prayer from Where We Are (Dayton: Pflaum, 1970), p. 16. 8Thomas Sartory, "Changes in Christian Spirituality," in Life in the Spirit ed. Hans Kiing (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1967), p. 82. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 919 a sacred sign. How can this happen? How can man's awareness of and receptivity to signs be increased? In addition to answering these questions, the search for a viable spirituality needs to speak to the problem of evil, suffering, death, frustration, anxiety, and the other negative elements of life in order that these, too, may be sacred contact points. Work Jobs in American society today are regarded as mainly functional: they supply the money to take care of the person's needs. Few people claim to have any great feeling of reverence for or dedication to the goals of their employers. In addition there is an enormous distrust of the society's institutions, a distrust which increases even as more and more people are employed by them. Religious up to the present time have stood in sharp contrast to this picture. However, in the face of open placement, vacations, increased freetime, higher salaries, doubt about institutional apostolates, and so on, there is a need to reaffirm a spirituality of work. Work is not just a means to purchase leisure. The work of a religious is dedicated work. It must be seen as and really be redemptive and fiealing. Religious can bring a permanence of dedication to their work. They are capable of being neutral persons, free of the need to seek power and to manipulate others, a freedom facilitated by the vows. If work is perceived as redemptive, it will no longer divide the spiritual life of the person; it will nourish it. A Renewed Asceticism "To continue to make ourselves present to others requires a possession of ourselves and a sensitivity to our own complexity that all too few people develop.''9 "Growth in maturity requires death to selfishness, irresponsibility, undisciplined instinct so that we may rise to a new life of mature, generous, and trusting freedom.''~° Man today is helped to have deep insights into himself through the advances and availability of education and psycholog)). These resources should make it increasingly possible to choose a way to God which fits the particular personality structure of each individual. But living spiritually requires a tremendous amount of self-discipline which is perhaps not obvious to those who set out to "do their own thing." A person has only a certain amount of time and psychic energy. If these are used on self-defeating or self-destroying activities, there is no possibility of praying well or serving well. Living spiritually means, for example, declaring all out war on the moods and depressions which Americans love to indulge in; it means forsaking jealousy and infighting and competition for status; it means facing old age gracefully; it means ceasing any form of manipulation of others; it means really forgiving other community members for things that happened at their hands in the past; it means facing reality about ourselves. If a person is to be a sign of Christ, he must first be a fairly attractive human person. Christian spirituality should help the person to be in tune with himself and to accept himself and to direct his self. "Prayer, then, takes place by a man's believing acceptance of himself, by laying hold in a discriminating and yet reconciling way, of all the levels of his life, including feelings, sexuality, and the body, to hear the music, not of his own making, which is sounded at the root of his being." i ~ 9Kennedy, In the Spirit, p. 42. 10Andrew Greeley, "The New Agenda," Critic, May-June 1972, pp. 4 I-2. Gregory Baum, Man Becoming (New York: Herder and Herder, 1970), p. 83. 920 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 A Communitarian Spirituality Spirituality flows from community. The Biblical concept of salvation is of a saved people and of individuals who work out their holiness within the salvation community. The sociology of knowledge reveals the disturbing truth that man never knows God definitively but only God as he is perceived and defined by men today. Peter Berger says that under the immense array of human projections there are indicators of a reality that is truly other, and that it is important to turn to all religious traditions, past and present, to recapture their "moments of truth," the sacred contact points of each age, their signals of transcendence.12 A spirituality which moves away from absolute and changeless conceptualizations must become grounded in a deep trust in the presence of the Spirit in the living community. Theqe must also be a corresponding willingness to expose oneself to the community for the guidance which saves a spirituality from becoming magical or singular or presumptive, and a willingness to share one's spiritual riches with the community. A communitarian spirituality will be especially needed as the pressing moral issues of the next decade arise, issues for which there are no adequate precedents or philosophical principles and about which Christians cannot afford to remain neutral or undecided. Finally, the spirituality of today must be concerned with creating a society in which the next generation will find it just a little easier to seek God. It is, in fact, within the energy-sapping fight to build a better world for mankind that some of the most profound contacts between God and men take place. Conclusion What has been said about prayer and spirituality is incomplete and ignores most aspects of both topics. Prayer is basically a joyful, simple openness to God, no matter what else it is made out to be; but prayer is in turn dependent on the whole of the spiritual life style of a person. "I have one longing only: to grasp what is hidden behind appearances, to ferret out that mystery which brings me to birth and then kills me, to discover if behind the visible and unceasing stream of the world an invisible and immutable presence is hiding." ~ a 12peter Berger, A Rumor of Angels (Garden City: Doubleday, 1969), pp. 59, 99-112. 13N. Kazantzakis, Saviors of God (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1960), p. 51. JOHN WILCKEN, S.J. Religious Life in the Church I John Wilcken is a professor of theology and lives at 175 Royal Pole; Parkville, Victoria 3052 ; Australia. ] it is probably true to say that religious life has always been a problem in the Church. I do not find this fact either surprising or alarming. I think religious life is of very great importance in the Church -- I am thinking here primarily of the Catholic Church - and it has a tremendously important part to play in the Church's life. Briefly, religious must keep the Church faithful to the radical demands of the gospel. But inevitably religious will sometimes - perhaps often - be unequal to this task, and then their lukewarmness and infidelity will be a source of serious harm in the Church. For both these reasons, that is, the importance of their task and the inevitability that they will at times be unequal to this task, religious are always likely to be a problem in the Church. Where religious are in earnest, they are a problem because they are challenging "vested interests"; where they are lax, they are a trial to those who have the welfare of the Church at heart. Whatever they do, religious must resign themselves to being a problem. This problem was well to the fore in the debates and behind-the-scenes struggles of Vatican I1. The struggle crystallized in what might seem to be a relatively unimportant procedural question, namely whether there should be in the Constitu-tion on the Church a separate chapter on religious) The European group of bishops and theologians who had the leadership at the Council - men like Karl Rahner and Cardinal Doepfner - wanted religious life to be dealt with in the general chapter on the holiness of the Church. Thus they hoped to avoid perpetuating the impression that there are two standards of holiness in the Catholic Church, namely the following of the evangelical counsels in religious life for those who aim at perfection, and the following of the commandments in secular life for those who simply aim at salvation. But the bishops who had been religious and the major superiors of religious orders felt that this would be an undervaluing of the importance of religious life and pressed for a separate chapter on religious. On paper the religious superiors won - there is a separate chapter on religious - but one might consider that the result was really a compromise, since Chapters 5 and 6 of the Constitution on the Church are really one long chapter with an artificial division in the middle. It has been constantly pointed out that the theology of religious has not yet been satisfactorily worked out and that Vatican 11 has certainly not said the last word in this matter. The main treatment of the subject is in paragraph 44 of the Constitution on the Church, a paragraph which is somewhat confused in its Isee the discussion of this in R. M. Wiltgen, The Rhine Flows into the Tiber (New York: Hawthorn, 1967), pp. IO3-9. 922 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 structure. It makes a number of different statements not very clearly connected with each other and remains finally somewhat unsatisfactory. One might take from it two propositions which are helpful. The first is this: Furthermore, it [i.e., religious life] not only witnesses to the fact of a new and eternal life acquired by the redemption of Christ. It foretells the resurrected state and the glory of the heavenly kingdom. Religious life is here presented as a form of kerygma: it is a sign of God's kingdom. The second proposition is: Thus, although the religious state constituted by the profession of the counsels does not belong to the hierarchical structure of the Church, nevertheless it belongs inseparably to her life and holiness. The close connection between religious life and the Church is here emphasized; and it is pointed out that the connection is not with the institutional structures of the Church, but with "her life and holiness." There is another quite illuminating reference to religious life earlier in the Constitution on the Church, namely in paragraph 31 where the Council is distinguishing the special contribution of lay people in the world from that of clergy and religious. Here we are told that "by their state in life, religious give splendid and striking testimony that the world cannot be transfigured and offered to God without the spirit of the beatitudes." Once again religious life is presented as a form of kerygma: it is a sign indicating how the world is to be transformed and offered to God. There is also a helpful reference in paragraph 18 of the decree on the Church's missionary activity. It reads: Right from the planting stage of the Church, the religious life should be carefully fostered. This not only confers precious and absolutely necessary assistance on missionary activity. By a more inward consecration made to God in the Church, it also luminously manifests and signifies the inner nature of the Christian calling. This reference I find particularly significant. Once more religious life is seen as kerygma, but the vital importance of this sign is brought out. One gets the impression that the true nature of the Church cannot be manifested to people in mission lands unless religious life is there to reveal her inner life. Once more religious life is seen as belonging inseparably to the Church's life and holiness. Moreover, there is here a mention of diakonia: "precious and absolutely necessary assistance" is conferred on missionary activity. Vatican II has helpful things to say about religious life, but scarcely provides an adequate theology. The close connection between religious life and the nature of the Church is mentioned, but this ecclesiological view is not sufficiently developed. The Council in general tends to adopt a kerygmatic approach to theology and in speaking of religious life stresses the kerygmatic aspect. The aspects of koinonia and diakonia do not get adequate treatment. The term "religious life" is a rather odd-sounding one, and it has recently come trader considerable attack, for example in the book Experiences in Community by Gabriel Moran and Maria Harris.2 The word "religious," meaning someone belong-ing to a community of sisters, brothers, or priests, is simply a translation of the Latin religiosus or religiosa, and perhaps the word is more bearable in Latin. Canon 487 of the Code of Canon Law, which came into force in 1918, gives this description: 2(New York: Herder and Herder, 1968), pp. 54-7. Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 923 "Fbe religious state is a stable manner of living in community, by which the faithful undertake, besides obedience to the commandments which bind everyone, also the ob~rvance of the evangelical counsels, by vows of obedience, chastity, and poverty. This description comes from a body of law. It portrays a state of affairs that had already existed for many centuries and codifies legally a life structure which had first been worked out in practice. Moreover this description - which is over 50 years old - reflects a theology that is now out-of-date. The clearcut distinction between those who merely seek to obey the commandments and those who undertake the practice of the counsels was rejected by Vatican II which saw the whole people of God as called to perfection {Lumen gentium, no. 40) and recognized that the practice of the evangelical counsels is not restricted to those in religious life (Lumen gentium, no. 39). Briefly, the Code of Canon Law describes a way of Christian life which had in fact existed in the Church for many centuries and describes it in accordance with theological ideas which have now been superseded. The aim of this article is to reflect theologically on this phenomenon known as religious life which exists in the world at the present time and has existed in the Church in varying forms for many centuries. The approach is theological, rather than sociological, although 1 think my conclusions would to a considerable extent be in harmony with the views of such sociologists as Max Weber and Ernst Troeltsch.3 So the starting point for reflection is religious life as it actually does exist and as it has actually existed for so long. It seems to me that what makes religious life important is that in this state of life the gospel message has been lived out in a radical and thorough-going way, thus giving leadership and inspiration to the rest of the Church. This radical interpretation of the gospel need not, of course, be limited to those in religious life. But it has happened, as a matter of history, that in the Catholic Church this thorough-going acceptance of the gospel demands has been a feature of religious life in particular. Those wishing to respond in a special way to the call of Christ have, very frequently, found themselves drawn to religious life, and have seen this kind of life as giving them scope for the following of Christ's call. Now there are, of course, Churches today which do not encourage religious life, and presumably the radicalism of the Gospel message is preserved in them in some other way. I am speaking of those Churches in which religious life is in fact encouraged, notably the Catholic Church. The matter might be expressed in another way. There are certain very important values in the New Testament which have, in fact, been preserved in the Catholic Church largely by means of religious life. Whether they will continue to be preserved in this way may seem uncertain to many people. Clearly the styles of religious life are changing rapidly; and a new form of dedicated Christian life that of the secular institute - has appeared. What seems quite certain is that the fundamental values of the gospel must be, and will be, preserved somehow. Leadership must be given by those who are willing to follow Christ so whole-heartedly that the pattern of their lives will be radically changed. In this way the complete dedication of the whole Church to Christ will be both signified and strengthened. Moreover, the unity of the human race which Christ brought about by His death and resurrection will be exemplified in a community life that triumphs 3See, for example, J. Milton Yinger, "The Sociology of Ernest Troeltsch," in An Introduc-tion to the History of Sociology ed. H. E. Barnes (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1948), pp. 311-2. 924 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 over differences of background, character, and natural interests. And the service of mankind which Christ the suffering servant came to render will be continued. That is, leadership will be given in the kerygma, the koinonia, and the diakonia of the Church. To put it another way, the faith, the charity, and the hope of the Church will be strikingly manifested. First, let us consider the role of religious in the kerygma, or proclamation of faith, of the Church. There is, I think, a fairly general consensus among New Testament scholars that the center of Jesus' preaching was His proclamation of the kingdom (or reign) of God. He declared that the definitive intervention of God in history, to wttich the Jews had looked forward so eagerly (see Daniel 7), was near at hand and, indeed, already beginning. God was acting decisively in the world through the preaching and work of Jesus Himself, and men were called to accept this preaching in faith. But the acceptance of this preaching was no small matter because Jesus made radical demands on people, involving a marked change in their way of life. The demands of the Sermon on the Mount were drastic enough, but particular people also received individual calls - Peter, Andrew, James, and John had to leave all to follow Jesus; the rich young man was asked to sell all his goods and give the money to the poor. The followers of Jesus were promised hardship and persecution. Loyalty to Christ had to come before the closest family ties. The Apostle Paul, who is perhaps the New Testament figure about whom we know most, found that his meeting with the risen Christ changed his life out of all recognition. He regarded all his earlier religious privileges as worthless. He led an apostolic life which involved constant labor, hardship, and persecution; and he seems to have regarded his sufferings as precisely the visible guarantee of the genuineness of his apostleship (see 2 Cor 11). He remained unmarried to devote himself fully to the Lord (1 Cor 7). In the apostolic period and during the early centuries of the Church, martyrdom was often looked upon with longing as the crown of the Christian's life. Paul wanted "to be gone and be with Christ" (Phil 1:23). Ignatius of Antioch implored the Roman Christians not to intercede for him with the civil authorities lest his martyrdom be prevented. Cyprian's letters reflect the persecuted Church's extra-ordinary esteem for the glory of martyrdom. Thus the early Church had this consciousness that Christ's preaching called for a radical response - a response that could even be so total as the sacrifice of life itself. This spirit of total self-giving was seen as essential to the Church's life. But the Church was not always persecuted. The possibilities of martyrdom grew less - especially after Constantine had guaranteed to the Christians freedom of worship, and even more so by the end of the 4th century when Christianity had become the sole accepted religion. But the spirit of total self-giving still had to be preserved in the Church. Leadership had to be given by those who undertook the radical living out of the gospel message. The Church's willingness to renounce everything for the sake of Christ still had to be signified and exemplified. St. Anthony, in the middle of the third century, set the example of the renunciation of earthly goods for the sake of Christ. Hearing the gospel of the rich young man one day at Mass, he felt that the words were addressed directly to himself, and he carried out literally the command of Christ. He lived a solitary life in the desert as a hermit. By the beginning of the 4th century, organized religious life had begun with the monastery of St. Pachomius. Thus when the age of persecution was passing and the possibility of martyrdom becoming less, a new way was being discovered of making a total response to the gospel message, namely the living of the monastic or Review for Religious, Volume 3 I, 1972/6 925 eremitical life. This kind of life must be seen entirely in the context of the Church. With the acceptance of Christianity by civil society, there was the danger of too much accommodation to comfortable living. The Church's way of safeguarding itself from this danger was to demonstrate in a striking way that the following of Christ makes total demands on the person. This was signified and exemplified by the monks and hermits. The monastic and eremitical life might be looked on as a social manifestation of the Church's faith in Christ. And there is an added reason why one should see religious life as belonging to the Church as a whole. Recruitment to religious life must come continually from the ranks of the whole Church. A sect can propagate itself, since children born into the families of the sect will presumably follow the beliefs of their parents. On the other hand, monasteries of celibate monks and nuns must draw their recruits continually from the Church as a whole. Thus religious life is a function of the whole Church, manifesting the Church's faith and proclaiming the radical demands made on mankind by the Gospel.* Next 1 want to consider the role of religious in connection with the Church's koinonia. Vatican II speaks of the Church as the sacrament of union and unity: By her relationship with Christ, the Church is a kind of ~crament or sign of intimate union with God, and of the unity of all mankind. She is also an instrument for the achievement of such union and unity (Lumen gentium no. 1 ). There are two aspects of the Church's sacramentality mentioned here: the Church is the sacrament firstly of union with God and secondly of the unity of mankind. The Church must first of all remain utterly obedient to God and closely united with Christ. The vine and branches image brings out admirably the necessity of union with Christ: "I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty; for cut off from me you can do nothing" (Jn 15:5). This union with Christ, which is based on faith and love, must be nourished by prayer: the Church must be a praying community. And 1 want to discuss now the union (or koinonia) with God through prayer. The Gospels speak surprisingly often of the prayer of Jesus Himself. Even Mark's account of the early public ministry of Jesus, with the impression it creates of intense activity and of the crowds continually pressing on Jesus(see Mk 1:45; 3:9; 3:20; 4:1), includes several references to His prayer. After the evening of cures at Capernaum, Jesus went off to a lonely place early in the morning and prayed there (Mk 1:35). Again, after the first miracle of the loaves, Jesus sent the crowds away and went off into the hills to pray (Mk 6:46). Matthew and Luke give an account of Jesus' instructions on prayer and record their versions of the Our Father (Mt 6:7-15; 7:7-11 and parallels in Luke). Luke in Acts describes the early Church as a praying community. For example, there is that verse at the end of Chapter 2 which is almost a definition of the Church: "These remained faithful to the teaching of the apostles, to the brother-hood, to the breaking of bread and to the prayers" (v. 42). After Peter and John had been released by the Sanhedrin, Luke describes the prayer of the community (Acts 4:23-31). Paul, in Chapter 12 of Second Corinthians speaks of his mystical experiences when he was caught up into the third heaven (2 Cor 12:1-6). He frequently speaks of his prayer of thanksgiving at the beginning of his epistles (e.g., 4On religious life as sign, see Karl Rahner, "The Theology of the Religious Life" in Religious Orders in the Modert~ World by Gerard Huyghe and others (London: Chapman, 1965), pp. 41-75. 926 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 Rom 1:8; 1 Cor 1:4); and he tells the Thessalonians to "pray constantly" (I Thes 5:17). The Church must be a praying community. It must be in union, that is, in koinonia, with the Father and the Son. The Church must be the sacrament of this koinonia, that is, its sign and instrument. But prayer, as we all know, is difficult, and leadership must be given in this matter. In Chapter 7 of First Corinthians Paul at least hints at where this leadership might come from. "An unmarried man can devote himself to the Lord's affairs, all he need worry about is pleasing the Lord" (v. 32), he writes, and a little later he adds, "In the same way an unmarried woman, like a young girl, can devote herself to the Lord's affairs; all she need worry about is being holy in body and spirit" (v. 34). The one freed from earthly cares can devote himself or herself more fully to those of heaven. Then again, the author of First Timothy writes of widows as people who can give themselves fully to prayer: "But a woman who is really widowed and left without anybody can give herself up to God and consecrate all her days and nights to petitions and prayer" (1 Tim 5:5). In fact profound prayer has always been seen as one of the absolute essentials of religious life - and this is true also of the orders founded specifically for external apostolic works. For example, a characteristic phrase to describe the Jesuit is, "contemplative in action," and this phrase indicates that the Jesuit, for all his outside activity, is meant to be a man dedicated to prayer. And of course the great contemplative orders of the Church, Cistercians, Carthusians, and so on, have been centers of prayer and sources of teaching on prayer for the whole Church. Thus one of the vitally important roles of religious life has been to give leadership in prayer, or koinonia with the Father and the Son. The second aspect of the Church's sacramentality mentioned by Vatican II is to be a sign and instrument of the unity of mankind. This function of unifying mankind through the grace of God is very solidly founded in the New Testament. When Jesus was asked, "And who is my neighbour?" He replied with the parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10), thus indicating that there is no place in Christian love for any kind of bigotry or prejudice. In the Fourth Gospel Jesus speaks of community charity as the sign of Christian discipleship: "By this love that you have for one another, everyone will know that you are my disciples" (Jn 13:35). Presumably, this love must triumph over natural causes of division, such as differences of temperament, interest, background and so forth. Paul brings out explicitly the fact that Christ has rendered unimportant the natural distinctions between people: "All baptized in Christ, you have all clothed yourselves in Christ, and there are no more distinctions between Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female, but all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:27-8). Thus Christ came to bring mankind to the unity of charity in spite of the natural causes of division in the world. Vatican II sees the Church as the sign and cause of this unity. I would like to give two illustrations from the New Testament of how this koinonia function of the Church was lived out in practice. One is Paul's collection of money for the poor of the Jerusalem Church. As is well known, this was not simply an act of charity on the part of the Gentile Christian Churches. It was a "peace offering" to the Jewish Christians of Jerusalem, Paul's effort to heal the deep division between the Jewish and Gentile wings of the primitive Church. If the saints of Jerusalem accepted this money offering, Paul hoped that this would represent their full acceptance of the Gentile Christians as brothers in Christ. Differences of culture and tradition could not be allowed to divide the Christian Church. This was a striking and wonderful example of Christian koinonia, and Paul Review for Refigious, Volume 31, 1972/6 927 labored untiringly for its success. The other example of early Christian koinonia is the description in Acts of the primitive Jerusalem community. Luke describes the early Christians as living together, sharing their goods, owning everything in common, and being united heart and soul. Certainly this is an idealized picture. Even the account in Acts gives hints of the divisions that were there from the beginning. There is the Ananias and Sapphira episode, and, more significantly, the dispute between Hellenists and Hebrews in Chapter 6. One might have expected that the Greek-speaking Jews, who had had experience of living outside Palestine in the broader context of the Hellenistic world, would have found it hard to get on with their fellow-countrymen of Palestine, who knew nothing but Jewish culture and tradition. The division seems to have been so sharp that it resulted in the setting up of a separate organization for the Greek-speaking Jews, namely, the appointment of the Seven. Nevertheless, in spite of the very real natural divisions that were there from the beginning, Luke sees this earliest period of the Church's history as exemplifying in a remarkable way the unity and charity that Christ came to bring. Even the division caused by private property seems to disappear, and there is the sharing of possessions and the common ownership of property. There is a joy and fellowship in this group of believers that is seen as a direct result of Christ's resurrection and the coming of the Holy Spirit. The implication seems to be that Christ has destroyed division in the world and brought unity to the human race. Even the account of Pentecost at the beginning of Acts,Chapter 2 confirms this: the coming of the Holy Spirit has destroyed the language barrier. And this fact of the restoration of the unity of mankind does not remain hidden. The phenomenon of tongues at Pentecost was apparent to all and remarked on publicly (Acts 2:7-1 I). Luke tells us a little later that the community of believers was "looked up to by everyone" (Acts 2:47). The infant Church is the sign and the beginning of united mankind. The radical manifestation of this in Luke's account is the sharing of goods and the common ownership of property. What actually happened in this matter of property in the early Church is not clear. Certainly Luke looks upon common ownership as an ideal for the Church, as something that occurred back in the Golden Age, in the Church's first fervor. Presumably, there was some basis in fact for the traditions that came down to Luke. But the practice of common ownership did not last long in the Church at large. The exercise of charity in the matter of material goods certainly did last, and the Christians continued to show strikingly their love and concern for one another: "See how they love one another, and how ready they are to die for each other" (Tertullian). But it is easy for fervor in these matters to grow less: the pull of material possessions is strong, and the causes of division in mankind are both manifold and powerful. Yet the Church must continue to be the sign and cause of unity in the human race. Christ came to make mankind a community of love, and the Church must strive constantly towards this goal. Those who want to give wholehearted obedience to Christ's call to unity and koinonia have felt themselves drawn to community life within the Church. There, property is no longer a division, and the choice of one's fellows is entirely in God's hands: one does not choose one's companions in religious life, but must accept in love the brothers or sisters whom God sends. The love of Christ and the common vocation must triumph over natural differences and antipathies. In this way the koinonia of the Church is lived out in a radical way, and an example of community life is given which may be an inspiration to others. 928 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 This is the task of religious. Of course, they often find themselves unequal to the task. There can be bitterness and division in religious communities, just as there can be anywhere else in the world. But the structure of religious life is one which, of itself, calls for a radical living out of Christian koinonia, of Christian charity: one accepts in love the companions whom God sends, regardless of natural antipathies. Christ's love must triumph over natural inclinations. One other point could be mentioned in this connection. Religious are often spoken of as an eschatological sign. For myself, I do not find the relationship of religious to eschatology particularly enlightening - unless one is simply referring to the fact that the Church is essentially an eschatological community and that religious life "belongs inseparably to her life and holiness" (Lumen gentium, no. 44). But it is significant that both the examples of koinonia in the New Testament which I mentioned do seem to have an eschatological dimension: Paul does seem to have seen his collection for the saints of Jerusalem as being in some sense an eschatological event, and the primitive communism of the early Christians was no doubt largely due to their expectation of an early Parousia.5 However, I do not want to stress too much this aspect. Suffice it to say that religious life is essentially eschatological precisely because the Church is essentially an eschatological com-munity. The word diakonia is heard a great deal in theological discussion these days, and the Church is being thought of more and more as the "Servant Church." This function of diakonia is connected with recent writing on the theology of hope and "political theology.''6 The servant Church, the Church concerned with the renovation of the present social order in the light of its hope for the future, necessarily enters into the public life of mankind. The Church can never remain a purely private organization, just as Jesus of Nazareth could not remain simply a private person. The preaching of Jesus - His denunciation of legalism and hypo-crisy, His stress on rightness of heart before God and genuine love of neighbor,His proclamation of the kingdom of God and call to repentance - this preaching soon brought Him into conflict with the upholders of the established order. And His own manner of life - His going out to the sick and the distressed, His forgiveness of sinners and table-fellowship with tax-collectors, His acceptance of the outcasts of society - this manner of life was a disturbance of the normal social order. Yet His great popularity, the crowds that came to hear and be helped by Him, showed that He was a force in the land to be reckoned with. The gospelHe preached, the human values He stood for, made Him into a "radical" in the best sense of the word: one who got to the roots of the problem. He manifested in His own life of service God's universal love for mankind, especially for the sick and suffering. His life and preaching were a dynamic force which was in fact to transform human society - and it was to do this by being continued in the life and preaching of the Church. It is not easy for the Church to preserve this true Christian radicalism. Again, leadership must be given - and in fact it has always been given, for example by many outstanding bishops of the patristic period. But this leadership in social radicalism came to be taken over, to a considerable extent, by religious orders. For example, the Benedictine monasteries gave stability and order to a world falling 5See the discussion of Paul's enterprise in K. F. Nickle, The Collection: A Study in Paul's Strategy (Naperville, Illinois: Allenson, 1966), pp. 129-42. 6See J. Metz, The Theology of the World (New York: Herder and Herder, 1969), especially Chapter 5, "The Church and the World in the Light of a 'Political Theology.' " Review for Refigious, Volume 31, 1972/6 929 into chaos after the decline of Rome. The Franciscans brought the spirit of the gospel and of poverty to a medieval Church weakened by wealth and power. The many teaching and nursing orders founded since the Reformation were established precisely to care for children and sick people who were being neglected. Mother Teresa's Missionary Sisters of Charity were founded to meet the problem of utter destitution in our contemporary world. Meeting the real needs of people who cannot help themselves requires dedication and self-sacrifice; yet it is a vital task for the Church. This task has often been carried out by religious orders. In fact, this is how religious orders came to be founded. A great need is recognized, a gifted founder or foundress gathers together a group of dedicated people, and thus a new religious order arises - this is the general pattern for the foundation of religious orders. And this pattern implies the giving of leadership in the Church's task of reforming and renewing society. It is a manifestation of the Church's hope - hope in the possibilities of this world's social institutions, and confidence that God is in fact working to transform our world. 1 am not saying, of course, that religious orders are the only groups of people that give leadership in this matter of renovating society. Nor would I claim that all religious orders today are clear on their social task - this is far from the case. But I do wish to claim that the essential thrust of a religious order - seen especially at its foundation - involves leadership in the renovation of society. And this, I think, is true even of contemplative orders. They too, in their own way, deeply influence social life. The heart of the Church's life can, I think, be summed up in those three words: kerygma, koinonia, diakonia. Vatican 11 states that religious life belongs inseparably to the Church's life and holiness (Lumen gentium, no. 44). 1 have been trying to expand this statement by showing that the task of religious orders is to give leadership in the Church's kerygma, koinonia, and diakonia. To put it another way: the Church proclaims radical renunciation for the sake of the kingdom, a union with Christ resulting in a living together of human beings in charity despite human divisions, and a service to the world that transforms society. Religious orders were founded precisely in order to give leadership in the putting of this program into practice. Whether an order should survive or not depends, 1 suppose, on whether or not it is still giving this leadership. I would like to make a couple of further comments before going on to a brief discussion of the future of religious life. What I have said about religious may possibly give the impression that it is all a rather emotional affair, and very grim and serious. This is, of course, simply not true of religious life as it is actually lived. Like all Christian living, religious life must be characterized by sober wisdom and a spirit of Christian joy. The New Testament does not have a great deal to say about wisdom - except to say that Christ is our wisdom (Jn !:1-14; 1 Cor 1:30) -and we have to go back to the wonderful sapiential books of the Old Testament. Monastic spiritual writing through the centuries has in fact been filled with healthy, down-to-earth commonsense, and this surely is one of the things that has made possible the survival of religious life. One might mention also the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, written with such prayer and labor by St. Ignatius Loyola. These have been so influential over the last few centuries precisely because they are so realistic, practical, and wise. Then, in the matter of Christian joy, religious life has been able to survive also because of the spirit of deep happiness that has been preserved there. Trials and problems abound, as they do everywhere in this world, but those who really have a divine call to religious life find in it a joy that they have 930 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 never known elsewhere. One might cite St. Teresa of Avila in this connection. In spite of the incredible trials and hardships of her life, she remained a very merry soul, a source of joy and happiness for the communities in which she lived. Finally, something should be said about the future of religious life. There are certainly the prophets of doom. For some people, the age of religious life in the Church is simply over. I do not myself share this view. No doubt there are more stormy days ahead for religious orders in the Church; and they will, of course, continue to change - this is essential if they are to survive. Those that refuse to change, or to change soon enough, will be in a dangerous situation. But it seems to me that religious life in its essentials corresponds so fully to the Gospel message that it will last as long as the Church lasts. No doubt the Christian values preserved and encouraged in religious life could be preserved in other ways; but, given the Church's actual traditions, I cannot see this particular way of preserving them dropping out altogether. Keeping in mind the analysis given in the body of this paper, I would like to outline what seem to me to be the essential elements of religious life which must be preserved in the various changes that are taking place. The first is the celibate life. Jesus called for the willingness to make radical renunciations for the sake of the kingdom even to the extent of changing the whole pattern of one's life. Paul saw the celibate state as extremely helpful for the full dedication of oneself to God (I Cor 7). In fact, throughout the centuries of Christian history people have felt themselves called to make this radical renuncia-tion for the sake of the kingdom. I do not anticipate that this vocation will cease in the Church. Although the eremitical life had its vogue in the early centuries, the Church has found by experience that life in community is more helpful. Not only is there mutual support, but a demonstration is given of the power of Christian love which can transcend the natural barriers between people. But the existence of community immediately raises also the problem of authority. These communities will have to demonstrate to the world that the kind of authority described in the Gospels (e.g., "anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant" - Mk 10:43) can be lived out in practice. Those called to celibate community life will need to be sustained by a deep spirit of prayer, and their communities will need to be centers of prayer for the whole Church. Prayer is difficult, but essential. The whole Church needs inspiration and instruction from these communities. Property is one of the sources of division among people. Wealth, against which we are so constantly warned in the Gospels, seems constantly to bring with it pride, lack of concern, selfishness, harshness. These communities will need to guard against these dangers by the sharing of possessions and moderate living. Finally, there must be essentially an outward look. These are communities of the Church, peopled by vocations from the Church at large. Religious must give leadership in the humble service of mankind, especially where the needs are greatest. To sum up the picture: celibate life, in community, under an authority of service, prayerful, moderate in style of living, not divided by property barriers, existing for the service, of mankind. In this picture I am merely trying to describe the evangelical essentials. Many other elements will have to come in - such as wider; even world-wide, organization. But if we try to keep our eyes fixed on the essentials, which are firmly based in the New Testament, we are in a better position to see that the changes which do take place are in the right direction. JOIIN CARROLL FUTRELL, S.J. Living Consecrated Celibacy Today [John Carroll FutreU, S.J., is the Director of the Spirituality Program of the Divinity School of St. Louis University; 220 North Spring Avenue; St. Louis, Missouri 63108; an Indonesian translation of this article has appeared in the October 1972 issue ofRohan£ I The meaning and value of consecrated celibacy as a Christian way of life has been severely challenged during the last few years, not only by Freudian or secularized mentalities, but also even by priests and religious who at one time made the permanent commitment to a life of consecrated celibacy. It has been argued that a life of consecrated celibacy is unnatural and inhuman, and that, consequently, no celibate can attain true personal fulfillment and human maturity. The life of celibacy has been attacked as an at least implicit belittling of marriage as a Christian way of life, as contempt for a less perfect vocation for those who are incapable of living the "perfect" life of virginity. The law of the Latin rite which requires celibacy of its priests has been attacked as an unjustifiable act of tyranny denying the basic human right of human fulfilhnent through sexual union to men who wish to be ordained. Undoubtedly, these arguments have had influence upon some persons who have left the priesthood or the religious life in order to marry. These theories also brought about the aberrations of the "Third Way" a few years ago, which was a naive attempt to enjoy affective fulfillment in an exclusive relationship with another individu',d of the other sex through all the bodily expressions of love short of sexu',d union. The purpose of the following reflections is not to discuss or defend the law of celibacy for priests in the Latin rite. This law has been studied and controverted in many books and articles during recent years. It is well to recall, however, that any community has the right and the duty to demand certain qualifications of those members of the community called upon to carry out specific functions within it. A "job description" always includes the qualities which the community feels the persons who are to serve it in particular capacities should possess. It is not, therefore, a violation of human rights that for historical reasons the Church decided that its priests in the Latin rite should be chosen from only those among the faithful to whom the charism of virginity has been given. Whether in the light of contemporary pastoral needs it is a wise decision to retain this law universally is another question. But the issue is one of pastoral discernment, not of violated human rights. The following reflections are concerned, rather, with the meaning of consecrated celibacy as an authentic Christian alternative, a specific and valuable vocation within the Church both for individual persons and for those called to celibate communities. After recalling the basic motivation for celibacy as a Christian way of life, some practical considerations will be offered on the particular challenges in the contemporary world to those persons who feel called to live their lives as 932 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 consecrated celibates. First of all, it should be recalled that celibacy is a charism - a special divine gifting of the Holy Spirit to individual persons for the service of the whole People of God and of all mankind. Christ said that only those can make themselves "eunuchs" for the sake of the kingdom of heaven "to whom it is granted" (Mt 19:10-2). In his First Letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul, in his instructions on marriage and virginity, after remarking that he would be happy if all remained as himself celibate, adds that, nevertheless, "everybody has his own particular gifts from God, one with a gift for one thing and another with a gift for the opposite" (7:7). The Holy Spirit pours out a variety of charismatic gifts upon the members of the community of the faithful for the good of the entire body. The foot needs the hand, the hand the eye, the eye the ear (1 Cor 12:12-30). Thus, those who receive the charism of celibacy are given a gift from the Spirit which is authentic and valuable for the whole people. To discern that one has been given this charism and to choose to accept it and to live out its consequences is not a priori~ to destroy the possibility of true human fulfillment and maturity. This depends upon the way a person integrates his celibacy into his growth as a person. Human maturity and fulfillment are no more automatically achieved through sexual union in or out of marriage than they are through consecrated celibacy. There is abundant human evidence to demonstrate this fact. Human beings are totally sexual beings, and to come to human fulfillment we must assume our sexuality in our personal integration through a growing maturity of loving, finally leading us to the full expression of our deepest urge to love - totally self-giving love - which is also what gives human meaning to physical sexual union. But human sexuality is not identical with genitality. There are other authentic ways to express the deepest meaning of human sexuality, which is to enter into personal union with other persons through self-giving love. It is the experience and the expression of personal, self-giving love which is the fulfillment of human sexuality, whether this expression is through physical sexual union or through a life of consecrated celibacy. To discern that one has received the charism of celibacy and to choose to accept it is not a belittling of marriage, whatever may at times have been the mistaken attitudes of certain individuals. It is not as a matter of fact to show contempt for marriage if otte recogtttzes that cottsectated celibacy ts a Christian alternative (chosen by Jesus and by St. Paul also) and that one is called to it. Whether one Christian vocation is "better" or "more perfect" than another is at best a theoretical question, the answer to which depends upon the norms one uses to establish his hierarchy of values. For the individual person, this question is always concrete, existential, and relative: "What is better for me? What am 1 called to through the gifting of the Holy Spirit to me?" The fundamental motive to live a life of consecrated celibacy is the experience through the charismatic gift of celibacy of being called to give all one's love totally and personally to Jesus Christ and to symbolize the totality of this love by foregoing the physically sexual expression of love during one's whole life. Consecrated celibacy, then, is grounded in an all-encompassing personal relationship of love with Jesus Christ, whatever other secondary values it may involve, such as mobility and freedom for apostolic service. The functional value of celibacy cannot be the fundamental reason for living it. For one thing, in certain circumstances. good functional arguments can be given for non-celibate apostles. Furthermore, merely functional motivation will be inadequate for most ~persons to live con- Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 933 secrated celibacy authentically and deeply for a lifetime. Their celibacy must be experienced as the full exercise of their love for Jesus energizing their love for all other persons. Only a celibacy which is the human expression of deep personal love for and identification with Jesus Christ, Himself a celibate for the sake of the kingdom of heaven, can bring the consecrated celibate to true growth as a mature human person who gradually experiences progressive self-fulfillment through his personal relation-ship with Jesus and his life of witness and service to mankind. He grows to authentic personal development through the experience of being like Jesus and with Jesus a "man for others," who gives away his life in love to all other men and women through his celibacy. Consecrated celibacy, then, is a sign embodied in a human life of the true meaning of all personal love which in every case, including marriage, is realized only through self-giving to the other. Consecrated celibacy also has a unique value as a striking, visible witness to mankind of the depth of the faith and hope of the People of God in the complete fulfillment of the kingdom of God when the Lord Jesus will come again and God will be all in all in the Parousia. Those who, following a charism from the Holy Spirit "bar themselves from marrying for the sake of the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 19: 12), give the same testimony of their whole lives and of all their love to belief and hope in the Paschal good news of Jesus Christ which a martyr gives through his death. Through his life-time fidelity to his commitment of love, the consecrated celibate is a living sign of the Church's belief in the irrevocable promise of God, in His eternal fidelity. The celibate's renunciation of the physical expression of love is proclamation in one human life of the Church's hearing of the word of the Lord that love will never end. Consecrated celibacy is perhaps the most telling testimony of faith in Christ's promise of everlasting life, of life after death. Men can feel that the celibate is a fool, but they must confess that the faith and hope of Christians is powerful indeed, since it can inspire men and women to such a life, to such a love of Jesus who is encountered only in faith, to such a hope in God as the Absolute Future of man. The first practical challenge to the person who feels called to the life of consecrated celibacy is to discern authentically that he truly possesses this charism, a discernment which must be confirmed by the community if his vocation is to enter a religious congregation. A charism is known by its visible effects. The presence of the charism of celibacy is discerned, therefore, by evaluating the psychological, emotional, and spiritual maturity of a person for indications that he is capable of living a life of authentic celibacy. At the beginning of such a life, it is necessarily a matter of judging the foundation within the young person for growth into a full life of consecrated celibacy. One important evidence of possessing this foundation is the fact that he has no great emotional or moral problems in living a chaste life already. It is necessary also to ascertain that his motivation for chastity is based upon a true appreciation of human sexuality at the person's level of human maturity and spiritual development and not upon fearful anxieties or false notions about sexuality. Since the fundamental motive for freely choosing to respond to the charism of celibacy is personal love for Jesus Christ, it must be discerned that the person's desire for this life is rooted in his faith experience of the person of the risen Jesus. The growth and depth and permanence of this charism depends upon the growth and depth and permanence of his personal relationship with Jesus in love, which depends upon his continuing and deepening life of prayer. Thus, he must have 934 Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 initiated already an ongoing practice of profound personal prayer and be convinced of the need of continuing it and growing in it throughout his lifetime. The second practical challenge to the consecrated celibate is the authentic living out of the consequences of his commitment. Each individual must possess a realistic recognition of the necessary consequences in his concrete life style of commitment to consecrated celibacy. That is to say, he must conduct himself in his interior, personal life and in his external behavior and in his relationships with other people in a way that will guarantee constant and loyal authentic living of his celibacy. The individual exigencies of such a life style are relative to the great variety of temperaments and the psychological and physiological conditions and experiences of individual persons. Therefore, it is impossible to give more than a few very obvious general prescriptions. What is required of each person is absolute honesty with himself before God in discerning his concrete actions in here and now situations, so that he does not permit himself to behave in a way that will "chip away" at his authentic celibacy, rather than in a way that will deepen it and strengthen it. To guarantee this honesty in such a delicate area of life, true openness with a competent spiritual director is of great importance. Particularly, the celibate must be sensitive to "non-verbal" communication - the risk of sending messages to other persons which go counter to a relationship of truly celibate love, even when the verbal conversation is quite in accord with it. A truly honest person who prayerfully reflects upon the authenticity of his living of celibacy develops this sensitivity and will be aware when a relationship is beginning to be dangerous to his own celibacy or detrimental to another person. Most celibates will at times experience "falling in love" with someone. Perhaps even more often, at least after several years of authentically living celibacy, they will experience others falling in love with them, when this is not reciprocal. Here, the celibate's temptation may well be to a subtle form of seduction or manipulation of the other person because of the flattery he enjoys. Any of these situations must be confronted with the means honestly discerned as those demanded in order to maintain true celibacy and true charity. These means might range all the way from non-verbal communication, through discussing the situation with the other person, to the necessity for completely breaking off the relationship. Once more, true prayerful discernment and the help of a spiritual director are necessary to discover what actions are called for in each concrete situation. The consecrated celibate must accept the fact that in freely choosing to respond to this charism he is deciding to live the rest of his life in tension with "the couple that might have been," just as any person who makes a life commitment to a specific personal identity must live in tension with what he might have chosen to become. The "couple that might have been" may be one face or a succession of faces. At certain moments of life, this tension will be felt as a heavy burden, a true cross, especially when one wants to share a great joy or a great grief with another person in the way of sharing that can only develop within the uniquely intimate relationship of marriage. It is perhaps in moments such as these that the celibate is aware of making the least falsified act of love of God that he will make until his ultimate act of love on his owrt death bed. A third practical challenge to the consecrated celibate is to achieve true, human, affective fulfillment within his life of celibacy. Human, affective fulfillment is developed only through the self-transcending experience of love with other persons. Thus, the celibate must have truly complementary relationships of love with other human persons - celibates and non-celibates, men and women. The "incomplete- Review for Religious, Volume 31, 1972/6 935 ness" that seeks completion through self-giving love relationships with other persons is at the root of human sexuality, and the integration of sexuality into consecrated celibacy requires such complementary relationships. What is renounced by choosing to respond to the charism of celibacy is the relationship of exchtsive complementarity with one other human person, as happens in marriage. The celibate must experience the relationship of exclusive complementarity in his personal love relationship with Jesus Christ encountered in faith. This means that the celibate must have a deep pr

Issue 29.4 of the Review for Religious, 1970. ; EDITOR R. F. Smith, S.J. ASSOCIATE EDITOR Everett A. Diederich, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITOR John L. Treloar, S.J. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS EDITOR Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Correspondence with the editor, the associate editors, and the assistant editor, as well as books for review, should be sent to I~EVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63to3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 3at Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania tgxo6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical appro,'al by faculty members of the School of Divinity of Saint Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri ¯ 63103. Owned by the Missouri Province Edu-cational Institute. Published bimonthly and copyright ~) 1970 by REVIEW FOR RELtO~OUS at 428 East Preston Street~ Baltimore, Mary* land 21202. Printed in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at Baltimore, Maryland and at additional mailing offices. Single copies: $1.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two years; other countries: $5.50 a year, $10.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order paya-ble to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to p~rsons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions, where a~eom-panied by a remittance, should be scat to REvz8w ~oa RE~m~ous; P. O. ~x 671; Bahimo~, Ma~land 21203. Changes of addr~, b~n~ co~es~nd~ce, and orders ~t a~¢ompanitd ~ a rtmittanee should be ~t tO REVIEW ~R RELIGIOUS ; 428 East ~eston St~t; BMfmo~. Ma~land 21202. Manu~ripts. ~ito~al cor- ~s~ndence, and ~ks for ~iew should ~ sent to R~v~w ~oa R~m~ous; 612 Hum~ldt Building; 539 North Grand ~ul~ard; Saint ~uis, Mi~u~ 63103. Qu~dons for answering should be s~t to the add~ of the Qu~fio~ and ~we~ ~tor. JULY 1970 VOLUME 29 NUMBER4 MOTHER MARY FRANCIS, P.C.C. Creative Spiritual Leadership If we are going to talk about creative leadership, we shall first of all want to clarify what we mean by leader-ship and what we mean by creative. That these are not self-evident terms or even pr~sen.tly readily understand-able terms should be obvious from an imposing current witness to creative leadership envisioned as an abolition of leadership, and a transversion of creativity into annihi-lation. While it is true enough that, theologically ~and philosophically speaking, annihilation is as great an act as creation, hopefully we do not analogically conceive of our goal in leadership as being equally well attained by annihilation or by creativityl As God's creativity is to cause to be, something that was not, our creativity as superiors who are quite noticeably not divine, is to allow something that is, to become. As a matter of fact, we assume a responsibility to do this by accepting the office of superior. Much has been and is being written and said about the superior as servant. This is so obviously her role that one wonders what all the present excitement is about. Quite evidently, Otis role, this primary expression of leadership, has been for-gotten by some superiors, even perhaps by many supe-riors, in the past. But why should we squander present time and energy in endlessly denouncing such past forget-fulness? Let us simply remember truth now, and get on with our business. One characteristic of creative leader-ship is to point a finger at the future rather than to shake a finger at the past. St. Clare wrote in her Rule more than seven hundred years .ago that the abbess must be the handmaid of all the sisters, not pausing to labor so evident a fact but simply going on to give some particulars which have a ve.ry modern ring: the abbess is to behave so affably that the sisters can speak and act toward her as toward one who serves them. That dear realist, Clare of Assisi, who Mother Mary Francis, P.C.C., is federal abbess of the Collettine Poor Clare Federation; 809 E. 19th Street;. Roswell, New Mex-ico 88201. VOLUME 29 1970 497 ÷ ÷ Mother Francis REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS passes so easily from blunt warnings about such un-monastic natural virtues as envy, vainglory, covetousness, and grumbling, to airy reminders that it is no good get-ting angry or worried about anyone's faults as this merely deals charity a still severer blow--that dear realist had obviously run up against so~ne personalities who were "handmaids" sufficiently formidable to discourage any-one's rendering them personal recognition in this area. The abbess is supposed to be lovable, for St. Clare en-visions a community where sisters obey a superior be-cause they love her and not because they dread her. This was quite a novel as well as a radical theology of superior-ship in Clare's day. And if it remains radical today, it is a great shame that it sometimes remains novel also. The medieval saint makes so much of this point of the lovable-hess of the superior that she returns to it in her dying Testament, begging her successors that they behave them-selves so that the sisters obey them not from a sense of duty but from love. It's not just the same thing she is saying again, however. You note that whereas in the Rule she does not want any fear or dread of the superior, in the Testament she rules out dutifulness as well. It has got to be a matter of love itself. Who, after all, would want to be loved out of a sense of duty? It would be in-suiting, really. Any normal superior would rather be loved in spite of herself than because of her office. St. Clare makes quite a point in her brief Rule and Testament of describing the manifestations of this lovableness she so insists upon. She gives us her idea of creative leadership. And its present practicability may make us want to pause and clear our throats before the next time we utter that bad word, "medievalism," as an indictment. Besides the general affability which Clare describes in Rule and Testament, she underscores an availability rather beyond and considerably more profound than the "let's sit down in the cocktail lounge and talk about salvation history" mentality. St. Clare wants an on-site superior who is "so courteous and affable" (there's that word again) that the sisters can tell her their troubles and need~, seek her out "at all hours" with serene trust and on any account,--their own or their sisters'. This last point is particularly arresting, considering again that this is a medieval abbess delineating the characteristics of a creative superior as she conceived those characteristics in about 1250, not a 1970 progressive-with-a-message. Clare did not favor isolationism in community. Each of her nuns was supposed to notice that there were other nuns around. And she called them sisters, which was quite original in her day. She favored coresponsibility quite a while before the 1969 synod of bishops, taking it for granted that the abbess was not to be the only one concerned for the good of the community, but that it belongs to the nature of being sisters that each has a lov-ing eye for the needs of all the others. Again, there is her famous saying: "And if a mother love and nurture he~ daughter according to the flesh, how much the more ought a sister to love and nurture her sister according to the spiritl" Yes, it does seem she ought. And maybe we ought to be as medieval as modern in some respects. For some medieval foundresses did an imposing amount of clear .thinking on community, on sisterliness, on the meaning of humble spiritual leadership which we, their progeny, could do well to ponder. So, there's affability, availability, accessibility. When we read St. Clare's brief writings and savor the droll confi-dences given in the process of her canonization, we can conclude that this superior often toned her sisters down but never dialed them out. Then, St. Clare insists that the creative spiritual leader be compassionate. There is no hint of a prophylactic de-tachment ~om human love and sympathy nor of that artificial austerity which pretends that to be God-oriented is to be creature-disoriented. No, Clare says of the su-perior: "Let her console the sorrowful. Let her be the last refuge of the troubled." Note, she does not tell. the contemplative daughter to work it all out with God, and that human sympathy is for sissies. And she warns that "if the weak do not find comfort at her [the abbess'] hands," they may very well be "overcome by the sadness of despair." Those are quite strong terms from a woman who did not trade on hyperboles or superlatives and was no tragedienne. Again, she has something v~ry plain and very strong to say about responsibility. For we had better not talk about coresponsibility unless we have understanding of primary responsibility. "Let her who is elected consider of what sort the burden is she has taken upon her and to whom an account of those entrusted to her is to be rendered." So, Clare will have the superior clearly under-stand that she has a definite and comprehensive responsi-bility to a particular group of people, a responsibility which is immeasurably more demanding than counting votes to determine the consensus. She is supposed to cre-ate and maintain an atmosphere in which sisters can best respond to their own call to holiness. Obviously, she can-not do this alone. But she is the one most responsible for making it possible for each sister to contribute her full share in creating and maintaining this atmosphere. She is the ,one who is particularly responsible for not just al-lowing, but helping the sisters, and in every possible way, to r~alize their own potential. ÷ ÷ ÷ Leadership VOLUME 29, 1970 499 + + + Mother Frands REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~00 If I may deliver to any possibly frustrated or depressed superiors some glad tidings out of my own small experi-ence, I beg to announce this finding: Sisters are not as hard on superiors as many dour authors make them out to be. They do not expect perfection in the superior. They are, as a matter of fact, quite ready to pass over the most obvious faults and failures in the superior as long as they know she loves them and would do anything in the world for them, and is herself struggling along with them to "walk before God and be perfect," and having just as hard a time as they with this quite exacting but certainly thrilling divine program. Isn't it, after all, singularly ex-hilarating to have been asked by a God who has witnessed all one's past performances, to be perfect as He is perfect[ But that is an aside of sorts. The point I was making is that sisters will sooner forgive the faults of the warm-hearted than the "perfection" of the coldhearted. At least that is my personal observation. It is not faults that alienate people, it is phoneyness. And may it always alienate them, for it is nothing to make friends with. Now, if the superior is set to create and to make it possible for the sisters to help create an atmosphere suited to the response to a divine call to holiness, this atmog-phere will have to be one of real human living. For the only way a human being can be holy is by being a holy human being. I believe one of the more heartening signs of our times is the accent on humanness. For one of our tiredest heresies is the proposal that the less human we are, the more spiritual we are. Another aside I am tempted to develop here is a reflection on how we describe only one type of behavior as inhuman. We never attribute that dread adjective to the weak, hut only to the cruel. .But I had better get on with what I was saying, which is that dehumanized spirituality is no longer a very popular goal. This is all to the good. However, we shall want to be sure when we talk enthusiastically about the present ac-cent on real human living in religious life that the quali-fying "real" is not underplayed. It needs rather to be underscored. Certainly we would evince a genuine poverty of thought to equate real human living with ease. On the other hand, there is evidently a direct ratio between sacrificial living and real human fulfillment, between poor, obedient living and joy, between ritual and liberty, between the common task and real (as opposed to con-trived) individuality. Genuine common living in reli-gious life is not the witness of the club, but of the com-munity. Its real proponents are not bachelor girls, but women consecrated to God as "a living sacrifice holy and pleasing to God." Our blessed Lord emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant. And no one yet has ever been fulfilled by any other process than kenosis. Beginning with the Old Testament, history affords us a widescreen testimony to the truth of the binding and liberating power of sacrifice. It binds the individuals in a community together, and it liberates both individuals and the community as such into the true and beautiful expression of self-ness which is what God envisioned when He saw that each of His creations was very good. History shouts at us that self-ness is not a synonym but an antonym for selfishness. May we have ears to hearl Just as nothing so surely situates persons in isolationism as establishing a mystique of ease and a cult of comfort, so does nothing so surely both promote and express genuine community as sacrificial action, whether liturgical or do-mestic. This generation feels it has come upon the glori-ous new discovery that the world is good. It is indeed a glorious discovery, but not a new one. St. Francis, for one, discovered this in the thirteenth century. But if joyous Francis owned the world, it was precisely because he never tried to lease it. It is essential that the creative superior be a living reminder that our situation in time is not static but dy-namic, our involvement in the world urgent but not ulti-mate, our service of others indicative rather than deter-minative, and our earthly life not a land-lease but a pilgrimage. Somewhere or other I recently read that the one good line in a new play whose name I happily can-not now recall is the one where a character looks at a plush-plush apartment hotel and remarks: "If there is a God, this is where he lives." I seem to detect a bit of this mentality in some of our experimentation. This would be only mildly disturbing if it pertained to the kind of luxuriousness that keeps periodically turning up in his-tory until a new prophet-saint arrives on the scene to de-nounce it and expunge it from the local roster. What is deeply disturbing is that we are sometimes uttering brave and even flaming words about identifying with the poor at the same time that we are rewriting just this kind of past history. But that is another small aside from the large issue, which is real human living and the sacrificial element that is one of the most unfailing preservatives of that "real" in human living. The material poverty and inconvenience just alluded to is but a minor facet of the idea, but I do think it is a facet. Do any of us lack personal experience to remind us that the poorest communities are usually the happiest? Nothing bores like surfeit, nothing divides like ease. If it is true--and it is!--that the religious community does not rightly understand its vocation unless it sees it-self as part of the whole ecclesial community, the cosmic VOLUME 29, 1970 50! + ÷ ÷ Mother Frands REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS community, it is equally true (because it is the same truth turned around) that the religious community will be to the ecclesial community and the cosmic community only What it is to itself and in itself. The creative leader will want to accent this to her sisters so that they can accent it to one another. Not verbally. Just vitallyl we shall be to the Church and to the world only what we are to each other, no more and no less. And what we are to each other will inevitably serve the Church and th~ world. Every superior is called to be a prophet. Perhaps we could even say that this is her highest creative service in allowing and assisting others to realize their potential and release their own creative energies. Now that we are all nicely educated to understand that the prophet is not the one who foretells the future so much as the one who says something about the present, the creative superior's prophet role becomes not only clear but uncomfortable. Jeremiah would doubtless have had a much higher popu-larity rating if he had limited his observations to a pleas-ant, "Shaloml" It is so much easier to say "Shalom" than to say "Do penance, or you shall all perish." Of course, it is best of all to prophesy both penance and peace, but we shall have to keep them in that order. And our own ef-forts to achieve that real human living which has to be rooted in penance and sacrifice give abundant testimony that peace is indeed a consequence of penance performed in love, of sacrifice as a choice of life style rather than just a choice among things. Obviously, obedience is the profoundest expression of sacrifice. And maybe one of the biggest mistakes that eventuated into that maternalism in religious communi-ties which has had us running such high temperatures in recent press years, is that of supposing that obedience is for subjects only. Allow me another aside to interject here another small idea I have been nurturing. It is, that "subjects" is a very poor word substitute for "sisters" and of itself precipitates a whole theological misconception of what and who a superior is. Subjects are persons ruled over. However, a servant does not rule. We need to get rid of the monarchical connotations of "subject." And if we begin by getting rid of the term "subject," we may be already better equipped to understand that the superior, as servant, is the first "abject.in the house of the Lord." Once we establish her as abject, we shall perhaps be less ready to label her "reject." A creative superior will have to excel in obedience. It is part of her role as prophet. She must obey others' needs at their specified time according to their manner and manifestations. She must respond not just to the insights God gives her, but to those He gives her sisters. She should obey their true inspirations as well as her own. She ought to be obedient to the very atmosphere she has helped the sisters to create. For we can never establish a communal modus vivendi and then sit back to enjoy it. Life, like love, needs constant tending. Life needs living as love needs loving. This very thing is essential to crea-tive leadership. Charity is a living thing and, therefore, it is always subject to fracture, disease, enfeeblement, paralysis, atrophy, and death. The prophet is more called to procla!m this truih and to disclaim offenses against this truth than to wear a LUV button on her lapel. It is much easier to waste a LUV banner at a convention than to tend and nurture love in those thousand subtle ways and by those myriad small services for which womanhood is specifically designed, in which religious women should excel, and to which religious superiors are twice called. Real human living which the creative superior is called to promote, can never be anything but spiritual, sacri-ficial, intelligently obedient, and--yes---transcendental. We need not be wary of the word or the concept. The new accent on horizontalism is well placed, for many of us seem to have got a stiffening of the spiritual spine with past concentration on verticalarity. Still, if we adopt a completely horizontal mentality, we are apt to drift off to sleep as concerns genuine spiritual values. After all, the position is very conducive to sleep. We are most fully human when we are vertical. Yes, we reach out horizontally, but our face is upturned to Heaven. The really lovely paradox is that it is only when our eyes are upon God that we are able to see those around us and recognize their needs. They are, after all, each of them "in the secret of His Face." It is a vital serv-ice of creative leadership that it emphasize the essentiality of the transcendental element in real human living. In fact, we could more accurately talk of the transcendental character of full human living than of any transcendental element. The term of our d~stiny is not on earth. There-fore, we shall never rightly evaluate anything that per-tains to earthly existence unless we see it or are attempt-ing to see it from an eternal perspective. And we shall never really live humanly unless we are living spiritually. Certainly we shall never have a religious community that abounds in warm human affection and mutual concern unless it is a religious community concerned primarily with the kingdom of God. We can properly focus on one another only when we are focused on God. For to be fully human is to share in what is divine: "He has made us partakers of His divinity." The most natural superior is, therefore, the most super-natural. And real human living must be based on a val- 4- VOLUME 29, 1970 503 Mother Francis REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ues system that is transcendental. In these days one need scarcely look far afield to discover what becomes of com-munity when the values system is not transcendental. A group of individual women, each doing her thing, is' by no means the same as a community which has a thing to do. To such a community, each sister brings her own creative contribution, and in it each realizes her creative potential. And a servant of creativity is needed for all this. There is much more to be said about creative leader-ship, and others are equipped to say it much better. One can only speak out of one's own experience and with one's own limitations. However, it has been my observa-tion that cloister6d living does offer a certain insight into humanity which is sometimes different from that of per-sons whose professional qualifications doubtless exceed those of the cloistered nun. It's quite predictable, really. We ought to anticipate expertise in human living from those who have chosen to achieve human living in such close quarters. We should expect some spec~ial insights into humanity from those who see it at such dose range and on such limited acreage. So perhaps these simple thoughts may have some small point to niake. Let me add, then, only a final word about the realiza-tion of creativity and about the full expression of human living. We've talked about sacrifice, penance, obedience, transcendentalism. Recently, our sisters ran up against an example of a truly fulfilled human being. This was a priest in his seventies. At thirty, he'd got drunk. And a ,series of really devilish events conspired to turn that one mistake into a tragedy for which he was not responsible. He was used by bigots, manipulated by the circumstances they precipitated, and he was deprived of his priestly faculties. He sought help from his bishop who said it was all very sad, but he really could not do anything. He took it to Rome and got put in a file because, though it was all very sad, there was no canon to cover it. He turned to fellow priests who agreed it was all very sad, but they were very busy and there was nothing they could do about it. (I am very rejoiced to report that one Franciscan ~riar did try, desperately, to help.) No priest ever had more provocation to bitterness. He was the example classique of being treated as a number and not as a person. So, who could blame him that he wrote such vitriolic articles after he left the Church? Anyone could understand his contempt for the hierarchy. And when he sneered at the Roman Curia, you could only say that, after all, he had really had it. Only, the fact is, he did not leave the Church, nor did he write vitriolic articles, nor did he sneer. For forty years he lived the obscure life Of a workingman. He went to Mass each day. And he persevered in faith. God crowned that faith with exoneration of the past and the restoration of sacerdotal privileges only after~ forty years, but one can speculate on the interior crowning when one knows that this priest now offers dally Mass w~th tears that are neither self-pitying nor bitterly s~lding. He's just happy. He's just grateful. And he has obviously ex-perienced more personal fulfilment than any[of the local protestors, for he is beautiful to behold. And this is not to say that wrongs don't m~tter or that protests should never be lodged. It is merely] to offer for consideration the evidence of what suffering]and silence and unshakable faith can do in the line of creating a .I fully realized human being. Maybe supengrs need to point.up these things a little more than some] of us some-times do. ! I am scribbling some of this manuscript ag I watch at the bedside of a dying sister of ours. It's my !first experi-ence as abbess with death. And somehow all reflections on religious life, on community, on leadership, ~n creativity are turned upon this one deathbed in this one small cell. I lind it a very revealing perspective. Sister l~as a way of pointing at the ceiling regularly. And whdn you ask: "What do you see? What is there?" she does ~ot check in with a "vision." She just says: "Joyl" That is the direction to seek for it, if you want to lind it on earth. 4. VOLUME 29, 1970 JOHN D. KELLER, O.S.A. Some Observations on Religious Formation and Spirituality John D. Keller, O.S.A., is the rector of the Augustinian Study House; 3771 East Santa Rosa Road; Camarillo, California 93010. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS There has been a great deal written and great amounts of private and public discussion on the subject of religious formation and spirituality in recent years. I hesitate, therefore, to add to an already prolonged dialogue. But I am encouraged to submit these observations to the wider review of the readership of this journal quite simply be-cause they are not those of an onlooker or expert but of a p.articipant.1 And they are not springing from the mem-ories (be they good or bad) of one person's own period of formation. I write as a member of a large diocesan seminary col-lege faculty and as rector of a small house of studies in which and out of which both clerical and non-clerical candidates are living life in community and preparing for the active ministry. I am not an expert, am not a scholar: I write not as sociologist or statistician or psy-chologist. I have a short memory as regards my own semi-nary and religious formation; with it I am not dissatisfied. For the past three and a half years I have been involved in establishing and guiding a rather minor innovation in the religious formation of candidates for my own order. For this lack of expertise I make no apologies for, I would judge, it is well that we hear more from those who come from the land of untidy students, not neat theory. It is a land where individuals correspond to no profile and frequently, alas, do not respond to the analyses and predictions of the community position paper makers. There is frequently quite a distance between theory and reality, between the goals and philosophy and plans of 1 This ~rticle is adapted from a talk given at the annual meeting of R~gion V (Western) of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men in Honolulu, Hawaii, November 3-5, 1969. community study groups and their implementation: pro-posed causes do not always neatly bring abdut their pro-posed effects. My intention is not to rehearse what is ~already (per-haps painfully so) known to you: Houses of formation, as the Church, are in a time of change, innovaltion, and ex-perimentation; initiative, Eersonal choice, ",apostolic ex-periences, questioning, persbnal growth, widening of re-sponsibilities, psychological, counseling ard all on the upswing and have occasion,ed, along with other realiza-tions and "discoveries," chafiges and propose~d changes in religious formation and approaches to th~ life of the Spirit. ' I would like to discuss some observations'I have made ¯ in living with and working with candidates and at the same time indicate the dire'ction of my thl~nking. Father Cuyler's recent report for CARA indicdtes that my thoughts are not without companyfl but there are cer-tainly many points of view. My experience i~ with college age candidates for a men's religious fxatern~ty, but these observations seem applicable in most cases ~o women re-ligious as well. I have grotiped my remarkS¯ under these three headings: the candidates; "format"lon~ ; and spirit-ual life. The Candidates It is axiomatic that our candidates are prgducts of our times. They are articulate; they have been ra,ised on visual media; many come from un'settled home cofiditions; they I are casual in their convers~ttion concermng sexual mat-ters; they respect honesty tb a high degree;' yet they are frequently infected with the cynicism which is prevalent in our society; and like youth of every age they are strug-gling with the personal resolution of the~ discrepancy between ideals and reality.,, ' A study of statistics indicates the number ~of candidates is lower than most of us hi~ve, perhaps been accustomed Io o to. What is most difficult t~ make a determination on is whether or not the quahty is better or, worse. Optt-mists have suggested that we have fewer candidates, but they are of better "quality'(--whatever that! might mean. Optimist or not, my observations are threefold: (1) Many candidates are coming forward with far less "background" as regards their prior religious formation than before. There are fewer presuppositions we might make as regards their general religious belief and prac-tices prior to their becoming.candidates for~ the religious life. The same may be said as regards their family train- I g Cornelius M. Cuyler, S.S., The Changing Direction o] thv Semi-nary Today (Washington: CARA, 1969). .I-÷ ÷ VOLUME 2% 197'0 ]. D Keller REVIEW FOR R[ LIGIOUS ing with regard to manners, use of time, their study habits, recreation, family life style, family authority roles, and so forth. These facts are facts of experience. It is not to say, necessarily, that life in community will be more difficult; but it does say that the trend toward longer pe-riods of probation and orientation is called for. There is a great deal that has to be "got used to." And we must be very patient. As regards background, there is a certain ambivalence in many candidates from another quarter. They are af-fected by a certain "image-lag." The monastic and tradi-tional concepts of priest and religious are still frequently present to the man considering seeking admittance to the religious life. Yet, for the most part, the candidate meets not the bell and cowl, but the call to be his own man and shirtsleeves. The men quickly adjust and very soon one-up us with their call for sandals and beards, but this is a crucial point for many as one image dissolves and the search for a new and more realistic one takes place. Candidates must be taken as they are and from where they are. The need at the moment, as perhaps it was also in the days of our own formation period, is for tremen-dous amounts of firm patience. (2) A second observation on our candidates: They ap-pear to me to be no more nor no less generous than other persons of other times and other places and in other walks of life whom I have known. To oversell their generosity at the offset is to provide the seedbed for the bitterness and resentment toward our new members which is sometimes disturbingly present both among men in the houses of formation and superiors of communities. Our candidates are aspirants--aspiring toward the ideal of Christ's generosity--but they are frequently selfish, their motivation (like ours) is not always 100% pure. And so in the proposing of our programs and in the formulation of policy, we want no penal colony; we do not want to poison the well of our trust in the possibility of doing good with a Lud~eran conception of man's ne'er-do-well nature, but we must accept the fact that selfishness and ignorance do coexist with a man's desire to make a gift of his service and of himself. High ideals coupled with selfish or inconsistent behavior do form a part of the men who wish to join our fraternities. This should not cause alarm: To help resolve this is one of the reasons for their being in training. (3) Our candidates, generally, come 'with the intent of joining in with us. They do want to be a part of what is going on in the religious family. A delicate process must be going on in which the men do feel that they are mem-bers of the fraternity according to their present commit-ment. They must be exposed to the community's mere- bership; join in (in differenlt capacities) the work of the fraternity; be closely linked with the style of life and values of the community. But at the same ume their in-volvement must not be too rapid: predetermined patterns and strong identification with the status quo might cancel out the fresh and renewing insights and contnbutxons of young members; premature inclusion might, make neces-sary withdrawal from the group more difficult or the need to withdraw less apparent; full exposure to all the prob-lems and "intimacies" of the family are not appropriate for the recently arrived and ~often can be a source of dis-traction for the real person,al work at hand. The need for committingl oneself to something is real and we dare not involve ourselves, once having accepted a candidate, in stringing hi.m along indefinitely. Candi-dates should become less and less strangers in our midst and more and more our friends and brothers, or they should leave. The task of formation is also that of inte-gration. Formation" The very notion of "formation" is under attack from some quarters: formation involves being "conformed to"; there is a mold, then, and the program is the cookie punch. Formation, then, is a, threat to the person and his own unique realization of himself. Formation, therefore, is bad and one more examp~le of the dehumanization of the individual not only present in the world but here too in the religious life. That is how the argument runs, and it is buttressed with innumerable examples from the folk-lore of community and convent. If this is what formation is.thought to be, or what it has been, it deserves condemnation. But this argumentation against formation may be refined; examples brought more into line with present practice; the extension of its con-demnation reduced--in gen,~ral, made more reasonable; and it will contain a more s~rious threat to what, I feel, must be involved in the intro~duction of new men into our fraternities. Candidates are joining a pre-existing group of men. They are joining themselves to and identifying them-selves with certain expressed, values and goals. There is a conformation element in the introduction of members to the community. This is related to the discussion by Branick of task and formation in the fine article pub-lished in the RrvlEw FOR I~LIGIOUS last year) This is a fact, I feel, which should not be minimized (personalized, yes, but not minimized). On the contrary, we must at- *Vincent P. Branick, S.M., "Formation and Task," R~vmw RELIGIOUS, V. 28 (1969), pp. 12-20. ,4- 4. + Formation VOLUME 29, 1970 509 ÷ 4. ÷ I. D. Keller REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 511) tempt to give in theory, practice, and the lives of our members a clear representation of our goals, our values, our style of life, our standards--who the community .is. We have an obligation to do this: The candidate has to make a judgment, and he has to be a real sharer in or tending toward these values, goals, and so forth or we cannot hope that his life among us in the future will be a happy one. This brings up a problem which is not the subject of these remarks, but which must be faced: We must have a rather clear understanding of who we are and what we stand for as a community. This does not have to be pre-sented in verbal fashion. In fact it is most convincing when it is seen (not read or heard); but if we have no standards, if we are not clearly standing for something, perhaps we should call a moratorium on accepting candi-dates. All of us are aware of the changes taking place in our houses of formation as regards house rules and discipline. I believe most of us agree with the general thrust of these moves and changes; we accept the rationale behind them. With them as a backdrop I would like to make the fol-lowing observations: (1) Freedom of choice and personally confirmed activ-ity are essential to growth in maturity. But people do make objectively bad choices. And when, with reason, a person's choice is thought to be a bad one, he should be told so. And if a person consistently makes bad choices, his candidacy should seriously be questioned. (2) Frequently candidates' principal occupation is that of studies. It is urgent that the academic program be ex-cellent, that it be demanding of the best the student pos-sesses. The good candidate wants to work; he is being prepared to work in the vineyard; if the candidate finds himself unable to work, he and his superiors, may take this as indication that he is not called to the brotherhood. (3) The period of training is real training for. There is a need, at times, for explicit correlation of the training and the work of the apostolate. This is particularly true of men in the college years. Not only the demands of the future apostolate, but also the present need of these Chris-tians to express their Christian concern for fellowman suggests the desirability and the practice of "apostolic works" during the years of formation. It is well that this be with men of the community already in the field; in works which are allied to the present and future works of the fraternity; that it be work with supervision and encouragement; that it be work with specific goals in mind and which meets the real needs of people in the area. But the experience of many is that this work can easily become overextended, irresponsibly carried out, and serve more as steam cock for seminary pressures than re-sponse to the needs of others. This is not to minimize the value and need of apostolic works. On the contrary, it is to say that because they are important, they deserve greater attention. (4) Part of formation today must include training in the forms of religious obedience which are taking shape in our orders. If the form adopted is one which is relying on consultation with the community, a kind of collegial-ity and consensus, then men must be prepared to accept this responsibility and share in it intelligently. What must be developed, in view of failures in practice which I have witnessed in our own formed communities, is the accept-ance of the fact that regardless of the form in which deci-sions are reached (perhaps after discussion, consensus, and voting), .there is follow-through: though perhaps now seen as more "horizontal," obedience is still a virtue of religion and a normal extended expression of the will of God. (5) In general, there is a great need in formation for more leadership, not less. For the most part, students want more models, more example. They need more en-couragement to reach higher. In this regard I would rec-ommend highly John Gardner's two books Excellence and Self-Renewal.4 And so while authoritarianism will never do, there is in some parts a crippling vacuum of inspiring leadership and demanding standards. Spiritual Lile From "formation" I would like to move on to the sub-ject of the spiritual life. And as I do I would like to call attention to the principal point I wish to make, and at this moment violate. Formation and the spiritual life should not be taken as separate elements of introducing new members into our life. There are elements of discipline and training which we can separate and discuss as it they were separate. But the overriding impact upon the candidates in the house of formation must be that all is marked by the Spirit. We are brothers because we are all possessed by the same Spirit: our rules, discipline, relations between older and younger members, concern for each other, should all be formed by and judged against the Book of Life and the book of our life together. In this regard, conformity to good educational prac- ' John W. Gardner, Excellence: Can We Be Equal and Excellent Too. Renewal: The Individual and the Innovating Society (New York: Harper and Row, 1956). Formation VOLUME 2% 1970 4" 4" ÷ ~. D. Keller REVIEW FOR RELIGIOU5 tice seems imperative. Theory and practice must go side by side. And if we must err (as human it is), far better to be heavier on practice than on theory. Let the house of formation practice a real poverty, let the students realize the cost of living, the budget and the crimp of doing without--far better than theorizing. Let there be good liturgy in the house and let it be a central work and con-cern of the community--far better than a course in lit- There might be one exceptionmthe matter of prayer. Many students are inexperienced in the practice of forms of prayer encouraged in our lives. This most personal and delicate area must receive special attention. If riot, we in-troduce the. possibility of impersonal prayer and innumer-able "periods of prayer" which become education in non-prayer. All of our houses, but especially our houses of forma-tion, should show forth this authenticity: 1.ire in the Spirit finds expression in the life of the community--a kind of symbiosis where there is an unconscious flow and tele-vance of one to the other. In all the seminaries and houses of formation I have come in contact with recently, there is a noteworthy point of emphasis being given in the task of spiritual formation. This is the increased importance and use of what has tra-ditionally been called "spiritual direction." It goes by dif-ferent names and the priests and religious involved in it have varying competence, but its value as being very per-sonal and very helpful is quickly appreciated by our can-didates. Though conferences and classes remain necessary in providing a familiarity with our religious tradition, no house of formation should neglect this tremendous oppor-tunity, nor should religious superiors neglect the effort to provide easy access to the spiritual counselors our young members need. One final point with regard to the spiritual life--the much discussed question of religious chastity and celibacy. My experience in discussing the matter with college stu-dents, candidates for the diocesan priesthood and for the religious life, has been that it is far more a problem for journalists, theologians, and men who are already celi-bates than it is for these men. That is not to say that they do not have trouble with the virtue of chastity, nor diffi-culty in whether or not to make the choice for celibacy, or whether or not they are Opposed to celibacy as an obliga-. tory thing. It is to say that they can see celibacy held as both an ideal and a requirement and feel that they can make a personal, non-compelled, and religiously mean-ingful choice in favor of it. This contradicts the conclu- sions of the recent CARA study on the Seminarians ot the Sixties," but I report to you my personal experience. General Observations I would like to bring these remarks to a close with several general observations on our present situation. There are many possibilities for styles of formation. Most communities are presently in the midst of inaugu-rating revised programs. What needs to be said is that most probably many forms will "work" and different combinations of elements can overcome the deficiencies of a program. Students are willing to overlook the inade-quacies, or at least give them their understanding, as long as we show ourselves aware of them and attempt to compensate--and all the time show the interest which proves we care about them as candidates for full mem-bership and our brothers now. Houses of formation and formation programs are not, nor will they be, perfect. As our congregations and the Church herself, the house of formation will always stand in need of reformation. This fact itself can be educative for our students: houses of training will not be ideal, as life in the ministry and full membership in the commu-nity will not be ideal. This might be a source of rein-forcement for the sense of reality in the candidate needed for mature living and decision. In these moments there is a great need for leadership and encouragement in the works of formation as there is in the Church in general. For new members in particular, uncertainty and hesitancy on the part of those to whom they turn for leadership can be not only crippling but also compound the lack of sureness (despite their some-time's cocky appearances) which surrounds the young. In conclusion, may I point out the obvious and be ex-cused for underlining that which stands in bold print: In the selection of personnel for houses of formation, hap-piness in their own calI must be the primary requisite for such an appointment. And yet one more point: most of our houses have small groups of students and even where the groups are large the cadre system is frequently being employed. This means total immersion for the members of the staff and large amounts of wear and tear. Each member of the entire community does well to attempt to offer them his understanding and cooperation. This, fre-quently, is a very large contribution to the task which is vitally important to all of us, that of initiating new mem-bers into our fraternities. ~Raymond H. Potvin and Antanas Subiedelis, Seminarians ]or the Sixties: ,,1 National Survey (Washington: CARA, 1969), p. 89. + + + Formatlo. VOLUME 29, 1970 HUGH KELLY, s.J. The Heart oj Prayer ÷ Hugh Kelly, is on the staff of St. Francis Xavier's; Gardiner Street; Dublin 1, Ireland. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 51,t "Lord, teach us how to pray." "When you pray say 'Our Father' " (Lk 11:1) That isa petition we must constantly address to our Lord. We must not expect to be taught how to pray once and for all so that we could exercise the art at will, as if we were masters of it. We must constantly be trying, ex-perimenting, learning. Of course if things between God and us were as they should be and as they once were, then prayer would be the most spontaneous, the most natural act of our life. It would not need to be learned. It would be as spontaneous as the smile of a child to its mother; as natural as the thrust upward of the cornstalk to the heat and light of the sun. There was something of that quality in the prayer of the Psalmist. The world about him spoke at once to him of the Creator. Everything in the universe pointed to God and invited him to pray. The sea, sky, earth, the'trees, the storm, the snow, the animals --all of these reminded him that he must praise God for them. Such a prayer was as natural, as necessary, as the act of breathing. It had not to be learned. It was a func-tion of man's activity. For reasons we need not stop to consider, that quality is no longer found in our prayer, or very seldom. Our relations with God are not so spontaneous. Man has so changed the world that it is difficult to see the hand of God in it. As a result prayer has become a complex thing, an art, that has to be learned and practiced with effort. Consider the excellent book of Cardinal Lercaro, Meth-ods of Prayer. It is a study of the different ways of prayer proposed by some of the recognized masters of the spiri-tual life. Each has his own approach and method of pro-cedure. But such methods could not be called spontane-ous or simple. They are elaborately studied. One of the masters, treated of by Lercaro is St. Ignatius. Here is how this saint introduces a prayer, the first meditation in the Spiritual Exercises: "This meditation is made with the three powers of the soul, and the subject is the first, second and third sin. It contains the preparatory prayer, two preludes, three principal points and a colloquy" (n. 46). Whatever the merits of such a form of prayer it could not be called simple or spontaneous. When we consider these different methods, which are so complex and so systematic, we may well ask if there is not somewhere in them a core or kernel of a purer prayer. If we unwrap the different layers, the steps, the tech-niques, shall we find at last something that is the heart or essence of prayer? "Is there.an essential prayer?" asks Y. Congar, O.P., "total, simple, which exceeds and em-braces all particular prayers?'; (Jesus Christ, p. 98). Is there something at the centre of each method, which is the same for all and which constitutes them true prayer? Something which, if absent, will leave them merely empty methods or systems? None of the commonly received definitions of prayer seem to give us what we seek. The definition of St. John Climacus, which is accepted by the catechism, that "prayer is an elevation of the soul to God" implies too much of a deliberate effort--that it is a matter of our own efforts and our own mmauve. It might equally apply to the study of theology, especially as it says noth-ing about love. The definition of St. Augustine comes closer to our aim: that prayer is a reaching out to God in love. Here there is indicated something spontaneous and natural; the role of love gets its recognition. But perhaps it speaks too much of our need of God and may be trans-lated too exclusively into a prayer of petition. It conveys the image the saint expressed in his phrase menclici Dei sumus--we are God's beggars; we stand before the Lord with outstretched hands. Our need of God is total; but our indigence is not our only approach to Him or our most immediate; it is not the ultimate root of our prayer. The words which kept St. Francis of Assisi in ecstasy for a whole night, "'Deus mi et omnia,'" "My God and my all," are certainly close to the heart of prayer. But they miss the essential constituent and inspiration of our prayer, that it is made to our Father. Obviously it is from our Lord alone that we must learn what is the heart of prayer. "Lord,. teach fis how to pray." It is instructive to note the promptness with which He answered that request, as if He had been waiting for it: "When you pray say 'Our Father.' " The condition of our most perfect prayer must be our assurance that we are addressing our Father, that we are addressing Him as Christ did. We are thus availing ourselves of the privilege which Christ won for us. When He said to Mary Magdalen, on the first Easter morning beside the opened empty tomb, "I ascend to My Father and to yours," He summarized His work of redemption: He ex-pressed the full dimension of His achievement. When we ÷ 4- Heart ot Prayer VOLUME 2% 1970 Hugh Kelly REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS say "Our Father" with the assurance which His Beloved Son has given us, we no longer pray merely as creatures, we are not considered by God as the beggars who stand at the door, still less as the puppies which catch the scraps falling from the table. We know we are the children of the household who have their rightful pla~e at the family board. Consider how our Lord emphasized the fatherhood of God in the Sermon on the Mount. The chief purpose of the discourse was to instruct us in our role as children: "That you may be the children of your Father, who is in heaven." Stretching out His hands to the simple folk, the fathers and mothers who sat around, He asked: "Which of you would give your child a stone, when he asks for bread? or a scorpion when he asks for a fish?" We can sense the movement of indignant rejection of such con-duct, in their faces and gestures. No, no; they would never dream of treating their little ones in that way. And then He points the lesson: "If you, evil though you are, can give good things to your children, how much more your Father in heaven will give good things to those who ask?" The little spark of love in a human father's heart which will urge him to be good to his child, what is it to the love in the heart of our Father in Heaven, from whom comes all parents' love? Nemo tam Pater, there is no father like God, St. Augustine reminds us. How much His Sonship meant to Christ, we gather from every page' of the Gospel. It is the source of His joy, confidence, exaltation. It is the support of His strength, His endurance, His resolve to carry out the mis-sion for which He was sent into the world. His life was entirely oriented to the will of His Father, was totally responsive to it. That orientation, that dependence, is His chief lesson to us. We too are sons of God and it should be the deliberate effort of our spiritual life to give our divine adoption its true place in our dealings with God, and not least in our prayer. "Our Father" might well serve us as the true heart of prayer. But there is another phrase of Christ, equally short, and perhaps even more full of suggestion, which might well give us what we are seeking. He spoke the phrase on the occasion of the return of the disciples from the short trial mission on which He had sent them to the cities of Israel to prepare the way for His own coming (Lk 10:17; Mt 11:25). Seeing their naive, childish joy in their suc-cess--" Lord, even the demons were subjected to us"--He thanked His Father for revealing to those little ones the spiritual truths He had concealed from the wise and prudent: "Yes, Father, so it was pleasing in your sight." Ira, Pater: "Yes, Father." This is His shortest prayer, and it is perhaps His most comprehensive one. It gives us His abiding attitude of mind to His Father. It reveals that His soul and spirit were always open to the Father, al-ways fully responsive to the Father's will. At first sight they indicate merely a mood of resignation and accept-ance, such as He showed especially in Gethsemane and on Calvary: "Not My will but Thine be done." But the words "Yes, Father" have a wider and deeper connota-tion. They cover all the emotions and reactions which were His as He looked on His Father's face. They ex-pressed not merely acceptance and submission; they con-vey approval, admiration, joy, praise, and most of all a loving agreement with all His Father is and does and asks. "It cannot be questioned," says Yves Congar, O.P., "that the prayer of loving, joyous adherence to the will of the Father was coextensive with the whole earthly life of Jesus" (Jesus Christ, 'p. 93). Perhaps in these words "Yes, Father" we too can find the heart and essence of our prayer and in some remote way may learn the prayer of our Lord. After all we are sons of the Son; we have within us His spirit who inspires us to say "Abba Father" --we may then without presumption make bold to say "Our Father" or "Yes, Father." These phrases indicate a prayer which is contempla-tion. They give the attitude of a soul which is facing God, looking at Him, listening to Him. "All prayer," says Y. Congar, "is communion in the will and mystery of God. This essential prayer consists in being receptive and wholly offered to God, so that He might be God not only in Himself---but also in His creatures" (Jesus Christ, p. 98). This prayer opens out the soul to catch the influ-ence of God. It looks to God expectantly to see, to learn, to receive, to respond, to admire, to accept, to praise, to approve, to thank. It mirrors in some way the riches of God. It will try to express itself sometimes in our Lord's words: "All My things are Thine and Thine are Mine" (Jn 17:10); sometimes in the words of the Psalmist: "What have I in heaven but Thee and there is nothing upon earth that I desire besides Thee" (Ps 72:26). St. Francis expressed this attitude to God in the words "Deus mi et omnia"--"My God and my all." Thomas "~ Kempis has voiced it in his great hymn of love: "A loud cry in the ears of God is that ardent affection of soul which says: My God, my love, Thou are all mine and I am all Thine; enlarge me in Thy love" (Imitation III:5). This is a rich prayer in which the constituents of all other kinds of prayers are found. It can register adoration, praise, thanks, petition, reverence, submission, offering, accept-ancemall the different moods of the soul when it feels its proximity to God. The phrase "Yes, Father" gives an at-mosphere, an attitude which "is one of total prayer, in which seeing and self-directing to what is seen, receiving ÷ ÷ ÷ Heart oy Prayer VOLUME 29, 1970 ÷ ÷ ÷ Hugh Kelly REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS and self-giving, contemplation and going out from self, are all present, indistinguishably at the very core" (von Balthasar, Prayer, p. 65). This is substantially the re-sponse to the call of God. It is the response of the boy Samuel: "Here I am, for you called me" (1 Sam $:5). God made the first advance to man and spoke to him in His word: a word of love, an invitation to hear what God had planned and designed for His creatures~"Prayer," says von Balthasar again, "is communication in which God's word has the initiative and we at first are simple listeners. Consequently what we have to do is, first, listen to God's word and then through that word learn how to answer" (Prayer, p. 12). When this prayer of contemplation, of presence, reaches a certain degree of intensity, as with the mystics, it will be beyond the reach of analysis or explanation. The soul will remain passive, absorbed in God, knowing only how sweet it is to be so close to Him. But that state of intensity will not be frequent. Normally those who pray in this way are able to give some account of their meeting with God, to distinguish certain forms and fea-tures of prayer, and to realize how rich it is. We have access to the Father only through the Son. We are the sons of God because we share the sonship of Christ. Our prayer then must have the qualities of the prayer of Christ--we can speak in His words and make His prayer ours. The Father will recognize the prayers of His adopted sons as the blind Isaac recognized the voice of his younger son. There are certain notes and tones very frequent in the prayer of Christ which we must make our own. The Mass mentions these prayers explicitly: "He gave you thanks and prayers." And the Gospel testifies abundantly to them. They should be the chief features in our prayer. We should praise God just because He is God and most worthy of our praise. Our praise is the expression of the desire we have that He may be God in Himself and in His creatures. It is the theme of the first part of the Lord's prayer; it is the most frequent prayer of the Psalms. It is the highest, the most disinterested form of prayer. It is the opening note of the Magnificat, the prayer of our Lady spoken when the mystery of the Incarnation was at its newest. If prayer at its best is a loving attachment to God's will, then the prayer of praise must be the fullest attachment to God's will because it is God's will primarily that He should be God. The prayer of thanks may often be a variant of the prayer of praise. "We give Thee thanks for Thy great glory" the Church proclaims in the Gloria. We thank God for being Himself. Even if we owed nothing to Him, He would be most worthy of thanks just for being Him- self, the all powerful, the all perfect. But while fie is ill-finitely great He is infinitely good to us and therefore we must never cease to thank Him. That was the abiding mood of our Lord's soul: "Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard me. I know that Thou hearest me al-ways" (Jn 12:41). Our prayer then as sons of God must be as far as we can the the prayer of the only begotten Son, whose Sonship we share. It must express the fullest at-tachment to the will of the Father. It must be compact of adoration, submission, acceptance, all of these as expres-sions of love. We are justified in thinking that our Lady's prayer was of this kind, but in the highest degree. Her prayer was in a unique way a prayer of presence. It was fed from a double source. There was her interior union with the Holy Spirit who had come upon her and had done mighty things for her. But her interior contemplation of God and His design in the Incarnation was immensely deepened by her contact with her Son, the Word made flesh tlu'ough her. In a unique way she was in contact with the Word of God. She was more in contact with it than St. John and could give a greater testimony than his "What we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life--the life was made 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" (1 Jn 1:1-2). In the visible presence of her Son she was always gazing on the Word, always listening to it. We are told explicitly of her study of Him, how she kept all His words and deeds in her heart and turned them over in con-templation. This was most truly a prayer of presence. She had but to open her eyes and ears and her mind would be flooded with light. How deeply would His words and deeds speak to one so disposed to hear, to a handmaid so responsive to the Father. When she turned over in her mind what she saw with her senses, what floods of light, what insight and consolation came to her. Who could tell of her growth in the knowledge of God in the long silent years at Nazareth? What more appro-priate prayer could she make than "Yes, Father" in which she gave a wholehearted approval to God's designs? On the eve of His passion Our Lord could give a sad repri-mand to the Apostles--"So long a time have I been with you and you have not known Me." We feel that He could not have given such a reprimand to His Mother though her insight and knowledge were gradual and ever grow-ing. Her prayer must have been an openness to God, a love of His will, a resolve to accept it and do it that could be found only in one so deeply concerned with the eternal designs of God. + 4- + Heart o] Prayer VOLUME 29, 1970 519 Perhaps in such phrases as "Our Father" or "Yes, Father" we are at the heart 9f prayer and can find in them that which was the core of all the methods. Perhaps if we bypass the preludes, the techniques, the preliminaries, and enter 'at once into the presence of God and greet Him in such words, we shall experience that our prayer will become what it should be: natural and spontaneous, a genuine communication with God. Perhaps we are too eager to do the talking, to tell God "various things He knows already." We try to take the lead in the interviews --we expect God to be the patient listener. But surely this is a reversal of roles: "What do we do, when at prayer, but speak to a God who long ago revealed himself to man in a word so powerful and all-embracing that it can never be solely of the past but continues to resound through the ages?" (yon Balthasar, Prayer, p. 12). In the words, "Yes, Father" or "Our Father" we take up the true atti-tude of prayer. We stand before God, we listen to Him, we wait to know His will and His good pleasure; and these short forms of prayer will reveal our response to His word, our docility and submission, our gratitude and praise, and first and last our love. 4. 4. Hugh Kelly REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 5~0 ROBERT J. OCHS, S.J. Imagination, Wit, and Fantasy in Prayer Robert: How do you mean? voices? Joan: I hear voices telling me what to do. They come from God. Robert: They come from your imagination. Joan: Of course. That is how the messages of God come to us. riG. B. Shaw, St. Joan. This article is in the nature of a plea, even a kind of court plea, for a fcesh look at what used to be called dis-cursive prayer. Inasmuch as it is a court plea, it is a plea of "not guilty." This fresh look might exonerate dis-cursive prayer of two charges commonly leveled against it: of being dry meditation and of being the lowest rung on the prayer ladder, a step quickly taken on the way to the higher prayer of quiet. As we shall see, these two charges are not unconnected. If discursive prayer runs quickly dry, it is no wonder people look for something higher and it deserves its bottom rung. "Exonerating discursive prayer of guilt" is a metaphor. But exonerating those who practise it from their guilt complex is not. They do feel vaguely guilty before God and themselves when they are unsuccessful at it; and when successful they still feela kind of-inferiority com-plex about its lowly status, a feeling that by now they should have advanced beyond it to the prayer of quiet. They feel the only way of progress is up, and so they re-peat their occasional efforts at the prayer of quiet, with middling success. There would be scant harm in this if the prestige of the prayer of quiet did not relegate them to the role of spiritual slum dwellers, blocking their imaginations from exploring the possibilities which lie hidden under the forbidding category of "discursive prayer." This plea has two parts. One is to broaden the scope of discursive prayer to include fantasy, affective reactions (annoyance, complaining, rebellion as well as fervor; 4- 4- 4- Robert J. Ochs, S.J., is a faculty member of Bellar-mine School of Theology; North Aurora, Illinois 60542. VOLUME 29, 1970 521 ÷ ÷ ÷ R. 7. Ochs, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS desolation as well as consolation), and, not least, wit, an imaginative use of our heads. The other part is histori-cal, a look at the original narrowing of scope of dis-cursive prayer in the 16th and 17th centuries, which soon brought religious writers [ace to face with the widespread "problem of dryness" and issued in the recommendation of the prayer of simplicity as a solution. Not that it was a bad solution. The prayer of quiet is an excellent method for those who can use it. Leonard Boase's book The Prayer of Faith, recommending it again so persuasively-some years ago, came as a real release for many. But I would venture a guess that for every person who was liberated by it, two others eventually felt them-selves hampered, and dissipated their efforts to explore further in a discursive way. And Father Boase's sugges-tion that the night of sense (which includes a night of the intellect), an intense but brief period for great souls like John of the Cross, lasts a lifetime for the common lot, sounded like a sentence to an unlivable life in the twi-light. Boase conceived the work of the mind and imagina-tion as a linear, undialectical, and conflictless a.bsorption of the truths of revelation, that reaches its saturation point rather quickly. It is pretty much limited to medi-tation "in the sense of methodical, analytic study of sacred truth" (p. 47). Not surprisingly, such a simple absorption process can hardly be expected to last a life-time, and before long "the sponge is full" (~i6). Further activity of the mind can only lead to boredom, and so one had best turn to a quiet contemplative view of the whole. Reading Boase one gets the impression that the evolution of prayer is all rather tranquil and uneventful. No doubt our poor prayer seems to prove him right. And yet, one cannot help suspecting that beneath the placid surface of our not very exciting prayer a passion-ate world is seething. The itinerary Boase sketches (ad-mittedly, I am caricaturing this excellent book a bit) takes us along the periphery of this turbulent interior world instead of through it. One has only to recall the eventful cri~es which mark the milestones in any psychoanalysis to sense that something is missing. Ronald Laing has sug-gested that for all our interiority we moderns are living in another Dark Age, before the Age of Exploration of the interior world. The model for "appropriating the faith" might well be exploration and confrontation rather than simple absorption. The eminent historian of modern spirituality, Louis Cognet, has recently tried to get at the origins of this atrophy of discursive prayer. In some homey and yet polemical pages (Les probl~mes de la spiritualitd; Ch. 5; also La prikre du chrdtien, Ch. 8--both Paris: Cerf, 1967), he has attacked what he feels to be a centuries old misunderstanding. The anti-meditation bias arose out of a series of historical accidents in the 16th century and has narrowed the scope of prayer ever since. As he tells it, theology in the late Middle Ages had taken on a highly rationalistic form, becoming a domain of specialists, cut off from interior sources. Spirituality was divorced from it, and therefore divorced from any searching theological activity. Methodical prayer, using simple meditation man-uals, was introduced to provide the uncultured with something more accessible. Thus "meditation" came to be associated with this new idea of untheological prac-tical prayer. Its practice spread so that even the educated depended on these manuals for prayer. By the time so-called mental prayer had become general practice, the impression was also well established that it built on a narrow intellectual base~ The theologically educated lived split lives. However imaginatively they might use their wits otherwise, "mental" prayer engaged their minds very little. Frustration was not long in coming. Cognet is struck by the simultaneous emergence all over Europe of a new problem for the religious writers of this period~ the prob-lem of dryness and disgust. Theorists had to find a way of explaining and coping with the distaste which seemed to afflict educated people who embarked on mental prayer for any length of time. The generally accepted so-lution was to suppose that discursive prayer was just an elementary stage. Dryness was taken as a sign that this stage had served its purpose and should be left behind for more simple forms. Discourse in words and images was to give way to a contemplative look. This scheme became generally adopted during the 17th century. We find it in St. Teresa and John of the Cross whose authority has made it accepted in treatises on prayer down to our own day. It was a good solution for the problem so conceived. It served to highlight the special nature of the prayer of quiet, for which many had a real capacity. But others who could not follow this way out, whose prayer re-mained obstinately discursive for all their efforts to fol-low the "normal" trajectory toward the prayer of sim-plicity, felt condemned to the meagre means available at the elementary level of the spiritual life. Cognet claims that this inferiority complex has hampered growth in prayer ever since. A realignment is therefore called for, Cognet insists. We must especially remind ourselves that the "traditional view" is relatively modern, and ruled by a particular view of prayer conceived to answer concrete problems of the VOLUME 29, Z970 4. ÷ 4. R. I. Ochs, sd. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS late Middle Ages and early Modern period. It was not always so. As far as we are in a position to reconstitute the prayer, of St. Augustine, for example, we must con-clude that he remained'discursive all his life, for all the contemplative aspects of his'prayer. This discursive form did not keep him from the heights of prayer. Nor did it keep Cardinal Berulle on an elementary level. Above all, we should emphasize that these psychological forms of one's prayer.are secondary, that it is one's relation to God in prayer which is fundamental. We should encourage a freer, more pragmatic attitude toward these forms, and arrange them less into stages. The psychological mani-festations of one's relationship to God are more a matter of temperament and style, and even of periods of one's life, which follow a rhythm back and forth from dis-cursive to "contemplative, rather than a set progression from one to the other. Even St. Teresa wrote abundant narratives about her prayer; and Jeanne de Chantal, after a period when she could not start the Our Father without falling into ecstasy, used discursive forms in the same way as the rest of us. Obviously, more is at stake in correcting this mis-understanding than freeing discursively oriented people from their inferiority complexes. (It is a bit hard to imagine vast numbers of people consciously suffering from the classical division into stages, in our contempo-rary scramble for any form of prayer which makes sense.) What is at stake is breaking open the category of dis-cursive prayer, giving scope for people to explore it with more confidence of finding something. At stake is healing the rift between theology and prayer in our own religious sensibility, learning to pray with our minds as well as our hearts (and theologize with our affectivity as well as our heads). There is no mindless prayer of the heart. Human affectivity is saturated with meaning. Closing the gap between spirituality and theology means breaking down prejudices built into the Christian prayer consciousness over generations, prejudices that thinking in prayer can only be idle curiosity, speculation about bloodless truths, asking impertinent questions pi-ous minds were never meant to ask. But there is the book of Job to make it clear that our minds were meant to ask. Surely a great curiosity about divine things is not foreign to prayer. Man was meant to argue with God. The Lord even demands that His people ask an explanation from him. The prophets had questions to put to the Lord who called them. And Mary answered the angel with the question: "How shall these things be?" Besides the prejudice against asking questions in prayer, there is another against using the imagination. Imagination and fantasy could well be what is required to bring heart and mind back together in prayer. Both theology and spirituality, as they are now, suffer from not being sufficiently tooted in the imagination. Discursive prayer does employ imagination and fantasy, but in a feeble, and, one might say, witless way. What is needed is a bolder use of fantasy.in prayer, a parallel to the bold-ness recommended above in asking questions of God. The Esalen Institute, for example, has uncovered re-markable abilities to fantasize in outwardly bland people. Its use of fantasy can teach us something. In guided fan-tasies, for instance, any blocks that occur are looked on as highly revelatory. A person embarking on a fantasy trip through his own body may suddenly find his body impenetrable, or, once inside, find he has no access to his heart. The important element to note here, for method, is that the person follows his fantasy, that there are things the person can and cannot do spontaneously in fantasy, because of their meaningful affective charge. This is much more concrete than our usual attempts to imagine our-selves present in a gospel scene where we try to elicit "appropriate" feelings and, when they are not forth-coming, dismiss our inability unreflectively as just an-other bad meditation. Closer to what masters like St. Ignatius must have had in mind is one case I am familiar with, where a man who had been unable to pray for years began a retreat by imagining himself at Bethlehem but found he could not enter the cave. Feelings of un-worthiness, and of simply not being welcome, blocked his fantasy at that point. He and his director interpreted this, not as an inability to "make the contemplation," but as a sign that he was praying; and he continued to imag-ine himself barred at the entrance to the cave in his repe-titions of the contemplation. After two days of this, dur-ing which the resentments and hopes of his whole past life welled up within him, he reported that he was in-vited to go in. The fantasy, with the block and its resolu-tion, was so much the man himself that it became the carrier for a real encounter and meant the turning point of his spiritual life. These short examples of how the use of mind and imag-ination might be broadened are, of course, not cited merely as .gimmicks, but hopefully as indications of a wider dimension and as reminders of how sluggishly we have used them in the past. Limitations of space preclude elaborating them more. Numerous qualifications would also be in order---discernment to avoid equating the in-terior world with God and our feelings with his Holy Spirit. But God does speak to us in our thoughts and. imaginations, or He cannot reach us at all. + ÷ ÷ VOLUME 29, As a conclusion let me cite the words Robert Bolt gives to Thomas More in A Man/or All Seasons: "God made the angels to show him splendor--as he made animals [or innocence and plants for their simplicity. But Man he made to serve him wittily, in the tangle o[ his mind." The way through a tangle is discursive and dialectical. + + + R. 1. O~h,, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS JOSEPH T. FORGUE, F.S.C. Religious Life and the Educational ApostOlate Apparent to many engaged in the task of reformulation of the structures of the religious life is the inadequacy of mere personalism to remedy mechanical institutionalism. What seems to be necessary is an approach at once task oriented while incorporating the wide range of personal concerns. The following--an interpretation of the docu-ment The Brother of the Christian Schools in the World Today: A Declaration-- is offered as a model of just such an approach. What are the brothers? It might be said that they are men who, with lucid faith and burning zeal, serve the poor through Christian education, by establishing them-selves as a disciplined community. To be sure, there are many persons with lucid faith and burning zeal; many who serve the poor; many committed to Christian educa-tion; and there are many disciplined communities. The Brothers of the Christian Schools, I suggest, are a unique dynamic convergence of faith and zeal expressed through Christian education on behalf of the poor, facilitated and sustained through the mechanism and mystery of dis-ciplined community life. Christian Education in Service of the Poor In the first place there is the logical and historical pri- ÷ ority that leads to understanding the brothers' coming ÷ together as task oriented. To be sure, the quality of their + corporate lives must go beyond the task; but the task-- Christian education in the service of the poor--is the ini-tial and sustaining motivation for the community. To b~ concerned with an educational task is to partici- ¯ pate in the cumulative process of building the "new age of mankind." It is to foster the development of the noosphere, that network of human cohesion based on the twin dynamism of knowledge and love. To educate is to 527 Joseph T. Forgue, F.S.C., is a faculty member of Chris-tian Brothers Col-lege; Memphis, Tennessee ~8104. VOLUME 29, 1970 ¯ J, T, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS provoke and to evoke an ever increasing growth in criti-cal self-consciousness, to elicit insightful understanding of the structural realities of the world. Education that is in the service of the poor is educa-tion which recognizes that the thrust of history pulsates primarily among the poor. Education that is Christian is education which recognizes that all structures are on be-half of persons, aiding them toward personal and com-munal growth in responsible freedom. Christian educa-tion in service of the poor responds to those who suffer from the imperfections in society and understands that to realistically participate in its task, there must be real and co-ordinated contact with all strata of society for the sake of societal change. The educational task of the brothers, then, ought to be both comprehensive: urban, rural, suburban; and far-reaching: formal and informal. Urban education seeks to minister to the persons who suffer most immediately the brunt of the radical trans-formation in the human self-image caused by the tech-nologization of society. The historic thrust of the broth-ers adds the further dimension: a preference for the. poor of the inner city. Rural education seeks to foster the em-pathy and radicalization necessary for those not touched directly by urban awareness--and this to develop a sense of responsibility for the solutions to the problems of the city. The educational task in the suburbs--similar to the rural task---seeks to promote a sense of unity with, and responsibility for, the city. The result aimed at: the shat-tering of isolationist attitudes reinforced by provincial governmental boundaries. In order to reach all the people, the comprehensive ed-ucational task must be far-reaclfing. The brothers are called to operate through the academic framework of the school (formal education) and to include as an integral dimension of their work various educational endeavors that are outside the regular academic structure (informal education). Disciplined Community Just as historically John de La Salle was confronted by the educational task that was needed and in meeting that need discovered the need for a task force, so the contem-porary need of Christian education in service of the poor requires the existence of a disciplined community. The interpersonal dimensions of men risking their lives to live together in celibate community are not to be slighted, but such dimensions are not the reason for the brothers' coming together as an institute larger than one community. If such were the reason, the need for cor-porate structure apart from or beyond the "local group" would be unnecessary. Hence in describing the Brothers of the Christian Schools such considerations are omitted. They are presupposed as necessary for any human com-munity; they do not specify the uniqu.eness of the or-ganized religious life. The Brothers of the Christian Schools are disciplined-- that is, they have structured aspects of their living to-gether to hold up to themselves the continual demands oI the educational task. Traditionally such discipline has been called poverty, chastity, and obedience. Under the rubric of poverty, the brothers deny them-selves the personal use of individual salaries based on the market value o~ their work, pooling their regular moneys to manifest that they have staked their lives upon each other. Chastity refers to their decision.to live a non-family life style, symbolizing (and making really available) openness to personal mobility to insure meeting the fluc-tuating needs of the corporate task. Subjecting the indi-vidual direction of their careers to the approval of the corporation, the brothers under the rubric of obedience have decided that their individual efforts on behalf of mankind shall be united to, and co-ordinated with, the corporate task. To the traditional disciplines are added two others: one corporate: liturgy--the other personal: meditation. In liturgy the community agrees to meet in communal wor-ship. That is, it agrees to attempt to understand its re-sponse to the world in terms of meeting the demands of the Mysterious Unconditioned. The community under-stands its mission as the mission of the Church: mediating through the dynamic presence of the Spirit, the Father as revealed in Ghrist. Besides the communal necessity to come to grips with the presence of mystery, there is the demand for each to do so in his unique "being addressed" by God. Hence the need for meditation. The disciplined community is a community: which necessitates the decision to enter into regular, serious, personal dialogue on the part of whomever the demands of the corporate task have called to be comrades. There is the concern that comes of risking one's life upon the persons who share the taskmthe concern which enables the brothers to sustain their lives of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Further, the community is composed of brothers who wholeheartedly participate in the common work required when men live together, who foster the formal and in,or-real study and thought necessary for developing corporate self-understanding of their life in Christ, and who, fi-nally, simply let their hair down together in joyful cele-bration of their comradeship. VOLUME ~9 1970 ]. T. Forgue REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 550 Faith and Zeal The members of a disciplined community who are en-gaged in the corporate task of Christian education on be-half of the poor manifest the spirit of faith and zeal. The faith of such brothers is the free response they give to the experience of being addressed at the very core of their selfhood by the Absolutely Unconditioned--me-diated in our traditions by Christ. Further, such faith is global since it understands the free response to be neces-sarily comprehensive, relating to all men everywhere--a catholic faith. The faith of these brothers is futuric since they understand that their free and global response is to the demand that they live their lives on behalf of the fu-ture of men--to build the Body of Christ. The free, global, futuric faith has yet another dimen-sion: it is grateful. Such faith rests upon the gracious cumulative presence of God in history; it is a faith me-diated in time by the Church. Finally, the brothers rec-ognize their faithful response to be ambiguous, always under scrutiny, ever in need of perfection through the systematic prophetic questioning of its authenticity--a faith on the brink of unbelief. Just as the brothers' spirit of faith has five marks, so may the power of their zeal be sustained and characterized in a fivefold manner. The zeal of the brothers is manifested by their remain-ing articulate about the multiple dimensions of their professional field--education--and the specific academic discipline of their speciality. Since effective work demands coherence and specifica-tion the zeal of the brothers is characterized by planning. They must decide to operate on the corporate and indi-vidual level in response to the researched needs of the world as reflected in the specific areas they find them-selves. Such operation must be systematically efficient and highly co-ordinated. The brothers must be guided by the spirit of Romans 5:1,5, living the reality of zeal in terms of patience and persistence. They must suffer the presence of obstacles to their goals, take heart in the struggles they meet, and develop a sense of humor that will keep them from b-solutizing any aspect of their task. The brothers, giving every calorie of energy to their task, will live in the hope which is born of worthwhile effort. Finally, the zeal which sustains a group of Christian Brothers must develop a sensitivity to the real needs of the poor in their midst: that they might burn with a zeal that is salvific for men. Unknown to them will be de-structive fanaticism or self-aggrandizing complacency. Conclusion Such is a suggested model for understanding the broth-ers and their being-together. Unless religious operate out of some such corporate understanding; unless they ac-tually do act with an impact that is at once local, regional, national, and international; then there seems to be little justification for the life style they have chosen. + + ÷ vOLUME 29, 1970 CHARLES A. SCHLECK, C.S.C. Community Life: Problematic and Some Reflections Charles Schleck, C.S.C., lives at 2300 Adeline Drive; Bur-lingame, California 94010. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS The problem of community life in religious institutes today is beset by many different factors both those of an environmental and ideological nature. There are first of all the conflicting currents of pressure with which man is faced in our contemporary societyA There is, for example, the problem of mobility, the fact that men can and do move around much more quickly than before, from one job to another, from one profession to another, from one place of residence to another. There is the consequent "need for change" which this very fact of mobility can easily cause. And very often connected with this, and fol-lowing from it, there is the experience of solitude or loneliness, plus the consequent uneasiness which this causes, not to say anxiety and anguish. There is the pro-found need for love and acceptance, and men are willing to do almost anything in order to get this. At the same time we find the presence of fear, the fear of being ab-sorbed by the impersonalism of our society, the fear of being rejected by others, fears which account for the rather bizarre and defensive behavior of so many, and fears which also account for the profound superficiality and veneerness of the relationships which persons do have--even those relationships which are entered into as an act of protest against other interrelationships. So often our relationships today are often marked by many words, and the doing of many things together, but by very little real personal communication or communion-- of the kind which leaves us free and which leaves others free as well. Thus, many persons in our society today live in real 1See K. Jaspers, Man in the Modern Age, Doubleday, 1957; Marcel, Man against Mass Society, Gateway, Chicago, 1962. solitude, and this throughout their entire lives. This is due at least in part to the sociological uprootedness in which they are almost forced to live. Solitude is never more painful than in many of our larger cities where many complain that they can never be alone, and yet, in reality, are almost always alone, that is, without any real communication or communion of a spiritually and truly satisfying nature. There are others in our society who are psychically incapable of being alone, or of recollecting themselves, or of becoming aware of their true sitnation in the world. Life outside a crowd is for them untolerable, so untolerable that they feel a kind of a pressure or com-pulsion to do everything that everyone else is doing, especially those persons or those groups with whom they identify socially. Thus their frequentation of the same bars, or theaters, or dubs or discotheques and so forth. It is not that they really desire these things necessarily, but they simply must do them because of their need to be "with people" and their fear of being alone. Yet for all this frequentation and for all these encounters, there is little or no real profound and personally satisfying com-munication or communion, whether there be the com-munication or communion of man with man, or that of man with God3 Another reason for the problematic in community life today is the advent and current cult of the many insights into man given to us in and through the existential and personalist philosophies of our time. These teach us that there are three involvements that characterize the exist-ence of modern man who is bodily-spiritual. There is first of all the involvement of man in the world. Even man's knowledge of God comes from the world in which he is rooted by reason of his bodiliness. He cannot even be thought of in his total reality unless the world is also perceived or thought of together with him. In fact, even his redemption or salvation is connected with the world, because man is redeemed as a being-in-the-world, or a being involved in the world. In fact, it is through man that the whole of creation shares in the redemption and salvation. For sanctity or holiness which is the fulfillment of man involves not merely the offer of Christ but the response of man as well. Again there is man's involvement in community. He is quite aware that he is dialogical, that he is not simply a being-in-the-world, but a being-in-the-world-with-others, that he is a listener as well as a speaker. He does not stand alone in society; he stands always in relation to others in society. While he possesses his own personal and indi-vidual natnre, and this in a unique way, still he cannot =See Ignace Lepp, The Ways o] Friendship, Macmillan, N.Y., 1966, pp. l,gff. ÷ ÷ ommunity " Li~e VOLUME 29. 1970 ~. A~ Schteck REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS develop his nature or his person alone; he can do this only in and through the human community, that is, through other human persons. He sees his environment and his becoming and development, as intimately linked up with presence, the presences and influences of other persons, or with the interactivity of many interpersonal relationships. If man has selfhood, he is given this so that he may encounter other human persons who by their presences and interactivity will contribute to his whole-ness and personal fulfillment. No man is an island; and if his personal talents and capabilities are to unfold, if he is to become himself, completely this person which at first he is only potentially, if he is to become uniquely and personally creative, then the unique powers and gifts he has must be awakened .and stimulated to growth through the presence and interaction of others. And thirdly, there is man's involvement in history. There is not one moment of his life when man can be said to possess his own existence fully. What he is now, he became as a result of his past, and it is what he is now --including this past--that leads him on toward the fu-ture, a future to which he is even now already reaching out. Thus, every human life bears the stamp of outside forces, even though it is also internally being shaped by God and by the individual himself. Man's being and person are being shaped not bnly by the apparently autonomous forces of God and himself but also by the coexistential forces of his living moment, those of the hu-man community in which the forces of history are accu-mulated. While man's decisions are free, they' are not made in any kind of vacuum. They have their roots in the soil of human society and its history. And this means both the past and the future as well as the present, since the past and the future enter into our here and now de-cisions to a great extent, greater than many of us imagine. Man lives historically or in history, and he is involved very much in the ebb and flow of history. In short we find many currents impacting on man and his situation in the world today, currents that almost force themselves on us in spite of ourselves. There is the emphasis on personalism, the search for personal fulfill-ment or happiness, the need for independent and respon-sible action, the insistence on the primacy of the person over the society--at least when this is considered in its form of institution or organization--which is considered as being at the service of the person. There is the em-phasis on fellowship, on the sacramentality of our brother, on brotherhood in the sense of togetherness, collabora-tion, teamwork, complementarity, mutual enrichment, or completion, through interpersonal relationships and ac-tivity. There is the preoccupation of modern man with the "world" and the need for religious who are trying to be fully human and Christian to enter as completely as possible into all that is human and can be consecrated to God. The world is our world and we hold a serious responsibility in reference to what it is going to become, and we hold this in communion and cooperation with each other. Therefore, we must be involved in the world and in the human community--in order to become per-sons ourselves and in order to help shape the destiny of man in history, in order to help others become persons themselves.3 Still another source of the problematic regarding com-munity life in religion is the manifold way in which the expression "community" is understood by different per-sons today. As we find in so many other areas of human relationships, our problem often becomes a linguistic problem--we use the same word and yet we do not mean the same thing. The theologian or canonist will mean one thing by the word "community" whereas the sociologist or the psychologist might mean something quite distinct; and possibly the cultural anthropologist might mean something different from all these. And then again, dif-ferent theologians or different canonists, or different so-ciologists or different p?ychologists or different cultural anthropologists might mean different things by the same word. What the theologian refers to when he uses the word "community" within the sphere of his science is a group or corporate entity that we know and regard in and by and through the light of faith, or a community or group that is established and built on a faith vision of one kind or another. What the canonist will mean by the word "community" is a group of persons that lives together following certain norms or laws established by the com-petent authority empowered to establish those rules and regulations. Yet a psychologist or a sociologist would be speaking of something entirely other, of a group of per-sons or an association of persons viewed according to the norms and principles of the behavioral science which they represent. For a good number of psychologists, the word "commu-nity" would refer to a group of persons whose quality and depth of interpersonal relationships would establish them in some kind of communion of unity, personal unity or unity and communion of persons. Thus, they would stress the sacredness of the person, his need to be ful-filled within an expansive and free community. They would stress that persons are ends in themselves, im-portant for who they are as well as and even more so 8See Otto Semmelroth, S.J., The Church and Christian Belie], Deus Books, Paulist Press, N.Y., 1966, pp. 81-3. + + + Community Life VOLUME 29, 1970 ÷ ÷ RENEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~536 than for what they do. They would stress that a diversity of works and personal talents is a good thing in a group, precisely because this variety evokes the actualization of the full range of the human potential which exists within the group and because it also creates the possibility for adaptive changes within the group enriching its total view and being and action. They would also stress the fact that the insights of the person-members serve the community, that personhood is a process, a reality that is not achieved simply in virtue of existing together, but rather by personal exchanges, the kind that imply ac-ceptance of change within the persons "and also a realistic knowledge and acknowledgment of human fallibility. They would emphasize that self-revelation and accept-ance of others, far from working to the destruction of the unity of the group, enhance both the person and the group or community as well. In fact it is these very things that provide the basis for continuing growth in under-standing and love on the part of the various members of the group. The sociologist would be concerned with community within the framework of group formation and operation. He might tend to emphasize the professional and the adult relationships of the members and tend to look at the group in terms of its ability to carry out goals and ob-jectives with some kind of e~ciency. Or he would tend to emphasize or look at a community as a social group phenomenon which identified or did not identify with this or that value system. For example, among the many distinctions which sociologists have made to clarify the social reality of "community" was the introduction of the notions of "gemeinschaft" and "gesellschaft." The first term refers to a community in the sense of a communal collectivity based on diffuse emotional attachments exist-ing between the members. The second term refers to a communal collectivity that rests primarily on the con-scious choice of specific objectives on the part of the membership. This division might approximate what we often call a division of community into a community as home, and a community as service organization. The sociologist is often far more interested in the second kind of "community" than in the first, that is, in the associational community or "gesellschaft" than in the emotional community or "gemeinschaft." Affective rela-tionships are and will indeed remain important to the sociologist, but he does not see them as constituting the totality of human existence, that if they did, they would soon lead a community to becoming dysfunctional or non-functioning, reduced to a kind of love-in experience or amateur group therapy unit rather than an adult associa-tional group having specific objectives. He would see that in some circumstances the affective relationslfips and the constant search for these on the part of a group would simply tend to desu'oy effective performance on the part of the group and to render their associational objectives impossible or difficult to achieve. He would stress that there should be organic solidarity in the membership of the group, and this such that there would be more than mere juxtaposition, but rather an interdependent divi-sion of labor, the key to which would be not that diversity in which each part goes its own way, but that kind of diversity in which each part is deeply concerned with meaningful exchange and for the good of each part, but for this good in reference to the good of the whole. The sociologist is very much concerned with preserving the sovereign demands of the common good together with the dignity of the person. To employ a rather practical example: A sociologist would see that in the case of liturgical experimentation by different groups, this should be concerned with the functional or service con-tributions which this group is making to the larger whole, and not with its own personal wishes or the indi-vidual affective relationships which exist ~znong the cele-brating group. He could easily accept the principle of a pluralistic liturgy based on the notion of vocation or profession, in which each societal role and its contribu-tion to the life of the totality would permit diversity and " yet stress organic solidarity, for example, a Mass for pro-fessionals, for factory workers, and so forth. But he would also tend to consider that it is a fruitless task on the part of liturgists in their attempt to achieve togetherness in the liturgy to try to define their problem in terms of supernatural charity becoming translated into human emotion. A person need not feel affection for another in order to have charity toward this other person, nor need charity always express itself in a social relationship which is defined as affective. Christian love may impel a man to lend a helping hand to another, but this is quite an-other phenomenon than that of holding hands for the sake of holding hands. Though the temptation to unite these two forms or expressions is very great by reason of an appealing and yet rather false idealism, liturgical forms must respect the fact that this equation is fre-quently impossible. The good Samaritan did not form an I-Thou relationship with the man who fell in with thieves, at least if we accept this according to the terms of some psychologists. He bandaged his wounds, put him on his pack-animal, took him to an inn and gave the inn-keeper money to cover the expenses, and went on his way.4 'See R. Potvin, "The Liturgical Community: Sociological Ap-praisal," in Experiments in Community, Liturgical Conference, ÷ 4- Community Li]e VOLUI~IE 2% 1970 4. To further complicate the linguistic problem or the problem of and in communication, the word "apostolic" has also undergone an evolution in meaning. In the New Testament it involved two elements: (1) a kind of juridi-cal element, that is, a commissioning by Christ for some form of leadership in the Church; and (2) a kind of charismatic element, that is, a vision or experience of the risen Lord. The word "apostle" and its corresponding adjective were more or less limited or concentrated on a certain well-defined group of persons in the first genera-tion of Christian history. Gradually, however, the word took on other meanings. It referred to what could be traced back to the Apostles, for example, their writings, their doctrines, their traditions, and so forth. It was later on extended to refer to the Roman See, the Roman Pon-tiff, and finally to the Roman Catholic Church described as the "apostolic Church." Later on in the Middle Ages the word "apostolic" was used to describe a life or life style that was conformable with that instituted by the Apostles of the primitive Church. Thus the monks were Wash. D.C., 1968, pp. 90-3. "Many people use the word community to imply a group welded together by affective bonds, a love-in whereby emotional attachments are generated and maintained. Christian community and the cultic symbols which surround the eucharistic feast should not be reduced to a notion of community with affective overtones . It is unfortunate that the word com-munity and family should be abused as much as they are. The problem is not simply one of definition since the meaning of the words can and does differ in various contexts. The confusion re-sides in the arbitrary conjunction of the elements of one meaning with those of another, and in not realising that they are often mutually exclusive. The end result is frequently little else than stagnant unrealism which precludes the understanding of the social and spiritual realities which are being discussed. Thus the totality of the community of God's people is not a community in the strict sense of the word. Its unity is not the unity of affective homogeneity. It is not emotional attachment nor that of primary, deep, total relationships between people. It is not the unity which arises from the sharing of common territory--all contemporary definitions of community. These exist within the community of the faithful, but they are not that community, nor can their characteristics be at-tributed to it as such. In fact we are in the secular city of God and we have moved from a tribal unity with its kin-like bonds to the unity of the technopolis. As Harvey Cox suggests, there is another alternative to Buber's dichotomy between an I-It relationship and the I-Thou encounter. It is the I-You relationship which is at the base of the secular city. The unity which is characteristic of the contemporary world is a functional unity of diversity whereby people are of service to each other, and one which can be devoid of affecfive connotations, which at times must be devoid of such personal overtones if the common welfare and the 'interests of our fellow men' are to be achieved. Sociologists would say that such unity is based primarily on associational and not communal rela-tionships. In other words, it is not necessary that the baker know personally and like the plumber for the two to be of service to each other. It is even conceivable that if they did their mutnal service might be less efficient." thought to be living an apostolic life by reason of their practice of the common life and preaching. And they were said to be living in conformity with the first community in Jerusalem. While it is true that these elements--com-mon life and the ministry of preaching--were found in diverse ways in different groups, so long as these two ele-ments were in some way present, the group was said to be living the apostolic life. In the sixteenth century the word was again slightly modified. It began to refer to those persons or groups of persons who were sent by the Church to preach the gospel and to live or practice the virtues which the fulfillment of mission entailed. It was not so much a question of their imitating the life of the Apostles, but rather of participat-ing or sharing in their mission. Even semi-cloistered nuns spoke of themselves as having the "apostolic" spirit, cause they participated in the spirit of the apostolic mis-sion, namely, the redemption of mankind. Finally, the word "apostolic" received another altera-tion in recent times. With the advent of Catholic Action, the laity was said to have an "apostolic vocation." It would seem to be this use of the word "apostolic" that brought into being its highly "quantitative" aspect. Some persons were said to be more apostolic than others. Some works were said to be more apostolic than others. And finally some groups and' even religious institutes were said to be more or less apostolic than others depending upon the degree to which they engaged in external works. Under Plus XII an attempt was made to correct some of the inadequate implications of such a use of the word. He spoke of completely enclosed communities as leading a life that was essentially and wholly "apostolic." Thus the word "apostolic" would seem to admit of several essential elements, one ontological--a life that is con-nected with the inner life of the Church, with the life of agape or charity; and the other phenomenological--the various concrete ways or expressions in which the life of agape or charity can be expressed and mediated both in being and operation by persons, or groups, or even re-ligious communities. While we should be able to distin-guish one or other element in the word "apostolic," it would seem to be the wiser thing not to dissociate them from one anothbr, or dichotomize them in our practical attitudes. This could easily give rise to a triumphalism of one kind or another, contemplative or active, and both of these could simply establish more snob clubs in a Church where we already have enough. This linguistic problem or problem in communica-tion is not limited to the area of community. We find it existing in many other areas today. In regard to the area of family planning, for example, during the years in 4- 4- 4. Community lilt VO~UM~ ~, ;~o C. d. $chleck REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~40 which the papal commission met, it was quite obvious that there were problems, and serious ones, involving the use of language and words and expressions. Words used were the same, but the ~neanings and emphases, the cate-gories and selective placement of values connected with these words, were extremely diverse.5 This linguistic problem is a real problem. And it would seem to me that because we do not spell out the exact and rather well-defined limited idea or meaning which we have in using the word "community" we come to the rather quick and open conflict concerning the idea of "community" which we experience today. An approach, for example, that would be primarily sociological would easily emphasize an aspect of community or group asso-ciation that is the object of the science of sociology, and it would tend to emphasize the tools and instruments which this behavioral science normally employs. The same would be true if a psychologist Were to approach the same problem. Yet the theological dimensions of community, and the theological presuppositions of com-munity life within a religiously motivated group of per-sons, or a group which faces community with the back-ground of a faith vision, for example, sin-redemption, the ambiguity of man in the world, the manifold dimen-sions of the evangelical counsels, and so forth, might be ignored, even perhaps purposely or intentionally; and this, not because of any hostility toward these dimensions on the part of the experts involved, but simply because these dimensions might not be the specific area of con-cern or competence of a psychologist or sociologist. Yet the practical impact of this presentation could bring about a rather different net result than would be proper or correct; it might bring about a primacy of an entirely different value system as far as "community life in a re-ligiously motivated and assembled group" than should really be the case. The fault would not lie with the sciences or the experts in question, if and when they operate within the limited and specific sphere of their competence, but in the imperialistic attempt on the part of any one of them to make itself or himself supreme where and when it or he is not supreme. The same thing would be true in the case of the Scripture scholar or theologian if they attempted to pronounce on some topic or point which was a point of these sciences and not neces-sarily that of revelation. Thus, there are many complexities within the total understanding of "community life in religion," many of which are perhaps approached much too facilely and ~ See Donald N. Barrett, "The Sociology of Religion: Science and Action" in Sociological Analysis, Winter, 1967, pp. 177-8. without much depth of insight as to the real subtleties of the problem. There are theological or revealed dimen-sions of the idea of "community" which would show that the call to community is not really something special in the sense of unique to religious, such that only they are called to express this reality. All Christians are called to express it, even though not all are called to express it within the framework of associations such as religious are called to be. Moreover, this Christian approach or re-vealed approach to community would show that the Christian ethic gives to already existing human relation-ships new dimensions and exigencies by transforming them through a new specifically Christian basis: the life of the Pneuma of Christ. Secondly, there are other dimensions besides the re-vealed one. There are the behavioral dimensions men-tioned above, sociological, psychological, cultural, and so forth. And finally, there are juridical dimensions in-volved in the notion of "community," that is, certain legal requirements or dimensions established by the agency which gives a group its status, public or civil or ecclesial. In the case of religious communities of public vows, we are told that they are by definition stable forms of life, or stable life styles providing their membership with an organized way of living the evangelical counsels. And thus it is quite reasonable to expect that there would be in their case juridical dimensions to establish and as-sure this stability. This note is referred to in the Per[ectae caritatis and in the sixth chapter of Lumen gentium as well as in Ecclesiae sanctae. By reason of the religious community's being a public and official organ of the Church-sacrament, the hierarchical element of the Church gives it something of the incarnational structure and composition which the Church itself was given by Christ. It is for this reason that the hierarchical element of the Church approves not merely the soul or the spirit dimen-sion of a religious community's life style, but also the fundamental delineations of its body expression or its bodiliness--this for reasons of distinction, and comple-mentarity, organic solidarity, and related identity. The reasonableness of this juridical dimension for publicly approved religious institutes or communities does not mean that the counsels or a life dedicated to Christian service cannot be lived outside such a framework, or within a community or association of persons having no official or public approbation. Such groups have always existed in the Church historically, either by choice of the persons themselves who did not want any such approba-tion for one or other reason; or by choice of the approv-ing agency or arm, estimating that such a group or groups 4. 4, 4- Community Lite VOLUME Zg, 1970 541 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS do not have that degree of stability which they feel war-rants public approbation, at least for the time being.B These are only some of the factors involved in the problem of community and in the problem of man in community, of man looked at in the totality of his personality and condition. It is a problem that will never see any completion or perfectly satisfactory solution. But it would seem to the present writer that many of the problems or at least some of them which religious com-munities are facing today in their desire for renewal could better be resolved by a more clear-cut understand-ing of just what the problem is, or better, just where the sources of problematic lie. Then there must be a re-assertion of certain ideas, especially those of a theological nature, which are involved in the establishment of a community that gathers its members together for religious motives or purposes, those revealed within the Scriptures. In the expression "religious community" the adjective "religious" is just as important as the adjective "rational" in the expression "rational animal." And while it is true that this adjective does not describe all the dimensions and complexities involved in those associations of persons which we call religious institutes or communities, it does point to that dimension which distinguishes these kinds of associations from other kinds not based primarily on religious motives; Consequently, in the remainder of o This does not mean that one may not question the advisability of certain decisions regarding disciplinary and other such matters, for example, the current questioning regarding the legally im-posed uniform pattern for all apostolic institutes. Seeking a greater flexibility in the new legislation for the application of the particu-lar charisms of each institute is one thing; operating as if this were already an accomplished fact, without asking the permission to ex-periment contrary to the Code where this is requested by the compe-tent authority, and thereby facing authority with a fair accompli is quite another. If modern man claims to be so mature, it would seem that the presence of courtesy should be more present today than before. At times one wonders whether this is true. ~ In one of his weekly addresses the pope referred to one of the problems of our times as the phenomenon of anthropocentric reli-gion: "Religion must be by its very nature theocentric, oriented toward God as its first beginning and its final end. And after that toward man, considered, sought after, loved in terms of his divine derivation and of the relationships and duties which spring from such a derivation . To give in religion preeminence of humani-tarian tendencies brings on the danger of transforming theology into sociology, and of forgetting the basic hierarchy of beings and values. I am the Lord your God, and Christ teaches: You shall love the Lord your God. This is the greatest and the first command-ment . It should not be forgotten that to let sociological interest prevail over the properly theological interest can generate another dangerous difficulty, that of adopting the Church's doctrine to hu-man criteria, thus putting off the intangible criteria of revelation and the official ecclesiastical magisterium" (Address of July 10, 1968, Documentary News Service, Oct. 28, 1968). this article I would like to consider some oI the following areas: the nature of community life in religion, its pur-poses, and its ability to be expressed in different ways. The Nature of Community Life in Religion The early Church looked upon its community life as the expression or actualization of the commandment of Jesus--"That they may be one as you Father in me and I in you, that they may be (one) in us." s The very nature of community life in religion demands not just a juxta-position or lining up of persons; nor does it refer merely to a group that has come together for professional serv-ices of teaching or health care or social work of one kind or another. Nor does it refer to a group of merely naturally compatible personalities, or to persons who are forced to live together by reason of some kind of juridical or legal system of incorporation. It implies, rather, a community that has for its model and image the mystery of the Most Blessed Trinity. There we find per-fect oneness and perfect relationship, and yet also, perfect distinction--all of which are essential to constitute their mystery and meaning. The theological notion of community life is aimed at far more than the establishment of a herd mentality, or a common status in reference to material goods, "or to a rule or to certain visible interpersonal relationships estab-lished on certain natural grounds, even though these are in no wise to be excluded. It implies far more than mere interest groups living together, such as teachers or nurses or social workers, even though any one or several of these aspects might be found in community living, at least to some extent. Community life in religion demands that the members of the community live with each other in religion as the Father lives in community of life with His Son and with the Holy Spirit. It asks that the mem-bets of the group show clearly that the charactoe or~sucally Christian commandment of fraternal ~hariotry agape which is the end of the New Law reflects" or corresponds with the characteristic dogma of our Cl~ristian faith, the mystery of the Most Blessed Trinity. For a religious com-munity is one that is constituted or created by agape, in agape, and for agape. And agape is God's love shared in or participated in by men, and becoming operative in reference to other men. Agape is intimacy with God and with other men as God would love them Himself. It sur-passes purely natural sympathies, and dominating or in-stinctive antipathies, making us see other men as sons of God, sharing the divine good with ns and called to share in the society of the elect with ourselves. Agape makes us "Jn 17:20-1. ÷ ÷ ÷ Community Lile VOLUME 2% 54~ ÷ + + C. A. $chleck REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS regard the next person not as a stranger but as our brother, as part of ourselves, as one who is united to us by divine life and whose good we desire as we do our own, good. The Purposes o[ Community Life in Religion Coming to the purposes of community life in religion and viewing them within the framework of revelation, we find that there are a number of objectives which it tries to realize. Not all of these are equal, nor are they all found in exactly the same way .in different religious institutes. Briefly they would seem to be reducible to the. following: liberating or ascetical, charismatic, and apos-tolic. The Liberating or Ascetical Dimension The liberating dimension of community life in religion is quite evident even after only a short experience of living with others. We are quite aware that even in spite of ourselves, it does strip us of much disordered self-love which is at the root of all sin. It provides us and almost forces us to practice the various expressions of real agape, real faith, and real hope in its daily human expressions: Love is patient, love is kind, love is eager but never boast-ful or conceited; love takes no pleasure in other people's sins, but delights in the truth. It is always ready to ex-cuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes.9 The common life, in all its demands, acts as a marvelous means for self-giving and opening oneself more and more to and onto others. For most religious it is in practice the most constant occasion they have for personality build-ing, for self-denial, and self- and social-integration that lies at their disposal within the religious life. And this is true not merely in its domestic aspects, that is, in sharing work in the house, or recreation, of life within the frame-work of the religious residence, and common prayer in its various forms, but also in its service aspect, that is, in the common enterprise of the group.10 Community life in religion asks for collaboration with others in an operational community, such as a school or hospital or possibly a more loosely structured apostolate, such as social work. It usually involves a community in which the members have to fit together for a common work. This often means doing some things that one does not always like doing. It also involves that one be pre-pared to face the likelihood that often there may not be the exact kinds of diversions, distractions, ~'elaxations, and so forth that one would especially like. There are ~ I Cor 14:4ff. 1°See J. Coventry, S.J., in Religious Formation, Blackfriars, 1963, "Modern Individualism and Comxnunity Life," p. 37. reasons for this, other values which the community is at-tempting to give witness to: for example, eschatological values, Christological values, ascetical values, ecclesial values, those which are in keeping with the community's total mission within the Church. This ascetical or liberating aspect of community life forms part of the community's witness to the death-resur-rection mystery of the Lord. It witnesses to the fact that persons of different backgrounds, training, intellectual and social capabilities, can still live in Unity and commu-nion, in fact are called to li#e in unity and communion, and this in Christ and through Him, not primarily be-cause of mutual compatibility, but because they are called by the same agape and molded by the same agape. Con-sequently, religious are not entirely free---eVen though they freely accept this limitation of their freedom with the frustrations that this is inevitably going to mean--to reshape or arbitrarily modify their situations, seeking out the most congenial possible local community or select circle of collaborators. Such an approach to community life in religion is like matching blood types and would be just about as evangelical and gospel-motivated. Now in saying this I do not wish to give the impression that some of the attempts being made to establish smaller living groups is opposed to the gospel. It can be a good thing, especially when the motives are very much in keep-ing with the gospel values, a better image of poverty, a better spirit of personal and communal prayer, in short, if the motives are primarily for the establishment of a better religious atmosphere, and this not merely as a kind of an unfounded dream, but as a realistic probabil-ity. Moreover, such a group could provide for a better. sense of belonging. But here we must question the forma-tion of small fraternities among religious which are based primarily and almost exclusively on other values, socio-logical and psychological. The writer would still wager an educated guess that ev

Issue 8.1 of the Review for Religious, 1949. ; 0 A.M.D.G. ~ Review for Religious JANUARY 15, 1949 Sancta~ EcclesiaCatholica . . . . . . . . . . . ocafionsCosfMoney.'~,.-~, ~. . PeterM. Miller .B.a.p. ~t i.s.m. . Cal r e n Mce :A c ull fet The Spirit of Poverty ~.~ . . . ¯ . . . . . Joseph F. Gallen Decisions of the Holy See Ouestlons Answered s~ Book Reviews VOLU~E VII}. .~. NUrvIBEP, I RI VII::W FOR Ri:::LIGIOUS VOLUME VIII JANUARY, 1949 -NUMBER 1 CONTENTS SANCTA ECCLESIA CATHOLICAMJ. Putz, S.J . 3 VOCATIONS COST MONEY--Peter M. Miller, S.C.J .1.8. OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 24 BAPTISM--A DEATH AND RESURReCTION--Clarence McAuliffe, S.J2.5 A REPRINT SERIES--MAYBE! . 34 THE SPIRIT OF POVERTY--Joseph F. Gall n, S.J .3.5 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 1. Jubilee Gifts and the Spirit of Poverty . 43 2. Moderator Keeps Acrit~itg Funds in his own Room . 44 3. Asperges at Community Mass . 44 4. Alms to Beggars . 44 5. Vows of Novice Postponed Five Days . 45 6. Report by Administrator of Patrimony . 4~ 7. Sunday Mass Obligation of Excommunicated Persons . 45 DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE . 46 BOOK REVIEWS-- Discourses on Our Lady; The Prayer Life of a Religious; In Spirit and in Truth . ~ . 47 BOOK NOTICES . 49 VOCATIONAL LITERATURE . 54 MY MASS . ' . ~ ¯ . ¯ 55 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 56 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, January. 1949. Vol. VIII, No. 1. Published bi-monthly: January, March. May, July, September, and November at the College Press. 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St/Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter January 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Adam C. Ellis, S.J., G. Augustine Ellard, S.J., Gerald Kelly, S~J. Editorial Secretary: Alfred F, Schneider, S.J. Copyright, 1949, by Adam C. Ellis. Permission is hereby granted for quotations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 2 dollars a year. Printed in U. S. A. Before writing to us. please consult noflce on fnsrde back cover. Review f:or Religious Volume VIII January--December, 1949 Published at THE COLLEGE PRESS Topeka, Kansas Edi÷ed by THE JESUIT FATHERS SAINT MARY'S COLLEGE Sf. Marys, Kansas REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is indexed in fhe CATHOLIC PERIODICAL INDEX Sancta I::cclesia Ca hollca J. Putz, S.J. THE world needs saints; in our time especially. It needs them not only for their supernatural merits and the great works they achieve; it needs saints to lo6k up to, to admire, to venerate. The more it is sunk in scepticism and mediocrity, in selfishness and materialism, the more it needs saints, witnesses of the invisible, living proofs of what human nature is capable of--a standard and an inspiration. The mere presence or'memory of saints is a blessing for mankind. To behold the saints is, in Newman's comparison, like coming out of a dark cave and discovering the sunlight. In the saints man-kind discovers the meaning of human dignity, the true standards of right and good. "It is the great mystics," wrote the French phi- Iosopher Bergson, "that have carried and still carry along with the'm the civilized societies. The recollection of what they have been, of what they have done, haunts the memory of mankind." Carlyle';~ well-known utterances on hero-worship apply particularly to the cult of the saints, mankind's most genuine heroes: "The manner of men's hero-worship," he wrote, "verily it is the innermost.fact of their existence and determines all the rest. [What would he say if he came back and found that the chief "heroes" of countless boys and girls are now the movie stars?] No nobler feeling than this of admi-ration for one higher than himself dwells in the breast of man. It is to this hour, and at all hours, the vivifying influence in man's life . No sadder proof can be given by a man of his own littleness than disbelief in great men . Not by flattering our appetites; no, by awakening the Heroic that slumbers in every heart, can any religion gain followers." (On Heroes and Hero-worship.) Holiness inanifested in great saints has ever been a mark of tbe Church of Christ. -. "Holiness begins from Christ; by Christ it is effected . His inexhaustible fulness is the fount of grace and glory. Our Saviour is continually pouring out His gifts of counsel, fortitude, fear and piety, especially on the leading members of His Body, so that the whole Body may grow daily in spotless holiness . J. PUTZ Review for Religious "He not only cares for each individual, but also watches over the whole Church: enligh~tening and fortifying her rulers for the faithful and fruitful discharge of their functions; and-~especially when times are difficult--raising up in the bosom of Mother Church men and women of conspicuous holiness, who will be an inspiration to the rest of Christendom, for the perfecting of the Mystical Body." (Plus XII, Mgstici Corporis; nn. 49 ~A 37 of the E.C.T.S. edition.) ?it all times, and especially during the dark periods of history, the Church has been rich in admirable saints. Canonized saints, it is true, are relatively few; for canonization has become a long and complicated process and consequently is reserved to those whom for special reasons the Church singles out from among the great army of men and women who in the cloister or in the world have closely and heroically followed in the footsteps of Christ. Since the beginning of his pontificate, Plus XII has proclaimed 44 new beati (among them 29 martyrs) and 12 saints. These Christian heroes, of whom we may well feel proud, represent a variety" of conditions and walks of life. Nearly all belong to the 19th century; some of them died in the present century, and their glorification could be witnessed by friends and relatives who had been the witnesses of their lives. Thus they prove by their example, as Plus XII pointed out (in his panegyric of Contardo Ferrini), that even in our own times it is possible to be a saint. In his "homilies" (at the canonization ceremony) and with greater detail in his allocutions to the pilgrims that crowd to Rome for these solemn functions, th~ Holy Father has underlined the char-acteristics of each saint and the lessons our times can learn from them. We shall borrow from him in the following survey. 1939-1946 We can give little more than a bare mention of those beatified or canonized before 1947, although the story of every one of them is a fascinating adventure. It will be noted that among those thus honored by the Church, the foundresses of new religious institutes predc~minate. This is but one sign of the steadily increasing share religious women have been taking in the work of the Church, both at home and in the mission field. June 18, 1939.--B1. Emily de Vialar (1797-1856), foundress of the Sisters of St. Joseph of the Apparition for the care of the poor, sick, and children (some 1,200 at present). June 25, 1939.-~B1. Justin De Jacobis (1800-1860), an danuar~, 1949 SANCTA ECCLESIA CATHOLICA. Italian Lazarist, first vicar apostolic of Abyssinia. In spite of great difficulties, he converted 12,000 schismatics. May 2, 1940--St. Mary-Eupbrasia (1796-!868), foundress of the Good Shepherd of Angers (at present, 39 provinces with over I0,000 members) and of the Penitents of St. Magdalen (at present over 3,000). She was beatified in 1933. May 2, 1940.--St. Gemma Galgani (1878-1903), ~:irgin; famous mystic; prevented by her infirmities from becoming a reli-gious. Was beatified in 1933. May 12, 1940.--B1. Philippine Duchesne (1769-1852), of the Society of the Sacred Heart of Jesus; went as a missionary to North America, where she established the Sisters of the Sacred Heart. May 19, 1940.--BI. Joaquina de Vedruna (1783-1854), first married to a nobleman of Vich (Spain), had nine children; after her husband's death founded the Carmelites of Charity of Vich, for the care of the poor and the sick (at present some 2,000 in Spain and Latin America). May 26, 1940.--B1. Mary-Crucified Di Rosa (1813-1855), foundress of the Servants of Charity of Brescia (Italy), for the care of the sick, the education of children and the preservation of young girls (at present, about 3,000 members). dune 9, 1940.--BI. Emily de Rodat (1787-1852), foundress of the Congregation of the Holy Famih.j of Villefranche (France). dune 16, 1940:--B1. Ignatius de Laconi (1701-1781), a Capuchin lay Brother; most of his humble but apostolic life was spent in Cagliari (Sardinia). December 7, 1940.--B1. Maddalena de Canosso (1744-1835), foundress of the Daughters of Charity, Servants of the Poor (3,500 members in 30 provinces). War conditions suspended all solemn functions during the next years. By decretal letter of November 19, 1943, Margaret of Hungary (1242-1271) was inscribed in the catalogue of saints on the strength of the liturgical cult she had been receiving uninter-ruptedly (equivalent to canonization). She was a daughter of Bela IV, Kin~ of Hungary; at twelve she made her religious pro-fession in a Dominican monastery, and not even the offer of the throne of Bohemia could bring her back to the world. The first canonization after the war (July 7, 1946) was that of Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini (1850-1917), foundress of the Institute of the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart. Though J. PUTZ Reoiew for Religious an Italian, most of her extensive and tireless work was done in America, where she became "the mother of the Italian emigrants in the United States." She crossed the Atlantic twenty-four times. Eventually she was naturalized an American, so that she is "the first American Saint." "With an exterior life extraordinarily active she joined an interior and contemplative life of rare intensity; that is the secret of her prodigious apostolate" (Plus XII). That same year saw three beatifications: October 20, 1946.--B1. Marie-Therese de Soubiran (1834- 1889). Born of an illustrious family, she founded in 1864 the Society of Marie Auxiliatrice, charac'terized by nocturnal adoration and the modern apostolate of the working girls. Ten years later, until her death, she underwent a trial that is probably unique in the history of religious foundations. Her assistant, an ambitious and scheming woman who wanted to take her place, accused her of mis-management and succeeded in convincing the ecclesiastical authorities as well as Teresa's first director, Fr. Ginhac. Abandoned by all, ignominiously expelled from the institute she had founded, she did not utter a word "lest souls might suffer greater scandal" and set out on her Calvary into the cold, dark night. After knocking vainly at the doors of contemplative convents, she found refuge in a hospital until she was received into the Order of Our Lady of Charity. There she spent the last fifteen years of her life, in agony of soul, while her own institute was being led towards ruin. For years she was assailed by doubts and temptations, yet with heroic resignation carried her cross till the end. She died a year beforethe true character of her rival and successor was found out and her institute saved from ruin. October 27, 1946.--BI. Teresa-Eustochium Verzeri (1801- 1852). Born in Bergamo, Italy; she attempted the Benedictine life three times, but attacks of epilepsy forced her to leave. Through her trials, Providence guided this gifted and strong woman towards the foundation of a new religious institute for the education of girls, the Daughters of the Sacred Heart, Nooerober 24, I946.--Twenty-nine Boxer Martyrs. The Chinese nationalist "Boxer" rising of 1900, anti-foreign and espe-cially anti-Christian, proved to be one of the bloodiest persecutions the Church has ever suffered. The victims are estimated to have been 100, 000, among them many missionaries: Franciscans, Lazarists, Jesuits, Foreign Missionaries of Paris, Scheutists. The cause of 6 danuarg, 1949 SANCTA ECCLESIA CATHOLICA beatification of 2,418 martyrs of the Franciscan missions was intro-duced in 1926; but eventually, in order to speed up the process, 29 were singled out for beatification: 15 Europeans, viz., 8 Fran-ciscans (3 Bishops, 4 priests and 1 lay Brother), and 7 Franciscan Missionaries of Mary: among these 8 were Italian, 5 French, 1 Bel-gian, 1 Dutch; 14 Chinese, 5 of whom were seminarists and 9 mis-sion servants: all of these, except three servants, were Franciscan tertiaries. The brief "of beatification declares that they were killed not merely as foreigners, but in odium catholfcae £dei. In his panegyric the Holy Father observed that "the grace of martyrdom is generally, on the part of God, the crowning of a whole series of graces that gradually lead up to it; just as, on the part of man, the witness of blood is ordinarily the final gem of a long correspondence to grace." 1947 This year began with three beatifications, which were followed by five canonizations, giving us three new beati and eight saints (several saints being canonized together). April 13, 1947.~B1. Contardo Ferrini (1859-1902). "Most of those who reach the honours of beatification are religious men and women having lived far from the world. It would be useful, I think, for the edification of certain circles, to raise to the altars a marl who has magnificently united holiness of life and purity of faith with the scientific exigencies of a professorial chair. This would give the professors and students of our universities a worthy and appropriate patron." Thus wrote M~r. Duchesne when the cause of Contardo Ferrini was introduced. On April 13th of this year the Saint in the froch-coat (as he was cai~ed by Benedict XV, who greatly admired him) was beatified in the presence of a great number of professors and graduates, some of whom had been his colleagues or students. Born in Milan, Contardo Ferrini, after distinguished studies in Italy and Germany, occupied the chair of Roman Law at the uni-versities of Messina, Modena, and finally Pavia. That is the whole history of his short life. He wrote abundantly and soon acquired an international reputation as the leading specialist in his subject; no less an authority than Theodore Mommsen declared that, for the history of Greco-Roman Law, the primacy was passing from Germany to Italy thanks to Ferrini, and that the 20th century would be the century of Ferrini as the 19th century had been that of von Savigny. J. PUTZ Retffeto for Religious He shone no less by his'holiness. Man is an ens fnitum quod tendit ad infinitum, he wrote in one of his books--and he practised it. A Franciscan tertiary, he led a celibate and ascetical life in the world, seeking light and strength in his daily programme of spir-itual exercises: Communion, meditation, the rosary, and visit to the 131essed Sacrament. His arduous and highly specialized work wzs not something by the side of his spiritual life; he considered it as his way of serving God and the Church. His scientific achievements; his simple and deep piety--"he prayed like an angel," his exquisite charity, made of him "a living apology of the faith and of Catholic life." (Cardinal Pacelli, on Feb. 8, 1931, date of the decree on the heroism of Ferrini's virtues.) April 27, 1947. '131. Maria Goretti (1890-1902) virgin and martyr. It was fitting that our "aphrodisiac civilization" should see the glorification of one who died in defense of purity. Maria Goretti was born in a little village some 30 miles from Rome, from poor but deeply Christian parents. When she was not yet quite twelve, an 18 year-old neighbour, Alexander Serenelli, took a violent passion for her, but Maria ~efused to listen to his evil suggestions. On July 5, 1902, when she was alone in the house, Alexander approached her, carrying a dagger and decided to have his way. Exasperated by her resistance, he plunged the dagger into her breast. Her last words were words of forgiveness for her murderer. Alexander was sentenced to-30 years. In prison he repented and afterwards was a witness in the process of beatification. Among the unusually vast crowd that thronged St. Peter's on April 27tb were Maria's own mother, brother, and two sisters. In his allocution to the pilgrims (largely Catholic Actioia groups of girls) on the following day, the Holy Father congratulated, the mother for "the incomparable happiness of having seen her daughter elevated to the glory of the altars." Maria, he added, is the mature fruit of a Christian home with its old, simple method of education, "of a home where one prays, where the children are brought up in the fear of God, in obedience to their parents, in the love of truth and self-respect; accustomed to be satisfied with little and to give a helping hand . " Comparing Maria with St. Agnes, the Pope remarked that the delicate grace of these adolescent girls might make us overlook their fortitude; yet strength is the characteristic virtue of virgins and of martyrs. "How great is the error of those who consider virginity as an danuarg, 1949 SANCTA ECCLESIA CATHOLICA effect of the ignorance and ingenuousness of little souls without passion, without ardour, without experience, and therefore accord it only a smile of pity! How can be who has surrendered without struggle imagine what strength it requires to dominate, without a moment of weakness, the secret stirrings and urgings of the senses and of the heart which adolescence awakens in our fallen nature? to resist, without a single compromise, the thousand little curiosities which impel one to see, to listen, to taste, to feel, and thus approach the lips to the intoxicating cup ,and inhale the deadly perfume of the flower of evil? to move through the turpitudes of the world with a fir'mness " that is superior to all temptations, to all threats, to all seductive or mocking looks? "No. Agnes in the vortex of pagan society; Aloysius Gonzaga at the elegantly licentious courts of the Renaissance; Maria Goretti living close to, and pursued by, the passion of shameless persons: they were neither ignorant nor impassible, but they were strong, strong with that supernatural strength of which every Christian receives the seed in baptism Idu[ which must be cultivated by a careful eduation . "Our Beata was a strong soul. She knew and understood; and that is precisely why she preferred to die . She was not merely an innocent 'ingenue,' instinctively frightened by the shadow of sin. She was not sustained solely by a natural feeling of modesty. No. Though still young, she already gave clear signs of the intensity and depth of her love for the divine Redeemer . " The Holy Father then denounced present-day public immorality and called on Catholics to react boldly. "Woe to the world because of scandals! "Woe to those who con-sciously and deliberately corrupt souls by the novel, the newspaper, the periodical, the theatre, the film, the immodest fashion! . . . Woe to those fathers and mothers who, through lack of energy and prudence, give in to every caprice of their sons and daughters, and renounce that paternal and maternal authority which is like a reflec-tion of the divine majesty! But woe also to so many Christians in name and appearance, who, if only they wanted could rise against the evil and would be supported by legions of right-minded persons ready to fight scandal with every means! "Legal justice punishes the child's murderer--and it is its duty to do so. But those who have armed his hand, who have encouraged him, who let him do with indifference or with an indulgent smile, J. PuTz Revfeu~ for Religious what human justice will dare or be able to strike these as they deserve? Yet they are the real guilty ones. On them--deliberate corrupters or inactive accomplices--weighs the terrible justice of God . "May the blood of the innocent victim joined to the tears of the repentant murderer, work the miracle of moving the perverted hearts, and of opening the eyes and shaking off the torpor of so man'? indifferent or timid Christians." May 4, 1947.--B1. Alix Le Clerc (1576-1622). Her spiritual career began when, after a somewhat worldly adolescence, she came under the influence of St. Peter Fourier, who was parish priest not far from her native Remiremont. With him she founded the Canonesses of St. Augustine of the Congregation of Our Lady. "The beginnings were very humble, that Christmas night of 1597, whet1 five young women consecrated themselves to God before the whole parish for the exercise of all kinds of good works among the poor, the peasants, the ignorant. No vows, no convent. Those conse-crated were to continue to live with their families, without a religious habit--neither nuns nor seculars." But in those days the world could not understand that kind of life and they were obliged to form a regular religious institute. Guided by circumstances, they made the education of girls their chief work. In that early 17th century they were pioneers in the education of women. Ma~t 15, I947.--St. Nicholas de Flue (1417-1487), a Swiss, born near the Lake of the Four Cantons, showed himself a great Christian in the military, civil, and married life before he became a hermit. As a young man he was for some years a soldier, fighting for his native canton and rising to the rank of captain. He then married Dorothy Wyss and was blessed with an offspring of ten children. A respected citizen, he tookan active part in the civil and political life of his country and held office as councillor and magis-trate- all the while spending whole nights in prayer. Suddenly, at the age of fifty, in 1467, after a vision of the Blessed Trinity, he resolved that he must leave all and go away to live entirely for God. Having obtained the consent of his wife and arranged the affairs of the family, he retired to the mountainous solitude of Ranft, where the people soon built him a little cell and chapel. Here he spent the last twenty years of his life in great austerity; many witnesses have testified that during those years he took neither food nor drink, but only Holy Communion. "Brother Klaus," as he was popularly 10 ,lanuar~J, 1949 SANCTA ECCLESIA CATHOLICA known, was greatly venerated even beyond the Swiss border. People high and low flocked to his cell to seek his counsel and prayer. In 1481, when ~be deputies of the Swiss cantons were assembled at Stans and an open breach seemed inevitable, Brother Klaus was brought in and his farsighted patriotism saved the day and thus helped to lay the foundations of modern united Switzerland. He wa~ beatified in 1669 and venerated as the patron of Switzer-land. After the First World War, devotion to him greatly increased, as the people attributed the safety of their country to his protection. At the canonization, Plus XII pointed out his "providential actu-ality." Intimately mixed up with the concrete realities of his time. he remained deeply united with God and became a model of civic and domestic virtues. Only a return to that "synthesis of religion and life" can save our modern society. June 22, 1947.--Three great models for pri.ests: St. John de Britto, S.J. (1647-1693), the royal page who became a martyr in India, (beatified in 1852); St. Bernardine Realino, S.J. (1530- 1616), the lawyer and magistrate who at the age of 34 interrupted a promising career to become a religious and was for 50 long years the "apostle of the confessional" (beatified in 1895); St. Joseph Cafasso (1811-1860), a secular priest from Turin, the "Pearl of the Italian clergy," director of St. John Bosco and superior of the Seminary of Turin from 1848 (beatified in 1925). In his homily, the Pope set "the apostolic fire and the indomitable courage even unto death" of John de Britto as an example to all missionaries. From Realino and Cafasso he asked every priest to learn "a tireless alacrity, patience, kindness, and above all, constant application to prayer, gince all human labour is vain unless it be seconded by God." The following day, speaking to the numerous pilgrims, the Holy Father began by analyzing the "unity in variety" of the two new Jesuit Saints. They.,.were so different in their youth, the gay and intelligent student of" law and the pious and serious little page; different in their priestly life: the quiet page becomes the "imitator and emulator of St. Francis Xavier," leading a life of heroic adven-tures till his violent death; the ex-lawyer finds his India in his home country, in the town of l.ecce, where he spends his long life in the humble ministry of the confessional. Yet how alike the two were spiritually, for both express the same Ignatian ideal: Homines mundo crucifixos et quibus mundus ipse sit crucifixus: both these men broke all ties of earthly satisfactions, affections and 11 J. PUTZ Ret)ietu for Religlous ambitions, for the love of Christ crucified. ("John passed through the world as a ray through the shade of a dark forest.") In labor[bus: apostolic fire, heroic iabours; with John, "a tire-less movement of action without rest, until interrupted by martyr-dom"; with Bernardine, "'the immobility without impatience of the confessor and spiritual director, who sacrifices himself day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute." Their zeal knows no bounds, and in order to "multiply and extend their action beyond the limits of space and time" they train apostles among the laity (inspired in this by St. Ignatius and by the divine Master Himself) ; in this way John multiplies conversions by communicating his missionary spirit to his converts; Bernardine, through his sodalities, his groups of nobles and workers, penetrates into every corner of Lecce and makes his charity reach every misery spiritual and material. Maximam Dei gloriam semper intuentes: "the ardent desire to promote the glory of God was the illuminating flame, the fountain of the most intense energy in the life of both John and Bernardine; it made them brothers in indefatigable work for souls; it reveals to us the secret of their contempt for the world, of their heroic labours, of their indifference to all the hazards of the road." St. Joseph Cafasso was sent by Providence for "the supremely important and fruitful work of the formation and sanctification of the clergy." He himself was so imbued with the supernatural spirit of the Gospel "that it was no longer he who seemed to live, but Christ in him." "No one more than he has left his mark on the Piedmontese clergy of the 19th and 20th centuries; he has saved them from the dessicating and sterilizing climate of Jansenism and rigor-. ism . How many owe to his guidance their firmness in the "sentire cure Ecclesia," the holiness of their sacerdotal life, their fidelity to the many duties of their vocation . His influence con-tinues; for though the pastoral ministry must adapt itself to the ever-changing circumstances--thus v.g., the social duties which today rest on the shoulders of the priest are incomparably more grave and difficult than at the time of our Saint--yet the spirit, the soul of the sacerdotal life remains the same." "At all times the priest, according to the promise of the divine Master, has been made the butt of insults and persecutions, and in his heart he reckons this promise as a beatitude. But today he is so much more exposed to the crossfire of bitter criticisms not only from 12 ,lanuarg, 1949 SANCTA ECCLESIA CATHOLICA unscrupulous adversaries who throw at him the mud of vilification and calumny, but what is more painful, sometimes also from our own ranks. As the present conditions leave the victims of such defamations practically defenseless, it is more necessary for you, beloved priests, to avoid giving to the critics not only a motive but even the slightest pretext. To this end the highest means will be to model your conduct on that of Joseph Cafasso, by the absolute abne-gation of yourselves, free from all earthly propensities and inter-ests; by a spotless life joined to that fine tact and delicate under-standing of souls which was in so high a degree the characteristic of our new Saint." The Pope .concluded with the wish that the union between the priest and his people may grow deeper. St. Cafasso had the confi-dence of all, young and old, rich and poor. "May he obtain from God, for his country and for the whole Church, a people filled with confidence in the priest, and priests worthy of that confidence!" July] 6, 1947.--Two Saints who were closely united durifig their lifetime. St. Elisabeth Bichier des Ages (1773-1838)', beati-fied in 1934. "Favoured in every way with the most varied gifts of nature and grace," Elisabeth proved her fearless and generous charac-ter during the troubled years of the French Revolution. God then made her meet a holy priest, Andre Fournet (canonized in 1933), who directed her towards high perfection and with whom she founded the Congregation of the Daughters of the Cross known as the "Sisters of St. Andrew." After the death of Andre Fournet she found another Saint to direct her, Michael Garicoits, who has now been canonized on the same day as herself. St. Michael Garicoits (1797-1863), born of poor parents, began life as a domestic servant and worked his way through the schools that he might become a priest. As a you.ng vicar he distinguished him-self by his enlightened zeal and was sent to the seminary of B~thar-ram (a famous sanctuary of Our Lady in the south of France), first as professor and then as superior. Here he became the director of St. Elisabeth Bichier and her institute. Encouraged by her, he also founded a religious congregation, the Priests of the Sacred Heart of desus of B~tharram. He was beatified in 1923. dulg 20, 1947.--St. Louis-Marie Grignion de Montfort (1673- 1716), a Breton, beatified in 1888. He had a special love for the poor, and after his ordination, at Saint Sulpice in 1700, he spent a ¯ few years as chaplain in a hosPital. In 1704 he found his true voca- 13 J. PUTZ Reviel~ [or Religious tion: he took to the road as an "apostolic missionary," and during the next twelve years went about preaching in the towns and villages of western France to revive the love of God which had grown cold. He was a fiery orator, and his extraordinary success angered the Jansen-ists, who persecuted him from town to town. He founded two reli-gious congregations: th~ Daughters o[ Wisdom, who were to devote themselves to hospital work and the instruction of the poor (at pres-ent they number about 5,000) ; and the missionaries of the Compan,.j o[ Mary, also called "Montfortists" (the initials S.M.M. stand for Societatis Mariae a Mont[ort). He is best known by his True Devotion to Mar~ , which consists in total self-dedication to Mary and through her to Jesus. In spite of the reserve of some theologians, it has been adopted with great fruit by many fervent souls, among them the Legion of Mary and numerous priests. Here are the words of Plus XII concerning it: "His great secret for attracting souls and giving them to Jesus was the devotion to Mary . Indeed he could not find a more effective means for his time. To the joyless austerity, the gloomy fear, the depressing pride of Jansenism he opposed the filial love-- confident, ardent, active--of the devout servant of Mary towards her who is the refuge of sinners, the Mother of divine grace, our life. our sweetness, our hope . "True devotion--that of tradition, of the Church, and, we might say, of Christian and Catholic common sense-~essentiaIly strives for union with Jesus, under the guidance of Mary. The form and prac-tice of this devotion may vary according to time, place, and personal inclination . True and perfect devotion to the Blessed Virgin is not so bound up with these modalities that any one of them could claim a monopoly. "Hence We ardently desire that, beyond the various manifesta-tions of this piety, all of you draw from the treasure of our Saint's writings and examples that which is the core of his Marian devo.- tion: his firm conviction of the powerful intercession of Mary, his resolute will to imitate her virtues, the burning fire of his love for her and for Jesus." dul~t 27, 1947.--St. Catherine Laboure (1806-1876) ; apeasant girl, the ninth of eleven children; at ten she lost her mother and spent her youth at home performing the duties of housekeeper. Meanwhile. having heard a call to the religious life, she applied herself to the practice of mortification arid of an intense interior life. In 1830 she 14 danuar~/, 1949 SANCTA ECCLESIA CATHOLICA was allowed to join the Daughters of Charit~g of St. Vincent de Paul in the rue du ]dac at Paris. That same year, while still a novice, she was favoured with heavenly visions and received the mission to pro-mote the devotion to Mary, Mediatrix and Queen of the Universe, by having a medal struck and a statue made according to what she had seen in the vision. She .confided in her confessor, M. Aladel, who after careful investigations received permission from the Arch-bishop of Paris to have the medal struck. The medal, issued in 1832, soon spread over the whole world and came to be known as the "miraculous medal." All the time Catherine's identity remained secret, hidden even from the ecclesiastical authorities. After her novitiate she spent her remaining 46 years in the hospice d'Enghien in Paris. There she lived an unobtrusive life, working in the kitchen, in charge of the linen room or of the poultry, or looking after the aged who were supported in the hospice. All considered her as j.ust a simple, pious Daughter of Charity, a lover of poverty and of obedience. No one in the world or in the community suspected that this obscure nun was "the Sister who had seen the Virgin" and of whom everyon~ was speaking. She kept heroic silence. But one part of Our Lady's wish, that relating to the statue, was not yet fulfilled; that is why, on her deathbed, she revealed her secret to her superior. Her funeral was the occasion of an outburst of popular veneration. A child of twelve, crippled from birth, was cured at her grave. She was beatified in 1933 by Plus XI who declared that he knew "no more shining example of the hidden life." Her long life of self-effacement is summed up by Plus XII in the words of the Imitation of Christ: "'ama nescfrf.'" November 9, 1947.~Blessed Jeanne Delanoue (1666-1736) was the child of a French shopkeeper. She devoted herself to the tare of the poor, the aged, the sick, and the suffering, and eventually founded for this work the Sisters of St. Anne of Providence. In his panegyric the Holy Father spoke of the eminent dignity of the poor as illustrated in the life of B1. Jeanne. The voice of the poor is the voice of Christ; the body of the poor is the body of Christ; the life of the poor is the life of Christ. A Schoolmaster Beatfged On April 4, 1948, Brother Benildus, a member of the Congrega-tion of St. de la Salle, was solemnly beatified by Pope Plus XII. Born in Auvergne in 1805, he joined the Brothers of the Christian 15 d. PUTZ Review [or Religious Schools at sixteen. After ~eaching in various elementary schools, in 1841 be was sent with two colleagues to opena primary school at Saugues, a little market town, where he remained till his death on August 13, 1862. His beatification has a special significance for school teachers, for Brother Benildus is probably the first school master to be raised to the altars without any other claim to such honors than the exercise of his profession according to the rules of his institute. Other teachers have been canonized who were martyrs or miracle workers or ecstatic contemplatives or founders of great institutes; but Brother Benildus was nothing but a plain school master, whose whole uneventful life was spent in the classroom. The Holy Father stressed this point in his panegyric on April 5tb. He described Brother Benildus as a model no less imitable than admirable. His secret was perfect fidelity to dut~z--his rules and the daily grind of a schoolmaster. In this he practiced the heroic virtues which the Church requires for canonization. The Pope spoke of the "slow martyrdom" of teachers, which he compared to that of St. Cassian. Speaking of the new beatus, the Pope said: "He loved his children. Yet what a heavy cross they put on his shoulders! The martyrology mentions the execution of a school-master [St. Cassian] whose pupils became his executioners and made him suffer the more as their feeble stabs prolonged his torture. This is an isolated fact, but how many teachers for years, for the whole of a long religious life, have to bear a kind of slow martyrdom from the children who are u;aaware of the suffering they inflict. 'If we did not have the faith,' Brother Benildus once said, 'our profession would be painful indeed; the children are difficult. But with the faikh how everything changes!' " His constant fidelity, the Pope added, to all the detaiIs of his duty, his radiant charity, his serenity in difficulties could .flow only fr6m a deep and vigorous interior life and habitual union with God. In one of his panegyrics of the new saints, the Pope remarked: "More than once We have made you admire, in the variety of their physiognomies, the richness of the divine palette, of that raultiforrnis gratia (~1 Pet. 4:10) which, as it were, projects on the forehead of each saint, like the prism on the screen, one of the vari-ously coloured reflections of the one and infinite Uncreated Light; so that their conjunction gives Us an image--very faint, no doubt, yet marvellously beautiful-~of her who is called par excellence 16 January, 1949 SANCTA ECCLESIA CATHOLICA 'mirror of justice,' because she reflects the splendour of her Son who Himself is the candor lucis aeternae et speculum sine macula." (July 7, 1947.) The Saints are so different, yet fundamentally alike--like varia-tions on the same theme. The common theme of all holiness is love of God, total love which implies total self-sacrifice, utter selflessness. The saints were in love with God: they lived in deep union with Him. Yet this union, far from isolating them from the rest of man-kind, filled them with a universal love and urged them on to heroic self-devotion in the service of men. They. were absolutely humble, because they saw the truth: and being bumble, they had absolute trust in God; this is the secret of their amazing daring in undertaking great things, of their invincible courage and tenacity in carrying them out in the face of apparently insuperable obstacles: "Ego tecum ero." Every Saint, to be canonized, must have given clear signs of heroic virtue. But what strikes one in the lives of many saints is that God seems to take delight in testing their heroism by accumulating on them, as .on Job of old, every kind of affliction. In their most unselfish enterprises they meet with ingratitude, opposition, and failures such as would crush an ordinary man; to these are often added very trying diseases and bodily infirmities; and within their souls, instead of finding divine light and consolation, they pass through an agony of darkness, doubt, temptations, and disgust. Among the new saints, this is illustrated most strikingly in the life of, Blessed.Marie-Th6r~se de Soubiran. The Holy Father, in his panegyric of this heroic woman, indicated a twofold purpose of such trials which often leave our natural reason completely bewildered. The first is that the saints by this bitter experience learn "the secret of total detachment; which liberates them from all apprehension and diffidence of the heart, from all pride of spirit, and which shows them the nothingness and instability of all created things, mere playthinga in the hands of the Creator." The second meaning of those crushing afflictions, this "annihilation," is found in the words of St. John (12:24): "Unless the grain of wheat fall into the ground and die. itself remaineth alone;' but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." That is why God tries His saints "as in a furnace," while giving them a supernatural strength which enables them to walk on heroically in spite of the darkness that fills their souls. [EDITORS' NOTE: The foregoing article is reprinted with permission from The Clergy Moothly, a magazine publishM in India.] 17 Vocal:ions CosE Money Peter M. Miller, S.C.J. RING the bells and shout the "Alleluias." Modern technique is being applied to religious vocations. Religious societies and congregations of both men and women are discovering that the gamble of advertising vocational wares to adventurous boys and girls can be a tremendous success. The increasing problem created by the shrinking personnel of too many religious groups is finding an adequate answer through the medium of modern advertising. This statement: "Each of my candidates for the Brotherhood is costing me $1,000," may leave a bad taste in the mouths of certain religious who affirm their greater concern for souls and a mediocre interest in "filthy lucre." Yet the vocational director who uttered the above statement discovers that be is leading noble young men to the service of Christ and is pleased that the monastery labor will be accomplished without spending thousands of dollars annually for outside labor. "Within six months," he asserts, "each of those Brothers will pay, penny for penny, the initial cost of advertising expended on them." And only the Angel of God will be able to balance the merits of their good works in the GoIden Book. Once I heard a missionary, weighing his pennies, decide to enter hospital work rather than the educational field in his mission, because statistics proved to him that the expended dollar has more value' for the lasting good of souls in that particular locality when it is used to relieve the wants of the sick and distressed. It is a pleasure then to hear of a successful method of spending dollars to relieve the vocational l~roblem confronting so many com-munities. Too long have we been idly waiting for these vocations. St. Augustine remarked that we must pray as if all depended on God (and thanks be to God, many prayers have been offered for voca-tions), but be also insisted that we must work AS IF ALL DEPENDED ON US. Centuries ago the abbot of the monastery was approached by the youth who begged for admission to the order. There are still too many who believe this is the sole method to be used in acquiring vocations. Sometimes these same persons unjustly condemn zealous vocational directors who are going out "into the highways and by- 18 VOCATIONS COST MONEY ways" as Christ did in the first century of the Church when he uttered His soul-stirring: "Follow Me!" Nor are we the only ones engaged in the vocational advertising field. The Army is lavishing thousands of advertising dollars to staff its diminishing post-war personnel. Theirs is. a high-powered technique of radio and slick, magazines, well beyond the reach of our efforts. (Or is it?) Professions, trades, and crafts are advertising the decided advantages of their mode of life to attract the youth. Should we hesitate then to adopt an organized advertising campaign that will relieve our present needs and be a glory to God for all of eternity~ ¯ Four years ago a certain priest of the Middle West was surprised to learn ,of an ordered campaign of advertising to secure vocations. One year later he had entered the field and discovered the happy taste of success. The cost was a pamphlet. A Sister was sold on the proposition, and the only advertising for which she was able to secure permission was a "blurb." Her Mother Superior was highly pleased with the results obtained. I have observed a small religious congregation increase both quality and quantity in their preparatory seminary through an organized advertising plan developed in their own experience. Eight years ago thirty students attended this seminary; this year the enrollment is 135 carefully chosen candidates. I was bi'tterly disappointed three years ago to learn of two girls who thought they would lik~ to be Sisters, but changed their minds when they could not learn enough about the congregation they wished to join. There is a great appeal in religious life, and adver-tising is a marvelous approach to.the boy or girl. It should be the concern of every order, society, and congregation to integrate such a vocational campaign to their program of winning the world for Christ. The answer of complacent satisfaction [n present personnel ~'/ supply is no answer to the tremendous world-wide demands for reli-gious vocations. The challenge of our era is the white harvest of souls. Eight out of every nine persons over the face of the earth stand in dire need of the true message of Catholicism. In our own country there are sixty million pagans, and another fifty-five million who sit in the darkness of error waiting, perhaps unknowingly, for the Light of Truth. Consider, is it worthwhile to sponsor a program whereby America will quickly have the 10,000 priests necessary? How shall we answer the "Call for 40,000" in South America? Should we 19 PETER M. MILLER Reoiew for Religious concern ourselves with the remaining countries of the world? And where shall we find the three or four Sisters that must complement the work of~every priest. Where to get the thousands of religious Brothers needed for building and maintaining? Whatever your answer may be, of this I am sure--modern adver-tising will be recognized as a powerful arm in securing the necessary vocations. But bow, you may ask, can such a campaign be organ-ized ? Fortunately there is a medium of advertising to suit every purse. While no advertiser will tell you that the element, of gamble can be totally eliminated, yet there are certain approved methods which can safely be said to guarantee results. You will admit that the product you are attempting to "sell," a religious vocation, is 100 per cent perfect. Actually only the ones whom Christ selects will be those who finally accept your message. The campaign is a combination of grace and human labor. Now where is the field for your advertising? Carefully consider the aims of your community, and even more carefully aim or direct your cam-paign. Your "sales talk" must be weighed in the balance to garner all possible vocations in your harvest. Netvspap~r Adoertisements In newspapers and magazines, which you have read, undoubtedly you have seen the vocational message of religious groups. Perhaps for years you have observed a particular advertisement in a certain magazine. That should be your first sign of encouragement. If the "ad" had failed to produce.the desired results, the advertiser would have withdrawn his message. Study the advertisement carefully. Adapt it to your message, or perhaps you can better your display. Right here I might say that we should not hesitate to call upon the technical advice of advertising experts. Certainly it is sound business to pay an experienced man for setting up your advertisement copy. You can capitalize on his knowledge of techniques. It is important to consider the type of magazine and newspaper in order that you may discover which readers your advertisement will reach. Perhaps (and I have met this isolated instance), for a reli-gious group of Sisters of one national extraction, the best organ would be a newspaper of the same national language which has a good Catholic circulation, although it might not be a Catholic news-paper. 2O danuarg, 1949 VOCATIONS COST MONEY Blurbs The blurb is a folder of i~our to six pages. It contains the salient features of your aims and vocation ambitions. Again, working under the capable direction of a display artist, you employ photographs and color, together with a good combination of display type styles, to produce a striking folder. It should be the purpose of this blurb to attract .vocationally minded youth to a contact with your com-munity. Usually different blurbs are enclosed in the letters which you send to a person who has answered your newspaper advertise-ment. This blurb could be given to all the eighth grade girls as an attractive leader for a vocational discussion. A boy of adventurous nature still responds to a color photograph of a missionary leaning against his motorcycle. Personal Contact Here is the most important step in the vocational field work. The one interested in following Christ must see a flesh-and-blood example of his or her ideal. This is concretely established in the vocational director. He (or it may be Sister . ) is your walking advertise-ment. Usually the entire vocation campaign is in his hands. Actually he is a traveling salesman "selling" a product of highest dignity. He knows better than anyone else that it is his important task to discover the vocations which God has destined for his community. The choice of vocational director is highly important. Above all, he (or she) must be an exemplary religious. He must be possessed of that electrical personality impulse which establishes friendly trust and confidefi'ce in the first few minutes of meeting. He must know thoroughly what a vocation is, and what a vocation to his com-munity is. He must be quick and accurate to analyze characters and perceive the elements of vocation or their deficiency in an individual. He must know why youth wants to partake in the great adventure. The vocational director must possess prudence and suavity to over-come the obstacles which many times stand in the path of progress to the vocational goal. His first contact with the boy might be in reply to a newspaper or magazine advertisement. He might have met the youth while showing vocational movies or slides to an eighth grade class. What-ever may have been the initial contact, the next and all-important step is to meet the individual in his home surroundings. The family background, the training field for the youth, is still an essential ele- 21 PETER M. MILLER Review for Religious ment to be considered when judg!ng the lasting qualities of a possible vocation. In the personal interview the vocation is taken from a general class and the candidate becomes an important individual whose great interest is conquering the world for Christ. Here the vocational ideals of the youth and the aims of the community are displayed for mutual consideration. This is the first visit at his home, and there may be two or three more before the candidate finds himself admitted into the seminary or convent school. Perhaps the voca-tional director will observe that the youth does not have the elements of vocation for his communit~ and then he does not hesitate to inform the boy or girl accordingly. Here let me stress the importance of instructing the youth in the necessity of prayer for his vocation during this time. Community Magazine or Newspaper Fortun~itely many religious congregations have a magazine. It is highly advantageous that the vocational director use this arm for his work. It should be his concern that timely vocational articles appear in the magazine. A convent school or seminary could initiate a monthly newspaper to be used in the same manner. Using either one or both of these methods of contact, the reli-gious community has a monthly pipeline of appropriate information flowing into the home of the possible candidate. It clears doubts, establishes a firmer desire through added knowledge, and gives the aspirant confidence in his new life by means of the truths be meets monthly. Correspondence The vocational director must be punctual in replying to ~11 let-ters and queries from the candidates. In more than one instance the students in the seminary were supplied with addressees interested in their mutual vocation. By this method the personal contact was stimulated to greater advantage. The candidate then feels that he is no stranger since for some time he continues in friendly correspon-dence. Pamphlets This is perhaps the most popular form of advertising copy in the vocational campaign. Again photographs, color, type styles, and fine paper are combined in attractive display to give the prospect a good view of his future life in a 24-, 32-, or 48-page booklet. This pamphlet may be concerned with a picture study of the different 22 ,]anuaGt, 1949 VOCATIONS COST MONEY stages of growth in his vocation. Or it may present to the youth the future fields of endeavor. Chiefly, these pamphlets are of an informative nature. However I have seen clever pamphlets that employed fictional characters of the ideal type to portray the vocational goal and attract youth. Some communities use a life of the founder of the religious group. And then again you may wish to imitate those who have a continuity of two, three, or four pamphlets in their vocational series. Whatever may be your plan, be certain that the presentation is a perfect approach, which is to say that it must employ the modern techniques of vivid writing and attractive advertising display. If, in true humility, you must admit that no person in your community could 'turn out an attractive copy, then it need only be necessary for you to gather the facts and present them to "a good writer skilled in modern techniques. He usually has a precise knowl-edge of the elements to be brought to the attention of the reader. More invaluable to you, he knows what technical processes can best illustrate the idea you wish to convey. It pays to seek perfection in the very beginning. What merely satisfies you, may not be suffi-ciently impelling to attract the candidate. Movies and Slides Every educator today knows the emphasis, that is attached to visual aids. Advertisers pay huge sums to have likely customers see their product in the glamor of a movie. Certain religious communi-ties have employed technicians to prepare a movie of their vocational attractions. Indeed some of these are in color and forcefully present their subject. Other groups have discovered' that they can establish better con-tacts with colored slides flashed upon the silver screen. Their advan-tage, they claim, is to modify the description to the reaction of the group. This is certainly evident when the slides are carried into the home. As a matter of economy it might be mentioned that the slides can be replaced conveniently with better shots and thus accomodate the rapid growth that characterizes some communities. Planning Your Campaign The above examples were not listed as separate advertising methods. All of them could be co-ordinated in one grand camPaign. Each is designed fo provoke the interest of the candidate. Of course, the alert vocational, director will discover that he can broaden and complement his advertising by using other mediums. He will have 23 PETER M. MILLER occasional outings, picnics, Christmas parties, and so forth, where the candidates may meet and join in social gatherings and fun with seminarians already forging ahead in their chosen vocation. This is a great advantage. Those who wish to present their message to the youth of today will choose some or all of the above methods. It is important that a wide selection be made, and then you must drive home one grand theme in all your mediums of advertising. At the risk of boring repetition let me state again that you can profit by sounding out good technical advice in founding your program. Then prepare to open your market: Vocations Cost Mone~l Your vocational budget should be a matter of deep concern to your community. If you consider only the expenditures, then the advertising campaign has the appearance of a costly move. How-ever, the budget is to be gauged by the results. Advertise, and dis-cover from your own experience why cigarette manufacturers are quite plea~ed to spend millions of dollars to attract their huge mar-kets. You can issue an attractive blurb for a small amount. Pam-phlets are not too costly either. It might be wise to caution the beginner. Limit your initial quantity of literature until you are convinced that your message is appealing and forceful. Then keep the printing presses busy With your project. Do not hesitate to print a message for even those of the seventh grade. Plant the seed early[ Guarantee a rich harvest by telling your community of your vocation work. Beg their prayers and sac-rifices to bring the project to a grace-filled conclusion. Then the Mystical Body of Christ will grow as the religious members lead other thousands into the Church. How much should you spend for your campaign? Tell me, what price did Christ pay for souls? OUR CONTRIBUTORS ' PETER M. MILLER has been active in the vocation field for some years and is now on the faculty of the Divine Heart Seminary, the seminary of the Congregation of the Priests of the Sacred Heart, at Donaldson, Indiana. JOSEPH F. GALLEN is professor of canon law at Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland. J. PUTZ is editor of The Clergy Monthly and a member of the faculty of St. Mary's Theo-' logical College, Kurseong, D. H. Ry., India. CLARENCE MCAULIFFE is a profes-sor of sacramental theology at St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. 24 I apt:ism--A Deat:h and Resurrect:ion Clarence McAuliffe, S.J. ~i MONG all the supernatural gifts showered upon each of us, the first and most fundamental is ordinarily the sacrament of baptism. Since most of us were baptized as infants, we can-not even recall the actual conferring of this gift. We know it from the testimony of our parents or guardians, or of the parish records. But we are certain that there was a day, not long after our birth, when we were borne in our mother's arms to the parish church. Once there we were transferred to the arms of our godfather or godmother. Certain rites were performed over us in the vestibule or rear of the church. We were then carried to the baptismal fo'nt or the Com-munion rail. The essential rite was accomplished when the priest poured water on our head and declared: "I baptize thee in the name of the Father and of "the Son and of the Holy Ghost." We squirmed when the cool water touched our sensitive skin. Outwardly we were unchanged by this sacred rite, but inwardly a profound change was enacted. We were put to death with Christ by dying to the devil and our natural selves, and at the same time we rose gloriously from death like Christ because our souls were spiritually renovated. Yes, it was a simple ceremony, a perfunctory washing of the head and the simultaneous pronouncement of a few words, but it was a ceremony that had th~ S'on of God for its originator, and laden with His merits, it was like an irresistible plea mounting to heaven from the. cross on Calvary. It was not a mere ablution. It was an ablu-tion performed by the dying Christ, the principal Minister of every sacrament. That is why the heart of God was touched when He witnessed our baptism. That is why He took in His hand this simple ceremony and used it as an instrument to work so many wonders in our souls. In the purely natural order, our souls before baptis.m were intact. They possessed the same faculties that Adam had before his fall, and these faculties were intrinsically unimpaired. But no descendant of Adam was ever born in a merely natural state. Humanity down to doomsday was elevated to a supernatural destiny at the very instant 25 CLARENCE MCAULI FFE Review [or Religious that Adam himself was gifted with it. That is why Adam, when be lost the means to attain this destiny, lost them not for himself alone but for all his de]cendants. Hence we say that every human being is born in original sin. Each of us at birth was confronted with a supernatural goal. But each of us, too, was born without the supernatural means to arrive at this goal because these means, our expected and lawful inheritance, had been squandered by our common father, Adam. Our souls, as a result, were at birth supernaturally paralyzed. They could not function towards the attainment of their sublime destiny until the paralysis was removed. It was baptism that cured this paralysis. It took away original sin. However, the expression "took away," though sanctioned by usage, might be misleading. It might incline us to picture original sin as a kind of black spot dis-figuring the soul. We would then imagine baptism as the divine cleanser that effaced this black spot. Such a picture would be incor-rect. In the pilrely natural sphere, our souls were unblemished, unmarred, whole, equipped with all the healthy faculties they deserved. But something was missing, something that should have been there, had Adam executed God's original plan. That some-thing was a golden light of exquisite beauty, a veritable supernatural organism which should have been superadded to arid commingled with our natural faculties. Baptism was the flame that rekindled that golden light and restored that supernatural organism. This is what we mean when we say that baptism '~takes away" original sin. Moreover, this restoratidn of supernatural gifts through baptism is not the restoratibn of mere passive qualities, however excellent these might be. It is a renewal of life, of supernatural life, a true regerleratior~. St. Paul is speaking of baptism when he tells Titus: "He saved us by the laver of regeneration, and renovation of the Holy Spirit" (Titus 3:5). By natural generation a peFson receives body and soul. He possesses a definite nature endowed with both faculties and instincts. He begins to live naturally. Similarly, by the supernatural generation of baptism a person shares iri the divine nature by the gift of sanctifying grace, and this nature also is accom-panied with its supernatural faculties and instincts. The person begins to live supernaturally. This supernatural generation is called a regeneration, a generating again or anew, because man must first be generated naturally before he can be generated supernaturally by baptism. Another reason Why the word "regeneration" is used, pro- 26 BAPTISM--A DEATH AND RESURRECTION ceeds from the fact that, if Adam had not sinned, we would have been endowed with supernatural life by mere natural generation. No baptism would have been necessary. Since, however, Adam lost this supernatural life by his sin, we are supernaturally dead at the moment of our natural conception and so must be generated again supernaturally through baptism. The very instant we were baptized, therefore, this supernatural nature with its accompanying faculties and instincts was restored to us. We were clothed with the kingly robe of sanctifying grace and thus became God's adopted sons, able to perform acts of supernatural merit and destined to the beatific vision as our inheritance. More'over, along with this grace God infused into our souls certain faculties called the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. Once we reached the age of reason, these, virtues enabled us to elicit super-natural acts corresponding to them. It is probable that by reason of our baptism God also instilled within us additional faculties, the four cardinal, virtues of prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. Finally, through the agency of baptism God conferred upon us seven supernatural instincts which we call the gifts of the Holy Ghost. They are called wisdom, understanding, knowledge, counsel, piety, fortitude, and fear of the Lord. Given all this we became super-naturally alive, equipped with an organism by which we could oper-ate in a sphere far beyond our natural powers. It is important to realize also that all these baptismal gifts are realities. Nor are they merely moral realities like the loye of a mother for her child. Neither are they simply juridical realities like the right of a human being to continue in life. They are, as a matter of fact, pbgsical realities. This means that they actually modify the soul. They are qualities that add to its beauty. True enough, they are not material, but spiritual qualities. But they have an entity of their own which is as physically real as the color of a block of granite or the light that emanates from a star. They are as physically real as a label on a box. They are so physically real that if they were material things, we could touch them with our hand or see them with our eyes. And yet they do not add anything substantial to our nature. They are accidental qualities inhering in our one substantial soul. This fact, however, should not derogate from either their intrinsic or their operational value. Even in this world the addition of a natural accidental quality can Work wonders in an object. Consider 27 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Reoieu~ for Religious the electric bulb as it rests on the counter of a hardware store. It is substantially intact, a drab object to behold. But buy it, take it home, insert it in an electric socket and turn on the power. At once it is transformed into a thing of beauty and casts its light on all objects within its range. Yet it differs only accidentally from its condition in the hardware store. Consider also the example of water. If it is cold, it has certain accidental properties. When boiled, many of these accidental properties change. It still remains water, but now it can boil eggs or concoct a stew. It has new powers vastly superior to those of cold water, and yet it is but accidentally changed. Similarly, the baptized soul is altered only accidentally by. its reception of supernatural life, but it now is vested with powers far beyond those which it had before baptism. Indeed, it is now elevated to a supernatural plane so that it can place supernatural acts that completely transcend its natural capacities. When a Roman candle explodes in the night air on the Fourth of July it sends forth many fireballs of various hues, all of them pleasing to behold. So does baptism produce a brilliant array of supernatural gifts in the soul. But these unlike the fireballs stay within the soul, not outside it. Moreover, they do not vanish in an instant as do the fireballs, but they remain permanently unless driven out by sinful acts of the baptized person. Nor are they disparate 'elements like the fireballs, but they are intimately connected with one another. Finall~r, they are not endowed with mere chemical energy as are the fireballs, but they are forms of life. Each of them is like an eye or ear; and, when united together in an accidental union with the soul, they form a complete supernatural organism. Moreover, another physical effect, which, however, is not a form of life, is painted on the soul by baptism. It is called the sacramental character. It, too, is an accidental quality, but it is just as physical as the other gifts received. It truly modifies the soul, changes its appearance. It adds a tint to it, and this tint can never be effaced either in this life or the next. It is a sign to God and the angels and the beatified that the baptized person is consecrated to God. It is an indelible mark proclaiming to them that the baptized person belongs to the army of Christ. It is upon this ontological character that the various rights and duties flowing from baptism are based. It may be worth our while to recall now the nature of these rights and duties. First of all, the character is a sign that the baptized person has an obligation to remain always in the state of grace. This is his prime 28 danuar~t, 1949 BAPTISM--A DEATH AND RESURRECTION duty. If he loses his supernatural life by mortal sin, the character is forever declaring that he is in a state of violence, of infidelity, that he is obligated to take effective measures to restore by repentance the supernatural organism of grace, the virtues, and gifts of the Holy Ghost. If a soldier deserts the army, his uniform still notifies the world that he belongs in its ranks. In the same way, the character of baptism always marks a man as an adopted child of God even though he may have rejected this adoption by mortal sin. Moreover, the character as we have remarked, is ineffaceable. The faithless soldier can take off his uniform, burn it or sell it so that no physical sign remains to indicate that he should be in the army. But the character cannot be rejected. It is always etched on the soul, and its possessor is forever marked as one who should be Christ's friend even though be has sinned grievously. In short, baptism means a change in our allegiance. Before bap-tism we were children of darkness, not of light; we were enthralled by a powerful concupiscence whose thrusts would become more har-rowing in later life. We were, in a true sense, slaves of the devil. But we changed banners when baptism sealed us with its sacred character. We were baptized "in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost." We were, therefore, consecrated to the Blessed Trinity. Through the agency of our godparents we promised sol-emnly to fulfill the obligations consequent upon the reception of bap-tism. We would observe the ten commandments ~nd the six precepts of the Church, and we would do so permanently. By their miracu-lous passage through the Red Sea, the Hebrews escaped from their Egyptian enemies and passed into God's domain, the promised land. In the same way, by baptism we renounce the devil's dominion and come under God's sway. In the last chapter of St. Matthew's gospel (Mt. 28: 19, 20) when our Lord solemnly promulgates the necessity of baptism, He inculcates the obligation to serve God that it entails: "teaching them [the baptized] to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you." And St. Paul means the same thing when he declares: "All of you who are baptized, have put on Christ" (Gal. 3:27). In the fourth century St. John Chrysostom makes the same point when he says: "Trees that are well planted, if they make no return of fruit for the labor spent about them, are delivered up to the fire; the same in some sort may be said of those who are baptized, if they bring forth no fruit." This death to Satan and to sin, which was enjoined upon us by 29 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Review for Religious our baptism, is symbolized by the very rite of baptism, especially. when it i~ performed by immersion or complete submerging into a body of water, the ordinary m.aj~ler of baptizing during many cen-turies of the Church's existen~e.¥ The catechumen goes down into the water soiled with original sin, a slave to concupiscence, subservient to Satan. He emerges cleansed from original sin, fortified against concupiscence, consecrated irrevocably to the Blessed Trinity. This total immersion in the water pictures vividly the death and resurrec-tion of Chris[. That is why St. Paul says that "we are buried together with Christ by baptism unto death, that as Christ is risen from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also may walk in newness of life" (Rom. 6:4). Christ died for sin; He was buried because of our sins. But when He rose, gloriously changed in body. He had endowed us with the means to overcome sin, to live as God's friends, dust as our Lord's body by its resurrection began its glori-fied life tha~. would never end, so the baptized when he emerges from his burial in the baptismal water, is obligated perpetually to live a new kind of life, a life subject to God and loyal.to His commands. The abiding sign of this allegiance is the sacramental character. But to lead this new life of loyalty to God we need supernatural helps, especially actual graces, by which we can practise virtue and counter temptations. Though we obtain these graces in various ways as we go on through life, we are assured, b/y our baptism alone of a constant flow of them to give us strength.'VAll theologians admit this fact, though they differ in their explanations of how these graces are conferred by baptism. It is a safe opinion to hold that the right to these graces is rooted in the baptismal character. This objective mark is always on the soul and is always telling God: "This person has been consecrated to You. He needs Your help. You have given him a right to receive Your intellectual lights and to feel the lift of Your omnipotent hand. By his baptismal character he is marked as Your ally and friend, but he cannot remain so unless You help him." Thus God by reason of our baptismal character does help us, not for one day or for one year, but during our entire lives. Even in old age, the baptized person still receives from his infant baptism actual graces to resist temptation and to live a good Catholic life. The waters of these graces may be dammed partially by neglect, by worldliness, by sin itself, but they overflow even such formidable barriers. The torrent of graces to which we are entitled just by the fact of our bap-tism will never be completely dry. They come to enrich our youth; 3O danuar~t, 1949 BAPTISM--A DEATH AND RESURRECTION they come to fortify and strengthen us in middle age; they come to embellish and sanctify our old age. God never forgets our baptism. He always sees the character He has impressed. Hence He helps us so that our dedication to Him made at baptism will never become a faithless one. Again, baptism signifies not only that its recipient is consecrated to God and should preserve permanently his supernatural life, but also that he is a member of God's visible kingdom on earth, the Catholic Church. Once baptism is validly received, no matter by whom, that person automatically is a subject in Christ's Church. Some, of course, such as validly baptize, d Protest~ints who are in good faith, are not aware of this fact, but their unawareness does not change the reality. Baptism means membership in the one true Church. "For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one body," declares St. Paul (I Cot. 12:12). The character is the irremovable sign of this membership. When a Sister receives that particular habit which comes with her profession, this habit tells the world that she is obliged to follow the internal spirit of her institute, but it also marks her as a member of a visible religious order or congregation. She belongs to this definite sisterhood and not to any other, and the fact is externally recognizable from the kind of religious garb she wears. "Once a Catholic, always a Catholic" is an axiom whose truth rests on the fact that the character spontaneously issuing from baptism remains imbedded in the soul and postulates perpetual allegiance to the Catholic Church. It follows, therefore, that the baptismal character is the founda-tion for those duties and rights that flow from incorporation into the Catholic body. Among these duties we might mention that of obedience to ecclesiastical superiors, especially to the Holy Father and the bishops; the duty to reverence sacred persons, places, edifices, rites, and other things stamped'with the approval of the Church; the'duty to accept the revealed teaching which she proposes; the duty to con. form to her legislation as embodied .in the code of Canon Law; the duty to participate in at least some of the religious rites which she sanctions. All these duties have as their objective foundation the sacrament~i1 character carved on the soul by baptism. The Church also grants many privileges to her actual members, that is, to the baptized who are not "separated from the unity of the Body." Such members may receive the other sacraments; they may participate intimately in the sublime action, of the Mass by interiorly 31 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE Reoiew [or Religious uniting their offering to the external offering made by the priest alone; they may share in many kinds of indulgences to remove their temporal punishment and to shorten the stay in purgatory of others, especially their loved ones; they are entitled to the help and guidance of their pastors, whether in the confessional or outside it. They have a right to enter a Catholic church at any time; to have their spiritual lives stimulated by sermons, retreats, and the use of sacramental~; to receive benefits from every Mass celebrated in the world every day; to obtain special blessings from the many "Masses for the people" which every pastor must celebrate each year; to be honored with a Catholic funeral service and burial in consecrated ground. In a word, those many upliftings of soul' which come to every loyal Catholic, those consolations that give strength to bear the sorrows of life, that illumination of mind which comes from authoritative teaching and from Catholic books or newspapers or periodicals and from spiritual exhortations, that firmness of will which perseveres in doing good and avoiding evil--all this comes directly or indirectly from membership in the Church and is founded on the ontological character bestowed by baptism. To sum up, therefore, we may say that baptism effects marvels in the physical, the moral, and the juridical orders. In the physical order it regenerates a man by endowing him with a supernatural organism consisting of sanctifying grace, the infused theological and moral virtues, and the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost. In the moral order, it transfers his allegiance from Satan to the Blessed Trinity, removes all actual sins, both mortal and venial, as well as all temporal punishment due to these sins (if baptism is received by an adult), confers a life-long series of actual graces enabling him to cope with his unruly passions, and, finally, inscribes him as a member of the Catholic Church. In the juridical order, it grants him those rights that emanate from affiliation with that Church, but it also imposes on him a set of obligations to which he is bound to conform. " It is a striking fact that these effects are symbolized in a general way by the various ceremonies of baptism. The essential rite, of course, and the only rite instituted by our Lord Himself and neces-sary for the validity of the sacrament, is the washing (of the head) with water and the pronouncing of the proper words. Water is a cooling and refreshing substance. Hence at baptism it naturally sym-bolizes the mitigation of passion that results from the sacrament. Moreover, water is a universal cleanser. As such it is admirably 32 danuar[I, 1949 BAPTISM-~A DEATH AND RESURRECTION suited to represent the removal of sin and temporal punishment from the soul. Again, flowing water is vested with power. It produces a thriving vegetationalong its course. Hence the flowing water of baptism readily illustrates the spiritual regeneration effected in the soul. Especially is this true when the meaning of the flowing water is determined by words that signify a consecration to the Blessed Trin-ity. Again, every society has some form of initiation. Baptism is God's own way of initiating a person into the Catholic ChurScho. much for the symbolism of the essential, divinely instituted rite. But the Church herself has added other ceremonies that likewise typify the results of baptism. Before the infant is permitted to enter the nave of the church, the priest breathes lightly three times upon its face to suggest that the Holy Ghost is about to come upon it to effect its supernatural regeneration. After this, the priest makes the sign of the cross on the baby's forehead and breast to signify tha~ after baptism the baby will be a follower of Christ, not a follower of Satan. St. Augustine makes mention of t-his rite when he says: "You are to be signed this day on your forehead with the sign of the cross, that hereafter the devil may be afraid to touch you, as being marked with this saving sign." Next a morsel of salt is placed on the infant's tongue to signify that after baptism. God will expect and help.this child to preserve and season its mind and heart so that it will never be corrupted by serious sin. On two separate occasions the priest lays his hand on the baby's head to denote that henceforth the child will be consecrated to God. After proceeding to the baptismal font or the Communion rail, the priest touches the lips and ears of the baby with saliva. As far back as the fourth century, St. Ambrose teaches the meaning of this ceremony: "Therefore the priest toucheth thy ears that they may be opened to hear the commands of God: and thy nostrils that thou receivest the good odor of faith and devotion." This rite recalls how our Lord opened the eyes of a blind man with spittle (3ohn 9:6) and put His finger into the ears of a deaf man saying "Ephphatha, i.e., be thou opened" (Mark 7:33). After renouncing Satan three times through the agency of its sponsor, the infant is anointed on the breast and between the shoulders with the oil of catechumens. Oil naturally symbolizes strength. It is used to eliminate aches and pains and to render muscles supple. Hence the anointing on the breast represents the courage to be expected from the infant in its .fight for God. The anointing between the shoulders indicates the strength 33 CLARENCE MCAULIFFE imparted to the baptized to bear manfully the crosses of life. After the essential rite of baptism has been performed, the priest anoints the child with chrism on the top of the head. Just as in the Old Testament it was a custom to anoint priests and kings with oil; and just as it is the Church's custom today to anoint those objects and persons which she solemnly consecrates to God's service, so this ceremony denotes that the baptized baby is now irrevocably conse-crated to God and is a member of His Church. A white cloth is then placed on the head of the baptized to typify the innocence that has been wrought by baptism. Finally, a lighted candle is held by the sponsor to symbolize the same effect, but in addition, the candle sig-nifies that the baby has received a new form of life. A candle flame is not static. It flickers and its flickering is the sign of the baby's newly received supernatural life. It is a fragile flame, one that is easiIy extinguished in the later conflicts of life; but if the baby uses the means that God has provided, it can and should keep that flame forever burning. Such are the effects of baptism according to the teachings of the Church and according to the symbolism of the baptismal rites. God HimseIf is the principal cause of all the wonders accomplished by baptism. But God in His providence decided not to produce these wonders without a visible rite. He desired.that man, confo.rmably with his nature, should have some outward sign to testify to the a~bievement of these wonders. Hence through the agency of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity become Man, He instituted the visible sacrament of baptism. Whenever this sacrament is adminis-tered, God takes it in His hand and uses it as an instrument to beget a new supernatural organism, to paint a sacramental character, to confer sundry supernatural favors and to impose obligations. A REPRINT SERIESmMAYBE! Because of dil~culties which have not yet been overcome, we are unable to say whether we wilI publish the series of reprints men-tioned in our November issue (VII, 331-332). However, a definite announcement will be made in the March issue. Tentative orders are still welcome. 34 ,/ The Spirit: ot: Povert:y Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. IN RECENT ISSUES of the REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Father Ellis: has explained the obligati6ns of poverty that arise f~om the vo~ and from law, whether the latter is of the Church or of the par.-. ticular institute. The necessity and value of such an explanation are evident. However, as Father Ellis indicated, the spirit of poverty is of even greater importance. This follows from the admitted doctrine of moral theology that the vow and laws concerning poverty are only means of acquiring the spirit of poverty and thus subordinated to the latter as a means to an end. A brief study of the purpose of the vows of religion may clarify this importance. Christian perfection, the end of the religious life, consists in divine charity. St. Thomas places the purpose of the evangelical counsels in the religious life in the fact that they remove the principal impediments to 'divine charity. He' specifies the purpose of poverty as the. removal of all attachment for temporal things. Attachment is obviously something interior, the vow and the laws on poverty extend only to external actions. It is the spirit of poverty that is to regulate the affections. It is pos-sible to observe the vow, to secure permission, and yet to be greatly attached to the things permitted. A religious, therefore, can be faith-ful to the observance of the vow and yet fail to attain the proximate purpose of poverty. This purpose cannot be accomplished without the practice of the spirit of poverty. It may appear strange to assert that the vow ofpoverty is insuffi-cient to attain the purpose of poverty in the religious life, yet this insufficiency is evident in many other respects. In complete accord with the vow of poverty, religious could be given permission to administer their own property, to apply their pfopertyto personal needs, to have a dependent peculium (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, Jan-uary, 1948, p. 33), and they also could be granted any kind, quantity, or quality of material things for their own use. Such practices would not remove the waste of time, the preo.ccupation and anxiety about temporal things, the love of riches and pride that St. Thomas lists as the specific impediments to divine charity that are to be excluded by poverty. All of the above practices had to be removed by ecclesiastical law. In a similar manner, the vow cannot 35 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Ret~iew for Religious attain the purpose of religious poverty unless it is complemented by the spirit of poverty. A striving for the spirit of poverty, and especially for its perfec-tion, is also a natural manifestation of the genuine and basic religious spirit. The religious life is of counsel, and it by no means loses this character by the fact that the evangelical counsels are assumed under the obligation of sin. The religious who is faithful to the observance of what his vows command has done much, but he has not done everything. The vows of religion leave many things within the domain of counsel, supererogation, and generosity. This statement is not difficult to prove. In the practice of the Holy See for lay congre-gations, the vow bf obedience produces its obligation only when the religious is strictly commanded in virtue of holy obedience, and for a serious reason. It is further urged that such a command be given in writing or in the presence of at least two witnesses. It is evident that the religious who waits'for the obligation of the vow of obedience will have very little obedience in his life. To realize the sacrifice and purpose of his principal vow, the religious must strive after the per-fection of obedience, which is a matter of counsel and supererogation. In the same religious institutes, the constitutions do not of themselves oblige immediately under sin. This does not mean that the Holy See is indifferent to the observance of the constitutions. The principle of the Sacred Congregation in approving such constitutions is that an obligation immediately under sin is not necessary in a life inspired and dominated by the spirit of the counsels. It would be thus alien to this basic spirit of religion to be content with the vow and to neglect the spirit of poverty, even though the higher degrees of the latter do not oblige under sin. The object of the spirit of poverty is to remove all inordinate affections for material things and to use these only in conformity with the legitimate usage of the particular institute. The latter is com-monly included as part of the spirit of poverty, even though it is commanded by ecclesiastical law. We have used the expression spirit of po~ert~l, because a purely abstract dispute exists among theo-logians as to the existence of a special virtue of povert{j. The better opinion, originated by Suarez but implicit in the doctrine of St. Thomas, is that no such special virtue exists. The object of a vir-tue: must be a moral good in itself. Poverty is not a moral good in itself but something indifferent; .if this were not true, riches would be a moral evil in themselves. The Holy See has used both expressions 36 danuary, 1949 THE SPIRIT OF POVERTYi in its official documents and consistently admits the chapter heading, "The Vow and Virtue of Poverty," in the approval of constitutions. This theological dispute can be an obstacle to the perfection of pov-erty to the unguarded reader, since the conclusion can be readily drawn that the spirit or virtue of poverty is simply non-existent. The followers of Suarez merely deny the existence of one special virtue of poverty; they readily admit and assert the existence of a spirit or virtue of poverty which consists of a plurality of virtues. The spirit of poverty is thus a collection of virtues, especially temperance, patie.nce, humility, and the modesty that St. Thomas defines as a vir-tue that moderates the use of external apparel. Some authors extend the object of this modesty to the use of all material things. Observ-ance of the spirit of poverty will procure the merit of one of these virtues: violations will be sins against the same virtues. However, in its higher degrees, the spirit of poverty is a matter of counsel. The spirit of poverty complements principally the vow and the state of poverty. The Spirit of Povertg and the Vow of Povertg Poverty is opposed to riches, and the evident purpose of the vow of poverty is to make the religious, in some sense, a poor man. The extent to which this is effected by the vow is: (a) the religious must obtain permission for the disposition of money or its equivalent; (b) this permission can be revoked at any time at the mere will of the superior; (c) the permission does not give proprietorship. We can add that, in conformity with the vow, the religious may be granted the use of many valuable objects. Furthermore, the incapacity of a solemnly professed religious to acquire or retain property for him-self is not an effect of the vow but of ecclesiastical law. Therefore, the vow does not effect a poverty of external privation. It aims essentially at a poverty by which a religious is to acquire, possess, and use nothing as his own. He is to dispose of material things not as belonging to himself but as to another. In the actual disposition of money or its equivalent for personal use, the comparison, used by Billuart, of religious to slaves, who have no property rights but use food and clothing as belonging to their masters, is to be true also of all professed of simple vows. The vow does not induce the privation of beggary but it does make the religious a beggar; he must ask and depend on another for all his needs. Externally the vow renders the indigence of tl~e religious greater than that of the beggar. The beggar 37 JOSEP.H F. GALLEN Reoiew [or Religious owns the alms he receives; the religious does not own any of the material things be is granted by a superior. The plea of the beggar can frequently, mask a heart of wealth. In his words he is asking, but in his heart he is dem, anding his own. The vow forces the reli-gious to be externally dependent, but it does not despoil his mind and heart of wealth. "The mere asking of a permission does not neces-sarily exclude a proprietary mind and will in the request and espe-cially in the ensuing retention and use of the object granted by the superior. A religious can ask permission in a spirit of dependence or as a mere legal formality. He.can consider himself the owner of what be asks and look upon the superior as the mere custodian of his own property, who must grant what he asks. He can very readily believe that religious poverty consists in the mere external asking for permis-sion. The essential poverty of the vow cannot be attained unless the religious is animated by the habitual interior attithde that everything he acquires, retains, and uses belongs to another and that be retains and uses them as belonging to another. This interior attitude apper-tains to the spirit of poverty, since the. vow is limited to external actions. The interior spirit of ownership frequently detracts from the per-fection of religious poverty. It will be sufficient to adduce one common example. "I should have it because it was given to me," is a principl.e of conduct not unknown to the heart of the religious. This produces what we may style the "rebate" system. A religious of simple vows receives an absolute and personal gift of five do,liars. Mbtivated by the fact that it was given to him, he will very fre-quently ask to use the five dollars or at least part of it. There is a deadly disjunction against this practice. The purpose for which he wishes to spend the money is either legitimate or illegitimate. If illegitimate, the superior may not give the permission, despite the fact that he received the gift. If legitimate, the fact of the gift is no motive for the religious to ask for the permission nor for the superior to give the permission: Th~ only licit motive in such a case is what the religious needs, not what be has received. The relation to per-mission in religion is to our necessities, not to our income. Such a religious observes the vow, since he asks for permission, but he is qualifying his poverty by mental proprietorship. His norm for asking permission is not what he religiously needs but what he ha~ financially received. The religious who has despoiled his mind and heart of proprietorship will turn over absolutely to the superior the 38 danuar~ . 1949 THE SPIRIT OF POVERTY absolute gift made to him. When the memory of this gift has grown cold, he will present his petition to the superior and allow it to stand or fall on its own merits. This habitual interior attitude is the primary requisite in the spirit of poverty. It is clearly demanded by the essential purpose of the vow and it is of great and universal efficacy in excluding dis-ordered attachments for material things. The religious who has fundamentally put off self in mind and will in regard to material things is not apt to yield to the selfishness of a disordered affection for such an object. The same habit is of equal efficacy in animating the observance of the vow. The religious who is habitually poor interiorly will not often seek riches in his external actions. This fundamental habit also excludes a great obstacle to perfect religious poverty, that is, externalism, formalism, and legalism with regard to the precepts and counsels of religious poverty. The religious who is habitually poor in heart has already strengthened the poverty that spiritual writers call the wall of religion, and he will not easily descend to the legalistic approach that seeks the crevices of "no obli-gation" in the vow and the laws of the Church on poverty. The removal of irregular attachments for material things is the proper object of the spirit of poverty. A religious should evaluate such things only according to their reasonable necessity for his life and work. Any motive or state of will contrary to this is a viola-tion of the spirit of poverty. It is evident that such an attachment can be verified also in the observance of the vow and the state of pov-erty. The external observance of the vow and of the law of the Church does not of itself completely purify the will. Ascetical writers give means for overcoming these attachments. Oftentimes, however, they fail to mention that a great source of the attachments is an ignorance of the purpose of religious poverty and the implicit persuasion of the sufficiency of the vow. A knowledge of this pur-pose and the conviction that the vow of poverty must be comple-mented by the spirit of poverty are efficacious and practical means for avoiding and conquering the attachments. While the spirit of poverty is principally a complement and exaltation 6f the vow, it is also a vivifying source of the observance of the vow. The religious who does not ask permission because of carelessness or fear of refusal, who is habitually loath to ask permis-sion fiecause of the inconvenience and the humiliation, or who asks permission only because he is forced by the vow and would other- 39 JOSEPH F. GALLEN Review [or Religious wise sin will very frequently find that his difficulty is an ignorance or lowered esteem of the spirit of poverty. He is conceiving poverty as something that is forced from him and not as his own free gift to God. Poverty has become a merely disciplinary and external matter and has lost its soul and beauty as one of the three essential means that are to unite his mind and will with God in a more perfect love, By considering poverty as something merely external, be can readily have grown into the habit of studying how to gratify and not bow to overcome his affections towards material things, of escaping and not of accept~,ng and seeking poverty. His need is not greater fidelity in asking permission but greater motivation for asking permission. The Spirit of Poverty and the State of Poverty Father Ellis defined the state of poverty: "Each institute has its own norm of poverty, that is, a limit as to the kind, quality, and quantity of material things permitted to the religious for their use. This limit is found determined in the constitutions or, as is more commonly the case in congregations with simple vows, in traditions, customs, and usage." (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, July, 1948. p. 207). This limit admits of reasonable differences for such pur-poses as health or work. The expression, "state of poverty," is not too frequently found in modern usage. We have adopted it as con-venient and because it is the term used in this matter by the Council of Trent and by Clement VIII. There can be some lack of knowledge of the importance of the state of poverty in the religious, life. The persuasion that the vow is the one source of obligation has led many to believe that religious poverty is solely a poverty of dependence. It is true that the effect of the vow is a poverty of dependence, but the state of poverty is to produce at least some measure of external privation. This privation consists in the .exclusion of superfluities. The norm for distinguishing superfluities from necessities is that described in the definition given above. It is evident that the use of superfluities, without permission, is an independent proprietary act and, at least as such, a sin against the vow: but the source of the obligation of avoiding superfluities, even though a superior has granted permission, has been a matter of dis-pute for centuries. The Code of Canon Law seems to give an easy solution to tbi, s problem. Canon 5.94, §3 reaffirms a law of the Council of Trent. This law had again been emphasized by Clement 40 January, 1949 THE SPIRIT OF POVERTY. VIII, in 1599.~'The Vatican translation of canon 594, §3 is: "The furniture of the religious must be in accordance with the poverty 6f which they make profession." By "furniture" is meant all things given to supply the personal necessities of religious, as is clear from the description of Clement VIII. We are to take the words of this canon in their obvious sense, that is, they constitute a law and not a determination of the vow of poverty. The words of canon 594, §3, as also those of the Council of Trent and of Clement VIII, are clearly preceptive and directly oblige all religious, superiors and sub-jects. The laws of the Code are moral laws, not merely penal laws, and thus oblige immediately under sin. Therefore, the use of super-fluities, with permission, is a sin against this law. The permission of a superior does not exclude this malice, since lay superiors cannot dispense from the laws of the Church and clerical superiors have been granted no power of dispensing from this law. The importance of the spirit of poverty as inclusive of the state of poverty should be evident. The state of poverty complemen~ts the vow by adding at least some external privation to the dependence of the vow. It also refutes the maxim that permission makes anything licit in religious poverty. Within its essential degree, the state of poverty obliges immediately under sin. This essential degree is to acquire, retain, and use only what is necessary within the limit described in the definition of Father Ellis. The degrees of perfection and counsel are to seek or actually to suffer at times the privation of real necessities and to desire and to be satisfied with what is least in the community in food, clothing, lodging, and other personal neces-sities. The state of poverty is an essential part of the concept and law of common llfe, as prescribed for religious by canon 594. It is, per-haps, the fundamental note of this concept, since the other violations of common life, the habitual obtaining of necessities from externs and a dependent peculium, very frequently have their source in an unwillingness to observe the state of poverty. The Church is not unaware of abuses in common life and insists most emphatically on its observance in the Code of Canon Law. Canon 587, §2 enacts that common life must be perfectly observed in clerical houses of study; otherwise the students may not be promoted to orders. Canon 2389 Makes notable violations of common life an ecclesiastical crime, punishable with canonical penalties. The Sacred Congregation of Religious also inquires about the observance of common life in the 41 dOSEPH F. GALLEN Reoiew ~or Retigio~s quinquennial report that pontifical institutes must mdke to the H61y See. The history also of canon 594 reveals the great value that the Church places on common life and all of its parts. The religious who is sincerely desirous of perfect religious poverty will foster an equal evaluation. It seems idle to give specific examples of violations of the state of poverty. Any religious should know the limit of the definition given above from his study of his own institute and readily realize when he is exceeding that limit. It will not be impractical, however, to mention a rather general source of superfluities in r.eligion, and that is the addiction to gifts for personal use. Very frequently religious receive gifts, especially at such times as Christmas, feast days, and birthdays. A well-informed spectator might be tempted to bid on many of these gifts as irreligious surplus material. The cause is fre-quently in the religious himself. He has been asked what he wants, and all too often he mentions something for himself. His reaction to the,,proposed gift should have been: I can and should obtain from my community any legitimate necessity; therefore, I want nothing for myself from this extern. He should then propose a gift that wil! be useful to his community. The most practical gift for his com-munity or institute is money. We may find an occasional religious who is not living a poor life, but it will be most difficult to discover a religious institute that is not poor. At times it will not be prudent to propose' money, but such a proposal could be made with much greater frequency if the religious had constantly manifested in the past that his satisfaction and pleasure were in gifts made to his community. This attitude towards gifts is a natural consequence of common life. If we are constantly to recei;ce from the common fund, we should be willing to contribute to that fund. The absence of this attitude often implies a lack of religious maturity. It is the part of the child to receive but of the adult to give. The spirit of poverty, in all its applications, also admits a hier-archy of motive. For example, a religious, can observe the state of poverty and endure the privations of common life with mere resigna-tion, with alacrity and joy, with eager desire. He can observe the precepts and counsels of poverty from a motive of contempt of the things 6f this world, desire of eternal riches, or mortification to resemble Christ, Our Lord, from love of God and the desire of con-secrating all his affections to God's love and service. St. Bernard tells us that it is not poverty but the love of poverty 42 January, 1949 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS that is reputed virtue. It is not mere external observance of vow and law but dedication to the spirit of poverty that detaches the heart of the religious from the material goods of this world, that fulfills the purpose of religious poverty and effects the earthly, poverty that is productive of eternal riches. ( uesFons nnd Answers In a congregation professlncj a strlct decjree of poverty the followlncj custom is takin9 root. On the occasion of silver jubilees a wide variety of expensive cjiffs are received by the jubilarlan from friends and relatives. Silverware, hand missals, books, desk sets, wearln9 apparel, money for vacation trips and Mass stipends are common forms of jubilee cjiffs. May such a custom be allowed to develop without serious preiudlce ~'o the spirit of poverty and comr~unlty life? The toleration of personal gifts means in most institutes a pro-gressive relaxation of the spirit of poverty. The inquirer will read with profit the articles on Gifts to Religious (cf. REVIEW FOR RELI-GIOUS, VI and VII). The conscientious superior, in granting per-mission for any of the above-mentioned articles, will be guided by his own constitutions and canon 594, § 1, calling for uniformity of diet, dress, and: furnishings. It is diFicult to see bow a religious may be allowed to keep a set of silverware without detriment to common life. Hand missals are appropriate gifts; other books should be put at the disposal of the community when the jubilarian has finished with them. Generally speaking, books are acceptable as gifts because of their special community value. Desk sets, if permitted by custom, may be given to the jubilarian. But here too the superior must have in mind a certain uniformity of room equipment that is not to be violated by the use of a highly elaborate desk set. Wearing apparel should likewise be uniform and provided by superiors. Our last issue treated the question of money for vacation trips. Gifts for this purpose can give rise to very unfavorable comparisons in a reli-gious community. If a jubilarian wishes to devote some of the money received to the purpose of having Mass said for his intentions, there appear~ to be no reason why the superior may not grant this request. 43. Qu. ESTIONS AND ANSWERS Re~,~ew /:or Religious (Cf. REVIEW FUR RELIGIOUS, V, 335.) A sum' of money to be freely spent according to the wishes of the jubilarian could not be used without the approval of the superior, who must decide whether or not the individual objects to be bought are in keeping with common life. The questions here presented lead us to suggest that from the beginning of the religious life one should acquaint his relatives and friends with the idea of common life, which means uniformity in the use of material things. While a community may depend ~n bene-factors for help in many ways, the individual religious may nor enlist the economic aid of his relatives to defray his personal expenses. Even the shrinkage of convent income is no justification for. the gradual decay of the spirit of poverty. May a rellg~ous who has charge o{ an extra-currlcular activity in a school keep in his own room funds devoted fo fhls actMty? The ordinary rule, according to canon 594, § 2, is that such funds should be deposited with the bursar. Special circumstances would justify the superior's granting permission to keep the funds under lock and~key in a private room. May the celebrant of the Sunday community Mass give the Asperges? Authentic declarations of the Sacred Congregation of Rites tell us that the Asperges is to be given to the people before sung Masses on Sunday in collegiate churches. By a collegiate church is meant one in which a chapter of canons daily chant the Divine Office, just as is done in a cathedral. In our own country there are no such chapters. The Asperges rna~! be given in other churches. In many churches it is the custom to have the Asperges before the parochial Mass if it is sung; if it is a low Mass, no custom prescribes it. Concerning the Asperges before the Sunday Mass in a religious community, the cus-tom of the diocese 'should be followed. May a Superior, without violating his rule, give an occasional alms to a beggar? Canoh 537 permits almsgiving on the part of religious for a just cause according to the constitutions. Hence an occasional act of charity towards a mendicant would be permitted by any institute. 44 danuary, 1949 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS A novice completes his novitiate on the 10th of Aucjust. In orde¢ to make his first profession with other novices who are due on the 15th of Aucjust, he is asked to wait until that date. Does the five-day interval in any way affect the validity of his profession? The novice's first profession is certainly valid. Canon 571, § 2 states tbat'a novice who is judged fit is to be admitted to the profe's-sion on the expiration of the novitiate, (exacto novitiatu). Nothing\ in the canon indicates that the delay of a few days in such circum-stances as those pointed out above would nullify the profession. Ac-cording to canon 1 l, the express statement of the nullifyir;g character of a law must be made if it is to have this effect. No such statement is made in canon 571, § 2. Is an extern, who has been chosen by a novice accordln9 to canon 569, § I as administrator of his property durin9 the time of his simple pro-fession, obliged to make to superiors a periodic account of the disposition of the revenue arlsin9 from the religious' estate? Since the Code makes no statement prescribing such a periodic report, there is no obligation to do so unless it is required by the approved constitutions of the institute. m7~ Are all Catholics excused from the obllcjafion of Sunday Mass once they have attempted marriage before a Protestant minister or have attempted to remarry after havin9 obtained a civil divorce? The questioner apparently is concerned about a statement that appeared in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, VI, 215. The article treated certain aspects of the duty of hearing Mass, and it mentioned that there is a difference of opinion among theologians and canonists con-cer, ning the obligation of excommunicated persons. Having indicated this difference of opinion, the article states: "By reason of their excommunication they are deprived of their right to assist at Mass; hence some moralists argue that they cannot have a duty to do so. In practice, they may be considered as excused from the obligation; but they certainly have a duty to do what is necessary to be absolved from the excommunication." The answer to the present question, therefore, comes to this: if the parties are excommunicated, they do not have the duty of attending Mass, but they do have a duty of taking the means neces- 45 DECISIONS OF THE HOLY SEE Review for Religious sary to be absolved of their excommunication; if they are not excom-municated, they have tile duty of assisting at Mass. Are all the parties mentioned in this question excommunicated? It would be impossible for us to give a general answer to the question because for the actual incurring of an excommunication many condi-tions must be fulfilled. The best way to solve a particular case is to refer all the facts to a canonist and let him judge the conditions. Decisions o[ Holy

Issue 55.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1996. ; Review for Religious is a fo,utm for Sb~red reflection on the liVed experience of all who ~nd that the CbnrCb!s rich heritages of spi~tnality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practical, or inspirational, written f!,om a theological or spirirudl or sometimes canonical point'of view: Rcview for Rcligious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by thc Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Lot, is, Missouri 63108-3393. "l'elcphone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Mant, scripts, books for review, and correspondcncc with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Liudcll Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. 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This permission is NOT extended to copying fi~r commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming sJ Philip C. Fischer sJ 'Regina Siegfridd ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritagesand Contemporary Living JAlXq3ARY-FEBRUARYI996 ¯ VOLUME55 ¯ NVUMBER1 contents feature Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context Paul N. Duckro, Randall C. Flanery, and Philip Magaletta consider the biological, social, and spiritual dimensions of hunger, food, and eating in everyday life. leadership 21 Transformative Leadership: Key To Viability Andr~e Fries CPPS highlights the qualities of leadership which address the questions of an instimte's own viability. 34 The Call to Spiritual Leaders: Beacons of Hope Gerald L. Brown SS focuses on the qualities and skills and supports which are a neqessary part of spiritual leadership. 46 55 ecumenism Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion James H. Kroeg~r MM takes the paschal mystery as the integrating focus of all evangelization, dialogue, and conversion. AVisit to Taizd Dennis J. Billy CSSR shares an experience of the ecumenical vision of Taiz& Review for Religious 61 70 religious life Has the Renewal of Religious Life Been a Success? Doris Gottemoeller RSMtakes the thirty-year perspective since Vatican Council II to highlight five learnings for a vital religious life. ATable Set by Bold Dreamers Eileen P. O'Hea CSJ relates a planning weekend experience in the province life of a religious community that results in a communion consciousness. viewpoints 75 Turning Over a New Leaf: a New Year's Passage Robert S. Stoudt points the annual human phenomenon of making New Year's resolutions to a more efficacious process. 84 Reflections on Turning Seventy Mary Boyan OSU gives an example of how one "thinks old" and is happy to do so. departments 4 Prisms 87 Canonical Counsel: The Potest~s of Religious Superiors according to Canon 596 92 Book Reviews January-February 1996 prisms As Review for Religious begins 1996 and its fifty-.fifth year of publication, some new aspects will be evident. We are using color highlighting through-out the text. The cover color of each issue will carry through in the banner divisions, the running titles, and the pagination. We hope that just a bit of color through-out will be enhancing to the text and pleasing to the eye. Each issue will not only look a little different, but it will also feel a little different. We are reducing the num-ber of pages to help us face the major raise in paper costs and to cope with the escalating mail costs both nationally and internationally. At our last advisory board meeting, we considered the various options of raising subscription prices, separating out mailing costs, or reducing the num-ber of pages and weight of each issue. One of the reflec-tions from our informal survey of readers was that a Review for Religious which would be a little less hefty in size would at the same time be a little more reader-friendly. Our 160-page size made us twice the size of most journals published bimonthly or even quarterly. And so we opted for a reduction in the number of pages. We will have three or so fewer articles per issue, but the quality will remain. We are also pleased that we can keep the jour-nal coming to our readers at the same subscription price. There is a change noted amo.ng our advisory board members. We are welcoming a married couple, Jim and Joan Felling. Jim and Joan have been very active in parish life both in Canada and in the United States, particularly Revlew for Religious through their involvement with the Christian Life Community. Joan is presently president of the National Federation of Christian Life Communities in the United States. Their longtime interest in lay spirituality, their involvement in the Ignatian retreat move-ment, and their respect for the spirituality heritages which our journal reflects make them valuable additions to our board. As editor I want to express my gratitude for the contribution of Joann Wolski Conn to our board and wish her well in her continued teaching, workshop schedule, and writing. On the inside back cover I call attention to the new director for the Xavier Society for the Blind, Mfred E. Caruana SJ. As I acknowledge Father Caruana, I also want to reemphasize~the availability of each issue of Review for Religious on cassettes to the visually impaired. Readers can note the contact address on the inside back cover. Revie& for Religious also announces the publication of a new book, Ignatian Exercises: Contemporary Annotations. It is Book 4 in The Best of the Review series. Edited by David L. Fleming SJ., the book includes an original introductory a~rticle "Following Christ More Nearly: Discipleship in Ignatian Spirituality" and twenty-eight other articles on vision, conversion, examination, attitude, prayer, discernment, and adaptation. It is meant to be a rich resource book for Ignatian spirituality, and it makes a good com-panion volume to Book 1 6f The Best of the Review, Notes on the Spiritual Exercises of~St. Ignatius of Loyola. The cost is $12.95 plus a $2.00 shipping and handling fee. The book can be ordered only through our editorial offices in St. Louis, Missouri. An order form for the book can be found on the insert page at the back of this 'issue. I fiope that all our readers will enjoy the new look and feel of the new volume in this new year. David L. Fleming SJ JannaD,-Febrlla~7 1996 feature PAUL N. DUCKRO, RANDALL C. FLANERY, AND PHILIP R. MAGALETTA Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context Of the many gifts given to human beings, experiencing a particular event through our various powers of sensation and then finding a depth of meaning in it besides is one of the richest. Events that on the surface are commonplace and repetitive offer strange and deep collaborations with the Spirit. It is from this perspective that the present arti-cle considers the matter of eating, and particularly healthy eating. Most obviously, of course, eating is a biological event in response to the cue of hunger. Eating sustains life by providing necessary nutrients and bulk. But eating is also behavior, a culturally defined activity and experience. There is in it pleasure, social interaction, and ritual for celebration or mourning. Our Scriptures contain many references to important meals. In Exodus 24:11 the encounter with God is itself an occasion marked by eating and drinking. The Gospels are replete with recollections of Jesus in Which eating or Paul N. Duckro, Randall C. Flanery and Philip R. Magaletta may be addressed at The Program for Psychology and Religion; Saint Louis University Health Sciences Center; 1221 South Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63104. This article sum-marizes the content of a seminar offered at Saint Louis University by Randall C~ Flanery PhD, Joseph Gillespie OP, Rabbi James Goodman, Dismas Bonnet OFM, and Paul N. Duckro PhD. The article incorporates freely the content presented by the speakers. In some cases unique contributions of a particular presenter are noted with initials: Review for Religious refraining from eating serve to illustrate realization of the reign of God among us. A ritual meal serves as the occasion for seeking and being brought close to our God; we hunger for the Feast that desires also to be incarnated in us. The Word becomes flesh. Meals, however, may also be occasions for spiritual discipline. Incredibly, this routine behavior, fraught with peril for excess or deprivation, holds also great promise for growth in mind and spirit. Our personal recollections supply many images of eating. For most of us, early memories of food involve parents, brothers and sisters, and our extended family. Eating together is a way of mark-ing both celebration and grief. Our brains record and continue to respond to aromas of food prepared in "the old neighborhood"-- °bread baking, boiling cabbage, simmering sauce, pie cooling on the window sill. The dinner table might bring sensations of full-ness or barely touched hunger, joyful sharing or painful recrim-ination. In these contexts, food takes on meaning that transcends its biological function. It may also serve as a reward for being good, a reassurance of love, a cheery note amid sfldness. The meal may become the means of.healing brokenness or masking it. Issues of control and dependence may be expressed in feeding and being fed. In many dysfunctional families (or religious communities), dining together is "the last fiction of civility," with the group act-ing out much unspoken pain in the practiced rituals of the meal. Early memories get acted out in the way we eat as adults. In reli-gious communities the great variety of personal histories interacts with the prevalent culture of the congregation and is reflected in the variety of ways meals are handled in local communities. Food may be served family style or in a cafeteria line. All may sit down together or each may eat apart. Meals may be'a time, to interact or a time to eat hurriedly. Information may be shared, or discus-sion may be only an unwelcome interruption~of the functioning of teeth, tongue, and throat, The atmosphere may be warm and quiet or cold and noisy. The particular history of the individual contributes mightily to his or her experience of a meal. Present events, however, also play their role. Eating may bear the weight of stifled needs for social intimacy and nurturance. A spiritual emptiness may also become the occasion for a determined effort to fill oneself with food. There is in all of us an empty place that longs for God and Januat~y-Februa~y 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context cannot be filled with any ordinary substance. When we forget this, food can become an addictive substance, a pseudosatisfier. We stuff substances into an emptiness that is never satisfied by sub-stances (JG). When self-denial is the guiding paradigm for life, eating and desire to eat may become obsessive in an effort to satisfy the deprivation. Many of us have learned from others an ambivalence toward physical pleasure and nurturance. There is conflict in bal-ancing self-care and care of others, Enjoying the body may be seen as an obstacle to transcending the body. The instability resulting from such conflicts leads to eating too much or too lit-tle or to alternation between the two extremes (PD~. Culture, too, contributes to the experience of food and its consumption. In North American culture, it is widely held that the" shape of the body is an exhibition of the value and character of the person. Implicit in this beliefoare the following thoughts: that the body is a pliable entity that can be made to conform to any expec-tation, given sufficient effort; that one should exert such effort to shape the body according to the current perceptions of beauty; and that failure to do so indicates that one is either lazy or irre-sponsible, lacking in virtue (RF). Such personal, social, cultural, and spiritual elements con-tribute to the eating experiences of individuals and communities. The elements interact to form our habitual approach to eating. How we~handle or manage them is a function largely of our atten-tion to them. Thei'r effects and the responses we make to them, automatically or consciously, may be biological, behavioral, cog-nitive, affective, or social. These effects and various typical responses to them are. detailed in many sources and serve to focus the clinical treatment'of problematic eating patterns. This article focuses on the spiritual dimensions of healthy eating patterns, Every major faith tradition has developed its own laws regard-ing.' food and eating. In many religions, eating is in itself incor-porated into ritual, transforming it from the mundane to the sacred. Eating is also an occasion for discipline, often in the form of fasting. In the Hebrew Scriptures, fasting is prescribed as a symbolic act of humility and prayer, done in remembrance of God and as repentance for sins. Fasting also prepares people for a great new undertaking. Detachment from the physical makes room for the spiritual. The Christian tradition builds on these considera-tions, adding an emphasis on chastening the 'body. Fasting Review for Religiot¢.¢ becomes a means of purifying the mind and body and of pro-moting an openness to God by linking one with the suffering Christ. Refraining from food also means that the money saved can be given to the poor (DB). In our modern world, these ideas continue to influence the meaning of fasting as a discipline. Christians become more truly "bread for the world" as members of the body of Christ when they limit expenditures for their own food and use the money to provide food for the poor, experiencing in hunger a solidarity with the poor and learning to receive the fruits of the earth without taking them for granted. These experiences are particularly important for those who live in the midst of many resources and in relative comfort (DB). Fasting should not become an end in itself. The desire to suffer can be as much a trap as any other desire, distracting from detachment's true goal, which is to clear the pathway toward authentic love (JG). Severe fasts can focus the mind on the body as much as gluttony can, and even more. Fasting is most likely to lead beyond itself when it is done in moderation and tailored ~to the individual. The goal is to foster a balance, a spirit of detachment, and thus to reduce conflict and ambivalence regarding food. Encountering food consciously is a significant aspect of making progress toward this goal. Severe fasts can focus the mind on the body as much as gluttony can. The Inner Way We describe this conscious encounter with food, with the act of eating, and with attendant phenomena as the inner way, This inner way is a facet of the mystical in each of the major faith tra-ditions. Called by many names (mindfulness, remembrance, aware-ness, contemplation), this way essentially demands cultivating the experiente of the presence of God in all things, although the words and images u_.sed to describe such experience vary ainong religions. The emphasis is on the present moment. In this simple awareness of what is, self and object are transformed; essence is revealed. At table, mindfulness blesses and transforms both the food and the act of eating, elevating the common physical act of eating to holi-ness in the mysticism of the everyday. God dwells where one lets God in (JG). When people do their eating contemplatively, they Januaty-Febt'uaty 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context Food alone, is never "enough"; we eat and are hungry again. find God in their hunger, in the sensations associated with the food, and in those with whom they eat. As Martin Buber says, "One eats in holiness and the table becomes an altar." The inner way also releases us from the repetitive cycles of compulsiveness and addiction. Awareness wakens us from the soporific state from which compulsivity has grown and stands in opposition to the compartmentalization, denial, rationalization, minimization, and automatic behavior that sustain it. In contemplation we are moved by awareness of self and nonself toward conscious choice. ° In a very real sense, most of us have spent much of our waking lives asleep. Many dys-functional patterns of eating originate as if in a dream. They develop gradually, unrecognized by the doer. Hunger of an emotional, social, or spiritual nature is quieted with food, but only temporarily. The hunger must be satisfied more and more fre-quently. When people eat rapidly, the signs of satiation are passed by like highway billboards, seen only in a blur until we are stuffed. Fears of aging, of ugliness, or of sexuality are confused with tak-ing in food and then placated by near starvation. Almost imper-ceptibly the appearance of the body and the regulation of food intake become the primary focus of attention, distracting us from the greater aspects of reality (PD). Applying the inner:'way to the promotion of healthy eating requires developing the habit of awareness with regard to hunger and eating. Htinger becomes a sensation for a person to experience before acting on qt. Desires arising from hunger are to be visual-ized and sorted out in the larger context of health, community, society. Eating is a multifaceted event to be experienced in all its elements, deliberately and slowly. There are the textures, smells, colors, temperatures, tastes of the food itself. The origin of the food might be considered--those who grew it, delivered it, pre-pared it. Buddhist monk and author Thich Nhat Hanh finds "everything in the universe in one tangerine." He recalls that the tangerine began within a tree, on which the fruit appeared and from which someone picked it. "Eating mindfully is a most impor-tant practice in meditation. The purpose of eating is to eat." Those with whom one eats--the congruence or incongruence between sharing this sacred feast and the state of the relation- Review Jbr Religious ships--might be experienced as well. In awareness while eating, we are awake to the food, the self, others, and the Other. A contemplative stance regarding eating is always helpful in bringing this common behavior to fuller experience, experience of life in God. It moves the individual, in itself and in synergy with clinical treatment, toward the goal of moderation in eating. Awareness changes the preconceived notions of how much food one needs to feel satisfied. The concepts of "enough" or "full-ness" are revisited. Food alone is never "enough"; we eat and are hungry again. Food, in the context of the total experience of din-ing, can be part of the experience of "enough," having all that you really need. The practice of full awareness is a discipline. The goal is not fully attainable, and it is the journey rather than the destination that is of importance. Continuing the journey day after day requires the use of behavioral, cognitive, and spiritual tools that facilitate a contemplative attitude vis-?i-vis hunger, food, and eating. Becoming Aware Eating is a richly multidimensional experience touching almost every aspect of life. M.EK. Fisher, quoted at length in the introduction to C.L. Flinders's Enduring Grace, says it well: "It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others . There is commu-nion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine drunk." ~ The ideas we have considered--the biological, social, and spiritual dimensions of hunger, food, and eating--need to be applied to everyday life and are, of course, especially relevant to persons who have some dysfunctional habit regarding food or their body image. Sometimes a dysfunctional eating pattern reaches the point of illness, in itself or in the form of an associ-ated affective disorder, and may call for clinical treatment. When eating becomes illness, the consequences may be even life-threat-" ening. In such cases it is prudent to seek medical and psycholog-ical diagnosis and treatment. We focus here on the gains that are possible when the expe-rience of hunger and the act of eating are made more conscious. (We refer to this heightened consciousness either as awareness, JanuaO,-Febr~ta~y 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context mindfulness, or a contemplative stance with regard to everyday life.) There is much to be gained in developing this contemplative stance, regularly interrupting the automatic habits that have been formed with regard to food and opening up the mysteries of body, mind, and spirit that lie hidden there. In developing awareness, one lays the only foundation for real choice. A contemplative stance in life depends not so much on mov-ing physically away from our usual world as it does on learning and using a fresh perspective on the familiar. It may even be that this learning is best done in the place where the familiar may be found. Awareness is, ~first of all, being present to what is happen-ing now. Eating has behavioral, cognitive, emotional, and social elements that are often ignored when we are caught up in a dys-functional pattern. Persons who to even casual observers appear obsessed with eating may be almost completely unaware of the fact. They wolf down food, violendy avoid it, or alternate between the two. Efforts to suppress the appetite make of it an insistent stranger and even an enemy, causing the house to be at war with itself. Paradoxically, conscious awareness of eating leads, not to preoccupation with food, but to a real integration of food, eating, and body image, to the benefit of the spiritual journey. The indi-vidual becomes more aware of the other hungers sometimes mis-taken for physical hunger, of the other fears that sometimes lie hidden beneath overt fears of being fat or self-indulgent. Approaching the Meal ¯ A primary method for increasing awareness with regard to eating is to get oneself to calm down before meals. The most commonly suggested method is a breathing exercise. This method is easily learned, even by busy persons ,and those who do not take easily to meditation or contemplative prayer. Breathing is in itself a well-rehearsed and automatic act, seldom given consci6us atten-tion in everyday life. It is a rich .experience, however, when given one's full attention, and breathing for relaxation is much more powerful than one might expect such a simple act to be. As the body relaxes, the mind becomes receptive and even the most rigid defenses begin to yield. One sees more clearly and can stop'cling-ing fearfully to illusions of control or predictability. The technique of breathing for relaxation is simple, but not commonly practiced. The goal is effortless deep breathing, breath- Review for Religious ing with the diaphragm, not dramatically expanding the rib cage or elevating the shoulders. Rate and rhythm vary, but the move-ment is toward slow rhythmic breaths, just enough to sustain the body in its current metabolic need. Flexibility is important, allow-ing for adjustments in rate and depth of breathing as needed, avoiding rigid adherence to some "right" way. Taped relaxation exercises may be useful in learning the actual technique so that it can be applied easily and discreetly, even at table. Imagery Breathing for relaxation before eating helps one to be fully present to the meal. Many things are happening at that moment: internal sensations of hunger and reactions to the food and also to the company. You bring with you the context of your day, past or anticipated, with its various emotions, You likewise bring the many habits that you have formed about the process of eating, all ready to be put into motion automatically. Selected use of imagination can enhance the value of the breathing exercise for awareness purposes. The images can vary widely, depending on the need. A few examples may show how this simple adjunct can facilitate relaxed breathing. An image of )qtllness directs attention, to what is alre, ady there. It reminds the body that what is felt as physical hunger may have roots in the psy-chological or spiritual. One is moved to feel more clearly what is already present and satisfying, as well as what is longed for. In turn, food is allowed to be just what it is. As the food is ingested, satiation will be recognized more quickly and accurately, pre-venting the uncomfortable sense of being "stuffed." One knows what is "enough." Thich Nhat Hanh suggests imagining your-self as a mountain lake, deep and still. There is a comfortable sense of fullness as you become this lake in which is contained all of the sky above it. Try this for a moment. As you breathe in, say, "I am a lake," and as you breathe out, "deep and still." In coming to fuller awareness of emotions like frustration, disappointment, or discouragement, an image of flexibility and resilience may be useful. To borrow again from Thich Nhat Hanh, consider a flower along your path, fresh and supple, swaying in the smallest breeze, yet always coming back to face the sun. Imagine yourself as that flower, moved by the smallest breeze, but not broken. See in your reaction to the day a sensitivity that you can Januat.~-Febtvlat~y 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context turn to good, responding even to the quietest whisper from the mouth of God. As you breathe in, say, "I am a flower," and as you breathe out, "fresh." Images that evoke joy have a place in any setting, but they are also very useful as you prepare to eat. Tony de Mello SJ offered a subtle prayer idea: "BEhold God beholding you., and smiling." It can be used as an image eliciting joy. With each inhalation say, "I see the face of God," and with each exhalation, "smiling at me." Smile back, in your heart and on your lips. In this spirit of joy, remember all those who made the food in front of you pos-sible. Remember those who share your table. Anticipate the tastes of the food and also the fullness you will feel. Areas of Change We have discussed a process for becoming more aware or mindful of the act of eating. Awareness is the foundation for choice, allowing for the possibility of change in what has become repetitive and automatic. As you increase awareness, you will encounter many phenomena. The rest of this article considers some of the behaviors, thoughts, and feelings you may encounter. We will emphasize the forms of these phenomena that best serve a conscious and healthy approach to eating. Each time you choose to practice becoming more aware, select one of these areas for special attention. Behaviors Eating slowly has several advantages. By doing so, you are more likely to recognize feeling full before you have overeaten. The message of fullness takes some time to form in the stomach and be recognized in the brain. If you are very busy taking in food, you are likely to miss the earliest indications, and; by the time you do get the message, a considerable amount of food will already be in the "pipeline." Eating slowly also helps make the meal a sensory experience, permitting some attention to be given to the taste, texture, appearance, and aroma of the food. Particular behavioral practices can help make the slower pace of eating seem more natural, even when you are not fully aware of yourself. Develop the habit of letting go of your utensils between mouthfuls, chewing thoroughly before swallowing, and Review for Religious pausing to converse or think throughout the meal. When eating alone, try making of the meal a purely sensory experience, chew-ing, smelling, and of course savoring various items with deliber-ate attentiveness. You may find much to enjoy in what was previously an automatic and essentially neglected activity. Before any meal, your preparation for it offers an opportunity for choices leading to healthier eating. If it is your lot to shop for food for yourself or your local community, shop from a list and avoid shopping when you are very hungry. If you do, you are like-lier to choose foods that really are appropriate and desirable rather than foods that rely on impulse for their appeal. Planning meals is preferable to throwing something together. If you plan when you are full rather than when you are "starving," the chances are that you will have a balanced meal, both in quality and quantity. However, even taking a little time to plan just. before cooking is not wasted. Cooking can itself be a mindless or a mindful activity. Take time to look, smell, and taste (a little), bringing these sensations to your mind and your mind to the sensations. For those with busy schedules, some com-promises are in order. Carrying a low-calorie snack may forestall a desperate (as opposed to planned) run to the candy machine; planning what to eat and drink before a cocktail hour begins may curtail mindless grazing. The challenges are great for those who travel frequently, but even there planning for your nourishment may keep you from reach-ing a state of agitated exhaustion or a sense of deprivation. Food choices are important; what you eat affects how you feel and how healthy your body will be. Although dietary advice from medical science is sometimes frustrating in its fickle incon-stancy, you can follow some basic guidelines. Most of us in the United States get more fat than we need; choosing low-fat foods, avoiding fried foods, trimming or skimming fat can compensate. Seeking vitamins in their natural forms (foods) rather than in the latest dietary supplement is a reliable strategy; vegetables, fruits,. and grains have proved themselves over many centuries. Physical exercise complements a healthy eating pattern. Regular aerobic exercise is desirable, but even consciously increas-ing the amount of activity required to complete our daily tasks Before any meal, your preparation for it offers an opportunity for choices leading to healthier eating. Janua~y-Feblvtaty 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context is helpful. Parking farther away rather than circling to get close to the door, taking stairs rather than waiting interminably for the elevator, walking a mile to our nekt appointment rather than driv-ing and hunting fifteen minutes for a place to park are just a few examples. A body with more muscle and a higher metabolism makes more effective use of what we eat. Thoughts and Feelings Consider your attitude toward your body. For many people, the body is experienced almost as "notself." Appetites like hunger may be viewed as "enemy," the body an object to be controlled or modified or concealed because of your feelings of shame about this or that feature of it: A particularly destructive way to expe-rience your body is to see it as a public and decisive measure of your self-worth. Achieving a particular physical appearance or following a specific dietary regimen becomes a testimony to your quality as a human being. It can even become a moral question. My body identifies me as a morally superior being or, conversely, publicly demonstrates my inferiority. From these premises, fail-ure to achieve the desired body image or follow the ideal diet can overshadow many positive qualities and can lead to a pervasive sense of inadequacy, a mood of depression. A healthier alternative is to cultivate proactively a true appre-ciation for your body, valuing it for its varied qualities, seeing in it the image of God. Contemplation of its complexities and the many functions carried out each moment, making your very phys-ical life possible, is a wonderful way to become reacquainted with this aspect of yourself. Be aware of your reaction to each part or function. Ask yourself how you came to feel this way. Review your history with this part or function. Remind yourself of the good it has done you or others. Consider what harm. you may have done or continue to do to it. Think of yourself in ~relationship to each part, imperfect but all yours, and consider how you wish to relate. Self-esteem is possible when we not only see what we might be, but also love what we are. In addition to attitudes toward the body, consider your atti-tudes toward foods and eating itself. We carry decided, but often unconscious, judgments about what we eat, when we eat, and why. At any given time certain foods are labeled "bad" or "good" for us. The judgments may be deeply ingrained and long-standing, or Review Jbr Religious they may change in harmony with the whirling carousel of inedia reports on the latest killer food. Ideally, we begin to develop a continuum in our attitudes toward foods to replace this dichoto-mous thinking. Any food can be more positive or negative depend-ing on many things, including the amount, our physical condition, available exercise, and (not least) our authentic desire for it. Our eating also has a decided pattern or rhythm to it, even if it can only be described as chaotic. Our hunger may be dichotomized or blended with other motives. We may experience ourselves only as "starved" or "stuffed." Such sensations bring with them a sense of urgency, requiring some immediate response. Try these two exercises. When you feel starved, wait five min-utes with the sensations. As you sit with them, transform them from a drive to ingest food immediately to an experience that will enhance the taste of the food you are about to enjoy. If you reg-ularly feel stuffed, stop eating for a few moments halfway through your meal. As you converse with those around you, observe your sensations for a few moments and see how close you are to being full. Hunger may reflect desires other than pleasure and the bio-logical need for sustenance; food may become medicine for lone-liness or a stopper for anger. In this way, eating may become a coping response for emotional distress, tension, or deprivation. The effort to soothe the disquiet with food may bring short-term relief. Long-term, it simply misses the mark and brings with it additional undesired consequences'. In this: dichotomizing or blending of physical hunger with emotion, we lose touch with the ever changing quality of our desire for food itself and increase our chances of eating too.much or too little. Being in communion with our feelings gives us the opportu-nity to perceive more clearly the multifaceted nature of our hungers. In so doing, We are better able to recognize that we are physically full even while we remain hungry emotionally or spir-itually. Each of us has a natural physiological regulatory mecha-nism that directs the sensations of hunger and satiation. (Dysfunction of this system appears to be possible, but is a sub-ject for another time.) We can, however, become deaf to its mes-sage: "Enough." Other hungers can be expressed indirectly in the desire for more food. Slowing down enough to listen, we may yet hear its still, small voice faithfully calling. As with most aspects of the self, the best response to non- Jantmt3,-Febt'uaty 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context food hungers is not to suppress them, but to become more aware of them. Using a diary,or some other way of becoming alert to our sensations, thoughts, and feelings regularly throughout the day is a reliable way to learn what food we truly need and what hungers of ours reflect emotional drives. A careful review of thoughts and feelings associated with specific eating practices, especially habits that. are extreme (too little or too much), can be revealing. We may learn that consumption beyond basic nutritional needs is routinely preceded by unpleasant interpersonal events such as conflict, or negative internal states such as anger, loneliness, and deprivation. Food can come to be used to alter such unpleasant feelings or as a substitute for an unfilled emotional or spiritual need. A particularly common response to emotional deprivation includes filling oneself with food rather than seeking out emo-tional succor from family and friends. In the extreme, this can develop into a form of compulsive overeating. When recognized, emotional or spiritual needs can be addressed more directly-- loneliness, with a call to a friend; agitation, with a walk; bore-dom, with a purpose; shame, with apology and forgiveness. Social Discussion of the elements of eating must include our imme-diate social environment. Human relationships and eating are closely connected; our word companion derives from the Latin "bread with (someone)." Eating alone may be necessary and can be beneficial, but dining is enhanced by good company. Good com-pany is defined not simply by the goodness of the fellow diner, but als0 by the goodness of the relating that is done over the meal. Opening yourself to the other person interacts synergistically with your efforts to open your senses to the food, your mind to your behaviors, and your heart to constructive thoughts and feelings. In his instructions for making the Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius of Loyola suggests that solitary retreatants imagine Jesus dining at table with his disciples as a model for their own behavior when they are again eating in the company of other people. Conclusion In this article we have discussed various intellectual insights, behavioral practices, and emotional, cognitive, and social factors Review Jbr Religious that promote healthy eating. We have used the development of a contemplative awareness of eating as a unifying theme for the various specific suggestions. Contemplation is not a practice reserved for extended periods of silence or done only during retreats far from the pace of daily life. It is a practice for every day. One of the most beautiful images of the contemplative grasp of things in everyday life is the holding of a bird within cupped hands. Held too tightly, the bird is crushed; too lightly, it flies away. When this image is applied to eating, the need for strict rules or limits falls away. One is called simply to be present to the eating and to choose consciously. Awareness extends even to being pres-ent to our~inattentiveness. When we do find our-selves eating mindlessly or thinking dichotomously, we should, as Tilden Edwards says, not be quick to judge. Rather, we gently smile, notice what we are doing, pray for help and guidance, and "subtly loosen [our] bonds to inattentive appetite." From Jack Kornfield, psychotherapist and Buddhist teacher, comes another image of the gen-tle persistence required to learn mindfulness: train-ing a puppy. When the puppy inevitably wanders away or becomes distracted, it does little good to yell, scare it, and have it wet the floor. It is much better to lift the puppy gen-tly off the floor and bring it back to the task at hand. Made conscious, the mundane act of eating emerges from the mist of the commonplace and takes on new meanings. Four points will serve to summarize what we have been saying in this article. First, eat intentionally rather than automatically. Slow down. Start with breathing. Bring to the experience images of the mental state you desire. Enter the experience in all its dimensions--sensory, emotional, cognitive, social, and spiritual. Practice sometimes being conscious of each step in eating, even a single bite or swal-low. Follow your arm as you lift the fork, your hand as you grasp the glass. Second, be aware of the many people who contributed to the food before you. Feel gratitude for the growing of the grain, its processing and shipping. Remember those who prepared and served the food that day. Take note of the many events interwoven with this single meal as you look about the table or dining room. Eating alone may be necessary and can be beneficial, but dining is enhanced by good company. ~Tamtaty-Februaly 1996 Duckro ¯ Healthy Eating in a Spiritual Context Consider the miracle of your being able to taste and enjoy, to eat until you are satisfied. Resolve to make this satisfaction possible for more people and to become yourself bread for others. Third, bring to consciousness your thoughts and feelings regarding the food, your hunger, your body. Be sure you really want such thoughts,0and address them directly if they are trou-blesome. Unduly harsh self-criticism or self-deprivation only fur-thers any dysfunctional pattern of eating that might be present. If you feel on the brink of starvation, wait a moment and see whether you really are about to faint. If you find yourself despising your body for any reason, breathe, relax your muscles, and feel your spirit permeating your body. Fourth, whatever you do, do it patiently and lovingly. The alJproach to mindfulness itself must be mindful, with tolerance for the very gradual and sometimes erratic awakening to which human beings ~usually seem prone. (Think of the ambivalent desires you may have experienced as you awake early on some winter morning. Persistent movement in the right general direc-tion is all that counts.) In this way we may find that, like other activities of life, eating can in itself be part of the prayer without ceasing. Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection was a cook for his abbey. He had many opportunities to find God in the prepara-tion, cooking, and serving of food. We might recall him and share his desire to "worship God the oftenest I could, keeping my mind on his holy presence and recalling it as often as I found it wan-dered from him." References Edwards, T. Living Simply through the Day, New York: Paulist Press, 1977. Flinders, C.L. Enduring Grace: Living Portraits of Seven Women Mystics. New York: HarperCollins, 1993. Hanh, T.N. The Miracle of Mindfidness. Beacon, Massachusetts: Beacon Press, 1975. Lawrence of the Resurrection, Brother. The Practice of the Presence of God (D. Attwater, trans.). Springfield, Illinois: Templegate, 1962. ReviewforReligious ANDRI~E FRIES Transformative Leadership: Key to Viability "Now on that same day two of the disciples were going to a village called Emmaus . . . talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus him-self came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" (Lk 24:13-17). Jesus is our model for viable religious leadership. The Emmaus story gives us insight into his style of leading. He approaches the disciples with questions and leads them to reflect on and retell their experience. Through further questioning, he assists them in realizing how their expe-rience enfleshes what the prophets foretold. Jesus ulti-mately leads them to recognize God in their midst and sends them with burning hearts to share the good news with others. This article seeks to show how we can pattern our leadership after Jesus on the Emmaus journey, focusing on the importance of leadership to an institute's viability. What is our story of leadership? What is happening to us along the way? What questions does our experience raise? How are we being called to respond, as individuals and as conferences? Andr4e Fries CPPS is general superior of the Sisters of the Most Precious Blood (O'Fallon). As president of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) she made the presen-tation which is the substance of this article at the August 1995 assembly. Her address is 204 North Main Street; O'Fallon, Missouri 63366. leadership ~anuat~-Febrttaty 1996 Fries * Transformative Leadership We, too, have been on the way these days, listening ponder-ing, talking and discussing transformative leadership for the new millennium. Leadership is especially important for us in these times. As leaders we must address the very question of the future viability of our institutes. Since my years of service at the Tri- Conference Retirement Office, I have been intrigued by the ques-tion of what is necessary for a religious institute to be viable. Clearly, financial resources are not the sole determinant of this viability, but what other elements are needed? My reflections cen-ter on an insight highlighted during a November 1994 "Think Tank on the Viability of Religious Institutes" co-sponsored by Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), National Association of Treasurers of Religious Institutes (NATRI), and the Tri-Conference Retirement Office (TCRO). This "Think Tank" used an interdisciplinary approach to explore the question of viability. An interdisciplinary team reflected with the leaders of institutes that had directly addressed institutional viability. The team discovered that the quality of leadership is the single most impor-tant factor in an institute's viability, whether that was a sense of clear direction for the fitture or an increased corporate depression resulting from still unresolved questions of viability. Five cases were presented; in each we saw that the caliber of the leaders significantly impacted the results. If a high quality of leadership is the indispensable key to ongo-ing viability, is the reverse also true? Is weak leadership a pre-dictor that viability will be lost? These are serious, sobering questions, and the stakes are high for the future of our institutes and of religious life. What is Our Story of Leadership? Each of us has lived through a radical redefinition of leader-ship in our religious institutes. A friend of mine recently said, only partly in jest, "I wish I had been provincial in the days when a sister brought the superior tea in the afternoon and ironed her wimple." Even the terminology superior seems jarring today, since our experience of leadership has shifted from a hierarchical to a relational model. As ambiguous as this relational model may be when we are faced with the daily challenges of leadership, the transformation we have experienced in religious leadership is con-sistent with the model Jesus gives us in the Gospels. In the Review for Religious Emmaus story, Jesus leads the disciples out of confusion, despair, and paralysis to zeal for mission, not by lecturing them on what to do, but by asking questions, making connections, and helping them to discover the way in mutual dialogue. This leadership paradigm shift is not unique to religious life. We do not. live in a vacuum. We are called to leadership in a world radically different from that of our founders. We live in the "information age," and in our post modern world more than ever before "information is power." Everyone has access to an overwhelming amount of information. No longer do only the leaders have the infor-mation essential for decision making. As a result leaders of religious institutes are no longer perceived to have superior informa-tion, thus not retaining the credibility to make decisions in isolation from membership and other collaborators in mission. United States culture seems riddled with suspicion and disdain for our elected leaders, This is the age of the talk show: Everyone has an opinion; everyone is an expert; and, there are no taboo subjects. Distrust of leaders is in the very air we breathe. Religious are not exempt from its influence. The plethora of contemporary writing and research on lead-ership is quite consoling. We can learn much from the new insights on leadership, some coming from unlikely sources. For example, Margaret Wheatley in Leadership the New ScienceI applies findings of science, namely quantum mechanics, chaos, and frac-tal theory, to the ambiguity and the complexity of situations which leaders face. Overwhelming amounts of unrelated information produce chaos; however, the relationship of all this information creates a new synergistic energy out of the chaos. Quantum physics posits that relationships, not things, are the basic build-ing blocks of matter. Physicists have discovered that chaos always conforms to a boundary within which information interacts as the primal, creative force. Systems fall apart by design so they can renew themselves according to an invisible organizing pur-pose. The disequilibrium of chaos creates new possibilities for evolutionary growth. God truly does hover over the chaos! Toffler proposes that the information explosion requires a Transformative leadership calls us, as leaders of religious institutes, to be eager learners, inviting our members to learn with us. Januaty-Febtv~aty 1996 Fries * Transformative Leadership well developed intuition in order to cut through the complexity and discover relationships and connections. A leader must not only understand each piece of information but also be able to make the intuitive leap and connect seemingly unrelated infor- ~nation.2 Peter Block believes that the ability to articulate these con-nections clearly is what gives the leader influence and power. Block claims that the balance of power between the leader and the group is the issue.3 Interdependence means that the leader and the group are connected in a way that balances the power between them. Wheatley claims that the power in organizations is the capacity generat.ed by relationships (note 3, p. 38). The leader's task is to share information in a way that provides clarity, highlights connections, and promotes dialogue. Peter Senge in The FiSh Discipline develops the theory of the learning organization. He believes that the key function of lead-ership is to facilitate vision-driven, value-based learning in the . group. "Leaders are responsible for building organizations where people continually expand their capabilities to understand com-plexity, clarify vision, and improve shared mental models--that is, they (leaders) are responsible for learning.''4 Unfortunately few women have written specifically on lead-ership. However, feminist insights provide a model of leadership in which relationships are paramount. In the feminist model, information and power flow in a circular rather than hierarchical motion. Relationships are dynamic and synergistic, respectful and creative, inclusive and purposeful. As Max Dupree writes, "Leadership is an art, something to be learned over time., more a weaving of relationships than an amassing of information.''5 Transformative leadership calls us, as leaders of religious insti-tutes, to be eager learners,0inviting our members to learn with us. The art of leadership is to engage others in the mysterious chaotic dance of the journey, a dance of interdependence and fidelity to God's ongoing call. What Questions Does Our Experience Raise? On the way to Emmaus, Jesus led by asking 'questions, help-ing the disciples to make connections with the scriptures to dis-cover the true meaning of the events they had experienced. What can we learn by relating our questions to our experience Review for Religious and the information available so we lead in a way that fosters transformation and viability? It seems to me that leadership ques-tions are particularly challenging for us in three areas: (1) mean-ing and mission, (2) community and relationships, and (3) leadership and structures. Meaning and Mission I sense in the members of our institutes a profound search for meaning, a sense of dis-ease coming from the feeling of"drift-ing" in these times of incredible change and challenge. Sandra Schneiders IHM wonders if this experience is akin to the dark night of the soul, a dangerous and purificatory process from the known to a radically new experience of God.6 However, there are no easy answers to the essential identity questions--"Who are we?" and "What are we called to do together?" We struggle with a desire to participate in a clear cor-porate mission, yet our members feel called to meet new needs often beyond our present institutional commitments. This uneasi-ness about our corporate mission is especially poignant in the face of our aging membership and dwindling resources. We have no models for leadership in a time of diminishment. We know that we can no longer define ourselves by what we do, by our works. Yet what is the reality that we can grasp and own together, now, as this religious institute? We yearn for a sense of uniqueness, yet we seem to have more diversity within many insti-tutes than among institutes. Our members embody diversity, even pluralism, in basic val-ues and beliefs. The information age and the availability of mul-tiple opportunities for learning have resulted in different ecclesiologies, theologies, styles of worship, and community liv-ing among our members. This is uncomfortable. How can we get our arms around this in a meaningful way? Leaders hfive a respon-sibility to facilitate each individual's vision so together the group can create a corporate vision which inspires a strong sense of cor-porate mission. We need to lead through this diversity. The ultimate test of leadership lies in the ability to address the question of the institute's own viability. The question "Are we dying?" lurks in the heart of many of our members. The uncer-tainty subtly eats away at enthusiasm for mission, even at the esprit de corps of the group. ~anuaty-Febtwaty 1996 Fries ¯ Tran~Cormative Leadership The question of viability is never answered once and for all. The answer we had yesterday is not the answer for .today, and probably wil.l not be the answer in another twenty-five years. However, we are entrusted with leadership today. How can we raise the viability questions of today, questions that revolve around the availability of a future pool of leaders, of a critical mass of members for mission and of sufficient financial resources to sus-tain our needs, assist our'members' personal growth and support our mission? If there is not reasonable hope of identifying future leaders, of responding to real needs in mission, of providing for the sustenance and enrichment of members, our institute may not be viable. How can we lead if the institute is not viable cur-rently or in the immediate future? On the other hand, how can we lead to enhance our viability into the future? Wheatley writes that the only route out of chaos is for lead-ers to give voice and form to the search for meaning (note 3, p. 13 5). Charlotte Roberts believes that leaders must give voice to an organization's emotional tension, anxiety, fear, and frustration, and then shift the attention to vision and core identity.7 1 believe that unless we assume leadership in addressing these questions of meaning and purpose as well as in gaining greater clarity, focus and ownership of our corporate mission, any attempts to address viability will be superficial. Community and Relationships Community life in apostolic institutes is under incredible pressure. No longer do we have the luxury of predictable, similar schedules and horariums. We serve in partnership with laity as professionals in a culture where professionalism is a demanding endeavor. We serve in a world harried by time pressures and, like many families, we rarely have the luxury of a meal together, much less of quality time for prayer and community. Many of our active members are part of the "sandwich generation" with obligations to elder parents as well as to community and ministry. Time is a very scarce resource! The individualism of our culture also challenges us as leaders. It is probably naive to believe that many of us will ever com-pletely escape the strong influence of individualism. It may be more realistic for us as leaders to build on the strengths our mem-bers have developed as a result of individualism. Theoretically, Review for Religious the good of the individual contributes to the good of the whole, creating synergistic energy for both. The challenge comes in bal-ancing these two sometimes competing goods in specific situa-tions. How can we as leaders assist our members to recognize and deal with the "hot buttons" set off when the rubber of indi-vidualism hits the road of communal good? How do we encourage new models of community that realis-tically address these very real situations and promote practical opportunities for authentic community life? Leaders are respon-sible to foster community structures oriented to accountability for values and mission. We must discover new models and sym-bols of community that capture our imagination and transform our energies. Jesus, our model for leadership, transformed the fatigue and distress of the disciples on the way to Emmaus into new energy and eagerness to share with the others in commu-nity. Jesus' example suggests that leaders must constantly search for what enables individuals and groups to reach their potential. Another challenge comes from the movement to offer oth-ers partnership in our spirit and mission. Associate programs and relationships have been a source of life for many institutes in the midst of dwindling vowed membership. However, the purpose of associate programs is not to assuage our sorrow by compensating for our lack of vocations, but rather to share our spirituality and mission with others as a faith community. In our desire to be collaborative, open, and inclusive, we may be blurring the distinction between vowed members and associ-ates. The boundaries of membership seem diffused, even leaky at times. Without clarity of who we are together as vowed mem-bers, it is difficult to define the identity of the associates. We seem to be clear that associates participate with vowed members in spirituality and mission. Tensions arise, however, when some of us believe that associates should participate in our internal forum, having equal access with vowed members to decision making about our lives together without having the same accountability to live the consequences. How can we reclaim a clear sense of corporate identity, meaning, and mission if the very concept of member-ship is fuzzy and uneven? Clearly there are many unanswered questions about the impact of associate programs as we move into the next millen-nium. Perhaps as Margaret Brennan IHM suggests, our associate members are a sign that we are on the verge of discovery of new ]anualy-FebrttaO, 1996 Fries * Tran~lCormative Leadership forms of religious life.8 If we are moving to a new form, let us not drift into the future, but consciously choose to broaden the meaning of membership. Leaders need to raise these membership questions because their implications impact dramatically on meaning, purpose, and mission, and thus on the future of the institute. As Wheatley writes, "A leader's task is to focus on the overall coherence of the organization, which requires one very important thing: genuine attention to the core identity.''9 Leadership and Structures The predominant form of governance in religious institutes today is one of broad participation. We have labored long and hard to design structures that provide for the participation of each member. In our eagerness to provide opportunities for each member to participate in decision making, we have tried all sorts of structures and group processes. This has produced many bless-ings, significant bonding, and a deeper understanding of.issues, but it also is fraught with the danger of overload for both leaders and members. All too often this participation contributes to our being co-opted into a culture of hectic busyness, a culture in which con-templation, ongoing formation and health suffer, and in which burnout is all too common. Participation is a mixed blessing-- but we are learning from our experience. What are we learning? We are being more selective about which issues or questions are best dealt with by the total mem-bership and which are best left to leadership. The process of dif-ferentiating between these two categories is critical. One of the most important moments for group participation is that of choos-ing which issues are so important for the future that an inclusive group process must be developed. There are very many issues competing for our members' energy and attention. The critical choice is: Shall the whole group participate in many decisions and thus risk dealing only on the surface, or go into depth together on a few issues where the questions connect at a deeper level? If the membership reaches consensus on which issues are key for the group participative processes, leadership is freed to address the many other issues facing the institute, Leaders are empowered to lead, to move forward on other issues. It is essential to trans- Review for Religiotts formation, to viability, that leaders actually lead. There is indeed a time for everything under the sun, a time for participating and a time for empowering, a time for consensus building and a time for risking new frontiers. Another challenge in some institutes is to find a pool of persons willing to serve as leaders. Why is this? Some cite tensions in deal-ing with the church as too de-energizing. Others question if lead-ership can be an effective ministry in today's climate of equality and participation that seems to disempower leadership. Leadership may be seen as para-lyzed, fearful to make decisions because of the expectations of the members to be con-suited, or.the complexity of the issues and ambiguity of this time of transformation. Still others withdraw from a leadership nomina-tion fearing that a long absence from their professional life would make reentry into that ministry difficult if not impossible, especially in our culture of ageism and sexism. If having a pool of available leaders is essential for an institute's future viability, we need to face these serious challenges and find ways to encourage and develop future lead-ers. We must witness that leadership is an attractive life-giving ministry rather than a burden to be endured. If we portray leader-ship as a challenging and rewarding~ ministry, we can make a dif-ference in the willingness of others to serve as lea~ters in the future. Another structural question impacting leadership is the grow-ing preference for a team style of leadership with or without a designated team leader. I cannot imagine being in leadership today without a team. We continue to learn that team leadership is an area of great promise and equally great challenge. But tea,n is an ambiguous, concept, and is interpreted in many ways. During a job interview at a Fortune 500 company, a hotshot project man-ager was asked if he was a "team player." "Yes," he replied, "the team captain." l0 Leadership theorists recognize that collaborative relation-ships-- those marked by mutual learning and shared creation-- are at the core of innovation. A team strticture provides an Leaders need to raise membership questions because their implications impact dramatically on meaning, purpose, and mission, and thus on the future of the institute. .]anttat.'!,-Febrt~aD, 1996 Fries ¯ Tran~Cormative Leadership environment in which this learning and creativity can be fos-tered." Because of the time required to build a team, opting.for team leadership may mean delegating some tasks to other staff. In some cases th~se may include relating with sponsored institutions, col-laborating with others, dealing with administrative tasks and pro-viding services for individual members and local communities. For effective delegation, authority must be commensurate with respon-sibility, and accountability clearly defined. Without these clear boundaries, there may be overlap of "turf," "end runs" bypassing staff and appealing directly to leaders. Ultimately this leads to inef-fective administration. Additional staff necessitates the allocation of both financial and human resources from other institute priorities, such as mis-sion and enrichment of members. It is impossible to have "your cake" (the team) and "eat it too." (conserve the resources), To attempt to do both will totally frustrate team members with impossible expectations and responsibility overload. For most institutes, balancing the value of a team approach with other pri-orities is a challenging issue. Members wonder why it takes so many more persons to administer what fewer did with larger membership. Another issue in the team model is that roles and thus respon-sibility can be unclear. Sometimes we are tempted to posit that all team roles are equal in leadership responsibility and in ultimate accountability. This raises the question if there is value added by having a designated team leader? Surely each team member shares leadership.'It is not an either/or question of either have a team or have a designated leader. In my experience, having both opens the possibility of a more effective creative team leadership. Doris Gottemoeller referencing St. Paul (Ga 3:27-28, 1 Co 12:4-11), calls us "to hold in perennial tension two poles: equal-ity and diversity, or unity and distinctiveness of function or roles."'2 Mary Catherine Bateson writes "the ethical impulse of American culture is toward symmetry., asserting that a given kind of difference (of roles) is, or should be, irrelevant. When we call symmetry equality, it is both our best and our worst.pas, sion." ,3 Richness and newness come from the synergistic interplay of the symmetrical and asymmetrical, from diversity and differ-entiation in gifts and roles, from the leadership exercised by a team with distinct but complementary roles. Review for Religiolts Peter Block concludes that the key issue is how the desig-nated leader chooses to relate to the team (note 5, p. 31). An effective team uses a collaborative style with consensus decision making. The leader does not centralize the power or the point of action. In the feminine image of the circle, the wheel moves around a hub to keep the rim from flying off in all directions. Analogously, I believe the designated leader has an added dimen-sion of responsibility to provide a safe environment for the whole team to "create visions; where inquiry and commitment to truth are the norm and challenging the status quo is expected.''~4 The team leader keeps diverse energies connected, unified, and mov-ing in the same direction. Yet the momentum comes from within the whole team. Another rationale for designating a team leader is that our publics perceive the designated leader as the one who is ulti-mately responsible. "The buck stops here," as we say in Missouri. Given the reality of public accountability for the group's action, must the leader always do the will of the group, be that the con-sensus of the team or of the membership? This is a difficult issue, but one that touches on the integrity of the leader and of the team and the delicate balance of the value of communio with the prophetic. How Are We Being Called To Respond. As Individual Leaders By now, I'm sure that you are quite aware that transformative leadership is an impossible responsibility unless we realize this is not our work, but God's. A leader today must be above all a per-son of spiritual intensity. Jerry Brown's reflections address the qualities and skills as well as the. personal supports needed by spiritual leaders. (see pp. 34-35 in this issue). I can attest from my own experience that leadership is impossible without God's grace. The grace of office still exists, perhaps not in the form we once learned. I experience the grace of office as the spurt of stamina that comes when I feel that I can't take or do one more thing, the courage to act in the face of fear or opposition, the surprising words that come out of my mouth in a complex situa-tion, the strength to persevere in the dying of the paschal mystery with hope for the resurrection, Fries ¯ Transformative Leadership A leader is challenged: 1) to be a learner, a person centered enough to listen, to hear, to read, to ponder, to dream, to make connections, to dialogue, to change, to hold fast; 2) to be a,communicator, clearly conveying a sense of mean-ingfulness, connecting the present with the past and future, and building enthusiasm for ,blazing new trails; 3) to be a unifier, a symphony conductor who artistically draws forth the music of each person, blends the tones, keeps the rhythm and orchestrates the crescendos and diminuendos; 4) to lead, making decisions that courageously balance the purpose of the institute with the good of the individual member, all for the sake of mission; a leader takes risks'and keeps asking the deeper questions; 5) to he enthusiastic about the ministry of leadership dur-ing this time of transformation so as to encourage others to be available for l.eadership; 6) to do as Jesus did on the way to Emmaus, be visible, sup-porting, listening~ questioning, exploring implications, shar-ing information, making~connections and breaking bread with companions on the journey. As Leadership Conferences In addition to what we can do as individual leaders, what can we ask of our conferences? I suggest three Practical directions, and invite you to add your own wisdom.' I challenge our conferences to: 1) create a program and process to mentor leaders, 2) aid leaders in dealing with the issue of viability, 3) assist in developihg a pool of future leaders for religious institutes. Summary and Conclusion I pray that our sharing will continue to "open our eyes," so we may recognize Jesus' continuing presence in us, with us. With our hearts burning within us, let us go forward with enthusiasm to proclaim "Jesus is truly risen and is among us." Notes 1 See Margaret J. Wheatley, Leadership and the New Science: Learning About Organizations from an Orderly Universe, (New York: Berrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc., 1994), p. xi and Chapter One. Review for Religious ~ Alvin Toffler, Power Shift: Knowledge, Wealth, and Violence at the Edge of the~ 21st Century, (New York: Bantam Doubleday, Dell Publishing Group, 1990), pp. 175, 178, 195. 3 Peter Block, Stewardship: Choosing Service Over Self-Interest, (San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler Publishing, Inc., 1993). 4 Peter Senge, The Fifth Discipline: The Art and Practice oft& Learning Organization, (New York: Bantam Doubleday, Dell Publishing Group, Inc., 1990), especially Chapters 1, 9-12. s Max Dupree,.Leadersbip is an Art, (New York: Dell Publishing, 1989), p. 3. 6 Cassian Yuhaus CP, editor, The Challenge for Tomorrow's Religious Life, (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1994), p. 12. 7 Charlotte Roberts, "Building a Learning Community," a workshop held 23 June 1995 based on The Fifth Discipline Field Book, (New York: Bansta Mm aDrgoaurbelte'd Bayre, nDnealln P IuHbMlis,h "inAg WGrhoiutep ,L Iingch.,t 1a9n9d4 S).till Moving": Religious Life at the Crossroads of the Future" from The Challenge for Tomorrow's Religious Life, p. 103. 9. Margaret J. Wheatley, "Quantum Management," Working Women Magazine, October, 1994. ~0 Michael Schrage, "Manager's Journal," Wall Street Journal, 19 June 1995. ~ Peter Senge, note 6 in Leadership and the New Science. ~2 Doris Gottemoeller RSM, "A Vision for the Church of 2010," Address given at Heronbrook House, England, May, 1995. Available in Origins (USCC, Washington, D.C.), Vol. 25, no. 9, pp. 149-152). ~3 Mary Catherine Bateson, Composing a Life, (New York: Penguin Group, 1990), Chapter 6. 14 Peter Senge, in Stewardship: Choosing Service over Self-hlterest, note 5, p. 172. Plain Speech and Mystic Grammar I tend to small things, through you, with you, in you, and look for small things by and from and of you. The small, small things. Prepositions are my best words, sheer relation. Michele Cruvant Janua~y-FebrnaO, 1996 GERALD L. BROWN The Call To Spiritual Leaders: Beacons of Hope Tcvisionary theologian, Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini, hbishop of Milan, recently noted that religious leaders have to face three types of problems, "internal problems, external problems, and transcendent problems or transcendent questions." By internalproblems Cardinal Martini means struggles we face daily within our own organizations, such as attracting vocations, setting priorities, constructing strategic plans or handling con-flicts in community. Religious leaders will find their own way of overcoming or mastering these problems. However, much more important is that, when dealing with these internal problems, we need to "give space to the second and third type of problems." Externalproblems are "the great issues common to all human-ity." Cardinal Martini mentions war and peace, violence among peoples and groups, defense of human life, sickness and hunger, the great immigrations, problems of ecology, and tensions in soci-ety between social or ethnic groups. He urges us to approach pressing external problems as religious leaders, as men and women of faith, "grtunded in God's revelation." We are not called to be politicians, government leaders, lobbyists, or social engineers. However, Martini insists that transcendent problems are "our real and main concern" as religious leaders. He means: the main themes of all religions: God, salvation, prayer, adoration, faith, and hope, forgiveness, life after death, justice, charity., every other question, no matter how Gerald L. Brown SS, provincial of the Society of the Priests of Saint Sulpice, presented the reflections in this article as the president of the Conference of Major Superior of Men (CMSM) at the August 1995 assembly. His address is 5408 Roland Avenue; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. Review for Religious important it might look, depends ultimately on these tran-scendent questions and themes. Inevitably, we must deal with internal issues and confront external problems in secular society. But, above all, we must be concerned with the transcendent questions and themes which "all people need to face." They belong to the essence of being men and women in this world, even if some secular societies place some restraint on publicly discussing them. Last year, my presidential address kicked off a national campaign, the "Shalom Strategy," a project which is part of a larger campaign to promote human rights. I dealt with one of today's most painful and frightening external prob-lems, the violence we all experience in the homes, streets, and institutions of our society. Of course, the problem of vio-lence is also internal. Our own commu-nities have room to grow in mutual respect and tolerance. In calling the Conference to action, I appealed to a survey of our members that showed our desire to network when tack-ling complex and urgent social problems. We cannot operate alone or in a vacuum--the stakes are too high, the issues too complex. This sense of realism matched the sobering message of Nygren and Ukeritis that consecrated life will not survive as a social insti-tution in the church unless we address certain unmet human needs corporately and collectively and learn how to move beyond the necessary maintenance of our communities to the corporate mis-sion of transformation within society. However, if our efforts as a Conference are paying off, (and they are; we are moving, and we are learning), it is because, on the deepest level, we are addressing what Cardinal Martini calls "tran-scendent problems," in this case, the hunger for inner peace and communal harmony, the need for dignity, respect, and a place in building God's reign and, above all, the yearning to know, on every human and institutional level, God's all-embracing love. Indeed, before all else, in our campaign for human rights and for a peaceful world, we are touching the deepest longings of the I want to talk about a spirituality for the religious leader, a way of life that enables us to hold in creative tension the internal, the external, and the transcendent. Jantlat.3,-l:ebt'ttat~y 1996 Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders human heart. In countless and measurable ways, the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) does the same. Building on Cardinal Martini's provocative insights and on our combined efforts as Conferences, I want to take a step further, to talk about a spirituality for the religious leader, a way of life that enables us to hold in creative tension the internal, the external, and the transcendent, a way that can fuel our corporate and col-lective efforts at social transformation. I will move through two stages: (1) What spiritual qualities and skills are needed in today's religious leaders, and (2) How are these qualities and skills developed and nurtured? Another way.of putting these two questions might be: What kind of person do w~e want to be, and how do we pull it off?. I. Qualities and Skills for Spiritual Leadership There are five signs of an authentically spiritual leader. Such a personis vitally aware, relational in vision and style, honest and principled, able to live comfortably with tensions and obviously in love with God in the Spirit of Christ Jesus. I draw from the Nygre~n/Ukeritis study on outstanding leaders, from books and articles on spirituality, leadership, and spiritual leaders and from my own experience as a :leader who learns from other leaders. Before I begin, let me offer a caution. None of us will do equally well all that I suggest. Listen to my remarks with human, compassionate ears and take what I say as ideals towards which we all must strive. The inspiring leaders I know are persons with heightened awareness. They see and hear more. They notice more keenly than others the needs and motives of the groups they lead and are more open to the graces of people they serve. They read the signs of the times objectively and with empathy, what Wordsworth calls seeing '~into the life of things." Moreover, these leaders tend to see God everywhere, "in the living geometry of a flower, a seashell, an animal . . . in the love and gentleness, the confidence and humility, which give beauty to the relationships between human beings" (Aldous Huxley). They see God in noise and quiet, in light and dark, in the poetic and the mundane, in the giggles of children at play, in the silent stares of Review for Religiom" the homeless begging in the streets or in the dulled eyes of func-tionaries aimlessly on the move. Above all, they sense the God who dwells and speaks within. These leaders are vitally aware persons in touch with "the deep heart's core," to use the words of Yeats. As a result, they influence others more through their being than through their accomplishments. ¼re all know people like this. Relational Vision and Style This fine-tuned awareness helps spiritual leaders see them-selves as connected. On the level of vision, they live in the present, shaped by the past, poised for the future. They know it takes a vil-lage to raise a child and that we are mysteriously one with our brothers and sisters in other religions, cultures, and places respon-sible for our sacred earth and for all living creatures and things. An old Mayan saying hints at the connectedness of all reality: When the people are happy God is happy, and the trees begin to sing. On the level of style, they are compassionate, nonjudgmental, and accepting. They acknowledge their own limitations and give others the benefit of the doubt. They are approachable, yet do not allow the personal crises of individuals to keep them from their primary task as leaders. They are collaborative in manner, working to arouse consensus toward common vision and mission, in the process learning how to lead from those who are led. These leaders are.loyal members of a church they recognize and accept as both holy and flawed, sinful yet redeemed. They seek alliance with those individuals in the church and in broader society who are committed to personal and social transformation. Courageous Integrity Aware and connected, the most effective transformational leaders live their ministry with courageous integrity. I have come to admire immensely those men and women who are forthright and honorable in speech and in action without alienating or los-ing the respect of others. This is not easy in a pluralistic church with competing theologies and spiritualities or in groups that have become too diffuse, needing to be challenged to a renewed sense of corporate mission or to a dignified acceptance of dimin-ishment unto death. Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders William Butler Yeats said, "The real leader serves truth, not people." I am not sure we need to set apart people and truth in this way, but I see the point he is making. There is today the ten-dency to keep quiet when we should speak out or to move impul-sively without serious research or thinking through the consequences. Temptations to please the group at all costs or to rush to closure on issues needing more time are clear and present dangers in times of polarization and complexity. Succumbing to either temptation does violence to truth. Courageous leaders with integrity know when to be quiet and to listen and when to share honestly and with love what they believe is best for the good of the whole. They neither lose their souls out of fear, nor fight battles that do not need to be fought. They serve both people and truth. In the language of Paul, they feel called to serve Christ first and Christ living in his people. Living Comfortably with Tensions Aware, connected, and courageous, the transformational leader also knows how to live comfortably in an "age of tensions." The theologian and diocesan priest James Bacik calls for a "dialectical spirituality" that understands the tensions of our age and makes them fruitful. He gives a few examples of dialectical tensions that touch the lives of contemporary religious leaders: Christianity and human developme.nt, the Gospel and culture, the cross and flag, individualism and small group movements, the traditional and the new, fixity and change. We need not collapse the tension between these contrasted pairs. They can all coexist and enrich each other. As Christians who live the dying and the rising of the paschal mystery, we should be more comfortable than most with paradox and complementarity. Madeleine L'Engle wisely and whimsically made the point: "We cannot seem to escape paradox; I do not think I want to." In my judgment, we need, more than ever, leaders who see the both/and dimensions of life and negotiate com.fortably with social, political, and theological dichotomies, leaders who live what Bacik calls the "dialectical virtues." Leaders must be, at the same time, committed and open, reflective and spontaneous, enlightened and simple, hopeful and realistic. Leaders need to hold in creative ten-sion the mystical and the prophetic, the individual and the com-munal, the universal and the particular. Virtue lies not in a balanced middle which does not exist, but in creative interpenetration. Review for Religious Spiritual leaders who live such dialectical virtues hear God speaking in many languages. They experience God in peace and in pain. They learn from negative as well as positive experience. They live with all sides of their personalities, including the dark, and, in it all, know that God protects the world. Love of God in the Spirit of Christ Jesus This brings me to the final mark of the transformational leader. The most effective religious leaders are aware, connected, courageous, and sophisticated. But, even more, they are men and women in love with God and not afraid to show it. They experience God in their ministry, and they can talk about it. In their inner being, they feel called by Christ to leadership and try to lead as he would lead, in justice and in truth, with compassion, humility, and love. With Jesus, they seek holy wisdom and listen for the prompting of the Spirit. In my address at the Synod on Consecrated Life, I ~poke about the need for spiritual intensity, for men and women, especially leaders, who are on fire with God's transforming love, who live dynamically in the spirit of the founding impulse and who communicate an enthusiasm that is contagious. To~vard the end of the Synod, we all listened in respectful awe to brief remarks by one of today's saints, Brother Roger of Taize. He lived what I have described. Speaking with eloquent simplicity about our world's need for reconciliation, his inner self radiated holiness and inspired at least one person to greater efforts for world peace and forgiveness. He spoke with a faith illuminated and a hope empowered by the resurrection of the crucified one. In summary, the transformational leader is aware, relational, courageous, comfortable with inevitable tensions, and on fire with God. This person tends not to neglect the transcendent when deal-ing with internal and external problems and is more likely than the typical leader to work with others for social transformation. The most effective religious leaders are men and women in love with God and not afraid to show it. II. Supports for Spiritual Leadership Now, acknowledging that we are all on the journey, none of Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders us perfect, all of us from time to time overwhelmed and exhausted, we explore ways of feeding and supporting such a leader. Nygren and Ukeritis point out that the typical leader can become out-standing. We can help ourselves and be helped by others. A bishop I know says that many diocesan priests are on the verge of great-ness and never make it. They are not alone. What can move us towards greatness? There are six ways of keeping ourselves alert, connected, at peace with ourselves and our world, centered with integrity and alive to God, or at least moving in the right direction. These six ways all take time. We need to make time for reading, for new experience, for friendships, for prayer and contemplation, for spiritual direction and mentoring, and for support from our peers. Reading We need to read. Reading helps us to be more aware of our world, more connected to the sufferings of people, more alert to truth, more alive. As provincial and president of CMSM, I feel obligated to keep abreast of current affairs through newspapers and journals. As a voice for my community and for the wider church, I feel chal-lenged to keep up with recent church teaching and new currents of theological thought. As a pastoral leader, I am attracted to books on church life and ministry, on spirituality and on leader-ship. As a human person, I make time for novels, poetry, and other experiences of human creativity. When I do not have sufficient time to keep up with one or another of these areas through reading, I contact trusted col-leagues and friends who do have time and who are willing to engage in conversation. New Experience From time to time, moreover, we leaders need to risk new experience. We need to create new road maps in order to walk new paths. For example, we know that the best way to learn about incul-turation is to make ourselves fully vulnerable to the gifts and lim-its of another culture. By analogy, we can say the same thing about almost every issue of great importance, such as poverty, mental ill-ness and violence in our streets, or community living and pastoral planning. The best way to learn is to risk being open, to stretch ourselves, to get our hands dirty. To use another example, why not Review for Religious measure our own vision, programs, and methods by entering, touching, and learning from the experience of other communities and leaders? If the unexamined life is not worth living, it is also true to say that the unlived life is not worth examining. Friendships We also need to make room for those who choose to love us. One of the greatest dangers for religious leaders is to lose contact with close friends. Sadly, friends are often the first to be forgot-ten when setting calendars. We need to ink them in, for they are our lifeline, our refuge, our source of love and support. Truly good friends keep us honest. They are willing to lay down their lives for us, and they call forth from us an equal response. Making friends a priority can be a great challenge for many of us even if we do manage to make time. How do we confront close friends in community? How do we initiate new friendships out-side the community without the venue of hands-on ministry? How do we keep connected and in balance the many relation-ships in our lives? Facing these challenges head-on and creatively is worth the effort. Without healthy friendship, we wither and die. Prayer and Contemplation Above all, we need to build in time for prayer. I am most cen-tered and at peace as a leader when I make time every day for personal, private prayer, especially contemplation. When I do, I am generally more effective as a leader, listening in a more relaxed, focused way, keeping my priorities straight, not easily thrown off balance by crisis. I feel more connected to my brothers and sisters throughout the world, all loved by the same God, and see social situations as Christ might see them. In the process, I come to realize what Merton describes: "We can find ourselves engulfed in such happiness that it cannot be explained: the happiness of being at one with everything in that hidden ground of Love for which there can be no explanations." In a wonderful way, everything becomes prayer. At times I cannot pray contemplatively or my prayer fails miserably. No matter. No need for guilt. God is present even in the market-place of my busyness and in my failures. In these inevitable times, I can make my heart available to God as I work privately or inter-act with others or struggle helplessly. As Bernanos's country priest Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders wrote in his diary at the end of a conflicted, but fruitful life, "Tout est grfice." Everything is grace. True spiritual guides are a treasure beyond price. We need to search and to find. Spiritual Directions and Mentoring Of course, in all this, it is easy to deceive ourselves as leaders. Frequently, we need spiritual companions who can help keep us honest about our motivations, our ambitions, our fears, and our drives. We need to be clear about the direction of our lives. What do we truly want for our-selves and for our com~nunity? What is God's will for us? How do we discern the difference between God's voice and competing voices? Where is God truly speaking and through whom and what? True spiritual guides are a treasure beyond price. We need to search and to find. We can also be helped in our daunting task of leadership by more experienced mentors who have gained the competencies and skills we ourselves want to develop. Mentors can review with us our personal goals as leaders, our modus operandi, and the systems that support or fail to support our ministry, and they can point us to the right workshop, book, or consultant. In a sense, what Ernest Hemingway had to say about writers can be applied to religious leaders: "We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." Even the most gifted men-tor would admit there is still much to learn. Support from Peers Finally, there is a related topic which in my opinion has greater significance than ever. I enjoy thoroughly those moments in regional meetings when we leaders sit down to share our sto-ries with each other, to pray with and for each other, and to know that we are understood. However, these sporadic occasions of grace are not grace enough. A few years ago in Baltimore, several religious leaders, both men and women, met twice at my home to set up a support group in the style ofJesu Caritas. For many reasons, mainly schedule con-flicts, we did not follow through. I have always regretted this. We leaders need the spiritual support of each other. Only another leader can counter the narcissistic verse, "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen," and transform it into the spiritual from which it arises. Review for Religious If this presidential address were to stimulate a new campaign, I would push for promoting support groups among religious leaders in every region of our country. We have so much to learn from each other. We can be the face of God to each other. Salt and Light Two metaphors from scripture summarize this article. They are salt and light. Transformational leaders are called to give zest and flavor to the work they do and the people they meet, to improve the quality of human existence and to help preserve it from d~cay, to be active in the world as transforming agents of grace. Therefore, they cannot lose their saltiness. They need to keep alive and help others to keep alive. Leaders are also called to bring light to every dark corner of human living, to be the torch that brightens gloomy hearts, that leads the way out of confusion, that reveals people to each other. And they are called to pass on the flame to another generation. In June, during the meeting of the Bishops' Conference, Eugene Kennedy wrote an eloquent tribute to Cardinal Joseph Bernardin who lay in the hospital recuperating from operations for cancer. With the announcement of his illness, darkness shrouded this city like a noon eclipse. In that moment, however, light, unfiltered by ceremony or great event, came from within Bernardin himself. By it, we can see him, ourselves and what counts in life with the clarity of revelation. Bernardin "has never been afraid of the dark and, in his company, neither are we." What religious leader would not want to be this kind of light, the light of Christ to the world, a beacon of hope in a dark and wounded world? Though we feel inadequate in the face of such a challenge, we need not fear, for Christ has chosen us to be spir-itual leaders for our times. We need only to surrender ourselves to mystery. I will end with one quote from Dorothy Day and another from Teilhard de Chardin, two heroes of the modern age who probed internal, external, and transcendent problems with a vision that provoked social transformation. Dorothy Day's words help us to tie together our struggles for peace, for light, for life: If our cause is a mighty one, and surely peace on earth in these days is the great issue of the day, and if we are oppos- ~anuaty-Febrttat.3, 1996 Brown ¯ The Call to Spiritual Leaders ing the powers of darkness, of nothingness, of destruction, and we are working on the side of lig.ht and life, then surely we must use our greatest weapons--the life forces that are in each one of us. To stand on the side of life we must give up our own lives. Finally, Teilhard de Chardin evokes the ultimate purpose of all leadership: The day will come when, after harnessing space, the tides, and gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, we shall have discovered fire. Resources Conversations with colleagues and friends helped ,most to shape and to clarifi! my thinking. The following books and articles were some of the works which created an environment for reflecting more deeply upon my own experience as a religious leader. Bacik, James J. The Gracious Mystery: Finding God in Ordinary Experience. Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press, 1987. Beckett, Wendy Mary. "Simple Prayer." The Clergy Review (February, 1978): 1-3. Calonius, Erik. "Take Me to Your Leader." Hemisphere, (April, 1995): 39- 42. Carozzo, Carlo. "Mysticism and the Crisis of Religious Institutions." Concilium, (April, 1994): 17-26. Champlin, Joseph M. with Champlin, Charles D. The Visionary Leader: How Anyone Can Learn to Lead Better. New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1993. Ciorra, Anthony J. Everyday Mysticism: Cherishing the Holy. New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1995. Conference of Major Superiors of Men. "1993 Survey of Membership: Executive Summary:' November, 1993. Gardner, John W. On Leadership. New York: The Free Press, 1990. Instrumentum Laboris. "The Consecrated Life and its Role in the Church and in the World." Vatican City, 1994. Judson, Sylvia Shaw. The Quiet Eye: A Way of Looking at Pictures. Washington: Regner~ Gateway, renewed, 1982. Kennedy, Eugene. "Bernardin Still a Beacon for Community." Chicago Tribune, Section 4, "Perspective," 18June 1995, pp. 1, 4. Kurtz, Ernest, and Ketcham, Katherine. The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Journey to Wholeness. New York: Bantam Books, 1994, paperback edition. Review for Religious Martini, Cardinal Carlo Maria. "Hope and Religious Leadership in a Secular Society." Chicago Studies, Vol. 33, no. 2 aAugust, 1994): 132-137. McGrory, Brian. "Chicago Cardinal Faces Illness with Serenity." The Boston Globe, 3 July 1995, pp. 1, 5. Nouwen, Henri J.M. Here and Now: Living in the Spirit. New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1994. Nygren, David J. and Ukeritis, Miriam D. The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Transformation and Commitment. Westport: Praeger Publishers, 1993. Oliva SJ, Max. Free to Pray/Free to Love: Growing in Prayer and Compassion. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1994. Sanks, T. Howland. Salt, Leaven, and Light: The Community Called Church. New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1992. Sofield ST, Loughlan and Kuhn, Donald H. The Collaborative Leader: Listening to the Wisdom of God's People. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1995. Taylor, Charles. The Ethics of Authenticity. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991. Wallis, Jim. The Soul of Politics. New York and Maryknolh The New Press and Orbis Books~ 1994. Wicks, Robert J., editor. Handbook of Spirituality for Ministers.New York: Paulist Press, 1995. A Wreath of Queens Sainted, in sparklets of bright stained glass, Their heads are wreathed in royal jewels: Meek Elizabeth, child Princess Of Hungary; staunch Margaret who rules Britain's unruly Scots; and mother of Constantine, The Empress Helena; jewel-ringed hands Wreathe in sisterhood the Byzantine, Celt, and Slav; their countries turned holy lands Under their godly reigns, God's people fed And clothed, God's earthly kingdom spread In the light that wreathes each queenly head. Nancy G. Westerfield Janualy-FebJwaO, 1996 JAMES H. KROEGER Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion ecumenism Mission theology today is greatly enriched by the field experiences of dedicated missioners. A personal experi-ence helped shape my views of conversion, mission, and interreligious dialogue. During the Lenten season of 1990 while I was a vis-iting professor in Dhaka, Bangladesh, I had a "graced moment," a "defining experience" in my missionary aware-ness and perspective. It has remained seared in my con-sciousness and has forced me to ask many foundational questions about mission and my own commitment. It involves a Bangladeshi beggar woman. I saw her on the road, in front of the large walled compound of a wealthy family dwelling. I could not clearly see her face because she was several hundred feet ahead of me. Her tattered clothes covered a malnourished body; she was alone, although other beggars were walking ahead of her on the road. I was proceeding along the same .path, leisurely taking a late afternoon walk. Suddenly a luxury car approached with its horn blow-ing. The driver probably wanted the beggars to disperse and also wanted the gate of the compound ope.ned by the servants. The woman appeared startled as the car turned James H. Kroeger MM worked as a field missionary in the Philippines arid Bangladesh for over two decades. Currently, he serves as the Asia-Pacific Area Assistant on the Maryknoll General Council. His most recent book is Living Mission (Orbis Books). He may be addressed at EO. Box 303; Maryknoll, New York 10545-0303. Review for Religious sharply in front of her and the gate swung open. Within seconds two large dogs emerged from the compound and jumped at the woman, knocking her to the ground. She screamed and cried both from fear and the pain caused by the dogs nipping at her. I stood frozen, horrified at the sight. A well dressed woman promptly emerged from the chauffeur-driven car. She ordered the driver to bring the car into the com-pound; the dogs were called to return inside; the servants were commanded to close and lock the gate. And, the beggar woman? She was left alone on the ground--outside the gate (see Heb 13:12). I stood helpless, gazing at this appalling scene. Only the other frightened beggars came to the aid of the woman. Only they showed mercy and compassion. I stood at a distance and wept at this scene of crucifixion. I admitted to being a guilty bystander. My fears and inadequacies had left me para-lyzed. I had not one taka coin in my pocket to give; I could not offer one word of consolation in the Bangla language which I did not speak. I did not approach the woman for fear of misinterpre-tation that a foreign man would touch a Bengali woman in pub-lic in this strictly Islamic culture. I simply wept in solidarity. I wept long and hard. In succeeding years, I have frequently returned to that scene and prayed to God: "Do not let me forget that experience. Allow it to shape my life and mission vision. Permit it to remain a 'defin-ing moment' in understanding my mission vocation. May it enrich my insights into the nature of mission and the place of dialogue and conversion within the church's missionary activity." Embracing a Broken World My experience on the road in Dhaka, Bangladesh with the beg-gar- woman no longer allows me to view people as faceless victims. All Christians, especially missionaries, are called to embrace the world's suffering humanity, to recognize the existence of crucified peoples, and to strive to take them down from the cross. The suffering inherent in human existence necessarily impacts the situation of mission. The traditional dialogue partner of mis-sioners has been the follower of another living faith; while this engagement remains true today, particular attention is focused on humanity's concrete experience and suffering. All human life has a paschal configuration; its pattern con- Janua~y-Febrmny 1996 Kroeger ¯ Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion Missionaries seek the conversion of people they encounter. tinually moves through death to renewed life. Life's paschal paradigm (universally shared by all people, although varying ter-minology may be used) sees people struggling to move through darkness to light, through captivity to freedom, through suffering and brokenness to wholeness.Paschal dimensions are characteristic of all life situations; contemporary mis-sion and dialogue find their point of insertion in human-ity's experience of life and death realities. Catholic theology asserts that the .Spirit of God is present and aetive within the lives of all peoples. The Second Vatican Council forcefully stated that as Christian believers, "we must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery" (GS §22). This quote is used three times in the mission encyclical Redemptoris missio (RM §§6,d0, 28). John Paul II uses the phrase repeatedly in his writings; it is probably one of his guiding missiological principles. This text affirms the action of the Holy Spirit in the hearts of all people. The universal work of the Spirit serves to enlighten people's experience of their paschal realities of dying and rising; life itself, including suffering, has the possibility of opening all peoples to experience God's salvation through the paschal mystery. Note that the text declares unambiguously that there is only one way which leads to everlasting salvation, a way which is valid for Christians as well as other believers, and that is association with the paschal mystery. The redemptive grace of Christ is avail-able for all who in thei~ own way and even without knowing it obey the law of the paschal mystery and take it as a guiding norm for their consciences and lives. This astonishing assertion has important consequences for the dialogue and conversion that con-temporary mission pursues. Christian faith is, at heart, a paschal faith. Thus, if all reality has a paschal paradig'~n and if all life is shaped by rhythms of life through death, then Christian mission will continually find ele-ments of this very mystery hidden in the lives, cultures, histories, and religions of peoples of diverse faiths. Missioners repeatedly experience the unique ways that the Holy Spirit brings people into direct encounter with the paschal mystery and with God's salvation in Christ. The cross of Jesu's is the paramount Christian symbol, because Review for Religious it reminds Christians of the centrality of the paschal mystery in their faith lives. All church missionary activity will focus on the paschal nature of life, of faith, of salvation. Mission is always cru-ciform, always signed by the cross. Crux probat omnia. Naming Conversion in a Perspective of Dialogue The literature on diverse elements of the conversion process is extensive. This article, however, focuses primarily on the the-ological dimensions of conversion, viewing conversion as that ongoing transformation of persons by the power of God, specif-ically through the action of the Holy Spirit. Missionaries seek the conversion of people they encounter. Conversion demands a radical shift in a person's apprehensions and values, accompanied by a similar radical change in oneself, in one's relations with other persons, and in one's relations to God. Such a total transformation is nothing less than the work of God's grace and the action 6f the Holy Spirit: At the center o(this con-version and transformation is a personal, loving God; all becomes focused on God's love poured out in the person of Jesus through the paschal mystery. The paschal mystery becomes the integrating focus of all evangelization, dialogue, and conversion. It is foundational because all life has a paschal paradigm. The passion of human experience is to be the ground in which .the. seeds of new life, hope, resurrection, and ultimately salvation germinate and bear fruit. This paschal nature of all life and' experience (poignantly illustrated by my personal experience with the Bangladeshi beg-gar- woman) cofitinually provides openings for a deep :missionary encounter, authentic dialogue and conversion, find fruitful trans-o formation into the mystery of God's love. Levels of Missionary Conversion Mission experience reveals three interacting levels of con-version int6 the paschal myg~ery. The first conversion is centered on the person of the missionary. The second is a call to all persons of faith and good will to embrace a paschal perspective in their lives and consciences. Final!y, the third conversion takes the form of an invitation for people to freely join the paschal community of the Christian church. ffanuaty-Februaty 1996 Kroeger ¯ Bridging Inter'religious Dialogne and Conversion I. Conversion of the Missionary. Christian missionaries begin the conversion process in their own lives and attitudes. They seek to personalize the fact that, in the words of John Paul II, "the church~s vocation and missionary commitment spring from the central mystery of our faith: the paschal mystery" (WYD 1993:2). They embrace the fact: "The paschal mystery of Christ's cross and Resurrection stands at the center of the Good News that the apostles, and the church following them, are to proclaim to the world" (Catechism 1994:571). Evangelizers accept that every missionary begins by entering a personal process of conversion (EN § 15). Before crossing any bor-ders of culture or religion to announce the paschal mystery, mis-sionaries seek their own transformation into the same paschal mindset of Jesus (1 Co 2:16; Ph 2:5). To the extent that any mis-sionary embodies the suffering Messiah's self-transcending way of the cross, that person achieves authentic paschal conversion. Paschality becomes the measuring ~od for all missionary endeavors. H. Conversion to a Paschal VVorldview. From the paschal per-spective operative in their own lives, Christian missionaries and all peoples of faith soon recognize the paschal communalities of their shared existence. All peoples--whether Christian, Buddhist or Muslim--share,the vicissitudes and challenges of existence in a broken world. It is precisely within this shared human existence and mystery that the Christian missionary announces paschal per-spectives of life through death. The missionary is definitely invit-ing his or her dialogue partners to a deeper God-experience. This is a true spiritual conversion, but not necessarily conversion to Christianity. Such a heart-to-heart encounter is a direct effect of the Holy Spirit's action in bringing peoples through their own life situations into a sharing of the paschal mystery. The fundamental act of faith and conversion is within reach of all human beings. They can encounter God in the paschal mystery. For the Christian it will be explicitly Christological. However, the identical experience, although often in an inchoate and unarticulated form, is contin-ually available to all peoples whatever their particular religious affiliation. It is important to note that as Christian missionaries we will often find.our own explicit paschal faith enriched by the implicit paschal faith of our Muslim or Buddhist friend. IlL Conversion to the Cb~istian Faith Community. All persons are called to conversion to God. In the course of this process a free Review Jbr Religious decision may be made to leave one's previous spiritual or reli-gious situation to direct oneself towards another. In this conver-sion process, freedom of conscience is sovereign. Admittedly, mission also has explicit Christian conversion as its goal. Christians nourish in their hearts the clear desire to share their full experience of the paschal mystery and faith in Christ with brothers and sisters of other religions. Missionaries sensitively aim at guiding peo-ple to explicit knowledge of what God has done for all men and women in Jesus Christ and at inviting them to become disciples of Jesus through becoming members of the church. Note the triple dynamic of conversion operative in this missionary process: 1.) the converted missionary centers his or her life on the paschal mystery; 2.) the Christian missionary calls other people of faith to dis-cover the paschal paradigm of life and to adopt paschal values in their lives, con-sciences, and service; 3.) based on a free decision inspired by the Spirit, others are directly invited to join the community of the Christian church, where they can fully practice their .paschal mys-tery- centered faith. The paschal nature of life, faith, and redemption serves to integrate any dialogue and conversion process. Awareness of and participation in the paschal mystery often unfold in the lives of people in an evolutionary and progressive manner. The mission-ary finds the paschal mystery operative and recognizes conversion both outside and within the church. This wide, inclusive view of mission adds further meaning to the reality of the missionary church as the "universal sacrament of salvation" (LG ~48; AG §1). Missionaries sensitively aim at guiding people to explicit knowledge of what God has done for all men and women in Jesus Christ. Additional Mission Corollaries I have strongly affirmed the validity of centering mission, dia-logue, and conversion within the framework of the paschal mys-tery. This approach is a paschal missiology and challenges all missionaries to become paschal evangelizers in their own lives and through their involvement in the church's missionary activ-ity. In the context of today's broken world, the enormous afflic- Janttat3~-Februat."F 1996 Kroeger ¯ Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion tions and sufferings of humanity, and the need to maintain escha-tological hope, paschal missiology appears particularly insight-ful, necessary, and relevant. The insights flowing from a paschal-mystery-centered missi-ology are numerous; I mention these twenty corollaries only briefly and highlighted their relationship to paschal mission per-spectives. 1. Paschal mission emerges from the unity of all humanity in its sharing of the common paschal experience of rising through dying. Peoples of all faiths face questions of suffering as well as the mystery and meaning of life. 2. Paschal mission uses an inductive approach based on expe-rience to understand the church's call to mission. The church is urged to be active in "reading the signs of the times and of inter-preting them in the light of the Gospel" (GS §4); human suffer-ing and brokenness constitute a missionary challenge today. 3. Paschal mission strongly affirms the active presence of the Holy Spirit in the world, both in and beyond the boundaries of the church. The Spirit is constantly directing people to a God-encounter through their sharing in the paschal mystery. 4. Paschal mission embodies the virtue of Christian hope based on the firm belief in the resurrection. Eschatological hope, not suffering, is the integrating perspective of Christian mis-sionaries; that hope continually breaks into the world through missionary witness, service, and dialogue. 5. Paschal mission clearly allows missioners to be people of ,integrity. Their proclamation begins with their own paschal expe-riences and links them with people who share identical experi-ences~ Mission is not something superimposed upon reality; mission emerges from the commonly shared realities of mission-ers and their dialogue partners of various faiths., 6. Paschal mission demands a radical conversion of the mis-sioner to the values of a crucified and risen Lord; mission begins only when personal transformation has been initiated. Only the converted missioner can authentically call others to conversion. 7. Paschal mission requires the integration of contemplation into missionary praxis. No one can authentically address the pas-sion of humanity without possessing a deep contemplative faith; one must live into the paschal mystery. - 8. Paschal mission emphasizes that the work of the mission-ary involves both listening and speaking. Listening for the Spirit's Review for Religious action within the hearts and lives of people is a prerequisite for speaking of God's paschal love and saving deeds. 9. Paschal mission lays bare the sinfulness of today's world which is often enslaved in materialism, consumerism, individu-alism, greed, and pride. A paschal mentality challenges both per-sonal and social sin; it demands true conversion. 10. Paschal mission respects the free will and personal con-science of everyone; at the same time it is a call to conscience for generous people (Christians and other believers) to be committed to addressing the sufferings of humanity. 11. Paschal mission easily enters into dialogue with the fol-lowers of other religions. All religious traditions face identical human questions and mysteries. Dialogue enables peoples of faith to mutually explore and respond to questions of life and death. 12. Paschal mission connects intimately with today's chal-lenges of peace, justice, development, and ecology. It invites all of us to live in solidarity with our neighbors and to be prepared to suffer and die so that others may live. Again, such a paschal lifestyle demands profound conversion. 13. Paschal mission can be lived in all cultural contexts and sit-uations. As a missionary approach, it easily finds an inculturated home among diverse peoples. Paschal mission is also clearly trans-cultural. .~ 14. Paschal mission aims to be a holistic approach to mission, integrating the personal and social, the human and divine, the material and spiritual. It is an incarnational approach to being in mission. 15. Paschal mission emphasizes humble and self-effacing approaches to missionary activity; it consciously seeks to avoid any pitfalls of paternalism or colonialism. Missioners, believing in the beauty and truth of their message, seek to offer it with gen-erosity, sincerity, and authenticity. 16. Paschal mission is at heart a scripture-based missiology following the teachings and example of Jesus who came "not t? be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mt 20:28) 17. Paschal mission embodies an emphasis on witness and even a willingness to endure suffering, persecution, and martyr-dom. Contemporary missionaries knowingly and willingly embrace vulnerability because in Christ God reveals the divinity precisely in weakness rather than in power. Januaty-Febtvuoy 1996 Kroeger * Bridging Interreligious Dialogue and Conversion 18. Paschal mission is at heart a soteriology. Following the paschal path in mission brings both missioner and people into a direct experience of salvation in Jesus Christ, who "bore our sins in his own body on the cross; . . . through his wounds [we] have been healed" (1 P 2:24). 19. Paschal mission integrates well with the sacramental dimension of the church. All Christians are missionary by virtue of their baptism into Christ's death and resurrection (Rm 6:3-4). The Eucharist is the paschal meal that celebrates the death and resurrection of the Lord until he comes (1 Co 2:23-26); the Eucharist remains the "ongoing sacrament of mission" for Christians. 20. Paschal mission transforms the individual missioner into an attractive and credible witness. Missioners of the calibre of a Mother Teresa manifest the transforming effects of the paschal mystery in their lives, and all people of faith welcome such authen-tic witnesses. I began with a narration of an encounter, between a mission-ary and a Bangladeshi beggar-woman. That defining experience has produced much depth reflection on the .nature of mission, dialogue, and conversion. This missionary remains filled with gratitude for that God-given experience of grace. More reflec-tion needs to be given to the wealth of insights that can still emerge from viewing mission and dialogue through the optic of the paschal mystery. Relying on God's grace, this missionary looks forward to meeting that Muslim Bangladeshi beggar-woman once again in the resurrected life with Christ the Lord in the Kingdom. I am confident she will be there! References Cited Ad gentes (AG); Catechism of the Catholic Church (1994); Evangelii nuntiandi (EN); Gaudium et spes (GS); Lumen gentium, (LG); Redemptoris missio (/O4); World Youth Day Address: John Paul II, November 21, 1993 NOTE: Copies of a lengthy, academic treatment of this subject can be obtained gratis by writing to James H. Kroeger MM. Review for Religious DENN1S J. BILLY A Visit to Taiz Nr~t long ago I made my way through the rolling hills and pened vineyards of southern Burgundy in eastern France to a place recognized both far and wide as one of the world's great spiritual centers, the monastic community of Taiz& Founded in 1940 by Roger Schultz, a young Swiss theologian, the monastery began as a valiant attempt to restore monastic practice to the Protestant faith and soon blossomed into a truly ecumenical ven-ture that has since attracted members from Catholic and Protestant backgrounds alike from over twenty countries. Located atop a small hill in the vicinity of Sfione-et-Loire, not far from the ramshackled ruins of 'Cluny, the great center of Benedictine monasticism that has helped to carve much of the spiritual and temporal landscape of medieval Europe, Taiz~ represents a vital resurgence of the monastic spirit, the likes of which had not been seen in Western society for many, many years. Known for its sim-plicity of life, its calming musical rounds, and its warm hospital-ity to strangers especially the young, the community of Taiz~ has succeeded in blending old and new and the concerns of past and present in a way that has awakened the deep spiritual sensibilities of our anxiety-ridden world. No wonder it has become a verita-ble Mecca for many of those who wish to satisfy the latent pains of humanity's deep spiritual hungers. Hunger and Dust Taiz~ rustic environment does not encourage visits from the weak and feeble of heart. Those who enter its ground must be Dennis J. Billy CSSR published "The Abbey of S~nanque: A Journey of the Heart" in our September-October 1995 issue. His address is Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Rome, Italy. Billy * A Visit to Taizg prepared to forego many of the comforts of home they normally take for granted. The basic necessities are provided, to be sure, but not much else. The wooden barracks, the earthen trails, the open-air refectory, the simple fare of lentils, bread, juice, and fruit--all remind the weary traveler that one comes to this holy place for one purpose and one purpose only--to search for God. The young, in particular, are attracted by Taiz~'s austere regimen of life. Since 1957 they have flocked there by the thousands for sojourns of various lengths to feed their souls on its simple fare and sound spiritual sustenance. They come, in part, to escape the materialism and confusion of the tension-filled world they have left behind; in part; to understand the meaningoof their difficult and often bewildering journey through life; in part, to fathom the unchartered depths of their inner yearning for God and, more importantly, of God's own intense and deeply compassionate long-ing for them. Two things in particular struck me when I arrived there tired and hungry on that sun-dried autumn day: (1) the dust from the trails that had been kicked up by thousands of visitors (it appar-ently had not rained for some time), and (2)the extremely long lines.at meal time (even simple fare needs time to be distributed to such a large crowd). These two details have come to dominate. my impression of Taiz& Together, they tell of the great success of this extraordinary experiment in monastic living and show how it now stands at the crossroads of Europe's long and rather cir-cuitous spiritual journey. Hungry~pilgrims, covered with dust, wait to be fed lentils and bread, hungry, but happy--and more. than willing to wait their turn. Given its Spartan fare, its cramped quarters., its vulnerability to the elements, and its many other physical restrictions, Taiz~ .seems much like a plain, ordinary, at times even uninviting place. So why, one might ask, does anyone go°'there? Certainly not for the food or the primitive shelter it offers. Certainly not to walk the heavily rutted trails or to inhale the dusty air that envelopes them and sticks to their clothes. Something else has surely drawn them. In Praise of God That something else can be found in the Church of the Reconciliation, the spiritual center of the Taiz~ community, where day after day pilgrims join the small gathering of white-robed Review for Religious monks in raising their hearts and voices to God. The Taizd office combines different styles of liturgical music into a simple but elo-quent offering of praise. Great care is taken not only to train vis-itors in the various rounds and harmonies that form the backbone of the liturgy, but also to utilize the talents (musical or other-wise) of everyone present. The results impress even the most detached of observers--and with good reason. A typical celebration Will find a thousand or so silent pilgrims sitting quietly in prayerful expectation for the monks to process in silent devotion and move to their posi-tions at the prayer stools that line the choir space down the center of the church. At the end of the procession, Brother Roger takes his place at the head of the commu-nity and gathers around him as his special guests any children who have come there for the service: "Let the children come to me . The kingdom of God belongs to such as these" (Mt 19:14). The pregnant silence gives way to antiphonal praise, usu-ally in the form of a simple round that has been carefully rehearsed the day before: "Ubi caritas et amor . " The harmony of voices fills the church and transforms its simply built and purely functional sur-roundings into vibrating and. living move-ment of Spirit. Suddenly the music ends, and silence once more reverberates throughout the interior spaces of the. soul, All eyes are focused on the large flowing red and orange banners in the front of the sanc-tuary that present the participants with simple yet powerful sym-bols of the spiritual Pentecost they have all come to receive. The small voice of a child then calls out in the wilderness of the heart. "Prepare the way of the Lord" On 1:23). A lesson from Scripture follows as the moments continue to brush with eternity, and the community of believers experience their oneness in Christ on a level never known to them before. Another round of chant; more silence; another lesson from Scripture. One's consciousness of time quietly recedes. The hour passes quickly and it is time to conclude. The pas-sage from the life of the Liturgy to the Liturgy of life takes place Given its Spartan fare, its cramped quarters, its vulnerability to the elements, and its many other physical restrictions, Taizd seems much like a

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

Issue 56.3 of the Review for Religious, May/June 1997. ; for Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1997 ¯ VOLUME56 . NUMBER3 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who find that. the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practica~L or inspirational written from a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (I~SN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University. by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Linde]l Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314--977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: FOPPEMA@SLU.EDU Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. 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Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Her]rages and Contemporary Living MAY-JUNE 1997 ¯ VOLUME56 ¯ NUMBER3 contents 230 feature The Examen of Particulars Joseph A. Tetlow SJ proposes.an understanding of the examen of conscience which supplies to ordinary people a means and a method for ongoing conversion and growth. 251 268 perspectives Justice-and-Peace Ministry: Three Decades Plus Kenneth R. Himes OFM presents a perspective on the centrality ofj.ustice-and-peace ministry to the mission of the church today. Milestones in Interreligious Dialogue James H. Krbeger MM presents a synopsis of recent thought within the Roman Catholic tradition on interreligious dialogue and its relationship to evangelization. 277~ charism Providence: Charism and Contemporary Spirituality Suzanne Mayer IHM explores how providence figures in the life of Theresa Maxis and in thelives of us all at the threshold of a new millennium. Review for Religious 285 295 Cross-cultural Formation from a Pacific Perspective Kevin Dobbyn FMS presents his own experience, research, and reflection about the inculturation of a congregation's charism. Associate Relationship: An Emerging Sense of Identity Roberta Archibald SSJ, Joanne Bauer SBS, and Jean Ustasiewski OSF share the fruits of an intercongregational gathering of associates and vowed members whose focfls Was the issue of associate and religious identity in the context of the associate relationship. 3O2 311 insights Seventy and Counting Marie Beha OSC reflects on the interior and exterior changes involved in growing old and in relating to others and to God. APerspective on poverty Donald Macdonald SMM identifies the Sermon on the Mount as the classic source for p~oviding personal motivation in living a life of evangelical poverty. departments 228 Prisms 320 Canonical Counsel: Lay Religious as Pastoral Ministers in Parishes- 325 Book Reviews May-3~une 1997 22-7--- prisr s ~e know well the account of the first Pentecost in the Acts of the Apostles. The rush of wind all through the house and the tongues as of fire lighting on each one present recall the thunder and lightning and the fire and clouds as God's presence was made manifest to Moses and the Israelite people at the time of the Sinai covenant. Now the covenant fulfilled in the passion, death, and resurreEtion of Jesus is confirmed by this new out-pouring of God's Spirit. In the perspective of this year 1997 dedicated to Jesus Christ in our millennium preparations, we find that famil-iar stories can take on fresh meaning. For example, "tongues as of fire" traditionally signify the presence of the Holy Spirit and the gift of preaching the good news, perhaps miraculously even in the many different languages of the crowds addressed on that Pentecost day. Might we also understand by the symbolism of. tongue the word of God that each one of us becomes through the gifting of the Spirit? Jesus as the Word made flesh now joining us together in his risen self brings a new reality to all the baptized as "wo~'ds of God." Every Christian is a precious and unre-peatable expression of the presence of Christ. All the rich-ness of the Hebrew word dabar, translated as both word and deed, underlies the great hymn which forms the Prologue of the Gospel of St. John. The Word both being God and being in the presence of God, the Word through whom all things came to be and the Word that is the source of life for whatever is, the Word that is a light shin-ing on in the darkness (a darkness that can never over-come the Word)--this Word became flesh "and made his dwelling among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory of an only Son coming from the Father, filled with endur-ing love" On 1:14). Jesus as risen Word of God is uniquely the embodied expression of God, acting with all the power and dynamism Revie~v for Religious and love of God. Yet all of us Christians in our own way are not only to be seen as contemporary expressions (presences) of Jesus, but we as word (dabar) are also to be active and dynamic (doing deeds)--"love following upon love." The Pentecost tongues as of fire symbolize the action of God speaking us out as images of his son Jesus. As the pope focuses us upon the person of Jesus in 1997, we Christians are called to realize anew our responsibility of being expressions of Christ and actions of Christ enfleshed for our world. But the symbol of the (plural) tongues as of fire also suggests the kind of speaking we des~cribe as dialogue. This meaning of the symbol needs strong emphasis in our actions as Christians prepar-ing for the new millennium. Dialogue as conversation does not come easy. In our own day broken marriages, fractured commu-nities, worldwide ethnic and religious violence all attest to the fact. We note from the Pentecost experience that our under- . standing of dialogue requires a special gifting of the Holy Spirit. Dialogue as a true and necessary, element of Christian evange-lization requires more than human technique, expertise, and patience. From Paul VI's first encyclical, Ecclesiam suam, written in 1964, we become aware of some of the Spirit-filled conditions of dialogue: An esteem for the position of the other side is present, something good in the positions of everyone is preserved, and the possibility not only to enrich others but to be enriched our-selves is retained. That is the Christian attitude undergirding our evangelizing dialogue. Dialogue needs to be a part of our Christian action if we are to be word expressions of Christ. Dialogue starts in our families often torn over values and religious practices; dialogue begins in our religious community, where divisions of traditional and pro-gressive seem to serve two Christs. Dialogue also belongs to an ecumenical-movement effort in our daily dealings with friends and coworkers who worship differently from us or perhaps wor-ship not at all. We find the kind of dialogue symbolized by the Pentecost tongues only if we are people who are fired by love. The dialogue of evangelization must be modeled after the example ~ofJesus, the Word of God, the primary Evangelizer. The joy of the risen Jesus as he continues to share his Spirit with his followers needs to make its presence felt in our own desire to dialogue. Then truly tongues as of flame are upon us. David L. Fleming sJ Mlay-J~me 1997 JOSEPH A. TETLOW feature The Examen of Particulars The examen of conscience belongs to many traditions. It has been a cherished exercise of desert fathers and moth-ers, Stoic philosophers, Zen masters, and mys.tic and monastic ascetics. Over the centuries Jesuits have kept recalling, as a dictum of St. Ignatius, that even if one is too sick to meditate one does not omit the daily examen of conscience. The early Jesuits expected, and so wrote in the Official Directory.of the Spiritual Exercises in 1599, that all who made the Exercises would continue making the examen.of conscience for the rest of their lives. Down through the ages the examen has been prac-ticed in many different ways, from the meticulously methodical to special kinds of self-awareness. It has been practiced for various purposes, too, from self-.regarding to self-emptying and from sin-centered to a focus on self-transcendence. In the Ignatian tradition it has been thought of as the five-point General Examen proposed in the Spii'itual Exercises (§43). That precise exercise shaped .the prayer of Jesuits and others who have followed Ignatian spirituality over the years an'd right on into the 20th century. But, by the middle of this century, the five-point examen had, taken on the aspect of behaviorism or voluntarism, and one writer after another complained that it no longer helped prayer. Joseph A. Tedow SJ is director of the Secretariat for Ignatian Spirituality in Rome. His address is Curia Generalizia, Compagnia di Ges6; C.P. 6139; 00195 Roma PRATI; Italy. Review for Religious During the past few decades, the practice of the examen has become more current~ It became the "examination of conscious-ness" when George Aschenbrenner, in his landmark 1972 article, introduced insights from depth psychology into the exercise and indicated 'how tightly the Ignatian examen related to the move-ment of spirits. Aschenbrenner acted on a principle enunciated by Dominic Maruca. The five-point examen given in the Spiritual Exercises is meant for beginners, that is, for those going through the ejercicios leves, the brief simple exercises of Annotation 18. The examen of those who are more practiced, Aschenbrenner proposed, reached into the discernment of spirits. After that devel-opment the examen as an exercise continued to expand: Anthony DeMello designed some Gestalt practices to help self-examination. John English, in the "awareness examen," accommodated the exa-men to the way people currently perceive the self. Recent Developments Two developments during the past twenty-five years encour-age continued attention to the examen.and have motivated this article. The first is the swift spread of the individually directed Spiritual Exercises. In both eight-day retreats and retreats in daily life (also called 19th-annotation retreats), the Exercises are now offered to people who have no intention of making an election or even a serious decision, but who want only deeper peace and better order in their lives .and who look for it in deeper relation-ship with God in prayer. Historically, such exercises are what Ifiigo called ejercicios leves, simpler exercises, He described them in the first part of Annotation 18 and in the lengthy material on the General and Particular Examen. Ifiigo used these simpler exercises to help souls to a method (five points) of self-examination and a system (approach for gen-eral and particular examen) for doing it continually~ But, as far as my information goes, few directors of the Exercises today-really urge the importance of the examen of conscience. Some do, indeed, promote some similar practices such as journaling, one of the favorite ways of self-examination (or, better, of self-appre-ciation) in the New Age. And yet those who direct the Exercises in daily life and those who pyeach the Exercises to m'en and women are giving help to Christians in much the same spiritual condition as those Ifiigo helped. In Oregon, Dublin, Seoul, St. May-3~une 1997 Tetlo~ ¯ The Examen of Particulars Louis, and Naples, Jesuits and their colleagues are helping peo-ple who have no great decision to make, but who want a deeper interiorized faith-life, to have a more vibrant relationship with God and find more meaning in their lives. People like this once found everything they needed in Divine Providence and the church's vibrant practices of sacrament and sacramental. They no longer find there what. they need, and their loss must be carefully appraised by spiritual, directors. For the loss and the consequent spiritual search does not mean that they have been invited by the Holy Spirit to the kind of interior life practiced by privileged religious and the theologically educated. They remain ordinary faithful in the core of the church. For every four women who go to Central America and face martyrdom, four hundred thousand stay home. For every man given by God the privilege of an hour of quiet every single day, there are a hun-dred thousand who have to fight to find ten minutes of quiet in an ordinary day. We know that these women are politically invis-ible; are they, perhaps, also invisible spiritually? And what about their husbands? As we have moved the Spiritual Exercises fur-ther into feeling and concreteness, have we left the males without masculine formats? These people form the vast majority of Catholic Christians. They are not called to centering prayer or contemplation in any particular form, or to make retreats annually. Rather, they relate to God our Lord mainly by meeting obligation and keeping the commandments (one way Ifiigo described them). When they pray, they usually seek to know the law that the Spirit has written on their own hearts. But they need adult catechesis, b~i which I mean instruction in the interior life. We teach children the faith; we teach adults how they do interiorize or might interiorize the faith they know. For most Christians, religion--creed, code, cult--is their way of experiencing God, and directors are mistaken to take it upon themselves to force them away from that into the direct experience of God called spirituality. For them God is not dead and never has been. They still do pray for rain (unless the more advanced have taught them not to) and for help in rearing their children and sanctifying their marriages. They will never suffer a Dark Night except in the most tenuous analogous sense, and that framework will not help them to deeper meaning and relationship with God. They need other kinds of frameworks and other kinds of direction. Review for Religious These are the people Cardinal Bernardin was referring to when he said that millions do not want to be drawn into a hostile stance toward their church. They do not and cannot live on any brink, and they are not able to join joyfully in prophesying structural change in priesthood o~ marriage or medical care or social secu-rity. For :them, directors exercise the ministry of reconciliation. These are the people that Ifiigo and his first companions, and a great number of the founders of other congregations, reached out to when they helped souls. Vatican Council II, it is important to recall at this juncture, called them to ongoing metanoia. They are not the church semper reformanda--a mandate to papacy, episcopacy, and parish priests. They are the church semper renovanda. Hence, for them the exa-men of conscience ought to supply ~ means and a method for ongoing metanoia, that is, of continually growing in their graced self-awareness and steadily purifying their sinfulness. This article addresses the issue of how they might do that. This brings me to the second reason to attend to the examen at this time: developments in psychology that offer help in self-examination. I refer here particularly to recent focuses on the positive development of the ego and of the self. In particular I draw from the cognitive behavioral theories and practices of authorities such as Dr. Aaron Beck and Dr. David Burns. These psychological processes allow one to connect bne's actual every- . day thoughts, feelings, desires, and behaviors with deep character traits and conscious commitments. Obviously, these theories and practices promise to be helpful in spiritual self-examination. I am sure that the cognitive behavioral materials can be applied in more than one way. I have been using them for some time, and I will propose one possible way that,has proven helpful to exerci-rants and directees. Before turning to what might be called an "examen of par-ticulars," we need to explore three of the things entailed by the examen in the Ignatian tradition. First of all, this examen shares several important characteristics with all prayer in the Ignatian tra-dition, even with such set frames of prayer as the Contemplation We teach children the faith; we teach adults how they do interiorize or might interiorize the faith they know. May-Jm~e 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars for Love. Second, since the examen deals directly with sin and sinfulness, the Ignatian examen implies a characteristic Ignatian understanding of sin that includes shame as well as guilt and focuses on sin as failure. However, third, Ignatius connects sin with ingratitude in various ways throughout the Spiritual Exercises. He once stated explicitly that all sin is at root ingrati-tude, the failure or refusal to give thanks to God for his gifts. Hence, the Ignatian examen shares with all Ignatian prayer an emphasis on the concrete existential gifts and graces of God. Each of these points about the Ignatian examen of con-science-- characteristics of Ignatian prayer, sin as failure, and an emphasis on divine gifts--calls for careful reflection. So I will take the three in turn. Taken together, these three points of reflec-tion suggest why a particular variation on the five points given in the Spiritual Exercises is proving useful at the dawn of the 21st century. I might usefully point out here that the connection between the Particular Examen and the General Examen is not clear in the Spiritual Exercises. Does one make them both together? ls the more general examen to prepare for the sacrament of reconcilia-tion, and the particular exam to help in daily life? Not even later Jesuit legislation by general congregations clarified that. I tend to believe that people practiced in the interior life ordinarily use a general examen for the sacrament of reconciliation and that the form suggested at the end might serve them for the particular examen. I can testify that it has been serving some of us very well. Some Characteristics of Ignatian Prayer To begin with, Ignatian prayer grows from and flourishes in story, a point not irrelevant to the examen. After explaining in the first annotation all the things he means by "spiritual exer-cises," Ignatius promptly points out in the second that all prayer on Scripture must be rooted in the unadorned narrative of the Gospels. Additionally he directs that retreatants begin each con-templation by locating each mystery in the course~ of Jesus' life. When Ignatius suggests materials not found in Scripture, he reg-ularly suggests history or life-story material: regarding sin he tells not only about the angels and Adam and Eve, but also about one person who committed one sin and Went to hell for it. He tells the surprisingly successful story of Three Couples which helps reflec- Review for Religious tion on genuine indifference. He introduces the incarnation with a story about the Holy Trinity hovering over the whole globe; the Two Standards, with the scene-painting narrative of Jesus gathering people around him on the sweet green fields of the promised land; and so on. Some story is commonly a presuppo-sition to entry into Ignatian prayer. You could make a successful case, I think, that those of us who were trying to practice it year after year found the five-point examen problematic precisely here. After thanksgiving and a prayer for light, we moved through a quick survey of the story of the last few hours. We found that helpful as long as we felt that the deed done was vastly more important than how we felt about it or what motivated it. But, once we grew keenly aware of the layers of motive, desire, emotion, perspective,, and habit that interweave in any single experiences, we could no longer find much good in skimming along over the deeds done in the last hours. As a consequence of this and of other changes, only a very few of us now find this quick survey helpful. Yet in the Ignatian tradition we still feel the need for story, for moving along in a narrative. Without intending in the least to denigrate the practice, I find nothing in the Ignatian tradition about sitting still for a while and letting Jesus call .attention to the day's graces and fail-ures. Ignatian practice has been a litde more active, and it focuses on story. Story here means incident (like a screeching near-accident in a car) or experience (like a. diffused feeling of anxiety in traffic). The conjunction of all of these developments drew the more mature and practiced in the interior life prompdy to adopt George Aschenbrenner's consciousness examen, which called our attention to the story of the spirits moving us during the day. All of these developments affect the beginner as well, and also those whom God calls to a life according to the commandments. In my limited experience, these also need a way of connecting their stories with their human gifts, qualities, and achievements.,The method which will suit them is unlikely to require serious discernment of spir-its and probably ought to give them a little more focus and explic-itness than the consciousness examen offers. .A second pertinent characteristic of prayer in the Ignatian tradition is this: Prayer is not an end in itself, nor even a kind of end-means, in the sense that this is where we go to find God and finding God in this prayer is what we intend. Prayer is, indeed, a kind of end in itself in some other contemplative traditions: it is May-ffune 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen o~Particular~ that to which everything else in the day and in life is ordered. Not in Ignatian spirituality. The first intention here is to find out what God hopes in me and in my lifeworld, what Ignatius called "God's will," and everything in the day is ordered to that discov-ery and enactment. The whole intention in Ignatian prayer, including the examination of conscience, is to find what God is hoping for and wishes and wants at this time and this place. This is one way to explain the expression "contemplative in action." Hence, in the Ignatian tradition, to find devotion does not mean to find sweetness in prayer. Richard Rolle wrote, "From my study of Scripture, I have found that to love Christ Jesus above all else will require three things: warmth, and song, and sweet-ness." Ignatius could not have written that. For him, to love Christ Jesus above all else will require these different things: to reach some sureness about what God hopes~and wants in this time in my self and in my world, to be prompt to do what I discover is God's will, and to find God in the enactment of it. I have just stated a thirdcharacteristic of Ignatian prayer in all its modes. Ignatian prayer grows along with an understanding of God's action in the world: God always creating my gifts and self, the Spirit raising my desires out of the divine love, God giving the gift of enactment. Hence, in all its modes Ignatian prayer hovers between the felt sense that God has hopes in me and the enact-ment of my own authentic desires. This dynamic tension appears in the very first colloquy in the Spiritual Exercises. At the end of the contemplation on the Triple Sin, as I stand next to Jesus fixed to his cross, I ask myself: "What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What might I do for Christ?" I am asked, in the presence of the Crucified--who symbolizes all of God's pas-sionate, loving hopes for me and for all humankind--to elicit my own authentic desires to collaborate with Christ in his enterprise. The full meaning of this colloquy surely reveals a good deal about the examen of conscience. How I am to imitate Christ hanging on a cross? What is this imitation about? Perhaps others remember struggling with the question: Am I supposed to want crucifixion? If not, then what? In other great spiritual traditions, the person doing the imitat-ing concentrates wholeheartedly on Jesus of Nazareth, who became the Christ. In the initial tradition it is this: Christ is there on his cross, offering all of his human gifts to the Father in praise and obedience because of his love for each single human; I stand Review for Religious next to him, full of gifts from the Father, wondering what I am to do. The metaphysics of the love Ignatius describes pithily in the Contemplation for Attaining Love must illuminate this scene if we are to comprehend the examen. Love, the little prenote states (§230), is done, not talked about. And love is the mutual sharing of gifts, the lover and the beloved giving and receiving, both doing both. This is the imitation of Christ in the Ignatian tradition. Notably, it demands of us an awareness of our specific gifts at this moment so that we may share them in building the reign of God. This surely is going to make a differ-ence in the kind of self-examination called for here. Among those who have been serving God longer, this imitation requires discernment because human love as we experience it reaches not only our thoughts and feelings and behav-iors, but most emphatically also our desiring. But the church has always known, and postmodern Christians most emphatically know, that even beginners in the interior life have to examine their desiring. It is useful to recall, therefore, that discreta caritas marks any well-made examen, so that mature Christians living the life of the commandments will live good lives without Ignatian discernment. Directors who urge it on those who do not need it or cannot use it are doing them no favor; they may be projecting onto the interior lives of ordinary. Christians a need that only the more advanced feel. To do so is to break a good general principle in working with ordinary Christians (and with annotation 18). Few of us managed to explore our desires when we were using the five-point examen (except perhaps that we harped on fleshy desires we considered reprehensible). Yet examining our desires is important for several reasons: the other "standard," to begin with-- advertising, conformity, consumerism. And, to continue, at the end of this century desiring is the dynamic heart of what our post-modern culture calls "freedom": "I gotta be me; I gotta do my own thing; you asked for it, you got it." Such desiring needs care-ful assessment. But desire was of consummate importance in Ignatian prayer before this century even began. The most com-mon phrase in the Spiritual Exercises is "what I want." The whole purpose of the thirty-day retreat is to discover What I want (§1). Desiring is the dynamic heart of what our postmodern culture calls "freedom." Ma),-a~une 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars Behind this is the church's conviction that God our Creator and Lord shapes our freedom by shaping our desiring. Were we all to exact our most authentic desiring--that desiring in us that rises pure and clear from the passionate creative love of God at the core of our selves--we would in an instant inaugurate the reign of God. More modestly, if each of us kept a steady, well-ordered connection between our authentic desiring and our examen, we would have no problem with the church's leading--say, in the matter of the faith that does justice, If God our Creator and Lord wants faith and justice, then God is raising desires in each of us for faith and justice, including the middle class of the U.S.A. The problem is that we have not learned a method for listening to our authentic desires. In the Ignatian tradition that is sin; so now we talk about sin. The Focus on Sin as Failure Far from being limited to the estimation of sin apparent in the General and Particular Examens in the Spiritual Exercises, which are meant for people just beginning an interior life, the Ignatian realization of sin develops in several complex ways. From the con-sideration of the triple sin, through the noble response to the call of the King, to the "Take, Lord, receive" prayer in the Contemplation for Love--I believe it can be argued--sin unfolds both as guilt and as shame. As this unfolding occurs within Ignatian prayer, there arises, at least in people today, an under-standing of sin as failure. In the church's immediate past, we were vaguely convinced that we thwarted God, kept God from doing what God intended. With our postmodern sensibilities we now come up against more than one serious confusion in that way of thinking about sin: How can a ,puny,: limited creature contravene the divine will of God, all-powerful, all-wise, and eternal? And about this puny creature: After absorbing depth-psychological insights, we tend to feel that by our sin we thwart ourselves rather than God. Again, aware of our utter brokenness, we hold that God is forgiving us--poor creatures that we are--even as we sin. The upshot of all this is that we now tend to feel that we are letting God down, disappointing God, holding back from God what Father, Son, and Spirt. gra-ciously hope for in us and our lifeworld. This is to think of sin not so much in terms of contradicting God's will, but rather--and Review for Religious more fruitfully--in terms of failure. In my own mind (and in the hearts of many others when they speak of their grave failures) an extraordinarily powerful metaphor for sin is a fetus failing and withering in a woman's womb, bitterly disappointing the mother. We are such a failure in God when we sin. Why failure? Well, Christian iconography, for one thing: the prophet telling'David, "You are that man"; the Magdalen's seven devils; the seated figure in Michelangelo's "Last Judgment," staring stark through dirty fingers. Failure as a metaphor for sin is not new; the church has always thought that going against our consciences, the com-mandments, legitimate laws, is moral failure. Ascetics and mystics have gone further, seeing themselves as fail-ing by not reaching ideals they had set for ourselves, though all too often they name ideals of moral behavior ("I will not judge others harshly, I will not tell fibs, I will not., and so on"). At the end of this century, however, failure covers a much broader area than morality: physical, aesthetic, political, and economic failures, career failures, medical, grammatical, mechanical, even computer failures. Many prophets about the green earth.make .lists of these failures: the air we breathe brings death from Chernobyl; the pleasures of love carry AIDS, cars suffer mechanical failure, magazines suffer cir-culation failure, and (may God avert the evil) computers are sub-ject to hard-disk failure. Every human person knows failure: a friendship fades, a position does not materialize, a debt does not get paid, siblings or children misbehave gravely. We overeat, escape into drugs, grow addicted to harmful substances like tobacco or harmful activities like gambling. We suffer physical failures like diabetes, psychic failures like acrophobia, aesthetic failures like ugliness or awkward manners. And, of course, in the end we fail to live forever as we would like, but die instead. Humankind is intimately, incessantly, incurably acquainted with failure. Some matters regarding these failures have a crucial bearing on the examen of conscience and deserve our notice. At times the failures are not willful, but are sin handed down to us from our forebears. At other times we seem to fail by error or through tiredness, but on closer examination we find the failure hiding some habit or quality or personality trait that needs our atten- Humankind is intimately, incessantly, incurably acquainted with failure. IWlay-~tnne 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars tion. And at other times, of course, we suffer one or another of myriad failures because of our own sin. Humankind even tends to believe that certain specific failures are accounted for by sin: lep-rosy and blindness among the Jews of Jesus' day, AIDS among the Christians of our day. "Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he is blind?" We are not likely to shake that belief because it is partially true. But how is it true? We have to face that question if we take failure as the metaphor for sin. We have not had to answer that question as long as we have taken sickness as the basic metaphor. And the matter is impor-tant because we have not been connecting all kinds of evils with sin. Think of a serial killer. Instinctively, postmodern humankind feel that a serial killer is very sick, inhumanly driven by uncon-scious motives to madness. "Oh, that's sick.t" cuts off any further inquiry into the morality of the murders and really implies that they are not sin. But, when we take failure as a metaphor for sin, we have to inquire further. Finally we get to the heart of the matter of sin: the original sin. We all know the larger theological truth, of course, that we are deeply affected by the original sin. But, as long as we consider sin as a sickness, we who work in theology immediately cede the explanation to the psychologists. We never get to the spiritual significance of the original sin in our own actual lives, and its truth means little more to us than the truth about Pluto's orbit. This is a crux matter in the lives of many ordinary Catholics. In the American tradition believing a truth means accepting its consequences in real life. Well, are the consequences of the orig-inal sin in my life the ones I suspect--negative self-image, neu-roticisms, childhood abuses of all kinds, compulsions, addictions, ¯ schizophrenia? How can I accept any of these, harsh as they are and even harmful? How do I put together self-acceptance and my own acceptance of God's acceptance of me with the fact that I am from a dysfunctional family, work in a dysfunctional job, am surrounded by neurotics, with whom I fit perfectly? None of us will continue the examen of conscience for long or go any deeper than, yes or no, I did or did not sin unless and until we find a way ~o give an account to ourselves of these live urgent issues. And ordinary Christians living the law written in their hearts-- much vexed with compulsions, prejudices, inveterate habits, reflex responses to advertising--inevitably face these issues. In sum, these issues are their "dark night of the soulT' and ordinary Review for Religious Christians need serious adult catechesis about handling these inte-rior faith issues (and hope issues), and they need a way of self-examination that allows them to apply it. The examen must be able to help me make this distinction: Is an experience my sin, a sin, or sin in me? The question begs for long study in a church plagued by narcissistic individualism. Perhaps, even more, it begs for some method of prayer that will allow each of us to probe the Christian self, a method available to the merest beginners as well as to someone who falls in love with God again on every starry night. In the Ignatian context, we sin when we fail to enact powers and virtues and holy desires that God is creating in us, when we are carelessly unaware of them or enact them neglectfully or refuse to be aware of them for lack of love. Considering sin as failure offers the great advantage of emphasizing simultaneously the interior and the external, an impor-tant consideration when we come to the examen of conscience. When a spring fails to bring out sweet water, the spring must be clogged or fouled in itself and the fields around it are deprived of water. When the fig tree fails to bring forth good fruit, the tree is suffering some internal disease or defect and the world around it is deprived of figs. When we sin-- it.;is extraordinarily useful to notice at this juncture in Christian history--we simultaneously suffer some internal fault or defect and our lifeworld suffers some lack or positive injury. Were I to make a false claim against a neighbor in a grave matter, I would suffer internal falseness and dishonor and my neighbor would suffer some concrete injury. That case is obvious; some cases are less so. For instance, when I do not pray according to the spe-cific gifts God is giving to me (time, desire, opportunity for min-istry), I fail to enact many of my gifts and my lifeworld is deprived in some way. When spouses fail to nourish regard for each other and starve their married love, their children suffer in ways we can now name. Clearly, ordinary people living ordinary lives need ways to connect their interior failings with their relationships and their lifeworld. Ordinary people living ordinary lives need ways to connect their interior failings with their relationships and their lifeworld. 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars The Recovery of Shame Another great advantage of thinking of sin in terms of failure is the recovery of shame. A hundred years ago Freud concluded that shame is subsumed into guilt, and depth psychology has not had much to say.about shame ever since. More recently, popu-larizers have urged that all shame is "toxic" and insisted that we should s~pew it out as we would a gulp of hemlock. Both of these stances seem extreme and seem to be connected with modern and postmodern individualism. For guilt can be entirely secret and internal, but shame always reaches both individuals and society. .'The Oxford English Dictionary finds that for centuries shame has meant "a painful emotion arising from the consciousness of something dishonoring, ridiculous, or indecorous in one's own conduct or situation"; the "fear of .offense against propriety or decency"; and the threat of "disgrace, 'ignominy, loss of esteem or reputation." (Notice that this language brings forcibly to mind the language of the Kingdom and the Contemplation.) In all of these senses, shame hovers between individuals' self-appreciation and what their society considers honorable, proper, decent, and gracious. Shame has been repudiated as an outmoded burden of a "shame culture," in which what we pejoratively called "confor-mity" is maintained through the fear of being shamed. But we are mistaken to repudiate shame, for it is that repudiation (along with much else) that has given scope in our culture to narcissis-tic individualism. Guilt is connected with transgression, with breaking law or violating conscience; shame is connected with failure, with falling short of an ideal. That ideal is a ~:eality which transcends the indi-vidual self and which individuals have chosen to make their own. Hence, shame belongs in the Ignatian examen of conscience. For the examen, like all prayer in the Ignatian tradition, is connected with the magis, and the magis refers to an ideal. Even if I am exam-ining whether I broke a commandment, in the Ignatian tradition I am holding up a higher ideal than mere conformity--some kind of magis that calls me, considering the gifts I am given, at least to keep the commandments all the more perfectly. Hence, failure in the Ignatian tradition commonly means falling short of an ideal. The result of that is not guilt; it is shame, which connects me to those in my life and to my lifeworld. Understanding sin as failure, then, supports the examen of conscience in the Ignatian tradition. It does so for one final tea- Review for Religious son: I cannot know my failures unless and until I have known my gifts. This is surely why Ignatius begins the five-point examen with an act of thanks to God. I cannot know specifically and con-cretely how I failed unless and until I know my gifts in all their specificity and concreteness. In the Ignatian context, a failure of any kind (fiscal, physical, aesthetic) transmutes into sin when we have failed at what we have all the gifts to succeed at because we either refuse to use those gifts or actually reject them. Failure transmutes into sin when we fail to use gifts that we have when and as our experience and our lifeworld call on us to use them. We sin when we fail to enact powers and virtues and holy desires that God is creating in us, gifts we are aware of and yet neglect or gifts we refuse to be aware of for lack of love. This brings me to the third thing that the Ignatian examen entails. I can cover it briefly. The Stress on Gift and Giftedness I have suggested that the Ignatian examen, like all the prayer in that tradition, is an ongoing search of our life story for what God hopes in us. It entails knowing our authentic desires. It results in a felt sense that a given act or experience is holy or sin-ful and, if sinful, whether the sense is of guilt or shame or the sorrowful playing out of sin in ourselves. Above all, this examen grows from a graced union with an active God. Nowhere in the Ignatian tradition is God so transparently active as in the Contemplation for Love. There the focus on what God wishes me to do, and on how God's wishes come to be expressed in my self ontologically, emerges in an almost fiery con-centration on the gifts that God continually shares with us in the created world. The one praying recounts the gifts, then God's presence in the gifts, and then God's present action in them and finally embraces the gifts and their enactments as a share in God's Self. The prayer verges into being a quasi-ontological invitation to enact the gift I am aware of in order to collaborate with God in creating not only my own self but also my lifeworld. "Moral action" transmutes into a particular in the divine action--utterly holy in itself. After such a prayer, particularly if this way of pray-ing should become habitual (as it surely does among Ignatian practitioners), an authentically Ignatian kind of examen of con-science will focus on giftedness and the enactment of gifts. ~Vlay-June 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars [ I The. Ignatian examen, in fact, presupposes a sense of collab-orating with God in bringing myself and my lifeworld into exis-tence and giving them definition. This sense results from the Principle and Foundation properly explained and adequately grasped. Though this spiritual sense is not unrelated to Ifiigo's profoundly mystical illumination at the Cardoner, many ordinary Catholics are able to appreciate it. We can surely come to this understanding: God has hopes and desires for me regarding my life and my lifeworld overall and even in the smallest details. Within that awareness is the faith conviction that God my Creator and Lord is creating me moment by moment. Of course, the col-laboration of creature with Creator God is totally asymmetrical, the finite with the infinite, the failed sinner with the Holy One. But it is truly a collaboration. How does God conduct this col-laboration if not by creating in each one gifts to enact, the free-dom to choose among those gifts, and the very enactment of those gifts ? The precise failure of modernity, from which we all still suf-fer, has been people's dim or even nonexistent awareness that every concrete existential reality in my life and lifeworld is God's giving at that and this very moment. Within this modernity the church has seemed commonly to believe in the rationalists' "watchmaker" God, infinitely transcendent, the first cause in a vast long line of secondary causes ending in each one of us. That belief had permeated so many. people that the First Vatican Council felt impelled to define as a doctrine of the faith that God directly, personally, as First Cause, created each human soul. The definition left problems behind it, the first of which was, What about the body? The reasons for the failure of modern Christians to keep mindful that God is always Creator are dense and many, but we ought to note several of the more obvious because they are per-tinent to the examen of conscience. We have become aware, to begin with, how human behavior is defined by genetic precondi-tioning, childhood neglect, and various abuses. We wonder--to visit this same issue in another place---how compulsions and addic-tions can be gifts. We have grown so used to noting our uncon-scious motivations that we use them as excuses. Who has not heard such remarks as ".I can't help it, I'm an ENTJ" and "Well, I'm a two on the enneagram"? More positively, we think of the self as the product of our own choices; we feel responsible for mak- Review for Religious ing ourselves. We know that we must be authentic and express our true self. Well, in what sense are the me and my own se/fgifts if I achieve them? If these grounds for our failure to walk humbly as creatures before our Creator and Lord are even partially true, we well need an examen of conscience that facilitates the connection of our gifts with our actions both graced and failed. I do not mean "in a general way"; I mean a method of connecting our concrete gifts with concrete enactments. How does my gift of intelligence connect with my failure to get a job I applied for? What responsibility have I, son of alcoholic parents, for yet another enactment of dependency? What was the Spirit of Jesus Christ trying to tell me in a con-solation I suddenly received and dis-trusted during a conversation with someone I do not like? We have so much knowledge about the inner workings of the human psy-che that we are being irresponsible not to ask, What is going on here? We once demanded of ourselves the motivation behind our behaviors: What made me say no? What am I doing graduate studies for? Why did I not tell the whole truth? We must now recognize that in every so-called motive there converge contexts, perspectives, perceptions, val-ues, desires, prior decisions, and habits. We cannot give an account of this complexity by asking ourselves, even very earnestly, What was my motive? To know failure for what it is requires that one know one's skills, gifts, capacities, abilities, habits, and so on.After all, what fails? Hence, the most helpful examen of conscience will require that I examine in detail my gifts. Not in general, not unconnected to my current experience, as though I were makinga catalogue of all my gifts and all my achievements. Rather, the exercise will demand that I inquire, with precision and thoroughness, which of my gifts, skills, achievements, habits, and so on are involved in what I am examining, for this is the way God draws me into coop-eration in creating my own self and my lifeworld. And this is how we can reach for fervent ongoing conversion that really addresses ourselves and our situations. In the Christian We need an examen of conscience that facilitates the connection of our gifts with our actions both graced and failed. Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars tradition the examen has been integral to ongoing conversion; in fact, it could almost be called the expression of ongoing conver-sion. It is integral as well to growing deeper in holiness by accept-ing more and more into every part of myself my redemption in Christ. For conversion, contrary to popular image, does not mean an action done once and forever. Conversion is perhaps best thought of as accepting responsibility for my self---my thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and even my desiring--at this time and in some particular realm of human experience. Thus, a recovering alcoholic accepts responsibility in the realm of moral experience by acknowledging his own drives and needs and responding to them in Christian freedom, All of us have to accept responsibil-ity for ourselves in the realms of intellectual development, moral judgment and action, affective and emotional functioning, appre-ciation of beauty and development of taste, and active civil engage-ment for the sake of good order and justice. Obviously, we each go through many, many experiences in every one of these realms, and at each step we all are called on to take greater and greater responsibility for ourselves. That is what conversion means, and obviously it is an ongoing process. In the Ignatian tradition, conversion does not deal with the minimum. As I have said before, we who follow this tradition feel that the Spirit of Christ calls steadily to the magis. This magis, however, will never be an abstraction; the Spirt of Christ does not invite us to "holiness" or to "heroism." Rather, the Spirit calls in concrete matters one after another, which grow out of and actualize a fundamental option to follow, and perhaps even to imitate, Jesus Christ. The magis will continually involve further insight into my own thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and desiring and into how these are or are not realizing God's hopes in me. That is the point of the incarnation. The Examen of Particulars Let me recall what gives Ignatian shape to an examen of con- . science. First, any method of self-examination in the Ignatian tra-dition, like all prayer in that tradition, stays close to story. It~is about finding God's wishes in me and in my lifeworld. Or to put that another way, it is about finding my most authentic desiring, which is God's way of shaping both my self and my lifeworld. Then, insofar as it deals with sin, this examen works well when the Review for Relig4ous metaphor for sin is failure. The original sin is the failure of my humanness, bred into me by dysfunctional family, friends, society, and schools, not to mention air, food, and technologies. The fail-ure is both in me and in my lifeworld, so that when I feel it with any clarity I feel shamed as much as guilty, or even more. The typical Ignatian image is of the knight who has failed his Lord or the handmaid who has failed her mistress. Now, what kind of examen of conscience might respond to these three points about Ignatian prayer and spirituality at the beginning of the 21st century? This examen will proceed in an intimate relationship with God creating me moment by moment. It will help find what God is hoping for me to do. It will focus on experiences as totalities (their contexts, perspectives, perceptions, values, desires, decisions, habits), on things done and undergone both in their externals and in my own thoughts, feelings, and inner behaviors. It will connect external and internal events with actual gifts being created in me by God. The ~xamen will keep me mindful of what I have chosen to do for Christ, or what I believe I might do for Christ. Rather than retail a series of events, this examen will help me unpack both my successes and my failures, bringing me to feel accurately and generously any guilt I have incurred and to assess shame, the failure to reach my own ideals. Throughout, the examen will work on the basis of gratitude to God for gifts, hours, life, everything. This means that, though I may feel sharp shame because in some concrete way I have failed, I still will not allow the tempting thought to seize me that I am a failure. Here is what might prove to be a useful scheme: Always begin by recalling that God is creating you moment by moment. Each time you decide something that shapes you a~ a person, God, too, is deciding to shape you. Each time you relate to another or oth-ers, the Spirit of Christ is relating you to your entire lifeworld and creating it in you and through you. And, while you .are look-ing at the past, over which you have no further control, God is always acting in the now, the Master of history to whom past and future are present. Be mindful that you are now in God and that God loves who you are--not who you might be or could be or even should be. Let the Father's gaze rest on you in all of its com-plaisance. The examen of particulars has five moments. First, recall an incident or an experience. Second, remember your response. May-)~tne 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars Third, recall which of your gifts were or mighthave been involved in this concrete experience. Fourth, examine the particulars: What was really going on? And, fifth, ponder in Christ, What comes " next? 1. Recalling an incident or an experience. What happened? Recall some incident or experience during your day. For a moment, just remember what happened. Recall an incident (an encounter, for instance, or a friendly gesture): what was done and said, by whom, where, and when? Or recall an experience (an achievement, for instance, or a feeling of fear): what happened? You can finish this in just a minute even if you jot down a bit of description. This moment is parallel to entering an Ignatian contempla-tion: you notice who was there, what was done, and what was said. At first you might take any experience that' stands out, whether holy, harsh, or hollow (by which I mean ambiguous). Often enough some incident or some habitual or characteristic action stands out as holy or unholy. You might, however, ask about how Christ is redeeming you, or what the experience of a conso-lation signifies, or what a failure signifies. After a while you may well find yourself concentrating on one kind of incident or expe-rience: on getting angry rather often, on almost always being late or not finishing things, on feeling restless or touchily anxious, on handling a new kind of success. When you note that, be aware that the Ignatian tradition has valued the examen of a particular virtue or failing as a signpost of how the Spirit of Christ is invit- ¯ ing you to spiritual growth. ~ 2. Remembering your response. How did you, yourself, act and react? Remember your thoughts and feelings and behaviors, what you did and said. Remember also what you wanted to ~do and say, and then how you felt about what happened. Take enough time to recall these interior phenomena. If you are like the rest of us, you too often let thoughts, feelings, and desires go unnoted. Yet they are important connectors to your lifeworld and to your God, and you would do well to write down what you find. After finishing these two phases, let the incident or experience, itself, rest while you turn to your own self. 3. Recall your gi)%. In every single action and reaction, you act as a whole person, interrelated in concrete ways to other.per-sons. Yet you are complex, with five senses and certain physical qualities; with gifts of intelligence, education, and rearing; and endowed with a certain limited number of abilities and talents. Review for Religious You are graced with certain qualities and characteristics, and you have realized certain achievements and developed certain skills. God your Creator and Lord has been and continues creating all of these complexities in you--or, rather, creating you in all these complexities--and they are all gifts, even your skills and achieve-ments. In any given action or reaction, certain of your gifts con-tribute or are called on. As you listen to a friend, your empathy, skill in discernment, availability, freedom to spend the time as you choose, and fidelity as a friend all come into play. Your accom-plishment with a guitar, while remaining present, probably would not come actively into play, nor your computer proficiency either. But, if you are looking into an incident of getting angry at a com-puter, that proficiency would be relevant, and your gift of empa-thy perhaps less so. In one way or another, though, you do bring every one of your gifts into every incident or experience. If you have gifts of intelligence and articulateness, you may, at the moment of noticing a fellow worker's error, consciously keep your mouth shut so as not to offend. That is to say, in any experience you will have acted out some of your gifts and not others. In the incident or experience that comes to the fore during your examen, which of your gifts were involved or could have been involved? Among your gifts, note abilities, talents, charac-teristics, qualities, skills, achievements, strengths. Take plenty of time to do this part of the exercise, and insist with yourself that you be complete in cataloguing the gifts. You may well find this part of the examen somewhat difficult; many do. Part of the rea-son is that through and in those gifts God connects you to the peop!e in your life and lifeworld and raises in you those desires which, enacted, will bring justice, peace, and love to you and your lifeworld. A plea to the Spirit of Jesus Christ for light will help. 4. Examining particulars. What was really going on? Having looked into your concrete gifts and characteristics and achieve-ments, you are in a position to see more fully (and perhaps more accurately) what was going on in your whole self. Go back over the first and the second points and examine them in all their partic-ulars. Take your time doing ~his, especially if you started it while you were listing your gifts. For what seemed a mere burst of tem-per may prove to be sinful self-reliance and lack of trust in God. What appeared a simple consolation may, on closer examination, signalize a major invitation by the Spirit to growth. You thought ~/lay-June 1997 Tetlow ¯ The Examen of Particulars at first that you were being humble, and you turn out to have been cowardly. You feared that you had failed in courage, and turn out to have exercised a maturer and deeper prudence than you had been exercising before. An action that you justified may in truth have been a failure; you acted tough when your gifts and the circumstances called on you to show greater compassion. All depends on the particulars. Realize that you are asking: What is God telling me in this incident or experience? What is God hoping in these gifts that I enacted or failed to enact? Where is the Holy Spirit leading me? How was I interacting in it with Jesus Christ, my redeemer? Done correctly, this exercise is the opposite of narcissistic self-regard. 5. What comes next? As you discover more clearly what was going on in the incident, you will come to see clearly what you might do next. So you may have to repent and have sorrow and beg God's forgiveness, or you may need to rejoice and give God praise and thanks. You may be called on to do something or to wait upon the Lord. No matter what you discover in truth, God is hoping in you, for love of you and of your lifeworld. This examen puts me into contact with my real thoughts, feelings, desires, and behaviors, allowing me to decide whether I consider them Christhke or not. Better: this is a wonderful way to open to the Spirit of Christ. The Holy Spirit can teach anxious people to trust God the Father much more readily if they have become aware of their anxiety and of how it permeates all their feelings, thoughts, behaviors, and desiring and begs for healing. The Spirit can more readily teach slothful people who have not spoken out against injustice if now they are growing aware of their gifts of clear thinking and articulateness and also aware that they are not using those gifts. These are spiritual tasks that ordinary Christians feel attracted to and can keep at. This form is surely only one of many possible ones, and imperfect at that. Perhaps it will move forward the quest of finding God in all things, even in self-examination. Review for Religious KENNETH R. HIMES Justice-and-Peace Ministry: Three Decades Plus Few developments in religious life since Vatican Council II have been more hopeful than the dramatic rise in jus-tice- and-peace activity, a commitment to the social mission of the church. Today this ministry is more diverse in style, more widespread in locale,, and more intimately connected to the ideals of religious life than would have been pre-dicted thirty years ago. Without doubt it is a movement of grace, committed people responding to the prompting of the Holy Spirit. In this article I will review the recent past, discuss the centrality of justice-and-peace ministry to the mission of the church today, and look toward the future of religious in this ministry. Regarding the response, during the past thirty years, of United States religious (particularly'men, for I know more about them) to the church's urgent calls to social ministry, I offer not a care-ful chronological reconstruction of issues and develop-ments, but rather a personal reflection that is intended to provoke further reflection and also discussion. Kenneth R. Himes OFM, professor of moral theology at the Washington Theological Union, has held, as visiting professor during this school year, the McKeever Chair of Moral Theology at St. John's University in Jamaica, New York. Originally the keynote speech at CMSM's justice-and-peace conference in August 1996, this article--here modified and shortened--appeared in the fall 1996 issue of CMSM Forum. The author may be addressed at 6896.Laurel Street; Washington, D.C. 20012. " perspectives May-3~une 1997 Himes ¯ Justice-and-Peace Ministry Foreign Missions and the Social Mission of the Church The foreign missionary work of religious underwent great rethinking as a result of the theologies of revelation, grace, and church that scholars produced in the 1950s and 1960s. After Vatican Council II there was a need to rearticulate the nature and purpose of foreign missionary activity. Not everyone was able to do that as adequately as had been hoped, and the result was that younger religious felt a diminishing interest in the missions. Moreover, many foreign missionaries returned to the States, some-times with a sense of what came to be called "reverse mission," that is, the intent of communicating to people in the United States how Latin Americans, Asians, and Africans saw us. I think that those who took up the task of "reverse mission" were mostly religious who had worked in Central and South America. This was partly because the United States has great influence there and partly because the Latin American church was quicker to develop and give voice to a local theology that did not merely adopt the basic themes of Vatican II, but adapted the conciliar vision to the Latin American reality. Thus missionaries returning from Latin America came back to the United States with a perspective and orientation that was self-consciously dif-ferent from the North American outlook. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, some of the most prominent religious dedicated to justice-and-peace activities in the States had previously spent time abroad in the missions. Frequently they were more critical of the United States than their fellow religious and were quicker to devote themselves to the social mission of the churcli. Their influence has been enormous and has brought both strengths and weaknesses to the development of justice-and-peace work in the U.S. church. The "reverse mission" people were prophetic, able to distance themselves from the conventional wis-dom of U.S. society, and they were able to expose the dark side of a Catholicism that had become comfortably suburban and middle-class. The judgments made about the United States sometimes seemed harsh, even radical, but they were an important counter-weight in a church that was less and les~' a blue-collar, urban, eth-nic population and more and more a white-collar, assimilated, suburban middle class. A major benefit provided by foreign missionaries to religious communities in particular and the U.S. church in general was an Review fim Religious awareness of the international nature of Catholic justice-and-peace~ activity. Questions of economic development in poor nations, economic colonialism, the behavior of multinational cor-porations, Central American politics, apartheid, the plight of refugees--these and many other issues came into the rec-room and dining-room conversations of religious communities because of foreign missionaries' experience of a world much larger than the local parish, retreat house, school campus, or shrine church. A more ambiguous aspect of the global awareness of foreign missionaries was their inclination to adopt the philosophical and theological categories of liberation theology. By helping to intro-duce this vitally important theological and pastoral movement to the U.S. church, the returning missionaries expanded the theo-logical conversation within our nation. In the 1960s and 1970s, many North American Catholic theologians were still far more engaged with the European theologies of Rahner, Congar, Schillebeeckx, K~ing, Fransen, Fuchs, and others than with the voices of Guti~rrez, Segundo, Boff, Sobrino, and their colleagues. Bringing back not only knowledge of new authors but sensitivity to the life situation of the Latin American church was a wonder-ful service provided by those who performed "reverse mission." At the same time an unfortunate aspect of this influence was that many in the justice-and-peace community simply adopted liberation theology without sufficient reflection upon how the Latin American experience should be integrated with North American realities. As a result, justice-and-peace ministry employed a vocabulary, a rhetorical style, and a social analysis which could not speak adequately to the U.S. Catholic experi-ence of democracy, free markets, and liberal culture that had shaped an outlook very different from the reality presumed by liberation theologians. Of course, the ministry of justice and peace in this country must be shaped by a wide-ranging conversation with the church throughout the world, but the conversation must also be rooted in an understanding of life in the United States-- our traditions, our institutions, our virtues and vices. Another aspect of the influence of foreign missionaries on justice-and-peace ministry is its prophetic edge. In many ways Catholic social action throughout this country's history has tended toward reform liberalism. Now and then during the 19th cen-tury, the immigrant communities, particularly the non-English-speaking immigrants, took~a more separatist attitude toward Ma),-Jttne 1997 Himes ¯ .~ustice-and-Peace Ministry For many Catholics, American society, with all its problems, was not simply lacking in structures of grace. United States culture, but Catholics in this country usually worked for incremental reform from within the dominant ethos of the nation. (The most significant exception to this has been the 20th-century Catholic Worker movement.) Assimilation, not with-drawal, was the goal for most immigrant Catholics, and the church promoted such an ambition, Much was accomplished as a result. Catholic intellectuals and church leaders, although often critical, also found much that was worthy of accep-tance in the way of life found in the United States. One need only think of John Carroll, John Ireland, Isaac Hecker, James Gibbons, Peter Dietz, John Ryan, and John Courtney Murray to remember that the trend in Catholic social activism was to see the possibility of putting the two words American and Catholic together, rather than stressing some incompatibility. Returning missionaries, however, looked at their homeland somewhat from the perspective of outsiders. Influenced by their foreign mission experience and by the theology of liberation, such missionaries offered a harsher and more radical analysis than many U.S. Catholics had previously considered. Aligning themselves with the voices of Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, and others who had become alienated by the Vietnam War, an important segment of the justice-and-peace communRT strongly opposed the United States policy. But most American Catholics never embraced the more radical critics of society such as James Groppi, Dan and Phil Berrigan, and Merton. This was so, I believe, not because of shallow faith or lack of virtue on the part of the majority, but because of its different experience. For many Catholics, American society, with all its problems, was not simply lacking in structures of grace. Justice-and-peace ministries that assumed an emphasis on countercultural strategies did not capture the full experience of those Catholics, who found in this society elements of God's gracious presence as well as human sinfulness. The upshot, though not intended, was a certain elitism in justice-and-peace ministry, a belittling of middle-class Catholics and their alleged vices of consumerism, racism, nationalism, and parochialism. No doubt the prophetic or countercultural element of jus-tice- and-peace ministry did shake the taken-for-granted world of Review for Religious many Catholics in this country. Although they had not been indif-ferent to the situation of other nations or peoples, U.S. Catholics were challenged by those in reverse mission and by other harsh critics of our society to consider the ways in which the United States was complicitous in the suffering felt by many on our planet. The call to conscience provoked some anger, but also much salutary soul-searching among faithful people, and helped prevent American Catholics from becoming too uncritical in their assimilation. In addition, many missionaries returning from poor coun-tries came home with a renewed appreciation for simple living. Living in countries where material conditions were harsher than in the United States gave foreign missionaries the opportunity to rethink the distinction between being and having, between what is necessary and what is luxury. Their example of simple liv-ing inspired many fellow religious and many lay people to link lifestyle issues with political commitments and to rediscover the social implications of asceticism so as to connect self-discipline with social solidarity. Spirituality and Justice-and-Peace Ministry Not only in asceticism but in the entire range of spirituality topics, an important connection has been made between justice-and- peace ministry and spirituality. One of the early problems in social ministry was the frustration that accompanied the work: small victories and large setbacks, the complexity of the existing problems along with the appearance of new ones, time passing and social conditions worsening. Many religious discovered that justice-and-peace ministry brought high risk of fatigue, anger, alienation, and marginalization. Classmates might rejoice in being made pastors of successful parishes, others in the community were achieving success in teaching or administering schools, preachers and counselors were drawing loyal followers among the Catholic laity, but often the religious working in justice-and-peace min-istry were on the margins of a congregation's ministerial life. Out of necessity as much as desire, those religious engaged in the social mission of the church began a search for a spirituality that would support their ministry. This has led to marvelous advances in the spiritual journeys of countless religious, but it has not been easy to move from a spirituality that stressed renun- ~¥lay-~une 1997 Himes ¯ ~stice-and-Peace Ministry ciation of the world to a spirituality that is more at home in the world. Some were-not able to make the transition, and justice-and- peace ministry has had its share of religious who were unable to persevere in that taxing and unrewarding ministry or were unable to continue in their vows. Given the tumultuousness of these last thirty years, a socially conscious spirituality was cru-cial for maintaining the faith, hope, and charity that support jus-tice- and-peace ministry. Developing such a spirituality, however, often required moving beyond established paradigms of the spir-itual life and rediscovering the richness of the biblical tradition. Today more and more of our confreres have found the God revealed in the Bible to be more passionate, more engaged in human history, than the God of the philosophers, whose omni-science and omnipotence do not readily suggest lovableness. Coming to understand how the covenant with Yahweh and the reign of God proclaimed by Jesus were inextricably tied to .build-ing communities of justice, mercy, peace, and love has fostered a biblical spirituality that is vastly different from that which many religious received in their novitiates during the 1940s and 1950s. From John XXIII's optimism about the world and from the docu-ments of the council, an outline of a spirituality emerged which was more incarnational and more personal. No'longer was the image of the holy religious one who fled the world and strove to be angelic, for now holiness was to be found in the world: the spiri-tualities we embraced encouraged us to be more human, not less so. In many communities it seems that those engaged in social ministry are also the ones who have taken the call to holiness most seriously. Frequently the social activists in the congrega-tion are keenly interested in living in intentional communities with regular times of communal prayer. Retreats, directed and preached, have in recent years concentrated on topics like faith and justice, a spirituality of peacemaking, living the gospel in an affluent culture, and seeking God in everyday activities. More and more religious are interested in preaching on justice and peace. Since the late 1980s, interest in the environment has iadded another rich strain to spirituality: appreciation of the beauty of creation becomes a revelation of God, and reverence for creation a way of showing reverence for God. Over the last thirty years, relating the social mission of the church to one's personal search for God has occasioned significant writing, and any number of books and articles take as an axiom that the journey inward and outward Review for Religious are not at cross purposes, but are thoroughly intertwined. Religious today are much better able to integrate their desire for God with their quest for a more just, peaceful, and sustainable world. The Role of Religious and the Role of the Laity When religious took up the challenge of renewal following Vatican II, there was an energy and an air of excitement. People began to see the possibilities of new ministries and new ways of serving in old ministries. The call to read the signs ofthe times led religious to seek out new forms of social work, political activism, and community organizing. Encouraged by documents like the 1971 Synod's statement Justice in the World and Paul VI's Call to Action, religious involved in justice-and-peace ministry saw themselves as being faithful to the council's vision of the rela-tionship of church and world. Among the positive consequences of such a development was the public witness of many religious to the church's commitment to building a more just and peaceful world. As vowed religious gave themselves generously to the social mission of the Catholic community, they constituted a living rebuttal to those who looked upon religion as a retreat from the world and a shirking of the responsibility caring for the political, economic, and cultural dimensions of human existence. The presence of religious in many roles previously viewed as "worldly" occasioned a reevaluation of ways of distinguishing between sacred and secular and elicited new appreciation for the religious depth of activity that heretofore had been seen as simply secular. In addition, a great benefit of this outward thrust in mission beyond the institutional boundaries of the church to the wider society was that it led relig!ous into much greater collaboration with the laity. The pre-Vatican II church, of course, also con-sisted of clergy, religious, and laity working together. Even in the heyday of vocations to consecrated life, the large Catholic network of social-welfare programs, schools, and hospitals involved, work-ing partnerships between religious and the laity. Yet it is true that, during the last three decades, there has been increased contact between religious and lay people, more egalitarian styles of shared ministry, and a sharpening of skills f~r collaborative ministry. At the same time, however, religious have been subtly tempted to assume leadership in places where lay people might be expected May-June 1997 Himes ¯ .~tice-and-Peace Ministry to come to the fore, as encouraged by the council document Apostolicam actuositatem, with its desire that lay people carry the gospel into public life. By reason of their large numbers and var-ied experience, lay people are best suited to be the leaven in busi-ness, politics, the arts, education, social service, and other such endeavors. But in recent years it is still religious communities that have sponsored many justice-and-peace centers, newsletters, programs, and activities through which the church strives to engage the wider world, That many religious took the lead in such activity reflects well upon their dedication and creativity, but perhaps it was time to leave ways open for many more lay. people to do such creating and leading. The high profile of religious in the church's justice-and-peace work is related to the more radical and elitist aspects of the min-istry that I pointed out above. As outsiders to much of the work-ings of secular society and as people expected to have less concern about career and salary, religious could afford to be. more harsh in their judgments about secular institutions. Lay people, in con-trast, were generally more attuned to the ambiguity of the busi-ness world and less prone to make broad prophetic denunciations of the profit motive, economic competition, and material success; There is surely truth in the claim that, during the last thirty years, religious in justice-and-peace ministry were considerably more critical of United States society than their parents, siblings, nephews, and nieces among the Catholic laity. Thus the formu-lations of problems and the suggested solutions did not engage lay people the way they did religious. As justice-and-peace ministry draws more upon the talent and experience of lay people, we may witness in it a different tone and style. Parochial Ministry and the Charism of Religious Perhaps no development in contemporary.religious life has been more important than the response to the council's affirma, tion that "institutes have their own proper characters and func-tions. Therefore the spirit and aims of each founder should be faithfully accepted and retained" in the renewal efforts of reli-gious (Perfectae caritatis, §2). The past thirty years have seen an onslaught of historical research, publication, and discussion by and for religious trying to ascertain their charism as manifested in their founders' lives and writings. Revlew for Religious Is there any religious institute today that does not work more self-consciously than a few decades ago at understanding and pass-ing on its charism? Less and less is it valid to talk about religious generically, for the distinctive charisms of monastic, mendicant, and ~apostolic communities (to name just three ways of describing religious) cannot be lumped together. And diversity is the case even within these categories~ as Carmelites, Dominicans and Franciscans--mendicants all--would attest. The rediscovery of the various communities' specific charisms occasioned a rethinking of the religious priesthood. The Jesuit historian John W. O'Malley has suggested that the theology of priesthood widely held after the council was inadequate to the complexity of the tradition of religious life within the church (Tradition and Transition, chap. 6). Many commentators on Vatican II have noted that it talked about Christ in the classical threefold schema of priest, prophet, and king. These last two images expand priestly identity beyond a narrow cultic understanding, retrieving the ministry of the word and pastoral leadership as elements of the ordained minister's identity. So far so good, but, as O'Malley sug-gests, this is still too narrow a view. The teaching of Vatican II rests on an assumption about the unity of the priesthood that is not historically accurate. In speak-ing of priestly ministry, Presbyterorum ordinis images (1) a stable community of faith and practice, (2) a parish setting, and (3) a specific hierarchical union with the local bishop. In other words, the document presents the diocesan priesthood as the norm or the theme, and other modes of priestly ministry as variations on it. Inasmuch as, at the time of the council, one-third of all the ordained ministers in the church were religious, this was a large assumption. One of its consequences is that Perfectae caritatis treats religious profession as an issue of lifestyle--discussing spiritual-ity, vows, and discipline, but ignoring ministry. Religious men have experienced lately a growing disen-chantment with the relegation of their religious vocation to a lifestyle question. They have begun discussing what formative influence their particular charism has on ministry. It has become apparent that the Vatican II approach is insufficient to account for the experience of thousands of ordained religious. The founders of religious communities were charismatic fellows whose ministry flowed, not from their official position, but from their reading of'the pastoral need and a sense of personal inspiration. Himes ¯ ffustice-and-Peace Ministot Pi'iestly ministry for religious is broad; it takes forms of pastoral care that are devised to meet the spiritual needs of people. Often such ministry was exempt from direct episcopal super-vision and beyond diocesan structures and boundaries. For exam-ple, in many religious institutes it was the various ministries of the word--preaching, teaching, lecturing, spiritual direction, direct-ing retreats, publishing books, and ministering to non-Cfitholics as well as to the faithful--that were the normal ministries for reli-gious priests. In many cases, this took ordained religious beyond the walls of the church and even of Christian soci-ety. Priestly ministry for religious is broad; it takes forms of pastoral care that are devised to meet the spiritual needs of people, needs that can appear marginal to the ordinary pastoral tasks in a parochial community. For that very reason, a variety of religious communi-ties have never seen caring for parishes as central to their work. Many ordained religious carry out their ministry, not in a parochial setting, but in a classroom, a retreat house, or an out~each center in some domestic or foreign mission area. In short, the model is not that of preaching to a largely stable community of believers, but of spreading the gospel by means of occupations and tasks that make contact with people in ways that are beyond the ordinary parochial structures of a diocese. Although we all know that there is a shortage of ordained min-isters for parishes throughout the nation, this does not mean that religious should become stopgaps. They should continue to offer their own pastoral assessment of how to serve the people of God consistent with their charism. This may require less, not more, parochial involvement. The social mission of the church may be the most important ministry to which religious ,should attend--and one which may receive less and less attention from the secular clergy as they find themselves stretched thin to meet the needs of American Catholicism's extensive parochial structures. As religious have sought to clarify their identity ,during these last thirty years, they have gradually realized that the charisms of religious life may lead them in directions quite different from those of the local diocesan presbyterate. Am I a religious first or a priest first? is a bad question. The proper question is how rain- Review for Religious istry and religious life permeate and shape one another. How does a man's religious vocation color or inflect his ministry as an ordained person, and vice versa? If what has been said is true for ordained religious, it should clearly be the case for lay religious. Reconsidering institutional commitments has often been painful and even divisive. Just as ordained religious have at times taken their cue more from the local diodese than from their community's tradition and charism, so too have lay religious. In some instances, the staffing of dioce-san schools has been analogous to the staffing of diocesan parishes. The issues of a community's corporate institutional commitments vis-a-vis its charism can seem to be a minefield, and the movement of religious out of other ministries into justice~and-peace endeaw ors has often been the occasion for a minor explosion. Yet the process of renewal continues, and the interest that religious have taken in the church's social mission has been strengthened by renewed appreciation of the charisms of various religious com-munities. The Centrali~ of the Social Mission A striking feature of the history of the church's social mis-sion is that it was seen as the generosity of its heart, but not always as a requirement of its nature. The theological reflection in Vatican II's Gaudium et spes and in later documents such as Justitia in mundo and Evangelii nuntiandi have shown how justice-and-peace ministry and the religious mission of the church are con-nected. This essential religious mission has been expressed in our time as evangelization: "Evangelizing is in fact the grace and voca-tion proper to the church, her deepest identity" (Evangelii nun-tiandi, §14). As Paul VI explains, evangelization is a process, a vital part of which is entrance into the community. People cannot simply be preached at or lectured to on Catholic doctrine; they must be brought into a community of faith. Such a community has a distinct pattern of behavior, a way of life. In its earliest years Christianity was known as "The Way" because it was seen to be about living a certain way of life, becom-ing part of a particular community. The gospel must be a word that transforms. As evangelizers, we must bring people into an active Christian community. In other words, faith entails not only attitudes and ideas but also commitments. The community that is May-J~ne 1997 Himes ¯ Justice-and-Peace Ministry Christian must be a community of witnesses. Without witnesses, evangelization fails. We are to witness to the very thing that Jesus was committed to: the reign of God. The Lord's proclamation of the reign of God was the good news. However, it is not enough simply to know and speak the gospel message. Ministry cannot be a matter of "Here's your answer and, by the way, what was your question?" If the community of witnesses, namely the church, is to minister effectively, we must attend to people's immediate concerns and show how faith in Jesus speaks to those concerns. Years ago the old Critic magazine had a pertinent cartoon. A handsome, sharply dressed cleric is speaking to a woman in her liv-ing room. Standing there in a tattered housedress, hair curlers tumbling over her forehead and ears, she is ob'~iously pregnant. Two little children tug at the hem of her dress; her husband in a T-shirt lies belly-up on the sofa, surrounded by beer cans. Laundry is piled in the corner, and in the background pots boil over on the stove. The dog is chasing the cat. The smiling priest looks down at her weary face and says, "Now remember, Agnes, the Christian is an Alleluia from head to toe!" None of us will deny that faith is a reason for genuine joy. But Father's way of conveying the good news is, well, not good. We laugh or smile at the incongruities. But we realize that the reality of it hurts, that the perennial danger of religious language is using it cheaply, without having our human heart in it. Gustavo Guti6rrez puts the challenge graphically: "How are we to preach the gospel with any credibility to that two-thirds of humanity which goes to bed each night hungry, ill-housed, chron~ ically ill, and without hope for the political and material improve-ment of their lives? What can the phrases 'God is love' or 'redemption from the yoke of sin' possibly mean to them?" It is not enough to tell the good news while people are enveloped in conditions that deny the very dignity we tell them is theirs. We know that there is a here-and-now dimension to the reign of God--for present-day Christians, just as there was for the One who went about doing good in Galilee and Judea. Yet we also know that the reign of God is not here in. all its fullness. Woody Allen once said: "The lion may lie down with the lamb, but the lamb isn't going to get much sleep!" We find ourselves in a state of tension; we live in the between times. The reign of God is here ¯ . . not yet. If God's reign is here as well as not yet, then it is Review for Religious linked to history. Like Jesus himself, the reign must be incarnated and enter into the human drama. Moreover, Jesus invites us to have the same relationship with God that he has--to be sons and daughters of the Father. This implies being brothers and sisters to one. another, not only in our interior attitudes, but also in our conduct--or else it is a pious nonreality. In order to be faithful to Christ, the church must witness to both the here-and-now and the not-yet dimensions of the reign of God, but my concern in these remarks is the here and .now. For the church to be like its Lord, the community of Christians must be the agent on earth of the reign of God, incarnating in his-tory a state of life characterized by relationships of justice, peace, forgiveness, love. In a word, the task of the church is to bring about liberation. Liberation, as properly understood in Catholic the-ology, is similar to the classical word salvation, but has a less otherworldly connotation. It under-scores the here-and-now aspect of God's reign. It calls attention to the present processes whereby people begin to be extricated from sin and its effects: oppression, violence, sexism, marginalization, racism. Liberation does not presume an uncritical commitment to a spe-cific economic or political option. What it implies is the work of overcoming obstacles to human well-being. It recalls the free-dom Christ has won for all. But this freedom, this liberation, must not be thought of as simply a spiritual event. As embodied spirits we need to understand it as belonging also to temporal life. Liberation-v-or salvation, if you prefer--must mean some-thing for our lives here and now, If the church is to proclaim the ~reign of God, if we religious are ~to invite people into a relationship with God, we should help foster a way of life in which people get some foretaste, some here-and- now experience, of the fruits of God's reign. We should as a church be able to point to how their relationship with God can-- and does--transform their life. Otherwise we are reduced to promising a reign of God that is only "not yet," without any "here and now." As the 1971 Synod said, "Unless the Christian mes-sage of love and justice shows its effectiveness through action in the cause of justice in the world, it will only with great difficulty gain credibility" (chap. 2). If we are committed to the great reli- We are to witness to the very thing that Jesus was committed to: the reign of God. May-Jt~ne 1997 Himes ¯ Justice-and-Peace Ministry gious mission of the church, to evangelizing our world by procla-mation of the good news of Jesus Christ, then we must also wit-ness by our actions that this good news touches people's actual experience of economic, political, and social realities. During these past thirty years, the social mission of the church has moved from the periphery of church life to the .center. In most religious communities it is no longer necessary to make the intel-lectual case that justice-and-peace ministry is valid and important. No longer do religious who are social activists regularly encounter opposition or skepticism from within their community. In fact, they are now esteemed for their ministry. But the number of reli-gious who wish to follow in the steps of earlier justice,and-peace ministers is small. Within congregations, even though the mood has shifted from disagreement to approval, the percentage of reli-gious who work full-time in social ministries remains small. As David Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis report in their study of American religious life, many religious do not find themselves personally engaged in., or particularly interested in doing, justice-and- peace ministry ("Future of Religious Orders in the United States," Origins 22, no. 15 [24 September 1992]: 264; also Review for Religious 52, no. 1 [January-February 1993]: 23). The great need, then, is to provide opportunities to acquire social-ministry information and skills. Religious generally see the point of contact between faith and justice, but not their own point of entry: Where and how to start? How to organize direct-service programs and move from there to advocacy? How to integrate global issues of poverty, refugees, war, and ethnic strife into a local ministry? How to do a social analysis of one's ministry and use it in pastoral planning? What strategies to adopt in trying to reshape major institutions of a society? How to exercise leadership in a pluralistic and secular society? There are no neat and clear answers. For successful social ministry, much knowledge, and many skills" remain to be acquired, and continuing education in this area is very much needed. Looking to the Future I propose for the sake of discussion a way to think about our situation as American male religious concerned for the ongoing vitality of the church's social mission in our times. This time in which we live--we seem unable to name it, People call it post- Review for Religious modernity, which of course is only to say that, with the passing of one era called "modernity," another is taking its place. In politi-cal life we see something similar: a post-Cold War world that includes postcommunist nations in central and eastern Europe. We in the United States appear headed for a postwelfare state with a postindustrial economy. With so many merely chronolog-ical names around, it should not surprise us that we religious lack certain clarities aboht the future of our postconciliar church. .We need to remind ourselves that the Spirit of God does not work by our clock or even our cal-endar. Other generations, too, have been confused and have had to stumble around in history before finding a pathway. Recall the Jewish people after the Exodus or during the Exile. Consider the early Jewish Christians trying to get used to Gentiles as equal partners. We can only imagine the turmoil of the fall of Rome or the rise of Islam in North Africa, once vigorous Christian regions. Compared with these things, the uncertainties of religious life in the 1990s appear less than overwhelming. In times of turmoil there is always a temptation to rush to a solution, to find some quick answer. But--of this I am convinced-- in the future few things will be more necessary for the church's social mission than the quiet determination and perseverance of religious who keep working for justice, peace, and a better envi-ronment even if no grand vision or strategy is readily forthcoming. Others may reap the benefit of the seeds planted during this time. In Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons, the ambitious Richard Rich is disappointed that Sir Thomas More has suggested that he be a teacher. Rich somewhat bitterly asks, "And if I was, who would know it?" More replies, "You, your pupils, your friends, God. Not a .bad public, that." Precisely such a viewpoint is what religious today need as they work for justice and peace. To my mind one of the great problems today is that people forget the importance of caring for what is near at hand, those local and people-sized institutions that provide the wider society No longer do religious who are social activists regularly encounter opposition or skepticism from within their community. 1997 Himes ¯ ~s~ice-and-Peace Ministry with its sense of community. The fate of these--families, neigh-borhoodS, labor unions, small businesses, religious comunities, and innumerable other voluntary associations--will determine the future of American life. Government can reinforce and strengthen these smaller elements of society,, but cannot substitute for them. According to Catholic social teaching, society needs a healthy, robust civic sector, a public space where smaller human communities can flourish. Today the ecology of our social envi-ronment is as threatened as our natural environment; people's sense of community is strained. But is it not true that religious, with their wealth of experience, knowledge, and skill in building and sustaining community life, have something to offer the wider society in this regard? Cannot religious men and women be among those who help repair the frayed fabric of our families, our neigh-borhoods, our civic groups, our voluntary associations? Such an approach may be dismissed as sentimental by the national elites, for it cin seem small-time. But that is one more aspect of the problem. The worlds of big business and national politics have de-legitimated local life. The world of voluntary asso-ciations and community organiz~ttions seems peripheral to the market and the government, where the talk is of billions of dollars and millions of people and, moreover, comes into people's homes via television. The megastructures of politics and business are no substitute for the spiritual, the social, and the cultural at the local level. Not that people should ignore the world of national gov-ernment and business; but, rather, they should take care that these realms support the local scene and not undermine it. Nothing that goes on at the national levels of politics and economics will improve our social life if at the local level people continue to withdraw from public space, avoid contact with neigh-bors, and refuse to participate in the social groupings that con-stitute civil society. Is it unrealistic to ask of ourselves as religious that we counter such distancing and participate in local group activities and join local community organizations? Can we not model for others the fact that life together is much richer than a life lived apart? Is not the witness of our community commit-ment a needed corrective to the present state of American life? As vowed religious we need resist a tendency to look inward and look after ourselves first as we age, shrink in numbers, and experience worries about our collective future; Precisely because such a tendency is natural, what we require is a clear outward Review for Religious thrust in our ministry. During the last three decades, many issues have prompted us to look beyond ourselves: the Vietnam War, civil rights for African Americans, troubles in Central America, nuclear disarmament, environmental consciousness, economic inequality in our nation and our world, the call for a consistent life-ethic, and the plight of children amid poverty and broken family structures. The recalling of such justice-and-peace causes of the past and present may help us religious avoid the pitfall of letting our world become too small, of letting the intraecclesial problems of renewal be the only thing that defines us. The movement for justice and peace among religious these past thirty years has kept before our eyes a sense of the gospel, a yearning for the reign of God, a not always gentle reminder that a wide world awaits whatever humble service we can render it. The social mission of the church helps religious men to be cred-ible when we proclaim, in the words of Gaudium et spes (~1), that "the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the people of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the fol-lowers of Christ." Mother (Matthew 23:9-11, 37-39) Call no one on earth your mother. You have only one mother, the Christ: a mother hen longing to shelter all who come running in under the outstretched rainproof feather-roof of his warm and welcoming wing. Bernadette McCarrick RSM May-June 1997 JAMES H. KROEGER Milestones in Interreligious Dialogue Pcaope John XXIII in his call for aggiornamento and his convo-tion of the Second Vatican Council envisioned a wide and encompassing renewal of the whole church. Today, after three decades of experience since the council's close in 1965, a keen observer can now evaluate those areas in church life where authen-tic renewal has been received, taken root, effected growth and change, and borne fruit. How has interreligious dialogue fared within the panorama of an entire church renewed for its task of mission and evangelization? Modest progress has been achieved both in mutual under-standing and in the-ongoing dialogue that is a central element of the church's evangelizing mission. Bold and creative initiatives have been taken; yet, for both church leadership and ordinary Christians, dialogue remains on the periphery of Christian life and ministry. A twelve-stop journey on the church's dialogue road will reveal milestones where growth and understanding have been achieved. At each stopping place in this essay, there is a brief description of a document or event, of the progress which it took note of or contributed to, and of the paths it pointed out for future dia- James H. Kroeger MM worked for more than two decades as a field missionary in the Philippines and Bangladesh. He holds a doctorate in missiology from the Gregorian University, and his most recent book is Living Mission (Orbis Books). This article of his appeared in Omnis Terra, March 1997. Currently serving as the Asia-Pacific area assistant on the Maryknoll general council, he may be addressed at P.O. Box 303; Maryknoll, New York 10545. Review for ReligiouJ logue. On the one hand, the church's signposts have been clear and encouraging; on the other hand, however, much of church mem-bership has been a pilgrim walking the dialogue road reluctantly. The present overview of significant milestones is intended to encourage church members to make more room for interreligious dialogue in the church's mission and ministry. Secretariat for Non-Christians On Pentecost (17 May) 1964, in the climate of the Second Vatican Council, Pope Paul VI instituted the Secretariat for Non- Christians as an entity distinct from the Sacred Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples. Renamed the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue in 1988, it was to serve as a sign and struc-ture of the church's desire to meet and relate to the followers of other religious traditions of the world. Its task, as noted by Pope Paul, was "to search for methods and ways of opening a suitable dialogue with non-Christians . . . in 'order that non-Christians come to be known honestly and esteemed justly by Christians, and that in their turn non-Christians can adequately know and esteem Christian doctrine and life." Encyclical Ecclesiam Suam Pope Paul published his programmatic encyclical letter Ecclesiam suam on 6 August 1964 (between the second and third sessions of Vatican II). This magna carta for dialogue is the first time that the term "dialogue" is found in an encyclical, and more than half of the document is devoted to a discussion of the need, sources, characteristics, modes, partners, challenges, and goals of dialogue: "The church should enter into dialogue with the world in which it lives and labors" (§65). "The dialogueof salvation was opened spontaneously on the initiative of God: he loved us first" (§72). We "need to wait for the hour when God may make our dialogue effective" (§79). "Dialogue is, then, a method of accomplishing the apostolic ¯ mission" (§81). "The church is not unaware of the formidable dimensions of such a mission" (§95). It is also directed towards "the followers of the great Afro-Asiatic religions" (§110). We "recognize and respect the moral and spiritual values of various non'Christian religions, and we desire to join with them in pro- May-June 1997 Kroeger * Milestones in Interreligious Dialogue moting and defending common ideals of religious liberty, human brotherhood, good culture, social welfare, and civil order" (§108). Second 'Vatican Council Five documents of Vatican II contain important elements for understanding the church's role vis-?a-vis world religions (Nostra aerate, Lumen gentium, Ad genres, Gaudium et spes, and Dignitatis humanae). Some general themes are: the need to recognize within religions "elements of truth and grace" (AG §9), "treasures which the bountiful God has distributed among the nations of the earth" (AG §11), "a ray of that Truth which enlightens all men" (NA §2), recognition of the work ofthe Holy Spirit (GS §11, AG §4), the presence of treasures of the ascetical and contemplative life (AG §§15, 18), and the presence of"seeds ofthe Word" (AG §11, LG §17). The council promotes an attitude of profound respect toward all world religions (AG § 10), specifically primitive and traditional religions, Hinduism, and Buddhism (NA §2); Islam (NA §3, LG §16); and Judaism (NA §4, LG §16). It encourages dialogue and collaboration (NA §2); it is through dialogue that Christians can "receive the inspirations of the Spirit faithfully and measure up to them energetically" (GS §92). The council challenges all' Christians: "We must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery" (GS §22). j FABC First Plenary Assembly The Federation of Asian Bishops' Conferences (FABC) met in Taipei, Taiwan, from 22 to 27 April 1974 to prepare for the Synod on Evangelization. Their landmark document Evangelization in Modern Day Asia spoke of "the integral preaching of the gospel" (§23), "the building up of a truly local church" (§9), and the triple dialogue with people, cultures, and religions (§12). The church in Asia especially needs to engage in "a dialogue with the great reli-gious traditions of our peoples" (§ 13), which are "significant and positive elements in the economy of God's design of salvation" (§ 14); "they.have been the treasury of the religious experience of our ancestors" (§14); ?and how can we not acknowledge that God has ,drawn our peoples to himself through them?" (§15). FABC Review for Religious recommended the need to "evolve a working concept of evange-lization that embraces, as integral to that concept, genuine dia-logue with the great living religions of Asia" (§3a). Synod on Evangelization of the Modern World The short declaration at the end of the 1974 synod pro-claimed: "Confident in the action of the Holy Spirit which over-flows the bounds of the Christian community, we wish to foster dialogue with non-Christian religions, so that we may reach a better understanding of the gospel's newness and of the fullness of revelation, and thus may be in a better position to show to others how the salvific truth of God's love is fulfilled in Christ" (§11). Apostolfiz Exhortation Evangelii Nuntiandi One year after the synod Pope Paul VI published Evangelii nuntiandi (8 December 1975). Evangelization is seen as the "voca-tion proper to the church, her deepest identity. She exists in order to evangelize" (§ 14). The understanding of evangelization in EN is a broad one: "Evangelizing means bringing the good news into all the strata of humanity" (§18). "No . . defective and incomplete definition can be accepted for that complex, rich, and dynamic reality which is called evangelization without the risk of weakening or even distorting its real meaning: It cannot be fully understood unless all the necessary elements are taken into account" (§ 17). EN speaks of the church's esteem and respect for non- Christian religions because "they are the living expression of the soul of vast groups of people . They have taught generations of people how to pray. They are all inipregnated with innu-merable 'seeds of the Word' and can constitute a true 'preparation for the gospelTM (§53). The church needs "to offer to the mis-sionaries of today and of tomorrow new horizons in their con-tacts with non-Christian religions" (§53). Dialogue and Mission On Pentecost (10 June) 1984, the twentieth anniversary of the creation of the Secretariat for Non-Christians, the church published "The Attitude of the Church towards the Followers of May-June 1997 Kroeger ¯ Milestones in Interreligious Dialogue Other Religions: Reflections and Orientations on Dialogue and Mission." Approved by the pope, the document expressly places interreligious dialogue within the purview of the church's evan-gelizing mission: "Dialogue finds its place within the church's salvific mission; for this reason it is a dialogue of salvation" (John Paul II, Introduction, §5; see Ecdesiam suam §74). The document gives interreligious dialogue a broad defini-tion: "It means not only discussion, but also includes all positive and constructive interreligious relations with individuals and com-munities of other faiths which are directed at mutual under-standing and enrichment" (§3). Its main concern is "the relationship which exists between dialogue and mission" (§5). The document presents the five dimensions of integral mission and evangelization and notes how they are understood "in the consciousness of the church as a single but complex and articulated reality" (§ 13). Both local churches and missionaries are "respon-sible for the totality of mission" (§14) because "Christian mis-sion embraces all these elements" (§13). Four forms of dialogue are presented in detail (§§25-35). World D~y of Prayer for Peace at Assisi On 27 October 1986, in the context of the International Year of Peace, Pope John Paul invited representatives of other Christian churches and ecclesial communities and of the major world reli-gions to come on pilgrimage to Assisi to pray and fast for world peace. Explaining the event, John Paul noted: "The event of Assisi can be considered as a visible illustration, a concrete example, a catechesis, intelligible to all, of what is presupposed .and signi7 fied .by the commitment to ecumenism and to interreligious dia-logue which was recommended and promoted by the Second Vatican Council" (§7). He added: "Either we learn to walk together in peace and harmony, or we drift apart and ruin our-selves and others" (§5). Seven FABC Theses on Interreligious Dialogue In April 1987, after two years of study and consultation by the Federation of Asian Bishops' Conferences (FABC) Theological Advisory Commission, the document Theses on Interreligious Dialogue: An Essay in Pastoral Theological Reflection was released, Review for Religious The aim of the document was to "facilitate a new insight into the identity of the church in a religiously pluralistic world and a renewal of its mission" (§0.9). The document presents a com-prehensive vision of interfaith dialogue in seven closely reasoned theses with extensive commentary. They address important the-ological. missiological questions, consistently asserting that dia-logue "is an integral dimension of the mission of the church, which is the sacrament of the kingdom of God proclaimed by Jesus" (Thesis 2). Encyclical Redemptoris Missio John Paul's mission encyclical, dated 7 December 1990, addresses the "permanent validity of the church's missionary man-date." In chapter 5, "The Paths of Mission," a specific section addresses "Dialogue with Our Brothers and Sisters of Other Religions" (§§55-57). It is an exceedingly rich section: "Interreligious dialogue is a part of the church's evangelizing mis-sion . Dialogue is not in opposition to mission ad gentes; indeed, .it has special links with that mission and is one of its expressions. . The church sees no conflict,between proclaiming Christ and engaging in interreligious dialogue" (§55). "Each member of the faithful and all Christian communities are called to practice dia-logue . I [Pope John Paul] am well aware that many mission-aries and Christian communities find in the difficult and often misunderstood path of dialogue their only way of bearing sincere witness to Christ and offering generous service to others. I wish to encourage.them ." (§57). Dialogue a~d Proclamation On Pentecost (19 May) 1991, the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue and the Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples jointly issued "Dialogue and Proclamation: Reflections and Orientations on Interreligious Dialogue and the Proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ." The document explicitly affirms the holistic and integral nature of the evangelization process and mentions the five principal ele-ments of mission (§2). Discussing "the relationship between dia-logue and proclamation" (§4), the document quotes John Paul II: "Just as interreligious dialogue is one element in the mission of the May-3~tne 1997 Kroeger * Milestones in Interrelig~ous Dialogue church, the proclamation of God's saving work in our Lord Jesus Christ is another . There can be no question of choosing one and ignoring or rejecting the other" (§6). "Both are legitimate and necessary" (§77). There are many "signs of the times" (social, cultural, reli-gious, and political) and a religious sensitivity and attentiveness are important for hearing "the Spirit of God. speaking, teach-ing, and guiding" (§78). "All Christians are called to be person-ally involved in these two ways of carrying out the one mission of the church, namely, proclamation and dialogue" (§82). "Yet, more than tasks to be accomplished, .dialogue and proclamation are graces to be sought in prayer" (§89). Continental Synods As the Jubilee Year 2000 approaches, Pope John Paul has made known his intention to convoke and complete a series of continental synods. In those areas of the world where a variety of religious traditions are integral to people's indigenous culture and faith,.~interreligious dialogue will necessarily be important for the.church's presence and ministry. Onthe Feas~ of the Triumph of the Holy Cross (14 September) in 1995, John Paul released the postsynodal apostolic exhortation Ecclesia in Africa. In reference to dialogue (§§65-67), the document notesi "Commitment to dialogue must also embrace all Muslims of goodwill" (§66). "With regard to African tradi-tional religion, a serene and prudent dialogue will be able., to foster the assimilation of positive values . They can be seen as a preparation for the gospel . The adherents of African tradi-tional religion should therefore be treated with great respect and esteem, and all inaccurate and disrespectful language should be avoided" (§67). This is a task given to the church in Africa in ful-fillment of "her evangelizing mission towards the year 2000" (§8). The church in Asia (home to more than 85 percent of the world's non-Christians) will necessarily devote attention to inter-faith relations and dialogue as it prepares for its continental synod. The Preparatory Document (Lineamenta) notes: "God's offer of salvation to humankind is always a question of dialogue . The entire mission of Jesus was constant dialogue with humanity. The whole mission of the church is, therefore, one of dialogue. Dialogue is a part of the work of evangelization . In the Asian Review for Religious context, dialogue is of primary importance for the future of Christian mission . The church in Asia, therefore, must enter into ever deeper dialogue with the great religions." (§33). John Paul II The pope has given much emphasis in person to the role of dialogue within the evangelizing mission of the church; in his missionary journeys he constantly seeks opportunities to interact respectfully with the followers of various religions and faith tra-ditions. From his voluminous state-ments on interreligious themes, some short representative quotations are pre-sented here: "Christians will, moreover, join hands with all men and women of good will [and] work together in order to bring about a more just and peaceful society in which the poor will be the first to be served" (Manila, 21 February 1981). "Christians and Muslims, in gen-eral, have badly understood each other, and sometimes in the past we have opposed and even exhausted each other in polemics and in wars. I believe that today God invites us to change our old practices, We must respect ~each other, and also we must stimulate each other in good works on the. path of God" (Casablanca, 19 August 1985). "By dialogue we let God be present in our midst, for as we open ourselves to one another, we open ourselves to God" (Madras, 5 February 1986). Interreligious dialogue is "a Christian work desired by God" and "one element in the mission of the church"; "the commitment of the Catholic Church to dialogue with the followers of other religions remains firm and unchanged" (Rome, 28 April 1987). "Throughout my pontificate it has been my constant concern to fulfill the apostolic and pastoral task of both dialogue and proclamation. On my last visit to Africa, I met leaders of African traditional religions and witnessed their awareness of God's near-ness and their appreciation of the ethical values of a godly person" (Rome, 28 April 1987). "By dialogue we let God be present in our midst, for as we open ourselves to one another, we open ourselves to God." May-~ote 1997 Kroeger ¯ Milestone~ in Interreh~ious Dialogue "Respectful dialogue with others also enables us to be enriched by their insights, challenged by their questions, and impelled to deepen our knowledge of the truth. Far from stifling dialogue or rendering it superfluous, a commitment to the truth of one's reli-gious tradition by its very nature makes dialogue with others both necessary andfrui~Cul'' (Jakarta, 10 October 1989). "Interreligious dialogue at its deepest level is always a dia-logue of salvation, because it seeks to discover, clarify, and under-stand better the signs of the age-long dialogue which God maintains with humanity" (Vatican City, 13 November 1992). Summary ~ This essay has presented a synopsis of recent thought within the Roman Catholic tradition on interreligious dialogue. It has been purposely succinct, highlighting only twelve moments within the Vatican II era, supplemented with some pertinent citations from Pope John Paul II. The material available in this presenta-tion clearly indicates the church's current thought and direction vis-h-vis dialogue and evangelization. At the heart of recent Catholic literature on dialogue is an operative vision of evangelization that is broad, comprehensive, and holistic; it is often termed "integral evangelization." Several elements--including dialogue--are seen as constitutive~dimen-sions of it. The church ~consistently affirms her commitment to "integral evangelization," realizing that evangelization culminates in the proclamation of the Good News of Jesus Christ--whenever, wherever, and however this is practically and respectfully possible. Again, in fulfilling her mission of evangelization, the church engages the followers of various faith traditions, because it believes that in this encounter all dialogue partners will experience a mutual evangelization under the influence of the Holy Spirit. Dialogue remains an important bridge for the church to cross into the third millennium of Christianity. Review for Religious SUZANNE MAYER Providence: Charism and Contemporary Spirituality Several years ago, one sister within a group of Sisters, Servants ,of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, making a retreat together asked a Redemptorist theologian about the source of our IHM reliance on Divine Providence, something we considepa core spiritual charism of our congregation. We had,been looking at 'slides on our shared heritage featuring~ along with other treasures, the Marian paintings that hung in various places of St. Alphonsus Liguori's early life. These canvases portrayed Mary as Mother of Perpetual Help, the well-known Redemptorist devotion and the source of many shrines and many parish tides. The slides evoked Sister's curiosity about the deriva-tion of Mary as Mother of Providence and about the reliance on Divine Providence fostered by the Sisters for more than a hundr4d fifty years. These words are part of the answer she received from the theologian: "Your tra-dition of reliance on Divine Providence does not trace its origin to St. Alphonsus or anything in the devotional his-tory of the Redemptorists. You need to credit the feminine~ side of your founding and trace it to Mother Theresa Maxis and her total dependence on God throughout her life." For the celebration of the sesquicentennial of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, the sisters gathered during August 1995 in Monroe, Michigan, Suzann~ Mayer IHM writes to us from the IHM Spirituality Center; King Road/P.O. Box 200; Immaculata, Pennsylvania 19345. charism May-~me 1997 Mayer * Providence the place of foundation. It was natural to explore here this charism of Providence and its place in the evolution of this group of almost two thousand women religious. In an informal preconvention sur-vey conducted among some members of all three branches of the sisters assembling there, various nuances seemed to have emerged between and among them with regard to the meaning and rele-vanc~ of Providence; but, since the questionnaire was far from scientific and its sampling far from representative, litde was done except to remark on. the subtle variations. Some speakers from the three assembled branches, however, developed the topic of Divine Providence," and some conversations took place on the subject. Both the retreat director's response and the ideas raised at the meeting in Monroe stirred some curiosity in me. As a mem-ber of a congregation that traces its origin a century and a half back to the "banks of the Raisin River in Michigan" during the time of westward expansion and the coming of many immigrants to this nation, I considered trust in God's providence and benef-icent care of each person to be a logical spiritual necessity. But I wondered: How did this reliance on Divine Providence figure in the life of our founder, and, even more, how does it speak to us now, women religious standing at the threshold of a new mil-lennium? ~ To understand the meaning of Providence, I turned to the Catechism of the Catholic Church (§§302-314). My reading reminded me of questions I hear frequently when I sit in my counselor's chair and share the struggles of good people trying to make mean-ing of evil, darkness, pain, and loss in their lives. The Catechism states that in God's .providential plan. the universe exists in statu viae, "in a state of journeying toward an ultimate perfection yet to be attained," a sort of immaturity or incompleteness here and now. In this state of journeying, human experience ranges from loss to gain, chaos to order, exile to homecoming, terrifying evil to great goodness. What I heard in the scholarly words and philo-sophical phrases were echoes of my own experience and that of other journeyers. God does not create or will evil, pain, or loss, but, in honoring the integrity of human freedom, walks with peo-ple as they move through the world as it is, good and evil. Scripture shows us shekinah, cloud by day, fire by nigh~ (see Ex 40:34-38), and gives us the farewell promise of Christ to be ."with you always" (Mt 28:20). Review for. Religious The heart of holiness is the heart of maturing in Christ, the Pauline meaning of perfection (1 Co 13:11 and 14:20; Heb 5:11- 14). The spiritual child needs and wants the plan, finds security in order, yearns for control, but the spirit of providence enables the adult man and woman to understand becoming whole in bro-kenness and perceiving the plan threading its way even through chaos. Such a providence calls for abandonment, not as some test of human endurance, but as a falling into the arms of a loving, caring presence. Again the scholarship translates for me into.a remembered experience. Having worked with young adults in retreats and workshops, I recall an icebreaker that was designed to instill or test trust. In the acti;city the young people would have to fall backwards into, hopefully, the arms of their waiting friends. Providence viewed from this per-spective allows today's believer to expe-rience divine care in both the positive and the negative. What if the arms are not in place to catch the falling body? What if their strength proves inadequate? The trusting soul lands on the floor. Does this - mean that the friends have failed the test? Perhaps. Or maybe it is a result of mistiming, an unpreventable distraction, misjudg-ment on. the part of the faller whatever. A providence spiritual-ity demands inclusion of negatives as well as positives. Otherwise, the believer would be living in a Pollyanna world where God gives only home runs, top grades, and sunshine days in answer to prayers. What happens in such a world when the inevitable strikeouts, ,failures, or clouds come? Where does providence spirituality fitinto the life of Theresa Maxis, the "feminine side" of the founding of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary? And, more relevantly, where does it fit into the life of IHM

Issue 50.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1991. ; Review Religious Volume 50 Number 5 September / October 1991 50 TM ANNIVERSARY VOLUME REVIEW FOR RI:.LIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at St. Louis University by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus: Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard, Room 428; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Telcphonc: 314-535-3048. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis MO and additional offices. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to R~:\'~EW Foa R~:I,I(;IOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Subscription rates: Single copy $3.50 plus mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs; two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs¯ See inside back cover for subscription informa-tion and mailing costs. © 1991 REVIEW I.'Oa R~:t,tc, IOUS. David L. Fleming, S.J. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Michael G. Harter, S.J. Elizabeth McDonough, O.P. 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This order is for [] a new subscription [] a renewal [] a restart of a lapsed subscription MAIL TO: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯ 3601 LINDELL BOULEVARD ° ST.LouIs, MO 63108 IIII III IIII II IIII III I PRISMS. What did you go out to the desert to see? A prophet? The question which Jesus asked his own people takes on a special poignancy for us toda~y in the Church. Our biblical tradition indicates that God raises up prophetic people in dark and difficult days. Because many see the time of renewal called for by Vatican II as a period of continuing strug-gle and tension--sometimes sadly with positions defended or fixed rather than with dialogue explored--affecting people and priests in parishes, bish-ops in national hierarchies, and religious in the same congregation, there is a greater tendency today to go running out, searching for a prophet. As usual there is also the temptation for some to play the prophet. But the prophetic tradition strongly emphasizes that tree prophets do not identify the role for themselves. God plucks people out of ordinary circum-stances, evokes some kind of personal conversion, and then speaks and works through them, even in their own reluctance for the role, and in their fear and trembling. Although we tend to apply the word prophet glibly to some modem-day leaders, educators, and writers, we perhaps are not far off the mark when we search for those movements and calls of God that come in incremental ways through ordinary-looking people and events. It is to acknowledge that prophets, like saints, have a range from "capital P" prophets (like our canonized "capital S" saints) with a major message of modeling and influence ~o the almost hidden (because of everydayness) small-letter prophets who in limited and confined ways raise questions, sug-gest new directions, make us uncomfortable, and at the same time give us hope. Prophets of lasting influence are s~arce at any time in our world's his-tory. Yet we may find it all too easy, even now, to mute the "smail p" prophet either ir~ our fixated search for major prophetic voices or in our disdain for less-than-radical calls. The even greater loss, however, happens when we may intentionally or unintentionally downplay our own lived (small p) prophetic witness to Christ's values--an integral part of our own chosen way of life. Review for Religious has been p~rivileged through the years to present voices of personal witness and articles of challenge and critique which repre-sent this common spectrum of our e ~eryday prophets. In this issue, "Inner Africa: A Journey of Conversion" by Susan Rakoczy is a personal witness to 641 642 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 God's continuing call to go beyond a familiar homeland and to pay its enlivening costs---costs borne more within oneself than without. Jean Steffes considers directly in her article the theme of the prophetic-witness aspect of contemporary religious life. The articles by Giallanza, Levey, Arbuckle, and Mueller give further reflections on various aspects of religious life that affect its present and future witness. From the area of contemplation, the ground of all prophetic activity, Joseph Tetlow uses a very simple image from the changing seasons of the year to present an understanding of God's calls and our responses for a com-monplace continuity of spiritual growth. In a similar way Gerard Luttenberger sees through the contemplative Fourth Mansion of St. Ter6sa a way of praying apostolically. A prophetic relationship of faith with our United States culture grounds Hoffman's treatment of creative leisure and, in a very different fashion, Hinojosa's suggestions for formation, as he espe-cially has the Hispanic candidate in mind. Rywalt shares his experience of the sometimes dark journeying required of religious trying to follow God's lead in the transfer process in this consecrated lifeform. The prophetic and priestly people which we are will find fresh insight into the manna-food for our joumeying in Billy's "The Bread Kernel," clari-ty in Meyer's restating of the ministerial priesthood foundation through a deeper appreciation of an ambassador's role, and consolation in the gentle wisdom of living reflected in McDonald's "Faithful Servant." Perhaps, in our effort to identify prophets, McDonald's theme goes right to the heart of the matter. No truer discernment or greater tribute can be given to any prophet, spelled with large or small p, than to be identified, like Moses, as a faithful servant of God. David L. Fleming, S.J. Four Seasons of the Soul Joseph .4. Tetlow, SJ Father Tetlow wrote "The Mirror in the Field" for our November/December 1988 issue. His current address is Jesuit Hall; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. I~uring the experience of the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, you have a sense of movement and of progress. Particularly during a nineteenth-annotation experience of them, you have the sense of getting along with things and of genuine growth in God. When you have finished the Exercises, if you are like many exercitants, you miss that sense of movement and progress. Even though you continue to pray as long and as seriously as you did during the Exercises, you may well come to wonder where "growth" has gone, and a sense of your life in Christ unfolding for you. You know how times of consolation and times of desola-tion mark spiritual growth or its absence, but this is the microeconomy of the spirit, a topological map of a mountain that does not tell you which range it is in or even which hemisphere. You might find some sense of getting along by applying the traditional phases or stages of spiritual growth. You would recognize, to start with, the stages of the purgative, illuminative, and unitive ways. You have heard of the Dark Nights, of the Senses and of the Soul. But reading these stages requires great expertness and an intense concentration on the interior life. You may find them of limited help in reading your growth in the Lord while you live an ordinary life in the world. Furthermore, these traditional stages of spiritual growth have focused tightly on the individual spirit. They do not comprehend a lot of the "your life world." They do not illuminate the interplay of others' needs and inter-ests with your own, or the tension between remaining faithful to your self and growing more faithful to those whom God gives you to love and be 643 644 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 loved by. Each of these traditional ways of gauging where you are in your interior life instructs you how to pray at a given time and what to pray about. They do not much tell you what to pray for. Now that you know the Spiritual Exercises, you might find it useful to think of phases or stages of the interior life in terms of the Four Weeks. You can take the Weeks as seasons distinct from one another. They really do match the phases or stages of growth that we go through as we live contem-platives in the active world. If you interpret your experience in these terms, you will not find a lot of instruction on what to pray about (that instruction will rise out of your current experience), but you will find sound instruction on what to pray for. The Seasons of the Four Weeks Think of the seasons not as four parts of one whole life, but as a cycle that we all go through in our life world. Consider life as a whole at this given moment, and picture how it is colored seasonally. The first season would be like this: You go along working hard and praying easily. You feel like springtime, and your whole self sprouts new life. Your life world seems filled with promise. Life is given to you, rising up from within your self and teeming all around you. In such a time, you are in the season of the Fourth Week. The truth is that Jesus came to "give you joy, and to the full," and he was transcendently powerful to achieve what he set out to achieve. As you know, we are created to live in consolation, which means that we share the sureness of the risen Christ that the reign of God comes, for each one of us and for all of humankind together. So we live in the joy of Christ, as we have a fight to do, and this is the Fourth Week. You enter Christ's joy, in work and in prayer. Ask yourself: During this springtime, what do you ask for? You go through times, as all of us do, of confusion and darkness, your inner world and life world matching. Your life world itself may be in tur-moil, and perhaps threatens your family, career, or health. All of us have experienced these times as wars succeed one another and one national crisis after another: toxic waste, the Savings and Loans debacle, the awesome national deficit. In a very real sense, when we suffer these times we are bear-ing the sins of all peoples--the sins of unjust rulers, of greedy people with economic power, of self-centered people who feed on us. In these times you feel powerless and perhaps even helpless. You live in depression or doubt or perhaps even jeopardy. In such a time you are walk-ing with Jesus Christ in his Passion. This is not merely metaphor: our Master warned us that we would feel persecuted and hunted, for if his life world Four Seasons of the Soul / 645 treated him as it did, then we are to anticipate faring no better. St. Paul said that we are to fill up the sufferings that Christ Jesus has still to undergo for the sake of his body, the Church. Sometimes we live in the Passion of Jesus, feeling the terrible weight of taking up our cross daily. In this wintry time of the Third Week, what grace gives you a sense of growth and movement? Again, at times you seem merely to be working along from day to day. You do not feel any great consolation or any notable desolation. You trust God by enacting your own desires and conscience and by doing the next good thing. You do not feel any great pressure to have life all figured out, or the vexing pressure of strong temptation to this or that sin you are prone to. You pray to the Father and listen to the Spirit. You live out your discipleship faithfully and enduringly. This is the Second Week, as you walk with Jesus of Nazareth, either in the long decades of his hidden life or in the brief exertions of his public life. It is full summertime, and you are growing in God. You take summertime concerns to prayer and stay with Jesus proclaiming his Good News. But summertime can seem lazy and unmoving. What grace will help you sense progress? Finally, there come times when you feel the weight of your own sin. You do again something that you thought you had truly put behind you. You fail to do something that you had set yourself most resolutely to do. You are in the First Week again. You find out that your ideal has little of the noble in it, or that your self-image includes falsehood, or that you have been acting as though you loathe your self and despise your life. Then you feel the deep burning of shame. Or you realize that you have been violating your own conscience, deliberately deceiving your own self and spreading your poison around you. Then you feel the icy sting of guilt. Yet all of this time you already know how God loves you, even how God keeps on being your Creator and Lord. This is the season of fall, when you join the cycle of life and death that belongs to this earth of ours. You flirt with spiritual death, but you know that you will not die, but live. You cannot doubt that God forgives again and again, and you take into your prayer that utter confidence in God's forgiving love. This is the season of the First Week. Once you have asked God's forgiveness, what else are we to ask for in order to have the experience of movement and growth? It is to find the answer to this question that you think in terms of the sea-sons of the Four Weeks. Other stages and phases instruct us in the kind of prayer we might give ourselves to. The "unitive way," for instance, suggests a prayer of deep quiet. Other stages help us hold onto the kind of faith and 646 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 hope we need to exercise. The Dark Night of the Senses helps us know that it is, indeed, faith we are exercising, and not doubt. Other stages or phases name kinds of temptation and grades of consolation and desolation. A pray-ing person who has been drawn to apophatic prayer will readily recognize daydreams of food as a desolation. But the stages and phases give little instruction on the very humble question of what, specifically, we are to ask for. Or perhaps more accurately, what instruction they do give is not readily accessible to the majority of praying Christians. "I Ask for What I Want" Matching the Four Weeks with the seasons of discipleship suggests immediately and accurately what you ought to ask God for. Each of the Weeks has a specific grace. These specific graces are precisely what we need in each of the four seasons of discipleship. When we feel the burning of shame or the icy sting of guilt, obviously, we ask forgiveness. Equally obviously, we receive this forgiveness even before we ask it. Then what? You would immediately reject dwelling on the shame or the guilt. You would repudiate self-lacerating examination. What you need is a sense of your complicity in humankind's sin, and a sense of how the disorder manifest in your life world lies waiting to manifest itself in yourself. You can ask for that plainly, and you will have a sense of getting on with God's project. You can also ask another gift of the First Week: the answer to the three questions in the colloquy of the first exercise. The deepest grace of the First Week is to be given eyes to see Jesus Christ. While you stand under the cross of Jesus Christ, you ask yourself, "What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What might I do for Christ?" The growth and movement in answer to this prayer have to do with understanding the past and looking to the future. If you have been sinning, then start with how God succeeded in you, with what you have done for Christ. If you are acting sinfully, you need to attend to what else you are now doing: What are you doing for Christ? And as you repent yet again, you stand with Christ and ask what you might do for him and for his body the Church. This is the growth in the season of fall. A second season: of busyness. Your attention runs in a hundred direc-tions. You face concrete decisions hour by hour. You have to deal with oth-ers day after day. You have to remain authentic to your own self and grow more and more fully a member. Here, in this heated season of summer, you might ask most appropriately for the gift of the Second Week: to know Jesus Four Seasons of the Soul / 647 better, to love him more, and to go the way he goes. He has been through this summer and through the desert of busyness. For some the life of the Lord will be an inspiration (as Carl Gustav Jung said it ought to be). They will learn from Jesus of Nazareth how to relate in the dusty marketplace to the God who chooses to be father and mother to us. For others the life of the Lord will be an example for imitation (as the Church has taught since Jesus proclaimed himself Way, Truth, and Life). For all of us, growth in God means growth in loving Jesus of Nazareth who is the Christ. That is the grace you ask for in the summer, the Second Week. When winter comes upon your self and your life world, you cannot escape suffering. Well, in the Third Week, you have watched with Jesus through his Passion. Remember this accompaniment and what you asked for then. Perhaps you will ask to accept your suffering in compassion with Jesus suffering and to know shame "because the Lord is going to his suffering for my sins," while you have acted in complicity with all humankind in sinning. This is the grace of the first contemplation at midnight. In any pain or suffer-ing, growth will lie in and through compassion. You might be drawn, again, to ask that your own suffering somehow be "with Christ in sorrow, [your] anguish with Christ in anguish, [your] tears and deep grief because of the great affliction" Christ endured for you. This is a great gift, and those who embrace their own suffering in the world know what Jesus knew. This pain will end nothing, but will end; ifI can discern no movement toward life, I know my growth is where I am; God is faithful. This prayer to God transmutes a wintry time from merely a depression or recession or grave aggravation to a time of growth in Christ. Finally, when you live in happiness and your life world hums along in springtime, you can most reasonably beg God that you enter into the joy of Jesus Christ. There lies the way of movement and growth, first of all because you will not be immobilized by anxiety. We hold the happiness of earth tightly because it is given and taken away, apparently randomly. Unlike the joy of the earth, Jesus' joy is not given and taken away; it is given and to the full. Growth does not mean having things permanently or living secure or figuring everything out. All of these are illusory, and depending on any of them is writing on water. Growth for Christ's disciples entails precisely shaking off dependence on possessions and all defense against risks of personal encounter. You grow a more complete self with every deeper realization that God's is the initia-tive, the victory, which is Jesus' joy and glory. You grow more secure as you accept more and more fully that you did not earn life or joy and that, if you can make no demands, the One who gives constantly turns out more willing 648 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 to lavish gifts than you are to accept them. This is Jesus' joy and his glory. So in these springtimes we find our growth in begging "to be glad and rejoice intensely" not because of the great go6ds God is bestowing on us, but "because of the great joy and the glory of Christ our Lord." A Simple Matter of Moving Along Understand, the Four Weeks are not epigenetic stages that build one on another in succession, with the latest stage transmuting the earlier ones. This is the model used by Erik Erikson and the growth psychologists, and it is not appropriate here. The "seasons" mean something much simpler here. Nor does the word refer to an account of the adult life cycle, the "seasons. of a person's life" devised by Daniel Levinson and his colleagues. The "seasons" here are briefer and include not only internal dynamics but also the actuali-ties of your life world. As phases or stages, they would hardly be long-term and do not name permanent changes in the self. Think of it this way: Many skilled retreat directors begin an eight-day retreat by asking the retreatant what Week they are living. The retreat guide does not imply that the retreatant is going through a life cycle or.a phase with permanent effects--nothing so essential and long-range. The implica-tion is that we all go through certain seasoris and that we can usefully think of those seasons in terms of the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises. Many who have made the Spiritual Exercises yearn to keep the sense of progress and of forward motion that sustained them through the long days or months of prayer. They can help themselves do that by continuing one exer-cise that promoted that sense of progress during the Exercises: the preparato-ry prayer. Even those who turn to the Church's lectionary for the material of daily meditation or contemplation can ask for the special grace of the season they are in. They feel no unease or contradiction. On the contrary, they have a sense of familiarity and consonance, and a sense of getting on with life and with prayer. Few of us feel inclined to go back through the prayer texts and cycles of the Four Weeks, particularly over and over again. But you might find it useful to keep mindful of the special graces of the Weeks, and of the preparatory prayer. Re-creating Religious Life Joel Giallanza, C S. C Brother Joel recently completed his service in the ministry of provincial administra-tion and is currently Adjunct Retreat Director at Maryhill Renewal Center. His address is Maryhill Renewal Center; 600 Maryhill Road; Pineville, Louisiana 71360. /'~mong the principal tasks confronting religious life as the twenty-first cen-tury approaches is refoundation or, more descriptively, re-creation. While religious may not be completely comfortable with the demographics of increasing ages and decreasing numbers, they do not appear discouraged or despairing about the future: In fact, some communities have been reporting a modest and consistent increase in vocations and new apostolic ventures. Chapters, assemblies, and other gatherings of religious continue to search for the most effective means of responding to the needs of the Church and the culture in which they live. Among those means they assign high priority to ~'efounding or re-creating religious life itself. To that end, religious have explored the !ives and teachings of their founders and foundresses as well as the experiences and events which shaped the darly years of their communi-ties. The work now is to interpret those lives, teachings, experiences, and events for further practical application to contemporary religious life. The work now is to prepare for the future. Any creation, by its very nature, does not follow a predetermined blueprint. Nevertheless, there is one primordial model we can consider: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." These reflections will focus on the first three days of creation as a metaphor for the re-creation which religious need to undertake as they move toward and into the twenty-first century. In the Beginning During the first three days of creation, as Genesis relates the story, God 649 650 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 separates creation, giving each part a distinct identity. Only after this funda-mental work of separation and identification does God begin the cultivation of creation, filling it with a rich variety of living things, culminating in the appearance of humanity. Day 1 ~ Observation In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, covered in darkness; and the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters. God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, one day (Gn 1:1-5). It is intriguing that, after the heavens and the earth, light is God's first creation. Light enables us to observe and to distinguish; light enables us to see what needs to be done. God was present and active, though creation was covered in darkness. The creation of light makes observation and identifica-tion possible. Thus, light is distinguished from darkness; the former is iden-tified as day, the latter as night. Re-creating religious life involves observation. Religious must look courageously and see clearly the quality of every aspect of their lives and then distinguish between what will enhance that quality and what will not. To some degree this self-observation has been going on as religious respond-ed to the Church's call to read the signs of the times. However, with chang-ing demographics and subsequent adjustments to communal life and institutional commitments, religious need to refresh their response to this call and examine their lives yet more closely. In recent years apostolic religious life has known what it is to be "with-out form and void, covered in darkness." Some of this experience stems from the demographics and economics which have signaled the significant change--if not the death--of the religious life of twenty-five years ago. Some stems from the communal, ministerial, and structural implications of those demographics and economics. Some stems from modifications which religious themselves initiated through the process of'revising their constitu-tions and the traditional practices of their personal and communal lives. The ways in which religious live and minister and organize their congregations have changed and no doubt will continue to do so. Clearly, religious life has responsed to the Church and the cultures in which it witnesses. That religious life has undergone change is by itself no indication that nothing further need be done. Could the formlessness, emptiness, and dark- Re-creating Religious Life / 65'1 ness which religious sometimes feel about their way of life be the result of not observing areas needing yet further clarification and identification? These observations of mine focus on one area central to the lives of apostolic religious: celibate community. There is an asceticism inherent in any way of life in which two or more individuals have committed themselves to one another. Principally, that asceti-cism involves maintaining the common good over personal preferences. The acceptance of such an asceticism is essential to a healthy marriage and family life and to a healthy celibate community. Without that asceticism, the basic mutuality of the commitment begins to erode, and eventually the passion and dynamism within the relationships dissipate, then disappear altogether. If we observe the quality of our celibate community life over recent years, we have to ask whether there are times when consecrated commitment degenerates into corporate complacency. This is not to imply that religious have lost the ability to live community. Rather, it asks whether we have suf-ficiently explored other models of living a celibate communal lifestyle with-in the heritage and tradition of our congregations. Frequently in the past, community "happened" in a relatively large resi-dence associated with a congregational ministry. The daily schedules and general patterns of life within the community were much influenced by the needs of the ministry. Generally, those schedules and patterns reflected and were consistent with individuals' expectations. As ministry diversified (and individualized) during the last twenty-five years, expectations also diversi-fied. Common schedules and patterns became less possible and less realistic, given the broad spectrum of responsibilities and time commitments of local community members. Unless those expectations are observed, articulated, and modified as necessary, particularly in residences originally associated with a single ministry, those members unable to be present at certain times and events can be branded as having lost their sensitivity to or even their appreciation of the value of community. The ways in which expectations are lived are not solely internal; others observe how we live together, for better or for worse. Coworkers and other associates shape their perception and understanding of religious life by the pattern and quality of life they observe among us. Though we cannot live our lives in slavery to the multiple, diverse, and often inconsistent expecta-tions and assumptions with which others characterize us, we should not for-get that religious life is a form of witness to the Church and the culture. It bears a responsibility to be a living example of the Gospel and a working model of Jesus' mission. We need to observe our life as celibate community with a probing and 652 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 questioning eye. Are our communities prayerful, hospitable, and happy? Do we take individual and collective responsibility for the house in which we reside? In our communities, can we comfortably and frequently discuss the Gospel, faith, and religious life? Do we invite and welcomethose consider-ing religious life? Do we enjoy one another? Do we know one another? Do we live our life together with passion? Day 2 -- Separation God said, "Let there be a space between the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters." God made the space and separated the waters which were under the space from the waters which were above it. And it was so.And God,called the space Heaven. And there was evening and there was morning, a second day (Gn 1:6-8). With the dawn of the second day, God begins to put order into creation. Specifically, he makes some working room, so to speak, space in which to continue and complete the work of creation. If the first day emphasized observation and identification, then this second day emphasizes separation and distinction. Re-creating religious life involves separation. In recent years religious have spoken and written much about the need for continuing renewal. Chapters and other gatherings have focused extensively, and sometimes exclusively, on the renewal and refoundation necessary for religious life to be a continuing evangelical and apostolic force. Chapter documentation often remains disembodied as the demands of ministry and the routines of daily life reassert themselves after the chapter closes. Patterns of life change neither quickly nor easily. Regardless of how sublime and profound chapter proceedings may be, we will never effectively legislate renewal and refoun-dation. We must provide space for patterns of individual and communal life to be re-created. For celibate community, the observation and articulation of differing and conflicting expectations may suggest creating some new space. Can quality of life be sustained and intensified if those expectations are left to coexist without enough space for coordination? But, on the other hand, if coordina-tion becomes synonymous with the lowest common denominator, is the effort to provide such space worthwhile at all? Sometimes, no doubt, coordi-nation will bring about re-creation, but this does not seem to be the normal pattern; more often than not, re-creation by separation should be considered. Separation will involve establishing new local communities. Alternative housing could be provided for members who are committed to exploring and implementing a communal lifestyle that will meet their expectations and Re-creating Religious Life / 653 maintain a consistency and an integrity which reflect clearly their commit-ment as religious. The assumption here is that such alternative communities would be established with the highest common denominator as the standard. Prayer and relationships and the practice of the vows would be regularly reviewed to assure that standard. Separation is not schism, it is not a condemnation of other communal lifestyles within a congregation. Twenty-five years ago it was possible to find striking, and even exact, parallels throughout the local communities of a sin-gle congregation. Often those parallels were evident among many congrega-tions, also. Today, even between large local communities of the same congregation, we can find striking differences. Separation has to do with dis-tinction, not division. It seeks to express the rich diversity of ways in which a congregational heritage can be embodied among those committed to it. Major superiors have a significant role in this, a multifaceted role. First, they can take the initiative of identifying people and providing resources for new ventures even if the original initiativecame from community members themselves. The major superiors' involvement could signal the validity of the venture for those whose first reaction is critical. Second, major superiors can offer their support, encouragement, and assistance as new communities get underway. When some "red tape" needs cutting or some bureaucratic procedure needs streamlining, they are usually in a privileged position for expediting whatever needs to be done. Third, they can serve as initial observers and objective consultants for new local communities, Their role is not to mold groups into their own image and likeness, but to see that the members remain faithful to the principles and practices they have agreed upon for their life together. Finally, major superiors can be a buffer between nascent local communities and the established community. Not everyone in the latter group will agree with new ventures and the direction they repre-sent. Major superiors should avoid any defensive posture which would make the new communities look like aberrations in the eyes of the established community. They should focus their explanations about these ventures on their continuity with the congregational heritage. Separation is a means of re-creating celibate community; it is an invest-ment in the future. No doubt there are risks involved, but the prophetic nature of religious life has always placed religious in precarious situations. The risks are a challenge to acknowledge God's providential presence and activity. As religious we must reaffirm our faith in providence and move boldly into the future. Without faith, we undermine the very foundation of our religious life; without movement, we betray any assurance we profess to have about the future. 654 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 The future will come, but not in a vacuum. The choices we make now will determine the quality of that future. In making those choices, we need to create a fresh space, to provide a place for the future. Day 3 -- Cultivation God said, "Let the waters under the heavens be gathered into one place, and let the dry land appear." And it was so. God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered he called Seas. And God saw that it was good. God said, "Let the earth produce growing things, plants bearing seed, and fruit trees bearing fruit containing their seed, each according to its kind, upon the earth." And it was so. The earth produced vegetation, plants bearing seed according to their own kinds, and trees bearing fruit containing their seed, each according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, a third day (Gn 1:9-13). The third day brings cultivation to what has been created. With the emergence of land, "growing things" can appear; each of these growing things contains individuality and generativity. Life--and all of creation-- will continue; there will be another day. "And God saw that it was good." With this third day, God has completed the foundation for what will appear on the succeeding days of creation. And the foundation was good. Re-creating religious life involves cultivation. The future quality of celi-bate community will not appear by spontaneous generation, nor will it be manufactured according to elaborate specifications. It must be cultivated. Establishing new local communities does not signal the dawn of the seventh day; it is not the time to rest and lay aside further efforts. Quite the contrary, it is the time to move forward enthusiastically and confidently with every-thing that has been initiated thus far. This is the time for "growing things?' The root of the word cultivate is a term which can be translated "to move around" and "to dwell," depending upon the context. This dual ety-mology is quite appropriate for these present reflections. Cultivating celibate community requires some moving around. Community compromises vitality if it stops moving according to its own informed choices; that is, if it begins to operate on automatic pilot. Vitality springs from the continuing observa-tion and articulation of expectations. Patterns of personal and communal life must be mutually monitored with integrity and without fear of reprisal. Relationships must be nurtured naturally With quality time and refreshed regularly through reconciliation. Cultivation assumes that expectations and patterns and relationships will evolve. Cultivation flourishes in an environ-ment of exchange, interest, care, and concern. Cultivation moves around Re-creating Religious Life / 655 within and among community members to prevent that stagnation which taxes commitment and tempts to convenience. Cultivating celibate community requires some dwelling. Cohabitation is not celibate community; it merely means that two or more people inhabit the same residential space and need not involve any interpersonal commitment. Dwelling goes beyond living together to include entrusting our lives to one another. If we do not have mutual trust with those with whom we live, then what grounds do we have for claiming we entrust our lives to the Lord? It is a basic tenet of faith that the quality of our relationships with one another verifies or falsifies the quality of our relationship with the Lord. Truly dwelling with one another, recognizing that our life together makes a home of the house, is a certification of our love relationship with one another and with the Lord, and a witness of integrity to others. There is no flawless formula for assuring cultivation; it involves all the effort, discipline, and asceticism requisite for any healthy relationship. There are, however, some principles which can support that effort, discipline, and asceticism. First, clarity of vision: Members must have a sense of the direction in which they hope the community to move. More than an in-house conve-nience, that vision is part of the apostolic character of celibate community. Second, communication of values: A common vision is built upon shared values. Without this sharing, there is little common ground to cultivate; com-munity quickly becomes an arid land. Third, cooperation for vitality: This is a discipline and an asceticism which positions the common good as the high-est priority. The vitality of vision and values can be cultivated only coopera-tively; it cannot be assumed. Fourth, concern for vocation: This is the foundational principle. Vision and values have no vital and substantive pur-pose and meaning unless community members share a sincere concern for the integrity of their commitment to the vocation of religious life. In practice, these principles are skrategies which must characterize the re-creation of celibate community. Cultivation is a daily enterprise which will mark the presence and activity of community members with one anoth-er. Thus, cultivation never comes to a point of sufficiency, beyond which no further efforts are necessary. There will always be both peaks and plateaus in the quality of life within any community. The principles of clarity, communi-cation, cooperation, and concern are reminders that neither the peaks nor the plateaus are places of permanence. We must cultivate celibate community if it is to have a prophetic place in the future and even if it is to have a future at all. We must cultivate it since the culture will not support it. We live in a culture whose materialistic, indi- 656 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 vidualistic, and sensualistic preferences and practices have compromised its capability for fostering the personal commitment which lies at the heart of both celibacy and community. The decline of marriage and the family is but one testimony to that compromise. Celibate community can stand as a prophetic sign that such a commitment is humanly possible. For the future, that sign may be the small seed which is cultivated into the means of trans-formation for the entire culture. In the Days to Come "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." As the story is presented, nothing existed before God began his creative work. Everything could be made as an original, without the pressing and pressuring influence of a long-standing tradition. God could, so to speak, work from scratch. Re-creating religious life, and celibate 'community in particular, cannot assume the absence of any influence. There are values and traditions and practices by which communal religious life has endured and prospe,red over the cen-turies. The observation, separation, and cultivation which will position reli-gious life for re-creation cannot dismiss that influence as unnecessary, nor distance it as untouchable. The influence of those realities which have shaped religious life can be incorporated and assimilated into the re-creation; thus will be their creative transformation. Admittedly, some refinement may be necessary to preserve the spirit of those values, traditions, and practices. Nevertheless, such refinement is not a ruling of inadequacy, but a rendering unto new life. In the days to come we must observe closely the ways and means of our religious life together. We need to articulate clearly and forcefully the values by which we will actually live.Prophetic statements from individuals or chapters or other gatherings that remain forever disembodied phrases will never be true characterizations of religious life. Indeed, they can become pharisaical, lofty ideals without living intent. Observation, as I have used the term, has more to do with enacting motivation than with simply gathering information. In the days to come we must separate ourselves from whatever patterns of life have compromised or constricted our desire and ability to live our religious commitment with intensity and integrity. We must re-create the spirit of being called, of being set apart for the Gospel. Without that spirit, the prophetic prowess of religious life is neither affectively experienced nor effectively expressed. Within that spirit, religious life claims the power and proclamation which are the inheritance of Gospel witnesses. In the days to come we must cultivate our life together. We need to re- Re-creat.ing Religious Life / 657 create the commitment we have made to God and to one another. We have at our disposal a power for and a promise of common life that can bring hope to a world broken by betrayal, gouged by greed, and disheartened by deceit. The passion with which we live our celibacy, poverty, and obedience will counteract the standards set by that betrayal, greed, and deceit. The convic-tion with which we re-create and realize our communal life will cultivate and confirm the presence and activity of the kingdom within and around us. "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." This is an old story, but one that may be enacted once again as religious life approaches the twenty-first century. Observation, separation, and cultivation are strategies which can support the work of re-creation; and yet we should never displace the fundamental truth that this is God's work, all is grace. The alliance between those strategies and that grace will enable us to speak of religious life and of celibate community with the same bold confidence which marked Yahweh's promise for the temple. "The Lord Almighty speaks: 'Is there any-one among you who can still remember how splendid the temple used to be? How does it look to you now? It must seem like nothing at all. But now do not be discouraged, any of you. Do the work that is needed, for I am with you, so do not be afraid . In the_days to come the new temple will be more splendid than the old one, and there I will give you prosperity and peace' " (Hg 2:3-4, 9). To the Bird of My Prayer Songster, your hymn of praise Never ceases in a melody all your own; Chanting a song--pleading, thanking-- With the sheer joy of having voice to sing. From highest pole to roof, you find your perch, No earth-bound bush can stifle flight to God. Anna Louise Staub, S.S.J. 217 W. Commercial St. East Rochester, NY 14445 Prophetic Witness in Contemporary Religious Life Jean Steffes, CSA: Sister Jean Steffes has been general superior for the Congregation of the Sisters of Saint Agnes. Her address is: 427 Gillett Street; Fond du Lac, Wisconsin 54935-4598. The notion of being prophetic in today's society can conjure up many images in us, depending upon our perspective. For some of us being prophetic might seem a quality to be admired in Dorothy Day, Archbishop Romero, the martyred Jesuits of El Salvador, and the Agnesians Maureen and Teresa of Nicaragua, but one to which we could never aspire. It wo~ld mean speaking, acting, or giving witness in larger-than-life situations that may never be the platform for most of us. Another perspective might give rise to images of angry demonstrations directed at society and culture or at our Church. The call for greater inclusion of women in roles in Church and society, for the right to life of the unborn, the unwanted, and the elderly, and for the preservation of our environment can result in tactics that seem or are angry. For those who shrink from such approaches, even the very valid and necessary content can be lost. A third image of the prophet (which we may enjoy) is of one who foretells the future. In our society there are those who use past patterns to predict our economy's collapse or other dire conse-quences. For those of us who live a Gospel faith, such prophets do not give the hope so necessary to engage in present realities and so make the world a better place here and now. The images I have shared are overdrawn stereotypes, but they show the difficulty in speaking on the topic of prophetic wit]aess. In this reflection I will explore three broad areas: (1) What does it mean to be prophetic? (2) prophetic witness and the current experience of religious life: (3) an agenda for the future. 658 Prophetic Witness / 659 What Does It Mean to be Prophetic? Walter Brueggemann says in The Prophetic Imagination, "The time may be ripe in the church for a serious consideration of prophecy as a crucial ele-ment in ministry."~ Prophets understood how change is effected. They knew the power of language, how to "evoke newness, 'fresh from the word.' ,,2 Let us develop at some length Brueggemann's ideas of prophecy. He states, "The task of prophetic ministry is to nurture, nourish, and evoke a consciousness and perception alternative to the consciousness and perception of the domi-nant culture around us . ,,3 I believe his approach can help us understand prophetic witness as it applies to the goals and meaning of religious life. Beginning with the story of Moses, we can learn what it means to form an alternative community. The story of the Exodus shows us how Moses and the Israelite people were brought out from their domination by an imperial religion and the politics of oppression and exploitation. The religion and pol-itics of Pharaoh worked hand in hand to keep him in power and control. Through the interaction of Moses and Aaron with Pharaoh and his regime, the Israelites began to see the difference between the freedom of God and the lack of freedom of the Egyptian gods. Belief in the Egyptian gods served to maintain a social order that allowed for oppression and exploitation. The God revealed to the Israelites is tied to no social order. God is a God of free-dom who calls for an alternative community built on the politics of justice and compassion. The alternative consciousness that Moses fostered in the Israelites was both critical and energizing. His critique, validated when the Egyptians were struck by plagues which their gods were powerless to counter, showed up false claims to power and authority which could not keep promises in the face of the free God. Prophetic criticism has an element of grieving in it as the prophet mourns the oppressions encountered. The Israelites were afflict-ed, oppressed, and ground down by the dominant Egyptian culture, and so they risked the freedom of the free God against the regime. The energizing happened not through what the Israelites already possessed but through what was promised. God went before them in pillars of fire and cloud and trans-figured this fear into energy. The people were energized to follow the free God to establish an alternative community built on justice and compassion. Though the Israelites left Egypt to live more freely, they, too, eventually developed a dominant culture. It was characterized by the reign of Solomon, whose whole achievement appears to have had the self-serving purpose of securing the place of the king and king's dynasty. Solomon did not welcome the ideas of a free God and an alternative community any more than did Pharaoh, for they threatened the established order. There were three bases 660 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 for Solomon's rule that generally mark any dominant culture. First, there was incredible well-being and affluence, though it was not equitably shared. Some went without enough so that others might have too much. Second, an oppressive social policy sustained the standard of living. There was a system of forced labor in which laborers met the needs of the state although unable to meet their own needs. The politics of justice and compassion disappeared, and the order of the state became the overriding agenda. Third, there was the establishment of a controlled and static religion. God and God's temple became part of the royal landscape. How could God, seen as living in a house provided by the king, say anything critical or abrasive? Solomon was countering the counterculture of Moses: the economics of equality was countered with the economics of affluence, the politics of justice with the politics of oppression, and the religion of God's freedom with the religion of God's accessibility. The dominant culture of Solomon managed to brush aside Moses' vision. The gift of freedom was taken over by the yearning for order, and the human agenda of justice was used for security. Against reali-ties like these, people are called to utter prophetic words. Moses both criticized and energized. Like him, Jeremiah is shown as proclaiming the critique while Second Isaiah offers the energy for the new vision. The prophets offer symbols that contradict a situation of hopelessness and give public expression to long-unspoken fears and hopes. They show us that the dominant culture leads people to despair of new life. They present an alternative consciousness, grounded in the unwavering faithfulness of God, that can energize the community to new forms of faithfulness and vital-ity. Jesus, too, is shown as a prophet who criticized the dominant culture of his day. "Jesus is remembered and presented by the early Church as the faithful embodiment of an alternative consciousness.''4 Jesus' ministry and death oppose the politics of oppression with the politics of justice and com-passion. The counterpart to the crucifixion is the birth of a new reality that finds full expression in the resurrection. What does this very challenging reflection on prophets and prophetic consciousness have to say to us in religious life? What is apostolic religious life's prophetic role in church and society today? It is important to reflect on this, recognizing that we have generous portions of both dominant culture and alternative consciousness within us. We recognize our conflicted nature, yet we aspire to a prophetic role in church and society. We must ask, then, whether apostolic women religious have been co-opted by our dominant consumer culture or whether we manifest an alterna-tive consciousness based on the freedom of a free God. Do we show a belief in community and interdependence as inherent in our way of life, or are we Prophetic Witness / 66'1 fragmented and self-centered? Are we motivated by a desire for justice and compassion, or do we prefer stability even at the price of the exploitation and oppression of "invisible" others? The questions are hard but necessary as we examine the religious way of life for evidence of prophetic witness. Prophetic Witness and the Current Experience of Religious Life Our challenge as women religious is to position ourselves to recognize the revelation of the future. One current writer, Mary Jo Leddy, N.D.S., speaks of the need to develop a postliberal model of religious life. Her thesis is that the basis for our contemporary religious life in North America is a declining culture that depends on the liberal thought fed by industrial capi-talism. While liberalism has made many contributions to modern society, it cannot deal with the reality of limits. If there can be no limits, ultimately there can be no meaning or values. Liberals tend to see themselves as contemporary or progressive and in conflict with the conservative or traditionalist ideas of Church and religious life. In Leddy's view, the more serious obstacle to the transformation and renewal of religious life results from the tension between the liberal and the prophetic approaches. The prophetic leads us to a more radical response in spirituality, mission, ministry, and community. The prophetic is risky, for it calls us to response to an unknown future rather than reaction to a no-longer-valid past. Leddy says, "We who live in a disintegrating empire today are summoned at prophetic moments to criticize the patterns of decline within our culture and within ourselves, to contemplate the holiness of God in the midst of these dark times, and to evoke the creative desire in one another for a meaningful alternative for the future.''5 These words are very similar to those Brueggemann uses to describe the prophetic imagination. The prophetic intersects with our apostolic religious life. Contemporary writers call religious to the same challenge the prophets faced in biblical times. Religious congregatiohs represent an alternative to the values of the dominant culture but do not stand apart from the people. Rather, apostolic religious recognize clearly the need for reflection, discernment, and a ground-ing in the holy as they criticize, yet energize, themselves and their peers to bring the values of the Gospel into contemporary society and culture. We have reflected on what it means to be a prophet. We have also recog-nized the challenge it presents to apostolic religious. Let us now look at cur-rent beliefs and responses regarding apostolic religious life in light of prophetic witness. I will consider mission direction, the meaning of member-ship, and some current realities. These areas provide us with the material to critique and energize our own prophetic potential. 662 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 Mission Direction Although expressed differently in each congregation, mission direction today involves in some way a commitment to transformation of the world, the Church, and ourselves through promoting systemic change for the quali-ty of life; justice for the economically poor; furtherance of the role of women in church and society; and mutuality, inclusivity, and collaboration in all relationships. Such mission direction clearly reminds us of our partici-pation in the mission of Jesus. When we call ourselves to systemic change for the quality of life, what do we mean? We are asking for two things, systemic change and quality of life. When we say the system is not working well, how do we want to change it so it will work better? For whom do we want it to work better? If we take a global view, we see that entirely too much of the world's popula-tion is forced to live at a level that does not meet its basic needs of food, shelter, health care, and education while a minority has more than its share. We see that, in order to feed the wants and needs of a market economy, rain forests are irrevocably destroyed, topsoil is depleted, deserts are expanded mercilessly, and the world's fresh-water supply is tainted and diminished. On local and national levels we 'must ask ourselves how the needs of the poor are being met. After all, Jesus was clear in showing us that whatever we do to the least of his people we are doing to him. The poor are receiving poorer education, less nourishing food, substandard or no housing, and inad-equate health care in this country so rich in resources and technology. We must use our ingenuity, gifts, and talents to change a system that has canonized greed and competition in order to satisfy wants. How can we in our own daily living point the way to change that would benefit those with least access to the system without denying the legitimate gains and goods of our society and culture? Such responses as simplifying our lifestyle by avoiding use of Styrofoam, recycling our disposables, and making thought-ful choices regarding food and other consumer goods can raise our con-sciousness and lead us to getting others involved and to networking with those already involved. Indeed, most changes begin as ordinary people change their thinking and the patterns that go with their thinking. We must know our values so that they, rather than the manipulative marketing of an over- consumptive dominant culture, will shape our choices and responses. We claim that we want justice for the economically poor. This value links with the goal of systemic change for the quality of life. Jesus' life and ministry showed us his love of preference for the poor. This is not to say that Jesus does not love all, but that his ministry was not directed in the main to those who were the power brokers of his day. These, of course, he invited to Prophetic Witness / 663 join him in loving God and neighbor, but the cost was generosity, sharing their possessions. Jesus was good news for the poor. Are we who are called to continue Jesus' mission also good news for the poor? Whether in direct service So the poor or in ministry with middle- and upper-middle-class peo-ple, are we focused on a more just distribution of and access to necessary goods and resources? Do we in our teaching and in our healing, pastoral, and social works always have in mind those who are less fortunate than we are? Are we willing ~o call others to this consciousness even when we see and know that the poor are not to be idealized? They, like us, have faults and failings and may not reflect Christ as we might want them to. A reverence for the poor calls us to a view of Christ very different from that of popular piety. While comforting, it is challenging; while open and inviting, it is demanding; and while satisfying, it never ceases to call out for more--more love, more generosity, more hospitality. Not all of us are called to direct ser-vice with the poor, but all of us are called to seek justice for the poor. In this quest we continually recognize that we, too, are among the needy and are enriched by those we serve. Another commitment common to religious is to the furtherance of the role of women in church and society. Worldwide, the conditions of women vary from those in countries where women have legal equality to those where brides are still considered property. Women the world over have the primary responsibility to feed and care for the children even though means and resources are not equitably at their disposal. In the United States a vio-lent crime is committed against a woman every three minutes, and a woman is raped every six minutes. Households headed by women are increasing while the rate of their income is dropping. Children are our most precious resource, but those who care for them are denied the necessary means. Our Church struggles with the role women are to play in its pastoral, liturgical, and philosophical reflections.In the U.S. the most recent draft document on women's role in the Church and society calls for equality for women in theory but holds back in p.ractice. As John XXIII said in Pacem in Terris in 1963, "Since women are becoming ever more conscious of their human dignity, they will not tolerate being treated as inanimate objects or mere instruments, but claim, both in domestic and in public life, the rights and duties that befit a human person.''6 The women's issue is more than an issue, it is a perspective that demands attention and response. Once unleashed, the forces of confusion and dissension drive towards resolution. In our lives we will use inclusive language, advocate for women, and net-work to help make society a friendlier place for women to develop and share their gifts and talents. Despite such a commitment on the part of congrega- 664 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 tions, there is dissension among women religious in language usage and other matters. Our heads and hearts find themselves in conflict here, leading to results that could be less than satisfying. Can we avoid being our own worst enemy in the search for inclusivity? Let us not deny the richness of our past, the demands of the present, or the call of the future as we work for justice and right for women in contemporary society and church. Another area of commitment of apostolic religious today has to do with mutuality, inclusivity, and collaboration in all our relationships. The values implied here are very positive, and yet to achieve them one must give in order to receive. The mystery of sacrifice is contained in these words in a way that is not apparent at first glance. For mutuality to occur, I must not only believe in myself, I must also learn to believe and trust in the other. With whom do we allow ourselves to be mutual? Do we let power, position, language, style of dress, or education prevent us from speaking our truth or hearing that of others? In terms of inclusivity, do we go to the extremes either of having no boundaries or expectations or of expecting everyone to fulfill every role or function in an organization? Inclusivity involves includ-ing others in the concerns affecting their own lives. Not all will do every-thing, but there must be input from those affected. In terms of discernment, though all are included, not all perspectives can be responded to or chosen. We often try to make inclusivity mean pleasing everyone all of the time even though this may be impossible. Finally, let us look at c.ollaboration. If we pull the word apart, we can see the meaning as co-labor or working with. At one time we may have considered ourselves collaborative if we hired lay teachers and nurses and more so if we hired lay administrators. Collaboration at its most radical, however, calls us not just to bring others into our projects and have them do things our way, but to work with others and to respond to the signs and needs of the times together. Unhe.althy com-petition or too rigid control in ministry or community strikes at the heart of the love which binds us together so that the 'risen Christ may be discovered among us and in our world. The Meaning of Membership The consideration of mutuality, inclusivity, and collaboration leads us into the meaning of membership. Community life is a topic, issue, and reali-ty that continues to generate much attention. As apostolic religious we have such different experiences, expectations, and definitions regarding commu-nity life and the meaning of local community. Sometimes when the phrase "local community" is used, the assumptions and expectations already in place cause us to "shut down," to become unable to continue a dialogu~ Prophetic Witness because we are really unable to h~ar one another. (I personally have felt anger, despair, defensiveness, longing, fear--and also hope--around this topic.) What has led religious women to this state and what can we do to move beyond shutdown and breakdown to a breakthrough? It is clear that, in this matter, apostolic women religious are striving, striving to understand meaningful bonding and to express it through authentic participation in community. Someone recently said that we may have so emphasized mission and ministry in the years of renewal following Vatican II that c6mmunity has become the shadow side of our way of life. If that is the case, the difficulties surrounding our efforts to deal with community life are deep and profound. We must face and deal with this central area of our way of life so that we are nok torn apart by unclear expectations and assumptions. I offer three perspectives for consideration in the area of community: human-growth issues, the importance of faith community and faith sharing, and l~ousin~ in community. We sometimes get bogged down by human-growth issues in our lives with one another on the local or on the broader community level even though our lived experience points to the need for human growth and development among ourselveg. Each of us knows how difficult it is to change herself and how truly futile it is to expect to change another. Each of us must deal with herself and her own issues in as healthy a fashion as 16ossible. Only when my behaviors and patterng are healthy may I be able to imiarove the dynamics between myself and those with whom I interact on a r~gular basis. The challenge here is to deal with my own behav-iors, realizing that I have no real or lasting power over the behaviors another may choose. My role is to try not to feed into unhealthy behaviors that may be pre.sent around me. Although unatteiaded human-growth issues can wreak havoc on healthy relating within community, still apostolic religious must recognize that we will never overcome all of these problems either individually or corpbrately. Gra~e biailds on nature; it will not replace or deny our humanness. We must realize how eadh sister's desire and motivation influence her choices regard-ing her behavior and interaction. We cannot choose for each other, only for ourselves. Each ~'eligious needs to be challenged to a self-knowledge and self-awareness leading to growth. Practices such as spiritual direction, the annual retreat, and the daily consciousness examen can keep us grounded in reality yet open to ongoing conversion. We must deal with human-growth-and-development issues, but not remain there. We must be committed to the making of or participating in faith community as a means of nurturing shared life, shared love, and shared vision. We must find ways to relate regularly and meaningfully with our sis- 666 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 ters in community in order to reflect on, renew, and recommit ourselves to the mission, charism, and spirit of our congregation in our daily lives. Depending upon our miriistry and the proximity of other congregational members, how we do this will differ; that we must do it if membership is to mean more than an annual touchdown or the reading of congregational mate-rials is the reality we face. Some Current Realities I. recogniz9 that each congregational member will have other communi-ties thai will lay claim to her time, energy, and affection. That is good and healthy. My point is that we must have quality time for our own congrega-tion as well, as part of the ordering rhythm of our lives. Sometimes one's commitment to ministry or to parish can become so all-encompassing that ther~ is. little or no time or energy left for her to express her membership in her religious congregation. For me, the making of faith community involves reverence for one another, presence to one another for celebration as well ag dialogue and reflection, honesty so that we can affirm one another or call each other to growth, and a commitment to the goals and developing agenda of our congregation. This topic of makirig and participating in faith community leads to another important topic: the difference between housing and local communi-ty: We often equaie the two and this ~quation may not reflect that community life is broader than housing. The recent lived reality of women religious shows that faith community on the "local" level is not necessarily synony-mous with where a sister lives. In some locales th~ sisters have committed themselves to hei,ng a faith community without walls; regular meetings, cele-brations, and gatherings among them challenge and deepen their member-ship in the cbngi'egation, in other locales the sisters in a particular house function well as a faith community. We must recognize such differing com-munity realities and encourage them on the local level as well as on the con-gregational level. A commitment to community in our current society of intenge individualism and consumer gratification keeps us involved in a prophetic role. An Agenda for the Future The prophetic nature of this life to which we are called leads us to cob-sider an agenda for~the future. Any living organization must be open to change or it will die. In a sense change is an ordered type of death, not death as final but rather death leading to new life. One of the greatest strengths of apostolic women religious is the serise that the agenda or common goals Prophetic Witness / 667 belong to all of us. This strength we will build on as we look at change and new life for us religious. Central to understanding ourselves as women religious is understanding our spirituality. I believe that the biggest challenge for each of us with regard to spirituality is to lead more integrated lives. Integration does not just hap-pen in a person's life. It must be worked at daily through a continuous blend of action and reflection leading to further action. Somehow the aspects of one's life must be part of a whole rather than segments that do not overlap. In an integrated life my religious commitment is not separate from who I am when I am at leisure. My response in mission and ministry is not limited to my paid professional work but may overlap into volunteer involvements in food pantries, visiting the sick or elderly, letter writing, and other activities. Community life is not an end in itself in an apostolic religious institute, nor is it merely a refuge that ought to be there when I want and need it. Community is a place or space where I share faith and vision, humanness, and the quest for the divine. My ministry is not all-consuming; I do allow myself necessary time for recreation and reflection. And my prayer life is more than specified exercises or spiritual reading. All these somehow fit together and reflect my spirituality, my integration of life. An integrated life has powerful witness value in a society that wants everything and does not want to be reminded of the need for balance. Integration is not synonymous with transformation, but it can surely open us to being transforming elements in the institutions and structures of society and culture. In our desire to be prophetic witnesses, we commit our-selves to transformation of the Church, the world, and ourselves~ I recently read that one way of understanding transformation is to look at the life cycle of the butterfly. First there is a caterpillar; next there is the chrysalis stage, in which the organic matter is quite shapeless and formless; finally, there is the butterfly. Transformation is what happens in the chrysalis stage. The process is not very appealing; it suggests a profound letting go as well as an openness to a different future. While transformation has global ramifications, it will not begin at the global level but rather at the local level, where we can encourage one anoth-er to let go of attitudes or practices that may have been more helpful to a known and comfortable past than to the needs of the present or the concerns of the future. The desire for transformation of the world, the Church and our-selves flows directly from our relationship to God, self, others, and creation. It is expressed in a commitment to justice, peace, and the integrity of cre-ation. Transformation is not something anyone can directly make happen by willing it. No one person caused the recent freedom movement in Eastern 668 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 Europe, nor can one individual move our economy from a military focus to a domestic and global focus responding to human and planetary needs in a humane fashion. Likewise, no ond person's recycling of materials will reverse our problem with excessive waste. Yet all of these and many other alternative responses can indeed lead to transformation. When such respons-es begin, networking or replicating starts to happen and systems begin to change. At the May 1990 meeting of the council of the International Union of Superiors General (UISG) in Rome, the following global challenges to evan-gelization were identified: the widening gap between the rich and poor; indi-vidualism characterized by greed, violence, terrorism, abandonment, indifference, and irresponsibility; loss of human dignity through political oppression, social discrimination, and economic injustice; the breakdown of family life; the destruction of the environment; inability to trust the human community, coupled with a preoccupation with survival. These challenges help us to formulate an agenda for transformation that is larger than ourselves, and they clearly link with the transformative ele-ments for religious life in the future developed by the major superiors of U.S. women's and men's communities (LCWR/CMSM) in August 1989: prophetic witness; contemplative attitude toward life; poor and marginalized persons as the focus for ministry; spirituality of wholeness and global inter-connectedness; charism and mission as sources of identity; change of the locus of power; living with less; broad-based inclusive communities; under-standing ourselves as Church; and developing interdependence among peo-ple of diverse cultures. These challenges and transformative elements reflect in broad strokes the goals and concerns ofapostolic religious. Though the future depends in part upon us and our efforts, it depends even more on the grace of God our Creator, the inspiration of the Spirit, and our cooperation with each other as members of the body of Christ, joined in a common humanity and gifted with a common creation. Our communion with and in Christ calls all humanity "to reclaim relationships with family, clan, and tribe, to choose the common good, to seek solidarity with one another and with the earth.''7 For transformation to occur, we must believe and act in such a way that we give the message that life has meaning and that, assisted by God's grace, our responses make a difference. The prophetic imagination described by Brueggemann remains viable as we respond in our own times with an alter-native consciousness, as we critique our dominant culture and yet energize one another for a more just and compassionate future. Our faith gives us the vision and the mission, our hope gives us spirit and energy, and our love Prophetic Witness / 669 grounds us in the mysterious blend of transcendence and immanence that is life. I close this reflection on prophetic witness and apostolic religious life with Isaiah's words: "Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" (Is 43:18-19). NOTES I Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), p. 9. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid, p. 13. 4 Ibid, p. 88. 5 Mary Jo Leddy, Reweaving Religious Life: Beyond the Liberal Model (Mystic, Connecticut: Twenty-Third Publications, 1990), p. 164. 6 John XXIII, Pacem In Terris, in Seven Great Encyclicals (Glen Rock, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1963), p. 297. 7 Helen Maher Garvey, B.V.M., excerpt from notes on the Meeting of the General Council, UISG, Rome, Italy, May 7-11, 1990, p. 2. Storms Tornado watch, the weatherman said, to last until ten o'clock. Four hours to wait for what may be or not. Storms of spirit come suddenly; swirl through the heart's towns and wash its skies to morning clean-- with no hours to wait for what so swiftly is. Sister Elizabeth deSales Dee, S.S.J. St. Joseph Convent 7300 Torresdale Avenue Philadelphia, Pa. 19136 Mission or Consecrated Religious Person: Which Comes First in Apostolic Institutes? Marie Therese Levey, R.S.~. Sister Marie Therese has taught school in country areas of Australia. Later she spe-cialized in teaching instrumental music: piano and violin. More recently she has done research in liturgical music and earned a Ph.D. Her address is St. Joseph's Convent; P.O. Box 472; North Sydney, N.S.W. 2059; Australia. In May/June 1988 this joumal published Sister Georgine Scarpino's article "The Unemployed Sister: Challenge and Opportunity." It defines the unem-ployed sister as a woman religious physically and emotionally capable of active ministry who, despite seeking work, currently has no formal position. It gives two causes for this modem phenomenon: the location of the work and the way ministry decisions are made. In summary, Sister Georgine points out the need for congregations of women religious to develop programs within religious institutes to address both employment and unemployment. Surprisingly, no published response has followed her article until now. Since women religious have sacrificed potential material wealth, marriage, and motherhood in order to serve the Church in institutes devoted to apos-tolic works, it seems unjtist that the situations described occur. However, occur they do, and the first step toward rectifying the problems is to admit them. One then asks why they exist and seeks an appropriate cure. Sister Georgine presents causes of these problems in the United States. Although here in Australia there are general parallels to what she describes, yet the causes and thus the cures seem somewhat different here. The present writer has, in religious life, personally experienced "job search" and the special type of demoralization which occurs in close-knit communities when one is the "odd man out." I thus feel equipped to write on this subject. Regardless of the differences between countries in reasons for the phe-nomenon of the unemployed sister, I believe that the two elements most 670 Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 671 needed in addressing the problem of appropriate placement in apostolic works of religious personnel in institutes of consecrated life are: (l) a correct balance in religious leaders between their attitudes towards responsibility for the institute's authentic mission and their attitudes towards the rights of the individual members; (2) adequate use of written media, particularly those which are internal to the religious institutes and which include forums for peer review and the opportunity for subjects to respectfully challenge those directives or oversights of superiors which seem to threaten the authentic mission of the institute or the rights of its members. Mission and Person The religious state belongs to the life and holiness of the Church (canon 574), and the primary mission of the Church is the care of souls. Ecclesiastical law insists that apostolic action for institutes of consecrated life should confirm and foster union with God (c. 675, §2). The Church has Msb a social mission, namely, to support and protect people's material well-being and to inspire and promote true civilization through Christian philoso-phy. 1 In the social category of mission can be placed the apostolic pati'imony of many institutes, and the Church insists that such patrimony, or intentions of the founder, should be.preserved by the institute (c. 578). Thus, leaders of institutes of consecrated life f6unded for apostolic works, in order to justify their ongoing existence and their acceptance of candidates, need to ensure that both the corporate entity and the individual members have a correct con-cept of this patrimony as well as machinery to implement it. Bearing in mind that the Church places the person at the center of the social order, religious leaders have a r~sponsibility to see that members of the institute are placed in apostolic works which are appropriate to the tal-ents and needs of each (see Perfectae Caritatis 18). The pastoral commit-ment of a leader in an apostolic institute does not remove--but, rather, ¯ increases--her obligation towards seeing to appropriate placement of per-sonnel. Although religious leaders nowadays delegate administrators for works for which members of their institute are the trustees, a large part of the responsibility of preventing serious damage to the person through long-term lack of appropriate apostolic work must lie, by the nature of their role, with the religious leaders. Moreover, the responsibilities leaders have to individtial persons within the institute vary according to how long and in what manner they have contributed to the institute (see REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 1989, p. 460). Since it is often claimed that consecrated religious are in short supply, the application of the above principles might seem straightforward. In reality 672 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 there are circumstances in the modem world in general, and here in Australia in particular, which cause it to be very difficult for congregational leaders. As in the United States, the location of the work in Australia affects the opportunity to do it, and the way ministry decisions are made in America has parallels h~re. Some details may clarify the differences between practices in the two countries. Conditions in Australia Prior to Vatican II, the missioning procedures in Australian apostolic religious congregations were relatively simple. Obedience, or the will of God, was equa~ed with doing what a superior told one to do and living where the superior told one to live. In larger Australian congregations, (over 1,000 members) often more than half were primary school teachers, and a large proportion of the remainder were either secondary teachers or nurses. Changes of residence for those "in the ranks" usually involved interchange between personnel engaged in similar works. This principle of interchange was fundamental to the smooth application of the third vow. When a difficult posting was required--for example, to isolated rural areas--younger reli-gious under perpetual vows were usually sent. Postings to apostolic works almost invariably came directly from a major superior, whether or not that superior's apostoli~c background was in the relevant work. Recruitment of staff for a school or a hospital by an administrator, or board, was foreign to most Australian apostolic religious congregations of women prior to about 1960, whether the mission was in the city or in the country. In the early 1960s a radical change occurred in the overall secondary education system in the most populous state of Australia, New South Wales. That change to what was called the Wyndham System, emphasizing science and the arts, was much more revolutionary in Catholic education for girls than it was either in state education or in Catholic education for boys. In the typical local Catholic school run by consecrated religioi~s women in Australia before that time, the girls remained in the same school, almost entirely staffed by r(ligious, from kindergarten through secondary school years. In state education and in Catholic education for boys, secondary schools were already separated at least from lower primary schools. Thus, state-school teachers and men religious in secondary education had been required to have university degrees before some larger institutes of w~men religious recognized such a need. When the more farsighted Catholic educa-tors pointed out that it would now be a problem to provide adequate sec-ondary education for the girls of less well-off families in local pa~:ish schools, some congregations saw in their higher grades a source of more Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 673 thoroughly trained religious personnel. That vain hope made difficulties in long-term planning for the transition from religious to lay staff. A further dramatic change in Australian education, which was to affect all ministries, occurred in the early 1970s. After a break of twenty years, the Australian Labor Party, headed by Prime Minister Gough Whitlam, was elected to govern the country. One of its earliest reforms was to make uni-versity education free. Although some criticized the extraordinary cost this was to the nation, the move brought the opportunity for tertiary education to the masses. Before that time, university education had been for the fortunate and the chosen. Now the initiative for tertiary education was up to the indi-vidual. The suc.c~'ss achieved by some "late starters," many in their forties and fifties, revealed how much talent had previously been unused. From about 1975, attitudes within religious congregations changed for both superi-ors and subjects. Superiors began to listen more attentively to those who did well in their tertiary studies, and subjects found their personal confidence and self-esteem strengthened by their academic achievement. With the advances made in the study of theology and the social sciences, it is now rarel~ pretended that apostolic religious life is simple, or that doing the will of God is always as clear-cut as that decided by another human being alone, whether or not that person h.appens to be a religious superior. Because of the broader scope of ministries open to women religious, modem specialization, and improved administrative techniques, the principle of interchange among personnel--which for many years had been integral to the practice of the third vow--is now becoming more and more difficult. In addition, although the median age of religious congregations is rising faster than that of the general population, many religious feel they have the right, and indeed the duty, to request proximity to aging parents. Religious congre-gations in serious decline have virtually no young sisters under perpetual vows who might be sent to isolated schools in rural areas. Since the majority of Australian sisters have reached the "winding down" stage of their lives, many now look to the cities from whence they originally came. In addition to these developments within the Church, the governments of Australia and New Zealand have acknowledged, in the form of funding, the benefits to the country as a whole of certain works of the private sector, including Catholic, and have thus made it necessary to rethink the ecclesias-tical structures for some ministries in which religious are involved. The equitable processing of government funding necessitated merging many local works, including parish schools within dioceses, into larger systems, most of whose personnel are now lay. These mergings required the develop-ment of policies acceptable to the relevant bishops, major religious superi- 674 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 ors, and state and union representatives for the management of the works, particularly those of healthcare and education. Making the policies work in practice required the establishment of sophisticated structures, which in turn required religious or lay personnel with the proper management skills. As a result, the power of the leaders of religious institutes with regard to the placement of personnel in traditional works in Australia and New Zealand has been lessened. Unlike lay staff, religious in Australia are not permitted employment status; this is not the case in New Zealand.2 Because of all of these circumstances, religious superiors have had to rethink how to preserve their true patrimony oi" authentic mission and what human cost would be involved. Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? The whole issue of the employment, or active involvement, of religious personnel leads to the question: Which is of greater importance to an insti-tute claiming to be dedicated to apostolic works, the works for which it was founded or the persons who will serve in those works? For leaders of insti-tutes whose acceptance of candidates demands that they offer them appropri-ate apostolic work, the answer is neither obvious nor simple. However, the Church has offered some very sound advice in the general area of human work. Of the documents which have come from the Vatican since the council, few could be more relevant to our times than the encyclical letter Laborem Exercens (LE) of the present pope. Pope John Paul II presents human work as "one of the characteristics that distinguish man from the rest of the crea-tures." It is "from work [that man's life] derives its specific dignity" (LE Introduction). Pope John Paul describes the "conflict between labor and cap-ital in the present phase of history" (LE 1 l f f). The Church, he points out, has always taught "the principle of labor over capital." Both are causes of pro-duction, but while capital is the mere "instrumental cause," labor is the "pri-mary efficient cause" (LE 12). In the labor-over-capital issue, Pope John Paul equates labor with per-sons and capital with the material returns from their labor. Consecrated reli-gious, even those who have employment, individually receive no capital }'or their labor. They have sacrificed this right for a stable form of living by which they can follow Christ more closely under the action of the Holy Spirit (c. 573). In Australia and New Zealand, more than half of the person-nel in apostolic institutes made their commitment in the years when religious superiors had supreme control over placement into works, and they are now beyond the stage at which they might have arranged for alternative security Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 675 in old age upon seeing that the original system in which they sacrificed pos-sible wealth, marriage, and motherhood was beginning to break down. So the competent authorities obviously have a serious question of obligation towards them now. Many of the religious have perhaps forty years of life which they could still offer in apostolic works within the Church. Pope John Paul also writes concerning the roles of the "direct and indi-rect employer" (LE 17). By the "indirect employer" he refers to many differ-ent elements in society which make up the human environment of the worker. He says: "The role of the agents included under the title of indirect employer is to act against unemployment, which in all cases is an evil, and which, when it reaches a certain level, can become a real social disaster" (LE 18). These are strong words from the pen of the vicar of Christ. The principal agent in the concept of indirect employer for religious personnel would be the wider Church in that country. Should not, then, sections of the local Church accept part of the responsibility to address any problems of unem-ployment for religious? As well, the question should be raised within reli-gious institutes: Is it justifiable for religious superiors to accept candidates to poverty and obedience within a particular institute when those superiors do not have the power to place them in suitable work soon after profession? Perhaps declining numbers in a congregation increase the temptation for superiors to do so, and perhaps they excuse their actions with the reminder that all should "trust in God." I believe that succumbing to such a temptation would constitute power abuse of a particularly destructive kind. The abuse would surely be more damaging if others within the institute were already searching for similar employment, and were exposed to the same market forces. Power and Recruitment for Apostolic Works The power of recruitment brings us to the heart of the present discus-sion, namely, the opportunity for or deprivation of suitable apostolic work for religious personnel. It is neither possible nor desirable to completely sep-arate apostolic persons from the society in which they live. Professed mem-bers of Australian religious institutes are exposed to the forces which are part of the sophisticated living of the decade leading up to the twenty-first century. In this society ~nd age, control of recruitment for works represents power. For religious personnel, recruitment can be translated into mission-ing. Procedures for the missioning of religious should be such that they lead to the spiritual strengthening of the members and the corporate growth of the institute. The immediate practical problem to be faced by governing bodies of religious institutes is to develop policies for missioning procedures that 676 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 are within their power to implement, that support evangelization, that are just and equitable and adapted to the personhood of each sister, and that accord with both canon and civil law. Nowadays apostolic work for religious may be broadly placed into four categories: (1) viable institutions of which the con-gregation is the trustee, (2) charitable works of the congregation or of other ecclesiastical bodies, (3) viable institutions of other ecclesiastical bodies which pay stipends or salaries for the work of the sister, and (4) viable and nonviable works found in profane structures at the initiative of the religious. (1) Viable institutions owned by a religious institute are, in a distinctive manner, part of its patrimony. They are, as well, material assets of the insti-tute, which its leaders should, in. poverty, care for "with the diligence of a good householder" (canon 1284). Viable works of religious congregations are businesses, and for businesses to survive and attract personnel today, they must be competitive. Vatican II (Gaudium et Spes 64) teaches that eco-nomic development through technical progress "must be fostered, along with a spirit of initiative, an eagerness to create and expand enterprises," and that the purpose of productivity "must be th.e service of. the whole human per-son, viewed in terms of his or her material needs and the demands of his or her intellectual, moral, spiritual, and religious life." Pope John Paul points out that "capital cannot be separated fr6m labor" (LE 13) though, of course, in the case of religious persons, the capital is, through poverty, directed elsewhere than themselves. Religious persons, knowing that they are materially contributing towards the whole, find in the capital "confirma-tion and support" (LE 13) for the work done. Sound economics and evangel-ical poverty should go hand in hand. In order to maintain the correct balance between responsibility to the institute's mission and respect for the rights of the individual members of the institute, congregational leaders (trustees of the works) must regard the work and those involved in it as separate entities: the work itself is important regardless of who does it. Individual members must have the same percep-tion so that they may practice the spirit of poverty, or detachment. There should, accordingly, be protective structures for the ministry, including sometimes the combining of similar works under one administration so that they will continue even in cases of illness or of anyone's taking longservice leave. It is particularly important that this principle of continuation be respected when works require only one person in the local area, for example, instrumental music practices.3 Setting up protective structures for ministries in order to maintain the institute's patrimony will include policies for recruitment of staff. In those works in which a number of religious and lay people, are engaged, religious superiors have the direct power to influence Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 677 administrators in the recruitment of personnel. It stands to reason, then, that---other things, like professional qualifications, being equal--in recruit-ment for works of which the religious institute is the trustee, preference should be given to its own members. (2) The category of charitable works might include refuges for the needy which are supported by the congregation and by external donations. Without viable works there can be no charitable works. The Church's teaching on a "preferential option for the poor," by which the poor should have a preferen-tial claim on the Church's resources, cannot be initially applied without the resources. Once competent authorities decide that a charitable work is authentic to the charism of the institute, then the congregation should set up, as it should for its viable institutions, protective structures to preserve the work, whether or not there are religious personnel to staff it. Indeed, true missionaries strive to make themselves ultimately dispensable--teaching the disadvantaged how to be self-reliant and how to recover the dignity which is their right (see LE 9). Protective structures would include finance arrange-ments which can be monitored, and the work should be the source of support for the individual religious workers; that is, their salaries or stipends should be fed back into the general system. Again, for a religious institute's own charitable works, other things being equal, one would expect that members of the institute who are under civil retirement age should be considered first when positions are vacant. In Australia, women over sixty years of age (men over sixty-five) who have limited assets (a category which includes religious) are eligible to apply for the Social Security payments from the government. With the pres-ent societal structures, it seems that religious who receive Social Security should not deprive others (perhaps more deserving) of needed employment positions. In some dioceses it is established policy not to accept into stipend-ed positions religious women who are over sixty. If protective structures for an institute's works do not include allocationof salaries, or stipends which are independent of Social Security payments, then receipt of the latter would generate for the ministry an artificial security which could destabilize long-term plans for it. (3) In the third category above, which here in Australia refers principally to Catholic education, lie the greatest current problems of placement of reli-gious personnel. In most of Australia, the recruitment of staffs for nonpro-motional positions in Catholic schools is in the hands of local principals. This power evolved with the gradual acceptance of lay staffs into the parish schools previously staffed by religious. Perhaps to our discredit, it is only recently (since about 1975) that there has been widespread acceptance of lay 678 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 teachers into promotional positions. In general, the power of religious supe-riors to place personnel in diocesan works is limited to those positions which were previously held by other religious of their own congregations. Declining numbers, and thus declining positions, led to some religious being exposed to market forces for ministries. School principals, whether religious or lay, still have the power and responsibility of staffing. This has now become an excessive burden for principals of Catholic schools in the coun-try, and an excessive power for those in the city. One solution would be to have staff recruitment moved to the systemic level so that consistent staffing policies might be applied across dioceses. This might lessen the number of religious who today feel forced into the fourth category above. The exposure of some religious to market forces in the area of ministry is quite a different method of missioning than the appropriate placement of a person by a religious superior. The question should be asked: Is it just for the two types of missioning to coexist ~within the same religious institute? The answer to this important question will require great honesty and humility on the part of religious leaders. Religious exposed to market forces are some-times refused employment in diocesan works or, when school enrollments drop, dismissed by school principals of their own congregation who have the power of recruitment. Such practices are effectively structuring out of Catholic education the few teaching religious who are left, and are a serious cause of unemployment amongst religious. Some religious teachers even turn to the state school system for employment rather than lose touch with the classroom and "real life." Considering the authentic commitment which the religious have made, this alternative seems to the present writer an anomaly. On the other hand, relatively little investment has been made by the wider Australian Church over the last twenty years for the education in theology of lay teachers for Catholic schools. The above problems can now be solved only by negotiations between diocesan and religious leaders who have in mind the well-being of both the mission and the persons. As well, past oversight in planning could perhaps be avoided in the future if religious are encouraged to contribute ideas through appropriate media. Adequate Use of Media There are two levels of written communication which are particularly important in preserving a correct balance between responsibility for authen-tic mission and respect for the rights of individuals. These levels are media within the wider Church and media within religious institutes. Media within the Wider Church. Recruitment of personnel for Catholic works is effected via both the Catholic journals and the metropolitan dailies. Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 679 Like most other countries, Australia has its regular Catholic state and dioce-san papers. Because these are virtually all the Catholic community has for information on what is happening in the Church, they warrant better support and readership than they receive~ In general, editorial staffs in this country strive to maintain an adequate standard of journalism. Despite these vehicles of communication, religious leaders sometimes offer only private invitations to coveted positions which become available. They would avoid much criti-cism if they were to justify, via the Catholic media, such private invitations, especially those to academic posts in Catholic theological institutes, which remain predominantly male. Media within Religious Institutes. If any group of people ever needed to be skilled in transmitting information to each other, it would surely be the members of a religious community. Today there is frequent reference to the "role of the prophet" within religious institutes. Prophets must have vehicles in which they can deliver the message, and the printed word offers the par-ticular benefit of time for considered expression and response. I believe that religious institutes need especially these two kinds of print media: directo-ries and forums for challenge. Directories. In order for general leaders to affirm a work as part of the institute's authentic mission, they must understand clearly what the work is about and be sufficiently convinced of its value to defend it, if necessary, at the general chapter. On the other hand, if chapter delegates believe that the congregation has more ministries than they can validly affirm, they should seriously and courageously argue that systematic steps be taken towards reducing the number.4 Chapter delegates, in order to make valid contribu-tions to discussions and debates regarding works, must have information about their nature and value. Since this is so, it stands to reason that those who elected them--namely, all members of the institute--should have it too. Therefore, each apostolic institute in today's world needs its own official directOry, revised and published annually and containing information on the residence and mission of each member. The directory, which would be an implicit demographic study of the institute, should contain, as well, an annu-al financial statement of the institute and its provinces, with statistics on works which had some elements in common. I believe this would assist greatly in the appropriate placement of personnel and act as a deterrent to increasing fragmentation in ministries. Forum for Challenge. If members of religious institutes with at least parallel qualifications to lay teachers are to have the same work opportuni-ties in the institutes' traditional ministries, then positions that are open should be advertised first within "the system." Trade unions insist on this 680 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 right for their civilly employed members, so it should not be too much to expect within the religious institutes themselves. As well, religious subjects often have insights and ideas for better management which are unknown to superiors. They should have the opportunity to share them. Their ideas may be of benefit to all so that problems like unemployment may be addressed before they gain a hold. Since religious women were, for over a hundred years, to an extent indoctrinated not to express an opinion, they will need to be encouraged to contribute. Therefore, internal journals which contain forums for challenge must have a mandate from a competent authority and must be frequent and regular. When what is written in them is not uncharita-ble- that is, criticizes a policy or a structure and does not attack a particular person--and is limited in audience to professed members of the institute, then it is not a threat to loyalty. Indeed, such a forum could become a c.orpo-rate examination of conscience and could preserve or restore the balance between responsibility for authentic mission and the rights of the person. It could also act as a specific prevention or cure of the evil of unemployment within the religious institute. In educating religious to the use of an internal journal, it should be pointed out that the institute, being made up of human beings, is quite subject to error and that it could be harmful to their beioved congregation to write only of its virtues and to overlook its faults, including possibly incorrect policies with regard to the placement of personnel. Conclusion More than twenty years have passed now since religious congregations first experienced declining numbers and lay teachers became an ac.cepted part of Catholic education here in Australia, so there has be~n adequate time to face up to problems which have occurred regarding recruitment for specif-ic works. Sister Georgine recommends that a program "address all the dimensions of employment and unemployment." However, "job clubs" and "comprehensive programs" are unlikely to take shape until religious leaders acknowledge that the problem is there. I believe that leaders also have the duty to provide those engaged in the works with information and reflection based on surveys or particular works so that they will know what the scope of that work will be in the future, how long the work itself is likely to sur-vive, and what the superiors are planning in that regard. There is no guarantee that any of the above proposals are a complete cure for the evil of unemployment within religious life. However, endeavor-ing to maintain a correct balance between responsibility f~r the mission and respect for the persons of the members of the institute goes to the causes of the evil and is more likely to effect a long-term cure. The use of appropriate Mission or Consecrated Religious Person? / 681 media is a method of achieving the "maximum feasible participation" in effecting a cure. We are living in a world at the brink of the third Christian millennium. It is a world which needs the commitment of consecrated reli-gious life as much as ever and perhaps more than ever. A life wholly dedi-cated to contemplation is a rare gift. However, there is plenty of evidence to indicate that apostolic institutes of consecrated life have an important place in contemporary society. The chief characteristic of Christian moral doctrine besides its Christocentric orientation is the integration of love and justice, the latter being "the strong and firm will to give to each his due.''5 For a reli-gious woman who has sacrificed potential marriage, motherhood, and career in order to serve the Church in an institute devoted to apostolic ministry, unemployment is a serious injustice. The Church and religious institutes should work together for both prevention and cure. NOTES I See R. Hoffman, "Mission," in The New Catholic Encyclopedia. 2 For the purpose of the present article, the word employment will sometimes refer to apostolic work, whether or not the religious has employment status in the civil law. 3 The present writer admits to a certain bias towards instrumental music teaching. I believe that this work is of great importance to the liturgy of the Church. One of the long-term effects of the mergings of parish schools and the employment of lay teach-ers in Australian Catholic education was the death of much traditional music prac-tice, which was not absorbed into the diocesan systems and had few protective structures. It seems to me that the most important strategy for preserving the practice of music is to remove revenue management from the hands of the individual teacher. Otherwise the work tends to become like that of a self-employed person--a situation which is not compatible with either poverty or obedience. Skilled musicians in parishes attract worshipers. I believe that budgeting towards producing musicians for the Church should be part of its primary mission. 4 The idea of permitting novices to have unlimited scope in "working out" their future ministry is, I believe, a recipe for disaster; apostolic congregations already have difficulty in staffing missions recognized as authentic to their charism. 5 New Catholic Encyclopedia, vol. 8, p. 70. Quotation from St. Thomas Aquinas (ST 2 a2ae, 58.1). Inner Africa: A ,Journey of Conversion Susan Rakoczy, 1.H.M. Sister Susan Rakoczy, I.H.M., began ministry in South Africa in October 1989 and currently lectures in systematic theology and spirituality at St. Joseph's Theological Institute in Cedara. Her address is 21 Buchanan Street; 3290 Howick; South Africa. It was about 2:30 in the morning as the door of the plane was opened. The humid and steaming air of West Africa enveloped me as I was pushed down the stairs by the crowd onto the tarmac of Ougadougou airport. Swept along with women carrying immense bondles on their heads, children looking for their parents, and determined men striding forward, 1 suddenly thought, "I am on holy ground--I am in Africa." But if I had bent down to kiss the ground I would have been trampled--better to let myself be borne by the flow of humanity to the small airport terminal and the arrival procedures. In the rush and confusion of all the formalities I could sense that I had now entered something deeper than my own self for 1 was touching "mother Africa." Later, as we stowed our luggage in a friend's car for the drive to the hostel to spend what was left of the night I wondered, "What have I done with my life?" What indeed. ? The experiences of my years in Ghana (1982 to 1988) provided many different answers to that question. Most essentially they led me into the depths of conversion Which I can describe now as "inner Africa" for I soon learned that "mother Africa" would ask everything of me. The Call Some people dream all their lives of serving outside their own country, but that was not my experience. Not until I was finishing my doctoral studies in religion at Catholic University in 1980 did I sense a call to serve beyond North America. Through the months of preparation, prayer, and discussion 682 Inner Africa: A Journey of Conversion / 683 which preceded my journey to Ghana, people often asked, "Why are you going?" Slowly I clarified my own sense of call, speaking of my desire to share something of my gifts and education with the "young Church" of Africa. As I read about Africa and its needs, struggles, and promise I became aware of a continent and Church reaching towards maturity of faith and vision. Somehow I sensed very deeply that I wanted to be part of that. But it is not enough just to desire to serve in Africa. It is an immense continent, large enough to contain the continental United States two-and-a-half times. I received an invitation to teach in the major seminary in northern Ghana (our congregation had come to that section of the country in 1976) and so the plan was to come and spend a year getting acquainted with the culture and life of the people and then to begin teaching in 1983. As with many people who come to Africa, things did not turn out quite as I had planned. While I did work in Navrongo, a small town in Ghana for a year, the seminary door never opened wide enough to admit a woman theologian. But life at the Centre for Spiritual Renewal, a retreat center in the city of Kumasi, gave me a much wider scope for ministry with opportunities in retreats and spiritual direction, intensive leadership formation with prayer group leaders, and writing and editing, all of which enabled me to enter more deeply into Ghanaian life and culture. All the preparation I tried to do, while helpful in some ways, was still inadequate to the challenge of Africa. After I arrived I realized that what I needed was a radical openness, a sense of adventure, a desire to meet the continent and its people on their own terms. As the day of departure neared my own sense of expectancy of what was ahead increased. Shortly before I left I spent a few days on retreat at our com-munity hermitage. The entries in my journal for those days speak of praying for courage and joy and experiencing great wonder at this call I had received. The night before I left I wrote: Tomorrow~departure. I feel more than ready. Mostly I feel a deep free-dom and joy which has placed fear on the sidelines. Somehow 1 know I will meet the Lord--in and of his people--in ways never before imag-ined and experienced. And that is enough--more than enough--to move me across oceans and cultures. 1 go in utter joy and freedom. As the plane left United States soil the next day, ! remember how my whole spirit moved forward towards Africa. Soon I descended the steps of that plane that hot morning in Ougadougou. Inner and outer Africa now began. Call To Conversion As I reflect on my years in Ghana, I experience them in the images of 684 / Review for Religious; September-October 1991 "outer" and "inner" Africa. The first was the living of African reality in terms of my ministry; it describes what I did, with whom I lived, the rich-ness of my experience in those years. But "inner Africa" was the core of it all. My years in Ghana were fore-most an experience of conversion--a turning from, in order to turn to some-thing else, something which challenged everything I thought I was, knew, and had within me. Paul Robb, S.J., describes well the essence of conversion as a journey into the unknown: It is difficult to endure conversion because it seems to put into jeopardy our very lifestyle and ministry, but even more so because we sense that it touches the very roots of our life. It reaches deep into our being---our personality, our choices, our very self. It touches in places that are unknown, places where we are strangers. To begin a journey into an unfamiliar, haunting land is frightening, but not to know whether we will find life or death, blessing or curse, at the end can be terrifying. To enter the journey with all its uncertainties proves the possibility of finding life and life in abundance. Not to begin the journey, but to harden and steel oneself against it, is already death.2 The images are true and strong and evocative of my own African experi-ence. In my first weeks, as I entered "outer Africa" in its immensity with all the challenges of a new culture, 1 also experienced a sense of inner chaos. Some days I felt as if I were drowning, the waters of Africa enveloping me, About two months after I arrived I realized that I had to truly "walk through the door of Africa" ifI were to survive. In my journal I wrote: I have straddled first- and third-world existence in great disharmony. Today I felt that part of this is ended--it is within Africa now--that (God's) grace will work, from the inside out. It is as though 1 have now truly entered Africa. Once I had walked onto the solid ground of Africa never again did I feel this inner chaos. The work of conversion could now begin. These conver-sions were multiple and touched every dimension of my life as a North American woman of faith in a radically different culture: My first-world perspective was turned upside down; I was called from idealism to realism; I moved from giving to receiving; 1 experienced strength becoming weakness; I passed from death to life--from myself to God alone. Inner Africa: A Journey of Conversion / 685 First-World Perspective Turned Up-Side Down We come to a new culture as we are. If we are even halfway faithful to the challenges of cross-cultural experience, our own self-understanding of our home culture will change dramatically. This I experienced very pro-foundly. I discovered that I had brought a very large amount of cultural bag-gage with me. It was disconcerting to be criticized as "too American" at times--that is, too self-assured, too curious, too organized, too conscious of time; too ready with my questions and opinions. What was salutary, if painful, was the opportunity to allow my world-view to shift into new patterns. I first learned that the United States is not the center of the universe, even if it often acts that way and its military and eco-nomic policies impact the rest of the planet in such dramatic ways. It is one country among many, with its own strengths and weaknesses. I learned also how diverse and beautiful are the gifts of the people of other countries. 1 especially experienced this gift in the opportunities 1 had to meet people from so many different parts of the world and to enter into something of the richness of the world's cultural heritage, to see how differently people can feel, think, and organize human life. There were two central ways in which my world began to be "turned upside down": my experience of poverty and my attempts to learn new dimensions of the common life and hospitality. Poverty is a hard and often a "loaded" word. We fight it and yet some-how sense that in being poor we will find the key to new life in solidarity with others. The Gospel's call to detachment from riches and from every-thing that would hinder our response to the invitation from Jesus to disciple-ship has always challenged Christians profoundly. To come to Ghana was certainly to see poverty and share in it in some small ways. It was indeed a shock for me to see the extent of poverty and marginality: lack of clean and safe water for so many, schools with few books, hospitals and clinics without supplies, limited transportation, rudi-mentary communication, erratic electricity. Some of the practical details of my new lifestyle were a challenge. It was "farewell" to dependable electrici-ty, unlimited water, telephone service, easily available fuel, and to book-shops, movies, and regular postal service. It was, on the other hand, "hello" to a sense of living on the "edge of things" at times--lanterns and attempts to get kerosene for them, recycling every possible drop of water, limited food supplies, simple amusements, and difficulties in communication. All these changes were hard in different ways. I wrote: I am struck again by the gap between theory and practice in my life, for 686 / Review for Religious, September-October 1991 example, to talk about poverty, being with the poor--and then not to embrace poverty wholeheartedly, as indeed Jesus did. The:conversion to acceptance of and a certain ease with my new simple lifestyle took time. I never did get used to the erratic postal system and its consequences for poor communication with family and friends. On the other hand, as the years went by I gradually experienced in myself a certain ability to live with much less and to find in that a real freedom. To have to do things simply and patiently experience inconvenience gradually became a way for me to share some sense of solidarity with the poor who have no options and no outside resources. I was becoming comfortable with the simplicity of Ghanaian life and my heart was slowly becoming centered on what was most essential. I was not poor in the way the ordinary Ghanaian is poor but I did come to experience in small ways the shocks and diminishments of poverty. 1 also learned new meanings of community life and hospitality because African life is lived in common. The extended family of several generations living together in one compound has been the normal pattern in rural areas. Daily activities take place outside, and people are inside only when it is rain-ing, or at night, or if they are sick. The atmosphere in both urban and rural areas is one of physical and psychological openness to friend and stranger. Entering into such a different cultural atmosphere of hospitality and availability also challenged my Western habits. In the West we live inside; people come into our lives generally at our convenience thanks to the cultur-al presuppositions that one lives by calendars and schedules. But in a situa-tion where the culture says "welcome" all that changes. People walk into one's life often unannounced, and the person at the door could bring the unexpected pleasure of a friend coming to visit or someone arriving for a retreat without any previous communication or someone coming to ask for prayer---or the bishop with overseas visitors. 1 learned to be always ready to adapt to people's needs and to realize that my life and my time were really no longer my own, Prayer time was often interrupted; reading and study had to be immediately abandoned to answer someone's need. Privacy became very relative since, although I had my own room and office, my own space and time were now the resources of the people I tried to serve. These demands taught me much about my own selfishness, the need to have my own way, my own schedule, my own plans. I never did become totally comfortable with being physically and psychologically available at all times. Yet gradually I learned to absorb something of the spirit of welcome and hospitality which are so important in Ghanaian culture and to live them in my halting way. Inner Africa: A Journey of Conversion / 687 The first dimension of conversion in my life then was a shift in con-sciousness from being a woman of the first world to one living in the third world and trying to enter fully into life there. My American perspective and cultural habits were turned upside down and inside out. The result was a double-consciousness for I saw, and felt, and experienced first- and third-world realities at the same time. Nothing could or would be the same again. From Idealism to Realism Soon after I came to Ghana I realized what a "good press" the African Church has in the West. The reading I had done before I arrived had given me the overwhelming impression of a "young Church" on its way to real inculturation as a true African expression of the Christian faith, with signifi-cant achievements already made in liturgy and catechesis. It is true that inculturation is happening, theological development and reflection are proceeding, liturgy is more authentically African in some places--but the pace of everything is slow and that is the pace of Africa. Idealism about the Church was gradually replaced by a realism about the Church as it is. To be a "young" Church is exactly that. In the southern part of Ghana modern Catholic

Issue 38.4 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), 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 Robin 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. © 1979 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.: $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 5.5802. 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 July, 1979 Volume 38 Number 4 Correspoudence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 4.28; 3601 LindeH 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 and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Journey Into Ancestral Fear Mary Grant, L.S.A. Sister Mary's work in strife-torn Belfast has influenced much of her writing. Last year, Our Sunday Visitor published "'Yes in Belfast" under the title, "Yes Lord," which has proven to be a popular source of meditations for many in the United States. She is also involved in Christian Life Communities. Our correspondence address is through Wilbert Forker; 2 Bristow Park; Upper Malone Rd.; Belfast 9; Ireland. Walking up The Falls, reaching out in my heart to the whole city . one with the countless people who have trod this ground through many centuries . Gathering perceptions: sounds, stir-rings of life, the signs ofdeeperlife. Opening up to the signs of death, decay: the burnt-out chimney, the gaping walls--another life, an-other force . The new trees planted: that they would represent Life--not just trees planted on the green of the dead . Gathering all into a unity, integrating all: "Listen to the cry of Your People, Lord! My heart cries their cry--the cry of a thousand years is gathered into Your Presence. When I came to live in this city first, my immediate reaction to hesitant queries was, "Of Course I'm not afraid!" Then one night I dropped a friend in East Belfast, a part of the city I' wasn't familiar with. I missed a turn and found myself lost. Every tiny street was blocked at the end; every time I turned, my headlights picked up "King Billy" on the walls--and slogans! It seemed.every door opened to see who was in the strange tar: I was seized With nameless terror. I could not get out and ask my way. I felt threatened, trapped, alone! 481 4B2 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 In that night I realized how the fears of our environment had entered into me, despite myself. I understood the fears of those who walked alone at night, defenseless. I understood the fear of many people who had not left their district for years, never entered the "unknown" behind the barriers. Some children have never seen behind the barriers that their parents have erected. How do we learn to break through these fears? How do we become revitalized from the paralysis which hampers us? It is easy to quote. "Per-fect love casts out fear" (IJn 4)! But the truth is that we are a covenant people who have been unfaithful to that spirit of love and community by which all men were supposed to recognize the disciples of the Lord. I believe we have first of all calmly to acknowledge that fact, without blame or judgment on either side. And, equally calmly, we have to go about creating bonds of community. In these last few years we have talked much of justice. Our chief work of justice, though, involves our relationship to this covenant---our relationship among ourselves. What Are the Causes of Oppression Around Us? Reflecting on that night, on the grotesque forms of the unknown, I came to see that fear wears many guises. If we ponder on the question, What are the real causes of oppression around us?, immediately there come the replies: "British domination," Loyalist selfishness," "Social apathy," "I.R.A. Terrorism," "Unemployment," "Subhuman housing," and so forth. These are the likely response of a great number of people, depending on which side of the barriers they stand. ' ~ I'm beginning to be more convinced that the~ real ~answer is our-selves--- our memories, our inability to forgive, to be Christlike; to know what to do and how to be as a Christian in the face of injusticei oppression. Our reaction to oppression has been very different fr6m that of the'early Christians. We look back on our Irish history as a people--checkered, erratic: like many anation. But as Christians; how have we fac(d~it? (I mean aH who call themselveS Christian.) We have retaliated with violence, crude-ness, injustice, in just as bitter a way. Some of us say: "We have not thrown bombs! We don't believe that vio-lence is the answer." But have our hearts changed from republicanism or loyalism to a truly Christian approach to life? These labels really stand for all those people who wish to maintain their status quo, even at the cost of the lives of thej.r brothers and sisters. The death of hope is a high cost to pay for a moment's security behind artificial barriers. You ~Will Find in People What You Expect to Find . ~ Why is the change so difficult to'accomplish? Why-are we still talking about it, rather than simply living in love? I wonder, have we really listened to what the violence is saying? I think it is only the dreadful symptom of Journey into Ancestral Fetir / what is happening to the heart of our people. I hear it as a'scream for help, the screaming of the voiceless. I see it not as someihing we can meet head-on, but amid a persistent reaching out in understanding love of peo-ple's' real needs. I'm convinced of the necessity to get at the cat]se. If not, we'll become submerged ifi the symptoms which will get wors~ and worse no matter how we cover them up. Such encounters with our ancestral depths make it ciear to me that one of the deep-seated causes is the colonizer/colonized mentalities from which springs the. dividing wall of fear, mistrust, suspicion. The ancestral wounds have not healed. A change of mentality.does not happen overnight. It is the growth of a long searching, a patient understanding and a persevering love. Unless we have the cpurage to risk the leap of faith'towards our brother, whoever he is, (and I'm not talking simply about Loyalist and Republican), we cannot hope to begin this change of mentality. And we all need it. ! need first of all to learn to live with myself. I have to' learn to live with my brothers,~my neighbors. Then I can open out to.the wider ~zommunity! The reasons which move people to suc.h positioris are mainly historical. But to grow as a people, to be Christian, we have to reach out across these historical, cultural, spiritual barriers and create a climate of acceptance and understanding of each other. And it musi. be two-way: I must address tile barriers of fear. mistrust, hatred, pride, prejudice within me--overcome them in myself first, and then move outwards. But how many of us have learned to live with ourselves? How many of us have integrated within ourselves the various strands of our ancestry? If I take even the first tentative steps in this process of integration, of growth, I discover that there are no ready-made answers in the movement outwards again towards my brothers. I can only share what I have dis-covered in my attempt to follow Christ. ! discover that I learn all the time, from the people I move among. Yes, God is still speaking today. We need to let him change us! ; His peace will not be found in mass meetings for peace, but in changed lives. While that is true, it is also true that many of the mass meetings for peace do spring from the changed lives of thousands of people, a change which has been taking place ~quietly over the last few years. It seems a change of climate has been growing--a springtime. However, unless it springs from areal change of heart it will die do~wn and get nowhere. I'd fear to think of peace as simply the absence of violence among us. When we experience a comparative lull, as recently we did, how do we read it? Is the lull a nursing of our wounds, a hardening of attitudes? Or is it a time of healing? We have had many violent episodes in the past which eventually died down. But our hearts didn't change. Unless this change of attitude prompts'us to really seek out our brother, to understand him, as he is and not to try to change him, then it is but a caricature of Christianity--you will find in your brother only what you bring, what you are. 41~4 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 /4 Becoming iMore Fully Human The trouble with most of us is that we haven't fully explored who we are. We transfer to our brother a whole lot of that deep subconscious which we haven't faced in ourselves. What is growth, integration, but a process of becoming more truly the person I am not some dream, or ideal, but truly myself. It is not easy to live with a known self, no matter how many angles, or how many depths of light and darkness that self holds. Within the context of what it means to be Christian, I see this growth as a process of Incarnation. Very often we are so close to all that is happening in this .process that we cannot see clearly at all what is .happening while it is happ6ning. Occa-sionally we have to stand back and look from a different viewpoint. Then whole new worlds of meaning light up our horizon. Through a brief en-counter w, ith the East, I myself had some such ~experience. When our separate worlds met (first, second, third), in my being lifted out of my own life experience of p.overty, need, struggle, into a totally "different" world, I experienced "living through Incarnation," not simply looking to it for meaning. I went carrying the burden of this seemingly impossible situation in our country. Would anything the East could teach thl:ow light on that? The situation of other nations was just as appalling. Where might hope be found? I felt saddened by the many who know only a hopeless resignation, and more saddened by those who channel their despair into reckless violence. The presence of Christ assured me that this was only part of the picture, but I had not had the reference ofmy o~vn experience to work on. I had not seen, touched, tasted, so I did not know--I hung on 'to belief. I felt stifled by the polarization of parts of my home-city into ghetto areas which prevents the natural giving and taking in which reaching oi)t and sharing would promote reconciliation. I felt frustrated by the third force which goads each side against the other rather thanwork for peace; The "ancestral fears" of our environment had eaten into us so deeply that I did not recognize them in myself. Yet, in the midst of this atmosphere of defeat, His hope rose up and beckoned more gtrongly, buoying me up. In our sheer need I saw Him at work in broken lives--healing, restoring. But there were so many ques-tions. So much I needed to'learn. In my being lifted out of my own life-exp+ rience of poverty, need, struggle, into a totally "different" world, I felt I lived through this "God becoming man" again. I was not outside, looking on. I became man--human. If I might look for a key word to describe this experience of Incarnation, it might be sharing. Too many have gone from the West to the East to give--to satisfy a nagging sense that "we must do something." We, though, in approaching our hosts with empty, open hearts, found ourselves en-riched beyond measure: reverence for the other; stillness, waiting. Entering into another's reality means going outside the self. Journey into Ancestral Fear Sharing, Not Distributing If we have not gone outside of self, outside "our" great world, we will remain on the level of doing. We will distribute from our bag of tricks and wonder.why, one day, it runs empty and we haven't that -powerful" feeling any more. No, to share speaks of equality. Sharing never makes others dependent, never prevents growth, never closes the door to a return. What else is sharing, but the life of the Trinity of love? Christ prayed that we may be one as They are one. Life is not life at all unless it is shared. To share the ordinary things of life gives me an idea of what it will be like to share the life of God. Have we learned to live a little like our God of Love? Could I truthfully say: "All I have is yours"? (see Jn 17:10). In my eagerness to live for the good of my own people, I learned that I had been affected by the Western sickness of wanting to give all the time. In being thrown back on my personal poverty and powerlessness, I have learned better how to receive--graciously, lovingly. It has opened up a beautiful new perspective in regard to all those whose lives touch mine, whether that might be family, work, community, friends, strangers. To all people, I have learned from the East the meaning of the simple, demanding statement: "I am for you.", Simple realities we take so much for granted have assumed a deeper significance: the really deprived among us are those without hope, those who have not discovered the immense riches of their true selves, those who hide behind barriers of fear, mistrust, hatred; those of us who dare not celebrate a life we feel too fragile; those ofus who have lost the festivity and joy of living. "What does it matter if you gain the whole world and lose your true self?." (Mk 8:36). In being evangelized by those people considered "poor" in the eyes of the world, I have become more deeply human--just as I have received my reality as a person also from those to whom I have been sent here at home. There Are No "Them" and "Us" As He turned to his people he felt great compassion: he wanted to reach out. His very desire for their good healed them--he truly "lived with" their need. There are no "them" and "us"--it is always "we together." He wants to free each one of us from our fears, doubts, hesitations, inabilities, limitations. He wants to launch us on his mission, before his healing power can effectively flow through us. 1 think ! lost any trace of the "Messiah complex," of "giving Christ to the world" rather than discovering him present inall peoples, during that time in the East. This true sharing leads to a deep communion. The bonds of community grow in the measure that we share who we are with all men. How do I approach those on the other side of the barriers in our own environment? Is it from a position of strength toward weakness? Is it from a position of "having it all" and needing to satisfy a nagging sense that "we must do something"? Or do those of us who genuinely want to reach out to others, 4~16 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 do so from the reality of being grasped by Christ,freed by him, impelled by his love to proclaim that he is alive today--among us? There is something deep within each of us as human beings that makes us want to live in communion with others. I don't want to approach anyone, or want to break through barriers, with the attitude of "them out there," of "isn't it awful?," of "what can we do about it?" I would rather like to receive all with an empty, open heart, in reverence, in stillness--in waiting, if need be. Entering into another's reality means entering into the "why" of the fears, barriers, defenses. Do I live with a sense of equality among all? When we talk of neighborliness, of friendship across the barriers, could I truthfully say to you, "All I have is yours!"? Only then can we return to each other the festivity and joy of living. How One Man Became Free In the slums of Manila, where 80% of the people live below the poverty line, they spoke with us about the climate of fear and oppression around them. There was no hint of hopelessness--though one often met with a feeling of powerlessness. This was brought home to us as one group told us how they had come across the wife and family of a well-known political prisoner. ~ This manhad been in a position equivalent to the opposition. Since the introduction of martial law he had been in prison, and denied the right to ordinary legal proceedings for a trial. A military tribunal hearing was to begin the following day. His wife pleaded with us visitors to. come with her. With some apprehension as to possible consequences, we did, and' were amazed to find the courtroom nearly filled with priests and sisters morally upholding the prisoner~ The hearings of his challenge to the tribunal was an outstanding example of real strength against injustice. A remark he made during the trial has echoed in my mind through all the weeks and months which followed: My cell door, ironically, has been my door to freedom. Having walked through it, I have lost my fears. It became my door to freedom when I finally acknowledged its threats as the promise of liberation and truth . I cannot yield to you my spirit and my conscience. I am yielding to might but not to right . After four years in confinement, 1 have finally realized that man must fear most the prison of his own making--the prison of fear itself. Freedom From Fear I returned with renewed'faith--God, who has begun this great thing, humanity, and Christianity; will see it through. Sharing in his love for all those whose lives touch mine, I dare to believe that he can use even me to bring life to a world without hope. And, when I am united with you., and you., who believe, the kingdom of God has come among us. "There are no experts, only disciples who learn by doing." ~An'd, when we are given the courage to launch out into (he deep, we don't know where Journey into Ancestral Fear that "doing" will end! When Christ raised Lazarus from the dead, he gave him ~over to the people wh6 surrounded them to be unbound. So, as he raises us, he gives us to each other to continue the unbinding--receiving our reality from each other, giving each other our freedom--in dignity, simplic-ity, beauty, hospitality. "Yes, we are a happy, carefree people, but something is happening to our hearts which we do not understand." The worst form of poverty is to be alive without hope. To be without hope is to be without Him---our Savior. But where He is, there is no fear: "Perfect love casts out fear" (1 Jn 18). I came away from the East free of a fear which had paralyzed and prevented all aspects of my life. And so I understood the fear in our environment here at home. The historic wounds are so deep, part of the very fabric of our lives--so deep we might not recognize ourselves without them. As God touches our beings personally, gradually, gently., leading us toward personal wholeness in him, so he touches us as a people. He, as it were, goes back into history and heals the wounds history has left behind. This is the healing we need as a nation. ~ This freedom from fear enables us to proclaim by our lives: "Serenity--knowing we are loved, assured, at peace with him and our-selves; Stability--God is God, let Him be God. He holds all, hand it over to him. Tranquillity---overflowing from an abiding sense of his presence among US. Capability--his power in our lives, his power overflowing to others. This is our service--to be open to all: the fruit of the Spirit of peace among us. We need to speak for God in these our troubled times as reso-lutely as the prophets of old. We need to proclaim joy, hope, peace in the midst of the many disasters round about. Real hope dawns when there is no other possibility than absolute dependence on God---our foot constantly wearing out his doorstep! The Brotherhood of Man is Possible! Already, as I was learning these truths more deeply, thousands of peo-ple were rising up at home and speaking fearlessly for peace, forging stronger ties towards reconciliation. Since then, freedom has been pro-claimed again and again, echo6d by a thousand voices. In the past, gather-ings in war left bitterness, hatred, division festering in age-old wounds. And then enough people said, "We have been governed by fear" to enable gatherings in peace, and joy, forging links of reconciliation. Yes, I learned how to face our fears, turn my back on them, and reso-lutely turn towards all that builds up a climate of reconciliation, strength-ened not by any ability but by my weakness and dependence on His strength. It was worth going to the other end of the world to learn that alone ! 488 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 I have felt great sadness at these gatherings too. How effective they will ultimately be depends on how many present have risen out of their fear, how deeply and how realistically each one becomes peace. Too many are carried along on waves of emotion! Yet the brotherhood of man is possible---even here! The answer to the divisions, exploi/ations, war, hatred, rejection, hunger, fear-in-the-world is our Christ of the Beatitudes, with his call to share. There is only one human family. But if we have never experienced human love, can we offer love, or understand what struggle for another involves, or live a life of communion with God? And how can anyone know love--unless you and I love? In the past I have been constantly strengthened by the beautiful expressions of love and hospitality, of generosity, of sharing that I have known among our people here, daily witnessing to the fact that even in our shattered lives the spirit of love is at work among us. Iam filled with more hope than ever. And I am very, very, grateful at being placed near people in .need--at the heart of my people's search for him; at the point of their desire for him. Life has always been beautiful and full of the surprises of God: that beauty has been increased a thousandfold for me. I feel hope rising in leaps 6f Joy: Expect the impossible! Believe the unbelievable! Proclaim the truth !--For God is with us! Each, returned to his own Galile~i, can proclaim fearlessly that which we have seen, touched, tasted (1 Jn 1:1). He is here. He is with us. Hope makes us live. ForHe is our peace. Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition Mary Catherine Barron, C.S.J. Sister Mary Catherine is a frequent contributor to these pages. Her last article appeared in September, 1978. She resides at 91 Overlook Ave.; Latham, NY 12110. For a long time now, he had haunted me, this acerbic little man-- haunted me and annoyed me. He seemed so utterly sore: ulcerous wounds on the outside, bleeding heart on the inside. Who needed it? Who also needed his words--thunderous, vehement complaints~de-nouncing life, God, man. Quite honestly, who wanted to tangle with all this writhing agony? It might underscore the already too familiar. So determinedly, I put him aside and concentrated on other things: the joy of Joseph, the fidelity of Ruth, the.trusting surrender of Esther. But they occupied my time, not my mind. For behind them all, there he sat, that angry, implacable figuremstinking, screaming, wildly gesticulating. Ulti-mately, against my will and better judgment, he antagonized me to his side--flies and all. To be candid, I hate flies. And odors like disease and manure, And unmitigated complaining. And pseudo-sympathy. It all talks and walks like death. So I didn't really like Job in his utter humanity. It was too graphically prophetic. That was the haunting part. The annoying part is that, in spite of all of it, I stayed. So now there are two of us si~ting in the noonday sun--hot and stubborn and mad. Eventually, someone will have to speak. In the end it was Job who broke the silence and cursed the day of his birth (Jb 3:1). 489 490 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 Just like that--for twenty-six verses--spewing out anger. Why was he born? Why couldn't he die? Words filled with dread of the future, sleepless-ness, lament. Grief has a way of doing that, you know. Utter stone., then the crack across the surface. A few heaves--abruptly a mountain becomes a volcano, lava of words and emotion searing out everywhere. Shock on the faces of onlookers st.ampeding to take cover: "Spare us your painful fire, please. Please.'~ While the volcano rages on. And then., the deathlike stillness ¯ . . followed by meaningless words trying to make meaning. A survivor gasps: "Then Eliphaz of Teman spoke: 'If I were as you are, Job . . .' " If ¯ . . if. Through all the wreckage and debris. "If I were as you." if. The irony of those words: Who can be like Job, when one is sound and whole and safe, free from loss, darkness, despair? Speaking out of loved ones alive and farm lands intact, what can such a one as Eliphaz know of unanswered questions, heartrending supplications? For him, do they even exist? Silence. Then, imperceptibly, a stirring from the ashpit, a flicker of the eyelash. Job speaks: If only my misery could be weighed . What wonder then if my words are wild? The arrows of Shaddai stick fast in me . My spirit absorbs their poison (6: I-4). Ah yes--those poisonous arrows of Shaddai; those intimations of doom from Sheol that stick deep. into the soul; the-certain knowledge- that never again will there be innocence and joy. And always there ~are the bitter questions asked over and over of self: Will I be able to go on? Why go on anyway? Where are my friends? Why can't they understand? Fear and loneliness. The Underworld. Someone creeps near to draw out the stir~g, to touch the cracked skin. It is Bildad. He urges humility: You too, if so pure and honest must now seek God, plead with Shaddai (8:4-5). These are soothing words indeed: "ff you are honest." This is an answer with insight!?'Seek God; plead with Shaddai." How is Job to do this when Shaddai has disappeared? Where is God to be found for Job, the sufferer? A lull ensues. The hot breeze blows. Flies buzz. Then a voice. And Job said: Your own hands shaped me, modeled me: And would you now have second thoughts and destroy me? (10:8). The appeal and bargaining begin. Who hasn't done it? Bargaining with self; Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition / 49"1 bargaining with God. And the panic: how dare oppose the Almighty's will? How dare question Yahweh God Omnipotent? Suppose I am right? Wha.t difference would it make? Suppose I am wrong? What then? Yet, what is there to lose when one has already lost everything? "Yahweh, give a little happiness before death." Is this too much to ask? Appeal and bargain-ingwwho hasn't done it? .Zophar apparently. For he queries pontifically: Can you claim to grasp the mystery of God, To understand the perfection of Shaddai? It is higher than the heavens; what can you do? It is deeper than Sheol; what can you know? (11:7-8) Truth--unadorned and stark. What can you do? Nothing. What can you know? Nothingwabsolutely nothing. That is the darkness, the pain. Help-lessness in the face of the abyss--the human condition. What can you know? What can you do? Nothing--nothing except to confront Yahweh. Despair--the human condition. Then, convoluting tortuously, comes the rush of Job's words, ejaculated with the vehemence of despair, discharged with the agony of futility, resolute like one,maddened: I mean to remonstrate with God; I will do the talking, whatever may befall me. I put my flesh between my teeth, I take my life in my hands. Let him kill me if he will (13:3-15). The pathos of those words, the frenzy! The "last-chance syndrome." Where have we heard it before? From what corner of the universe has'it n0t cried out? V~e havehea'rd it on the lips of the dying; in the hearts of survivors; from the tomb called old age and rejection; out of the spectral ¯ stare of disease and starvation. Who has not, at some point in life, taken one's flesh in one's hands, remonstrated with God? But Eiiphaz cannot understand. Not yet having plumbed the depths of misery, never having drunk suffering's cup to the dregs, he cannot fathom .the pain that would drive a man to contend with God. He only sees the obvious: anger and rebellion. And sohe says: ~'See how passion carries you away!" Passion--that double-edged sword of grief and joy, the ecstasy and bestiality of man, the most cherished and most despised of gifts. Passion. Who has not longed for its transforming unity? Who has not wept over its fragmenting discord? Passion. I watch him--Job~as he masticates Eliphaz's words. He chews them carefully as one chews a fish with bones. He moves his teeth cautiously around them and just as cautiously his t6ngue. But he will not swallow 492 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 them. He holds them in his mouth, in one corner of his cheek, and stares ahead at emptiness. "Swallow them," I plead silently, urgently, "or spit them out. Don't hold them lest they choke you." But there is nothing-- only that awful bulbous cheek and the empty stare. It is mid-afternoon, the height of heat and sun, reason's siesta time. Perspiration drips. Things swim before the eyes: mirages, desert visions, subconscious creatures from the soul. The universe crumples like a folded fan. The breeze pants hot across inert bodies, creating the sense of being played upon, fretted. And then, heartrendingly Job cries out: He has shattered me! He has pierced me! He has breached me! He has borne down on me! Every fibre of my heart is broken! I weep! I cry out! Still he shoots his arrows into me! I am overcome! (16:17) The Litany of Passion, divine passion. Good old platitudinous Eliphaz has finally hit the mark. Unerringly, unknowingly, Job has be'en ravished. In the nakedness of a cloudless day, we have seen him vanquished, embraced. He gasps and swallows. The lump travels to his throat and lodges. Is it possible that loss is no longer what he wails? Could it be that he and Yahweh are suddenly bartering for surrender? Without moving an inch, Job has traversed a terrain. I swallow too. Silence impregnates solitude. No one stirs. The sun moves impercep-tibly. A shade begins. Coolness trickles down my brow. 'I close my eyes and wipe the damp. I feel like sleep. Or death. I feel like dying, if dying is so much a pouring out. I feel like.sleep if sleep is like release. I feel . Mournfully into the dusk, Bildad speaks, musing: Driven from light into darkness man is an exile from the earth (18:18). "Driven from light into darkness." Like the sun's course. Like the ocean's tide. Like the season's change: Like life's pattern! Dawn, noon, night. High, ebb, low. Fertility, fall, winter. Birth, life, death. "Driven from light into darkness." Man. The mood is infectious. Night hedges in. Animal cries echo. And Job takes up the refrain: God, you must know, is my oppressor and his is the net that closes round me. He has covered my way with darkness. My kindred and my friends have all gone away. The hand of God has struck me (19:6-21). Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition / 493 "Driven from light into darkness." And suddenly, like a meteor across the sky, Hope flares briefly: But this 1 know, I, Job, that my Avenger lives, and he, the Last, will take his stand on earth. He will set me close to him, and from my flesh I shall look on God. He whom I shall see will take my part; These eyes will gaze on him and find him not aloof (19~25-27). It is the song of the prisoner, the condemned. It is the avowal of the sick man, dying. It is the prayer of the faithful soul, deserted. "I know that my Avenger lives." His words fall into the air dropping like snow on velvet, glistening and hushed. The moon rises and clouds over; the stars wink and disappear. It is the inky time of night. Absolute aloneness. Total isolation. Simple breath-ing is intrusion. And I think: "Enveloped by the darkness, shall we quietly slip away'?" The eternal temptation of friendship: to quietly slip away. Will he even know we're gone, so absorbed is he in pain? Will he even care, since, in fact, we cannot help? Is there any point to vigils when the heart lies already dead? Truly, how far does fidelity go? How deep does commitment bind? Ironically, Job gives the answer: fidelity is radical. Its presence is an absolute grace; its absence, an absolute sorrow not to be compared. Job has known the calamity of loss, the pain of bereavement, the suffering of illness. Yet, none of these hold the anguish of desertion and infidelity which is the dark night of the soul; the index tingler of Yahweh scraping across the heart; the Ruah, his breath, blowing in the memory, tantalizing, near, but indescribably far away. From this void of absolute emptiness, Job laments in prayer: That heavy hand of his drags groans from me. If only 1 knew how to reach him, or go travel to his dwelling! If I go eastward, he is not there; or westward--still I cannot see him. If I seek him in the north, he is not to be found; invisible still when I turn to the south . For darkness hides me from him and the gloom veils his Presence from me (23:2-17). This is Psalm 139 prayed backwards. Even in desolation, Job is a good Israelite. And how accurately he speaks. When human friends depart, the griefis great, but who can measure the torment which ensues when God withdraws? "Under cover of darkness, Yahweh, have You, too, slipped away?" So I sit and wait and rest. The night leaks out drop by drop. Minutes become ages, then cease. It is the hour of desolation, which is timeless. 4~14 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 Inevitable. "And Job continues his solemn discourse. He says:" Who will bring me back to the months that have gone, and the days when G~d was my guardian; When his lamp shone over my hi~ad~ and his light was my guide in the darkness? I cry out to you and you give me no answer (29:1-4; 30:20). How does one deal with that--the silence of~non-response, the answer of the void? Does one walk away dejectedly or does one catapult into the abyss? There is death either way. And thus, Job carefully considers, examines his days and his nights, probes his heartaches and ecstasies, fingers his hopes and his dreams. Is their memory worth silence or speech, retreat or confrontation? And then with a mighty leap, embodying faith and despairJob issues the challenge, directly, forcibly, to God: Who can get me a hearing from God?~ I have had my say from A to Z; now let Shaddai answer me~ When my Adversary has drafted his writ against me, I shall wear it on my shoulder, and bind it round my head like a royal turban. I will give him an account of every step Of my life, and go as boldly as a prince to.meet him (31:35-40). With this ringing declaration, argumentation ceases; lament is done. "End of the words of Job" (31:40). A tremulous pause. Terror grips. Awe invades. The e]arth turns over and I am sick, my senses reeling. Roaring thunder, thickening night. "My God! My God! We are strangling to death. Our words regurgitate." The desert sand flails. I cover my face; I grovel on the earth; I burrow into the dirt. "And then from the heart of the tempest, Yahweh gave Job his answer" (38:1). In fifty eight questions! And Job replied to Yahweh: My words have been frivolous; what can I reply? 1 had better lay my finger on my lips. (40:3-4) God has a way of doing that--giving questions for answers. He has shown himself divine Socratic: And Yahweh God called to the man: Where are you? (Gn 3:9). Yahweh asked Cain: Where is your brother Abel? (Gn 4:9). YahWeh asked Abraham: Why did Sarah laugh? (Gn 18:13). And the one who wrestled with Jacob said: Why do you ask my Name? (Gn 32:29). And Yahweh answered Moses: Who makes man deaf or dumb, gives him sight or leaves him blind?Is it not I, Yahweh? (Ex 4:12). In fact, all through Salvation History we have been closing our mouths Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition / 495 with our fi .ngers~too late. Job is in good company. I relax and come up for air,. And Job gave answer to Yahweh: I know that you are all powerful: what you conceive, you can perform. I am the man who obscured your designs with my empty-headed words. 1 have been holding forth on matters I cannot understand; on marvels beyond me and my knowledge (42:1-3). Humility. Man before the divine. Nature kneeling to Transcendence. The mystery of God. And Job replied: I retract all I have sa!d; In dust and ashes, I repent (42:!-3). The beauty of humanity. Its capacity for enlargement. Its yearning for completeness. Its ability to change. Because 1 knew you then by hearsay, but now I see you with my own eyes (42:5). Knowledge of the heart. Contemplation and surrender. Incarnation re-versed: man entering into God, Peace. My pulse resumes. My heart begins to beat. I can see that I am stained. I can see that I can see.t A mist of rose gathers in the east. A breeze sighs. Or is it Eliphaz? And Yahweh God said to Eliphaz of Teman: 'I burn with anger against you and your two friends for not speaking truthfully a~out:me as my servant Job has done. So now find seven bullocks and seven rams, and take them back with.you to my servant Job, and offer a holocaust for yourselves, while Job, my servant, offers prayers for you. I will listen to him with favor and excuse your folly in not speaking of me properly as my servant Job has done.' Eliphaz of Teman, Bildad of Shuah and Zophar of Naamath went away to do as Yahweh had ordered, and Yahweh listened to Job with favor (42:7-9). So now there are two of us sitting in the morning's dawn, tired, and joyful, and reborn. Someone will have to speakmbut no one does. There is only the echo of a deeper silencemthe silence of refrain: Where were you when I laid the earth's foundations? Who decided the dimensions of:it; do you know? Have you ever gi~,en orders to the morning? Have you journeyed to the sources of the sea? Which is the way to the home of light? Where does darkness live? Has the rain a father? What womb brings forth the ice? (38; 39) Riddles. Unsolved riddles. Man, and mystery, and wonder. Pain, and suffering, and death. The human condition. Riddles. Unsolved riddles. And 496 / Review for Religious, Volume38, 1979/4 always the eternal unyielding question: "Do you really want {o reverse My judgment and put Me in the wrong to put yourself in the right?" (40:3) I stretch and rise to go. Job never notices. He is wrapt in prayer, I suppose, for Eliphaz, Bildad, and Teman. 1 shake out my robe, flex my toes inside my sandals. I start across the sand. The dusty road coils away and flows into the sky; the air trembles with the weight of birds; the grasses caress the soil. Love and infinity. Providence and care. The human condi-tion. I plod on down the road, humming as I go: Has the rain a father? What womb brings forth the ice? 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 Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I Robert M. Doran, S.J. Father Doran delivered three lectures at Creighton University last year as part of a Spiritual Enric.hment Program. This isthe first one in article form. He resides in the Jesuit Community; Creighton University; 2500 California Street; Omaha, NE 68178. Christian Spiritual Transformation: Self-Transcendence and Self-Appropriation This is the first of three articles on the subject of Jungian psychology and contemporary Christian spirituality. The present article will focus on the latter of these two items, on Christian spiritual transformation as this is understood at the present moment in the life of the Church. By concentrat-ing on two terms frequently employed in the works of Bernard Lonergan, self-transcendence and kelf-appropriation, I hope to provide a context for the next two articles, which will deal more extensively with Jung. This first article will treat, first, Christian spiritual tranformation as self-transcendence; second, Christian spiritual transformation as growth in self-knowledge orself-appropriation; third, the levels of consciousness that can be discovered when one enters on the way of self-appropriat!on; and fourth, the relation of feelings and symbols to these various levels or dimensions of consciousness. This fourth topic locates that element of our interior lives in regard to which Jung's insights become pertinent for our spiritual self-understanding. I have discovered that any such treatment of Jung as the present one eventually brings me into that form of discrimination which, in Ignatian 497 4911 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 spirituality, is called the discernment of spirits. Jung is a religiously contro-versial figure. Not only does my own treatment and evaluation of Jung tend to arouse rather than quell the arguments that surround his person and his work, but, more significantly, my critical response to Jung always ~arries me to the heart of the Christian exigence to differentiate the true call of God from the subtle attractions of the force~ of evil as these two contrary tendencies compete for the allegiance of men and women involved in the renewal of the contemporary Church. Why this is so will hopefully be-come clear in the subsequent articles, especially in the final one. But perhaps I can offer now some indication of the difficulty. First, then, Jung ih a religiously controversial figure. The religious significance of his psychological insights is variously interpreted. John A. Sanford and Morton Kelsey are two well-known authors who have drawn on Jung to promote and understand Christian self-discovery.~ On the other hand, James Hiilman has. maintained that Jung's guidelines to "soul-making" are of a completely different order from the well-known paths to spiritual transformation in Christ and from the insights of the other major religious traditions of the world,z Martin Buber entered into direct conflict with Jung, claiming that the psychology of individuation and Yahwistic faith are diametrically opposedorientations.of the human spirit.3 Jung him-self, as we shall see, gives some indications of his own that the process of individtiation will lead the cognoscentes to the position of being able to dispense with all forms of traditional religious involvement; but he also attempted to offer his psychology as an aid to the pastoral care of souls.4 What 'is one to make of these differences and ambiguities? Obviously, some framework must be found to enable us to enter on the kind of process that Lonergan calls dialectic and foundations: the process, namely, in which we not only assemble and review alternative interpretations, but also evalt~ate and compare them, reduce their affinities and oppositions to their underlyin~ roots,.determine which, if any, of.these roots stand in dialectical ~See, for example,~John A. Sanford, Dreams: God's Forgotten Language (Philadelphia and New York: Lippincott, 1968); Healing and Wholeness (New York: Paulist Press, 1977); Morton Kelsey, Dreams: The Dark Speech of the Spirit, A Christian Interpretation (New York: Doubleday, 1968); Encounter with God: A Theology of Christian Experience (Minneap61is: Bethany, 1972). 2See James Hillman, The Myth of Analysis: Three Essays in Archetypal Psychology (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1972). I quote from p. 21: "The spiritual-director models of guru, rabbi, oflgnatius or Fenelon, of Zen master, are only substitutions on which we lean for want of surety about the true model for psychology." 3See Edward C. Whitmont, "Prefatory Remarks to Jung~s 'Reply to Buber,' " in Spring: An Annual of Archetypal Psychology andJungian Thought (1973), pp. 188-195; and C; G. Jung, "Religion and Psychology: A Reply to Martin Buber," ibid., pp. 196-203. 4Compare C. G. Jung, "'Is Analytical Psychology a Religion?" (notes on a talk given by Jung, in Sprihg, 1972, pp. 144-148) with Jung's "Psychotherapists or the Clergy," in C. G. Jung, Modern Man in Search of a Soul (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1933), pp. 221-244. Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I / 499 opposition to one another in such wise that only a radical transformation of the basic horizon can achieve reconciliation, and, finally, choose that basic horizon and those resultant positions and interpretations which we will make our own.5 Such a framework is what I hope to offer in theopresent article. Secondly,- my own judgments and decisions regarding the potential spiritual fruitfulness of Jung's work are themselves controversial, at least in the sense that they will please neither Jung's detractors nor his enthusias-tic followers. For I will sharply differentiate the process of Christian self-transformation from the way to individuation that .lung maps out for us. But I will also insist with equal force that there is much that we not only can, but indeed must, learn from him in developing both a theology and an ascesis of" spiritual transformation in the context of the contemporary world. Thirdly, the only final arbiter of the kind of discrimination that I find necessary is what we have come to call the'discernment of spirits.lung's theological A.mbiguities, and thealternative interpretations and evaluations that are offered of his work, are symptomatic of an underlying spiritual conflict that can be mediated only in the context of the dialectic ofgrace and of sin, of the Standards of Christ and of Satan. David Burrell has indicated correctly that one cannot fail to meet God if one goes on the inner journey to individuation.6 But one will also meet much.that is not God, and that is even opposed to God. Not only does Jung not help one to discriminate these forces as they operate in one's psyche, but he also contributes to and even encourages the confusion'that can be experienced in such moments that call for discernment, and thus mires one in the conflictual forces that wage an ultimate battle in the depths of one's psyche. Jung's work, if left uncriti-cized, leads one into a psychological cul-de-sac that can assume demonic pi'oportions. Christian Spiritual Transformation As Self-Transcendence ~ ' There are many diverse and quite useful approaches to the understand-ifig'of spiritual transformation. I have chosen to focus on two terms that have been developed by Bernard Lonergan. Lonergan's thought has achieved a great deal of notoriety due principally, it would seem, to its difficulty. I have no intention here of repeating the subtle intricacies of his full argumentation. I will rather present in what I hope are quite under-standable tdrms (he results of that argumentation, and will deal with more 5Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), Chapters Ten and Eleven. 6David Burrell, Exercises in Religious Understanding (South Bend: University of Notre Dame Press, 1974), p. 221. 500 /ReviewforReligious, Volume 38, 1979/4 subtle points only to the extent that they are necessary to clarify my basic position.7 I choose Lonergan's approach to the issue of Christian spiritual trans-formation for several reasons. First, it is the approach with which I am most familiar and the one that 1 personally have found most helpful. Secondly, Lonergan explicitly takes his stand in human interiority. And, when we are talking about either spiritual transformation or Jungian psychology, we are talking about the realm of interior experience, about the data of conscious-ness, about such events as insights, judgments, decisions, and, as we will see, dreams. All of these happenings are items that we experience. But we experience them interiorly. None of us has ever seen an insight or a feeling. But I trust, too, that none of us would claim that he or she had never experienced a feeling or an insight, never judged that some proposition was true or false, never made a decision. Moreover, I hope that we all know the experience of wanting to understand, wanting to be reasonable in our judgments, wanting to be responsible in our decisions. For it is in the realm of that desire, and in being faithful to that desire, that Lonergan locates what it is to be an authentic human person. But our experience of these events and of this desire occurs, not in the realm of outer sense, but in the domain of human interiority. It is in interiority that, through these events of understanding, judging, and deciding, we "process" reality. Sensations come in; language goes out; but between sensations and language there is, as Lonergan has formulated it in some recent lectures, the mysterious "little black box" of our interiority. The workings of that little black box are the domain that we concentrate upon in Christian spiritual theology, in Jungian p§ychoiogy, and in any attempt such as the present one that would relate spirituality to psychology. I should mention, in addition, two other advantages that accrue from employing Lonergan's framework for understanding interiority? First, his stress, as I have already indicated, is on human desire, and desire is the area of our being that is illuminated by the explorations also of the great depth ps~ychologists, including Jung, Secondly, and most importantly, Lonergan emphasizes that spiritual development is not something that oc-curs in some realm that is isolated from the insights that we have into the events of our everyday life, from the judgments that we make as to the truth or falsity of the most mundane propositions, from the anxieties we feel and the decisions that we make regarding our orientation and actions as beings-in- the-world. God's saving purpose is a will to save the world itself, to redeem the time of our lives, as Eliot would put it. It is not a dimension of 7There are, of course, dangers in such a procedure, for the reader can easily take the results of Lonergan's explorations as a series of concepts that could dispense one from the task of insight into oneself. There are no short-cuts to the self-appropriation to which Lonergan invites one. But precisely because there are no short-cuts, I can only ask the reader interested in pursuing the process to go to Lonergan's works themselves. Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: reality that is totally extrinsic from the events of understanding, judging, and deciding, that we experience every day. On the other hand, our relation to God is not to be collapsed into a secularistic denial of the supernatural character of grace. Rather, grace is offered in its supernatural character within the events of our everyday lives. So the perspective offered by Lonergan is neither a fundamentalism or extrinsicism that denies the this-worldly character of our lives, nor a secularism or immanentism that ne-glects the absolutely transcendent origin and finality of the relationship to the divine in which we stand at every moment of our lives. What, then, is Christian spiritual development? Lonergan's treatment of this question is provided at the end of a lengthy analysis of human cognitional and moral development that concludes with the realization that the flowering of human potential, the sustained development of the human person, the solution of such social ills as injustice, alienation, and the dominance of totalitarian aspirations in both~the West and East today, are impossible on the basis of human resources alone. We are confronted with a problem of evil in our development as human persons and in the social organization of human affairs. This problem is rooted in our very constitu-tion as human subjects, in our finitude, in the tension between our always limited possibilities and our aspirations to transcend these limitations. I will not go into the intricacies of Lonergan's analysis of the roots of moral impotence. Suffice it to say that he argues persuasively that we are faced with a problem of evil that we are powerless to resolve. If there is going to be a solution to the problem of evil, it must come in the form of redemption. Either there is a divinely originated solution to the problem of evil, or there is no solution at all. If God exists, if God knows of our plight, and if God is good, then there is a divinely originated solution that is offered to our freedom, one that we can accept or reject, and that, if we accept it, will involve us in a whole new area of growth and transformation, an area which we would not even know in any explicit way if God had not come to meet us. This distinct area of development is related to our cognitional and moral development. It is not the product of our knowing and our choosing. It is not something that we vainly imagine, or that we produce by wishful thinking. Rather, it is offered to our knowledge and our freedom as agift. And, if we accept it, it transvalues our values, and provides a new context for Our knowing~ a new atmosphere or environment that enables us to be truly intelligent in our questioning and genuinely reasonable in our judg-ments. This new context is faith, which Lonergan defines as "the eye of love," the eye of the love that is ours, that is the atmosphere in which we live, when we know ourselves as unconditionally loved by, and rooted in, the love that is God's alone.8 8See Lonergan, Insight: A Study of Human Understanding (paperback edition, New York: Harper and Row, 1978), Chapters Eighteen and Twenty; Method in Theology, Chapter Four. 51~2 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 The divine solution to the problem of evil, then, is God's gift of his love that is poured forth into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.~ Our desire for this love is a natural desire: with Thomas Aquinas, Lonergan insists that we have a natural desire for the vision and love of God.t0 He insists, too, that our subjectivity is mutilated or abolished, unless we are stretching forth towards God: There lies within [our] horizon a region for the divine, a shrine for ultimate holiness. It cannot be ignored. The atheist may pronounce it empty. The agnostic may urge that he finds his investigation has been inconclusive. The contemporary humanist will refuse to allow the question [of God] to arise. But their negations presuppose the spark in our clod, our native orientation to the divine." , Being in love with God, then, is for Lonergan the basic fulfilment of the deepest human desire, that desire that he calls "conscious intentionality." That fulfillment brings a deep-set joy that can remain despite humiliation, failure, privation, pain, betrayal, desertion. That fulfillment brings a radical peace, the peace that the world cannot give. That fulfillment bears fruit in a love of one's neighbor that strives mightily to bring about the kingdom of God on this earth. On the other hand, the absence of that fulfillment opens the way to the trivialization of human life in the pur.suit of fun. to the harshness of human life arising from the ruthless exercise of o, power, to despair about human welfare spnnging from the conviction that the universe is absurd.~ God's love is offered to all men and women at every time and place. This universality of God's self-communication (a notion that he has in common with Karl Rahner) Lonergan speaks of in terms of God's inner word, the word that God speaks in the solitude of our hearts, drawing us to himself. But this love is also embodied, incarnate, revealed for all to see, in the outer word of the life, preaching, death, and resurrection of Jesus.~.'~ "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, shall draw all men to myself.''~4 The disciples of Jesus through the centuries constitute that community whose task it will.~ be until the end of time to give explicit witness in external words and deeds to the offer of divine love as the only resolution oLthe otherwise hopeless human dilemma of personal incapacity to grow, of social injustice and alienation. As another superb contemporary thinker. Eric Voegelin, has labored for thirty years to argue, no social order that is not permeated with the love of the unseen measure that Christians call God can be just or humanly fulfilling.~5 In language current among those who have followed 9Rm 5:5. ~°See Lonergan. "The Natural Desire to See God." in Collection: Papers by Bernard Loner-gan (New York: Herder and Herder. 1967), pp. 84-95. t~Lonergan. Method in Theology, p. 103. ~21bid. p. 105. talbid., pp. 112-115. t4jn 12:32. ~sSee Eric Voegelin, Order and History, four volumes to date (Louisiana State University Press, 1956-1974). Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: l / 503 recent deliberations Within the Church, faith and justice are inextricably linked in the mission of the disciples of Jesus in the world.16 Christian spiritual transformation, in this context, is thus a matter, first~ of a process of conversion that involves a growing intimacy with the source and fountain of redemptive love, an intimacy that takes the form of being evermore patterned after the example of Christ; and, second, of a growing commitment and ability to participate in the mission of Christ, which is also the mission of that community.whose task it is tb render explicit to the whole world the fact that,.in Jesus the Christ, God has definitively revealed the saving action that he is always working in the world. To be in love with God is also to be sent by God. To grow in the love of God is also to grow in participation in the mission--the saving and revealing mission---of Jesus. Christian spiritual growth thus involves a number of elements: a) One comes to a developing familiarity with God, so that one is able ever more readily and ever more easily to find him and to participate with him in his redemptive work after the pattern of Christ, the suffering servant of God. b) One grows in the ability to discern precisely what it is that God wants of oneself and of one's community, and in the willingness to do what it is that God asks, confident that what one is doing is not one's own work but God's. c) Summing up all of what this development involves, one grows~in self-transcendence. This is the first key term that I take from Lonergan. One grows in self-transcendence, until, in the saint, there is reached a point of the union of one's own understanding, reason, and desire with the knowl-edge and love of God, a union that can only be broadened and heightened, deepened and enriched, but not gone beyond; and a point of self-abnegation and humility that rejoices in sharing the lot of the poor, despised, and humiliated Son of God himself, in his mission of establishing the kingdom of God on earth. Christian spiritual transformation is a matter of continual conversion to self-transcendence, within the community of the disciples of the Lord that is the Church, until there is reached the point where one's understanding, one's judgments of fact and of value, one's desires, and one's choices, while not ceasing to be one's own, are a participation in the understanding, the judgments, the desires, the choices of God himself, working in and through oneself and one's community, to continue and to spread the redemption of the world that only God can effect. If, then, we are talking about Christian spiritual development as a trans-formation of our insights, our judgments, our desires, and our choices, we ~6See the document of the 1971 Synod of Bishops, Justice in the World. See also the Docu~- merits of the 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus, and especially Decree 4, "Our Mission Today." 504 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 /4 are speaking of it as fundamentally a transformation of our interiority, of our basic horizon. The difference that God's solution to the problem of evil makes in the social world, in the world of economics and politics, in the world of institutions and organizations, is a function of the difference it makes in persons, in the unity of personal consciousness, in people's vision and choices. Christian spiritual development, considered most radically; is a transformation of one's understanding and of ~)ne's willingness, so that these two are brought into harmony and cooperation with God's redemp-tive purpose in Christ Jesus and through the community of his disciples. The transformation, once again, is in the direction of self-transcendence, so that, by accepting God'.s offer of both salvation and vocation, one becomes ever more God-centered and Christ-centered in one's apprehensions of value and in one's decisions, in one's pursuit of meaning and truth, and in one's affective engagement with other persons in the dramatic situations that constitute the stuff, the setting, the stage, of one's own personal story and of history itself. Christian Spiritual Transformation as Self-Appropriation Now, besides serf-transcendence, there is another term that Lonergan uses when he speaks of development. That term is self-appropriation. Self-appropriation is a matter of self-knowledge, of self-discovery, of self-understanding. One can bE quite self-transcendent, quite loving and generous, quite genuine in one's relations with others, quite sincere about wanting to understand things correctly, without being very adept at intri-cate and precise self-knowledge.~ One can be, in Lonergan's terms, quite religiously and morally converted without being intellectually converted. 18 Intellectual conversion is a matter of knowing precisely what one is doing when one is pursuing understanding, reaching for truth, trying to decide in responsible fashion. Many people genuinely try to understand, and succeed in doing so, without being able to say precisely what they are doing when they understand, .how their insights are related to their sensations, their questions, their beliefs, their .images, their concepts, their feelings. One can also be quite religiously and morally converted without being what I have called "psychically converted.''~ Psychic conversion is a matter of know-ing what one is feeling, of being able to tell one's story, and to tell it as it is. One,can have a quite genuine and even beautiful life of feeling without being able to tell what he or she is feeling, how this feeling is related .to that, how both feelings are related to the objects they intend, how one's feelings 17See Lonergan, Insight, p. 475. 18On intellectual conversion as self-appropriation, see Lonergan, Method in Theo!ogy, pp. 238-240. ~gSee Robert Doran, Subject and Psyche: Ricoeur, Jung, and the Search for Foundations (Washington, D. C.: University Press of Ainerica. 1977), especially pp. 240-246~ Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I / 51)5 are related to one's images and symbols, to one's questions and insights, to one's beliefs and ideas. In other words, one can have a quite profound and genuinely self-transcendent interiority without being able to articulate one's inner life with any notable clarity and precision. We all know wonderful and holy people who are quite unsophisticated when it comes to self-knowl-edge, or who will put their self-knowledge in very common sense terms-- people who make at times heroic decisions, but who, when asked why they made this or that decision, or what went on in their minds and hearts which led them so to decide, can answer only, "I don't know; it just seemed to be the right thing to do." Such genuine self-transcendence without self-appropriation is by no means to be disparaged. It is the condition of most good and holy men and women down through the ages, the source of most that is good in human history. But there are factors at work, especially in our age, that seem to indicate that self-appropriatiot~, in addition to self-transcendence, is becom-ing ever more necessary if one wishes to choose responsibly, to judge reasonably, to inquire intelligently, or just if one wishes to know what God wants and does not want. Perhaps there was a time when common sense wisdom and homespun practicality were enough for most people. Perhaps, too, there was a time when the only addition to common sense that some people needed was a good dose of theoretical understanding that was basically in harmony with the Gospel. But there are a number of indications that would seem to argue persuasively that we are now living in a world where self-transcendence, backed up by a common sense framework, or even by a cogent and brilliant theory, is simpl~, not enough; where religious and moral conversion must be complemented by intellectual and psychic conversion; where self-transcendence must be aided and helped, complemented and augmented, by self-appropriation, by precise and even technical self-knowledge, by an ability to articulate just what is going on in one's "little black box." If this be the case, then spiritual transformation today is a matter not only of growing self-transcendence, but also of ever more precise and technical self-knowledge. What are some of the indications that would back up this conviction that I share with Lonergan? Let me talk first about the insufficiency of common sense, and then about the ambiguity of theory. And let me do so within the context of the Church's recent pronounced recognition that the promotion of justice is a constitutive element in the preaching of the Gospel. The paper that issued from the 1971 Synod of Bishops, "Justice in the World," and the statement of Pope Paul VI, Octagesima Adveniens, mark the beginnings, I believe, of a substantial leap forward in the Church's social, political, and economic insight and praxis. One of the few public statements that Pope John Paul I had a chance to make was to the effect that we need a new and worldwide economic order. The achievement of that 506 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 order, I believe, is going to demand that we take our stand, and that we enable others to take their stand, not on practical common sense, and not on theory, but on the self-appropriation of our interiority and especially of our orientation to value. Why do I say this? Well, let us treat common sense first, however briefly. One of the cha~'acteristics of practica.I common se.nse is that it not only is incapable of.treating complex, long-range, and ultimate issues and results, but also that it resentfully brushes aside and ignores any attempts to raise questions that are concerned with such issues. It has the world's work to do. and it cannot be bothered by questions that would take time away from doing that work.z° The person exclusively operating from prac-tical common sense is concerned only with "getting the job don~i." Every-thing else mo.tivation, rationale, social organization, interpersonal communication--is oriented to that end. The question of whether the jo.b is worth doing at all. or whether the most expedient way of. doing it is also the most authentic way, is,a bother, yes, but more than that: it is a threat, a subversive question t, hat could overturn the ~ntire project. Rejection pre-cisely of such kinds of questions is what is responsible for the fact that our objective world-situation today can be characterized in terms of opposed totalitarianisms: the totalitarianism of the multinational corporation, pred-icated on the assumption of the need of automatic progress and expansion; and the totalitarianism of the communist state, rooted in the assumption that class conflict can bring the social o, rder into harmony with what is right.2~ Both myths neglect the fact that there are religious, personal, and cultural values that must be pursued in an integral fashion if there is to be a just social order that really provides for the basic needs of all the mem-bers of a society. In both systems, however much theory may. be involved in their establishment, we see operative the bias of practical common sense against the kinds of questions that must be asked if the job is to be done, not only expediently, but also humanely, genuinely, authetically. The ques-tion of integrity is. not just overlooked, but actively repudiated and re-pressed. _ Nor is theory sufficient to reestablish the significance of that question. For there are theories that support the question, but there are other theories that discredit it. The theories of B. F. Skinner or of orthdox Freudian psychoanalysis are just as coherent, just as thorough, just as all-encom-passing, and, for many,just as convincing, as are the theories of a Christian philosophy and theology. The Church's reliance on theory as the ground of praxis arose in the Middle Ages, more specifically with scholastic philosophy. One of the interesting things about that period, though, is that there were not many ~°See Lonergan, Insight, pp. 225-242. ~lbid. Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: theories from.which to choose, and there was not all that much to be learned in order to piece together a convincing theory. Even the disputes in the world of.theory did not touch, as they do today, on the really basic issues, such as the existence of God, the fact of revelation, the ethical end of the human person, the value of a virtuous life, and so on. Right down into the Renaissance, there was so little to be learned that it was possible for one person to be at once an artist, a natural scientist, and a man of practical affairs and we have Leonardo da Vinci to prove it. The need for specialization to master one tiny dimension of reality is a distinctly modern phenomenon. And while one is spending most of one's time specializing in one's own area, one's contemporaries are adding theory upon theory in their specialized domains. And these theories sometimes contradict one another on the most fundamental issues, on issues that every developing adult must confront. But how is one to take a stand, if one has to devote all of one's energies to his specialization? There are issues on which we must judge and on which we must decide if we are to live a human life. Yet there is simply too much to be learned before we can judge and decide.22 Unless we find a ground beyond theory--for it will not do just to fall back on common sense--our situation becomes one of hopeless relativism. It is my contention that this ground-beyond-theorydies in the self-appropriation of human interiority. This point about the need for,a quite technical self-appropriation can be developed at great length; we do not have space to do that here. The point I wish to make in the present context ,is that only through such self-appropriation can one discover the precise relation that obtains between re,!igio~us, personal, and cultural values on the one hand, and the social value of a just economic and political order on the other hand. And one needs to discover these relations, not simply in the abstract, as through some theory of value ,"but in the concrete order in which one is called upon to judge, to decide, and to act. And so I return to my general statement: Christian spiritual transformation is a matter of self-transcendence that, at a certain point, calls fo'r a movement to self-appropriation. Christian spiritual development is a matter of ongoing cbnversion, and ongoing con-version means today not only religious and moral, but also intellectual and p~sychic conversion. The Levels of Consciousness There are five levels of operations that one discovers when one enters upon the project of the self-appropriation of interiority.2"~ Inner and outer sensations, memories, andimages constitute the level of empirical presen- 22Lonergan, "Dimensions of Meaning," in Collection, pp. 252-267. 23On the levels of consciousness, see Lonergan, Method in Theology, Chapters One and Four. Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 tations. These empirical presentations are organized by understanding, which is a second level of consciousness. For example, if you are reading without any understanding of what I am saying, you are operating at the first, empirical level of operations. If you are reading and understanding what I am saying, your understanding is organizing the empirical presenta-tions into some kind of intelligible whole. You are processing what you hear by the operations that go on in your "little black box." You are operating not only at the first, but also at the second level of o~perations. If, moreover, you not only understand what I am saying but are also trying to judge whether it is correct or not, you have added a third level of operations, where we either assent to, or disagree with, something we have understood. These three levels of operations are what make us to be human knowers. Lonergan calls these levels experience, understanding, and judgment. But we are not just'knowers. There are times in our lives when, after we have made a judgment, "This is t~rue," a further question arises, "What am I going to do about it?" Then we have to decide. And decision constitutes a fourth level of operations. Finally, there is another whole dimension of interior reality that is not dealt with by speaking of the empirical, intelligent, rational, and decisional levels of consciousness. There is a fifth level of consciousness that is a matter of being addressed by and in relation to God. There is the experience of mystery. There is the reality of falling in love with God. There is prayer, worship, mystical experience, the dark night of the soul, the living flame of love, the search for and discovery of the holy, the gift of the divinely originated solution to the problem of evil. Religious self-appropriation, obviously, is a matter of articulating what is going on at that fifth level of consciousness. The means of discovering oneself in one's relation to God are many: there are spiritual direction, retreats, various methods of keeping a journal, and so on. But what is important for us also to appr6priate is the manner in which experience at that fifth level of consciousness has an effect on other levels. The influence of God's grace moves downward in our consciousness. It changes our values (fourth level), so that it provides us with entirely new orientations for our decisions, and enables them to be more self-transcendent. It changes our view of the world, our vision, the way we understand and judge things (second and third levels), and provides us with a determination to under-stand thoroughly and to judge reasonably; and it brings about a harmony and peace at the level of inner sensation, a peace that "the world cannot give," so that our inner being and our bodies rest securely in the love of God. Symbols, Feelings, and Drama Such is the pattern of interiority that is discovered when one enters upon the way of self-appropriation: five levels of consciousness, each related to Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I / 509 the other, whether we move from~below upwards, or from above down-wards. And now, finally, we are able to locate with precision the region where Jung's discoveries become significant for spiritual development, especially for self-appropriation. For all of the operations that we are talking about--sensing, imaging, remembering (first level), inquiring, understand-ing, putting our understanding into words (second level), reflecting, weigh-ing the evidence, judging (third level), deliberating, deciding, acting (fourth level), praying, worshiping (fifthlevel)--all of these operations are per-meated by feelings. We have feelings about the objects of all of these operations. The operations themselves are always dramatic. When you try to understand, it is because you are confused. When you succeed in un-derstanding, the confusion ceases and you experience satisfaction, maybe even excitement. When you want to know whether you understand cor-rectly, it is because you are not satisfied with just a set of bright ideas; you want to get things right and not just go about spouting opinions. When you have to make a decision, the drama of the situation stands out clearly. Some decisions can be agonizing. All decisions have a great deal of affectivity accompanying them, for we are dealing in decisions with questions of value. And value is something we feel before ever we judge about it or act on it.z4 Finally, fifth-level religious experience has those peculiar sets of feelings that we call "consolations" and "desolations." In sum, we are not just structured conscious operators. We are~also the subjects of a drama, pre-cisely in and through these operations. There is a story to our operating, because there are feelings that permeate all of those operations. Let us focus a bit more on this drama, because it is more complicated than I have so far indicated. In addition to the desire to understand, there is also aflight from understanding (second level). I can flee insight just as passionately as I can pursue it. Moreover, I can resist the truth just as strongly as I can intend it (third level). I can try to escape responsible decision and live a life of ease or of drifting or of hiding my talents, just as persistently as I can conscientiously examine every situation to find the best course of action (fourth level). I can flee contact with God just as passion-ately as I can seek to find him and do his will (fifth level). ~ There are feelings that permeate not only genuine performance at each of the five levels, but also inauthentic actions at each step of the way. The ultimate drama of my life, in fact, is this drama of authenticity and inau-thenticity. The authentic person is the person who pursues understanding, who seeks truth, who responds to what is. really worthwhile, and who searches for God and his will. The inauthentic person is the person who flees understanding, who runs fi:om the truth, who resists further questions 241bid., pp. 31-33. 510 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 /4 about his or her decisions, and who tries to escape God. And those feelings never go away. They are present in the entire drama. They are precisely what make it so dramatic. What. then. are feelings? Feelings are energy-become-conscious. Feel-ings are a~matter of psychic energy. Feelings are the basic sensitive compo-nent of every human operation. Feelings make of spirituality a story. To know one's feeling is to begin to tell one's own story. Feelings are the drive and momentum of the life of the human spirit. Feelings join the spirit to the body in a conscious unity. There is one further aspect to this matter. Feelings always enter con-sciousness through being connected with some representation. Now, the, most basic form of representation lies in symbols. A symbol, Lonergan says, is an image of a real or imaginary object that evokes a feeling or is evoked by a feelingZS; what this means is that there is never a feeling without a symbolic meaning; never a symbol without a feeling. To name one's feelings is to discover the dynamic images, the symbols, that are associated with them. To have insight into one's feelings is to understand the symbolic association. To tell one's story is tomarrate the course of one's elemental symbolizing. And where does one's elemental symbolizing occur in its purest form, untainted by the biases that. in waking life, can lead us to distort our story? The place of elemental symbolizing is in our dreams. It is in the dream that we first are conscious, and it is in the dream that we find a "story" going forward that we cannot distort without being aware that we are doing so.z6 If we want to know our -story" the story of insight, the story of judgment, the story of decision, and the story of prayer--we can find it in our dreams. There is a psychic conversion that puts us into contact with that story. It affects us deeply once it has occurred. For it enables us to judge ourselves in our waking life as authentic or inauthentic in our pursuit of understanding, in our.seeking of truth, in our decisions, and in our search for God. In the next article I will situate Jung's psychology of individuation within this context of the discussion of self-transcendence, and, especially, of self-appropriation. In the third article, though, I will use this same frame-work to criticize .lung's psychology. For Jung did not have an accurate understanding of the structure of our operations as human subjects~ur understanding, our judgments, our decisions, and our search for God. His basic philosophical and theological standpoint did not take its stand on a notion of authenticity as self-transcendence. And this basic flaw renders his contributions to Christian spiritual .development very ambiguous until these contributions are transposed into some such context as I have tried to indicate in the present article. 251bid., p. 64. 26See Doran, "Dramatic Artistry in the Third Stage of Meaning," forthcoming in Lonergan Workshop 11, edited by Frederick Lawrence (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1979). "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond"-- Reflections on Death and Resurrection John Renard, S.J. Father Renard is on the faculty of St. Louis,University. A previous article of Father Renard was entitled "Islamic Spirituality" which appeared in the November, 1978 issue. With:the bitter:sweet clarity that came to him in his illness, ~ohn Donne wrote, "Therefore that He may raise, the Lord throws down.''~ The poet expresse_s a wisidom most of us would rather flee than surrender to; bui our flight from mortality is not always and necessarily a flight toward immortal-ity. Ernest Becket explains the dynamic of the "Jonah Syndrome" by saying that the fear of life often menaces human beings as relentlessly as the fear of death. The "Jonah Syndrome" involves escape from both the apex and the nadir of human potential. It issues in a frantic sear.ch for control of one's destiny to the smallest detail; it deems abstinence from the heights of ecstasy a fair price to pay 'for a shorter fall; it shuns the awesome lest it happen upon the terrible,z Both extremes of the fear ~eem to be rooted in a dread of extinction, whether as annihilation wrought by weakness confronting the ultimate ~This and all other selections of poetry quoted in this paper may be found in the.Norton Anthology of Poetry ('Revised, New York, 1975). "Hymn to God My God, in My Sickness," p. 251. 2Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death (New York, 1973). Term coined by Abraham Maslow; pp. 48 ft. 511 512 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 power, or as humiliation wrought by shame in the face of the ultimate glory. I would like to explore both of these aspects of the "Jonah Syndrome." First we will look at the extreme that presents itself more immediately, and which is a more readily recognizable feature of human experience. In that context we will talk of two preeminent characteristics of the experience of Weakness, Shame, and Mortality. Then we will turn to the experience of power, glory, and immortality. In both instances our guideg will be the struggle of great poets to comprehend, the insight of Paul into the incompre-hensible, and the example of Jesus' surrender to the "impossibility" of a life lived across the full spectrum, from being to nothingness and back. Weakness, Shame, and Mortality At the beginning of his chapter on "The Terror of Death," Ernest Becket quotes Sigmund Freud: Is it not for us to confess that in our civilized attitude towards death we are once more living psychologically beyond your means, and must reform and give truth its due? Would it not be better to give death the place in actuality and in our thoughts which properly belongs to it, and to yield a little more prominence to that unconscious attitude towards death which we have hitherto so carefully suppressed? This hardly seems indeed a greater achievement, but rather a backward step., but it has the merit of taking somewhat more into accou.nt the true state of affairs,a Two factors seem most to contribute to a sense of impotence and of the inability to achieve quite enough in one lifespan--and hence to the half-wish for immortality. They are, first, the feeling of time's inexorability, and, second, the conviction that to make a lasting name for myself I must make it for me alone, me the autonomous, me the independent. These twin cliffs of mortality both spell weakness and shame, for the sheer faces of time and of di~sire for self-fulfilment cannot b~ scaled head-on. Nevertheless, the summit is not entirely unattainable. It merely requires the acceptance of "time" and the rejection of encapsulation in oneself. John Donne writes in his "S.atire on Religion:" He's not of none, nor worst, that seeks the best, To 'adore, or scorn an image, or protest, May be all bad; doubt wisely; in strange way To stand inquiring right, is not to stray; To sleep, or run wrong, is. On a huge hill, Craggrd and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, about must, and about must go, Ahd what th' hill's suddenness resists win so; Yet strive so, that before age, death's twilight, thy soul rest, for none can work in that night. Hard deeds, the body's pains; hard knowledge, too "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond" / 513 The mind's endeavors reach, and mysteries Are like the sun, dazzling, yet plain to all eyes.4 The poet does not advocate pretending the mountain does not exist, nor does he counsel over-confidence as to its vincibility. He does suggest that the most important of attainments are precisely not those which can be attained, but rather those which are allowed to be apparent. It is a question of not denying the obvious, but' also of not taking the obvious for granted. Donne suggests further that mysteries are the very stuff of this life: one had best confront them now, for they set at death's twilight. Time itself is not the poet's nemesis here; the prospect of an untimely death is. As we shall see in the second section of this paper, John Donne found a solution to the problem of time's "unperturbed pace," in his hope of resurrection. As other poets attest, however, not everyone escapes the conviction that time is a vacuum. ,' The Emptiness of Time Many a great poet has written of the vain struggle to deny the marauding burglar of time access to his house. Scarcely a Shakespearean sonne~ but talks of Time's "fell hand," and his "bending sickle's compass," and of the "best jewel from Time's chest., hid." Time is "sluttish,'~ "wasted," "balmy.''5 The young John Milton reflected, "How soon. hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!" Time was for him, along with the will of heaven, his guide toward his mortal end.6 John Keats, also twenty-three, wrote in a similar vein of his fears that he might "cease to be before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain." His fearful reflections led him to stand alone on the shore of the wide world till Love and Fame sank to nothingness in the face of Time's inevitability.~ At twenty-seven, W. B. Yeats wrote "The Lamentation of the Old Pen-sioner." The aged and discarded man sits sheltered from the rain under a tree and reminisces about how he had once held the center ~f attention in fireside chats "Of love or politics, ere time transfigured me." Though young men once more prepare for combat, the pensioner's "contemplations are of Time thht has transfigured me." Though no woman now turns to look upon him, 'he summons up remembrances of loves past and concludes, "I spit in the face of Time that has transfigured me.''s In his magnificent "Fern Hill," the thirty-two year old Dylan Thomas wrote of his heedless youth when: Nothing i cared, in the lamb-wfiite days, that time would take me Up to the swallow throng.ed loft by the shadow of my hand, 'tNAP p. 246. 5Sonnets 64, 116, 65, 55, 106, 107, NAP pp. 212 ft. SNAP p. 323 rNAP p. 700 SNAP p. 918 514 / Review for Religious, Volume38, 1979 / 4 In the moon that is always rising, Nor that riding to sleep I should hear him (Time) fly with the high fie!ds And Wake to the farm forever fled from the childless 'land~ Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though 1 sang in my chains like the sea) ,~ Thomas compressed an entire lifetime into the image of a day, born with the birth of the sun and dying forever under an ever-rising moon. Time was his master: the poet both knew it too,well and, denied it. He was green, but dying; fettered, but singing as though free as the sea. ~ The Fullness of Time Jesus, too/was keenly aware_through his life of the. imminence of an auspicious, even ominous, hour. John's Gospel portrays Jesus early in his public ministry as conscious that hishour would come soon, but had not yet (Jn 7:6 and 30). His later recognition that "the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified" occurs at.the theological, literary, and even geo-graphical center of John's Gospel (Jn 12:23). It is preceded immediately by. the raising of Lazarus and Mary's anointing of Jesus for burial, .and it is followed immediately by the analogy of the grain of wheat that ~must die. in order to give life. In the Synoptics, too, this crucial hour's striking marks the turning point in Jesus~ life, the fullness of his time. In the Synoptics, however, the theological, literary, and geographical pivot is signalled by Peter',s confession.of Jesus as the Christ and Jesus' decisive reorientation for the journey to Jerusalem (Mr 16:13if; Mk 8:27ff;, Lk 9:18ff). Mark, Matthew, and Luke indicate that it is Peter who is troubled, most of all, by Jesus' prediction of his death, and who tries to dissuade Jesus from his intended course. John, on the other hand, more insistent than the SynOptics on Jesus' awareness of his "tim~ and hour," emphasizes Jesus' own anguish that his time has now come: "Now is-my soul troubled. And what shall Isay? 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, for this purpose I have come.to this hour's' (Jn .12:27). It is an hour of glor.y, but not for Jesus "personally." It is the hour in which his Father's name will be glorifie~l again (Jn 12:28), At this juncture we turn to the second factor that .makes human mortality seem so impotent and dishon6rable--the forever frus-trated yet die-hard desire to make a name for oneself alone. Making a Name: The Delusion of Self-Proclaimed Glory Several years ago a cartoon in a national magazine depicted a handsome young couple in togas seated in an idyllic lakeside glen. The young man gazes into the mirror-smooth lake, and the lady asks, "Is there., someone else, Narcissus? . Everyone," notes Ernest Becket, "enjoys a working aNAP pp. 1166-7 "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond" / 515 amount of basic narcissism,"~° which amounts to a drive for self-protection and self-creation. The more that drive becomes the central life project, however, the moreoenslaving and suicidal it becomes. Chapter two of the Letter to the Philippians is the New Testament's most remarkable.state-ment of Jesus' surrender of his own name for the glorification of his Father's name.~::'He did not count equality with God a'thing to be grasped., but emptied~ ~himself, taking the form of a slave being born in human likeness. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, death on a cross': (Ph 2:6-8). By "becoming sin who kflew no sin" (2 Co 5:21), Jesus engaged in the ultimate ec-stasy. He rejected the Godly power which alone is immune to the need for striving, in favor of human weakness with its constant struggle for freedom. He rejected the Godly glory which alone is~truly autonomous and peerless, in favor of the shame of common slavery. Power and glory in God are Godly; in human~beings they are merely the produc't of self-aggrandizing,, narcissistic wishfulness. Power and glory in God are His awesomeness and attractiveness; in human beings~they are a pathetic grasp-ing after invulnerability and control, needlessness and Unrelatedness, free-dom from risk.~ That, in the. words of Shakespeare, amounts to "Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame. . lust in action. In his choice of slavery and emptiness Jesus had even to divest himself of the faintest hope that it would all' have world-redeeming consequences. He had to abandon himself unreservedly to the powerlessness and anonym-ity of the human condition. The colossal irony of his surrender is that, because Jesus forsook his, own name and status, "God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that atthe name of Jesus,every knee should bend., and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (Ph 2:9-11). A classic of Chinese tradition called the Tao te Ching spe.aks simply and insightfully of the nature of this paradox: Reality is all-embracing. To be all-embracing is to be self-less. To be self-less is to be all-pervading. To be all-pervading is to be transcendent.~3 Paul elucidates further~ the'implications ~of Christ's self-lessness ~or us. Thb',~ib~e~'ness of self-~areservation must "yield to the folly' of the Cross, "For~tlie. fo61ishness~ of God is wiser than humankind, and the Weakness of l°op. cit., p. 22 ~For further excellent discussion of power and autonomy, see John Dunne's The Way'of All the Earth (New York, 1972), pp. 4-26. ~aSonnet 129, NAP 216 ~aChang Chung-yuan, Tao: A New Way of Thinking (New York, 1975), p. 42. 51!5 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 God is stronger than humankind." Self-proclaimed power and glory must yield to a confession of "shame and confession," as in the meditations on sin in St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises, for "God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are" (1 Co .1 and 2, quoting 1:25, 27). Jesus' own acquiescence in the arrival of his "hour" and his preference for namelessness led him to the folly of the Cross, that our "faith might rest not in human wisdom, but in the power of God" (1 Co 2:5). And all the heavenly host shouted: "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and giory.~. And the four living creatures said, 'Amen'" (Rv 5:12, 14). Power, Glory and Immortality If reflection on the ravages of time and change is a common theme in the great poets, musing on what may lie beyond death are no less prominent. "Death once dead," says the Bard, there's no more dying then.''14 Shake-spearc's is a rather cold resignation in that poem. A more hopeful note is heard in Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality": 0 Joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive.15 Another facet of "nature's memory" is the subject of "The Root Cellar'" by the twentieth-century poet Theodore Roethke. Observing nature's stubborn refusal to become extinct, he tells of how in a lowly earthen dungeon all things strain after survival. In that cellar "Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath."16 In "The Far Field," Roethke writes of how "All finite things reveal infinitude." I am renewed by death, thought of my death, The dry scent of a.dying garden in September, The wind fanning the ash of a low fire. What I love is near at hand, Always, in earth and air.1~ The same W. B. Yeats who had written about the Pensioner who spat in the face of Time, later wrote a play called The Resurrection. The p~lay climaxes with a song about the demise of the ancient rites at~the appearance of the Risen Christ who now stands on the stage. The song is a different kind of reflection on how the passing of time exhausts human power and glory to make way for Christ's power and glory: t4Sonnet 146, NAP :p. 217 ~SNAP p. 603 ~6NAP p. 1131 ~TNAP p. 1138-9 "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond" / 517 Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day.: Love's pleasure drives his love away. The painter's brush consumes his dreams; The herald's cry, the soldier's tread Exhaust his glory and his might: Whatever flames upon the night Man's own resinous heart has fed.Is Few poets have prayed in our tongue more fervently than John Donne. In the"Holy Sonnets" Donne vacillates between terror in the face of death and the hope that death will lose its sting and concede victory to the Resurrection. "Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?" he asks his Lord.~° Ever awareof his need to ask forgiveness, the poet exhorts the angels to trumpet into resurrection all mortal humanity "At the round earth's imagined corners.''2° Donne then becomes a seventeenth century Paul in one of his best known sonnets: Death, be not proud, though some have call6d thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so; For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee dO go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou 'art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy' or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swellst thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally ' And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.2~ For the original Paul, all that the poe.ts have hinted at, pined for, groped after, and, perhaps, found, is embodied in Christ as image of the invisible God. Christ "reflects the glory of God" and "sustains the universe by his word of power" (Heb 1:3). By that word we are "strengthened with all power, according to the glory of his might" (Col l:l l). The "small breath" of the earth in Roethke's "Root Cellar" is the treasure we carry "in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us." We carry in our bodies "the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in oOr bodies" (2 Co 4:7, 10-11). Our universal experience of being "thrown down" in the wasting of our outer nature can-not quench'Wordsworth's "embers" of renewal in our inner nature (2 Co 4:16). It is merely a thorn in the flesh, a reminder that God's "power.is made ~SNAP pp. 927-8 19Sonnet I, NAP p. 248 2°Sonnet 7, NAP p. 249 ~Sonnet 10, NAP p. 250 51~1 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 perfect in weakness." For that reason Paul could happily boast of his weakness so that the power of Christ might rest on him (2 Co 12:9). The exultant herald's cry and the victorious soldier's tread exhaust their power and glory. Christ's defeat on the cross manifests his all the more, "For he was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God." As a result, Christ now deals with us not in weakness, butin power (2 Co 13:3-4). Paul therefore prays that he be able~ to accept his humanity and its impo-tence, in order to~ know Christ and the, power of his resurrection, which will "change our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by,the power which enables him even to subject all things to himself" (Ph 3:8-H, 21). The Apostle prays for,us, too, that we might share in that power and glory and life. Speaking of his own suffering as the glory of the Ephesian Christians, Paul prays That acc6rding to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power interiorly through his Spirit. ; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have power to comprehend., the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, to him be glory . (Ep 3:13-21). Paul further clarifies the nature of the revivifying power of Christ's love as he describes the different degrees of glory proper to the various earthly and heavenly bodies. Using the same metaphor of sowing and growth suggested in Ephesians in the words "rooted in love," the author writes in 1 Co 15:42-3: "What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in shame, but raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, but raised in power." The full mystery and many-sided paradox of how weakness becomes power; shame glory, and mortality immortality is beautifully summed up in John Heni'y Newman's Parochial and Plain Sermon entitled "The Cross of Christ, the Measure of the World." Newman says that the Cross has brought together and made consistent all that seemed discordant and aimless. It has taught'us how to live, how to use this world, what to expect, what t~ desire, what to hope. It is the tone into which all the ~trains of this world's music are ultimately to be resolved.22 To resolve th~se discordant strains, Chris~ endu,red,every paradox. To teach us how to live with ambiguity and in~.security, Christ put mystery in place Qf what we would otherwise try to solve as a mind-teasing puzzle. To unburden us of the curse of the Law, Christ became accursed o~n the Tree. To obtain for us that which we most grasp at, Christ unhanded ~l~i. To transform our folly into wisdom, Christ became foolishness. To free us from sin, Christ became sin. To loose the bonds of our servitude, Christ became 22Parochial and Plain Sermons, London, 1875, Vol. 6, p. 85. ° ~ "Matchwood, Immortal.Diamond" / 519 a slave. To empower our impotence, Christ became weakness itself. To ransom us from bankruptcy, Christ became poverty. To glorify our dis-honor, Christ became shame. To fill our vacuum, Christ emptied himself. All of which prompted G. M. Hopkins to write in his poem, "That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection": "In a flash, at a trumpet crash, ! am at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and this Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, is immortal diamond.''23 23NAP p. 905 Now Available As Reprint An Apostolic Spirituality~for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image Frank X. Reitzel, C.R. Father Reitzel is a member of the Congregation of the Resurrection who has spent most of his active years in his priesthood teaching English literature at the high school, university and seminary levels. He has also done considerable work in counseling, spiritual direction and retreat work. Presently he is on a sabbatical leave doing research study at the Gregorian University in Rome. His address on leaving Rome will be: Resurrection College; Westmount Road North, Waterloo; Ontario, Canada N2L 3G7. Father Reitzel hopes that the present article will form the chapter of a projected book on the concept and image of the Temple as a means of prayer. Part I he Odyssey is most often mentioned as the classic example in literature of the use of thenliterary device or symbol of a journey within which to frame a story. It is important, however, to remember, that every journey has a goal or end to be attained. For Ulysses it was to return to his homeland and there to lay rightful claim to his kingdom, his queen and his home. The traditional name for such a story is epic. St. Luke's Greek cultural back-ground is sufficient evidence on which to base a presupposition that he was familiar with this story form of a journey ending in a kingdom reclaimed. Both his Gospel account and The Acts of the Apostles have epic qualities built on the basic image of a journey. The intention of this paper, however, is to focus attention on the goal of that journey, the Temple at Jerusalem, as Luke uses it in his Gospel in order to show that an awareness of this image can aid a reflective and prayerful reading of the text of the third gospel. The journey theme and the Temple image are equally evident in Acts; but I shall refer to these only in passing. 520 St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image / 521 The Journey It is now generally accepted that the journey theme is an important factor, in the literary structure of Luke's version of the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. In every epic the arena of the journey is vast, sweeping from one end of the known world to the other; for Jesus it really begins in heaven and ends there. The action that takes place on earth within the limits of time and space tells of his journey from Nazareth to Jerusalem. At Jerusalem is the focal point and goal of the journey, the Temple. By using principles of literary criticism we can discover that Luke has artistically placed his references to the Temple at significant places in his narrative. I suggest that the position of these references clearly and deliber-ately divides the text of the Gospel, for artistic and meditative purposes, into a five-part structure that is similar to that of classical epics and dramas. Paradise Lost, for example, is constructed in twelve books or movements in which the poet John Milton retells the tragic story of the loss of paradise by Adam and Eve. The number twelve, referring to the twelve months of the year, symbolizes a full-life span or a life's journey. In his second epic, Paradise Regained, Milton uses the more compressed five-movement structure to tell the story of.Christ's cosmic struggle with Satan. In every case the artist freely chooses what he considers to be the proper and fitting frame for his work or story. In order to enhance his retelling of the inspiring story of Jesus that had been-handed on to him Luke employs a similar five-part structure. Later, in his account of the beginnings of the Church, he describes the missionary journeys of Peter and Paul in a two-part structure similar to that of many modern dramas. Moreover, in both works Luke uses carefully placed refer-ences to the Temple at Jerusalem as a central image which unifies the structure and the story of the Gospel as Luke presents it to us. An aware-ness of this image and its function can aid us in using Luke's Gospel as a guide to prayer and a means of personal growth. Reliable Scripture scholarship has shown that the author of the third Gospel was a man of Greek birth and culture who wrote for a Greek Christian audience. Like Paul (arid like ourselves) Luke had not been a contemporary eye-witness of Jesus. He had learned and been inspired by the story of Jesus as he had received it from the apostolic eye-witnesses such as Peter. He wrote to Theophilus, to persons of similar culture and background, that is, to all those like Theophilus in the world. But if we are his audience why does he use the center of Jewish worship as one of his main images? The Temple Image Temples have played a pa.rt in almost every culture; but they differ in one significant feature from the Temple at Jerusalem. A temple for all 522 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 pagans (gentiles) was a holy place; it was the house of the gods. But for the Israelites, Yahweh, the One True God, actually manifested his presence in his chosen dwelling place on Mount Zion. The Israelites were prepared and they were often called upon to protest that belief with their lives. They did not just casually believe this--they knew that God dwelt in their midst. No matter where he might be, the devout Israelite could face east to the Temple and enter into prayerful communion.with his God; he could experience an immediate and personal realization of the presence of Yahweh. The ideal, of course, was to make the journey to Jerusalem and there actually present oneself to God, as he had. commanded: "Three times a year all your men-folk must present,themselves before the Lord Yahweh" (Ex 23:17)? Similar references to. this belief and practice in the Old Testament are numerous. The visions of many of the prophets took place in the Temple. It was there that Isaiah (Is 6) and Jeremiah. (Jr 1) w.ere commissioned by God to go forth on their prophetic journeys to .his people. The prophet Amos had condemned the unjust and unprayerful uses that some people made of the place of worship, emphasizing, thereby, that God',s presence, not the bricks and mortar, was of importance. Whenever his people turned to false gods and rejected him, Yahweh abandoned them and their Temple. Each time in history that the bricks-and-mortar temple was destroyed it graphically symbolized Yahweh's displeasure with his ~.people and his ab-sence from them. Through the psalmist as through the prophets, Yahweh insisted that the Temple was sacred because he chose to dwell there. He promised to be with his p.eople as long as they were faithi'ul to him; if they betrayed him, he would withdraw his presence and the Temple, no longer sanctified, would be destroyed. That history and thai faith, were a part of the Judaeo-Christian heritage handed on to Luke. That is evidenced by the fact that his Gospel ends,with the statement that praying and worshipping in the Temple at Jerusalem continued to be a normal practice of Christ's followers after the ascension. And at the beginning of Acts Luke indicates that the same mentality and practices continued to prevail. The disciples, he tells us, went up to the Temple each day at the prescribed liturgical hours to pray (Ac 2:46; 3:1). A shift was beginning to evolve, however; Luke says that for "'the breaking of the bread" they met in private homes. They were Christian-Jews; though a gradual change was "taking place in their worship, they had n6t broken away from their Hebrew. Temple-centered roots. That break would Occur later. But at the time of Luke's writing the Temple was still regarded as the House of Prayer, the place where God made himself manifest among his l~eople. ~Biblical quotations in this article have been made from The Jerusalem Bible (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1966); and from The R. S. 'V. Interlinear Greek-English New Testament, by Rev. Alfred Marshall (London: Samuel Bagster and Sons Ltd. 1978). St. Luke's 'Use of the Temple Image / 523 The Literary Structure It is perfectly acceptable in literature to use poetic devices to emphasize certain features of the text. Luke artistically uses repeated references to the Temple.in order to draw the listener or reader to a more reflective and prayerful attention,to the words and the story action o,f his Gospel. Luke's story of Jesus of Nazareth, which has as one of its themes the struggle between good and evil, is based on a five-part.division. An aware-ness~ of this structure and its main themes can assist us in a reflective and prayerful reading of this account of the gospel. It is important to note that this dramatic and reflective outline (given below) does not run counter to nor violate the exacting topical outline that exegetes suggest for study of the text. This literar~y and meditative approach emph~asizes the dramatic quali-ties of the cosmic struggle between Christ and Satan and recognizes the artistic unity in Luke's use 9f the Temple as a focal image. An Outline For Meditation For careful study of the text, commentaries generally outline Luke's Gospel in the following way:2 ~ (1) The Prologue 1:1-4 (2) The Infancy Narrative 1:5--2:52 (3) The Preparation for Ministry 3:1--4:13 (4) The Galilean Minis~try 4:14---9:50 (5) The Journey Na~ative .~ 9:51--19:28 (6) The Jerusalem Ministry 19:29--21:38 (7) The Passion and Glorification 22:1--24:53 ¯ This can be a valugble g~u.ide to discover what Luke tells us about Jesus, his teaching and 'his ministry. It acknowledges the importance of the jour-ney, but only as a pan,of the outli.ne rather than as a theme throughout the entire gospel. According to his introduction, however,. Luke wrote for a prayerful and reflective audience in an artistic way so as to spark the imagination, the feelings,jthe.heart of his readers and to focus attention on the Person of Jesus in order to open their ears and eyes to respond as fully as possible to the message of the Lord as Luke presents it to them. Jesus taught his disciples that his 'message is best heard in prayer and the graces to respond to it best received in prayer. For such a prayerful consideration and use of Luke's text of the gospel I suggest the following outline. PROLOGUE: 1:1-25 ' (a) Introduction: why and to whom he writes. (b) Milieu: time and pl~ce. 2James A. Michener, The Source (Greenwich, CT: Fawcett Publications, 1967), p. 266. 524 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 Zachariah; the Temple scene, in the sanctuary. ACT I: Infancy: Prepare for life. Begins in the Temple: Pre-sentation. Introduces John the Baptist; then Jesus. Closes with the Temple scene. ACT II: Preparation For Mission: ~ Mission, decision, conflict. Career of John the Baptist; genealogy of Jesus. The temp-tations, ending with the Temple image. A hint that Jesus and Satan will meet again. ACT III: Journey and Ministry: Jesus, led by the Spirit, begins his journey toward Jerusalem; He commences his public teaching. A special mention of the Temple (18:10). The section closes with Jesus taking possession of the Temple. ACT IV: Temple and Contest: Jesus teaches daily in the Temple. His enemies plot to kill him. Example of the widow's offering. At night Jesus withdraws from the Temple to the Mount of Olives. 1:26-2:52 3:1-4:13 4:14-19:48 20:1-21:38 ¯ Act V: Conflict: 22:1-24:52a Passion, death and resurrection of Jesus. Signal phrase: "Satan enteri~d." Judas goes to the priests. Trial; condemnation; death. Veil of the Temple is torn. Resurrection and ascension. EPILOGUE: ~ 24:52b-53 The apostles begin their journey in the Tem-ple. The Good News for Prayer In my outline of Luke's gospel, I have indicated that each of the major divisions end witha'specific use of the image of the Temple. In every case of these references the use flows smoothly and naturally out of the thought and action of the story. Artistically, the Temple image serves the same purpose as a major refrain in a symphony or opera; the audience hears it in the background and is reminded~of a principal character or of the primary theme of the work. Like an organist, Luke is able to play on three manuals at once. He uses the image of the Temple, repeated at significant moments in his text, to weave into a unity the principal themes of the life story of Jesus of Nazareth. St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image / 595 The Temple image establishes the goal of the journey theme and gives it a continuity throughout the whole of the gospel as Luke presents it. Moreover, this image repeated at important instances in the narrative emphasizes and gives a continuity to the main theme of the story of Jesus: his life, death and resurrection. In the course of his journey to Jerusalem, Jesus makes allusions to and direct prophecies, of his death, and resurrec-tion, such as: "The. Son of Man" he said "is destined to suffer grievously, to be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be put to death, and to be raised up on the , third day" (Lk 9:22). But it is the carefully placed references to the Temple that hold this theme of death and resurrection before our eyes throughout the text of this gospel. For at the end of each major section, designated in the outline above, when reference is made to the Temple something ends and something new begins; death and resurrection are symbolized. In the end the Temple of brick and mortar would be destroyed, as Jesus prophesied, to be replaced forever by the eternal Temple of the Risen Christ. Evidence in Greek Terms The literary prologue (1:9-25) ends with the priestly action of Zachariah in that sacred area of the Temple, the sanctuary, while the people wait outside praying. The events recorded in this episode are interpreted as a signal of the end of the Old Testament and the beginning of the New. It is significant that in the Greek text Luke uses the specific term "sanctuary" or "holy place" (naos) three times in this prologue as his reference to the Temple: (1:9;22). He does not use this term again until after Christ,s death on the cross when he, tells us dramatically, with the tearing of the veil of the "Temple" (naos), that the old has ended and the new has begun~(23:45). There are, however, some instances in the course of his narrative in which Luke makes reference to the Temple or to the sanctuary :with a more general Greek term "the house of God" (oikos theou), because the refer-ence at such times is not essential to the narrative structure. When, for example, Jesus speaks o.f. the prophet "who was murdered between the altar and the sanctuary" (Lk I1:5 l), Luke uses the Greek term, "the house of God" (oikos theos). When, however, the reference is made to the Temple proper and is essential to the narrative structure, he uses the precise Greek term the Temple (hieros). This is the word which he uses at the end of each of the major sections that I have designated as acts in the above outline, as well as in the last verse, the literary epilogue, of his gospel account. Accord, ing to scholars3 Luke.was following a reliable tradition in his use of these 3The Jerome Biblical Commentary, ed. Raymond E. Brown, Joseph A. Fitzmeyer, Roland E. Murphy (New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1968), p. 119, 44:19. (For subsequent notes this will be referred to as JBC.)--There is a°good outline of Luke's Gospel for meditative reading in The Gospel According to St. Luke. ed. Alois St6ger (London: Burns & Oates, 1969), two volumes. 526 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 Greek terms,, and should not be accused of inconsistency. Of importance in the present consideration,~ however, is Luke's use of the term "the Tem-ple" (hieros), with all its sacred and imaginative connotations from the Old Testament as well as its Christian ,associations with the life of Jesus. This is the" term which Luke uses when he refers to the Temple scene (2:46) with which he completes his narrative o'f~the infancy of Jesus. Simi-larly, he ends with this same Temple image what | have designated as Act II, which describes Jesus' preparation for his mission:" Jesus rejects the third temptation 6f Satan who had led him "to the pinnacle of the Temple" (4:9) and begins his public ministry. With one special excepiion (18:9-14), Luke does not use this precise term for the Temple again until the ehd of the third'section of his narrative (indicated as Act III)when Jesus enters the Temple and forcefully takes possession of it as his Father's house (19:45-46). In e~,ery case when Luke uses this term; we notice that there is an end and a beginning; the life-death-resurrection theme is symbolized in the Temple. At this part of the narrative (19:48) the actual suffering and death of Jesus are imminent, for the growing opposition of his enemies has become a calculated decision to destroy him. Throughout Act IV Jesus teaches daily in the Temple area (hieros); but at night for his own safety he withdraws to the Mount of Olives. He continueS to use the Temple for his mission, but he has begun to abandon it; it is no longer a place of safety for him. In Act V, his rejection of the Temple of bricks and mortar is completed in ~he violent tearing of the veil of the Temple (23:45) to signal the beginning of the reign of Christ. In the epilogue, Luke tells us that the apostles went to the Temple after the ascension of Jesus to await, in, prayer, their call to journey and mission. Each dramatic section of this outline of'the action 0f Luke's gospel closes with a precise use of the image of the Temple which, I ~uggest, holds up before the reflective reader the main theme 'of the life, death and resurrection of the story of Jesus. A reflective and careful exami-nation of even a few' of these sections will bear this out. The Prologue As Prayer ' Luke says that although his readers are familiar with the story of the life bf Jesus, he intends "to write an ordered account." I Shggest that his purpose is to write :an artistic and' meditative account of the Gospel in order to lead his refiders to prayer and a deeper consideration of the events o~ that story. The prologue (as I have designated it, verses ! to 25) can be used as a unit for prayer which inv~olves the whole person of th6 reader. For study purposes exegetes rightly identify as prologue 6nly the first ~our°verses~, because theseare writtenin very stylized and formal-Greek. That is proper to a formal introduction; but a literary prologue, besides'addressing the work to the~hudience, also links it to the past and gives.th'e~ audience some hints of the principal themes in the action that is to follow, The formal introduction, that is the first four verses, appropriately ,addresses the St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image / 597 Gospel to Theophilus anti to everyone who professes a love of God. Verses 5 to .7 make the link: this is not going to be. a Gr~eek story, but one set in Israel. The first personages to whom we are introduced are two of the finest people that culture and religion produced: "Both were just in the sight of God and scrupulously observed all the commandments and observances of the Lord" :(1:6). Every word of this quotation is rich in history, meaning and imagery. The word "just," often translated as "righteous," "worthy," -"virtuous," is a summary of the history of God's dealings with the Hebrew people. We should also be aware of the suggestive power of names such as Zachariah: "His name means 'Yahweh has remembered'.TM A note of tragedy is sounded with the words that Elizabeth was barren; but the author hastens to set his scene for the main action and to suggest his main themes. It is the solemn hour of, w9rship in the sacred dwelling place of the True God. It is one of the great moments of Zachariah's priestly career; he has been chosen by lot to offer the incense in the sanctuary. While the faithful outside continue in prayer, Zachariah is plunged into a deep mystical ex-perience. Luke's mention of the angel Gabriel (1:19) is regarded as a signal that the new age is about to begin? The same angel had commanded the prophet Daniel to tell his people that their exile and oppression were at an end and that a messenger would come to herald the advent of a new era (Book of Daniel, chapters 9 and 10). By drawing attention to several pa~al-lels between Zachariah's experience and that of Daniel (such as the evening hour of prayer and their being left speechless6) Luke implies that God is about to fulfill his promise and begin that new era. With this incident in the Temple Luke also symbolizes the coming to an end of the Old Covenant and the beginning of the New. This. of course, will be developed and made increasingly more clear as the narrative unfolds. For the moment, this is the hour for which the whole world has been waiting. God is about to enter into the history of man. By closing the prologue with a reference to the Temple (l:.22).Luke esta~blishes a pattern for his symbolizatio.n of a life-death-resurrection t.heme which will be repeated throughout the gospel-story at the end of each significant dramatic section. Use of Imagination in Prayer A studious reading of the Gospel is important to avoid mere flights of 4Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. ed. Gerhard Kittel; trans. G. W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. E~rdmans Publishing Co. 1965). For "hieros" see 111. pp. 221-247. For "naos". IV, pp. 880-890. (Subsequent references m these notes will be to Kittel.)~Klaus Baltzer, in "The Meaning of the Temple in the Lukan Writings.'" Harvard Theolog!cal Review (Misso~ula. Montana: Scholars' Press) 58 (1965), pp. 263-277. regards Luke's use of terms for the Temple as "inconsistent." 5JBC, p. 121, #44:27. 6JBC, p. 121, 4#44:28. Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 fancy, and the use of a good commentary can be of invaluable help. But,a prayerful approach through the use of imagination and other faculties will prevent the opposite errbr of regarding the Gospel as a mere intellectual exercise book. St. Luke's Gospel is a prayer book of the highest merit. But we must bring to it our whole selves as human beings; all our senses and faculties must be employed in our praying. The passage designated as the. end of Act II (2:41-52) is an exemplary unit of action and dialogue which can be momentarily lifted out of the context and used for meditation which involves our whole person in it. ThE opening sentences immediately direct our thought and imagination to Jerusalem and draw us into the journey of Jesus. "Every year" and "Passover" should be equally significant words to us as they were for the people of Jesus' own day. The first activity"is in the world of human, every-day affairs and should alert us to the fact that prayer begins and take~ place in the world of events, circumstances, and persons in the course of our daily lives. Hence, we take our place among friends and acquaintances, with Jesus and Mary. We, too, are going up to Jerusalem, to the Temple, for a joyful celebration. The text, of course, leaves the details of the visit to our imagination. Our prayer at this level might valuably draw us to dwell upon 'what happened at the Temple when Jesus celebrated his entry into adulthood. However,~that can only be surmised; we should not allow our-selves to be sidetracked by it. The text urges us to follow more closely; it puts the emphasis on what occurs after the ceremony of Jesus' Bar Mitz-vah, The return trip to Nazareth is usual and all that might be expected after aj0yful visit to the Temple. Again, it is the world of everyday experience. Jesus was not with his parents, but "they assumed he was with the cara-van." They were conscientious parents and looked for him. No panic is suggested in their action: "They sought him among acquaintances and relations." Where else would one look for a normal twelve-year-old boy who had just experienced the excitement of receptiofi into adulthood? However, "when they failed to find him," anxieties

Issue 13.5 of the Review for Religious, 1954. ; Review for Religious SEPTEMBER 15, 1954 Study and the Spiritual Life . John R. Post The World Around Us . John H. Ziegler Pilgrims on theRoad to Love . George Byrne Secular Institutes . Francls N. Korfh Book Reviews Questions and Answers Quinquennial Report VOLUMI~ XIII NUMBER 5 RI::VII::W FOR RI:LI IOUS VOLUME XIII SEPTEMBER, 1954 NUMBER 5 CONTENTS BLENDING STUDY WITH THE SPIRITUAL LIFE--John R. Post, S.d. 225 OUR ADDRESSES . 233 THE WORLD AROUND US--John H. Ziegler, C.S.P . 234 COMMUNICATIONS . 239 FOR YOUR INFORMATION . 240 PILGRIMS ON THE ROAD TO LOVE--George Byrne, S.J .2.4.1 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 244 SECULAR INSTITUTES: SOME QUESTIONS--Francis N. Korth, S.2J.45 PAMPHLETS . , . . . 250 MARIAN YEAR PLAY . 250 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT (By Nonfederated Autonomous Houses and Monhsterles) . 251 REGIONAL CONFERENCES AND WORKSHOPS .2.6.9 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 26. Little Office during Mass . 270 27. Confession without Verbal Act of Contrition . 270 28. Drinking Water before Communion . 271 29. Confession before Communion . 271 30. Communion when Mortal Sin is Doubtful . 272 BOOK REVIEWS-- The N~w Testament; The Church and Infallibility; Mary in Our Life . 273 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS . 278 NOTICE FOR PUBLISHERS . 280 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, September, 1954. Vol. XIII, No. 5. Published bi-monthly : January, March, May, July, September, and November at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter ,lannary 15, 1942, at the Post Office, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Augustine G. E!lard, S.J., Adam C. Ellis, S.J., Gerald Kelly, S.J., Francis N. Korth, S.J. Copyright, 1954, by Adam C. Ellis, S.J. Permission is hereby granted for quota-tions of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the author. Subscription price: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a copy. Printed in U. S. A. Before writing to us. please consult notice on Inside back cover. / Blending St:udy wit:h t:he Spiri!:ual Lit:e John R. Post, S.J. MANY young religious who are preparing for the priesthood must spend eigh~ or ten years in the quiet of a seminary be-fore they are confronted with actual work for souls. During that time they look forward with great eagerness to a busy minis-try; but when it comes, it often comes with something of a shock to their interior life. Why is this? The answer seems to be that now for the first time they have had to face up to the age-old problem of blending the active with the contemplative life. A certain amount of shock from this problem is inevitable, as it is in every new ex-perience to be worked out by themselves; but some help can be given them to soften the shock if during their seminary days they are taught to solve another problem, or rather, the same problem on a smaller scale, namely, how to blend the life of study with the spir-itual life. One young student, for instance, finds himself in this frame of mifid: in the morning he offers up to God all his p~ayers, works (studies included), and sufferings, and then is content if during the day he can keep his life of study from interfering with his life of prayer. The most he asks is that study and prayer just keep running in parallel lanes like two runners on a track. Another sees the pursiait of knowledge as a help to perfection, and'so, being a sensible religious, he determines to make the two desires fuse or blend into one organic whole. With him the life of study and the life of prayer, while really distifict, penetrate and help each other just as the soul does the body. T, he second theory will be explained in this article, which, though tailored to suit the'cleric, can, it is hoped, with a tuck and a hem be made to fit the student sister and brother as well. As with the problem of the active ministry, sb too here, the so-lution lies in the interpenetration of motives. In the years of for-mation the young men must learn two things: first, to study their Latin and Greek, their philosophy and theology, with an earnest intention of progressing in the service of God; then, to pray with an ardent desire to advance in the studies in which they are engaged. For, although the time set aside for spiritual duties is generally dis- 225 JOHN R. POST Review for Religious tinct from that given to studies, still the service of God should be made the predominant and actual motive in both. The theory, then, can be summed up in two phrases of St. Ignatius: "Let [scho-lastics] strive to have a right intention in their studies".and. "in their prayers let them frequently beg for the grace of knowl-edge." That is the theory, but some eager student might ask: "How in practice would you go about preparing an assignment in G~:eek or theology and at the same time maintain this right intention? In other words, tell us how each particular branch of our studies can be made.to help our spiritual lives and how our spiritual lives can at the same time help our studies." This is a rather large order, but let me try to fill it. To begin with, then, in practice a man blends his studies with his spiritual life simply by choosing a virtuous intention to keep working in class or at his desk. Seize upon some honest motive or motives from the many that are available, let those motives draw your mind into the heart of the matter and keep it there, and they will turn that hour of class or study into an hour of obedience, of zeal for souls, or of any other virtue. Some motives, it is true, are higher and more meritorious than others; some are more effective in stimulating the desire to learn; but every intention, provided it be virtuous and supernatural, is a "right intention" in the sense in which spiritual writers use the expression. And this leads to the consideration of a most fundamental and essential virtue in the whole life of study--the virtue of studiositas. St. Thomas, who ought to know, defines studiositas, or zeal for knowledge, as a moral virtue which stimulates and controls a man's curiosity. According to him a student, to be a student at all, must be curious. He must come to his books hungry to learn, with a hun-dred questions in his mind begging to be answered. "How did Cicero and St. 3erome express a concessive clause in Latin? What is that slight difference in meaning between quarnquarn and quarnois? I wonder how this particular clause in English would look dressed up in perfect Latin idiom." And so on and so on. These are the questions real students of Latin ask themselves, ask their books and the teachers because they want to know. It is studiositas, then, that makes the life of sudy. Other higher and more supernatural motives may be used to elevate this virtue, but none can take its place. No one can be a student without it. St. Thomas Aquinas, who was 226 September, 1954 STUDY AND SPIRITUAL LIFE both saint and scholar, prayed God to keep this natural curiosity of his ever alive. "Grant, I beseech Thee, O merciful God, that I may ardently desire, prudently inquire, .truthfully understand and per-fectly fulfill what is pleasing to Thee." These last words of the saint give us a glimpse into his inner life and show us how he blended his life of studies with his spiritual life. "May I ardently desire . . . what is pleasing to Thee." Thomas Aquinas, prince and patron of all students, was first of all as curi-ous as ever a man could be, curious about Aristotle and Cicero, about the nature of man and the world about him. And he never lost his curiosity. His Summa Tbeotogica alone contains some 4,000 questions. Yet, his natural love for knowledge was con-trolled and intensified, not lessened, by his love for the will of God declared to him by his superiors. "May I ardently desire . . . what is pleasing to Thee," he says. Besides the motive of stddiositas, therefore, two other motives attracted him to his studies, the motives of obedience and 'of charity. He was curious first because he natu-rally loved the truth which he found in a book of Aristotle; and he became more curious because he knew that God wanted him to study this book of Aristotle; and most curious because he knew that he would please God by studying Aristotle. By these means, then, his study became triply fascinating to St. Thomas. Two high motives drawn from his spiritual life combined with a natural motive and all three blending together drew his mind to the study of one and the same work. So, the blending of which we speak is the blending of a supernatural desire, or desires, with the natural desire of studiositas. The motives of obedience and charity, which we have just toudhed upon, are, I suppose, the easiest for the average religious to manage throughout his course and at the same time the most meri-torious. Another which can blend with all branches of his study is the motive for zeal for souls. In all the studies which the Church has arranged with admirable foresight and wisdom, there is a verti-cal intention which looks up from the different subjects to be studied, rising step by step from the elements of Latin and Greek grammar right up to theology, and based on the following chain of reasoning: the better prepared I am in the,lower subjects, the better grasp will I also have of sacred doctrine and so be the better equipped to preach the word of God to others. This is one way of looking at the course and drawing from the apostolate at the top a greater attraction for all the studies which lead up to it. But, even on the lower levels-- 227 JOHN R. POST Ret~iew /'or Religious that is to say," while one is studying Latin and Greek and philosophy --there is room for a horizontal intention of putting this very matter to good use for souls. I mean the apostolate of the class-room. In teaching orders especially, in which a large percentage of each province is engaged in the work of education, superiors and students alike are forced to think of their houses of study as normal schools and of the time of studies as a period of training for future teachers and professors. The novice who is studying the different uses of the Greek dative should remind himself that he may be teaching that very same lesson one day in any one of the order's schools. Students of the humanities and of philosophy will be given greater motivation if they are told from time to time how many of their religious brethren are teaching those subjects in the colleges. Theologians know that every priest is teaching theology in one way or another, either in the classroom, or in the pulpit or in the confessional. Thus, the teaching vocation provides a specia! in-centive for applying oneself with greater vigor to that part of the course in which one is now engaged. At this point I would like to pause and answer a question that must be bothering the reader as all these different motives (and we haven't come to the end of them yet) are being passed in review be-fore him. The quesion might be phrased as follows: How is it pos-sible to keep all these motives in mind at once? To increase in knowledge, to obey God, to please God, to teach others--how can one manage them psychologically? The answer is that is one is not obliged to use them all. To blend a life of study with the spiritual life, only two are required, the motive of studiositas and one other. But, if. others are used, only that of studiositas is to be kept in the front of the mind, while the others are lined up behind it as ulterior motives--just as in arranging a hand of cards you keep only one in the foreground in full view while all the others are held behind it peeking out a little over the edge. Does that mean that God will have to "take a back seat" to ablative absolutes or ens ut sic? Yes, at least while one is studying ablative absolutes or ens ut sic. Or, to put it another way, God Himself tells you to study and.by so doing He "takes a back seat" for Himself, always continuing, however, to occupy the first place in your heart. Study of the Humanities The study of the humanities presents its own peculiar motive to the religious who is engaged in it, a motive which, if employed with 228 September, 1954 STUDY ~.ND SPIRITUAL LIFE care and discretion, can give to his spiritual life a greater depth and breadth than it ever bad before. This motive is found in the word humanitas, for, as I see it, the purpose .of all classical studies in Latin, Greek, and English is to increase and intensify ar sense of kin-ship between the student and all the other members of the human family. Thus, with his symiJathetic understanding broadened and deepened and his sensibilities more refined, he can more easily respond to motives of faith which teach him to love all men in Christ and for Christ. As is~ clear from looking at ourselves, not all men are saints. The exercises of the novitiate may lead religious to expect too much of their fellow men. From reading the, lives of the saints and the ways of reaching sanctity they can acquire a partial, not a total view of life. Spiritual theology is likely to idealize and adorn too much. Philosophy, on the other hand, strips life of its warmth and color. History and literature, correcting the other two views, show us human beings as they are. They show us man as the "noble, lawless savage" that Newman speaks of, "whose morals find interests are disfigured and perverted by all the imperfections of passion, 'folly and ambition." So, we must not expect from litera-ture any more than it in'tends to teach us, or any more than we can reasonably expect to find in nature itself, whose mirror it aims to be, and certainly we must not expect to find in it a guide to (he highest sanctity. We have that in Christ and in the Church. "It is the business of art and literature," as Fleckner says, "not to save men's souls, but to make them more worth the saving." The most literature intends to teach us, then, is that human nature with all its faults is very lovable in itself. Then, after viewing its faults through the medium of literature, we ourselves can reason to the great need nature always had, and still has, for the redeeming grace of Jesus Christ. Outside the monastery walls, for instance, it is a very human thing for a young man to fail in love. Men are like that. And so Shakespeare enters into the heart of one of them and gives us his Romeo in all the pangs of love-sickness, saying: "See how she leans her cheek upon that hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That l might touch that cbeek t."" That hand, he says, and that cheek, as if there were no others in 229 JOHN R. POST Review [or Religious the world. But, there are no others for Romeo. Isn't that ~he way lovers act? Isn't it human for young men to "moon" that way. Shakespeare has caught this universal trait, loved it, and invited us to love it too. It is also very human for men who have done great things for their country to take compl~acency in it, and so we sense something of our own humanity in every speech of Cicero as he struts across the floor of the Senate letting men know how lucky they are to have him as consul. Yet, boastful as Cicero is, his love for his friends and his family, his loyalty to Rome and hatred for all corruption give us an example of a very noble Roman. Achilles, the greatest warrior of them all, pouts in his tent before the walls of Troy when his prize is taken from him. Antigone has become for all time the personification of sisterly affection, just as Hecuba has of aged grief, and Aeneas of filial piety. Now, the Church thinks that it .will be good for the future priests to realize how many different kinds of souls it takes to make up the human race, and to know them and love them for what they are. We know from faith that they are lovable for a higher reason, but lit-erature teaches us that they are also lovable for the basic humanity that is in them, that image of God, warped and twisted by human passion in a way that is so much like our own. So, the special pur-pose put before the student of literature, and the one he should grasp and blend with the others, may be summed up in one phrase-- to love human beings. Motioes for Studying Philosophy The subject of philosophy, too, is not without its intrinsic motives which can be made to blend with the spiritual life. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," says Hamlet: but, we might add, not many more. For philosophy is the study of all things knowable according to their ultimate causes. The matter of philosophy, therefore, in-cludes the world, the nature of man, and even the very being of God, as far as these things can be known by the light of reason. In natural theology, for instance, students are taught to prove the. ex-istence of God and His attributes, and how all things come from Him by creation, are kept in existence by His conservation and con-' currence, and finally have Him for their ultimate purpose. In this whole field no religious who has ever made the Spiritual Exercises can fail to see the very subject matter of the Foundation and the Contemplation to Obtain Divine Love. Moreover, the laws of 230 September, 1954 STUDY AND SPIRITUAL LIFE thought which God has implanted in our intellect, and the laws of conduct in our will, the nature 6f the human soul, its origin and its destiny are treated of in logic, ethics, and psychology. That such knowledge can, and should be, of immense profit to a religious in acquiring a more intimate knowledge of himself goes without saying. But, apart from this bearing of philosophy on his own personal life, it is in this branch of his studies that the student is forging some of his strongest weapons for his future apostolate. It is agreed, I think, by Catholic apologists that the most dangerous at-tacks on the faith today come .from ~hilosophical quarters, and hence they must be met with philosophical weapons. The Church is assailed by the false doctrines of Communism, of the rights of the state in education; she has to meet the ~rguments of those who would justify birth control and so-called mercy killing: she has to be able to give the answers to so many who question her about the very existenc~ of God and the immortality of the soul. And all of these questions have their answers--solid, reasonable answers-- in Scholastic. philosophy. Knowing this, then, a young religious would be foolish and failing in his duty if he did not study his phi-losophy with the idea of defending the Church in this all-important field. Motives For Studgin9 Theologg It takes little effort to understand how the study of theology, which is the science of God, can have a stimulating effect on the spiritual life of a theologian. The reason is that the subject matter of theology is exactly the same as the matter of our prayer and the interior life. All that God has revealed about Himself and about His plans for the sanctification of the world, all that one needs to know, and more than one needs to know, by way of credenda and agenda, to make one a saint is presented to us over a period of four years in lectures and books, arranged according to the most scientific system of thought yet devised. Treatises on the Unity and Trinity of God; treatises on God as Creator and Redeemer; treatises on the Incarnate God, Jesus Christ, and the mysteries of His life; a treatise on the Blessed Mother of God: treatises on God's ways of drawing men to Himself by means of grace and the sacraments; the Church of God and the four last things; the laws of God and of the Church --- each and every one of these subjects speaks to us of God . . . God ¯ . . God. Theology is the science of God. We must not conclude, however, that classes in theology are 231 30HN R. POST Reoiew ~or Religious meant to be spiritual exhortations. Thgy are not. Moreover, some of the theses may seem as lacking in warmth as mathematics: but like mathematids, they are necessary to show the strength and logic of the system. The hnowledye of God, then, not the love of Him, is the immediate object of theology--clear, solid, profound knowledge based on divine revelation. But since knowledge prepares for love, one's knowledge of God cannot help but prepare his soul for acts of the theological virtues of faith, hope, and ch;irity, not only during the times of formal prayer, but also during class as one listens to professors expounding the sacred doctrine and in one's roo~m when one can delve into the depths of Sdripture and tradition for oneself. That is why St. Augusti.ne likens the students of the-ology to the contemplative Mary who sat at the feet of desus listen-ing to His words. "Let them choose for themselves the better part," he says, "which shall not be taken from them, and let them give themselves up to the word, drink in eagerly the sweetness of doc-trine, and be taken up with the science of salvation." One of the aims of this article has, I hope, been achieved. It was to explain how in practice the life of studies can be made to help the spiritual life throughout the course. To this end some of the super-natural mo'tives or desires which can be blended with the natural desire of studiositas have been developed in detail. And doubtless there are others. One can, for instance, find great inspiration in studying out of gratitude to his own order, or out of reparation to the Sacred Heart. This last becomes especially valuable when the studies appear to be difficult or dull. But, those intentions we have discussed show at least how one can go about supernaturalizing his study habits right from the beginning of the course. Using the motives of studiositas, obedience, charity, and zeal for souls, ,which are common to every branch of knowledge, a student can also apply himself to the humanities because he wants to deepen his love for his fellow man, to philosophy to help him d~efend the Church, and to the61ogy because he wants to increase his faith, hope, and love of God. Entering upon his studies with any or all of these motives the young levite will turn his hours of class and study into exercises of the spiritual life and win great merit for himself, the merit of these lofty virtues. Nothing remains now but the easy task of pointing out how a young man's life of prayer can be made to help his life of study. In a perfect blending of the two it is clear that each must contribute 232 September, 1954 STUDY AND SPIRITUAL LIFE something to the other; and if, by means of the lot:ty mqtives we have just described, one's study-life has been turned into an instru-ment of the highest virtue, does it not seem just that in times of prayer a religious should make some return and beg of God the grace of making greater progress in his studies? He knows that grace is necessary for every supernatural work, and the more supernatural, it is, the more grace is needed. As he tries, therefore, to manage the higher motives in his study, it becomes increasingly clear that, al, though'we apply ourselves to the lesson in Greek or philosophy, still it is God who must give the increase. Moreover, when we plead with God to increase our spirit of curiosity or to give us a more re-tentive memory, we are asking Him only for what He Himself de-sires. St. John Damascene defines prayer as "the petition of fitting things from God." What can be more fitting, or more in accordance with God's will, than th~it a student, should make progress in his studies? If God asks every religious in his years of formation to strive seriously and eonstantly to acquire a mastery of his subject, surely He cannot take it amiss or accuse us of bringing in distractions if we beg Him now and then in our colloquies to assist us in carry-ing out" His own will, especially if the fulfillment of His will re-dounds so much to the defense of the t:aith, the spread of Catholi~ education, and the sanctification of .our own souls. This was done byi.St. Thomas, as we have seen. One's examination of conscience, toO, can be made to serve the cause of study by keeping a careful watch over one's motives and nourishing the solid habits of indus-try, ~bedience, and the others. And thus it will come about that by." a sort of interpenetration our studies will help our prayer and our prayer will help our studies, and both, thus joined toge~her, will bring ~:orth much fruit--in the spirit of the saints--to the greater glory of God. OUR ADDRESSES We have three different addresses. It would~ help considerably if all who com-municate with us would note them: 1. Bdsiness communications, sfich" as subscriptions, renewals, etc., should be sent to: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 606 Harrison St., Topeka, Kansas. 2. Books for review should be sent to: Book Review Editor, REVIEW FOR RE-LIGIOUS, West Baden College, West Baden Springs, Indiana. 3. All other editorial communications, such as manuscripts, questions, letters for\publication, etc., should be sent to: The Editors, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS" St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. 233' The World Around Us John H. Ziegler, C.S.P. THE families and friends of religious continually have to make lightning-like mental adjustments when conversing with Father Luke, Brother Bede, or Sister Mary Francis. Blithely we speak of a joke heard in the "common room," of having to at- ~end."particular examen," or of being assigned a new "obedience" next week--all terms capable of various interpretations besides the consecrated meanings we have attached to them. Most mysterious of all, however, must be our use of "the .world." When heard for the first time from young, red-cheeked Frater Paul, a statement like "I used to play left end for Catholic CentraE but that was before I left the world," could give some unititiated layman the eerie sensa-tion of being in the presence of a departed soul--appearances to the contrary notwithstanding. Occasionally too we are guilty of downright equivocation when referring to "the world," thereby indreasing our chances of being misunderstood. In one sense we left the world as soon as we" begin to live in a religious house, free from such worldly ways as catching [he 8:20 bus to work every' mornin'g and saving to buy a spring hat br a new pair of shoes. That world, however, is not in itself the world which hates Christ nor that which the spiritual writers un-animously warn us to shun under pain of losing our souls. "Our parents, to whom above all others under God we owe our vocations, live or lived in that world, along with countless other lay Catholics whose solid goodness we dare not question. In another sense, of course, there is "the world" which we as well as all Christians mdst renounce, the world which is its own idol, the world which makes of pleasure, power, and wealth the supreme goals of living. This world the religious not only leaves, but in doing so burns his bridges behind him so to speak by ceding to God his legitimate" rights tb use what the worldlings abuse. Hence it is always dangerous and some- ~:imes sinful to return to this seductive world even in our thotights and imaginings. But to dwell occasionally upon the present condi-tion of other men and women living in that world of cares and iinxieties from which mercifully we are sheltered can be very profit-able. Never to do so 'may even be to risk emotional immaturity,, a 234 THE WORLD AROUND US serious if not fatal flaw in a religious. For, although at first it sounds shocking, we can indeed learn much from the world. For example, our self-complacency shatters into a million pieces at the thought of how many good, prayerful, mortified people there are who have no title but Miss, Mr., or Mrs. At five in the morning the jangling of a lone alarm clock strikes the ear no more pleasant!y than the clanging of a bell or a throaty "Benedicamus Domino." Yet there are lay Catholics who rise at such an hour, say morning prayers, and set out for Mass in the nearest church. Perhaps they have had a full-night's sleep, perhaps they have been up and down half a dozen times with a restless child or a sick husband or wife. Others, particularly young women who work in offices, attend a noonday Mass during their lunch hour and receive Holy Commun-ion- which meant before the new Eucharistic fast regulations that they had been pounding a typewriter for three or four hours without so much as a sip of water. Man.y say their rosary daily; some steady old breadwinners have spent a few minutes before the Blessed Sac- .rament on their way home from work every day for years. These are by no means all the Catholics living in the world, not even the majority; but the point is that these few pray and sacrifice regularly or~ their own, without our schedule and rule, without the support and good example of our religious brethren, without, yes, the leisure time for prayer afforded us by our state of life. In the parable it was the servant who received only one talent and buried it unprofitably who was so severely reprimanded and punished. We shtidder.to think how severe would ~ave been the condemnation of the servant who received five talents if he had not made good use of them ! Paradoxically, it may also help us to be better religious to recall at times how many bad people there are in the world, crude, cruel, sensual, selfish people whom we seldom meet even in our apostolic contacts. How trifling the annoying faults of our confreres seem beside the gross wickedness of many who pass as respectable in the wgrld. Day in and day out, for instance, fine Catholic men and w,gmen must shut their ears against the flood of foul talk,~which sv~.irls around.workbenches and desks in, the,places they-~are~employed a demorali.zin.g source~ of temptation vce are spared. They must e~i~rn a living.ami~o fierce and often, unethical competition where it is every man for himself. Admittedly that blustering member c~f the. local community who somehow irritates us may not yet have at- 235 JOHN I-~. ZIEGLER Reolew [or Religious tained the highest reaches of humility and charity, but in 6ur .heart we can always be sure that 'if we w~r'e hungry, or sick, or in distress of any kind, he or she would be among the first to come to our aid no matter what the cost. :"' Speaking of per~gnality clashes and apparent lncompat~blhty agwe l~tbel it today, it would be enormously na'ive to suppose that these are restricted to convents and monasteries. Most religious had the good fortune to grow up in homes where father and mother settled their differences amicably and pulled together. Unfortun-ately this is not a universal pattern. The eloquent instruction be-fore marriage used in this country reminds the couple that "the fu,~ ture, with its hopes and disappoint .m. ents, its successes and its fail'- U~es, ii~s pleasures and its pains, its joys and its sorrows" is hidden from their eyes.' Often enough that" future soon reveals itself to be ¯ a bitter disappointment when one or the other partner under the stress of married and family life sho, ws up as a spiteful, unbending, irresponsible person.,. The ea~.y arid 15o, pular way out leads to a divorce court. But eyery parish priest knows of more than one case of sheer heroism on the part of a husband or wife who for years has ~t~d up under this cross rather than renege on a sacred promise and break up a home. So when we find the company of Father Glum oi Sister Garrhlous especially trying, our supernatural charity towards them will be no less meritorious and may even be more effective if we realize that since the fall of Adam human relations have been'an ifi-escapable problem for everybody. Enlarging our horizons and having a world vision can:in many. ways be a tonic to our sometimes sluggish spiritual lives. It is, we must never forget, our world since by .entering the common life we do not and in fact cannot resign from membership in the human race[ Moreover, our apostolic vocation compels us to see in every sinner a potential saint, and without indulging in the dubious esti-mate Of our age as the most wicked in history, we can safely say that objectively at least innumerable mortal sins are being committed. How puny and cowardly do our sacrifices appear against such a backdrop! Listlessly we dally over hundreds of opportunities to merit graces for the spiritually underprivileged while whole nations fall away from God. While Rome burns--thank God, not yet literally--we fritter away our time in the careless performance of our duties of state. Psychologists, say a well-adjusted person must be orientated; he must realize the circumstances of time and place 236 ' September, 1954 THE WORLD AROUND US and people in which he as an individual moves. Spiritual orientation --realizing our vital position in the Mystical Body--is even more necessary, particularly for the .religious assigned by obedience to work that naturally speaking is unattractive and unrewarding. Only when he or she fully appreciates the far-reaching; world-wide conse-quences of any task well done out of love for God can there be achieved that inner contentment and peaceful adjustment to the de-tails of daily life which should characterize every servant of God. A wilfully discontented religious is something of an "Indian giver," since it must be presumed that we knew at least confusedly what we were promising when we gave ourselves to God. Only the wilfully discontented, however, can be blamed, because everyone is apt to feel discontented now and then. Here, too, in these 6ccasional periods of dissatisfaction, turning to the stark reality of the outside World can do wonders for our morale. Imagine us standing before a group of young Catholic mothers and fathers of not poor but moderate circumstances and telling them with a straight face our most recent cause for dissatisfaction: that Sister Fortunata was deemed worthy of a new habit while we were told to put up with our patched one for awhile, or that Father Procurator's fondness for ginger snaps has led him to buy another case of them with the result that the whole comm.unity will be munching on the tasteless things for some weeks to come. While being somewhat amused and per-haps a bit surprised to find such utterly human reactions beneath the religious garb, these Catholic couples could very well give us an en-lightening five-minute lecture on how much it costs to house, clothe, and feed a growing family today, presenting as evidence a handful of unpaid bills. For all its inconveniences and privations. our poverty is at least secure. Their support depends on a monthly pay check which an extraordinary expense like illness can shrink to almost nothing. And then there are always the really poor whose existence, if we are not privileged t!o work among them, we may tend to forget. If we are stationed in a large city, the chances are that less than' a mile or two from our front door there are slums, the decrepitude and squalor of which would send us hurrying back gratefully to our neat little convents. There is little disagreement that over the course of a lifetime the~ most painful sacrifices~made by a religious: stem: from~ obedience. As the venerable Trappist~ lay brother is supposed to have admitted: 'Tve gotten used to almost everything but doing what I'm told." 237 JOHN H, ZIEGLER Reoiew for Religious Again it would be unrealistic to forget that not only religious have superiors. One thing that can be affirmed of our superiors is that however imprudent at times we may think their commands--how seldom all the facts warrant this opinion--their designs are moti-vated by a sincere desire for the good of the community and each of its members. Some of the most embittered persons one can meet in the world are those whose careers were blighted by an unscrupulous executive"s passing over their genuine ability and service to give the nod to some less worthy but conniving crony. The religious who harbors the suspicion that s.uperiors lie awake after night prayers de-vising ways to make him miserable is rapidly becoming pathological, both mentally and spiritually. Our rules and constitutions, or more often customs, sometimes reach a directing or restraining finger into nearly every department of life. But with admirable self-control in view of their past experience with red tape and army regulations, veterans of military service calmly assure us that we have no mon-opoly on minutiae. A West Point graduate confessed that, after the discipline of the Point, the externals of novitiate training did not seem overly difficult. Considerations such as these are not based upon a vision of re-ligious men and women, faithful to their obligations, but for the most part unhappy and disgruntled, dragging their way through life like dreary prisoners. Not at all! But is it unfair and untrue to concede that sooner or later into the life of even the most fervent among us there slink the twin devils of discouragement and self-pity? When they come, bent upon upsetting our spiritual equili-brium, should we not have some natural defense at hand as well as sound supernatural principles? All of creation is at our disposal to use in attaining our eternal destiny. Why not turn the contempo-rary world with its crosses and problems and temptations into a re-minder that the yoke we bear and the burden we shoulder are not altogether unique? ' And yet in one way they are unique. Because we are cross-- bearers not only by necessity as all men are, not only by Christian resignation as most good layfolk are, but by choice, as are all those who voluntarily follow the counsels. In return we above all others have Christ's promise of a hundredfold and life everlasting. This hundredfold we can spoil for ourselves if, too intent upon our own little world, we see our daily sacrifices magnified out of all propor-tion to what they really are. And even our store of eternal merit 238 September, 1954 COMMUNICATIONS can be decreased if, without a world-wide vision of the urgent needs of this hour, we fail to realize how much more we could help if we tried. Com rn un ica!:ions Reverend Fathers: This communication was prompted by Father Gallen's excellent article in the May issue of the REVIEW, "Pray Reasonably." He men-tions common difficulties in retreats for religious women, many of which, I feel, d~pend upon the methods of the retreat master. Often the presentation of points for n~editation loses its essential character through excessive length. Souls wearied by prolonged oratory are deprived of both the leisure and the inclination for fur-ther lengthy reflection. If these points are to retain their purpose of preparation for mental prayer, twenty minutes or half an hour would not seem to be an unreasonable limit, with the explicit in-junction that the retreatants continue the meditation themselves, al-though not necessarily remaining in the chapel to do so. A novel and perhaps very fruitful method of presenting the points would be that of the retreat master "meditating aloud" with brief pauses for the individual to add her own affections, even perhaps with both retreat master and retreatants kneeling. The additional time provided by this shortening of the points might be profitably used in individual contact with souls in the con-fessional. Many sisters do not have an opportunity for spiritual direction during the year and wish to seek advice during the annual retreat. If the hearing of confessions is delayed until the last few days of the retreat, or if the period allotted each day is very limited, the brevity which consideration for others demands makes it difficult to obtain adequate counsel. :~ I am sure that many would benefit by a series of articles on the subject of the retreat in the REVIEW, similar to the excellent treat-ment of spiritual direction a few years ago. Undoubtedly both re-treat masters and retreatants could share many suggestions in this way.--A SISTER. 239 lZor Your/n[orma!:ion Our Proiects In our March, 1954, number (p. 61) we suggested a "project" in the form of pooling ideas as to what it takes to be a good superior. We fiave received some response (even though rather meager) to this suggestion, but we have not yet had time to organize the material. We hope to have it ready for the November number. Also in the March number (p. 62) we suggested an "American Founders' Series." The response to this has also been meager; but the first article of what ,may (or may not) be a series will appear in November. Pharmacists' Guilds It is no easy thing today for the Catholic pharmacist to live up to the moral principles and ideals taught by the Church. One help-ful means of doing this is mutual cooperation in the form of phar-macists' guilds. One such guild is The Druggists' Guild of St. dames, of the Diocese of Covington, Kentucky. This guild has published a pamphlet entitled Our Faith in Pharrnac~j, which explains the moral principles and ideals, tells how to organize a guild, and gives a model of an appropriate constitution and by-laws. The ~0rice of the pam-phlet is twenty-five cents. It can be obtained from: The Druggists' Guild of St. James, 109 W. 6th St., Covington, Ky. Trapplsfs Leave New Mexico" The Trappist community of Our Lady of Guadalupe Abbey, Pecos, New Mexico is soon to be moved to a new site in Oregon. Their New Mexico property is now for sale. It is considered suitable for a convalescent home or some such purpose for any religious group not dependent on natural resources for its support. An illus-trated brochure with pertinent information may be had by writing the Father Abbot, Right Reverend M. Columban 'Hawkins, o.c.s.o., Guadalupe Abbey, Pecos,.New Mexico. 240 Pilgrims on !:he Road t:o Love George Byrne, S,J. THE strangest answer ever given to a questioner was given by Christ to Nicodemus. A doctor of the Law, he had been im-pressed by this "Rabbi, who came a teacher from God." From him, if from anyone, he could learn the ideal of life. What on earth did Christ's answer mean? "A man must be~ born again of water and the Holy Ghost." If there had been question only of some reno-vation by water, he might have understood. John the Baptist's work was not so enigmatic. But to be "born of the Spirit,". and so "to be spirit," entering on a new life unlike the "birth of the flesh," was something unheard of in the schools where the "masters in Israel" taught. Frankly, he did not understand. He was familiar~ with the book of Deuteronomy. He l~new its precept to love God with the whole heart, with the whole strength. But he did not know the meaning of real love; the love which "whether prophecies shall be made void, or tongues shall cease, or knowledge shall be'destroyed, never falleth away." This love bad nothing of earth in it; his mind had not yet been opened to "heav-enly things." He fancied that he loved, and with him we all so fancy; but our love is a love of desire, a yearning of the heart to clasp for self something that will enrich us. When personal gain disal~- pears, the "love" vanishes. It is still more fickle when faced with the cost of suffering. It was not love, pure love. Shakespeare merely repeats St. Paul: "Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds." Pure love is uncaused. It is of heaven; it is heaven, fo~ "God is Love." A complete birth of the spirit is needed to secure it: "Create a dean heart in me, 0 God." Nicodemus must realize how "God so loved the wi~rld as to give His only begotten Son." Nico-demus, with his fellow Jews, practiced an observance calculated to hasten the "restoration of Israel." Self was the kernel of apparent fidelity. The Apostles, too, gave that they might get: "Wilt Thou at this time restore again the kingdom of Israel?" Their feet were not firmly set, as pilgrims, on the road to love--pure love, God's love. For three years the Master had been pointing the way; but their "hearts were slow to believe." About to leave them, He de-clared: "I have yet many things to say to you: but you cannot bear 241 GEORGE BYRNE Reuieto ~:or Religious them now." They had to be "born agai'n" of the Holy Spirit; He "would teach them all truth." He would do more. He would come; He would abide with them. They would not remain "or-phans." They were to find their 'way to the school of love. Born of God, they would love; and, loving with the real love, they would know Him. Before Pentecost the Apostles remained behind closed doors for fear of the Jews. After Pentecost they were "wit-nesses of the Holy Ghost." They bad been born again to the true love of God. Now. they wanted to give that they "might be chil-dren of their Father in heaven": "They went from the pr~esence of the council, rejoicing that they were accounted worthy to suffer re-proach for the name of Jesus." "To GIVE AND NOT TO COUNT THE COST" We saw in a previous article (REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, XIII [July, 1954], 211) that, though all of us would resent' being told that we are inc.apable of love, we should be read9 enough to demur about the epithet. "holy." Even though we might count ourselves among the class of "good religious," there would be a lurking feeling that "holy" is reserved for the "saints." We rather think of it as applicable to some rare supermen, who have shaken the world's dust from their feet and have reached a No-Ordinary-Man's Land, through an asceticism, and a still more esoteric mysticism, beyond our range. A fundamental mistake, since "holiness" and "'real love" are identified: "He who loveth is born of God." St. John, who bad pondered over Christ's reply to Nicodemus, at last under-stood it fully at Pentecost. When he began to write his Epistle, he had "been born again" and had come to "know God" with the knowledge that "is eternal life: that they may know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent." The truth is easily stated. In practice, however, it seems one of those easy lessons hard to learn. John could speak of that "which we have heard, which we have seen with our ~yes . and our hands hav~ handled, of the word of life." St. Peter would strengthen our faith in its trial with the words, "Whom having not seen, you love." We remain doubtful: "how, where, and when have we shown this love? The Master Himself has removed all uncertainty: "Lord, when did we see Thee hungry . . . ? Amen, I say to you, as long as you did it to one of these my least brethren, you did it to me." The test of love is generosity; the test of pure love is unselfish generosity: "to give, and not to count the cost . . . to labor and not 242 September, 1954 PILGRIMS ON THE ROAD TO LOVt~ to seek reward": "Do good, and lend, hoping for nothing thereby: ¯ . . and you shall be the sons of the Highest." The "rich man" may well, like the Pharisee, have pridec] himself on his religion of temple service and Law, observance; growth in holiness he neglected. Lazarus, at his gate, offered him an oppor- ¯ -tunity. of growing in love by compassion. He neglected it; he was buried in hell, where all the loveless go! St. Francis de Sales has been called the saint of love: his pen distilled the word; his actions breathed it. His friends asked him the way to holiness. "You must love God with all your heart; and your neighbor as yourself," he.answered. "Yes," they said, "we know all that; but bow is one to do it?" To their insistence he replied: "Methods and systems I have.n't, got. You learn to love by loving; as you learn to speak by spe~iking, to run by running. ¯ . . Begin as a mefe~pprentice, and the very power of love will lead you on to become master of the art." " St. 'Paul, certainI~ a fire-eater, "breathing out threatenings and slaughter aga~nst~the d~sc~ple~of the Lord," d~d sit down as an ap-prentice to learn. He mastered th~ lesson and left it as an heirloom for us in his beautiful "Song of Love." If we would be "holy," we could do no better than constantly sing to ourselves this song, and let its melody harmonize with all we think about or do to oust. fellowmen. Let us begin the apprenticeship at home before looking for arctic regions to whrm with rays of our kindliness. This was the "little way" of Thgr~se of Lisieux. ~She daily tended, in her own little garden, roses whose perfume spread far and wide. Let us take St. Paul's Song of Love, and place in an opposite column the growl of selfishness. CHARITY is patient . . . is kind: on the look-out to help . . . envieth not: encourages, praises . . . dealeth not perversely . . . is not puffed up . . . is not ambitious . . . seeketh'not her own . . . .SELFISHNESS is impatient: "I can't stand thls"; "give it to me now" . . . is intolerant, bored: keeps what it has; looks for more . . . is jealous: criticizes, condemns to ap-pear bigger . . . loves to "hit back," to "take dowa that fellow's prideV' . . . lets others know what it has done; thrives on flattery . . . is full of its own importance; expects due reqognition . . . insists on its rights; "number one" is never second . . . 243 GEORGE BYRNE CHARITY is not provoked to anger . rejoiceth not in iniquity, but . . . with the truth . . . SELFISHNr:SS is touchy: flares up at a word or an act . . . admires the crafty; is afraid of sin-cerity . . . beareth all things . . . believeth all things . . . hopeth all things . . . endureth all things, . never falleth away. complains of each pin-prick . . . is suspicious, on its guard . . . is cynical: throws cold water . . . has little staying power when sacrifice is needed: is fickle. As religious, we make an examination of conscience at least once, peihaps twice a day. A mere inventory of so many duties well done, poorly done, or forgotten, does not carry us very far on the way to real improvement. The point to be stressed is not the work done, but the motive, the spirit, animating it. Our divine Master made this clear in commendin~g Mary Magdalen: "Many sins are forgiven her because she hath loved much." If instead of "Charity" w~ read in the first column, "Jesus," we see how true it is: "Jesus is patient, is kind, beareth all things, etc." Then try our own name: "John, Mary, etc." We soon see how little we fit into the "Char-ity" column; on the contrary, how much we are at home in the selfishness parade. Having made the discovery, let us look forward to possible op-portunities during the next hour, this morning, or this afternoon, of being "patient, kind, enduring," and the rest: let us resolve to profit by some of them. It is thus. that we "learn to love b,y loving." It is thus that we really start as pilgrims on the road to love and find to our surprise that we have more in common with the Heart of Love, the Sacred Heart, than we imagined. Holiness, wl~ich is growth in love, is not an empty dream. OUR CONTRIBUTORS JOHN R. POST is master of novices at the Jesuit novitiate, Shadowbrook, at Lenox, Massachusetts. JOHN H. ZIEGLER is doing graduate studies at the Catholic University of America. GEORGE BYRNE is professor of ascetical theology at Mill-town Park, Dublin, Ireland. FRANCIS N. KORTH is a member of our editorial. board. 244 'i Secular Ins!:d:u!:es: Some ( ues!:ions Francis N. Korth, S.J. IN A PREVIOUS ISSUE of this REVIEW (XIII [1954], 108)~, I referred to a number of interesting points about secular insti-tutes, many of which came up during the discussions of the ruary, 1954, Chicago meeting dealing with secular institutes. At the time I mentioned that I hoped to present these points in a future article, possibly in question-and-answer form. This is'the redemp-tion of that promise. The items are more or less iso'lated points. They are being presented with a view to filling out to some extent the general picture of what a secular institute is. It is hoped they will fulfill the purpose for which they are intended. I. Must applicants necessarily go to a distant city where a house of the secular institute is located? Personal acquaintance of the applicant should be had by the adviser who acts for the secular institute. This usually means a trip on someone's part. Later ori some other provision for the training of successful can~lidates closer to their home might possibly be worked out, especially if there are several such candidates living in about the same vicinity. However, that solution would depend upon a number of circumstances: sometimes it might be possible, other times it would be impossible. It would be better not to count upon it but rather to more or less plan on going for the necessary training.to the place where the house of the secular institute is lo-cated, at least for some period of time. 2. Is it adoisable to admit ex-religious as candidates to a secular institute? At least at the beginning of a new secular institute it would seem to be advisable not to take in too many ex-religious, since they already have undergone a systematic training different from that proper to candidates for a secular institute. That previous training might binder the development of the true spirit of a budding secular institute. 3. Are middle-aged people likely candidates for a'dmittance to secular institutes? 245 " FRANCIS N. KORTH Review for Religious M.any otherwise good people of that age group might not have all the?necessary q~J'alifications.for .such a vocation. One of these would be the proper age requirement for admittance to a specified institute. Hence one who is channeling possible vocations to dif-ferent secular institutes should make himself acquainted with the age requirements of the various groups. 4. Are widows acceptable as candidates for a secular institute? Widows can be admitted, unless the individual constitutions forbid it. If the widow has children, that might make a difference. Depending upon circumstances, .such applicants might be accepted or might be refused. 5. Would divorced persons be admitted? Under the supposition that the constitutions allow it, if the divorced person is the innocent party, such applicant could be ad-mitted provided there was no scandal: for example, if the identity of the person as a member of the secular institute is kept hidden if that be necessary to avoid scandal, or if the person goes to a place far removed from the locality where he is known. 6. What is the length of the aspirancy and of the novitiate? A six-months' aspirancy seems to be rather common. The period of training which corresponds to the novitiate in religious institutes varies: it is of one- or two-years' duration in some existing institutes. 7. Could the vows or promises made in a secular institute be termed semipublic? Yes, that term has been applied to them at'times since those vows, oaths, consecrations, or promises have a juridical effect. How-ever, all such vows, oaths, consecrations, and promises are, abso-lutely speaking, juridically private and not public; they are not recognized as public by the Church. But to distinguish them from ordinary private vows (which have no juridical effects) those vows have been termed by some commentators as semipublic or social VOWS. 8. What type or courses of studies might be suggested for the intel-lectual formation of members? Courses or lectures in dogmatic theology and in~ some branches of philosophy could be given. Also there is place-for courses in 246 September, 1954 SECULAR INSTITUTES asceticism. Dependent upon the particular apostolate of an institute, courses in languages, missiology, sociology, and other subjects would be suitable. 9. How much time would be given to prayer? In some institutes about one or two hours daily are required. This includes attendance at Mass, saying the rosary, a ball bout or more of meditation, some spiritual reading, and the like. Because many members are busy during the day earning their livelihood or doing their usual tasks, the suitable time for prayer would be the morning or evening hours. In some institutes the Divine Office (usually only a pari of it) is said privately each day. An annual retreat of five or six days is the regular thing. There might also be a monthly day of recollection. 10. Is any means used for checking on faithfulness to those prayer obligations? One possible means could be a written report on the external ful-fillment of the prayer obligations. However, no data is available on how much, if any, of this is done in practice. I1. What provision is made for the observance of the vow or promise of poverty? When the members are living in a common house and bare goods in common, the matter can be provided for quite easily. This is rarely the case. When the members do not live in a common house, a "budget" method could be used. This budget might be drawn up to cover ordinary expenses, such as light, food, heat, and so on. It might also be extended to include another category, extraordinary ex-penses: necessary or useful expenses that arise only occasionally. In either case, the estimated budget of expenses could be submitted periodically to the superior for approval, perhaps once a year. After- ~vards, at stated intervals the discrepancies between this estimated budget and the real budget, of which a record bad been kept, would be submitted to the superior for approval of the discrepancies. This budget would be individual; it would take into account such facts as the resources or income of the subject and his status in society. If the budget covers only ordinary expenses, then for extraordinary expenses (for example, the purchase of a new coat) permission could be obtained each time from the superior. Or provision might be 247 FRANCIS N. KORTH Review for Religious made to allow the subject to presume permission for the extraordi-nary expense and then report the matter later on. Similarly, in regard to the amount of money to be contributed by each member for the general needs of the institute, an agreement could be made between the institute (superior) and the subject. This might be made on a somewhat permanent basis, or as something to be re-examined and possibly revised periodically, say annually. If the former, then a clause could be added requiring re-examination in case the financial .condition of the subject became notably c.hanged. Again in drawing up this agreement, account is taken of the financial status of the individual. In general, in the matter of poverty a member could try to get along with a little less than other persons in his state of life or social position require. 12. Could a me~ber of a secular institute ~wn and operate a busi-ness? : Owning and operating a business in the name of the institute is forbidden, but it does not seem forbidden for an individual member to own and operate one. 13. Could a member prot)ide.for his parents financially it: the latter were in need? If the parents of a member fell int~ need, it seems that the supe-rior could approve such assistance as a necessary expense. In that case, however, the institute itself would not support the parents of the member, but it,would permit the member to support them. 14. Do members of secular institutes mal~e a will? Yes, a will or last testament is made before profess)on. 15. What about dealing with the opposite sex? Aside from professional or other necessary contact, it would seem that steady or regular contact with members of the opposite sex is to be avoided. This would also extend to correspondence. In the matter of dancing, members could sponsor or chaperon dances, but they .would not themselves dance with persons of the opposite sex. However, it is possible that such provisions might vary some-what in different institutes. . 16. Is it permissible fgr members to attend movies? to use cos-metics? to smoke? to go swimming? , 248 September, 1954 SECULAR INSTITUTES In these matters, there very likely might be divergent practices among various institutes. According to one report it is all right for the members to attend movies for recreational purposes if the pic-tures are good; moderate use of cosmetics is allowed; no mention is made for or against smoking; swimming is permissible. The deci-sion as to what is permissible or not in these and similar matters might depend to a considerable extent upon the customs of places and peoples. 1.7. For what purpose would a secular institute be established? A secular institute would have the general purpose of aiming at the sanctification of its members. There would also be a specific purpose, such as doing some particular apostolic work to meet a special apostolic need, or simply placing its members at the disposal of the local ordinary (or of the Holy See) to do what, he wishes done. 18. In u2hose hands is the government of a secular institute? In general the government of a secular institute is in the hands of its lay members, at least for the lay sections. In some institutes, however, a priest is serving in the capacity of superior general or provincial superior. But as a rule priest members might act rather in the capacity of spiritual advisers or confessors. 19. What is an ecclesiastical assistant? An ecclesiastical assistant (who might be known possibly~ by some other term) is a priest specially designated to give help to a secular institute. He might be chosen from the ranks of the diocesan or religious clergy. In general the function of an ecclesiastical as-sistant would be that of counseling, giving spiritual help, and the like in the external forum; but his work might vary somewhat at times in accordance with the wishes of the local ordinary. The in-. ternal government of a group, however, should be left to thegroup itself, unless possibly at 'the beginning more than spiritual help is needed from this priest to keep things going. 20. Would it be advisable for this ecclesiastical assistant, ~vbo has authoritq in spiritual matters in the external forum, also to be the ordinartj confessor or spiritual director of a member? If a discussion of t'bis point were held, the conclusion migbt be reached that a negative answer would seem to/be the better one, al- 249 FR,~,NCIS N. KORTH though in some instances such a combination might work out all right. 21. Is it advisable to use terms, such as "'novitiate," "profession," and so on in connection with secular institutes? At present some of the terminology which is common usage in regard to religious institutes is being used by some writers to explain similar matters relating to secular institutes. Terms such as "no-vitiate" and others which are proper to religious institutes are usu-ally not to be applied in their technical sense to secular institutes; rather it is hoped that a distinct body of terminology proper to secular institutes will be built up gradually. One purpose of such separate terminology might be to stress the important fact that members of secular institutes are not religious. PAMPHLETS Looe Letter (on the love of God) by John M. Scott, S.J. l0 cents.-- Twenty-four Rosaries and Chaplets, by Patrick Shaughnessy, O.S.B. 15 cents.- The Grail, St. Meinrad, Indiana. The Teacher and Vocations, by John B. Delaunay, C.S.C. 10 cents-- Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, Indiana. The Ladtl Was Immaculate, by Daniel A. Lord, S.J.--I Can't Cope/ That Family, by Francis L. Filas, S.d.--Death Is Life, by John M. Scott, S.J.--Heart of Our World," by Arthur R. McGratty, S.J.--Don't Go to Hell, by Winfrid Herbst, S.J.--Each 10 cents. The Queen's Work, 3115 3outh Grand Blvd., St. Louis 18,, Mo. MARIAN YEAR PLAY Counted as Mine is a play of three acts, six scenes, with a modern-dress cho-rus, suitable for performance by high school and college students or by little the-atre groups and parish drama clubs. It is the story of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the Hope of America. Written by a Poor Clare, the author of the play, Candle in Umbria, and of the boqk of poems, Whom. I Have Loued. $1.00 per copy. Order from: t(ev. Mother M.'Immaculata, P.C., Poor Clare Monastery of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Route 1, Box 285-C, Roswell, New Mexico. 25O Quinquennial Repor!: By Nonfederated Autonomous Monasteries and Houses EDITORS' INTRODUCTION THE decree of the Sacred Congregation of Religious, 3uly 9, 1947 (cf. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, VIII [Sept., 1949], 234- 40), extended the obligation of m~lking the quinquennial re-port beyond the terms of canon 510, which requires it only of the abbot primate, the superior of every monastic congregation, and the superior general of every institute approved by the Holy See. Now, however, the superiors of all nonfederated autonomous monasteries and houses, as well as the superiors general of all diocesan congrega-tions, are obliged to send in this quinquennial report. Here are the provisions regarding these latter classes of religious: 1. Major superiors of autonomous, monasteries or houses o[ men which, although approved by the Holy See, do not belong to any monastic congregation or federation, shall send in their reports in the foIlowing order: In 1953, 1958, 1963, canons regular, monks, military orders. In 1954, 1959, 1964, all other regulars. In 1955, 1960, 1965, clerical congregations. In 1956, 1961, 1966, lay congregations. In 1957, 1962, 1967, societies of common life, secular insti-tutes and federations. 2. Major superioresses of autonomous monasteries and houses not belonging to any federation, as well as superioresses general of diocesan congregations, societies of common life, and of secular in-stitutes, shall send their report as follows: In I953, 1958, I963, the superioresses of Italy, Spain, Portu-gal. In 1954, 1959, 1964, the superioresses of France, Belgium, Holland, England, Ireland. In 1955, 1960, 1965, the superioresses of the other countries of Europe. In 1956, 1961, 1966, the superioresses of America (North,. Central, South). Shortly after the publication of its decree, the Sacred Congrega- "25t QUINQUENNIAL REPORT tion issued a new questionnaire to replace the official one of March 25, 1922 (AAS, XV, [1923], 459-466) which contained 106 questions. The new questionnaire, printed in Latin, has three forms: (1) for pontifical institutes and societies (342 questions); (2) for diocesan congregations and societies (322 questions); (3) for nonfederated autonomous monasteries and houses (171 questions). The first of these questionnaires, for pontifical institutes a, nd societies, has been translated into English and published by the Sa-cred Congregation. It is available for $1.50 from Rev. Giulio Mandelli, Archivist, S. Congregation of Religious, Palazzo San Cal-listo, Rome, Italy. With the permission of the Sacred Congrega: tion of Religious, this complete official English text was also pub-lished in REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS during the course of the year 1950. The two shorter questionnaires have never been translated officially into English. As a matter of fact, the questionnaires fbr pontifical and diocesan institutes are practically identical after one omits some twenty questions dealing with provinces and their government. The complete text for diocesan congregations may be found in Creusen-Ellis: Religious Men and Women in the Code, ed. 5, 1953, pp. 278-316. The questionnaire for nonfederated autonomous monas.teries and houses, however, contains only about half the questions pro-posed for pontifical institutes. It was decided to publish this ques-tionnaire in our REVIEW for the benefit of these small houses because they cannot find the qfiestions elsewhere in English, And, since the monasteries and houses in England and Ireland must send in their reports this year, this questionnaire is being printed now, even though American houses will not need it until 1956. We should like to add that, though these various questionnaires may directly concern only limited numbers of religious, yet all of us can learn a great deal about the mind of the Church by reading the questions. What follows is an unofficial English translation of the official Latin text of the questionnaire: POINTS TO BE NOTED A) Regarding the drawing up, and writing of the quinquennial re-port: a) ]~efore the reply to each question, there should be a clear 252 ~ September, 1954 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT ¯indication of the number and letter by which that question is desig- ~aated in this list. b) Whenever a pontifical or episcopal document is brought in, its date and protocol number should be faithfully and uniformly given. c) The reply is to be developed as each case may require, and is not to be dismissed with a simple affirmation or denial. d) The report is to be made out in Latin or in any of the fol-lowing modern languages: English, French, German, Spanish, or Italian. e) The report should be typed and in clear characters. If for some just cause the report is written by hand, the handwriting must be clear. f) The paper to be used must not be translucent nor too thick, but durable, so as to resist the ravages of time. B)" Regarding the manner in which this report is to be made to the ordinaGl and transmitted b~] him to the Sacred Congregation of Religious: 1. Superiors of autonomous monasteries and religious houses are not to send the quinquennia! report directly to the Holy See, but rather to their own local ordinary, if they are subject to him, other-. wise to the regular ordinary upon whom they depend (cf. decree Cure transactis, IV, 1°, 2°). 2. The report is to be signed by the superior of the autono-mous monastery or house and by all his councilors. 3. Either the local ordinary or the regular ordinary, as the case may be, shall send a copy of the report, signed by himself and an-notated by his own personal observations, to the Sacred Congrega-tion of Religious within the year itself during which the report is to be made. 4. Together with the first report following the publication of the present questionnaire, the following documents also are to be sent to the Sacred Congregation of Religious: a) Two well-bound copies of the Rule and the constitutions, revised to conform with the Code of Canon Law. .b) One copy each, if there are such, of the books in which particular laws, practices, customs, the ceremonial, and proper prayers are contained. c) A historico-juridical report in which are indicate.c[.the origin of the autonomous monastery or house, its establishment or 253 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT Reoiew for Religious approval, as well as the principal historical events. To this shall be added, if there are any such, copies of those books which describe the history and activity of the monastery. " ¯ ON THE FIRST PAGE OF THE REPORT PUT THE FOLLOWING: The Name, of the monastery or house: . . . ~ (the of{iclal title in Latin, and the common name) Complete address: postal, telegraphic. The years which are covered by the report: . . . THE LIST OF OUESTIONS CONCERNING THE PRECEDING REPORT 1. a) When was the last report sent to the ordinary? b) Were the observations on the report which may have been made by the Sacred Congregation and transmitted by the or-dinary faithfully carried out in practice? 2. Can the matters of information contained in the last report be conscientiously considered reliable and complete, or does anything concerning them seem to require modification? CHAPTER I THE MONASTERY AND ITS GOVERNMENT ARTICLE I The autonomous monastery or house in general 3. What is the juridical nature of the monastery or house: a) To which order, if any, does it belong and which Rule is followed? b) Are the vows solemn or simple; or simple, though sol-emn according to the institute (c. 488, 7°) ? 4. Is the house provided with those things which are neces-sary for the common life, especially: a) A separate cell for each person; or, if the dormitories are common, at least a separate bed for each person, properly set apart from the others? 254 September, 1954 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT b) A separate place fully suitable for the care and assistance of the sick? c) Are the rooms for receiving guests sufficiently separate from the part of the house which is reserved to the community? 5. Are there an.y filial houses subject to the autonomous mon-astery or house? How many? 6. Does the monastery depend on the local ordinary or on the regular superior? ARTICLE II Concernin9 he juridical 9overnmen÷ 7. Is the general council of the monastery or house up to its full membership at present? 8. Within the period covered by the report, has there been a session of the chapter of elections? 9. Were the norms [for the chapter] prescribed by the com-mon law and by particular law "(the constitutions, etc.) faithfully observed as regards: a) The time of the session? b) The elections of the superior, of the consultors or assist-ants, and of other general officials who are elected by the chapter? 10. In all these matters, even in seeking information about the candidates, did all avoid procuring votes either directly or indirectly for themselves or for others (c. 507, § 2) i1. Who presided at the chapter? 12. Were the norms of the common law and of the constitu-tions observed: a) Regarding the requisites and qualifications of superiors and officials (cc. 504, 516)? b) Regarding the duration of offices (c. 505) 13. How many and what dispensations from the provisions of the common or particular law were granted by the Holy See: a) For appointments to positions or offices? b) For the renewal of the same? c) Were the conditions attached to these dispensations faithfully observed ? 14. How do superiors see to it that the decrees of the Holy See which concern religious are known and observed by their own sub-jects (c. 509, § 1)? 15. Is perfect freedom left to subjects, without any inspec-tion of letters by superiors, in their epistolary correspondence with 255 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT those persons who, according to the common (c. 611) and particu-lar law, have this right? 16. Were there any cases of secret and clandestin~ epistolary correspondence, either between religious or between these and secu-lar persons, and what ,was done to correct these abuses? 17. Has the canonical, visitation of the local ordinary taken place, as well as that of the regular superior, if the monastery is sub-ject to him? 18. Have chapters and council meetings been held at prescribed times and in the required cases? 19. Are the matters in which, according to the common and particular law, councilors have a deliberative or consultative vote, faithfully submitted to a meeting of the council? 20. Is the proper liberty of all and each of the councilors duly recognized in the council meetings? And'in the decisions, appoint-ments and votes of whatever kind, were the norms of the common law (cc. 101, 105, 1°, 2°, 3°) and of the particular law always ob-served ? 21. Are the minutes of the meetings duly drawn up and signed? 22. Are the archives of the monastery or house properly equipped and carefully arranged? 23. Is there also for each house a chronicle in which the prin-cipal events are carefully recorded? ARTICLE III Concerning the spiritual government 24. Are there confessors appointed for each house according to c. 518, § i? 25. Without prejudice to the constitutions which may pre-scribe or recommend that confessions be made at stated times to ap-pointed confessors, are the religious left free to go, in accordance with canon 519, without prejudice however to religious discipline, to a confessor approved by the local ordinary, even though he is not among the appointed confessors? 26. Are the norms of the common law and of the constitu-tions faithfully observed regarding the appointment and reappoint-ment of the ordinary, extraordinary, special, and supplementary confessors (cc. 520, §§ 1-2, 521, 524, 526, 527)? 27. Did superioresses faithfully observe the prescriptions made for them regarding supplementary confessors (c. 521, § 3), occa- 256 September, 1954 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT sional confessors (c. 522), and confessors in case of grave illness (c. 523) ? 28. Do superiors take means and exercise a prudent vigilance to see that all the religious, according to law" (c. 595, § 1, 3,°) and the constitutions (c. 519), receive the sacrament of penance at least once a week? 29. Have superiors been guilty of any abuses, and if so what were they, by which the liberty of conscience of their subjects has been restricted (cc. 518, § 3, 519, 520, § 2, 521,§ 3, 522, 2414)? 30. Has there been, under pretext of.liberty of conscience, any detriment to religious discipline on the part of subjects? Did any other abuses arise? 31. Do superiors, in accordance with canon law (c. 530, §§ 1, 2) leave their subjects free in regard to making a strict mani-festation of conscience to them? 32. Is there an appointed chaplain, or have other provisions been made by sacred functions sufficient for the spiritual welfare of the religious? Are there any difficulties with regard to the spiritual welfare? 33. Do superiors, in accordance with c. 5'95, §§ 2-3, promote among their subjects frequent and even daily reception of the Most Sacred Body of Christ, always without prejudice to full liberty of conscience according to law (c. 595, § 4) and the instructioris of the Holy See? 34. Do superiors diligently see to it that confessors are easily available before Communion, and do they allow their religious sub-jects a suitable time for preparation and thanksgiving? 35. Do superiors see to it that, according to the constitutions and the common law, there are spiritual and catechetical instructions for the entire house (c. 509, § 2, 2°), for the novices (c. 565, § 2), for the conversi [lay brothers and lay sisters], for the domes-tics and servants .(c. 509, § 2, 2°) ? ARTICLE IV Concern[n9 fhe f[nanclal 9overnmenf 36. a) Did the house 'acquire any immovable property or precious movable property? What was the value of these acquisi-tions? b) Was the aforesaid property acquired by gift or other gra-tuitous title, or by purchase, and in this latter case was it with the funds of the house or with borrowed money? 257 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT Review for Religious 37. Has the house an inventory of its movable property, espe-cially of that which is classed as precious (by reason of art, his-tory, or material) (c. 1522, 2°) and of its immovable property? 38. When must these inventories be revised, and are they in fact revised? 39. By what method or in whose name before the civil law is the religious property registered? Can this registration be regarded as safe in civil law? 40. Were extraordinary expenses paid from their own ordi-nary or extraordinary income, or on the contrary with borrowed funds? 41. What capital property, whether immovable, or stable [i.e. consisting of capital funds], or precious, was alienated, and by what authority? 42. In the alienation of property, were the provisions of law (cc. 534, 1531), especially regarding the previous appraisal by ex-perts, and the norms of the constitutions, observed? 43. Did the house consume any stable or founded property or capital funds? For what reasons and by what authority? 44. Are superiors making serious efforts to recover this prop-erty ? 45. a) What debts were contracted, and by whom? b) What debts are actually outstanding~ 46. In contracting debts and obligations, were the following faithfully observed : a) The provisions of c. 534? b) The precautions mentioned in c. 536, § 5? c) The norms of the constitutions regarding permissions, the consent of the council, etc. ? 47. Was the interest on debts and obligations faithfully paid, and is diligent care being taken toward the gradual payment of the debt; or the amortization of the capital sum borrowed (c. 536, § 5)? 48. Are there any difficulties of an economic nature, and what are they ? 49. Is the administration of property conducted, not abitrar-ily, but according to the common law and the constitutions, under the direction and vigilance of the superior and of his council (cc. 516, § 2, 532, § 1)? 50. Was a clear and complete rendering of account demanded 258 September, 1954 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT of all and each of the bursars and administrators during the five-year period ? 51. Were there presented, together .with the accounts, the documents showing the expenditures and receipts? 52. Was there regularly an inspection and checking of the safe? 53. Did superiors, councils, and administrators lawfully, safely, and profitably invest the money which was to be invested according to law and the will of benefactors, observing the rules of law and the constitutions (c. 533) ? 54. Are money, securities, contracts, precious articles carefully preserved, observing exactly the common norms and the provisions of the constitutions? 55. Do superiors, bursars, administrators conscientiously strive to have all the property of the institute religiously preserved and providently administered (c. 532, § 1)? 56. What legacies and pious foundations were accepted? 57. In accepting pious foundations and legacies, were the rule~ of law (c. 1544, ss.) and of the constitutions observed? 58. Was the money of foundations and pious causes, accord-ing to law and with the consent of the 16cal ordinary when that was required, invested (cc. 535,. §§ 1,. 2: 1547)' and separately and faithfully administered (cc. 535, § 3, 2°; 1546; 1549)? 59. Were the obligations attached to foundations faithfully and conscientiously fulfilled (cc. 151,4, 1549, § 2)? 60. Did visitors demand documentary proof of their fulfil-ment and an account of the administration of the property? 61. Did any religious, superiors or subjects, personally or through others, engage in illicit business, that is, business not per-mitted to religious, in violaton of cc. 142, 592? 62. Were superiors and councils attentively watchful that, ac-cording to c. 1539, § 2, in the administrative exchange of securities payable to bearer, all appearance of commerce or trading was avoid-ed? 63. How did superiors exercise vigilance over the actions and dealings of their subjects from which there might arise according to law a financial responsibility on the part of tbe house (c. 536, § 2) or of the individual religious (c. 536, § 3) ? 64. Do superiors see to it that, in all matters which concern finances, or in those generally which could give occasion for litiga-tion in the canonical or civil courts, everything is done exactly ac- 259 QUINQUENNIAL" "R EPOR.T Review for Religious cording to law, on the basis of previous written contracts and with the guarantee of perfectly valid signed agreements, etc. (c. 1529)? 65. How are the economic needs of the monastery provided for: by the labor of the community or by alms? 66. What, if any, activity does the community engage in for its own support? CHAPTER II CONCERNING THE RELIGIOUS AND THE RELIGIOUS LIFE AND DISCIPLINE 67. What are the different classes, if any, among the members of the monastery? Does harmony exist among the different classes and is fraternal charity observed among them? 68. What is the actual number of those professed of tempo-rary vows and of perpetual vows, according to the various classes? 69. Besides the persons who belong to the institute or society as members, by religious profession or lawful incorporation, are there others who are dedicated or given to it, or the like, without being members? 70. Is provision made in fairness and charity for the spiritual life of these persons and also for their material security? 71. Are there any legitimately approved statutes for them? ARTICLE I Concerning the admission, formation, and profession or incorporation of members 72. Is the condition of the extern sisters regulated according to the statutes promulgated by the S. Congregation on 3uly 16, 19317 73. Are the postulantships properly conducted according to law in the novitiate house (c. 540, § 1), or in houses where perfect religious observance exists (c. 540) ? 74. Was the time assigned by the common law (c. 539) or by the constitutions for the postulantship abbreviated or prolonged? If so,~for how long a time and by what authority? 75. What means are used to arouse and attract vocations? 76. Taking into account the different circumstances of various localities, what causes are regarded as having an influence on the in-crease or diminution of vocations? 77. What are the obstacles which aspirants most frequently have to overcome in order to follow th~ir vocation? 260 September, 195"4 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT 78. Were the documents required by the 'common law (c. 544) and by the constitutions demanded before admission in the case of each aspirant? 79. At least before entrance into the novitiate, were the fol-lowing testimonial letters demanded and obtained: a) The common testimonial letters which are to be given by the local ordinaries and are prescribed for all (c. 544, § 2) ? b) The special testimonial letters which are to be given under oath by the rector or major superior fo~ those who have been in a seminary or a college which is equivalent to an ecclesiastical one, or in a postulantship or novitiate of a religious institute (c. 544, §3)? c) Likewise the testimonial letters which are required in the case.of clerics and professed religious (c. 544, §§ 4, 5) ? 80. Besides the documents and testimonials which are spe-cially prescribed by law or by the constitutions, were further infor-mations which seemed necessary or useful in order to judge with certainty of the vocation and fitness of the aspirants diligently sought (c. 544, § 6)? 8 I. From what impediments¯ or defects, if any, of the common or particular law, were dispensations granted? How often and by what authority was this done? 82. Were aspirants always admitted by the competent su-periors, according to the prescriptions of the law (c. 543) ? 83. Is the right of the institute to demand payment for the expenses of the religious habit and board during the postulantship and noviceship given in the constitutions or customarily recognized by express agreement? 84. Who determines the amount to be paid? 85. How many novices are there at present? 86. Did each and every novice have a complete copy of the constitutions from the beginning of the novitiate? 87. Are ~he novices, according to law and the constitutions, kept separate from the professed, and is any undue communication between them tolerated (c. 564, § 1, 2) ? 88. Did each and every novice before profession make a com-plete and continuous canonical year of noviceship, without counting the first day, in a novitiate house lawfully erected, under the care and direction of a master (cc. 555, § 1, 556, 557) ? 89. Was the noviceship extended or shortened beyond the 261 QUINQUEN.NIAL REPORT Review for Religio. us limits fixed by law (c. 571, §2) and the constitutions? If so, for how long a time and by w.hat authority was this done? 90. Was there always in the novitiate a master of novices duly appointed or elected (c. 560) ? 91. Have the novice master and his socius all the qualifications and all the requisites prescribed by the common law (c. 559, § 1, 2) and the cgnstitutions, or did dispensations have to be asl~ed for" and obtained ? 92. A~ the master and socius free from all offices and minis-~ tries in or out of the house which might interfere with their care a'nd direction of the novices( c. 559, § 3)? 93. Did all the novices, according to c. 569, § 1, before the first profession of simple vows, freely cede the administration, and either cede or dispose of the use and usufruct, of their propett~y? 94. In case the aforesaid cession and disposition were n6t:':duly made before the profession, or in case new property was acquired thereafter, were they made or completed after the profession (c. 569, § 2)? 95. Were any changes of the aforesaid cession and disposition after the profession made always in accordance with c. 580, § 37 96. Did the novices of the monasteries of simple vows, before their first profession of temporary vows, freely make a will in due.: form, valid according to the civil law, regarding their present or future property (c. 569, § 3)? 97. Were any changes in this will which may have been made after profession, made according to c. 583, 2°? . .: 98. Do the superior and council carefully and constan.tly keep-a strict watchfulness as regards admissions? ¯ 99. Has the first profession, after eight 'full .days of spiritual exercises, always been made validly and licitly according to law and the constitutions (cc. 572, 573, 575)? 100. Did the superioresses, two months before admission to the noviceship, and to the first temporary profession, and to perpetual profession, give timely notice to the local ordinary (c. 552, § 1), so that he or his delegate might gratuito.usly conduct the canonical-ex-amination regarding the free and conscious will of the postulant or candidate (c. 552, § 2)?. : 101. Was the prescribed examination always made? ' 102. Is the dowry obligatory, or, on the contrary, is it left en-. tirely or partly optional (c. 547, § 3) ? 262 September, 1954 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT . 103. Was the delivery of .the dowry made according to law (c. 547, § 2) and the constitutions? 104. Were the dowries, immediately after the first profession, always invested by the superioress, with the deliberative vote of her council and the consent of the ordinary of the place where the capi-tal of the dowries is kept (c. 549) ? 105. Were the dowries spent or encumbered in any way before the death of the religious concerned? If so, by what authority Was this done? Were the dowries so spent or encumbered, even though it was done after obtaining lawful permission, afterward restored or cleared of the encumbrance? What is their condition at the present time (c. 549) ? 106. Where and how are the dowries administered? Are the rules of law faithfully observed regarding their administration (cc. 550, 535, § 2)? 107. Is all property which is brought in as dowry, even though it be in excess of the sum required for a dowry in the constitutions or even though there be in ihe congregation no obligation to bring in a dowry, accepted, invested, administered, etc. with the observance of the norms which govern dowries? 108. In case of the departure of a professed religious, for what-ever was needed that she might safely and decently return borne and likewise the personal belongings which t.he novice brought with her at her entrance, in the condition in which they were when she left, restored to the religious departing or transferring~ without the in-come which had a.lready accrued (cc. 551, 570, § 2)? 109. In case of the departure of a professed religious who had been received without a dowry or with an insufficient one, if she was unable to provide for herself out of her own property, did the insti-tute out of charity according to law (c. 643, § 2), give her what-ever was needed thatshe might safely and decently return home and be fittingly supported for a tim~? 110. What, if any, dispensations were necessary for the pro-nouncement of the vows? 111. How many and what sanations-were afterward necessary? 112. Were the temporary vows which are prescribed by law and by the constitutions (c. 574, § 1), when the tittle for which they were taken had elapsed (c. 577, § 1), always renewed according to law (c. 577, § 2), so that no one ever remained without vows? 113. How often was the temporary profession extended beyond 263 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT Reoieta for Religious the six-year period allowed by law, and by what authority was this done (c. 574, § 2)? 114. ]Did all the professed of simple vows in orders, within sixty days before their profession of solemn vows, duly make the prescribed renunciation of the property which they actually pos-sessed, in the form of a true cession but not in the form of a will, to whomever they chose, on condition of their future profession (c. 581, § 1)? 115. After the profession was made, were all things immedi-ately done which were necessary in order that the renunciation be effective in civil law (c. 581, § 2) ? 116. Did the superior who received the solemn profession give notice of it to the pastor of baptism in accordance with cc. 470, § 2, 576', § 2? ARTICLE II Concerning the relicjious life and discipline 117. Is perfect common life according'to c. 594, the Rule, and the constitutions observed everywhere? 118. What has been done and is being done positively to safe-guard and promote the virtue and. spirit of poverty? 119. Do superiors and officials, out of religious charity and in order to ward off from the religious occasions of sinning against poverty, provide, within the limits of poverty itself, what is neces-sary and appropriate in the way of food, clothing, and other things? 120. Do they allow the religious to ask for or receive these things from externs? 121. Are the sick and the aged religious, attended to with special care and helped in both body and soul with paternal charity, so that, within the limits of religious poverty, they lack nothi'ng which seems necessary for the recovery ot their .health and for their spir-itual consolation? 122. Did all superiors make it a matter of conscientious duty to be attentively vigilant regarding those things, both in and out of the house, which may easily contain dangers against religious chas-tity ? 123. What kind of cloister is observed? Are the places subject to cloister clearly marked and sufficiently guarded? Are the pre-scriptions of the law and of the constitutions regarding cloister faithfully observed (cc. 589-599; 604) ? 264 ~epte,-nber, 124. frequent, principal 125. 1954 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT Were the cases of dispensation from the law of cloister either for going but,- or for entering? Which were the ones? Are difficulties experienced in the observance of cloister, esl~ecially when nuns~ are engaged in the works of the apostolate, of education, etc. ? 126. a) Are the parlors so arranged that what goes on in them ~an be seen from the outside? b) Is the frequency of parlor visits regulated according to the constitutions and religious prudence? 127. Do the rooms which are reserved for chaplains and confeS-sors or preachers have a separate entrance and no internal communi-cation with the quarters of the religious? 128. Is religious discipline observed, and is the,government of superiors made easy by the docility of the subjects? Was it neces-sary often to impose formal precepts in virtue of the vow of obedi-ence? 129. Were such precepts given in due form according to the 'constitutions, and always for a grave reason? 130. Are the Rule and the constitutions faithfully observed (c. 593) ? 131. Are the Rule and the constitutions read publicly at the prescribed times (c. 509, § 2, 1°) ? 132. Do superiors see to it that in all the houses the exercises of piety which are prescribed for every day, every week, every month, every year, or for other fixed times, are faithfully and worthily per-formed according to the constitutions? 133. Do superiors see to it that all the religious: a) Make a retreat every year? b) ,Are present at Mass every day if not legitimately pre-vented ? c) Give themselves to mental prayer every day? d) Attend earnestly to the other offices of piety which are prescribed by the rules and constitutions (c. 595, § 1, 1 ° and 2°) ? 134. Do superiors see to it that all the members are able to be present at community exercises? 135. If choir service is prescribed by the constitutions, is it held exactly and worthily in each of the houses according to the same constitutions and the common law (c. 610, § i), the religious who are bound to choir and not actually lawfully impeded being present? 265 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT 136. Do superiors see to it that priests, clerics in major orders, and the solemnly professed, who were absent from choir, recite the Divine Office privately with attention and devotion (c. 610, § 3) ?. 137. Are the relations between the different members of the house, between superiors and subjects, etc., characterized by a spirit of true charity? 138. Are defects against charity severely corrected? 139. Are superiors watchful that no book~ be used, whether in manuscript or published form, which are not entirely safe? 140. Are the spiritual books which, according to law, the reli-gious use privately, approved by the Church and in keeping with the religious state, and suitable for the spiritual welfare of the indi-vidual ieligious to whom they are permitted? ARTICLE III Concernincj those Who have departed or been dismissed and others who leave the institute 141. a) How many in the house, at the expiration of their. vows, did not renew them, either because they chose not to do so or because they were not allowed to do so? b) How many of the professed of temporary vows were dispensed from their vows during this period, and how many of the professed of perpetual vows were dispensed? 142. Were those who were dispensed from their vows at their own request or with their consent, forced or, without serious and grave reasons and precautions, permitted to leave the religious house before the rescript was duly executed? 143. How many transfers, if any, were there to another insti-tute ? 144. How many apostates and fugitives, if any, were there during the five-year period? 145. a) Since the last report, how many of the professed of temporary vows and how many of the professed of perpetual vows have been dismissed? b) In the dismissal of religious, whether of" temp~[ary or of perpetual vows, were the norms of the common law "('cd." 647, § 2, 4°; 649-672) as well as those of the constitutions observed? Was the same done in regard to not admitting the prqfe~se~l 0f ~emporary vows to the renewal of their vows or to perpetu~il pro-fession (c. 637) ? 266 September, 1954 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT. 146. Were the dismissed of 'temporary vows, while the recourse duly made within ten days was pending (c. 647, § 2; S. C. of Reli-gious, 20 July 1923, AAS, XV [1923], 457), and the dismissed of perpetual vows, before the decree or judgment of dismissal had been confirmed by the Sacred Congregation (cc. 652, 666). forced to leave the institute? 147. What were the cases, and the causes which led to them,, among both the professed of temporary vows and those of per-petual vows, in which they were either sent back to the world on account of grave scandal or very grave harm (cc. 653, 668) or dis-missed by the law itself :(c. 646) ? 148. How many ~ses of exclaustration were there, if any? Were the causes carefull) and conscientiously pondered in the pres-ence of God before the petition was recommended and the rescript executed ? 149. Does the institute take care: a) That indults are renewed in due time, if it seems neces-sary to ask for an extension? b) That the persons who are excloistered lead a worthy religious life and return as soon as possible to the cloister? 150. Do superiors see to it that subjects remain out of the house only for a just and grave reason and for the shortest possible time, according to the constitutions (c. 606, § 2) ? 151. Were 'the prescribed suffrages faithfully and promptly per-formed for all the deceased? " " 152. Do superiors, in accordance with c. 509, § 2, 2°, give to those religious who belong to the class of conversi, instruction in Christian doctrine? And do superiors, carefully attend to the training of these same religious, both before and after their profes-sion, especially during the earlier years, according to the offices~ which are entrusted to them? 153. Do superiors with paternal charity diligently provide also for the bodily health of the conuersi or coadjutors? CHAPTER III C;ONI31:RNING THE WORKS AND MINISTRIES OF THE MONASTERY 154. What works are carried on in the house (apostolate, edu-cation, manual labor for pay) ? 155. Was begging from door to door, according to law 267 QUINQUENNIAL REPORT Reoieu2 for Religious (cc. 621, 622) and their own constitutions, done with the required permissions ? 156. Moreover, in begging, were the rules of law (c. 623), the instructions of the Holy See (c. 624), and the norms of the con-stitutions observed ? 157. What precautions are taken in this communication with seculars to avoid harm to the religious and scandal to seculars? 158. How often and by what superiors are the books of Masses of each house examined and signed? 159. As regards the manual stipend of~ Masses, did all the houses obser;ce the decrees of the local ordinaries and the customs of the dioceses according to cc. 831, §§ 2-3; 832? 160. In each of the houses were the obligations of Masses, both perpetual and manual, faithfully satisfied in due time according to cc. 834, 15177 161. Were any special concessions made in this matter, either as regards the reduction of the stipends or intentions, or as to deferring the celebration of the Masses? If so, what were they? CONCLUSION A ~summary compara÷ive judcjmenf recjardln9 fhe stale of fhe monas.fery 162. Is the autonomous monastery or house fully self-sufficient with regard to the personnel needed to fill the various offices of gov-ernment and to carry out its proper work, also with regard to relig-ious formation, as well' as with regard to economic means, so that regular observance can flourish fully? 163. What is to be said about the desire for and the actual striving toward evangelical perfection on the part of the members (cc. 487, 488, 1°) ? 164. In this respect is there in the institute progress.or retro-gression as compared with the preceding five-year period, and how is this manifested or proved? What are the reasons for either the progress or the retrogression? 165. What has been done by superiors during the five-year period to promote the tendency toward perfection and to prevent relaxation? 166. What is to be said summarily about the observance of the: vows and of the provisions of canon law, the Rule, 'and the consti-tutions, both absolutely and in comparison with the preceding five- 268 September, 1954 REGIONAL CONFERENCES AND WORKSHOPS year period ? 167. What are the points of religious discipline which are more easily and frequently violated? I68. What causes may be assigned for the progress in religious observance or for its decline? 169. What has been done by superiors to secure faithful and ~omplete regular observance? 170. As regards capital and finances what is the condition of the house in itself and in comparison v~ith the preceding five-year period ? 171. To what causes is the growth or diminution of capital and income to be attributed ? Given at Rome; from the headquarters of the S. Congregation ~of Religious, December 9, 1948. ALOYSIUS CARD. LAVITRANO, Prefect FR. L. H. PASSETTO, Secretaru REGIONAE CONFERENCES AND WORKSHOPS 1954-55 OF THE CATHOLIC: HOSPITAL AssoCIATION This year's program includes eight such special conferences., The first general subject, The Improvement of Patient Care, is pre-sented for religious in large hospitals on October 4 to 6,.1954, at the Sheraton Hotel,'St. Louis, Missouri. For religious in small hospitals another regional workshop on this subject will be presented Novem-ber 28 to 30, 1954, also at the Sheraton Hotel in St. Louis. Conferences on Medical-Moral Problems are also planned. These special group meetings are presented under the direction of Reverend Gerald Kelly, S.J., of St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas, con-sultant for the Association's activity in this field. The first is to takd place at St. Michael's Hospital, Grand Forks, North Dakota, October 25 to 27, 1.954. Two others are in the process of development--one for the East. ¯ and another to be held in the Mid-West. Further announcement will be made when this information .is available. On January 17, 18, and 19, 1955, at the Sheraton Hotel in St. Louis, Missouri, there will be a Special Conference for Treasureis (Continued on page 272) ¯, o 269 Questions and Answers 26 Suppose a sister can hear only one Mass on Sunday and during thai' Mass she performs her duty of saying her morning prayer or reading the, Liffle Office: is it possible to fulfill both th~se obligations at one and the same time, according to the mind of the Church? As regards merely the fulfillment of the diverse obligations, there seems to be no difficulty. Even the serious obligation (e.g., of a deacon or subdeacon) of reciting the Divine OtSce in private can be fulfilled while one is hearing a Mass of obligation. Certainly, there-fore, the sister's lesser duties of saying morning prayers or of recit-ing the Little Office can be fulfilled during a Mass of obligation-- unless the constitutions expressly provide otherwise. The "mind of the Church" for religious includes more than the mere fulfillment of obligations; it includes not only what is neces-sary but~ what is appropriate. And in the sense of what is appropri-ate it is certainly the mind of the Church that the prayers prescribed for religious, even when the prescription does not bind under pain of sin, should ordinarily be said at some time other than the 'Sunday Mass of obligation or the weekday community Mass. The saying of such prayers during these Masses should at most be merely by way of exception, e.g., because of the special pressure of other duties. And it seems to us that in these exceptional cases it would be better to follow the Mass in the usual way and to omit the other prayers. If conditions become such that tl'iis "pressure pf other duties" is habitual and not merely exceptional, then superiors should see to it that these ~otber duties are lessened so that their subjects have time for their prayers: --27m If one is rushed at confession time and in the confusion fails to make an act of contritlon.in.the confessional, is the confession invalid? True contrition is certainly necessary for valid absolution; and' according to most theologians some external manifestation of this contrition is also required for validity. But this external manifesta-tion of contrition does not have to be according to any .set formula,. nor does it even have to be expressed in words. A dolorosa confes- 270 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS sio--tbat is, confession itself when sincerely made with a view to receiving absolution by one who, has internal sorrow-~-is~a suffi'cient external sign of the contrition; and absolution given to one who has made such a confession is certainly valid. It is true that we should always train the faithful to make a verbal act of contrition in the confessional, after having confessed their sins. But the making of this verbal act is rather a matter of good procedure--and for some people a means of being sure ot: the requisite expression of sorrow--than an absolute essential As for the case proposed in the question: we would tell any sin-cere religious or devout lay person that the absolution was undoubt-. edly valid and tbat there is no reason for anxiety. --28-- Is a sister superior justified in insisting that her subjects must not drink water before Holy C;ommunion unless there is some real necessity for doincj so? Accordin~ to the ApOstolic Constitution Christus Dominus plain water no longer breaks the Eucharistic fast. No reason either of nec_essity or even of special utility is required for drinking water before Holy Communion. Consequently, a religious superior is no more justified now in insisting that subjects should not drink water without necessity after midnight than she would have been justified before .3anuary 16, 1953, in insisting that subjects should not drink water without necessity before midnight. m29D Is it ever permissible to receive Hob/ Gommunlon without flrs~ cjo[ncj to confession when one has committed a mortal sin? Canon 856 states that one who is conscious of having committed a mortal sin shouldnot receive'Holy Communion without first go-ing to confession. This is the ordinary rule. The canon adds, bow-ever, that in a case of urgent necessity, when there is no opportunity of going to confession, one may receive Holy Comunion after having made an act of perfect contrition. There are many aspects to this question; and all of them require careful explanation. For such explanation the questioner is referred to the article "Confession befo*re Communion," in REVIEW FOR RE-LIGIOUS, XII (May, 1953), 135-50. : 271 Q~JESTIONS AND ANSWERS Re~;iew lot Religious --30-- /. If one is in doubt about having given the consent necessary-'for a mortal sin, is it preferable to abstain from Holy Communion until one can get to confession? Generally speaking, it is not preferable.to omit Holy commun-ion; although it might be preferable in some cases, e.g., b~cause a person has a special proneness to laxity. The proper judge c~f such a case is the spiritufil director or confessor of that person. Although it is certainly not obligatory and generally not even preferable to omit Holy Communion because of a do.ubt; yet it is at least advisable--and in our opinion obligatory--for one who has d really solid doubt (and not a mere scruple) about having committed a mortal sin to take some reasonable means of making sure he is in the state of grace before he receives Holy Communion. In the case proposed in the question a reasonable means would be to make an act of perfect contrition for all one's sins, including the doubtful matter. This problem of doubt is also explained more fully in the article referred'to in the preceding question, pp. 139-40. Regional Conferences and Workshops (Continued from page 269) and General Accountants of Religious Groups Conducting Hospi: tals. This particular meeting is especially planned by the Assoda-tion's Council on Financial Management and will focus upon poli-cies, techniques, and procedures involved in the handling of financial affairs of these groups. Other meetings for special groups have also been scheduled. These include a Conference on Collegiate Programs in Nursing Edu-cation at the Sheraton Hotel, St. Louis, February 19 to 21, 1955; a Conference on Accounting for Administration (especially for the small hospital) at the Hotel Piedmont, Atlanta, Georgia, April 18 to 19, 1955; the Western Conference of Catholic Hospitals is spon-soring a Workshop on Purchasing for Hospital Purchasing Officers on April 23 to 24, 1955, at St. Mary's Hospital, San Francisco: also a Conference on Public Relations for Administrators and Public Rela2 tions Officers of Catholic Hospitals--April 23 to 24, 1955, also St. Mary's Hospital, San Francisco, California. 272 THE NEW TESTAMENT. By James A. Klelst, S.J., and Joseph M. Lilly, C.M. The Bruce Publlshln9 Co., Milwaukee. 1954. Pp. bg0. $5.00. The work of Fathers Kleist and Lilly as presented in this book is a marked example of the progress which Scriptural studies in general and New Testament efforts in particular have made in the last fifty years. A quarter of a century ago, appreciating the ad~ vances scholarship had made in the study of the post-classical Greek language as well as in Hellenistic civilization, Father Kleist surmised that the gospels translated from the Greek of that period might convey to the Christian reader a better understanding of Christ's life and message than could be derived from the more or less slavish ren-dition from the Latin Vulgate into quite antiquated English phrase-ology which was' all.tbat the Catholic reader had; he considered that such a translation would afford Catholics the opportunity, in a prac-tical way, of realizing the hope whicb the Church was expressing-- namely that her members should read the Bible more assiduously. He set himself to that task, and the result of his labors makes up nearly half of the present volume. The gospel translation is in clear, flowing, modern literary Eng-lish; it conveys the G/~eek thought accurately. To achieve this ac-curacy the translation interprets the meaning of words and phrases, uses synonyms for the same Greek word to bring out the shades of thought, employs expressions which do not require the learning of a theologian or of an expert exegete to grasp. The word pneutna, for example, is not always translated by "spirit" and the passages in which this word occurs are so well phrased that no commentary is required to explain them. Thus: "Blessed are the poor in spirit" (Mr. 5:3) becomes, "Blessed are the humble souls"; "And sighing deeply in spirit" (Mk. 8:12) becomes, "He sighed from the depths of his soul"; "When Jesus saw the Jews weeping .he grbaned in spirit and was troubled" (Jo. 11:33) becomes, "The sight of them stirred Jesus deeply and shook his inmost soul." There is a pleasing, natural ease, simplicity, and spontaneity throughout the translation. Christ's Words are not, "Woman, thou art delivered from thy in-firmity" (Lk. 13:12), but, "My good woman, you are now rid of your infirmity." Notabl.yhappy is the rendition of 3o. 3:8 which, 273 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religious instead of, "So is everyone who is born of the Spirit," reads, "Some-thing like this takes place in everyone born of the Spirit." What~- ever notes are appended to the gospels are the work of Rev. Henr~; Willmering, S.J., New Testament professor at St. Mary's College, St. Marys, Kansas. The notes are always pointed, clear, concise. All the rest of the translation in this volume is the product of Father Lilly. Emboldened by the various encyclicals on Biblical studies from Leo XIII to Pius XII, his experience as a seminary" professor ot: Sacred Scripture indicating the need of a good transla-tion from the Greek, Father Lilly generously undertook to do all the rest of the New Testament, a task which Father Kleist had said he would never venture to do~ Father Lilly succeeded admirably in his efforts. He concentrated his best energies on the letters of the Apos-tles; only secondarily did he give consideration to the narrative of the Acts of the Apostles. The result is that this narrative does not vary in any notable way from the Confraternity translation, for the phraseology of the two translations is often identical. But in the letters and in the Apocalypse, Father Lilly took greater liberty to clarify the meaning of the texts. A few instances of his excellent work may be here cited: "Who have the fathers, and from whom is the Christ according to the flesh," he expresses as, "The patriarchs are theirs, and from them has been derived the human nature of Christ" (Rom. 9:3). The less intelligible wording of "the work of each will be made manifest, for the day of the Lord will declare. it, since the day is to be revealed in fire. The fire will assay the quality of everyone's work: if his work abides which he has built thereon, he will receive reward; if his work burns he will lose his. reward, but himself will be saved, yet so as through fire" (1 Cor. 3:13-15) is clarified thus: "Each individual's work will be made manifest. The day will make it known because fire will lay it bare, and will test the quality of each individual's work. If the work any-one has put into the superstructure stands firm, he will be rewarded, but if anyone's work is burned up, he will suffer a loss, yet he him-self will be saved, though only by passing, so to speak, through fire." Simple sentences and expressions are expertly turned. Apoc. 4:2 may serve as one example: "Immediately I was in the spirit, and behold there was a throne in heaven," gets this phrasing: "Suddenly I was thrown into an ecstacy. To my surprise, there was a throne set up in heaven." This book is the latest and till~ now the best product of a happy I 27.4 September, 1934 BOOK REVIEWS tendency to which New Testament studies have been yielding in recent years amongst Catholic'English-speaklng scholars. It is a co-ordinated result of two lines of modern effort: to translate from tile Greek rather than from the Latin ~Vulgate, and secondly, to make the translations interpretative rather than rigidly literal. In 1901 Father Seymour Hobart Spencer, O.P., laid a milestone when he translated the four gospels from the Greek; before he died in 1913 he had finished the entire New Testament. Not until 1937, how-ever, was his entire opus published for the first time. Leo XIII's Providentissimus Deus lent spark to this line of effort, and in the 1930s the Westminster Version of the New Testament from the Greek appeared. Both Father Spencer, however, and the Westminster translators employed a prudent restraint in their venturesome task. They kept themselves considerably constrained and adhered largely to literalness in their translations. Yet there was a kind of restiveness arising amongst scholars to offer a translation which would be quite sufficiently interpretative and would' not require much comment of exegetes to explain the meaning of the text. This restiveness began to assert itself in the 1940s. It chose as the object on which it could exercise itself the Latin Vulgate and the reason for this choice was that the more in- .terpretative translation could be read at the Catholic church services. In 1941 the Confraternity translation of the New Testament ap-peared in the United States, and its purpose was rather to modernize antiquated expressions than to translate with the freedom which interpretation requires; but three years later Msgr. Ronald Knox published his work in England with a freedom and ease of phrase-ology hitherto unemployed, modestly interpreting the meaning of the Vulgate. Both these translations, as well as those from the Greek mentioned above, were quite well accepted generally, though in cer-tain circles they did suffer severe criticism. There was something of heroism, tberefore, in carrying out to completion the present work, since this volume, no doubt, will be criticized for precisely the two characteristics which make it a sign of true advancement in .scholarship: it is a translation from the Greek; it is made with a considerable amount of freedom to express in an interpretative Catholic way what the inspired authors of the New Testament are trying to say. The book seems to be a must in the libraries of theologians, scholars, exegetes, priests, and laymen who are" interested in understanding the New Testament. It is not, 275 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Religious however, the last product of the trend from which it evolved. Some future translator from the Greek may interpert more easily and more clearly passages like 1 Cor. 7:29-35; 9:24-27; 10:29 and 30; but that must await the time when Catholic readers will have become more adjusfed to having a clear, expository text before them to ponder. The present work will help toward that adjustment and is paving the way toward the entrance of the Word of God into the hearts of men.--EDWARD J. HODOUS, S.J. THE CHURCH AND INFALLIBILITY. By Dom B. C. Buffer. Sheed and Ward, New York. 1954. Pp. 230. $3.50. Back in 1889 Dr. George Salmon, Provost ok Trinity College, Dublin, published The Infallibility of the Church, a celebrated pole-mical work in which he vigorously attacked and in the minds of many contemporary Protestant readers thoroughly demolished the "Roman" position on the nature of infallibility, the primacy and infallible teaching authority of the Roman Pontiff, and the legiti-macy if tradition as a font of divine revelation. Two years ago an abridged edition of this work came from the press, and it is in the hope of breaking a lance or two with the "abridged Salmon" that the Abbot of Downside, Dora Christopher Butler, a frequent and gifted contributor to The Downside Review, has e'ntered the lists with the book here under r'eview. It will be no surprise to those who know Dom Butler's profi2 ciency in the field of Patristics and Early Church History to dis-cover that in this altogether irenic rebuttal the Abbot of Downside has time after time driven home through the chinks in Dr. Salmon's armor, chinks that have been in not a few places widened consider-ably by the scientific findings and the more balanced historical eval- .uations of the past fifty years. If the work will prove an ornament to the apologetic section of the school or community library, it may still be said (and I think that Dom Christopher would be the first to agree) that the book is not intended as an organized positive ex-position of the Church's infallibility, its meaning, its necessity, its causes, its organs; nor despite its clarity of presentation and cogency of argumentation will it supply for such an exposition. The reader destined to profit most from the book will be the reader who has already a firm grip on the fundamental principles of the th.eology of the Church, her organization and doctrinal mission. -~S. E. DONLON, S.J: 2 6. September, 1954 BOOK REVIEWS MARY IN OUR LIFE. By William G. Most, Ph.D.P.J. Kenedy and Sons, New York. 19S4. Pp. 323. $4.00. Mar~l in our Life was first written as a series of chapters for Mariology study clubs at Loras College, where the author is associ-ate professor of classical languages. It has the double merit, there-fore, of being instructive in subject matter and at the same time per-sonal and direct in its manner of presentation. The body of the book is divided into twenty-three chapters of about ten pages each that range over a wide area of patristics, dogma, ascetics, and liturgy in their bearing on the general theme that "since God has given Mary an all-pervading place in His scheme for the redemption of man, it follows that if we wish to grow in love of God . . . we will give Mary a corresponding place in our soul-life." Chapter titles like The Popes and Co-redemptrix, Mary on Calvary, Mystical Rose, Spouse of the Holy Spirit, Marian Visions and Revelations suggest the balance of doctrine and devotion which the writer set himself to achieve. The strictly dogmatic section cov-ers the first sixty-five pages, in which the main purpose is to analyse the recent papal statements on Mary's place in the economy of sal-vation. In the remaining fifteen chapters, the principles of the spiritual life are explained in their relation to the Mother of God as the perfect model of sanctity and the channel of all graces. The longest chapter in the book, Pondering in Our Hearts with Mary, is an earnest apologia for the practice of mental prayer among the laity, in imitation of the Blessed Virgin, "whose communion with God in mental prayer or meditation was constant." Eminently prac-tical, it is intended to answer the objection that "Formal meditation may be all right for priests and religious, but how could a working man or woman or a housewife manage to undertake so complex an exercise?" Each chapter is followed by a set of notes, up to several pages in length, which give the sources for the quotations used and further explanation of various problems in the text. Particularly commendable is the frequent use of primary sources, e.g., from the Fathers, papal documents, and writings of the saints. By actual count, there are 530 reference notations, with an emphasis on mod-ern writers such as Garrigou-Lagrange. The latter part of the book contains an Appendix and a set of Questions for Discussion. The Appendix supplies a certain amount of documentary detail that was properly omitted from the body of the book, for example, a llst of passages from the Fathers on the 277 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Review for Religious New Eve, papal texts on the question of Mary's Co-redemption of the human race, St. Dominic as author of the Rosary, and the his-toricity of the vision of St. Simon Stock. The Questions for Dis-cussion are intended for private, class, or study-dub use. Approxi-mately two hundred questions, answerable from the text, are pointed to arousing ~houghtful reflection: for instance, "Did Mary merit to be the Mother of God? . . . Is devotion to Mary optional?" As an instance of the mature balance which characterizes the en-' tire book may be cited the treatment of Marian Visions and Revela-tions. With scores of possible pitfalls, the author carefully dis-tinguishes the meaning and necessity of private and public revela-tion, explaining that "ali the means that we need for salvation are contained in public revelation." Some people, he complains, practi-cally identify their devotion to the Mother of God with recounting the stories of visions and revelations. "On the other hand, through the right attitude we can derive great value from the messages given to us by Our Lady in such genuine apparitions as those at Lourdes and Fatima," whose genuinity is attested by the Church's official ap-proval.-- JOHN A. HARDON, S.J. BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS BRUCE PUBLISHING CO., 400 N. Broadway, Milwaukee 1, Wis. The Catholic College in the World Today. By Edward A. Fitzpatrick. The author, retiring president of Mount Mary College, here weaves into book form a series of addresses about Catholic col-lege education. He stresses the opportunity of the Catholic college to leaven present-day American culture with the riches of Catholic cul-ture, particularly its emphasis on moral and spiritual values and its focus on the importance of the individual. He looks to crusading graduates to assume their manifest duty to carry out this mission. Pp. 269. $6.00. His Heart in Our Work. Thoughts for a Priestl~t Apostolate. Edited by Francis L. Filas, S.J. This book is a collection of articles selected from Alter Christus, the periodical published from 1937 to 1950 as an American quarterly bulletin of The League of Sacerdotal Sanctity. Although the essays here presented were originally meant for priests, to provide them with material for meditation and with exhortation in their work, still they will benefit religious .and others 278 September: 1954 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS as well. The brevity of the articles (few run over five pages) and the pleasing variety of subjects included (Holy Spirit, Sacred Heart, B1. Virgin, St. Joseph, Apostolate, Prayer, Virtues, Liturgy) m