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Issue 44.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1985. ; Expectations of CommUnity Inculturation A Theology of Death and Grief The Discernment of Ministry: a Process Volume 44 Number 6 Nov./Dec., 1985 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR RELIG|OUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1985 by R EVlEW FOR R ELtqtOUS~ Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year: $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write R EV1EW FOR RELIGtOUg P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor Nov./Dec., 1985 Volume 44 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW t-'on RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. Current Conceptions of Religious Formation: An Analysis Martin O'Reilly, C E C. This article by Brother O'Reilly, Formation Director for his community in Liberia and Sierra Leone was originally prepared as a position paper undertaken in connection ,with the development of a novitiate program for West Africans seeking to join his community. Brothe,r may be addressed care of the Christian Brothers; P.O. Box 297; Monrovia, Liberia. It is difficult to name what'is a~tually done in religious formation. Although the enterprise has a recognizable history dating back at least to the time of St. Benedict, when we raise the question: What are we doing when we form others to be religious? there is little consensus about the nature of the activity. A more abstract question, .such as: What is Religious IJfe? might be more easily answered. But religious formation is not an ahistorical abstraction. - It is a practical activity. Men and women enter religious communities, and other men and women are "sent" to form them. Formation, as such, does not exist, there is only what people do, and want to do, in its name. This article will consist of a brief survey.of the principle approaches to religious formation current today, anda proposed tentative defintion of formation that gives equal weight to the past, present and future dimensions of a religious community. Although theory will not provide simplistic answers to such questions as: "When do we give the habit?" it does provide a basis for ascertaining whether one's practices are consistent with one's beliefs and for understanding how new insights and differing circumstances may modify existing practices. Perennialist Conception of Religious Formation The ."perennialist" position, exemplified by much of pre-Vatican II 1101 1~02 / Review for Religious, November-Dec.ember, 1985 religious formation, is based mainly on the authoritative position of the "formator" as the person entrusted with the task of instructing others in the perennial truths of religious life. The relationship of formator and those being "formed" is in the context of master and pupils. The person who is responsible for formation is very conscious of the expectations of those in higher authority that, certain permanent truths are being taught in a didac-tic manner. The principal model of instruction is that best described as "teaching." The starting point is usually the prescribed constitutions, the life of the founder or foundress, and the history of the congregation. The theoretical motivation for both formator and those being formed is in essence the same: he or she is to teach, and the novices are to learn. Of course, it is presumed that there are other factors operating, so that the novices' personal understanding of being religious is complemented by their actual life in community. The duties of a good religious are empha-sized in various ways: by being reminded of their personal responsibility for coming to know and accept their call from God through frequent conferences; by being encouraged to be loyal to their formation group, and to be obedient at all times to those in authority. Besides regular prayer and Mass, numerous devotional exercises and retreat days ensure that a sense of piety is being fostered. It is quite natural that such an'approach to formation tends to emphasize the descriptive rather than the prescriptive elements of religious life. The value of much of its style and method is in its precision in indicating what has to be learned and understood about becoming a religious. But by the same token it is all too easy to produce a hothouse variety of religious who, vocation-wise, wither in the more temperate zones of regular and imperfect community life. Such an approach can fail to distinguish sufficiently between the precepts of the religious life and the vocational growth and development of those in formation, with the result that conformity is substituted for free response. This is not to say that the perennialist approach is altogether unsatisfac-tory. Many outstanding religious have come through such an initiation into religious life. For those who have come from devout Christian homes, such a formation style undoubtedly offers a security and an initial certainty that religious life is for them. But however beneficial such a model of formation may be for some, it can only be unrealistic in relation to those coming from a secularized background,,or who live in a situation where the Church herself is still very young. Essentialist Conception of Religious Formation The essentialist position, as represented by ReneCarpentier, holds that Current Conceptions of Religious Formation: An Analysis / 1103 the .religious life is "above all things a life, a Christian life, a life based on the Gospel and one with the Church."1 Carpentier's work in Belgiumin the 1950s convinced him that the obligations of religious life seemed to be treated as ends in themselves. There was very little Good News about the religious life~ He therefore advocated a return to the sources of religious life, viz. Christ, the Church, and the Scriptures. The biggest challenge offered by Carpentier to religious formators was for them to underpin their work with a genuine theology of religious life: ~It is not enough to show them the religious state as a life apart, closed in oh itself and "withdrawn from the world." It is to the religious life, within the Church, that our Lord's words may be applied: "You are the light of the world." We must show its relationships with .the Church and the world, and with salvation and sanctificati6n of all men. We must have recourse to a "theol6gy" of~ the religious life,2 Advocates of the essentialist approach to formation work concentrate on imparting an understanding of religious life as a living out of the ¯ "essential" Christian ideals. The emphasis placed upon providing a gcriptu-ral and theological rationale for religious life gives an intellectual flavor to formation, and casts the formator in a "lecturer" role as opposed to the perennialist "master-pupil" approach. Because essentialist formators share the belief that religious formation is largely a matter of intellectual training, the interests and needs of those in formation are of limited value for determining the nature and content of the foniiation program. While essentialism gives a needed, firm intellectual underpinning to religious formation, it is largely an adult concept, which in turn requires a certain adult ability to view reality in a holistic fashion. Many in such a formation program, however, fail to see the relevance to their own lives of courses in Scripture, theology, church history and liturgy.' The problem with this approach, as with the perennialist pathway, is that it is character-~ ized by what can be called a "pedagogy of. object" i.e., the models of learning it relies upon are almost exclusively concerned with handing on the.charism of religious life, which itself is taken as an unchanging and universally understood aim. Admittedly, the essentialist approach looks more towards the dynamic nature of the Christian life to provide the context for ~understanding the nature of the religiouS vocation, but it underplays the aspects of the "present" and "future" of society, the Church, religious life, and the persons themselves who are preparing for religious profession. Existential Conception of Religious Formation The keynote of the existential approach is basically its concern with the 804 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 subject io be formed in his or her actual life situation. The words which characterize this approach are sincerity, dynamic', commitment; relevance, authenticity, choice,freedom, and experience. For those who look at for-mation. in this way, the key to .human and Christian living is the continuing choice of an "authentic" way of life. lnauthenticity means taking shelter behind the routines, the trivialities and the morally undemanding patterns of everyday life. ,To be authentic means to acknowledge basic moral chal-lenges, to be open to the ambiguities and contradictions of life, and to respond to them by committing oneself afresh to the values one perceives to be at the heart of a meaningful existence. Religious life, in the existentialist sense, is viewed and understood asan expression of the life of faith, and so must find its verification in real life. If it is not to be a dead faith, it must be acted out in deeds. For the existential-ist, it is the motivation, not the forms, of religious life that differentiates the religious vocation from that of others. In practice a formator schooled .in existentialist thinking will give prom-inence to discussion methods as the way of learning, and will emphasize the importance of the differences in the life situation of each candidate in his or her personal response to the call of religious life. A greater measure of freedom will be extended in various ways to those being formed, and the view will be encouraged that both formator and those in formation are engaged in a common enterprise of discerning the personal and social significance of the vowed life. Constitutions and histories of the congrega-tion will have only a limited role in an approach such as this. They may serve as reference or guideline, but hardly as a starting point. Emphasis therefore will tend to be much more on a diversity of sources--literature, films, music and newspapers--indeed all the sources of. information encountered in ordinary.living. There will be a fundamental sense in which it is important not to be specific about particular means of being a religious, because what is being described arises from the life-situations of those concerned. Without doubt the existen.tiai approach makes being involved in reli-gious formation a very creative and personally satisfying experience. Con-cern for the giftedness and insights of those entering religious life had rarely been present in the previous history of religious formation. Sadly these insights had been largely subordinated to the immediate needs and interests of the congregation, and formation was more often than not more a training or domesticating than a forming. The existential pathway, on the contrary, asks the formator to believe that he or she is living and praying with people who are alread3; under the influence of the Holy Spirit. The chief problem ~vith this approach to formation arises from the fact Current Conceptions of Religious Formation: An Analysis / 805 that the breadth of it provides no clue as to the kinds of experiences that properly should be provided by a formation community. The implication is that., since each candidate's experience of life is unique, each one must have his or her own formation program. Faith and well-meaning, however, are insufficient to fill the vacuum created by the abandonment of a well-de-fined initiation process. It was Dewey who said that when personal fulfill-ment is severed from intellectual activity, "freedom of self-expression turns into something that might better be called 'self-exposure'.''3 Furthermore, when too much emphasis is placed on the "inner search for meaning" of those in formation, the past heritage of a religious congregation can easily be forgotten, and responsibility for 'the future ignored; hence the shared vision that binds a group together can also become lost. ° Socialization Conception of Religious Formation The title of this approach may seem odd, for there has always been a strong community basis to formation in the sense that those being formed have lived, worked and played together in preparation for the time when they would join the wider community of the congregation. Indeed one of the important prerequisites for profession was "suitability for community life." But here the .term "socialization" is being used in a special sense, that of a planned, intensive~group experience involving both professed and nonprofessed members. The rationale behind,this approach is that "what-ever happens to the individual happens to the whole group, and whatever happens to the whole group happens to the individual." Quite simply a novice or one in formation can only say "I am a religious" because we are a :religious family. Ira founding charism is most present in the lived reality of a religious community, then'it is within a community that formation must happen. "Community-centered formation" is not .the same as ''formation within a community." The former consists of a group of professed religious and prospective members open to the challenge of living and growing together; the latter is more often thannot a convenient arrangement for housing those in formation within a regular community, with perhaps one or two helping the formator in'his ministry. The difference between the two con-cepts is that with the first one the formation of new members is a community "event," whereas With the other, formation is a "territory" clearly demar-cated from the ordinary life of the community. The core group of the formative community is made up of religious who are prepared to share their own personal and collective story of faith; to witness in an open way, to the meaning of their congregation's charism; to support those in initial formation in a bro.therly manner and to pray 1106 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 with and for them. The neophytes in turn are invited to "come and see" the charism and mission of the group by sharing in the common life, prayer and work of the community. This "shared praxis" approach supposes less of the presence o1: the person responsible for formation as the sole authority, and more of his presence as guide~in a fraternal network of relations~ This role of the formator means that often the work of formation will remain open-ended, ¯ that is, it is not pushed through to a predetermined conclusion for the sake of a conclusion. Whilst the main emphasis, as with the existential approach, i~ experiential rather than instructional in any formal sense, the open-community situation makes it more likely that the whole aspect .of religious life is approached in a multidimensional way. Close living, with professed religious aff?rds opportunities for the experiencing of the living charism of a congregation that no "single-parent" type. of situation consisting of one formator and the formation group can possibly provide. Conversely, having new members live with professed religious can add life and vitality to the local community, and can challenge the older brethren to look anew at the values that underpin their lives. Such an approach to formation may be successful with mature candi-dates, but it can be a wholly different story with the younger or more immature types. When formation is expected to arise from the dynamic interaction of a community, things can go badly wrong if a good number of the group are incapable, either because of upbringing or inclination, of accepting their responsibility for and accountability to others~ Not to believe that there, will be a need for "tough love" at .times, and a good d~al of personal coachingof members in the art of living together as a religious family, is to assume too romantic a view of human nature. Finally, when everyone is theoretically responsible for the formation of new members, it can quickly become the practice that no one is responsible, and people are left to hope that the newer members "get the hang of religious life" in time--a sort of formation by osmosis! 12on¢lusion Whether religious formators choose to define formation as the handing on of the perennial truths of their congregations" story or.as a radical ,living of the Christian life, as an inner search for ,meaning or as an intensive group experience, they are providing only a partial description of the term "formation.'2 Conversely, if we conceive of formation as all those growth experiences, under the auspices of a religious congregation, that ~contribute to the deepening awareness of what it means to be a religious, the definition is so broad that it fails to indicate how a planned formation program Current Conceptions of Religious Formation: An Analysis / 1~07 differs from an informal spontaneous arrangement where prospective. members learn directly from living in a religious community. If a definition of initial religious formation is to convey the full meaning of the term, it should be comprehensive while, at the same time, be sufficiently specific so that its key interacting elements are clearly conveyed. Taking these considerations into account, the following tentative defini-tion of religious formation is proposed: The planned and guided learning experience of religious life with intended learning outcomes, formulated through the systematic reconstruction of knowledge and experience, under the auspices of personnel suited to the task of aiding and evaluating a candidate's continuous growth in personal, social and spiritual competence. This definition regards religious life, and the ways of becoming a reli-gious, as dynamic. The formation process must account not only for the known dimensigns of a founding charism, but also for emergent under-standings. Consequently, religious formation is not concerned merely with transmitting the cumulative tradition of a religious congregation but also with the present dimension of a religious charism in relation to the life' experience of those seeking membership. Moreover, this definition recog-nizes that the future possibilities for the development of a charismatic religious community resides with those in formation today. NOTES ~l_zfe in the Oty of God. London: Burng & Oates, 1959, p. xi. 21bid, p. xii. 3John Dewey, How We Think, rev~ ed~, Lexington, MA: D.C. Heath & Company, 1933, 'p, 278. Even Discipline Has Its Season: Thomas Merton and Formation Today Thomas M. King; S.J. Father King has done extensive study and writing on Thomas Merlon. He is an Associate Professor of Theology at Georgetown University where he resides. The mailing address is: Jesuit Community; Georgetown University; Washington. DC 20057. Before he entered the Trappist Monastery of Gethsemani, Thomas Mer-ton wrote part of a novel that concerned a young man considering the priesthood. Like Merton himself, the young man played amateur jazz and had been leading a somewhat dissipated life. He saw his present life as remote "from the kind of discipline and perfection for a priest." As the young man thought about the priesthood, it was the word discipline that occurred again and again. Discipline appealed to him. At the same time as he worked on the novel, Merton wrote an unpublished essay that compared the lay and the priestly life. The priests were considered the lucky ones: "For them, from now on, everything is definite, is settled for them." In writing The Seven Storey Mountain he told of thi.nking about the monastery before he entered it: it was seen as a place of "much discomfort and no pleasures . I used to love books and study, but God will want me to die to all of that." He told of pursuing his novitiate with such enthusiasm that he made a nuisance out of himself by urging his novice director to reduce his portion of butter and cheese to be the same as the other monks', and he wanted permission to attend all the sessions of monastic prayer. By these permissions he wanted to lose himself in common life. He wrote a vivid statement of the Cistercian life that appealed to him: When a man becomes a Cistercian, he is stripped not only of his clothes, or 808 Thomas Merton and Formation Today / 1109 part of his skin, but of his whole body and most of his spirit as well. And it is not finished ~hat first day: far from it! The whole Cistercian life is an evisceration, a gutting and a scouring of the human soul. Merton had felt drawn to the monastery when he had visited there eight months before he had entered. Then he had seen a postulant take his ~place among the novices and he observed: "The waters had closed over his head and he was submer~ged in the community." The postulant was dressed like the other monks and was lost in the "anonymity" of the choir. Merton claimed that those who stayed in the monastery were those who simply followed the Common Rule, a Rule wherein each monk was "absolutely lost, ignored." This was the ideal he was seeking in the monastic life. Merton wanted to live a life of self-sacrifice. For years he had lived according to the urgings of his appetites only to find he was a confused victim of his own "self-contradictory hungers." The nature of these hungers were evident to him in many ways; for example, he was compulsively attending movies. Yet he would no sooner be in the theater than he .would despise the stupidity of the film; but soon he would again be at the movies. In deciding which religious group he would join, he told of wanting "a Rule that was almost entirely aimed at detaching me from the world." He was pleased to describe his entry into Gethsemani as "nothing less than a civil and moral death." He soon esteemed the other monks around him, for they had abandoned "all preoccupation with themselves and their own ideas and judgments and opinions and desires," they .had put their "whole life in the hands of another" through obedience: "The greatest of the vows is obedience." The .monk was said to be significant not because of what he does. but because of what he is: a monk: The religious habit itself was said to have the grace of a sacramental. Merton exalted in his community life and saw most people outside of monasteries as hopelessly confused. When he looked at the luggage he had brought with him, he reflected that he could no longer believe in himself as a layman. These .general themes are familiar to readers of The Seven Storey Mountain, though some of the passages remain unpublished (they can be seen at the Merton Study Center in Bellarmine College, Louisville, Ky.). The picture he gave of monastic life was demanding and severe, yet the surprising thing was the number of people who found what he described had a fascinating appeal. In the ten-year period after the publication of The Seven Storey Mountain, Gethsemani received approximately two thou-sand postulants! The number seems to say something about what people were looking for in joining "religious life." Many, of course, did not stay. With the passage,of time Merton's monastic euphoria underwent 1110 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 considerable change. He came to fight against the anonymity he had desired. He spoke'of monks "left with a husk of outward forms and no inner vocation." Though he had idealized entering the monastery as a form of death, he would come to ask, "Does our monastic life become so artificial and contrived that itis no longer really a life?" He had judged obedience to be the great monastic virtue; but later he would object that "doing what you are told., substitutes for life itself." He was no longer enthralled by the anonymity of the choir: "The choir is the scene of much depersonaliza-tion andanguish." He protested that monastic life should not be a "total abdication .of all human worth and identity." He even claimed that the whole concept of discipline in the life of prayer did not arise until the fifteenth century! He wrote an amusing caricature of monks who believe they are better than those in the world; the world was no longer seen as simply a place of error and sin. In his early writing he had affirmed that a monk's worth was in "being a monk." But he later said that he himself did not "comfortably wear the label of monk?' He wanted to be "a non-monk even, a non-layman, a non-categorized man, a plain simple man." "My hermit life is expressly a lay life." He told of a personal policy of"not appearing as a monk, a priest, a cleric," and said with some satisfaction, "I am a tramp." His biographer, Monica Furlong, explains, "It was as if he had abandoned all interest in the persona of the monk." The change in Merton reflected a change that was general in religious life. Religious discipline generally became less evident and many religious tried to.avoid a special identity in either manners or dress. Novices were often integrated directly into communities of formed religious, and obe-dience was no longer seen as a way of inner liberation--it was just a matter of convenience or greater efficiency of organization. Most religious would say the changes had been for the better. But recently while writing several articles on Merton, I came to believe that the more relaxed monastic life that is generally found today would in no way satisfy the Merton who entered "the monastery in 1941. At the time he entered he had different needs, needs which did not last indefinitely. Yet the general relaxation was a change that he had helped bring about. Like many others who entered the religious life in the fifties, I had been inspired by Merton's enthusiastic account of religious life. I had. been less dissipated, but I felt a similar need "to get hold of myself" and work through my "self-contradictory hungers." I entered a Jesuit novitiate where discipline was strict. Devotions, times~ to sleep, to eat and to recreate were regulated by a bell with little room for individual inclinations. Clothing, haircuts, readings and friendships were allowed little opportunity to develop accord- Thomas Merton and Formation Today ing to one's own taste~ Religious life was a way of freeing one from one's own tastes. One could wonder if that is still seen as a value--yet that was a major" reason that the noviceship took so long. In those days other Jesuits were not even to visit the novitiate "lest they disedify the novices." We believed that we were following "the more perfect way." 1 think that way of living would be frustrating for me now--but that does not mean it was not what I needed then. It was. There are seasons in one's life. Recently I was assigned to spend two years working with Jesuit novices. Meals remain scheduled, but the daily order was mostly gone. Dress is casual, betamax movies are regularly shown, beer is generally available and groups go out for:pizza. It is a more ordinary kind of life than I had known as a novice--and appears much like the life of those "in the world" or the life of longtime Jesuits. But should it be so? In working with the novices I decided much of the happiness of my own novitiate was not. present, My happiness .was perhaps naive--not unlike the happiness Merton had found among the Trappists.Like Merton I, too, had to resolve some contradictory hungers and deal with a confu-sion of undigested ideas. The exterior discipline provided support for my own efforts io control immediate appetites. I would not agree today with ma.ny of the ideals that made up the "more perfect way," but it gave me a clear look at myself and something to strive for. And in striving for a difficult goal I knew satisfaction--by being unconcerned with satisfaction. I knew better my appetite for God byignoring my other appetites. .I have visited other novitiates and talked with others in formation and I do not know if what had been valuable for me is still available. In recently doing some serious study with the texts of Merton, I came to understand something about, myself. Merton had become severe in judging the struc-tures of religious life that once he had found necessary and supportive. In the 60s I and other religious went through the samechange. But now I have come to argue there are seasons in one's life. There is a time when discipline is needed and a time when it should be relaxed. And this difference gives rise to a significant difficulty when novices early in formation are integrated into communities of formed religious. Perhaps the difference of seasons can be seen in the two sets of Rules for Discernment of Spirits offered by St. Ignatius. One set is for the First Week and the other is for the Second Week. Thus, they are put in terms of a temporal sequence, in terms of seasons. In the Rules for the First Week-- and Ignatius seems to believe that many people do not pass beyond this week--one judges one's interior movements (spirits) by a somewhat demanding objective standard. One is to shape one's life according to the commandments and the Gospel ideal and, therefore, it is according to these I~1~ / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 Rules that one accepts the interior movements that ~support the defined ideal and.rejects the movements that do not. At the .end of the First Week (inthe kingdom meditation) one makes a radical dedication of oneself to God. In this meditation one is expected to make a deliberate choice to willingly bear all poverty~ trials and humiliations for the Lord's sake. It is a frightening expectation; but it is only after one has made such a prayer, that one is to use the Rules for the Second Week. To contrast the difference between the two sets of Rules:~ in the first set one conforms oneself to an objective standard; one tries to overcome one's feelings (movements) by judging objectiVely which feelings are appropriate. Then, in the Rules for the Second Week, one listens to one's feelings (one's consolations and desolations) in 6rder to learn from them what one is to do. One learns from the feelings only after distancing oneselffrom them and only after instructing them. Thus, at different times during the Exercises, very different norms are appropriate for dealing with "feelings." Having given hundreds of directed retreats, I have sensed that Rules for the First Week are often given only brief consideration or ignored. Much of the reason is that there is considerable ambiguity about the ethical questions that once had been so clear. Yet if one has not been through a considerable discipline of moods and appetites and begins using the Rules of the Second Week, one begins taking disordered moods and trivial appetites as messages from heaven. Thereby one becomes hopelessly confused--most people "in the world" know better than to do this. Ignatius took his own moods seriously and proposed a method of listening to consolations and desola-tions- but he would use this method only after he had disciplined them. 1 have done a fair amount of spiritual direction, and with it 1 have come to believe that many directees--by no means all--need less "spiritual life" and more objective conformity to demands of the Gospel. Any professional identity (doctor, athlete, musician, and so forth) requires an extended season wherein one conforms to an objective discipline. Senior doctors can follow their "hunches," while young interns generally should not. Mozart has recently become known as a highly spontaneous composer. There is some truth in this understanding, but Mozart became that way only after following a disciplined training that was brutal in its drmands.,l do not recommend brutal training for either musicians or religious. (Though from Mozart to Merton it has .produced some good results.) But, on the other hand, it does not make sense to believe one can be agood religious simply by being one's spontaneous self from the novitiate onwards. If that were the case there would be no need for a novitiate, other than a brief period in which to school the novices in the constitutions, charism, history, and so forth. When religious are simply integrated into Thomas Merton and Formation Today / 813 regular community life, they would seem to "have it made" more readily than is possible in any other profession. And this should lead one to suspect that something is missing in whathad been known as a demanding profes-sion- one that had appealed to the desire of the young, not to have it made, but to sacrifice one's self for a cause. Because of a current and much needed emphasis on personalism and because of smaller numbers entering religious life, many religious groups now "tailor the program for individual needs." But the present article would claim that such tailoring is not simply the better thing. There is also an advantage in. having a more or less uniform program according to which the novice should be tailored to fit a new way of life. Merton felt he needed considerable tailoring. If his novice director had tailored the life according to Merton's unique personality, would his director have left him in the chaos of his hungers and even more ill-adjusted~than he was to Trappist life? I suspect Merton would have been a better monk if he had not received a special assignment to "literary" work shortly after he had entered the community. Merton wanted to be lost in anonymity, the.ano-nymity of common life. In this age of personalism is there still something that can be said .for anonymity? There are advantages in losing oneself in "common life," especially ~when it is part of formation. One identifies with a group only if one has actively striven to become part of it. Such is the only way that a sports team can develop an esprit de corps.The members do not develop a common spirit unless they have been together in a common and demanding training. Members of such a team have tailored themselves to fit together in spite of their differences--and that is the power in their bond. It is only by striving to live by something more important than personal preferences, that one can discover the power of a community bond, a bond that is not at all the same as the friendship bond. The latter is based on personal choice--it is a matter of taste; while the community bond develops when different types of people (who otherwise iriight not be drawn to one another) submit themselves to a common discipline and thereby realize they are together in something more important than their personal tastes and bigger than any of them. When Jesus was told that his family was seeking him, he respgnded that his family was composed of those who "heard the Word of God and did it." (They could be said to be following the Rules of the First Week by conforming themselves to the gi{,en Word, to an objective discipline.) They were not together simply as'a m~itter of preference or as a group of congenial people with a common interest. Can we even imagine--a tax collector and a zealot in one group! The disciples were bonded by a common discipline 1114/ Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 that united them in spite of their differences. One might also allow that within this group some friendship bonds were allowed to develop. In this age of personalism I confess that I still understand what Thomas Merton was seeking as a young monk, and I believe I was seeking some-thing similar. In short, I did not want to dedicate myself to the triviality of my own'preferences, l still know the advantage of losing oneself in an impersonal discipline and losing oneself in the anonymity of a group.And in arguing for tl~is anonymity I find support in the words of Jesus to the effect that we must first lose our self in order to find our self. This command would suggest that first there must be a season of losing, and only after that a season of finding. And the season that comes first should say something about religious formation. Sometimes conservative religious communities tell only o.f the importance of losing oneself--while liberal religious com-munities tell only of the importance of finding oneself. But the present article would argue that each has its season. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life by Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three article's on the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cruciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Expectations of Community Along Life's Journey Kristen Wenzel, O.S.U: Sister Kristen teaches Sociology and Women's Studies at the College of New Rochelle. She als9 does work for religious congregations as a research consultant. Her previous article in our pages was "Toward a So~iology'of Ministry in the United States~ (July/August, 1982). She resides in the Ursuline Community at 596 Minneford Avenue; City Island; New York 10464. here is no question but that our experience of community is a very important aspect of our lives. God has so,made us that we all need to feel we belong. This is also true sociologically speaking. It is true regardless of age, family upbringing, ethnic heritage, ministry or the group with whom we live. Looking back over our experiences of community is like going on a journey. When we go on a journey, what accompanies us--things or people? When we venture out, do we pref~er to go alone or with others? When we want to rest along the way, do we seek. out friends or a quiet grove alone? When we are unsure of our direction do we follow our hunches or do we ask for help? Let me ask you, where .have you experienced community along the myriad pathways of your life--at the fork in the road, at the intersection or along "the road less traveled'~ Let me explain. When I think of "the fork in the road," I think of the times when community forces me to choose between it and my ministry or between it and my preferred friendships or family. When I picture an intersection, 1 am thinking of all these important groups in my life converging and merg-ing in one place. Sometimes experiences of community seem to be taking me, a pilgrim, on a road less traveled, a road littered with obstacles. The 1t16 / Review for Religious,. November-December, 1985 road is uneven and progress is slow. Along the pathways we have walked, what have been our experiences of community? More directly, what person(s), group, or, perhaps, minis-try or activity is carrying me through life? What is community for me? Now, let us take a more analytical look at the word "community." Understanding the Word "Community" There are a variety of understandings of the term community. If you were to ask those with whom you live how they define community, one person might share with you an experience she has had of community, for example, a special liturgy with everyone in the house present; a jubilee celebration; extended time spent together over a meal; coming together with others from several configurations in similar work where talking and sharing are done in a concerned way and meaningful context. Another person might speak of the feelings that the word community evokes: for her, community is affi.rming, challenging, frustrat!ng, supportive, alienating, gratifying. Others might tell you what they wish community would be and what it has not been for them. Yet another might come back to you with the question, "What do you mean by the community? Everyone living under the same roof?. Our cluster community? The people with whom I do ministry? The diocese or province? My friends? My family? My parish?"~ This variety of responses indicates the many different ways we define community, describe our community experiences and/or set our goals regarding community life. How we define, describe or prescribe directions for community living is the foundation for building models of community. Generally, sociologists agree on three characteristics as essential to community. They are: locale, common ties and social interaction. When we speak of "the community" this concept encompasses locale or place as the basic component. Whereas, "community," as distinguished from "the community," emphasizes the common ties and social-interaction compo-nents of the definition? In this sense community is viewed ;not so much in terms'of locale or where we live, but in terms of there being "a high degree of personal intimacy, emotional depth, moral commitment, social cohesion, and continuity in time.''3 When we religious are asked about our experience of community, what most frequently comes to mind--the geographical locale, the level of social interaction present,~ or the common bond of a shared ministry, vision, commitment? The common bond or common ties component of community refers to an organizing factor which is neither a locale.nor an emotional tie but a common intellectual or professional bond4 or, in terms of our status as Expectations of Community / 1117 religious, a common religious understanding or spiritual bond. It is this common-bond element that is referred to in the "Community Life" section of the constitutions of many religious congregations, for example: -The love that unites us finds its source in the intimate union of Father,' Son and Spirit who dwell within us. -Christ calls us to form, as did the first Christians, a community having "one mind and one heart" (Ac 4:32) and experiencing the joy of his presence. -In Christ we are one body nourished by the Eucharist and strengthened by the Word of God. What about the social inter'action component of community? Here sociologists distinguish between the rural village and urban industrial society to present the dramatic changes that have occurred in the level of social interaction between people. What the sociologists have to say, I believe, gives us insight into how community life has evolved here in the United States. In a village society most people held common values, norms and traditions. The survival and welfare of the whole village was a concern shared by all. Social bonds developed among.people from the many activi-ties and functions. Geographic mobility was limited and personal contacts were long-term. A distinctive characteristic of the village community was that each .member had a position in the social order, a position usual)y assigned at birth. Expressions of individuality such as distinctive clothing, work aspira-tions, leisure activities and friendship circles were strongly circumscri.bed by the rights and obligations of other village members. Consrquently, the self-identity of the individual often fused with the individual's identification with the village. . On the other hand, in urban industrial society life is much more diverse and fragmented. We do not have regular, continuous face-tr-face interaction with just 'any one group over a number of years. Many of the people with whom wedo come in contact we deal with in impeCsonal, functional ways. Those we live with may come from social classes and ethnic backgrounds very different 'from ours. Personal histories are heterogeneous. Conse-quently, we don't necessarily share with our companions common tradi-tions,' values, aspirations or ,goals. Unlike people in rural villages who~ spend their entire lives in the same community, we are highly mobile, not only gebgraphically but socially as well. More often than not, we enjoy a 10osely-linked network of friends across several groups rather than a close-knit network within one community. In religious life increasingly, specialized ministries also are a product of this urban industrial and technological society. I~111 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 Locale--common bond--social interaction. How important is locale in my experience'of community? Am I living in the particular community where I am because it is convenient for my work . . . because of my background experience or trifining for a particular ministry., because I can be close to aging parents or a sick relative., or because for me it is a real faith community to which I choose to belong?. Is a common bond, such as staffing a hospital, a love of one's foundress, serving the poor, or simplicity of life, with relatively little emphasis on locale and social interac-tion sufficient for community to exist in my estimation? Or is social interac-tion the essential element and, if so, what level of such interaction must be operative to make community for me? The relative importance we give to locale, common bond and/or social interaction indicates the model of community with which we most closely identify. Moreover, these are some of the basic elements that today's candidate for religious life will be looking at before choosingtomorrow's community. How each of us experiences community today ~s good and growth-produc-ing also influences the criteria we use in choosing the type of religious with whom we wo~ld like to live. This choice may only be able to exist in our mind. Nevertheless, the choice is real and affects the reality of community living. There is current tangible evidence that among us religious we differ in the sociological factors we emphasize in measuring the quality of commu-nity life. There is current tangible evidence that among us religious we differ in the sociological factors we emphasize in measuring the quality of commu-nity life. Current Trends Shaping Our Expectations of Community To define ~ommunity is one of the tasks to be done in developing models of community. Another very important task is to become aware of and sensitive to the current trends shaping expectations of community. Recent trends in theology and ecclesiology have had a significant impact on the spirituhlity as well as the experience of community life for apostolic religious in the United States. Among all the developments that have occurred in. the understanding of spirituality over the past twenty years, there are two that are fundamental. The first .concerns the way we view the world. Here we have moved from an assumption that reality is essentially static and unchanging to an awareness of a world that is dynamic and changing. As human persons within this world, not only are we subject to the process of continual change but'we are ourselves the very agents of that ~hange.5 It is in the acknowledgment, of being such agents that we are Expectations of Community / a19 evolving a new style of religious life. A second development, equally influential, focuses on how we view God. We have moved from an understanding of God as trangcendent and historical to the discovery of God as immanent in-our experience. We believe that human existence in its natural condition is radically oriented towards God.6 In the context of this understanding we have come to trust our experience of existence in the here-and-nowas the locus of the revela-tion of God. Consequently, e~eryday historical life and religious life are not separated. Experience takes on new meaning and becomes an integral part of our spirituality. These two broad developments in our worm view and God view make up the integrated secular and sacred climate in which community is being experienced, lived, and named among us today. The view of religious life as a mystery and a gift given to the Church in a particular moment of history has led to a search for new forms of com-munity; which will support the challenge of ministry in a new age and in a specific culture. An evolutionary perspective, which sees the life of faith as a journey and conversion as an ongoing process, has encouraged a more open and fluid approach to community.7 According to this trend community life is viewed primarily as a basic support for the mission of the religious congregation and for the ministry of the individual religious: Apostolic community life is a living out of the baptismal call to witness to the message of Jesus through ministry and service to the world. Consequently, community life is not lived apart from the world but rather within and for the world to which we belong, Our decision to live together out of shared Gospel values, and to give witness to these in society, is the foundation of community. It is such values underly-ing this decision which influence prayer, mutual support, presence, rela-tionships, lifestyle, finances, and all other aspects of community living. While community life is a living critique of the prevailing values of society,s it is also somewhat influenced and shaped.by societal trends. What are some of these secular trends challenging and giving rise to various models of community life?. John Naisbitt, in his popular book, Megatrends, deals with ten specific trends. I would like to single out three of these trends as those which I think we need to study and reflect upon in our .analysis of models of community life. Trend I. There is a persistent mbvement in society toward participatory democracy because there is a deepening conviction that people whose lives are affected by a decision must be part of the process of arriving at that decision. There is pressure On the Church, corporations, universities, local 1~20 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 parishes, agencies and hospitals to become more open and accountable. There is the new shareholder activism, worker participation, demand for greater employee rights and the consumer movement.9 There is no question that this trend toward participatory democracy is affecting religious and their current expectations of community. It is. an important element to be considered in building a model of community life. This growing movement toward participatory democracy is viewed by a significant number of reli- ¯ gious as an essential element if commumty for them is to be a credible and viable way of life. Trend 2. This decade is a decade of diversity, with multiple options in lifestyle, education, religion, housing, transportation, leisure activities, music and the ~.rts. The term "family".is being expanded to include a number of important relationships between people not related by blood or marriage. The country no longer holds on to the myth of the melting pot as ethnic and racial groups in growing numbers celebrate their diversity. Mul-tiple options have en';erged for women in the workplace, in personal life-styles, in choice of education, in elective sur~gery. Likewise, ~options for church membership are multiplying.~0 These trends are shaping current expectations for tomorrow's community. "Multiple Options" is becoming an evermore critical element to be considered in developing a model of community life. Cor~sider, for example~ multiple options for belonging to groups. This reality can enhance the quality of community life for contem-porary religious if we are willing not only to acknowledge this trend but to have leadership acknowledge it. Trend3. A world of interdependent communities.is being forced upon us by circumstances. Unless we recognize this we will not survive~ To achieve needed technologies we as a nation will have to work cooperatively with other nations. We will need to forge a 0ew relationship with the Third World as equal partners in an interdependent world.~ Perhaps the most significant areas of interdependence are those relating to the nuclear power issues and the growing global economy. Interdependence as expre,ssed in intercongregational-supported minis-tries, formation programs, and intercommunity living is a growing reality for contemporary religious. Interdependence for tomorrow's community means these developments will be more the reality than the exception. They will not only be accepted but embraced as integral to building a model of community life. These ~current trends do not comprise an exhaustive list. However, they are trends--religious as well as secular--that are having an impact on what we expect of community life. For example, if we bblieve that human experience is a locus for the revelation of God then, for us, God is expe- Expectations of Community rienced in interpersonal relationships, in ministry to and with others, in struggles for justice, in communal and liturgical prayer as well as in the give~and-take of daily community life. It is important that we get in touch with those patterns and trends in the Church as well as in society that are influencing our preferences for holding on to or restructuring our experi-ences of community. What are the trends you believe shape your own expectations of com-munity? It is here, I believe, that we find a clue to the reason why we may identify with one particular model of community' rather than another. Also, it is h~ere we gain insight into why, when we speak of tomorrow's community, we are speaking of multiple models that will grow in credibility and acceptancewithin a single congregation. Expectations as Expressions of Models of Community What do we mean by model? Our own experiences attest to the fact that community is a complex reality. We cannot take all dimensions of community and integrate them into a single vision of community. That would not be doing justice to its various elements. Rather, we keep them separate, highlighting different dimensions at different times. The use of models exemplifies a typological approach tothe study of community. The number of types or models is unlimited. However, I have chosen to limit the number of models lowill present to four. Each of theseomodels could .be broken down into several subtypes, but 1 will not attempt to do that. By approaching the study of community from the perspective of model, ultimately, I. am suggesting that this method offers us a multidimensional and not an uriidimensional understanding. The method of models or types can be invaluable in helping us to get begond the parochialism of our own outlook and t6 enter into fruitful dialogue with other members having a fundamentally different perspective. This particular approach should en-able us to encourage the kind of pluralism that heals and unifies ~ather than that which frustrates and divides. The use Of different models in our discussions of community evokes different viewpoints on issues and differ-ent suggestions for living out community. Sociologically, the. presentation of types or models: suggests what already is, not necessarily what Should be. Where'we live community life is determined more by circumstances, preferences and opportunities than by our trying to conform to some idealized concept in an idealized reality. Sociologically, idealized conditions do not exist--for better or for worse. The Institutional Model Here the concept of "locale" is impo~ant. The place one is assigned or II~fft / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 sent to, the geographical locale, is believed to constitute community. It is the community for the individual in the sense that this is where one's attentiveness and availability are directed. The principal needs of the indi-viduals are satisfied by their participation in communal prayer, shared meals and recreation together. Informal contacts outside the community are infrequent and do not contribute in a major way to the individual's life. Here, to live the common life is to live community. This is the goal, the basic conviction, shared by members who live this model of, community. The structured life is formally organized with a horarium and recognized levels of authority.Ordinarily, there is a single apostolate raiher than a diversity of ministries. Decisions are made based on the common good which, with stability, is highly valued. The members' needs and expecta-tions are met, for the most part, by the community. In the context of this model, individuals experience a strong sense of belonging to the gro~ with whom they have invested so much of their energies. To a large extent they are known .by the group and usually feel comfortable in group activities. They experience support from their communal living. This sense of pur-pose and direction is strengthened because it is shared by the group. Because so much time is given to the group, less time is available to follow personal interests or become involved in Outside activities. Exposure to lifestyles markedly different from the members' own is limited: Understand-ably, these types of boundaries as well as the relative homogeneity of the community tend to reduce overt conflictual situations. Preference for this model, would be shown by such felt needs as: -Praying together: office, Eucharist, shared prayer, retreat, communal prayer service; -Arranging gatherings on provincial and local levels: summer renewal, conferenc~es, chapters, workshops, jubilees, professions, funerals, big feast days; -Sacrificing personal interests for the common goo.d;, -Playing together: shared hours of relaxation, recreation, fun times, togetherness in enjoyment of TV programs of special interest, vaca-tion, cultural outings; -Feeling a sense of belonging and ~of being "at home" with one another; -Holding community meetings frequently, where members arrange schedules in order to be there. The Individual Identity Model In this model the emphasis in community is on social interaction rather than locale. An emphasis on the community member as person replaces Expectations of Community emphasis on community as place. Value for the human in self and others, respect for the dignity of the human person and the responsible freedom of every member are the basic convictions in this model. Consequently, it is the nurturing and growth of the individual that is of primary concern. Prayer in common is seen as a support and as a challenge, helping the individual to grow by helping to develop her or his insights and gifts. Diversity in rriinistry becomes inevitable with the emphasis placed on the d~velopment of each individual's talents. Community members are learning to recognize the dignity of the human person who has both rights and responsibilities in relationship to self, to others and to the world. The value of community flows from who we are rather th~n from what we do. There is a struggle with how to blend individual rights and responsibilities with those of .the group and how to hold both in healthy creative tension. There is a deep concernwith how to empower one another to be active participants in the creation of a Church, a nation and a world that reverence'the human~dignity of all. In a special way members of this~ type of community, if it is a commu-nity of women religious, recognize that the Women's Movement in the United States has deeply influenced many who share the determination to "use our power collaboratively and collegially in non-violent ways" to bring about the creation of a world that'respects all that is human. These members are coming tb a new understandifig of what it means to be woman: "The glory of God is woman fully alive," They are experiencing a new sense of solidarity with other women. They wish to bring about an awareness of women's unique gifts to be used in the creation of a more human, loving and just world.~2 This movement has heightened among religious the need for personal and communal discernment as 'they come to (erms with change as a continuous reality in their lives. It has also led them to create participative and collegial structures within community. There is dialogue and interaction on the journey so that they might discern and respond to the Spirit leading .them into the future. Prefereiace for this model Would be exemplifieod by such statements and elements as: -Challenged and called to grow beyond myself; giving most generously of myself; -Accepting responsibility for community; owhing community decisions; having a sense of building together; enabling the community to articu-late expectations of the group and individuals; -'Desiring growth in ideniity and cha'racter as individuals and as community;, -Appreciating each member for her or his contribution; considering ~124 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 members as individual persons not to be overloaded with work; -Recognizing the talents and gifts unique to each person and -Affirming ministry. The Ministry Model Here community life is viewed primarily as a-basic support for the mission of the religious congregation and the ministry of the individual religious. Community exists to facilitate the individual member's availability to minister to the needs of society-at-large. The active apostolate is of primary importance in this model. This is the common bond for living together in community. Locale and social interaction are of secondary importance. It is ministering to the needs of the People of God rather than to the members of one's own congregation that is the major expectation. Religious vows in response to vocation are a consecration for mission and are viewed not as ends in themselves but rather as supports for minis-try. Personal prayer demands a contemplative stance toward all of life and leads to contemplation in the midst of action. God is experienced in minis-try to and with others.13 Consequently, prayer in common is scheduled around the demands of the apostolate. It will occur less frequently, and at times without all members present. Times for private prayer would be more common. The major consideration in decision-making would be, "How will this decision provide greater availability and effectiveness in the apostolate"?. There may or may not be a diversity of apostolate works represented among the community members. Within the context of this model, for .example, new ministries are emerging for the, semi-retired that take them outside of the community: to share at centers for senior citizens, to tutor adults or chil-dren, to do parish.visiting or home nursing. Changes occurring in the society-at-large are affecting many of the types of changes experienced in the local community. In addition, membership in other groups and com-munities is acceptable as a means to apostolic service. It is quite common for some members to find these outside groups to be their primary com-munity. All-in-all the dimensions of community life are shaped by the values, goals and expectations of those whose primary focus is the apostolate. For some religious, the value of witnessing to community in the larger society becomes the apostolate. The community exists for the sake of its witness value. The expectation here is that the group will. live community in such a way that those outside community will see among them God's action in the world. Inviting butsiders to join the community for commu-nal prayer is an important dimension. In fact, hospitality in general would be considered essential to this type of apostolic community life. ¯ Expectations of Community as~ Preference for this model would be exemplified by such manifestations -There is interest in and suppori of one's ministry; united in service of others; involved in a common apostolate, being on an Ursuline faculty, giving help to the needy and the poor; -Small group living offers unique ways to use personal gifts, in the service of, others; -Hospitality is shown to guests, whether members of one's congrega-tion, one's family or friends and -Sharing work. The Communion Model~4 In the context of this model, the members of the community share the conviction that the concept of communion unveils an ever-deeper under-standing of community. Because we are all united in Jesus Christ and form one'Body of which he is the head, we are united to each other as members of one body. The diversity of gifts, talents, personalities serves the richness and well-being of the Body of Christ which is the Church. This is the common bond that unites members in community. They share the expecta-tion, the conviction, that religious life is a microcosm of the Church, a witness to the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and therefore, it must be a com-munion. Our life together must reflect the kind of fellowship with Christ and his members that is described in the New Testament. The source of our sisterhood or brotherhood is not human compatibility but rather a com-munion rooted in faith, in baptism and in life in Jesos Christ. Communal prayer, faith sharing and Eucharist would be the essence of community in uniting each religious to Jesus Christ, Likewise, there is a strong emphasis on attentiveness to the Spirit as a source of unity. Our oneness in Christ and his Spirit becomes the underlying rationale for the types' of decisions made regarding authority, leadership, provincial gatherings, living the vows, apostolates, and efforts to continue the updating and renewal of religious life. Likewisr, this communion directs us to attend to the needs of society and to issues of social justice. Communion is unity amidst diversity and is the essence of community life. Preference for this model would be exemplified by such evidences as: -Experiencing joy in living with people dedicated to the Lord; inspired by the fidelity and prayerfulness of one's sisters; -Sharing at depth level; articulating shared values; faith, vision; -Sharing times of crisis and -Assembling for the' good of the Church. To summarize--in these four models which I have just presented, we 1196 / Review for Religious, Nove.mber-December, 1985 do not find an exhaustive study but rather a continuing exploration of various, possibilities. From a sociological perspective, we see that different models place different emphases on Iocale,~ social interaction or common bond as the foundation for developing the model. These three elements are present in varying degrees whenever we describe community or living group. No actual community identifies totally with any single model. However, every community will probably find that it has an affinity with one model more than with another. Furthermore, it is important to acknowledge that each model raises a number of issues regarding commu-nity life that need to be addressed by members. Sociological Factors Influencing Our Expectations of Community What shapes .our expectations of community? Why do we find our-selves more attracted to one model rather than to another? Why do we recognize the description of one type better than another? Why do we haxie the preferences that we do for a particular model rather than for another? Or, on the other hand, are our expectations unclear or conflictual? Do we find more than one model appealing or, simply, none at all? Will tomorrow's communities really be that much more .different from today's? The variations that exist among us regarding expectations of commu-nity can be explained, in large part, by our respective personal ~ back-grounds such as the size of the family we grew up in; whether our ethnic heritage is Latin, Irish, Germanic or whatever; the type and number of years of education we had and whether we spent our childhood and early adult years in a rural or urban environment. Our age also affects our needs regarding community, and those needs change as we move from our 20s into our 30s, our 50s, our 70s. Likewise, our social-class background will have some bearing on how we view community. And there are other sociological factors which are influential. The task before us is for each of us to identify and name those that we believe have the strongest impact on our own respective expe.ctations and preferences. At times there is a tendency to call for unity in community while downplaying diversity of sociological background; for example, to challenge one another to a simplicity of life that will unite us, regardless of back-ground, social levels, experience or education. We are not united regardless of these factors. We can only be united in a real way when we have regard for them. This does not mean.we are defined in a static way by our personal history. But, we do need to remember that personal history is God-given, and the starting point for any of our journeys. Appreciating differences and allowing ourselves to be influenced by them can add a great deal of enrichment to community life. At the least, an awareness and Expectations of Community sensitivity to one another's background can explain why there exist among us so many and varied experiences and approaches to community. Briefly, I would like to mention another set of factors affecting prefer- 6nces. I will not ela ~borate on them but I would like t6 refer to them because they are critical elements to be dealt with in working out the practical details of community models. They are what we call structural elements; for example~ (1)the building lived in, (2) size of group, (3) geographical location, (4) age distribution, (5) daily schedule, (6) length of time of stable group membership, (7) procedure for incorporating new members, (8) mix of personality types and (9) number of ministries represented. There is a great deal more I could say about sociological factors and how they influence our expectations with regard to communal living. However, I believe I have given at least an indication of how to explore and apply them in gaining insight into how our preferences shape our attraction to one model over another. Conclusion In conclusion, I would like to say that the journey mentality embodied in this paper is different from the "trip mentality" so often present in our society today. When we go on a trip our focus is on arriving. Our attention is toward the future with relatively little preoccupation on the present. We are driving sixty'five miles-an-hour to get there and what we are passing on the road is unnoticed. On the other hand, the journey, mentality is attentive and respectful of the process. It is attentive to the here and now. It is a creating.and c~reative e~xperience~ It is the p!ace to be because this is the place God is. The fact that we do not have it all together, the fact that we are searching, the fact that we are moving slowly, sometimes reluctantly, sometimes with conviction, are all positive signs and reflective of the way God's people have acted throUghout history. This is reflective of every social movement whether religious, political, economic or communal. This is reflective of what we are about in all of our deliberations about commu-nity- along our life's journey. NOTES ~Similar questions are addressed by Barbara Glendon, O.S.U., in her article, "Models of Community," REVIEW FOR RELI~,IOtJS, Vol. 38, No. 2 (January/February, 1979), 206-216. 2Jessie Bernard, The Sociology ofCommuhity (Glenview, Illinois: Scott Foresman and Company, 1973), pp. I-2. 828/ Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 3Robert A. Nisbet, The Sociological Tradition (New York: Basic Books, Inc., Publish-ers, 1967), p. 47. aBernard, pp. 4-5. SMaureen O'Keefe, L.S.A.', "Reflections on Spirituality and Religious Life," unpub-lished paper written for an all-day program on "Reflection on Apostolic Religious Life in the Archdiocese of New York" held on April 29, 1984 at Mount St. Vincent, Bronx, N.Y. ~Ibid. 7Corita Clark, R.D.C., "Communal Dimensions," unpublished paper on the interpretations of data gathered from women religious of the Archdiocese of New York who attended a program entitled, "The Experience of Religious Life in the United States" on February 4; 1984, p. 8. 81bid. 9John Naisbitt, Megatrends (New York: Warner Books, Inc. 1982), pp. 159-188. ~°Ibid, pp. 231-247. ~qbid, pp. 55-77. ~2Here 1 would recommend Carol Gilligan's book, In a Different Voice (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, .1982) where she presents the thesis that women's experience of relationship and care must be included in theories of human development which traditionally have stressed men's experience of individuation and autonomy. ~3Clark, p. 8. ~4Ernest R. Folardeau, S.S.S., "Religious Life is a Communion," REVIEW FOR REI,I-G~ OtJS (January-February, 1984), pp. 65-68. The basic ideas for this section are taken from this article. From Tablet to Heart: Internalizing New Constitutions I and II by Patricia Spillane, M.S. C. Price: $1.25 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Llndell Blvd. St. Louis, Mlssoud 63108 Eucharistic Community of Disciples William E Hogan, C.S.C. Father Hogan's last article, "A Sense of Consecration," appeared in the issue of November/December, 1983. He continues to reside at the generalate of the Christian Brothers: Fratelli Cristiani; Via della M~glianella, 375; 00166 Roma, Italy. Since Vatican II it has beeri commonplace to say that the Eucharist is the highpoint of the day, the summit, the center. This is the manner of expres-sion one encounters in constitutions, conferences, formation instructions, and so forth. Yet many of us on the individual and community level could very well ask ourselves if in fact the Eucharist is the central point of our-day, if we do approach it. with the spirit and outlook that enables it to be our real focal point. In actuality we may well,discover that our vision of Eucharist is narrow, and that we "do"~Eucharist because it is expected of us. It is not too distant in the past that big gatherings were marked with Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, for that was an accustomed way of noting special occasions. Now whena group of religious come 'together for a meeting or solemnity, the expectation is that the occasion will call for a community Mass. This is all well and good, but we may be missing its impact on the community and our individual persons unless our eucharistic horizons are broad; for it should not simply be an occasion for celebrating with song and ceremony. Indeed, it is also a moment for healing, for proclamation, and for recommissioning in service. Our times have seen a wonderful explosion of renewed insights into Eucharist as a result of theological and scriptural reflectionJ There has been a return to many of the aspects of eucharistic awareness prevalent in the early Christian community, but progressively neglected with the.pas-sage of time, especially when the vision of so many was primarily restricted 829 I1~1~ / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 to Eucharistic Adoration. These insights should not be left in the intellectual domain; if carried over .and integrate.d into our daily vision, they can greatly enrich one's appreciation of Eucharist and help toward a realization of the Eucharist as the center of the day and of the community. As a means of helping people to make the Eucharist central, spiritual writers often enough used to speak of spending half of the day in thanksgiving for the Eucharist that had been celebrated and the other half in preparation for the next Eucharist. Surely many individuals found this approach helpful, but even more could be gained from incorporating into our lives the fruit of the present eucharistic renewal. At the outset, though, let us not be tempted to reject the wealth of spirituality that has come to us over the centuries from this emphasis on Eucharistic Adoration. For time spent in the Eucharistic Presence can serve as a powerful source of growth and strength in one's relationship to the Lord and to others, especially in terms of fostering an awareness of the many other presences of God 'in one's daily living. Through a lived awareness of the community, service and prophetic dimensions of Eucharist, individuals and communities may discover that Eucharist can be an integrating factor of daily life, and lead them to become a "eucharistic community of disciples,;' as the Lord Jesus intended. When we gather as a community to hear God's word and offer ourselves in union with Christ to .the Father, we assemble as a people of brokenness in need of healing and forgiveness for .our failures to carry out the Lord's command of love for, and service to, our sisters and brothers.° We bear all the weaknesses with which our personal and community qives~are laden~ and ~with the multiple failures ofour unfulfilled resolves to be more open to the Lord individually and together. We come in need of individual and community healing. The initial rite of the Eucharist introduces us to its forgiving and healing aspect as we sincere.ly acknowledge our need. It opens us up to rediscover the presence of Christ in our midst--not just the presence of Christ in his word, in the consecrated bread and wine, in the minister, ~,but in~ the very group of people with whom we have come together to worship. Jesus is there in the midst of the human weakness, the~ tensions, the variety of personality types, the physical sizes and shapes. He is there because we are gathered in his name. And he calls us forth from ourselves to discern his presence at the time in the community of worship. ,~ It is not enough that we discern his other presence~ in the eucharistic celebration. Our eucharist does not deserve the name in the full sense if we are unaware of his presence in the assembly, since Eucharist involves the interrelationship of a series or network of modes of Christ's presences. It is, as it were, a way in which Christ concretizes the connection between love Eucharistic Community of Disciples for God and love for people. It is an extension of the Emmaus incident in which the two travelers could recbgnize Christ in the breaking of the bread because they had shown hospitality toa fellow journeyman, inviting him to stay with them. Thecommunity aspect of Eucharist is not just a matter o.f song, gestures and prayer together, important as these ~re; for they can fast descend to the level of the empty ritual against which Jesus spoke. Rather this facet of Eucharist centers on a faith conviction that Jesus is in ~the midst of his people, a Risen Brother among sisters and brothers, leading them in wor-ship of the Father by the power of the. Spirit. And the perception of this manner of Jesus' presence is related to the breadth of our view of the Jesus whom we receive in communion: We receive the Risen Lord Jesus who is inseparable from the people whom he redeemed; so that our communion with him mysteriously engages us in communion with others, Long ago St. Augustine wrote: "We receive what we are; we are what we receive, the Body of Christ." And also, "We say Amen to what we are, the B~dy of Christ." In receiving Christ we somehow receive others into ourselves; we are put in touch with them on a profound level. " The context of the Seder meal in which Jesus instituted the Eucharist was, and still is, an experience of celebration and communion, for" those participating, in the various presences of Yahweh. The gestures and' rites expressed solidarity; the history proclaimed was a family history of ~the people, extending into the very time of celeb~:ation, wherein Yahweh was present in their midst, Jesus took the richness of that meal and transformed it; he took the whole community dimension 'that was essential to it and gave it an even deeper m~aning with his promise to be with those gathered in his name. But he challenges his disciples to awareness of this presence of his; for it does not happen automatically in one's life and a community can easily miss the Jesus in whose name they are gathered. It is not enough to focus on the word, the altar, the minister. Jesus' washing the feet of his disciples reveals another facet of Eucharist: the service dimension in which the liturgy of the altar flows forth into the liturgy of life: Jesus' act of washing the feet of the apostles was an integral part of Eucharist and not an isolated event,~ It summed up the self-empty-ing that had been going on all through ,his life and which would ~find its ultimate expression in the total giving of self on Calvary. When he told his disciples "Do this in memory of me," Jesus would have referred to more than the institution of his Body and Blood. His charge to the apostles would have encompassed what led up to the actual words of institution and the whole spirit of gelf-emptying that underlied them. His command to "wash one another's feet" is closely related to "Do this in memory of me"; 1~.2 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 for without the spirit of mutual se.rvice expressed in washing one another's feet, we will 'not in fact be celebrating in memory of him even though perform the ritual of Eucharist. Eucharist necessitates that those who par-ticipate in it break the bread of their own lives with others and pour forth their blood for others in service. Christ made it clear that it was by love for others that people would recognize his disciples, and love finds its expression in servibe of others. We have only to reflect on the parable of the last judgment in the twenty-fifth chapter of the Gospel according to Matthew to see the connection Jesus made between service of others in a communion of love with them and being his disciple. Or consider the words of Jesus when his disciples wanted him to disperse the crowds when it was getting late: "Give them something to eat yourselves" (Mt 14:16; Lk 9:13). The eucharistic tone.of the gospel narrations of the incident, is reminiscent of the eucharistic call to serve others, as Jesus himself goes on to serve the crowd--and the people in the crowd also go on to share their goods and serve one another. Every time a community gathers to celebrate Eucharist, it receives a renewed challenge to go forth and serve others and share with others, to wash the feet of those whom we meet--and to let our feet be washed by others, inasmuch as a spirit of service and communion with those whom we serve requir,es an ability to receive as well as to give. All the moments and actions of ministry during each day, and the daily demands and opportunities for creating community are rooted in the liturgy celebrated at the altar, and constitute a large part of the liturgy of daily life in which we are freed from self for others and for the Father. "Do thisAn memory of me" should not be words heard only after the consecration; they should echo in our hearts all day long in all we do and tr), to live. And when our human frailty holds us back from all the self-emptying demanded of a .disciple, we bring our weakness and human failings to the next Eucharist to find therein the healing and strengthening we need to face the future .challenges of service to which that Eucharist sends us forth. Eucharist involyes not simply celebration but proclamation. "When we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes" (I Co 11:26). How often those words are said or sung as an acclamation without their meaning being grasped! "The death of the Lord" speaks the love of Christ, the love that is at the heart of mission. Eucharist celebrates that love and calls the disciple to continue that love in his/her own life and proclaim it by action. The Eucharist charges individuals and commun!ties not to live for self, but to reach out to others in love and compassion, prolonging the mission of Christ right into the present. It ¯ demands that we be Christ in our day in our love for the Father and our Eucharistic Community of Disciples / 1133 sisters and brothers, laying aside untlue concern for self for the sake of others. Eucharist is not really celebrated if the proclamation of love in action is absent from the lives of those who assemble at the Eotd's table. St. Pa.ul .made this very clear in his reprimands of the Corinthian community who violated the fundamental meaning of the symbol of the Christian agape. We, too, fall into contradiction if we live in indifference to others after drinldng;~he cup of the Lord's Blood and thereby asserting'a r~Com-mitmbht to follow Jesus in the selflessness of discipleship.2 Christ queries us ifi eac~ Eucharist, as he asked James and John, whether we can drink the cup of freedom from self for others in love. When we view Eucharist as proclamation, there are implications for how we regard others, and whether our vision corr.esponds to that of Jesus. The Jesus of the Gospels shows reverence for the unique dignity of each individual; He treats others as sisters and brothers and shows special con-cern for those mistreated or rejected by society. He reaches out to others and does not live closed in on himself. The Eucharist we celebrate declares that this is the manner of acting for t.he Christian community. The procla-mation of "the death of the Lord until he comes" speaks loudly against injustice and lack of peace, but we can be deaf to the message when we are unaware of Eucharist as a challenging proclamation. It.is not enough to view Eucharist as a celebration of what we.have come to be as Christians and of the gifts we have received. While there is place for focusing on the pasL there must also,be a look to the future and to .the present with the calls to share, to serve and to proclaim that Christ's love is very much alive today. To be eucharistic means more than, to be a people of thanksgiving living in a spirit of gratitude, for Eucharist embraces calls for living discipleship and continuing to enter more deeply into it. To be a eucharistic person or community is to live a life .integrated around Eucharist in its different dimensions of community, prgclamation and ,service as well as the tradi-tional aspects of adoration, .praise, thanksgiving and reparation. The more we ponder over the facets of Eucharist, the more our day will be centered around it and be affected by it. We will perceive our day as being one in which we are missioned at the Eucharist to go forth and live and do what we proclaim at the altar; and we will come back to the Lord's table conscious of the ways we have not fully lived Eucharist because self has gotten in the way. And we will come together as community to be healed, freed and strengthened to go forih again in eucharistic mission. ~ / Review for Religious, Novembei'-December, 1985 NOTES lOne of the most valual~le sources for renewed eucharistic spirituality is the magazine Emma~uel published by the Blessed Sacrament Fathers, 194 East 76th St., N.Y., N.Y. 10021. In recent years a number of articles have appeared that afford very rich insights. Among others that could be cited: James Feeley, "TheologieS of'Eucharist" in April and May issues, 1981; James Feeley, "Eucharist as Compelling Service'r in June, 1981; Paul Bernier~ "Changing Eucharistic Perspectives" in,July/Aug., !1981; Paul Bernier, "A Century of Congresses" in Sept., 1981; :Eugene LaVerdiere, "Proclaiming the Death of the Lord" in Oct., 198 i; Joseph Hart, "The Splendor of the Eucharist" in April, 1982; Eugene LaVerdiere and John Gartner~ "Eucharist as Proclamation" in April, 1982; John Gartner and Eugene LaVerdiere, "Eucharist as Liberatiofi" in May, 1982; and 'Eugene. L~iVerdiere and John Gartner, "Eucharist and CommuniOn" in June and Sept., 1982. ' ~See Eugene LaVerdiere, "Can You Drink the Cup?" in Emmanuel, vol. 89, no: 10, Nov. 1983, pp. 490-495. The Good News ' Good news is oven-fresh and warm like bread in morning nostrils It's felt in channels of the blood ~like anticipated supper, down highway,~ rides. It's news read under lighled lamps ~ warm with the glow of chaliced wine Down all the streets and byways of our twisted years. Good news is sharing of the Word, fresh and warm communion Not yesterday's news from vacant lots or jammed in sealed-up windows, ' , Good news lets in a radiant light washed clean in morning deE, Good news is news that will not stand still. See it rise in serene suspense as each sun rises toward each day Not in cyclic repetitions but spiraling bell-tongued from towers Calling all things to itself in its tremendous inward and upward thrust Good news is news that will not stand still. Marcella M. Holloway, C.S.J. 6321 Clemens Ave. St. Louis, MO 63130 Inculturation, Community, and Conversion Gerald A. Arbuckle, S:M. Father Arbucl~le is well known t0our readers fo.r the insightful articles from his pen which have graced our pages in recent years. He has agfeed to Offer ihe fourth anrual Spring Lecture, jointly sponsored by REVIEW FQR RELIGIOUS and St. Louis University's Department of.Theological Studies, next March. Father Arbuckle may be addressed at his congregation'~ generalate: Padri Maristi; Via Alessandro Poerio 63; 00152 Roma, Italy. In language that is remarkably radical, Paul VI ten years ago identified the scope of evangelization with the transformation of cultures. ~What matters," he wrote, "is to evangelize hlJman culture and ~:ultures, not merely in a purely decorative way, as it were by applying a thin veneer, but in a vital way, in depth, and right to their very roots." l For the pope e~,a,ngeliza-tion must come alive to the people in and throughthe symbols that have meaning for them? But he is no cultural romantic, no cultural i'elativist. In the light of the Gospel some, culturally a~cept~ble symbols or customs may have to b6 rejected, others encouraged to develop. In other words, thee pope is speaking of what we now call inculturation, that is, "the dynamic relation between the Christian message and culture or cultures; an insertion of the Christian life into a culture; an ongoing process of reciprocal and critical interaction and assimilation between them."3 Religious are ,evangdizers. But to evangelize, they must first be evange-lized themselves.4 Put in another way, if they are to be agents of inculiura-tion for others,, they must first undergo inculturation themselves~ They must first submit, and keep on submitting, their own lives, their own religious life culture, to the critical evaluation of the Gospel. They must see 835 Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 to what extent their community life, their lifestyles, are negatively or posi-tively influenced by the culture to which they belong, An objective evaluation of one's culture is far from simple. It is so easy to be deceived. Some time ago I heard a European missionary working in a South-East Asian country make the following comment: I have just visited a very large formation house for religious clerical students. The quality of community life is just so perfect, so Christian. There is gentleness, humility among the candidates. No one steps out of line. No one is ever alone. There is so much harmony here. Just so different from the individualism of the western world. Contrast this with a comment of another religious priest, this time within a Western country: The community where our few students are being trained is so mature. Each student is challenged to stand on his own feet. None of this together-ness emphasis. They rarely come together; this shows their maturity, their lack 6fneed, for emotional props.° I feel this is real community. How are these comments to be evaluated? Both commentators assert that the communiiies they refer to are deeply Christian. But in fact are they so perfect? Both commentators stress opposite values: th~ value of being tightly integrated in the group and the value of standing alone. According to Gospel orientations, can both emphases be correct? How far are the reactions of the participants in ihe houses influenced by.their cultures so that the consciofis effort at building realChristian co~mianity is minimized? These are complex, but urge~nt, ~uestions. Religious may be helped to answer them with the aid of anthrbpoi~gical insights. After a'lL in~:ulturation is the evangelization' of culture and cultural anthrop~ology specializes in the systematic .study of culture. In ~ttiis article, therefore, I will seek to: -define wh~it is meant by community; ~-define culture, and describ~ Variou~ cultural ~xpr~ssions of community; -r~flect ori incuituratioh, conversion a~d~community in religious life; ' -suggest some practical formation implications of the analysis. '~ Reflections on the Nature of Community Despite the ease with which the word community is used, it is not so easy to define what it means. After reviewing ninety four definitions of community, one author concluded that "beyond thd conceptthat people are involved in commu.nity, there is no complete agreement as to the nature of community.~5 Despite this difficulty, for thepurpose of this article we might accept the distinction made by Raymond Plant: Commu.nity, he says, should be considered eithdr as a fact or as a value? Community as a' Inculturation, Community, and Conversion /837 ~fact is something sociologically definable. As a fact, community is "essen-tially a sentiment which people have about themselves; a sentiment expressed in action and behavior but still basically a feeling."7 According to David Clark, two essential feelings for the existenc~ of community are a sense, of significance and a sense of solidarity. Individuals feel they have an accepted position in the group. This gives them a feeling of significance. They feel bonds with one another; thi~ gives them a sense of solidarity. How significance and how solidarity are to be expressed in fact are most often determined by the cultui'e, or belief systems, of the people who.make up the.community. Some cultures heavily stress significance, others solidar-ity; others seek to balance the two feelings. When we speak of community as value we move away from the socio-logical area into the .ethical, .(he philosrphical or theological areas. How one defines what a community shouM be will depend on one's values.8 If one believes that the .bonds between, members of a community should be ~arkedly strong, then individuals may be forced to weaken their own feeling of personal significance. If the latter is. given top priority, then solidarity itself may weaken: For the Christian, community as a value takes its foundation from the Trinity: "May they all be one. Father, may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you" (Jn 17:21). We struggle, with the grace of God, to give visible expression 'to the presence of the Trinity-- a sharing in love and in openness, but without the loss of personal unique-ness~ There is emphasis on other-centeredness; that is, concern for the welfare of the other, .but without loss at the same time of one's responsibility for oneself. There is allowance .for "both autonomy and mutuality.-9 There is to be the unity of heart and mind. Unity--which is not necessarily tl~e .same as uniformity--is to be achieved in and through healthy interaction, dialogue and charity,t0 It is a unity born out of freedom in Christ. Cultural Expressions of Community .,"Community" emphasizes the peoplb who feel .personal significance and/or solidarity; "culture" emphasizes the way people express this feeling in practice, The values and biases of our family, neighborhood, and com-munity to which we belong have in so many ways been shaping our feelings; emotions, and way~ of responding. Our ways of relating to other people; to those in authority, are "never simply spontaneous, but are care-fully--- if often unconsciously--learned from life around us." ~ Anthropol-ogists remain divided on how to define culture in a comprehensive way. Some would stress the importance of what people do rather than believe. More commor~ly today, however, culture is used to refer to the organized system of knowledge, of belief, whereby a people structure their experience I~1t / Review f.or Religious; November-December, 1985 and perceptions, formulate acts, and choose, between alternatives. This sense of culture refers to the realm of ideas that influences (not determines) behavior, As Ward Goodenough says, ideas "provide standards for deciding what is., what can be., how one feels about it . what to do about it . how to go about doing it."~2 Understood in this sense, culture has a deep, often unconscious, influence on behavior.: Culture gives us meanings about, the things_that we see to be important; culture gives us a sense of direction. Culture tells, us what the people we live and work with consider good or bad. Culture tells us what sanctions, if any, we will suffer if we do not accept what others do or want in.the community to which we belong. Anthropologist Mary Douglas, a leading contemporary commentator on ritual and society, in an effort to articulate how individuals can be pressured by culture to respond in certain ways, uses two basic variables: group and grid.~3 The group is the experience of belonging to a social unit, the 'feeling that "I belong to this group of people and not that group 'of people." Put in another way, group means "the outside boundary that people~have erected between themselves and the outside world."~a The grid is the set of rules, the (tangible or intangible) structures or systems that relate one person to others on an ego-centered basis. Or it connotes, asshe herself writes, "all the~other social distinctions and delegations of authority that [are used] to limit how people,behave to one another."tS~ From these two variables she creates four models of culture. I will .restrict the analysis here only to two rather important, polar-opposite models: "strong group and strong grid culture" and "weak group and weak grid culture.'~ Community will be expressed in two different ways in these cultures. ~ ,ln the ~explanation that follows, I will give more emphasis to the first model for two reasons. Firstly, information on this model is not so easily available to the general reader, unlike the material relating to the second model. Secondly, whereas the number of candidates fog the religious life is severely decreased in Western ~hurches (except in Poland and Ireland), Africa, Asia~and Oceania are seeing a true explosion of religious vocations. There is also a similar pattern relating to the recruitment of priest candi-dates.~ 6 The cultures,of these, countries tend to approximate more to the first model than the second. Diocesan authorities, religious superiors and formators, then; may very specially need to appreciate the formation and inculturation implications of this model. On the other hand, considerable literature is available on the second model, a model that has application in many parts of the Western. world. Before proceeding with the analysis, however, two clarifications are necessary. I will be describing two sociological models or frames of refer- lnculturation, Community, and Conversion / 1139 ence. A model is not a perfect abstraction from reality. Rather a model is very much a construct used to facilitaie a better understanding of very complex situations. A model reflects, reality to the extent that it highlights certain emphases or trends. A particular cultui'e can then be researched to discover just how far it conforms or diverges from the model. Secondly, though the first model is particularly common throughout Africa;~Asia, Oceaniaand South America, this does not mean it is not also operative within Western countries, It is just less dominant in these coun-tries, Similarly when I refer to the second model, weak group.and weak grid, as particularly characterizing Western countries, it does not mean it does not have application at times also in parts of the Third World lands. Strong Group and Strong Grid Culture . Inthis model the strong grid involves moral and normative prohibitions that limit or highly structure interaction. The stress on group identity gives security to,individuals, but at the same time confines them to close relations only with people within the boundaries of the group. The feeling of solidar-ity, not personal significance, characterizes this culture and thus is the dominant expression of community living: Within the community, behavior is highly traditional; what was done in the past becomes the measure of what should bedone now and in the future, Frequently, the position of each individual within tt]e community is clearly-- and even rigidly--defined, even before birth, by the rules of kinship, Kin-ship (the extended family system) is the articulating principle of all social and economic organization. For example, all members of one's tribe or clan may be named "grandfather," "grandmother," "father" or "mother," "brother" or "sister," "son" or "daughter" depending on the ages of those concerned, e.g. all males belonging to my father's generation are called ~ather." The titles denote what behavior is expected of the people with whom one comes into contact. The effective principle ,that binds people together in such c~ultures and communities is reciprocity. Often kinship rules dictate precisely who receives what, how much and from whom. Within cultures of this type there is a vigorous ideology that gives priority, to group cohesiveness, togetherness, interdependence and group harmony. Often this ideology is summarized in one word or in a brief expression. For example, among Maoris in New Zealand there is the term aroha. The root meaning of aroha is "love of kin," and it implies not only affectionate feelings but also the issue of these feelings in action. Since kinship is now not so'important to Maoris, aroha is applied to friends also, but still in the event of conflict the sense of obligation to kin is likely to prove the stronger.~7 ~ / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 In Papua New Guinea, where there are five :hundred languages and at least one thousand dialects for 3',000,000 .people, the commonly heard expression is wantok ("one-talk" or.same language).~8 In Japan the word wa is Used; the word connotes the priority that must be given to unity, cohesiveness, team spirit, the:cultivation of good feelings among members of the same firm or family,t9 In the Philippines ~faithfulness to the group, called, bayanihan, is emphasized.2° A particularly key expression in Philippines~culture is paki-kisama; this underlies virtually the entire structure of social relationships~ Priority is given to smooth interpersonal relationships at all times and pakikisama is a primary way of achieving such smoothness. It' means "giving in," "following the lead or suggestion of another"; in a word, "concession," even when one knows that the coffcession is objectively wrong.2~ Pakikisama, as a value, favors avoidance of direct confrontaiion that could lead to open and violent aggressive behaviors, The desire for' frictionless relationships can result in extensive use of euphemism in con-versation, and the speech is loaded with metaphors that convey a message with minimum risk of offense3 There are few concepts, as deeply rooted in the Western mind as the concept of self. Westerners generally are apt to see (hemselves as distinct beings, "separate from all others in most important respects, with separable beliefs, talents, and experiences. 23 In contrast to this approach, Japanese see themselves or define themselves as part of a larger group. One's separate "identity" is not separated "out as the primary sign of personal development; maturity for them usually means merging with the collective whole. The Western interpretation of~ maturity lies precisely in the autonomy of .the individual. Japanese, in brief, derive their identities in part from those nearest to them. There is a partial merging of identities so that the identity of the group is apt to be the dominant force: As in Japanese culture, so in these other cultures which resemble the strong group and strong grid model. Collectivism, or the feeling of solidarity, with stress upon harmony and consensus, generates pressure .for conformity to group norms, pressure to ~'be like everyone else." Conspicuous idiosyncracy and dissension are avoided or suppressed, and acquiescence is upheld as main mechanismsfor maintaining consensus. There are many subtle but effective ways to ensure conformity to the group and to behavior expectations of the group (grid). There is the fear of being gossiped about, of being made the object of ridicule. if norms are broken. ~ ¯ The Japanese sociologist, Chie Nakane, in explaining the stress on the group as the foundation for community, says that people adhere to the group "not by religion or philosophy but by a very human morality. The Inculturation, Community, and Conversion / 041 yardstick of this morality is always determined by contemporary trends. The feeling that '.I must do this because A and B also do it' or 'They will laugh at me unless I do such-and-such' rules the life of the individual with greater force ~han any other consideration, and thus has a deep effect on decision,making."24 The fear of being shamed if one does something differ-ent ~from the group holds the individual in check. The adoption of Western ambitions for personal freedom is almost incomprehensible to persons with traditional Japanese assumptions about group loyalty. As in Japan, so also in other cultures which approximate to our model of strong group and strong grid. One famous Fijian leader commented on the vital quality of liberality as an expression of solidarity within the group: "Liberality is the law of tradition, and to give evidence of thrift or arouse suspicions of miserliness is to sin against the law."25 Of Tahitians, B. Finney writes: "Stinginess is not admired., and anyone judged stingy is often pejoratively referred to as Popa's (European)."26 The concept of hiya in the Philippines has been described as shame, but the English word does not adequately convey the .term's meaning. It is a form of self-deprecation, involving embarrassment, inferiority, and shyness all arising from having behaved improperly in relating to the group. The fear of being shamed is one of the more powerful sanctions operating to maintain the overall system of social and group relationships?7 The fear of being cast out of the group, ostracism, either by being physically removed or verbally ignored or snubbed, is a most powerful sanction against individual non-conformity to group and grid demands. In Genesis Cain is not to be executed for murdering Abel. His punishment is to be yet worse: ". 'You shall be a fugitive and a wanderer over the earth.' Then Cain said to Yahweh, 'My punishment is greater than I can bear'" (4:1 2-13). In ~'strong group and strong grid" cultures people may attempt to break away from the group demands, but few can take the ostracism for very long.28 Finally, there is the ever-present fear in many communities that if the norms of group and grid are not followed, there will be supernatural sanctions imposed: the spirits, ancestors, witches, sorcerers, or even God himself will impose punishment on wrongdoers. Punishment may be immediate or long delayed, e.g~ a person, becomes sick and then remembers :a group norm was broken sometime in the past. Sometimes the wrong-doing can be comPensated for, e.g. by girl giving, or sometimes people feel that nothing can be done, and death or suffering must be accepted in a spirit of fatalism.29 Weak Group and Weak Grid In this model both group and grid or social networks have little grip on 1t42 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 individuals. The emphasis is on individualism, on individual decision-mak-ing and initiative. As Ferdinand Tonnies put it: '~'Here everyone is by himself and isolated, and there exists a condition of tension against all others. Their spheres of activity and power are sharply separated, so that everybody' refuses to everyone else contacts with and admittance to his sphere, i~e. intrusions are regarded as hostile acts."30 Interpersonal relation-ships are basically competitive. People compete with each other to gain personal advantage, status. There is no deep mutual sentiment that can generate trust and reciprocal concern. Inter:relationShips are governed by formal contracts; people are ever ready'legally,to sue one another for suspected violation of personal rights in all kinds of spheres. Douglas describes the model in this way: "Instead of accepting their allotted station in a given scheme of things, as where grid is strong, each family is involved, for its very survival, in the effort for advantageous alliance--marital, de-fensive, or financial.''3~ We still refer to this type of interrelationship as community, not just because personal significance is stressed but because in some very vague, but real, way people feel some sentiment' of solidarity, even if it is paradoxi-cally conflictual. They may fe~l some sense of common, belonging, ever so faint, because they live in the same house br work in the same building or firm. But it is a sense of belonging that is so weak that it cannot be depended on for much support, if any, when one is in difficulty. In this model personal significance is vigorously emphasized. Hence, the stress on individualism and the struggle to establish a sense of personal acceptance in community through competitive work and through material symbols of achievement. But the struggle .for .status in such a competitive world is a never-ending battle, with success at best very fleeting. In this culture model, the cult of self-fulfillment is strong~ how can I best improve myself through my own efforts, my own self-discipline, my own efforts at manipulation of others for my advantage?32 Recently social-economist Amitai Etzione severely criticized the United States for uncriti-cally adopting this model of culture and community: "[We] have experienced a hollowing of America in which community was whittled down. Greater reliance on government has been accompanied by promotion of a particular brand of individualism best labeled egotism, sometimes referred to as 'me-ism' or hedonism, and . . . built into antisocial interpretations of the psychology of self-actualization."3~ Some claim that people like Locke, Hobbes and Adam Smith contrib-uted to the emergence of the weak group and grid culture in America, because these authors stressed the primacy of the individual and the wisdom of a society built on self-sufficiency.34 But America is not alone in stressing lnculturation, Community, and Conversion / 1143 the significance of the individual to the detriment of solidarity. Within the Australian ,popular folklore, for example, there is also the cult of the rugged individualist. As one writer said "the Australian way of life" was "something much deeper than words can depict," that it embodied some "inner principle'~' which, although difficult to define, was related to "the freedom, the security, the justice and the individualism of life in this sun-burned, muscular continent."35 Evaluation of the Two Culture/Community Models E. Aronson.points out that the human person can respond to social/ cultural influence in three possible ways: by compliance, identification or internalizationP6 Compliance connotes the reaction of a person who behaves in a certain way to gain ~reward 9r to avoid punishment. If the group pressure to act is sufficiently strong, .then the person who~complies will go along with the group to acquire praise or avoid difficulties, Decisions as to what to do or not do: are taken, without his involvement or responsibility. When identification takes place a person acts in a certain way in imita-tion of the person who is influencing him. The action is done not to ga!n a reward or avoid punishment, but simply to be like the influencer. The internalization .of a value or belief is by far the. most permanent, most deeply rooted, response to outside influence. The reason to internalize a particular belief is the desire ,to be right. The reward for the~ belief, is intrinsic. A personal conversion is required to achieve internalization in" order to withstand the pressures for compliance and in order to avoid the fickleness of identification. ln~.the two culture/community models described above, are there., influences that foster or hinder the internalization of Gospel community values? Are there~factors within these models that are conducive to Gospel ."a.utonomy and mutuality"~. I will take each model in turn and attempt to respond to these questions. Evaluation of the Strong Group and Strong Grid Culture A researcher who studied seventy years of parliamentary ~debates in New Zealand reflected on the consequences of what was then an example of strong group and strong grid culture emphases: "Here in a small and culturally homogeneous milieu is the spectacle of a majority rule producing some of the consequences. : the dulling effect of the mass mind, the dominance of conventional opinion, the despotism of custom, the intoler-ance of unorthodoxy, the sacrifice of talent to the worship of averages, a world made safe for mediocrity."37 In the strong group ~and grid culture, 844 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 uniformity in behavior becomes almost synonymous with patriotism. The pressure to conform to the group, and to the established, detailed, rules of life, can be so strong .that the individual's capacity to make independent judgments and to take autonomous action in light of Gospel values is severely restricted. The culture provides, therefore, little or no opportuni-ties for significant independent and responsible personal action. The sense of individual identity is anchored in group belongingness and is thus sustained by going along with peers. This goes with the desirability of being accepted by peers, the anxiety connected with being left out, and a competitive urge for always being in. One economist, reflecting on the causes of povery within the Pacific Islands, pointed to the traditional dominance of the group over the individual as one major obstacle to the removal, of poverty: Generous giving has been elevated to a very high place in traditional standards . Taking advantage of a general acceptance of this customary attitude, proceedsfrom the sale of crops, wages orany accumulated prop-erty are subject to demands from all sides.; the proportionate scale and nature of these demands being such that it is difficult for any individual tO retain funds or .useful property and the earner or producer after successive distributions is usually discouraged from making further effort.38 Given pressures of this kind, it is very difficult for the individual to come into contact with his or her real self, with the reality of loneliness. One becomes imprisoned by group pressures, isolated from one's inner self. "The stress on togetherness," write Eric and Mary Josephson, "is a particu-larly pernicious pulsation that may acquire a pathological character. While togetherness may lessen the feeling of being lonely, it is really only an exchange of isolation for an unrealistic'imprisonment of brotherhood'?'39 Not only does the pressure to conform to the group result in hiding One's own loneliness, but the pressure to appear happy and one with others can cover over real tensions, aggressive feelings and'~ anger which remain unresolved. Westerners, who may come from cultures that overstress ruthless and competitive individualism, when they come into contact with strong group and grid cultures--in which harmony and.external conformity are stressed-- are tempted !o fall victim.to the pernicious disease of cultural romanticism. They fail to see that individuals can be culturally oppressed. This is the case in the comments by the first observer to whom I referred in the introduction of this article. The observer assumed that the cheerfulness he saw was inspired by .Gospel values. I, for my part, cannot be so sweeping in my praise. The observer noted that "no one is ever alone." The particular culture on which the observer was commenting was of the strong group Inculturation, Community, and Conversion/.1145 and grid type, in which a person regularly spending lengthy periods of time . alone in reflection and study was considered definitely odd, even a traitor tothe group's idea of Gospel community.~ In this culture individuals lacked the space, freedom, challenge and support, to be themselves, to be auto-nomous. The same community covered over very real interpersonal ten-sions. If such tensions were ever to come out into the open, to be resolved in a Christian manner, it was thought, such revelations would destroy "the God-given, culture-supported harmony." In brief, in answer to the above questions about internalization, the strong group and grid culture is not necessarily conducive to the internali-zation of Gospel community based on thevalues of autonomy and mutual-ity. Rather, individuals are subjected to strong cultural forces or biases that are conducive to compliance or external acceptance of the group's ~values. Evangelization is apt to remain a thin veneer, something "purely decora-tive.'' 4° If.individuals are suddenl~ removed from such a culture, not infre-quently the fa~ilure to internalize the objective values of Christian autonomy -and mutuality shows up only too dramatically and painfully. For example, migrants who, within their countries of origin, have been living a form of cultural Catholicism are not likely to continue to practice their faith in the land of their adoption--unless there is a conversion and an internalization of Catholic values.4~ To the unsuspecting observer, therefore, the pleasantness that so often pervades the strong group and grid cultures may come across as thoroughly Christian and growth-oriented. But the reality, at times can be very different. "Sin,,' for example, can be conceived prima.rily as "individual failure in group obligations." "Sin" in this sense can. be "removed" not necessarily through a reconversion requiring deep interior change, but through a ritual of"face-saving" actions, e.g. the handing over of a certain amount of goods to the one or to the group offended:42 Evangelization of cultures, then, requires sensitivity both to their positive and negative features. "The Gos-pel," writes Paul VI, "[is] certainly not identical with culture."43 "Evaluation of the Weak Group and Weak Grid Culture There are some rather trenchant critiques of cultures that approximate to the weak group and grid culture model. In Australia, claims Ronald Conway, the vigo'rous cultural s.upport for individualism and the competi-tive pursuit of material happiness has left many an Australian "blank-souled," "a starved captive in a dungeon created by generations of either not caring or dreading to show care.''44 He speaks of "fragile foundations of impoverished interpersonal communication."45 In America, social critic John Kavanaugh believes that "Christianity at 1~6 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 rock bottom radically conflicts with American culture, even subverts its';46 He believes that individualism, the ruthless, competitive pursuit of material happiness and achievement all conflict with Gospel values. Historian David Potter's insights would support this view. He argues that the search for personal freedom, coupled with the rejection of any society-ascribed statuses, has gone so far within the American ethos that people have become involved in a never-ending search through work for improved, personally achieved statuses. The loneliness, isolation, insecurity and ten-sions, he states, that result within individuals who are caught up in this '~status rat race" are enormous and overpowering for many individuals.47 Christopher Lasch claims that in. America "the culture of competitive indi-vidualism., in its decadence has carried the logic of individualism to the extreme of a war of all against all, the pursuit of happiness to the end of a narcissistic .preoccupation with the self."48 Joseph Tetlow claims that American culture so stresses the value of good health and .the value of .being young that "This conviction stamps our religious experience in a very notable way and gives concrete shape to our spirituality. For Americans do not easily believe that Grd loves someone and has forgiven that person's sins as long as that person suffers in any way."~9 We need comment no further. So forceful can the weak group and grid culture be in exalting the powers and worth of the individual that terms'like "human interdependence," "mutuality," "social justice" and "compassion for the marginal" sound almost sinful! Compassion; social justice, Charity, mutuality--are atthe very heart of the Christian message. If culture vigor-ously supports the contrary values--as does the weak group and grid culture then individuals are under strong pressure at least to comply with such forces. Not to comply is to be considered odd, a dropout, one who does not believe in the importance of status-seeking. ' Given these comments, readers will now be rather suspicious of the second comment, regarding a religious community of students; which was given in the introduction to this article. The words "[th6 students] rarely come together: this shows their maturity" rather reflect the wider cultural stress on "rugged individualism" in the sense pictured above. Members of that religious formation house may well find the following description highly congenial to their cultural tastes: "Commt:nity is seen as a necessary encumbrance, for the paying of bills, for security, or just for convenience . Use of the car and enough money for each member to become independent becomes the major issues."5° Recently Eugene Kennedy, summarizing social criticism of America (and by implication, similar cultures), noted the "elevation of the individual and his or her own world to a dizzying centrality in life. A new Inculturation, Community, and Conversion / 1147 authoritarianism resides in the unattached person, a tyranny is exercisedby a person who counts on nobody, affiliates loyally with no one,.and finds the beginning and end of gratification in the self .This leads to a muted ethical sense."~ These weak group and grid characteristics have no place within religious communities. But Philip Slater, another perceptive critic, while agreeing with Kennedy and others about the excessive individualism, believes also that there is a desire--however weak--for community, for the opportunity to share with others in a spirit of trust and cooperation.52 Evangelization needs to relate to this aspiration. Inculturation and Conversion We return to a deeper understanding of inculturation. It is the dynamic and critical interaction between the Gospel message and each culture. This is a radically different process from that of acculturation. The latter is a process of culture change in which ~ore or less continuous contact between two ormore culturally distinct groups results in one group taking over elements of the culture of the other group or groups. For example, when, in the course of the last century, Christianity came to Samoa in the South, Pacific, it took deep roots in the local society. But at least at one key level Christidnity became acculturated to the existing system of traditional government. The traditional, chiefly rank system became sanctioned and supported by Jehovah himself, according to local interpretations of biblical history. When chiefs punished, Jehovah punished. The status quo became utterly frozen, supported now with supernatural sanctions. Little wonder if Christian ministers themselves became equivalently chiefs, wielding consid-erable power and°authority--all in the name of Jehovah. Christianity lost its freedom at a crucial level; it became trapped in the traditional authority system .53 John Futrell points out a more contemporaryexample of acculturation. When reflecting on what happened to religious life following Vatican If, he wrote on how religious acculturated values and customs of the consumer culture into their own lifestyle: "Along with th& affirmation of the world came a rapid a~similation of the lifestyle of the social subject being served . Religious began more and more" to live the way of upper-middle-class families and unconsciously fell prey to a creeping consumerism.TM How then can such acculturation be avoided? How in fact does incultu-ration take place, so that religious communities can reflect Gospel values? Who does the inculturation? John Paul II offers the answers to these questions, lnculturation, he says, must be the fruit of maturity~'in faith; it requires ',a great deal of 8411 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1985 theologicai lucidity, spiritual discernment, wisdom and prudence, and also time . [and] there is always a conversion to be effected., to the person of Christ,"5.SElsewhere, he insists that inculturation "presupposes a long and courageous process., in order that the Gospel may penetrate the soul of living cultures.''56 Then there will be "the liberation, the purification, the transfiguration" desired by Jesus Christ.57' There is no shortcut to inculturation, no room for gimmicks, It requires, following John Paul II: -a lucid vision of religious life; -a critical reflection on cultures in light of this vision; -personal and community ongoing conversion. 1. Vision of Religious Life Religious accept, as the basic orientation of their lives, that all Christians "of whatever rank or status are called to. the fullness of the Christian life. and the perfection of charity."58 Religious without res

Issue 43.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1984. ; General Government and Leadership The Benedictine Prayer of Beauty A°n Annotation 19 Retreat Experience Volume 43 Number 6 Nov./Dec., 1984 R~-:v~l~v,' l:or R~!~.~(;~otJs (ISSN 0034-639X). published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428:3601 Lindell Blvd.: St. Louis. MO 63108. Rt.'.v~;w ~:or R~.~(~otJs is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus. St. Louis. MO. © 1984 by Rev~w ~:or R~.~(~otJS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $10.00 a year: $19.00 for two years. Other countries: add $2.00 per year (postage). For subscription orders or change of address, write R~,vl~:w voR R~:H(;~ol~s: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor Nov./Dec. 1984 Volume 43 Nttmber 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REw~:w I.oR Rl-:lol(;~otJs; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Queslions for answering should be sent to Joseph F'. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's University; City Avenue at 54th St.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REWEW I-'OU R~.:t.tGious; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; SI. Louis, MO 63108. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. The Spiritual Exercises and Preferential Love for the Poor Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, S.J. Father Kolvenbach was elected General Superior of the Society of J~sus in September, 1983. This article is based on an address he delivered, on February 7, 1984, to the "VII Ignafian Course." an annual program of study/reflection sponsored by Rome's Centrum Ignatianum Spiritualitatis, and was first published in its bulletin, CIS: Vol. XV. no. I (1984), pp. 77-90. Fathgr Kolvenbach, as well as the Center, may be addressed at: C.P. 6139:00195 Roma, Italy. lain very pleased to be here this evening to offer my contribution to the VII Ignatian Course. Not being a specialist, what I shall share with you will be a simple meditation on a theme that is both relevant and important: the link between the Spiritual Exercises and' our preferential love for the poor. Clearly, if not necessarily dramatically, a preferential love for the poor~is contained in the spirituality of the Spiritual Exercises. We find, for example, in the section entitled "Mysteries of the Life of Our Lord"---a text in which the personal comments of Ignatius are rare and thus all the more significant--that a preferential love for th~ poor finds indirect expression in Ignatius' emphatic reference to the situation Of those chosen to be apostles; that they were men "of humble condition" [275]. Likewise the only discourse Iogion explicitly offered for contemplation in the course of the Exercises i.s the Sermon on the Mount, which in the text'begins with.the beatitude concerning the poor [278]. Ignatius also comments that, while Jesus overturned the tables and scattered the money of the wealthy money-changers, "to the poor vendors of d6ves he spoke kindly" [277], asking them'to respect the prayerful purpose of the temple, his Father's house. But these references evidence only an indirect connection with our theme, .the preferential love of the poor. "Rules for the Distribution of Aims": A Forgotten Text There is to be found in the Exercises, however, a much mor6 direct 801 1~09 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec:. 1984 connection between the spiritual urge to follow the Lord and the help that must be offered to the poor. The classic means of giving assistance to the poor had always.been alms-giving. And it is in the treatment of this subject that we shall find the most explicit link between the spirituality of the Exercises and an effective love for the poor, in an oft-forgotten section of the text entitled: "Rules for the Distri-bution of Aimsr' [337-344]. Why has this passage been so often forgotten? Above all because of the very concrete and specific application it makes to a single situation. In fact, ~he document is explicitly addressed to almoners, those who by virtue of their office are supposed to look after the poor, to clerics who practiced charity as their .function. Thus the tone of the text is very. clerical, very priestly. But despite the text's heavy emphasis on ~institutionalism with its many references to ministry, condition, office and function, Ignatius also points to Christ the high priest as the one who is the model and norm for all charitable activity. This particular reference to Christ the high priest [344] expands the horizon of an otherwise purely clerical document, calling every Christian to become a sharer in Christ's ministry through the exercise of almsgiving. In fact, in this document Ignatius takes the office of almoner for granted thus also implic-itly recognizing that not every Christian is called to the direct and immediate exercise of this task in regard to the poor nevertheless he exhorts almoners not to be content to work as mere functionaries, but to be inspi~red by the ministry on behalf of the poor that was exercised by Christ himself. Such an attitude ought to be t.he concern of every Christian without exception, each according to his vocation and state of life. Ig0atius, then, clearly intends this document directly, for a specific group of persons, At.the same time, however, he makes it clear that all Christians ought to have a special bond with the poor. There is another reason why this document is so often overlooked. It is the fact that the practice of aim sgiving no longer has today the honored p lace that this preeminent exercise of charity had in the time of Ignatius. In an older economic order it was principally by means of alms that the good will of the rich helped to correct excessive social inequality--th6ugh of course in a very imperfect.way. Saint Francis. the poor man of Assisi. had his brethren pray every day so that. thanks to therich, they could continue to be poor. Modern persons, however, even if they be poor. are no longer willing to be under anv kind of demeaning economic dependency. They expect and demand to receive from the state the means of a suitable livelihood as their right, not as something subject tb arbitrary distribution, nor dependent upon the mere '~good will" of the "good rich"--an attitude that is the very opposite of what is involved in the practice of almsgiving. Too. the modern untrammeled esteem for the value of work tends to bring almsgiving into disfavor, not just because ¯ the practice is seen as an affront to human dignity, but also because it could so easily,,encourage idleness and sloth. Preferential Love for the Poor / 803 Ignatius and Help for the Poor in his day Ignatius had to face squarely this problem of helping the poor. When in 1535, hating just finished his studies in Paris. he was resting in his native air of Azpeitia. he found himself perforce involved in the overall spiritual renewal of the townspeople. The reform of, charitable works in the area could not but form a part of this general program of renewal. F~r Ignatius. there was a self-evident connection between the two. o On the one hand (and this was to be true of him later in Rome)~ Ignatius did not want to see the poor obliged to beg: all must 'simply be helped according to their need. On the other hand he positively ,encouraged-that all alms from whatever source, whether civic authorities,~'the clergy or the laity, be given to the official almoners (see MI Fontes Docum. 88: De Azpeitiaepaupe-ribus sublevandis: 1535-1542: MI Epp L 161-165, addre~s.ed tO the townspeople of Azpeitia). To avoid abuses, then. the poor ought not to have to seek alms or beg. Rather, the almoners should receive alms to be distributed to the poor. not in their own names, but "for the love of God" (MI Epp Xll, 656: lnsfruction of November, 1554). ~' In reflecting on the m, eamng of this text. there is another facet that is important for understanding the spirituality of the Exercises. It consists in.the fact that for Ignatius himself the significance of aims had gradually taken on differing forms and purposes over the years. The "pilgrim" who in 1523 had wandered about the alleyways of Venice was a solitary mendicant who lived exclusively from alms. But the "companion" who in ! 537 lodged with some of his friends in a Venetian hospice for the poor. and who wished "to preach in poverty." also sought alms for the sake of being able "to help the poor." Heno longer sought alms only for himself, but also in order to help others. From 1540 on. Ignatius the "founder" gradually came to establish two coexisting but radically different regimens of community poverty for the na-scent Society of Jesus. without ever confusing them either in. theory (a relatively easy matter) or in practice (always a more delicate affair). In terms of. this twofold approach to ~community poverty, the "formed fathers." those whose training and incorporation into the Society were complete, would continue to live only from alms. while the colleges for the training of scholastics were tO have stable and~secure incomes in order to respond better to what the Church desired of them. Only in cases of extreme necessity wouM the seeking of alms become the last resort for the colleges, and then all the companions withoul exception would be "ready to beg from door to door" to meet the need. This is still our rule today. Material and Spiritual Poverty Once the "Roman" and "German" colleges had been started in 1550, Ignatius did all in his power to Search out suffi(ient and stable sources ofalms~ what we might call in the parlance of today's economy, "to establish founda- 1~04 / Review f~r Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 ¯ tions." However he was able to find nobody willing to give money liberally: neither princes, nor civic authorities, nor bishops. Even in those days, it seems, money was being squandered on wars--often in the name of religion. In fact Ignatius once wrgte: "After spending so much on material arms to support religionin Germany, it wouldnot be too great a burden if the emperor spared something for spiritual arms which could more effectively gain what is intended" (14 Sept., 1555, to Francis Borgia: MI Epp IX, 614). Considerable sums were being sought and here one sees a further devel-opment in the Ignatian concept of poverty, for these funds were being sought no longer for the sake of those who were economically poor, but for the formation of future priests who were called to help the spiritually poor. The Ignatius who dreamed in 1522 of living off alms alone, like the Egyptian hermit, Onophrius, thirty years later came to discover "God in all things," even in "Egypt"--his expression for the "business dealings" connected with almsgiving that were so necessary to meet the Church's needs. In his spiritual pilgrimage, Ignatius learned to take se.,riously the admoni-tion of the Lord: "He who does not gather with me, scatters" (Lk 1 !:23). For him, alms meant "gathering" with the Lord on behalf of his brothers, the poor. It is no wonder, then, that the Spiritual Exercises should include Rules for the Distribution of Alms. through which their whole, rich spiritual doctrine is applied to the very practical and relevant necessity to help the impoverished and suffering through almsgiving and indeed through the giving of one's very self. The Spiritual Exercises and Aims for the Poor ~ The mere presence of this text On the. distribution of alms in the book of the Spiritual Exercises witnesses to the fact that the Exercises are indeed geared to "the saJvation of souls," but this spirituality faces up to poverty .of whatever sort. Thus material poverty is addressed in these Rules for the Distribution of Alms. [337-344], as is spiritual poverty, for instance in Some Notes Concerning Scruples [345-351]. The contents of the rules on almsgiving also clarifies for us the motivation that led the Society of Jesus from its earliest days to become involved in helping the poor. Already during,the bitter winter of 1538-39, Rome's sole Jesuit house sheltered 400 poor people, Ignatius himself, although utterly absorbed in the government of the young Society, and while still continuing to give the Exer-cises, .also did all he could for the poor and oppressed of Rome. In other words, if its version of the Good News is not proclaimed and expressed in a practical way for the poor, the message of the Spiritual Exercises will rightly be seen as futile and lacking in authenticity. There is yet another document which bears out this characteristic of his spirituality, namely Ignatius' letter to the Patriarch. of Ethiopia. Against the backdrop of Ethiopian asceticism with its .innumerable and excessive penitential practices, Ignatius instructed the Jesuits to work toward lessening the popular Preferential Love for the Poor / 805 esteem for these excessive corporal penances in order to draw more attention to the need of working for the poor. In a nation where social concern was so minimal, Ignatius wanted to found hospitals,.to provide help for the poor by the exhortation to almsgiving both privately and in public, to ransom prisoners, to educate the abandoned, and to help young men and unwanted girls to se.ttle down in marriage. "Thus," he wrote, "the Ethiopians will seein a palpable way that there are better works than their own fasts and suchlike" (MI Epp VIII, 680-690, April, 1555). Such distortions have often been a problem, and not just in the Eastern churches. Aims "for the Love of God" Finally, the pertinence of these rules to the text of the Spiritual Exercises is explained by the simple formula which sums up the only basis for almsgiving that is acceptable to the spirituality of the Exercises: "for the love of God." Jesuits, and all who seek or give alms, should do so "for the love of God." Alms are a way of giving concrete expression to the beatitude ~vhich Was so lovingly addressed to the poor. As they appear in the text, then, these norms guide one's process of discernment for the practice of this concrete e~pression of the love of God. ' ~ Recent commentaries on the Exercises generally judge severely any retreat centered exclusively on a prayer experience that is turned in on the person of the exercitant in some narcissistic fashion. The exp,ression solus cum solo is not meant ,to isolate a person with a solitary God. Rather it is intended to express the appropriate relationship that ought to prevail between a "self" who has received everything from others, who is also called to be for. others, and a God who reveals himself precisely as "God with us~" Despite the frequent use of the first person in the text ofthe Exercises-- which always points to personal responsibility and involvement~the com-mentaries stress the profoundly communitarian character of the Exercises, character which is clearly in evidence right from the Principle and Foundation. Any person's authentic search for God necessarily entails that person's insertion into the human community. Conversely, any person's total commitment to hu .manity could only be the result of that person's discovery of the love of God. The First Rule for the Distribution of Alms Love "from Above . After these reflections on the historical and spiritual contexts of the Riales for the Distribution of Aims, let us now examine the first of these rules: If I distribute alms to my relatives or friends or persons to whom I am attached, there are four things that must be considered: Some of these were mentioned in treating the Choice of a Way of Life. The first is that the love that moves me and causes me to give the alms must be "from above," that is, from the love of God our Lord. Hence I should be conscious within myself that Gbd is the motive of the greater or less love that I bear towa~:d these persons, and that God is manifestly the cause of my loving them more [338]. 80B / Review for ~Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984" This rule immediately situates any gift of alms within agape, the love that, in Ignatius' terms, comes '"from above." In no way, then, should this text be seen as intending to provide merely a psychological preparation for, or .a religious exhortation to, charitable acts. It is not a pep talk for generous giving, nora way of spiritualizing the fundamental human instinct for solidarity. We should also avoid interpreting this rule in a way that merel3i invites to "purity of intention," Taking up anew an Augustinian inspiration which had previously appeared in the First Rule for Making a Good Choice of a Way of Life [184], this norm for distributing alms, while it does not in any way exclude philia (see the reference to "affection for relatives and friends"), does urge that phil[a be caught up and transformed by agape, "the love that,., must descend "from above" [184]. ~ . The expression "from above" also recalls the fourth point from the Con-templation to Attain the Lov.e of God [237]. God, the infinite ~treasury of all good, is in his trinitarian mystery both Gift and Giver of Gifts (see [237]). If, then, the giving of alms is to be divine--and therefore true and authentic--it must find its rationale within the dynamic of this mutual exchange of gifts, this loving movement of the gifts which "descend from above" [237]. There are a number of examples illustrative of this principle in Ignatian literature, Even in the most complicated of business affairs Ignatius kept his vision, of the lov~e ''from above" alive. Thus, for example, he exchanged some ten letters, with a certain Bernardino' Taro from Naples who had offered to sell his house in a complex deal involving some suspicious price fluctuations. A charitable work was involved, the payment was difficult, the Society sought a discount, and the benefactor became irritated. In all the correspondence, though, even while dealing with the complicated finances involved, Ignatius kept the whole transaction within the horizon of the loving movement that comes "from above," as when he wrote: "Let us pray that the Divine Goodness may grant us 'all the grace to be sensitive to his most holy will" (May 17, 1556, MI Epp X1, p, 411). It was not just by chance, then~ that Ignatius wrote on September 16, 1553 tO the, royal treasurer of Aragon, who had generously acted to convey mes-sages between the Jesuits of Spain and of Rome: "May God our Lord, whose love should be the foundation and norm of all love, repay you by increasing his love in your soul to just such an extent . For as there is nothing good witho, ut this love, so no!hing is lacking where it is present" (MI Epp V, pp. 488-489). The norm, then, for the appropriate distribution of alms is not, per se, our human solidarity, certainly it is not just philanthropy, but the agap~ of God himself, which takes flesh, in our human capacity to give and to forgive. The effort expended in undergoing the Spiritual Exercises so as "to rid oneself of all inordinate attachments" [1], is aimed precisely a,! allowing the divine t;gapP to take possession of our capacity to love. Thus t,he Rules for the Preferential Love for the Poor / 1107 Distribution of Alms have no other purpose than to put into practical effect what the Apostle John says in his First Letter: the man who does not love his brother most surely cannot be said to love God; and no one truly loves his brother unless it be with the love of God who first loved us (see l Jn 4:19-21). In this Ignatian concepiion, then, the principal criterion by which to judge one's preferential love for the poor is decidedly on the basis of .whether that love truly comes "from above," and does not rest on the simple fact that one is giving aid to one's poor brother. In other words, thee value of such a charitable act is to be judged in the measure in which me_re philanthropy has been taken up and transformed by divine agape: Service of the poor, to be sure! But before all else, service ,in my name," if it is to be true and authentic. Love "from Above"." for the Poor This first of the Rules for the Distribution of Alms, then, bringsphilia and agape.face to face with each other. "To give to those to whom one is attached by relationship or friendship" is not. automatically "ordered towards the love~ of God that comes from above"~except insofar as such a gift would actually reflect a preferential loye for the poor even in being given to oneYs own. We can find the interplay betweenphilia and agap~ that is evoked by this first rule applied in a realistically practical way in a letter from Ignatius to the Archdeacon of Barcelona, Jaime Cassador (February 12, 1536): "I mean, it. would be better to give to the poor when our relatives are not as poor as those, who are not relatives. But, other things being equal, I have more obligations to my relatives thar~':to others Who are not relatives" (MI Epp I, pp. 93-99). In other words, attachment even to relatives and friends must be caught up into the divine agape: the poor are to be preferred even above relatives unless these are themselves poor. . ' Love 'from Above"." for All the Poor The collection of Ignatian texts we have cited with r6gard to the first of the Rules for the Distribution of Alms raises a delicate question. The preferential love. for the materially poor is quite clearly a manifestation, an "epiphany" of the love that comes "from above," going as it does beyond philanthropy or the love (phil¢a) tha,~t is exercised towards one's relatives and friends. The well-ordered practice of this~ divine love (agape) clearly makes possible many social initiatives in the service of the economically po0~r. The fact that this love is not to be directed exclusively to the economically poor and socially marginalized springs from the Ignatian conviction th.at, in the last analysis, almsgiving is not meant to enable persons merely to become economically rich, but to enable persons to become rich in God's eyes~ to use the expression of St. Luke. Our free response to the love of God makes us deeply sympathetic toward the hopes of poor people under every form and at every level of genuinely human choice, but not in the pursuit of any and every messianic drehm, nor of any and every political or social option. Review.for Religious, NOv,-Dec., 1984 If in the text of the Spiritual ExerHses the use of the word "poor" is quite rare~ it is only at the end of the doc~aments on Election and in the Rules for the Distribuiion,,of"Alms that the term "poor" appears in its strictly social and economic sense (see [344] as an.application of [189]: Directions for the Amendment and Reformation of One's Way of Living in His State of Life). There.is no doubt at all that, after the example of the Gospel, the primary concern of the Spiritual Exercises is the conversion of hearts to the love that is "from bove ;~'w~thout such a conversion, all social activity, even the most generous, would already be found lacking, for its aim would not be "the human person taken as a whole." Why was there already urged insistently in the Old Testament the obligation to help the poor? It was not to make the poor economically rich, but because a person without money--in this sense "poor"--is not a "complete person" in the image of the love of God. A social revolution undertaken without agap~ means, and cannot but rlaean, death and hatred. As is well known, the Old Testament prophets;and finally'John the Baptist, expri~ssed themselves on social and economic matters in radical, even literally violent fashion. On this point, compared to the invec-tives of the prophetS, Christ's message seems like a comedown. And yet his "new Commandment," which should, according to Ignatius [338], be the root s'ourceoof the human love that finds its expression in almsgiving, possesses a r~adicality and an unprecedented newness that are quite capable of tra~nsfoi'ming humanity. In other words, Ignatius affirms in the Exercises that the human search for God is not authentic if it does not express itself in a loving commitment to the world of the poor: but. conversely, there is no perfect commitment to the cause of humanity, and concretely to the cause of the poor, unless it' be the fruit of one's personal discovery of the love of God that comes "from above." Love "from Above"." Opposed to All Poverty The cri/icisms offered in regard to theologies of social justice and of libera-tion do not call into question the urgency of the political, social and economic concerns that inspire these theologies. But the whole of God's revelation to the world cannot ~ever be restricted to a merely political, gocial and economic liberation, nor even to the gen'eral idea of freedom as such. Thes+ theologies do righily present one aspect of theology taken iri its entirety. In practice, theology ought to demand that the Church 'strive to reform the whole wbrld under every aspect according to the spirit of Christ. But the Church's option for the poor:should not be intended in a~way that would jeopardize the offer of salvation to all persons, the offer of that liberation which is the gratuitous gift of God proffered to all humanity. In struggling for liberation and justice, the Christian is called, not to curse those who have possessions, but to encourage theha also toward conversion to Christ. The Exercises ought never be limited to a single apostolic objective, To speak~ for purposes of illustration, of the time of Ignatius,' the Exercises were Preferential Love for the Poor / 809 never .focused exclusively upon the struggle against emerging Protesiantism alone, n6r upon the evangelization of the European masses alone, nor upon the refor~n of a corrupt 'clergy alone, nor upon missionary efforts overseas alone. In the same way in our own day, the Exercises should not be used only to arouse zeal for the social betterment of the oppressed, nor only for the better-ment of peoples who live in subhuman conditions. The Exercises are meant to stir each person who enters upon them to a radical gift of self, and it is going to be through this radical gift of oneself that the Lord is going to be perceived as calling that person "by name." This is the overall vision that Ignatius had. Like the Lord, he too had an evident preference for the poor, but he saw the poor as "persons" rather than as just ',the poor." We shall find in him no trace of any kind of paternalistic pity--itself a subtle but real form of domination. And without this kind of respectful regard for persons, one has no right to approach the poor. The Second Rule I will only make a few brief comments on the Other rules contained in this passage from .the Spiritual Exercises. The second rule to be observed in regard to the distribution of alms [339]:draws ~its inspiration from the second rule for . making a good election [185]. Here again, it is proposed that one abstract from one's :own individuality, .that one c6nsider oneself as an unknown, a person who is met for the first time, but who is esteemed, and for whom there is the desire for all perfection in the exercise of his or her office or state of life. In fact, all the rules to be observed for a suitable distribution of alms contain this same positive and rich outlook on all other persons, on our neighbors. The perfection that we ought to desire for others' as well as our-selves in distributing alms and in the exercise of our preferential love for the poor consists really:Sin wanting us and them to become other Christs. While one can makelife hell forthe neighbor, one can also be a source of living hope as well.! Ignatius' love for poverty was really and wholly a love for the person of the poor Christ (see [ 167]). Ignatius longed to be poor himself because Christ was poor. He longed to be poor as Christ was poor. In the same way, then, he proposes that Jesus must be the one who inspires us in the way that we go about distributing aims and serving the poor. To put it another way, we need to enter into Jesus' own way of exercising his preferential 10ve for the poor. Here the distinction between poverty and riches in the Spiritual Exercises becomes important: Spiritual poverty in the Exercises readily takes on the form of gratuity as opposed to greed. The gratuity urged by Ignatius for Jesuit ministries, for :instance, contrasts, and is intended' to contrast, with even the ¯ appearance of"business" or of the "marketplace'~in our approach to ministries, to ecclesiastical~offices and benefices, to the distribution of alms themselves. Powerful or rich persofls who always have others at their beck and call do 8"10 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 not expect.anyLhing in return beyond a calculated, response based on quidpro quo. TheLord in the Gospel, however, is portrayed as being poor. His:service is always freely given, without a hint of such calculating expectation. To remove the ministry ofalmsgiving, then, from every suspicion of interestedness, to decline gifts 'which automatically elicit gifts in return, to prefer to give .freely to those who count.for little in the world of vested interests--this is to be poor with and for the Lord who was poor. ~Gratuity, then, is a sign expressi~,e ~f the potential for radical change in human societythat could be created~--but only by the love that~is "fromabove." In the Old Testament, the paschal mystery of the Exodus had already given evidence of our human incapacity to chang.e society through our own resour-ces alone, of the impossibility of ever really convening Pharaoh, of ever becoming satisfied with any mere social teaching~that is aimed at bettering the lot of human beings. Only God, through his gratuitous gifts, can create a new humanity, a humanity "without poor people" (Ac 4:34), a society where the "poor~' of the ExoduS will live the "new commandment" of God's free self-giving. The Third and Fourth Rules The third [340] and fourth [341] rules for distributing alms present yet another characteristic of the Lord who is poor. If a person were to consider himself or herself in the light of eternity, the realization would soon dawn that, of all the riches he~ld: nothing really belongs to the~person, that the person is forever receiving, in order then to be able to give, and, in keeping with-the Judgment of the Trinitarian God, ultimately to give oneself t'o others with and through his or her gifts. This ',eternal Judgment" is actually the Lord of the Cross who died stripped of all, in the utter poverty not just the poverty of one who dies bereft of all possessions, but the poverty of one who dies~as a complete failure. , , , Here, then, is another Characteristic of the divine agapP:' a way of giving to another that ultimately comes even to the giving of one's life. It is at this point in the Spiritual Exercises that Ignatius increasingly uses the words "humble," "humility; . humiliation." It is impossible to love divinely in a possessive or domineering way. A preferential love for the poor couM be ideological, patti, san, selective, paternafistic. But as a passage in the Treatise on the .Election (1541) by Pedro Ortiz~explains, Ignatian "humility" is the divine way~ of loving. And the divine way of loving, revealed in Christ Jesus,,(onsiSts inthe humble offering of oneself for others that they may live. It is in this more profound sense that the rules for distributing alms urge a person to "imitate as closely as he can our great High Priest, model and guide, Christ~our Lord" [344]. Our preferential love .for the poor, if authentic, will move .through inevitable humiliations toward a love that refuses to be either condescending or domi-neering, that refuses to imp.ose itself by power or violence. The desire of humble love, of "humility" in the lgnatian sense, is,~then, the prayer toincar-nate the Paschal Mystery in a way that will arrive at this kind of radical Preferential Love for the Poor ] 811 poverty with Christ poor, whether this relates just to desire--the readiness to give oneself as the Lord wants, or to the realization of desire the actual giving of o~eself to those specific poor persons to whom the Lord sends one. The Remaining Rules The rest of the rules proposed by Ignatius for distributing alms explain still more clearly the practice of almsgiving which, in the terms of St. John Chrys- 9stom. was to be the human e?~pression of God's compassion. Ignatius encourages the kind of generous and unstinting distribution of resources that would inevitably require a simplification in the lifestyle of the almsgiver [344]. In this way there is no room in the asceticism proposed by the Rules for the Distribution of Aims for the kind of spiritualizing that would permit an abstract definition of personal spiritual poverty. That person is not poor who shuns the thought of death. Nor is the person poor who ensures his or her own security by storing up provisions for the future. It is rather the person who opts for insecurity through gratuitous giving, who offers out of his or her own necessity personal goods to others, and who giyes, himself or herself in them. "To be poor," then, means not just giving what is superfluous, but the ceaseless calling into 'question, both at the personal and at the community level, one's habits in' the matter of food~ dres~s~: living quarters, en!ertainment-- not just for the sake of thrift,' but in order to be able to, give to others--to the poor. Conclusion In a letter to Father Lorenzo of M6dena (May 16. 1556) Ignatius wrote: "You must understand that our Society, in its ~ractice of a umversal charity towards all nations and classes of men. does not approve cultivating particular affection for one people or for any.individual person.~except in the measure that well-ordered love.requires" (MI Epp XL pp. 408-409). " Guided by such well-ordered love--the love which looks to "the spiritual" works which are more important'~ (Constitutions, [650]), because the goal is the whole human pers, on-~we are to dedicate ourselves to thecorporal works of mercy, among which commitment to the poor takes pride of place. And so in a ~single movement of love. Ignatius,~is both attached a.nd detached. He lives a humble love which, as we have translated it here. is the love that comes "from above." The Exercises. a school of Christian freedom, in leading beyond "philan-thropy," gives to the preferential love for the poor for all the poor_--its truly Christian dimension. It is seen as our free response to that love, for the poor which God revealed in the poor Christ. who is himself rich in the Spirit To Divest or Not to Divest: Moral Investments and Immoral Purposes Michael H. Crosby, O F.M. Cap. Of this present article, Father Crosby writes: "A growing number of Catholic and Protestant groups are deciding to divest from their shares in companies involved in the nuclear armaments ch~iin. The process [utilized by] the Midwest Capuchin Franciscans serves as a case study." This experience can certainly serve as occasion for reflection on the difficult and complex task of bringing spiritual conviction to bear on actual life situations. Father Crosby, author of Spirituality of the Beatitudes, is Project Coordinator of the National Catholic Coalition for Responsible Investment. He is also Corporate Responsibility Agent for the Midwest Capuchin Province. Father Crosby may be addressed at Beatitude Program; 10i6 North Ninth Street; Milwaukee, WI 53233. Durin _the last two weeks of April and the first weeks of May, more corporate shareholder meetings are held than at any other time of the yeai'. High on the list of concerns by church-related groups of shareholders is .the issue of nuclear weapons production. This year, as in the past, the church groups" concerns were coordinated through the New York based Interfaith Center on Corporate Responsibility (ICCR), the action arm of Protestant church,Catholic diocesan, and religious order investors concerned about the social impact 0f'business corporations and the application of social criteria to their own investments. For this spring's annual meetings, eight companies involved in different stages 'of the fiuclear weapons chain received shareholder resolutions from groups affiliated with ICCR. Some resolutions were subsequently disallowed by th'e Securities. and Exchange Commission, but several were to be debated on the floor of the annual meetings. For last year's meeting of AT&T, at least sixty-five groups filed a resolu-tion requesting the company not to renew its contract with the U.S. Govern- 812 To Divest or Not to Divest / 813 ment to manage the Sandia National Laboratories which carries out research and.development on nuclear weapons systems. Yet this year only forty groups filed witli AT&T calling for the company to establish criteria for military contracts and to terminate its nuclear weapons contracts. Similarly, for .the 1983 annual meeting of Geheral Electric, over forty groups, asked GE to consult with experts about and to support the nuclear freeze by declining to accept or to renew contracts involv!ng the development or production of nuclear'weapons~ Yet this year only thirty-one groups filed with GE asking the company to develop criteria for acceptance of military contracts. Why has there bee~ such a decline in the number of fliers in just one year? Has the U.S. Catholic Bishops statemeht The Challenge of Peace: God's Promise and Our Response fallen on 'deaf ears? Is it due to a lack of resolve and follow-through? Or is it becausethe new SEC rules make it more difficult to return to companies on an issue when the previou~ year's voting has been small? According to Ursuline Sister Valerie Heinonen, ICCR's Military Work Group Coordinator, it is hone of the above. It is, she believes, "primarily because the Roman Catholic agencies in particular carried out divestment statements or were working on divestment positions and were in the process of implementing them." My Midwest Capuchin Franciscan Provinceis one of those groups that filed with 'AT&T and GE (along with Tenneco, Dupont and Rockwell Interna-tional) last year but did notdo so this year because of our newly-inaugurated divestment posture. In rearhing this decision, we joined such Protestant denominations as the United' Presbytbrians and th6 United Church 6f Christ as well as many Catholic dioceses and 'orders, including the Salvatorian Sisters of Milwaukee and th~ Franciscan Sisters of Philadelphia. As early as April, 1982 the Adrian (MI) Dominican Sisters' general congregation declared: The c~ngregation will take a public stand for peace-making by di'.vestin~ itself, within ¯ one year. of stock currently held in the top one hundreff~diffense contractors. The portfolio managers will be instructed by the general council not to invest in these companies unless some stock is requested by the Portfoli6 AdvisofyBoard in anticipa-tion of filing a shareholder resolution. A few years ago, as Corporate Responsibility Agent for my Province, I was against divestment; yetl was concerned about the issue. I recall being part of a discussion group that struggled to define the many complex issues that must be considered in dealing with divestment: How can we balance the "peace statements" of our bishops and congregations with nuclear holdings? How do we distinguish between'.direct and indirect involvement via our stocks? Should we have stock in an), company that is part of a system that many believe is doing so much harm to so many? If we:are to do "good" via our ministries, to what degree can we do so because of "evil" returns' from questionable corporations? Should we distinguish between nuclear and con-ventional arms? Is capitalism morally evil? Or is it inorally neutral, but with some practices that are evil? Why pick on the nuclear armaments companies? 814 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 How do we deal with the balance of terror? How does the Nuremberg princi-ple of .culpability apply that all citizens are responsible, for their govern-ment's decisions, and will be held liable by humanity? Divestment has no impact on companies, except for a one-hour press c0nference~, so why not stay in and fight? Have we exhausted alternatives? If we do divest,.should it be total or should we keep a few shares to "keep the pressure on?" While no papal or episcopal statements tn the Catholic Church have called for divestment in companies involved ih the nuclear armaments chain, there are many pronouncements that touch the issue. In Pacem ~in Terris, John XXIII said, "the arms race should cease." Paul Vlsaid at the UN, "let the weapons fall from .your a os, and, in Populorum Progressio, "every exhausting armaments race becomes an intolerable scandal." John Paul II said at Hir0shima. in 1981, "let us promise our fellow h~man beings that we will work untiringly for disarmament and the banishing of all nuclear wea-pons." In March, 1984, a top Vatican spokesperson warned an international conference on European disarmamgnt that a poli~y of nuclear deterrence (the backbone of the U.S. bishops justificatio, n of the U.S.nuclear arsenal) leads to mistrust and escalation of Lthe arms race. Meanwhi!e, in their pastoral leiter, the U.S. bishops called upon Catholics at every level of defense industries. [to] use th~ moral principles of this letter to form their consciences~. . .°. Those who m conscience decide that they should no longer be associated with defense activities should find support in the Catholic commumty. Those who remain in these industries or earn a profit from the weapons industry should find in the Church guidance and support for the ongoing evaluation of their work. From my reading 9f the bishops' statement, "ongoing evaluation" of involvement in the production of such weapons ultimately should lead to disassociation from-the companies. But what about those dioceses, religious orders and lay investors tha.t are "making a profit from the weapons industry" via their stocks and bonds? What about our "ongoing evaluation" leading to possible disassociation? Stich statements nudged me to begin rethinking my position about possible divestment. The issue, it seems, is not whether churches, dioceses, or congregations support or. don't support unilateral disarmameht on the part of the United States. Divestment has little or nothing to do with disarmament. More and more the question is: Should we be involved in producing more weapons, especially since each side. has enough weapons to kill the other scores of times over?.How can more.weapons be produced when the arms race has been condemned. So on this issue we're not talking about disarmamenti just about not building more. We~'re talking about the three additional bombs built each day, and the ,ever-more sophisticated delivery systems being created. I was beginning to ask questions like these when the provincial council of my Midwest Capuchin Provinc.e ~asked its Justice and Peace Committee, of which 1 am a member, to prepare a position paper on the subject of. our holdings in nuclear armaments manufacturers so that it could determine how To Divest or Not to Divest / ~115 to deal with the provincial portfolio. Some might wonder why the followers of the Poor Man of Assisi should even have a portfolio. Their concern is shared by many of us, yet we find ourselves m a predicament. The Province has almost three hundred men. Because of decisions in the past, it now owns and operates fiv~ retreat houses which need ~provincial maintenance. It owns and operates the largest minor seminary in the United States. While it has many men in white, middle-class parishes, a large number also serve in Black, Hispanic and Native American areas, including the Cheyenne and Crow reservatiohs in Montana. From three of its inner-city locations in Wisconsin and Michigan, it runs meal programs, including Detroit's famous "Capuchin Soup Kitchen." Besides having preachers and hospital chaplains and campus ministers, our members serve in Central America, the Pacific, Australia and the Near East. The dividends from the portfolio, along with salaries and donations, constitute the arinual provin-cial income budget. Since the province is highly involved in work among the poor and for social justice (on.ly one hundred or so members actually draw salaries), the portfolio's dividends are currently needed to meet normal operating expenses. All annual revenues beyond the budget are allocated to the poor or for social justice causes--unless some extraordinary expense'needs to be,met, such as helping to repair a leaking roof in one of our inner city parishes in Milwaukee (which, .by historical happenstance, is incorporated in the name of the pro-vince rather than of the diocese). Two members of.the Justice and Peace Commission developed a position paper on divestment for the provincial council: Francis Dombrowski, who was trained as a moral theologian; l, the second author, have background in Franciscan spirituality and corporate responsibility. We were to investigate the ethical issues and our Franciscan charism to,determine what we might recomm(nd to the provincial council. It was decided that, rather than leave the decision to the council, (which earlier had divested from Upjohn.because of its manufacture of an abortifacient), ~his time the province's membership at large would be asked to become involved in making the decision. The paper was divided into four major sections: I) The facts behind th~ dilemma presented by the province's shareholdings; 2) Basic principles to be used to determine continued participation in the. manufacture of nuclear-re-lated weapons; 3) An application of the Franciscan charism to the signs of our times; and 4) A proposal for action by the province. The Facts The first section outlined the situation of. the. arms race, our participation in it via our stocks and bonds~ plus the fact that the companies at issue also did much good: , Our province has invested over a quarter of a million tlollars in some of these compan-ies with government contracts for nuclear weaponry. Thus we°'~re receiving income ~116 / Review.[br Religious, Nov.-Dec:, 1984 precisely because these weapons are being built at a profit to the company and to us as~ shareholders. Iris true that these companies'make many products and items that promote good for others; For instance, G,~neral Electric is a company in which our Province has 210 . shares (worth $19,924.00 as of December 31, 1982). We also.have $~0,000 in bonds in General Electric Credit Corporation. GE makes a body scanner which hospitals have found invaluable in saving lives; yet GE is one of the seven companies that actually makes components for the hydrogen bomb and is also involved in building the MX missile system. In 1981 GE received $3 billion in military contracts from .the United States government, accounting for I I% of its sales. This, means, in actual fact, that our province is cooperating in the production of nuclear weapons by investing money in the companies that build them. ~ The paper went on to explaiwthat holding shares does not make stock-holders proximate cooperators nor principal agents in the actioi~'s of the companies. Yet it made it clear that "we are remote cooperators in'a very.real way as owners who receive dividends from our investments and interest on ou~ bonds to sustain our way of life. Because we are shareholders and partial owners, we have s6me responsibility to make surethe companies in which we invest are not involved inactivities that counter our Franciscan vision of life." The province has adapted the steps outlined in Mt 19 (go and talk, on the word of two or three; take itto the court)in trying to get companies to change "activities that counter our way of.life,:' especially through its membership in ICCR. Since 1976 it either voted its proxies, filed resolutions, or s~oken at, annual meetings of companies involved in nuclear armaments. It bought ten shares of Rockwell International to dialogue with the company which, along with Allied (Bendix), AT&T, GE, Dupont, Monsanto, Pentax and Union Carbide (at that time), actually produced those components which would " make the nuclear weapons operational. 1 was one of three or four on a negotiating team which has,engaged in ongoing dialogue with Dupont.about its involvement. So, as a province, we had been trying to make our concerns known to the corporations. Having reviewed the way we had tried to bring the Gospel. of Peace to the "~houses" of these corporations (see Mt 10:12-15); we now had to ask ourselves: "Since these companies give no indication of change in policy and ciSntinue to accept defensb contracts that will further build up our nuclear arsefials, the question israised: What is the next step in dealing with these companies: more dialogue -- or divestment? Basic Principles 2) The second section of our position paper developed principles to be used in determining our continued participation in the manufacture of nuclear weapons~ It distinguished nuclear weapons from conventional weapons, and singled out "top" defense contractors because of the difficulty in determining the degree of involvement. Can a company like Exxon or Mobil, which provides gas for military trucks, be put in the same category as General To Divest or Not to Divest Dynamics, which makes airplanes and nuclear submarines that can deliver nuclear bombs? The principles included a lengthy treatment of just-war defense and the. -attitude of non-violence. The next area taken up dealt with deterrence. The paper shared why its ~position differed from that of the bishops by not accepting deterrence as a viable rationale. In this difference~,with the bishops' ,approach, the. paper reiterated the position of the leadership of the Conference of Major Superiors of Men, The paper noted: There is also a moral question as to whether or not we can threaten to use nuclear weapons against a country to keep it under control. It is morally wrong to use such weapons even against a limited target because the effects of radiation would be deadly , for many beyond the target. There is no proportion between any good achieved and the untold destruction in the aftermath. If it is immoral to use these weapons, it is also immoral to in'tend to use them as a threat. The mere verbal threat to use them against ~ another nation with the secret intent not to actually use them is unrealistic. The threat is effective only if the intention to use them is real. The position the paper took seems to differ little from the way the Vatican thought seems to have been evolving, especially given its recent, March statement at the European disarmament conference. The final part of the "Principles" section considered principles for cooperation and "non-cooperation in evil. The two traditional points were made quite clear: One who by his/her approval, vote~ consent, together with others causes harm knowingly is guilty of i,njustice~and is obliged to make restitution in proportion to the efficacy of his/her consent. Cooperation means helping or assisting another in the performance of an~ injustice. Whoever takes an active part in an unjust action is guilty of the injustice if his/her efficacious cooperation is formal, that is, intended and deliberate. Material cooperation means not really wanting the injustice, but helping in it or contributing to it without a sufficient reason. Ordinarily, materia, I cooperation is morally wrong. According to traditional Catholic teaching, however, material cooperation is per-mitted if (and only if) two conditions are fulfilled: . a. The manner of one's cooperation is not a morally evil'act in itself, but only some participation or contribution to the evil or injustice done by another. b. The reason for one's cooperation is sufficiently important and proportionate to the ~:vil involved. By the time I r~ad the r~aterial presented by Francis Dombrowski, especially the principles related to (non)cgoperation, I had begun to believe that it would b,e difficu!t, if not impossible, for us t6 justify crntinued holdings in ,n~uclear armaments companies. This growing conviction was reinforced when I realized our portfolio could be diversified without any serious financial loss. We had. no "sufficient reason" to continue material cooperation. When I was definitely leaning this way, it was my research into the Franciscan charism that finally made me convinced that we could no longer hold stock in such companies. 81B / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 Application The third section of the paper noted that the times when Francis lived in Assisi vis~-vis wars and preparation for war were similar to our own era. According to Arnoldo Fortini, a biographer of Francis.and former mayor of° Assisi, war was "a condition of life for every city?: A militaristic way 'of thinking and acting became normative of the way opposing groups settled their differencesl Groups armed themselves to threaten their enemies, and were ready to use those arms to destroy their enemies in order to preserve their way of life, Fortini notes of the Christians of that era that they were so controlled by such an attitude that ?they could~not even imagine a faith that was not sustained by military skill." Within such an environment, Francis began to imagine a f~ith that did not need to be buttressed through armaments. It would be a way that society would p~erceive as totally alien to its way of operating and dealing with opposition. The paper noted: In the face of the militarism of his fellow citizens, Francis realized they were not about to change their ways: So he and his followers had to "divest" themselves of those ways. Thus the friars were not to acquire property, lest they take up arms to protect it. For their part, the laity ~fellow citizens as well) would bring the Franciscan charism to beai upon their lives and society through non-cooperation. They would not be able to bear any ii~thal weapons if they were to be faiihful to Frdncis' vision of life in that militaristic" milieu . it seems quite clear that his society shrouded in faith and religion the manufacture, use and deployment of lethal~ weapons. Francis' "No" must be applied to our day'as well. If Francis said no, and if Jesus said "No" to Peter who wanted to use a weapon of violence for self-protection, our response too can only be "no more of this" (Lk 22:51). What other response can we make, not as citizens of Assisi, but of the United Stfites, but to separate ourselves from this way of settling disputes and dealing with our enemies? We have been born as citizens of~the United States; we have unknowingly accumulated shares in companies manufacturing nuclear weapons. But we can choose now to respond to these realities with the,charism of Francis. ~ Proposal for Action 4) The final part of the paper presented a "Proposal for Action 'by the Province" which built on the previous three sections. After a summary of the main issues, the paper concluded that a nuclear war of defense cannot be morally justified because it,,does not discriminate between combatants and non-combatants, and' damage inflicted would be greater~than the good to be obtained. It noted that the Gospel of Peace and nonviolence, combine~d with the Franciscan call for peacemaking in a way that refused the'~bearing of arms, called us to a stance of nonviolence and nbncooperation. Next, the'~,paper countered '~the present position justifying deterrence on the grounds that it lacked solid moral underpinnings, as well as the evident fact that the possession of weapons did not help ,negotiations, but had instead increased the arms race. Th~ next point called for a freeze of further production of~veapons. ThissuEport for a nuclear freeze was followed by noting that a threat of"first To Divest or NOt to Divest ] 819 strike" is incompatible with the just-war theory and a nonviolent position and "has been directly condemned in the U.S. bishops' pastoral on war and peace." Finally, the paper again presented the dilemma of having stock in nuclear armaments companies and reached the conclusion: Since these nuclear weapons and their systems are being produced by corporations in which we have investments and since we, as a province, are making money on the production of these weapons, we feel it is an unjustified form of material cooperation to continue our investments. The good products these same companies manufacture and sell in no way can compensate for the incalculable destruction these weapons can inflict and forthe tremendous fear, mistrust and intrigue that the possession of such weapons causes between nations and peoples, not to mention the misuse of natural resources. technology and money that could be used for jobs and for the poor and hungry of the World. Given the paper's rationale, the provincial council recommended to the. province's membership a "clear decision of divestment from corporations that have major nuclear weapons contracts from the government." A criteria to determine "major" was fixed at $10 million. . Furthermore, the,council recommended that there should be total divest-ment rather than to keep a few token shares to continue to pressure the companies, as groups like the Adrian Dominicans have decided to do. Whether there should be total divestment or'whether a few token shares should be held to continue to pressure companies can certainly be debated. Sr. Valerie Heinonen believes those divesting should h~ld on to some shares~,or else "we're losing a forum. I don't see how we can reach corporate manage-ment if.we don't have at least some stock." When the position paper was presented to the province along with the recommendations of the Council. a large percentage (77%) of the membership responded, two-hundred and ten in all. Three choices had been offered: 1) we should divest for the reasons indicated in the paper; 2) we should not divest but continue our present corporate responsibility efforts; and 3) we should not divest and not continue our corporate responsibility efforts. One-hundred fifty-four (73.33%) voted for divestment, fo.rty-nine (23.33%) said there should be continued corporate responsibility efforts and a small number, seven (3~.33%), said we should do neither. ¯ The fact that over 96% of the respondents felt Jomething had to be done indicated, a deep concern about .this issue . Given the evolution of thinkin~g about this issue by many of us in the province, plus the growing number of groups th.a,t are beginning to divest, it is clear that this is an issue which won't be going away. In many ~vays, our Franciscan charism might have helped make our corporate decision as one, sided as it turned out to be. Y~t. whether other groups decided to divest or not to divest demands a ~erious investigation, given their charism and/or mission staterfients. All will have to face the dilemma squarely; it is a matter of si .mply bringing our faith to bear on the modern world. General Government: Its Leadership Role Today Gerald A. Arbuckle, S.M. Father Arbuckle's last article was "Planning the Novitiate Process: Reflections of an Anthro-pologist" (July/August, 1984). His duties in the general administration of his congregation keep him on extended journeys, but he may be addressed at his generalate headquarters: Padri Maristi; Via Alessandro Poerio, 63; 00152 Roma, Italy. any general administrations of religious congregations in the turbulent times of the 1960s and 1970s must surely have hoped that the decade of the 1980s would be marked by the tranquillity, security and growth that seemed so obviously to characterize their histories prior to Vatican 1I. But these hopes will never be realized. Religious life, like the Cht~rch itself, was challenged in Vatican II to serve the needs of people in a world that would continue to be in rapid, even turbulent, technological,'econoniic, political and cultural change. The niore religious seek to live up tO their vocation, the more in fact will they be drawn to share the hope~, anxieties and frustrations of people caught up in a world of change,~ with all the consequent stresses and strains of adjustment that this involvement brings. A further reason why the status quo of the pre-Vatican II era will n'ot be reinstated is the fact that many religious congregations ale discovering that their very future is in doubt. In view of the oft-heard prediction that "a reason.able expectation would seem to be that most religious communities the Church today~ will eventually become extinct,"2 religious in increasing numbers are askingthemselves questions ~uch as: Will the apostolate to which I dedicated my life survive when so few professed are entering my congregation? Will my province survive? Who will look after me when I am too old to work? Will my congregation itself survive? 820 General Government Toda.v / 1~21 Viewing these realities and questions from the "center," many of those involved in thework of general administration often find themselves at a loss to know what to do. On the one hand, these administrators would agree with the management expert, Peter Drucker, that all organizations (including religious local com-munities, provinces and congregations) will "become slack, easygoing, diffuse" unless challenged, and that: in turbulent tir~es the enterprise has to be kept lean and muscular, capable of taking strain but capable also of moving fast and availing itself of opportunity. This is particu-larly important if such times follow long years of comparative calm, ease and , predictability.~ Administrative: personnel may also have come to accept the harsh reflection that: when survival depends on change, human institutions often tend perversely towards suicide, in times of social upheaval, clinging to yesterday's images providessolace,a 'But, for religious congregations to su~ive and grow, more than solace is necessary. "It will take l~rave and visionary change, not just solace." On the other hand, the same general administrators may feel thoroughly' inadequate to do the type of brave and visionary "challenging for ch~ange"that~ is necessary. They feel that successive general chapters since Vatican II have so weakened their administrative authority that they have little or no effective authortty and power .to challenge the congregat~ion .or even prrvinces "tO become lean and muscular." In fact, some may even fear to do anything at all, lest tha_t result in a still further whittling away of whatever administrative authority is left them by general ch~ipters. Little wonder, therefore, if such administrations are experiencing frustra-tion, adr~inistrative identity crises, a sense of helplessness. They may even"feel somewhat .marginalized, unwanted, Within the veu congregation they have been elected to serve. Some administrations accept without question a mere figurehead role, feeling that any constructive effrrts'at challenging will achieve nothing at all. Others may initiate a spree of feverish activity, but if they lack dearly worked out goals and strategies based on sound information, then such activity is without value and only serves to intensify a feeling of frustration in all i:oncerned. ~ Unfortunately, a major reason~for the feeling of helplessness and frustration is the failure of'many persc, ns to understand that the obvious exercise of administrative authority or bureaucratic direction i~ not the only form of leadership that is opeh to administrators. In fact, while varying degrees of bureaucrati~ authority are essential in organizations, nonetheless such author-ity will be ineffective if at key points in the administration prophetic leadership is laeking~ No matter how little administratix~e authority general governments have, they can and they must exercise prophetic leadership within their.con-gregations. Paradoxically the lack of bureaucratic or administrative authority can even be an advantage. General administrations should be able to give ~129 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 mgre time to the demands of future planning, to the design of carefully planned visitations of provinces, if they do not have to be involved in the day-to-day turmoil of dealing with special-interest groups and "congregational power politics.". . In this paper, I will set out some ways in which, general administrations can exercise this crucial prophetic leadership. By way of background, I ~will also summarize relevant insights of management experts into the difficulties and challenges that confront administrations of secular organizations and businesses in the 1980s. Religious administrators can learn much from such writers--not the least being that secular administrators have to :face some major issues which are very similar to those which confront the genei~al admin-istrations of religious congregations. Secular organization~ themselves cannot survive and grow without a type of "prophetic" leadership! Models of Contemporary General Administrations Three model~ of general administrations can be distinguished on the basis of a continuum where centralization and decentralization of administrative authority are the two poles of reference. The Maximum DecentraliZi~tion Model The central administration of congregations organized in this fashion have onl); afigurehead role. The superior general and councilors merely symbolize the internationality ot~ tl~e congregation. Whatever administrative powers are left to them are of no real significance at all. The Maximum Centralization Model' Organized with a minimum of decentralization, all important matters in these congregations relat.ing to policies and appointments of key administrators (for example, provincials, formation personnel) are controlled by°the central administration: Delegation of authority to lower levels i~ minimal, only in matters .of little importance. ~ This model may characterize newly founded congregaiions, or congrega-tions which are small in membership and/or have a single, clearly defined apostolic activity, such as missionary activity. The In-betwedn Model: Mininial Centralization with Maximal Decentralization The choice of major administrators and personnel (fdr example provin-cials, formation, personnel) belongs to the~provinces. The role of the general administration in such appoin~tments is of no r~eal significance. However gen-eral administration does retain important supervisory powers, the significance ¯ of Which may.develop only in time. For example, the,superior general in such congregations may have ov~erall direction in matters relating to initial formation, without the legislation spell- General Government Today / 823 ing out precisely what this is to mean in practice. The general council may have authority to approve or reject provincial chaptbr~de~zisions according to guidelines set by the general chapter'decrees. It may have the power to control levels of expenditure within provinces. It may h~ix;e thai power,to stop a hou~;i~ being Opened or closed. The~h~ in ~hich a general administration might use these powers could at times effectively influence policy within provinces. SpecifiE instances of general administration, of course, may not fit precisely . into one or other of these models. But they will tend to approximate one rather than another. The type of frustration and malaise 1 described in the opening paragraphs will be found more particularly in the first and third models. These are the models which are the special concern of this article. Leadership Challenges in rSeculal" Organizations Today In a recent article, Ronald Lippitt stated that, for most leaders and follow-ers in the 1980s, three assumptions must be eradicated.: The first assumption whichmust disappear is that success depends on a vertical model of leadership, acc6rding to which decisions are to be made at the top, and people are to obey without contributing to the decision-making. The second assumption to be removed is the belief that "doing it by yourself" is a sign of strength. The spirit of' rugged individualism must give way to the spirit of ihterde~pendence'and collegiality at all levels of an organization. The third assumption which~has no'place in a "lean and muscular"~organi-zation is the belief that "competition is a necessary motivation for achieve-ment." This assumption,' claimsLippit~ "blocks seeking help, sharing resources, and pooling' complementary abilities--all requirements for survival, growth and development in the decades ahead."5 Sociologist Amitai Etzioni, in his recent analysis of the future of American so~iety,.says very much the same thing: The attribtites we Americans need most for the next generation is an enhanced com-mitment to othei:s and to shared concerns., l say "enhanced" because the commitment has not vanished but waned, and because a larger,measure is required~if.Americans are to do with less government and yet sustain themselves as a community. "rl3e commit-ment required., is for both ego and otl~er to attend to each other and to their shared world. 1 hence refer to it as ~mutuality.TM Again, he states that American society has become caught up with exces-sive individualism: We were affluent and had a sense that we could do anything. This attitude was fed by the pop-psychology idea of self-actualization--that everyone's first obligation was personal fulfillment.7 Taking these insights into account, .we can conclude that for survival and growth, leadership must have the ability to inspire in staffs an.effective will- 1~94 / R. eview for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 ingness to share ideas, skills, in a spirit of interdependence and .collegiality. Goal setting, the commitment to evaluate performance in light of these goals, will take place effectively because managements and.their staffs feel an atmo-sphere of mutuality or interdependence. No command from above will necessarily effect goal-setting, collegiality or a ~spirit of interdependence. This point is stressed by R. K. Greenleaf: "The very essence of leadership, going out ahead .to show the way, derives from more than usual openness to inspiration."8 He asks the question: "why would anybody accept the leadership of another except that the other sees more clearly where it is best to go?" Significantly he comments: "Perhaps this is the current problem: too many who presume .to lead do not see more clearly and, in. defense of their inadequacy, they all the more strongly argue that the ,system' must be preserved--a fatal error in this day of candor.", So the one who aspires to leadership must have the knowledge necessary "to see more clearly." But still moi'e-is required than knowledge. There is needed the spark of drive, of initiative, the call to follow: "A.leader ventures to say: 'I will go; come with me!''9,, ~., The leadership exemplified here is not the monarchical or hierarchical type--types closed to opinions and information of.others--but the type we call charismatic or prophetic. The prophet is a future-oriented person. He has an-acute.understanding of new needs and new opportunities, He opposes the. tendency in all ,human organizations ~t0 treat established institutions or methods of Ol~eration, at a given point in history, as though they were definitive.~0 Leadership of the prophetic type can see beyond the present problems, even temporarY s.uccesses, and can inspire others with a vision for change and with the courage to become involved in. realizing the vision in practice. The leader, says: "'I will go; follow me!' while knowing that the path is uncertain, even dangerous." i i Leaders of this type are rare, but the harsh reality is that unless organiza-tions of all kinds can find them and place them at various key levels so that their talents can be used, the organizations and their administrations will not survive. The organizations will die, for they will cease to b6 relevant. These leaders will, inter alia, help establish the values explained by Lippitt and others as essential for the survival and growth of organizations in the 1980s and beyond. It is not necessary for those in official control of organizations to have to a high degree all the qualities depicted by Greenleaf, but what is the sine qua non of success is the ability to spot people who do have the necessary creative and ~innovative skiils~ and then place these people in the right positions in which they can effect!vely inspire change. This is What Drucker means when he writes that "in turbulent times, my organization. '. needs to control the assignment of its resources. It needs to think through Where !the results are likely to be. It needs to know the performing and productive people." General Government Today But, to utilize such people to their full potential, there needs to be on the part of those in charge a firm discipline. Potential change-agents can easily be pushed aside because people are uncomfortable with their prophetic and innovative voices. There is also the danger that change-agents will dissipate their strengths and abilities over too wide an area. But the use of firm discipline will not be~ popular, for it will demand a "systematic withdrawal of resources--money, but above all, people--from yesterday's efforts,"12 that is, withdrawal from projects that are no longer relevant and/or productive, and the systematic encouragement Of change-agents, who can guarantee the survival and growth of the organization. Patience and courage are key virtues in leadership. In recent years some researchers into how effective leadership emerges in organizations have explicitly turned to cultural anthropology for insights into the nature, purpose and necessity of culture. This has produced some very challenging studies and conclusions. The leader who ignores basic:human needs for meaning, for symbols, for clearly articulated values and goals, for identity, as these are expressed in culture, will fail to achieve a following---even in business. o Hence, A. Pettigrew, reflecting on the interrelationship between leadership and culture, believes that the process of ghaping culture is the first task of management: "The [leader] not only creates the rational and tangible aspects of organizations, such as structure and technology, but also is the creator of symbols, ,ideologies, language, beliefs, rituals, and myths."13 J. MacGregor Burns distinguishes two types of leadership. There is first what he calls "transactional leadership." This type of leadership is concerned with the day-to-day smooth running of the organization. No organization can do with6ut this type. But no organization can survive for long if there is also lacking what Burns calls "transforming leadership:" This kind of leadership is a response to the fact that all people have need of a sense of purpose, of meaning, for a vision that helps to raise them in,their work above the daily grind. Inspired by this leadership people are moved to become more active themselves, more creative in their own work.14 T. E. Deal and A. A. Kennedy in their 1982 publication, Corporate Cul-tures: The Rites and Rituals of Corporate Life, assert that every business has a culture which has a major effect on the success of the business. In what they call "strong cultures" everyone knows the goals of the corporation, and every-one is working for them.~s People know clearly what is expected of them. This makes them feel i~ strong sense of belonging and of being valued. In conse-quence, according to Deal's and Kennedy's research, people are more likely to work harder. In companies that have strong cultures, managers "take the lead in supporting and shaping the culture," They give considerable time and energy to ,thinking about the values, heroes, and rituals of the culture," for their primary task is to manage "value conflicts that arise in the ebb and flow of daily events." 16 Such companies have bright futures. They have the resilience 1~96 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec,, 1984 to adapt to changing circumstances.~ When difficulties arise they can "reach deeply into their shared values and beliefs for the truth and courage to see them through."~7 In 1982 also, T.J. Peters and R. H. Waterman produced their best-selling book, In Search of Excellence: Lessons from America's Best-Run Compan-ies. ~8 This study also draws heavily on the insights of cultural anthropologists. The authors list the three qualities that make for excellence in the compan-ies they researched: bias for action, closeness to the customer, and high pro-ductivity through people. By "bias for action" they mean the ability of the companies.to move very quickly in changing policy and action, "and, more important, to be continuously innovative both in making the product.and providing services.''~9 Their findings on the qualities of the leadership present in the most suc-cessful companies are interesting. Common to all leaders is what the authors call the "hands-on, value-driven style." Such leaders have the ability to articu-late and transmit to others the essential values of their companies. In this they effectively create a strong corporate culture:. "Clarifying the value system and breathing life into it are the greatest contributions a leader can make."~° In order to transmit values the leaders must be mobile, constantly in touch with the grassroots of the company. In order to keep the leadership team active and unhindered by bureaucratic pressures at the tenter, the leadership at the top is kept surprisingly small, lean. The leaders the authors studied had lofty visions which could evoke excitement and enthusiasm for thousands of employees. But they were also people committed to practical detail: "In this role, the leader is a bug. for detail~ and directly instills values through deeds rather than words; no oppor-tunity is too small. So it is at once attention to ideas and attention to detail.TM The leaders of the Successful companies did not depend on a charismatic personality for success. Rather, they made themselves into effective leaders through hard work, sustained perso.nal commitment to the values they believed in, and a certain stubbornness in their efforts to build up a strong corporate culture based on these values.22 By "high productivity through people," the authors mean "the ability top companies have of treating employees with dignity and expecting them to contribute in innovative ways on a day-to-day basis.''23 For the 'researchers this quality appeared critical. New ideas and contented customers would result only when all in the organization--not just the people at the top--were motivated by the right, values.24 In the top quality firms, in consequence, those who innovate are treated as heroes, "even though those employees are occasionally a little bit at odds with the corporate bureaucracy,"2~ The authors refer to successful cdmpanies as having "simultaneous loose-tight properties." By this they mean: that at the same time there is .very firm central direction and maximum decentralization (in fact, some of the firms are radically decentralized). General Government Today / 1127 Firm central direction is achieved by the "hands-on, value-driven" ap-proach. 'The leadership sees its task as one of stressing values crucial to the firm's culture, for example, closeness to the customer, innovation, quality. The more these values are emphasized the more certain it is that they will be realized in practice. Values which are clearly articulated and emphasized them-selves act as the control mechanism.26 Within the clear framework of these values, individuals throughout all levels of the company feel encourage.d to innovate. Leadership and Authority in Periods of Cultural Change All the above authors stress the role of leadership if "weak cultures" are to become "strong cultures." However, no author sufficiently clarifies the rela-tionship between leadership and bureaucratic authority. For example, what role, if any, has authority in cultural change? ~ John R. Sheets. S.J., provides the precision necessary for this key question to be answered. He sees a common denominator in all expressi0.ns of leader-ship. It is an ability "to draw others beyond the point where they presently find themselves to a point of greater realization of their common aspirations. It is a power to draw others toward a center of closer unity."27 He sees the role of the leader very much as Greenleaf has described it or as MacGregor Burns views transforming leadership: "While he stands within the group, he has at the same time a certain transcendence, being ahead of the group, as one who has already realized the goal to a large'extent, and who now acts as a focal point drawing others to the realization of the same goal."28 But, unlike these authors, Sheets pinpoints three fundamental qualities of leadership~ ethos, pneuma and logos. Ethos is that quality o~f leadership that is concerned with values. The leader has interiorized within himself a .set of values, and the living out of these values in his own life draws others to follow and seek the same interiorization. Pneuma refers to the power conveyed by the leader and the power that is aroused in the group. It is characterized by inspiration, enthusiasm, energy. Logos is that quality of leadership related to judgment. It is described in various ways: reason, balance, discretion~ prudence, intelligence, knowledge. Where there is logos the leader has the power of judgment how to give a "constant and consistent shape to the aspirations of the group."~9 As Sheets says, genuine l~adership involves all three of these qualities. Within any one person, the qualities are to be found in varying degrees, "very oftenowith one of the characteristics assuming a particular prominence to the point where one might be designated according to one of these, as a moral or ethical leader, a charismatic leader, an intellectual leader.''3° A genuine leader will build on the particular aspect in which he is strong and call on others to complement his efforts with other qualities in which he is deficient. True leadership then aims to evoke teamwork. "Leadership," as described here, differs from "authority." Whereas leader- ~121~ / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 ship aims to motivate people to interiorize new values and attitudes freely, authority commands people,to act in certain ways. Rather than aiming to attract people to respond freely, authority imposes an obligation on people to act. In periods of cultural change, when people undergo deep value and atti-tudinal alterations, authority is to be used very infrequently, and then only with caution and considerable sensitivity. In-depth and lasting change can occur in and through leadership, but such change is rarely the result of author-ity commanding action. Support at key points, however, may have to come from authority. For example,~the actual placement of a person withleadership or change-agent qualities within a group may require the official use of author-ity. So also would the removal of an ineffective leader be an ffct of authority. In strong business cultures, authority is used very sparingly, but with effectiveness and according to definite criteria. Thus, for example, the selec-tion and appointment of key national, regional and local managers is gener- .ally the prerogative of central administration. Such people are chosen because they have the leadership qualities described. Without people of leadership gifts at key levels of management, the future growth and even survival of the business would be in danger. In brief, therefore, leadership aims to motivate people freely tO change by accepting new values, new attitudes. The new values and attitudes, together with the conseqt~ent alteration in behavior patterns, effect cultural changes. Leadership also aims to develop teamwork, to involve the whole group in ¯pr°blem-s°lving' George Foster concludes his fine analysis of why develop-ment projects in. the Third World succeed or fail, With a description of the qualities needed in ¯a community change-agent: The ethic of helping people change involves restraint and caution in missionary zeal. It means that developmental personnel should be careful not to plan for people, but to work with them in searching for realistic answers to their problems . It means learnirig to be humble, to be willing to lear.n . It means a genuine . desire to help in a realistic way based on full understanding of the nature of culture and culture change . a~ Foster's research findings, and his concluding description of the qualities ~'equired in a community change-agent; confirm the.universal validity of the clarifications provided by Sheets and the other authors above. "Strong, and "Weak, Cultures in Religious Life A religious congregation is not a business organization. The fundamental aim of a religious congregation is not monetary profit to satisfy investors, nor is it to supply the material needs of customers. Neither can a religious congregation, unlike a business enterprise, fully gauge its success or failure by whether or not its "products" are being "sold." Nor ought we to consider a religious congregation to be definable only in terms of a social grouping--one, for example, designed to serve the human-welfare needs of its members. General Government Today / 829 A religious congregation has meaning only in relationship to the kingdom of God. Its members consecrate themselves to God in the Church to offer ¯. to the world visible proof of the unfathomable mystery of Christ, inasmuch as in themselves they really present "Christ in contemplation on the mountain, or proclaiming the kingdom of God to multitudes, or healing the sick and the maimed and converting sinners to the good life, or blessing children and doing good to all men, always in obedience to the will of the Father who sent him" (LG 46).32 Effective consecration demands of religious that they keep on discerning how best to serve the Church with "boldness of initiatives" in accordance with the particular and unique charism of their congregation, being prepared to drop this or that form of apostolate which is no longer responsive to the real pastoral needs of people.33 This does not mean that religious cannot, and must not, learn from all kinds of social organizations---even from business enterprises--about how to improve their efforts to give "to the world proof of the unfathomable mystery of Christ." With St. Paul, we religious believe that "we are only the earthen-ware jars that hold this treasure [our Christian faith].34 Our faith is incarnated in and through people, groups, customs, cultures. On the sociological level at least, our religious congregations, like the Church itself, do show "organizational traits which in many respects resemble those of secular organizations.TM The way our religious congregations or communities are organized may well either hinder or facilitate our efforts to give "the world proof of .the unfathomable mystery of Christ." Discernment, after all, does not consist just in zealous and constant prayer. It also consists in being open to whatever way the Holy Spirit may speak to us--including the. way that ordinary folk live and organize their lives. We should not be startled to learn that the Holy Spirit has something to teach us from what happens in the. mundane actions of the marketplace. Perhaps the Lord is. also telling us to be open to. contemporary research in business methods when he said: ,For the children of this world are more astute in dealing with their kind than are thechildren of light."~6 In businesses which, have strong cultures, goals, objectives, values, are clearly .articulated and interiorized by all concerned. People are accountable for their actions because they know what is expected of them, and they are motivated so to act. There is constant contact with customers, making it possible to see how best to respond to their needs. Business leaders are value-oriented. They value service, not just to the customer, but also to their employees with whom they are in frequent contact. Written communications are acceptable, but personal .presence to staff.at key levels by leaders is far more emphasized. Finally, innovators are 'vigorously encouraged, despite the risks involved, for innovation that is a response to customer needs is seen as ultimately the guarantee of survival and growth: If we look at those religious congregations that are actually moving into a 1~30 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 stage of revitalization, we see that they are developing strong cultures. Mutatis mutandis, these congregations have many of the marks that we have seen characterize strong cultures. There is the rediscovery of key religious-life and congregational values, together with their interiorization and their expression in innovative apostolic action.37 Apostolic innovators are valued and en-couraged as congregational "culture heroes." Leaders have articulated their values, including the values that particularly relate to the charism of the founder. In variou~ ways, and with risks taken in faith, they have communi-cated these insights and values to the others, drawing them also to do the same. They have done this not by multiplying the ~number of documents and letters of exhortation, but by going directly~ to key°groups and personnel in .the congregation, and drawing them by their presence to accept the same values and convictions.38 Through~: cooperative teamwork, these leaders have encouraged a new sense of spiritual purpose to develop in the members of the congregation. A heightened, sense of morale emerges, because clarified and interiorized values and goals give a renewed sense of meaning and direction~to members~ lives. Those congregations that are not revitalizing have weak cultures. There is confusion about values, uncertainty about goals and objectives. Those who ought to be the leaders because they hold official positions in thecongregation are lacking in the know-how and/or the spiritual courage to give leadership. Many of their religious, mainly because leadership is lacking, cannot agree on what values should be retained and acted on. This leads to more and more ¯ frustration. Often the attitude of these religious to authority is ambivalent, On the one hand, there is a cynical or angry rejection of authority in the congrega-tion because it is seen as irrelevant and powerless. On the other hand, there is a hankering ~ifter authority to give direction--but when officials do attempt to use authority they are quickly rejected. There is a failure to recognize the fact that change cannot come through the bare use. of authority, but only through leadership. Since few religious have been trained in the exercise of leadership, it is difficult for members to. understand the distinction between authority and leadership. Potential change-agents or. innovators in the congregation are frequently marginalized, Sometimes this marginalization takes place because those in authority consider them "disloyal" or "troublemakers," for they Question the status q.uo.39 General administrators may maintain a schedule of visitations in the pro-vinces, but' unless the visitations are done with goals based on real needs of the congregation, then the visits only intensify feelings of frustration among members. The exhortations of the general administrators,~and their follow-up letters to the visited provinces, come across as irrelevant, out of touch with real issues, and thus reinforce the view that general administrations have no longer any role of importance in religious congregations. Religious congregations with weak cultures thus described have reached General Government Today what is now called the "breakdownstage." If the situation is left unchecked, these congregations will die--not because the Holy Spirit has failed, nor because the charisms of the congregations have become irrelevant, but because key people in the congregations have not "read the signs of the times" and acted accordingly.~° "Hands, On, Value-Driven" Leadership For several centuries prior to Vatican I1, general administrations often obtained their identity and role-definition from the authority they could exer-cise: the power, to appoint key people, such as provincials and formation staffs; the power to visit and check on whether or not age-old and universally accepted congregational customs were being maintained. The more adminis-trative positions became institutionalized, the more the faithgospel vision of the founding persons became obscured, together with their innovative ability to discern and react to often unattended pastoral needs of the peop!e of their times. General administrations became far more comfortable with their authority roles than with the challenges of leadership. Theologically, the emphasis was often on the need for the changing world to adapt to the unchanging Church. In similar vein, the world had also to adapt to the unchanging cultures 'of religious eongregations~ The stress by administrators, far from encouraging departures from what was done in the past; was to insist on conformity to the tried ways of the congregational culture-heroes of former times.41 With the coming of Vatican II, two interconnected emphases in particular undermined the clarity of this role-definition, and thus the traditional security o~f general administrations. The first was a renewed stress on the mission of the Church to enter and influence a world in rapid change. The second was the move to decentralize the government of religious life. The Church recognized once more that it had a mission to a world in change. Yesterday's methods were not necessarily adequate for new pastoral needs.42 The Church is called to be Christ to the world. Since religious are "to be more radical Christians, in the sense of trying to live the life and holiness of the Church in all its radicalness~''"3 they must seek to excel in cohtfibuting to the pastoral and apostolic innovation that was needed. Now the task of general governments is determined primarily by the mission which religious life and each eongregatiori has within the Church, and not by the authority they may have because the constitutions say so. The role of a general administration is to call the entire corporate body to the realization of its two-fold aim: union with Christ and service to the neighbor according to the particular faithgospel vision of the founding person. The decentralization of religious-life government left many general admin-istrations at a loss to know what to do in administration.On the one hand, the theology of Vatican II insisted that religious should be pastorally innovative and open to change. On the other hand, general administrations had no 839 / Review for Religious, ~lov.-Dec., 1984 experience of how to stimulate and lead such innovation. Especially adminis-trations belonging tO the first and third models above particularly felt con-fused and anxious since, without authority, they could not see what they should do to facilitate this revitalization. Many provinces also seemed quite willing to ignore their general adminis-trations, seeing them merely as innocuous and vague symbols of the interna-tionality of the community. In quite recent years, however, an awareness seems to be growing in some provinces that decentralization has not produced the miraculous renewal or revival that it was expected to evoke. There is a vague, ill-defined turning toward "the center." But unless central governments act with genuine leadership, the opportunity thus given them will be lost. To transform a weak business culture into a strong one there must bea radical change in values, with a consequent and effective commitment to action. And if a religious congregation is to move from a weak to a strong culture, there must likewise be a radical reconversLon to a new set of values, or a return to the original values of the founder. Founders of religious congregations laad the faith and courage to enter on a journey. They attracted others to join them in showing "the Church and the world a quality of life that calls them back to the design of God in Christ Jesus."~ The outcome of the journe~ was never certain. Each religious and each congregation which accepts this new challenge of reconversion begins, as it were. another spiritual journey. This will involve, like the first journey, "an anguished and sometimes perilous exploration,"45 an adventure in faith, hope and love. Similarly, general administrations which summon their congregations to a second journey, to a process of refounding, must expect periods of darkness, misunderstanding, even rejection. Like their founders before them, they will need far more than human expertise or ingenuity to maintain the dynamism and creativity of their leadership. A feeling of identity and security in their leadership will come, not from any authority they may still have nor from any authority newly obtained from their general chapters, but from union with Christ in his life, death and resurrection. In order to utilize resources to the best possible advantage, I believe that these general administrations must concentrate their leadership efforts on four categories or groupings of persons within their congregations: -on themselves as leaders; -on the congregation as a whole; -on groups tha.t hold, or potentially hold, leadership positions; -on all who are involved in the preparation of the general chapter. 1 will no~w take each.category in,turn. Leadership Directed at Themselves "The Church is an evangblizer; 'but she begins by being evangelized her-self." So wrote Paul VI. "She is the community of believers, the community of General Government Today hope lived and communicated, the community of brotherly love; and she needs to listen unceasingly to what she must believe, to her reasons for hoping, to the new commandment of love . [The Church] is evangelized by constant conversion and renewal, in order to evangelize the world with credibility.''~6 These words apply with equal force and validity to general administrations, for these are called to evangelize their own congregations. They can do so only by first evangelizing themselves. General administrators themselves form a group which mirrors the congregation as a whole in that they come from different cultural backgrounds, have different prejudices, both cultural and personal, which interfere with communication, have different formative and educational training, hold different theological orientations. If these adminis-trators are to be welded into a leadership team in which each is encouraged by the rest to use his leadership qualities, one of ethos, another of pneuma, another of logos, then they must face the cold reality that they themselves will have to undergo a culture change. They will have to move from being a "weak dultural group" of the congregation, with each being an individualist, to become a "strong cultural group" in which each person is in fact a ,team member. Each member will have to become increasingly and personally ope~, " not just. to changes in knowledge, information, or the intellectual rationale for action and practice, but to new attitudes, values, skills, the .removal of preju-dices, and the development of mature relationships within the team itself,47 The courage and the honesty to be open as individuals to such radical changes is needed, so that a genuine administration community for evangelizing emerges, one that is credible to the congregation. This will come only if administrators are prepared to commit themselves to deep prayer and asceticism: Only in prayerful discernment will the team members be~able to discover what the Holy Spirit is asking of them and how they can help to disentangle the pure charism of the founder from the accretions of time. Faced with the demands of the contemporary Church and world, they will experience the same sense of shock as the founder did in his day. It is true that there must be serious commitment to study and to scientific methods of obtaining factual informa-tion relating to the works of the congregation and the needs of the apostolate. But such information will be of little value, will be merely "a noisy gong or a clanging bell,"48 if the uses to which it is put are not discerned in an atmo-sphere of brotherly love and prayer. In brief, if general administrators expect to enable their entire congregation to move from weak to strong religious-life cultures, they must themselves first, individually and as a group, undergo the same cultural transformation. The top priority for each administration, there(ore, is to set aside definite periods of the year in which administrators can all be present for planning, for praying together, for sharing personal and corporate faith experiences, for discerning how the Holy Spirit wishes to use them in the service of the congregation. Nothing should interfere with this priority. At times a skilled facilitator may be an invaluable adjunct in helping team members to become 834 ] Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 yet more vitally involved in their own and their team's religious-life cultural change. ~, Leadq'ship Directed to the Congregation as a Whole Superiors general and their administrations, when confronted by the stark reality ofa weak congregational culture, are tempted to react with a strongly worded pastoral letter (or even a series of them) about the need for the members to undergo conversion. Normally, this temptation must be vigor-ously~ resisted. Historically, such letters seem to have little or no effect.49 Generally th6 letters are ignored, or if read, they may evoke yet further cynicism, even anger, directed toward central government. In successful business operations in which the "hands-on, value-driven" style of leadership is used, 'leaders avoid frequent and lengthy communications from the center to subordinates. Theyl prefer to improve communication by personalizing the process on a one-to-one basis or on a one-to-group basis. However, a general administration team, after lengthy and prayerful dis'- cernment, may conclude that a prophetic communication in letter form to the whole congregation is necessary, even though there are good grounds to a~ssume the message will be rejected, even by the vast majority of the congrega-tion. Out of great love for the Church and for the congregation, the adminis, trati0n may feel the need to speak out loudly and clearly, "to uproot and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant."50 The decision to write such a prophetic challenge should not be. taken lightly: If it is done, then, as far as possible, it should be followed up with personal contact by means of general administrators in touch with key groups in the congregation. Explanations of the letter can be given, and reactions received, in a discerning atmosphere. Leadership Directed to Key Groups ,qt is at the level of key groups within the congregation that the central government's efforts at "hands-on, value-~lriven" and "loose-tight" leadership should be concentrated. In most congregations the following groups would be important to concentrate on: .-p~ovincial councils -formation staffs -provincial chapters -other interest groups ,of various kinds, such as justice and peace commit-tees or spirituality and mission seminars (some of the groups may be of an inter-provincial or international nature). It may, be necessary, particularly in the early stages, to spend considerable time with provincial councils. The aim should be to create a discernment atmosphere similar to the one needed at the general administration level, in which~provincial¢council goals are established, and objectives and strategies worked out to .realize these goals. Considerable prudence and patience are General Government Today required since provincial councils may well consider that the initiation of change is primarily the function of authority, not leadership. Or, despite information to the contrary, the councils may even deny that there are prob-lems confronting their provinces. And they may consider the discernment process simply a waste of time, "something that only general administrations have time for!", Where these _views exist, general administrators may find the challenge to act as catalysts in culture change extremely demanding. George Foster's advice quoted above needs to be recalled: leadership to be effective requires a "full understanding of the nature of culture and culture change." Those of us who take for granted the computer age, and assume cultural changes can occur with the same speed that characterizes computerized travel arrangements and purchasing, will find it very hard to appreciate the fact that radical cultural change is always a very slow process. General administrators, when faced with negative responses from provincial councils, may be tempted, like all change-agents when confronted by rejection or lack of interest, to find escape routes. They may be tempted to return to the generalate in order to "write a report" for the benefit of.the particular provincial council that is hesitant or refuses to respond. This process of writing the report will console the administrator, encouraging the belief that "something is hap-pening." But it is very unlikely that anything at a!! is happening if the adminis-trator still refuses to implement a "hands-on~ leadership approach by being present to the difficult provincial council--with the report in hand if necessary. Prior to working with the provincial council, the general administrator may well need to visit various people or groups in the. province in order to assess the level of cultural weakness or strength of the membership at large. But g~neral administrators should avoid doing what provincials or local super-iors should do. namely, the pastoral, personal interviews of members. The more general administrators become involved on the personal level, the less time they will have to concentrate on leadership at the level of key groups. The general administration's concern should be primarily for the welfare of the congregation as a whole. Normally, whatever is undertaken by general administrators must have this overall aim in mind. I believe the failure of general administrations to be clear about their primary aim has resulted in the administrators suffering from overwork, stress, even burnout. Again. the advice of George Foster makes sense: "The ethic of helping p~ople change involves.restraint and caution in missionary zeal." Formation staffs in the post-Vatican Church are under particular pressure to work out goals and methods for initial formation. The general administra-tor responsible for formation must be prepared to spend considerable time with formation personnel, encouraging them and working with them to clarify what should be done in light of definite criteria. It might also be necessary to work with provincial councils, of several 836/ Review for Religious, No'v.:Dec., 1984 provinces in an effort to develop something like an interprovincial or interna-tional training center where the best formation staff available can be concen-trated. It is increasingly impossible for congreg~.tions with declining numbers of religious and student candidates to have many formation houses. At the same time, the quality of initial formation will be a major influence on the future health of any congregation. If a reasonable development of the forma-tion program is to take place, the general administrator will.~need to exercise considerable patience, all the while being careful never to give up on the "hands-on, value-driven" approach. The closure of a formation house which has existed for a very long time, for:example, can be a traumatic experience for members of a province. The general administrator may well have to be available for a protracted period to enable their passage through this. difficult time. As regards provincial chapters, it is important for the general administra-tion to be involved, not because it wants to use whatever authority it might still have to insist on changes in legislation, but because chapters, if rightly prepared, provide an entire province with the chance to participate in a com-munal discernment process. The general administration's task will be to encourage provincial councils to adopt the discernment process both by way of preparation and during the actual chapter.S~ If some provinces have uged only parliamentary debating and 16bbying systems, it will not be° easy to convince them' of the advantages of communal discernment processes.52 General administrations have the chance also of bringing to the provinces at such times an overview of religious life in general and of the state of,their own congregation in particular, which provinces are m danger of forgetting their discernment processes. General administratoi's, when presefit at chapters, can help to counter narrow nationalistic or parochial attitudes whiizh can so easily develop in provinces to the detriment of their work of evangelization. Meetings of religious from particular interest groups often attract many of thoseoinvolved in apostolic reflection and innovation. These religious can encourage one another at such meetings, and stimulate the prophetic people among them to new forms of apostolic action. At times, the general administration itself can sponsor regional or interna-tional gatherings of concerned religious to reflect on subjects of fundamental importance for cultural change of the congregation, for example, the charism of the congregation, and its history and relevance for the work of evangeliza-tion, the relationship between the congregation's charism and the Church's call for more involvement in justice and peace issues. There is every chance that from these gatherings will emerge individuals with the type of leadership necessary for the survival and growth of the congregation. Leadership in Preparing the General Chapter The general chapter of a congregation is meant to ~:enew and protect the spiritual patrimony of the institute. It should be ~ moment of grace, of the General Government Todqy ] 837 action of the H01y Spirit in a congregation provided there is adequate prepa-ration, an atmosphere of communal prayerful discernment during the chapter itself, and a planned follow-up after the chapter.53 The task of the general chapter is to challenge the congregation to face the future. For this purpose the goals of the institute must be evaluated (and if necessary, reformulated) in ligh! of changing pastoral needs, of the theology of mission, of the charism of the congregation and its human and spiritual resources. The means to realize these goals must be evaluated and, if necessary, changed. ~For example, the chapter must decide whether or not a congregation of the first or third models described above can realize its apostolic and religious life goals if the central government has little or no authority to complement its leadership role. For the sake of the overall good of the congre-gation, should central government have an important role in the choice of provincials and formation staffs--that is, in the appointment of key change-agents in the congregation? Remember, of course, that in successful business operations the leadership rarely uses authority. But it does use authority to appoint key staff throughout the organization, after considerable consultation of those who know the candidates. But a more fundamental question must be answered by the general chap-ter. What form of government and what kind of authority should it have if t.he congregation is to realize its primary purpose of service to the People of God? No general chapter can face such questions, nor do what it is supposed to do~ without thorough preparation. Too often general chapters are considered the work only of the capitulants, not of the congregation as a whole. When this happens, the general chapter will have little or no practical impact on the religious-life cultural change of the institute. There is' little sense in having a chapter if the whole congregation does not own it from beginning to end, that is, from the time of preparation through to and including the implementation stage. The general administration has a most crucial role to play in stimulating the whole congregation to become involved in preparing for the chapter t~hrough prayer, study, reflection, and dialog.54 This will be a demanding and time-consuming task, especially if the failure of previous general chapters has left people feeling cynical, apathetic, even angry about being invited to be involved in preparatory work. For this reason, it may be necessary for the general administration to initiate the planning of the chapter many months, even a year or two, before the chapter is due to ~begin. The follow-through after the chapter has ended is as important as the preparation, though this stage is likely to be overlooked for two reasons. Capitulants may feel the enthusiasm of the chapter experience itself will be enough to guarantee an automatic post-chapter follow-through by the con-gregation as a whole. But enthusiasm alone at a chapter will ensure, nothing. Secondly, an entirely new general administration may be elected at the chapter. It may not immediately have the skills or the coherence for teamwork 838 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 even to see that the follow-through stage must be planned and implemented immediately after the chapter. Hence, as a service to the whole congregation, the outgoing administration, drawing on its own experience, could,suggest to the chapter itself or to the new administration several alternative plans for the post-chapter follow-through. , The purpose of religious government is "the building of a united commun-ity in Christ in which God is sought and loved before all things, and the mission of Christ is generously accomplished."55 With this purpose in mind~ the general chapter must elect the superior general and ~the assistants~ The election is a dramatic moment in the cultural-change process of a general congregation, the process in which the institute is trying to deepen its religious-life values. The outgoing general administration cannot, and must not, seek to influence capitulants to vote for certain people. But, if its evangelizing presence has had an.impact over its years of government, then the capitulants will be aware:of what they should expect to find in members chosen for the new administration~ The primary question for the voters should be: Who ,has the leadership qualities necessary to be of service to the whole congregatio, n?°A .person may be able to speak many languages, but if he or she lacks leadership qualities, then voters should automatically consider other candidates. Since general administrators are to be at the service of the whole congregation, the folio.wing question should not even be considered: Will he or she better represent my province? Summary By way of summary, what particular points should general administra-tions be sensitive to if they are to exercise effective leadership? Firstly, culture change is a complex, slow and often painful process, requiring new values, attitudes and behavior patterns. Since revitalization of a religious congregation involves a cultural change, one in which the institute moves from a weak to a strong culture, the process will be slow and painful. The pain will be salvific if individuals and communities approach change in a prayerfully discerning way. Secondly, general administrations are called to lead their congregations to revitalization. They do this by articulating and communicating the values which form the foundation of the religious-life culture change of the congrega-tion. This means that in implementing the "hands-on, value-driven" and '~loose-tight" principles of leadership, general administrators must .resist the temptation to solve problems for people~ Their overriding task is to communi-cate the values in light of which the congregations' members themselves decide ¯ freely what to do. Thirdly, in order to communicate values and to guarantee that they tak+ deeper and deeper roots within the congregation,general administrators must be in as frequent personal contact with provincial administrations and key General Government Today / 839 groups in the provinces as is possible. They cannot lead by remaining in the generalate. Strong administrative discipline is required to prevent central governments from assuming administrative responsibilities that would hinder or prevent general administrators from being in the field. Planned follow-up visits are required by general administrators to provincial councils and other key groups at various stages after important planning sessions have been held. This would help the development of an accountability process. The more successful, over time, that the communication of values is, the less frequent will the visits have to be. Fourthly, implicit in all that has been said is the assumption that the primary concern of the general administrators is the corporate well-being of the congregation. General administrators should not normally take over the personal, pastoral visitations of each religious by the provincials. The more they become personally involved in this type of ministry, themselves, the less time and energy they have for their primary task. Fifthly, general administrators should constantly be on the lookout for potential or actual innovators, prophetic figures, congregational "heroes," who, ~f rightly placed, would have the ability to summon others to reconversion. Conclusion Many general administrations today are confused about how to lead their congregations through the processes of revitalization. It is true that "leader-ship styles of the past will no longer be functional or useful.''56" But the challenges that general administrations face today are not unique to them. Survival and growth are not automatic for secular organizations and busi-nesses either. General administrations of .religious congregations, especially those which need revitalization or reconversion, can learn much from the style and methods of the leaders of successful businesses and other secular organizations¯ ~ General administrators are to lead, not by taking more and more respon-sibilities from the provinces, nor by trying to coerce people into reconversion through the use of some form of authority, but by clarifying, articulating and transmitting the congregation's values and goals to all members. Their task is to build strong religious-life cultures, in which congregational "heroes," inno-vators, refounders, prophets, are valued people. The stress is on working with, not for members of the congregation. The basic and primary skill required of general administrators as leaders is the ability to work with others, first and most of all with each other, so that teamwork emerges, and then with key groups and personnel in the provincesP7 They will be evangelizer~ to their own congregation to the degree that they, as a team and as individuals, are open to evangelization themselves. They must strive to be specialists in their own congregation "in the sense of expe-riencing God more vividly in the following of Christ and making that expe-rience the basis" for the evangelization of their fellow religiousP8 I]40 / Review for Religious, Nov.-Dec., 1984 General administrators need insights from research into leadership, skills and expertise. But we need to be reminded that, as Paul VI notes, while "techniques of evangelization are good, [nonetheless] even the most advanced ones could not replace the gen.tle action of the Spirit. The most perfect prepa-ration of the evangelizer has no effect without the Holy Spirit. Without the Holy Spirit the m.ost convincing dialectic has no power over the heart of man. Without him the most highly developed schemas resting on a truly sociglogi-cal or psychological basis are quic, kly seen to be quite valueless."59 NOTES ~See The Church in the Modern World, I. 2See Raymond L. Fitz, S.M. and Lawrence J. Cada. S.M., ~The Recovery of Religious Life" in REVIEW FoR RELIGIOUS, Vol. 34, No. 5, 1975, p. 706. 3Managing in Turbulent Times (London: Pan, 1980), p. 43. 4E. Ward, "Christian Missions--Survival: in What Forms" in International Bulletin of Mission-ary Research. 1982, p. 8. 5Ronald Lippitt, "The Changing Leader-Follower Relationships of the 1980s" in The Journal of Applied Behavioral Science, Vol. 18, No. 3, 1982, p. 397. 6Amitai Etzioni, An Immodest Agenda: Rebuilding America Before the21st Century (N.Y.: McGraw-Hill, 1983), p. 26f. 7Amitai Etzioni, "U.S. Needs a 'Moral and Social Recovery'" in U.S. News & Worm Report, 9 Jan. 1984, p. 591- SRobert K. Greenleaf, Servant ~Leadership: A Journey into the Nature "of Legitimate Power and Greatness (N.Y.I Paulist Press, 1977). p. 15. 91bid. ~0See Roger Aubert (Ed). Prophets in the Church (N.Y.: Paulist Press, 1968), p. 2. ~Robert K. Greenleaf, op. cit., p. 15. ~2Peter Drucker. op. cit., p. 43. ~3Cited by Thomas~ J. Peters and Robert H. Waterman Jr: In S~arch of Excellence: Lessons from America's,Best-Run Companies (N.Y.: Harper & Row, 1982), p. 104. ~4See James MacGregor Burns, Leadership (N.Y.: Harper & Row, 1978)., ~5(Reading. Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1.9~2), p. 15f. ~Ibid. p. 141. ~71bid, p. 196. A Similar cultural approach to management analysis is to be found in Richard Tanner Pascale and Anthony G. Athos. The Art of Japanese Management (l:ondon: Allen Lane. 1982). ~sOp. cit. ~gThomas J. Peters, "Well-Run Companies: The Secret of Success" in U.S. News & Worm Report, 10 Oct. 1983, p. 74. -'0Thomas J. Peters and Robert H. Waterman. Jr. op. cit., p. 291. e :qbid. p. 287. ~-'See op, cit., p. 288. -'3Thomas J. Peiers. "Well-Run Companies: The Secret of Success," p. 74. 24See Thomas J. Peters and Robert,H, Waterman, Jr. op. cit., p. 310. ¯ ~-5Thomas J. Peters, "Well-Run Companies: The Secret of Success," p. 75. -'6See T.homas J. Peters and Robert H. Waterman, Jr. op. cit. p. 318. 27"A Discussion on Leadership and Autfiority" in Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits (St. Louis: American Assistancy Seminar on Jesuit Spirituality; 1972), Vol. IV. No. 2~, p. 55. ~Slbid, p. 56. -'91bid. p. 58. -~01bid. 3~ Traditional Cultures: And the Impact of Technological Change (N.Y2 ~Harper. 1962), p. 269. This text is further explained by Gerald A. Arbuckle in The Role of Change-Agents in Devel- General Government Today / 1141 opment (Sydney: Action for World Development, 1972). a2Mutuae Relationes (Rome: S.C. for Religious and for Secular Institutes & S.C. for Bishops. !978): par. 10. ~lbid. par. 12 -~2 Co 4:7. 3~Mady A. Thung, The Precarious Organization." Sociological ~cplorations of the Church's Mission and Structur~ (The Hague: Mouton, 1976), p. I. For relevant sociological analyses of Church structures and management, see: Alvin J. Lindgren and Norman Shawchuck, Manage-ment for Your Church: How to Realize ),our Church's Potential Through a Systems Approach (Nashville: Abingdon, 1977); Lyle E. Schaller, Effective Church Planning (Nashville: Abifigdon, 1979); Peter E Rudge, Ministry and Management." The Stud), of Ecclesiastical Administrations (London: Tavistock. 1968). -~6Lk 16:18. 37See Lawrence Cada, 'S.M., Raymond Fit~., S.M., Gertrude Foley. S.C. Thomas Giardino, S.M., and Carol Lichetenberg, S.N.D. de N. Shaping the Coming Age of Religious life (N.Y.: Seabury Pr~ess, 1979), p. 60. ~SFor helpful historical insights ~ee Raymond Hostie, S.J., The Life and Death of Religious Orders: A Psycho-Sociological Approach (Washington: Cara, 1983), pp. 276-281. 39See J. P. Donero, F.S.C. and T. D. Frary, New Responses in Religious Life (N.Y.: Alba House, 1979), pp. 20-22. 4°See Raymond L. Fitz, S.M. and Lawrence J. Cada. S.M., "The Recovery of Rdligious Life." 4~For relevant comments see Thomas More Page, C.F.X., "Managing and Planning Change in Religious Institutes" in REvIEw I:OR REI:~G~OUS, Vol. 31, No. 3, 1972, pp. 386-401. 42The most challenging restatement of this emphasis is to be found in the Apostolic Exhortation of Paul VI, ten years after Vatican II, Evangelii Nuntiandi, 1975, nn. 18, 20, 63. 43Leonardo Boff,,O.F.M~:, God's Witnesses in the Heart of the WorM(Chicago: Claret Center for Resources in Sl~irituality, 1981). p. 226. '~F. J. Moloney, S.D.B., Disciples and Prophets: A Bibfical Model for the Religious Life (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1980), p. 169. 45Quoted by Paul V. Robb, S.J. in "Conversion as a Human Experience" in St.udies in the Spirituality of Jesuits (St, Louis: American Assistancy Seminar on Jesuit Spirituality, 1982), p. 4. ~Op. cir., par. 15. ~TSee for helpful comments.'John Adair, Effective Leadership: A Modern Guide to Developing Leadership Skills (London: Pan Books, 1983). pp. 159-186. ~Sl Co 13:1': 49See Raymond Hostie, S.J., op. cit., p. 277. 5°Jr I:10. ~ For an explanation of the lg.natian method of deliberation, see John C. Futrell, S.J., "Commu-nal Discernment: Reflections on Experience" in Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits (St. Louis: American Assistancy Seminar on Jesuit Spirituality, 1972). ~2Two studies by W. Biddle and L. oBiddle will be helpful to leaders in cultural change: 7~te Community Development Process: The Rediscovdry of LoCal Initiative (N.Y.: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1965) and Encouraging Community Development: A Training Guide for Local Workers (N.Y.: Holt, Rineh

Issue 32.5 of the Review for Religious, 1973. ; Review Jot Religious is edited by faculty members of the School of Divinity of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copy-right (~) 1973 by Review ]or Religious. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $1.25. Sub-scription U.S.A. and Canada: $6.00 a year; $11.00 for two years; other countries, $7.00 a year, $13.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to Review ]or Religious in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent Review ]or Religious. Change of address requests should include former address. R. F. Smith, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor September 1973 Volume 32 Number 5 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to Review for Religious; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts, books for review, and materials for "Subject Bibliography for Religious" should be sent to Review for Religious; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, SJ.; St. Joseph's Church; 321 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106. Documents on the Holy Year Paul VI Given here are five documents in chronological order concerning the Holy Year. The English text is that given in the English language weekly edition of Osservatore romatzo. OUR LADY AND THE HOLY YEAR (MAY 30, 1973) You know about the Holy Year. It begins in the local Churches on the forthcoming feast of Pentecost. It aims at being a period of spiri[ual and moral renewal, and at finding its characteristic expression in reconciliation, that is, in the recomposition of order, of which Christ is the principle, in the depths of the consciences of individual souls, the order of every man with God, the order of every human relationship in the harmony of com-munity sentiments, in justice, concord, charity, peace. Prophetic Moment The Holy Year should be a kind of prophetic moment, Messianic awakening, Christian maturity of civilization, which sometimes had its ideal intuition in the poetry of the world, even secular poetry. What does the ancient and well-known prophecy of Virgil say, for example?--you young people, fresh from school, will remember it: "Magnus ab integro saeculorum nascitur ordo" (Buc. IV); his wa~ alyrical inspiration; ours would like to be one of those conscious and ~ollective efforts which produce, in the Church and in the world, a step upwa(ds, a sign of Christian progress, a break through on the plane of humanity imbued with the life-bringing Spirit of the kingdom of God. Is ours a dream? An ideal, certainly, but it must not be an empty, unreal one. Difficult, certainly; and for us, men of little faith, a demand that is beyond our strength. To renew the spiritual and moral energies of the Church, and consequently, or concurrently, those of our society, is a" 961 962 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 courageous aspiration, which makes tangible to us, if nothing else, the necessity of a superior, extrinsic assistance, but near to us, accessible to us, a compassionate, affectionate assistance already marked out in a general plan of goodness and mercy. Such a plan that must needs exist, if it is true, as it is true, that mankind is called, freely but surely, to a destiny of salvation. What assistance? What can be the help that enables us to dare, to hope for the aims of the Holy Year? Who can obtain for us the marvelous result which, following the logical demands of the Council, we have proposed? Humble, Glorious Queen It is the Blessed Virgin, beloved sons, Holy Mary, the Mother of Christ the Savior, the Mother of the Church, our humble and glorious Queen. Here there opens in front of us a great theological panorama, char-acteristic of Catholic doctrine, in which we see how the divine plan of salvation, offered to the world by the one mediator between God and men, efficacious by His own power, Christ Jesus (see 1 Tim 2: 5; Heb 12:24), is carried out with human cooperation, marvelously associated with the divine work (see H. de Lubac, M~d. sur l'Egl., pp. 241 ft.). And what human cooperation has been chosen in the history of our Christian destinies, first in function, dignity and efficiency, not purely instrumental and physical, but as a predestined, though free and perfectly docile factor, if not that of Mary? (see Lumen gentium, 56). Here there is no end to what could be said about the Blessed Virgin; for us, after firmly grasping the doctrine that places her at the center of the redeeming plan, first and, in a certain sense, indispensable beside Christ our Savior, it will be enough to recall and affirm how the renewing outcome of the Holy Year will depend on the superlative assistance of the Blessed Virgin. We need her help, her intercession. We must put on our program a particular cult for the Virgin Mary, if we wish the historico-spiritual event for which we are preparing to reach its real purposes. Need of Marian Cult Now we will merely condense in a twofold recommendation the advantage of this Marian cult to which we entrust so many of our hopes. The first recommendation is a fundamental one: we must. know the Madonna better as the authentic and ideal model of redeemed humanity. Let us study this limpid creature, this Eve without sin, this daughter'of God, in whose innocent, stupendous perfection, the creative, original, intact thought of God is mirrored. Mary is human beauty, not only aesthetic, but essential, ontological, in synthesis with divine Love, with goodness and humility, with the spirituality and the clear-sightedness of the "Magnificat," She is the Virgin, the Mother in the purest and most genuine sense; shb is the Woman clothed with the sun (see Apoc 12:1 ), in beholding whom our Documents on" the Holy Year / 963 eyes must be dazzled, so often offended and blinded as they are by the profaned and profaning images of the pagan and licentious environment by which we are surrounded and almost attacked. Our Lady is the sublime "type" not only of the creature redeemed by Christ's merits, but also the "type" of humanity on its pilgrim way in faith. She is the figure of the Chur(h, as St. Ambrose calls her (In Lc. II, 7; P.L. 15, 1555); and St. Augustine presents her to catechumens: "Figuram in se sanctae Ecclesiae demonstrat" (De Symb. 1, P.L. 40, 661). If we have our eyes fixed on Mary, the blessed, we will be able to reconstitute in ourselves the line and the structure of the renewed Church. Pray to Mary And the second recommendation is ~ao less important: we must have confidence in. recourse to the intercession of the Blessed Virgin. We must pray to her, invoke her. She is admirable in herself, she is lovable to us. As in the Gospel (see Jn 2:3 ff.), she intervenes with her divine Son, and obtains from Him miracles that the ordinary :course of events would not admit. She is kind, she is powerful. She knows human needs and sorrows~ We must renew our devotion to the Blessed Virgin (see Lumen gentium, 67), if we wish to obtain the Holy Spirit and be sincere followers of Christ Jesus. May her faith (Lk 1:45) lead us to the reality of the gospel and help us to celebrate properly the coming Holy Year. With our Apostolic Blessing. LETTER TO HOLY YEAR COMMITTEE (MAY 31, 1973) To His Eminence Cardinal Maximilien de Furstenberg President of the Central Committee for the Holy Year Lord Cardinal, As the official beginning of that vast movement of spiritual renewal, which will have its climax in Rome in 1975, .is on Sunday 10 June, the solemnity of Pentecost, we wish to set forth briefly to you, Lord Cardinal, whom we have made the head of the Central Committee for the Holy Year what are the aims we have in mind with this initiative, what spirit we would like to see prevail in those who respond to our invitation, and what fruits we hope can be gathered with the grace of the Holy Spirit in whose name and in whose, light we are now setting out. As we declared from our very first announcement, on 9 May last [see the text in Review ]or Religious, 1973, pp. 728-30] with the Jubilee we propose the renewal of man b.nd his reconciliation with God, which take place above all in depth, in the interior sanctuary, where conscience is called to bring about its conversibn, or "metanoia," by means of faith and repentance (see Mk 1 : 15 ), and to aim at the fullness of charity. 964 / Review Ior. Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 God Himself,. infinitely merciful, after redeeming the world by means of Jesus Christ His Son, calls all men, none excluded, to pa.rticip.ate in the fruits of redemption (see 1 Tim 2:4) and intervenes with His Holy Spirit to operate salvation in them (see Rom 8:10 ft.). Strengthening the Bonds of Faith and Charity The Church is convinced that only from this interior operation can be derived also the reconciliation between men, as the social dimension embrace all sectors and levels of life, in relations between individuals, families, groups, categories, nations; to become, as far as is possible for man's frailty and the imperfection of earthly institutions, a ferment of peace and universal unity. She undertakes, therefore, to bring it about that the force of the redemp-tion wrought by Christ should strengthen in the faithful, in dioceses, in parishes, in religious communities and in other centers of Christian life and apostolate, as well as in the Churches separated from us up to now, the bonds of faith and charity in the Blood of Christ (see Col 1:20). The Pentecost of grace will thus be able to become also the Pentecost of the new brotherhood. This is the spirit we hope to see flourish in the whole celebration of the Holy Year. Therefore we trust that the value of penitential practices will be redis-covered, as a sign and way of grace, as a commitment for the deep renewal which receives its full efficacy in the sacrament of penance, to be used and administered according to the provisions of the Church, for resumption by the individual and the community of progress along the way of salvation (see Acts 16:17). It seems to us that the expression, the occasion, and, as it were, the synthesis of these practices, which will have their completion in the celebra-tion of the Holy Eucharist, can be the pilgrimage which in the authentic tradition of Christian ascetism has always been 'carried out for reasons of piety and expiation. Today, too, it can be inspired by these motives, both when it takes place in forms more similar to those of the ancient pilgrims to Rome, and when it uses the modern means of communication. Need for Charity It is necessary, however, that the pilgrimage should be accompanied not only by prayer and penance but also by the exercise of brotherly charity, which is a clear demonstration of love of God (see 1 Jn 4:20,21; 3:14), and must be expressed, by the individual faithful, their associations, and ecclesial communities and institutions, in spiritual and corporal works of mercy in favor of needier brothers. Thus the Holy Year qcill really widen the scope of the Church's charity and will portend a renewal and reconcilia-tion of universal dimensions. For these aims to be achieved more easily, let us express the wish that Documents on the Holy Year / 965 the practice of the pilgrimage will be carried out in all the local churches, in cathedrals and sanctuaries, diocesan and national, as intermediate stages converging at last, in 1975, in Rome, the visible center of the universal Church. Here the representatives of the local churches will conclude the way of renewal and reconciliation, venerate the tombs of the Apostles, renew their adhesion to the Church of Peter, and we, God willing, will have the joy of receiving them with open arms and together with them we will bear witness of the unity of the Church in faith and charity. It is our ardent desire that in this march towards the "sources of salva-tion" (see Is 12:3) our sons fully united to the Church of Peter will be joined, in the forms possible for them, also by the other followers of Christ and all those who, along different and apparently distant ways, are seeking the one God with upright conscience .and goodwill (see Acts 17:27). The concrete programs of the pilgrimage and other practices aimed at fostering renewal and reconciliation will certainly be indicated by the Episcopal Conferences for the local churches, taking into account both the outlook and customs of the places, and the real purposes of the Holy Year which we have just outlined. On our side we ask pilgrims, after having prayed according to our inten-tions and to those of the whole episcopal college, to take part, locally, in. a solemn community function, or to make a stop to reflect before the Lord, ending it with the recitation or singing of the Our Father and the Creed and with an invocation to the Blessed Virgin. Gift of Indulgence As if in response to these simple and sincere manifestations by means of which the faithful, in the local churches, will carry out a real conversion and profess that they wish to remain and become stronger in charity towards God and towards their brothers, we, as the humble minister of Christ the Redeemer, will grant, in the due forms, the gift of the Indulgence. Also those sons of ours who, not being able to take part in the pilgrimage because they are prevented by illness or some other serious cause, join in it spir-itually with the offering of their prayers and their suffering, will benefit from this gift. With the Holy Year the Church, exercising the "ministry of reconcilia-tion" (see 2 Cor 5:18), offers privileged opportunities, ~pecial appeals so that all those reached by her word and, even more, as is our wish and our most ardent prayer, by the inner and ineffable touch of grace, may partic-ipate in Christian joy, the fruit of the salvific virtues of the Redeemer. To Refine Spirits We conclude this letter with the expression of the hopes we place in the celebration of the coming Holy Year. They are, we repeat, renewal and reconciliation as interior facts and as implementations of unity, brotherhood, 966 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 and peace, radiating from spirits renewed and reconciled in Christ, throughout the whole Church, and towards the whole human society, on the ways of charity, the fruit of which is justice, goodness, mutual forgive-ness, the gift of oneself and of one's property for one's brothers. In a word we hope and trust that a renewed Christian sense of life will refine spirits and spread abundantly in the world, for common salvation. This, Lord Cardinal, is what we wished to let you know on this eve of an important period of the history of the Church in our days, which will be symbolized, when the time comes, by the opening of the Holy Door. We beg you to communicate it to our Brothers in the Episcopate, while we bless you and all those whom our appeal reaches with the most ample outpouring of our heart, the heart of a father and of the humble servant of the servants of God. From the Vatican Apostolic Palace, 31 May 1973, Feast of the Ascen-sion of Our Lord, the tenth year of our Pontificate. PAULUS PP. VI RENEWAL AND RECONCILIATION (JUNE 6, 1973) As you know, Sunday next, 10 June, is the feast of Pentecost, the feast that commemorates and aims at renewing the descent of the Holy Spirit, the animator, sanctifier, unifier of the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ. And as you likewise know, this forthcoming solemnity will mark the beginning, in the local churches, that is, in the ecclesial communities each presided over by its own bishop, of that religious event, or rather that spiritual movement which we call "Holy Year," followed by the celebration prol~r in. the third quarter of our century, in 1975. You will hear more about it again, a great deal, everywhere. Prepare to understand it, to live it, and specifically in its general purposes. They are a renewal of Christian life such as is demanded and must be possible in the deep and stormy process of the metamorphosis of our times, and a reconciliation of minds and things at which we think we must aim if. we wish to reconstitute in us and outside us that superior order, that "kingdom of God," on which the present and future destinies of humanity depend. Renewal and reconcilia-tion: it seems to us that these must be the logical and general consequences, in the history of the Church and of mankind, of the Council, springing like a river of salvation and civilization from its generating source. Why from Pentecost? Why does this fact start from Pentecost? Not only because this beautiful feast, which we can define as the historical birth of the Church, offers a p~'opitious, inspiring,occasion, but above all because we hope, we beseech, that the Holy Spirit, whose mysterious and ,sensible mission we celebrate at Pentecost, will be the principal Operator of the fruits desired from the Documents on the Holy Year / 967' Holy Year. This, too, will be one of the most important and fruitful themes of spirituality proper to the Holy Year: the Christology and particularly the Ecclesiology of the Council must be succeeded by a new study and a new cult of the Holy Spirit, precisely as the indispensable complement of the teaching of the Council. Let us hope that the Lord will help us to be dis-ciples and teachers of this successive school of his: Jesus, leaving the visible scene of this world, left two factors to carry out his work of salvation in the world: his Apostles and his Spirit (see Congar, Esquisses du mystOre de l'Eglise, p. 129 ft.). We do not wish to enter this magnificent theological field now. For the elementary purposes of this brief preparatory sermon it is enough for us to point out, in the first place, that the action of the Spirit, in the ordinary economy of the divine plan, is carried out in our spirits in respect for our freedom, in fact, with our very cooperation, if only as the condition of divine action in us. We must at least open the window to the entrance of the breath and the light of the Spirit. Let us say a word about this opening, this availability of ours to the mysterious action of the Spirit. Let us ask ourselves what the psychological and moral states of our souls must be, in order that they may receive the "dulcis Hospes animae." This would be enough to weave interminable treatises of spiritual, ascetic, and mystical life. Let us now reduce these states to two only, at least for the sake of being easily remembered, making them correspond to the field preferred by the action of the Paraclete, that is, the Holy Spirit who becomes our assistant, consoler, advocate. Man's Consent'Required The first field is man's "heart." It is true that the. action of grace may leave out of °consideration the subjective correspondence of the one who receives it (a child, for example, a sick person, a dying man), but normally man's .conscience must be in a state of consent, at least immediately after the impulse of the supernatural action of grace. The Holy Spirit has his favorite cell in the human being, the heart (see Rom 5:5). It would take too long to explain what the word "heart" means in Biblical language. Let us be content now to describe the heart as the intimate center, free, deep, personal, of our spiritual life. Anyone who does not have a spiritual life of his own lacks the ordinary capacity to receive .the Holy Spirit, to listen to His soft, sweet voice,, to experience His inspirations, to enjoy His charisms. The diagnosis of modern man leads us to see in him an extroverted being who lives a great deal outside himself and little in himself, like an instrument that is more receptive to the language of the senses and less to that of thought and conscience. The practical conclusion at once exhorts us to praise of silence, not of unconscious, idle, and mute silence, but the silence that subdues noises and exterior clamor and which is able to listen: to listen in depth to the voices, the sincere voices, of conscience 968 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 and to those springing up in the concentration of prayer, to the ineffable voices of contemplation. This is the first field of action of the Holy Spirit. It will be well for us to remember it. Flight trom True Communion ot Ecclesiai Charity And what is the other? The other is "communio," that is, the society of brothers united by faith and charity.in 9ne divine-human organism, the mystical Body of Christ. It is the Church. It is adherence to that mystical Body, animated by the Holy Spirit, who has, in the community of the faithful, hierarchically united, authentically assembled in the name and the authority of the Apostles, his Pentecostal upper room. So we might well consider whether certain ways of seeking the Spirit which prefer to isolate themselves in order to escape both from the directive ministry of the Church and from the impersonal crowd of unknown brethren are on the right path. What Spirit could a selfish communion meet, one that arises from a flight from the true communion of ecclesial charity? What experiences, what charisms could make up for the absence of unity, the supreme encounter with God? And so the program of the Holy Year, inauguated on the feast of the Holy Spirit, is at once placed on the right way: both the way of spiritual life, where He, the Gift of Love, inhabits and awakens and forms and sanctifies our individual personality; and the way of the society of the "saints," that is, the Church of the faithful where salvation is a continual rejoicing for everyone. May our Apostolic Blessing, Sons and Brothers, direct you and follow you along the right way. PROGRESS IN THE SPIRITUAL LIFE (JUNE 13, 1973) ¯ The announcement about the anticipated beginning of the Jubilee celebra-tions which will have their climax in 1975, which you have all certainly heard of, re-echoing in all the dioceses, in the local churches, jolts our conscience in some way, in its religious and moral sensibility, and confronts it with a question ever recurring on the lips of the Church: How is your spiritual life progressing? In a word, this announcement enters the inner recesses of our personality, obliging it to reflect, to examine our conscience on some of its expressions which, like it or not, we all judge fundamental in the very definition of our personality; that is, we feel obliged to answer questions such as the following: Am I one who really believes in religion? Do I profess it, practice it, and how? Do I perceive the relationship between adherence to my religious "creed" and the ideal and practical direction of nay life? Do I perceive the connection between religious life and moral life? If we understand this critical necessity, one of the aims of the Holy Year is already attained: it appears to us first and foremost as one of the pedagogical means with which the Church educates and guides herself---a Documents on the Holy Year / 969 "shock," as is said today, by means of which she aims at a goal considered important and claiming particular interest. Religious Purpose of the Holy Year So it is. For ~he present let us dwell on the first purpose which is cer-tainly in the intention of the Church in promoting the Holy Year: the religious purpose. ¯ We could raise an easy objection, namely, is it necessary to commit the Catholic world and, indirectly at least, also the secular world, to the religious issue? Is there not a continuous and normal effort of the Church already in progress in favor of religion? Did not the Council suffice to reaffirm religion's right of presence in our times? And does not the Church exhort us every day, every Sunday, every feast, to celebrate some religious mystery? What more is wanted? The answer is not a difficult one. Religion is a thing that, in itself, can never be satisfied with its understanding, its profession, its discovery. It puts man in contact with such riches of truth and life that it does indeed quench all our thirst, but does not extinguish it: ions vincit sitientem; on the contrary it stimulates it for other conquests. Furthermore it happens, and this is what concerns us more here, that our attitude towards the goods of the spirit is not constant; we are changeable, we are fragile. It is this phen-omenon of the decadence of religious life, always possible on the part of man, that demands, historically, new interventions on each occasion, more suitable and more effective ones, so that human faithfulness may not be exhausted. The Need of Prayer The history of religious .life is full of these unhappy vicissitudes, just as it is full of vigorous revivals and generous recoveries. Now we all know, more or less, the formidable and systematic attack mounted against religion, our own in the first place, since it is socially structured and organically precise in its doctrine and its rites, in these times of ours in which there is a tendency to equate the secularization of society with its progress and to evolve a humanism that is radically atheist. In a certain sense, which unfortunately is not restricted to negligible or marginal manifestations, the mentality of the new lay generations has to start from the very threshold of religious life. The ministry of the faith must begin again from elementary initiation into the simplest religious expressions. By way of example, we would like to propose a first.question: Do we know how to pray? We are not casting doubt, with this aggressive question, on the validity, the efficacy, the success of the liturgical reform (of which we will be able to speak on another occasion). We mean rather to ask if the man of today, a disciple ofour "consumer" society, as is said," which is engrossed in the pursuit and enjoyment of temporal goods and imbued 970 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 with the proud conviction, that it can solve everything .by itself,-without any recourse to God, or any transcendent conception of the sensible and ratio-nalist world, if this man is still able to utter in his heart any sincere, even though informal, but deep and personal conversation with God. It would be very interesting if, in the light of the Holy Year, there should spring to the lips of modern men the frank request, addressed to Christ the Master by His disciples one day: "Teach us to pray!" (Lk 11:11). That is, it would be desirable to bring to life again in people the sense, the con-cept, the need of religion; and at the same time the hope, the certainty, let us say even more, the experience of speaking tothe God of the universe; and at the same time the surprise, too, of enjoying the capacity of being able to address Him with the name, the most authentic title of His kindness and our dignity; the title of Father. Such a result would be a kind of revision of all our deviations and aberrations; it would be the rebirth of love and hope in the world. It would be the rediscovery of the reason for calling the Church "mother" (see St. Cyprian, De unitate Ecclesiae, VI, P.L. 4, 591); it would be the new insertion of salvation in the conscience and the history of the world. Our.Father! Amen. With our Apostolic Blessing. INTERIORITY AND THE HOLY YEAR (JUNE 20, 1973) Let us speak again of the Holy Year which began in the local churches on the feast of Pentecost. We will speak of it again because we would like to see, round this "Holy Year" formula, as we have already said, not only the fulfillment, but the development of a historic moment in the spiritual life of the Church, not just an event, but a religious movement. This con-ception seems to us, in the first place, in conformity with the motive of this celebration: renewal and reconciliation, aimed at stamping a permanent and general renewal on the religious and moral conscience of our times, inside and, if possible, outside the Catholic Church. In the second place, this view of the Holy Year, it seems to us, intends to reflect in the reality of thought and morals the great plan of the Council,. and prevent its salutary teaching from being relegated to the archives as voices of the past, but rather that they should operate in a masterly way in the actual life of the present and the future generation. It must be a school that becomes life. Call for New Inspiration In the third place, we wish to give importance and extension to this extraordinary religious expression, which we call the Holy Year, because the historical and social circumstances of our times are so heavy and over-powering with regard to our faith and its consequent existential logic that a necessity of seriousness, incisiveness, and strength must, it seems to us, sustain the "movement" of the Holy Year right from the beginning. Either Documents on the Holy Year / 971 it will win recognition as a general, serious, and united effortl and theret~ore a really renewing one, or it will at once be extinguished and exhausted .as a sterile attempt; good and meritorious perhaps, but in practice shortlived and ineffective. At this point some preliminary observations arise which it is well to keep in mind right now. The doubt, or rather the fear, may arise in some people that the Holy.Year movement will oppose so many other spiritual and pastoral movements, the programs of which are already tested by long and clear experience, or already approved by the authority of the Church, or recognized as legitimate and free expressions of the vitality of the People of God. No, we answer: the Holy Year does not intend to suspend, choke, and sweep away the variety and riches of the authentic manifestations already going on in the ecclesial world. The Holy Year would rather imbue them with new energy, and at the most, if possible, connect them in some way with its own general program, which calls in this case rather for the acceptance of a deep, new inspiration than for a specific and concrete ad-herence to precise particular frameworks. Not Triuml~halism Others may think that it is desired to celebrate the Holy Year in a tri-umphalistic style, with trumpetings and overwhelming exterior events, giving the exterior aspect of the movement derived from it an importance greater than other aspects of religious and Catholic life, for which, however, it is necessary to claim an importance that cannot be renounced, perhaps even a superior importance. On this point, which can constitute a strong objec-tion to the celebration of the Holy Year, we wish to invite the good to a twofold reflection. It is indeed possible, please God, that the Holy Year will have the support of the people, flocking crowds, the spectacular ap-pearance of multitudes. It is an ecclesial, universal fact; at some moments it reflects the catholic character of vocation to the gospel. It is humanity, in its immense extension, that we make the object of our invitation and our interest; also and above all on this occasion we wish to give to the heart of the Church the dimensions of the world! Should we protest, then, if the phenomenon takes on excep-tional quantitative forms and proportions? Is itnot the mystery of the unity of the Church, always manifested in the multiplicity of her univoca| and expanded fiches? We will all enjoy it. if the Lord bestows on us the grace of seeing "the spaces of charity" so widened (see St. Augustine, Sermo 69; P.L. 38, 440-441). But, in the second place, let us say at once that this spectacular, and perhaps touristic result, is not specifically the aim of the Holy Year. If a purpose of universal communion cannot but exist in the interttions of an affirmation that concerns the whole Church in her essential properties of unity and catholicity, it is not, however, the primary one as effect in time, 972 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 nor as a value in itself, because it presupposes and demands the attainment of another prior aim: the conversion of hearts, the interior renewal of spirits, the personal adherence of consciences. First the individual, conscious and aware; then the crowd. Interior Conversion We.would like this first purpose of the Holy Year to be given supreme importance. We must aim first and foremost at an interior renewal, a con-version of personal sentiments, liberation, from conventional imitation of others, revision of our outlook, deploring, more than anything else, our shortcomings before God, and towards the society of men our brothers, and with regard to the concept that everyone must have of himself, as a son of God, as a Christian, as a member of the Church. It is a new philosophy of life, if we may say so, that must be formed in every member of the mystical Body of Christ; everyone of us is invited to rectify his way of think-ing, feeling, and acting with regard to the,ideal model of the follower of Christ, while being a loyal and hard-working citizen of contemporary civil society. This great conception of the Holy Year--to give Christian life an authentic expression, consistent, interior, full, capable of "renewing the face of the earth" in the Spirit of Christ --- must be clearly present in our minds, with one very important immediate consequence: the accomplishment of this proiect begins at once and takes place in the personal conscience of each of us. We would like this personal and interior aspect of the great spiritual enterprise, now begun, to head all programs. Each one of us must feel called upon to work out for himself and in himself the religious, psychological, moral, and operative renewal which the Holy Year aims at achieving. Personal Examination With this first practical consequence: we must all verify, or carry out the introspective examination about the main line of our life, that is, about the free and responsible choice of our own vocation, our own mission, our own definition, as a man and as a Christian. A vital examination! And a second consequence, far easier, but far more insistent: it is necessary to resume the practice of good, of honesty, seeking what is better in little things, that is, in the sequence of our ordinary actions, where our defects lie in wait for us at every moment, sometimes disastrously; and where, on the contrary, integrity of action can be easily perfected, if we remember the teaching of the Lord Jesus: "He who is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much" (Lk 16:10). This is something to begin with immediately, for everyone; with our Apostolic Blessing. Documents concerning Religious Men The first of the two documents printed below is the address of the Holy Father on May 25, 1973, to superiors of religious orders who were taking part in the first meet-ing planned by the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes to take place in Rome. The second document is a letter sent by the Pope to the Franciscan Minister General on the occasion of the General Chapter of the Friars Minor held in Madrid, Spain. TO RELIGIOUS SUPERIORS (MAY 25, 1973) Venerable Brothers and beloved Sons, We cordially salute you who, under the aegis of the Sacred Congrc, gation for Religious and Secular Institutes and of its worthy Cardinal PrefeCt,. are engaged in a reunion to discuss questions of no mean weight pertainin~,~[o " a life wholly consecrated to God~ Seeing you here, the superiors of so many religious families whose members are spread throughout the whole world, and having in mind your works which also extend tO every part of the world, we have to regard this meeting of yours and our gathering together here now as an event of considerable ecclesial importance. Two years ago, as you well know, we issued an apostolic exhortation beginning with the words "Evan.gelica testificatio" (Evangelical Witness), in which we reminded the religious institutes how their life must be r~newed in accordance with the directives of Vatican Council II. Now, as a confirma-tion and follow-up of that document, we wish to offer some points which it seems to us desirable to recommend, moved as we are by our paternal solicitude for these same institutes of yours. The Second Vatican Council proclaimed the charismatic nature of the religious life, declaring that the evangelical counsels are "a divine gift, which the Church received from our Lord" (Dogm. Const. Lumen gentium, 973 97'4 / Review for Religious, l/'olume 32, 1973/5 43). By this gift or charism, from its very nature, the religious "are joined in a special manner to the Church and its mystery" (ibid., 44). Whence it follows that, by reason of this intimate and very close bond, they are dependent upon ~he authority of the Church which gives authentic approval to their rules, receives the vows of those who make profession, raises that profession to the dignity of canonical status (ibid., 45) and renders the religious themselves participants in the carrying out of its salvific mission. For the steps taken by religious towards holiness are of service to all inert for their spiritual profit: "Let them know that, when the gift of themselves is accepted by the Church, they themselves are also committed to the service of the Church" (Perfectae caritatis, 5). The Holy Spirit who bestows the charisms and is at the same time the life-spring of the Church brings about the fitting mutual accord between the charismatic inspiration and the juridical structure of the Church, the more necessary because, as Vatican Council II lays down, pastors have "to give judgment as to the genuine nature and due exercise of the charisms, not indeed that they are to extinguish the Spirit but that they are to test all and retain what is good (see 1 Thess 5:12,19,21 ; A postolicam actuositatem, 3). In such a gathering as this it gives us pleasure to say again that the Church cannot do without religious, that is to say, without those witnesses of the love which Christ bore towards men, a love which far transcends nature, nor can the world be deprived of this light without loss to itself (see Evangelica testificatio, 3). For that same reason the Church itself bears witness to its high esteem for them, surrounds them with unfailing love, and does not fail to be at their side "to guide them along the true path" (see Ps 26:11). Church Expects Much But the Church expects much of the religious; through them must be "increased its fair perfection and holiness which only the imitation of Christ and mystical union with Him can give" (see Alloc. to the Conciliar Fathers, Sept. 29, 1965; AAS, 55, 1963, p. 851). The Church, through the magisterium of the Ecumenical Council, its most weighty authority, sum7 moned the religious to renewal, especially spiritual renewal. We know that not a few have striven, and are still striving, to respond to this high expectation; but it has to be said that some. have not paid heed ~to this clarion call or have not interpreted it correctly. Permit us, therefore, to remind you earnestly of the duty there is to effect the aforesaid renewal "to which priority is to be given also in promoting the external works of the apostolate" (Perfectae caritatis, 2e). From the founts of baptismal grace and of the particular charism which belongs to each of your institutes, fresh clear streams must be drawn where-by a life consecrated to-God may become possessed of an abundance of needed strength. Documents concerning Religious Men / 975 Jubilee Year But now we would pass on to a special ecclesial happening which we believe will be of particular interest also to the religious. This is the universal Jubilee which, as you are well aware, we have proclaimed, to be celebrated first in the local churches and then in the city of Rome. Since its intended object is interior renewal, also called conversion, metanoia (change of mind) or penance~ the Church depends much on the pastoral help of the religiouff. So that it will be yours, dear superiors general, to see to it that the families of which you are the heads help on and foster the operation of the Jubilee, especially by co-operating with the sacred hierarchy, in order that this renewal of souls may be effected, and that not only each one's private life but public morals too will be brought into line with Christian precepts. The religious themselves should take this God-given opportunity to think over their curriculum and way of life. That is to say, they should feel moved to compare their actual mode of life with .what is asked of them by Vatican Council II and by the apostolic exhortation Evangelica testi~catio, in order to see whether they are meeting the needs of today and are making our Savior as it were manifestly present within the fellowship of mankind. But in order that this testimony of the religious may be truly efficacious and grow in extent, the following must be noted, or rather recalled to mind. We do not cease to extol the power and necessity of prayer without which we cannot savor the intimate and true knowledge of God (see Ev. test., 43) nor find the strength to pursue the path of perfection. As the Council teaches, the importance and usefulness of prayer made in common are rightly and deservedly to be publicized. But besides this, private prayer must also be cultivated, for by this each one's spiritual vigor is maintained and increased, and by it, too, souls are soundly prepared for prayer in com-mon, especially for liturgical prayer, and are able to obtain nourishment and growth from the same. Faitldulness 1o Prayer It can well be observed of those religious whose spirituallife is flourish-ing and fruitful for others that they are "praying" religious; whereas of those who are wearied of that life or pitifully abandon the religious state, that they are almost always sluggish in the mat(er of praying. For this reason it is abundantly clear that "faithfulness to prayer or abandonment to the same are the test of the vitality or decadence of religious life" (Ev. test., 42). Christ has called you to a more perfect following of Himself and so to the carrying Of the cross, for this latter cannot be separated from your state of life. But let this cross be not only a singular instrument for the purifica-tion of the soul and a special form of apostolate; let it also be a manifest proof of love, not something oppressive but rather uplifting. "Is there not 976 / Review for Religious, liolume 32, 1973/5 a mysterious relation between renunciation and joy . between discipline and spiritual freedom?" (Ev. test., 29). Lastly, the common life is one of the more powerful elements in the renewal of religious life. Those truly very beautiful passages in no. 15 of the decree Perfectae caritatis should be re-read, read indeed again and again and with ever-renewed appreciation. In them are to be found not mere precepts of law regarding the common life, but an admirable exposition of its theological, spiritual, ecclesial, apostolic and human aspects~ There-fore there is laid upon you, beloved sons, no slight obligation to do all ' possible in order to ensure that such conditions of life are established in your houses as are "calculated to foster the spiritual advancement of each of the community" (Ev. test., 39). This truly evangelical brotherhood is also a firm safeguard for the members, especially for those who may be discouraged, passing through a crisis, suffering from sickness or old age. Which Shall Survive? Whilst today so many things are being called into question, the religious life, too, is made the subject of not a few difficulties, as you yourselves are discovering day by day. Thus there are those who anxiously seek to know how religious life is likely to shape in the years to come, whether its destiny will prove to be for better or for worse. In this regard many of you are concerned because of the fewness or lack of candidates, or because of the regrettable desertions from amongst your members. But this future destiny lies in the fidelity with which each institute follows out its vocation, that is to say, in the extent to which it. expresses in its conduct of life th~ consecration which it has vowed to God. It is above all the example of a way.of life enhanced by spiritual joy and a resolute will to be at the service of God and the brethren, which attracts candidates to religious life in our times. For the youth of today, when they give themselves to God, aim for the most part "to give all for all" (see Imitation of Christ III, 37, 5); there-fore they more readily join those institutes in which there thrives and flourishes that "kind of virginal and poverty-stricken life which Christ our Lord chose for Himself and which his Virgin Mother embraced" (dogm. constitution Lumen gentium, 46). Words of Augustine We may, then, conclude this paternal discourse with some words of St. Augustine who was himself a most outstanding promoter and eulogizer of religious life: "We exhort you in the Lord, brethren, to hold safe to your purpose and to persevere to the end; and if holy Mother Church desires some work of you, do not grasp it with over-eager elation nor yet reject it through delusive sloth; but be obedient to God with meekness of heart, with mildness bearing him who rules you, who guides the mind in Documents concerning Religious Men / 977 judgment, who teaches the meek his ways" (Ps 24:9; Ex 48, 2; PL 33, 188). Finally, with the fervent wish that this reunion of yours may have a prosperous and salutary outcome, we willingly impart to you and those committed to your care the Apostolic Blessing as a witness of our most sure affection. FRANCISCAN SPIRITUALITY (MAY 26, 1973) To Our beloved Son CONSTANTINE KOSER Minister General of the Order of Friars Minor In as much as the general chapter of the Order of Friars Minor will soon take place in Madrid, we believe it is only fitting for us to have our voice reach that particular assembly and each individual member of the same Franciscan family through this letter of ours, by which we desire to encourage, exhort, and guide you. This meeting is "a sort of general council, which gathers from every part of the world under one rule of life (see Th. of Celano, Vita secunda shncti Francisci, no. 192; Analecta ]ranciscana, 1926; 941, p. 240). Consequently it is an event which has a great influence and effect on the very life of an organization so widely diffused. By rights then we wish you to be the object of that "concern for all the churches" (see 2 Cor 11:28) which weighs upon our shoulders. Directives Accepted We do not believe it is necessary to repeat all that the Second Vatican Council providentially and authoritatively taught on the renewal of the religious life, nor to inculcate once again what we ourselves, following the Council, set forth in our apostolic exhortation entitled Evangelica Testi]icatio. For we are convinced that you have accepted all those directives in a spirit of obedience and have made every effort up to the present time to make them a part of your way of life. With this in mind we would like to reiterate and emphasize that which we told the members of the last general chapter held in Assisi, onamely, that the spread of your Order throughout the world, the model of its evangelical life, and its generously undertaken apostolate are all a great honor for the Church (see AAS, 59, p. 782). However, we would like to discuss this one point with you: just what is the mission, what is the vocation of your religious family in this age of ours? We ask this question so that we can lead you along to that answer which the Church expects of you. Right now, that is, in these turbulent times of ours, the Church most earnestly desires and zealously strives to have religious institutes "grow and prosper according to the spirit of their foun-ders" (Vat. II, Lumen gentium, 45). As tradition says once happened, may 9711 / Review Ior Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 St. Francis, your founding father, be present as it were from the very beginning of your meetings and deliberations, standing at the door of the chapter hall and blessing every and all the members: look upon him! (see S. Bonaventure, Legenda maior s. Francisci, IV, 10; Analecta ]ranciscana op. mem., p. 576). Following Christ What Holy Mother the Church asks of you--as she always has done in the past--is contained in this one phrase: "Follow in the footsteps of Christ" (1 Pt 2:21). Does not the wonderful teaching and example which St. Francis offers you consist precisely in this following of Christ? For, "casting off every trace of special honor and vanity" (see Th. of Celano, op. mem., n. 144, p. 231), he gave himself completely to Christ, and on Mount Alverno he reached the culmination, so to speak, of that reality, so much so that he could say with the Apostle Paul: "Far be it from me to boast in anything except in the cross of Christ through whom the world has been crucified to me and I to the world" (Gal 6:14). As a result, "look carefully, and act according to the model shown to you on the mountain" (Ex 25:40). The more faithful image of the Savior--virgin, poor, obedient --your life becomes, the more it will testify and impart to souls the salva-tion obtained by him. As usually happens in the ordinary course of events, this fundamental truth is clouded over at times because of different factors. You know from your own experience and from the history of your Order which embraces a number of centuries that, as often as the Franciscan way of life departs from this path, great harm comes out of that which was supposed to be a source of great edification (see S. Bonaventure, Opusc. XIX, Epist. 2, n. 1; Opera omnia, Ad Claras Aquas, VIII, p. 470). Nevertheless, what St. Bonaventure says in general--namely that truth can be temporarily down-trodden, but must necessarily rise up again (see Commentar. in Evang. Luc. 21, n. 23: Opera omnia, ibid., VII, p. 528)---can also be happily applied to your own internal events and accomplishments. It is greatly to be hoped, therefore, that this particular principle may be fully effective even at this time as far as is necessary and may work both in your attitude and way of life, as well as your statements and plans, and in the renewal of your legislation. Loyalty to Church But fidelity in maintaining this following of Christ demands another kind of faithfulness: that toward the Church. Between the two there is such a relationship that the one can be known from the other. For this reason St. Francis "wholly and entirely of the Catholic faith" directed his brothers to honor the venerable footprints of the Holy Roman Church, which, in spite of every intervening difficulty,, safeguarded the bonds of charity and peace Documents.concerning Religious Men / 979 among them (see Th. of Celano, op, mere., nn. 8,and 24, pp. 135 and 145). Thus it happened that the Franciscan way of life and °work became, as it were, a river which quickened the City,,of God (Ps 45:5): suffice it to mention fhose intelligently devised plans, the evangelization of the populace, the social works and those of charity, the attractive force which goes beyond the boundaries of your own institute. Therefore it is this .feeling for and service of the Church which is your primitive, original vocation. It would be spoiled and lost if you were to consider it a mere event of a past age. On the contrary, it must always be "in action"; that is right now you must obey God, '"ivho is calling you" (1 Thess 5:24). You must undertake the tasks and responsibilities which the Church is now asking of you. Defending the Gospel At this very time great courage is demanded, especially in regard to the teaching of the truth. Are there not people here and there who "want to change the_gospel of Christ?" (Gal 1:7). In the same way, under the pressure of many individuals in our contemporary society, people get-the idea that obedience to the true faith and concern for moral behavior are no longer of profit for the advancement of the community of the Church, ~but ratl~er are an obstacle to freedom--which they understand in the wrong way. In as much as this is the way things are going, every Friar Minor should--as we firmly trust---consider himself as "assigned to the defense of the gospel" (see Phil 1:16). Let no one from your religious family allow himself to be entangled by the allurements of popularity ~which is so ephemeral and shallow; let no one out of fear give into the temptation, which is becoming the mode today, of conforming himself to the world. But if all who have been reborn through baptism "are obliged to profess before men the faith they have received from God through the Church" (Vat. II, Lumen gentium, 11 ), this obligation binds you so much more, because St. Francis gave you this common command to be implemented: "Obey the word of the Son of God . for He has sent you into the whole world that you might give witness to His teaching through your words and works" (Epistula ad Capitulum: Opuscula; Ad Claras Aquas, 1904, p. 100). Spread Peace May your zeal for the spread of the "gospel of peace" (Eph 6:15) be inflamed; something which will not happen unless "the truth of the Gospel remains among you" (Gal 2, 5). Certainly you are convinced that this good news of the gospel will be spread "not . . . in words alone, but in fullness and strength and the Holy Spirit" (see 1 Thess 1:5). For this reason, you must contemplate the outstanding examples of your forefathers and must be present in the world with all of that gentleness and kindness which will Review for Religious, l/olume 32, 1973/5 make the intimate relationship between Christ and the Church stand out clearly, for it is this relation which applies and continues and renders visible the very work of the Savior. People from your own ranks should be at the disposal of this Church community; endowed with fitting qualities of soul and intellect, they should by their zeal and example bring the people to follow Christ the Poor Man, and they ought to do. this with complete trust in the Holy Spirit. People do not ask of you that you harmonize with the world in an equivocal fashion; for they are demanding that you show forth to them the sublimity of your own way of life, so that by looking upon it they may begin to have qualms about their own lives and may seek the city to come (see Heb 13: 14). Even at this time men are searching their souls for some-thing absolute which transcends nature; even at this time they can be led on to God by all created realities which have been reconciled through Christ (see Heb 1:19 ff.) and which speak of God. St. Francis gave your own spirituality this special mark and characteristic: it was to show that the world could be transformed in such a way that work could be called ' a grace and death a sister. Therefore, as you preach the gospel, give special priority to the teaching which is contained in the sermon on the Beatitudes, and according to which poverty is turned into riches, weeping into joy, and lowliness int~ public acclaim (Lk 6:20-3). Even though human weakness and malice continue to exist, you must affirm and promote the good, in order that in all cases and individuals it may occupy the first place, in order that the hope of the future life, which is the special characteristic of Christ's followers, may shine forth (see 1 Thess 4:13). Be therefore the guardians of this hope in the world! Dear Friars Minor! "We have spoken to you as sons; be open and joyful yourselves" (see 2 Cor 6:13)! Listen willingly to what the Church expects of you; fulfill willingly her wishes according to the nature of your vocation; sanctify yourselves and work for the extension of the king-dom of God to all the lands of the earth and for its firm establishment in the hearts of all men (see Vat. II, Lumen gentium, 45). We pray God very earnestly that He may be graciously present and near your general chapter and that it may have a successful outcome. To you therefore, Beloved Son, and to all the members of your Order, we affectionately impart our Apostolic Blessing as a testimony of our paternal regard. From the Vatican, 26 May 1973, in the tenth year of our Pontificate. PAULUS PP. VI The Eucharistic Prayers Sacred Congregation [or Divine Worship The following is an English translation of a letter of the Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship with regard to the Eucharistic Prayers. The translation is that of the weekly English language edition of Osservatore romano. 1. The reform of the sacred liturgy and especially the re-organization of the Roman Missal recently completed in accordance With the requireme.nts of Vatican Council 111 are intended above all to facilitate an intelligent, devout, and active participation in the Holy Eucharist on the part of the faithful.-~ A notable feature of this new Roman Missal, published with the authority of Paul VI, is undoubtedly the wealth of text from which a choice may often be made, whether in the case of the Readings from Holy Writ or in that of the chants, prayers, and acclamations on the part of the faithful, or again in regard to the "presidential" prayers, not indeed excluding the Eucharistic Prayer itself for which three new texts, in addition to the venerable traditional Roman Canon, have been brought into use? Variety of Texts in the Missal 2. The reason for providing this ample variety of texts and the purpose intended by the revision of the forms of prayer to be used are of a pastoral nature, namely in order to bring about both unity and variety of liturgical prayer. By making use of these texts as set forth in the Roman Missal, the 1See Vatican "Council II, the constitutio~ Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 48, AAS, v. 56 (1964), p. 113. 2See Paul VI, the aiaostolic constitution Missale romanum, April 3 1969, AAS, v. 61 (1969), pp. 217-22. 3Ibid., p. 219. 981 Review Jor Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 various groups of the faithful who gather together to celebrate the Holy Eucharist feel that they form part of the one Church praying with one faith and one prayer, and at the same time they enjoy a timely ability, especially where the vernacular is used, of being able to proclaim in many ways the one same mystery of Christ, whilst they can the more easily lift up their hearts individually to God in prayer and thanksgiving4 and can participate in the celebration with great spiritual fruit. 3. For some years after its promulgation the new Roman Missal could not be completely introduced everywhere for celebration with the people, because the translation of it into the vernacular of. a great number of nations was an enormous work requiring quite a period of time? Moreover, the opportunity thus provided for increasing pastoral efficacy is oftentimes not appreciated nor, in arranging the Mass, is sufficient thought given to the common good of the congrega~tion.6 New Requests 4. Meanwhile a desire has arisen amongst not a few to adapt the Eucharistic celebration still further by the composition of new forms of prayer, including even new Eucharistic Prayers. They say that the choice provided by the present "presidential" prayers and the four Eucharistic Prayers in the existing "Ordo Missae" still does not fully meet the manifold requirements of the different groups, regions, and peoples. Therefore it was many times requested of this Sacred Congregation to approve, or grant the faculty of approving and bringing into use, new texts both of ordinary prayers and of Eucharistic Prayers .more in tune with the modern, way of thinking and of talking. Moreover, quite a number of authors of various languages and countries have published, during the last few years, Eucharistic Prayers composed by: themselves under the guise of studies; and it has frequently happened thak, notwithstanding what is laid down in Vatican Council II7 and episcopal pro-hibitions, some priests have made use of privately composed texts in their celebration Of Mass. 5. In view of all the foregoing, the Sacred Congregation, by mandate of the Supreme Pontiff and after consulting experts from various parts of the globe, gave careful study to the question of the composing of new 4See "Institutio generalis Missalis romani," no. 54. ¯ ~With regard to the principles according to which the translations must be made, see the Commission for the Execution of the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, "Instruction sur la traduction des textes liturgiques pour la c616bration avec le peuple," January 25 1969, Notitiae, 5 (1969), pp. 3-12. 6"Institutib generalis Missalis romani," no. 313. zSee Vatican Council II, the constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 22, par. 3, AAS, v. 56 (1964), p. 106. The Eucharistic Prayers / 91~3 Eucharistic Prayers and of giving to Episcopal Conferences the faculty of approving them, together with cognate questions and their outcome. The conclusions arrived at from this study were submitted to the members of this Sacred Congregation at a plenary session, to the judgement of the other Sacred Congregations concerned, and finally to the Supreme Pontiff. After mature consideration of the whole question, it did not seem advis-able at this juncture to grant to Episcopal Conferences the general faculty of bringing out or approving new Eucharistic Prayers. On the contrary, it has seemed more opportune to call attention to the pressing need of giving fuller instruction on the nature and reality of he Eucharistic Prayer? Seeing that this is the culminating point of the celebration, it must also be the culminating point, of an instruction in depth on the subject. It seems like-wise necessary that fuller, information should be given as to the possibilities of encouraging a full participation on the part of the~ faithful, offered to priests by the use of the current liturgical regulations and of the prayer-forms contained in the Roman Missal. Directives 6. Therefore the four Eucharistic Prayers contained in the revised Roman Missal remain in force, and it is not permitted to make .use of any other composed without the permission of the Apostolic See or without the approval of the same. Episcopal Conferences and individual bishops are earnestly begged to put pertinent arguments before their priests in order to bring them wisely to the observance of the same regulations as laid down by the Roman Church, to the benefit of the Church itself and in furtherance of the proper conducting of liturgical functions. .The Apostolic See, moved by the pastoral desire for unity, reserves to i~elf the right of determining a matter of such great importance as the regulations for the Eucharistic Prayers. Within the unity of the Roman Rite it will not refuse to consider legitimate, requests; and petitions coming to it from Episcopal Conferences for the drawing up of some new Eucharistic Prayer in particular circumstances and introducing it into the liturgy will be given ~benevolent consideration; but in each case the Holy See will lay down the norms to be followed. 7. After making this decision known, it seems useful to offer some con-siderations which may render its meaning clearer and its execution easier. Of these, some have to do with the nature and importance of the Eucharistic Prayer in liturgical, and especially Roman, tradition; others concern the things that can be done to accommodate the celebration to each congrega-tion without in any way altering the text of the Eucharistic Prayer. sSee Cardinal Benno Gut, "Letter to the Presidence of Episcopal Conference," Janu-ary 2 1969, Notitiae, 4 (1969), pp. 146-8; "Indications pour faciliter la cat6ch~se des anaphores de la Messe," ibid., pp. 148-55. 9114 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 Nature o[ Eucharistic Prayer 8. The Eucharistic Prayer, which is of its very nature the "culminating point of the whole celebration," is a "prayer of thanksgiving and of sanc-tification" whose purpose is "that the whole congregation of the faithful may unite i[self with Christ in proclaiming the wondrous things of God and in offering the sacrifice.''9 This Prayer is offered by the ministering priest who is the intermediary translating both the voice of God addressed to the people, and the voice of the people lifting up the soul to God. It alone must be heard, while the congregation gathered to celebrate the sacred litur-gy remains devoutly silent. In this Prayer, over and above the catechetical.indications intended to highlight the particular characteristic of. any celebration, there supervenes the element of thanksgiving for the universal mystery of salvation or for some particular aspe.ct of this which, in accordance with the day, the feast, the season, or the rite, is being celebrated.1° For this reason, in order that those taking part in the Eucharist may the better render thanks to God and bless Him, already in the new Roman Missal "there has been an increase in the provision of Prefaces, either taken from the ancient tradition of the Roman Church or 'now composed for the first time, by means of which particular aspects of the mystery of salva-tion are brought out and more and richer motives for thanksgiving are offered."11 For the same reason, the priest presiding at the Eucharist enjoys the faculty of introducing the Eucharistic Prayer with a brief reminder12 to the people of the motives for thanksgiving in words suited to the congregation at the particular time, in such manner that those present feel that their own way of life is part and parcel of the history of salvation and gain ampler benefits from the celebration of the Eucharist. ~ 9. Again, so far as the end looked to by the Eucharistic Prayer is con-cerned, as well as its make-up and structure, the aspect known as petition or intercession is to be considered secondary. In the reformed liturgy that aspect is developed especially in the universal prayer whereby, in a freer form and one more suited to the circumstances, supplications are made for the Church and for mankind. Nonetheless, the new liturgical books offer also a variety of forms of intercession to be inserted into the different Eucharistic Prayers, according to the structure of each, in particular celebra- '~"Institutio generalis Missalis romani," no. 54. 1°See ibid., no. 552. 11Paul VI, the apostolic constitution Missale romanum, April 3 1969, AAS, v. 61 (1969), p. 219. lzSee "Institutio generalis Missalis romani,'" no. 11. The Eucharistic Prayers / 985 tions, and above all in ritual Masses.1~ In this way the reason for any partic-ular celebration is made clear and definitive, while at the time the offering of this prayer in communion with the whole Church is signalized,at Embolisms 10. Besides the variations noted above, which are intended to bring about a closer connection between the thanksgiving and the intercessions, there are also, in the Roman tradition, some special formulas to be used "infra actionem" on the principal solemnities of the liturgical year, whereby the memorial of the mystery of Christ being celebrated is made the more manifest.1,~ It is clear from this that there was concern in ancient tradition to main-tain the unchangeable character of the text, while yet not excluding certain opportune variations. If the faithful, hearing the same text again and again, unite themselves somewhat the more easily with the priest celebrant in prayer, nevertheless some variations, though only few in number, prove acceptable and useful, arousing attention, as they do, encouraging piety and lending a certain special quality to the prayer. Nor is there any reason why the Episcopal Conferences should not make similar provision for their own areas, a bishop for his diocese, or the com-petent authority for the Proper pertaining to a religious family, in regard to the points mentioned above (nos. 8-10) as open to variation, and then ask the Holy See for confirmation of the same. Ecclesial Dimensions 11 :' The ecclesial importance attaching to the Eucharistic celebration is to be highly esteemed. For while in the celebration of the Eucharist "there is represented and brought about the unity of the faithful who constitute one body in Christ,''~6 "the celebration of Mass is already in itself a profession of faith in which the Church recognizes and expresses itself.''~7 All this is abundantly apparent in the Eucharistic Prayer itself, in which not just some lain regard to Eucharistic Prayer I or the Roman Canon, besides the faculty of introducing names in the Memento (N.N.), see the special Memento for godparents in Masses for the initiation into the Church of adults and the formulas for the Hanc igitur in Masses from the Easter vigil to the second Sunday of paschal time, for baptisms of adults, for confirmation, ordination, marriages, profession, for the con-secration of virgins; in regard to Eucharistic Prayers II, III, IV, see Embolisms for adult neophytes, those professed, and consecrated virgins. a4See "Institutio generalis Missalis romani," no. 55g. x.~See the proper Communicantes for Christmas and octave, for the Epiphany, from the Mass of the paschal vigil until the second Sunday of paschal time, for the Ascension and for Pentecost. x6See Vatican Council II, the constitution Lumen gentium, no. 3, AAS, v. 57 (1965), p. 62 ~rSecretariat for Christian Unity, the instruction ltt quibus rerum circumstantiis, June 1 1972, no. 2b, AAS, v. 64 (1972), p. 520. 986 / Review for Religious, l/olume 32, 1973/5 private person or a local community only, but "the one only Catholic Church" existing in whatsoever number of individual churches18 addresses itself to God. But where Eucharistic Prayers are introduced without any approbation from the competent authority in the Church, disquiet and dissensions fre-quently arise among priests and in congregations, whereas on the contrary the Eucharist ought to be "a sign of unity" and "a bond of charity.''19 Indeed not a few complain of the too subjective character of such texts. The fact is that those who take part in the celebration have a right that the Eucharistic Prayer, which they ratify as it were by their "Amen," should not be mixed up with or wholly imbued with the personal preferences of the one'who wrote the text br makes use of it. Hence it is. obviously necessary that only those texts of the Eucharistic Prayer are to be employed which, being approved by legitimate Church authority, manifest very clearly and fully an ecclesial bearing. Catechetical Preparation 12. But a more accurate adaptation of the celebration to the diversity of congregations and of circumstances, °and also a fuller expression of the catechetical content, which cannot be always or conveniently effected in the Eucharistic Prayer, given its nature, will be able to be inserted in those parts and set forms of the liturgical action which lend themselves to varia-tion or require it. 13. First of all, those who prepare the celebrations or preside at them are reminded of the faculty granted in the "Institutio generalis Missalis romani,''2° whereby they can, in certain cases, choose Masses and also texts for the various parts of the Mass, such as Lessons, prayers, chants, so that they answer "as far as possible to the needs, the preparation of mind and the capacity of those taking part.''21 Nor is it to be forgotten that other documents, published since the appearance of the aforementioned "In-structio," offer further guidelines.and directions for enlivening celebrations and adapting them to pastoral needs.~ Admonitions 14. Amongst the matters which lend themselves to a fuller adaptation lSSee Vatican Council II, the constitution Lumen gentium, no. 23, AAS, v. 57 (1965), p. 27. 19st. Augustine, In loannis Evangelium Tractatus, 26, 13, CCL, v. 36, 266; and see Vatican Council II, the constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 47, AAS, v. 56 (1964), p. 113. zo"Institutio generalis Missalis romani," nos. 314-24. Zqbid., no. 313. -°-°See Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship, the instruction Actio pastoralis, May 15 1969, AAS, v. 61 (1969), pp. 806-11; the instruction Memoriale Domini, May 29 1969, AAS, v. 61 (1969), pp. 541-7; and the instruction Sacramentali com-municatione, June 29 1970, AAS, v. 62 (1970)i pp. 664-7. The Eucharistic Prayers / 91~7 and are left to the individual celebrants to make use of, it is well to keep in mind the admonition, the homilies, and the universal prayers. Firstly the admonitions: by means of these the faithful are brought to a deeper understanding of the meaning of the sacred function or of some of its various parts. Of these admonitions those are of special importance which the priest himself is invited by the "Instructio generalis Missalis romani" to compose and deliver for the purpose of introducing those present to the Mass of the day before the actual celebration begins, or to the liturgy of the word before the readings, or to the Eucharistic Prayer before the Preface; and also as a conclusion of the whole sacred ceremony before the dismissal.2a T.hen again, importance is to be given to those admonitions that are laid down in the "Ordo Missae" for certain rites, which are to be introduced either before the penitential act or before the Lord's prayer. Naturally these admonitions need not be given word for word as set out in the Missal, so much so indeed that it may well be advisable, at least in certain instances, to adapt them somewhat to the actual circumstances of the particular. gathering. Nevertheless, in giving these admonitions their particular char-acter is to be preserved, so that they do not turn into sermons or homilies; and care must be taken to be brief, and verbosity, wearisome to the partic-ipants, must be avoided. Homily and Universal Prayer 15. Besides the admonitions there is the homily to be kept in mind. It is "part of the liturgy o itself''24 and is the means of explaining to the faithful there present,, in a manner suited to their cap.acity and way of life and relative to the circumstances of the celebration, the word of God that is proclaimed in the liturgical assembly. 16. Finally, considerable importance is to be attached to the Universal Prayer with which the congregation responds~ in a certain way, to the word of God already explained to them and accepted by them. To ensure its efficacy, care must be taken that the petitions offered up for various needs throughout the world should be suited to the congregation, bringing to bear in their composition that wise freedom consistent with the nature of this prayer. Style of Reading 17. Without any doubt, for the celebration to be a truly community and live happening, besides the choice of its various elements it requires that the one presiding and the others who have some particular function to perform should give thought to the various kinds of verbal communica- -~3See "Institutio generalis Missalis romani," no. 11. -~Vatican Council II, the constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 52, AAS, v. 56 (1964), p. 114. Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 tion with the congregation, namely the Readings, the homily, the admoni-tions, the introduction, and the like.z~ In reciting the prayers, and especially theEucharistic Prayer, the priest ¯ .- must avoid on the one hand a dry style of reading without any variation of voice, and on the other hand a too subjective and emotional style of speech and action. As the one presiding over the function, he must be very careful in reading or singing to help those taking part to form a true community celebrating and living the memorial of the Lord. 18. In order to ensure a still fuller impact of the word and greater spiritual fruit, due regard must be given, as indeed many desire, to the sacred silence which is to be observed at stated times as part of the liturgical actions,-~6 in order that each one, according to temperament and the reaction of the moment, either makes some self-examination or meditates briefly on what he has just been listening to or praises God and prays to Him in his heart.27 19. In view of all the above, it may be permitted to express the earnest wish and hope that the pastors of souls, instead of introducing novelties in the way of texts and rites into the sacred functions, will rather be con-cerned to instruct the faithful with anxious care in order that these may the better understand the nature, structure, and elements of the celebration, and especially of the Eucharistic Prayer, and may participate ever more fully and more knowledgeably in the celebration itself. The power and the efficacy of the sacred liturgy does not consist merely in the newness and variety of its elements, but in a deeper communion with the mystery of salvation made actual and operative in the liturgical function. In this way alone are the faithful, in their profession of one faith and outpouring of one prayer, enabled to follow out their salvation and be in communion with their brethren. The matters contained in this Circular Letter, drawn up by this Sacred Congregation, were approved and confirmed by the Supreme Pontiff Pope Paul VI on the 18th day of April 1973 and ordered by him to be made public. From the offices of the Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship, the 27th day of April 1973. ARTHUR Card. TABERA Prefect "I" A. BUGNINI Tit. Archbp. of Diocletiana Secretary 2~See "Institutio generalis Missalis romani," no. 18. °-~See Vatican Council II, the constitution Sacrosanctum ~Concilium, no. 30, AAS, v. 56 (1964), p. 108; and Sacred Congregation of Rites, the instruction Musicam sacram, March 5 1967, no. 17, AAS, v. 59 (1967), p. 305. -~rSee "lnstitutio generalis Missalis romani," no. 23. Spirituality in a.Time of Transition George M. Regan, C.M. George M. Regan, C.M., is chairman of the Department of Theology; St. John's University; Grand Central and Utopia Parkways; Jamaica, New York 11439. Pluralism has become a central fact in Church life and theology in our day. The uniformity in structures, laws, customs, and religious outlook which formerly prevailed has given way to divergence. Against this pluralistic background, it becomes impossible to claim one monolithic conception of spirituality for religious today. Religious communities differ enormously from one another, and individual religious sometimes agree to disagree in matters concerning spirituality. Tension between Two Understandings Some entire communities and many individual religious follow the same routine and understanding inherited from former generations. A highly structured order of day with set times for prayer, common meditation books, reading in the dining hall, and frequent communal exercises still prevail in some communities. This approach to spirituality generally assigns great prominence to the virtue of obedience to the Rule and to various authorities as the focal point of one's spiritual life. On the other hand, some communities and many religious, particularly younger persons, have adopted a more fluid and personalistic approach to spirituality which emphasizes personal responsibility and underlying values, rather than stressing so much obedience to set regulations. The introduction of shared responsibility among the meml:~ers tempers greatly the traditional understanding of obedience. A widespread dissatisfaction with such prayer forms as litanies, novenas, the rosary, and stations of the cross, together 989 990 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 with a questioning of the underlying rationale for these forms characterize many religious. Tension between these two general understandings often exists in the same province, the same local house, and even in the same person, who may vacillate, one day wanting the freedom of personal responsibility, another day desirous of some common regulations regarding spirituality. Frequently, one encounters religious whose general chapters moved the community officially toward a spirituality which stresses personal responsibility and the members are experiencing the pains of transition to the actual practice of spiritual values, once the supports and structures of a lifetime were removed. Though consolidation and lessening of polarization can be noted in some religious communities, individual religious find this transitional period a painful experience. The task of appropriating personally Christian values can be quite trying and the price paid may be confusion, drifting, and out-right failure. Young and old, liberal and conservative, share these difficulties. This article will concern itself mostly with religious who find themselves in this trying situation of transition to new meanings. Mutual understanding among re!igious may help tide them over to some degree during this transi-tional stage. Ministry to religious will also require sensitivity, compassion, and an appreciation of the practical implications involved in the shift from an obedience-centered spirituality to a more personalistic view of the spiritual life. In particular, we shall present some main features of a contemporary theology of spirituality and apply this to religious life. By way of introduction, however, a brief review of the former, obedience-centered spirituality may serve to locate and focus more sharply our main consi~derations. The Obedience-centered Approach The traditional stress in religious life on the Rule, authority, and the virtue of obedience bears similarity t~o the law-centered approach to moral theology which prevailed until relatively recently. This mo,rality or way of life for the Christian, as presented in the moral manuals in use until the mid-1960s, assigned prominence to law and to self-perfection through the acquiring of virtue. Obedience to law in all exactness came through in trad.itional moral theology as the center of the Christian moral life. An impression was conveyed of certainty and security. Individual acts of a person received far more emphasis than did the overall life stance or attitude which a believer gradually assu~es before God and the neighbor. "Live within the confines of the law" seemed the main moral task. This mentality became influential within many religious communities in their approach to spirituality. A candidate would be encouraged during formation to give onself to Christ, to give up one's will, to make a holocaust of oneselL One's will, mind, possessions, sexual love, and personal .prefer-ences would be given over to God. The role of authority, the Rule, and Spirituality in a Time o] Transition / 991 obedience would be emphasized. To do as one is told, to place oneself as an awl in the hands of the carpenter would be familiar emphases in formation programs. The individual would not ordinarily be urged to plan, suggest, modify, or advise. The most docile and obedient candidate would be considered .the best and "growing in holiness." Sacrifice of one's will to the will of legitimate authority, in particular, occupied a prominent position in this traditional spirituality. "The less "of me in obedience, the more of Christ" has a familiar ring. Spirituality and life style fit a highly regulated pattern in this approach. The stress on communal goals led to a broad uniformity reaching into utmost details of ~religious life. A personal goal of self-fulfillment or indi-viduality would often be considered pride. A person would not usually be encouraged to express emotions, to develop individual personality, or to value creative expressiveness. Talents and interests would often be chan-neled solely for common purposes in many communities, so that, for example, the religious would not be consulted about even one's future apostolate. A rigid common order of day and uniform control of m~tters such as. coming and going, or habit, all fitted into~ this controlled life style. Spirituality was marked by an abundance of spiritual exercises, which constituted one's principal prayers, many of them said in common. Most communities required daily meditation, Mass, various examinations of conscience, morning and evening prayers, some part of the Office and various special devotions, such as the rosary, novenas, stations of the cross, reading of Sacred Scripture, the Imitation of Christ, the Rule, and spiritual books. Penance such as fast and abstinence, abstention from tobacco and alcohol, and the public declaration of faults in chapter were found in all communities. Fidelity to long hours of work, whatever be one's assignment, and a general separation from people likewise characterized this approach to re-ligious life. Detailed norms governing visits to or from relatives, mixing with the laity and other "externs," and the vows were commonplace. The interpretation of the vow of poverty left little room for individual choice by religious, for the person ~was expected to get permission in many com-munities for any money spent or received. In religious communities of women, the vow of chastity provided the occasion for many protections established to safeguard the members: clothing, a companion system, severe restriction in reading, television, attendance at movies and shows, and contacts with men were all areas surrounded with protections. Obedi-ence meant basically a willingness to be submissive and to put one's judg-ment into the hands of superiors. This total control by superiors involved little consultation, and self-w, ill oi personal preferences were downgraded. The superiors' decisions were viewed oftentimes as final and unquestioned. This obedience-centered approach to religious life implied that Christian spirituality should center on ~unSwerving fidelity to all the details regulated 99:2 / Review [or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 by the Rule and authority. Understandably, obedience became the center of one's life. This approach to spirituality, moreover, tended to view the life of grace as a supernaturalizing of nature which involved a suspicion of or actual opposition to the "merely natural." Emotions and sexuality, for example, might never seem quite Christian or supernatural in this perspec-tive. To castigate this approach to spirituality is not at all the purpose of this brief summary. Many religious obviously grew closer to God and the neighbor in their absolute fidelity to this viewpoint. Large numbers of religious functioning today have this as their general background and many have grown into new ways without immense problems. Appreciation of this traditional approach to religious life and spirituality will hopefully assist other religious unfamiliar with it and also aid those who minister to religious. This holds especially true for those religous who are attempting to adopt another approach to spirituality. Personal Response to Inner Value Many religious communities, local houses, and individual religious have moved away from this obedience-centered approach to spirituality, to an approach which emphasizes personal response to inner value. Religious who operate within this new framework experience immense changes: the former uniformity has given way to greater emphasis on personal respon- " sibility and individuality; spii'itual exercises have usually diminished in number, the kinds of common prayers have changed, and the underlying value of prayer has been stressed; choice of residence, companions, and apostolate in a self-selection process has often emerged; the vows remain, but the tight regulations interpreting them have been removed or signif-icantly altered. In this approach to religious life, a person is viewed as entering a community to develop oneself fully in the service of Christ and the neighbor, to put one's full talents at the disposal of people, and to take part in and share responsibility for the Church and for the community itself. Their most basic commitment will come into greater prominence: to enter into the death and resurrection of Jesus, leading to perfect charity toward God and the neighbor. Rather than obedience, selfless charity becomes the primary Christian virtue, in accordance with Jesus' teaching. Life itself is seen as a response to God and the neighbor in love: "How can I respond to real needs as I see them? How can I actively cooperate in community life, by advising, suggesting, and modifying?" Such questions come more readily to mind and new candidates will be encouraged in these attitudes. Personal development of healthy human qualities occupies a more central position in this outlook: "The more a person grows and reaches a balanced maturity, the more the roots of Christ's life will be strengthened." Acceptance of the authentically human implied in such a principle leads to Spirituality in a Time o] Transition / 993 urging upon religious today utilization of their native talents, creative ex-pression, and a heightened personal initiative. Whatever dehumanizes the individual religious or other persons served in the apostolate, by overlook-ing their mind, heart, emotions, talents and the like, is thus viewed as un-christian. The human person in all his richness emerges in this viewpoint, therefore, as an absolute value in himself, to be safeguarded and promoted. This framework allows more emphasis on the personal response of the individual religious to inner values, both human and Christian. Decentraliza-tion, coresponsibility, and subsidiarity become the new hallmarks of obedience, for the realities underlying these terms shift the focus from .institutions to the local level and the individual religious. Each province, each house, and indeed each sister, priest, or brother is seen as making a unique contribution to the ongoing task of discerning the movement of the Holy Spirit in the group and in oneself. Spirituality itself thus becomes a more personal affair of responding according to one's convictions to human and Christian values grasped through one's own appreciation. The former stress on a host of spiritual exercises performed communally gives ¯ way to fewer common prayer gatherings, but with a concurrent stress on the individual's need to pray and to join at times with one's companions in prayer. In matters of life style, such as religious garb, types of work, freedom to come and go, and close association with non-community persons, the individual's religious commitment is not viewed as precluding choices similar to those of the Christian laity. This brief overview of the traditional approach to religious life and contemporary tendencies has the danger of caricaturing both viewpoints. This presentation has attempted, nevertheless, to recall the predominant flavor of each approach, while realizing the nuancing and variations embodied in religious communities. We shall now turn our attention to some questions associated with this immense shift from an obedience-centered spirituality to the value-centered spirituality of personal responsibility. Stressing Values Today Religious grew accustomed to viewing life as "doing what I'm told." Withthe growing reliance on person responsibility and on one's own con-science, rather than on the Rule and superiors, some religious today drift aimlessly. Formerly, they were trained to look for virtue and sin in indi-vidual acts, especially when the Rule, customs of the community, or the will of the superior would be at stake. Abandonment of this law-centered-ness in their community may leave them wondering what spirituality now implies for them. They may understandably fail to grasp that the basic failure to clarify personally accepted values in such matters as prayer, poverty, chastity, and coresponsibility all entail immense accountability. Likewise, the challenge to assume responsibility for one's life, to respond to the needs of people by taking initiative and risk, to prepare for one's 994 / Review for Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 apostolate, to continue one's education by personal study, and to serve others selflessly is the vast field of human and Christian values which con-stitute spirituality for them. Religious may, therefore, lack the clearcut criteria of the past; but their personal sense of God's calling and of conscientious Christian response will surely point out areas of concern and of neglect to grow, whether they be prayer, concern for the neighbor, or personal growth in ensuring healthy psychological development. How one strives to pray, to serve others, to manifest responsibility in the apostolate, to be poor, chaste, and a contrib-uting member of the community all take on more connotations for a Chris-tian which cannot be carefully and casuistically delineated in the manner of past moral theology and religious spirituality. They nonetheless embody the task of spirituality for religious today. The individual religious and those who minister to religious have a joint responsibility to reflect on the entirety of Gospel values and to apply them in their lives today; to chal-lenge religious when neglect of these values has however subtly crept in; to assist the person in facing himself or herself and in deepening con-victions about Christian values. The Christian calling for religious today, then, is to center their lives on taking more seriously gospel values and to live within the overall frame-work proper to any Christian, as applied in their concrete circumstances. In the past decade, significant progress has occurred in moral theology in reformulating and expressing the way of life revealed in Jesus. These developments hold good promise for our appreciation of Christian spiritu-ality. The following brief presentation of some main lines of these develop-ments will have a direct bearing on the question of a spirituality relevant for religious today: The Framework of Christian Life A personalist approach to theology may be discerned in contemporary literature. This holds true for moral theology in a spec.ial fashion where many authors now present the Christian life centered on the theme of God's call and man's response. This contrasts considerably with the more abstractionist and law-centered approach of former times. The Trinitarian framework of the way of life preached by Jesus provides an overall structure of God approaching man and offering Himself to him: "We shall come to him and make our abode with him." Passages of Sacred Scripture where Jesus promises to send the Spirit and to live among us, or where He pictures God as a Father close to His sons, offer an image of God and man in intimate relationship. Each person is approached by a loving and con-cerned God and .challenged to respond personally to Him. This "call-response" morality and spirituality replace the former stress on law and selfrperfection, in the basic meaning of grace, God's self-gift, God gives Himself to man and acts in him, enabling him to respond. Spirituality in a Time o] Transition / 995 .~ New Testament teaching indicates the chief manifestation of this love of God to be the way in which we love our neighbor. The one virtue of charity directed toward God and man holds a primacy over all other virtues, including obedience. The law-centered approach of older moral theology has thus given way to a love-centered approach, viewed as more faithful to Jesus' teaching. No impersonal law governs the Christian; rather life may be seen in its entirety as a response to a personal and loving God. "Falling in love" with God expresses the main task of Christian conversion to the Lord which Jesus preached. A morality of relationship conceived along theseolines thus sees each person in dialogue with God and meeting God in the~ events, people, and prayer experiences of daily living. Within this personalist framework of loving response to God's invitation, the central role of Jesus in Christian living has become a major theme. Jesus presents Himself as our way, truth, and life, and other New Testament writers see our union with Jesus as a basic fact of the Christian way of life. This conception of Jesus' relationship with the Christian believer ranges far beyond viewing Him as an external model or pattern to be imitated or mimicked~ God has approached man and .continues to invite man in Jesus His Son who in a humanity like ours responded selflessly. United in Him, we have received the capacity to respond selflessly too. As sons in the Son of God, we become immersed ~in His destiny and receive a personal invitation to enter into~intimate relationship with Him. Any spirituality which merits the name Christian must, therefore, see this personal relationship with Jesus as the focal point~°or core element. The individual religious and those charged with direction should, then, confront 'this fundamental Christian vision in a constant way. Such confrontation at this deep level of Christian life moves well past lesser issues to the core of religious life: the task of answering the call to "Come, follow me." A Continuing Process Man's response to God's personal call is seen as a continuing process, not simply as a series of individual acts. Contemporary theologians em-phasize greatly the life direction, or orientation'which a person gradually assumes ,toward God, manifested in his love of the neighbor. This basic choice, or fundamental option, as it has been termed, grows throughout one's life into a commitment in faith and love which, underlies all individual acts and does not easily waver or disappear. The exceptional concern with individual acts familiar to all who formerly studied moral theology has thus lessened, if not vanished entirely, in present-day moral theology. Rather than becoming excessively concerned with individual choices alone, the believer is urged to see the Holy Spirit guiding him from within as his primary law; The Christian should, in the mind of St. Paul, deepen this lifegrowth through increasing personal response to the Spirit and become further removed from the "law of sin and death," from which Jesus set 996 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 us free. For religious working within this perspective, the Spirit Himself would be viewed as one's guidance. All other norms or regulations can occupy only a secondary and peripheral place in the Christian life for the faithful Christian. Religious life can never imply the abandonment of this glorious heritage of Christians: their freedom as God's children to follow the Spirit which moves them to discern the task of love. Viewed in this broad perspective, Christian life and spirituality are a continuous conversion to God through one's free and full disposal of him-self. This occurs at a profound level of the human person and becomes manifested in acts which may reveal, though they sometimes hide, his actual inner state. In contrast with traditional ascetical theology, which gave some prominence to the three ways of the spiritual life, a contemporary treat-ment of Christian living would stress this Biblical notion of gradual, yet continuing conversion to God and the neighbor, which avoids the artificial-ity of the division of the spiritual life into the purgative, illuminative, and unitive ways. The openendedness of conversion to a lifetime of development, moreover, cuts against merely "getting by" in a minimalistic interpretation of Christian life and also allows more of a positive emphasis. Humanism, the World, and Life-giving Moral and ascetical theology often mentioned a division between natural and supernatural virtues, motives, or elements in man. Whatever seemed merely "natural" took on a rather base meaning for the believer swept into the Christian life of perfection. Unfortunately, this two-storyed approach to~ the question of the relationship between nature and grace can lend the wrong connotation that natural human features such as emo-tions, sexuality, humor, a vibrant personality, and a keen sense of joy do not have much place in a "supernatural" universe. This happened in many a religious formation program. Repression of feelings, human qualities, and one's individual characteristics follow too readily in this atmosphere. A packaged and stereotyped religious may emerge as an ideal. Spiritual direction and personal reflection of religious today must cope realistically with the unhealthy consequences of these false understandings which contemporary theology has abandoned. Christian spirituality should instead acknowledge the goodness of all that is human: emotions, sexuality, temperament, personality, and the like should enter into the Christian response of the whole person. Development and fulfillment of these truly human aspects of the person should be incorporated into any authentic approach to Christian spirituality. An inescapable element in contemporary theology has been a growing concern with the here-and-now, with real people living in the present world. Secularization theology made that' emphasis predominant: Despite the enormous stress today on the virtue of hope and the image of God calling us from and toward Our future, theology sees this challenge of the Spirituality in a Time o] Transition / 997 future kingdom as urging us even now to concern ourselves with man in his present-day strivings and problems. Building the kingdom of justice, peace, harmony, and love should not simply be relegated to the afterlife. A Christian spirituality directed beyond this world would, then, neglect this essential element. That God may be found at the deepest point of the human and that other persons, events, and nature itself reveal God to the believer's .eye are the sorts of emphases common in contemporary literature which apply directly to an updated spirituality for religious. How might religious serve the world in profound love? How might they enter into dynamic relationship with people .and not be unduly separated from them? Christian discernment must focus on such central questions. The prevailing mood of today's theology, finally, seems far more optimistic, joyful, and hopeful than did traditional moral and ascetical theology. This may result from the importance assigned to the Resurrection in today's literature. Some years ago, more emphasis was placed on the Passion and Death of Jesus, and in a way which sometimes failed to take sufficient account of his victory over suffering and death. This distorted theology of the cross led inevitably to a glorification of suffering, pain, or deprivation in an unchristian and masochistic way. Dread, anxiety, negativ-ism, or pessimism runs counter to the life-filled Spirit which animates and invigorates the believer. Celebration of the forces of life and love is a more authentic Christian disposition. The search for life-giving, rather than death-dealing forces should be a prime sign of Christian humanism. A joyless Christian spirituality will, therefore, hopefully find fewer adherents today than might formerly have been the case. That suffering and a certain death will precede life and resurrection, as they did for Jesus, appears of course in today's theology. This aspect of Christian life and spirituality does not, however, receive as much prominence as formerly and it is placed into the broader perspective of the entire Paschal mystery. Religious might well aim at assuming more of this joyful,, hopeful, and optimistic tone into their spirituality, which should rest ultimately on their trust and confidence in God's power. Results of These Emphases These comments clearly do not lead to a detailed and specific spirituality which brings into the forefront a set of uniform practices. Pluralism in forms of spirituality, then, would be taken for granted within this broad Christian framework. Regulations, spiritual exercises, and rigid conformity recede to the background. A spirituality based on a personal response to God in Christ, through the action of the Holy Spirit, replaces a spirituality founded on a morality of law arid of individual acts. The stress on avoidance of sin, on obligation, and on negativism which characterized some former writings will appear unusual, if not unchristian, to a person versed in these recent approaches. Is life becoming a YES to God? Is the person choosing 998 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 more and more to reach out to God and to others selflessly, after the pattern of God's own Son? Is the person gradually gaining the sense of giving himself over to the action of the Holy Spirit from within, relying on His guidance in a spirit of freedom and joy? The concerns evidenced in these sorts of questions become more central in the person's spirituality. Because Christian holiness implies personal response to a loving God, leading to genuine friendship with Him, it rules out a merely instinctual approach to religious of Christian life. Blind and irrational impulse does not equal religious fervor. Fetishes, superstitions, empty traditions, and formalistic ritualism, without inner meaning, have no place in a human or Christian way of life. Authentic tradition and ritual will buttress Christian convictions and express them in continuity with the past Christian com-munity. Sheer compulsive activity without an inner giving of oneself to God in personal union with Him as a friend to a friend, on the other hand, duplicates the empty observances of the Pharisees condemned by Jesus. Holiness can never be viewed as measured by a proliferation of regulations or observances. A legalistic approach to "following the Rule," without a sufficient inner sense of responding to God and the neighbor as the main animating criterion of a believer's life, deserves to die its death. Even one's approach to such laudatory practices as confession of one's sins, the rosary, the Divine Office, and Eucharist, must avoid an attitude of "just fulfilling my obligation." Unless such prayers spring from genuine interior disposi-tions, they fail to be authentic religious acts. The Goal and the Means Implicit in the foregoing, but deserving special mention, is the oft-repeated, but as frequently forgotten, distinction between the goal of spirituality and the means to attain it. Spiritual exercises, however devo-tional and fervent, do not of themselves constitute one's life of loving union with God and the neighbor, toward which all genuine spirituality leads. All prayers, orders of day, and other structures and forms, have a relative, not an absolute value as contributing hopefully to the deepening of this relationship with the Triune God. Spiritual direction and religious life itself, therefore, should allow room for individual differences in fostering the goals of spirituality and they should not unduly absolutize spiritual exercises by making them, in effect, goals unto themselves. A spirituality based on personal responsibility leads more often than not, it seems, to a lessening of communal prayers. IneVitably, this creates tensions between individual and communal° needs in the matter of prayer. This problem is not easily resolved, and pluralism and polarization emerge forcefully in this context. The desire for smaller group living in like-minded communities sometimes stems from this factor alone. Dialogue, sensitivity to one another, and a genuine desire for a Christian prayer community will go a long way in calming the waters. Experience indicates, however, that Spirituality in a Time o] Transition / 999 the broader issue of unity in diversity within religious communities comes to bear on this point. Universal solutions have not been discovered to cope with this problem. Certainly, charity, an ability to compromise, and unify-ing leadership are indispensable qualities in such situations. Without their presence, the praying community inevitably dissolves into factions. The spirituality outlined previously will also, as has been briefly men-tioned, have important consequences for the overall tone or mood which religious adopt in their lives. Religious have a meaning in the Church as an intense cell of vibrant Christian life. They are constantly seen in Church documents and in their own self-understandings in constitutions as signs of God's love working among men and of His grace operating in the hearts of all people. When documents state that religious witness to heavenly values, this implies that religious should show by their lives what faith in God can mean: hope, confidence, optimism in ultimate destinies; faith and charity in everyday concerns. Religious should be encouraged to develop these qualities and not to repress or bury their emotional aliveness. In moving away from an excessively obedience-centered approach, religious should thus replace it with a Christian life and spirituality centered on faith, love, hope in God and in ultimate realities, manifested in their love and service to mankind. These constitute the primary gospel values. More emphasis on these values, rather than on the more peripheral elements of religious life, should characterize a renewed religious life and spirituality. Prayer or Prayers Our remarks on spiritual exercises as a means to the goal of union in prayer have not addressed real issues which arise and merit special con-sideratioia. Mandated spiritu~l exercises have indeed disappeared almost entirely in some communities and lessened in number in nearly all. Even Eucharistic participation may occur on a private basis in many religious houses and communal prayer may occur only a few times weekly or perhaps less. These changes in regulations concerning prayers do not answer com-pletely a religious' concern for growth in prayer life, beyond any minimum set down by legal regulations or common agreement. The fact that daily Office in common or in private, common meditation, and spiritual reading are no longer enjoined by Rule, for example, does not settle the question for the individual religious. It may well be that the Spirit is moving the person to an exceptionally developed prayer life. An unexceptionable Christian challenge and calling is that of praying in, through, and with Jesus: How is this religious man or woman facing into this challenge? By escape and saying that practically all prayer forms are irrelevant? That spiritual reading, even of Sacred Scripture, fails to attract? That meditation in common is not necessary and yet, without the support of other praying Christians, I rarely pray reflectively at all? That daily Eucharist is not a necessity, so.I go once or twice weekly? A religious 1000 / Review 1or Religious, Volume 32, 1973/5 can argue any of these points or patterns of behavior and rightly claim that none of them is intrinsically necessary for a Christian life. This might well be the case in abstract terms. In the concrete, however, patterns of neglect in prayer and failure to grow vibrantly in the Christian life as a dedicated religious tie together more frequently than by sheer chance. That the person prays little can be the overall impression. Beyond one's protestations about personal prayerfulness in general, the individual religious and those who assist religious might inquire about the person's actual formal prayer, about those times when the religious places himself in God's presence and speaks, however non-verbally, or simply holds himself open to the Spirit's action. "My work is my prayer," in particular, seems a peculiarly sure way of not praying genuinely in the long run in a deep and constant fashion, if this laudable attitude is not accompanied by some periods of personal reflective prayer and communal sharing of prayerfulness in a limited way at least. Omission of specific prayers does not of itself constitute the reality termed mortal sin, in light of present-day understandings of the fundamental option theory. One would, in fact, be hard put to pin any label of sin on any given lack of praying some spiritual exercises. Yet the individual religious should ask himself constantly about his personal prayer life beyond any legal require-ments and explain to himself just how his life of prayer fits within his overall commitment to grow ever more deeply into the life pattern of the crucified and risen Lord, in contact with His Father and in service unreservedly of His brothers. Religious Consecration by Vow The suggested framework of Christian spirituality based on personal responsibility implies too that all considerations about the vows must touch on the value underlying each vow. The religious Rule' which formerly enshrined the value intended by the vow has usually changed these days beyond recognition. Poverty permissions have all but disappeared from many communities; religious may receive a monthly stipend and be com-pletely responsible for their own financing, especially in small group living. The tight restrictions surrounding and protecting chastity have changed: clothing, hairstyling and covering, use of cosmetics, freedom to associate and to form friendships with the other sex have much novelty about them. Coordinators in place of local superiors or local coresponsibility without any such individual authority have diffused the sense of obedience for many religious. The basic value underlying each vow must, therefore, be stressed in this changed atmosphere. Theologically, the vows relate to the religious' fundamental Christian calling and consecration in baptism, whereby the person enters into the mystery of Christ's death and rising to new life. Each evangelical vow furthers this initial commitment to growth in Christ. Spirituality in a Time o] Transition / 1001 The most basic value, then, will tie in with Christ-centeredness: that each vow should promote one's relationship with Christ. The vows will never be understood as implying hatred of the goods of this world, or of sexual intimacy, or of personal responsibility and freedom. Instead, poverty implies a liberating of energy, attention, and time from concentration on material welfare to imitate and become united to the poor Christ in His radical dependence on the Father. The value of chastity will not be just for ease or efficiency in the apostolate, or for avoidance of sexual arousal and union with another person. Rather, chastity as God's gift frees a person to give oneself over to God in love completely and to open oneself to all people, without centering one's love on one person sexually. The value accepted in obedience, finally, will be a basic sense of openness to the Spirit of Jesus, working where He will and particularly through the community. Religious consecration by vow thus implies a renunciation of self-fulfill-ment by material goods, sexual and loving involvement and union with one person, and fully autonomous behavior free of communal concerns. The person chooses to live his Christian response to God's call in more radical dependence on Him and in reaching for and living in the future, while enjoying the present. Only a constant striving for a deeper relation-ship and union with the Son in the death-life cycle of His self-emptying love can make possible this Christian vision. Religious have freely chosen these profound values which remain despite the removal of legal require-ments about the vows. Faithful to his religious calling, each religious must heed the call God addresses to him to live these values. Conclusion For all Christians and therefore for all religious, the challenge of Chris-tian spirituality entails responding personally in an open-ended fashion to God, avoiding satisfaction with the minimalism of merely "getting by," seeing life as love-centered, not sin-centered or law-centered, and establish-ing a personal relationship with Jesus by faithfulness to His Spirit at work in our hearts. Religi.ous men and women who live this kind of spirituality .certainly adopt an idealism which surpasses the ordinary. Yet this idealism embodies the rich heritage of the freeing message of the Good News: that through the liberating action of the Spirit of Jesus all His followers are enabled and urged to cry out Father and to spend themselves selflessly for others, in the image of Jesus. Now My Eye Sees Thee: The Bible as a Record of Religious Experience C. M. Cherian, S.J. Father Cherian, a professor of Sacred Scripture, lives at Vidya Jyoti; Delhi 6, India. This article first appeared in Clergy Monthly, March 1973, pages 90-100. It is re-printed here with the kind permission of the editor of Clergy Monthly. It is well known that, in pre-Vatican II scholastic theology, the reality of faith was conceived of as an intellectual assent to religious truths rather than a personal commitment to God in Jesus Christ. This conception is reflected in the description of faith given by the First Vatican Council. Faith is "a supernatural virtue by which we believe, with the inspiration and help of God's grace, that what He has revealed is true." Attention is directed to the particular truths that God has revealed, to the intellectual acceptance of these truths, not to God Himself or personal submission to Him who is Truth. And there is some emphasis on the obscurity and weakness of the perception involved. We believe "not be-cause we perceive the intrinsic truth of the things revealed, but because of the authority of God Himself who revealed them, and who can neither be deceived nor deceive." The impression created is that of some second-hand borrowed knowledge whose acceptance is "commanded" by our grace-supported will. Dangers of This Approach In such an approach there is the danger that faith-life may be thought of as being essentially and largely an intellect-and-will affair which does not necessarily involve a person in the experience of a direct relationship with God and of a new life in Him. The obscuring of the personalist aspect of faith in the minds of theologians and pastors had consequences for the religious instruction of the faithful. They were not sufficiently helped to The Bible and Religious Experience / 1003 understand their grace-life in personalistic and existential terms. The legacy of this old approach is still evident in the lives of the faithful, especially the more educated among them. They fight shy of a personal approach to God, and are incapable or distrustful of spontaneous personal prayer and of active involvement and sharing in common worship. Recently a group of educated Catholic young lay men and women, who were taking a course on the Psalms, told the present writer that several of them had serious difficulty about accepting personally the reality of God as Creator, Savior and Judge. The furthest they could go was to accept the message of Christ and give an intellectual assent to the Catholic doctrine about God. They frankly confessed that they had no personal experience of God. Still St. John says that what Christ, the Son of God, has done is to make the Father known (Jn 1:18). The grace of Christ consists in our receiving the adoption of sons and being enabled to say "Abba,.Father" to God (Gal 4:4). Neglect ot Personal Religious Experience A byproduct of the intellectual approach to the Christian faith was the almost complete neglect of the whole area of personal religious experience. Historically Catholics in the West could not agree with certain schools and theories of religious experience which represented an aberration from the truth, so far as they questioned either the validity of human reason or the certainty of objective Christian revelation. But this does not mean that anybody could repudiate the right kind of religious experience which is manifested and communicated everywhere in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures themselves, and in the Scriptures of other religions. The Scrip-tures are obviously the God-given guide to genuine religious experience, and, so far as they are inspired, they are God's instrument for the com-munication of the right kind of religious experience. The Workshop Handbook (Vol. I), published by the "All-India Seminar on the Church in India Today," contains some valuable insights into the question we are examining here. The Report of the Workshop on Spirituality points out that Christianity is essentially the handing down o[ the experience that Jesus Christ, the perfect Man, had o] God the Father and His love and plan. He communicated this experience to the Apostles. In them it took the form of a total personal commitment to God in Jesus Christ, the risen Lord, and a sensitivity to the leading and guidance of the Holy Spirit. All the external means and practices of the Church are directed towards enabling the faithful to personally appropriate the inner living experience of the risen Lord, which implies a total conversion. It is the personal religious experience of the prophets, Apostlesl and other holy men that was expressed in the words of the Scriptures and in liturgical and other formulas and in ritual actions. A fundamental pastoral problem consists in making 1004 / Review for Religious, l/'olume 32, 1973/5 sure that, while we are busily engaged in passing on the rites and the formulas, we also succeed in transmitting the inner personal experience that they are meant to express, the experience that can be summed up in such words as: "We have seen the Lord" (Jn 20:25; see 1:14) or "My Lord and my God" (Jn 20:28) or "Lord, You know that I love You" (Jn 21:17). Old Testament Data The Scriptures make it clear throughout that men are called to a life of personal intimacy with God. The Genesis story says that man is made in the image of God. This means that men are capable of personal com-munion with God and of being transformed info God's likeness, the likeness of His Son. It is sin that makes Adam want to hide himself from God. The work of redemption consists, therefore, in saving the lost and restoring them to that closeness to God for which they were created. Abraham and Jacob God appears to Abraham with the message: "1 am God Almighty; walk before Me and be blameless. I will make My covenant between Me and you . . .'" (Gen 17). Biblical religion consists essentially in this I-thou relationship, in men learning to conduct themselves in the presence of God. This is the secret of their holiness. It must mean that man stands in awe of the God of heaven and earth, is never deaf to His voice, is never unaware of the demands of His love and plan, and is never deliberately unfaithful to these demands. In Genesis 28 we see that Jacob's ambition and over-cleverness have landed him in deep trouble. He is obliged to flee Palestine to escape from his brother's wrath. He is terribly lonely and desolate. God's grace is .a.t work in this man-made crisis. God uses it in order to quicken Jacob's notional faith into a deeply personal faith. He has an experience of God being present, and addressing him, and renewing the promises made to his fathers, so that he exclaims: "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it" (Gen 28: 16). This statement is meant to express what is typical of man's condition. In the narratives about the appearances of the risen Lord to His disciples, we are repeatedly told that He was with them on various occasions, but at first they did not recognize Him (see Lk 24:16; Jn 20: 14; 21:4). The maturity of our faith consists in our becoming aware that the Lord cannot be absent, that He is savingly active here and now, and wants us to respond to Him. Moses and Elijah Moses has the task of leading and guiding God's people in the wilder-ness of Sinai. He is convinced that nothing but personal intimacy and familiarity with the Lord and constant consultation with Him can enable The Bible and Religious Experience / 1005 him to fulfil his arduous mission. Consequently his prayer is: "I pray You, if I have found favor in Your sight, show me now Your ways~ that I may know You . . . I pray You, show me Your glory . . ." (Exod 33). The Lord granted this prayer, and thus Moses was empowered to act as the leader of God's people: "The Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend" (ibid.; see Num 12:8). Prophet Elijah had worked wonders in God's service. He brought about the utter defeat of the false priests of Baal, and the triumph of God's cause against idolatry. But he suddently becomes a prey to such serious depression as makes him want to die; he finds that God's cause is not making enough headway among the people as a whole, and his own life is in danger. In this crisis he is inspired to retire into the desert of Sinai. Here he has the exhilarating experience of an encounter with God. Through it he now understands what the tumultuous happenings of his prophetic ministry could not teach him. He hears the "still small voice" of God consoling him and reassuring him. He is so thoroughly renewed and strengthened by this experience of quiet communion with God that he is now fully ready for the new adventurous mission that God entrusts to him (1 Kgs 18-19). Job and Isaiah Job has been thrown completely off his balance by the series of disasters he suffered. He becomes "a fault-finder contending with the Almighty." He is full of complaints against God and His government of the world. He is ready to put God in the wrong that he himself might be justified. But finally he is completely transformed through having learned humbly to listen to God, and he receives enlightenment: "I have uttered what I did not under-stand . . . I had heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees You. therefore I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes" (Job 42). Job's conventional ideas about God and His providence have been changed into a personal experience of His mystery by which Job under-stands that "God cannot be called to account, and that His wisdom may give an .unsuspected meaning to such realities as suffering and death" (Jerusalem Bible, note). In the Jerusalem Temple Isaiah has an unexpected extraordinary experience of the all-holy God being present in all His glory. Th

Issue 27.4 of the Review for Religious, 1968. ; ASSOCIATE EDITORS Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Augustine G. Ellard, S.J. ASSISTANT EDITORS Ralph F. Taylor, S.J. John C. 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 l~vmw FOR I~LmmUS; 6~ Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63xo3. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's Church; 3=I Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ~9m6. + + + REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS Edited with ecclesiastical approval 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 © 1968 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS at428 East Preston Street; Bahirnore, Mary-land 21202. Printed in U.S.A. Second class post.age paid at Baltimore, Maryhmd. Single cop~es: $1.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two )'ears; other countries: 55.50 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 persons claiming to represent REVIE~,' FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Renewals and new subscriptions, wher~ accom-panied by a remittance, should be sent to REWEW vo~ RELIGIOUS; P. O. Box 671; Baltimore, Maryland 21203. Changes of address, business correspondence, and orders not accompanied by a remittance should be sent to REVIEW ~OR RELIGIOUS ; 428 East Preston Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21202. Manuscripts, editorial cor-respondence, and books for review should be sent to REview ro~ R~LIGIOGS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boulevard; Saint Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to the address of the Questions and Answers editor. JULY 1968 VOLUME 27 NUMBER 4 DAVID T. ASSELIN, s.J. Christian Maturity and Spiritual Discernment My purpose is to situate personal spiritual discernment in the context of faith-growth, that is, Christian matu-rity. From this viewpoint, to educate the faith is less a question of theological instruction than one of guided. spiritual experience. I am thinking of the teleioi of Hebrews 5:14, "the mat~[re who have their faculties trained by experience to discern between good and evil," an excellent summary of the Spirit's work of restoration out of the chaos which resulted from man's original attempt to determine good and evil for himself and on his own. The term could also be translated "the perfect," or, perhaps, "the personally fulfilled." Faith, throughout this discussion, should be under-stood in the sense of Vatican II's Decree on the At~osto-late of the Laity: Only by the light of'faith [the impressive word is "only"] and by meditation on the word of God, can one always and everywhere recognize God, in whom "we live and move and have our being," seek His will in every event, see Christ in all men whether they are close to us or strangers, make correct judgments about the true meaning and value of temporal things, both in themselves and in their relationship to man's final goal. ¯ Ex.cept for meditation on Scripture nothing is said in this text about the means of maturing the faith. The Council simply outlines the content of adult faith. What I should like to explore is an indispensable element in the process of maturation of this content. The truth of the matter is that faith is not primarily a source of answers to our questions but rather our answer to the Lord's question; "Lovest thou me?" In other words, I take faith not as quest for answers (to our in-tellectual problems) nor as a set of answers (to the ques-tions of "others), but as the answer "of the whole person 4, David T. Asselin, S.J., is spiritual di-rector at Regis Col-lege; 3425 Bayview Avenue; Willow-dale, Ontario; Can-ada. VOLUME 27, 1968 581 ÷ ÷ ÷ D. T. Asselin, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 582 to the Lord inserting His Person and Spirit, and thus articulating Himself as the divine Word, in human life. My general proposition is that at the very heart of growing in faith we find, necessarily, a refinement and increase of the grace of spiritual discernment. Without discernment there is no growth in faith. Spiritual dis-cernment, therefore, is less a question of being intellec-tually clever than of being graced and called by the Lord to grow in knowledge of Him. All things serve the Lord of history; all persons are called to be the vehicles of His creative will; all men willy-nilly serve the God of human history's purposes. Otherwise, they would not be introduced into ongoing incarnational history. However, not everyone, so far, seems to hear the call to know the Lord he se~wes, to know Him as a friend does a friend, as a son his father, a wife her husband. To know Him is the mark of spiritual growth and maturity. Faith-growth is God's work. Man can do no better than collaborate with the divine initiative in his spiritual life. This seems to imply several things. First of all, as the spiritual point of departure, it de-mands an openness to being moved by God. This is the key to obedience as well as to all spiritual encounter. The fundamental Christian attitude, then, is that of a listener, one who is open to divine initiatives whatever they might be. It is radically and essentially a prayer-attitude, one that continues, or ought to continue, be-yond prayer into the apostolate and every other work or experience. The second implication is a need for some continual scrutiny and reflection in regard to the experiences inte-rior to 6neself in prayer and in all life's situations. This self-examination is needed not merely to lay hold of juridically impt.~table faults but more importantly to grow in habitual discrimination and discernment-by-faith of the various, interior experiences and personal spiritual calls--impulses, inclinations, attractions, re-pugnances, assaults--that occur much more frequently than perhaps we either admit or spiritually discern. The third demand is a growing ability to recognize and respond only to those experiences which are dis-cernibly frotn the Lord. Here, in the area of concrete affectivity, are the contacts with the Lord's divine initia-tives guiding the individual person or community. The difference between personal spiritual direction and spir-itual government of a community involves a difference in the mode of spiritual scrutiny and recognition of the divine will in the concrete. Whatever accidental dif-ference may emerge in the mode of reflection on ex-perience, both the community scrutiny and the ifldi- .vidual scrutiny lead ultimately to the possibility of a response which we may call "rightly ordered," a direct response to inner vocation that gives first place to answer-ing the.Lord's question, "Lovest thou me?" In brief, these three requirements---openness to spir-itual experience, reflection on it, and response-ability to it--are basic elements in the growth of personal sensi-tivity to the initiatives of the Lord, or spiritual discern-ment. Whether on the community or individual level, in order to achieve government, spiritual direction, or faith-growth, the cooperation of several is required. The director 'and the directed, the superior and the subject, the spiritual father and his "son,'~ must both be. humbly alert in a collaboration of listening to the Lord's Spirit~ The basic relationship of spiritual direction and govern-ment is a structured team-work of director and directed in discerning the will of the Lord in concrete~ situations. Both, then, must be continually subordinated to the Lord's Spirit and His word as the principal director. The hierarchy of subordination, in the context of spir-itual direction, is that of a human directo]: who by his calling is the servant of a relationship growing between the one directed and the Spirit of the Lord. In a sense, then, the human director takes his stand, spiritually, in the lower, not the higher, place. In this relationship of spiritual direction, destined to serve the Lord's creative work in the individual and in the ~ommunity, the responsibility falls first on the Lord Himself, secondly on the group or the individual' called to Him, and finally on the servant of their relationship, the spiritual director. If there" is any subordination to human direction in responding to God, this sub-ordination must be established by the Lord and guaran-teed. by Him (or by a convenant or pact freely entered into on the part of the subject). Growth in discernment of the action of God's Spirit is, then, the thing which truly matures and estab-lishes in the faith a spiritual person or community. An authentic spiritual community is one which can be described in terms of its real awareness of being moved and directed by the Holy Spirit, on many levels. This awareness is not just found vaguely throughout the com-munity but according to the clearly defined functions of properly subordinated individuals. As we find in the Gospels, to be great in the community° of the Lord is to be the least and servant of all. The work of the one wh~)se responsibility it is to direct others is a work of assisting them, as individuals and as a group, to hear and respond better to the Lord's initiatives in every ,situa-tion. This direction or government is a spiritual thing pre2 ÷ 4, Maturity and ¯ Discernment ~VOLUME 27, 1968 583 ÷ ÷ ÷ D. T. Asselin, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 584 cisely to the extent that it is collaboration with the Lord's Spirit, the ultimate director and superior. The Lord's indications, leads, initiatives, must be discerned as coming from Him and then followed, if a man is to serve the Lord in a way befitting man, that is by knowing the Lord he serves. There is, then, a need today to respect the importance and centrality of interior, personal, spiritual experience without undue fear of false mysticism or of the folly of the enthusiasts, quietists, alumbrados. Moreover, we must investigate the area of spiritual experience today because the Church is not only inviting ns but requiring us to do so, in the words of one who cries out: "He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches" (Ap 2:11). The word "maturity" has been aptly defined by the Swiss psychologist, Jean Piaget, who made extensive studies of children in their process of development. Mh-turity, he found, is simply an increase in the capacity to differentiate in a practical manner interior experiences and operations. If we adopt this definition, then the life of faith in a man is mature to the extent that it involves a capacity to reflect upon, understand, discriminate be-tween, and respond to, the inner spiritual stimuli that he experiences within himself. The Lord's Personal Call It might be well here to suggest some relationships between general law or principle on the one hand, and individuated personal experience on the other. To di-vorce the two is to fall into legalism and moralism, or into a kind of situation-ethic. The problem is how to relate these poles. It is true that general law and principle rightly and concretely circumscribe each personal situation. But they do so only to the extent that this situation is common to all men, and not proper to this person as such. I mean that the situations of Peter and of Paul are cor-rectly guided by general principle only insofar as Peter and Paul are men, therefore impersonally considered, not insofar as they are distinguished from each other by name. Peter qua Peter is more than just a man. In this regard permit me to draw attention to the per-fect way of knowing a man, intimately and personally, which is the Lord's way of knowing him, that is, by name. We read in Isaiah 43:1: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine." Or again, in John 10:3: "The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them forth." Scripture continually reveals the personal and intimate knowledge that the Lord has of each of His creatures: "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you, a prophet to the nations I appointed you" (Jer 1:5); "Lord, you have pi:obed me and you know me, you understand my thoughts from afar, with all my ways you are familiar, even~ before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know the whole of it, where can I go from your Spirit, from your presence where can I flee" (Ps 138:139). Just as it is clear that the Lord knows and calls each man by name, it is equally clear that man becomes spir-itually mature to the extent that he can recognize and acknowledge who it is that is calling him, responding to . the Lord by name in all things: The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the House of Israel and the House of Judah. It will not be like the covenant I made with their fathers the day I took them by the hand to lead them forth from the land of Egypt. For they broke my covenant and I had to show myself their master, says the Lord. But this is the covenant which I will make with the House of Israel after those days, says the Lord. I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer will they have need to teach their friends and kinsmen how to know the Lord. All, the least to the greatest, shall know Me, says the Lord, for I will forgive their evil doing and remember their sin no more (Jer 31:31ff.). It seems clear, here and elsewhere in Scripture, that God is establishing with each human person as well as with His community a new spiritual relatiqnship of tremendous value which exceeds the expectations of authentic Chris-tian personalism today. In order to discover the meaning of Peter qua Peter, and of Paul as unique and distinct from Peter, in the context of universal salvation history (which, after all, is the task in which spiritual directors and superiors are, I believe, primarily intended to assist), it is necessary to discover the unique meaning, value, and orientation that is proper to Peter's spiritual situation precisely as distinct from Paul's, before the Lord. By what kind of logic is this sort of knowledge attained? Over and above the universal validity of general principle and law, Peter, as an unrepeatable, unique individual, must be guided by a logic that is other than the logic of general principle and universal law. In other words, there are two kinds of logic. One logic, which .we might call conceptual or proposi-tional, is the basis for reasoning in universally valid terms. The point of departure, the principle or the foun-dation from which the successive insights and conclu-sions proceed according to this logic will be an axiom. It begins therefore with a self-evident proposition. ÷ ÷ ÷ Maturity and Discernment VOLUME 27, 1968 585 D. T. As~elin, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 586 Logic o[ the Concret~ .There is another logic, however, the Jogic of con-crete, unique, and individual events and persons (which, inCidentally, is the w, ay God apprehends things). Here, . the human foundation or first principle will no longer be an axiom but an experience. As the logic of conceptual knowledge is based on axiomatic, propositions, so the logic of concrete knowledge is based on concrete ex-perience. Mature faith-response to the Lord's word can emerge only from personal encounter with Him. I think it is the job of superiors and spiritual directors to point to those authentic experiences whereby the Lord is communicating Himself to individuals and communi-ties, thus guiding their spiritual growth and governing their development as Christian persons. This concret~ knowledge of the Lord and of His ways. can only be had, as the Vatican Council proposes, "by meditation on the word of God." Faith-growth is inseparable from prayer-life. Both are areas of fundamental concern to all who are called not only by the Lord's, "Lovest thou me?" but also by His, "Feed my lambs and sheep." What, therefore, the individual as such ought to de-cide in the area of liberty and private responsibility cannot be fully determined by general principle or law. It is of vital importance, however, that what is decided be determined with spiritual certitude, not merely by guesswork, accident, or whim. This is precisely why reliable, that is, mature, faith-discernment of interior experiences and, events is important. Otherwise, we run a risk of considering these experiences as mere psycho-logical phenomena, avoiding the whole world of con-crete events in function of which spiritual discernment and maturity can take place. Rather, we must approach the world of private and group e~perience as filled with the glorious presence (shekinah) of the Lord, the indications of His will and concrete providence, and perhaps .the presence of an adverse spirit. Hence, it is only a faith-awareness and dis-cernment of these events which can lead to an under-standing of the individual or community relationship to the Lord, an estimation of their spiritual maturity, and a reliable ifi~rease in their personal freedom and re- + sponsibility. + No concrete choice can be well ordered in the faith + unless it coincides with the determination~ of the Lord 'of all human history. To be aware of these things in the concrete is the only way for a man to be "with it" spir-itually, or "where the action is." To be with the Lord of history, who revealed Himself as being so continually and intimately with us, we must be in personal corn- munication with Him in all things. Therefore, the particular experience that functions as a self-evident first principle for the logic of concrete individual knowl-edge is nothing short of a real experience of the Lord communicating Himself and uttering His invitation and call directly to a pers9n for his u.nique situation, Growth in discernment presupposes several elements. There must be, first of all, inner experience; second,. repeated reflection, on this experience; third, a dis-crimination between various experiences, not from the pbint of view of mere natural causalities (psychological or otherwise), but from that of personal faith in the Lord of concrete history; fourth, an evaluation of these interior experiences from this faith-standpoint; finally, the ca-pacity to receive and obey those movements which are discernibly from the Lord, or.at least clearly not inspired by an adverse spirit. This is the only way to be with the Lord, and where His action is, in reality. Only thus can a man truly grow as a mature person and find. fulfillment. He must find his own personal relationship with the Creator and Lord of all things, and place himself at His service unre-servedly. Experience, then, of encounter and contact with .the Lord, of listening to and of being guided by Him di-rectly, must lie within the capacities of ordinary Chris-tian faith-maturity. Otherwise, how could an adult Chris-tian enjoy an authentic spiritual calling? The only way a man can be divinely called to a personal vocation is "bY name," which means by a unique and personal en-counter with tbe Lord in terms of incommunicable inner experience. Surely our adult Christians, in the light of Vatican II, are not merely destined to serve the Lord, but intimately to know the Lord they serve. Surely their service must flow from a personal.knowledge of Him, a concrete knowledge which cannot be grasped from the-ology or from psychology or even from the mere absence of "impediments to vocation," but from personal ex-perience and prayer. There is question here of something mystical, at least on an elementary level, in the ordinary faith-growth of a Christian--something entailing immediate conscious con-tact with the person of the Lord. Hence, we confront today a mysticism that is to be recognized and fostered within the ordinary providence of God's grace for anyone called to know Him. This kind of knowledge is what specifies the relationship between. God and His people, God and the individual, in the whole Judaeo-Christian history of vocation. I submit that today the discernmentof spirits, as it is called, is the most relevant focal, point in our spiritual ÷ Maturity and Discernment VOLUME 27, 1968 587 ÷ ÷ D. T. Asselin, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS heritage, because it is the concrete., logic of personal spiritual knowledge of las cosas internas, the "interior things," the life of inner spiritual experience. Only a refined spiritual discernment will guide a man to mature self-possession, freeing him from inner disorder in his choosing so that he may enjoy a growing, divine en-counter of faith in all circumstances. In this way, his faith-awareness will envelop, enlighten, guide everything else in his life, so that he will not be able to love any-thing ~r anyone save "in the Lord." It is only within this world of each man's personal experience that his faith-response can be given to the evocative word of the Lord. " Today.in this age of personalism, of self-discovery, of fulfillment, of communication and dialogue, there is a dyifig interest, in any gospel that might limit itself to spiriyual absolutes and generalities, to moralism or trite devotionalism, just as there is a reaction against the spiritual anonymity of the" "lonely crowd" and. the impersonality of the "organization man" in our "secular city.:' Such-labels indicate' the personal alienation that threatens urbanized man today. We all know the reac-tion formation which arises against this situation, offering a purely secular salvation in terms of this-worldly ful-fillment of man's four basic desires: his desire for security, affection, variety, and esteem. Man's real salvation today, however, according to our Christian world-view based on the 'new covenant announced in Jeremiah 31, 31 ft., entails being radicallygraced by God in such a way that the divine presence and will can be known and hcknowl- ' edged personally by each man. Confronted exclusively with general principles and laws, or the enunciation of general truths based upon them which do not focus on each man as a unique per-son but necessarily treat him merely as another instance of numerically multipliable human nature undistin-guished by any name, modern man will remain deaf to ¯ his true personal call to greatness, spiritually immature. If the Christian logic of concrete personal vocation is ignored today, there is a growing danger that tomorrow both Peter and Paul will search for their identity out, side the authentic Christian view of things., perhaps against it. It is only through the gradual and inevitably painful education of a man's faith-view of concrete particulars, that is, the education of his capacity spiritually to dis-cern concrete reality within himself or others, that he can be entrusted with the responsibility of personally determining the steps and measures which bear on his own salvation or that of others. ~ We are far from endorsing, therefore, an undiscerning confidence and blind acceptance of everything that a man spontaneously is inclined to think best. According to the view of some, everything is acceptable or good which inwardly attracts or moves a man, as long as it is not a clear inclination to sin. As a matter of fact, if it were all that easy it would hardly be worth discussing. Spiritual responsibility is insured only by an authentic growth of the capacity to discern the personal word and will of Christ for onself or for another. This merely re-affirms the central Christian position which is one of lis-tening to and following the word of God addressed to man: "Blessed is hewho hears the word of God and keeps it"; or again: "My mother and brothers and sisters are those who hear the word of God and keep it." To some degree or other all of us have this problem of faith-maturity. Therefore, we must consider maturity not as a terminal achievement but rather as maturation, a continuum of emerging awareness of interior en-counter and personal vocation initiated by the Lord. All this applies to community experience as well as to that of the individual, and it includes in its ambit the beginner as well as the teleios in the sense of Hebrews 5:14, "the one who has faculties trained by experience to discern good from evil." This points to faith-guided discernment as the cor-rection of Adam's fault who attempted, :according to Genesis 3, on his own and independently of the Lord's personal indication, to "eht of the fruit of the tree of. the knowledge of good and evil," that is, to discern for himself independently of God what was good and evil in the concrete. Hence any education in the discernment of right from wrong must emerge from the radical faith-position of one who is a listener to the Lord: "All that is not of faith is sin" (Rom 14:23). Structure and Individuation We are always confronted with the necessity of ad-mitting the young into formation structures in such a way as to allow for varying degrees of spiritual maturity already achieved and to foster further personal growth in the knowledge of God's will and love by discernment. Moreover, at the beginning of the process of formation there are two factors polarized, which, I feel, need to undergo considerable change in their basic relationship .by the end of that formative process. We can label those two factors "structure" and "in-dividuation." Structure, here, means a generally pre-dictable behavior pattern within which the individual and the group are directed to maturity in their en-counter with the Lord. For beginners there is need of a ÷ ÷ ÷ Maturity and Discernment. ,~.~ VOLUME 27~ 1968" 589 ÷ ÷ ÷ D. T. Asselin~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ~90 meaningful and reasonable overall structure in which the young candidates are .introduced to spiritual re-sponsibility. This structure will be more extensive and more detailed in virtue of the greater need for assistance and protection required in the period of initial growth. By individuation, in the context of formation, I mean everything that falls under the general heading of per-sonal admonition, directive, prescription, correction, or guidance. It is my general i~npression that we have not been afflicted so'much with overstructure in formation (we have had much structure but I think much is needed to ¯ .begin the process of faith-growth) as with a kind of rev-erence for this structure which tends to find maturity in terms of structural function and hence to preserve initial structures unchanged throughout religious life. ¯ I also believe we have been afflicted with an anxious protection and maintenance of this structure by over-stricture, so that the individual has been given to feel that the structure is an absolute value and that his least exterior failure or fault will be judged as maximal when, in fact, it might be objectively and spiritually minimal. A process of destructuring must occur. But, more im-portantly, we ought to begin formation with complete gentleness, patience, and the allowance for personal uniqueness, in the application of strictures within the required structure. With structure and individuation polarized in this way at the point of departure of formation, let me. degcribe the general evolution .which hopefully might occur with respect to the relationship between structure and individuation over the years, By its end a period of formation ought to reveal much less structure (because we' can presume that with discernment the spiritual adult has become more personally aware of his Lord and has achieved a more refined sensitivity to the promptings of the Holy Spirit) and much more stricture (because he has grown in spiritual sensitivity, in his capacity for self-direction, for discerning the Lord in all things by faith and love, and is consequently more accountable, that is, responsible, for these things). No community ought to aim at being completely un-structured or informal as long as men are mortal and original sin still, affects their motivation, decisions, and efforts. But I believe much failure in formation is due to the initial overemphasis of both stricture and struc-ture, producing a reaction against¯ both. We often end up with serious:difficulties not so much with the young as the old and religiously "formed," who, when it is safe to throw off structures, will no longer listen to stric-ture either. This, of course, reveals that their formation left them spiritually immature. How difficult it is at times to tell a man who has been~ twenty-five years in religious life what to do or not to do. It is not easy, if he is obstinate. It is not easy if he feels: "Now that I have gone through that formation bit, you don't push me around." I think a lot of our scandal emerges precisely when the process of destructuring takes place reveali.ng little faith-education or spiritual maturity to fill up the vac-uum created by ~his process. It shows that no growth in spiritual responsibility has.supplanted the firmness of protective structures. By the end of our periods of formation, when the col-lective factors have been diminished on the level of structure, there ought to emerge a deeper spiritual rela-tionship with the superior, confessor, personal director, on the individual level, that is, on the level of concrete prescription, spiritual direction, and discernment. I feel that little faults in mature persons are much more serf-otis than little faults in beginners. Perhaps we ought to increase the importance of private direction for the ma-ture, not only in the sense of reprehension and correction of faults, but also of more tailored discernment of the will of the Lord. Existentially, this continuum of for-mation ought to be a movement, from external law to the interior law of love. , St. Paul had insight int~ such freedom. He claims that we are freed by learning to love like Christ. He does not mean by freedom that we are no longer bound by ex-ternal law, but rather that we are no longer driven, cap-tured, or urged by anything except by divine love: "Caritas Christi urget nos." To the degree that mature Christian love existentially directs a man's choices, his need for external law and direction is lessened. Only.by the "strength of the Lord's personal initiati~ces of love in his regar~l wi!l he be stimulated to respond to the Lord's word calling him to share responsibility for his own salvation and that of others. This call in its fullness is identical with the vocation to enter the paschal mystery of the Lord's suffering service, death, and resurrection. Hence, we can say with Vatican II that it is "only by faith and by meditation on the word of God" that we can find God's will in anything, discover Christ in our fellow man, or evaluate temporal things in their true light, that is, in the light of salvation history into which all things have happily been assumed by the risen Lord. There is no possibility of mature faith-growth unless, between the beginning and the end of its spectrum, there is inserted personal, incommunicable experience of en-trance into the mystery of Christ's dying and rising. The problem today is a growing tendency to skip the + + + Maturity and Discernment" VOLUME 27, '1968 591 ÷ ÷ ÷ D. T. Asselin, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 592 passion and death in an attempt to establish the Resur-rection. We need more than ever a spiritual awareness of the contemporary dimensions of the passion and death, such as you find in St. Paul who identifies the mystery of Christ's nekrosis with his own experiences of suffering, persecution, and rejection in the apostolate and. ministry . of the word. The word "mystery" in this context means a human experience of the Word made flesh such as we imply when we speak of the "mysteries" of the rosary Or when we contemplate the "mysteries of the public life of Jesus." The definitive mystery of the Word made ttesh is His redemptive experience of dying and rising, which is the matrix of all Christian formation and maturity. Growth and formation involve the development of a conscious love relationship with the Lord. Lovers are those who share intimately each other's experiences of joy and suffering and know by experience the depth and the breadth and the mystery of the unique other. The Lord has this kind of knowledge of us--a knowledge which can become the friendship of .mutual love only if we dwell also in this kind of knowledge of Him. Therefore, our entrance into His mystery of passion and death implies, in the first place, a growth in our aware-ness of His complete entrance into our mystery, His complete appropriation of our personhood and life ex-perience. Neither this awareness nor the experience of entry into His mystery are vague abstractions. His definitive entrance into our present life was by a very real dying and rising. It is this experience of His that has become the key to our faith-awareness of Him. Thus, His suffer-ing, dying, rising, unfold anew in our life experience because of our intimate, mutual involvement with Him, revealed by faith. Conclusion The real spiritual theology of action, of renewal, and of labor (including the labors of the apostolate and min, istry of the word), centers on this contemporary sharing in Christ's redemptive death and resurrection. You will find this everywhere in St. Paul, for instance in I Corin-thians 1:3 ft. and 4:7 ff: "The sufferings of Christ abound in us, the consolation in you"; or again: "We are con-tinually carrying about in our bodies the dying state of Jesus so that the living state of Jesus may be manifest in our bodies too." So, too, Paul speaks of the personal mandate through Christian baptism of entering into the mystery of Christ's death and resurrection, which implies finding the dimensions of His mystery as it is realized concretely in one's own. This Will involve a personal sharing of the emptying-out or kenosis of Christ, an experience of hu-man b~irrenness, agony, and dereliction out of which alone can emerge the marvelous truthfulness of the Lord rising in our personal world, today. I do not think this is going to be appreciated if it is merely described, as I do here. It is something that must be learned from experience under the guidance of that kind of spiritual discernment that calls a thing by its right name, as it is occurring in a man's experience. No natural terms or categories are sufficient, to capture the meaning of this experience of.entry into the mystery of Christ that is ours. Hence, the language of faith is the principal language to be used in spiritual direction and discernment. Nobody can accomplish for me this work of collabora-tion with Christ to which I am personally called. With-out personal inner encounter I have knowledge only of a kind of "unknown God," which really is no knowl-edge at all; and the danger of not knowing God is of be-coming adokimos, someone of an undiscerning mind, who knows created reality by experience without dis-cerning the Lord and Creator. This was the failure of the pagans according to Romans 1:18 ft., where Paul degcribes their decline through various stages of degrada-tion because they were unable to discern the will and love of the Lord of all creation. The human conversation with God was broken off in the garden of Eden, not because God stopped speaking to man but because man stopped listening to God. All sacred history recounts the restoration not only in the individual but in the city of man of the ability to listen to the word olz God articulated in the contemporary events and realities of each successive age, as in a con-tinuing kaleidoscope of the Lord's presence articulated in the eternal '~today" of man's relationship to his Lord. The builders of the tower of Babel were dispersed by God because they attempted to build the city on their own, without His initiative, His word. Abraham, in the next chapter, is the one in whom the listening to God's word historically begins to be restored. Eventually, the city image of Babel in Chapter 11 of Genesis, the city which is almost a bad word in theearly parts of Scrip-ture, becomes the very end-time symbol of the awareness of God's intimate presence and conversation in Apoc-alypse 21, where the new city created by God, the new Jerusalem, needs neither temple nor source of light other than God Himself and his Son the Lamb. Eventually, the Lord who is Father and the Lamb will themselves be both temple-of worship and source of light for the city of man. This symbol marks the terminal point of + + + Maturity and Discernment VOLUME "27, 1968 593 + ÷ ÷ D. T.'Asselin, REVIE~FOR RELIGIOUS community salvation. If you read Apocalypse 21, you will find that the individual relationship to the Lord emerges as perfect along with the destructured com-munity relationship to the Lord: "He who overcomes shall possess these things, and I will be his God, and he shall be my son" (Ap 21:7). There is no opposition, then, between the community-growth and individual fulfillment. We reach full person-hood in the community of the Lord's people by sharing an awareness of God's personal presence and glory. We celebrate this in our daily Eucharist. We announce these Christian facts of life and we promote them, there. We increase and grow in our realization of them by listening privately and together to the word of God, and together and in private responding wholeheartedly. In conclusion I should like to indicate a fundamental criterion by which the authenticity of faith-growth and spiritual discernment must. always be measured. The fundamental attitude of the believer is of one who lis-tens. It is to the Lord's utterances that he gives ear. In as many different ways and on as many varied levels as the listener can discern the word and will of the Lord mani-fested to ,him, he must respond with all the Pauline "obedience of faith." Obedience always implies an attitude of listening, signified by the Latin ob-audire and Greek hupo-akouo. It is the attitude of receptivity, passivity, and poverty of one who is always in need, radically dependent, con-scious of his creaturehood. Freedom, faith-growth, and spiritual maturity must always begin with fundamental obedience to the Lord's laws, directives, and providence for the individual and the community. The evolution of faith to spiritual adulthood is measured not by neglecting or escaping these basic divine dispositions so as to be no longer bound by them, but rather by transcending external laws and prescriptions so as to be bonnd more deeply and intimately by the greater demands of an internal law uttered in the heart. One is always bound by general law and principle and by external authority legitimately exercised, but one can transcend this dimension as the motive of response to the Lord to the degree that one can discern and obey the internal law of love imprinted in the heart by the Spirit, establishing the new covenant announced by Jeremiah 31:31 ft. Bound by external law and authority, our faith-growth consists in being moved by the internal: "Caritas Christi urget nosl" No internal discernment of the Lord's will and vocation is valid if it disobeys or degtroys the Lord's external dispositions exercised by legitimate auo thority and institution. There is only one Spirit breath-ing on many levels where and how He wills. The authentic maturity of faith by spiritual discern-anent will manifest itself in a fourfold reconciliation of man, matching the fourfold human conflict introduced by man's primitive disobedience: a reconciliation (1) with the Lord in a Spirit of prayerful sonship crying "Abba," (2) within oneself by the peace that replaces the shame of guilt, (3) with one's neighbor by the love that replaces anger and fear, (4) and with ktisis or physical creation by a resurrection. ÷ ÷ ÷ Maturity and Discernment VOLUME 27, 1968 ". . 595 BERNARD LEE, S~M. The Spring Wants to Come: A Study in Community ÷ ÷ ÷ Bernard Lee, S.M., is on the fac-ulty of St. Mary's High School; 4701 South Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Mis-souri 6311 I. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 596 Introduction I had originally intended to cast these introductory remarks into footnotes in very brief form. But a discus-sion and very helpful critique with members of my communi.ty suggested the importance of beginning with two observations that appear necessary for keeping the discussion in the" right context. The first point is this: what the article is not is a comparison between art and community life in which certain aesthetic principles are analogically applied to community. Beauty is a transcendental, and it is a real characteristic-of all that is. There are degrees of beauty and kinds of beauty. It can be recognized and experi-enced. Like many of the practical items we use and need, community is a practical response to a need: psychologi-cal needs stemming from our social nature, pragmatic needs for coping with the world around us. But over and above this, both the practical items and the practical community are capable of being works of art, pieces of beauty, as well. The application of asesthetic principles to community life is, therefore, a direct application of principles that are, in the philosophical sense, proper to it. This second introductory remark might seem a bit academic for the discussion that follows. But it has to do with basic presuppositions that govern the thought of the article. The characterization of beauty that I use is based very much upon the thgught of Alfred North Whitehead, the whole of his thought, but in particular his treatment of beauty in Adventure of Ideas. What is presumed is a world of reality whose nature is to be in process. Process is at the heart of the way things are. Process is reality. And an important qualifidation of this process is that it is evolutionary; it is directed to the creation of higher: forms and modes of existence. In Aristotelian thought the possibility of changing neces-sarily implies imperfection: "All change is by its nature an undoing" (Physics, IV, 222b). But in process philos-ophy, change is actually constitutive of reality. Becoming is no longer inferior to being. This obviously affects a philosophy of beauty--and therefore a philosophy of community--because process will be constitutive of beauty as well as of being. This is not the place to attempt a further characteri-zation of process philosophy. May I instead retommend the brief but superb introduction Charles Hartshorne wrote for Browning's Philosophers of Process, and the excellent second part of Eulalio Baltazar's Teilhard and the Supernatural which treats in more detail "The Phi-losophy of Process." The implications of all ttiis for theology and spirituality are immense--so immense that it almost seems ludicrous to toss off the observation so casually. I would like to conclude these introductory re-marks with some lines from Rilke: What keeps you from projecting His birth into times That are in the process of becoming, And living your life Like a painful and beautiful day In the history of a great gestation? For do you not see How everything that happens Keeps on being a beginning Since beginning is in itself Always so beautiful?. These very days Of your transition Are perhaps the time When everything in you Is working at him. And think that the least We can do is to make His becoming Not more difficult for Him Than theearth ¯ Makes its for the Spring When it wants to come. --Rainer Maria Rilke Community The history of humanity is the history of an evolution towards a more finely wrought community. The evolu-tion is not unmarked by failures, neither in the past nor now. But progress has been steady. And higher com-munity has normally been achieved when the demands 4, 4, ÷ Community VOLUME 27, 597 ÷ ÷ Bernar~ I=~ $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 598 of new social conditions have been responded to crea-tively. Today is a day of new demands, and we are on the verge of higher community if we can bring to those demands an adequately creative response. The movement towards the perfection of community has always been a part of human history, but a new inner urgency is communicated to the movement in Christ who calls men to brotherhood in God's love: "This solidarity must be constantly increased until that day on which it will be brought to perfection. Then, saved by grace, men will offer flawless glory to God as a family beloved of God and of Christ their brother" (gaudium et spes, § 32). In this discussion we would like to deal with the dynamics of building community. And here dynamics must bear the full weight of its meaning; for the evolutionary nature of community among men neces-sarily implies movement and change, trial and error, mutual tensions and continual interactions. The para-dox is that these factors are not manifestations of rest-lessness and caprice, but are the only basis for in-tensified solidarity. There are many valid points of departure for a dis-cussion of community. Our point of departure Will be aesthetic. It is peculiar to man, of all earth's creatures, to recognize beauty, to be moved and exhilarated by it. Because the quest for beauty and the response to it are both deeply human and deeply humanizing, we ought to be conscious of the beauty of community life that we work towards. We must even make that beauty a conscious aim--for it goes way beyond simply making community through the common task of meeting practi-cal exigencies; it calls us to create community. Throughout this discussion we will be thinking es-pecially of "community" in religious life. But the prin-ciples should be valid and operative within any social structure. The plan of this discussion is as follows. We will first talk about beauty and the degrees of harmony that mark it (and also that mark community life). Then we will try to show how greater intensity is possible in beauty (and how this is related to the perfection of community life). Then, from the psychological point of view of man's enjoyment of beauty, we will discuss the "move-ment" that is demanded by human appreciation of beauty (and the "movement" that is demanded for a constant human satisfaction with community life). I can recall having been asked for a reaction to some piece of architecture or other, and having replied that while I didn't really think it was great, it was at least pleasing and didn't jar. That something "isn't jarring" is an acknowledgement of at least a minor form of beauty, an absence of elements that would disturb the harmony. There are many elements in an art work (color in painting, rhythm, tone, and harmony in music) that might be independently quite pleasing, but which to-gether in certain combinations inhibit beauty. It is pos-sible to juxtapose two brilliant colors so that when they are together the b,rillance of neither comes through fully, though alone each would be striking. In this case there is a mutual inhibition that keeps either color from rising to the strength proper to it. It is likewise possible in music to counter two rhythms ~o each other in suchwise that neither is discernible; of course, a counterplay of two rhythms might well put each of the rhythms in bolder relief and make them easier to ap-preciate. In the first case, the mutual incompatibility of two rhythms is not only inhibitive of beauty, the two elements are actually destructive of each other. A minor form of beauty, oi: pleasingness, then, consists in the absence of elements that are either destructive of one another, or that keep each other from rising to the strength proper to each. This same aesthetique applies to community. When the fact of community is the result of the juxtaposition. of certain individuals within the same house, and not much more than that, the minor form of beauty just described.is probably the limit of communitarianbeauty available. There is a certain smoothness and harmony that results from not having personalities that are to-tally incompatible, and from having personalities that are enough alike (or have been made so by the repres-sion of differences) that they do not inhibit each other member from "being himself." The walls of a living room may be painted a 'very pleasing color and may provide quite a satis[actory experience. But if the walls are done in several colors, and if furnishings are chosen which blend and con-trast, much attention has to be given to composition. Two colors which cannot be tolerated next to each other might, in composition with a third and fourth color, give a heightened aesthetic experience not possible with the minor beauty of the one-color room. For this height-ened aesthetic experience derived from a contrast of contents, composition becomes increasingly important. For each element must stand in relation to every other element as well as to the whole. This is the only con-dition under which different elements can, by virtue of their very differences, not simply coexist juxtaposed, but become a truly powerful experience together. And there is a corollary to this. Not only does the individual element help heighten the aesthetic value of the compo- + + ÷ Community VOLUME 27, ~.968 ,599 + 4. 4. Bernard Lee, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS sition as a whole, but the whole itself ~s a setting for the individual element enhances the individual element. The whole uses and profits from that which is most unique in the individual element. It is what is different about this individual element that heightens the effect" of good composition. But that difference only becomes valuable and desirable in this setting of effective con-trast. Alone it is. well, just different. Again, ~his aesthefique applies to community living. A more intense community experience is possible through effective contrasts of personalities. This can only be a reality if ther6 is a community consciousness directed toward the creation of such a "composition." A minor form of beauty attained simply through the absence of jarring elements does not put upon "relationship" the premium it has in the heightened aesthetic experience towards which we work. "Relationship" is the basis of composition, and it requires conscious and deliberate effort to bring it off. By conscious effort we cannot mean a belabored preoccupation with improving or building interpersonal bonds--that is almost doomed to failure by the artificiality that would destroy what can only be fully natural, or else not be at all. But it does mean being quite conscious of the fact that differ-ences between us are the seed of greater community beauty. It does mean consciously and openly and hon-estly dealing with differences rather than shu~ing them under the carpet in favor of a minor and easier harmony. It is from the very desirable (and often painful) per-sonal confrontations in view of differences that such consciousness occasions interpersonal relationships really happening, and "composition" really occurring. And be-cause we are human beings, something happens in the composition of good community that does not happen in the'composition of good art: we individual elements have to stretch ourselves intellectually, socially, emo-tionally, psychologically, to contain the contrasts of our community. But what grow.th! And growing pains too. Only a community like this can address itself to the yearning of the contemporary man who wants to be where the personal identity he has worked so hard foI is 'appreciated and desired. He wants to be part of a community that challenges him to become and, in be-coming, to be his unique self. Only an aesthetique of striving for great communitarian beauty can provide for a whole that frames rather than swallows individuality. A beautiful nature scene which is exciting on a 16mm screen might well be overwhelming on the Cinerama screen. This introduces a new consideration into our discussion of beauty. There is something about the hu-man spirit, perhaps allied to the appetite for tran- scendence, that makes it reach out for what is grand. "A man's reach must exceed his grasp, else what's a heaven for?" Traditionally, being big-souled is being virtuous: magnanimity. In our aesthetic satisfaction there is a certain proper kind of intensity just in comparative magnitude. Nor is this to devalue the beauty of small delicate things--there are beautiful things that would suffer violence in enlargement. Yet it does remain true that sheer magnitude awakens the human spirit and issues a call to it to be likewise grand. This is as true of the aesthetic exlSerience as of other realms of our. ex-perience. Let us again apply our aesthetique to community life. Perhaps we should begin with the acknowledgement that there is a kind of intensity in the relationship between two friends that cannot be enlarged to a whole com-munity- this would be a naive aim. Yet on the other hand, there is a magnificence in the spirited unity of a large community that is an inspiration to behold, and that is an even greater inspiration to be part of. There is a strength and a power in such a unity. Of course, in speakirig of comparative magnitude as adding strength to beauty, we mean not sheer size alone, but one that is marked by the aesthetic qualities we dis-cussed already. The final point in our discussion of the qualities of aesthetic perfection has to do with variety of detail. Variety of detail can be worked at in many ways. The baroque and rococo are not our ways. But variety is im-portant even in an age that wants its architecture to have a naked beauty often drawn from nothing more or less than the unadorned structural elements. Variety of detail, then, is not extravagance. It is variation and contrast that, from a negative point of v.iew, prevents monotony and boredom; and, from a positive point of view, adds interest and excitement. This aesthetic qual-ity is somewhat akin to the previous one we spoke of. There is a grandeur in variety of detail. Mere variety is not the point; the variety must be well composed so that the contrast is effective. But all else being equal, variety of detail does add an aesthetic perfection. And, of course, variety exacts a keener attention to insure such an ef-fective composition. It doesn't just happen. Effective unity does not just happen in a community marked by a great variety of temperaments and per-sonalities. It can only be brought about by careful and patient care. Again, that must be conscious effort. It cannot happen unless a community has decided that it wills to work for a greater degree of communitarian beauty and then has begun the communitarian creativity which alone can bring it off. + ÷ ÷ Community ¯ VOLUME 27, 1968 601 Bernard Lee, $.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 602 At this point something should be said about discord and disharmony, about their positive worth and de-sirability, or rather, about the circumstances in which they are desirable. Effective contrast of different elements makes possible a higher form of beauty. It is discord which makes known the fact that different elements are present which have not been unified in effective contrast. It is dis-cord, then, that points a finger to the spot where at-tention is needed, where effective relating is needed, to incorporate these different elements into a community which will be richer for having taken them unto its own. Even if the minor forms of communitarian beauty have been attained quite well, it is probably humanly im-possible to move to a higher form based on effective contrast without experiencing discord. The discord must be expected. It must be welcomed as the herald of something better to come if it can be dealt with openly and sincerely. And it must not linger to haunt the new unity when it is born. In music the transition from a single tone into a harmony might well--and often does--pass through an intermedi~i(e disharmony. That disharmony often serves to heighten the experience of a ricli harmony which it (even in its split second existence) teased us into yearn-ing for. The application to many of the disharmonies of community life is obvious enough to need no com-mentary. Thus far we have discussed, from a somewhat philo-sophical point of view, the qualities of what is beauti-ful, the qualities which occasion the aesthetic experience for the human spirit. We would like to turn now to the human spirit~ and from that point of view discuss one further factor of prime i.importance in'our experience of beauty. So let us speak of the human spirit. There is a certain restlessness that makes it tire'of repetition. Even if it ha~ accommodated itself to the ease of repetition, it is un-likely that much of the deeper yearning of the human spirit can thus be satisfied. It can at best be anaesthe-tized. Clumsily but accurately rendered, the word "an-aesthetized" means unbeautied, deadened to the aes-thetic. Even beauty can anaesthetize when it is endlessly repeated in the same form. "Perfection will not bear the tedium of indefinite repetition" (Whitehead). To sus-tain the ardor of aesthetic enjoyment requires a con-stant' search for new perfection. Sometimes the new perfection need not even be a higher one, only an equal perfection. The new experience keeps the spirit aes-thetically intent, alive, and active. Change for the sake of change is capricious. But change, even when the practical situation does not de-mand it, even when the new thing is not an improve-ment, may still be quite desirable if it can sustain the intensity of our aesthetic experience of communitarian beauty. We must emphasize again that conscious recog-nition of striving for communitarian beauty as it has been described is a necessary context for welcoming change and movement and variation. Outside of this context, the change that is not pragmatically necessary is indeed obnoxious. If a com.munity has opted to strive for higher forms o[ beauty in its life together, the element of change needs attention; but to some extent it will take care of itself. The texture of a community changes with every personnel change. The addition or subtraction 6f even one member is bound to affect the quality of a com-munity that has determined its "composition" in view of each unique individual member, ff one member o~ a community has grown and been enriched through per-sonal, experience, the community grows too and accom-modates itself to the new experience within it. In this way each community should have a personality of its own, a beauty of its own that is particular to this com-munity because it is composed of these unique, indi-vidual persons. To the extent that communities have not achieved a beauty characteristic of each, one com-munity will look quite the same as any other. And per-haps we should be reminded here by Bishop Robinson that God is as much in the rapids as in the rocks. Nor is all of this discussion without import for that celebration of community which is the Eucharist. We h~ve probably all reflected how daily repetition of Mass ~can weaken the quality of our experience of it. I think we salve the situation too unctuously by countering that the eye of faith sees behind any possible tedium in the daily repetition. Mass is not simply the presence of God through the signs of bread and wine; the full symbol is the community that is gathered there to further in-tensify its unity in the breaking of one bread and the sharing of a Common cup. Because each community is-- or should be--unique, it must vitalize its celebration of the Eucharist by finding ways of expressing its unique-ness (and thus its beauty) in Mass, for this is how the community offers to God what is most beautiful to Him. The dynamic interaction of individuals in community is constantly modifying the texture of community, be it ever so little. There is, then, the challenge always to find new ways of offering God the new beauties that come to be in our midst, the new Beauties that ARE our Midst. ÷ ÷ ÷ ~,ommunity VOLUME 27, 1968 603 JOHN COWBURN, S.J. The Analogy of Religious Authority and Obedience ÷ ÷ ÷ John Cowburn, s.J., is a faculty member at Loyola College; Watsonia, Victoria S087; Aus-tralia. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS In discussions of authority it is sometimes assumed, I think, that the authority of a father over his children is the first experienced and universally understood form of authority, and that all other forms of authority are ultimately analogous to it. On the basis of these as-sumptions, then, other forms of authority are explained by comparing them with this primordial form: God's authority over us is explained as being that of a father; the pope is called the Holy Father, bishops are told to be like fathers to their priests and people, pastors like fathers to their parishioners, and religious superiors like fathers and mothers to their subjects; and secular rulers, too, are thought to be like fathers to their subjects. On the other hand, it has been maintained that every form of authority is completely sui generis, so that argu-ments a pari from one form to another are never valid; or that, whatever may be said about secular forms of authority, at any rate the kinds of authority found in the Church are not analogous to natural forms, so that it is not really enlightening to compare them with these. Since, however, theology continually presupposes that analogy is possible and that one can argue by means of it, and since the. gospel has always been preached with the aid of analogies, it is surely reasonable to suppose that analogy can be used in discussions of authority. And if this is agreed on, perhap~ it can also be agreed that the family is the fundamental human society, that all forms of authority are ultimately analogous to forms of au-, thority found in the family, and that reflection on au-thority and obedience as they are exercised there can be helpful for an understanding of the nature of religious authority (not to mention other forms) and of the way in which it ought to be exercised. What I wish to question, however, is that this means that all authority, including that of the religious superior, is analogous to that of a father over his children--but I anticipate. Authority in the Family A family, surely, should not be seen simply as a group of people one of whom has authority over all the others. Rather, it should' be seen as constituted by two different relationships, or kinds of relationship: there is the re-lationship which binds the husband and wife to each other, and there are the relationships which bind the parents to the children and the children to the parents. Both these relationships involve authority on one side, and the.~recognition of that authority, or obedience, on the other: a husband is the head of the couple formed by his wife and himself, and she promises to love, honor and obey him; and of course parents have authority over their children, who owe them obedience. However, I suggest that we find here two distinct kinds of au-thority and obedience, and that reflection quickly shows that there are radical differences between them.1 Firstly, children do not choose to enter a family and they do not choose their parents, but a woman chooses. to marry and to become the wife of this man rather than of any other. The authority of parents over their chil-dren, then, is not given to them by the children, whereas a husband obtains authority over his wife when she freely gives it to him. The facts, that a woman cannot marry a man without giving him authority over her and that the authority once given may not arbitrarily be taken back do not affect the contention that one of the relationships is constituted by the free consent of both parties and the other is not. Secondly, one relationship is essentially between two adults, whereas the other is essentially between adults and children. If this were not obvious already, it could be shown by stating that a woman cannot marry until she is capable of making freely an important decision that will affect her whole life, that is, until she is no longer a child. Thirdly, in a normal family the parents are superior to their children in knowledge, understanding, wisdom, ¯ common sense, fortitude, and almost every other respect, and the lack of these qualities in children is the reason why they are subject to their parents in the way they are. In a normal family, however, the husband and wife are much more nearly equal in human qualities than par-x I have made this contention in The Person and Love (New York: Alba House, 1968), p. 157. (The English edition, published in London by Geoffrey Chapman, is called Love and the Person.) + + + Authority and Obedience VOLUME 27, 1968 605 ÷ ÷ 1ohn Cowburn, $.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 60g ents and children are; indeed, if there is very great in-equality a true marriage is virtually impossible. And if in a normal family the husband is usually somewhat older than his wife and in some respects superior to her, this is not the reason why he has authority over her, as is shown by the wives who are actually superior to their husbands in intelligence and other human qualities and who nevertheless give them obedience. That is, if one asks in general why children are always under someone's dominion the answer is that they are incapable of being left in charge of themselves. If, however, one asks why most women are under the dominion of husbands, the answer is not that. It is, one supposes, that for the unity of a couple it is necessary that one partner be the leader and that the other--who, if she were living alone, would be quite capable of looking after herself--accept his leadership. Fourthly, the authority of parents over their children is transient, whereas that of husband over wife is perma-nent. The authority of parents over their children is greatest when the children are small; as they grow up it lessens; eventually, it ceases--for although adults respect their parents they do not strictly speaking owe them obedience. In contrast to this, the authority of husband over wife is constant and permanent. Fifthly, it would be abnormal for a grown person to obey his parents just as he did when he was a child; and to train anyone to obey in this way all his life would be to prevent him from achieving maturity. But it is per-fectly normal for a mature woman to recognize her husband's authority--indeed, to be unwilling to accept or acknowledge this kind of authority would, generally speaking, be a sign of immaturity--and a married woman achieves maturity and fulfillment partly by schooling herself to give recognition and willing obedi-ence to her husband. Sixthly, in both cases the exercise of authority and the obedience are expressions of love: a man gives himself to his wife partly by assuming responsibili.ty for her welfare, with the authority that that responsibility car-ries with it, and she gives herself to him in accepting him as head; and parents express their love for their children by not letting them run wild but authoritatively con-trolling their development, while children show their loving acceptance of their parents by obeying them. However, conjugal love and parental-filial love are surely different in kind; and so the authority and obedi-ence in which they are expressed are also different in kind. We come, th(n, to this conclusion: in a family there are two radically.different kinds of authority and obedio ence. In previous ages, I suppose, people would have disagreed with this by maintaining that the authority of husband over wife is not essentially different from that of father over children. When fathers retained their authority over their daughters .not until these were twenty-one but until they were married; and when fathers chose husbands for their daughters and then led the girls to the altar where they handed them over to the bridegrooms; then it seemed to everyone that it was from her father that a man obtained his authority over his wife, and so it was supposed that his authority was essentially of the same kind as that which the father had had, and men supposed that their wives and children were all subject to their authority in much the same way. Today, however, disagreement with my thesis is likely to take a very different form, for it is now being said that husbands do not have real authority over their wives, and that wives do not strictly speaking owe obedi-ence to their husbands. It is, says Julian Gosling, very unnatural and misleading to describe in terms of "au-thority" and "obedience" the relationship between hus-gand and wife, given that the wife has the right and duty to enter fully with her husband into discussion of any decisions that are to be made.~ But discussion is in-compatible with authority and obedience only if these are understood in a very restricted way; and since even today a husband is in some. sense the head or leader of the couple, it seems reasonable to continue to talk Of con-jugal authority and obedience--provided that these are sharply distinguished from parental authority and filial obedience. Religious Obedience Let us now put the question: to which of these two kinds of authority is that of the religious superior analo-gous? Well, firstly, a person is a Christian by virtue of his own free option, and he is a religious by virtue of a choice which in a sense is even more free, since there is" no obligation to make it. If these facts were once ob-scured, when people thought they were Catholics be-cause they were born citizens of Catholic countries br members of Catholic families, while some people~ were religious because their parents had given them into religion at an early age, they are now very clear. Secondly, the relationship between religious superior and subject i~ essentially between two adults, since a person taking religious vows is presumed to be mature "Rhetoric and Marriage," Month, January, 1967, p. 29. + + + Authority and Obedience VOLUME 27, 1968 607 enough to do so. Moreover, many reli, gious superiors are younger than some of their subjects. Thirdly, the precise reason why in religious orders. there are superiors and subjects is not that the superiors have knowledge and virtue,' while the subjects are stupid and irresponsible. It may well be that on the average those who are superiors are more gifted than those who are subjects, but if all were equally intelligent and prudent it would still be necessary for religious com-munities to have superiors. Fourthly, the state of religious obedience is not tran-sient, extending only over a period of growth, but life-long. 'Fifthly, if the authority of a religious superior were thought of as being analogous to that of a father over his children, then it would be implied that either the subjects ought to live all their lives in a situation which. is abnormal for mature persons, or else that once they have finished their training they can reasonably consider that they have outgrown obedience, strictly so called, and claim a very large measure of independence. If, however, it is thought of as being analogous to conjugal authority, then obedience presents itself as quite con-sonant with personal maturity; indeed, it becomes rea-sonably easy to see how a religious can achieve personal fulfillment and maturity partly by schooling himself to give recognition and willing obedience to a superior. The conclusion seems inescapable: religious authority and obedience are analogous to conjugal authority and obedience rather than to parental authority and filial obedience,a But is this theologically sound? Firstly, it is traditional doctrine that a religious ought to see Christ in his su-perior. But Christ, surely, was Master to the Apostles and He is our Lord, Master, friend, brother or spouse; but He was not their father and He is not ours. It seems, then, entirely in accord with this traditional doctrine to say that a religious superior is lord or master of his subjects in the way that a husband is the head of a couple, and not in the way that a father is in authority over his children.4 However, secondly, it is also tradi-÷ ÷ ÷ .lohn Cowburn, $o~o REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 608 s Karl Rahner says that religious obedience is not analogous to that of children because this is (1) based on lack of knowledge and responsi-bility in the child as compared with the parents; (2) temporary, having as its aim its own eventual disappearance; (3) given by nature, not chosen by personal election ("A Basic Ignatian Concept: Some Reflec-tions on Obedience," Woodstock Letters, v. 86 [1957], pp. 293--4). This is exactly what I maintain, but Rahner does not develop an alterna-tive analogy. ~ Dora Olivier Rousseau writes that St. Benedict "would have the subject see Christ himself in his Abbot with whom he lives con-stantly: Christi enim agere vices in monasterio creditur [abbas]" tional to compare a religious superior to a father or mother. Could it be that this was simply because it was assumed that paternal authority is the basic form of authority to which all other authority---including con-jugal authority--is analogous; and if this assumption is modified, so may the traditional comparison be cor-rected? Some authors begin by affirming that all authority is analogous to that of a father over his children, but they then go on to point out how vastly different is the authority of a religious superior from that of a parent and end by virtually denying their original affirmation.5 It seems more consistent to suppose that all authority is analogous either to that of a father over his children or to that of a husband over his wife; one can then deny that there is any analogy between a religious superior and a parent without coming into conflict with one's own supposition. Qualifications Firstly, let it be clearly stated that, as with every analogy, there are differences between the terms under comparison. The husband-wife relationship is sexual, which the superior-subject one is not. A husband has only one wife, whereas a religious superior may have many subjects. In most religious orders, superiors are regularly changed, as husbands are not. And so on. Secondly, to say that religious authority is analogous to that of a husband is not to say all that can be said about it. That is, this article makes a point about re-ligious authority but does not attempt to give a com-plete account of it. Thirdly, in all I have been saying I have been con-sidering the normal case, which is that of a superior and a formed religious, rather than that of a superior and a religious who is still in training. In his early years a religious is perhaps something of a child in his order, learning the elements of religious life, and the au-thority of superiors over him has something of a pa- (Introduction to Obedience [London: Blackfriars, 1953], p. 15). "The abbot," Dora Olivier then goes on to say as if it followed naturally, "ought to be the father of his community." But this, surely, is pre-cisely what does not follow from St. Benedict's principle. ~ For instance, Desmond F. McGoldrick ~ays that the prototype of "dominative power" is that of parents in the home; but he then--and this is what seems to me to be somewhat inconsistent--plays down and even denies any analogy between a parent and a religious superior (Fostering Development [Pittsburgh: Duquesne University, 1965], pp. 77-8); and he says: "The attitude which an enlightened Superior should not use towards the other members of the Community is that of the parent-child relationship. She is not a parent; her subjects are not children" (ibid., p. 151). + + + Authority. and Obedience VOLUME 27, lO68 609 ÷ ÷ John Cowbu~n, SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 6111 rental character; but, firstly, this is plainly not the case to have in mind when working out a theory of religious authority and obedience, hnd, secondly, the authority of stiperiors over subjects in their years of formation ought even then to be mainly "conjugal" and it ought grad-ually to lose its partly parental character as the subject develops. Practical Implications The thesis maintained above has certain practical implications. Firstly, there is frequently a certain "distance" between parents and children, and some fathers even deliberately maintain a degree of aloofness from their children. Also, some political and military leaders, understanding their authority to be quasi-paternal, have quite deliberately kept aloof from their subjects, and they have incited their subjects to think of them as mysterious, superior beings, to be almost worshipped from afar below, and to be obeyed without question in all things. But since no husband should be aloof from his wife, no religious su-perior should be distant from his subjects or use mys-terious aloofness as a device for obtaining unquestioning obedience. Secondly, parents usually call their children by their Christian names or family nicknames, whereas children call their parents by some respectful form of address such as "Father," "Mother," or abridgements of these; but husbands and wives use reciprocal forms of address towards each other. Also, children are frequently taught to adopt a respectful posture when addressing their parents or other adults, at least when asking for some-thing or "being spoken to"; but wives do not as it were stand to attention when a.ddressing their husbands or being addressed by them. It would, then, seem to be nor-mal for a religious to address his superior in much the same way as he would address the same man if he were not the superior--which in many cases means his Chris-tain name, his name in the order, o~ his nickname if he has one. Thirdly, it frequently happens that parents~if one may put it this way--live more expensively than their children do. They do not, for instance, give to their children as much money to spend .on an outing as they themselves would spend; and if from time to time they entertain friends at restaurants they do not make it pos-sible for their children to'entertain thdir friends at those same restaurants. Similarly, in many armies the officers have a higher standard of living than the men. But husbands and wives share and share alike. Of course, it may sometimes happen that a man has an expensive business lunch while his wife, in town for the day, is having a cheap lunch at a department-store cafeteria; but in general they have the same standard of living. Just so, in a religious community superiors and subjects share and share alike, and superiors do not, because they are superiors, have a higher standard of room furni-ture, dress, means of transport, and so on. Fourthly, parents do not ordinarily bring their chil-dren fully into their consultations, but find it su~cient to give them some sort of explanation of whatever de-cisions have been made which affect them, after they have been made. Children for their part exercise filial obedience by trusting their parents and accepting their decisions without argument. Between husbands and wives, however, full consultation is the rule. It may oc-casionally happen that a man must make some decision without consulting his wife, because he is not given enough time to get in touch with her, because the de-cision involves some information which he is obliged to keep secret even from her, or for some other reason; but such an action must be seen as exceptional and in need of a good reason to justify it. In normal circumstances it would be positively wrong for a husband to take an important decision without genuine consultation with his wife--and this means listening to her really seri-ously- for she has a right to be consulted; and for that matter it would be wrong for her to refuse to enter .into consultation, for he has a right to her participation in the decision-making and the responsibility that it en-tails. Usually the final result is a decision which they feel comes from both of them-~either a wife or a hus-band will often say "We have decided" to do this or that--and yet from first to last it is understood between them that the husband is the head, and that the final word rests with him. He feels this and accepts the re-sponsibility that it carries with it; the wife feels it, positively wants it, and participates in the discussion, which may become an argument, in such a way as never to challenge her husband's position but rather always to maintain him in it. In view of this we may perhaps sum up a good deal that is being said about the need for dialogue between religious superiors and their subjects by saying that in the past religious superiors often acted as if they were parents and as if their subjects were children, whereas the superior-subject relationship ought to be modeled on that of husband and wife. That is, in the past superiors did not bring the majority of their subjects into their consultations and merely announced decisions to their subjects after they were made, sometimes adding a brief explanation; and subjects exercised a filial obedience by + + + ,Authority and° Obedience VOLUME 27, 1968 611 trusting their superiors and accepting without argument the decisions they made. Now, however, it is everywhere being said that the fullest possible sharing of informa-tion ought to be the rule. Also, while there are times when general discussion is impossible and when su-periors are fully justified in acting on their own, it should be seen as exceptional and as only justified when there are good reasons, for superiors to act without prior consultation of their communities.6 That is, the re-sponsibility for the right government of a community and the carrying out of its work should be shared by all its members--and yet it must be clearly understood and willed by all that the superior is the head of the com-munity, with real authority over its members. In conclusion it might be said, firstly, that present developments are sometimes described--by both those who favor them and those who oppose them--as amount-ing to a change from monarchical to democratic govern-ment in religious orders. It seems better, however, to look for analogies in the family rather than in the po-litical arena, because the family is the fundamental ' human society and also because in the family authority and obedience both plainly spring from love, as they do in the Church. Secondly, it might be said that those who think of the religious superior as essentially analo-gous to a father or mother inevitably see in contemporary developments a weakening of religious authority. If, how- .ever~ they can accept the proposition that the relation-ship between superior and subject is not'as a rule anal-ogous to the parent-child relationship but to the husband-wife relationship, then they will see that con-temporary developments are tending to realize the true nature of religious authority and obedience,, not to weaken them. o Particularly significant, perhaps, is the suggestion which is being made in various quarters that information about the finances of a house and even of a province or an entire order should be made avail-. able to all members of the house, province, or order; for parents do not normally tell their children how much money they have or keep them informed about income and expenses, whereas modern husbands do normally share this information with their wives and discuss finan-cial problems with them. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS SISTER M. RUTH FOX, O.S.B. PrOviding an Atmosphere for Personality Growth in the Postulancy Religious life* has long been regarded by many as a mode of living almost wholly distinct from human life. Religious men and women were often in the past looked upon as creatures set apart to live an angelic life, a life free of all that was naturally human. They actually tried to live this way and tried to form the candidates to this life in the same manner. That is, the candidates were put into a mold when they entered the postulancy, and they spent their lifetime assimilating this mold into their very being. This procedure turned out molded religious who were not angelic nor human--nor happy. Today, however, we once again realize the basic Christian belief that our human nature is the greatest natural gift we have. It is to be enhanced, not destroyed, during our temporal life. Therefore, it does not matter what specific work or way of life we undertake, we all have a vocation to be human first of all. We cannot be Christian, much less religious, unless we are first of all human. This realization is especially important for those re-ligious who have the responsibility of "formation" in their communities. These sisters have been entrusted with the growth and maturity of not one but many human personalities. They should .be aware that it is possible in the first years of religious life to completely stunt the natural personality growth of the candidates. * This article was written with the help and supervision of Leo R. Kennedy, Ph.D., Chairman of the Department of Psychology, Creigh-ton University, Omaha. Dr. Kennedy; who has given professional service to many religious communities of men and women, encouraged the publishing of the article in the hopes that the suggestions con-tained in it would be implemented in Sister Formation prggrams. ÷ ÷ ÷ : Sister M. Ruth Fox, O.S.B., is the postulant directress at Sacred Heart Pri-ory; Richardton, North Dakota 58652. VOkUME 27~ 1968 613 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister M. Ruth REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 614 But on the other hand, it is also possible, and impera-tive, to accept the human personality and to help it grow to its fullest capacity.1 In order to help the postulants achieve a mature per-sonality, the directress must first be aware of the char-acteristics of these young women o{ the 1960's. She should also have a kn6wledge of the process of per-sonalit) growth and the means to encourage proper growth. These topics will be discussed in this article. Who are these young women that come to the postu-lancy in 1968-69? Most of them are in their late teens or early twenties; therefore, they belong to a class of our society commonly called young adults. They are no longer adolescents or teen-agers, or at least they are in the last stages of that group. But neither are they adults. So the postulant directress cannot base her guidance of them on either adolescent or adult psychology exclu-sively, but must choose from both. An excellent way to get to know them is to read current articles written by, on, or for young adults. But the articles must be cur-rent. Even to go back to material written in the 1950's could be detrimental, because our young people have different ways of expressing their needs in the 1960's. Though it is true that the basic needs of human nature do not seem to change, there are certain needs that are either more emphasized now or are expressed differently than they were 5, 10, or 100 years ago. In current writing, today's young adults are classified as the New Breed, the Restless Generation, the Hippies, the Now Generation. But no matter what they are called, their main concerns are fulfillment, personalism, honesty, integrity, authenticity, and love.2 They have been raised in an era of prosperity and plenty. When they ask how to find personal worth, they are only told to take another helping from the silver platter. But they see that materialism does not give any meaning to life. They see the American society as a cold, mechanical, abstract, and emotionally mean-ingless place.3 Because society offers them so little that x W. W. Meissner, S.J., Group Dynamics in the Religious Li/e (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame, 1965) presents a thorough discussion of the community's responsibility to foster growth. ~ See John Evoy, S.J., "How Neurotic is the New Breed?" Catholic Mind, v. 64 (December, 1966), pp. 28-42; Daniel Goulding, "The Rest-less Generation," Vital Speeches ol the Day, v. 32 (1966), pp. 506-508; Andrew Greeley, "A New Breed," America, CX, 21 (1964), pp. 706-709 and "A Farewell to the New Breed," America, CXIV, 23 (1966), pp. 801-804; George Herndl, "Time of the Now Generation," Liberal Education, LIII, 2 (1967); "The Hippies: Philosophy of a Subculture," Time, July 7, 1967, pp. 18-22; Robert Jones, "Man of the Year: The Inheritor," Time, January 6, 1967, pp. 18-23. 3See "Meet the Restless Generation," Changing Times, XXI, 6 (June, 1967), pp. 6-11. is meaningful and relevant, they are often forced into cynicism. But they nonetheless wish they could find val-ues, goals, or institutions to which they could commit themselvesA. They reject formal organization, legalism, and out-moded forms and regulations because these seem to stifle individualism. They want to be concerned with persons as persons.5 Perhaps this accounts for their~ emphasis on love and fulfillment. They desperately want to love and be loved for what they are. But they are afraid they are loved only for what they, do. In fact, they have been raised this way: "Do what I tell you, and I will show you I love.you." So they have no real faith in them-selves as persons, no real proof that they are lovable for what they are. Thus they preach love to the world in a frantic effort to find it in themselves and others. Our young people are deeply committed to decency, tolerance, and brotherhood--not as a goal, but as a reality to be lived now. "This generation has no utopia. Its idea is the happening. Let. it be concrete, let it be vivid, let it be personal. Let it be nowl" n Because tomorrow is so unsure and ever changing, today must be lived to the fullest. Living and experiencing cannot b.e postponed. It must be made to happen now. In summary then, the 1968-69 postulant is a member of the Now Generation who comes to the convent not to be "formed into a religious; she comes to be fulfilled as a person." 7 The goal of fulfillment need not frighten the postu-lant directress if she is aware of the process of per-sonality growth. The fundamental theory that should dominate the planning of formation (or fulfillment) is that the growth and development of the candidate must come from within the person. Growth cannot be di-rected from the outside because each individual must develop in terms of his own inner capacities. "The a~- tempt to produce growth by putting man into a mold or demanding conformity is based on a total misunder-standing of man, of his nature and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. It is sacrificing the person for the con-venience of the system; it is the mechanizing of man. It is a basic lack of respect for the mystery of the human person." 8 If growth and development are individual inner proc- 4 A good presentation of what youth is looking for is found in Erik Erikson, ed., The Challenge of Youth (New York: Doubleday, 1965). ~ Consult the articles by Andrew Greeley mentioned above. o Jones, p. 20. 7 Sister Miriam Rooney, O.P., "The New Breed Enters the Con-vent," C~;oss and Crown, v. 16 (1964), 397. s Paul D'Arcy and Eugene Kennedy, The Genius o] the Apostolate (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1965) p. 5. + ÷ ÷ P o stul ancy " . . VOLUME 27, 1968 615 esses, what is the role of the postulant directress? She must provide the atmosphere in which the maximum growth and development are possible. To do this, she must first of all be aware of the psychological process called ego identity. Although this is a lifelong process in which the self links the past, present, and future into one person, there is a crisis of identity which occurs duri.ng late adolescence. At this time the young person realizes he is leaving the security of childhood and entering the uncertainties of young adulthood. He is wavering be-tween what he was and what he hopes to be.a Thus the postulant is seeking to clarify her understanding of who she is and what her role is to be. She is seeking for a sense of self and self-acceptance. "The adolescent hopes to forge for himself a perspective and direction, to achieve an effective integration out of the remnants of his childhood and the hopes of his anticipated adult-hood. Failure to resolve this crisis can result in neurosis, psychosis, or delinquent behavior." x0 To help the postulant through this identity crisis, the directress must provide her with acceptance and un-derstanding. Experiencing warm acceptance by impor-tant people in one's life is a prerequisite for knowing and accepting oneself. Obviously the important person in the postulant's life is her directress. So if the postu-lant is to grow, she must know she is loved by her superior. This means that the directress must be warm and loving, not just toward the group but toward each individual in the group. She must take each one into her lieart and really love her. She must be so warm and ac-cepting that the postulant would feel free to confide in her all that she was, is, and hopes to be. Each postulant should realize that she would be loved no matter how many unlovable things she may have done or will do. It is in this atmosphere that the girl can admit and accept her feelings and failures. A person who accepts him-self is also secure enough to accept others. So when each postulant can accept herself and the other postulants, a Christian community of love is. Sister M. Ruth REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 616 ~ A complete explanation of the identity process is found in Erik Erikson, lnsight and Responsibility (New York: Norton, 1964) and "Identity and the Life Cycle," Psychological Issues, v. I (New York: International Universities Press, 1959), pp. 111-117, by the same au-thor. The application of the process to religious life is found in Walter DeBont, O.P., "Identity Crisis and the Male Novice," Rrw~w roR RELigiOUS, v. 21 (1962), pp. 104-128; Barry McLaughlin, S.J., Nature, Grace, and Religious Development (Westminster: Newman, 1964); and Sister Thomas More, C.S.J., "Self Identification and Religious Li~e," in The Retreat Master Faces the Nun in the Modern World, ed. John Powell and others (St. MarTs, Kansas: St. Mary's College, 1965). ~ McLaughlin, p. $4. formed. Having experienced a sense of love and security in the postulancy, the young woman is better prepared to be an apostle of love. Not only should the directress be warm and loving, but the very surroundings in the convent should reflect this feminine warmth. Why can't postulancies (and con-vents) look homey? Warmth and growth would be en-couraged by such things as colorful drapes on the windows; a vase of flowers on the table, pictures '(not just saints!) on the wall, end tables cluttered with cur-rent magazines and newspapers, family photographs on the piano, a knitting bag on the floor. If we have nor-mal healthy conditions, we will. foster normal healthy growth. Many times, normal people leave our convents because they cannot lead abnormal lives in abnormal living conditions. Let's keep the normal ones111 In an atmosphere of warmth and affection, the postu-lant will feel more free to be herself, and her per-sonality will thus grow in a healthful manner. To make her growth and establishment of identity easier, the directress should realize another difficulty that the postu-lant faces. If the girl experienced normal adolescent de-velopment, she probably established a certain sense of identity before her entrance into the convent. She had a secure place in her family and probably had definite responsibilities to fulfill at home. She possessed ~a certain status in her peer group and perhaps held offices of importance in her high school or college. But in entering the religious community, all these former securities and relationships are either greatly modified or broken en-tirely. She is no longer able to live her identity in the same way. Therefore, to give her a sense of security and continuity, couldn't these healthy relationships be al-lowed to continue? The postulant's family was the main environment for her personality growth since birth. Should it suddenly be .discarded as if it were no longer of value? "The breakdown of family ties magnifies the identity crisis." 12 Thus the postulant's family should feel free and welcome to visit her anytime. Frequent letters should be en-couraged. Perhaps she could go home for weddings, graduations, anniversaries, and an occasional weekend. There is no apparent reason for cutting off all ties with her former friends either. Letters should be allowed to come and go without inspection or limitation. As the postulant gets involved with college and new friend- ~ See Eugene Kenned)', M.M., "Differentiated Discipline in the Seminary," National Catholic Education Association Bulletin, LX, 1 (August, 1964), pp. 79--89. m Joseph Simmons, C.S.C., "The Catholic College Student: His War against Protection," Ave Maria, CIV, 16 (October 15, 1966), p. 6. 4. 4- Postulancy VOLUME 27, 1968 617 ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister M. Ruth REVIEW FOR REI;IGIOUS 618 ships, the letters will gradually decrease. Perhaps rthe postulant's closest friends could spend a weekend with her at the convent. (This would not only .be good for ,her, but also for the convent's public relations program.) Discarding uniforms for the postulants might also favor personality growth. If the postulant continues ¯ wearing' the same dresses she wore before entrance, she has another source of security. At a time when many former securities are left behind, this will give her a sense of identity with her past. It might also help to abolish the notion that "the habit makes the nun." Such a notion is harmful because the postulant may ex-pect the uniform to produce automatic changes in her behavior. She is thus disappointed in herself and in the life when she discovers that she remains the same per-son. Perhaps there is a reason for the donning of a habit at the time of reception into the ,novitiate or at profes-sion of vows. But it seems that at this time of identity crisis, the postulant would be "more secure in her own clothing. Obedience also poses a problem for the directress and the postulants. Today's youth feel that obedience de-stroys their freedom and perhaps smothers their in-dividual identity. They will ordinarily not refuse to obey; but before carrying out a command, they want to sit down and discuss th~ "why" of it with the superior. This is not to be taken as disrespect or unwillingness to obey. They only wish to obey in a more human manner by understanding what they are doing.13 When they un-derstand, they are able to commit themselves to the deed in a responsible manner. If the directress can find no r~asonable answer to the postulant's question, "Why should I~do this?" perhaps it should not be done. Even occasional rebellion on the part of an individual may be a healthy assertion of self. Though often referred to as obedience, strict ad-herence to rules and schedules is frequently an escape from responsible, decision making. Directresses should provide as many opportunities as possible for the postu-lants to make their own decisions. It is difficult to see how this can be accomplished if every minute of the day is scheduled for the girls. Other college girls of their age devise their own schedules. They decide the times to study, to write letters, to ~lean their rooms, to retire. A postulant- will soon learn that if she spends all her study time reading novels or watching TV, she will begin to fail in her college classes. She learns this through per-sonal expgrience the hard way. But this is much more ~ See Stafford Poole, C.M., "The New Breed and the Old Semi-nary," Jubilee, XIII, 2 (June, 1965), pp. 8-13. effective in producing healthy growth in responsibility than if she were simply told the first night in the con-vent: "We study from 8:00 to I0:00 every night." The minimizing of rules and scheduled living is not a relaxation. It is just putting responsibility where it be-longs, on the person. It is changing enforced discipline to self-discipline. Related to rules and schedules is the assignment of household chores such as cleani.ng, ironing, and washing dishes. It is certainly profitable for all members of a community to participate in keeping house. These tasks should be looked upon as means of serving the other members o[ the community. Again, as much initiative as possible should be left to the girls in deciding when and how to do the work. They could also decide among themselves who would do what, and how often they wanted to exchange tasks. These are just a few of the small but important ways in which postulants can be encouraged to grow in maturity. "When we take youngsters out of high school who are still adolescents--a rebellious stage, still longing for adult status--and never let them get a taste of what it means to be an adult, what can we expect but that they will be unhappy subjects." 14 Too often, our candi-dates are not only kept in adolescence, but are even thrown back to childhood. We can help them grow into adulthood simply by giving them trust and responsi-bility. 15 However, there is really not much initiative and re-sponsibility involved in pushing a broom, and a young woman's need for self-actualization is not met in this way. College girls of our day see themselves as creative and productive, and they have great social concern.1~ They want challenging and difficult work with little intervention from others. If they are not stimulated in this direction, they may withdraw into themselves or develop other signs of maladjustment. If we wish to have zealous sisters, we must not let this youthful enthusiasm of the postulant wither while she is busy writing term papers and wiping dishes. Since she is a member of the Now Generation, she wants to do something meaningful for others now. She wants to undertake a task where there is a definite need for her services and self. In doing a~ John Evoy, S.J., and Van Cristoph, S.J., Personality Development in the Religious LiIe (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), p. 183. an A very helpful book is Psychological Aspects of Spiritual Develop-ment, Michael O'Brien and Raymond Steimel, ed., (Washington: Catholic University of America Press, 1964). a0 See Elizabeth Monroe Drews, "Counseling for Self-actualization in Gifted Girls and Young Women," Journal of Counseling Psy-chology, XII, 2 (Summer, 1965), pp. 167-175. ÷ ÷ ÷ P ostulancy VOLUME 27, 1968 619 Sister M. ~ Ruth REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 620 a task in which she i~ needed, the young woman comes to 'see her own personal worth. "Every man needs to know that he has an intrinsic' value, that he is im-portant, worthwhile." lz It often happens in the religious life that people who want to do great things are de-mobilized. But it should be realized that it is a sign of health if a person longs to do something important with his life.is Since postulants are expected to be normal young women, they should be allowed to fulfill this normal need by doing something meaningful for others. Op-portunities within the convent can be found to satisfy some of this need. The older sisters, especially those in the infirmary, need and appreciate the friendship of youth. And youth, in turn, can profit greatly from the wisdom and experience of age. The postulants should be permitted the enrichment of their personalities by close association with all the other members of the com-munity. A meaningful apostolate for action should also be sought outside the convent. Some areas of investigation might be the parish CCD program, high school or young adult discussion clubs, Newman Club, homes for the aged, hospitals, schools, and so forth. Of course, these are only temporary apostolates, but they will satisfy the need for meaningful action now. Howevdr, the postulant must also be well aware of the !ongterm goal toward which she is working. That is, she should have some idea of her future status in the com-munity so that she sees her future role in the group as an important one, one that is worthwhile waiting for. In the fulfillment of self-enjoined and community-appointed apostolates, the postulant will reveal her psy-chological maturity. The directress should watch for manifestations of inferidrity feelings, egotism, undue competitiveness, hbstility, rigidity, and a false sense of reality.~9 Because the girls are not conforming to rigid standards of performance, their personal strengths and weaknesses will appear. The directress can then counsel them accordingly and either help them to grow toward maturity or to realize that they would find greater ful-fillment in another way of life. One other means of providing an atmosphere favor-able to personality growth will be mentioned. Postu-lants, like other normal young women, negd to be free to agsociate with young people of their own age who are 1~Thomas Dubay, S.M., "Psychological Needs in the Religious Context," REvmw FOR Ra~LIGXOUS, V. 21 (1962), p. 525. ~s Refer' to the article by Eugene Kennedy noted above. ~ Trafford Maher, s.J., Lest We Build on Sand, (St. Louis: Catholic Hospital Association, 1962), pp. 203-208. not necessarily in the religious state. Means should some-how be provided for them to meet and make friends out-side the convent on an intellectual and social level. They will grow through these new interpersonal relationships, for in growing concerned and interested in others, there is a loss of self-centeredness. In listening to the prob-lems of a new college girl friend, the postulant may come to appreciate her own life more. And in relating to a boy of her own age, she will grow in maturity and womanliness. Yes, the postulant should have contact with boys. She grew up amid boys in her family, neighborhood,: and school. She hopefully had the experience of dating. Now after she enters the convent, why should the sight of a person of the opposite sex be denied her? Will the sight of a boy suddenly be harmful to her? It would be so much healthier if she could continue to relate to young men of her own age especially. In relating to them, she grows in femininity, which is very important to her as a young woman. If there is a danger to chastity, if the postulant is not able to control her sexual drives, then it is certainly best for her and for the community to find this out soon. How sad it is for women who have taken vows to discover they cannot speak to a man on the school faculty or a doctor on the staff without becom-ing either rigid and afraid or sexually stimulated. To permit these healthful relationships with other young people, the postulants could be permitted tO at-tend (sometimes without their directress) Newman Club gatherings, interfaith meetings, weekend retreats, and an occasional evening concert or drama. Healthful personality growth in the convent does not just happen. The proper atmosphere has to be prepared and sustained. This is the task of the postulant di-rectress. She must know the characteristics and needs of the young women she is guiding. She must accept and love them unconditionally and provide them with op-portunities for growth in love, responsibility, and womanliness. "Every state in life is meant to lead its followers to a rich personality development together with (and we might add because of) their achievement of the beatific vision of the divine Trinity." ~0 SUPPLEMENTARY ]~IBLIOGRAPHY Allport, Gordon. Pattern and Growth in Personality. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1961. Cameron, Norman. Personality Development and Psychopathol-ogy: A Dynamic Approach. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1963. Edward Carney, OSFS. "The Seminary Rule," National Catholic ~0 Dubay, p. 523. ÷ ÷ Pos~laney VOLUME 27, 1%8 62] Education Association Bulletin, LXIII, 1 (August, 1966), 108-114. D'Arcy, Paul."'Differentlated Seminary Discipline," NCEA Bul-letin, LX, 1 (August, 1964), 85-91. Dignan, Sister Howard, B.V.M. "Identity and Change in Re-ligious Life," RrvIEw fOR RV.LICIOUS, XXV, 4 (July, 1966), 669-677. Dondero, Autin, F.S.C. No Borrowed Light: Mental Health for Religious. Milwaukee: Bruce, 1965. Frick, Willard. "Healthy Interpersonal Relationships'. an Ex-ploratory Study," Journal of Individual Psychology, XXIII, 1 (May, 1967), 59-66. Gallen, Joseph, s.J., "Femininity and Spirituality," REVIEW for RrL~G~OUS, XX, 4 (July, 1964), 237-256. Goldberg, Arthur. "J.uvenatrics'. Study of Prolonged Adoles-cence," The Cleartng House, XLI, 5 (December, 1966), 218- 222. Hargadon, Kevin, F.S.C. "Psychological Requirement for Re-ligious Vocation," National Catholic Guidance Conference Journal, X, 4 (Summer, 1966), 271-279. Huyghe, Gerard. Tension and Change: The Problems of Re-ligious Orders Today. Westminster: Newman, 1966. McKinney, Fred. Psychology o[ Personal ~ld]ustment. New York: Wiley, 1941. Maher, Trafford, S.J. Self--.4 Measureless Sea (Cou.nseling: Theory and Practice). St. Louis: Catholic Hospital Associa-tion, 1966. Regan, Francis. "Authority and Obedience in Seminary Train-ing," NCE/1 Bulletin, LXIII, 1 (August, 1966), 103-107. Rogers, Carl. On Becoming a Person. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1960. Schneiders, Alexander. "Adolescence and the Challenge of Ma-turity," National Catholic Guidance ConIerence Journal, X, 2 (Winter, 1966), 109-117. Simmons, Joseph, C.S.C. "Seminary as Institution," Catholic Education Review, LXIV, 26 (February 1966), 97-105. Stafford, John, C.S.V. "The Religious Rule and Psychological Development," Rrvxv.w voR R~ioIo~s, XXV, 2 (March, 1966), 294-304. Van Kaam, Adrian. Personality Fulfillment in the Religious Life. ~.Vilkes-Barre: Dimension Books, 1967. Walters, Sister Annette, S.C.J. "Attitudes, Values, and Motiva-tional Systems of the American Catholic Woman College Student," Catholic Psychological Record, IV, 1 (Spring, 1966), 20-34. Wilson, C. R. "Self-Acceptance and Religious Security," R~vi~w vo~ R~Lxcxoos, XXI, 6 (November, 1962), 555-559. 4- 4- $i~t~r M." Ruth REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS JOSEPH F. GALLEN, S.J. Proper Juridical Articles of.Constitutions In the article, "Constitutions without Canons," REw~.w fOR R~.LIOIOUS, May, 1968, the purpose was to eliminate as far as possible the canons or laws of the Church from the constitutions of congregations of sisters and brothers. The result would be that the constitutions would almost completely consist of laws proper to the particular institute, which is the nature and definition of constitntions. These proper juridical laws are n~cessary determinations of matters that are undetermined in canon law or' matters over and above the norms of canon law. It was also advised in the same article that all detailed matters now found in constitutions should be placed in the custom book or in a similar book. The present article lists in 'the first section the juridical topics of proper law that should be in the constitutions, and in the second section gives added matters that I now believe should also be placed in the custom book, that is, matters over and above those put in the custom book in the "Constitutions Without Canons" article. The number in parenthesis after each topic is that of the corresponding article in "Typical Constitutions of Lay Religious Congregations," RrwEw for REL~C~OUS, 25 (1966), 361--~57. The vote of a council is mentioned in the first sec-tion for the purpose of information, but we recom-mended in the "Constitutions without Canons" article that all votes of councils be confined to lists in the cus-tom book. The listing of the matters proper to each institute will also enable all o[ these to make a more accurate study of the juridical matters that should constitute the proper law of an institute. This can result ultimately at least in the increase,or decrease o[ the matters listed in this article. A close study of this aspect was not too easy ÷ ÷ ÷ Joseph F. Gallen, $.J.," writes ~rom St. Joseph's Church; ~1 Willings Alley; Philadelphia, Penn-sylvania VOLUME 27, 1968 in the past due to the large number of canons contained in the constitutions. I. MATTERS THAT MUST BE l~TAINED IN THE CONSTITUTIONS ]oseph F. Gallen, s.l. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 1. General purpose (1) 2. Special purpose (2) 3. Authorization necessary [or a change in the special purpose or in the particular works (3-4) 4. Classes of members (5)1 5. Authorization necessary for a change in the reli-gious habit (16) 6. Superior competent to admit to the postulancy and any vote of a council (38)2 7. Duration of postulancy beyond six months (40) 8. Higher superior competent' to prolong the postu-lancy and any vote of a council (40); to abbreviate a postulancy longer than six months and any vote of a council (40)3 9, Superior competent to dismiss a postulant and any vote of a council (38)4 1 "Unless the state of affairs suggests otherwise, care must be taken to produce in women's communities a single category of sisters" (Ab-bott- Gallagher, The Documents oI Vatican li [paperback edition], 478). * The Code of Canon Law contains no legislation concerning the superior competent to admit to the postulancy. The matter is there-fore governed by the particular constitutions. In the modern practice of the Holy See the mother general has the right of admission when the congregation is not divided into provinces; if such a division exists, this right is given to the higher superiors or to the mother general for the entire congregation and to the mothers provincial for their own provinces. In the latter type of congregation the right is sometimes given only to the mother general. A very small number of congregations demand the consultative vote of the respective council and an equally small number prescribe a deliberative vote. * Canon 539, § 2, gives the right of prolonging the postulancy to higher superiors. In the constitutions the higher superior who has the right of admission is also the one who has the right of prolonga-tion. Therefore, this matter was explained in the preceding note, and the statements there made on the consultative' and deliberative vote are also applicable here. Recent constitutiofis permit the mother general, provincial, or higher superiors to abbreviate a postulancy longer than six months provided a postulancy of six months is preserved. At times no vote, th( consultative, or even the deliberative vote o[ the respective council has been prescribed for the abbreviation (REVIEW for RELI¢IOVS, 21 [1962], 409). * In the practice o[ the Sacred Congregation of Religious, the dis-missal of postulants is reserved in the same manner as admission to higher superiors. Some constitutions demand a consultative vote of the council for dismissal even though no vote was required for ad-mission. A few constitutions give a local superior the right of dis-missing a postulant in an urgent case. I0. Higher superior competent to admit to the novice-ship and vote of a council (44)5 11. Authority competen.t for the establishment or transfer of a novitiate (46) 12. Necessity or advisability of a novitiate in each province (47)° 13. Duration of a noviceship beyond a year (50)7 14. Authority competent to dispense from the second year of noviceship (50) 15. Manner of beginning the noviceship (52) 16. Superior competent for the dismissal of a novice and any vote of a council (67)s "In virtue of canon 543 admission to the noviceship appertains to a higher superior, and consequently to the mother general or provincial in a centralized institute, to the superior of a monastery of nuns, and to the mother superior in a congregation that has a similar monastic structure. The same canon demands that the council or chapter have a vote in this admission. The particular constitutions decide whether the council or the chapter has the vote. In centralized institutes the council will always have the vote; in monasteries of nuns and insti. tutes of similar structure the chapter has the vote, but there can be also a previous vote of the council. It is likewise left to the constitu-tions to determine whether this vote of the council or chapter is deliberative or consultative. According to the ordinary practice of the Sacred Congregation the vote is deliberative, but in a few congre-gations it is only consultative. Congregations divided into provinces can have variations. The competent higher superior is frequently the mother provincial with the deliberative vote of her council, but often this must be supple-mented by the confirmation, approval, or consent'of the mother general either alone or with the deliberative or consultative vote of the general council. In other constitutions admission appertains to the mother general or the higher superior with the deliberative or consultative vote of the council, and, finally, in some institutes the mother provincial with the deliberative vote of her council merely proposes the admission to the mother general, who admits with the deliberative vote of her council. ~ Canon law does not oblige each province to have its own novitb ate, but the constitutions impose this obligation either absolutely or as far as it is possible. The Normae of 1901 stated that it was appro-priate for each province to have its own novitiate (n. 303). ¢ Canon 555, § 2, states that a period beyond a year demanded for the noviceship by the particular constitutions is not required for validity unless this is expressly stated in the constitutions. In practice it is required only for liceity. This longer period is practically always two years, but a few institutes have a noviceship of eighteen months. S According to canon'571, § 1, the competent authority for the dismissal of a novice is the superior or the chapter according to the constitutions. In the practice of the Sacred Congregation, the dis-missal of a novice is reserved to higher superiors with the vote of the council, which is more frequently consultative than deliberative. In congregations without provinces, this higher superior is the mother general. In congregations with provinces, the right is more frequently reserved to the mother general, but in some institutes it is given to the higher superior or the mother provincial. When the right is reserved to the mother general, the constitutions at times enact that the mother provincial and her council are to be con-sulted. Constitutions VOLUME 27, 1968 ÷ ÷ ÷ SJ. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 17. Superior competent for the prolongation of the noviceship and any vote of a council (68)9 18. Duration. of temporary vows beyond three years; length of each temporary profession, for example, one of three, another of two years, or vice versa; five annual professions, and so forth (72) 19. Higher superior competent to admit to the pro-fessions, to prolong temporary profession, and vote of a council (73)1° ~ Canon 571, § 2, gives the right of prolongation of the noviceship to higher superiors but does not prescribe any vote of the council. Great variety is found in this matter in constitutions. In congregations without provinces, the right appertains to the mother general. The constitutions often demand no vote but in some the consultative and less frequently the deliberative vote of the council is prescribed. In congregations divided into provinces, the right of prolongation is given to the higher superior or the mother general, alone or with the consultative or deliberative vote of the respective council. 10 In virtue of canon 543, only a higher superior is competent to admit to any religious profession, whether temporary (first, renewal, or prolongation), or perpetual (solemn or simple). The competent higher superior is the mother superior in a congregation that has the monastic'structure and the mother general in a~centralized congrega-tion that is not divided into pr6vinces. In a congregation that has provinces, the constitutions determine whether the one admitting is the mother general or the mother provincial. Such constitutions fre-quently reserve the admissions to all professions to the mother gen-eral. This right is often given also to the mother provincial or higher superiors. Frequently also, and especially for perpetual profession, the mother provincial admits but her admission mnst be confirmed by the mother general. In a few institutes, at least sonde admissions ap-pertain to the mother general and her council but the request for the admission is made by the mother provincial with her council, for example, with the deliberative vote of this council for admiss!on to first temporary profession. If the constitutions do not determine the legitimate higher superior for the prolongation of temporary vows (c. 574, § 2), this appertains to the higher superior who has the right of admitting to either temporary or perpetual profession, but more probably to the latter when the higher superior for both of these admissions is not the same in the law of the constitutions. Canon 543 demands that there be a vote of the council or chapter, without specifying whether the vote is to be deliberative or consulta-tive, for admission to first temporary profession and perpetual pro-fession, whether simple 9r solemn, but not for the renewal of tem-porary vows nor for the prolongation of temporary profession. Canon 575, § 2, demands that the vote for the first temporary profession be deliberative, which is also to be extended to institutes in which the first profession is perpetual by privilege. The same canon appears to prescribe that the vote for the perpetual profession, simple or solemn, be only consultative; but the Holy See in approving consti-tutions interprets the canon as permitting a deliberative vote. There-fore, the Code of Canon Law permits either a consultative or delibera-tive vote for perpetual profession. In centralized congregations the council of the competent higher superior always has the vote. In congregations that have the monastic structure, the chapter has the vote; but there can also be a previous vote of the council. In the constitutions of centralized congregations: (1) the vote of the council.for the first temporary prgfession must be deliberative by reason of canon 575, § 2; (2) for renewals of temporary professions the constitutions commonly prescribe the consultative 20. Superior competent to permit an anticipated re-newal of temporary vows and any vote of a council (78)11 21. Authority competent to dispense from duration of temporary vows beyond three years (74) 22. Superior competent to receive the vows (74) 23. Formula of professions (75) 24. Definition of the vow of poverty (82) 25. Prescription on common life with regard to pov-erty (93) 26. Definition of the vow of chastity (94) 27. Definition of the vow of obedience (95-6, 100) 28. Obligation to obey constitutions and other orders of superiors (99) 29. Superior competent to exclude from renewing temporary vows or from making perpetual profession and any vote of a council (152)t-° 30. (Diocesan) A petition for dismissal of a professed of temporary vows must be made by the mother general and any vote of her council (155)la 31. Previous judgment on the incorrigibility and dis-missal of a. professed of perpetual vows and vote of coun-cil (158)a4 32. Superior competent for the declaration of fact in an automatic dismissal and vote of council (161)15 vote; (3) for the prolongation of temporary vows, the constitutions more frequently demand no vote but some require the consultative and a few the deliberative vote; (4) for perpetual profession the vote prescribed by the constitutions is practically always consultative. a According to canon 577, § 2, an anticipation as such may be per-mitted by any superior, whether a higher or minor local. However, this right is only to admit an anticipation. Since the renewal is a juridical profession, all the requisites of such a profession must be observed, and therefore the admission must be made by the compe-tent higher superior according to the constitutions, as explained in the preceding note. In constitutions an anticipation is usually re-served to a higher superior or to a particular higher superior. ~ Canon 637 leaves to the constitutions the determination of the superior competent for exclusion. The constitutions usually assign this right to the superior general with the consultative vote of her couucil, but a few demand the deliberative vote. A small number of constitutions give this power to the provincial or higher superiors cither alone or with the consultative or, less frequently, the delibera-tive vote of the council (REvmw FOR RELIGIOUS, 25 [1966], 391). ~ In a diocesan congregation the superior general will present the petition for a dismissal to the local ordinary, but the constitutions will frequently require the consultative or deliberative vote of her council for such a petition (REVIEW fOR RELmtOUS, 16 [1957], 272). x, Canon law does not clearly demand the intervention of the mother general nor of her council in the dismissal of a professed of perpetual vows. However, from analogy with the law on the dismis-sal of religious men of perpetual vows and the constant practice of the Sacred Congregation of Religious in the approval of constitutions, the dismissal of a professed woman of perpetual vows in both pon-tifical and diocesan congregations is to be referred to the mot

Issue 71.1 of the Review for Religious, 2012. This was the final issue. ; Volume 71 2012 Editor Michael G. Harter sj Associate Editor Garth L. Hallett sj Book Review Editor Rosemary Jermann Scripture Scope Eugene Hensell osb Editorial Staff Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp e v i e w f o r r e l i g i o u s A Journal of Catholic Spirituality contents prisms 4 Prisms Ignatian spirituality 8 Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? We Are Sent Kathleen Hughes rscj explores the provocative parallels between the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises and the four-part rhythm of the Eucharist as two ways we are caught up in the work of God in Christ, and two invitations to replicate the whole life, death, and rising of Jesus. This article was one of the keynote presentations at Ignatian Spirituality Conference V held in St. Louis, Missouri, July 21-24, 2011. 29 Without the Drama: The Transition from Third to Fourth Week Ronald Mercier sj explores how those who make the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius are invited to enter into a grand silence where they contemplate the empty space without answers that follows the crucifixion—the space that remains the context of our lives, the place of our ministries, and the space within which joy dawns for those who know the Risen Lord. Questions for Reflection 58 Finding or Seeking God in All Things: A Few Cautionary Notes Peter J. Schineller sj researches the phrase "finding God in all things," common in writings about Ignatian spirituality, and discovers that it is rare in the writings of Ignatius. He finds that phrases such as "searching for and seeking God in all things" more accurately describe the Ignatian approach. 2 Review for Religious sharing experience 69 The Warmth, the Will, and the Way Ben Harrison mc is discovering that it helps him be more consistent in his spiritual journey if he is attentive to the warmth of the Spirit's presence in his heart and to the vows as an expression of the will to move deeper in his relationship with God. 78 Getting with the Program A young man writes of his experience of coming to terms during the novitiate with his addiction to pornography. This article could be used profitably as a case study during a novitiate class or read as background for a community discussion. Questions for Personal Reflection and Group Study discernment models 86 Dialogue with the Radically Other: Models of Discernment in the Old Testament Ligita Ryliskyte md phd sje explores the rich imagery of the Old Testament and offers valuable paradigms to understand spiritual discernment as a dialogue with God. In this essay she describes four models of discernment that might be distinguished in Old Testament imagery. departments 100 Scripture Scope: Vocation and the Call to Discipleship: A Reflection on Mark 1:16-20 105 Book Reviews 71.1 2012 3 Review for Religious prisms 4 A wise man once said: "It's a shame to waste a good crisis." If that is true, Review for Religious is facing a moment of great opportunity. In recent years the number of subscribers has steadily fallen off, and the cost of publication has risen to the point that our future as a print journal is in jeop-ardy. The recent deaths of Fathers Fischer and Fleming have taken their toll. We have reached a critical point in our history. When my provincial assigned me to succeed David Fleming as editor, he gave me a specific mission: Assess the viability of the publication. So for the past year, the staff and our advisory board have taken that mission seriously even as we worked to meet our ordinary production schedule. While we all hoped to be able to keep this good work alive, the real goal of our discernment was not to save or to close the journal, but to explore ways to more effectively serve the church. In the past months we have consulted widely. We looked at the shifting demographics of reli-gious life and understood that younger reli-gious are getting more of their information on 71.1 2012 5 the Internet than through printed periodicals. We sorted through spreadsheets of detailed financial information. We looked hard at our available resources and realized that we could sustain publication of the journal in its present format for a maximum of three to five years. The hand-writing on the wall could not be clearer: Simply maintain-ing operations as they are will inevitably lead to closure. Maintenance, without change, is not an option. Part of our analysis took us back to look at our history. Our journal came into being in 1941 at a Jesuit theolo-gate in St. Marys, Kansas, where three enterprising faculty members—Augustine Ellard, Adam Ellis, and Gerald Kelly (later joined by Henry Willmering)—invited their students to edit and publish the papers they wrote as class assignments in what became the early incarnation of this journal which has served the church and religious life proudly for the past 70 years. Richard Smith, Daniel F. X. Meenan, Philip Fischer and David Fleming edited the publi-cation over the subsequent decades. Since Review for Religious was founded at a small theology school, we began exploring the idea that a theology center, rather than the confines of our office, would be a more logical site for the publication of this journal. As we realized that a network of theology centers around the world linked through the Internet could have great potential for producing articles and generating lively discussion, we began exploring that path. We contacted the moderators of Jesuit Conferences that have significant centers of religious formation in Africa, India, and the Asia-Pacific region—in parts of the world Augustine Ellard, Adam Ellis, Gerald Kelly, Henry Willmering Review for Religious Author • Title 6 where religious life is growing—to see if any of them would have an interest in assuming responsibility for the journal. As a result of our inquiries, we are engaged in a conversa-tion with just such a center about continuing the mission of Review for Religious. We are not looking to replicate the journal as it cur-rently exists, but are talking about re-envisioning and re-designing it with current and future generations of religious in mind. As a result of our discussions and discernment, we have determined that this copy of Review for Religious is the final issue that will be produced by our St. Louis office. Whether the journal remains as a print publication, or is redesigned for delivery on the Internet, or ceases publication altogether is yet to be determined. In the meantime, we are suspending publication and putting a moratorium on renewals or new subscriptions until our discernment is completed. To say that we have reached the end is premature. A hiatus or pause is a more accurate description. As Ron Mercier points out in his article in this issue, a rest is as important a part of a musical score as is a chord or a whole string of arpeggios. And such a time of waiting can be a rich moment. We are not sitting idly while the discussion goes on but are in the process of digitizing our entire collection. We plan to make every article, poem, and book review we have published available on the Internet. It should be an invalu- Richard Smith, Daniel Meenan, Philip Fischer, and David Fleming. 71.1 2012 7 able archive for anyone wishing to research the shifts in religious life during the past 70 years. I am grateful to our current staff: Mary Ann Foppe, who has been the office manager for the past 25 years; Judy Sharp, our receptionist, who has handled subscriptions; Rosemary Jermann, who has written the Bookshelf column; Garth Hallett sj, who has served as Associate Editor; Tracy Gramm, who has done layout and graphic design. I have appreciated Ed Hensell osb, Elizabeth McDonough op, Richard Hill sj, and Joseph Gallen sj, who have provided regular columns over the years, and Jean Read, Iris Ann Ledden ssnd, Regina Siegfried asc, Claire Boehmer asc, Joe Meek, and many oth-ers who have made major behind-the-scenes contri-butions. They have been an excellent staff. We are grateful to the countless number of con-tributors who have sent us manuscripts and poetry for our consideration. They helped us keep our finger on the pulse of religious life. And finally, we thank you, our faithful subscribers. We are grateful for your support, and we trust that we have been an important resource for you over the years. Please read the inside of the back cover of this issue. It contains details about how to keep informed about the progress of our discernment. We will notify each subscriber about the outcome of that discernment. Please pray that the Spirit will lead us to a good conclusion. Michael Harter SJ Rosemary Jermann, Mary Ann Foppe, Tracy Gramm, Judy Sharp and Michael Harter Review for Religious Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? We Are Sent I need to begin with a confession. I was given an assignment to speak about the Eucharist, particularly as it describes a way of life flowing from Weeks Three and Four of the Exercises. I am not an expert on the Spiritual Exercises, but I have been a student of the Eucharist for many decades, so I was happy to think about this topic. And, though the talk was still non-existent, a description had to be prepared for the program booklet. Many of you have prob-ably had the same experience. You make up a description of a talk right out of thin air, hop-ing to be sufficiently generic so you can talk about almost anything at all. kathleen hughes ignatian spirituality 8 Kathleen Hughes rscj, former professor of Word and Worship at the Catholic Theological Union in Chicago and former provincial of her order's United States prov-ince, is currently a mission consultant in the Network of Sacred Heart Schools. Her address is 541 S. Mason Road; St. Louis, Missouri 63141. 71.1 2012 9 But a funny thing happened to me on the way to the topic assigned. I took a detour. I stumbled onto what I regard as an amazing new insight about how the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises mirror each other. At first I thought I was the last to arrive. Then I checked with those who have far greater familiarity with the literature on the Spiritual Exercises, and no one had heard any reflection on such a topic. That, too, gave me pause and left me wondering how far out on a limb I was climbing. Nevertheless, here's the insight I want to develop in the first part of this talk: there seems to be a quite provocative parallel between the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises and the four-part rhythm of the Eucharist. The gathering rites of the Eucharist include elements of praise and penitence, as are typical of movements in Week One of the Spiritual Exercises; the Liturgy of the Word is the gradual unfolding of the person and work of Jesus Christ, as occurs in Week Two; the Liturgy of the Eucharist, the celebration of Jesus' death for the life of the world, is the heart of Week Three; and the concluding rites of the Eucharist have an affinity with the rhythms of Week Four. In these pages I intend to develop this thesis in more detail, hoping in the process to give fresh insight into God's activity in these two parallel celebrations of the paschal mystery—these two ways we are being caught up in the work of God in Christ. Then I will move to a focus on the Eucharist itself, as it flows from Week Three, incarnates the intimacy of Week Four, and remains the abiding experience of consolation, chal-lenge, and invitation to faithful living, parallel to leav-ing retreat and picking up everyday life. Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 10 Part I: Parallels Overview First, then, before we look at the Four Weeks of the Spiritual Exercises and the four parts of the Eucharist in more detail, let me offer an overview of the resonances I've discovered between them. Both the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises are a series of movements or stages that, negotiated with grace, realize the Christian ideal of identification with Christ. Both are invitations to conversion; both, at their heart, are offers of holi-ness and transformation. Both the Exercises and the Eucharist have a basic psychological rhythm that facili-tates growth in the spiritual life. The Exercises and the Eucharist as we know them only gradually evolved to their present form. The Exercises began as jottings in Ignatius's personal notebook—conso-lations, desolations, graces received—and this collec-tion of insights developed into a practical manual as Ignatius gave them to oth-ers and learned from their experience. They remain a core series of spiritual exercises that are endlessly flexible as enfleshed in the lives of individuals. The Eucharist, too, is the result of a gradual evolution over time around the core of readings and the breaking of bread, making every age and every human commu-nity a fresh inculturation of a basic pattern. Happily, in our day the basic four-part structure of gathering, listening, responding, and sending has been recovered in the liturgical reforms of the Second Vatican Council. Both the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises interrupt our ordinary time with extraordinary grace. 71.1 2012 11 Interestingly, both the Exercises and the Eucharist are filled with words, indeed with dialogue, and with spaces of silence. Both also make appeal to all of our senses and stir up mystagogical insights in those who are attentive. Both the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises interrupt our ordinary time with extraordinary grace; they help us to make sense of our life as it is unfolding before the living God. And both the Eucharist and the Exercises send us to live, in deed, what we have just experienced in this time of encounter with the divine. Finally, both these patterns of prayer follow, for most of us, familiar and predictable dynamics and so, for each, we need the grace to pay attention, to move beyond the familiar in order to get inside the mysteries. The First Week and the Gathering Rites of the Eucharist We come to retreat or to Eucharist just as we are, and we bring our history and our particular world with us into this sacred time and place. We come, sometimes breathlessly, from the work we have just left behind and the preoccupations that fill our minds and hearts. We come always with unfinished business and with distrac-tions, even burdens, of body and spirit. We come with our crosses and our inexhaustible needs. We come because we are drawn to a time and space of intimacy and prayer, of encounter with the Lord who will tutor our hearts, of transformation to new and deeper life. We come to be nourished. We come remembering God's goodness and God's fidelity to us, no matter our own response. We come hoping to touch our finger to the flame once again, placing ourselves, for this span of time, on holy ground. God's unconditional and ever-faithful love perme-ates our awareness in Week One. Each one of us has Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 12 been blessed with divine life; God's creative activity has showered each of us in unique ways and has supported and sustained us throughout our lives. In face of the immense goodness of God, we acknowledge our inade-quate response; we know that sin has hindered our rela-tionships with self and others and, above all, with God. Week One provides the opportunity to recognize sin as our failure to respond with love to God always present, to express our own sorrow and repentance, and then to know God's ever-greater love, mercy, and forgiveness. We reflect on our lives in light of God's boundless love for us, knowing that God wants to free us of everything that gets in the way of a loving response. The focus is less on particular sins than on our relationship with God that has been damaged, perhaps even shattered. Yet it is a relationship always available, for God longs for intimacy with us far more than we could ask or even imagine. Our personal history gives us hope: God is filled with mercy and compassion, slow to anger, full of kindness. God's response to our repentance is mercy and forgiveness. By the end of the First Week, we know ourselves as sinners, loved and rescued by a God who is so much greater than our hearts. These same heart movements are present in the gathering rites of the Eucharist. We generally begin the celebration with a hymn of praise and thanksgiving. We are then invited into a time of silence before the liv-ing God, and we cannot but realize our unworthiness and our experience of sin. In the language of the new Missal we own our complicity in sin "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault," and we join with one another in begging for mercy and for-giveness: "Lord, have mercy." Then the Gloria is our hymn of praise after the words of absolution: "May 71.1 2012 13 almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you your sins, and bring you to life everlasting. Amen." We begin the Eucharist knowing ourselves as loved sinners, disposed to open our hearts to the word proclaimed in our midst. There are two additional striking parallels between the First Week of the Exercises and the gathering rites of Eucharist. The first has to do with the cross of Christ, for the cross is prominent at the beginning of both experiences. The retreatant is invited to make a first meditation before the cross; similarly, when we gather for the Eucharist, the entrance procession places the cross at the very beginning of the celebration. There is nothing like the cross of Christ to sharpen our focus, to bring us to the sober reality that relationships have consequences, that the paschal mystery of Jesus' life, death, and rising is what has made it possible to draw near to the throne of grace. And here's a second intriguing possibility with the Eucharist. There is a presidential prayer at the conclu-sion of the entrance rites, another at the preparation of the table and the gifts, and a third after Communion. These are all, essentially, prayers of petition; they each ask for a specific grace that is dependent for its focus on the place of the prayer in the rite. We really could think of these prayers as "preludes" that name and ask for a specific grace as we move from one week to the next, from one part of the Eucharist to the next. For example, the opening prayer for today's liturgy, the Seventeenth Sunday, Year A, from icel's Missal of 1998, reads: God of eternal wisdom, You alone impart the gift of right judgment. Grant us an understanding heart that we may value wisely the treasure of your kingdom Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 14 and gladly forego all lesser gifts to possess that kingdom's incomparable joy. We make our prayer through Our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son Who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit God for ever and ever. Amen.1 What a perfect presidential prayer to open our hearts to the Word of God; what a perfect prelude to move to Week Two of the Exercises. The Second Week and the Liturgy of the Word The parallels between the Second Week of the Exercises and the Liturgy of the Word are easily dis-cernible. Both focus on the scriptures, and both invite decision; both are grounded in the Gospels and in the Mystery who is Christ; both the Spiritual Exercises and the Liturgy of the Word, over time, offer an intimate encounter with Jesus of Nazareth—healing, teaching, sharing meals, welcoming sinners, going about doing good, spending the night in union with his Abba, gath-ering disciples and forming their hearts. We reflect on scripture passages, in retreat as at Mass, one after another, not in order to know the scriptures better but to discover ever more fully the One whom they disclose to us. During the Second Week of the Exercises, like Martha's sister, Mary, the retreatant sits at the feet of Jesus, the teacher, drawn to his person, absorbing his attitudes and values, his choices, his preaching of the dream of God for the world, for humankind, for each of us. The Second Week, of course, is not full only of the consolation of spending time with a dear friend. That 71.1 2012 15 dear friend of ours also reveals to us the cost of dis-cipleship, the misunderstandings, the disappointments, the gathering storm of criticism and anger. We take in the whole of the life of Jesus Christ and are drawn to know him more intimately, to love him more ardently, and to follow him more faithfully. We choose to be dis-ciples of the perfect disciple. Empowered by the love of God experienced in Week One and by Jesus' friendship, which deepens for us in Week Two, we choose an ever closer relationship with him, no matter what. Loved sin-ners become loving servants, embracing and following Jesus, setting our faces, with him, to Jerusalem. It has been written that during the Second Week "We find ourselves drinking in the experiences of Jesus, so that we begin to assimilate his values, his loves, his freedom. This style of praying provides the necessary content of decision-making or discernment, which forms an essential part of the Second Week and is meant to be an abiding part of a Christian's life that is shaped by the Exercises."2 Of course, those statements also describe a regu-lar pattern of solitary prayer in daily life that reaches its summit in the Eucharist. God speaks to our hearts, opening up for us the mystery of redemption and salva-tion and offering us spiritual nourishment; Christ him-self is present in the midst of the community through the Word proclaimed.3 The cycle of readings, highlighting first one evange-list's portrait of Christ and then another's in the three-year cycle, invites our reflection on the life and ministry of Jesus, his proclamation of the Good News, his say-ings and parables, his teachings and miracles, and, espe-cially during Lent and the triduum, how his face was set to Jerusalem during his last days on earth. The Gospel is the highpoint of the Liturgy of the Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 16 Word, and we mark it with various signs of reverence for the book and with the tracing of the cross on our forehead, lips, and breast, praying that our mind be opened, that our words be true, and that our whole being be exposed to the consolation and the challenge of a Gospel way of life. The homily follows. The General Instruction of the Roman Missal describes the homily as a necessary source of nourishment of the Christian life.4 In fact, for a majority of Christians it is often the only source of spir-itual nourishment in a busy week. The Second Week of the Exercises illuminates the challenge to those who give the homily in the Eucharist. The point of the hom-ily is identical to the grace sought in Week Two of the Exercises, namely, to enable the assembly to know Jesus more intimately, to love him more ardently and to follow him more faithfully. Nothing less! Not entertainment. Not exegesis. Not personal self-disclosure. Nothing less than knowing, loving, and following Christ, choosing his choices, becoming gradually and almost imperceptibly more like him, putting on his mind and heart. Just as one chooses discipleship at the end of Week Two, so too there is a choice at the end of the Liturgy of the Word. As we prepare to move from the Table of God's Word to the Table of the Lord's Supper, we join ourselves to Christ and ask that we too be transformed every bit as much as the bread and the wine, that we and they may become for us and for our world the Body and Blood of Christ. The Third Week and the Liturgy of the Eucharist The focus of Week Three is both the Last Supper and the Passion. So, too, these two themes are conflated in the Liturgy of the Eucharist: "the Sacrifice of the 71.1 2012 17 Cross and its sacramental renewal in the Mass, which Christ the Lord instituted at the Last Supper and com-manded the apostles to do in his memory, are one and the same, differing only in the manner of offering, and . . . consequently the Mass is at once a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, of propitiation and satisfaction."5 The first meditation of the Exercises in Week Three is on the Last Supper in its entirety—including the preparations, the choice of place, the arrangements for the meal, the assembling in the upper room, Christ's washing of the apostles' feet, the supper itself, Christ's giving of his body and blood in Eucharist as the ultimate expression of his love for them, and his final words, his last will and testament, that they continue this same action in his memory. Much of this finds a resonance in the Liturgy of the Eucharist. There is, of course, first the preparation of the table and the gifts, the preparation of the altar itself and then of the offerings of bread and wine. There is the washing of the hands of the presider, a ritual of cleansing and interior purification in readiness for all that will follow. There is the prayer over the gifts, a simple and focused petition—a second "prelude," if you will, asking in a variety of ways that the gifts we have placed on the table will become holy and that we our-selves will be caught up in this action and be made holy to the praise and glory of God. Then the great prayer of praise and thanksgiving, the Eucharistic Prayer, begins. We tell the story of Jesus' life, death, and rising. We enter into Christ's liturgy, the endless self-giving of Christ into the hands of the One he called Abba, from whom he receives back his life. Our worship is an offering of our whole selves with and in Christ to God. That is our participation in the paschal Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 18 mystery of Christ's obedience unto death, our identifica-tion with Christ in his radical obedience to God. Have you ever used one of the Eucharistic Prayers for your meditation during Week Three? The Eucharistic Prayer is addressed to God the Father. Could we not think of it as a colloquy with the One Jesus called Abba, our own intimate conversation with God, as we ponder the mystery of the Passion? By turns, the Eucharistic Prayer "collo-quy" offers thanksgiving to God for the whole work of salvation realized in Christ; it implores the action of God's transforming Spirit; it tells the story again of the night before Jesus died when he offered his body and blood, gave the apostles to eat and drink, and left them a command to perpetuate this mystery; it recalls the events that fol-lowed the supper, especially the blessed Passion of Christ together with his victory over sin and death; it makes an offering to God not only of the spotless victim but of our-selves so that day by day we might be perfected through Christ the mediator and be brought into unity with God and with each other when God may be all in all.6 It is a perfect prayer; it is a perfect condensed statement of what we believe and what we long for; it is a colloquy, if you will, that gathers up and gives expression to the faith of the community in Jesus' salvific death and rising and our par-ticipation in that mystery. There is no better word at the end of the Eucharistic Prayer, or at the end of our Third Week meditation on the Passion as we dwell in the silence of God, than the word "Amen." So be it. Week Four and the Communion and Concluding Rites We are ready for Week Four—Jesus' resurrection and his apparitions to his mother, to the women, to the disciples, to Mary in the garden. Always the message is 71.1 2012 19 the same: do not be afraid; peace be with you; go now and tell the good news; go now to feed my lambs. And as peace is the gift of the Risen One, we beg that same peace for the whole human family, and we ask for mutual love among ourselves. We approach the table of the Lord and receive the one Bread of Life, which is Christ who died and rose for the salva-tion of the world. Our Communion makes us one with the Risen Christ, and the last presidential prayer, the prayer after Communion, is a final "prelude"—a peti-tion that we might go forth and live, in deed, what we have just done in word and ritual action. "Please make this Communion take!" this prayer seems to beg. We become what we eat. Through the Communions of our lifetime we are gradually being transformed into God. We know that we ourselves and our world have been radically changed by Jesus' resurrection, and we embrace his commission to become the Heart of God on earth. In contemplating the love of God in the conclud-ing exercise of Week Four, we pray an intimate prayer of thanksgiving to the One who has shared his life so completely with us that we are filled with gratitude and with a desire to make a generous return of love. "Take, Lord, receive," we say, and in so doing we express our availability before God for whatever we will face, rely-ing simply and completely on God's grace. We know ourselves as blessed and sent. Thus far I have been developing the ways that the Eucharist and the Spiritual Exercises mirror and some-times illuminate aspects of each other. As a transition to the second part of this reflection, I suggest pausing over the words of the "Anima Christi" using David Fleming's translation. It was David who said that this prayer is a summary of the dynamics of the whole movement Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 20 of the Exercises, and he also described the prayer as a summary of the transformation wrought through the Eucharist. Jesus, may all that is you flow into me. May your body and blood be my food and drink. May your passion and death be my strength and life. Jesus, with you by my side enough has been given. May the shelter I seek be the shadow of your cross. Let me not run from the love which you offer, but hold me safe from the forces of evil. On each of my dyings shed your light and your love. Keep calling to me until that day comes, when, with your saints, I may praise you forever. Amen.7 Part II: Living the Eucharist David Fleming also called the "Anima Christi" a summary of the living of the Fourth Week in the everyday, so it is to that topic we turn, the living of the Eucharist. Many years ago I read a book by Gregory Dix called The Shape of the Liturgy, a very long, very erudite history of the Eucharist by an Anglican clergyman and liturgi-cal scholar. At the conclusion, around page seven hun-dred something, the author shifts from liturgical history, archeology, and philology to spirituality. He quotes the words of Jesus at the Last Supper, "Do this in memory of me," and then poses an intriguing question: Was ever another command so obeyed? Dix paints an extraordinary picture: Century after century, spreading slowly to every continent and country, to every race on earth, this action of Eucharist has been carried out in every conceivable human circumstance and for every conceivable human need, from the heights of 71.1 2012 21 power to places of poverty and need, for royalty at their crowning and for criminals going to the scaffold, for a bride and bridegroom in a little country church, for the wisdom for the Parliament of a mighty nation, for a sick old woman afraid to die, for Columbus setting out to discover the New World, for a barren couple hoping for a child, by an old monk on the fiftieth anniversary of his vows, and on and on. Dix lyrically enumerates these and scores of other instances in which the Christian com-munity has been faithful to Jesus' command, "Do this."8 Over the centuries the Eucharist has been celebrated by innumerable millions of entirely obscure faithful women and men like you and me, people with hopes and fears and joys and sorrows and sins and temptations and prayers every bit as vivid and alive as yours and mine are now. Week by week, on a hundred thousand succes-sive Sundays, faithfully, unfailingly, the followers of Jesus have done just this for the remembrance of him.9 This is an extraordinary picture of the sacrament that constitutes the community, of the event that binds us together, one with another and with Christians of every age, place, race, tongue, and way of life. The Eucharist has been like a wave of grace rolling over the community again and again across the centuries of Christendom, hollowing out spaces for the divine in the midst of the everyday. Was ever another command so obeyed? But after pondering Dix, I realized that when I con-sidered that Last Supper of Jesus and his friends, there was another question on my mind. When Jesus said "do this in remembrance of me," what did he mean by the this? Surely not just the Jewish pattern of the meal, though we know a lot about Jewish rituals, the blessing of bread, the number of cups, the style of blessing said over both. Surely the this is something more. What are Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 22 we being asked to do? to be? to embrace? to celebrate? What commitment do we make when we say "Amen"? Scripture supplies two directions toward an answer: one in the Synoptic accounts of the supper and Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians, and the other in the Gospel of John. Recall the words of Paul describing the Last Supper: I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, "This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me." In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me" (1 Cor 11:23-25). Do this in remembrance of me. But what is the this? Have you ever considered that the Last Supper was precisely that—it was the last. The Last Supper was the last of a whole series of Jesus' meals recorded in the Scriptures. Jesus never played the pious ascetic, keep-ing away from celebrations. He loved a good feast. He used that image of feasting as a metaphor of the reign of God—a great banquet. It was said of him, "This man is a glutton and a drunkard." An even more shocking accusa-tion was whispered behind his back: "This man sits down at table with sinners, with the morally dubious, with the outcasts of society, with those living on the fringes." On nearly every page of the Gospels there is a meal or a reference to food. Jesus calls out to Zacchaeus, "Get down from that tree. I'm coming to your house for What commitment do we make when we say "Amen"? 71.1 2012 23 lunch." There is the story of Simon who threw a din-ner party but was an inattentive host, and of the woman who slipped in to minister to Jesus as he sat at Simon's table. There is the story of Peter's mother-in-law who is cured only to get up and wait on them. There is the Syrophoenician woman who would not take no for an answer, who spoke about crumbs that fell from the table and who expected—and received—more than crumbs from this man. There are the feeding miracles that tell us something of the utter lavishness of the banquet and that everyone will receive enough and there will still be something left over for another day. There are parables of feasts, of great abundance, of jockeying for places at table, of appropriate attire, of filling the room with those drawn from the highways and the byways. Even the risen appearances of Jesus include meals. "Peace be with you," Jesus says. "What's for dinner?" On the shore, in the upper room, on the way to Emmaus, they recognize him in the breaking of the bread. How do you recognize someone? Even at a distance, you rec-ognize the timbre of a voice, or a particular gesture, or the slight tilt of the head so characteristic of an indi-vidual. The disciples recognized Jesus for what was most characteristic of him: the way he broke the bread. What is the this that we are to replicate? It is the whole life and ministry of Jesus at table. Scripture scholars refer to this as Jesus' ministry of table fellow-ship. To share food, in Semitic times, was to share life itself. And Jesus shared life with an astonishing assort-ment of people. Everyone was welcome to sit with him at table, to tell stories and to break the bread. Jesus' ministry of table fellowship is a ministry of universal reconciliation, no exceptions. The Last Supper reca-pitulated the attitudes and values of Jesus, who opened Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 24 his table and his heart to everyone, who offered hospi-tality to all, who was himself at home with all manner of people, who knew the human need for nourishment of body, mind, and spirit and who was always present to the other—welcoming, reconciling, offering life. Do this in memory of me. The Gospel of John offers a second answer to the question "What is the this?" In John there is a very dif-ferent institution narrative. It is the account of the foot washing. We know the story so well. Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, rose from supper, laid aside his garments, and girded himself with a towel. He poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel. Peter resisted this tenderness until Jesus pressed: "If I do not wash you, you have no part with me." Peter relented in typical Peter fashion: "Not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" When Jesus had com-pleted the washing and resumed his place, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you" (Cf. Jn 13:1-15). You should do as I have done. In other words, "Do this in memory of me." I had an experience when I was studying at the University of Notre Dame that colors my understand-ing of the washing of the feet after the manner of Jesus. Notre Dame has a reputation for the excellence of its liturgical studies program and, at least when I was there, for the perfection of its liturgical celebrations: every 71.1 2012 25 minister rehearsed; every detail on a checklist; every liturgy perfect. And, during the sacred triduum, the lit-urgies were even more perfect! It was Holy Thursday and time for the foot washing. Twelve people moved forward, probably having prepared for the foot wash-ing by carefully washing their feet! Then, seemingly from nowhere, a very unkempt man started up the aisle, staggering a bit, perhaps under the weather. It was one of those stunning moments. Time stood still. Then the deacon walked down the aisle to help the man for-ward and assist him in taking off his shoes and socks. What is the this? Tender and loving care for the other; accepting our mutual vulnerabilities; choosing to open our hearts to all, even the one staggering into our life and upsetting its plans and perfections. Foot washing is not just a way of life but an attitude of heart, a kneeling before the other in reverence. Foot washing is embrac-ing a way of service after the manner of Jesus, simply, generously, not counting the cost. Do this: Embrace my attitudes and values as your own. Love those I love, and be my heart to them. Welcome the stranger, the one on the margins, the disenfranchised. Become vulnerable with one another. Kneel in reverence, especially before those whom soci-ety shuns. Nourish one another's bodies and spirits. Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep, both here at home and half a world away— those in Norway who are paralyzed by a massacre they Foot washing is not just a way of life but an attitude of heart, a kneeling before the other in reverence Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 26 could never have imagined, those who are starving from the drought in Africa, those who are terrified of nuclear contamination in Japan, those who are caught up in trafficking around the globe or denied asylum here at home, those who have lost the ones they love and all they owned in fire, flood, tornado, or earthquake. Make a habit of roaming the globe in prayer so that you do not remain distant from the joys and pain of the world. Send those waves of grace once again across continents and cultures to bathe our world in the love and mercy of Eucharist. Do this in memory of me. Conclusion Week Three invites us to experience the Last Supper, to place ourselves there in the upper room, to look around at the faces, to listen to the words, to pon-der them in our hearts as we watch the immense tender-ness of the Lord with those he loved even to the end, whose hearts he was tutoring even on the night before he died. And we have stayed with him, watched and prayed with him, and accompanied him as he gave up his life. Then we have simply dwelt in silence. That same intimacy and presence to one another marks Week Four, a time of tenderness and affection with the risen Jesus who shares his love and his joy with us but does not let us cling to him. He sends us as apostles, empowered by his Spirit, to continue his sav-ing presence, to be his heart on earth. And day by day, week by week, the Eucharist con-tinues to draw us into these mysteries. The heart of the Eucharist is Jesus Christ. The heart of it is the cel-ebration of Jesus' life, death, and rising every time we gather—and the merging of our daily living and dying with his and with one another—for the life of the world. 71.1 2012 27 The heart of it is joining ourselves to Christ, the perfect sacrifice, to the praise and glory of God. The heart of it is begging that the Spirit will transform each one of us just as really as the bread and wine so that we become more and more Christ's Body in truth, not just in name. The heart of it is learning over and over again to say "Amen" to all of these realities and—at least some-times— actually meaning it. Meaning "Amen," meaning yes I will try to live, in deed, in the coming days, what we have just enacted in word and ritual action. I conclude with a favorite reflection of mine on the word "Amen." Be careful of simple words said often. "Amen" makes demands like an unrelenting schoolmaster: fierce attention to all that is said; no apathy, no preoccupation, no prejudice permitted. "Amen": We are present. We are open. We hearken. We understand. Here we are; we are listening to your word. "Amen" makes demands like a signature on a dotted line: sober bond to all that goes before; no hesitation, no half-heartedness, no mental reservation allowed. "Amen": We support. We approve. We are of one mind. We promise. May this come to pass. So be it. Be careful when you say "Amen."10 Notes 1 Cf. Sunday Celebration of the Word and Hours (Ottawa: Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops, 1995). This book contains the Sunday collects prepared by the International Committee on English in the Liturgy for the Missal of 1998, since withdrawn. Review for Religious Hughes • Were Not Our Hearts Burning within Us? 28 2 David L. Fleming sj, "The Ignatian Spiritual Exercises: Understanding a Dynamic," in Notes on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola (St. Louis: Review for Religious, 1981) 11. 3 General Instruction of the Roman Missal, 2003, §29, paraphrase. 4 GIRM, § 65. 5 GIRM, § 9. 6 GIRM, § 79. 7 David L. Fleming sj, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading. (St. Louis: The Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1978) 3. 8 Gregory Dix, The Shape of the Liturgy (London: Dacre Press, 1945) 744-5, passim. 9 Ibid. paraphrase. 10 Barbara Schmich Searle, "Ritual Dialogue," Assembly 7:3, February, 1981. Obedience You have had my yes for years– and I have had yours since the sun, the seashells, and the storms at sea. But now, ah . . . you and I are more than yes. As time moves with, within, and around, this yes of ours takes on wings, takes on colors I never imagined, challenges that strengthen and soften me, glory that stills me, stirs me, extends and opens me. It becomes a murmur of love that we share. Love that frees me and compels me to choose you again and yet again . . . that I might respond as I wish to respond . . . openly, knowingly, even a little mysteriously . . . as the bush in the desert responded to flame. Kimberly M. King rscj 71.1 2012 ronald mercier 29 Without the Drama: The Transition from Third to Fourth Week of the Spiritual Exercises S travinsky's "Rite of Spring" caused a furor when it was first performed in 1913, but the more I listen to it, the more I think it expresses something important, and not only from a musical point of view. At the tail end of the piece, the "Sacrifice," Stravinsky tries to cap-ture the human spirit in its "pagan"—pure—form. You might want to find a recording of it and play it before you read further. Cacophony—there's no other way to describe it! Bad sound. It assaults the senses. It builds to a crescendo and with the violence of spirit that leads to the sacrifice of a human, a woman who dances herself to death for the Ronald Mercier sj is associate professor of theology at Saint Louis University and rector of the community where Jesuit scholastics pursue the study of philosophy and theology. This article was originally given as a keynote presentation at Ignatian Spirituality Conference V on July 22, 2011, in St. Louis, Missouri. Comments can be addressed to him at Bellarmine House of Studies; 3737 Westminster Place; St. Louis, Missouri 63108. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 30 sake of the community. It is violence that can kill and wound and send to hell, to use Ignatius's words from the Incarnation meditation. In the ballet that goes with the music, there is a frenetic dance that is almost a form of madness. No wonder people were so challenged by the music; this is not about some nice ethereal enjoyment, but is a revelation of what can shape the human heart and actions. This revelation opens to our fears but not to our hopes. Curiously, the music ends with a bang, a loud discor-dant chord that leaves us waiting for something more. We would like some kind of resolution at this point, but we are left with utter silence after that dramatic end. We wait, but the music just ends. Or does it? For me, this piece leads to a reflection on the transition from the Third to the Fourth Week in the Ignatian Exercises, a movement out of a murderous drama into a disorienting grand silence within which the Fourth Week dawns. I would like to invite you to sit with Ignatius in what we would name "Holy Saturday," a place he sketches as the space for contemplation within which we experience Resurrection. My thesis is simple: Without the grand silence of Holy Saturday, the "seventh day" for Ignatius, we do not experience the joy and freedom of the Fourth Week. Waiting in the transition—a transition into, not out of, emptiness—allows for creation of the space into which the Risen Lord comes, if we let the quiet ripen. The music of Stravinsky captures the movement of the Third Week, a drama of human making. We walk with Jesus as he experiences being sacrificed for "the good of the people." Curiously, Ignatius invites us to experience the Passion, but he does not describe the gore that would have been standard fare in the spiritual-ity of his time. No doubt he assumed that people knew 71.1 2012 31 the specifics of the passion, crucifixion, and death from the religious imagination of his time. I wonder, though, whether that is all. It strikes me that we are invited into two spaces: the fullness of the world upon which the Trinity gazes in the Incarnation mediation, but also the reality of the Trinity's desire effected through what happens in these moments. In this transition, we fulfill the movement of the Incarnation meditation. Ignatius certainly invites us to "consider what Christ our Lord suffers in His human nature . . . [and] to strive to grieve, be sad, and weep" (SpEx §195). We "must be with the Lord in his suffering, [and] follow him unto his death," lest we be "simply spectators at a Passion event which may be very touching, but which in no way dis-turbs the egotism of our lives,"1 as Gilles Cusson so nicely puts it. We experience with Jesus what human egotism can do, the dramatic clash that seeks sacrifice to maintain some order. Ignatius's contemplation of the Passion has little to do with Mel Gibson's hero worship; we con-template one who embraces utter powerlessness, not "muscular humanity." Yet, Cusson also says that we need to attend to Ignatius's Fifth Point, "how the divinity hides itself; . . . it could destroy . . . but does not do so" (SpEx §196). What is God about in Christ? What goes beyond the "work of our hands," the murderous sacrifice, and actu-ally effects the will of the Trinity? Is God violent? Is We contemplate one who embraces utter powerlessness, not "muscular humanity." Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 32 this the "divinity [who] hides"? Or is the violent god our god? What occurs when our dramatic violence ends? For me, personally and as a director, this question is never academic. The temptation to remain specta-tors or to wonder at the horrors of the Passion—and so to remain distant from it and from the Resurrection— always presents itself as a path of light, as "really feeling bad" for Jesus, and perhaps knowing real (even mur-derous) anger toward those who create perverse tor-tures for him. The experi-ence of the Fourth Week then somehow appears too remote, not surprisingly, and not only because by that time we know the exhaustion of having given ourselves so radically to prayer. But if we remain spectators of the Passion, what also becomes remote is the real joy of the Fourth Week, a joy so different from the transient happiness that we may whip up but never suffices for the long-term journey. And the Fourth Week is really for the long haul, not transient at all. What alternative remains? Consider for a moment where Ignatius leads us. As he did in the contemplation on the Incarnation, he places us with the work of the Trinity and with Mary. This gives us our transition point and deserves some pause. Notice how he frames our prayer at the end of the week, the time of transition: One should consider as frequently as possible . . . that the most Sacred Body of Christ our Lord remained If we remain spectators of the Passion, what also becomes remote is the real joy of the Fourth Week. 71.1 2012 33 separated from the soul, and the place and manner of his burial. Let [the exercitant] consider, likewise, the desolation of our Lady, her great sorrow and weariness, and also that of the disciples (SpEx §208, Seventh Day). Two dimensions frame the time after the death of Jesus on the cross, two movements that invite us into a depth within which resurrection happens: the experi-ence of death in Jesus and its impact on those (like us) who love him. Resurrection, Cusson rightly suggests, never becomes a topic for consideration, but encounters us in and through the one whom we love and who has conquered death, a "confirmation from above surpass-ing all human hope."2 Let us stay, though, for a moment with the two aspects Ignatius gives us not so much as a conclusion to the Third Week as the door through which the Third Week becomes, or opens to, the Fourth Week. We have in the Christian tradition a powerful sense that the Paschal Mystery—the death, coming to the dead, and Resurrection of the Lord—never constitutes the past, something complete and over, but, rather, remains the context of our lives, the place of our ministries, the space within which joy dawns for us and for all who know the Risen Lord. Two things, then, shape this contemplation, which really becomes the shape of "the seventh day," a con-templation of the Passion as a whole. First, Ignatius begs us to consider the fullness of the death of Jesus because, without an experience of that fullness, we really cannot complete the journey of the Third Week (and of the Incarnation) or comprehend the fullness of the ways in which Jesus' ministry touches and shapes our lives and our world. We need to ponder, prayerfully, what it Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 34 means for Jesus to "remain separated from his soul," to know death, not just to "be killed." Let me suggest that this consideration never rep-resents some thought exercise or parlor game. In our culture we often trivialize death and, in fact, avoid the topic completely or paper it over with euphemisms. We do not say that people die, but that they "pass away." We make the reality so antiseptic, so unreal, that we actually generate a fear of death that drives us even to try to con-trol it, like some unruly passion. Humans have always feared death, as the social critic Ernst Becker makes clear. In our modern North American culture, though, we have created a kind of nightmare; we rarely encoun-ter the reality of someone's dying. Even worse, people have to die not freely as Jesus did, but alone, caught up in our medicalized model. Alternatively, we can make death into a mere video game: how many can we kill? By contrast, Ignatius invites us to a thoroughgoing realism. In Jesus' death, we contemplate the fullness of his human death, freely embraced for us, the fullness of the trajectory of the Incarnation. We are invited to consider especially his embrace of abandonment. Hans Urs von Balthasar, the great Swiss theologian and pro-foundly Ignatian thinker, asks us to ponder just what this means, as a path toward hope: The Redeemer showed himself therefore as the only one who, going beyond the general experience of death, was able to measure the depths of that abyss.3 Think about that with me for just a moment. For Balthasar (and here he places himself in the whole strand of Christian mystics) we desire to shield our-selves from death. We may have "the general experience of death," but we seek to hold it at bay, often at great cost. No one wants to die, of course, and from time 71.1 2012 35 immemorial we have created lovely myths of "afterlife" as ways of avoiding the fullness of what we would expe-rience in death, so that we do not really die. Instead, Ignatius invites us, in the wake of the cry by which Jesus freely gives up his spirit and accepts death, to consider what it would mean for someone freely and fully to enter into the realm of Hades, of Sheol, in which, as the psalmist says, "no one can praise You." In Jesus, God goes fully to claim the reality of human death and dying as God's very own. Balthasar uses the image of the abyss—a wonderful image—for this. We need to ponder, not morosely but in faith, the full tra-jectory of the Third Week. Ignatius places us there and asks that during the Seventh Day—however long it might be—we continually call that reality to mind and keep it before us. He invites us there in place of repetitions or Applications of the Senses, because in pon-dering the fullness of the death of Jesus, in letting it "ripen to fullness," as it were, we begin to grasp the fullness of what it means that he dies for our sake, that he goes where we would not go. If, as David Fleming, John Futrell, John English and many others suggest, the Last Supper sets the tone for the Third Week, here we know what it means to "be broken and poured out," even to the fullness of death itself. We have been praying for the grace of freedom throughout the Exercises, and in a sense here we encounter freedom in its fullness. Balthasar notes what freedom—in its purest form, free from all stain of sin—would mean: "And precisely in that did his mortal anguish and God-abandonment differ radically from the habitual anxiety of the sinner." 4 Jesus freely—and with-out defense—walks the way ahead of us, embraces our path. Jesus claims the fullness of death as a space within Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 36 which to meet us—thus, the implication of the seventh-day exercise. We can—and do—often hurry by the real-ity, or simply marvel at the wreck of a corpse in the Pietà. Ignatius, according to Balthasar, invites us to let death be full, that we might know freedom with Christ, freedom for our mission ultimately, freedom to love "even to death itself." No masochism or delectatio morosa marks this moment, but only a profound invitation to explore what we fear with the One who has gone the way before us. For Ignatius, that remains key. If Resurrection cannot grasp the fullness of what death means, if it can-not meet us in the anxiety that would hold us bound and create the kind of craziness that marks our death-obsessed culture, it remains but a "nice idea," easily dis-pensed with, perhaps. For Balthasar, Jesus delves into death as abandonment, freely, without losing hope, but relying completely on the God who alone can overcome death. Imagine "separation of soul and body" in its totality, without the experience of Resurrection that often shields us. Jesus embraces that. This descent remains but part of the story for Ignatius, since he invites us to place ourselves with Mary and the disciples in their desolation—an impor-tant context. The imagery of that placement reveals a deliberate quality in two ways: it prepares us to encoun-ter the Risen Lord and accept our mission. In one sense, of course, we explore the same space as previously, explore what it means for Jesus to have died—but now from the perspectives of those left behind. Again, Ignatius invites us to contemplate with Mary—and to some extent with Mary Magdalene—to share space and time with women who also embrace the "empty space" without defense, freely. The sinlessness of Mary parallels Jesus' own condition, and invites us 71.1 2012 37 to imagine how she, whose heart knew only openness, would experience the "separation" of soul from body. In her once again, Ignatius asks us to confront death as death, in its fullness in Jesus, in one whom we pas-sionately love. While I will focus on the encounter with Mary, the mother of Jesus, as a basic form of the Resurrection con-templations, I do not mean to suggest that one must force people to engage that path. Eventually the pattern of the Exercises does lead us there, but as John English suggests in Spiritual Freedom,5 a directee may find it difficult to enter into the purity of Mary's openness to encounter the Risen Lord; a person may find more fruitful prayer with the grief of Mary Magdalene, or the guilt of Simon Peter, or others. Still, the fullness of that openness to the Risen Lord brings us back to the full "yes" of Mary, mother of Jesus, as a paradigm of freedom. We have probably all known a parent who has lost a beloved child. As I write this I cannot help but think of the parents of a young Chinese student who failed at university and chose suicide in the face of despair. I cannot begin to imagine the grief of soul such a moment would entail for those parents; nor can I imagine the added burden of feeling guilt for having laid on a child expectations that he could not fulfill. That empty space of a dead child shocks us; "it should not happen," we say quite rightly. Parents should die before their children do. The empty space becomes almost too much to take in, though with Michelangelo's Pietà we catch a glimpse of how a face might appear when gazing on that emptiness. Yet, for the director at this point in the Exercises, especially in the face of what happens in the transition, an important distinction remains. Monty Williams, in a work in progress that he shared with me, advises that we Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 38 note two different paths as one encounters fear, notably the fear of death. There are two ways of being present to our fears. We could look at them and wonder how we can be so stupid, and then make the plans . . . to ensure those mistakes never happen again. . . . The other way . . . is to experience the amazement. . . . The more we ponder . . . it, the more we are filled with a sense of wonder—which gives no answer. That wonder, that sense of amazement, is our first awareness of the presence of God in the space we have created by looking at our fears. As Williams frames it, two choices remain. We can panic and move into flight or analysis or simply an excess of emotions to make us feel better. Or we can be attentive, in the face of such fears, to an empty space without answers—a much harder place to be. When Ignatius invites us to contemplate, to recall Mary, all of those spaces we have known in the Second Week come to mind. Mary remains for us always the one who attends, who does not withdraw, even in the face of the horror of the slaughter of the innocents, but who pon-ders. The path of our entry into the Seventh Day parallels Mary's path, and a director looks at whether the exerci-tant gets caught up in his or her own pain or can ponder the empty space with Mary—that dreadful emptiness the church hints at in stripped altars and empty tabernacles after the Good Friday service. With Mary, we hear the invitation in freedom to know our beloved Jesus as dead. A terrible space, but not a maudlin one! We hear the call to compassion, to attentiveness, to let an empty space open. In essence, Michelangelo's Pietà invites us not to wild grieving but to face the reality of Mary holding her dead son. Attentiveness is a state of waiting, but for what? 71.1 2012 39 I can't help but remember Mary Oliver's powerful poem "The Uses of Sorrow," which captures so much of what I think Ignatius presents to us in constructing a place for prayer: (In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.6 The poem admirably catches the difference between panic/analysis and attentiveness as ways of responding to the human—and here divine—reality of death. For us the path takes time; Ignatius invites us on the seventh day to recall this to mind again and again, but the full process may well be the journey of our lives and our dying. However, contemplating the loss of Jesus is but one dimension. With Mary—and with the disciples—we are invited to ponder the world in which, as Cleopas said, "we had hoped" but which is now a space of desolation. We face the fullness of what Ignatius means when he invites the retreatant to see and consider the Three Divine Persons. . . . They look down upon the whole surface of the earth and behold all nations in great blindness, going down to death and descending into hell (SpEx §106). The reality of human violence is seen in its full-ness in this moment, especially when, with the disciples, we see that violence is also part of their lives—in their abandoning their Master. With Mary and them, the full brutality of violence in the name of God, yet murder-ous of God, comes home to us in all its savagery. No doubt they had seen or heard of crucifixion before. This Roman "tool" helped maintain fear in the populace by destroying its memory of the one killed, lest anyone else Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 40 attempt to do what the crucified one had done. We can all rationalize human cruelty to suit our purposes. Here, though, their Master, Lord, Mentor, the one who healed, raised from the dead, preached Good News—the one they loved—becomes the victim of such cruelty. With him, the hope he had proclaimed also becomes a victim, exactly as the Romans would have desired. Hope is too dangerous a drug to a people fac-ing death. Is the reality of what Cleopas proclaimed— that "we had hoped"—also dead? With Mary and the disciples, we gaze on the empty space in the wake of the cross, and we know the dying of our hopes, of the ways in which all of our plans and expectations go to the cross with Jesus. Our history, our world, hangs in that balance. As director, how often have I sat with people who, in the wake of Jesus' death and burial, have to encounter again their own history of violence—received, experienced in others, commit-ted! The call to attentiveness in this space where our wounded history is made so evident places the past and the future in the balance. If in the first movement with Jesus and Mary we know the fear before death, in this second movement perhaps we face the fear of living in a world mediated by violence, a violence that we can usually hold at bay or ignore by switching the televi-sion channel. Yet, in this transition place, we face the brokenness and "poured-out" quality of our world, and we hear the call not to stronger forms of violence or retribution but to attend in that quiet space and know the fullness of a hope that might have died too. So many people live in this space. It is not theoretical. So, for me, the power of Stravinsky's piece, build-ing to that awful crescendo, that cacophony of death, followed by nothing, silence, lies in wanting some reso- 71.1 2012 41 lution other than the sacrifice. He captures well what those first disciples must have been going through on their "seventh day," after the terrible dramatics of human violence, cruelty, power; now Mary and the others know an empty silence made all the more desolate by what had come before. Building better plans, creating monu-ments, assigning guilt or blame—all of these would have tempered the grief. Instead, we hear the invitation to silence, to attentiveness. It may be that real forgiveness, hope, and resurrection can occur only in such silence. Ignatius places us before those realities that so easily move us away from attentiveness—fear of death and fear of violence or rejection—as a space within which some-thing very different—freedom—can arise. This experience could well represent a kind of "downer" for us, but need it be so? The sense of the deaths we experience—whether the physical death that Jesus freely embraces or the death of our illusions about the world and our patterns of dealing with it—create, as it were, a wasteland, an emptiness before which we stand and pray with Mary and the disciples. Its all-encompassing nature seeks to enlarge our freedom by placing before us our fears. Facing the wasteland yields fruit not in darkness or desolation (though we do indeed pass through these) but, as Antonio Valentino noted in a Directory written in the first generation after the death of Ignatius, aims at perfection in prayer and work, holding always God before one's eyes with gentleness and consistency, and remembering God whenever we think, speak or act.7 If we are moving toward the Contemplatio here as a mode of engaging the world, then this transition that "clears the ground" can yield an abundant harvest. We are left waiting for God's action—not ours. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 42 I do not use the imagery of "clearing ground" acci-dentally. I find myself touched by the way in which one deals with one sweep of contemplation, which clears, seeds, and bears fruit in ever deeper ways. Think through with me the extraordinary introduction to the Fourth Week that piggybacks on what we have seen. As Cusson mentions, when Ignatius presents the medita-tion on the first resurrection appearance (SpEx §299), he offers a first point, nothing else; the simplicity of the perspective shines through: "He appeared to the Virgin Mary." Ignatius sees no need for second or third points, as are given in all the other meditations. It is a unique tableau.8 Ignatius does complete the sweep from where we have been: His soul, likewise united with the divinity, descended into hell. There he sets free the souls of the just, then comes to the sepulcher, and rising appears in body and soul to His Blessed Mother (SpEx §219). We have before us the same matter as in the con-templations on "the seventh day" of the Third Week; the setting does not change. What happens arises from within where we find ourselves as we attend to the empty space at the end of the Third Week. Our entry into the Fourth Week comes not because we will our-selves to joy. Rather, in the space that death and vio-lence have laid waste, Resurrection dawns like light and, with it, love, joy, and hope as the fruit. We do not change spaces for Resurrection, for the Fourth Week; rather, we extend the Third until it bears fruit. As director, I cannot overemphasize how hard it is to keep people focused at this point; exhaustion has set in. The Fourth Week regularly gets short shrift, as does Resurrection in so much of Christian life; yet, as I pray with the transition from Third to Fourth Week, I 71.1 2012 43 realize how crucial that transition point is to our ability to be in and to serve a broken but risen world. Ignatius leads us to the "hell" which Jesus has entered freely and fully, with all those who have gone before—and with us eventually—and then moves to Mary, in her home and oratory, exactly the order that repeats the end of the Third Week. I would like to move in three points—Jesus' apparition to Mary, Jesus' rising "from the dead," and the gift of joy to a world that killed and can kill still. They are related, but quite distinct too. Think of how redolent Jesus' apparition is for Mary. Ignatius does not describe it much, except for a clear allusion. He asks us to "see the arrangement of . . . the place or house of our Lady. I will note its different parts, and also her room, her ora-tory, etc." (SpEx §220). In §103 we were asked "especially to see the house and room of our Lady." The parallelism is almost exact, and, of course, David Fleming in Like the Lightning alludes to the Annunciation contemplation.9 This is not pious drivel, as some are tempted to say; this really is a new Annunciation, but one that asks Mary—and us—to go on mission for the Trinity with the Risen Lord. After all the Sturm und Drang of the Third Week— the drama of our human violence and blood-lust, even the drama of the Last Supper that begins the Third This really is a new Annunciation, but one that asks Mary—and us— to go on mission for the Trinity with the Risen Lord. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 44 Week—this dawn of the Fourth Week, of a new world, is so undra-matic. Mel Gibson would have a difficult time with it. We would be tempted to make it dramatic, and certainly the Miraflores altar-piece does so, with Jesus showing his wounds and with Mary por-trayed as quite the medieval lady. Ignatius's description, though, is so different. Certainly, as he notes in the fourth point, the "divinity here manifests itself so miraculously," though in the fifth point the man-ifestation is as the consoler, the one who brings joy in the glory of the Resurrection. What are we to make of the apparition as "con-soler"? By the way, Ignatius gives only this contemplation in the Fourth Week, though we find a number of other texts arranged from §299-312 (in the section on the Mysteries of Christ's Life), with an ever wider circle of people let in on the Resurrection. In the Fourth Week itself, one contemplation alone pre-cedes the Contemplatio, again with Mary. If we take a step back, Mary represents the free per-son who has tasted the fullness of the passage of Jesus, both into death and at the hands of a broken, murderous world. If the darkness that John evokes in the Gospel stands as a hallmark of the Passion, Mary knows that darkness fully. As we wait with her, we hear the invita-tion to know that darkness, to let our own hopes and dreams die, to recognize the fullness of what death, as God-forsakenness, means. Mary roots us in a barren 71.1 2012 45 landscape without familiar landmarks. Stark—not dra-matic. Quiet. As long as we cling to our own artifacts, the land remains cluttered, and we are unable to receive. In essence, Mary descends into a kind of hell as well, the fullness of the First Week's hell, which is not of her doing, but which is the fruit of the world we have created. The more I ponder and pray with these texts, however, the more they strike me as a new "Incarnation," but with a different order and intent. In the Incarnation medita-tion, we move from the work of God, who ponders the broken, murderous world and chooses to enter it, invit-ing Mary—and us—to share in the work of the Trinity here now. With Mary we have been placed in a God-less world, the fullness of hell. We gaze, we ponder with her, in the freedom of those who have elected to follow Jesus. Mary—and we—know what God's heart would have felt in the acute desire to set people free. We now move from the order of "this world" to an encounter with the Trinity as we know the fullness of the desire of the Trinity in the Incarnation prayer, now effected by the Risen Lord. Again, I want to stress the point: Ignatius places us with Mary as the archetype of the person of the Exercises, the free person. While in later contempla-tions we are indeed shown the rest of the Gospel story, here he asks us to share in the fullness of what freedom The Apparition to Mary Reverses the order of the Incarnation meditation From the Trinity To a Broken World To revelation of the Trinity From a Broken World Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 46 means, freedom at the intersection of our engagement with a broken world, and we wonder at the dawning of a world shot through with Resurrection. The transition of this time represents not a movement from Third Week to Fourth Week, as if we could leave the former behind as just a bad memory; rather, the transition is the on-going space of discipleship. We, like Mary, remain in a broken world, but the transition into the Fourth Week recasts the meaning of the world in a dramatic way, so that we can accept the call to serve a world still broken. Contemplation constitutes the basic hallmark of this freedom; the encounter with the Risen Lord that Ignatius sketches out occurs as an offer of new life in the midst of the contemplation of the fullness of death and sinful violence. These two elements of death and life form a diptych, as it were, for our lives and our prayer. We encounter here not merely the Risen Lord but, with Mary, the pattern of what we shall know as we await that ultimate coming of Christ to the world, and we receive a mission to act upon hope. Into that space, the risen Lord comes, not just as resuscitated—"I'm back"—but as a living proclamation of a new world, God's plan for the ultimate healing and completion of the world God so loves. From the broken world, we encounter the divinity made flesh again for us, but now glorified and risen. If Christ performs "the office of the consoler," as Ignatius says, this consolation does not simply cause a "feeling good" or even a happi-ness, but a revelation of a new world and the empower-ing invitation to dwell in that new world and extend it through time and space. That power is "joy." Joy in this case is not an affect, or even a spiri-tual movement, for Ignatius. In fact, he distinguishes between the two realities: 71.1 2012 47 as soon as I awake [I will] place before my mind the contemplation I am to enter upon, and then . . . strive to feel joy and happiness at the great joy and happi-ness of Christ our Lord (SpEx §229). Happiness we know as an affective movement, a passing reality; we feel happy when we experience cer-tain realities. We can know happiness but still be alien to joy, since happiness comes and goes, depending on the experience we feel. Happiness has an object, and in this case Ignatius does want us to evoke within ourselves the experience of happiness; the encounter becomes the cause of our happiness. Joy, however, pertains to a very different reality. Joy—and this is Christ's joy, of course, a gift of the Holy Spirit—intends not a movement of the heart, a feel-ing, but a disposition, a way of being; it is the hallmark of those who have encountered the risen Lord in the midst of surrounding darkness. Joy makes possible the freedom to go on mission into the Fourth Week—our ordinary time. That light dawns in the Resurrection, not apart from but in the midst of the darkness which Mary—and we—have known. G.K. Chesterton's lament about "joyless Christians" captures something very important here: Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's [sic] ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small. The vault above us is not deaf because the universe is an idiot; the silence is not the heartless silence of an endless and aimless world.10 The joy we experience in the presence of the Risen Lord does not suddenly wipe away the reality of the grief we know at the experience of the brokenness of Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 48 the world and its impact on the vulnerable; rather, such joy places it all in context, allows us to see the world as it is, in the context of God's proclamation of new life and hope in Christ. The way Ignatius ends the Exercises with Mary and this twofold contempla-tion seems to suggest that this joy becomes our "new normal," what God intended in creation and effects through the Incarnation, ministry, and Passover of the Word. We often emphasize the continuity/discontinuity of the Risen Jesus; he is like but different. But is it not really also the world which is continuous/discontinu-ous? In a great line from "Lion in Winter," Eleanor of Aquitaine says, "In a world where carpenters get resur-rected, everything is possible." Exactly—and such is our hope and the cause of our joy. As contemplatives moved to action, we in the Ignatian tradition live in the intersection of the two parts of the diptych, of Holy Saturday and Easter, but with joy as the hinge, something into which we grow. The encounter with the Risen Lord in the midst of a broken world becomes the reality of our lives and a point of conversion into this "new world." In that respect, we are unlike Mary but more like the others who encounter the Lord in a gradual way, but who nevertheless grow into a joyful engagement with the world. However, we can-not separate this encounter from the work which serves life and just peace; we grow in joy and hope only if we place ourselves at the service of justice, as it were, as the thirty-second General Congregation of the Society of Jesus suggested. Yet, we are no longer simply disciples, but apostles, those sent as the Word was sent into the world, but now into a world transformed. This "new normal," a joyful realm, disorients in many ways. Please excuse me as I take a bit of a detour 71.1 2012 49 into a Byzantine theme, that of the "Harrowing of Hell," an ancient icon in the East that depicts a scene sketched by a homily from the second century. I ask you to pon-der it with me for just a few moments. We have here one particu-lar rendition of the icon, but a powerful one with three signifi-cant movements. One of these captures the Contemplation for the Fourth Week as given by Ignatius, namely that the Risen Lord sets free the souls of the just held bound before Christ's Resurrection. For Balthasar and oth-ers, this moment of encounter with the Risen Lord has become the deciding moment for them, the one in which heaven—and the second death—actually open. In that sense, we have a key moment of election again, a confirmation to "fol-low" but now in a different way—to eternal life for them. Yet this Risen Lord calls us to proclaim eternal life and freedom in this world. Second, and this evokes the reality of La Storta, the risen Christ carries the cross, but as a tool through which to break open the gates of Sheol. This Christ on mission invites us to the imagery of the Third Week, but now as a call to freedom, not to death or destruction. The order of the world is profoundly inverted here, and violence gives way to freedom. No wonder the thirty- Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 50 second General Congregation could so freely embrace being "under the banner of the cross" as a mode of identification. This rising Christ changes all the imag-ery of violence, death, and hopelessness we would have taken for granted. One finds joy even in the cross—how odd—but, again, joy is not simply a moment of happi-ness but a consistent mode of being. Again, we cannot separate encounter with the Risen Lord from presence to those who know Holy Saturday and its pain or loss of hope. Last, though, for the East—and for Ignatius, I think—the implications of this little icon and of the work of Christ show free-dom in an even bolder way. A second-century homily proclaims, "I did not create you to be held captive," as does the Office of Readings every Holy Saturday. Do we ponder, though, the implications of that little line, the heart of the link between the Third and Fourth Weeks? The dynamic of the Third Week—from the human point of view—reveals the inevitability of betrayal, duplicity, shame, violence, grief, blood-lust. Not an appetizing menu, to be sure. Ignatius would ask us to contemplate the recreated world in which such patterns have lost their power forever, not just for a moment; we know their power, but as something that has passed away, both from the world and from our lives. If a counterpart to the contemplation on the Incarnation in the Second Week is the Two Standards meditation, perhaps this "diptych" does something Joy is not simply a moment of happiness but a consistent mode of being. 71.1 2012 51 similar. In the Two Standards meditation, Satan calls his demons and "goads them on to lay snares for people and bind them with chains" (SpEx §142). Christ bids, attracts, graces, to a very different world, of poverty, bearing insult and humiliation freely as a means of free-dom (SpEx §146). We have seen that first standard lived to its full-est in the Third Week; now we see Christ who in his revealed divinity, as the fullness of the revelation of the Trinity, continues to serve, to free, to attract, to bid, but now as having conquered all freely and lovingly. Do we not know here the prospect of a whole new world unbound or in the process of unbinding, a process to which Christ missions us? Does Christ not call us in this contemplation with Mary to gather companions in the work of dwelling in this contemplative yet active space? The full import of what has been "the normal" becomes ever clearer to us, even as we enter more fully into com-panionship with Mary in this contemplation. The chal-lenge to us, however, never degenerates into hopeless self-scrutinizing or, even worse, scrupulosity. We do not get forced back into contemplating our sins, as too often happens when people gaze upon the cross, or into the violent guilt or shame of the Third Week. Rather, aware of the Third Week and its full impact on the one whom we love and on the world Christ so loves, we hear the invitation to explore contemplatively a dawning world, one which opens, I think, to the Contemplatio and to our role in extending Christ's joy. James Alison, the British Catholic theologian, has written movingly on this, inviting us to consider how our cultures shape our imaginations through the pat-terns of interaction—rivalistic patterns—which for us constitute "the normal." In Christ, and I think in Mary Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 52 and the disciples, God gives us a dramatically differ-ent pattern of interaction, one that creates relationships touched by joy, not by violence or rivalry or fear. In the complementary contemplations we are given through-out the Fourth Week, we encounter many such persons, wounded in and by the Third Week, even agents of the violence of the Third Week, with whom and in whom we now encounter the pattern of joy and hope. These reflections lead me to ponder the meaning of the "Rules for Thinking with the Church" (SpEx §352-370). They are usually given as a form of Counter- Reformation ecclesiology, a guide on how to engage the debates of the mid-sixteenth century. The text contains all kinds of very context-specific allusions—echoes of debates on predestination, sacraments, authority, and the like that helped tear the church apart. We realize that the inability to attend to what the other was saying represented but one more kind of violence in an already violent age. Ignatius, of course, never had shied away from a fight. One has only to remember how ready he was to dispatch the Moor who had shown insufficient defer-ence to the Blessed Virgin, his Lady. He certainly would not be the first choice as a poster boy for pacifism. Yet, think with me for a moment about the Rules, written at a time when everyone wanted a good fight and looked, all too often, for occasions to pick a fight or score a point. Ignatius's presentation strikes me as curious in that regard, strangely pacific, to use Alison's invitation to a radically different imagination, a con-version of imagination, where our normal expectation is no longer violence or the violent god but rather of a world ordered to and by peaceful relationships. We find here none of the grand drama of the instructions to 71.1 2012 53 the Cardinal Legates to the various Diets and Councils. Instead, we find a man desperate to preserve the unity of the community, to avoid the kinds of clashes that mark his age. Perhaps when we look at the Rules for Thinking with the Church, the metaphor that I have been using— of having had the earth scorched around us and entering a new world—could be helpful. We tend to bring with us the imagery and imagination to which we have grown accustomed. We bring the patterns of guilt or shame or blame or grief or violence that we have learned only too well from the world we have known as normal. Yet, the totality of the presence of the Risen Christ to Mary— and to us—challenges any return to those spaces to which we have grown accustomed. Certainly, if Christ has "harrowed hell" and broken dominant patterns, we are in need of "a way," of his way. Might not the Rules for Thinking with the Church be Ignatius's way of inviting us to turn from the slavish obedience so alien to the freedom of the Fourth Week and to become attentive to the community of people elected in grace, graced by Risen Life, empowered by saints, who could sketch out for us and for our imagi-nation a path with and to Christ? We stand in need of a community of faith, the Church militant in the original Spanish text, which can model for us the new life revealed in and through the Risen Lord. While the Rules invite a kind of docility in seeking a way of peace and renewal of imagination found in the community of the faithful, they do not require checking one's mind at the door. At times we can, like Ignatius, grieve because of a church that shows the marks of the violence and domination of those who killed the Lord. Nevertheless we wait in the hope of encountering Christ in this com- Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 54 munity, in the Holy Saturday-Easter Sunday diptych, still confident that we will contemplatively learn a way forward, not in spite of but in the pain. In a similar way, Ignatius needed the community to foster conversion out of scruples and into Christ. Still, a real encounter as is experienced in the tran-sition opens a path to community. Rooted in a new experience of the world, it is a community of peace, joy, hope, creativity. This, of course, has none of the "grand drama" of the Third Week that would thrill Mel Gibson, but it has the quiet quality of a son meeting a grieving mother who has been wounded by violence but, in joy, is experiencing the possibility of new life, the opening of heart and imagination. Quiet, not dramatic in the ways we are used to, but nonetheless a powerful and creative stance. The difference between the drama at the end of the Third Week and the quiet dawn of the Fourth invites us to know in its fullness what the Two Standards means and what Christ offers: not a crusade of our own, but an allowing of new possibilities to dawn in our age. We have seen such dawns, and their ecclesial power touches deeply. I think of Jean Vanier's L'Arche com-munity embracing the handicapped, those rejected by the world. There is the hospice movement, which rose from Dame Cecily Saunders's refusal to allow cancer patients for whom medical drama could do no more to simply go away and die. Those who serve refugees and bring a moment of tenderness and hope to fragile lives similarly stand at the confluence of this Paschal diptych. Easier, I suppose, would be to follow the temptation to take up arms and fight back or condemn, but we are invited to a very different path, not of moralism but of an embrace like that of Mary by her Son. 71.1 2012 55 We began this talk with Stravinsky's musical image of primal humanity and its lust for sacrifice, a lust that seeks "salvation for the people" in a woman condemned to die by dancing madly. The music crashes to a dra-matic conclusion followed by silence. I would like to end with a different dance, one described by Sydney Carter's words applied to the Shaker hymn "Simple Gifts," here the "Lord of the Dance." Perhaps this could evoke something of the transition to a dance that is joyous, inclusive, expansive. May this be our prayer and our path. I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black— It's hard to dance with the devil on your back. They buried my body, and they thought I'd gone, But I am the Dance, and I still go on. Dance, then, wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the Dance, said he, And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be, And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said he. They cut me down and I leapt up high; I am the life that'll never, never die; I'll live in you if you'll live in me— I am the Lord of the Dance, said he. Dance, then, wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the Dance, said he, And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be, And I'll lead you all in the Dance, said he. Notes 1 Gilles Cusson, Biblical Theology and the Spiritual Exercises (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1988), p. 299. 2 Cusson, p. 303. Review for Religious Mercier • Without the Drama 56 3 Hans Urs von Balthasar, Mysterium Paschale: The Mystery of Easter (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans, 1990), p. 168. 4 von Balthasar, p 169. 5 John English, Spiritual Freedom: From an Expertience of the Ignatian Exercises to the Art of Spiritual Direction (Guelph: Loyola House, 1973), p. 247. 6 Mary Oliver, Thirst (Boston: Beacon Press), p. 52. 7 Martin E. Palmer, S.J., On Giving the Spiritual Exercises: The Early Jesuit Manuscript Directories and the Official Directory of 1599 (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), p. 79. 8 Cusson, p. 303. 9 David L. Fleming, Like the Lightning: The Dynamics of the Ignatian Exercises (St Louis, Institute of Jesuit Sources, 2004), p. 77. 10 Gilbert K. Chesterton, Othodoxy (Garden City, NY: Image Books, 1959), p. 160. Questions for Reflection 1. Where have I embraced the emptiness of death and how has it enabled me to experience the joy of the Risen Lord? 2. Do you have any favorite music, artwork, or poetry that helps you enter into the sacred silence discussed in this article—or that helps you understand other moments in the Spiritual Exercises or in the Gospels? 71.1 2012 57 Dolor 5: At the Foot of the Cross Giving birth is contracting to sleep with death. It is an agreement to pass on everything that has been fed, fondled, fiercely treasured, looked forward to as one looks for the first hibiscus every spring. It is a signature and seal in pledge that one will leave someone something. It holds the possibility—tormenting as tarantula's tricks— that the loved child may pass first, cursedly, of illness, mishap, quick step in the wrong place, by fate or by murderous hatred heaped upon the great. The blood and wash of afterbirth foretell that every holding close lets loose. Small fingers, small toes enlarge as mothering bellies pull back to size and shape. Flowerings green up. They will, they must, brown down with wintering. And every footfall tells an end to every earthly good, each breath started with a slap, each name begun so well that slips into what's next. Pamela Smith sscm Review for Religious 58 peter j. schineller Finding or Seeking God in All Things: A Few Cautionary Notes "T o find God in all things" is a commonplace of Ignatian spirituality. Books and essays on Ignatius and Jesuit spirituality have highlighted the phrase as a hallmark of that spirituality. However, in an essay entitled "The Ignatian Charism and Contemporary Theology," the late Cardinal Avery Dulles wrote that "to the best of my knowledge the expression 'finding God in all things,' does not appear verbatim in the writ-ings of St. Ignatius."1 He admits that we do find "similar expressions" in the writings of Ignatius, and adds that "it seems evident that God can be found in all things." Dulles's observation makes me wonder and leads me to the unanswerable question of whether Ignatius deliberately avoided the phrase "find God in all things." Ignatius does write in many places that we should seek Peter J. Schineller sj is the archivist for the New York Province of the Society of Jesus. He resides at America House, 106 West 56th Street, New York, NY 10019. 59 71.1 2012 and serve God in all things; but, as we will see, except for one place, he does not use the phrase "find God in all things." Jerome Nadal, one of the early companions of Ignatius, clearly believed that Ignatius had the gift or charism to "feel the presence of God" and that this experience should likewise characterize Ignatius's fol-lowers. He writes: "I shall not fail to recall that grace which he had in all circumstances, while at work or in conversation, of feeling the presence of God and of tasting spiritual things, of being contemplative even in the midst of action: he used to interpret this as seeking God in all things."2 Note well that Nadal says Ignatius interpreted this experience as seeking God in all things. So too, Pedro Ribadeneira, also an early compan-ion of Ignatius, reports that "we frequently saw him taking the occasion of little things to lift his mind to God, who even in the smallest things is great. From seeing a plant, foliage, a leaf, a flower, any fruit, from the consideration of a little worm or any other animal, he raised himself above the heavens and penetrated the deepest thought."3 And, in the Autobiography of Ignatius, Luis da Camara, who wrote down the words of Ignatius, states: "At whatever time or hour he wanted to find God, he found Him."4 (To be precise, da Camara says that Ignatius could find God at all times, not that he found God in all things.) So we ask: might there be some wis-dom or insight—or caution—in the fact that Ignatius only once uses the phrase "find God in all things"? The Sole Text and Its Context In the long letter to Antonio Brandão subtitled "Instructions given by our father Ignatius, or at his Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 60 direction . . ." we read the advice given to scholastics: "the scholastics cannot engage in long meditations . . . they can practice seeking the presence of our Lord in all things; in their dealings with other people, their walking, seeing, tasting, hearing, understanding, and all our activities. For his Divine Majesty truly is in every-thing by his presence, power, and essence. This kind of meditation—finding God our Lord in everything—is easier than lifting ourselves up and laboriously making ourselves present to more abstracted divine realities."5 Again, a caution. This letter was not written by Ignatius, but at his direction by Juan de Polanco. Further, before he says "finding God in everything," he says the scholastics must "practice seeking the presence of our Lord in all things." Finding that presence is not auto-matic— and, perhaps, not so easy as we might think! In the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, we read that Jesuit novices "should often be exhorted to seek God our Lord in all things . . . loving him in all crea-tures and all creatures in him" [§288]. Again, we see emphasis on the element of search. So too, in the Contemplation to Attain Love in the Spiritual Exercises, we read: "Here it will be to ask for an intimate knowledge of the many blessings received, that filled with gratitude for all, I may in all things love and serve the Divine Majesty" [SpEx §233]. Ignatius wants the retreatants to love and serve God in all; he does not write that they are to find God in all things. I wonder if the rea-son might be that Ignatius wishes to safeguard the Divine Majesty, the ever-greater God. Might it be that he fears that we will believe that we can capture or contain or iden-tify the ever-greater God in any one thing or in all things? In addition to frequently encouraging that we seek or serve God in all things, Ignatius does say that we 71.1 2012 61 can and must "find the will of God." Thus the Spiritual Exercises are a way of preparing the soul to rid itself of attachments and "of seeking and finding the will of God in the disposition of our life for the salvation of our soul" [SpEx §1]. And Ignatius most frequently ends his letters praying for the grace to "know God's most holy will and per-fectly fulfill it." Or, "may God in his goodness give us his abundant grace to know his most holy will and entirely to fulfill it." Even as Ignatius urges us to seek and find the will of God, he emphasizes the method and the search. He never claims that seeking and finding the will of God is easily done. It demands prayer, reflection, seeking, mortification, time, and effort. Today's Background, Context, Horizon In an obvious oversimplification, we might say that in our age we find two extreme tendencies: 1) the skepti-cal, secular way of underbelief and 2) the less critical way of overbelief. These correspond to two rival "isms" in our globalized world, spoken of by Fr. Adolfo Nicolás, supe-rior general of the Society of Jesus, in a major address on higher education: 1) an aggressive secularism and 2) a resurgence of various fundamentalisms.6 We might look at the cautious and critical way of Ignatius in light of these two tendencies. 1. The skeptical and secular viewpoint. Many today, including Christians, experience the distance, absence, Seeking and finding the will of God demands prayer, reflection, seeking, mortification, time, and effort. Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 62 or otherness of God. Rather than finding God in all things, they do not find God anywhere in their experi-ence. Or God is edged out by many possibilities, alter-natives, and options, by many "things" that are not God. They live in a world come of age that no longer "needs" God and are skeptical of those who find, describe, and talk of God so easily. They are critical of claims or interpretations that seem to make God into one thing among many. This objectification of God, they find, entails a loss of God's otherness and transcendence. 2. The less critical fundamentalism or overbelief. At the other extreme are the many believers who see God at work in every event. God is close and at hand. Some Christians seem to think they have a lock on God, clearly grasping and knowing the divine intentions and will for the world and for humankind. Statements to that effect indicate a temptation to reduce God to our size, to capture and lay hold of God. In a general way, two of today's thinkers reflect these two tendencies. The first is the critic George Steiner. In My Unwritten Books, a sequel to his book Real Presences, which points us to various signs of the transcendent, Steiner writes that he feels strongly the absence of God—a powerful experience of emptiness. "Awesome is the God who is not. . . . I strive to be with His sovereign absence."7 Steiner finds himself groping for and seeking God more than believing in and finding God. He adds that to be great, literature need not believe in or affirm God, but at least must grapple with the question of God, the search and debate over the reality of God. From an explicit Christian perspective, we might also listen to James Gustafson. In an article entitled "The Denial of God as God,"8 Gustafson writes that "the history of our religion is the history of human 71.1 2012 63 attempts to manage and manipulate the awesome power of God, who is finally beyond our capacities to know fully, to capture in human thoughts and deeds. . . . It is the history of efforts to control the times and places of his presence." Gustafson asserts that we overlook this awesome reality of God: "how we want a God we can manage, a God who comes when we beckon him, a God who permits us to say that he is here, but not there; a God who meets our needs on our terms; a God who supports our moral causes and destroys the forces we think are evil; a household God and a kitchen God." Then, drawing from the thought of Martin Luther, he challenges us not to try to manipulate or reduce God, but to "let God be God." Ignatius's Balance Surely Ignatius is not guilty of this reduction or denial of God. He had a strong sense of the immen-sity and majesty of God (he loved stargazing), as well as the closeness of God (recall his meditation on the Incarnation and birth of Jesus Christ in the Spiritual Exercises [§101-117]). But can this be said of all his followers? Might some be at times guilty of oversimpli-fying, reducing, identifying God with their own prefer-ences and thus not "letting God be God"? To put this more boldly; if we think it easy and pos-sible to find God in all things, might we end up by not finding the true God—the transcendent God—in or above any things? Emphasizing the finding of God in all things could become misleading and wrongheaded because it misses or misinterprets the special presence of God in some particular times, places, events, and things. Might this approach be similar to the positive emphasis on the generous and widespread presence and Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 64 offering of God's grace to all persons. If that view, good in itself, is pushed to the extreme, if all is grace, then we no longer distinguish between grace and non-grace, between grace and nature. Or, if all ground is seen as holy ground, then we might overlook or undercut the special presence or intervention, the special rev-elation of God. If we hold that everything i s sacred and noth-ing is profane or secular, then we could also hold the reverse, that nothing is sacred. Ultimately, it seems important and necessary that we maintain the distinction (not separation) of sacred and secular, of grace and nature, of the God who is in all things and yet above all things. Ignatius also writes of one other thing that Jesuits should seek in all things—namely, greater abnegation and continual mortification! "The better to arrive at this degree of perfection which is so precious in the spiritual life, [the] chief and most earnest endeavor [of the Jesuit candidate and those in formation] should be to seek in our Lord his greater abnegation and continual mortifica-tion in all things possible; and our endeavor should be to help him in those things to the extent that our Lord gives us his grace, for his greater praise and glory" [General Examen of the Constitutions of the Society of Jesus, §103]. While the seeking of mortification does not pre- If we think it easy and possible to find God in all things, might we end up by not finding the true God— the transcendent God— in or above any things? 71.1 2012 65 clude the effort to seek, find, and serve God in all things, surely it derives from a very different, and more sober perspective. It offers a balance to an overly posi-tive, totally one-sided incarnational spirituality. Ignatius is reminding us that the God or Christ that we seek and serve in all things is the Christ of the cross (abnega-tion and mortification) as well as the Christ of glory who comes with power. Thus Ignatius can write regard-ing the qualifications of the rector of a college, that he should "be a man of great example, edification and mortification of all his evil inclinations" [Constitutions, §423]. The ideal superior is one who both practices mortification and seeks to find God in all things! Living with and Maintaining the Tension Deus Semper Major—God Ever Greater—is the title of the monumental work of Erich Pryzwara sj on Ignatius of Loyola.9 The God of Ignatius, the God we seek, find, love, and serve is ever greater, always more. God is in all, but also always above all. Ignatius had the ability to keep seemingly opposing tensions or ten-dencies in view—prayer and action, contemplation and action, the local and the universal, trust in God and trust in our talents and efforts, and obedience and free-dom. In these reflections we are pointing to 1) the ten-sion between the God in all things, and the God above all things and 2) the possible tension between seeking God in all things, and finding God in all things. It seems best and most creative to hold on to both elements of these two tensions and not eliminate one or the other. In one tension we hold that God is in and also above all things: incarnate, indwelling, working in the world, and yet, in keeping with the fourth part of the Contemplation to Attain the Love of God, above Review for Religious Schineller • Finding or Seeking God in All Things 66 and beyond, the source of all. In the second tension, we maintain both the seeking for and the finding of God. St. Augustine writes that we would not seek God unless we had already found (and been found by) God. So I am simply suggesting that rather than conflate the two, or eliminate one or the other, we place a bit more emphasis on the seeking and searching, and less on the finding, in accord with Deut. 4:29: "from there you will seek the Lord your God, and you will find him if you search after him with all your heart and soul." A Caution and a Challenge Does this mean we should not use the phrase "find-ing God in all things"? No. It is in common use and does reflect the way Ignatius was interpreted by his contem-poraries even if Ignatius was normally reticent in using it. At the same time, we should use the words carefully and with awe, recalling that God is always greater and beyond. We dare not think we have captured God. We can preserve and use "finding God in all things" if we emphasize the search, the process, the prayerful effort of trying to find God in places and events around us. Two final cautions: Meister Eckhart said that "Foolish people deem that they should look upon God as though he stood there and they here. It is not thus." God is ever greater, ever here, and ever beyond. We might recall, too, the words of Fr. John Courtney Murray when he saw a poster to be used at a demonstration. Expressing the spirit of the times and a commitment to faith and justice, the poster read: "God Is Other People!" Murray is reported to have said "They forgot the comma after the word 'other.' It should read: 'God is Other, People!' " Probably the strongest challenge now is to seek and find God in the cities, in the world of technology and 71.1 2012 67 computers. We should not seek to find God only in sun-sets and stars and in the least of the sisters and broth-ers, but also amid skyscrapers and elevators, amid steel and concrete buildings, amid asphalt streets, on subways and in airplanes—wherever God seems to be edged out, overlooked, or denied. If the challenge seems daunting, we might be consoled by the words St. Augustine attri-butes to God: "you would not search for me unless you had already found me." And, we might add, we would not search for God "unless God had already found us." Notes 1 Avery Dulles sj, "The Ignatian Charism and Contemporary Theology." America (26 April 1997): 16. 2 Monumenta Historica Societatis Iesu, Mon. Nadal, iv, 651. 3 Monumenta Historica Societatis Iesu, Vita Ignatii Loyolae, in Fontes Narrativi, iv, 742. 4 Ignatius of Loyola, Autobiography, §99. 5 Ignatius of Loyola: Letters and Instructions, (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 2006), p. 342. 6 Adolfo Nicolás sj, "Challenges to Jesuit Higher Education Today." Conversations on Jesuit Higher Education 40 (Fall 2011): 9. 7 George Steiner, My Unwritten Books, (New York: New Directions Books, 2008), p. 209. 8 James Gustafson, "The Denial of God as God." Criterion (Autumn 1977): 6-9. 9 Erich Przywara sj, Deus Semper Major: Theologie der Exercitien (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1940). Review for Religious 68 In Distressing Disguise for Agnes Gonxha Bejaxhiu he's a lonely old man dandruff dusts his faded black shirt some polyester blend shiny, holding odors of sweat and cigarettes and left-overs some of which remains on the front of his trousers the purple around his neck shabby, soiled, worn-out even burned a little in one place careless as he is with his smokes over my head his palsied hand trembles and to my ears come mumbled words of grace while my heart strains to see Him, to see His true face, here before me in distressing disguise. Sean Kinsella Winter Sunset At exactly five-fifteen p.m. the over-ripe sun paused a second on the town's rim, all the horizon's color sealed in its neon pulp. I could hardly stop gazing, sure it would burst and spill red-orange juice, winter's redemptive blood, across the Western sky. Patricia Schnapp rsm The Warmth, the Will, and the Way The dilemma is that I am not making very steady progress on my spiritual journey. This leads me to think that I need more consistency. Since I already live "a stable way of life" as a member of a religious order, my basic direc-tion is set. I see that this way of life is leading me where the deepest currents of my heart want me to go. But despite that general clar-ity of direction, I find myself dawdling along, sometimes going backwards, often wandering off to explore some curiosity, rarely totally focused on the path, much less on the goal, of this particular journey on which the Way is also the End. We often pray that the Holy Spirit will fill our hearts and "enkindle in them the fire" of 71.1 2012 sharing experi-ence 69 ben harrison Ben Harrison mc is a Missionaries of Charity Brother. He has worked in formation and has journeyed, in the U.S. and Europe, alongside homeless people, prisoners, addicts, and other people on the margins of society. His email is . Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 70 his love. Once on a retreat I was complaining to the director that I didn't feel any sense of God's presence, and he assured me that I wouldn't be feeling the absence if there weren't a kind of presence; the longing itself was a sign of the Spirit's presence. If I could welcome that longing as a warming presence rather than endure it as a chilling absence, it would help to enkindle the fire of his love. When I speak of this warmth of heart I am not talk-ing about seeking emotional experiences in prayer but rather of finding that sense of inner presence that is so important in the prayer of Eastern Christianity. My mind and the actions it inspires range all over the place, but if I am attentive to that warmth in my heart, the inner pres-ence not only influences my thoughts and feelings but also anchors my actions and desires. This sense of warmth, then, helps me to be more consistent on my spiritual way. I frequently have very good insights, and for a long time I thought that they could keep me centered. I often thought, "Oh, what a brilliant idea! If I can only remember that every day, I will be set for life." And so I would make a note and stick it on the door, or I would write a prayer and say it every morning, until it became so routine that what I was saying didn't even register. Soon I would have another brilliant insight with life-changing potential. Such thoughts are like matches that provide real fire, but only for a few minutes. Then, unless the match is touched to a candle or to a heap of kindling, it is spent. I need something more reliable than insights. I need something more reliable than insights. 71.1 2012 71 Perhaps the secret is to do what would be done in a cottage in the woods: continually add fuel to the fire, a log at a time, to keep it burning. Then, late at night, bank the coals, rake them together in a little pile so that the heat will not dissipate. A few glowing embers will remain in the morning, upon which new kindling can be placed and fresh wood arranged so all is ready to warm the beginnings of the new day. That way the hearth never grows cold. I am discovering that this warmth of heart is a sign of the Spirit's presence with me, abiding in me, direct-ing me toward the goal. But there is something else that seems to be essential in order to deepen that presence and strengthen God's claim on me—what I would call will. The desire is there: the forward impulse, the yearn-ing for the heights, the longing to surrender my being to the One Who Is. What is the difference between this desire and will? To wish for something is to entertain a desire for it; to want it is to own that desire; to will it is to act on that desire, to put it into operation. Will has about it an element of determination. And it is not something I can drum up within myself. It has to be given. St. Paul says, "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for God is at work in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure" (Phil 2:12-13). Will and the Vows As I think about my vocation, I would say that my will is expressed, above all, by the vows. My vows are the way I demonstrate to myself, to God, and to oth-ers this desire to belong totally to him. The Latin verb for will is volo, velle, and the Latin verb voveo, vovere means vow or wish. Though etymologically the roots of volo and voveo do not seem to be related, there is, Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 72 to my mind, a consonance of meaning. The vows of religious life are a way of making concrete the double-edged desire that is God's desire for me, expressed in a call—a word spoken silently in the heart—that awakens a reciprocating desire in me. His desire to give himself completely to me sets that very same flame alight in me so that I desire to give myself irrevocably to him. The gentle fire of the Spirit's warmth that God enkindles in my heart is drawing me, slowly but surely, toward the blazing glory at the heart of God, and my vows repre-sent the power of that attraction and my determination by God's grace to reach that goal. I see the vows of religious life as the embodiment and expression of the will to be united with God and to give myself to him totally in a particular context, in response to his gift of himself to us in Christ. This is so whether we are speaking of the monastic vows of obedi-ence, stability, and conversion of life or the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity, and obedience (or, for that matter, similar sets of vows or promises: those of priest-hood or sacramental marriage, of virginity or service, of oblate-hood or lay association). From primitive times a vow was a solemn promise to make some gift or sacrifice to a divinity as an earnest of a good requested or in thanksgiving for a boon received. Although on a literal level this sounds like a type of bargaining or commerce, I can also see it as a way of demonstrating to myself and my God how important something is to me, how sincerely I desire it, how des-perately I need it, how serious my intentions are. The medieval king might have prayed, "Lord, defend us from the threat of these brutal enemies and I will build a church for your glory." Or a mother may pray, "Lord, if you spare my daughter from this dread disease, 71.1 2012 73 I will do everything I can to support research for its cure." Or a widow may say, as one I know did, "Lord, if I am spared from this condition leading to blindness, I will never use my eyes to take pleasure in what is not good and pure." Thus we see how a vow is an expression of a wish for some good for oneself or others. The Italian word for such a commitment is impegno, which can be translated as "pledge." Literally, some-thing given in pegno is pawned. By the vows I am putting the treasure of my earthly life in pledge for a higher good. I am putting my security, my posterity, and my liberty in pawn for something I need more urgently. What is it, in this case, that I need so urgently? I need the grace to live up to this persistent impulse to give myself—an impulse that God has placed in my heart. I know that the faith, hope, and love in me are too weak and faltering to do the job, to get me where I yearn to go. And so I pledge what I have to him and entrust my poor being to him, not to pay him for what he freely gives, but to show him (and myself) that I am serious about following him and that I trust him with this pre-cious but paltry gift of my life, trust that he will keep it safe and see it redeemed and restored in his own time. Pledging my life to him, I am confident that he will give me the grace I need to live each day. In the world of commerce, one pawns something of value for ready money—something that has value but is not spendable, for something that can be spent. The ready cash makes it possible to buy what is needed today. Another word for this ready cash is currency, also called fluid or liquid assets. All these words—"current," "fluid," "liquid"— suggest an action of flowing and remind us of the Spirit, that spring of living water that flows forth from the heart of Christ. Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 74 Thus, when I make my profession of vows, I am proclaiming my faith in God and my desire to belong to him. The vows that I pronounce represent the totality of my gift of self. In the institute to which I belong, we profess the evangelical counsels—the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. These three vows are an apt symbol of the totality of my life. By dedicating to God all that I have, all that I love, and all my choices and decisions now and in the future, I am effectively giv-ing him all I am. This triad of the evangelical counsels reflects a totality of being, as do many similar triads. I have no trouble, for example, in seeing parallels between the vows and St. Ignatius's prayer surrender-ing "my memory, my understanding, my entire will." The traditional baptismal formula asks us to renounce "the world, the flesh, and the devil." Scripture tells us that we are to love God with our whole heart, soul, and mind (Mt 22:37). The magi brought the treasures of the nations—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Micah tells us that our sole obligation is "to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God" (Mi 6:8). It is easy to see how the three evangelical counsels reflect the three theological gifts of faith, hope, and love. And finally, without putting too fine a point on the comparison, I suggest that the vow of poverty is descriptive of my relationship with the Father, without whom I am nothing and have nothing; chastity reflects my relationship with the Word, the Son, who is friend, Savior, and Bridegroom of souls; and obedience is the domain of the Spirit, who prompts the content of obe-dience and makes possible its practice. The act of making vows is thus a statement of my desire to surrender myself absolutely to the Absolute, to dedicate myself to his way and consecrate myself to his 71.1 2012 75 purpose. The mutuality of giving to which God invites me does not mean a mere absorption in each other. Though I would be content to lose myself in God, he seems to want more for me than that. God wants me to share his love for others and so, by my self-offering, he unites me to his own mission—his out-pouring, in-gathering action of universal love. Thus I am given to the particular apostolates and ministries of the institute in which I live my vocation. Sometimes vows are spoken of as sacred bonds. Bonds are something that we feel gripping us, holding or securing us. If bonds are involuntary we feel them as a constraint, an injustice. If they are desired, we feel them as a comfort, a belong-ing, an embrace. I suppose anyone who makes vows feels them sometimes as a restriction and some-times as a liberation. But part of the radi-cal nature of such a commitment is the protestation that one is willing to pay the price, that one values the liberation of giving oneself more than the security of having oneself. It is a recognition that dying to self is the road to life and that the cross shared is the victory won. Like the fox in Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince, I want nothing more than for the Little Prince to tame me, so that "the wheat, which is golden [like your hair], will remind me of you. And I'll love the sound of the wind in the wheat." The act of making vows is a statement of my desire to surrender myself absolutely to the Absolute. Review for Religious Harrison • The Warmth, the Will, and the Way 76 Consistency in the Way Returning, then, to my original point, I am saying that two things will help me to find a salutary consis-tency in my spiritual journey: the abiding warmth of the Spirit's presence in my heart, and the will—the determination—to yield to the relentless attraction of Jesus drawing me, and all, to himself. God's love for me in Christ arouses a reciprocating love in me. I give my poor self to him in pledge, not because I have to but because I want to, and he gives me, in return, the wherewithal to make the journey: the daily bread, the water from the rock, and the yearning for home—for the harbor—at the heart of God. Perhaps the greatest indication of his love that God has given me, from my point of view, is not his love itself for me (of which I can scarcely conceive) but my love for him, which is a sweet hunger, a soothing need. Nor is my love for him something that I can claim or that I often feel, but rather an occasional glimpse of light; a fitful melting of joy; a momentary, faint intima-tion of promised ecstasy. It is to the memory of those rare moments of tender quickening, of nostalgia for the unknown, that my will clings during the long periods of dryness, confusion, and loss. It is will that keeps me walking on the way when even the cherished memory fades and all I have left to fall back on is the Spirit's quiet presence in my heart. Indeed, it is all up to God. It is he who supports the journey from behind with his warm abiding. It is he who lures me from ahead through that hunger in my heart. And it is he who strengthens me on the way by the will to journey on. Each day's reminder of that will at work in me is the comforting burden of the vows, by which I experience within myself the debt of love, the 71.1 2012 77 yoke of gratitude, the claim of oneness by which I know that I am his. Being as I am, the fact that I do not manage to live my vows wholeheartedly is not surprising. But it is important that I feel the rub and the pinch and the chafe of them against my stubborn self. As my need and desire for God become stronger than all lesser needs and desires, so the bonds of my belonging to him will grow stronger than all my resistances. At the point that I can give myself without reserve, I will be free. And how do I dare to think that I will reach that point? St. Paul tells us that if God has gone so far as to give his Son for us, "will he not also give us all things with him?" (Rom 8:32). And Paul says further, "I am sure that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ" (Phil 1:6). I trust that God would not have put this desire in my heart, and that of my companions on the way, if he didn't intend to give us the grace to see it through. Home Walking the Labyrinth at Chartres Home. Is it where I begin or end or at the middle stillpoint? Am I at home on the way? Here I am, Lord. Never far from the beginning always approaching the end continually circling the center. Eugene Cartier Review for Religious Getting with the Program P robably one of the most important graces of my novitiate was coming to realize that I had an addiction. It was a painful and embarrassing experience, and yet I have no doubt that it was the best thing that has happened to me in a number of years. During my novitiate I started accessing pornogra-phy online. It was a development I was so ashamed of that I was afraid it would herald the end of my journey into religious life. Previously I had bought magazines and sought out sexually stimulating images in films or through image search engines on the Internet. My behavior began to take root at an early age in romantic fantasy. I would fantasize about being with a girl and wooing her in some exotic setting. Even though I was sexually inexperienced and naive and did not know what adults did together between the sheets, I would some-times escape into this fantasy when I went to bed. 78 A young man writes of his experience of coming to terms during the novitiate with his addiction to pornography. He has requested that the article be published anonym

Issue 70.1 of the Review for Religious, 2011. ; Determining Change Making the: Spiritual Exercises ,Growing Spiritually Exploring Religious Life QUARTERLY 70.1 2 0 i 1 Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to charisms of Catholic religious life. As Pope Paul vI said, our way of being church is today the way of dialogue. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published quarterly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-633-4610 ¯ Fax: 314-633-4611 E-Maih reviewrfr@gmail.com ¯\Veb site: ~-w.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Periodical postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©2011 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 1{)8 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. ~ gournal of Ca~hohc ~piri~uah~ Celebrating 70 Years Editor Book Review Editor Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Advisory Board Michael G. Harter sJ Rosemary Jermann Eugene Hensell OSB Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Paul Coutinho SJ Martir~ Erspamer OSB Margaret Guider OSF Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD QUARTERLY 70.1 2011 contents prisms 4 Prisms 6 17 determining change Agents of Change: Six Models Louis M. Savary shares and explains six models of being a change agent that were created by a long ago deceased Jesuit, Joseph Grau. Christ-like Empathy in Those Who Govern John H. Zupez SJ draws on Mark's gospel to encourage religious superiors and anyone exercising authority to learn from the empathy of Jesus shown towards others. 25 44 making the spiritual exercises The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Path to Virtue James Menkhaus explores the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, using the language of virtue ethics and emphasizing a new understanding of the virtues of friendship and presence. Reflecting on Readiness to Make the Spiritual Exercises Myree Harris RSJ offers some possible questions and reflections for a better assessment of retreatants' readiness to enter into the full 30oday Spiritual Exercises experience. Review for Religious 59 growing spiritually Looking at Death from a Christian Perspective Julius D. Leloczky OCist reflects on the contemporary obsession with death and recalls how our Christian faith gives us a life-perspective. Spiritual Direction 101 J. Thomas Hamel SJ reflects on the practice of spiritual direction understood as a dual ministry with the roles of giving and receiving by the director and the directee. 73 84 exploring religious life Looking for Nuns, Finding Women Deacons Phyllis Zagano suggests that in light of the Apostolic Visitation of U.S. women religious the monastic framework proposed applies to the minority of institutes and religious vocations, whereas the larger body of institutes and new vocations are moving to other ways of ministering, presaging the church's return to the ancient vocation of the diaconate for women. Revisiting Obedience William P. Clark OMI reviews the challenges that contemporary culture has presented to the understanding and practice of religious obedience. departments 95 Scripture Scope: Jeremiah: A Messenger of God Caught between a Rockand a Hard Place 100 Book Reviews 3 70.1 2011 prisms 4 I t seems strange to me to be writing my own farewell as editor. In the 68.4 issue of the 2009 journal, I had written in this space that I had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and knew only that I had as long to live here as God wanted. As I write this, my death is not imminent, but I did want to see an orderly transition of my editor's responsibilities. I have completed 22 years as editor, and it has been for me a privilege to publish so many authors, a call to a continuing learning experience, and an occa-sion of the deepening of my own religious life. I hope and pray that our readers can also identify a learning and deepening for their religious lives as their experience of this journal. As the title page indicates, Father Michael G. Harter SJ is the new editor, beginning with this current volume. Father Harter brings his own rich life experience to this job. He has been involved in religious formation both as assistant novice director and as novice director and director of Ministry Training Services in Denver, Colorado. He has been managing editor of the Jesuit maga-zine America. He has been called to religious leadership as a community superior and as the provincial executive assistant. He has served on the board of Praesidium, the accrediting agency in abuse risk management. He has traveled exten-sively and knows church and religious life from Europe to Africa to India to Australia. In fact, he served as associate editor of Review for Religious for two years before he became novice director Review for Religious for the Jesuit St. Paul novitiate and wrote the single Prisms not under my name. At the same time, I would also like to introduce Rosemary Jermann as our new book editor. Rosemary Jermann also brings a rich experience in editing; she has been a co-editor of Theology Digest up to its last publica-tion in June 2010. Because Theology Digest was sponsored by the Department of Theological Studies at Saint Louis Unversity, Jermann also had the opportunity to teach within the department. She will also contribute her edito-rial skills to the final product of each issue. Any editor is only as good as the staff and board that monitor and support him. I have been extremely fortunate in having a devoted staff identified in Mary Ann Foppe, Judy Sharp, Tracy Gramm, and Jean Read (t), and asso-ciate editors as Iris Ann Ledden SSND, Regina Siegfried ASC, Clare Boehmer ASC, Philip Fischer SJ (t), Michael Harter SJ, Canon Law editors Richard Hill SJ (~') and Elizabeth McDonough OP, and Scripture Scope editor Eugene Hensell OSB. We as editors and staff have received invaluable help from our past and present advisory board members since 1990: David J. Hassel SJ (~), Mary Margaret Johanning SSND (~'), Iris Ann Ledden SSND, Sean Sammon FMS, Wendy Wright, Suzanne Zuercher OSB, Edmundo Rodriguez SJ, Joanne Wolski Conn, David Werthmann CSSR, Joel Rippinger OSB, Patricia Wittberg SC, Jim and Joan Felling, Kathryn Richards FSp, Bishop Carlos Sevilla SJ, Adrian Gaudin SC (?), Raymond Marie Gerard FSP, Eugene Hensell OSB, Miriam Ukeritis csJ, Lou and Angela Menard, Martin Erspamer OSB, Kathleen Hughes RSCJ, Bishop Terry Steib SVD, Margaret Guider OSF, and Paul 5" Coutinho SJ. My thanks to everyone. Remember me in your prayers. David L. Fleming SJ 70.1 2011 LOUIS M. SAVARY Agents of Change: Six Models determining change We are all called to be agents of change. It is a human calling as well as a Christian call-ing. However, we are not all called to be the same kind of change agent. A dear friend of mine, long ago deceased, Joseph Grau, a Jesuit priest for many years, created a simplified way of identifying the different kinds of change agent styles available. His naming and defining of these six models is a genuine contribution to contemporary spiritual practice, and his insights deserve to be re-presented. I share this article as a tribute to him. The Three Players in Making a Change According to Dr. Grau, there are six mod-els of change agency, each of which has three major players: (I) the People, (2) the Structure, (3) the Change Agent. Louis M. Savary PhD, STD, may be addressed at 3404 Ellenwood Lane; Tampa, Florida 33618. Review for Religious The term "People" refers to the set of persons who want or need change. Included in "People" are the individu-als and groups experiencing treatment that is unfair, unjust, unsafe, abusive, prejudicial, or cruel but who cannot effectively defend or protect themselves from the harmful situation or who cannot change and correct the unwelcome situation by themselves. Certain groups may be enduring racial prejudice, unsafe working conditions, unfair employer demands, denial of human rights, political oppression, gender discrimination, rejection by a church, or unequal treat-ment by institutions such as insurance companies, credit card companies, banks, educational institutions, or law enforcement. Individuals who want or need change might include children who are physically or sexually abused by family members, students being bullied at school, employees being harassed at the workplace, or those in neighbor-hoods that are unsafe because of gang warfare. "People" may also be extended to include animals and other forms in nature, since animals (that is, endan-gered species) and nature (that is, forests, the ozone layer) are often helpless by themselves to change an unsafe or destructive environment caused by humans. The term "Structure" refers to the unjust societal or institutional structure that is in need of change. "Structure" is the generalized term used here .for any existing politi-cal, social, cultural, ecclesiastical, or familial situation or system that allows, promotes, or condones practices that are unjust, unfair, illegal, uncaring, biased, abu-sive, or cruel to individuals or groups who usually can-not defend or protect themselves from such situations. These harmful situations may have been caused or cre-ated by unfair or unjust laws, lack of awareness, corrupt 70.1 2011 Savary ¯ Agents of Change If you choose to be a Change Agent in an unfair situation, you can play at least six different roles-- in helping to effect the needed change. 8 political organizations, racially biased societal norms, prejudicial cultural prac6ces, religious bigotry, oppres-sive government, inadequate social services, or abusive family behavior. The "Change Agent" (CA) is one who chooses to try to change an unsafe, unjust, or unfair Structure in favor of the affected People. The "Change Agent" is usu-ally viewed as an individual but could be a small group of people. If you choose to be a Change Agent in an unfair situation, you can act in at least six different ways--or play at least six different roles--in helping to effect the needed change. 1. The Advocate Agent of Change ~ The most common model of change agent is'the advocate (CA) who personally confronts the Structure on behalf of the People. The Advocate Agent is often inde-pendent of and outside the group of people for whom he or she is advocating. For example, in a class action suit against, say, a pharmaceutical company (the Structure), a lawyer (CA) personally advocates in court on behalf of the consumers who have been treated unfairly or unjustly (the People). Thus, on behalf of the People, the Change Agent tries to affect or influence the Structure: People--> CA--> Structure Lawyers are not the only Advocates. A teacher (CA) can approach the school administration (Structure) to Review for Relig4ous advocate on behalf of students (People) who need spe-cialized care or tutoring. A parent (CA) can approach the local police (Structure) and advocate for protection of children (People) who are being bullied on neighborhood streets. A therapist (CA) can write letters to Medicaid (Structure), advocating for certain patients (People) to receive disability payments. A teacher (CA) can write let-ters of recommendation to colleges (Structure), advocat-ing for certain students (People) to receive scholarships or financial aid. A physician (CA) can contact hospice (Structure) to advocate on behalf of dying patients (People). Pastoral ministers (CA) can approach the prison system (Structure), requesting religious training and other forms of spirituality for inmates (People). 2. The Empowerment Agent of Change In this second model, the Change Agent organizes and empowers the People, who then directly confront the Structure. There is a big difference between the first two models. In the Advocacy model, the CA deals directly with the Structure; in this second model the CA deals directly with the People wanting change, and not with the Structure. In this model, the CA teaches the People how to approach the Structure directly and advocate for themselves. The most obvious example of Empowerment is the community organizer. Empowerment Agents may or may not belong to the community they are empowering, but they obviously have charisma and organizing skills that most others don't possess. The Empowerment CA teaches people how to get organized, how to formulate and present their request, how to approach the people who representthe Structure; what their legal rights are, what to do in the face of resistance, how to develop a Plan B. 9 70.1 2011 Savary ¯ Agents of Change The Empowerment Agent works directly on the People, organizing and training them, so that the People are prepared to approach the Structure directly. Thus, CA--> People --> Structure In one of the social ministries at our parish, a min-istering couple (CA) trains unemployed people (People) in how to get jobs in the business world (Structure) by teaching them how to write effective resumes, how to answer questions in a job interview, how to dress prop-erly, how to network with other job seekers, and other skills useful in landing a job. Some professionals (CA) teach groups of unfairly treated workers (People) how to form labor unions in their workplaces (Structure) or how to demand safer working conditions. The Empowerment Agent knows how to generate "people pressure" to change a situation on behalf of cer-tain groups. Some years ago in Washington, DC, when natural childbirth procedures were becoming popular among mothers but not among doctors and hospitals, workshop leaders (CA) told expectant mothers (People) that they had a legal right to demand natural childbirth in a hospital (Structure). Although obstetricians pre-ferred to deliver babies through chemically-induced childbirth, the mothers' repeated demands for natural childbirth practices in hospitals prevailed. 3. The Lifestyle Agent of Change Grau's third model of change agency is the Lifestyle Agent. Here, the CA is one of the People and acts as one of them. Thus, the CA belongs to the very group of those seeking their rights or some concession they believe to be rightfully theirs. A common example is a group of college students (People) protesting some policy of the college (Structure) that they wish to change. Each of the protesting students is a CA. Or, to put it another way, Review for Religious the group of students as an entity (the People) is the CA. Although you or I as specific students in that group seem to be merely one of the protesting students, nevertheless, you and I are legitimately called CAs. In this scenario, People (CA) People --> Structure The most common forms of Lifestyle Agents include the protest march, the worker strike, the sit-in, the let-ter- writing campaign, and the political campaign. In each case, groups of people (who are both People and Change Agents) coordinate, organize, and mobilize their time, money, and efforts to change an unjust situation (Structure). During the 1960s, there was much resistance to racial integration of African Americans into white public institutions such as schools, churches, restaurants, and clubs. Two white couples in a Southern state desired to live a non-racially-prejudiced lifestyle. To an exclu-sive private school their own children were attending (Structure), they (CA) gave scholarships for a number of academically qualified African American children (People), whose applications the school could not reject. The same two couples invited African American cou-ples (People) to dine with them (CA) at their favorite exclusive "white" restaurant (Structure). The restaurant owner could either welcome the African Americans or lose the business of two wealthy white families who were regular and generous customers. The owner chose to keep earning money. 4. The Direct Service Agent of Change In some cases, the Structure (that is, the local gov-ernment) is incapable of meeting the needs of a group of People, such as the poor, the hungry, the homeless, or immigrants, because of a lack of funds or personnel. So, someone must step up and directly meet those needs. 70.1 2011 Savary ¯ Agents of Cl~ange 12 The Saint Vincent de Paul Society in church parishes is a Direct Service Agent, as are people who work in soup kitchens, who deliver food to shut-ins, or who tutor children who wouldn't otherwise ever learn to read. What is interesting about this model is its inde-pendence of the Structure. The Structure may refuse to meet the needs of such People, may be ignorant of those needs, or may even enact laws that outlaw such help. In this case, the Direct Service Agent provides direct service to the People in need, whether or not the Structure approves. Thus, CA--> People Structure Although the schema shows no arrow going from the People to the Structure, there is inevitably an effect produced on the Structure. Sometimes, the Structure is relieved and very grateful for the Direct Service CA, as was India (Structure) in the case of Mother Teresa (CA) and her service of the poorest and lowest classes (People). In other cases, as when those in church min-istry (CA) care for the needs of illegal immigrants (People), the CA may be acting in opposition to a civil ordinance (Structure). 5. The Ideological Agent of Change Most parents, teachers, counselors, and health pro-fessionals exemplify the Ideological Agents of change. Ideological Agents are shaping the minds and souls of the People in their care. Such CAs are working at a much more fundamental level than the Empowerment Agents are. Empowerment Agents typically organize and train a group of people to encounter the Structure on a specific issue, such as better treatment of gays in the community or requesting representation or a voice at a university's Board of Directors meetings. By contrast, the Ideological Agent is shaping the minds of people at a more general level. For example, Review for Religious religious teachers train students to think rationally and ethically, no matter what issue may arise in the future. Parents may instruct their children in proper social behavior--how to show gratitude, how to ask for things, how to play cooperatively. An English teacher may instruct students in how to communicate effectively through the written word and how to appreciate good writing. A history - - teacher may show students how to learn and grow wise from the study of history and the successes and failures of great men and women. A math teacher equips students for dealing with the financial and scientific dimensions of life. The counselor and health profes-sional help people deal with their basic emotional and physical issues so that they can be productive members of society. Financial advisors teach people how to man-age their money. Workshop leaders can teach people how to create the lives they desire. The work of the Ideological CA is, above all, foun-dational in nature. The CA is preparing persons (People) not only to live in society or in the church (Structures), but also to become intelligent and contributing members of such groups. In effect, the work of the Ideological CA is to prepare people to become effective agents of change themselves. Symbolically, CA--> People --> Structure In one sense, the effects the Ideological Agent has on the Structures of society or the church are mostly The effects the Ideological Agent has on the Structures of society or the church are mostly indirect, ~b~ut yet very powerful. 13 70.1 2011 Savary ¯ Agents of Change 14 indirect, but yet very powerful. Persons who have not learned to think for themselves, or who have little or no control over their emotions or instincts are not likely to become the best agents of change in society. The role of the Ideological Agent is therefore crucial for the development of society and of the church. Also not to be forgotten among the Ideological Agents are editors of newspapers and newsletters and writers of books, professional articles, and how-to pam-phlets. Many people today have websites or blogs that provide inspiration, give helpful hints, or steer people in the right direction. 6. The Institutional Agent of Change The sixth and final model is called Institutional. In this approach, the Institutional Agent (CA) is part of the Structure. Thus, in the church (Structure), a priest or bishop who is a part of that Structure can be an Institutional Agent (CA) if he works to change the Structure so that it benefits the People by meeting their need(s). A truly Institutional CA is always con-sciously thinking of the People and how he or she can make things better for the them. Structure (CA) --> Structure --> People Institutional CAs would also include elected politi-cal representatives, school officials, academic adminis-trators, mayors, governors, civil officials, ranking law enforcement officers, members of boards of directors, business managers, hospital supervisors, and officers of professional organizations. More Than One Style Most people use more than one style of change agency in their life and work. Some get to use all six. In the life of Jesus, we can find examples of most styles. Review for Religious He was certainly an Advocate (1) for the People when he spoke to the scribes, Pharisees, and priests. He was an Ideological CA (5) in the ways he taught people to live their lives. He used Direct Service (4) in healing the sick. As an Empowerment Agent (2), he trained his apostles and disciples on how to go among the people to preach and heal. Since he was neither a scribe nor a priest, he could not use the Institutional model. Members of Alcoholics Anonymous combine Lifestyle Agency, Direct Service Agency, and Ideological Agency in their various ways of working. They are affecting many layers of social and religious Structures, since they (and others in related twelve-step groups) are turning individuals, who were burdens on society and their families, into productive, income-producing, tax-paying citizens, good parents, and upstanding church members. What Are Your Preferred Styles of Change Agency? Dr. Joseph Grau, a student of the writings of French Jesuit Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, wrote his doctoral dissertation (as yet unpublished) on the ethics of Teilhard. In much of traditional Christian spirituality, Grau wrote, we are seen as independent persons, each seeking our own individual salvation by avoiding serious sin. In contrast, for Teilhard, as for St. Paul, all humanity (and the rest of creation) is living in the Cosmic Christ, who is daily growing, changing, and evolving toward his ultimate completion. In this perspective, Christians are not primarily isolated individuals, each independently seeking to save their own souls, but we are all inextricably interconnected in this great God Project. In St. Paul's words, we are the hands and feet, the eyes and ears of Christ on earth today, helping bring this Cosmic Christ to 70.1 2011 Savary * Agents of Change his fulfillment as destined by the Creator. Thus, we see the need for all to become effective change agents. Therefore, our spirituality today cannot be focused simply on avoiding sin. Rather we must be focused on consciously choosing actions that are designed to make a positive difference in the world. For Teilhard, we are all called to be Agents of Change in helping the Structures of our world become more just, kind, and caring for all those in need (People). We consciously choose to become Agents of Change so that Christ may be all in all. To accomplish this will require a lot of change and improvement in our world. What part will you play in the great God Project? Personal Reflection / Group Discussion Savary raises the question for our reflections: What are my preferred styles of change agency? Why are these my preferred styles? How is it helpful to reflect on the different models of change agency? Review for Religious JOHN H. ZUPEZ Christ-like Empathy in Those Who Govern One might address this topic through a study of "Paternal/Maternal Governance as an Ideal in Religious Communities." But that could get us into arguments over whether it is overstating the type of governance called for by our constitutions, or whether such governance is realistically possible. So I choose to focus on Jesus' way of dealing with people as an ideal and as inspiration for all followers of Christ, whether they be in a religious congregation or not. In religious congregations new challenges have arisen to experiencing empathy from those who gov-ern. Such empathy has suffered on several fronts in our times: the sophistication of relationships with those out-side our immediate circle of friends; the administrative burden of major superiors which puts more burden on the local superior; the diminishing pool of prospects for appointment as superior. You can probably think John H. Zupez SJ wrote for us on prayer in 1992 and 2009. He is currently pastor of Corpus Christi Church; 1005 N.E. 15th Street; Oklahoma City, Oklahoma 73117. 17 70.1 2011 Zupez * Christ-like Empathy in those Who Govern of other reasons why relations between religious and their superiors become strained. Empathy in superiors is most important since their community has no choice but to relate to them. These reflections may also help in keeping relations among community members from becoming strained. Empathy Wikipedia on the Internet has a long article on empa-thy that begins with the following description, involv-ing various aspects. It seems suitable to our purposes. Empathy is a "feeling of concern for other people that creates a desire to help them, experiencing emotions that match another person's emotions, knowing what the other person is thinking or feeling." This is a good description of Jesus' approach to people. Even if his keen intelligence and sensitivity bordered on the mirac-ulous at times, his dealings show his desire to get inside the mind and heart of those he addressed, to experi-ence and know from their perspective before trying to help them, at times with reproof. It didn't rule out an ever-sharpening critique of some religious attitudes he wanted to correct. But one never gets the idea that he missed the point, that he judged too harshly or without sufficient empathy for what others thought and felt. His empathetic way of understanding how people thought and felt typically led to his sympathetic and caring way of ministering to them. Reflecting on ways Jesus exhib-ited empathy in the gospel accounts can help us follow him more closely in this regard. Not all instances are equally illustrative, but together they show Jesus' great sensitivity as a model for his followers. References will be to Mark's Gospel. Even if some of Jesus' sayings here originated in the early church, Review for Religious they reflect a consistent personality trait of Jesus that was well-remembered by his followers. In Mark's Gospel ¯ In Mark's Gospel only Jesus hears his vocation call at the Jordan, after which he immediately goes "on retreat" and doesn't begin his ministry until John's arrest (1:10- 14). If we attribute greater historicity to this account than to the other Gospels, it shows great sensi-tivity on the part of Jesus to the feelings of the Baptist and -- complete appreciation for John's ministry, even though this would contribute to the survival of the Baptist move-ment alongside Christianity. ¯ Jesus calls James and John to follow him, leaving their father Zebedee alone with the hired hands (1:20). Scholars point to this as one of many signs that Jesus saw the end-time as imminent, for otherwise he would have shown more sympathy for the father who was left without his sons' help. ¯ Many times in the Gospels Jesus attributes ill behavior not to the free choice of persons but to unclean spirits that have taken possession of the persons (1:25). Can we see this as a case of empathy, of Jesus' most merciful judgment? ¯ When his disciples disturb his morning prayer, he doesn't reproach them but agrees with them that they rightly understand his mission (1:35-38). Again and again Jesus attributes his cures to the patent faith he perceived in those to whom he ministered. 19 70.1 2011 Zupez ¯ Christ-like Empathy in those Who Govern ¯ Jesus healed the leper and fed crowds that were hungry and "without a shepherd," being "moved with pity" or compassion (1:41, 6:34, 8:2), knowing how they felt. He also began his ministry showing great sensitivity toward the temple priests, allowing them to profit from the effect of his cures (1:44). ¯ Again and again Jesus attributes his cures to the patent faith he perceived in those to whom he minis-tered (2:5), and he "perceived in his spirit" the lack of faith in those who "questioned in their hearts" (2:6, 8). ¯ Jesus' only mention of fasting in Mark's Gospel came in order to defend the Baptist who required his disciples to fast (2:18-20). ¯ Jesus gave an opportunity for Jewish leaders to defend their traditions, feeling "anger" when they "were silent" and refused to communicate with him (3:4, 5). ¯ When Mark says that Jesus appointed 12 apostles not just to proclaim his message but "to be with him," he shows the intimate community that would help them to see deeply into one another (3:14). ¯ Many of Jesus' parables were addressed to the Jewish leaders whom he so much wanted to bring on board his movement. He carefully fashions suasive argu-ments to move these intelligent adversaries, and only after rejection by them does he conclude that they have simply closed their hearts to God's Spirit (3:23-29). ¯ When his family thinks him "out of his mind," he gives an inclusive description of who his family is, knowing that they also "do the will of God" (3:21, 35). ¯ He shows himself a careful observer of nature and of human behavior, distinguishing between ways his word goes unheeded in people. The faith of some is rootless, in some it is destroyed by others, in some it is choked out by the cares of this world (4:15-19). Review for Religious ¯ He commends those who are translucent, who let the light within them shine out clearly for all to see: "nothing is hidden but will be disclosed" (4:21-22). ¯ He intuits the concern of his listeners over the smallness and hiddenness of the kingdom in his ministry and responds with the parables of hidden growth and of the mustard seed (4:26-32). ¯ Sympathy for Jairus leads Jesus to put up with the ridicule of the crowd, and when he had cured Jairus' daughter he mentions the hunger of the girl: "give her something to eat" (5:43). This last touch must have struck Mark as typical of Jesus' thoughtfulness of oth-ers, and so merited inclusion in his Gospel. ¯ When Jesus is rejected by the people of his own hometown, he makes up a good excuse for them, rather than blaming them; "Prophets are not without honor except in their hometown" (6:4). Then he anticipates how people would feel if his apostles went house-hop-ping, looking perhaps for a nicer place to stay. He advises them to stay with whoever first welcomes them (6:10). Jesus also perceives the fatigue of the work for his apostles and invites them to "come aside and rest awhile" (6:31). Then, respecting their close feeling for him, he "goes up the mountain to pray" only "after say-ing farewell to them" (6:46). ¯ When the Jewish leaders criticize his disciples for not washing their hands before eating, Jesus doesn't dis-miss their objection lightly but defends the disciples by quoting at length Jewish. traditions (7:5-15). He can also quickly correct his response to a person when he perceives a need for self-correction, as in his change from rejecting to commending the Syrophoenician woman (7:2 7-2 9). ¯ Jesus took the deaf man with a speech impediment "away from the crowd, in private," perhaps to compen- 70.1 2011 Zupez ¯ Christ-like Empathy in those Who Govern From all who wish to enter the kingdom, Jesus demands childlike curiosity and openness to new ideas sate for the crowd's ridicule of the man, becoming close and personal with him (7:33). ¯ Though his disciples fail to see, hear, or remem-ber in spite of the powers he had demonstrated, Jesus continues to work with them patiently, conclud-ing only with the gentle rebuke "Do you not yet understand?" (8:18,21). When admonished by Peter for predicting his suffering, Jesus' response focuses not on himself but on the good of Peter, who has set his mind "not on divine things but on human things" (8:33). Instead of further chiding Peter, he calls together "the crowd with his disciples" and explains the centrality of the cross in the Christian life (8:34-38). ¯ When Jesus sees that "a crowd came running together" he expedites his cure of the possessed young man, saving him further embarrassment (9:25). ¯ Jesus says that our dealings with others should not be from a sense of superiority ("whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all") but with the warmth that we show to a very loveable child (9:35-37). Jesus crowns this with a breadth of appreciation that extends to even our "giving a cup of water to drink" for which we will receive his reward (9:41). (Since Jesus did not refer to himself as Christ or Messiah, that seems here an addition of the early church.) Jesus' love for his dis-ciples doesn't stop short of "scaring the hell out of them" lest they stray from the right path (9:42-48). He goes on Review for Religious to encourage his disciples to vigorously pursue their own gifts while respecting others' differences (9:50). ¯ From all who wish to enter the kingdom, Jesus demands childlike curiosity and openness to new ideas, traits sorely lacking in the Jewish leaders who never gave him a fair hearing (10:15). ¯ Jesus' appreciation for all the goodness in others is revealed in his love for the young man who had kept the commandments from his y~)uth (10:20-21). He further points out that God can overlook our deficiencies and make up for them (10:27); God doesn't demand more than we can give. ¯ When James and John come forward with incred-ible hubris and pushiness, Jesus gently admonishes them that "you do not know what you are asking" (10:38). He then throws the focus away from James and John to advise the twelve together that Christian leadership is gauged enti!~qly in t.~rms of humble service (10:41-44). ¯ Jesus' empathy for people's differences, everyone believing in themselves, is reflected in what is arguably the most distinctive Christian virtue, ready forgiveness of others (11:25). ¯ In the question of giving tribute to Caesar, Jesus leaves off criticizing his adversaries for their flattery and feigned praise and keeps loving, keeps saying what could awaken them to their own hypocrisy and be their salva-tion, leaving them "amazed" (12:13-17). ¯ When a woman anoints Jesus with oil worth more than a year's wages, Jesus may have been taken aback by the extravagance but instead thinks of an even more extravagant way to compliment her: her deed will always be preached as a part of the Gospel (14:5, 9). ¯ When his closest disciples fall asleep during his agony in the garden, he doesn't blame them but thinks 70.1 2011 Zupez ¯ Christ-like Empathy in those grbo Govern of an excuse for them: "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak" (14:38). And so also throughout his Passion he shows forgiveness on all sides and attributes his fate rather to the fulfillment of Scripture (14:27, 49). Conclusion We see here an ideal to strive for even if we can never reach it. Superiors may have little wiggle room to change their decisions. But if they exercise author-ity in a spirit of open dialogue and sincere empathy, then those under them will respond more as if to Christ himself. February Snow Snow fresh fallen and still spilling subdues the trees out your windows and muffles the world. You watch it blow, all of winter in your eye. Suddenly a wingedflame pierces the scene and swoops to the feeder. Red as a tulip, it's Isaiah of the seasons prophesying the return of color to this bleached-out world. If not tomorrow, then soon. Soon. Patricia Schnapp RSM Review for Religious JAMES MENKHAUS The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Path To Virtue The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius is a clas-sic work of Christian spirituality. Ignatius created the Exercises by reflecting on the expe-rience of God working in his life. In a memo-rable excerpt from his autobiography, Ignatius recalls, "God treated him [Ignatius] at this time just as aoschoolmaster treats a child he is teach-ing.''~ Ignatius's insight reflects his belief that God not only loves God's creatures, but slowly reveals God's will to them. Just as a child grows and slowly uncovers knowledge with the help of a teacher, so do human beings, with the help of God, slowly uncover God's call. Hoping to impart his insights, Ignatius created a series of meditations and reflections to help others discern their own call from God. In the final making the spiritual exercises James Menkhaus is currently involved in h~s doctoral work in Systematic Theology at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and teaches part-time at John Carroll Universi~ in Cleveland, Ohio. His address is 2965 Hampshire Road; University Heights, Oh{o 44118. 70.1 2011 Menkbaus * The Spiritual Exercises of St. IKnatius years of his life, Ignatius crystallized his reflections by finalizing the Spiritual Exercises. While it is true that the Spiritual Exercises can help an individual discern God's call, another potential ben-efit from undergoing the retreat experience can be described by using the language of virtue ethics. Virtue ethics is an approach in normative ethics that emphasizes the moral significance of an agent's character. Instead of focusing on the question "what action should I take?" virtue ethics asks people to reflect on "what sort of per-son should I be?''2 This reflection, which then leads to action, is exemplified in the Ignatian retreat process. In this essay I will apply the language of virtue ethics to the experience of undergoing the Spiritual Exercises, examining the roles of narrative, friendship, presence, and renewed friendship. Using virtue ethics to describe the transformative effect of the Spiritual Exercises dem-onstrates that the experience is not only a tool for the discernment of God's will, but a method for the devel-opment of character. Narrative Foundation in Week One In the First Week of the Spiritual Exercises, using the exercitant's narrative as a starting point lays the founda-tion for the subsequent weeks. Ignatius instructs, "The First Point is the court-record of my sins. I will call to memory all the sins of my life, looking at them year by year or period by period.''3 Ignatius hopes the exerci-rant will take the time to reflect on how sinful a person can be and, in reflecting on one's past narrative, will acknowledge those times of turning away from God's offer of love. Exercitants are often offered the cl~ance for confession during this time as they uncover aspects of their narrative that they have either forgotten or tried to Review for Relig4ous deny to themselves. Ignadus' own experiences of sin and the way one can become ensnared by sinfulness, influ-enced his decision to give the chance to consider one's sins and bring them before God. The reflection on sin could be damaging if Ignatius did not ask the exercitant to concurrently recall God's forgiveness. Another meditation [23] is titled "The Principle and Foundation." The foun-dational principle for Ignatius is that God loves creation and never with-draws the offer of love. Ignatius hopes that during the First Week the exerci-tant will be able to balance these two concepts--the Creator's unlimited offer of love and one's own sinfulness. Both are important. Without God's love, the focus on one's sins could lead the exercitant to a sense of despair. Awareness of one's own sinfulness, however, is also key because God's love is a gift, not something earned. Because the Exercises rely so heavily on narrative, nar-rative is an important concept to unpack. Some virtue ethicists, such as Nancey Murphy and Stanley Hauerwas use narrative as a starting point for ethical reflection. "The acquired characteristics needed for participation in practices," writes Murphy, "are merely candidates for vir-tue until we see how they contribute to the whole human life from birth to death."4 To consider virtues divorced from the living experiences of human beings deprives them of life. The narrative, or human experience, gives an arena for virtue to be explored, developed, and fos- Without God's love, the focus on one's sins could lead the exercitant to a sense of despair. 70.1 2011 Menkbaus ¯ The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius tered. It is through human experience and development that virtues are acquired. Therefore, any discussion of virtue must begin by looking at narrative. In A Community of Character, Hauerwas relates a story from his own narrative about the time and effort his father put into making a gun for him as a gift. Instead of responding with love and thankfulness for the gift, Hauerwas replied that guns would one day be taken away from "you people." The love of the father in the formation of the gift was rejected by the son who thought it was more important to prove a point about social policy. The son sought to form his own narra-tive by rejecting his father's world, his father's narrative. Hauerwas reflects, "But in fact what I did was deeply dishonest, as it revealed a lack of self, the absence of a sustaining narrative sufficient to bind my past with my future.''5 Forming one's own narrative is about respect-ing the tradition that comes before, while taking the responsibility of creating the future. Hauerwas's personal example fits very well with the First Week of the Exercises. The relationship of children and parents often involves struggle, and the revelation that love was not returned from child to parent, or par-ent to child, is a common difficulty. Someone facing a narrative like Hauerwas's would likely be drawn to focus on the guilt of rejecting the offer of love from father to son. Such guilt, if carried through life without being faced and worked through, could have damaging effects on a person's identity. More often than one might think, these feelings are buried deep within, and only through taking time in prayer and reflection can one realize that they have played a formative role in one's development. Once one uncovers these feelings, the guide would likely suggest a meditation or prayer that focuses on Revie~v for Religious forgiveness--for example, the story of the prodigal son (Lk 15:11-32). In this parable Jesus tells of a son who squandered all that the father had given him. When the son was at his lowest point, he thought the father might take him on as hired hand. Indeed, as the son returned to the father, "While he was still a long way off, his father caught . sight of him, and was filled with compas-sion. He ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him" (Lk 15:20). It is often pointed out that the father saw him from a long way off, indi-cating that he had been watching for his son, hoping that he would return. This parable encapsulates the duality of the First Week because it involves the sinful son, or human being, and the loving and forgiving father, or God. Again, it is nar-rative that communicates the key elements. In this case, narrative in the form of story symbolizes God's love for and willingness to forgive humanity. The First Week experience is impossible without one's reflection on one's own narrative and experience. Because of the individuality and uniqueness of each exercitant's experience, it is the personal narrative that sets the stage for the rest of the retreat. The subsequent Weeks are also heavily dependent upon narrative, but in a different context. The Weeks that follow advance through the narrative of Jesus' life as the exercitant is asked to enter into that life at different stages of Christ's mission. It is through entering into Christ's narrative The First Week experience is impossible without one ,s reflection on one's own narrative and experience. 29 70.1 2011 Menkhaus ¯ The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius that the virtues of friendship and presence can be devel-oped in the exercitant. Narrative is, in many ways, foun-dational to the Spiritual Exercises. Developing Friendship in Week Two Once exercitants come to terms with their own sin-fulness in the light of God's offer of love, at least to some extent, the retreat moves to Week Two. During the Second Week, the focus shifts to meditations on the life of Christ up to the passion. Exercitants read passages from the Bible and place themselves into the scenes. Ignatius hoped that the experience of allowing the Spirit to move the narrative forward would help communicate God's will to the individual. For example, an exercitant who continually feels drawn to healing others during these meditations might consider if God is calling to some sort of healing vocation or work in medicine. The exercitant who is constantly drawn to Christ the teacher might reflect more deeply if there is a call to a profes-sion in education. No matter what vocation one is called to, however, the experience of being with Christ during this time will likely lead to a cultivation of the virtue of friendship. Through the narrative reflection on Christ's life, friendship is both developed with Christ and learned as a virtue to cultivate in other relationships. Ignatius describes the grace to be prayed for in the Second Week: "Here it will be to ask for an interior knowledge of our Lord, who became human for me, that I may love him more intensely and follow him more closely.''6 In order to foster this interior knowledge and love, Ignatius begins the gospel contemplations with scenes from the nativity. The desire to follow Christ should begin at the start of his humanity. Ronald Modras elaborates the method: "Ignatius asks retreatants to con- Review for Religious template ("look at") the birth of Christ, using all their senses. One is to imagine the road, feel the wind, listen in on the conversation between Mary and Joseph, gaze at the newborn infant--all activities intended to arouse the affections.''7 The use of all the senses during the meditation can lead the exercitant to be truly moved by the experience. It is during the early stages of Week Two that the virtue of friendship begins to be explored in the narrative formed between the exercitant and Christ. Hauerwas and Charles Pinches in Christians among the Virtues provide key insights about friendship as a virtue. They write, "We learn virtue, which is necessary for happiness, not alone but in communities of friends.''8 No one would ever desire to live without friends, and these friendships help form communities. Later they explain, agreeing with Aristotle, "It is like watching ourselves, only bet-ter, for we see the activity that is ours--both the friends' and our own--all the more clearly.''9 Those people we surround ourselves with are those whose actions mirror our own. Likewise, when our friends do virtuous acts, it encourages us to behave similarly. Friendship is valuable for helping people learn virtue. Hauerwas and Pinches also state that true friendship is not simply an unachievable ideal. "Rather, friend-ship itself is an activity by which we acquire the kind of steadfastness necessary for our being true friends. True friendship is . . . a growing relation which, as it ¯ increases, makes possible our becoming virtuous in a manner that transforms ourselves and our friendship."1° A good friendship helps a. person learn what it means to be a good friend because, friendship grows through shared experience. Transformation and change are nec-essary because friendship never remains static. Friends 31 70.1 2011 Menkbaus ¯ The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius One does not become a follower of Christ without effort and prayer and an honest attempt to follow him. learn virtue together as both realize what it means to have a good friendship. It is certainly possible to have a bad or dishonest friendship, but the insights we are offering on growth of virtue in friendship assume that both friends are trying in good faith to respect and love each other. The insights of Hauerwas and Pinches on friendship help unpack how the Second Week can lead to a deepen-ing desire to follow Christ. Learning through these medi-ations to love and follow Christ and to become friends with the human Jesus should lead us to behave more like our new friend. As we see Christ do miracles of heal-ing, accepting the outcast, and giving life to the hope-less, we are inspired, as his friends, to do the same. As Hauerwas . and Pinches pointed out, the virtuous actions of our friends inspire us to behave accordingly. The insight that friendship is developed through a process of transformation is impor-tant as well. One does not become a follower of Christ without effort and prayer and an honest attempt to fol-low him. An exercitant might be asked to contemplate the story of the paralytic (Lk 5:17-26), which highlights the virtue of friendship from a variety of angles. The primary focus of this story is that Jesus tells a man to get up and walk and that his sins are forgiven. The Pharisees are enraged that Jesus thinks he can tell a man Review for Religio~ts his sins are forgiven because, for them, God alone could forgive sins. However, a subplot to the story involves the friendship of the men who brought the paralytic to Jesus: "But not finding a way to bring him. in because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on the stretcher through the tiles into the middle in front of Jesus"(5:19). Because the group thought that Jesus might be able to help their friend, they did every-thing they could to get him to Jesus. When their first attempt failed, they turned to extraordinary means to accomplish their' goal--going so far as to lower their friend through the root~ The first example of friendship is the desire of the friends to get the paralytic to Jesus, even when their first attempt failed. The friends were willing to take extraor-dinary measures to help someone they loved. The second example is Jesus' willingness to heal the paralytic. Jesus' action invites the exercitant to imitate that healing by healing others. The exercitant could contemplate that as Jesus heals those he cares for, in what way can he/she heal others? As the exercitant becomes friends with Jesus, Jesus' actions should be mirrored in the exercitant. The virtuous actions of one's friends should encourage a rep-lication of those actions beyond the retreat experience. Another vital aspect of the Second Week, the elec-tion, occurs as the Week comes to a close, when the exercitant has come to be Christ's friend and must decide to follow him. It would be rar~ for a non-Christian to undergo the Exercises, so Ignatius did not see this as a matter of full conversion from one religion to another. Indeed, many people, during the time of the election, reaffirm what they held before they began the retreat. However, for some, the experience of coming to know Christ could lead to a different sort of election, perhaps 70.1 2011 Menkbaus ¯ The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius 34 the desire to enter religious life or to change one's life-style to include more time for prayer, works of mercy, or being with one's loved ones. It is important to consider the election in light of virtue because the friendship that has begun to grow reaches its first point of verification. If it is not a true friendship, the exercitant will not choose to follow Christ. A much greater challenge awaits in the Third Week, but for now the exercitant must decide if the meditations from infancy throughout the life of Christ have cultivated a sense of love and a knowledge of the human Jesus. Jesuit Howard Gray reflects, "The elec-tion that comes at the climax of the Second Week is then less a decision than a surrender to the specific and intimate ways the Spirit of Christ leads me through my humanity to union with his humanity.''11 This union that Gray describes is one aspect of a friendship. Friends come together to form a union of care and respect for each other, a union in which each challenges and sup-ports the other. This support is put to the test through the suffering of Christ during the Third Week. Suffering Presence in Week Three The meditations of the Third Week begin with Christ's sending of two disciples from Bethany to Jerusalem to prepare for the last supper; they conclude with the death of Jesus. While feelings of sadness are often associated with the exercitant's experience, the third week is not a recapitulation of the First Week's turmoil. The desolation experienced in reflecting on the sufferings of Christ is different from the desolation caused by reflecting on one's own sins. The Exercises are developmental; the experiences of the weeks build upon each other. Michael Ivens, a scholar of the Review for Religious Spiritual Exercises, explains, "Thus the exercitant comes to pray the Passion in the Third Week having in the First Week contemplated the cross as a sign of both sin and mercy.''~2 A consideration of the virtues in the Exercises reveals a similar pattern because the virtues are also developmental. The friendship developed in Week Two will now be put to the test and, if successful, strengthened through the exercitant's presence with the suffering Christ. Ignatius writes that the grace of the Third Week to pray for is "heartfelt sorrow and confusion, because the Lord is going to his Passion for my sins.''13 Ignatius instructs the exercitant to become aware of the betrayal, brutality, and abandonment that Christ undergoes and, during meditations on these, to pray for the grace to suffer with Christ during his ordeal--the betrayal when Judas handed Christ over to be arrested, the brutality Christ underwent through the beatings and the cruci-fixion, and the abandonment he felt when his disciples fled and even Peter denied that he knew Christ. These three related elements, betrayal, brutality, and abandon-ment, all exemplify the experiences of Christ during the passion and are a powerful reminder for the exercitant of all that Christ underwent for humanity. In Week Two the exercitant was instructed simply to enter the scene, but Week Three calls for prayer to experience Christ's suffering. This does not mean the exercitant should seek pain for trivial purposes, such as purposely making daily life harder and deceiving oneself into thinking it is for Christ. Rather, it means being willing to put Christ first. One should be willing to leave behind whatever keeps one from putting Christ first. Jesuit Peter Fennessy explains, "The reality of the situation is that compassion is a deep love of Christ that 70.1 2011 Menkhaus * The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius 36 unites us [to Christ] in his suffering and in doing so brings us to renounce our own selves.''14 It is certainly possible that God could call one to physical suffering, such as serving the poor in a dangerous location or put-ting one's life at risk. However, this is not the case for all exercitants. For most, the suffering that Ignatius chal-lenges them to undergo is to detach themselves from attachments that disorder their lives. On choosing which disorder to remove, Fennessy states, "We will not choose too much below our ability, since that would be insin-cere; nor too much beyond our ability since that would invite, even intend, failure.''s However, the exercitant must be willing to die to any inordinate desires that pre-vent union with Christ. This detachment, in many cases, will involve an aspect of suffering. Another way of understanding the grace of the Third Week is through the virtue of presence. Hauerwas's Suffering Presence offers insights about what it means to be present to another's suffering and how this presence can have an impact. He again uses narrative to describe a time when he was a suffering presence to his friend Bob. Hauerwas and Bob spent a lot of time together as they grew up and were very close friends. One morning he went to see Bob and found him weeping uncontrol-lably. Bob's mother had committed suicide earlier that morning. He embraced Bob, and they spent the rest of the day together. He describes that time: "We never talked about his mother or what had happened. We did what we always did. We talked girls, football, cars, mov-ies, and anything else that was inconsequential enough to distract our attention from this horrible event . All I could do was be present.''16 The transformation of character that occurs by undergoing the Third Week of the Exercises is the cre- Review for Religious ation of a person who understands what it means to be present to the suffering, dying, and abandoned people in society. Just as exercitants learn to be present with the befriended Christ, so should they be transformed into a greater capacity of being present with their friends. However, this presence should be extended to others, beyond their friends, just as Christ taught. The seeds planted in Week Two, when one meditates on how Christ ate with sinners and tax collectors and approached those in society that were considered out-casts, continue to grow in Week Three. Often those who suffer the most in society are not those who are friends with the exercitant, but those who have no friends at all. The poor and oppressed are the ones that Christ ministered to and who are often the examples of suffering in society. These are the people who need the presence that Hauerwas (and Christ) describe. Joy and New Friendship in Week Four If the Gospel ended with Christ's death, the Christian faith would be empty. Similarly, if the Exercises ended with Week Three, there would be no hope to move the exercitant beyond the suffering of Christ. However, the resurrection accounts in the Gospel and Week Four of the Exercises provide hope. Ignatius writes, "Consider how the divinity, which hid itself during the Passion, now appears and manifests itself so miraculously in this holy Resurrection, through its true and most holy effects.''17 The Fourth Week meditations revolve around how the divinity manifests itself during the appearance narratives in the Gospel, and these narratives lead to a glimpse of understanding what it means to act as the divine. Appearance stories that the exercitant can be asked to reflect upon are those of the disciples on the road to 70.1 2011 Menkhaus * The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Emmaus (Lk 24:13-35) and of Jesus on the shore (Jn 21:1-14). In each case, Jesus appears to the disciples who were lost and afraid and who feared that their hope in Jesus had been misplaced. When he appears to his friends on the road to Emmaus, even though they did not recognize him at first, he walked with them. He then broke bread with them and opened the scriptures. Reflecting after he disappeared from their sight, the dis-ciples asked each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us when he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?" (Lk 24:32). In John's account, Jesus also takes time to eat with the disciples as they share a meal on the shore. In both accounts, Jesus appears to console his suffering friends, offering his own example of being a suffering presence. These appearances lead to a new friendship between the disciples and the risen Lord, just as the Fourth Week meditations lead to a new friendship between the exercitant and Christ. The same kind of new friendship emerged after Hauerwas spent time with Bob. Once one has been there for the other in a time of extreme trial, the friendship is never the same. In some cases it may be awkward or dif-ficult, but it is never unchanged. For Christ and the disci-ples, however, the friendship was not awkward, but led the disciples to be willing to give their lives to spread Christ's message. Jesus instructs them to "Go into the whole world and proclaim the gospel to every creature" (Mk 16:16). It is because of their belief in Christ, developed by their friend-ship with him and tested through his passion, that the dis-ciples take up this task of proclamation. What is hoped for is that the exercitant, while medi-tating on the resurrection at the end of the retreat, will experience joy. Gray explain~ that joy for Ignatius is not simply being happy, but is a "participation in the joy Review for Religious of the risen Christ. Ignatian joy is the psycho-religious energy that desires to bring others happiness, harmony of heart, insight, peace, reconciliation . -18 This joy drives the exercitant to want to be joy in the lives of others after the retreat. It is the joy experienced by the disciples when they realized that Christ had risen and their hopes had not been misplaced. Servais Pinckaers describes joy from the perspec-tive of virtue ethics in Morality: The Catholic View. He writes, "Joy is lasting, like the excellence, the virtues, that engender it. Joy is communicable; it grows by being shared and repays sacrifices freely embraced . Joy belongs to the purity and generosity of love.''19 For Pinckaers, joy helps order pleasure so pleasure does not take control of one's life. Joy lies in the inner depths of our being and is experienced when we align ourselves with the love of God. Joy cannot be separated from truth and the struggle towards the good. Pinckaers believes that joy unites the virtues which are "like the arteries that carry strength and disperse joy through the entire organism of the moral life.''z° Pinckaers's view of joy as a culmination of the virtues connects well with Gray's assertion that the experience of Ignatian joy is the culmination of the Spiritual Exercises. Living the Virtues in the World The new friendship between Christ and the exerci-tant is formed by the transformation of being a suffer-ing presence. But the fruit from the retreat must keep growing after the retreat. The exercitant's friendship with the risen Christ should one move to action. Just as virtue ethics begins with the agent but leads to action, so should the Spiritual Exercises. The movement into the world, of the ideals enshrined in the virtues is one way 70.1 2011 Menkbaus ¯ The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius A virtue ethics pei'spective of the Exercises calls one to apply these virtues in the future. 4O to counteract claims that the Exercises are an individual experience. Without the drive to live out these newly acquired virtues and change the world, transformation is never complete. Just as Ignatius would have said the exercitant should apply what is learned about God's will for the individual, a virtue ethics perspective of the Exercises calls one to apply these virtues in the future. Another way to describe the experience of undergoing the Exercises is as moral formation or moral development that pushes one to action. Pinckaers describes this forma-tion as "the interior revolution that the grace of Christ works within us. It teaches us to employ institutions and exercise authority in a spirit of service . . . imitating the service of Christ.''2' Moral formation can develop or . -- refine the virtues of friendship or pres-ence, and once these begin to grow, they are seen to imply a call to action, an emulation of Christ. They make one sen- - -' sitive to those who have no friends and need friendship or those who have no comforter and need presence. Pinckaers describes this movement, writing, "Just as we appreciate health bet-ter when we are sick, so too we become sensitive to our inclinafon to the good when we are confronted with evil and suffering.''22 In this way, the Exercises help form a more moral individual who is called to action. The kinds of action that an exercitant should engage in are, simply put, virtuous actions. By emulating the actions that Christ carried out both before his death and during the appearance narratives, one can become Review for Religious a more virtuous person. Albert Nolan, in Jesus Before Christianity, challenges Christians to look to Christ to see how God wants human beings to act: We have seen what Jesus is like. If we now wish to treat him as our God, we would have to conclude that our God does not want to be served by us, but wants to serve us; God does not want to be given the highest possible rank in society, but wants to take the lowest place and to be without any rank and sta-tus; God does not want to be feared and obeyed, but wants to be recognized in the sufferings of the poor and the weak.23 Nolan challenges followers of Christ to reflect on who Jesus was during his lifetime. Those who have undergone the Spiritual Exercises have encountered Christ through meditation and contemplation. The encountered Christ has likely been one who fits Nolan's description. A Jesus who wants to serve, who takes the lowest place in society, and who wants to be recognized in the sufferings of the poor is the Jesus who has been encoun-tered in prayer. If Nolan is correct, Jesus has given humanity a glimpse into how God wants creatures to live, and the Spiritual Exercises help us come to this awareness as we move through the retreat. The Spiritual Exercises are a tool for the discern-ment of God's will, but the retreat is also an experience that can form a more virtuous person. By examining one's narrative during the First Week, areas of sinful-ness and growth can be discerned in light of God's love. The Second Week helps the exercitant know what it means to be a friend and to learn from Christ how to emulate his actions. The Third Week tests the virtue of presence, challenging people to be present to those in need, especially those who have no one else. Finally, 41 70.1 2011 Menkbaus * The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius the Fourth Week teaches the joy associated with the resurrection and a new friendship tested by suffering. The exercitant who takes to heart the experience of the Spiritual Exercises should leave the retreat a more virtu-ous person, seeking to emulate the actions of Christ in a world broken by sin and needing redemption. Notes ' Ignatius of Loyola, "The Autobiography," in Ignatius of Loyola: The Spiritual Exercises and Selected Works, ed. George E. Ganss SJ (New York: Paulist Press, 1991), p. 79. z Rosalind Hursthouse, On Virtue Ethics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), p. 17. 3 Ignatius, Spiritual Exercises [56]. 4 Nancey Murphy, "Using MacIntyre's Method in Christian Ethics," in Virtue and Practices in the Christian Tradition, ed. Nancey Murphy, Brad J. Kallenberg, and Mark Thiessen Nation (Pennsylvania: Trinity Press International, 2003), p. 41. ~ Hauerwas, A Community of Character, p. 146. 6 Ignatius, Spiritual Exercises [104]. 7 Ronald Modras, Ignatian Humanism (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2004), p. 47. 8 Stanley Hauerwas and Charles Pinches, Christians among the Virtues (Notre Dame: University of Norte Dame Press, 1997), p. 33. 9 Hauerwas and Pinches, Christians among the Virtues, p. 33. 10 Hauerwas and Pinches, Christians among the Virtues, p. 38. 11 Howard Gray SJ, "Joy and Friendship in the Fourth Week," The Way Supplement: Resurrection and Beyon& The Fourth Week 99 (2000): p. 18. ~2 Michael Ivens SJ, Understanding the Spiritual Exercises (Trowbridge: Cromwell Press, 1998), p. 147. '3 Ignatius, Spiritual Exercises [I 93]. 14 Peter Fennessy SJ, "Praying the Passion: The Dynamics of Dying with Christ," A New Introduction to the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, ed. John E. Dister SJ (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993), p. 77. is Fennessy, "Praying the Passion," p. 83. 16 Stanley Hauerwas, Suffering Presence (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1986), p. 64. Review for Religious 17 Ignatius, Spiritual Exercises [223]. is Gray, "Joy and Friendship," p. 20. ,9 Servais Pinckaers OP, Morality: The Catholic View (South Bend, Indiana: St. Augustine's Press, 2001), p. 78. 20 Pinckaers, Morality: The Catholic View, p. 80. 2, Pinckaers, Morality: The Catholic View, p. 94. 22 Pinckaers, Morality: The Catholic View, 102. 23 Albert Nolan, Jesus Before Christianity (New York: Orbis Books, 1976), p. 167. Tremblement de Terre (Earthquake) Sun, wind blizzards, Raging waters, cyclones Have pommelled Me and my house, Struck sideways as if it were __ at eye-level. But on the day The Earth beneath my feet Failed me Nor I nor anyone could save me, Only God __ That day guaran teed When my time comes I shall recognize The approach of death When things fall apart. Mary Alban CSJ 43 70.1 2011 MYREE HARRIS Reflecting on Readiness To Make the Spiritual Exercises 44 The concept of readiness for developmental change is an idea that has interested me for many years. From 1981 to 1989 I worked in Staff and Executive Development at the Catholic Education Office, Sydney. Back then, the Sydney Archdiocese and the Catholic Education Office covered the whole of Sydney, with a population of around four million. Our team designed and ran a diverse range of adult education courses for school leaders, with an emphasis on management skills and small group participation. We were also called in to do long-term organizational development in schools. Each program began with a full day collaborative prob-lem identification process followed by facilitation of an elected staff group to work on the action plan. We met with these groups weekly for a period of years. Readiness for Developmental Change In the course of these activities, we encountered individuals and school groups who were not ready for Myree Harris RSJ may be addressed at Gethsemane Community; 3 Oxford Street; Petersham NSW, 2049; Australia. Revie~ for Religious such a process. We started to read literature on the topic1 and to draw up our own criteria for readiness or unreadiness for participation in the process. In the case of those who arrived late for sessions or who lacked motivation, interest, or willingness to participate, there was often one obvious reason. They did not want to be there. They had been sent by a school principal who thought it might do them good or "fix them up." We contacted principals and asked them not to send unwill-ing participants, as it spoiled the experience for those who were motivated. Anytime we identified disgrunded participants, we offered them the opportunity to have the day off, assuring them that we would not report them to the school authorities. Readiness for Organizational Change In the case of schools that asked us to come in and work with them, we asked a few questions. First, whose idea was it to call us in? If it were just the principal's bright idea, the process would go nowhere. Second, was the school going through a lot of growth or change at that time, or, conversely, was it dying? Neither state would foster developmental change. The first step in the problem identification process was an anonymous strengths/weaknesses survey. Any downright nastiness or personal attacks in the survey were an alarm signal. We would report back on the survey to the staff, stating we would not allow personal attacks made on leaders who had no chance to respond. We undertook to carry out the day's problem-identification process, but warned that, in some cases, it might be counterproductive to go further. In one school, as the survey results were being shown, I noticed the staff reading, crocheting, doing crossword puzzles, yawning, and generally looking unin- 70.1 2011 Harris ¯ Readiness for Spiritual Exercises terested. I alerted my colleague, who was also finding in the survey results an abdication of responsibility for discipline on the part of the staff and a blaming of the senior executive. We reflected back our perception of their lack of interest and closed the proceedings. Readiness for the Spiritual Exercises: Twentiethth Annotation In 2003, I was at a retreat center in Canada, participat-ing in Internship training to direct the Spiritual Exercises. One of our tasks was to do a major study or project. I decided to follow up on my long interest in readi-ness. 46 Methodology: A. Indicators of Readiness A set of twelve questions (see Appendix) was devel-oped and given to staff members with the request that they agree to a thirty- to sixty-minute audio taped inter-view. Interviews were carried out and the tapes tran-scribed under the question headings. The responses showed some consensus about indica-tors of readiness. These have been grouped under gen-eral headings: 1. Personal qualities: ¯ a moderately strong sense of self and ego strength ¯ a basic personal stability and mental/emotional health ¯ a lot of basic healing already done ¯ not too tired ¯ able to reflect on and to articulate inner experience ¯ a capacity to be in silence and solitude Review for Religious 2. Desire: ¯ openness and willingness and generosity ¯ a sense of quiet that can be developed and a contemplative attitude ¯ a habit of prayer with a desire to go deeper ¯ a degree of spiritual freedom ¯ a desire to experience the Exercises ¯ a ministerial goal 3. ~ln adequate theological base: ¯ grounding in the Faith ¯ belief in the divinity and humanity of Christ ¯ an image of a loving God ¯ the ability to ask for a grace 4. Experience and skills: ¯ experience of at least one eight-day, silent, individually directed retreat using Ignatian methodology ¯ experience of ongoing spiritual direction ¯ experience in using imagination in prayer, in reflecting on the experience of prayer, and the capacity to articulate that experience to a director ¯ capacity to pray for forty-five to sixty minutes at a time B. Indicators of Lack of Readiness 1. Personal qualities: ¯ major psychological issues ¯ insufficient ego strength to tolerate desolation ¯ major issues that need healing ¯ blockage by overwhelming effects from trauma ¯ wrong timing ¯ inability to tolerate silence and solitude 2. Lack of desire: ¯ lack of a desire to be open to God 70.1 2011 Harris ¯ Readiness for Spiritual Exercises 48 ¯ sent by a bishop or major superior ¯ coming as part of a group with no personal decision to make the Exercises ¯ coming as part of a sabbatical, but mainly wanting a rest or a nice prayer time ¯ no outward apostolic focus 3. Inappropriate or unhelpful theological base: ¯ an image of God as distant, disinterested, and punitive ¯ lack of a belief in the divinity of Christ ¯ problems with the church that cannot be dealt with 4. Lack of experience and skills: ¯ no capacity to pray for any length of time or to articulate experience ¯ no experience of an eight-day directed retreat ¯ no experience of using the Ignatian "tools" such as the use of imagination in prayer or repetition ¯ no awareness of interior movements, of how to do a review of prayer, or of how to articulate the experience of prayer Eliciting Our Better Practices 1. How effective are the disposition days in assisting readi-ness? (The Preparation days involve directed prayer on themes such as one's faith history. They also introduce Ignatian "tools" such as gospel contemplation, review of prayer, repetition, use of the examen.) (Each bullet point indicates an individual response.) ¯ In general, they provide enough time for a person to be ready to begin the Exercises. Segments on graced and unredeemed history lay the ground for the First Week. Seeds are sown. If a person "bites" in this early material, it is a good indicator that the individual will "bite" all the way Review for Religious through. It helps the director get a sense of who the per-son is, what is really drawing the retreatant. It helps people get in touch with their own history. They may come to see where the blockages are, the need for healing. Sometimes people get in touch with that material and find out there is a lot more stuff than they had realized. If the director does a lot of faithful listening, the desire surfaces. ¯ Coming to the end of the disposition days, the question is "Where is the focus? Is the person ready for the First Week?" ¯ What you are testing for in the disposition days is willingness versus willfulness. A skilled director can spot the generosity and can fan those flames, can keep the person in that gener-osity. ¯ You don't pre-pare people for the Exercises, God does. God gives the desire. ¯ A Very, very poor self image might indicate it could be harmful to go into the Exercises. Some directors will hold a person back for a few days. Some will go forward because they know it is not going to hurt the person. If it will be hurtful, you don't go forward. If I'm not quite sure, I would give the Exercises the benefit of the doubt. 2. What is the place of the Exercises in healing mode? (The healing mode refers to an adaptation to assist people who are dealing with the effects of trauma or deep hurt.) Ignatius does not have any healing texts in his selection of gospel contemplations. In fact, he does not seem interested in healing, but rather in evangelical What you are testing for in the disposition days is willingness versus willfulness. 70.1 2011 Harris ¯ Readiness for Spiritual Exercises witness. However, often people present or come to the Exercises for healing. ¯ If healing is an issue, no amount of time may be sufficient. There may be sexual abuse or some very painful experience. The initial focus needs to be on the love of God. ¯ Healing mode may start with the graced his-tory and move all the way through the Exercises. Even though it is not in the literature, I would maintain that this approach still gives an experience of the Exercises. The graces received are roughly the same. You are just coming to the experience in a very different way.I don't know how universal an acceptance this would have. ¯ In healing mode, the First Week has the emphasis on having been sinned against, rather than sinning. The Second Week becomes growing up with Jesus, or the Inner Child healing of memories with Jesus, as Jesus grows up. It doesn't take away from the content but just shifts it so that healing can take place. It is still a matter of getting to know Jesus. The Exercises are more directed towards the person than towards discipleship, because sometimes it is too soon to focus on disciple-ship. Sometimes the two things can go on together, and sometimes the biggest emphasis is on healing. The meditations of the Second Week are geared to deci-sion- making. They don't fit here, but as soon as I hear the content of decision-making being spoken, I move to that, giving the meditations or appropriate scripture. 3. What if the person were still "flooded" by recent or past trauma? (In such cases, the person may not be able to focus on any other issue.) ¯ One avenue is to take the person out of the Exercises and work around the traumas, moving into the healing mode. Perhaps go through all the Weeks in Review for Religious this mode. The trauma becomes the focus of the graces of the Weeks. Usually, those who are flooded by trauma are reacting to more than the recent trauma. The recent event has just dragged up all kinds of other traumas in the person's history. The First Week exercises for healing (in the healing mode) could be very helpful for such a person. Rather than a block to the Exercises, the trauma could be the source of a major grace. ¯ It may indicate they should not go on with the Exercises but deal with the issue, and the thirty-day process may not be the place for that. What I would listen for is whether the hurt is purely psychological or if it can be brought to prayer. Tremendous healing can take place through the Exercises. ¯ I directed a person over five consecutive years for eight-day retreats, and it was all healing. I wouldn't allow her to make the Exercises. When she did eventu-ally make them, from day one the orientation was apos-tolic. ¯ This kind of situation is coming up more and more. ¯ Hopefully you can make referrals for when they go home. The grace of the retreat may be to realize how deeply they need psychological assistance. ¯ The director has to make a judgment as to whether the person is stable enough to stay and if there is enough psychic strength to take the next step. Then the director has to ask, "Am I the best director for this person?" It's up to the director to get as much help as possible from the team in terms of the healing of memories prayer, Inner Child work, continuing to walk with the person, following God's lead, and doing what is necessary. Then, the question is whether the retreatant is willing and able to do this. The team has to find a 51 70.1 2011 Harris ¯ Readiness for Spiritual Exercises A person could pray for thirty days, without actually doing the Exercises: Y2 way to ensure that the person is with a director who can work with this issue. 4. What ira person were not yet ready for the Exercises? ¯ When one person came, we already felt she might not be ready and that she was not staying for the appropriate days. Disposition days were fine. After that, the material used was fairly typi-cal, but we didn't pretend it was the Exercises. I just fol-lowed where she was. I used some Exercises material, went into the life of Christ, and just went wherever I felt the Lord was calling her. ¯ A person could pray for thirty days, without actu-ally doing the Exercises. There would be enough healing and growth that it would be very helpful. ¯ Most people who get through the screening pro-cess would be candidates for praying through the prayer pattern of the Exercises, whether or not they are capable of making the full Exercises from the decision-making mode. Y. What if there is resistance to the process of the Exercises? (For example, there may be reluctance or refusal to try different forms of prayer or particular themes, to main-tain timed prayer periods, or to do a review.) ¯ With someone who hates process, I would tackle it head on: "Are you willing to go along with it, for now?" The same for someone who hates structured prayer periods: "The Exercises are structured. Face the resistance." "It's not forever; it's just for now. Take it to Review for Religious the Lord." The key is intentionality. Are they willing to make the Exercises as they are? ¯ For the retreatant it can raise the issue "How do I respond in the face of something that doesn't fit me perfectly or that I might not like?" Then it becomes retreat material. Once knowledge of the reluctance comes to awareness, God works in it. It can burrow away underneath until it comes to consciousness. Once it's out, God deals with it. ¯ If you have a resistance in which the person wants something to happen in the Exercises that isn't happening and the person resists the pattern of the Exercises, then you have to bring that out clearly and say "What do you suggest you do next?" You could also lay out your options, saying "I don't think, given the way this pattern is devel-oping, that I am the right person to be directing you, or that this is the right place." It's not just their choice, it is also your choice. ¯ Using the imagination can provoke resistance, or it may mean the person is praying in another mode. If there is resisting, I let it continue until the person says "This isn't working, and I have to do something differ-ent." So I say, "Well, what would you like to do?" ¯ There is a huge scope about how to pray that is permissible in the Exercises. The director needs to be flexible and to understand that, for Ignatius, it isn't the Exercises as such, but it is encountering God that is important. That's why the questions are "Where's the consolation? Where's the desolation?" If there is reluc-tance to talk about one's inner life at that level, that's one issue. If there is a whole different sign language, making it difficult to draw out what is happening in prayer, that's a problem of communication, not resis-tance. If you can enter into that sign language, then the 70.1 2011 Harris ¯ Readiness for Spiritual Exercises Sometimes the grace can be given, but not opened for years. process works. If you can't, it's fairly clear there isn't a path of communication and you can't direct. ¯ For me, a good way to handle resistance, if it is in the long retreat, is to let it develop to the point where retreatants have to deal with it, rather than trying to force them to do what they don't want to do. All you can do is just be with a person as the resis-tance develops. It is important for the director to be comfortable with this and not try to truncate the pro-cess, because God is using that situation in some way. That can be hard on the director. That's why you need a team and supervi-sion. You need to be enabled just to allow the resistance to develop. ¯ Someone says that she is uncomfortable with Ignatian spirituality, that her background is Franciscan. It's true that your background affects you, but it doesn't determine you. The Exercises are Ignatian. There are huge Franciscan elements in Ignatian spirituality: the sense of witness, the sense of joy, the sense of poverty. If generosity is there, the Exercises will work. ¯ Coming to an Ignatian retreat and then resisting the process because you prefer a different spirituality is like going to a Chinese restaurant and ordering steak. 6. Is it better for a person to experience the Exercises, even in a limited way, than not to experience them at all? ¯ Sometimes the grace can be given, but not opened for years. ¯ If a person has not been able to enter into the Review for Religious experience and is not able to absorb it, the whole thing could be destructive. ¯ It depends on the person. A person may have an opportunity now to do a thirty-day retreat but may not have that opportunity later, when she is really ready to do the Exercises. ¯ It can be better for a person to make a 30-day retreat, as contrasted to the Exercises, than not to. One person came to the retreat to make a decision but was unable to do so. At the end she realized she needed to have psychological counseling. ¯ To a person who experienced the Exercises in the healing mode, it could be suggested that at some later time in life it might be worth doing them again from a new perspective and that it could be a different experience. ¯ Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? 7. Are the current application and referee forms effective in screening out people who are not ready for the Exercises? ¯ People lie on the application forms or leave things out. Some people do better in writing their stories; oth-ers can be more open in answering the questions. The question may be whether or not the story is complete. It's what's not there that we can do nothing about. It may not be deliberate. It may be an oversight that becomes critical and makes a huge difference that may not be realized by the person. ¯ I have found that people use codes. One code is that if you think the applicant is a problem, at the end of the reference you put "And if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to call me.' ¯ If we get any indication at all that the person is being sent, that's when the referees would be called to check it out. 70.1 2011 Harris ¯ Readiness for Spiritual Exercises ¯ The way they write the letter is important. What we are looking for is humility, not pride. Applicants may not talk about their lives at all. It may be more like a job application. In the letter, there may be no sense of where a person is, no sense of history. On the other hand, some people are very honest. 8. What could be done to improve the screening process? ¯ You could provide a description of the Spiritual Exercises, showing the challenges to a person's physical, emotional, and spiritual capacities. ¯ It may be helpful to provide referees with a profile of a "ready" person and ask them to comment on any aspect of concern. ¯ Check that the major superiors who write the ref-erences understand the Exercises. Require that at least one of the referees have made the Exercises. Ask the referee to indicate any knowledge and experience of the Exercises. ¯ Even if the referee did not know the Exercises, the description of the process should alert the person as to the qualities necessary. There should be an indication of the need for an ability to tolerate solitude, the ability to pray, and psychological and emotional stability. 9. What is the process of assessment of applicants at this center? Four individuals read each application and make comments. There is a draft approval form on which three people make assessments in terms of preparation, health, maturity, balance, motivation, timing, spon-sors (any reservations), expectations, helpfulness of the experience, and a proposal of the most suitable director available. The Director of the Center would make the final decision. Review for Religious Overall Reflection on This Process Since 2003, I have directed thirteen men and women in the Nineteenth Annotation Spiritual Exercises (often called the Retreat in Everyday Life). They come here to Gethsemane Community, a community house for a small group of men and women who have mental ill-ness. Entering this environment each week and getting to know the residents as individuals does a great deal to break down stigma and open directees to one aspect of social justice. In some instances this environment has enhanced their experience of the Exercises and led to some involvement in social justice. In reflecting with applicants wishing to make the Nineteenth Annotation, I have found it helpful to keep in mind some of the issues raised in the Readiness project. Appendix: Readiness for the Spiritual Exercises We offer for reflection some questions which may form the basis for an interview with retreat house team members. 1. In your experience as a director of the Spiritual Exercises, what would you look for as indicators that a directee was ready to move into an experience of the Exercises? 2. What would indicate that a directee may not be ready? 3. Given the limitations of time, specifically the time allocated for the disposition days, what would you do to help the directee come to a state of readiness? 4. What is the place of the Exercises in healing mode? 5. What would you do if you decided the directee may not be ready for the Exercises as such or for the full Exercises? 70.1 2011 Harris ¯ Readiness for Spiritual Exercises 6. If you encountered a resistance to the process of the Exercises or to Ignatian spirituality, how would you assist the directee? 7. What would you do if you found that the directee was still emotionally "flooded" by recent trauma which blocked openness to experiencing the Exercises? 8. What would you do if you found that, without real understanding of what would be involved, someone had come as part of a sabbatical and just wanted a nice prayer experience? 9. Do you consider that the current application and referee forms are effective in screening out people not yet ready for the experience of the Exercises? If you have any concerns or uncertainties, have you any sug-gestions as to how the forms could be improved? 10. If you judged from someone's application and referee forms that the person was not ready for the Exercises, what alternatives or further preparation would you suggest? 11. How could referees (e.g., major superiors, bish-ops) without any personal experience of the Exercises, be better informed so they could act more judiciously as referees? 12. Is it better to experience the Exercises, even in a limited way, if constrained by degrees of readiness, than not to experience them at all? 13. What other questions should I have asked? Have you any other comments? Note ~ Beckard, Richard, Organization Development: Strategy and Models, (Reading, Massachusetts. Addison-Wesley, 1969). J. William Pfeiffer and John E. Jones, The 1978 Annual Handbook for Group Facilitators (University Associates). Review for Religqous JULIUS D. LELOCZKY Looking at Death from a Christian Perspective The last enemy to be destroyed is death (1 Co 15:26) Our secularized age is obsessed with the idea of death. Some thirty to forty years ago it was fashionable to talk about the death of God, a shocking phrase borrowed from Friedrich Nietzsche. There was a "death of God" theol-ogy, and there were "death of God" theolo-gians who produced a whole library of books on the topic. Today, some thinkers seem to be ready to declare death itself as god. While the Christian churches and numerous other religious groups, in general, emphasize the preeminence of life on their scale of values, a large percentage of our contemporary society is obsessed with the idea of death. It is true that the thought of our unavoidable mortality is a main human concern in any time period, Julius D. Leloczky OCist writes from Cistercian Abbey of Our Lady of Dallas; 3550 Cistercian Road; Irving, Texas 75039. growing spiritually 70.1 2011 Leloczky ¯ Looking at Death from a Christian Perspective but today, it seems, for many people, death dominates their entire existence and is the ultimate governing principle of their lives. A few weeks ago I noticed in a recent issue of The New York Times Book Review that in the best seller list of paperback fiction, six of the twenty listed books had in their titles the word "dead." A shocking expression of this macabre existential mood is the image painted by John Dominic Crossan: There is no lighthouse keeper. There is no light-house. There is no dry land. There are only people living on rafts made from their own imaginations. And there is the sea.l In this image the guard in the lighthouse represents the traditional image of God, and the ocean that besieges non-stop and finally breaks to pieces these fictitious rafts holding up the people stands for death itself. What is suggested by the image is that, ultimately, death rules. Yet we can understand that, without faith in God, with-out revelation and redemption, surrounded by the expe-riences of the coundess horrors of our age, the human mind almost unavoidably ends up with such a chilling worldview. 6o] Absurdity Yes, indeed, no one can deny it; death is the greatest absurdity. A beloved person, with an entire treasury of knowledge and skills, of kindness and loveliness, vibrancy of intellect, sense of humor, familiar play of a smile, the whole spectrum of various talents and skills, an entire lifetime of memories--all the wealth of a unique per-sonality-- is just gone from one moment to the next, without any possibility of return. Such a senseless and shocking end to human life makes life itself look absurd and tragic, just as a divorce or a failed friendship may Review for Religious make bitter many years of beautiful memories. Why should we work, struggle, dream, suffer if one day we have to leave everyone and everything? Why should we see, hear, experience beauty and goodness and happiness if all of that is only a transitory moment like a pleasant passing breeze and we cannot enjoy it forever? If we cannot live and love forever, why live and love at all? Forever Forever. This is the key word of our life. Whatever we like and whomever we love, we wish to possess for-ever. It is written in our genes, in our blood, in our instincts that we want to live for-ever. We feel in our bones that we have been created for eternity. That is why the pharaohs built their pyra-mids, why the painter paints his pictures, why the poet writes his poems, and why parents want to have children and grandchildren--all these in order to leave some-thing, some part of themselves, behind in this world after they die. We know that we have been created for eternity because we know from the Bible that we have been created in the image of God. That is why we want to live forever, why we find death an absurdity. We ask God defiantly, "If you created us to share in your hap-piness, why did you not create us immortal?" If we cannot live and love forever, why live and love at all? Freedom and Obedience Well, man and woman had originally been created immortal, but also free, just as God is free. In giving 70.1 2011 Leloczky ¯ Looking at Deatb from a Christian Perspective human beings freedom, God gambled--took a tremen-dously great risk---and lost, because man and woman miserably misused their freedom. God lost, and when God lost, we all lost; we lost our immortality, and there-fore we all have to die. Absurdity entered our world. But God is a stubborn God who did not give up but continued to gamble and took an even greater risk by sending the Son on earth as a man. This Son, unlike Adam, was obedient, and he was sent to restore what Adam had squandered by disobedience. But God lost again. When this Son of God was made human in Jesus of Nazareth, his fellow human beings rejected him, condemned him to death, and killed him. The Son was obedient unto death, and being obedient he shared the plight of human life to its very depths: he suffered torture and died on the cross. The worst case scenario became a reality: evil, rebellion, and disobedience tri-umphed over God's goodness, and God's loving plan was seemingly frustrated for good. But enter God's wisdom and almighty power, which out of the worst can make the best. Jesus solemnly declared to Martha just before he raised Lazarus, her brother, from the dead: "I am the resurrection and the life" (Jn 11:25). This Son, the man Jesus Christ, was Life itself, with God's own eternal Life that death could never overpower or defeat dwell-ing within him. This Life proved to be stronger than death and thus ultimately defeated death: on the third day Jesus rose from the dead; he won over death, and his resurrection became the death of death itself. The result of this victory was that the death and resurrection of the one who is Life changed the character and mean-ing of death forever. What used to be the sign of final annihilation became for the friends of Jesus the sign of a new, eternal life: the sign of resurrection. Review for Religious One Life When a person receives Christ's risen life through faith and baptism, as far as that person is concerned, order returns in the world, absurdity is expelled, and death takes on a positive meaning. Formerly, death was a tragic end; now it is the source of new life. Jesus is the seed of this new life, and the seed of new life is planted into us by baptism. We carry the new, eternal life hidden in our fragile bodies. We still have to die. However death no longer means the end of life but the breaking out of eternal life (till now hidden in us by the limitations of our mortal bodies) into eternal dimensions. In an ancient prayer the church is expressing what happens when we die: "Lord, for your faithful people life is changed, not ended." In death we just leave behind all weakness and sickness, all imperfection and decay, and we look forward to a glori-ous, jubilant, eternal life in which all tears will be wiped away. A glory is waiting for us that eye has not seen, ear has not heard, and no mind is able to imagine. Life is one and indivisible; it cannot be separated into a life here on earth and another life after death. Human life, as redeemed by Jesus Christ, is like a tree that keeps growing and growing, and when it cannot grow any further on earth, it breaks through the sky, grows into heaven, and continues growing there. Death is no longer a horrifying enemy or a stumbling block but our ally, a stepping stone toward God, or, as St. Francis of Assisi joyfully called it, "Sister Death." Life is one and indivisible; it cannot be separated into a life here on earth and another life after death. 70.1 2011 Leloczky ¯ Looking at Death from a Christian Perspective One Love Not only is life one and indivisible; so also is love. We read in the Song of Songs that "Love is strong as death" (8:6). Saint Paul writes to the Corinthians, "Love never ends . Faith, hope, and love remain, these three, but the greatest of these is love" (1 Co 13:8-13). Just as the soul is immortal, just as the body, at the end of time, will rise to eternal life, so also the love which a person had in earthly life will live on and continue to grow even after death. Our departed loved ones take their love, with all the other beauty and wealth of their personalities, with them into eternity. I think our risen bodies, with all their skills and talents, will look and act as they looked and acted at the peak of our lives--but without any brokenness--at the point when they reached the epitome of life, before they started the decline into old age. In addition, they will become more beautiful and more precious than they ever were in earthly life because they will be freed from all traces of selfishness. As we think of our friends and relatives who died, we should think of them with the awareness that this wealth of their personalities is with them even now, and if it is with them it is also with us. As long as we are alive on earth, our lives are "unfinished symphonies." When we die, our lives become completed masterpieces on which God puts the divine finishing touch. We should value greatly as our own treasure--hidden for eternity in heaven--the masterpieces of those we love who have gone before us. Preparing for Death We should look also at our own lives from the per-spective of death, and we should ask ourselves from time to time, Am I really working on the masterpiece I am Review for Religious supposed to become? Am I living my days in such a way that my words and deeds and thoughts keep building up in me that temple of the Holy Trinity that God meant me to become? Yes, we realize that most of the work is being done by God, but we should not forget that our cooperation is essential. With a simple metaphor we might say that God provides the building blocks for this temple but our free decisions are the mortar that holds the structure together. It is said that we will die in the way we live. Are my actions, my words, and my thoughts such that they are preparing for me a peace-ful death? In keeping with the above image of life as a tree, is my life growing toward heaven or in a different direction--or, maybe, not growing at all? A Question I frequently hold this question in mind: is there any reason why we could not communicate with our loved ones who have died? I don't think so; if we can ask any of the saints for their intercession, we should be able to be in touch also with our deceased friends and loved ones. I am sure that our loving ghoughts passing from here to there can reach them, more reliably than our call can reach someone through the telephone. Those in heaven and on earth are connected in a loving union by the grace of God, by the presence of God's trinitarian life in all of us. Our departed loved ones are not living light years away from us: they are near us, with us, right next to us. Only hell, the condition of total frozen isola-tion and loneliness, is separated from us. Outside of that state all people are united, in union with each other in God in love, just as the Abbess reflects in the last few words of Thornton Wilder's novel The Bridge of San Luis Re),: "There is a land of the living and a land of the dead 70.1 2011 Leloczky ¯ Looking at Death from a Christian Perspective and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only mean-ing." Or, as St. Paul puts it even more succinctly, "Love never ends" (1 Co 13:8). Note ' John Dominic Crossan, The Dark Interval: Towards a Theology of Sto~y (Polebridge Press, 1988), p. 28. Ask the Birds (Job 12:7) A flock of sparrows speckles the blue-gray sky swooping as one over the November park, slate silhouettes navigating the air with precision. Nuns used to look like this: dark habited, veils streaming in the wind, clustered freely within invisible enclosures. Some inner rule draws the birds to the barren branches of the tallest tree in the straight rank of elms waving to the lake. Despite their gentle bones, the birds' combined weight slows the sway. Stillness. They come each day for prayer or discernment, perched like transient blossoms crowning the tree's skyward arteries. This daily practice suggests permanence, yet I marvel that multiple revisions cast shadows on their family tree: life-sustaining changes in size, shape, speed, and song. I watch their aura of stability and belonging knowing from experience they'll soon be gone. For a few moments, though, their presence comforts me. Then, self-dismissed, the group leaves as it came, a compact community ascending gracefully into unknown and unfeared futures. Terri MacKenzie SHCJ Review for Religious j. THOMAS HAMEL Spiritual Direction 101 ~Ehxerecnis Iegs naantdi,u fso rw eaxsa mcopmlep, goasvine gin tshtreu Sctpioirnist utoal Consider the office of consoling which Christ Our Lord bears and to compare how friends are accus-tomed to console friends (224),~ is it possible that he was still experiencing that kind of consolation? Every now and then, if I should jot down a note in my diary, I can still feel the experience as I record it. The very same re-experiencing, I believe, takes place in speaking as it does in writing, and that fact has led to the ministry of spiritual direction. Thus the prayer experience of a directee is not necessarily wholly taken in until spoken to the sl~iritual director. At this point, the conversation 'takes. on. the complexion of praying. I should add, however, that in all my years of giving direction I have never begun a meeting with formal prayer. My principal reason for this is the fear of presenting myself as an authority figure. Instead, the Father J. Thomas Hamel sJ wrote for us in 2010 in our 69.1 issue. His address remains College of the Holy Cross; 1 College Street; Worcester, Massachusetts 01610. 70.1 2011 Hamel ¯ Spiritual Direction I01 68 simple courtesies of welcome and personal concern are not only appropriate but also serve to prepare the way for contemplative exchange. Ignatius speaks of the one who gives the Exercises and the one who receives the Exercises (Annotation 1). The same roles are present in the ministry of spiritual direction, except that the giving and receiving become a dual ministry. Over time, a directee actually begins to minister to the director by the Way she presents her narrative. Sharing the experience of God is a gift to the director, whose own ministry of giving invited the directee to explore her experience in the first place. In desiring to see what the directee sees, to hear what the directee hears, and to notice what the directee notices, a contemplative director is being a good teacher. By contrast, when not contemplating, a director is merely gathering information, which often results in the direc-tor's primary focus being on the directee rather than on what God is doing. The seed scattered on the ground and beginning to sprout, while no one knows exactly how (Mt 4:27), is an apt metaphor for spiritual direction as it gets underway. The image of the sprouting seed captures what God is doing in both the director and directee. In this spiritual climate, choices begin to blossom. Witnessing a directee coming to reflect in a new way is like being with God in slow motion. A director, not wanting to rush ahead, might nevertheless, if nudged by God, say something he has never said before--and say it with confidence. In a direction session, things do happen for the first time, both for the one giving and for the one receiving direc-tion. For example, the directee may say, Last week in prayer I said to God "I love you." The words just came out of me from my toes to the top Review for Religious of my head. I am fifty years old. This is the first time in all my fifty years I could say that to God. It just poured out of me. I can scarcely believe I said it, but I did, and I meant every word. A first-time experience is wrapped in wonder, creat-ing new inner space. In saying to God "I love you," the directee was newly finding himself lovable. That may account for wanting to share the experience with the spiritual director. When a directee finds a home in Scripture, the door of the imagination opens wide to the director. The sim-ple key to remaining in a gospel scene is to get involved as if we were present -- (114). That involvement is part of being contem-plative. Moreover, just imagine what a directee is feeling when taking time to think of what to say to the Blessed Trinity or to the Eternal Word Incarnate or to our - - Mother and Lady (109). Imagine what a director is feeling when the deepening relationship with Jesus more and more becomes the major narrative of the directee or when moments of silence become moments of prayer. It is normal for a director to refer to an experience of God brought to a previous meeting with the directee. The Prayer of Rememberance These silent interludes are capable of suggesting a particular form of prayer. For example, it is normal for a director to refer to an experience of God brought to a previous meeting with the directee. In addition, the memory of what happened six months ago may be brought into the present conversation. Looking back 70.1 2011 Hamel ¯ Spiritual Direction I01 on the retreat made last year could affect the outcome of moments of quiet during direction. Such memories turn into a prayer of remembrance, especially when the relationship with Christ, his personal attraction, and his challenge are the focal point of the dialogue. Gathering up the leftovers of the past which feed the present is one way we carry out Jesus' everlasting desire that we "do this in remembrance of me" (Lk 22:19). The prayer of remembrance is to have the mind and heart of Christ by taking up the cup and eating the bread of ongoing prayer, of daily life itself, and the cup and bread of spiritual direc-tion. Essential to this prayer is the flexibility to adapt, to be open to what comes up in a spiritual direction session, so that the seed of a new moment may not fall by the wayside without taking root but may be brought to good soil that touches the soul and sprouts afresh. The operative word, of course, is contemplation as in contemplatio--Contemplatio ad amorem--the Contemplation to Keep on Loving (230). This prayer of morning, noon, and evening in everyday life brings to memory the ben-efits received--of my creation, redemption, and partic-ular gifts (234). One might easily name as among the benefits the particular gifts that come in the process of spiritual direction itself: trust, supervision, discernment, spiritual insight, self-knowledge, and the sense of security generated by the clear boundaries between director and directee. Each gift is like a parable that reveals a par-ticular place where God dwells. "See how God dwells in creatures likewise making a temple of me, being created to the image and likeness of His Divine Majesty" (235). The temple is no longer a place, but a person to be con-templated. In the ministry of giving spiritual direction, the spiritual director may grow aware of imitating Jesus, who has truly been contemplating the directee. This Review for Religious might be a new experience for the director as well as for the one receiving direction¯ Being looked at is one thing; being contemplated is noticeably different and reassur-ing. How much the deed of love is shown in contemplat-ing the other! At one time that love expresses itself as an exuberance of joy and gladness, while on other occa-sions it shows itself -- as the urge to labor and work: "consider how God works and labors for me ¯ . ." (236). It is no wonder that spiri-tual direction takes on a life of its own outside of meetings and in the psalms of everyday life. - . That life outside of spiritual direction may be as modest as noticing people reading the Bible on a sub-way and feeling connected with them. It may be coming across God's beauty at the sight of children feeding the swans and their cygnets in a local pond. The crowded streets of the city may bring to mind the picture of Jesus, who was surrounded by crowds of people but never lost sight of the poor among them. Conversations at home and at work may take on a kind of fragrance associ-ated with the conversations in spiritual direction. To put a gloss on St. Paul's "our citizenship is in heaven" (Ph 3:20), our eternal citizenship begins with our feet planted on the earth. That is the test of good spiritual direction. With both feet planted on the earth, Jesus covered a lot of territory in the towns, villages, and synagogues In the ministry of giving spiritual direction, the spiritual director may grow aware of imitating Jesus, who has truly been contemplating the directee. 71 70.1 2011 Hamel * Spiritual Direction I01 of Palestine. Ordinary people would hang on his every word as he spoke in the Temple area. Theologians like Nicodemus would seek his counsel at night. Children would run to him. He loved to tell stories, host picnics, do some fishing in all kinds of weather. Throughout his travels he gave new hope to the poor and marginal-ized. In all his comings and goings, Jesus was a light to old and young, enabling them to contemplate their own goodness, mercy, and faithfulness, thereby elicit-ing from them a response radiant with gratitude to the "bright morning star arising in their hearts" (2 P 1:19). In the light that was Jesus, new sights and sounds came to birth. A spoken word of his echoes Isaiah: And when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it" (Is 30:21). An interior word, voiceless, reaches the heart. Like the dawn from on high, luminous as the sun and the brightness of rushing waters, the ministry of spiritual direction is a journey into the light of contemplative giving and receiving. Note I David L. Fleming, Draw Me Into Your Friendship: The Spiritual Exercises. A Literal Translation and a Contentporary Reading (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1996), p. 168, n. 224. Hereafter I will refer to the Exercises by giving the paragraph number in parentheses 72 Review for Religious PHYLLIS ZAGANO Looking for Nuns, Finding Women Deacons The twin events of the Apostolic Visitation of Women Religious in the United States and the doctrinal investigation of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious present an opportunity to revisit and reconsider the tra-dition of women deacons. While the Apostolic Visitation appears to be primarily involved with lifestyle and ministry, and the doctrinal investigation of LCWR is more inquisitorial in style, each in its own way points toward a reflexive institutional recognition of the place of women in diaconal ministry. The Apostolic Visitation, which moved from initial and unscripted general inquiry, through a detailed three-part questionnaire, to on-site visitations of approximately 25% of U.S. institutes of women religious, is widely Phyllis Zagano is a well-known authority on women in ministry and senior research associate-in-residence at Hofstra University; 104 Heger Hall; 115 Hofstra University; Hempstead, New York 11549. exploring religious life 73 70.1 2011 Zagano ¯ Looking for Nuns, Finding Women Deacons viewed as a corporate insult to the 59,000 or so U.S. women religious under scrutiny and to the local bishops responsible for overseeing them. The doctrinal investigation of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious ballooned from a request for position statements on the matter of women priests, homosexuality, and the primacy of Christ in interreligious dialogue to a full review of publications and positions, directed by American Cardinal William J. Levada, Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Read positively, the subtext of the combined events can provide information about the re-evolution of wom-en's ministry, now through apostolic religious life for women, to the restored permanent diaconate, which is both historically and contemporaneously properly understood as a ministry of prayer and service. Understanding the Diaconate Deacons are ordained to a ministry of service, spe-cifically to the word, the liturgy, and charity. They are not "mini-priests," but clerics with a specific vocation to diaconal ministry. Their distinction from priests is clear in The Catechism of the Catholic Church, No. 875: From [Christ], bishops and priests receive the mis-sion and faculty ("the sacred power") to act in per-sona Christi Capitis; deacons receive the strength to serve the people of God in the diaconia of the liturgy, word and charity, in communion with the bishop and his presbyterate. On 26 October 2009, Pope Benedict XVI issued a Motu proprio entitled Omnium in mentem, which codifies the distinction between priesthood and the diaconate as the distinction is articulated in the Catechism. As stipu- Review for Religious lated in the Motu proprio and now entered into law, dea-cons serve the people of God through the diaconia of the liturgy, the word, and charity. The clear distinction between the priest (who acts in the person of Christ, head of the church) and the deacon (who serves the people of God) both reflects arguments against the ordina-tion of women to the priesthood and deflects arguments against the ordination of women to the diaconate. The essential points raised against women priests are (1) the argument from authority--Jesus chose male apostles and (2) the iconic argu-ment- one must phys-ically represent Jesus. Of course, neither of these applies to the diaconate for several reasons. First, the Apostles, not Christ, are gener-ally understood to have created the diaconate (Ac 6:1-6). Second, the only person in Scripture specifically called "deacon" is Phoebe (Rm 16:1). Third, the deacon is ordained "not to the priesthood, but to the ministry." It is important to recognize both that the diaconate is not the priesthood and that diaconal service is a legitimate vocation for women. Apostolic Religious Life and the Diaconate It is important to recognize both that the diacon-ate is not the priesthood and that diaconal service is a legitimate vocation for women. Without entering into a determinative debate about the immediate possibility of restoring the female diaconate in the Western Church, we can review the twin investigations of women reli- 70.1 2011 Zagano ¯ Looking for Nuns, Finding Women Deacons 76 gious in light of the possibility of an increasingly evident vocation of women to apostolic ministry as deacons. The evolution of what has come to be termed "min-isterial religious life''1 in the United States has moved sufficient numbers of women away from monastery and cloister practices toward ministerial life inserted into the lives of the people, a way of life supported by com-mon life and sometimes,.but not always, lived in com-mon ministry. This ministerial life has many similarities to the ministerial life of the ordained deacon. The Apostolic Visitation's questionnaire is divided into several sections: Identity, Governance, Membership, Spiritual Life, Common Life, Mission & Ministry, and Finances. If each section is considered in the light of apostolic women religious doing the diaconal work of the church--now as unordained lay ministers--we can easily intuit the divergent directions taken by the Visitation and a given institute guided by the Spirit to address the needs of the times. If there indeed is an emerging femi-nine vocation to the diaconate, then perhaps some apos-tolic women religious are demonstrating it. Vatican documents provided by the Visitation team present an investigation into what has come to be under-stood as traditional apostolic religious life, and the over-all attitude of the event itself seems to call for a return to common habit, horaria, mission, and ministry. Indeed, recent statistics gathered by the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate demonstrate that the larger numbers of new vocations to religious life are to insti-tutes that demonstrate such commonality.2 The com-mon- if unstated--criticism of other institutes (those not living according to more traditional expectations) is that they would have more new vocations if they would return to a traditional religious life. But those new voca- Review for Religion, s tions would then be looking for a religious life that is more monastic or cloistered. They would not fit among the evolving charisms of the institutes without common horaria or habit, whose members have moved toward independent and/or less traditional ministries while retaining the public identity of their mem-bership in an institute of consecrated life. The choice appears to be between an institute adopting or retaining common habit, horaria, mission, and ministry, or dying out. Such presents a classic either-or fallacy. The criti-cism ignores the possibility of new life and rebirth into something new. That is, the choice is not between tradi-tional religious life and nothing but between traditional religious life and a new thing. There is no dearth of young women who wish to ded-icate their lives to ministry. Religious life is not identical to lay ecclesial ministry, and such criticism overlooks the fact of increasing numbers of lay ecclesial ministers (some statistics point to 35,000 in the United States today) and, especially, the large number of young women entering lay ecclesial ministry. Neither is religious life the diacon-ate, but such criticism also overlooks the large number of ordained deacons (approximately 36,000 worldwide, with more than 16,000 in the United States). Is it possible that the vocations to apostolic religious life are being overtaken by newer vocations, specifically, to lay ecclesial ministry (being lived out by those married, single, and in religious life) as well as by the vocation to the ordained There is no dearth of young women who wish to dedicate their lives to ministry. 77 70.1 2011 Zagano * Looking for Nuns, Finding Women Deacons diaconate (now being lived out by those married, and by both secular and religious celibates)? Is it possible that the young women who once might have entered many of the now fading institutes of religious life are choos-ing lives more akin to those of secular--or religious--lay ecclesial ministers or deacons? Apostolic Religious and the Diaconal Ministry To assess the possible findings of Rome's twin investigations, it is well to look at the severest critics of contemporary U.S. women's religious life, including journalist Ann Carey, whose 1997 Our Sunday Visitor book, Sisters in Crisis: The Tragic Unraveling of VVomen's Religious Communities, connects abandonment of the habit with what she terms "the deconstruction of min-istry." Carey presents at least one modern case study that pits a religious community of women against the local hierarchy. That case study, the story of the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary in California, is remi-niscent of medieval tugs-of-war between bishops and abbesses over control, not only of the conventual living arrangements of the women, but of their properties and very status as well. The eleventh century saw the initia-tion of the Gregorian Reform, which eventuated in the elevation of the clergy and concurrent diminution of women, including and especially women religious. That thousand-year split between what can be viewed, at least in retrospect, as the "men's church" and the "women's church" echoes throughout Carey's book, which at every turn criticizes the move of women religious away from common habit, horaria, mission, and ministry. Carey's book, however, speaks only to what she per-ceives as a movement away from, without any consider-ation of what the institutes of women religious moved Review for Religious toward as they modernized habits and horaria. Neither she, nor others of the deepest critics of contemporary apostolic religious life for women in the United States, note that the changes were and are specifically in the service of mission and ministry. Granted, missions may have been redefined and broadened, along with minis-tries, but

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 65.2 of the Review for Religious, 2006. ; Franciscan Legacy Vocation Religious Implications The Spirit QUARTERLY 65.2 2006 evtew Religtous sters.dia e,.wztl~,, Go dialogue~ with ourselves; anddialogue accordingto cba~s:~of CatboUc reli~o~'l~(~ As Pope Paul I satd~ our way of bet!g church 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 ¯ \~el) 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. ©2006 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 hear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for comlnercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only he considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. 0 religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff. Webmaster Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Phili'o C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Eugene Hensell OSB Mar~ Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Judy Sharp Ciare Boehmer ASC Stephen Erspamer OSB Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 65.2 2006 contents prisms 116 Prisms 118 138 franciscan legacy Custodians of Franciscan Households Michael Blastic OFM enters us into the meaning of Franciscan fraternity through developing three elements: 1) a life lived in brotherhood, 2) experienced in a household, and 3) qualified with patience~ Questions for Reflection / Group Discussion Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist Regis J. Armstrong OFMCap centers his reflections on the .spirituality of Francis of Assisi by focusing on five passages of Francis's writings that d, eal with Eucharist. vocation 153 159 Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation Julius D. Leloczky OCist invites those following the special call to religious life into a prayerful meditation on the role of Mary as model and mentor. Prayer Just Because I Said So Mary Joseph Schultz SCC considers the importance of commitment and what it means "to give one's word." Personal Reflection / Group Conversation l~eview for Retigious 166 177 r O ji us imp ic io s Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? Vimal Tirimanna CSSR reflects on his experience as major superior and as president of the Conference of Major Religious Superiors of Sri Lanka to share his concern for the proper use of afithority. Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Religious Brendan Kneale FSC clarifies identity for men and women as embracing two dimensions, personal and social, which are mutually supportive. 186 spiri Led by the Spirit: Julian of Norwich Andrew Ryder SCJ notes the central role of the Spirit in the writings of Julian of Norwich. The Holy Spirit is the dynamic, active agent who brings us into communion with the life of Christ and the Persons of the Holy Trinity. epar rn n s 202 Scripture Scope: The Miracles of Jesus 206 Cdnonical Counsel: The Importance of Procedural Law 211 Book Reviews 65.2 2006 prisms do we think of when we hear the word service? We quickly rush to the n0tion of activity--what we do, how we act, how we spend our days and perhaps even our nights. But in our Catholic tradition service and to serve God have a far richer meaning than just activity. We find the first and foundational stage of service in a traditional saying, "They also serve who only stand and wait." By way of contemporary example, we notice that the esteemed waiter at table is the one who watches and is attentive to what is needed by the people dining. Such a waiter spends a lot :of his or' her time just "watching and waiting." In a similar way, the Christian who wants to serve God should spend a lot of time "watching and waiting." A good part of the watching and waiting is identifiable as praying. It is the prayer of one who listens to God--a God who is speaking in his revealing word, a God who speaks through his human messengers, a God who speaks through nature and through events. A person who listens is one who is obedient, for the roots of the word obedience lie in listening. The young Samuel in scripture describes his listening in the phrase, "Here I am, Lord." In the sacramental oi'dination of ministers, such listening is caught by the expression "ready and willing." It is the attitude of Jesus before the God he calls Abba. The second stage of service is made evident in the stance of surrender. It is the giving over of ourselves to. another in love. As Catholics we are being invited to enter Christ's eternal stance of surrender that is celebrated in every Eucharist. Jesus sacramentalized his total gift of self to God and to us in the giving of his body and his blood at the Last Supper. Historically, that gift was made especially in his passion and death. But the risen Jesus continues to invite us to enter into his eternal stance of surrender in every Eucharist we celebrate. For us, our surrender is measured by all the discrete moments of our life. We might say that, nourished by Jesus' body and blood, we are living "into" our surrender. Finally we come to thai stage of service whose mean-ing we think we have exhausted when we describe activ-ities. It is true that there are many ways of serving as a Christian, and these services are an essential element of living our faith. A faith that is not lived out in action is no faith at all. It is noteworthy that Protestants have often described their Sunday worship as services. Although we Catholics have ordinarily not used this designation, the Mass truly can be identified as a se~'vice, and it contains all the stages of service that we have described. The Liturgy of the Word certainly demands all of tls to be obedient, to be listeners, to be people ready and willing to be formed and directed by God's word. In the Liturgy of the Sacrament we are invited to enter into Jesus' eternal stance of surrender, and we come forward at communion time to ratify that gift and so experience our increasing identity with Christ by letting him be our daily bread. And every Eucharist sends us forth with the mission to share our faith and ~o serve God and his people. At the Last Supper Jesus asked all of us to claim our identity with him by following his example--he signified this by a particular activity as he washed the apostles' feet. Whatever our activities, following the risen Christ, we are identified as "ones who serve." . David L. Fleming SJ ,117 65.2 2006 franciscan MICHAEL BLASTIC Custodians of Franciscan Households legacy In a Newsweek web article posted on MSNBC, Melinda Henneberger wrote that "Katrina has reminded us that Christian morality should be about responding to the wretched and loving the unlovable--not about other people's sex lives" (14 September 2005). While the United States describes itself as a Christian nation, in the aftermath of Katrina we have seen that this label is deceptive. Citing Bill McKibben, "The Christian Paradox" (Harper's, August 2005), who pointed this out, she wrote that American practice really rewards dependency, and so it is better to hold on to your cash. McKibben himself reported on a poll concerning religious practice in the United States. He noted that only four in ten Americans can list more than four of the Ten Commandments, and only five in ten can name the four Gospels. He said that these Michael Blastic OFM presented this paper on Franciscan brotherhood at a province meeting in November 2005. His address is The Franciscan Institute; St. Bonaventure University; St. Bonaventure, New York 14778. Revie~ for Religious statistics really do not matter, but what does matter is that three out of four think the Bible teaches that "God helps those who help themselves" (actually a proverb of Ben Franklin's). Approximately 85 percent of Americans identify themselves as Christian, with about 75 percent claiming they pray to God daily and 33 percent going to church weekly. McKibben points out a number of paradoxes. We are second to last among developed countries in government foreign aid; nearly 18 percent of American children live in poverty--here we come in last among the rich nations-- and 26 percent of households lack sufficient food. We are the most violent rich nation on earth, with a murder rate of four or five times that of Europe. We have prison populations five or six times Europe's rate. We are the only Western democracy that executes its citizens; our marriage breakup rate is more than half, and higher than Europe's. tf one measures Christian identity by Jesus' teaching of helping the less fortunate, we come off poorly indeed. ~ Given these statistics, McKibben argues that Americans have replaced the Christianity of the Bible with another creed which ignores Jesus' radical and demanding focus on the other--"Love your neighbor as yourself." Jesus made it clear who the neighbor is--the poor person, the sick person, the naked person, the hungry person. "On and on and on--a call for nothing less than a radical, voluntary, and effective reordering of power relationships, based on the principle of love," to quote McKibben. I know I am not reporting something you do not already know. But I believe that this social context of North America as described by McKibben, visible in the unjust social reality revealed in Katrina's aftermath, is important for reflecting on our Franciscan life. In fact, 1119, 6~. 2 200~ Blastic ¯ Custodians of Frandscan Households such a social context was the occasion for Francis of Assisi's conversion. Here I want to be very clear. Francis of Assisi's conversion was not explicitly, and primarily religious. It was a movement from a social order base& on the creed "God helps them who help themselves" to a social order based on sharing and sacrifice and "Love your neighbor as yourself"--in other words the creed of Jesus. In his conversion Francis first and foremost experienced what it means to be human, and what it implies for social life. The Franciscan movement results from Francis and the brothers learning what is required for human beings to flourish as God intends. From the opposite perspective, it is the medium of fraternity that is the message. A Franciscan fraternity evangelizes to the extent that it embodies human flourishing on the personal, social, and ecclesial levels. First I will describe briefly the early Franciscan experience and vision of fraternal life, and then I will suggest how this may help all of us live our lives as brothers. :120 A Place for Human Flourishing I would describe Franciscan fraternity in this way. I~ is (1) a life lived in brotherhood, (2) experienced in a household, and (3) qualified with patience. I deduce these elements from the Rule of 1223, the Rule that we profess as our form of life. (1) It was the Italian scholar Raoul Manselli who identified Francis's encounter with lepers as the turning point in his conversion. As Francis records in his Testament, that encounter radically rearranged his values and led him to leave the commune of Assisi in order to live with those lepers. He was drawn out of himself so that he could see, perhaps for the first time in his life; the reality of human beings who according to the definitions Review for Religious of life in the commune of Assisi simply did not exist. There was no place in Assisi for the unclean, the unworthy, the unholy, the unbearable, the unlucky, the untouchable, and the unloved. Encountering these suffering human beings, the lepers, Francis showed them a merciful heart. He looked at ., , them and touched them, he stayed with them and shared life with them, he comforted them and served their needs. And Francis tells us he did not do this for himself. He did not go to the~lepers to make himself better. He did not use . them as objects in an ascetical exercise to overcome himself (though this is how hagiographers will understand it). Francis gives the credit for this experiential truth to God: "The Lord led me among them, and I showed them a merciful heart" (Test 2).1 With God's nudge, Francis recognized the lepers as brothers and sisters, as creatures of the same God, as having equal dignity in the eyes of God the Creator. While Assisi's values and practice denied this truth, Francis was led into it by God's grace (what was bitter became sweet), and 'he left Assisi to live among these newly discovered brothers and sisters. Leaving the world of Assisi, Francis ~hus stepped into God's world--creation--where everything was estab-lished by the Creator in relationship. This is the truth that he would later celebrate in the Canticle of the Creatures. Creation sings, creation flourishes, simply by being what it was created to be, by being in relationship with all that exists. In his Testament Francis says, "The Lord gave me some brothers" (Test 14). Experienced as the reality of relationship as established by the Creator, brotherhood is Francis did not go to the lepers to make himself better. 121 65.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Franciscan Households embodied in the rule in terms of obedience. According to chapter 2 of the Earlier Rule, after those who come have given everything to the poor as they were able, and after the year of probation has ended for them, "they may be received into obedience" (LR II:l 1). Once received into obedience they may not wander "outside obedience" (ER II: 10). The rule speaks of obedience as a place, the space into which the brothers are received. While monks are received into a monastery after their novitiate probation, Francis's brothers are received into obedience. Obedience becomes a synonym for the space in which the brothers live. What characterizes obedience then is that it is the space of relationship, One could substitute the term relationship for the term obedience throughout the early Franciscan writings and not change the meaning of the texts. The relationships of brotherhood define the space in which the brothers live. This is especially significant given that the rule understands the brothers to be itinerant, even though by 1223 this was beginning to change somewhat. Brothers began living in convents in cities. Brotherhood, then, or better our relationships as brothers, is what defines the space in which to live our life according to the Rule. And, as Francis makes clear, brotherhood is only possible if one. turns toward the other, only if one gets out of oneself and willingly places oneself in relationship to the other. This turning toward others is the basis for contemplation in the tradition; it does not imply separation or solitude, but rather engagement and an ecstatic way of being in the world. A second defining element of Franciscan fraternity is Franciscan mission. After lepers, probably the most recognized symbol of Franciscan life is San Damiano and the speaking crucifix. While this story~appears rather late in the hagiographical tradition (1246), it expresses a fundamental purpose of Franciscan life. Francis received a Review for Religious mission to repair God's house, which was being destroyed: "Francis, don't you see that my house is being destroyed? Go, then, and rebuild it for me" (L3C 13). While in the past we translated those words from the Legend of the Three Companions too simplistically as "Rebuild my church," the hagiographical tradition consistently uses the term house in accounts of this event. And, while Francis initially understood that invitation from the cross to mean the broken-down building of San Damiano, he would come to understand that the mission was rather one of repairing a space in which Frariciscan ' holiness was experienced domestically, the. lives of men and women who have been~.broken and destroyed as human beings can be rebuilt and flourish. House and family are central to the brothers' experience of the Christian life. Their relationship to God is expressed in terms of the household. For instance, in the Second Version of the Letter to the Faithful, we read: And the Spirit of the Lord will rest upon all those men and women who have done and persevered in these things, and it will make a home and dwelling place in them. And they will be the children of the heavenly Father, whose works they do. And they are spouses, brothers, and mothers of our Lord Jesus Christ. We are spouses when the faithful soul is united by the Holy Spirit to our Lord Jesus Christ. We are brothers, moreover, when we do the will of his Father who is in heaven; mothers when we carry him in our heart and body through love and a pure and sincere conscience; and give him birth through a holy activity, which must shine before others by example. (2LtF 48-53) Here we can see that for the early Franciscans holiness was experienced domestically. This suggests two things: 65.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Franciscan Households 124 (1) we are family with the Trinitarian God we believe in, and (2) our relationship with this God is accessible and lived in the ordinary, everyday experience of domestic life. This is an important characteristic of Franciscan .practice, and suggests family life and not church life as the means for working out our way to God. How does Francis envision rebuilding God's house? Bonaventure's insight in his Major Legend of St. Francis is right on the mark here. He comments that, after receiving this mission in San Damiano, he eventually moved to St. MaiT~ of the Angels; he "lived there in order to repair it" (LMj II:8). The repair of God's house is not so much the action of preaching or teaching. The repair is accomplished by life in brotherhood itself, by living among and with brothers and sisters. The term conversatio is used to describe this "living among" in two places in the Early Rule. Francis encourages the brothers to rejoice when they "live among (quando conversantur inter viles . . .) people considered of little value and looked down upon" (ER IX:2); and "they can live spiritually (possunt duobus modis spiritualiter inter eos conversant) among the Saracens" (ER XVI:5). Using the Latin word conversatio, the root of the term conversation, the Rule envisages life as a conversation, and depends on the monastic sense of conversatio as manner of life. The brothers' manner of life is thus to be conversational--sharing life with brothers and ~isters in this conversational manner rebuilds the house of God. In another text of the Later Rule, this conversation is described more concretely: I counsel, admonish, and exhort my brothers in the Lord Jesus Christ not to quarrel or argue or judge others when they go about in the world; but let them be meek, peaceful, modest, gentle, and humble, speaking courteously to everyone, as is becoming . Review for Religious Into whatever house they enter, let them first say: "Peace to this house!" According to the holy gospel let them eat whatever food is set before them. (LR III:10- 12, 14) Here we see how for the brothers the mann(r of being with others is the primary means for accomplishing the mission, and is itself the message. The gospel is about life, a way of life, a way of being with and relating to others with the peace that is God's gift freely given in Jesus. The brothers simply speak the gospel honestly with everyone, beginning with one another. But, before the brothers can speak the word of the gospel, they must live the word of the gospel. Here recall the emphasis Celano gives to this fact in his Life of St. Francis, "[Francis] was no deaf hearer of the gospel" (1C 22). Coherence of life and message is the norm. The brothers' honest conversation and engagement with the world and people invites recognition of the presence of the kingdom already in their midst. Conversation, though, is a skill that must be learned, and many of the prescriptions of the rule that describe behavior in a negative way can be read as impediments to the quality of conversa'tion that the brothers engage in as part of their mission. This understanding of household and conversation can be seen in chapter 6 of the Later Rule. There poverty is described as "not making anything one's own" and living as "pilgrims and strangers in this world" and "never seeking anything else under heaven." After describing the brothers' poverty this way as modeled on Jesus Christ, "who made himself poor for us in this world" (LR VI:3), the Rule spells out the implication of this poverty for the life of brotherhood: Wherever the brothers may be and meet one another, let them show that they are members of.the same family. Let each one confidently m~ke known his need 125 65.2 2006 Blasac ¯ Custodians of Frandscan Households to the other, for if a mother loves and cares for her son according to the flesh, how much more diligently must someone love and care for his brother according to the Spirit! (LR VI:7-8) Literally the Rule suggests here that the brothers should demonstrate that they come from the same "household," the same family (ostendunt se domesticos invicem inter se). Thus, having nothing, living itinerantly, and desiring only this, the brothers can be at home in their relationships. The brothers should feel at home in the love and. care they have and express for one another. Poverty is the condition for brotherhood. This is an important consideration because poverty can dehumanize. Rebuilding God's house implies offering an alternative to the dehumanizing effects, of poverty. Today we can include everything from forms of work, to abuse, to social structures. The life of brotherhood should provide for humanizing relationships, expressed in turning toward others in their real needs, and their responding with real and mature care. This house is built by God's Spirit as a place where human beings can flourish. Our fraternal life is meant to help human beings prosper, grow, and thrive as "human persons fully alive" and thus to fulfill our mission to repair God's house. A third dimension of fraternal life has to do with what it means to be human. For me, this knowledge comes with the.stigmata of Francis. The stigmata involves unanswered questions. Thomas of Celano in his Life of St. Francis supplied the time, place, and context for the event of the stigmata, but while doing that he was much more interested in unraveling its meaning. Celano recounts that, while at La Verna two years before his death, Francis "saw in the vision of God a man having six wings like a seraph, standing above him, arms extended and feet joined, fixed to a cross" (2C 94). Celano's words suggest that Francis's vision was of a human person taken up into God, burning with desire (like a seraph), and crucified. They suggest the divinization of the human person. Celano is not describing history here. He is interpreting an event whose full meaning was beyond history. He understands the stigmata as demonstrating the fullest potential of being human embraced by God in the incarnation. In Jesus, God embraced the human condition with all of its limitation, fragility, weakness, and vulnerability and, in this embrace of the human condition, revealed God's own divine nature. I.n other words, the crucified flesh of Christ revealed the nature of God. The event of the stigmata reveals both the meaning of God and the meaning of Jesus Christ's human nature. The humanity embraced by Jesus is the same as Francis lived, to the point of knowing it in his own wounds. Marked with the wounds of Jesus, Francis becomes the leper, an icon of the crucified Jesus. Celano says: "While he was unable to perceive anything clearly understandable from the vision, its newness very much pressed upon his heart. Signs of the nails began to appear on his hands and feet, just as he had seen them a little while earlier on the crucified man hovering above him" (2C 94). Francis becomes what he sees, that is, what he has been seeing from the moment God turned him to the lepers to contemplate humanity there as a living icon of Jesus Christ, crucified and fixed to a cross. What does it mean to be human, then, for the early Franciscans? It means to embrace th~ full reality of the human condition as frail, weak, fragile, and vulnerable, and even scarred and wounded. The human person is an image of the Lamb who was slain, who carries even now in glory the scars of the passion. Being scarred and wounded like Jesus is not about imitating Jesus' suffering and pain on the cross. Rather, it is the consequence of t)27 6~.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Franciscan Households self-sacrificing love, of being totally for others, without holding anything back: To be truly human means to bear patiently the human condition of weakness, fragility, and vulnerability. In the stigmata Francis demonstrates that it is possible for a human being to be Godlike, to love as God loved, to be totally and completely for the other, and in addition he demonstrates that human persons are capable of compassion, human persons are capable of bearing the pain of.the other. This, it seems to me, is what the Rule describes as the action of the Spirit of the Lord in one's life: I admonish and exhort the brothers in themLord Jesus Christ to beware of all pride, vainglory, envy and greed, of care and solicitude for the things of this world, of detraction and murmuring. Let those who are illiterate not be anxious to learn, but let them pay attention to what they must desire above all else: to have the Spirit of the Lord and its holy activity, to pray always to him with a pure heart, to have humility and patience in persecution and infirmity, and to love those who persecute, rebuke, and find fault with us. (LRX:7- 0) The eight vices that are listed at the beginning of this text are social vices; they have to do with how one relates to others and to the things of this-world. These vices describe one who is living "from the outside in," that is, one whose meaning and behavior are determined by things, by social position, by prestige, power, and clout, all of which lie outside a person. The Rule admonishes the brothers to a life of poverty, having nothing of one's own and desiring nothing more than the action of God's Spirit. They are not to live from the outside in, but from the inside out, by expressing the Spirit of the Lord in outward behavior. The Spirit transforms us flesh and blood into an image of Jesus, the suffering servant of God. Review for Religious Another way of expressing the action of the Spirit here is in our bearing with everyone and everything in patience and humility. The Saying on True and Pe,fect ffoy, recorded as a conversation between Francis and Leo, says that, as they arrive back at the Portiuncola one night, they are refused entrance because of the time of day and because they are stupid and not needed. They are told to go to the Crosiers for lodging. Francis says that, "if I had patience and did not become upset, true joy as well as true virtue and the salvation of my soul would consist in. this" (TPJ 15). The experience of the 'presence of God so transforms human existence that even persecution and sickness become ways to follow Christ. The experience of the Spirit of the Lord thus expresses itself in patience. The Latin term patiens indicates a willingness to endure or undergo something, to be capable of bearing hardship; it implies that one is vulnerable, able to be wounded. For Francis, patience is an attribute of God. In the--Praises of God, written shortly /. after he experienced-ffie sugrnata on Mount La Verna, he says to God: "You are love, charity; you are wisdom, you are humility, you are patience, you are beauty, you are meekness, you are security, you are rest" (PrG 4). Francis sees Jesus as the face of God, who made himself vulnerable in this world, who exercised patience through life and death. But it is the incarnation even more than the passion and death that Francis looks to, because in the incarnation Jesus put himself into the position of weakness, frailty, vulnerability, and limitation Francis sees Jesus as.the fa~e of God, who made himself vulnerable in this world, who exercised patience through life and death. 6~.2 2006 Blastic * Custodians of Franciscan HouseboMs and. in this revealed the full potential of being human, showing that the acceptance.of human vulnerability is salvific. Here the Rule gets to the heart of Franciscan fraternity because it challenges the brothers to be simply human, to live from the inside out, to be patient in suffering and sickness, to be vulnerable and open to the other, in short, to follow the footsteps of Jesus Christ. Authentic human life can flourish in Franciscan households that are built by brothers who turn toward each other, who engage in honest conversation as a way of life, and who patiently embrace their humanness in weakness, fragility, and vulnerability. Guarding the Franciscan Household The term "guardian" does not appear in the text of the Rule of 1223. It will appear inAater writings such as the Letter to the Entire Order and the Testament. No job description can be found in the early Franciscan writings, but it is understood that as guardian a brother exercises a ministry among brothers on the local level. What the Rule says about the ministry of "those brothers who are the ministers and servants of the others." (LR X:I) certainly applies to guardians. They are to "receive [the brothers] charitably and kindly and have sufficient familiarity with them that these same brothers may speak and deal with them as masters with the servants, for so it must be that the ministers are servants of all the brothers" (LR X:5-6). The ministers must deal with the brothers as family. While this quality of service must characterize the ministers, those who are subjects must also live the sacrificial nature of obedience in their relationships with the ministers and others. This sacrificial quality of obedience. Francis learned from Jesus, especially in his agony in the garden as described in the Second Version of the Letter to the Faithf!~k Rt.view for Religious Then he prayed to his father saying, Father, if it can be done, let this cup pass from me. And his sweat became as drops of blood falling on the ground. Nevertheless, he placed his will in the will of his father saying: Father, let your will be done; not as I will, but as you will. His father's will was such that his blessed and glorious son, whom he gave to us and who was born for us, should offer himself through his own blood as a sacrifice and oblation on the altar of the cross: not for himself, through whom all things were made, but for our sins, leaving us an example that we might follow his footprints. (2LtF 8-13) Jesus' obedience to his father was a struggle to say yes to his father's will, and this is really the only thing Francis says about the passion. Francis never speaks of the pain or suffering of the crucified Jesus, as if the entire passion took place in Jesus' struggle to accept his Father's will. And the Father's will, as Francis describes here, is that Jesus be completely for, others, that Jesus be for us. The passion is about struggling to be for others, and thi~ brings us back to the very nature of what it means to be brother. The brother is one who turns toward others, who is totally for others without holding anything back for himself. This js true obedience, because it is the fulfillment of what it means to be in relationship with others. Given this general sense of service, caring for the Franciscan household might be practiced in the following ways, I. I began with the common American Christian belief and practice that "God helps those who help themselves," a creed that can affect us in various ways. This creed is not authentically Christian, and it is eminently un- Franciscan. It supports behavior and practice that become destructive of God's house. All the brothers are responsible for calling each other to lives of genuine other-centeredness, to lives of authentic obedience 131 65.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Franciscan Households experienced as fraternal relationship, and to the poverty of having nothing as one's own. Interdepehdence rather than radical independence, mutuality rather than self-centeredness, arid healthy need rather than the fullness of isolation are true qualities of fraternal life. This kind of fraternity is not a given, nor achieved easily or quickly, but remains the goal toward which we live. The guardian's task of caring for fraternal life implies attention to the absence or presence of creeds that conflict with real fraternal life. II. One hard-to-retrieve aspect of fraternal life today, given our institutional structures, is itinerancy. Francis and his brothers lived as pilgrims and strangers in this An important itinerancy !sAhab., while moving abbut; W~ are .s.t.ill at home with each o her: ° world. They were itinerant brothers, literally. They were "houses" on the road--perhaps medieval versions of mobile homes! Itinerancy was a clear aspect of Franciscan identity in contrast to monks--monastic institutions were terrified of wandering monks, called gyrovagues in Benedict's Rule. The. monastic ideal was stability, and part of the difficulty of fitting mendicants into the structure of the church had to do with their itinerancy. The friars were often perceived mistakenly (?) as monks gone bad. How do we recover that dimension of our life? Perhaps by recovering the meaning of itinerancy as metaphor--by not remaining fixed in one place, by taking different perspectives on the same reality, by always being on the way without ever believing that we have arrived, by not claiming the center for ourselves, and so forth. It is easy to get bogged down in our ministry or work, and to Review for Religious disconnect ourselves from the fraternity for reasons of ministry or work, though there can be valid reasons for this. An important aspect of itinerancy is that while moving about we are still at home with each other; our friaries are parts of a much larger provincial fraternity. For fraternity to be healthy and life-giving, it has to be on the move, never settled into stubborn custom or settled convenience or old fears of anything new o'r different. The fraternity must be on the move in a metaphorical sense in order to stay healthy and focused on its purpose. The fraternity has to be kept on its toes, and the guardians' care for households is an appropriate way of keeping the brothers on the move. III. As we have seen, Francis's mission to repair God's house had to do with the quality of human life. It had to do with a style of life or conversation that was inclusive, respectful, honest, and engaging. Conversation does have guidelines. In his book Plurality and Ambiguity, David TracT says: "In conversation we find ourselves by losing ourselves in the questions provoked by the text. We find ourselves by allowing claims upon our attention, by exploring possibilities suggested by others" (p. 19). He suggests some guidelines for honest conversation: ' Conversation is a game with some hard rules: say only what you mean; say it as accurately as you can; listen to and respect what the other says, however different or other; be willing to correct or defend your opinions if challenged by the conversation partner; be willing to argue if necessary, tQ confront if demanded, to endure necessary conflict, to change your mind if the evidence suggests it." (pp. 18-19) To paraphrase Tracy in Franciscan language, we might say that, to have an honest conversation, one must act according to the real d~mands of being brothers in relationship, one must be for the other in honesty, in 65.2 2006 Blastic ¯ Custodians of Frandscan Households integrity of life, in respectful listening. But Tracy's words, too, have already described the dynamic of a healthy fraternity. Real fraternal life is possible only if the brothers can have honest conversations. This is a real challenge because I can be so convinced of my truth that I cannot hear anyone else's truth. Conversation brings into play the truth about being human that Francis witnessed to in the stigmata--being vulnerable, being able to be touched by another, It takes much effort and practice to engage in honest conversation of this kind. Well worth the effort, the honest and earnest conversation in my fraternity will affect the quality of my presence and ministry outside the fraternity. Honest conversation iwfraternal life will also improve another central aspect of our life together, our prayer. To move beyond communal vocal prayer to faith sharing or shared prayer, honest conversation is important. If I cannot engage my brothers in honest conversation, how will I share my faith deeply with others. Perhaps there is a correlation between the friary chapters that demand honest conversation about life and ministry and the friaries that have much, or at least some, quality faith sharing. While the guardians cannot force this to happen, they can'challenge the brothers to develop friary chapters as an exercise in honest conversation. Moving from honest conversation into shared prayer is a logical and easy step. IV. Perhaps the best description of the guardians, given this description of Franciscan life, is that they are mentors. They support, challenge, inspire, and foster discernment of what is true, worthy, and life-giving among the brothers. You can find. a fine description of the mentor in Big Questions, Worthy Dreams by Sharon Daloz Parks (Jossey-Bass, 2000). She describes a mentoring Review for Religious environment as one that "can and necessarily must assist in creating norms of discourse and inclusion that invite genuine dialogue, strengthen critical thought, encourage connective-holistic awareness, and develop the contemplative mind" (p. 142). Sounds like a tall order, but we have all experienced a mentoring environment. Franciscan fraternity is similar to what she describes: "Mentoring environments are communities of imagination and practice. Humanizing practices, as we use the term here, are ways of life, things that people do with and for each other to make and keep life human" (p. 154). Parks describes three practices of a mentoring community: (1) the practice of the hearth, that is, places that invite reflection and conversation and times for doing this (hopefully the chapter provides this); (2) the practice of the table, not something that Franciscans have problems with generally, but is table time really a priority, or do we do what most Americans and families do today, simply eat on the run and alone in order to get on to something else? (3) the practice of the commons, a place where people meet and share their interdependent lives, a practice of learning how to stand with each other over time. That is a description of the recreation room, "a place within which to confirm a common, connected life. ¯ . that conveys meanings and orients purpose and commitment" (p. 157). Practices .like these facilitate fraternal life and build up the Franciscan household. For me, the religious genius of Francis and the early brothers lies in their ability to appreciate and value the human as the religious. The brothers understood the Gospels as showing us what it means to be really and simply human as brothers and sisters in contrast to social structures that are often antihuman. To be a healthy human brother or sister is to be a holy human person. Our way of being human is the message Francis was 6~.2 2006 Blastic * Custodians of Franciscan Households called to share. God's house is repaired and renewed in brotherhood and sisterhood, where human .life in its weakness, fragility, and vulnerability is embraced and celebrated and endured and supported in patience and healthy relationships, and where honest conversation is practiced and promoted. This is the vision of fraternal life that the early Franciscan writings set out. By our common profession we are all responsible for seeking this goal. The challenge is, I believe, to live that common profession, not in an ideal place, but in the "space" of th~ brotherhood that God has given us. With his brothers, the guardian has to be an expert in being human in order to be an effective servant. The guardian is charged only with calling us to be faithful to what we say we are. The guardian thus invites and challenges us to be fully human and to flourish in fraternal life. The guardian cannot do this or be responsible for this by himself. It takes all of us just as we are in the: glory of our frail, weak, limited, and vulnerable humanity. Our life is not about rapid perfection. Our life is about truth, the truth of the gospel which we embody together as brothers following the example of Francis and his brothers, who simply tried to follow the footprints of Jesus. We are called to be brothers to our brothers, to turn toward each other, to engage each other in honest conversation, to embrace our own and our brothers' weakness, limitation, frailty, and vulnerability. Desiring nothing else but this, we are heirs of the .kingdom of heaven, the place God has created that we may flourish as human beings! (see LR VO. May God give us peace! Review for Religious Note 1 All citations of the early Franciscan writings and of the Franciscan hagiographical texts in this paper are taken from Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, Vol. 1, The Saint, and Vol. 2, The Founder, edited by Regis Armstrong, J.A. Wayne Hellmann, and William Short (New York: New City Press, 1999 and 2000). Questions for Reflections / Group Discussion 1. Michael Blastic OFM was addressing guardianship in a particular Franciscan Province. What elements from his presentation do I find applicable to my own life? 2. What do I need to do to make practical in my way of living some of his reflectiOns on livihg together? 3. Have I ever been mentored by someone? If so, what are the effects of my being mentored? Have I ever considered my owr~ role of being a mentor? What would I need to do ? gently her fingers his head against her lap wherein he rested once before held now between her bloody l~ands her head bentover her task carefully removing the thorfis the skin pulling, resistant, bleeding a little even now gently her fingers so as if not to hurt him she winces as the thorns come out Sean Kinsella 65.2 2006 REGIS J. ARMSTRONG Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist I~ was Pope Paul VI who first used the word harisms" officially in the context of consecrated life.1 He did so in his apostolic exhortation of 29 June 1971, Evangelica~ testificatio, ~11, where, in writing about "the charisn{s of founders," he echoed the teachings of chapter 5 of Lumen gentium and those of Perfectae caritatis and, in doing so, challenged consecrated women and men to focus on their unique gifts to the church. Even the most casual observer of the history of consecrated life notices that, since the Second Vatican Council, the vocabulary of consecrated religious is far more conscious and respectful of particular charisms and, among these, the followers of Francis of Assisi are noteworthy. Part of the reason for the Franciscan preoccupation with their unique charism or charisms is a curious difficulty in arriving at objective knowledge of the ever Regis J. Armstrong OFMCap, editor, translator, and author, first presented these reflections on 31 January 2005 to the faculty, staff, and students of the Theological College of The Catholic University of America, where he is a professor: 220 Curley Hall; Washington, D.C. 20064. Review for Religious popular Francis of Assisi. Until the late 1970s much of our knowledge of Francis's spirituality was mediated through the hagiographic literature that surrounds him. Significantly, the 14th-century Little Flowers of Saint Francis was-~-and perhaps remains--the most widely read source for popular knowledge of the 13th-century saint. Strangely, firsthand acquaintance with the saint was limited to three, possiblyfour,'of his writings and, was only broadened when in 1976 a critical edition of his thirty-eight known writings was published and quickly translated.2 "Deceptively simple" is one way of describing those texts. While some might dismiss them because of their transparency, or view them as irrelevant because of their historical context, Francis's gospel insights continue to challenge those who study them, and their timelessness seems to draw an increasing number of reader~. The task before me is to reflect on what the spirituality, let. us say the "charism," of Francis and his followers might offer to priests and others. At this time of Eucharistic emphasis, it seems appropriate to focus on five passages of Francis's writings. The first of these, a short, fundamentally liturgical prayer, appears in the last of the saint's writings, the Testament. In it he recalls the earliest days of the Franciscan fraternity. The second is taken from a set of documents that Francis wrote upon his return from the Islamic world in 1220. The third comes from a collection of writings' that elude dating but reflect a more mature Francis who has come to grips with what gospel spirituality consists of. The remaining .two seem to have been written during the last year of his life. Three prominent gifts emerge in these writings: the gift of faith, the gift of the Spirit, and the gift of the priesthood, three gifts that form a prism through which to gaze upon the Eucharist. I offer you this prism convinced that Francis's writings envision a Eucharist-centered life and, for a 65.2 2006 Armstrong ¯ Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist priest, one that is defined by v~hat he does each day: celebrate what is at the very heart of his life. The Gift of Faith Francis's Testament, written in stages toward the end of,~his life, opens with a set of reminiscences that many see as defining his vision¯ After speaking of his embrace of a leper, the beginning ofhis life of penance, he describes ., o his life of faith. ,!'And the Lord gave me such faith in churches that I would simply pray and speak in this way: "We adore you, O Lord Jesus Christ, here and in all your churches throughout the world, and we bless you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.'" The early biographers Thomas of Celano and St. Bonaventure maintain that he later taught this prayer to his very first followers. The prayer is ecclesial and soteriological in nature, expressing as it does an understanding of the role of the church in the accomplishment of redemption. Those familiar with the liturgical texts will recognize it as appearing in the Liber Responsalis of Gregory the Great, where it is an antiphon for matins on the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.3 In his Documenta Vitae Religiosae, the monk Arnulphe encouraged its recitation upon entering a church and approaching the (ross.4 What is distinctive, however, is Francis's addition: ". ¯ here and in all the churches throughout the world." His version of the antiphon brings us from the abstract church to a particular, here-and-now church and to those scattered throughout the world. True, Eucharist is not We are made aware,of Francis's understanding the church pla e of encounter or adoratiom Review for Religious present or even implied in the prayer. We are nonetheless made aware of Francis's understanding of the church as the place of encounter or adoration, that is, the sacred space in which the pray-er is reminded of the central place of the cross in our redemption. Curiously, Francis sees this practical, tangible gift of faith as something flowing immediately from the embrace of a life of penance. Should we follow his train of thought in this document, Francis suggests that his discoqery of God's presence began with his encounter with a leper and continued with his entrance into a church, where he discovered what was being asked of him. These Were indeed the first dramatic steps of his spiritual journey, from a chance meeting with the leper to ,his "stumble" into the church of San Damiano, where he discerned his ca|l, His biographers rightly suggest that the two are united, in the Franciscan approach to God, two essential elements on faith's journey,s ,~ Note the focused pragmatism of this passage. The Lord's gift of faith demands expression in the ordina~ day:to-day ebb and flow of life. Francis's faith expresses itself in reverence and respect for the sacred place, the sacred place of encounter. His companions later described him with a broom in his hand gathering the priests of an area and encouraging them to keep clean ,their churches, altars, and everything connected with ~the celebration of the divine mysteries.6 Afew years~ later, the Fourth Lateran Council (canon 20) and Pope Honorius III were to address this matterZ This theme of showing reverence for the place and the accoutrements of worship is easily seen in an exhortation he wrote to all the clergy.8 For years the only existing copy of this was one found in a 13th-century missal in the Benedictine monastery of Subiaco, which boasts of a visit Francis made there during a trip to Rome. This manuscript shows the influence of 65.2 2006 Armstrong ¯ Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist the decrees of Pope Honorius encouraging implemen-tation of the Fourth Lateran decree. Recently, however, an earlier manuscript of the letter was discovered, one that may have been written before or immediately after the council and confirms Francis's insistence on reverence and respect fog churches and sacred vessels.9 In both exhortations a prominent theme emerges, the central place of the Eucharist. Although Francis never uses the word Eucharist, he does write of "the Body and Blood of the Lord," thereby suggesting the concrete way in which he regards the Eucharistic presence of Christ. "In this world," he writes, "we have and see nothing corporaliter [corporally] of the Most High except [his] Body and Blood, and the words through which we have been made and redeemed from death to life." In that light, it is difficult to ignore his repeated encouragement of respect and care for what we might consider the insignificant things of worship: reservation, cleanliness, decorum, even liturgical books.° Once again Francis's addition to that liturgical antiphon--"here and in all your churches throughout the world"--emerges, so'that we see a faith that is not cerebral or otherworldly, but practical and down-to-earth. Corporaliter! If the Most High chooses to come to us corporaliter, then we. must carefully respect the matters of our worship corporaliter, in simple specific ways. Francis repeatedly and simply calls his followers to be attentive to the details of worship. These are instruments with which God enables us to proceed, in Hugh of St. Victor's words, "from the visible to the invisible." The Gift of the Spirit This leads us to an undated set of Francis's writings: his Admonitions, a title that does not express well in English the nature of these twenty-eight teachings. Each "admonition" simply presents a few biblical passages or l~evie~ for Religious images and then some practical application to daily life. This form is a common catechetical tool used by medieval instructors in the faith.~° The first admonition begins with a series of biblical passages that initially seem unrelated unless they0are viewed as examples of "seeing and believing." Francis's starting point in this first admonition is the struggles of faith of the apostles Thomas~and Philip, given that God "dwells in unapproachable light,' and "no one has ever seen God." He proceeds to the role of the Holy Spirit, who enables them and us to see things differendy, to see with what Tl~omas F. Torrance calls the Spirit's "epistemological relevance." l~ In this .way Francis leads us into the very heart of trinitarian life--the Father looks upon the Son in the Spirit, and the Son looks upon the Father in the Spirit. Francis challenges us to understand what spirituality is, namely, a Spirit-filled life: All those who saw the Lord Jesus according to the humanity and did not see and believe according to the Spirit and the Divinity that he is the true Son of God were condemned. Now, inthe same way, all those who see in the form of bread and wine the sacrament that is consecrated [literally, sanctified] at' thd altar by the Lord's words through the agency of the priest, and who do not see and believe according to the Spirit and the Divinity that it is truly the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, are condemned. To be sure, the challenge of seeing and believing is prominent, but it is cast in the context of the Spirit and the Divinity. Many commentators on Francis's writings suggest that his vision of the spiritual life is besv defined by a simple statement found in his Rule: "Let [the brothers] pay attention to what they must desire above all else: the Spirit of the Lord and its holy activity." ~2 This being the case, the Spirit's activity in making Christ the center of our lives is primary and, in this instance, 143 65.2 2006 Armstrong ¯ Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist 14'4 becomes the medium through which we gaze. upon Christ. The Spirit brings us to gaze upon Christ with "the eyes" of the Father and, by our conformity with Christ, to gaze upon the Father with "the eyes" of the Son. We are confronted with what Catherine Mowry LaCugna calls "the practical Trinity" and with Karl Rahner's words: "The economic Trinity is the immanent Trinity.''t3 Far mor~ simply, Francis understands the Spirit as calling us to look upon both the incarnation and the Eucharist in a trinitarian way, seeing the incarnate Lord Jesus and the Eucharistic Lord Jesus as the Father does, with.the eyes of the Holy Spirit. As Francis describes it in the first of his ~ldmonitiones, the Spirit's presence in our lives challenges us on three levels with each celebration of the Eucharist. It reminds us of the incarnation, with the Son's daily embrace of humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability: "Behold, he humbles himself each d~ay (Ph 2:8) as when he came from the royal throne into the Virgin's womb (Ws 18:15); each day he himself comes to us, appearing humbly; each day he comes down from the bosom of the Father (Jn 1,: 18) upon the altar in the hands of a priest." The Spirit's presence also prompts alertness to the revelation that comes from the Eucharist as well as from the incarnation itself: "As [the Son] revealed himself to the holy aposdes in true flesh, so he reveals himself to us in the same way in sacred bread." Finally, in light of this, the Spirit's presence fosters contemplation of the Eucharist with what Francis calls, in words reminiscent of Bernard of Clairvaux, ".spiritual eyes" 14: "And as they saw only his fleshwith their physical sight, yet believed that he was God as they conteInplated him with their spiritual eyes, let us, as we see bread and wine with our bodily eyes, see and firmly believe that they are his most holy Body and Blood living and true." , Revie~v for Religious These three sentences from Francis's Admonitiones provide insight into his understanding of a Spirit-filled life. We could concentrate on these thoughts about Jesus' humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability, or we could focus on his encouragement of "adoration," that primary Spirit-inspired activity which many commentators consider the heart of his theology of prayer. There is another, more noteworthy contribution, however, that Francis makes to Christian spirituality, one that gets overlooked: his concern that our lives be conformed to the Eucharist, that they somehow imitate the life of the Eucharistic Christ. Curiously, very little has been written about this, possibly because of that troublesome word imitation, a word Francis never uses and one that enters strongly into the vocabulary of Christian spirituality only in the 14th, not the 13th, century.15 The more common word for this was conformity. Bernard of Clairvaux says wonderfully that Christ is the form to which deformed man must conform in order to be reformed. One is called to bring one's form into line with the form that is Christ. In the spiritual literature of the time, this is brought about by the work of the Holy Spirit. Contemplation of Christ in the Eucharist, contemplation with "spiritual eyes," is primarily the Spirit's doing.16 In Francis's understanding of the call, the Eucharist demands the daily embrace of the virtues of humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability that the Incarnate Word lives and reveals each day. The Eucharist demands the daily embrace of the virtues of humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability that the Incarnate Word lives and reveals each day. 65.2 2006 Armstrong * Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist 1461 The Gift of Priesthood This brings us to selections from Francis's last two writings, the first of which is actually a return to Francis's very last, his Testament, with which these reflections began. After reflecting upon the gift of faith, Francis continues: Afterwards the Lord gave me--and gives me still-- such faith in priests who live according to the rite of the holy Roman church because of their orders that, were they to persecute me, I would still have recourse to them. And if I had as much wisdom as Solomon and found .impoverished priests of this world, I would not preach in their parishes against their will. And I desire to respect, love, and honor them and all others as my lords. And I do not want to consider any sin in them because I discern the Son of God in them and they are my lords. And I act thus because in this world I see nothing corporally of the Most High Son of God except his most holy Body and Blood which they receive and they alone administer to others. It is a rather curious statement coming from a man facing death, one that contains bits and pieces that tantalize biographers of Francis and historians of the Franciscan movement. There are sufficient anecdotes in the early lives of Francis to suggest that he was indeed ridiculed, abused, and demeaned. More significant are the number of papal decrees insisting that Francis and his brothers be given permission to preach, suggesting that doors were indeed being slammed in their faces. The dying Francis transcends all this and leaves as his legacy an example of "respect, love, and honor" for priests as those who are his superiors, his "lords." Once again that refrain surfaces: "I see nothing corporaliter of the Most High Son of God." Here it does so in reference to priests, who "receive. and administer to others" the most holy Body and Blood of the Lord. All Review for Religious that he may have endured--persecution, being taken advantage of, imposed on--is put into context. Francis refuses even to take notice of a priest's sin--that judgment, he maintains, belongs only to God--because of the priest's sacerdotal intimacy with the Eucharist, with the Body and Blood of the Lord. Naive? Simplistic? Challenging? In our day especially, these attitudes seem unrealistic and, in light of recent scandals, disingenuous. To understand them, we must turn to passages from the last and perhaps most beautiful of Francis's writings, one that almost certainly was written at the same time as his Testament, that is, at the end of his life. Only a man comfortable with himself could have written The Letter to the Entire Order. While clearly written by the "inspirational" figure of the brotherhood, by Francis himself, the letter does not hesitate to admit to negligence or weakness, to being "ignorant or unlettered" and "useless and unworthy." Many of its themes resonate with Francis's earlier writings, especially those on the Liturgy of the Hours and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. The maturity of Francis's Eucharistic spirituality, however, appears clearly in this passage: Kissing your feet, and with all the love of which I am capable, I implore all of you brothers to show all possible reverence and honor to the most holy Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, in whom that which is in heaven and on earth is brought to peace and reconciled to theall-powerful God. This comes from the Francis who a year or so earlier had the mystical experience of Greccio, where the Christ Child appeared in his arms. This comes from the Francis who shortly afterwards had that other mystical experience of Christ Crucified, which left him with the stigmata. This comes from the Francis who then composed one of the most mystical of all writings, The Canticle of Brother i147 65.2 2006 Armstrong * Francis's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist 148 Sun, where his vision of the peace and reconciliation brought by Christ to all creation is expressed in remarkable poetry. In light of this, what follows is one of his most penetrating challenges: In the Lord I also beg all my brothers who are, or who will be, or who desire to be priests of the Most High that, whenever they want to celebrate Mass, pure themselves, they offer the true sacrifice of the most holy Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ with purity and reverence, with a holy and unblemished intention, not for any worldly reason or out of fear or love of someone, intending to please human beings. But, desiring by the sacrifice to please only the most high God himself, let every will be directed to God as far as grace makes possible because there he himself acts alone as he pleases. Here we see the call of the priest to live corporaliter in light of the life corporaliter of Christ now revealed in the Eucharist. The call to purity and to celebrate with purity, the call to be single-minded, and the call to have my every desire directed by God comes from an ongoing call to conversion. The example of the reverence of Mary, the Mother of God, and of the Baptist help bring that call to us. Francis's challenge is simple yet profound: "See your dignity, my brothers [who are] priests, and be holy because He is holy. As the Lord God has .honored you above all others by this ministry, for your part love, revere, and honor him above all others. It is a great misery and a miserable weakness when you have him present in this way and are concerned with anything else in the whole world!" Tree-Huggersmbut Much Much More What does Francis of Assisi, a medieval, Umbrian- Italian mystic offer to American priests in this vital endeavor? My good friend Luke Patrick O'Connell once Review for Religious teased me by characterizing Franciscans as "tree-huggers." Luke, however, was introducing a rather profound discussion on the theological concept of charism. He was attempting to draw me out on what the followers of Francis contribute today to the life and growth of the church. It is a good question, one with which I continue to struggle on many different levels. Pope John Paul once observed that what makes Francis of Assisi so appealing to people of all ages and cultures is his dominant image of God: the One who is all good. "It is what makes you optimists," he suggested, "and, therefore, prophets of hope." Francis's biographers Thomas of Celano and Saint Bonaventure wrote that "he savored in each and every creature, as in so many rivulets, the Fountain of Divine Goodness." In Francis's own writings, however, it is clear that he found God's goodness, the gifts of faith and of the Spirit, more and more overwhelming in the mystery of the Eucharist. In the light of that gift, the daily revelation of God's incredible goodness in his Son, the priesthood became for Francis a reflection of what Eucharist is all about: God's daily humility, self-emptying, and vulnerability. In a word, the Christ of the Eucharist defines the priest! One's sacerdotal character must be molded by the Eucharistic Jesus, who each day places himself in the hands of this priest. Clare of Assisi frequently comes to mind in pondering the mystery of a vocation. Clare begins her own Testament Francis found God's goodness, the gifts of faith and of the Spirit, more and more overwhelming in the mystery of the Eucharist. 1149 6Y. 2 2006 Ar~nstrong ¯ Francis~s Cbaris~n, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist reflecting on the role Francis played in that call. She writes: "Among the other gifts we have received and do receive each day, and for which we must express the deepest thanks to our glorious God, there is our vocation, which the more perfect and greater it is, the more are we indebted to him. Therefore the Apostle [writes]: 'Recognize your vocation.'" In her theology, the vocation is given anew each day and demands each day our most profound thanks. For a priest, Francis would add, each day that gift and that gratitude for the priesthood grow in intensity as the daily celebration of the Mystery of Faith ever so gently teaches the priest its meaning. Thus he writes: Let everyone be struck with fear, the whole world tremble, and the heavens exult when Christ, the Son of the living God, is present on the altar in the hands of a priest! O wonderful loftiness and stupendous condescension! O sublime humility! O humble sublimity! The Lord of the universe, God and the Son of God, so humbles himself that he hides himself under a little piece of bread! See the humility of God, brothers, and pour out your hearts before him! Humble yourselves that you may be exalted by him! Hold back nothing of yourselves for yourselves, that he who gives himself totally to you may receive you totally! Notes ~ Information on charisms may be found in Elizabeth McDonough, "Charisms and Religious Life," Review for Religious 52 (1993): 646- 659. Review for Religious 2 Die Opuscula des H1. Franziskus yon Assisi: Neue Textkritische Edition, ed. Kajetan Esser (Grottaferrata, Rome: Collegio S. Bonaventura di Quaracchi, 1976). This text was the basis for Francis" and Clare: The Complete Works, trans, and intro, by Regis J. Armstrong and Ignatius C. Brady (New York: Paulist Press, 1982). All translations from the writings of Francis and Clare are taken from this volume, though sometimes modified. 3 Gregory the Great, LiberResponsalis (PL 78,804). 4 Arnulphe de Boeriis, Documenta Vitae Religiosae (PL 184, 1177): "Deinde, veniens ad ecclesiam, pone manum super ostium, et dic: Exspectate hic, cogitationes malae, intentiones et affectus cordis, et appetitus carnis. Tu autem, anima mea, intra in gaudium Domini Dei tui, ut videas voluntatem Domini, et visites templum ejus. Sicque veniens ante crucem dic: 'Adoramus te, Christe, et benedicimus tibi.'" (Coming to a church, put your hand on the door and say: Wait here, evil thoughts, intentions, and inclinations of my heart and desires of my flesh. You, though, my soul, enter into the joy of the Lord your God, so that you may see the Lord's will and enter his temple. And so, coming before the cross, say: "We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.") s See Franqois de Beer, La Conversion de Saint Francois (Paris: ]~ditions Franciscaines, 1963). 6 "Assisi Compilation" 60, in The Founder, Vol. 2 of Francis of Assisi: Early Documents, ed. Regis J. Armstrong, J.A. Wayne Hellmann, and William J. Short (Hyde Park, New York: New City Press, 2000), pp. 162-163. 7 For the texts of both Canon 20 of the Fourth Lateran Council and Sane cure olim or Expectavimus bactenus of Innocent III, see The Saint, Vol. 1 of Francis of Assisi: Early Documents (Hyde Park: New City Press, 1999), pp. 53c. 55a. Hereafter The Saint. 8 See The Saint, pp. 54-55. 9 See The Saint, pp. 52-53. ~0 See Regis J. Armstrong, "The Prophetic Implications of the Admonitions," in Francescanesimo e Profezia (Roma: Laurentianum, 1986): pp. 386-464. ~ Thomas F. Torrance, "The Epistemological Relevance of the Holy Spirit," in God and Rationality (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), pp. 165-192. t2 For a full exposition of the theme, see Optatus van Asseldonk, "The Spirit of the Lord and Its Holy Activity," Greyfriars Review 5 (1991): 103-158. ,3 Karl Rahner, The Trinity, trans. Joseph Donceel (New York: Herder and Herder, 1970); "Remarks on the Dogmatic Treatise 'De 151 65.2 2006 Armstrong ¯ Frands's Charism, Tree-Huggers, and the Eucharist Trinitate,'" Theological Investigations, Vol. 4 (New York: Seabury Press, 1974), pp. 77-102. 14 Karl Rahner, "The Doctrine of the 'Spiritual Senses' in the Middle Ages," Experience of the Spirit: Source of Theology, Vol. 16 of Theological Investigations (New York: Crossroad, 1983), pp. 104-134. ~s Edouard Cothenet et al., Imitating Christ, vol. 5 of Religious Experience series (St. Meinrad, Indiana: Abbey Press, 1974); Andr4 Rayez, "The Golden Age of Medieval Devotion: The Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries," in Jesus in Christian Devotion and Contemplation, vol. 1 of Religious Experience series (St. Meinrad: Abbey Press, 1974), pp. 44-85. ~6 This sentiment finds an echo in John Paul II's Dominicae Coenae: "Eucharistic worship., is precisely the expression of that love which is the authentic and deepest characteristic of the Christian vocation . A living fruit of this worship is the perfecting of the image of God that we bear within us, an image that corresponds to the one that Christ has revealed to us." Quoted in L'Osservatore Romano, English edition, 26 January 2005, p. 12. Palm Sunday Dear Lord, ride into my heart today on the stubborn mule of my own self-rule. These garments strewn along your way are the little things to which my will clings. 0 Christt. let your triumph be complete: let nothing remain proud, stubborn, or vain. I lie surrendered at your feet. Now, let my voice raise Hosannas of praiser. Agnes Cunningham SSCM Review for Religious ¯ JULIUS D. LELOCZKY Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation The great Carmelite martyr St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, better known as Edith Stein, wrote somewhere: "The imitation of Mary includes the imitation of Christ because Mary is the first Christian to follow Christ. Indeed, that is why the imitation of Mary is relevant not only to women but to all Christians." Let us meditate briefly on how religious life can be an "imita-tion of Mary." From all eternity Mary was chosen by God to be the mother of the Redeemer, and she was called at the annunciation. We, too, have been chosen and called: "God chose us in Jesus Christ before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him" (Ep 1:4). By this call and her response, Mary became a daughter of God in a special way; she became the new, obedient Eve. Just as Mary must have Julius D. Leloczky OCist joined the Cistercians in Hungary in 1953, later studied in Rome, and in 1964 was sent to the abbey where he continues to live: Cistercian Abbey; 3550 Cistercian Road; Irving, Texas 75039. 6Y.2 2006 Leloczky ¯ Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation wondered why was she chosen, we, too, can ask our-selves: "Why me? Out of the millions of people, why me?" The answer is that it is a mystery, the mystery of love. What happens to us is what happened to the rich young man: "Jesus looked at him, and he loved him" (Mk 10:21). The call of each of us is a call for a unique, spe-cial task, one that no one else can accomplish. Our response should mirror the love of the One who called us, but we are called not just to do a job; we are called to give a loving response. The call has, like a coin, two sides: we are called away from something and we are called to do something, called for something. From the moment the angel appeared to Mary, her whole life was changed. She was no longer her own person, she belonged to Someone else. We have been called away from the average or "normal" way of life, from starting a family, from having a civilian job, from having our own home, car, property. We have been called to a loving unconditional surrender, offering ourselves as Mary did: "I am the maidservant of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word." We have been called for a life-long adventure of love, and we do not know where this love will take us. As religious, we have been called to conceive the Word of God in our heart and soul. This conception is "virginal" because it takes place entirely between God and ourselves, without the intervention of anybody else. We have been called to give the Word of God, the Son of God, to others. We can do it only if first we ourselves have conceived Him, carried him in the womb of our soul, nurtured him, let him grow inside us, from our-selves-- if not from our flesh and blood, certainly from our personality. Just as Jesus must have had much like-ness to his Mother, the Word growing within us will take on our likeness. This Word, however, is not just an intel- Review for Religious lectual idea. It does not reside only in our intellect; it must penetrate our entire being, our whole existence. Disciples are not tape recorders to replay the words exactly as we heard them. Sifted through our personali-ties, God's words have to take on the special shade or tint of what we are as persons, just as the gospel of Jesus Christ is different from the pen of Mark and John. Mary's virginity was fruitful; the unmarried state of a religious also must be fruitful. Members of religious orders, when answering God's call to an unmar-ried way of life, do not choose to live in lifeless sterility. They do not give up either love, pas-sion, or motherhood or fatherhood. They just practice them in a dif-ferent way, living, by God's grace, their ability to love on a higher level. Their fruitfulness realizes itself in two ways. Like Mary, they become mothers of the Word of God, and mothers or fathers of many spiritual children. The birth of a child is preceded by birth pangs. No one expressed more dramatically the pain of giving birth to God's word than Jeremiah: "O Lord, you have deceived me, and I let myself be :deceived. You are stronger than I, and you have prevailed. I have become a laughingstock all the day. Everyone mocks me . If I say, 'I will not mention him or speak any more in his name,' there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot bear it" (Jr 20:7,9). To give birth to God's Word is a painful but irresistible duty. It is painful to commu- Members of religious orders, when answering God's call to an unmarried way of life, do not choose to live in lifeless sterility. 65.2 2006 Leloczky ¯ Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation 1,56 nicate the Word to others; it is difficult to put Christ's message into human words, to pass on to others Jesus himself and not just our own ego. It can be painful to give Jesus to others, because some people will not accept him, will show a hostile attitude toward him and us, will resist and reject him and us. Yet we have to go on, to continue undeterred, remembering God's word to Jeremiah: "And I, behold, I make you this day a forti-fied city, an iron pillar, and bronze walls, against the whole land" (Jr 1 : 18). If we proclaim God's word, we become parents, and those who listen to us will become our children. This is so even in the case of contemplative religious. It is not by accident that St. Th~r~se of Lisieux has been chosen the patron saint of the missions. If we think back to our young years, we can recall some special persons in our lives whom we can consider our spiritual mothers or fathers. As we advance in age, the roles become reversed, and we should be spiritual parents for others. But it is a frightening realization that we proclaim the Word more by our deeds than by our words; our words and deeds should communicate the gospel message in perfect har-mony. St. Paul dared to set himself as a model for the early Christians. "Imitate me," he wrote. We may shy away from saying the same, but we know that our words will be credible only if they are lived and made a reality in our daily lives. Just as Mary was with Jesus at the wedding at Cana, so she is with us in our apostolic prayer and activity. When we are in any special need, she will tell her Son: "They have no wine." Just as in Cana, with the refined sense of a woman, a housewife, a mother, she perceives if something is missing, if there is a problem, and she will intervene. And, even if Jesus showed some reluc-tance first, Mary knows that her Son will help, and she Review for Religious will tell us to "do whatever he tells you." The interven-tion of the saints is powerful, but the efficiency of Mary's intercessory prayer is unparalleled. Just recall the words of the famous Memorare prayer of the great Cistercian saint Bernard of Clairvaux: "Never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection was left unaided." A mother's life is an unstoppable process of gradual separation from her child. Only during pregnancy can she have the feeling that the child is completely hers. After the baby has been born, as the child is growing, it will spend more and more time away from home, away from its mother. During adolescence the child will claim an ever greater independence. After he or she finishes school and starts a family, the separation will be com-plete. Mary, too, had this painful experience. The twelve-year- old Jesus remained in the temple: "I must be in my Father's house." During his public ministry Jesus called his disciples mother and brothers and sisters, thus in a way pushing away from himself his biological family. On the cross, Jesus gave a mere disciple to his mother in place of himself. Look at Michelangelo's Pietb, this Magnificat prayer carved into marble, and see Mary's generous surrender. Even after all her trials and suffer-ings, she was still the humble handmaid of the Lord. There are two ways of experiencing this separation: (a) to live without the experience of Jesus' presence or close-ness and (b) to allow our spiritual children to grow up and go off and live their lives. Mary, by her suffering and agony, added something to the redeeming sufferings of her Son. Similarly, by car-rying our daily crosses (their heaviness may change from time to time), we complement "what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ for the sake of his body, the church" (Col 1:24). Our sufferings can be physical or spiritual or emotional. They may take the form of sickness, exhaus- 6Y.2 2006 Leloczky ¯ Imitation of Mary and the Religious Vocation tion, frustration, or burnout, They may be caused by the very people for whose sake we are spending our days and burning our energies, as when the crowd shouted at Jesus, "Crucify him!" We may be attacked or accused without reason, we may be slandered, or we may feel abandoned as Jesus did when he cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" But we should not forget that the sadness lasted only three days. Imagine Mary's joy at Jesus' resurrection, at her encounter with her risen Son. The same joy is waiting for us. We just have to persevere, to continue imitating Christ by imi-tating Mary faithfully, day after day. 158 Prayer Slowly and meditatively pray the Memorare prayer. Remember, 0 most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercesson was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto you, 0 Virgin of virgins, my Mother; to you do I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful. 0 Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy hear and answer me. Amen Review for Religious MARY JOSEPH SCHULTZ Just Because I Said So Sohifting numbers, median ages, and the geography f religious life over the past several decades and today as well do not cause me to pause and reflect on whether we have a future, as many religious have recently been wondering. I believe that religious life most defi-nitely does have a future. For each individual commu-nity, where that future goes must be carefully discerned in the Spirit. But there are other questions with less clear answers. What impels us to go on? What can we offer new members to quench their thirsty hearts once they join us? I would like to reflect on one word as the answer to both these questions--commitment. It is not a popular word today in a mobile and disposable society such as ours. The word commitment is at one and the same time a sign of contradiction to some and a challenge and cause for hope to many others. In some circles a lifelong com-mitment to religious life has fallen under examination in recent years. For my part, I cannot buy into the notion Mary Joseph Schultz SCC, president of Assumption College for Sisters, wrote for us in 2003. Her address is 350 Bernardsville Road; Mendham, New Jersey 07945. 65.2 2006 Schultz ¯ ~tst Because I Said So of a limited commitment to religious life just as I can-not buy into the idea of a temporary marriage commit-ment. As religious we vow ourselves to a God unseen but not unknown. We embrace centuries-old charisms of peo-ple whose lives and lifestyles were shaped by grace amid definite historical settings and cultural needs. We set aside wealth, sexual activity, and the disposition of our own will in freely choosing poverty, chastity, and obedi-ence for life. It is imperative that we study our own com-mitments in gratitude--and that we find ways to convey its challenge, meaning, and joy to Generations X and Y-- if we truly have hope in our communities' future. Our brothers and sisters in community who celebrate fifty, sixty, and even seventy-five years of religious life overflow with peace and joy in their long, faithful, and fruitful commitments, just as their married counterparts do who celebrate their golden anniversaries. What is their secret? Why and how have they survived and thrived in a world of instant gratification, noise, infi-delity, moral weakness, and faltering leadership and through forty years of post-Vatican II experimentation, discussion, renewal, and change in their communities? They would probably answer the question very simply: "I am still here because I said I would be." Sefin Sammon, in his wise and prophetic book Religious Life in America, speaks of the impact of public commitment to the evangelical counsels: "In carrying out our ministry in a spirit of selfless service, we witness further to countercultural values. How? By avoiding the all too familiar and tragic betrayal of consecrated life that occurs when we give our heart away generously at the time of first commitment, and then take it back, bit by bit, with each passing year" (p. 92). Commitment is not widely modeled for today's youth, either in families or in society at large. Hedonism and Review for Religious materialism erode the very notion of a committed life. The rapidity and challenge of change surround every aspect of our culture today. Opting out of anything dis-agreeable or tiresome is only a mouse-click away. Young people are constantly in and out of hobbies, activities, and relationships without so much as a glance back-ward. Often parents try to be supportive by signing them up for lessons, buy-ing instruments and sports either in families or equipment and providing taxi service to and from in society at large. appointments and games. For the young, broad arrays of opportunity and experience soon become bor-ing- or become irritatingly impossible when parental money or patience runs short. Entering my community as an aspirant in my teens in the late 1960s, I truly aspired to living religious life. It was hard for me and for those my age to understand all the post-Vatican II talk about "returning to your foundress's charism." Certainly we should already be who we say we are! Why wouldn't we be, and how could we not be? Naive teenage questions. But, from the moment I left home to enter as a sophomore, my heart was com-mitted to my dream, and I was just a little puzzled by what I saw and heard going on around me. Wasn't every sister as committed as I thought she was or should be? Through the difficult weeks of homesickness, a cer-tain degree of stubbornness and a huge amount of grace sustained me. I knew my choice was right. From my early years my family realized that I was serious about being a sister. It was all I talked about and I only had to wait (impatiently) until I was old enough to be accepted. My Commitment is not widely modeled for today's youth, 65.2 2006 Scbultz ¯ s~ust Because I Said So ,° 1 21 older siblings at times "tested" me and offered their opin-ions about my leaving home at fourteen. But my parents were supportive in their quiet and undemonstrative way. They were proud of me, I knew, loved the sisters, and backed me up at each step. One day shortly before I was set to leave, my mother said, "You know, you really can change your mind. You don't have to go just because you said so." I believe she wanted to give me a last chance to back out with minimal embarrassment. My reply was simple: "I know, Morn, but I want to be a sister." From that day on no more was said. My father died a year later, and my mother was proud of my life choice. She later became a lay associate in my community. Mom's words often ring in my ears: "Just because you said so." Certainly I am not the same person I was at fourteen, but there are traces of that determined girl still inside. I am not the same person I was at final profession twenty-five years ago. But there is one thing I pray never changes, that I am a woman of my word. To me this is a very positive quality. While "just because I said so" can deteriorate into an authoritarian dictate held over the head of a student (and I confess to having resorted to it more than once in a classroom of questioning teens), these same words are to me a sign of fidelity and com-mitment. I gave my word and I intend to keep it, not grudgingly but joyfully. Whether from genetics or my serious temperament or both, when I tell someone I am going to do some-thing, I make it my business to follow through. This can lead to scrupulosity or unhealthy guilt if I am not care-ful. I can place unrealistic expectations on myself (or on others through transference) as I strive to pray for all the prayer requests, write all those notes, make those phone calls, or do those favors that I promised I would. As I have noticed, other temperaments seem to have no Review for Relig4ous problem breaking those promises, skipping those phone calls, or never getting back to me, but they also have fewer sleepless nights. I believe that giving my word to others is about the best I can give them. In this I share God's own view-- giving God's Word was the best of gifts. Giving my word to God on my profession day symbolized all of me with nothing held back. This perpetual commitment, lived out one day, one moment, at a time, is a beautiful gift that I hope to never take back or take for granted. Not knowing the trials, temptations, or dryness that lay ahead could not lessen the fullness of the gift. In fact it only served to increase the value. God took me at my word, and the journey of religious life has been remarkable. Unlike in a marriage vow, I am guaranteed the fidelity of my Partner, and if there is any cooling in the relationship it can only be on one side! "Just because I said so" is in itself hardly a solid enough motivation for perseverance. These words can easily reflect mere stubbornness or the desire to prove something to myself or others. I have seen some sisters leave the community, even after final profession, because this motivation to please self or a parent was the sole force behind their entering religious life. If love, humility, and grace do not underlie my words, then I am foolish and my life is a sham and an exercise in self-righteousness. Giving my word verbally and on the vow formula signed on the altar came after long years of trial and preparation. My commitment was not made as a naive religious wearing rose-colored glasses. I had seen many "heroes" leave the community, had watched the divi-siveness of Vatican II experimentation, and had been asked to step forward and take my place as a responsible member of the community. Publicly pronouncing the words "I vow to almighty God perpetual chastity, 6~ .2 2006 Schultz ¯ ~st Because I Said So poverty, and obedience" was the best I could do, then and now. I would do it all over again today, even know-ing what would lie ahead. I would once again give my word. At the time of my entrance, I believe I had it much easier because, while there were hundreds of communi-ties, my familiarity with them was very limited. Many girls entered a community whose members had taught them or with whom there was already a relative or a close association. This is not the case today, especially with so few religious left in the classrooms. A young person discerning religious life today has a greater challenge than I did forty years ago, partly because of the wide array, of choices open to her. Even after deciding to become a religious, someone could literally spend years of her life visiting monasteries and convents for "Come and see" weekends. With the easy availability of appeal-ing vocation literature and online access, a serious and thorough examination of multiple communities might even turn her into a delayed vocation! What is it that makes a young woman decide on a particular community? What makes a heart resonate and feel at home with one group rather than another? I feel that, when all is said and done, communities must sim-ply be who they say they are. Authenticity is the key that will unlock commitment. After forty years of communal soul-searching, it is time for communities simply to move on. It is time to claim who we are, corporately commit to the charism, and put all our energies into authentic liv-ing of our foundress's spirit here and now in the 21st century. There can be no going back. Now is the time for simply joining hands, holding tight, and boldly moving ahead according to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. This is the gift we have to offer new members, a gift that will enliven our future. Review for Religious Young people, seeking authentic community, will go where they find the real deal. And how can such a com-munity survive today except through common prayer, deep spirituality, shared vision and lifestyle, corporate witness, and joyful life in the Spirit of Jesus. This is what they seek, hoping against hope that such groups exist and will provide them with the challenge they desire so ardently. We have a responsibility to live up to our word. We are here because we said we would be. I am here because I said so. And is this not a Godlike quality--giving one's word? God's Word and our own are why we are all here in the first place. Personal Reflection / Group Conversation 1. What has been my experience of "growing into a com-mitment"? 2. What led me to joining this religious congregation of which I am a member? 65.2 2006 religious VIMAL TIRIMANNA Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? implications In January 2002, I was in a bus on my way from Colombo to Kandy, Sri Lanka. Next to me in the same seat was a Buddhist monk. He was very friendly and kept me engaged in a lively con-versation on various matters about our two reli-gions till we reached Kandy, a journey of some three hours. At one stage he wanted to know why the cardinal archbishop of Boston had to resign (an issue widely reported in our local newspapers). I said that it was due to allegations (especially by the media) of his not having made responsible decisions regarding several errant priests of his archdiocese who were involved in sexual abuse. The Buddhist monk was visibly surprised, for till then he was of the opinion that the archbishop had to resign because he him-self was involved in sexual abuse. This Buddhist monk may be excused for his inaccurate impres-sion, but one wonders how many of our own Vimal Tirimanna wrote for us in May-June 2001. His address until October 2006 is Redemptorists; Frangipani; No. 80 Ampitiya Road; Kandy, Sri Lanka. Review for Religious Catholics, including religious and priests, are unaware of why Cardinal Law had to resign. If the factors and reasons that led him to resign from the prestigious Archdiocese of Boston had been applied to various other bishops and religious superiors around the world today, one wonders how many would have had to follow Cardinal Law and resign their posts. It is no exaggeration to say that, in cases of sexual abuse and also in other crucial areas of priestly and religious life, a good number of church leaders are badly wanting in their pas-toral responsibility and accountability towards their sub-jects and institutes. This arises from not making responsible timely decisions, decisions that ought to have been made for the common good of the diocese or reli-gious congregation and for the good of the church. Note that in this article we are not dealing with an occasional failure to make a responsible decision, which is some-thing normal since bishops and superiors are human; we are dealing with habitual negligence to make decisions on the part of bishops and religious superiors. Consistent, habitual evasion of making decisions has contributed immensely to the contemporary difficulties in priestly and religious life and in church life in general. This is the main point of this article. I write this article from my fifteen years of experi-ence as a retreat preacher to the clergy (both diocesan and religious) in Sri Lanka and elsewhere, and also from the experience I gained from my close association with major superiors as president of the Conference of the Major Religious Superiors of Sri Lanka (for two terms, four years) and from being the major superior of the Redemptorists in Sri Lanka (for three terms, nine years). I limit myself here to consecrated life and then to show-ing how the irresponsibility and unaccountability of a good number of religious superiors have contributed to 6Y.2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? 168, the present disturbed state of consecrated life. I will ana-lyze briefly what authority means in the Christian tradi-tion, and then I will try to show how secular democratic political trends have affected the role of superiors, how their craving for popularity among their subjects has often inhibited them from making many a vital consci-entious decision. I will show that in these situations it is impossible for prophetic and diplomatic roles to func-tion simultaneously. I will conclude by highlighting the need today for religious superiors to make conscientious, pastoral, and courageous decisions for the sake of the common good of their institutes, and thus give prophetic leadership to today's world. Authority in the Christian Tradition Jesus clearly condemns oppressive and despotic power wielded by the rulers of nations (Mk 10:42). He tells his disciples who were arguing about which of them was the greatest that he who wants to be great must make him-self the least of all and serve others (Mk 9:33-35). For him, true authority is for service in truth, as he so tellingly demonstrated throughout his earthly life, which reached a climax at the last supper when he washed the feet of his own apostles (Jn 13:115). Emulating Jesus' teaching, the Christian tradition has always held that authority is for service. Accordingly, all leaders, civil as well as ecclesiastical, are expected to be servants of the common good of the group that is entrusted to them. A New Testament image dear to the early Christian community was Jesus the good shepherd. This is shown especially in the frescoes in the early catacombs. A shep-herd carrying a sheep on his.shoulders is a common fig-ure in those early places of worship. In fact, the concept of shepherd or "p, astor" and the adjective "pastoral" are woven into our inherited tradition regarding authority. ¯ Review for Religious To be a pastor or shepherd is to take flocks to where there is food and water, looking out for their safety and well-being. In our Christian tradition, leadership, whether in consecrated life or in a diocese, requires the care, compassion, and concern of a shepherd towards his sheep. The well-being of the flock and of each individ-ual sheep ought to be the - - - shepherd or pastor's top priority. If shepherds or pastors are more concerned about themselves, they cease to be shepherds and become hirelings concerned first of all with fattening themselves (see Ezk 34, Jn - - 10:7-18). Superiors, then, are supposed to be shepherds, serving the flock entrusted to them, not seeking their own good, not even their own survival. It is, of course, true that consecrated life has changed drastically in our day and so has the style of community leadership. It is sufficient to compare and contrast the era before Vatican Council II and afterwards. No one would argue today for the type of leadership that was prevalent in consecrated life before the council. It is also true that the way "authority" and "leadership" are under-stood varies from culture to culture. Regardless of the differences in worldviews and the ways of exercising authority, one essential and undeniable element of authority is that superiors' decision making must be for the common good. In the church in general and in con-secrated life in particular, such decision making is vital. After the initial stages of involving as many members as possible in the decision-making process, religious supe-riors must not abdicate their own decision making under any pretext. If they do so, they cease to serve the good of The Christian tradition has' always held that authority is for service. 6L2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correa'? 170 the community. This was expressed well in the instru-mentum laboris of the ordinary assembly of the Synod of Bishops held in 1994, on "The Consecrated Life and Its Role in the Church and in the World": The role of authority is that of a sure and authorita-tive guide, of inspiration and encouragement, so that an environment of fraternal communion can be cre-ated, one which can facilitate personal spiritual growth and the fulfillment of the apostolic mission, without, however, declining the responsibility to decide when-ever necessary. (§59) The postsynodal apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata (1996) of Pope John Paul II said: While authority must be above all fraternal and spir-itual, and while those entrusted with it must know how to involve their brothers and sisters in the deci-sion- making process, it should still be remembered that the final word belongs to authority and, consequendy, that authority has the right to see that decisions made are respected. (§43, emphasis in the original text) Superiors Seeking Popularity in Their Communities The latter decades of the 20th century are noted for the spread of democracy in different parts of the globe. Democracy has become a universally accepted human value. Even countries that are not yet democratic are striving, indeed yearning, for it. This is surely a wel-come change for the whole of humanity. Normally democracy not only guarantees human rights on the basis of individuals' inherent dignity, but also for the com-mon good assures the participation of every citizen in the political decision making. Since democracy assures citizens' right to change those in authority after an agreed term of office, those officials normally spend a lot of their energy and resources to be popular, for it is their popularity that ensures their success at elections. Rarely do they offend citizens in public or make unpop- Review for Religious ular decisions even when such decisions are necessary for the common good. If they do, their very survival is at stake. With the mass media often playing the role of watchdog, political leaders today are pressured to say and do the "politically correct" thing. The phrase is fast becoming common parlance. The more "politically cor-rect" you are, the more popular you become. Political leaders who dare to make unpopular decisions, even though such decisions are dictated by their consciences and demanded by the common good, are being thrown out of office. Parallel to happenings in the secular world are some of the ways that religious congregations do things. Thanks to Vatican II, gone are the rigid (and sometimes absurd) practices that marked consecrated life in the years before the council. Although religious congrega-tions cannot be considered democracies in a literal sense, wider participation in congregational and community decision making has brought a lot of relevance and good sense to consecrated life. Today sensible persons heave a sigh of relief and thank God that most of the irrational and dictatorial ways of being a religious superior are over. Today religious superiors are really meant to serve the common good of the flock entrusted to them. The secular concept of democracy surely has had a positive influence on these changes in religious life. Our own experience during the past couple of decades, however, shows that the same concept of democ-racy also seems to have had a negative effect on many religious superiors. Just as secular political leaders earnestly seek popularity, and survive and eventually move up the political ladder because of their popularity, today's religious superiors often seem to seek such pop-ularity within their own congregations for their mere survival and sometimes for their upward mobility either !171 65.2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correa'? 172 in the congregation or in the hierarchy. Many of our contemporary religious superiors are doubly careful not to make "politically incorrect" decisions that would make them unpopular among the members of their congrega-tions and thus bring about their own downfall. The wider consultations (and, in many congregations, elections) that since Vatican II are rightly carried out in electing or appointing religious superiors seem to put the supe-riors in a dilemma. On the one hand, to be elected or reelected, they have to be popular or well accepted. On the other hand, to be popular or well accepted, they have to play to the gallery by not making decisions that would upset the majority of the members. Note that by "pop-ularity" I do not mean the mere acceptability of superi-ors to the other members of the community, which is a must in consecrated life. I mean the kind of "popular-ity" that is gained by not offending numbers of influen-tial people. People accrue such "popularity" by not making decisions that are badly needed for the common good--even when their conscience prompts them to do so. They avoid certain good decisions simply because they would offend the majority of the members. It is a "popularity" that is gained and sustained by pandering to a lumpenproletariat. The more superiors do not make deci-sions that would make them unpopular with the major-ity, the more acceptable they become all around. The more they evade their bounden duty to make decisions that could make them unpopular, the greater their chances of getting reelected or reappointed. This is why today, in quite a number of congregations, we hear mem-bers saying: "We made sure to have so-and-so elected because we are sure he (or she) will not rock the boat." To illustrate the point here, let us look at the now popular sabbaticals. Is it always those who really deserve a real break after a tedious involvement in the congre- Review for Religious gational apostolate who get a sabbatical today? Are all those who go for sabbaticals the "burnt-out" persons? What about the way some superiors treat members who complain that they lack self-fulfillment? Are they not fre-quently permitted to find their "self-fulfillment" by get-ting into any and every personal apostolate or pet project, even when these cut them off from their communities? Today it is not uncommon to send abroad for higher stud-ies persons who are erratic or wanting in their basic reli-gious commitment. The persons concerned may not even have the capacity for studies, but to some superiors this seems a diplomatic way of handling the problem, at least temporarily. They do not realize or do not wish to real-ize that such evasions leave the problem for their suc-cessors in office. Such ways of acting are neither just nor charitable even from the point of view of the persons thus treated. Instead of addressing the real problem of the person with genuine charity and justice, they tem-porarily circumvent the issue, not out of sympathy, but instead out of concern for their own survival. Regrettably, avoiding good hard decisions has become an accepted way of being "politically correct" in consecrated life today. So has making decisions that are only temporarily satis-factory, and may be disastrous in the long run. In both these cases, the problematic root is "political correct" words and deeds or superiors' spui'ious "popularity." Prophecy and Diplomacy Do Not Sit Well Together But is conscious evading or circumventing of deci-sions morally correct? Is it the way to be prophetic? Time and again one hears it said: "Well, this is the way things have turned out in consecrated life today, and so what can we do?" "This is the way even most of the bish-ops act, and so what is wrong if our own religious supe-riors do the same?" Unfortunately, this way of looking at 65.2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? 174 1 things seems to ignore the very nature and purpose of consecrated life. From its very origins, one of the char-acteristics of consecrated life has been its prophetic nature. Pope John Paul II in his ~ta consecrata enunciated this point well: There is a prophetic dimension which belongs to the consecrated life as such, resulting from the radical nature of the following of Christ and of the subse-quent dedication to the mission characteristic of the consecrated life. The sign value, which the Second Vatican Council acknowledges in the consecrated life, is expressed in prophetic witness to the primacy which God and the truths of the gospel have in Christian life. (§84) A careful scrutiny of history would show us how, at different moments of decadence in church life, it was consecrated life that raised the church out of decadence through its witnessing, thus giving the church prophetic leadership: In effect, the consecrated life is at the very heart of the church as a decisive element for her mission, since it "manifests the inner nature of the Christian calling" and the striving of the whole church as Bride toward the union with her one Spouse. At the Synod it was stated on several occasions that the consecrated life has not only proved a help and support for the church in the past, but is also a necessary gift for the present and future of the people of God, since it is an inti-mate part of her life, her holiness, and her mission. (~ta consecrata, §3; emphasis in the original) So, to argue that the superiors are only emulating the way things are done by the hierarchical church lead-ership is not correct, for consecrated life has to give the lead to the rest of the church, even regarding pastoral leadership. As the late moral theologian Father Bernard Hiiring often told his students, prophecy and diplomacy (in today's parlance, "politically correctness") do not and Review for Religious cannot sit together comfortably. One has to give way to the other. A good number of contemporary religious superiors fail to make proper decisions because they wish to be "politically correct." Thus they not only betray their own vocation to be prophetic, but they gravely damage the common good of the communities entrusted to them. Besides, if a religious superior is supposed to be a pastor, then he has the bounden duty towards the well being of the members. This duty includes fraternal cor-rection. If members go astray and deviate from the group's charism, it is the duty of the shepherd (the reli-gious superior) to begin fraternal correction in charity, even if it hurts. The supe-rior owes such correction to the individuals and the group. Their integral well-being as consecrated peo-ple is one of the superior's top priorities. If superiors shirk this difficult role of fraternal correction in order to be "politically cor-rect," they have no right to Consecrated life has to give the lead to the rest of the church, even regarding pastoral leadership. remain in office, because they have failed in their pri-mary duty of working towards the well-being of the con-gregation and the church. Superiors who do not have as their goal the common good of the congregation and the church contribute to their decadence. Instead of swimming against the popular secular currents, they clearly betray the consecrated prophetic life so well explained by Pope John Paul II: In our world, where it often seems that the signs of God's presence have been lost from sight, a convinc-ing prophetic witness on the part of consecrated per- 65.2 2006 Tirimanna ¯ Are Religious Superiors Called to Be "Politically Correct"? sons is increasingly necessary. Consecrated per-sons are being asked to bear wimess everywhere with the boldness of a prophet who is unafraid of risking even his life. (VC §85) Prophetic Leadership Will the majority of superiors in consecrated life con-tinue to allow the secular democratic political trends to be their model in the coming years? Or will they give prophetic leadership to their own communities by acting according to the moral norms of what is right and wrong? Will they act for their own "good" or for the common good of their institutes? The writer is con-vinced that it is high time that religious superiors become more responsible and accountable in their decision mak-ing as animators, and thus allow their consciences, their specific religious charisms, and the common good to be the norms in their decision making. The norm of being "politically correct" should be the last in their list of pri-orities, for they are certainly not to be "politicians" who eagerly seek popularity, as in the secular world. In this way, they not only will arrest the decline in the quality of contemporary consecrated life, but will also be giving prophetic leadership to the church and the world. 176 Review for Religious BRENDAN KNEALE Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Religious Before Vatican Council II most Catholic priests, eligious, and laypeople had no "identity crisis." We knew who we were, our place seemed well defined, and we had no impending threat of change. Our per-sonal identity and our .social identity were clear and unthreatened, It may, however, be a good thing that after the council we had to take a close look at our identity. Perhaps we ought to question the quality of our earlier identity. Did it show signs of the identity claims that Pharisees made in Christ's time? They and the scribes were quite self-assured groups. Some of us were, too, maybe to the point of blind confidence in our identity. Among religious there was a saying:?'Keep the Rule and the Rule will keep you." It was, we can see now, a dan-gerous motto, even though it assured our identity. St. Paul, who had been a strict Pharisee, came to realize the danger. Brendan Kneale FSC taught for many years at Saint Mary's College of California. Now retired, he lives at De La Salle Institute; 4405 Redwood Road; Napa, California 94558. 65.2 2006 Kneale ¯ Identifying Identity among, Nonclerical Religious What should have happened after Vatican II was a strengthening and sharpening of our identity. Unfortunately, that was not the popular perception of the changes that had been made. Even though changes initiated by the council were intended as clarifications and improvements, we tended to feel, instead, that things were no longer well defined. Shortly after the council, we heard of religious teachers here or there whose dress, teaching, and behavior led students to express surprise that they were religious or even Catholics. After Vatican II, people asked, "Is this the same church?" Some religious and priests asked, "Is mine the same apostolate?" "Is my school or hospital still Catholic?" "Is there any longer a place for the conse-crated life?" After Vatican II many teachers wondered, "Does the syllabus for my catechetical instruction in the classroom truly represent what I believe?" Or "Are all the liturgical innovations good?" And religious asked, "Have laypeople taken over our role?" "Who am I now?" A Definition of Identity It would be refreshing if all who talk about "iden-tity" were really sure what they are talking about. Few people have a clear definition of the term. In various contexts we confuse identity with "self-image" or "per-sonhood" or "character," or perhaps with "individual-ity," "uniqueness," or an adopted "persona." Fortunately, there are careful thinkers available to address the prob-lem of identifying identity. We are told that Erik Erikson, the psychologist who coined the term "identity crisis" (right after Vatican II, significantly), believed that an identity crisis is "the most important conflict human beings encounter." His defi-nition of psychological identity ran as follows: "a sub-jective sense as well as an observable quality of personal Review for Religious sameness and continuity, paired with some belief in the sameness and continuity of some shared world image." Such a definition has the virtue of pointing squarely at both personal and social identity, that is, both private and public. Lexicographers agree that there are two chief emphases in the notion of identity. Etymologically "iden-tity" (from the Latin idem, the same) is, first of all, an enduring and distinctive individuality and, second, a social or relational "belonging." That is, peo-ple are identifiable by their unique and continu-ing sameness (generally indicated by a permanent - name and fixed array of recognizable psychological traits), and they are identifiable by what membership they have within a recognized group. Thus, in answer to "Who are you?" we will give our name to help the questioner to recall our uniqueness, or we will describe (if our uniform does not indicate it) what recognizable place we occupy in a clear social category. Thus we have a private identity and a public identity. Note that the two identities support each other. In fact, an African proverb has it that "I am because we are." A way to gain insight into identity is to contrast it with related ideas. We should try to keep the terminol-ogy clear about what identity is not. It is not "charac-ter," which is "a constellation of enduring motivational and other traits that are manifested in the typical ways that we react to various challenges." Character, then, may be taken as the moral side of one's identity. Nor is identity simply "self." "Self is a unified being which is the source of an idiosyncratic consciousness, the agent We have a.private identity and a public identity. 65.2 2006 Kneale ¯ Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Religious responsible for the thoughts and actions of an individual to which they are ascribed." Hence self is an abstract or generic term for "personal identity"; it is not the same as the important and complementary "social identity." None of the following words is a synonym for iden, tity. "Individual" is mostly a quantitative term; it is related to the words undivided and indivisible. "Person"~ is, according to Thomas Aquinas, "the individual substance of a rational soul" and does not disappear if one's identity is vague or shifting. "Personality" is something different; it includes the social as well as the more strictly personal. Dictionaries say that personality is the complex of char-acteristics that distinguishes an individual or a group or nation--but especially the totality of an individual's behavioral and emotional characteristics. Identity is at the core of this "complex of characteristics" (which makes the loss of identity a serious matter). "Persona" and "role" derive from drama, from play-acting, and are of co,urse the weakest versions of what we mean by identity. In an extended article in Consecrated Life 24, no. 2 (February 2003), Father Amadeo Cencini has developed the notion of social identity by emphasizing the id.entity which comes from "belonging." He uses that word because, in identifying ourselyes, we often specify the career, occupation, group, race, persuasion, and so forth to which we "belong." Those of us belonging to conse-crated life may identify ourselves as members of a named religious institute and belonging here or there within it. This answer makes our personal identity derivable, to some extent, from that of the larger group. Sometimes our identity is seen as tied to "our roots" within a social group. Suppose, however, that the group to which one iden-tifies oneself.as belonging (say, a religious institute) has itself no clear identity. If that group has an identity that Review for Religious is fuzzy or vague, then one of the two main sources of identity (namely, "belonging") is comproinised. A reli-gious institute could have evolved (perhaps calling the change "refounding the order") into something different from .what it was. Moreover, even the larger church, to which the institute belongs, could itself also change enough to confuse people about its own identity. For example, the church could seem to speak without a clear voice about itself, and an institute of consecrated life could becom~ canonically unsure about whether laypeo-pie are "members." Or it might interpret certain changes (like emphasis on adult education or on political involve-ment) as challenges to its identity as teachers of youth or caretakers of the sick. It could wonder if other forms of social service rather than classroom or hospital work should be what the church asks for. Official Ecclesial Positions Readers will know that since Vatican II the church has taken up the problem of identity officially and for-mally. The Vatican (following special synods of bishops) has published three clarifying documents, one each for the benefit of priests, laypeople, and religious. The doc-ument about religious is called ~ta consecrata (1996) and addresses the nature and identity of consecrated life. In particular, and depending heavily on the work of a pre-vious world synod of bishops, Vita konsecrata devoted its section 57 to the role of sisters and section 60 to broth-ers. These paragraphs include the following excerpts: By virtue of their dedication lived in fullness and in joy, consecrated women are called in a very special way to be signs of God's tender love toward the human race and to be special witnesses to the mystery of the church, virgin, bride, and mother . Certainly the validity of many assertions relating to the position of 181 65.2 2006 Kneale * Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Relig4ous .women in different sectors of society and of the church cannot be denied . Women's new self-awareness helps men to reconsider their way of looking at things, the way they understand themselves, where thE)) place themselves in history and how they interpret it, and the way they organize social, political, economic, reli-gious, and ecclesial life . The consecrated woman . . . can help eliminate certain one-sided perspectives which do not fully rec-ognize her dignity and her specific contribution to the church's life and pastoral and missionary activity. Consecrated women therefore rightly aspire to have their identity, ability, mission, and responsibility more clearly recognized, both in the awareness of the church and in everyday life. The consecrated life by its nature "is neither lay nor clerical" . The "lay consecration" of both men and women constitutes a state which in its profession of the evangelical counsels is complete in itself. for the individual and for the church . . . apart from the sacred ministry. The synod expressed great esteem for the kind. of consecrated life in which r.eligious brothers provide valuable services of various kinds, inside or outside the community, participating in this way in the mission of proclaiming the gospel and bearing witness to it with charity in everyday life. Although [lay institutes] perform many works in common with the lay faithful, [members] do so inso-far as. they are consecrated and thereby express the spirit of total self-giving to Christ and the church, in accordance with ~heir specific charism. The term "brother" suggests a rich spirituality. ¯ Brothers are an effective reminder to religious priests themselves of the fundamental dimension of brother-hood in Christ, to be lived among themselves and with every man and woman, and they proclaim to all the Lord's words: "And you are all brothers" (M(23:8). We might add that, when Father Amadeo Cencini wrote about the problem of identity, he called attention Review for Religious to the important role of an institute's charism--a point also emphasized in Vita consecrata. An obvious way to increase a sense of our belonging (and our identity) is by attachment to the institute's charism (provided that the corporate identity is itself clear). Cencini notes that some individual reli-gious are weakly con-nected to the charism of their institute, or hold divided loyalties, or, on the other hand, immerse themselves within it in a psycho-logically unhealthy way. We can recall in Some individual religious are weak!y connect, ed to the charism of their institute or hold divided loyalties. this connection the recommendations of the classic work The Future of Religious Orders in the U.S.: Transformation and Commitment by Father David Nygren and Sister Miriam Ukeritis. The proper connection to the charism and the best sense of belonging are to be found, says Cencini, by a deepening of one's attachment to the charism in three ways: by way of prayer and spiritual-connection, by ascetically conforming to the lifestyle of the institute's norms, and by real engagement in the common aposto-late. (Perhaps he could have added: study and grasp of the relevant literature.) This last point about "real engagement" raises an acute problem for some conse-crated religious: What identifies us as distinct from our secular associates and coworkers? If one uses a simply functional definition of our state, then the problem is indeed acute. Many of our secular associates, such as Gospel Catholics, practice in accordance with their voca-tions a chastity, obedience, and poverty that are often more difficult than ours. They sometimes show more 65.2 2006 Kneale ¯ Identifying Identity among Nonclerical Religious 184 talent, dedication, and leadership than their religious colleagues. If, however, we consider who we are and do not just look at our function, then we see a.radical dif-ference between us and them. If we are aware what we are in relation to the evangelical counsels and in rela-tion to auxiliary vows, what we are in terms of commu-nity life, what we are in relation to mobility, to the radicality, quality, and scope of our availability and ser-vice, then we should not have a problem. In addition tb ~vhat Cencini writes about an insti-tute's common and received charism, wecould emphasize the desirability of our contributing to the charism in some innovative way. If we could do that, it seems to me, we would increase our sense of belonging, and even of "ownership." Each of us should bring to the charism, by conscious effort, an enrichment that stems from our personal talents, from our studies, and from our auxiliary memberships in professional and religious associations (in relation to which we can see our own identity more clearly). Charism is not static. Individuals enrich the charisms of their communities. The differing charisms of various consecrated reli-gious groups illustrate a principle that helps clarify cor-porate identity, namely, the principle of an institutional subsidarity and "division of labor" within the church. Each institute has its own apostolic charism and thus its own responsibility. It is true that numerous apostolic needs are great and pressing, and occasionally they are overriding, but normally we keep our corporate identity by doing our own apostolic labor, not th

Issue 60.6 of the Review for Religious, 2001. ; ° R-eview for Re!igio~s b~lps people re~pon~ and befaithful to.God's, universal ~ail to holiness' ' " by making; available tO them the sl~irituai legades - " tb~t flow-~om the, charisms of Catbolicconsecrated life~ Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bimonthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393 Telephone: 314-977-7363 ° Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ° Web site: www.reviewforreligious.org Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393 Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP Mount St. Mary's Seminary; Emmitsburg, Maryland 21727 POSTMASTER Send address chafiges 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. ©2001 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 pers6nal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. vi,ew for religious LIVING OUR CATHOLIC LEGACIES Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe TracT Gramm Judy Sharp James and Joan Felling Adrian Gaudin SC Sr. Raymond Marie Gerard FSP Eugene Hensell OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ Ernest E. Larkin OCarm Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ NOVEMBER DECEMBER 2001 VOLUME 60 NUMBER 6 contents 566 a wider mission The Interreligious World: A Nun's Experience There Mary C. Boys SNJM probes aspects of religious life in light of the Catholic-Jewish relationship and provides a testimony that emboldens her continued commitment to this lifeform. 581 'Unsuspected Mission A. Paul Dominic SJ identifies the mission of spiritual conversation as the basic apostolic work of Jesus and of all who are his followers. 594 spiritual directions On the Seventh Day God Rested Marie Beha OSC suggests ways of understanding and making more creative use of Sabbaths in our life. 602 Where Your Heart Is Donald Macdonald SMM sees in Jesus' journey to Jerusalem (in Luke) an ardor and constancy that our bonding with him through Sc~ipture's strong and burning words can accomplish also in us. Review for Religious evaluations 614 628 Criteria for Change: Women's Ministering to the Body of Christ Marie Brinkman SCL looks at the lives lived by sisters in the past as the foundation that must validate today's discernment criteria for the needed changes. Missionary or Mercenary Patrick Sean Moffett CFC offers a perspective on changes in membership, changes in collaboration, and changes in corporate commitment in order to stimulate discussion on community apostolates. 640 647 divine initiatives What Only God Can Make Ann Marie Paul SCC imaginatively ponders religious community pictured as a tree, with the trunk representing chastity, the branches poverty, and the leaves obedience. God's Will: Where Desires Commingle Denis Donoghue SJ ruminates on the seeking out of God's will and illustrates some principles of discernment in a personal'example. departments . 564 Prisms 655 Canonical Counsel: Readmission to a Religious Institute 661 Book Reviews 667 Indexes to Volume 60 November-Dece~nber 2001 prisms All of us have to be born and have to die. These "have to's" sound like some activity we must do, when both are rather something that happens to us. "Being born" and "being dying" are the leveling events that bookend all human life. What fills the space in between seems to spell out nothing but all the hills and valleys, rolling vineyards and desert wastelands, that represent the inequalities of human living. Some people are born into wealth, and they will never know want. Others are only fortunate enough at birth to have a mother healthy enough to give them mother's milk, but they will go through life malnour-ished and disease-prone. Some are born highly gifted and fail ever to develop their talents. Others struggle through life with a minimum of human endowments, but successfully act with a perennial zest. Some will spend their life in steel and glass skyscrapers, and others will know only the simplest of grass or plywood huts. Some will travel the world; others will know only their village. Except for "being born" and "being dying," we human beings seem to spend lifetimes of greatly unequal value. There seems to be no level playing field for all people to encounter each other on. God engages the inequalities of human life in the incarnation and birth of his Son. In the familiar hymn quoted in St. Paul's letter to the Philippians, our atti-tude must be "that of Christ: Though he was in the form of God, he did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself and took the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. He was known to be of human estate, and it was thus that he humbled himself, obediendy accepting even death, death on a cross" (Ph 2: 5-9). Paul reflects that God takes on a true inequality. In becoming human, Christ goes from the fullness of divin- Review for Religious i'ty to the emptiness of humanity. Theologically, humanity is empty because everything that each of us has is gift, as Jesus reminds us in saying that all his words and his works are not his, but come from the Father. So in faith we know an inequality that is real between God and the human. But, then, in God's becoming human in Jesus, we come to know God's definitive action in breaking down all the appearances of inequality that divide us humans. Jesus entered into the leveling experience of all humans by "being born" and by "being dying." Through all the in-between time, he lived his life as an example and .taught by word and para-ble that the leveling process permeated the whole of human living. While friendly with rich and poor alike, with learned and unlearned, Jesus seems to violate our sense of leveling by his iden-tifying with the poor, with servants and slaves, with the marginal-ized. He reaches out to them in his care; he tells stories about them for our instruction. Jesus asks us to be like him--one who serves. In the Last Supper washing of the feet, Jesus stresses that he has given us an example. Jesus transfigures the language and meaning of slavery, ser-vice, and ministry. All these words now describe valued human interaction from a divine perspective. We all are meant to be helpers--in Scripture, sometimes called slaves, sometimes servants, sometimes minis-ters-- to one another in life. Helpers and those being helped are on the same level. One is not superior as a human being in either being the helper or minister or being the one being helped or ministered to. Jesus gave us an unforgettable image by answering "Who is my neighbor?" with the parable of the Good Samaritan. Th~ second half of the one commandment stresses that we love our neighbor as ourselves. Our love goes out to whomever, persons always on a level no different from ourselves. We neither reach down in helping nor reach up; we only reach across. By entering into our human level, God broke through all the specious levels that seem to divide humankind. By our entering into the divine experience of Jesus, we see and act as sons and daughters of a heav-enly Father. Every Christmas, we challenge ourselves anew about the Christian leveling of human life. By our faith we live life on the same level--the level has been forever divinely clarified because of the birth of Jesus. David L. Fleming SJ November-December 2001 a wider mission MARY C. BOYS The Interreligious World: A Nun's Experience There A great value of ecumenical and interreligious exchange is that it sheds light on one's own tradition. Seeing oneself through the eyes of others expands one's reflections, provokes absorbing questions, and clarifies values and modes of thought. While my roots in the religiously variegated Pacific Northwest mean I have long been in Protestant company, and my interest in Judaism dates back to my college years, it was only upon moving to New York City seven years ago that I staked my tent on ecumenical and inte~religious terrain. Teaching at the historically Protestant Union Theological Seminary and working in Christian-Jewish dialogue beyond Union's quadrangle afford new understandings not only of the religiously "other," but of Catholicism as well. And, by providing a flesh viewpoint on religious life, my situation exercises a profound personal effect) SandraSchneiders has observed that women religious seem able to work beyond the boundaries of Christianity while remaining deeply affiliated with it; we Mary C. Boys SNJM is the Skinner and McAlpin Professor of Practical Theology at Union Theological Seminary in New York City and the author of Has God Only One Blessing? Judaism as a Source of Christian Self-Understanding. Her address is Union Theological Seminary; 3041 Broadway; New York, N.Y. 10027. Review for Religious "are at once very deeply involved in institutional Catholicism and often widely and deeply involved in the experiences of spirituality beyond its denominational boundaries.''2 Yet, in exploring the topic of religious life and interreligious dialogue, she turns her gaze more to the East, to dialogue among monastics. By exploring the implications of interaction with Jews and Judaism, I hope to highlight a distinctive interreligious conversation that Schneiders touches on only tangentially, and thereby to add another layer to, and engage in occasional argument with, her outstanding scholarly study. Probing religious life, a topic on which I have never published, in light of the Catholic-Jewish relationship, on which I have published, challenges me to hold together two vital parts of my life. This essay, then, revolving around four "scenes," is deeply per-sonal, but I hope not solipsistic, for I intend it as a stimulus for conversation. I. London, June 2000, a Catholic-Jewish conference on "The Theology of Partnership." This conference involved participants principally from the United Kingdom and the United States, along with a few European and Israeli scholars and a Vatican delegation. Although the large number of participants hindered the flow of discussion, our exchange was for the most part candid and stimulating. In the latter part of the conference, one of the Catholics, a priest, launched into a romanticized mini-sermon about Mary as virgin and mother. Its traditionalist theology and tangential relation to the point under discussion elicited considerable skepticism, if one might judge by the body language of rolled eyes and heads held in hands. Many sought recognition by the chair to respond (including all the Catholic women), but I have less recollection of the rejoinders than I do of the comment by the woman next to me. A Reform rabbi from the United Kingdom, she wrote furiously on her notepad: "Mary. Virgin. Why don't they talk about real women?" Liminal. Marginal. Such terms, used by Schneiders (among others) to describe religious life strike a chord. Insofar as this lifeform has a prophetic character rather than a hierarchical status, religious life is indeed lived on the "thresholds where realities meet, dash, and merge.''3 Nonetheless, such terms are sometimes far too academic to describe moments of feeling just how odd and anomalous we religious are. While on one level I suspect I November-December 2001 Boy~ * The lnterreli¢ous Worm To be with Jews as a member of a religious congregation is to experience our liminality, our oddness, on a regular basis. understand what my table companion was objecting to, the starkness of her opposition of "virgin" and "real women" hit hard. In reflecting later, I realize I never use terminology about virginity to describe celibacy; not only does it connote a naive innocence, but it speaks only to the dimension of abstention from genital sexual intimacy. Without question, this self-chosen abstention---or, better, an abstention that is part of our being called to a distinctive way of life--has its ascetic aspects. Nevertheless, the term virginity seems to suggest that we have repressed our sexuality, thereby ceasing to be "real" women. Whether or not the Jungian-grounded theory of the "virgin archetype" or a similar perspective can overcome the cultural stereotypes of virginity is a real question, but this dimension of Finding the Treasure offers a compelling description of the inner autonomy celibacy can offer. In the halls of Union, being a nun (in the imprecise use of the term) is sometimes seen as a "weird" way of life. Yet consecrated celibacy is not unknown in Protestantism. Students of Hinduism and Buddhism, moreover, know about celibacy in those traditions. It, is, however, completely uncharacteristic of rabbinic Judaism, which places intense emphasis on family life and home-based ritual.4 So to be with Jews as a member of a religious congregation is to experience our liminality, our oddness, on a regular basis. While this experience can be jarring, as it was at that conference June 2000, in general it has increased my sensitivity to the peculiarities of religious life, a sensitivity that can be dulled by remaining in the more homogeneous company of one's religious congregation.5 At the same time, it makes the God question more prominent. Jews typically are more reticent in speaking about God, a healthy corrective to the overfamiliarity with which many Christians ~peak about the Holy One.6 The presence, however, of persons for whom the "God quest" is the principal explanation for their liminal way of life raises questions, at least implicitly, about the divine-human relationship. Perhaps, to balance the incident with which I began this section, I should report that recently, at the conclusion of a Review for Religious weekend spent as a scholar-in-residence at a synagogue, an elderly man came up to thank me. His eyes welling with tears, he said, "You answered God's call many years ago, and now you are able to be among us." II. November 2000, a gathering of Holocaust survivors in the New York metropolitan area. While giving a series of lectures in a Catholic parish on New York's East Side the previous September, I met Lewis Weinstein, a businessman who had just published a novel on the Spanish Inquisition, The Heretic. A few weeks later he phoned to ask if I would share the podium with him at an event sponsored by the New York area Holocaust survivors. They had invited him to speak about his book, and he in turn thought it would be good if I would speak about developments in the Catholic Church's relations with Jews. His historical novel portrays a grim time. The Inquisition bears witness to the ways in which the legacy of anti-Judaism became a justification for greed and intolerance and persecution. His selections mirrored the bleakness. For example, one of the principal characters, Friar Ricardo Perez, copies texts from the New Testament and early church writers such as Chrysostom in order to justify his hatred of Jews. Lew's final excerpt was from John Chrysostom, whose vitriol toward Jews is well known: "These Jews are gathering choruses of effeminates and a great rubbish heap of harlots. Their synagogues are brothels and theaters, dens of robbers and lodgings for wild beasts. Jews know but one thing: to fill their bellies and be drunk. Their condition is no better than that of pigs and goats. Refusing to accept Christ, they have made themselves fit for s!aughter. The synagogue is a dwelling of demons, and the Jews who pray there themselves are demons. If the Jews are acting against God, must they not be serving demons? For they did sacrifice their sons and daughters to demons. Jewish mother~ ate their own children, and the hands of Jewish women boiled their own children. Their synagogues are fortresses of the devil, and the pit of all perdition. The devil is a murderer, and the Jew demons who serve him are murderers, tOO.''7 The air hung heavy in the room. Then the chair introduced me in her heavily accented English. "Mr. Weinstein wanted this Sister Mary to come. I'm not sure why. I did not have such a good experience of nuns in Poland. Anyway, here's Sister Mary Boys." " "Oy ray," I thought on the way to the podium. "How did I get myself into this one--and what now?" November-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Interreligious Worm There was enormous anger in that room, much of it directed at the Catholic Church, which I represented to them. Their anger was not simply the church's failure to live the gospel during the Shoah (Holocaust), but also their experience as children. These were men and women who had been taunted, even beaten, as "Christ-killers," who feared--with good reason--walking by a church, who were terrified to go out in the streets on "Good" Friday. I had with me the 1997 "Declaration of Repentance" by the French bishops. Its words came to life before my eyes: In the judgment of historians, it is a well-proven fact that for centuries, up until Vatican Council II, an anti-Jewish traditibn stamped its mark in differing ways on Christian doctrine and teaching, in theology, apologetics, preaching, and in the liturgy. It was on such ground that the venomous plant of hatred for the Jews was able to flourish. Hence the heavy inheritance we still bear in our century, with all its consequences which are so difficult to wipe out. Hence our still open wounds? To work as a Catholic with Jews is to witness many "open wounds," wounds from the "heavy inheritance" of our own tradition. For this reason, the Catholic-Jewish encounter is sui generis in the interreligious sphere, a point Schneiders overlooks in saying that the interreligious encounter differs "in virtually every way from the ecumenical one. It involves an encounter not between separated siblings, but between virtually total strangers.''9 We Catholics and Jews are indeed separated siblings, and that separation has been bitter, violent, and tragic. We are not strangers; we have been enemies--and to work for reconciliation is an obligation of justice. It is difficult enough for us as Catholic women to deal with church structures that mute our voices. It is even more disillusioning to study the long history of Christian contempt for Jews, the tradition of adversus Judaeos: how rivalry hardened into contempt, and contempt fostered disputation, and disputation developed into demonization, and demonization fertilized this "venomous plant of h~tred for the Jews." Like all of history's stories, the church's relationship with Jews and Judaism is a complicated tale--with significant contextual factors in every age, occasions of amity and respect and of prophets with a different vision. Nonetheless, it is largely a story of moral blindness, imperialism, and violence. While I am not personally complicit, it is Revie~v for Religious a story of which I am deeply ashamed--and one that demands I examine my complicity in other betrayals of the gospel. I am grateful for the privilege, difficult though it is, of facing those whom our history has hurt. Meeting survivors and knowing children of survivors (and, for that matter, knowing any Jews at all, for who among them has not been touched in some way by the Shoah?) means not only reading this history with deepened sensitivity, but also being emboldened to act differendy so that "the spoiled seeds of anti-Semitism should never again take root in the human heart."1° Nevertheless, confronting this history causes anguish and compounds my problems as a feminist with the institutional church. The "open wound" of which the French bishops spoke festers even as I struggle with my Catholic identity in a church that treats women as second-class citizens. I live, too, with the irony that the official church seems more committed to dialogue with Jews than with their own women. The confrontation with history, moreover, triggers another crisis, a dark night of the soul. If "the most acutely painful point of intersection between the postmodern sensibility and religious faith is the God-image,'' 11 then the Shoah is the starkest event in this intersection. It brings one face-to-face with the "abusing God," requiring us to ponder unbearable questions about the One to whom we pray22 As grateful as I am for all I have learned (and continue to learn) about prayer from my sisters, we seem reluctant to address these searing questions in our common prayer. Indeed, I cannot recall any occasion in which the Shoah and its challenges to our understanding of God have been raised to the conscious level in the communal prayer of my own congregation, the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary. This leads me to wonder whether any congregation, with the exception of the Sisters of Sion, confronts "God issues" that swirl around the Shoah23 The way that many Jews, especially in this post-Holocaust period, address God in a challenging manner has much to teach us. Elie Wiesel says that those who stand within the covenant have the To work as a Catholic with Jews is to witness many "open wounds," wounds from the "heavy inheritance" of our own tradition. Nbvember-December 2001 Boys * The Interreh~ious Worm right to say anything to God--even blasphemy.~4 In the concluding section of his profound meditation on God and abuse (including the Shoah, but also sexual abuse), David Blumenthal composes darifig prayers for use in Jewish liturgical services. He cautions that prayers of this type require preparation: One must have a deep commitment to God, a deep desire to want to be with God, to want to have a relationship with God. It must be important, indeed a matter of spiritual life and death, to be able to address God. One must have, too, deep and abiding faith in the covenant, in our ability to address God no matter what the circumstances and no matter how severe our prayer may be; and in God's desire to hear us and to help us address God. One must also have a sense of proportion about our relationship to God. We are creatures, not Creator. We are innocent, as victims of abuse; but we are sinners, in many other matters. We are accusers, yet we are children. This creates a tension in our images of ourselves, of God, and of the proper relationship between us; yet we must live, think, and pray within this tension.~s Facing the history of our relationship with Jews and learning Jewish ways of addressing God have provided depth and texture to my own prayer. I~I. Friday nights: a guest at the dinner table for Sbabbat. Passover: a guest at the Seder. I feel deeply privileged to join jewish friends for Shabbat or for the Seder. I have learned more than I can say from the lively conversations and observing the ways in which they su'ive to lead lives of integrity in fidelity to Torah. Without idealizing the tradition, I find much cause for "holy envy": its depth of prayer mirrored in the Siddur and in the cycle of festivals, the intellectual vitality (especially the value placed on study), the prizing of family, and home-based religious practices. My relationships leave me no doubt that Judaism fosters a holy way of life and that the ways of Torah are salvific for those committed to walking in its ways. The privilege accorded me in coming to know the power of another religious tradition finds little reflection in the recent Vatican declaration Dominus Iesus (D1).16 My experience provides a different vantage point from which to view other religious traditions. Even as DI recognizes that the dialogue between Christianity and other religions raises new questions that should be "addressed through pursuing new paths of research, advancing proposals, and Review for Religious suggesting ways of acting that call for attentive discernment" (§3), it reiterates traditional formulations of faith in arguing against pluralism. It condemns the mentality of indifferentism "characterized by a religious relativism which leads to the belief that 'one religion is as good as another'" (§22). The declaration refutes those who regard the Catholic Church as merely "one way of salvation alongside those constituted by the other religions" (§21). Rather, "Jesus Christ is the mediator and universal redeemer" (§11). Further, "one can and must say that Jesus Christ has a significance and a value for the human race and its history which are unique and singular, proper to him alone, exclusive, universal, and absolute. Jesus is, in fact, the Word of God made man for the salvation of all" (§15). According to the Congre-gation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), one may still speak of equality in interreligious dialogue, but only in reference to the "equal personal dignity of the parties in dialogue, not to doctrinal content nor even less to the position of Jesus Christ . Thus, the certainty of the universal salvific will of God does not diminish but rather increases the duty and urgency of the proclamation of salvation and of conversion to the Lord Jesus Christ" (§22). Without entering into detailed theological analysis of Dominus Iesus, I simply want to call attention here to one of its primary deficiencies. The declaration has no sense of the relational, no feel for human interchange. Other religions are an abstraction, a category, an it. DI pays no attention to these religions as they exist in the lives of real people; it shows no sensitivity to the "thick" texture of other traditions. The writers, rather, claim objectivity: "Objectively speaking, they [other religions] are in a gravely deficient situation." Such a judgment ignores theologies of pluralism that allow one to privilege his or her own convictions while taking account of the reasonability of others' beliefs.~7 In judging dialogue from a position of omniscience, the declaration bears no indication of what we might learn from the religious other. Facing the history of our relationship with Jews and learning Jewish ways of addressing God have provided depth and texture to my own prayer. Noventber-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Into'religious Worm On the explicit level, DI says little about the church's relationship with Judaism.~ DI refers to Jews just once (§13): "The first Christians encountered the Jewish people, showing them the fulfillment of salvation that went beyond the Law," thus implicitly porraying Judaism as legalistic. DI then falls silent about Judaism. Nonetheless, its judgment~ seem to encompass Judaism, because DI notes no exceptions. It works only with three categories: Roman Catholicism, other Christian churches (distinguishing between those with apostolic succession and a valid Eucharist and "ecclesiastical communities which have not preserved the valid episcopate and the genuine and integral substance of the eucharistic mystery [and therefore] are not churches in the proper sense" §17), and non-Christian religions. In view of such a sweeping scope, readers may reasonably infer that the CDF includes Judaism within the rubric of non-Christian religions. Jews, therefore, seem also to be subject to the claim that, because "Jesus Christ is the . . . universal mediator" (§11), "one can and must say" that his significance and value for "the human race and its history., are unique and singular, proper to him alone, exclusive, universal, and absolute., for the salvation of all" (§ 15). For Catholics this means being "committed to proclaiming tq all people the truth definitively revealed by the Lord and to announcing the necessity of conversion to Jesus Christ and of adherence to the church through baptism and the other sacraments in order to participate fully in communion with God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit" (§22). Such a view stands in tension with my own experience.~9 As one privileged to be a frequent guest in Jewish homes, to learn from Jewish scholars, to experience something of the profundity of Jewish liturgy and prayer, and, above all, to have close Jewish friends, I have an abiding respect, even awe, for the depth of Judaism. The way of Torah certainly seems to me salvific for those who walk in it. I cannot.in conscience seek the conversion of a Jew. This is not a matter of indifferentism, but rather a glimpse of the incomprehensible God whose ways transcend our under-standing. IV. Three items: Item: "Jesus' relations with women seem to have been remarkably free, given the reserve that Jewish custom in his day required."2° Item: "At the historical moment when Jesus was born Review for Religious into the world, the stares of Jewish women had never been lower . By the time of Jesus' birth, many decades of rabbinic commentary and custom had surrounded Old Testament literature. And these rabbinic traditions considerably lowered the status of women.'m Item: "Palestinian Hebrew women were among the poorest in the world in Jesus' day. This was probably because they had no inheritance rights and could be divorced for the flimsiest of reasons. Hebrew men could divorce their wives for anything from burning the dinner (Hillel) to adultery (Shammat). Yet Hebrew women were not allowed to divorce their husbands .A. Hebrew woman had minimal to no property rights A. .child was held to be Jewish only if the mother was Jewish. Most Jewish girls were betrothed by their fathers at a young age. Jewish women were held to be unclean while menstruating. If she inadvertently touched a man while having her menses, he was obliged to undergo a week-long purification ritual before worshiping at the Temple . In early Judaism women did proclaim and prophesy, but in Jesus' day they weren't permitted to proclaim Torah at synagogue because of their periodic 'uncleanness.' As a rule, only the rabbis' wives were so educated. Women were not accepted as witnesses in Jewish law, nor could they teach the law. Women had no official religious or leadership roles in first-century Judaism. Jesus' behavior toward women, even viewed through the androcentric lens of the gospel texts, is remarkable.''2z I could multiply such examples; they seem ubiquitous in feminist writing, both scholarly (less now, though more common among feminist authors from the third world and the East) and pastoral. These perspectives are communicated widely among women's communities and beyond them. My encounter with Judaism helps me look at such claims critically, especially those related to the Second Temple period and the early church. I am sympathetic to the desire to understand Jesus as one who liberated his followers--including (perhaps especially) women--from the oppressive structures of religious authorities. (Yes, many of us consider some religious authorities oppressive in our time.) Nonetheless, I have come to agree with Mary Rose D'Angelo that portraying Jesus as the one "who saves women from Judaism" bothoversimplifies and distorts the situation of Jewish women in lst-century Palestine23 It does indeed seem that, in many feminist and liberationist circles, "no plot is complete witho.uLt a-575- November-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Interreligious Worm reference to the 'Jewish patriarchal system,' although very rare are comments on the similarly patriarchal pagan cultures of antiquity.''24 Sadly, I have come to see that many who do theology under the rubric of feminism have drunk all too deeply from the wells of anti-Judaism. Despite the rich literature on the Pharisees, most notably that of Anthony Saldarini,25 in many liberal and feminist circles they function as the symbol of precisely what is wrong with religious authorities. (For example: "[The Pharisees and their colleagues the scribes] tried to keep control over people's access to God through control of the Law. Jesus denounced this pretension and returned to the people the true means of access to God: love and com-passion." 26) In many feminist writings, moreover, the laws of ritual purity, which the Pharisees are portrayed as championing, serve as the source of the clearest contrast between oppressive Judaism and the liberating Jesus. We are instructed about the "dehumanizing situation in which the women of the time were enslaved." We learn how menstruating women were "discriminated against, degraded, and dehumanized,m7 In short, some feminist writers contrast Jewish women of the Second Temple period with New Testament narratives to support their claims that, "at its inception, pristine Christianity and Jesus himself were free of any misogyny or gender bias." Thereby they implicitly buttress the argument of Christian superiority over Judaism.28 Thus I differ with Sandra Schneiders's portrayal of Jesus vis-a-vis his Jewish contemporaries. While I appreciate--and agree wholeheartedly with--her larger argument about the way in which the prophetic character of religious life places communities in tension with ecclesiastical authorities, I disagree with claims such as "Jesus was rejected by official Judaism" and the more subtle assertion that, "like Jesus, who taught both respect for ecclesiastical leaders insofar as they legitimately hold office and resistance to ecclesiastical oppression, religious must stand with and for the disempowered in the church (cf. Mt 23:2-5 [the scathing denunciation of the scribes and Pharisees]).''z9 The Pharisees, despite their depiction in the Gospels, cannot historically be regarded as representatives of "official" Judaism (there was no such official body), and we should not use them as symbols of clericalism, however useful that might be to feminist causes. They were not the equivalent of ecclesiastical leaders. We would do well to listen to Jewish feminists--such as Paula Review for Religious Fredriksen's observations about the purity laws,3° Ross Kraemer's critique of rabbinic prooftexting,3~ and Rabbi Elyse Goldstein's wrestling with the meaning of the purity rules for her own life.32 To recognize that "Jewish hopes of a new and transformed world made the movement begun by Jesus and his companions and early Christian communities forums for participation and leadership for women" necessitates refining our argument, but in no way diminishes it.33 To acknowledge the complexity of patriarchy in antiquity as well as in early Christianity entails facing the arrogance of our own limited perspectives. In sum, my encounter with Jews and Judaism has brought deepened appreciation for the distinctiveness of religious life in the Catholic tradition. It has challenged me to face the long shadow of our history and to grapple with many questions about God in light of the Shoah. It shapes my theological vantage point on Dominus Iesus as well as various feminist writings. Above all, my encounter inspires hope. For all that lies unresolved within our church in regard to relations with Jews, what has happened between Christians and Jews in our time testifies to the power of the Spirit to bring healing and new life--a testimony that emboldens my own commitment to religious life. Notes ~ This is an edited version of a paper presented at the conference on "The Nun in the Postmodern World," sponsored by the Suenens Foundation in Leuven, Belgium, 31 May--4 June 2001. My thanks to Dr. Doris Donnelly, director of the Suenens Foundation and to Mariana Murphy SNJM, to whom I dedicated it on the occasion of her 70th anniversary of religious profession. 2 Sandra M. Schneiders, Finding the Treasure: Locating Catholic Religious Life in a New Ecclesial and Cultural Context, Vol. 1 of Religious Life in a New Millennium (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), p. 348. 3 Schneiders, Finding, p. 330. 4 Celibacy seems to have been characteristic only of the Therapeutae, a lst-centuryJewish ascetic group near Alexandria, Egypt. Scholars debate whether the covenanters at Qumran were celibate and, if so, whether that was a permanent or temporary state. See Lawrence Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Doubleday, 1994), pp. 127-143, and Joseph Fitzmyer, Responses to 101 Questions on the Dead Sea Scrolls (New York: Paulist Press, 1992), p. 66. s Schneiders speaks of religious life as "nonnatural" insofar as it involves bypassing the most fundamental natural mediations of the God- November-December 2001 Boys ¯ The Interreligious World human engagement. She distinguishes "nonnatural" from unnatural or antinatural "because nothing is mote fundamental to our humanity than the quest for God." She also notes that this path is fraught with danger, including "ascetical extremism, rigidity, misanthropy, false mysticism, gnosticism and esotericism, elitism" (Finding, pp. 131-132). 6 For an analysis of this reticence, including its problematical character, see Steven M. Cohen and Arnold M. Eisen, The Jew 14/Tthin: Self, Family, and Community in America (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2000), esp. chap. 6, "God and the Synagogue," pp. 155-180. 7 Lewis Weinstein, The Heretic (New York: goodnewfiction.com, 2000), p. 158. Later Weinstein has Perez use Chrysostom in a sermon at the cathedral (see pp. 242-244). s Quoted in Secretariat for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs, Catholics Remember the Holocaust (Washington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, 1998), p. 32. 9 Finding, p. 336. 10 This is the conclusion of the 1998 Vatican document We Remember: A Reflection on the Shoab; see Catholics Remember the Holocaust. The United States Conference of Catholi~ Bishops (USCCB) has now published a companion volume, Catholic Teaching on the Shoah: Implementing the Holy See's "We Remember" (2001). II Schneiders, Finding, p. 195. 12 I take the phrase "abusing God" from the work of David R. Blumenthal, Facing the Abusing God: A Theology of Protest (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1993). 13 On the Sisters of Sion, see my Has God Only One Blessing?Judaimt as a Source of Christian Self-Understanding (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), pp. 17-22. 14 "The questions man poses to God may be the same God poses to man. Nevertheless, it is man who must live--and formulate--it. In so doing, he challenges God, which is perm. issible, indeed required. He who says no to God is not necessarily a renegade. Everything depends on the way he says it, and why. One can say anything as long as it is for man, not against him, as long as one remains inside the covenant; only if you repudiate and judge your people from the outside will you become a renegade." Elie Wiesel, One Generation AJ~er (New York: Avon, 1972), p. 216. ,s Blumenthal, Facing the Abusing God, pp. 284-285. 16 "'Dominus Iesus': On the Unicity and. Salvific Universality of Jesus Christ and the Church," Origins 30, no. 14 (14 September 2000). It is dated 6 August 2000 and was issued on 5 September 2001--ironically, the same week as Jewish scholars released Dabru Emet, an eight-point statement responding to Christian attempts to come to terms with anti- Judaism. (For Dabru Emet, see www.jcrelations.net or www.icjs.org; also Tikva Frymer-Kensky, David Novak, Peter Ochs, David Fox Sandmel, ReviewforReligious and Michael Signer, Christianity in Jewish Terms (Boulder: Westview Press, 2000). ,7 See, e.g., Michael Barnes, Christian Identity and Religious Pluralism: Religions in Conversation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1989), and S. Mark Heim, Salvations: Truth and Difference in Religion (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1995). ~8 See my "Dominus Iesus and Judaism," forthcoming in Richard Sparks, ed., Proceedings of the Fi~h-sixth Annual Convention of the Catholic Theological Society of America. 19 For an account of something of what I have learned from Jews, see my Jewish Christian Dialogue: One Woman's Experience (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1997). 20 Monique Alexandre, "Early Christian Women," in/t History of Women in the West, Vol. 1, From Ancient Goddesses to Christian Saints, ed. Pauline Schmitt Pantel (Cambridge: Belknap Press, 1992), pp. 407-444 (citation, p. 420). 21 Cited in Judith Plaskow, "Feminist Anti-Judaism and the Christian God," Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion 7, no. 2 (Fall 1991): 104-107; in Helen P. Fry, Christian-Jewish Dialogue: A Reader (Exeter, U.K.: University of Exeter Press, 1996), p. 233. 22 Christine Schenk CSJ, "Celebrating the Inclusive Jesus," Celebration: An Ecumenical Worship Resource (February 2000): 80-84 (citation, 81-82). 23 Mary Rose D'Angelo, "Gender in the Origins of Christianity: Jewish Hopes and Imperial Exigencies," in Joseph Martos and Pierre Hegy, eds., Equal at the Creation: Sexism, Society, and Christian Thought (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), pp. 25-48 (citation, p. 25). 24 Amy-Jill Levine, "Lilies of the Field and Wandering Jews: Biblical Scholarship, Women's Roles, and Social Location," in Ingrid Rosa Kitzberger, ed., Transformative Encounters: Jesus and Women Re-Viewed (Leiden: Brill, 1999): pp. 330-352 (citation, p. 332). 2s See Anthony J. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees in Palestinian Society (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1988); also his "Pharisees," in David Noel Freedman et al., eds., The Anchor Bible Dictionary, Vol. 5 (New York: Doubleday, 1992), pp. 289-303. 26 Tereza Cavalcanti, "Jesus, the Penitent Woman, and the Pharisee," Journal of Hispanic/Latino Theology 2, no. 1 (1994): 28-40 (citation, 40). 27 H. Kinukawa, Women and Jesus in Mark: A Japanese Feminist Perspective (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1994), pp. 12, 27. 28 See Ross S. Kraemer, "Jewish Women and Christian Women: Some Caveats," in Kraemer and Mary Rose D'Angelo, eds., Women and Christian Origins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 35-49 (citation, p. 36). 29 Schneiders, Finding, pp. 334 and 255, respectively. I am also uncomfortable with her section on Jesus as a prophetic model in her otherwise superb 2000 Madeleva Lecture, With Oil in Their Lamps: Faith, Feminism, and the Future (Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2000), pp. 97-108. In my November-December 2001 Boys ¯ Tbe lnterreligious Worm judgment, greater sensitivity to the heterogeneity of lst-century Judaism (arguments about Sabbath observance and the Temple [see pp. 100-101] were part of this heterogeneity), recognition that the Roman prefect controlled appointment of the high priest ("Nevertheless Jesus was executed by the Romans on the charge brought against him by the official of Judaism," p. 100), and contextualizing of phrases such as the "narrowness that had marred religion from long before his birth in the exclusivity of the Jews" would provide a more nuanced context for her claims. 30 Paula Fredriksen, Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews: A Jewish Life and the Emergence of Christianity (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1999), esp. pp. 197-207. 3, Kraemer, "Jewish Women and Chrisfan Origins, pp. 37-39. 32 Elyse Goldstein, ReVisions: Seeing Torah through a Feminist Lens (Woodstock, Vermont: Jewish Lights Publishing, 1998), esp. pp. 94-114. 33 D'Angelo, "Gender Hopes," p. 25. Mary at the Window Tawdry as any plastic trinket outshopped To some Asian source, and mass-produced In garish glass-like gold and blue To catch the sun, Mary Most Holy is reduced To a window ornament, turning to face out, Turning on filaments again for facing in On household disorder, dissension, kitchenwork, Children at play on the floor, where a thin Shaft of shining blue light circles one Dazzled child looking up: Mary catches a son. Nancy G. Westerfield R~vie~v for Religious A. PAUL DOMINIC Unsuspected Mission MeisSion, which is much more talked about than put into xecution by talkers, is at bottom a very simple human experience of sharing with others our living faith in God. As such it is accessible to all of us anywhere, if only we are interested in it. It can begin whenever we meet others and spontaneously converse with them. It seems that not enough has been said or even thought about these ordinary human encounters, without which no mission can be started or sustained, whereas perhaps too much has been said about progressive modes of mission. Genesis of a New Mission With the founding of the Society of Jesus, St. Ignatius Loyola surely initiated a whole new saga of mission in the world of his time. The saga, however, may not be or even seem new any more. In fact, since Vatican Council II, there has been quite a legitimate revision of his ideas about promoting and defending the faith. But one exercise of that old mission has still not lost its newness; it is relevant today, but without making a splash. That exercise is simply, to quote St. Ignatius's own words, "to be profitable to individuals by spiritual conversation.''~ Accordingly, unlike the monasteries in mountain solitudes from the time of St. Benedict in the 6th century or the hermitages erected in earlier times in the desert far away from the evil world, the Jesuit residences came to be situated near the centers of towns and cities, where people would gather and A. Paul Dominic sJ writes again from Satyodayam; 12-5-33 S. Lallaguda; Secunderabad 500 017; India. November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission Different from preaching, the mission of spiritual conversation is best characterized and distinguished as pure and simple conversation. intermingle. Only then would the Jesuits be able to meet the people naturally enough, have normal dealings with them, and, as occasions arose, converse with them spiritually. That was an unassuming exercise of mission with an enduring validity, for there can be no time when personal mission, that is, reaching out to specific individuals wherever we are and keeping them company, will be out of tune with the times. The movement of new mission, which in God's providence the Society of Jesus came to be and even stand for, was itself a product of person-to-person missions that Ignatius himself exercised. Having sensed the working of God in himself, he could not keep the experience to himself, but felt an urge to share it with others. He would have certainly loved the angel Raphael's words: "It is good to conceal the secret of a king, but to acknowledge and reveal the works of God, and with fitting honor to acknowledge him" (Tb 12:7, NRSV unless otherwise indicated), Sharing with others his treasured experience of God gradually became a mode of life for him. He came to see it as a matter of course for him: to glorify God and at the same time be of help to others within his reach. Whereas his first contacts were the women whom he chanced upon at his usual haunts of the chapel or hospital, his fame)us beneficiaries were Pierre Favre (now a blessed) and Francis Xavier (now a saint) and a few others at the University in Paris, who with him came to form the Society of Jesus. It is no wonder that people who experienced the charm of his spiritual conversation tried to. be like him. It seems that the early Jesuits' fecundity in mission was in no small way owing to their exercise of spiritual conversation. Xavier, who blazed the trail of mission for the nascent Jesuit order and for the church of his day, was known for his extraordinary expertise in spiritual conversation. Not only companions of his like Peter Canisius (now a saint) witnessed to itfl but also the people of Bologna, who could say twenty years after his short stay with them: "He spoke little, but with great persuasivene.ss. He talked of divine things with great Review for Religious ¯ devotion, and his words penetrated into the hearts of his hearers and held them fast.''3 Itis a pity that those who have criticized Xavier's mission outreach with their post-Vatican II historical hindsight have failed woefully the postmodern mission by their ignorance of the practical skill in which Xavier excelled, namely, conversational mission--which, to be sure, will be out of date when humans cease speaking and being sociable. The Makeup of Conversational Mission Though the expression "conversational mission" used just now, and the equivalent expressions used earlier, are self-explanatory enough, there is nothing like getting full information straight from the horse's mouth. What did Ignatius himself say when he spoke to his little band of friends regarding their kind of preaching. We get some idea from his answer to a Dominican authority's peremptory question "Whatever do you preach?" Ignatius answered: "We do not preach but do speak familiarly of spiritual things with people, as one does after dinner, with those who invite us." In this brief and frank response--which, however, his interlocutor considered equivocal--one may discern and recognize three elements of the conversational mission: (1) conversation itself, (2) a veering to spiritual matters, and (3) a pleasant, familiar tone of voice. Notice that this Ignatian anecdote itself demonstrates spiritual conversation. A contrasting example may clarify the matter. Gregory of Nyssa had observed Christians in the marketplace of Constantinople. He reported: Constantinople is full of mechanics and slaves, who are all of them profound theologians, preaching in the shops and the streets. If you want a man to change a piece of silver, he informs you wherein the Son differs from the Father; if you ask the price of a loaf, you are told by way of reply that the Son is inferior to the Father; and, if you inquire whether the bath is ready, the answer is that the Son is made out of nothing,s This is certainly not true spiritual conversation, having only a specious similarity to it. Different from preaching, the mission of spiritual conversation is best characterized and distinguished as pure and simple conversation. It is that first and foremost, with no agenda except being present to others and getting acquainted.6 One talks with a November-December 2001 Dominic * Unsuspected Mission single individual or a small cluster, not a crowd. Such a conversation happens when we adopt towards people a welcoming attitude, perhaps forgoing for the time being our own business or preoccupation. It unfolds when we are truly ourselves, without putting on airs or having an ax to grind. It is engaging by its very nature, as we respond sensitively to the personal and situational stimuli around, now by word, now by silence, and all through by our bearing. Such a conversation does not follow any pattern except that of people letting one another's personalities freely rise to the occasion according to the twists and turns of the talk and the topics. If there is any way of programming it from beginning to end, it is by eager and attentive listening. Such conversing is like the breath of wind whose coming and going is beyond our reckoning, but which refreshes us and gives us pleasure. It is as natural and spirited as that. Engaging in it, we take others' measure and strive to bring out the best in them, thereby improving and testing ourselves (Si 9:14; 27:5). When people open the homes of their hearts in this hospitable way, Abha-God cannot be far away (1 Jn 4:12). If the art of dealing and conversing with people is, obviously enough, a natural human talent or acquirement, it is also, according to the mind of Ignatius, a grace.7 Perhaps such an understanding may be read between the lines of Paul's "Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone" (Col 4:6, NIV). Surely any conversation done ¯ in the reverent awareness of the Lord Jesus (Col 3:17; 1 P 3:15) will enable us to be at our best, natural or supernatural. Thinking along this line, perhaps, Kahlil Gibran could counsel: "When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the marketplace, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.''8 Those who make sense of this and make spa~e for the Spirit will come to know how the~ are led, even in the face of the unfriendly, to talk without anxious forethought and yet reveal a truth that they themselves are not directly aware of (Mr 10:17-20). Besides such inspired moments, however, there are bound to be routine occasions or chance meetings when they will have to exercise their grace of conversation on a more deliberate, reflective level. At the appropriate time they will speak on spiritual affairs, as Sirach counseled long ago: "Let your conversation be with intelligent people, and let all your discussion be about the law of the Most High. Let the. righteous be your dinner companions, and let your glory be in the fear of the Lord" (Si 9:15-16). And the more Review for Religious they speak from the abundance of their heart, the better (Mt 12:34), following Paul's declaration "we believe, and so we speak" (2 Co 4:13). They will not resort to spiritual generalities, but will offer a specifically personal spiritual word of witness arising from whatever God has produced in the recesses of their heart and the externals of their life, as St. Paul does often (2 Co 1:4). In general, such conversational talk of God will be directed to what the partners in conversation require (Col 4:6). Far from anything bordering on evil, it will be "only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that [our] words may give grace to those who hear" (Ep 4:29), furthering their interior progress and stimulating their power for good in a society that hungers for more than small mercies: namely, justice, freedom, good faith, neighborliness, equality, and, not least, economic sufficiency, the proof of all the above? This conversational mission is to be carried on, for all its spiritual vision, in pleasant, discreet, and wholesome familiarity, the kind that may be witnessed (as Ignatius remarks) between the glad host and the happy guest who take time after a good meal to share what is in their hearts. Familiarity is the climate in which the conversational seeds of the spirit are best sown and harvested. Familiarity, however, is of different levels. The greater the familiarity, the better the opportunity for spiritual conversation. And so it is worthwhile to work discreedy towards deepening the familiarity. Familiarity or intimacy being the opposite of imposition, no conversational mission can be attempted if people make us aware that they would rather be left alone. Avoiding the least intrusion into their privacy, then, we must gendy gain their favor by our genuine respect for them, our interest in them as individuals with unique endowments, and our concern for any particular needs they may have. It is a matter of sincere accommodation, becoming all things to all people (I Co 9:22), all the while being sensitive to their ideals, their finer spiritual instincts. This is neighborliness towards them, without which no mission for their spiritual welfare can ever be thought of. So, even if they are not well disposed towards us, we deal with them pro-actively and seek to win them over, as God does. It is our familiarity with God that should overflow in our relation with others and make them feel at home with us. If we ever succeeded in this way of living, we would perhaps never meet anyone, however far gone in error, without effecting a change for the better. Blessed Pierre Favre was known precisely for such surprisingly wonderful encounters as November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsus~ected Mission he spoke about God without boring or annoying anyone, and so was lauded by Ignatius himself as one who could draw the water of grace from hardened souls. For those who would learn from him, here is a little precious lesson that he confided in a letter to a friend: In the first place., anyone who desires to be serviceable to heretics of the present age should hold them in great affection, . . . putting out of his heart all thoughts and feelings that tend to their discredit. The next thing he must do is win their goodwill and love by friendly dealings and converse on matters about which there is no difference between us, taking care to avoid all controversial subjects that lead to bickering and mutual recriminations. The things that unite us ought to be the first ground of our approach, not the things that keep us apart?~ Scriptural Suggestiveness Speaking about his spiritual discipleship, Ignatius confided that he was taught by God as a child by his master. In sharing his spiritual knowledge with others, however, he used theological and scriptural ideas and language, as in evident in his Spiritual Exercises. The question arises, then, whether there are scriptural indications behind his idea of conversational mission? Rescued by Jesus for Abba-God, Ignatius bums with desire to follow suit: looking for ways to edify and help his neighbors, he discovers that spiritual conversation significantly serves that purpose. Advocating this practice expressly and officially in the Jesuit Constitutions, he advances this reason: "The Lord has given care of his neighbor to everyone."~2 There seems to be reference to Sirach 17:12 or 17:14b and Luke 10:25-37, and certain other passages have a bearing on his divinely favored understanding of the mission of conversation. One is: "Proclaim the message; be persistent when the time is favorable or unfavorable; convince, rebuke, and encourage, with the utmost patience in teaching" (2 Tm 4:2). Is there much in common between proclaiming and conversing? Proclaiming is the activity which is described by the Greek verb kerussein here in 2 Timothy. Elsewhere in the New Testament, the " leprous man and the demoniac who were healed by Jesus, and the friends who witnessed Jesus' healing of the deaf and dumb man, are later "proclaiming" the blessing they received. Obviously, their proclaiming cannot be anything other than simply and Review for Religious enthusiastically telling people everywhere about their good fortune (Mk 1:45; 5:20; 7:36). This would have been conversation, involving relatively few people here and there--particularly impressive ahd contagious conversation, to be sure, but conversation nonetheless. Does the same sense hold when kerussein is used to denote the proclaiming activity of Jesus?13 Does kerussein have the same connotation of conversation here too? It does, for the following reason. Jesus himself presents his characteristic way of mission in terms of eating and drinking, while contrasting himself with his predecessor (Mt 11:19). In so doing he does not simply distinguish his way as the path of enjoyment or pleasure as opposed to the other's ascetical approach; but rather reveals himself in his mission as one who welcomes and enjoys and also extends fellowship with people, not of a class, but of all classes, brushing aside all prevalent social and religious taboos. So as he honors meal invitations--whether from Pharisees like Simon, tax collectors like Levi, friends like Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, or the hosts of wedding celebrations as at Cana, he in ~rn welcomes and plays host not only to his disciples but also--something that escapes people's attention--to public sinners and to social outcasts like the poor, the crippled, and the blind. If table companionship, being a guest or a kind of host, is characteristic of his ministry, it is not, as the Pharisees judge, by way of being a glutton and a drunkard, but of doing what goes with moderate eating and drinking, that is, having a conversation. C.S. Lewis remark, "The table is from time immemorial the place for talk." 14 This was particularly the case at feasts or parties that Jesus went to, with people reclining at table and engaging in prolonged conversation, valuing it more than food and drink.Is And, if a rabbi like Jesus is the chief guest, he has an excellent opportunity to cast his pearls26 Jesus makes use of such occasions to meet and converse with people at leisure and at length about what they miss and long for in life.17 When Jesus sends his disciples on their mission, he wants them to do no more than what they have seen him doing (Mk 3:14; 6:12). He bids them stay in the houses where they are welcome, in accordance with the sacred duty of hospitality in the East; there, during mealtime and at other times, they are sure to find Is there much in common between proclaiming and conversing? November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission opportunities for spiritual conversation. No matter how variously mission was carried on in the early church, kerussein in the sense explained above was surely part of the picture. It is interesting and revealing that, like his Master, Peter was accused of eating with those outside his Jewish fold. He was doing what he had seen Jesus doing, namely, conversing with those at table, sharing with them the word of God, and bringing them graces of the kingdom of Abba-God. And Paul too, despite the popular impression of him as addressing small and large crowds, no doubt employed the conversational mode of mission, especially towards the end during his two years of semicaptivity at Rome, as Luke's use of the word kerussein at the conclusion of Acts seems to suggest. The Practice of Unobtrusive Missioners The conversational mission, as traced above, is not something apart from life, but is very much part of it. One may find this confirmed in St. Paul's general exhortation: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom" (Col 3:16). Though Ignatius specialized in the art of the conversational word and trained his Jesuit companions in it, one should not consider it something only for initiates.~s There can be no doubt that ordinary Christians in all times and climes have, like Ignatius in the first flush of his conversion, taken spontaneously to the conversational mission, and with tangible results. Their names have not come down to us, but they are in the company of the little Hebrew servant girl whose brief remark led Naaman the Syrian to find the true, unseen God (2 K 5:1-19). Describing the (Protestant Christian) mission that flourished in the mid 19th century among the Telugus in Andhra, South India, Rajaiah D. Paul can say: "From the very beginning of the movement., the work of evangelization was carried on by the infant native church itself, commencing with one individual and then extending, by natural and inevitable growth, like that of a living tree . The people followed much their own impulses . The quiet conversation when visiting friends and relations, the zealous defense of the truth when Christianity was assailed by others, the simple enunciation of belief when a reason for the hope that is in them was demanded; these, accompanied by a life consistent with the demands of the new religion, were what Review for Religious produced fruit in fresh accessions to Christianity." ~9 Reflecting on such experience of mission, which is perhaps more common than many suspect, one may discern an interplay of Christian fecundity and mission. The word fecundity, incidentally, may not be in common parlance now; but, as Henri Nouwen said, "it is a word worth reclaiming, for it can put us in touch with our deepest human potential to bring forth life"2° even in the ordinary circumstances of life. He tells a story of a bereaved South American mother. After celebrating Mass in memory of her young son killed in a tragic accident, he tried to condole with her. Caught up, however, with his own sorrow for her, he was not looking at her and not listening to her invitation to come home and have a meal with the family. Sensing this, the woman went closer to him and spoke to him gently, looking into his eyes: "Don't be so depressed, Father. Don't you know that God loves our Antonio, that God gave him to us for a few years and now wants to bring him to heaven? We are grateful that he was with us and we are grateful too that he can now be with God forever. We are grateful to you also. God loves us all and cares for us all.''21 One of the most dramatic and recent exponents of spiritual conversation is the North American woman named Peace Pilgrim. The Wise Choice of Celebrated Missioners Besides these anonymous but locally fecund missioners, there are celebrities in the international scene, like Frank Buchman (1879-1961), who made the most of spiritual conversation. For instance, along with swaying groups and governments by his moral authority as founder of the then quite active movement called Moral Re-Armament, Buchman also converted and gave life to all sorts of religious or secular-minded people by his individual conversations and dealings with them, and he inspired them to do likewise. A story is told of his stay at a hotel in Milan a few months before he died: "There were three barmen at the hotel. Frank Buchman did not buy drink from them. He went into their bar and gave them the bread of life. They and their families all found November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission something new from their friendship with him. One of then said of him, 'Dr. Buchman is different from most of the people I see. We have cleaned things up here since he came. Most of the leaders of Italy come to this bar sooner or later. The Foreign Minister was here the other day. He was so interested in what we told him about Buchman that he almost forgot his drink.'''22 One of the most dramatic and recent exponents of spiritual conversation is the North American woman named Peace Pilgrim (1908-1981). Not a Christian, she described herself as a religions woman with a vision of peace for the world. Keeping to her self-chosen double-barreled name, she committed herself to walking prayerfully as a pilgrim among people, eager to meet them and talk to them about the chances for peace. For this purpose she sported a short tunic with "Peace Pilgrim" in front and "25,000 Miles on Foot for Peace" on the back; she succeeded in drawing people into engaging conversations on the possibilities of peace in the modern world. To her pleasant surprise, she found the general response positive, with either a lively curiosity or a genuine interest in peace efforts. Her humble mission, basically human and Christian, touched people's hearts and even became a media phenomenon. This is how she recalls its beginning: "The birthplace of the pilgrimage was at the Tournament of Roses parade in Pasadena, California. I walked ahead along the line of the march, talking to people and handing out peace messages, and noticing that the holiday spirit did not lessen the genuine interest in peace. When I had gone about halfway, a policeman put his hand on my shoulder and I thought he was going to tell me to get off the line of the march. Instead he said, 'What we need is thousands like you.'''23 Her personal encounters soon became media events spreading her message of peace. What began fruitfully on 1 January 1953 continued with greater and greater effectiveness till her death in 1981 during her seventh talking pilgrimage. The Like Choice in India Ignatius, too, began his mission as an obscure pilgrim on the move. Thinking, as an Indian, of the pilgrim Ignatius and others before and after him in the Christian world, I cannot but admire the sureness of their spiritual instinct, which many Indians have as well. India, too, is an ancient land of pilgrims going on regular Review for Religious pilgrimages, besides, of course, the lifelong pilgrims who keep moving across the length and breadth of the country or stay put in a monastery (math) or in a forest area. It is pleasant to recall that, as Peace Pilgrim was exercising her newfound permanent mission in the American world, two (Catholic) Christians--Joseph Thambi in Andhra Pradesh and Peter Reddy (a convert from Hinduism through Lutheranism) ir~ Tamil Nadu--were living in India a life much like that of the sannyasis, going about and sharing their spiritual pleasure and treasure with others who came their way. Even before them Sadhu Sunder Singh of Punjab, a Sikh-turned-(Anglican) Christian, had blazed a sannyasi kind of mission trail as early as 1908.24 Part of "Vie Voyag~re" However unusual and surprising their vocation may have been, the personalities mentioned above knew how to exercise their mission in ways not only unusual but most ordinary. They used the ordinary human capacity of conversation to excite and evoke spiritual awareness in people. Such spiritual talk, being part of normal sofiial intercourse, can and ought to thrive among Christians anywhere; all they need is a good measure of the Christian spirit of people on pilgrimage (Heb 3:12-4:11; 11:8-16). This was the sure but unforeseen way by which even the risen Jesus, making his return pilgrimage to his Abba-Father, reached out to his lost or fallen disciples and sent them on their new mission. Who has not enjoyed the narratives of his accosting them, drawing them to speak to him from their heart, and then with inspiriting w~rds arousing their drooping spirits for mission? It is up to us, partners in a holy heavenly calling, to keep our eyes on Jesus and, thus encouraged, to encourage one another day after day on our mission journey, a journey at once inward and heavenward (Heb 3:1, 13). Such was characteristically the vie voyagkre or missionary life of Mary, too, whom Marguerite Bourgeoys (1620-1700), the foundress of the Congregation de Notre-Dame de Montreal, contemplated as the model of conversation with others. After composing my own article, I learned this from Mary Anne Foley's recent article.25 Because of the reported affinity of her spirituality with the lgnatian variety, I suspect that the Sisters of Notre-Dame may well have more to say about Marguerite's conversational mission, adding to what I, have said about Ignatius's. November-December 2001 Dominic ¯ Unsuspected Mission Notes t St. Ignatius of Loyola, The Constitutions of the Society of Jesns, trans. George E. Ganss SJ (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1970), p. 283, no. [648]. 2 See Thomas H. Clancy SJ, The Conversational Word of God (Anand, India: Gujarat Sahitya Prakash, 1978), pp. 59, 63. 3 So Schurhammer, Francis Xavier, Vol. 1, as in Clancy, The Conversational Word of God, p. 11. ~ See Clancy, Conversational Word, p. 9. 5 William Barclay, The Letters to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon (Bangalore: Theological Publications in India, 1990), p. 127. 6 In an exhortation Jer6nimo Nadal shares what he has learned about this from Ignatius. See Clancy, Conversational Word,~pp. 53-54. 7 St. Ignatius, Constitutions, pp. 277, 332-333, nos. [624d] and [814]. s Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet (New Delhi: Allied Publishers, 1976), p. 72. 9 See St. Ignatius, Constitutions, pp. 113,283, nos. [115] and [650]. l0 See Clancy, Conversational Word, pp. 53, 65. I I See Clancy, Conversational Word, pp. 20-21. 12 St. Ignatius, Constitutions, p. 113, no. [115]. ~3 See Lucien Legrand, Mission in the Bible (Pune, India: Ishvani Publication, 1992), p. 60. ~4 C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves (Glasgow: Collins Fount Paperbacks, 1977), p. 91. t5 See Albert Nolan, Jesus before Christianity (London: Darton, LongTnan, and Todd, 1977), p. 38. t6 See William Barclay, The Gospel of Luke (Bangalore, India: Theological Publications in India, 1975), p. 94. ~7 The objection that Jesus' table talk does not qualify to be kerussein since it lacks the usual fanfare of publicity of the kerux or royal herald can be met by remarking that Jesus, being the herald of the compassionate God, does not carry himself like the heralds of proud earthly rulers. 's See William Barclay, The Letters to Pbilippians. Colossians, and Thessalonians (Bangalore: Theological Publications in India, 1975), p. 126. ~9 Cecil Hargreaves, Asian Christian Thinking (Delhi: ISPCK, 1979), p. 97. 20 Henri J.M. Nouwen, In the House of the Lord (London: Darton, Longrnan, and Todd, 1986), p. 33. 2~ Nouwen, House, p. 49. 22 Peter Howard, Frank Buchman's Secret (Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1962), p. 2. Review for Religious 23 Peace Pilgrim, compiled by some of her friends (Santa Fe, New Mexico: Ocean Tree Books, 1994), p. 27. 24 See P.A. Augustine, "On a Pilgrimage to Rampur," Vidyajyoti Journal, March 2001, pp. 205-213. ~s See Mary Anne Foley CND, "Spirituality for Mission: Marguerite Bourgeoys and the Ignatian Tradition," Review for Religious 60, no. 1 (lanuary-February 2001): 53-57. Straggler Because he was youngest, his gift ranked least among the others, last of the lambing. But somewhere between the start of his journey and its final stretch he'd lost the creature, himself lost as well. Then he followed the star, as told, so stumbled upon the stable by accident, or design, call it what you will. Afraid, empty-handed, embarrassed, yet drawn to the manger, he knelt, close as a whisper. "I lost my gift." The Babe's mother, softly, "No, child, yours is best of all." Leonard Cochran OP November-December 2001 MARIE BEHA On the Seventh Day God Rested spiritual directions Maybe God rested (Gn 2:3), but we cannot. God could afford to rest; after all, creation was finished and "it was very good," but we rarely experience the luxury of seeing our work completed or of feeling satisfied with it. So we find Sabbath observance hard, whether it is the day of rest at the end of our work week or those mini- Sabbaths that occur naturally in our lives. Our tendency to fill all these times makes them anything but restful, even though it seems that resting should be at the heart of Sabbath observance, our own as well as God's. Sabbath Fillers Mmost any "thing" will do to fill up Sabbath time and minimize rest: work left over from the previous week, or getting ahead on the week to come. Fun and games can keep us busy. "Good works," everything from returning phone calls (or catching up with email, as though that were possible) to a frantic round of visiting sick relatives or neighbors, fill in the hours. Even an overload of required worship can make Sabbath more a burden than a rest. Marie Beha OSC writes from the Monastery of St. Clare; 1916 North Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, South Carolina 29609. Revie'w for Religious So, you ask, what is a person to do? The problem with all of the above is not with the what but with the why and bow of our doing. The need for accomplishment that motivates us is revealed in the satisfied but weary sigh that accompanies our Sunday evening summation: "I really got a lot done this weekend" or the equally tired but dissatisfied confession "My to-do list is as long as ever." Why are we so driven to do? Too often we fill our days, including our Sundays, to fill ourselves. No wonder there are never enough hours in the week. "Resting" risks having to face the reveal-ing silence, the emptiness inside. So we hurry on, stuffing every day, including the Sabbath, with self-satisfying work. Even our worship can be performance oriented. What does "We had such a good liturgy this morning!" really mean? Are our criteria the spirited music, the well-delivered homily, and the smooth flow of the service--or being moved to heartfelt prayer and challenged to genuine interior conversion? Hopefully, the music and the homily prepare the way for "worship in spirit and truth" On 4:24), but they may simply leave us entertained and content. Worship can become crowded as though more equals better. When that is the case, we can hardly expect to "rest secure" (Ps 16:9). Nor can we if haste to have it finished clocks our obser-vance. Shortening periods of silence in order to get through our quota of prayers is anything but worshipful. The pace of our performance, in liturgy or elsewhere, may also keep us "worried and distracted by many things" (Lk 10:41). We are still meeting deadlines, even when being together is itself the goal. Family time has to be scheduled with the precision of airport takeoffs and land-ings, surface activity substituting for person.al relationships. Though we are together, we do not allow ourselves opportunity to really enjoy each other, much less become intimate. Scheduling every moment, hurrying through one activity to begin the next before the first is really completed, all adds up to workday pressure. Though we are weary, it seems we cannot stop or slow down. Our attempts at relaxation only add more stress. Even our sleeping late is restless. So we come to the end of our Sabbath lacking any sense of re-creation. The motivation for such crowding and overscheduling of even leisure time has a lot to do with our self-image, Which stems from our deeply felt need to see ourselves as creative achievers. God has no such need and so can rest, and asks us to begin to do the same. November-December 2001 Beha ¯ On the Seventh Day God Rested Becoming a Sabbath People But you say, "I know all this, know it too well. What I don't understand is howto keep the Sabbath holy" (Dr 5:12). Rather than insisting on utterly severe limitations of activity on the Sabbath, as some Pharisees in the Gospels seem to have done, our recent Catechism (§2185) says nothing about "servile work"; it simply says we should "refrain from . . . work or activities that hinder the worship owed to God, the joy proper to the Lord's Day, the performance of the works of mercy, and the appropriate relax-ation of mind and body." Especially for the many of us who do almost no manual (or "servile") work on weekdays, spading in the garden may be a wonderful thing to do on Sundays. Churchgoing is not supposed to be the only activity that makes the seventh day special, though some neglect even this. For those who do partic-ipate in Sunday worship, however, it may become just one more item packed into a hectic weekend schedule. After it, we may feel permitted to spend the remainder of the day on ourselves--and then squander it on hecticness that neither praises God nor refreshes us. And that is precisely the problem with much of our Sabbath observance. This is God's day. Like God, we are to work most days at cre-ating this world, making a garden of it, if you will. But also, like God, we are to rest from our labor one day and so gain something of the divine perspective. Work is meant to predominate since this is the way our world takes form and shape--and we ourselves are likewise formed by that very shaping. Through work we become what we are meant to be: responsible cocreators of this beautiful world of ours. Made from this earth, we are called to care for it, to be nourished by it, and in the end to return to it. But there is more to our human vocation than this. Though made from the earth, of the earth, we are ultimately from and for God. Sabbath observance rhythmically registers this reality of human existence in our lives. Between this week's labor and the next, we stop and look up. Like God, we rest. Although our Sabbath observance is brief and limited, it is there to prevent our being worn down by the activity needed to work out our salvation. Sabbath prepares us for an eternal rest when our work will be complete and our being-with-God just begun. The original commandment, "Keep holy the Sabbath," is the third commandment, after those forbidding worship of false gods and taking God's name in vain, All three put us in the context of Review for Religious God's original covenant with his chosen people. Observing these commandments is our covenantal response. More than moral law, the Sabbath describes a relationship. Since we are God's people, we need to be holy as God is holy, working and resting as God does. Observing the Sabbath forms us into the divine image, helping us realize our identity as individuals and as a people. Why did God rest on the seventh day? To enjoy the goodness of that wondrous creation. We do the same. Enjoyment, part of our human capacity for contemplation, moves us beyond the every-day criteria of use and usefulness. All too often, when we experience something new, our question "What's this?" is followed at once by "What's it good for?" Sabbath offers us a respite from such a utilitarian viewpoint; it gives us an opportunity to affirm reality as good in itself. We receive it as a divine gift, even before we discover whether if fits into our schema of things. We appreciate its beauty, even if it is not to our taste. We accept its truth without need to compre-hend, much less control, its mystery. Besides deepening our capacity for appreciation, Sabbath leisure forms us into a free people. Originally a way for the Jewish people to celebrate their liberation from Egypt's oppres-sion, it can open us to similar possibilities. We are not meant to be slave laborers, nor to enslave others to relentless productivity. Stepping back from what we do six days a week enables us to see where we are oppressed, where we may be oppressors. In the leisure that this seventh day provides, we are free to ask ourselves what we would like to do if we had the time. What would re-create us? No matter if our answers would require more demanding activity than our everyday work; perhaps that is what we would find renewing. After being tied all week to a desk, we may really enjoy discovering and using our bodies at least one day a week. Professionals may relax in an activity that allows them the leisure to be rank amateurs, while people whose everyday is dull or dreary discover their potential as "professional" chefs or musicians. Seeing each other in more creative ways keeps us open to the surprises that lie untapped in the hearts of us all. Someone who lacks both time and talent for learning to play music well can still More than moral law, the Sabbath describes a relationship. November-December 2001 Beha ¯ On the Seventh Day God Re, ted enjoy the creativity of a less-than-professional performance. Attempting portrait painting may not produce a recognizable like-ness, much less something that can be sold, yet it can fill someone's need for self-expression. Sabbath Free Time The Sabbath also provides us with "free time," allowing us to "waste" some of it. For productive Americans the mere phrase "wasting time" sounds vaguely immoral, even though time is a giJ~. We cannot earn even a single additional day of life, nor are we billed for the ones we have received. Sabbath observance opens us to the possibility of"doing nothing." Even a brief period given over to deliberate inactivity can, if nothing else, show us how enslaved we have become to filling time. When not doing some-thing useful, we feel threatened by nonexistence: what are we good for? Doing nothing translates readily into being nothing; that is why it is painful, at least at first. But, with patient practice and a willingness to go below surface unease, we can discover a deepening quiet underneath all our activity. As with a swiftly moving river, there is a silence inside that is full of life and awaits the exploration of our doing nothing. Enjoying what is, being free to do something nonproductive that in fact re-creates us, can be forms of Sabbath worship for us creatures as we learn who we are and why we were made. Personal relationships require a certain spaciousness, and this is true of our friendship with God. On the Sabbath we and God spend time together. Sometimes we talk or argue, sometimes we are simply together in comfortable or uncomfortable silence, but we are together. That is what matters. That is the heart of any obser-vance of the Sabbath. And those observances are multiple. Seventh-day observance is paradigmatic but not exhaustive. We can expand one day to a week of R and R: rest, recuperation, or retreat. Or, and this is more common, we can compress Sabbath-like observances to take advantage of moments of free time that open up in any day or that we build into it. The former include snippets of time we often vainly fret away: when the elevator takes forever to arrive, when the answering machine advises us to "hold" until the "next available operator" responds, or when the receptionist explains that "the doctor is running l~te today." Also, we can choose to sit quietly Review for Religious on the side of our bed when we first awaken, we can stretch quietly during a long morning at the computer, we can take a breath of morning air as we walk to the car. All of these can be pieces of Sabbath rest. They can break into our everydayness, much as seventh days interrupt the steady pace of work weeks. They can refresh us. Or they can be uneasy gaps we hasten to fill with nervous activity. How else explain doodling on telephone pads, tapping our feet, consulting our watch at fifteen-second intervals, or rushing our moments of transition. Using Sabbath Leisure Well Taking advantage of all the Sabbath times in our lives requires creative discipline. One suggestion: that we follow the traffic direc-tive "Be prepared to stop." Be ready to allow the seventh day--and the small intervals that force themselves into our best-planned days-- to evoke in us a willingness to surrender to something, to Someone, beyond our own self-interest. Willingness to set our own interests aside opens us to the more of mystery. The capacity for such transcendence demands life-long discipline, a way of living that includes. Sabbath observance. Preparation for Sunday's resting in the Lord begins when Saturday makes some change in our everyday routine. Though the day itself may well be packed full, it can hold its own refreshment, the peace and joy of taking care of things we had to put off earlier in the week. The danger is that "things to do" can take on a life of their own and invade our Sabbath time. Setting some time limits and then prioritizing what most needs to be done is one way of extending Sabbath observance to the vigil. Another is to include in this day of preparation something we like to do, something we look forward to doing: perhaps a special supper menu, a phone visit with a friend, a more leisurely bath, some quiet time before going to bed. The endless possibilities need only be tailored to our own preference. Fruitful observance of the Sabbath itself, like the great com-mandments of loving God, neighbor, and self, revolves around worship, reaching out to others, and re-creative leisure. As we Wil,tingness to set our own interests aside opens us to the more of mystery. November-December 2001 Beba * On the Seventh Da~ God Rested know only too well, these will not happen unless we are prepared to make them happen. Time for worship is probably the easiest of these to schedule, but we still need careful planning lest we end up in such a rush that we spend most of the service becoming quiet enough to worship. Of course, if some truly unforeseen great need comes into our life, we worship by responding to that need. But on most weekends we can prepare for worship at least as carefully as we would for any other important appointment. If a scheduled meeting with an employer requires some attention to appearance and promptness and some thought preparation, worship of our God surely merits the same. Once the time for communal worship has been determined, the rest of the day can revolve around it. How begin our Sabbath day in such a way as to open our heart more fully to God? A slower start, a long shower, a more leisurely breakfast, not only make this day special but also quiet our restlessness, enabling us to be more present in worship. Getting outside for some early morning exercise can do the same, while some silent reflection may help others to change pace and be ready for prayer. Getting to church in ample time seems a necessity if weekday patterns are to be converted into Sabbath stillness. Letting the drivenness, competition, and workday worry fall away prepares our heads as well as our hearts to "hear the word of the Lord" (Is 1:10). Even an unsuccessful effort to attain inner peace and quiet is a form of worship. We are trying to give God's time back to God. Coming into God's presence along with others reminds us that all our worship is communal. We join with others, not only those with whom we immediately share sacred space this week, but all the people of God gathered for worship, observing their Sabbaths on Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sons and daughters of God, we are all children of Abraham as well, our core unity greater than our all too apparent diversity. Gathering in a common worship space lets us take these theological realities and translate them into practical charity. What begins with the community of worship can flow out to a much wider world or can be focused on care of a family member or a needy neighbor next door. Because we do this together, our charity becomes expansive and yet not abstract. We are reminded of needs that we ourselves may never have experienced or been exposed to, and we are challenged not to forget the small service Review for Religious that has no glamour and wins no notice. In both cases we are stretched beyond ourselves, an attitude basic to any true worship. A third element in our Sabbath observance is leisure, some rest, an opportunity to be made new in re-creation. Unless given some thought, all our Sabbath time can disappear in the more evi-dent good works of prayer and care for others. But a leisure that renews us is basic to true love of God and of others. Something we really enjoy needs to be included in our Sabbath observance if we are to be faithful to a Creator God who first saw that everything was good and then rested in that joy. So Sabbath observance includes time to just be, to play in the world, to enjoy the good-ness that God has made. Our rest is worshipful because it is filled with the truth that this is God's world wrapped in God's care. Sabbath beyond the Sabbath Other Sabbaths beyond seventh-day observance are three-day weekends, full weeks of retreat, and full sabbaticals every seventh year. Smaller Sabbaths can occur at intervals on ordinary days. All of these can contribute to forming us into people of the Sabbath, people who are free and not slaves to what we do. We are wor-shipers in what we do for God, for others, and even for ourselves. Our day can begin with a personal offering of our day to God along with our getting out of bed. It can end with a night prayer that is part of our stretching out in bed and getting comfortable for sleep. What is important is a habit of praying that, over time, becomes worshipful living. Willingness to expose ourselves to worldwide concerns is part of our everyday Sabbath observance. Ordinary caring for others on ordinary days opens our hearts, making more room for God in our life as we do on our Sundays. Sabbath observance is not a narrowing of our lives. It is a grand and glorious expansion that is an image of eternity. -50! November-December 2001 DONALD MACDONALD Where Your Heart Is Adrug pusher in prison said that he well understood the evil effects of drugs, but if he left prison tomorrow the temptation to go back to drugs would be irresistible. He knew of no other way where so much money could be made so easily. He had neith'er the skills nor the connections to obtain a similar lifestyle any other way. A young merchant seaman on shore leave in his home port said that, each rime he d6cked and met his friends, he noticed that their lifestyles had progressed to levels.he could never hope to reach, no matter how hard he worked. They too dealt in drugs. For these and others, the attraction of a lifestyle for self and family funded by illicit drugs almost overwhelmed the power of reason, community feeling, or the gospel to offer something better. Famine of God's Word Many people growing up in our postmodern climate assume that there is no such thing as objective truth; that, even if there is, it is beyond our reach. There was a time when people assumed that reason ruled, or at least could provide us with a guide to life for the benefit of all. Two world wars later, the cruelty of various civil wars and the unavoidable evidence of global human suffering have shown that confidence in reason alone is misplaced. Even the rocketing progress of technology, with its potential for Donald Macdonald SMM writes again from Montfort House; Darnley Road; Barrhead, Glasgow; G78 1TA Scotland, U.K. Review for Religious good, has a number of self-destruct buttons, one or other of which someone is sure to press. The many forms of the media offer access to much that is good, but may also expose us to what is bad or sadly deficient. Western Christians, for example, are aware that a good many writers and producers of television seem to hold that any reverent mention of God is nonsense, and that it is open season for attack-ing the Catholic Church. There are many occasions for people, especially young people, to be misled or bewildered. If this assess-ment is accurate, that does not mean that people cannot avoid being hypnotized or depressed by it all. There is a blunt alterna-tive in the invitation to accept the challenge to "repent and to believe in the gospel" (Mk 1:15). It is crucial that those blessed with the gift of faith understand this as a viable alternative or, better, that, with the confidence of the early church, they give themselves to it as "The Way." ¯ Otherwise, time and energy will be wasted in a possibly dispirited response to what are judged to be the ills of society. To react forever and not initiate risks clouding Ourselves in perpetual negativity. The seemingly omnipotent secular battalions set the agenda, and Christians hurry to set some defenses up, almost breathless in a sadly polluted atmosphere. "Repent".has a 19th-century ring to it and, on that assump-tion, may be dismissed by those who thoroughly accept contem-porary culture. It is, in fact, a call to change our minds, to turn from being self-centered, to open ourselves to the will and guidance of God. It is a dynamic challenge, not a static ruefulness, and it offers a new perspective on life. It may so take hold of us that we become "a living sacrifice," giving ourselves completely to God in response to the wonder of God giving himself to us in Christ (see Rm 12:1-2). Whether it be "us" or "them," Christian tradition recognizes the seed of sin in everyone. It is not the whole picture, but it has its effect on human behavior. Cardinal Newman found "the being of God [to be] as certain to me as the certainty of my own existence." Regarding the society of his day, he said, "There I see a sight which fills me with unspeakable distress., the defeat of good, the success of evil, physical pain, mental anguish, the preva-lence and intensity of sin, the pervading idolatries, the corrup-tions, the dreary hopeless irreligion . [All of this] inflicts upon the mind the sense of a profound mystery, which is absolutely November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ Where Your Heart Is beyond human solution . Either there is no Creator, or this living society., is in a true sense discarded from his presence." 1 Each category he mentions can be documented today--and perhaps the personal distress, too. Newman famously concluded that, "if there be a God, since there is a God, the human race is implicated in some terrible aboriginal calamity. It is out of joint with the purposes of its Creator.''2 The call to "repent and to believe" is the way out of this morass. "Bad religion" will not do it, and numbers of people have been hurt by it. But before so much hurt and "the dreary hopeless irreligion," with its miasmic presence stunting so much growth, the authentic way of Jesus Christ can guide us. This is the path religious walk on the jour-ney to God. The challenge is as insistent today as it was for the 1st or the 19th century; our century, like earlier ones, needs to hear the Good News. Pope John Paul said recently: "Even in countries evan-gelized many centuries ago, the reality of a 'Christian society' which . . . measured itself explicitly on gospel values is now gone. Today we must courageously face a situation which is becoming increasingly diversified and demanding" (§40).3 The church und.erstandably tries to come to terms with chang-ing structures in the contemporary world. Religious are often sad-dled with plant and too few personnel. Time and energy go into dismantling the structures, with pain to people and religious who have grown up seeing them as part of themselves. For many, this appears a sunset with nothing but darkness ahead to bury a once lively hope. But what if it indicates sunrise and the possibility of a graced opportunity to walk in newness of life, alive to God in Christ Jesus? Approach the Word To be open to thatl "we must rekindle in ourselves the impetus of the beginnings and allow ourselves to be filled with the ardor of the apostolic preaching" (§40). The zeal forming the church in the beginning came from the experienced presence of the Spirit of our risen Loi-d. To view the contemporary from within that perspective is to find ourselves with Someone who faced all that life could do to him, including crucifixion in his mother's presence, and who is alive with us today. Faced by contemporary relativism in a consequently fragmented society, Christians and Review for Religious especially religious would have so much more to offer, and so much more for themselves to believe in, if they realized that "holiness, a message that convinces without need for words, is the living reflection of the face of Christ" (§7). Familiarity with the authen-tic Jesus allows us to reflect him almost intuitively, as our faith is rekindled by who we see in the Gospel. It may then be impossible not to want to share what we have seen and heard. A glance at the Lukan Jerusalem journey (Lk 9:51-19:28) may help us glimpse something of the world of the early church, where the odds against Christians con-tin- uing to exist and influence society were immeasurably greater than anything we face. St. Luke's account begins with a thrice-repeated warning to consider where accompa-nying Jesus may lead, since "[Jesus] set his face to go to Jerusalem" and Samaritan villagers refused him hospitality "because his face was set toward Jerusalem" (9:51, 53). This is serious, not a day trip to the beach. The ostensibly encouraging "I will follow you wherever you go" (9:57) was not met with open arms by Jesus, but by a sharp warning to the individual to examine every syllable and consider what he meant. Does he really intend to volunteer for the same insecurity as his Leader, "the Son of Man [with] nowhere to lay his head" (9:58)? To come with Jesus may mean finding himself left like a leaf in a gutter--does he really want that? Another was bluntly told that commitment to Jesus comes before all family obligations: "Let the dead bury their own dead. ¯ . . You go and proclaim the kingdom of God" (9:60). Another would-be follower said he Would come, "but let me first say farewell to those at my home" (9:61). Jesus would leave by the time he came back, he was told; come now or not at all. The call is for mature persons who, once they have put hand to the 'plow, never look back. The humane pastoral concern of the Lukan Gospel is evident here in view of what happened at journey's end. No doubt this pattern was repeated time and again in the early years of the church. St. Luke's experience led him to believe that, while attrac-tion to Jesus is wonderful, it must include a realistic appraisal of what this means. We need to face ourselves as we face Christ; we Fami!iarity with the authentic Jesus allows us to reflect him almost intuitively. November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ Where Your Heart Is must engage in true discernment. If Jesus himself "set his face," steeling himself to stay at one with his Father's will, would-be fol- ¯ lowers can do no less on the journey, unless they come as specta-tors and not companions. Fidelity to God's will as the guide to life is a daily and life-long challenge: "I must go on my way today and tomorrow and the day following, for it cannot be that a prophet should perish outside Jerusalem" (13:33). Jesus had to face his greatest challenge, one that would cost him his life. He did so after thoughtful reflec-tion, not as a witless victim. In the light of experience, he honestly asks no less of us. Later on the journey, at a time when "large crowds were traveling with him" (14:25), the message is reinforced as Jesus asks them why they are there: "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father arid mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple" (14:25-26). Even while noting that Hebrew has no word for prefer, we get the point. Every natural and rational tie must take second place to the gift of myself to Christ. This is not meant to put people off. It asks us to consider seriously what we undertake if we accompany Jesus. We will always have Jesus, but perhaps at the cost of losing much else and, as it may appear, Jesus as we would want him to be. How much are we prepared to pay for that? We are asked to really consider this as we look to give ourselves to the gospel challenge. Our attraction to Jesus has to be constant and compelling if we are to genuinely repent and believe in him. Realistic Lukan pastoral care has Jesus ask yet again for mature thought about what it means to accompany him through life: "Which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise . . . not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him" (14:28-29). A second parable suggests pondering the consequences of going to war with ten thousand against an oppo-nent who has twenty thousand (14:3 i). This reflects the almost unbearable concern of Jesus and the evangelist, who have journeyed together and know the implica-tions of accepting the invitation to come with them. The verses . immediately before and after these challenging parables tell us why: "whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple . . . so, therefore, none of you can be my Review for Religious disciple if you do not give up all your possessions" (14:27, 33). The rest is surely silence, with mature prayer, reflection, and advice to help us see where we go from here.4 The Power of the Word Bearing one's cross is both a superb challenge and practical advice in view of the implications of accompanying Jesus. Even at first reading, we pick up the implied heroism, the need for great courage and strength. Yet, on gospel evidence, Jesus' closest disciples display a humanity that we can recognize in ourselves. There is, then, something attainable here. We should not put the challenge on the shelf as an impossible ideal. There is never a suggestion that it is a mistake to accompany Jesus. There must be something superlatively attractive in the per-son of Jesus that enables his disciples to hear such a challenge and actually take it up. The desire to understand how that enablement works is reason for opening our-selves to God's Word in Scripture. This is what was done at the beginning of monastic and reli-gious life. The desert fathers and mothers wanted to know from experience what it meant to leave all for Jesus, to accept the Sermon on the Mount's challenge to live without cares in the freedom promised by the gospel. Scripture helped them make the attempt and persevere. They and their contemporaries saw how Scripture's power could form them into people who have nothing as the world would understand it, yet were themselves rich in the currency of the gospel and able to make others similarly rich. They were truly influential people. The gospel, finding lodging in individual hearts, made for intimacy with God and love for others. As subsequent centuries learned, time given to Scripture, and to the Spirit of our risen Lord found therein, can make abounding love for others available to us too. Disciplined daily reading--allowing the words to register with us, and gently persuading us that we are hearing them for the first time--can transfigure us too. We need such transfiguring to approach a Lukan conclusion: "So, therefore, whoever of you does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple" (14:33). Jesus" closest disciples display a humanity that we can recognize in ourselves. November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ [~here Your Heart Is Nearer our time, that challenge was taken up by Charles de Foucauld, and his life is yet another proof of the transforming power of the word. He took the challenge of the Jerusalem jour-ney to heart. A religious, photocopying his "self-offering," offered me copies to send to friends. The gothic lettering was beautiful, but as I read it I wondered whether I had the courage to keep a copy beside me, much less send one to others. It reads in part: "Father, I abandon myself into your hands. Do with me what-you will. Whatever you may do, I thank you. I am ready for all. I accept all. Let only your will be done in me and in all your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord. to surrender myself into your hands without reserve, and with confidence beyond all question-ing, because you are my Father." Here are the terms of acceptance for accompanying Jesus on the journey through life. To invoke the prayer and patronage of such a man in Christ and, if I dare, to keep his self-dedication where I can see it--these things can help me join others on the Jerusalem journey. They can lead me to the sources that fed him. They are necessary in a world where so much competes for my self. Jesus on the Jerusalem journey points out that the heart may not be left empty. Even when all that is evil is forced from the heart, evil may return with immense power and bring "seven other spirits more evil than itself.and the last state of that person is worse thanthe first" (11:26). The evangelists, ~e fathers, Charles de Foucauld, and others can only encourage us to open our hearts to the power that made them mirrors of the gospel. With this shared enthusiasm for God in Christ continually fed by what we see in them, we in turn become faithful members of the company of Jesus. This is not for everyone, but it may be for us. Among the obstacles to accompanying Jesus as sketched in the Jerusalem journey is the risk of having a divided heart. Pressure to back away, to be close but not too close to Jesus, is always .there in one form or another. While it helps to steep ourselves in the gospel and invite the influence of those who clearly live for God alone in Christ, we must also try to live simply and so nourish detachment from everything but God's will. The less clutter around us, the freer are we to give ourselves to what w~ are asked. Often, tO want something is to get it. We get into a car, pick up a phone, write a check, press a key, or ask for it--and presently we have it. This is not true for vast tracts of the world, but it is true for much of it; and, given the chance, most people on every con- Review for Religious tinent seem to want to live like that. Religious professedly "poor in fact and spirit" share that same humanity. Because of this human tendency to acquire, they need constant vigilance, personal disci-pline, and continually renewed motivation in order to accompany Jesus on his gospel journey. Our circumstances need to reflect the authentic gospel challenge. Otherwise, despite our intent the cri-teria offered by the Lukan Jerusalem journey will seem an impos-sible ideal--the sort of ideal someone had in mind when saying archly that, with the Ten Commandments, "as in any examina-tion, only five need be attempted." Without the insight of faith, our postmodern environmental circumstances are likely to keep sug-gesting a "more reasonable" way of life, and we are likely to accept it unthinkingly. The chapel of a religious community, open on Sunday for Mass to a hundred or so people, presented a stark picture during Lent. The crucifix and statues were covered. A large swathe of purple material across the front of the altar ended in a symbolically overturned chalice. The lecterns from where Scripture was read and the gospel preached were engulfed in purple. The branches of a leafless tree reached up and out from its purpled-wrapped trunk. To the visitor it said that for this community Lent really meant something. Something has happened here. For the people wor-shiping here on Sunday, if the words spoken were at one with the setting, they could scarcely be less than disturbing. If, however, the religious community's life were at one with those words and those symbols, people attending would receive sufficient support and encouragement. The chapel inside the house, however, where the community prayed and worshiped with a few people during the week, was rather differe.nt. There was no suggestion of purple, aridity, or stark challenge in the folksy, chatty chapel. It was, in a word, domestic. There was no provision, no place, for a moment of pri-vacy in which individuals might face themselves before God; the chairs around the orange carpet formed a square with the altar, and people spoke and laughed easily across the space. A visitor asked how the community could issue so sharp a statement to people coming on Sunday from the pressures of their postmodern environment, and yet offer so little challenge in the chapel where they themselves were at home. They may have spent the night in prayer, dined on bread and water, and been selfless in serving the poor, but the climate they chose for themselves for November-December 2001 Macdonald * Where Your Heart Is addressed and told to consider whether we can leave everything, even life itself, to accompany Jesus. worship and prayer did not suggest that. The Sunday chapel may have been a liturgical or catechetical visual-aid for others; but, if they were to accompany their Lord to Jerusalem's summit, much more than a public gesture was necessary. It might be a good idea to have a framed copy of Charles de Foucauld's "dedication" in both chapels, but, for us and others to glimpse the simplicity of what he saw, we need to recognize that environment and appro-priate symbols matter, that we must make special efforts to free ourselves from many assumptions of contemporary society. Unless we do this, an easy acceptance of what we see around us in matters of lifestyle, furnishings, and aspirations will inevitably lead us into a certain secularity. Earlier history and the evidence of the last thirty years surely make that point incontrovertible. There can be no objective and globally acceptable standard here, but, for people who think of accepting the blunt challenge of the Jerusalem journey, surroundings do matter. One by one we are addressed and told to consider whether we can leave every-thing, even life itself, to accompany OFle by oFle we are Jesus. As ever, the situation is made plain in the Lukan approach: "Go on your way. I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no. purse, no bag, no sandals, and greet no one on the road. What-ever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house'" (10:3-5). Our sole security lies in being with Jesus, but, for such security to be ours, we must leave much else on which people around us reasonably rely. To behave differently we must see other than they do. In our dedication to the gospel, we scarcely have time for normal civilities, and yet we frequently offer the gift of peace and expect our words to have effect. We must accompany our risen Lord closely to function like that. Even if we sometimes see bringing some peace as a short-term mission, the effort may still be a weighty burden, and one that is clearly related to the rest of the Jerusalem journey. If our following of Jesus occurs in "the real world" (where being a lamb among wolves argues no future and scarcely any pre-sent), temptations to go through a gap in the hedge for a respite from the effort of keeping close to Jesus will inevitably occur. Lukan pastoral care admits as much: "Whoever denies me before others will be denied before the angels of God" (12:8-9). On arriv-ing in Jerusalem, the disciples collapsed under the pressure and did deny Jesus. In a postmodern world, we too are frail human beings, and the pressure to distance ourselves from him, not least by a more "reasonable" lifestyle, will always be there. To prevent this, we need to know where our real wealth is. "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (12:34). Jesus' answer to the rich young man's question, "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" left him sad, "for he had great possessions" (18:18, 22) and his heart was not as close to Jesus as he had sup-posed. "Jesus looking at him said, 'How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God. For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle" (18:24-25). Money and the power it brings opens most doors here on earth, but Jesus makes it unmistakably plain that it cannot buy anyone's way into his company. But for the grace of God, it would perhaps be an insuperable obstacle. Delight in the Word Inviting and challenging, Jesus looks at us too. He wants our company so much that he has risen from a grave to enable us to enter into his kingdom. There is a personal.relationship here. Intimacy with God and living at one with God's will, these are what living life to the full means. Here is human purpose, and our purpose. "Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit and said, 'I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and have revealed them to infants . All things have been handed over to me by my .Father" (10:21-22). These words are spoken after the disciples' excited return from venturing out among the people supported only by trust in Jesus' word. Now they know from experience something of the possibilities and power of his message. Many others who seem better placed than they to understand do not know what the disciples know. Jesus is ecstatic. "Thrilled with joy in the Holy Spirit," he looks in wonder at these "infants" who were coming to know him and his Father. On our journey you and I ake in the company of our risen Lord; we. are not isolated strangers at a bus stop waiting for something to turn up. We should be full of wonder at who we are November-December 2001 Macdonald ¯ Where Your Heart Is and what we have in Christ, and never take our identity primarily from people lacking the insight of faith. In Christ, who has "given you authority., over all the power of the enemy, and nothing will hurt you" (10:19), Satanic power can be successfully challenged. "Then, turning to the disciples, Jesus said to them privately, 'Blessed are the eyes that see what you see! . . . many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it'" (10:2,3-24). Like John the Baptist, these people, for all their insight, could only prepare for or point to what the disciples were enjoying from within the company of Jesus. To those outside that company, his parables and teaching might be helpful stories to take or leave; but, for the "infants" around Jesus; these words reached both mind and heart and helped form their consciences as guides to life. There is much more for us to see if we "infants" develop genuine receptivity to and then realization of the gift of God in the risen Christ. Insofar as the wonder of that gift is ours, we will have the "stick-to-itive-ness," courage, and conviction to share .it with others on the jour-ney. We know that We are treasured by our risen Lord, and so we come to treasure him. He is where our heart is! For perhaps significant numbers of religious and would-be religious, it is asking too much to make more that a notional con-nection between words then and work now. The biblical word is respected, but even in generally literate societies words do not always communicate in depth, often because there are just too many of them to hold our attention. Yet, to this day in the his-tory of the church and consecrated life, Scripture has had an intrin-sic power which people have felt and which has energized for God some of the greatest evangelical witnesses. A contemporary vade mecum of consecrated life--P~'ta conse-crata-- points to Scripture as "the first source of all Christian spir-ituality." There is undoubtedly a wider awareness of this in recent .decades, but we may have some way to go before all of us have the view that "the primacy of holiness and prayer is inconceivable without a renewed listening to the word of God, . . . a life-giving encounter., which draws from the biblical text the living word which questions, directs, and shapes our lives" (§39). Only some-one like the Holy Father, speaking from experience of that back-ground and also very aware of the contemporary challenge to the gospel, could be convinced that, while "we do not know what the new millennium has in store for us,., we are certain that it is safe Revie't.v for Religious in the hands of Christ." (§35). The Lukan Jerusalem journey, approached from within that mindset, would produce a like conviction. Pope John Paul saw the pilgrims in Rome for Jubilee 2000 as representative of so many others, each individual reflecting "the story of someone whom Christ had met, and who in dialogue with him was setting out again on a journey of hope" (§8). As an older brother, perhaps, on the journey, he has learned from experience that, "if Christ is presented to young people as he really is, they experience him as an answer that is convincing and they can accept his message, even when it is demanding and bears the mark of the cross" (§9). This is why he does not hesitate to challenge and call on them "to make a radical choice of faith and life., a stupen-dous task; to become 'morning watchmen' (Is 21:11-12) at the dawn of the new millennium" (§9). Consecrated people, glimpsing Christ "as he really is" from the Gospel pages, might feel called to respond to that same challenge as they journey together, eager to share their delight in their risen Lord. "Remaining firmly anchored in Scripture, we open ourselves to the action of the Spirit" (§17), and who can say where that may lead us? Notes t John Henry Newman, Apologia pro Vita Sua (Longmans Green, 1890), p. 241. 2 Newman, Apologia, p. 242. 3 John Paul II, Apostolic Letter, Novo Millennio Ineunte, Rome, 6 January 2001. Numbers here and subsequently refer to paragraphs. 4 Walter J. Ciszek sJ, He Leadeth Me, repays rereading for an appre-ciation of faith today. through/be ~do~n! ~nd Cbri~tmo~ t~ b/~6~ing~ of ~oat'~ ~nt~dng into $ia creation in November-December 2001 church and MARIE BRINKMAN Criteria for Change: Women's Ministering to the Body of Christ ministry To search in the past for signs of a viable future for reli-gious women's communities is to reverse the usual order of things, but that is what I intend. I offer a rationale for searching there. I seek, however, not criteria for esti-mating outcomes of change, but rather the foundation made up of sisters' lives which itself takes the measure of other criteria and thus provides the framework for wise discernment. The dawn of a new millennium suggests radical change, much of it underway, yet brings from some quarters hints of probable demise. We know that, for the authors of the many articles and books on the present situation of religious men and women, the good of God's people is the primary concern. And we well know that, if religious communities are to survive, they will do so in response to that people's need and in fidelity to the gospel, particularly its radical counsels. These are any century's religious foundations and the basis for all reform and renewal. But, in the life of religious communities of women, what in particular urges their Marie Brinkman SCL presented this paper at the History of Women Religious Conference at Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in June 2001. She is a professor at Saint Mary College; 4100 South Fourth Street; Leavenworth, Kansas 6604-8. Review for Religious continuance? What characteristics should serve as norms for appropriate change, in the face of diminishing numbers, advancing median ages, and increasing opportunities for minis-tering to God's people in lay and secular life? In her hopeful assessment of a third-millennial future for women religious, Jo Ann Kay McNamara observes that sisters from the "young" African and Asian churches "are already in the process of changing their worlds as their foremothers in the West did for so many centuries." And she foresees "a larger global sisterhood" in which religious women of the West will revise their institutions and women of all cultures will devise new forms of rule, commu-nity, and ministry (pp. 643-644). Ways of envisioning and shaping such inevitabilities are what we must seek. In this regard Joel Giallanza csc asserts that "the quality and integrity of religious life as a sign of unity in the church for the future is direcdy related to the quality and integrity which religious life embodies today" (pp. 468-469). That quality and integrity must inform any criteria for discerning constructive change in community and ministry. When communities, particularly apostolic ones, revisit their charism (as Vatican documents on religious life have urged) and when they engage laypersons as associates (communal or profes-sional) in the realization of that charism, even in these charted waters they run risks described by Francis W. Danella OSFS. While believing that "efforts to recapture the spirit of the foundation have been the singularly most hopeful development in religious life since the council" (p. 266), Danella cites a major risk, that of failure to integrate individual needs and community priorities, personal growth and the common good. We might well add that it is a risk rooted in human nature that has become greater in the last three decades. It takes subtle forms that only habitual and rigorous spiritual discernment at every level of decision making and leadership can recognize. Mary Anne Foley CND, in her careful critique of two widely read works of the past decade, Ann Carey's Sisters in Crisis and Quifionez and Turner's Transformation of ,4merican Catholic Sisters, asks for continuing dialogue between the polarized constituencies studied by these authors (pp. 342-357). She acknowledges serious inadequacies attending the documentation of their views, but is convinced that nonetheless the Spirit speaks to us through one another, within our diverse limitations. Her most significant obser- November-December 2001 Brinkman ¯ Criteria for Chan~e The fundamental question before us, I think, is whether personal relationship to God, in its rhythm of continuing call and free response, has taken directions in the lives of religious women so concrete as to be guidelines for the future. vation, I think, follows a statement that Christian men and women have for centuries linked their lives to God by means of vows. She adds: "They have done this not., primarily as a witness to oth-ers, but because God has somehow reached into their lives, and so, in being true to themselves, they structure their lives around their rela-tionship to God" (my emphasis; pp. 351,356). She credits Edward Vacek sJ for the latter concept. Here we draw close to the source of continuity over two thousand years of religious commu-nity life, regardless of what reforms or renewals have attended it. The same source or cause will guarantee its contin-uance throughout another millennium. Michael Himes would call the source a radical poverty, an ultimate dependency that he says is "the key value in the vows" (p. 21). Joan Chittister would call it the ultimate commitment and radical atten-tiveness to the presence of God in every aspect of a vowed life. It is my contention, hardly'unique, that this centrality of God, this fact of personal relationship to God, realized and grasped as the origin and end of all resolve and purpose, and of all consequent rela-tionship and mission, is the efficacious cause of continuing life in religious com-munity. All change and adaptation, all forms of communal living and ministry that may develop, will be tested and must be evaluated by this criterion. But spiritual reality must take sensible form if it is to become a human measure of worth. As adaptations and innovations multiply, so do reports and projections. More significant are potentially prophetic voices that try to discern the Spirit in radical change and the reactions it pro-vokes. Few--scholars and prophets included--would presume to forecast the future with confidence. Some contemplate the end of our life as we have known it, or its evolution into confederations, syneisactic (Greek syneisdgein, to. bring in together) communities of mixed genders and terms of commitment, new monastic/apos- Review for Religious tolic arrangements, or vowed ministry within a church defined in nonhierarchical terms. The fundamental question before us, I think, is whether per-sonal relationship to God, in its rhythm of continuing call and free response, has taken directions in the lives of religious women so concrete as to be guidelines for the future--directions, in fact, so clear as to suggest qualities essential to the continuance and integrity of these women's communities. The limitation of aca-d

Issue 58.5 of the Review for Religious, September/October 1999. ; f'o r reli i , C~stian Heritages and Contempora~ Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER1999 ¯ VOLUME58 ~°~NUMBER5 Review for Religious is a forum for shared r(flection on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. Tbe articles in tbe journal are meant to be informative, practical, historical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or ~ometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published hi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: foppema@slu.edu Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ° 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP P.O. Box 29260; Washington, D.C. 20017 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 c~)ver for information on subscription rates. ©1999 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy any material (articles, poems, reviews) contained in this issue of Review for Religious for personal or internal use, or for the personal or internal use of specific library clients within the limits outlined in Sections 107 and/or 108 of the United States Copyright Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Clare Boehmer ASC Philip C. Fischer SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm James and Joan Felling Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER'1999 ¯ VOLUME58 ¯ NUMBER5 contents 454 perspectives The Self in Postmodern Thought: A Carmelite Response Vilma Seelaus OCD places the biblical God-related understanding of the. self, on which the Carmelite tradition rests, in conversation with the postmodern self. 470 The "World" from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II Frederick E. Crowe SJ examines some major transitions in the Christian attitude toward the world, especially as a new context for the meaning of consecrated life. 490 brothers "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother": Being and Doing Brotherhood Joel Giallanza CSC reflects on the very identity of the religious vocation of "brother" as providing both brothers themselves and the church with a rich and prophetic spirituality. Religious Brothers: One Vocation Director's Perspective Paul Bednarczyk CSC shares his reflections on why fewer people are choosing to be brothers and on some possible countermeasures. Review for Religious 5OO journeying On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming Avis Clendenen brings together personal experience and psychological and theological insight in addressing the reality of making and breaking commitments. 515 Charism and Membership: Surpassing the Institutional Limits of Religious Life Deborah M. Cerullo SSND proposes that emphasis on becoming grounded in the charism through a common novitiate experience would create a better synthesis of diverse ways of being members. 524 associates Identity, Purpose, Organization: Ongoing Associate Programs Rose McDermott SSJ presents a brief historical overview of associates and associations joined to religious institutes, reviews church legislation, and then raises issues about sound future development. 537 Similarity and Uniqueness in the Association Experience: Theological Reflection Roberta Archibald SSJ, Joanne Bauer SBS, Mary Mester RSM, and Jean Ustasiewski OSF share their experience of using theological reflection in a regional gathering of associates and sisters. departments 452 Prisms 546 Canonical Counsel: Impediments to Admission 552 Book Reviews September-October 1999 prisms Thy kingdom come The words kingdom and reign sound off-putting to most Americans. We have little tra-dition of kings and queens. What we have of it stems from a relatively brief past of early colonizers looking back to European roots. But when we Christians pray the Lord's prayer, we find ourselves begging God--the one we address by Jesus' word Father--that "your king-dom will come." By Jesus' teaching us a way to pray as he prays, we seem to be using language that pictures God as ruler or king and God's area of influence as a kingdom. What do we mean when we pray "Thy kingdom come"? Perhaps we can gain some cl,arity by identifying first what we do not mean. Kingdom is not to be identi-fied with any political entity. Even the age-old notion of Christendom was not tl~e same as this kingdom, and so the breakup of Christendom was not a dissolution of the kingdom. Kingdom is not a certain physical locale. The Roman Catholic Church as an institutional structure is not identified with the kingdom. The church has an important role to play in the kingdom, but it is not the kingdom itself. The church continues the mission of Jesus in proclaiming the kingdom. The church is at the service of the kingdom; it is meant to be a sign, a sacrament of its presence. The kingdom is not something that we human beings fashion or build. We may sing some songs about Review for Religious our "building the kingdom of God," but there is no reality to be done corresponding to our words. According to the gospel imper-ative, we seek first the kingdom of God. We want what God wants. We desire to be totally available to God, ready to serve, eager to do God's will. Doing the will of God involves discipleship--hear-ing the call of Jesus and responding with the total gift of self. Doing the will of God makes the kingdom present, because we are busy about what God is busy about, and so we are where God is. Above all, as our petition teaches us, we pray for the coming of the kingdom since it is God's doing, it is God's work. Jesus himself never gives a definition of kingdom, and we may be surprised that no one seems to question him. In the synoptic Gospels, he never claims the kingdom as his; it always is identified with the one he calls Abba. Only through parables do we find Jesus giving some description of the kingdom. Our Christian Eucharist anticipates the frequent parable allusions to the eating and drink-ing at the Lord's table in the kingdom. For in every Eucharist we place ourselves with Jesus in his total availability to God as he prays "not my will, but yours be done." So what are we to say about the kingdom? How are we to make this petition our own every time we pray the Our Father? The kingdom is the inbreaking presence of God to our human world and our responsive relating to God's being with us. God continues to pour out divine life--what we name as grace--and, when human cooperation is present, then the kingdom is right at hand. Just as the disciples experienced the transfiguration of Jesus, so too the kingdom is often experienced by our touching into this transfiguration kind of moment of a deeper-down reality shining out through our ordinary world. As we enter into this jubilee year, not through the alarms of some millenarians, but rather through the gospel introduction of Jesus, we hear anew Jesus' call to conversion and repentance, his admonition of obedience and watchfulness, and his appeal to be ready and waiting. We are like members of a wedding party--joy-ful, expectant. But it is no bride or groom whom we serve and cel-ebrate. It is our triune God--shining out as the redemptive presence of the Father in Jesus through the power of their Spirit of love. What do we want for ourselves and for our world? "Thy Kingdom come." David L. Fleming sJ September-October 1999 perspectives VILMA SEELAUS The Self in Postmodern Thought: A Carmelite Response This article was conceived at the end of the Carmelite Seminar of 1997 at St. Mary's College in South Bend. I had an opportunity to browse in the Notre Dame book-store, and two titles in different sections waved for my attention. The first was The Thought of the Heart and the Soul of the World, in which Jungian author James Hillman takes archetypal psychology in a new direction. He claims that, with the soul of the world sick as evidenced by violence and corruption, individuals become sick at heart and suffer heart attacks. To restore the heart's courage and its imaginative power, therefore, the soul of the world needs the same attention that we have been giving to the soul of individual persons. Situating the individual self within the heart of the world challenges the rugged individualism of the modern self.1 The other book that caught my attention was Anthony Thiselton's Interpreting God and the Postmodern Self, in which he offers a hermeneutic of selfhood. Thiselton compares and assesses both modern and post-modern interpretations of the self in relation to Christian Vilma Seelaus OCD made this presentation in June 1998 at the Carmelite Seminar at St. Mary's College in South Bend, Indiana. It is being published also on audio- and videocas-sette by ICS Publications and the Carmelite Institute. Her address is Carmelite Monastery; Barrington, Rhode Island 02806. Review for Religious theology. Postmodern interpretations, he acknowledges, perceive the self as trapped within a network of role performances imposed on it by the power interests of others, but he argues for a deeper understanding of the self and its destiny. Postmodernism de-cen-ters the self; it denies any permanent, integrated reality to the self. It claims that identity is socially constructed and that people in different kinds of societies have quite different identity-forming experiences. Thiselton accepts the force of this, but argues for a deeper understanding of the self in relation to the biblical vision of reality and Christian theology.2 Reading Hillman and Thiselton enticed me into further study of postmodern thought in relation to the self. Before long, the complexity of the topic had my head spinning) Furthermore, post-modern debates about the very nature of reality challenged beliefs that shape my life as a Carmelite. And yet, the more perplexed I became, the more firmly did an inner conviction stand its ground: that our Carmelite mystical tradition has perennial values and insights for our postmodern world and perhaps for many worlds yet to come. In these reflections, therefore, I place the biblical God-related understanding of the self, on which the Carmelite tradition rests, in conversation with the postmodern self. I do this in two parts. Part One brings together important insights from both the mod-ern and the postmodern movements, showing a shift in under-standing the self. Part Two looks into the writings of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross for what they offer by way of chal-lenge, expansion, or depth in regard to the self and in regard to our own spiritual journey.as we enter the new millennium. Part One Walter Truett Anderson's insightful and witty book titled: Reality Isn't What It Used to Be helped me to realize that the self in particular is not what it used to be. What did the self use to be that it no longer is? What are the shifts in self-understanding, which, for better or for worse, postmodernism names for us? How might we as Christians respond appropriately to the challenge of post-modernism? First, what do we mean by postmodern? Postmoderns claim to have superseded, to have gone beyond, previous ways of thinking, feeling, and behaving which developed in the so-called modern September-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought period. It deconstructs them, to use the "in" term. At the same time, postmodernism is far from a developed, coherent social theory. Scholars dispute whether or not it is a form of radical modernism or something distinctive after modernism, or some of each. According to Philip Endean in his foreword to an issue of The Way dedicated to postmodernism and spirituality: As the structure of the word implies, the postmodern cannot be understood for what it is in itself, but only in terms of what has preceded it: the postmodern is a gamut of reac-tions to the modern, swinging between two moods: a mood of disillusionment, as previously unquestioned assumptions and standards are found wanting, and a mood of exhilara-tion, as new and better alternatives are explored, develop&d, and advocated. Postmodern thinking draws on a wide range of sources: from cybernetics to feminism, from literary the-ory to the new physics, from cultural history to psychoanal-ysis and linguistics. Perhaps for this reason its expression can be, notoriously, opaque.4 Although the philosopher Kant back in the 18th century.paved the way, the 1960s are considered the true beginning of the post-modern era. At that time everything came into question, and all belief systems, with their traditional values, came under attack. People in the '60s began to question what they called the myth of objective consciousness: that, when you looked at things, what you saw and described was what was actually there. (At the scene of an accident, eyewitnesses often give conflicting accounts of what happened.) Today constructivists hold that the "real world" is an ever changing social creation. In the 1960s, thoughts about the self were also changing. As Anderson points out: In the '60s, people assumed that, if you developed enough contempt for your old socially adapted self, a new True Self, unsullied by any conformity, would magically appear, that a True Culture and a True Politics likewise stood in the wings--and that when they appeared they would not have to coexist with old selves, old cultures, old politics. Things didn't work that way!6 Though the '60s were the time of eruption, postmodernism con-tinues and radicalizes trends that actually began during the Enlightenment, at the dawn of what philosophers call the "mod-ern period." Descartes (1596-1650), the classical modern philoso-pher of clear and distinct ideas, attempted to provide clear and Revieva for Religious certain criteria against which our knowledge can be tested for truth. He was also intensely preoccupied with the subject who knows these ideas: the knowing person. For today's radical deconstructionists, like Derrida, such Cartesian objectivity is anathema. Derrida holds all reality to be socially constructed. Reality is simply the interpretation of the perceiving subject. Derrida insists that we cannot grasp reality because it slips by before we can catch hold of it. Everything, then, is interpreta-tion. Nevertheless, Derrida and the other decon-structionists are in a way Descartes's descendants. Descartes understands the self as an active agent, whereas for Derrida the self shifts from active agent to passive situatedness. Instead of a core something (called selJ) determining how it will respond to different situations, the situation cre-ates the self. Different situations call forth a dif-ferent self to be expressed.7 On the whole, postmoderns recognize the importance, for its time, of the modern move-ment. It brought new values to the fore. We ben-efit from the knowledge that scientific objectivity makes possible. From it come the many techno-logical wonders that are integral to our everyday life. In the moral and political spheres, modernity made room for personal autonomy and liberty and for the development of a liberal society wherein diversity is possible. Religion, too, has been enriched by modernity. Most Jewish and Christian believers, for example, no longer subscribe to a literal understanding of the Bible's story of creation in six days.8 But the improvements of modernity have a dark side: the exploitation of nature and its resources, the emergence of indi-vidualism and the consequent collapse of the sense of community, the divorce of technology from moral values, and denials of the worth of ethnic, tribal, and religious traditions. While the modern period gave us universal abstract systems and scientific "metanar-ratives," accounts of the origins and development of the universe, these often denied the existence of God or denied that God could ¯ be discovered by the conscious self. As a result, in today's world many lives are governed by efficiency, profit, success, and the will Modernity made room for personal autonomy and liberty and for the development of a liberal society wherein diversity is possible. September-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought to power without regard for ultimate human values. Talk of love, truthfulness, belief, loyalty, and so forth has little meaning. Further, advanced technology, the offspring of the modern period, has introduced a world of ceaseless change. New models quickly replace the old. Things are made not to endure, but to be consumed and replaced. Think of how quickly appliances need replacement or upgrading. Indeed, today we struggle with both the benefits and the dark side of the modern period. As science enabled the modern self more and more to carve out and control its own destiny, the self tended to be assured and opti-mistic. But today, as postmodern thinkers become increasingly aware of the self's arrogant, power-hungry dark side, the self appears to be, in fact, de-centered--no longer an active agent, but instead taking its identity from the variable roles imposed upon it by society and by its own inner drives and conflicts, conflicts which the communications media keep in constant motion. The media, especially the advertising world, tell it who it should be, how it should look, what it should own, and where it needs to travel in order to feel good about itself. Postmoderns see our opinions formed for us by the collective perceptions of the media. Under such conditions, notions of a true self give way to the self as wear-ing different masks to suit the occasion, with little sense of a solid identity underneath. We tend to become who we think others want us to be. In theory, the will of the individual is still supreme, but often it has no strong center, no belief system to serve as anchor. When everything is up for grabs, the self lacks the support of collective meaning. There is too much to choose from; this can leave indi-viduals feeling alone in a sea of options. Many people today feel estranged from others and even from themselves. When people see no value to their lives other than the imperatives of efficiency, success, or serving the power interests of others, when their "real-ity" depends on what the TV screen says is real, no wonder there are high r~ites of suicide and physician-assisted death. Veronica Brady, in an article in The Way, describes it well: "Caught in this ceaseless flow of images, the self almost ceases to exist, breaking into fragments, identifying only with the flow. Right and wrong become a matter of personal taste, depending not so much on what is done but who does it. The center does not hold because there is no center.''9 A character in Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses says: "Information got abolished sometime in the Review for Religious twentieth century, can't say just when, stands to reason, that's part of the information that got., abolished. Since then we've been living in a fairy-story . Everything happens by magic. [We] haven't a. notion what's going on. So how do we know if it's right or wrong? We don't even know what it is.'''° Rushdie's world of illusion hangs within the "actual" world of extremes of rich and poor, with millions dying of starvation as nations invest billions of dollars in developing new and deadlier weapons that are then sold to warring ethnic and tribal groups intent on destroying each other. In this context the theories of deconstructionists like Derrida and Lyotard begin to make sense. The absurdity of human confidence in its power to rule the world is becoming more and more apparent as the products of the human mind threaten to destroy us. At the same time, on the positive side, the modern period highlighted one of the deepest urges of the human heart: to be someone. The drift of cultural change is in the direction of human rights, of wanting everyone to be free to create personal identity and experience, even though, for many in our world, resources are not available. No wonder people become dishonest--seeking to have and be and do what the TV ads say they should have and be and do. The struggle to be someone is now a global struggle. Some years ago I had occasion to live in Israel for three months. The incongruities of the struggle became vivid for me when I saw, above Bedouin tents in the desert, TV antennas con-necting them with the modern/postmodern world. As Walter Truett Anderson puts it: "Every morning billions of pairs of eyes open, and billions of societies of mind set forth on the adventures of selfhood. For many the adventure only rarely rises above the level of a struggle to keep the body alive, but even the most mis-erable among us also hear the aspirations of the self---the 'me' craving reassurance that it exists and is good and the modern me that pursues happiness and believes that, whatever happiness it finds, will be what it has taken or created and not what has been handed down by fate.''~ To add a further dimension, the global struggle to be someone is seen with fresh and deep insight by postmodern psychologists who have been influenced by Buddhism. Psychologists Robert Rosenbaum and John Dyckman hold with Buddhism that self/oth-ers are empty. This does not mean that they are void; it means they have no existence other than in relationships that are con- Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought World and self mutually influence and create one another. stantly arising in the immediate experience of the moment. To say that the self is empty means that the self is not a thing and there-fore has no unchanging core characteristics or essence. It is a way of indicating that self is always completely connected to its imme-diate experience, that in the immediacy of the moment, uncon-strained by past residue or future expectations, self is always free. As the Buddhist Diamond Sutra notes, the past is gone, the future is not here, and the present cannot be grasped. This is perfect freedom.12 As the authors point out, freedom here is not to be confused with a pseudofreedom that seeks to abandon all constraints. Instead, to understand emptiness as being connected to immedi-ate experience can lead to greater generosity and compassion toward the self and others. Past experience no longer has the last word. The empty self, actualized in immediate expe-rience, binds together apparent opposites: the dynamic interchange of oneness and separate-ness. These are not mutually exclusive. The empty self is the connected self which is actu-alized in context and in relationships. Observation reveals self-identity to be fluid and constantly changing according to context and relationships. As the Rosenbaum-Dyckman article puts it, "At work we may be decisive and authoritative; when out to dinner with our spouse, we may be hesitant and deferent about what to order for dinner. Yet we believe ourselves to be the same person.°13 Postmodern psychologists repeatedly make the point that our person is not encapsulated by our skin, but exists in relation. The self is always self in relation, in action, and as such is always con-textual. They hold that emotions are always a reliving in the pre-sent rather than a recall from the dead past. If we do not need to be attached to an unchanging self, and can see change as the only constant, it becomes somewhat easier to image change in prob-lem behaviors24 Although the self may be fluid and constantly changing, it must nevertheless have a boundary, but, according to Rosenbaum and Dyckman, a boundary with infinite length enclosing a finite, definable area, different from the rigid boundaries of lines on a map. Human boundaries are not abstract, conceptual schemas, but are always embodied in constant interaction with a world from Review for Religious which they are not separate. World and self mutually influence and create one another. Such mutual influencing has the potential to stretch present definable boundaries and give glimpses into the infinite. Here the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican comes to mind. If our attitude is one of self-righteousness that places us over against the rest of the world, we will be unable to hear the challenges that postmodern psychologists offer us for continued growth in our postmodern world. Our boundaries become sealed in finitude, and the infinite capacity that is ours becomes rigid, like the lines of a map. Psychologists in increasing numbers address the postmodern shift in regard to the self, and they offer valuable insights for living healthily in today's changing world. At the same time, postmodern philosophers and psychologists do not have the last word, and so now we turn to the mystics for their insights into the self. Part Two Since human boundaries are not abstract, but are embodied and are in constant interaction with the world from which they are not separate, precisely here does the biblically based Carmelite tradition offer timeless help. Back in 16th-century Spain, Teresa of Avila wrote a book to help her daughters of the reformed Carmel relate to one another and to the world, from which they were not separate even in their cloister. In her Way of Perfection, she gives her daughters some advice that flows with meaning into our post-modern age: "I shall enlarge on only three things., for it is very important that we understand how much the practice of these three things helps us to possess inwardly and outwardly the peace our Lord recommended so highly to us. The first of these is love for one another; the second is detachment from all created things; the third is true humility, which, even though I speak of it last, is the main practice and embraces all the others.''~s Many centuries separate us from Teresa and the particularity of her issues, but the interrelated dynamic of love, detachment, and humility are integral to spiritual growth in today's confusing world. Postmodernity challenges much of what we cling to by way of values and beliefs and, in particular, our self-understanding. To understand the self as fluid and constantly changing invites a deeper penetration into the Christian, Carmelite Understanding of Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought detachment. It would have us be attached to nothing, not even the most innocent of things, for in time of need they fail us com-pletely. John of the Cross insists: "To come to the knowledge you have not, you must go by a way in which you know not. To come to the possession you' have not, you must go by a way in which you possess not. To come to be what you are not, you must go by a way in which you are not . This places us in our center of humility.''16 Detachment and humility go hand in hand. They cre-ate an openness to new ideas, a willingness to let go of the past an, d let the context of the present create us anew. The contextual pre-sent is the place of encounter with God. The past, while it may continue to influence present behavior, is in fact nonexistent, and the future evolves out of each passing moment. Detachment opens up roads less traveled; but, if we feel attached to our current road, we may all too readily say, "This is me; this is my self." We have heard people say, "I'm a one on the enneagram or an INFP on the Myers-Briggs, so you have to take me as I am." With such a self-fixated attitude, we will less likely hear God's invitation into the infinite realms of potential self-realization. If we conceive of the self as determined by the pathways already taken, a composite of past experiences, it will be hard to let go when unknown paths beckon us onward. As Rosenbaum and Dyckman put it, "The self, as an accumulation of experience, is a prison; the self as empty, as shimmering potentiality, is a prism that, depending on its positioning, gives forth many different colors."17 In his Spiritual Canticle, John of the Cross reminds us that the woods and thicket in which we find ourselves today have been planted by the hand of the Beloved.18 God's self revelation con-tinues right within the human story. The density and darkness of postmodernity--which holds that there is a multiplicity of per-spectives in the search for truth, which denies a stable foundation of self and of knowledge--can generate extremes of uncertainty. But the de-centered self of postmodernity has its own gift to offer. It invites us, beyond the limits of what can be known and con-trolled, into a self that is mystery, into God as ultimate Mystery. The temptation is either to stay blinded in self-righteous cling-ing to the limitations of human knowledge, or to despair before the uncertainties of life. Detachment itself can be the void of despair, unless it is grounded in faith and in the experience of God. The Dutch theologian Frans Jozef van Beeck, in his contem-porary. Catholic systematic-theology series titled God Encountered, Review for Religious reminds us that "the human subject., is naturally and radically 'de-centered': the mature person's true center does not repose in the person. Authentic persons live on the strength of unfulfillable desire . Grace graciously enables human persons, along with their world, to that most natural, yet most divine of all things: freely to move toward God in total faith and abandon."'gIn the midst of alternative versions of reality, and many different ways of being in the world, with the postmodern tolerance for a plethora of possibilities, choosing to believe in something is vital. We can be respectful of others with differing beliefs and still stand firm in the faith that is ours, a faith that centers the self in God. According to the philosopher Kierkegaard, faith is the pas-sionate embrace of objective uncertainty.2° Faith bypasses the postmodern self that interprets, even cre-ates, its own reality. It bypasses human reason to plunge us into mystical depths where being and nonbeing are held in cre-ative tension by God's abiding presence to human life. At this level Rahner rightly speaks of the experience of God and the experience of self as one.2' In his insis-tence upon the possibility open to all of an immediate experience of God, Rahner writes: "I am convinced that such an immediacy between God and the human person., is of greater significance today than ever before. All the societal supports of religion are collapsing and dying out in this secularized and pluralistic society. If, nonetheless, there is to be real Christian spirituality, .it cannot be kept alive and healthy by external helps, not even those which the church offers., but only through an ulti-mate, immediate encounter ofthe individual with God.''22 The Harvard psychologist Charles Verge names this place of encounter "the divine self.''23 Here the self and God mirror each other.24 The longing of the human heart to be someone issues from God, in whose image we are made and whose love holds us in being. "Beloved of God" defines the self. The Spiritual Canticle of John of the Cross is a text that writes the self of each one of us. In the Canticle, God's passionate love for the soul, enfleshed in Christ, The longing of the human heart to be someone issues from God, in whose image we are made and whose love holds us in being. Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought stirs a passionate response and gives meaning and direction to life right within the extremes of uncertainty that surround us. To be transformed into the image of Christ, to become like Christ, con-stitutes the heart of the divine promise. Faith enables us to embrace, with passion, the ultimate objec-tive uncertainty that the mystery of God revealed in Christ is. Christ lifts the self out of its predefined situatedness with its self-interest, into love for God and love for others. God's love trans-forms the will to power, to possession, to lust, into will to love. The detachment that faith calls forth issues in genuine love even for those who differ from us. Postmodernism stretches our capacity to love. Life today beckons toward a global embrace of love; love for those who may look different from us, love for those who may think differently from us, and love for those whose values may be different, even opposed to ours. Today, in the face of our differences, love holds the special challenge of intense, respectful listening, which can only happen if the heart is humble. A humble heart is a heart detached from pre-conceived ideas and personal prejudice. According to Teresa, humil-ity is truth, and our truth is that we are all, without exception, finite, fragile creatures capable of sin and that as such we always stand on the threshold of ongoing conversion. At the same time, integral to truth is that each one of us is always infinitely loved and possessed by God. Insofar as we fall short, God invites us to continued conversion and, even more, to divine transformation. Our challenge is to live Christ's gospel of love. Such love dissolves the disharmony of suspicion and distrust, it detaches us from self-interest, and it opens us to others in humility and genuine con-cern. As Rahner sagely asks, "Why should there be any need for deception, which serves to protect the self, if the self is loved, wel-comed, accepted, and reconciled-as-one with the Other?''2s Receiving the self from God in Christ, giving the self to others in love, and serving the other's interests as one's own are mirrorings of God, the divine self-giving Trinity, in whose image we are. In trinitarian theology, love constitutes the ground of selfhood. The gospel account of Jesus at table, encircled by the outcasts of his time, symbolizes the self today cast out from itself and in need of re-centering in Christ. From the horizon of Christ, we see the incompleteness of all that is human in relation to our total commitment to Christ, but in Christ we also see ourselves con-nected with the heart of all that is. Revie~v for Religious The archetypal psychology of James Hillman invites us to this from a psychological perspective. He would have us see ourselves and others as intimately connected with what he calls the soul of the world. Today conversion extends to claiming our part in what Hillman rightly names the sickness of the soul of the world. He claims that the world, because of its breakdown, is entering a new moment of consciousness by having its attention drawn to itself by means of its symptoms. It is becoming aware of itself as a psychic reality. We now encounter pathology in the psyche of politics and medicine, of language and design, of the food we eat. Sickness, says Hillman, is now "out there" as well as "in here.''26 To situate our individual self within the heart of the world not only challenges the rugged individualism of the modern self; it also invites a deeper awareness of our connectedness with others and with planet Earth, whose beauty and balance are today oppressed by our violent consumer world. The world itself is now a patient in need of hea~ling. Postmodernism offers a broader understanding of the redeeming mission of Christ. The entire cos-mos becomes the locus of redemption. Like us, our church and civilization and even planet are all in need of Christ's redeeming, healing, transforming love. Postmodernism is globalism; as such it is the half-discovered truth of the one unity that transcends all our differences. The language of postmodernism would be alien to Teresa, and yet, as she increasingly experienced herself as centered in God, her self became increasingly fluid. She seems astonished as the boundaries of the self continue to expand. There are many exam-pies, but in her Autobiography, her Vida (chap. 15, para. 7), Teresa, experiencing herself infused with the light of God, comments: "And I, though being what I am, seem to be another person." In 23.1, recalling how God freed her from herself, she writes that "here begins another new life." In 27.1, having placed herself com-pletely in the hands of God, she says, "l saw that I was a com-pletely different person." In 27.9 she says, "One of these graces is enough to change a soul completely.''27 In the context of these remarks, Teresa specifically mentions that she is growing in either love, detachment, or humility. At the height of her mystical life, Teresa has a profound expe-rience that, on the level of the divine self, reflects the empty, de-centered, but relational, contextual self of postmodernity. In 40.5 of her Vida, she writes: Septentber-October 1999 Seelaus ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought Once, while I was reciting with all the sisters the hours of the divine office, my soul suddenly became recollected; and it seemed to me to be like a brightly polished mirror, without any part on the back or sides or top or bottom that wasn't totally clear. In its center Christ our Lord was shown to me, in the way I usually see him. It seemed to me I saw him clearly in every part of my soul, as though in a mirror¯ And this mirror also--I don't know how to explain it--was com-pletely engraved upon the Lord Himself by means of a very loving communication I wouldn't know how to describe. ¯ I was given understanding of what it is for a soul to be in mortal sin. It amounts to clouding this mirror with mist and leaving it black; and thus this Lord cannot be revealed or seen, even though he is always present giving us being. In God, Teresa is connected with the world's sin, even as she affirms the ever present graciousness of God always giving us being within the darkness of sin. God is present in Teresa, not with power and might, but in love and with an invitation to self-transcendence that is as pertinent and penetrating for us today as it was for Teresa. In 3 7.11 of her l/ida, Teresa sounds as though she is living in our present age. After lamenting the foibles of her honor-bound society, with its elaborate system of etiquette, she says, "I don't know how it's all going to end up; even though I'm not y.et fifty, I've already seen so many changes I don't even know how to live anymore. What will they do who are now being born and will live for many years?" What will we do, we who have been born in this postmodern era, this era in which we live for many years, often into our nineties? Like Teresa, we do not know where it is all going to end up. Many would say that dark night engulfs our entire world and the times in which we live. The Carmelite tradition, however, assures us that God is in the night. John of the Cross eloquently describes the meaning of the soul's journey into the night of God. In this night of faith, we discover that love is the eye of God and we in turn are to see and interpret all things through the eyes of God. From this perspective we see that we are all one in God's love and that we bear one another's burdens. By the quality of our lives, Christ would have us be bearers of hope for all who suffer the travails of poverty, violence, injustice, and oppression. Right within the many forms of death that surround us is the seed of resurrec-tion impatient for new life. As we work with our differences in families, in our civic and Review for Religious church communities, we can dare to hope that our graced strug-gle will energize efforts toward understanding, toward finding common ground within the extremes of diversity that ctiaracterize our postmodern world. What we see in Teresa's writings is a devel-opment in her understanding of herself and of Christ, who com-panions her journey. Today,. as we find the self anew, we also find new ways of seeing Christ and the Christian mysteries right within our postmodern world, without getting caught in nostalgia for the past. Again, like Teresa, we do not know where it will all end up. What we do know is that the future is present, like a seed, in today's disconcerting moment. Our challenge is to live now, to live fully (but with humility, detachment, and love) what we say we believe. The sufferings of our time are not meaningless, as sec-ular postmodernity might see them. They are integral to the groan-ing of creation in labor until it brings forth redemption, the final triumph of God's love. At its deepest level the self is caught up in the incomprehensible mystery of Love we call God. Notes I James Hillman, The Thought of the Heart and the Soul of the World (Woodstock, Connecticut: Spring Publications, 1995). 2 Anthony C. Thiselton, Interpreting God and the Postmodern Self'. On Meaning, Manipulation, and Promise (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998). 3 It also leaves me with a little anxiety that the many authors that I read be given due credit. As I prepare this paper for publication, I real-ize that much of what I read merged in my thinking as I internalized the material. 4 See The Way 36, no. 3 (July 1996): 175. s According to Anderson, Kant's work in the 18th century began with a problem that was as divisive in its time as the objectivist-con-structivist one is in ours--in this case a conflict between the British empiricists such as Locke and Hume, who saw thought as merely an instrument for understanding or using "real world experience," and the Continental philosophers such as Descartes and Leibniz, who saw the mind as the supreme organizer and discoverer of all reality. This was not a postmodern debate. All parties assumed that people could appre-hend unchanging and universal truth. Kant's attempt to resolve the con-flict was his own contribution to the search for "foundational" knowledge or reality--beyond historical and cultural relativism--but it pointed toward a view of the mind as a creator of reality. Kant describes the mind as an active organ that orders and forms the raw data of experience, 1-467-- September-October 1999 Seela~s ¯ The Self in Postmodern Thought imposing upon them its own structure; we do not experience things in themselves but rather representations of them. See Walter Truett Anderson, Reality Isn't What It Used to Be (San Francisco: Harper, 1990), pp. 59-60. 6 Anderson, Reality, p. 48. 7 See Robert Rosenbaum and John Dyckman, "Integrating Self and System: An Empty Intersection?" Family Process 34 (March 1995): 26- 27, and Kenneth J. Gergen, "The Social Construction of Self- Knowledge," in Daniel Kolak and Raymond Martin, Self and Identity: Contemporary Philosophical Issues (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1991), pp. 372-403. 8 See Max Charlesworth, "Postmodernism and Theology," The Way 36, no. 3 (July 1996): 188-202, for an interesting summary of the devel-opment of modern to postmodern thought. 9 Veronica Brady, "Postmodernism and the Spiritual Life," in The Way 36, no. 3 (July 1996): 181. 10 Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses (London: Viking, 1988), p. 313, quoted in Brady, "Postmodernism." 11 Walter Truett Anderson, Reality, p. 132. 12 Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," pp. 28-33. 13 Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," p. 26. 14 According to Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," pp. 35-37, acknowledging memory as constructive, as a present contextual experi-ence, rather than as retrieval of the past, helps to avoid difficulties such as the controversies over recovered memories of trauma and abuse, which are a sensitive contemporary issue. ~s Teresa of Avila, Way of Perfection (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1980), chap. 4, para. 4, p. 54. 16 The Collected Works of St. John of the Cross, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1991), p. 150. 17 Rosenbaum and Dyckman, "Integrating," p. 37. is See his Spiritual Canticle, stanza 4, in Collected Works, p. 494. 19 Frans Jozef van Beeck, God Encountered: A Contemporary Catholic Systematic Theology, Vol. 2/1 (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1993), p. 238. 20 Soren Kierkegaard, "Truth Is Subjectivity," in Concluding Unscientific Postscript, ed. and trans. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), pp. 169ff. "Truth is precisely the con° tradiction between the infinite passion of the individual's inwardness and the objective uncertainty. If I am capable of grasping God objectively, I do not believe, but precisely because I cannot do this I must believe. If I wish to preserve myself in faith, I must constantly be intent upon hold-ing fast the objective uncertainty, so as to remain out upon the deep, over seventy thousand fathoms of water, still preserving my faith . " Review for Religious 2~ See Karl Rahner, "Experience of Self and Experience of God," in Theological Investigations, vol. 13 (New York: Crossroad, 1983), pp. 122- 132. 22 See "The Immediate Experience of God in the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius of Loyola," in Karl Rahner in Dialogue, ed. Paul Imhof and Hubert Biallowons, trans. Harvey D. Egan (New York: Crossroad, 1986), p. 176. 20 See Charles Verge, "Foundations for a Spiritually Based Psychotherapy," in Religion and Family, ed. L. Burton (Hayworth Press, 1992), pp. 41-59. 24 See also her Autobiography in Collected Works of Teresa of Avila, Vol. 1, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1976), chap. 40, paras. 5 ~nd 10. Teresa here recounts two visions in which God and the soul mirror each other. See also Spiritual Canticle, stanza 12, in Collected Works of John of the Cross, pp. 515-519. 2s Quoted in Thiselton, Interpreting God, p. 160. z6 Hillman, Thought of the Heart, pp. 96-99. 27 With only a quick glance, I found chap. 20, paras. 23, 25, and 26- 28; chap. 21, paras. 8-9; and chap. 25, paras. 18-19--all referring to Teresa experiencing herself as a different person. The Salvation Cup I raise my fragile, broken cup. Accept it empty. Nothing I own can f!ll it. This is the cup of my truth, my faith in the promise, my salvation cup. Fill it with the wine of the Spirit, the river that makes fertile my barren ground, the ocean of never ending mystery. This is my cup. With it I offer my fragileness, my sinfulness and my broken promises. Heal me, Spirit of God, with theelixir of salvation. Virginia Skrdlant SHCJ September-October 1999 FREDERICK E. CROWE The "World" from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II An old proverb, once thought to be scriptural, warns us that where there is no understanding the people perish. Scriptural or not, the proverb itself is sound enough, and I would apply it to the institution of religious life. On all sides the question is heard: Is religious life dying? I refuse to believe that the God who gave us Anthony of Egypt, Benedict, Francis, Dominic, Ignatius, and so many others down to Mother Teresa is a God who intends religious life to perish. But I do believe in the need for under-standing, so that through our input God's operative grace may become cooperative. The Pattern of Human Thinking This essay is, then, an essay in understanding, but much more modest in scope than the preceding paragraph would suggest. It does not attempt td study religious life in its essence, its proper-ties, its various manifestations. It goes back rather to a prelimi-nary question and takes one small point for study: the Christian attitude toward what we call the "world." It is my hope that, if we gain some understanding on this background question, we will have a context for an eventual rethinking of religious life itself. Frederick E. Crowe SJ wrote "The Ignatian Exercises and Jesuit Spirituality" for our July-August 1994 issue. His address remains Lonergan Research Institute; 10 St. Mary Street, Suite 500; Toronto, Ontario; M4Y 1P9 Canada. Review for Religious My approach is historical rather than analytic. It examines the major transitions in the Christian attitude toward the world. It finds a dialectic running through history, a dialectic of to and fro that is not a mere alternation, but a progressively unfolding pat-tern in which each alternation is a step forward. It concludes with the way the church is finding new meaning for its role in the world, and proposes this as a new context in which religious too might find today the meaning of their consecrated life. The advantage of approaching history as a dialectic in the sense described is twofold. First, it may lift us out of our "crisis" mood, in which we think of our present situation as a spiritual fever, as a low point from which the patient may either die or recover and resume life as it was before the crisis. In a dialectical understanding, that is not the case. The low point is an opening on a new high. Second, a dialectic follows an intelligible pattern, with each step part of a natural, though not necessarily logical, sequence. This means that, if we can plot the sequence up to the present, we may be able to establish the direction of movement and discern the path we should take into the developing and unknown future. That "natural sequence" is the pattern of human thinking in time, the way the human mind naturally works as it progresses toward fuller and fuller understanding. In itself the pattern is sim-ple enough. Faced with a problem area of any complexity, the human mind will first find some specific factor of explanation, will tend to make that the whole explanation, but will eventually see that it is insufficient as a total view. It will then discover a generic factor and will in turn make that the full explanation, only to dis-cover that this too is insufficient as a total view. Eventually, in the dialectical oscillation of specific and generic, the mind will arrive at a higher viewpoint and hold the specific and the generic in the unity of a full understanding. The Pattern Illustrated That is terribly abstract. So, before applying it to the history of Christian thinking on the world, let me offer two concrete illus-trations that show the pattern as realized in actual history. First, the natural priority of the specific is easily illustrated in human lan-guage. "So in Homer there were words for such specific activities as glancing, peering, staring, but no generic word for seeing.''1 This is "both the strength and the weakness of'early language";~ it Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican ll The term vocation was appropriated to the religious life (as it commonly still is). has the power of the concrete, but is unable to reason in abstract or generic terms. And so in learning to write English we are told to search for the specific, for the concrete descriptive word, but in the strict reasoning of, say, a legal question we may have to resort to technical and abstract language. What is true of human language is true also of human think-ing, and so my second illustration is taken from the theology of our need for divine grace. Here there was first the discovery of a specific explana-tion, namely, the fall of our first parents. This was largely the focus of St. Augustine's thinking, which centered on the difference between their state before the fall and ours after it. This idea ran its course for about seven centuries, cul-minating in the position of Peter Lombard, namely, that there are in the grace-history of our human race "four states of human liberty: the earthly paradise, fallen man, man redeemed, and heaven.''3 Our need for divine grace is understood in relation to those states. Meanwhile, however, the insufficiency of this specific step was gradually becoming apparent. There was difficulty in defining lib-erty; the doctrine of merit tended to hang in mid air; even grace itself lacked a clear definition, for what is there that is not a free gift of God and therefore grace?4 The dialectic of ideas was prepar-ing theologians for the next step, the discovery of the generic the-orem of two orders with quite distinct status in the universe of being, the supernatural order and the natural: "not only was there the familiar series of grace, faith, charity, and merit, but also nature, reason, and the natural love of God.''5 This was largely the work of Philip the Chancellor in Paris in the early 1200s. It was an epoch-making discovery, and it put the question of our need for divine grace on an entirely new basis, releasing a whole series of developments. But so intoxicating was Philip's idea that theologians made a mistake exactly parallel to the one their predecessors made in the use of Augustine: the view that this was a complete and adequate explanation. Thomas Aquinas himself, in his early writings, shows hints of this one-sidedness, not giving sufficient attention to the moral impotence that is the result of Adam's fall. Nevertheless, it was Thomas who finally Review for Religious brought, the two factors, the specific and the generic, into unity. Peter Lombard's four states remain in the Thomist synthesis, but as applying to a specific question within the genus of the total divine plan.6 The Pattern Verified in the Specific Idea of "World" I have illustrated the way the human mind naturally works in time as it advances in understanding: first, a specific idea; then, exaggeration of this idea; next, a generic idea; exaggeration of this in its turn; eventually a synthesis. I believe the pattern is discernible also in the history of Christian thinking on the idea of the world. There too I find a specific and a generic factor, with the specific the first to be discovered and exploited beyond its potentiality, and the generic the next to be discovered and in its turn exploited beyond due measure. Again let us turn from the abstract to the concrete. Concretely the first step may be located in, or at least represented by, Anthony of Egypt. Toward the end of the 3rd century, "Anthony gave away his possessions, and devoted himself to a life of asceticism, and c. 285 retired completely into the desert . Towards the end of his life, the numbers of those who turned to the solitary life of the desert increased as the result of the secularization of the church.''7 It is possible to see this development in too simplistic a fash-ion, but at least one characteristic feature is clear: flight from the world. So it produced works with titles like De contemptu mundi (On contempt of the world). It filled Europe with hermitages, con-vents, and monasteries. For twelve centuries the idea ran its course with enormous impact on Christian v.alues, Christian living, Christian institutions.8 But it suffered the handicap of being a specific idea attempt-ing to provide a total view. For one example, the term vocation was appropriated to the religious life (as it commonly still is). In this respect the laity of the church and even the diocesan clergy were deemed to belong to a lower class: they did not have a "voca-tion." A reaction was inevitable, but it was centuries taking shape. Many diverse influences were at work promoting it. Its history is a complex interweaving of those influences. There were subver-sive along with legitimate movements. But what was positive and valid in the reaction, and quite natural and basic in the unfolding Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II dialectic, was the emergence of the generic factor in the concept of the world. The Pattern Verified in the Generic Idea of "World" The quite basic event, then, in the. emergence of the generic concept of the world was the discovery by Philip the Chancellor of the two orders: natural and supernatural. I used this earlier to illustrate the pattern of human thinking as it is found in theology (not only was there the familiar series of grace, faith, charity, and merit, but also nature, reason, an'd the natural love of God). I use it now as a basic explanatory factor for the new stage of our dialec-tic. That is no accident. It is an idea so fundamental that it is bound to appear in the history of any theological idea. It underpins all that I have to say in this section and the following. Every discovery makes its way against opposition from an estab-lishment. The recognition of the natural order had to be followed by a recognition of its rightful autonomy, and that could not fail to be a traumatic experience for the church. The history of this strug-gle need not detain us here. In essence the point is that the human race was not only created divine; it was also created human, with a need for hunting, fishing, farming, for song and dance, for math-ematics, science, philosophy, whatever lies within its potency for development. Without grace we are able, Thomas Aquinas would say, using his favorite example, to cultivate our fields and build our houses. But the full extent of that principle means that without grace we can marry and be given in marriage, form guilds among artisans, establish universities, function as nations, join in a world union of peoples, explore the boundaries of space. Further, the natural has its own laws. Natures operate uni-formly: we do not gather grapes from thorns or figs from thistles (Mr 7:17). And those natural laws can be isolated in thought and allowed to develop and flourish according to their own potential. For to be human is to learn: to learn that there are human tech-niques for producing good crops, human means for controlling nature, human means of self-government, human means for gain-ing wisdom and educating upcoming generations, and so on through the list. If, then, we take a broad view of the forest, not stopping to study individual trees, we can discern here the generic factor in Review for Religious the concept of the world, the needed complement to the specific factor provided by Anthony. This generic factor is the recogni-tion of the world as good in its own right. God did not create an evil universe, but made all things that they might have being and life (Ws 1:13-14; 1 Tm 4:4). That means that we can no longer be satisfied with the negative connotation of "flight from the world." There is a positive side to Anthony's strategy: its focus on the transcen-dent. The negative side is not repudiated, but it has to be seen in relation to that focus and has to be complemented by a generic view of the goodness of all creation. But the pattern of the dialectic suggests that this step too will be exaggerated, and that is exactly what happened. In the intoxication of this new idea, there was a widespread repudia-tion of the age-old flight from the world. Convents and monasteries were emptied; instead of contemptus mundi, there was a glorification of the secular.9 And so secularism arose: what was legitimate in the discovery of the natural, what was legitimate in the declaration of its auton-omy was magnified to an ism. What was a genetic idea that should have been brought into union with the specific paraded as the full explanation of the universe. A movement for the liberation of the secular became a secularism. The secular and the sacred have to do with human thought and feeling and the human use of creation. Uniting the Specific and the Generic: New Categories Christian thinking on th~ world has gone through the two phases inherent in the dialectic of human learning: the discovery and undue exploitation of a specific factor, followed by a reaction, and the discovery and undue exploitation of a generic factor, fol-lowed in its turn by a reaction. The current need is for the inte-gration of the two factors, and the categories that offer hope of that are the sacred and the secular. This pair of terms has crept into our discussion as related to, but not identical with, the supernatural and the natural. They need more careful definition. The natural and the supernatural provide the framework of creation; they are what philosophers would call Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican 11 the ontological constituents of the universe. But the secular and the sacred have to do with human thought and feeling and the human use of creation; they pertain to the cultural sphere rather than the ontological. The natural cannot be made supernatural: as Isaiah reports the word of the Lord, "my thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways" (Is 55:8, NEB). God is the wholly other. Grace perfects nature but does not destroy it. The natural, then, maintains its identity within the unity of God's creative plan. Catholic schools do not use a different mathematics to add and subtract, to divide and multiply. But while the natural remains what it was created to be, it can be invested with the aura of the supernatural, and in this sense the natural can be sacralized, become sacred. Bernard Lonergan provides a context in which to locate this cultural transformation: "The whole world of sense is to be. a token, a mystery, of God"; and again: "the world of sense is. a mystery that signifies God as we know him and symbolizes the fur-ther depths that lie beyond our comprehension.''~° This means that the secular, not only as a world but also in its various aspects, can in human thought and feeling be given the character of the sacred. So in primitive peoples there was a religious ritual for plant-ing and harvesting, for coming to puberty and marrying, for rev-erent remembering of the dead, and so on. All these activities are given a sacred aspect, though their natural basis allows for their secular use. But they are only potentially secular; they are not at first recognized to have that aspect. For the human race is funda-mentally religious, in the sense of being created with a religious consciousness, and has remained religious despite all the protests of unbelievers. One may say: In the beginning was the sacred. That is, what later became distinguished as the two zones of the sacred and the secular was at first all one zone, and it was sacred. Now, just as in the ontological sphere the natural component of the universe had to be recognized for what it was, the natural, so too in the sphere of the cultural the legitimately secular aspect had to escape from the domination of the sacred and assume its independent role in the plan of creation. In the course of this development, there was inevitably a conflict with the representa-tives of the sacred; inevitably too the secular won its rightful inde-pendence. "For this sacralized construct of man and his universe was impugned and impugned successfully by Copernicus, Galileo, Review for Relig4ous and Newton, by Darwin and Freud, and by the swarm of philoso-phies" at least since Descartes.~l So the struggle between natural and supernatural was repeated here, with the same exaggerations. The extremists were not con-tent to liberate the secular; they were driven also to desecrate the sacred. Concretely we might think of the relation between a sec-ular day of rest and the Lord's Day. There has been a strong ten-dency in this matter for the sacral to dictate to the secular, imposing a religious observance so strict as to frustrate the secu-lar purpose of a day of rest. But on the other side there is the des-ecration of the Lord's Day represented in past history by the extremists in the French Revolution and, some would say, by the present Sunday shopping. Uniting the Specific and the Generic: New Strategy Perhaps it is possible now to sketch the lines we might follow to achieve the desired integration of our specific and generic fac-tors. Our question is: How is the church to achieve the unity of Anthony and Aristotle, of Jerusalem and Athens, of the transcen-dent and the this-worldly, and now in particular of the sacred and the secular? Our suggestion is that what had been at first unwit-tingly sacralized was then wittingly secularized. Bur what was wit-tingly secularized can be wittingly resacralized for Christian purposes as the need arises. The pagans of Rome sacralized their meat by offering it to their gods, but the Christians could, in effect, desacralize these meats with a good conscience and, if they wished, resacralize them to their own purpose: "he who eats meat has the Lord in mind when he eats" (Rm 14:6). Again, a game of golf may be just what workers need on their day of secular rest, and present discipline in the church allows them to keep holy the Sabbath and still go golfing. But the new sacralization will be different. There will be a new understanding and a new humility. The sacred will not dictate to the secular in the latter's own sphere. It will be a sacralization through the intention of believers, using the natural end of a nat-ural entity to their religious purpose. They who eat meat have the Lord in mind when they eat; they who golf give thanks alike in the weekly Eucharist and in their outdoor exercise. A final point brings us back to larger issues: sacralization will not be merely extrinsic to the natural world. On this question Septentber-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "WorM"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican II Marie Dominique Chenu Op has some helpful remarks. He sees a purer presence of the church in the world creating a new kind of Christians in the world: missionaries of the gospel, and not the protectors of a civilization that they themselves have organized. The real vocation of lay people will be to show that Christianity does not despise the world, but lifts it up, consecrates it, and ful-fills it. And this new presence will unite intrinsically with the world, will make it a true partner, for the believers will read the signs of the times and through them discern the elements in the world and human history that are, as it were, naturally open to the sacred, offering the possibility of a new praeparatio evangelica. They now look for a spirituality that will integrate their life in a world that has become the main field where they must seek their sanctifica-tion. 12 Religious Life in the Ongoing Dialectic The focus of my attention has been the new path for the church in the world today, along the lines of the Vatican Council II document Gaudium et spes. We must be clear on the church in the new age before venturing to discuss religious life in the new age, for religious are Christian before they are religious; that is the order of the council in its document on the church, Lumen gen-tium.~ 3 But of course that means that the dialectic we have dis-cerned in history will apply also to the features of Christian living that religious have in common with all Christians. In that context we may anticipate the direction that applying the dialectic to religious life should take. We will understand how the religious state began as a "flight" from the "world," and we will realize that, as our conception and knowledge of that world has changed enormously, so also must our notion of flight from it. We have come a long way from St. Anthony of Egypt. I trust, never-theless, that we have not left him behind. With all reverence we may conceive an analogy with a hymn of Thomas Aquinas that the church uses in Holy Week: "The word of God, proceeding forth / Yet leaving not his Father's side." Our task is not to aban-don Anthony, but "proceeding forth" to retain his insight and transpose it into a realization of Vatican II's "church in the mod-ern world" and of religious life as it is to be lived in the coming millennium. Our task is to achieve in our own way the unity of the specific and ~he generic concepts of the world. Review for Religious Religious, then, will retain their vows, and the vows will have the meaning they had for Aquinas, a revocatio ab affectu temporalium, a withdrawal from affection for this world.14 They will have the meaning also that Anthony's flight from the world had for him in his time of secularization. And that meaning will remain even in the most sacred of times. A focus on the transcendent and the escha-tological state will necessarily involve the reevaluation of the world that the saints have always shown: not a contempt for the good of creation, but a love for the better to which the good is open. Correspondingly, there will be far more attention to the positive aspects of the vows. This movement has already begun, but it should undergo an extensive development. Similarly for the pos-itive counterpart of the "flight": contemplation of the divine. The cloistered will redouble attention to their contemplative role, and the active will redouble attention to their role as contemplatives in action. As we follow the dialectic in its future course, we would do well to consider our starting point. The first word in the gospel message is "repent" (Mt 4:17; and see the same in Mk 1:15, but with a preface, "The time has come . . ."). Our examination of conscience in this respect might ask in what degree, if any, we transferred to ourselves as perfection what belongs rather to the realm of the sacred. Medieval theologians argued at length about holiness and the more perfect state. Should the operative word be, not "holy" in the sense of personal virtue, but rather "sacred" in the sense of "consecrated to God"? Notes 1 Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994 reprint), p. 87. 2 Lonergan, Method, p. 87. 3 Grace and Freedom: Operative Grace in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas (London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, 1971), p. I0. 4 Grace and Freedom, pp. 14-15. s Grace and Freedom, pp. 15-16. 6 Bernard Lonergan, "Gratia Operans: A Study of Speculative Development in the Writings of St. Thomas Aquinas," doctoral disser-tation, Gregorian University, Rome, 1940, pp. 36-37. The preface and introduction, from which the dialectical pattern is taken, were published in Method: Journal of Lonergan Studies 3, no. 2 (October 1985): 9-46. The whole dissertation will he published in volume 1 of the Collected September-October 1999 Crowe ¯ The "World"from Anthony of Egypt to Vatican 11 Works of Bernard Lonergan, soon to appear from University of Toronto Press. This section of my article simply paraphrases Lonergan's position as set forth in that dissertation. 7 The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, ed. EL. Cross (London: Oxford University Press, 1958), article, "Antony, St., of Egypt." s See, for an example, G.J. Engelhardt, "The De contemptu mundi of Bernardus Morevalensis," Mediaeval Studies 22 (1960): 108-135; 26 (1964): 109-142; 29 (1967): 243-272. On the same topic Robert Bultot published widely in books and periodicals of the 1960s under the title La doctrine du m~pris du monde. 9 The turnaround had an interesting development in the Lutheran idea. Lutheranism "does not consider the call of the pastor any more sacred than the call of each Christian to witness to the lordship of Christ in his life and work. The universal priesthood of believers., makes the vocation of every man a holy calling"; see "Lutheranism" in A Handbook of Christian Theology (Cleveland and New York: World Publishing Company, 1958). Here too there is a valuable insight, namely, the vocation of every Christian, but it is not integrated into the dialectical development on the "world." 10 Bernard Lonergan, Insight: A Study of Human Understanding (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1992), pp. 689, 692. '~ Bernard Lonergan, "Sacralization and Secularization," unpublished MS of a 1974 lecture (originally given 1973), p. 23. My whole article relies heavily on this lecture. ~2 Spirituality in the Secular City (Concilium 19), pp. 114-115. I have paraphrased, with frequent verbatim quotations, two pages of "Desacralization and the Spiritual Life" by Claude J. Geffr~ op. ~3 See chap. 6, §§43-47, on religious, in Lumen gentium, the coun-cil's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. 14 On "revocatio ab affectu temporalium," see Thomas Aquinas, De perfectione vitae spiritual#, chap. 6. Review for Religious JOEL GIALLANZA "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother": Being and Doing Brotherhood In Genesis, chapter 45, Joseph, one of Jacob's sons, has the delicate task of revealing his identity to his brothers. Having sold him into slavery several years before, they do not recognize him now in this powerful Egyptian official, second only to Pharaoh. In his self-revelation Joseph tells his brothers, "Come closer to me. I am your brother" (Gn 45:4). To be convincing, Joseph has to do more than tell his brothers who he is; he must demonstrate this through his attitudes and actions toward them. If he was truly to be their brother, then he had to do what brothers do. Only then was he gen-uinely recognizable to them. This story has a valuable reminder for religious brothers today. The name by which we identify our-selves in life and in the church reflects a rich and prophetic spirituality. "Brother" is not only a title, it is what we are. Even more, it is what we are called and committed to do among ourselves, among the people, and for the church. Also, it is ever a reality we must become: it cannot be fully and finally accompJished at the time of our religious profession. In my experience of the church and sodety today, several forces outside lay religious life often contribute Joel Giallanza csc wrote for us as recently as our May-June issue. His formation work continues at Charles Andersen Residence; 320 Brahan Boulevard; San Antonio, Texas 78215. Septe~nber-October 1999 brothers Giallanza ¯ "Come Closer. I Am Your Brotber" We need one another to be who we say we are and to do what we say we do by our very vocation. to making brothers unrecognizable, unknown, or unappreciated. One of them is that the church's administration emphasizes-- implicitly and explicitly--the clerical state as normative for min-istry and governance within the church, while brotherhood tends to become invisible or at least peripheral. Another is that in a vari-ety of cultures the term brother is used to designate seminarians and other candidates for presbyteral ordination. From this perspective brotherhood tends to be inter-preted as a transitional stage. These outside forces, how-ever, are not alone in influencing the public perception of brothers. Two internal forces come to mind. Sometimes we define our-selves or allow ourselves to be defined in negative terms, that is, by what we are not: unordained or nonclerical men religious. To go through life with "un" or "non" as the beginning of our self-iden-tity is not a good basis for explaining our vocation. It is even a less good basis for promoting vocations. And sometimes we do not reflect upon sufflciendy and articulate clearly our own identity, including the challenges we face simply because we dare to call ourselves brothers. Being Brother Immediately striking about the term brother is its relational character. It expresses both a specific relationship and a way of being in relationship. For us it assumes that we are willing to enter into relationships with others. It assumes we choose to be involved, not isolated. Though Vita consecrata does not speak extensively about the vocation of brothers in the church, it recognizes four relationships that are to characterize our way of life. These religious are called to be brothers of Christ, deeply united with him, "the firstborn among many brothers" (Rm 8:29); brothers to one another in mutual love and working together in the church in the same service of what is good; brothers to everyone in their witness to Christ's love for all, especially the lowliest, the neediest; brothers for a greater brotherhood in the church (Vita consecrata, §60). Review for Religious I would like to comment on these four relationships and on their prophetic implications. Brothers of the Lord Whatever else we may do, whatever our ministry, the rela-tionship that defines and shapes religious life is our relationship with the Lord. This must be the first and deepest of all our rela-tionships. Jesus says to the disciples, "You are my friends, if you do what I command you . I call you friends because I have made known to you everything I have learned from my Father" On 15:14-15). Our relationship with the Lord, our friendship with God, is rooted in knowing and doing what we have learned from the Lord. To be brothers of the Lord is to know the ways of God and to do what the Lord asks of us. To be brothers of the Lord, we must be people of discernment and people of fidelity. We must probe God's will ever deeper and then faithfully put into action all that we discover. We must be skilled in seeing God in all and in seeing all in God. We thereby proclaim and live the intimate closeness of God to this world, even when global events or personal experi-ences provide no evidence or apparently contrary evidence of such intimacy. Brothers with One Another Everything we say about ourselves and about our life together will not be authentic if we do not live in such a way that our com-mon life is marked by love, mutual care and concern, courtesy, hospitality, and a genuine interdependence. Jesus tells us that we will be recognized as his followers if we love one another (see Jn 13:3 5). Note that Jesus does not say what we would be recognized as, if we did not love one another. Could we become completely invisible, thereby rendering impossible any kind of recognition? To be brothers with one another in a religious community is much more than merely getting along; it must go beyond friendly tolerance. There are two important elements here. First, to be brothers with one anothdr is to recognize and accept that we do not live this way of life alone. We need one another to be who we say we are and to do what we say we do by our very vocation. There must be a mutuality and an interdependence among us by which we September-October 1999 Giallanza ¯ "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother" strengthen and support one another. Second, to be brothers with one another is apostolic. The quality of our life together commu-nicates something about God's presence and activity in our world. In some areas of the world, we may be the only witnesses people see, the only evidenc~ they have that God is alive and active in their lives and in their culture and society. Brothers to the People Our very title brothers excludes distinctions among us. Nationality, culture, ethnic heritage, education, ministry, natural and acquired skills--all these are gifts that are to unite us, not dif-ferences to be made into walls of division among us. So too our presence among the people must communicate without compro-mise that we make no distinctions, that we welcome and are hos-pitable to all people. To be brothers to the people also influences the way we approach ministry, whatever our ministry. Our apostolic activity among the people must be a model and a means of unity for them. We must be skilled in guiding people to work together, to appre-ciate one another's gifts, and to share those gifts with one another for the good of all. Regardless of the specific nature of our min-istry, this task of facilitating union among the people is a primary aspect of our mission and message as brothers in the church and society today. Brothers for the Church There are many unnecessary distinctions in our church today. Among the most dominant are those between women and men, between lay and ordained persons. Our presence and activity in the church must strive to communicate a perspective free of the kinds of distinctions that can and sometimes do deteriorate into divisions. To be brothers for the church is to live and proclaim, in St. Paul's terms, "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male 6r female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Ga 3:28). We know it was a risk for St. Paul to preach such a message two thousand years ago. In truth, it is still a risk to preach this today precisely because people can and do establish their identity in distinctions. Any message that seeks to Review for Religious remove distinctions tends to disrupt that identity, thereby stimu-lating responses that range from simple admonition to sharp antag-onism. I believe it is part of the mission of brothers in the church today to preach and to live such a message regardless of the con-sequences. Doing What Brothers Do What I have said so far pertains to being brothers, pertains to our basic identity as lay religious in the church and society. To be brothers of the Lord, with one another, to the people, and for the church will have a definite influence on our doing what brothers do. Doing what brothers do is the prophetic dimension of our life as lay religious. In terms of these four basic relationships, what do we do as brothers? Through our relationship to the Lord, we demonstrate the possibility of living the example of Jesus in today's world. Jesus' example of selflessness, of compassion, of service to others is not popular today. We observe the sustained promotion and tenacity of an individualism which condones and constructs self-contained and closed styles of life that do not readily respond to the influence or needs of others. The danger is that Jesus' example could be placed on the shelf of items that are no longer realistic or useful for our world: items that are fine for museums of ancient artifacts, but not really relevant for everyday life in contemporary culture. To do what brothers do is a clear expression of the importance, necessity, and urgency of Jesus' example for today. Through our relationship with one another, we demonstrate the possibility of love and reconciliation. In a world where self-ishness and self-containment become the ways of relating to one another, love and reconciliation become ever more rare. Personal histories, past mistakes, and present weaknesses become conve-nient excuses for not reaching beyond ourselves to love, to for-give, to be reconciled with others. And yet it is only through our humanity--with our histories and mistakes and weaknesses--that we can love one another. To do what brothers do means commit-ting ourselves to love and forgive and reconcile, and to take up whatever means are necessary to live that commitment every day. Through our relationship to the people, we demonstrate the possibility of living in peace and unity. The rich diversity repre-sented in social, political, religious, cultural, and ethnic differ- September-October 1999 Giallanza ¯ "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother" ences is too often used as a basis for creating divisions among peo-ple. And as the barriers supporting those divisions become stronger, mutual destruction appears more effective and efficient than coop-erative dialogue. Conflict, violence, war then become the usual ways of dealing with differences in life. To do what brothers do means making every effort to show that the differences among people are graces and blessings to be celebrated, not burdens and bothers to be shunned. Through our brotherly relationship with the church, we demonstrate the possibility of living and ministering in equality. This equality is not uniformity; there can and must be distinctions among the many necessary ministries within the church. The important and imperative idea here is to help maintain the link between those many ministries and the common good of the Body of Christ. To create and then vindicate situations in which peo-ple are excluded or treated slightingly is not acceptable. Ignoring such situations is also not acceptable. To do what brothers do means pointing out injustices and inconsistencies--in our society, but most especially in our church. We will not be popular for iden-tifying such realities, but to neglect doing so would contradict what we profess to be and to do. The Haunting Question Male lay religious are often confronted with the simple but haunting question "What is a brother?" Brothers themselves, as well as other church ministers, struggle with formulating a satis-factory response. I do not believe that any response, however elo-quent and theologically sound, will ever be satisfactory. Indeed, it cannot be. If being a brother and doing what brothers do is at heart a matter of relationship, then our identity as brothers will be found in our actions, in our witness and our way of relating to the Lord, to one another, to others, and to the church. Thus, the only worthy answer to "What is a brother?" is simply "Watch us! Watch what we do, how we behave. Observe our love, care, concern, com-passion. Watch us. Then you will see and know what being a brother is." Are we willing to make that response? Will the integrity, consistency, and quality of our lives withstand such close scrutiny? The precedent for this response has been established already. When asked by John the Baptist's disciples, "Are you the one who Review for Religious is to come, or are we to wait for another?" Jesus responds, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the leper~ are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them" (Mt 11:3- 5). Jesus' response invites a simple and direct method: observe, then report what you see. Could it be that we work to enhance the eloquence of our language and the soundness of our theology in responding to "What is a brother?" because we hesitate to say "Watch us"? Obviously, to invite close observation is to imply an integrity and a quality of life that are beyond question or com-promise. Writing to the Corinthians, St. Paul is boldly explicit in continuing Jesus' precedent: "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ" (1 Co 11:1). In fact, no less than seven times does Paul make this recommendation in his correspon-dence with the early Christian commu-nities (see 1 Co 4:16 and 11:1; Ph 3:17 and 4:19; 1 Th 1:6; 2 Th 3:7 and 9). We might wince at the bluntness--almost arrogance--of his recommendation. Nevertheless, the only way to avoid rel-egating Jesus' example to the realm of theoretical ideals is by a practical demonstration of it. Only a living example can accomplish that demonstration effectively. Brothers must live in such a way that we can make this Pauline recommendation with confidence and integrity. If we believe that our God is incarnational, then the example of our own lives must be the first of all our responses to the simple question "What is a brother?" Again, we must ask ourselves about our willingness and ability to make that response. Any other response, whether from an individual religious or froma general chapter, will fall short of the convincing and transforming power inherent in a living example. Being brothers and doing what brothers do involve decisions regarding a belief and a behavior. The belief is that the example of our brotherhood, as a reflection of Jesus' own, is necessary for society and for the church today--and tomorrow. The behavior is our effort to follow Jesus with integri.ty, simplicity, and fidelity. Through our brotherly .relationship with the church, we demonstrate the possibility Of living and ministering in equality. September-October 1999 Giallanza * "Come Closer. I Am Your Brother" This belief and behavior must stem from deliberate decisions, for they will not and cannot come into being by themselves. If they do not find explicit expression in our daily lives and activities, then they do not exist at all. If we cannot invite the world to "Watch us" when we are asked about the identity and meaning of our life as brothers, then we have only words. Such words die in thin air without living exam-ples to certify their truth. Action verifies articulations; witness confirms words. When action and witness are separated from artic-ulations and words, credibility is compromised. To speak and to act, together, must constitute our effort to define who and what we are as religious brothers and, being brothers, what we do. All else is shifting sand. All else contributes to the continued invisibility of religious brothers within the church and society. Being and Doing To be brothers and to do what brothers do are inseparable. We must strive for consistency in our life so that what we per-ceive and profess ourselves to be and what we do become a single reality. Otherwise we compromise the quality of any prophetic presence and activity we would have in the world. To be and to do as brothers of the Lord, we must be men of integrity, firmly rooted in the Lord. To be and to do as brothers with one another, we must be men of communion, who willingly choose the interdependence necessary for a healthy and whole life. To be and to do as brothers to others, we must be men of mis-sion, who love others through compassion and service. To be and to do as brothers for the church, we must be men willing to pro-vide challenge, whose commitment to the church enables us to question its inconsistencies even as we continue to love it. In the Book of Genesis, the challenge confronting Joseph is both to reveal his identity and to witness to the truth of that rev-elation. He begins with a simple invitation, "Come closer to me." He invites closer scrutiny and careful listening, confident that he will be recognized and accepted for who and what he claims to be. We religious brothers, by the very nature of our vocation, must extend the same invitation in all our relationships. The witness of our integrity, our sense of communion and mission, and the chal-lenge we present will confirm or contradict the truth of what we claim to be and profess to do. Vita consecrata says that brothers participate in the "mission of proclaiming the gospel and bearing witness to it with charity in everyday life" (§60). Such proclamation and such witness are responsibilities we bear and services we provide. They are the heart of our invitation to "Watch us"--to "Come closer" and see ¯. "I am your brother." Questions for Personal and Communal Reflection These brief reflections need fi~rther refinement from the particular cultures and contexts in which brothers live and minister around the world today. In fact, the most sound theologies of religious brotherhood today will conte from within those cultures and contexts. Generic theologies of religious life, by attempting to speak to everyone, run the risk of speaking to no one. As we continue to reflect on and discuss various dimensions of our religious life, we must remain ever attentive to the specific culture and context in which we live and minis-ter. The following questions are offered as a starting point for individuals and for communities. For us as brothers of the Lord, what aspects of Jesus' example and teaching are particularly striking and significant, given the heritage of our religious congregation and the particular culture in which we live and minister? As brothers with one another, what do we desire people to see in us through our life together? What do we believe our wimess communicates to people? What evidence do we have to support that belief?. As brothers to the people, what means do we use to foster peace and unity among them? How do our ministries serve towards dialogue and reconciliation? As brothers for the church, what efforts do we or could we make in our local area to emphasize the equality of persons within the church? With what specific challenges does our heritage as a congregation con-front the church? In which aspects of our life are we confident in saying "Come closer"? In which aspects of our life fire we hesitant about saying "Watch us" in response to people's questions about our vocation? What are the principal gifts we bring as brothers to this cultural set-ring? What are the principal social and ecclesial challenges confronting us today as brothers in this cultural setting? What is the most attractive quality about our religious life in this cultural setting? What is least attractive? What means would be effective in the particular culture where we live and minister for educating the people and the church about the voca-tion of brothers? In addition to the witness of our life, what are effective strategies for promoting vocations to religious brotherhood today? Septentber-October 1999 PAUL BEDNARCZYK Religious Brothers: One Vocation Director's Perspective Religious congregations of brothers can no longer ignore the question of new membership. The "vocation crisis" is staring us in the face. We can debate more effective governmen-tal structures, we can plan new mission orientations, and we can write more documents about solidarity with the poor, but, unless new members join our communities, what will it all mean fifty years from now? The membership crunch seems to be hitting home more now than ever. In many dioceses and religious congregations, the vocation question has been moved to the forefront. At their annual national meeting three years ago, the United States bishops agreed on a comprehensive strategy for vocations to the priesthood and reli-gious life. In June 1998 the U.S. bishops' committee on vocations sponsored a national symposium that had an overwhelming atten-dance. In addition, both the men's and women's religious leader-ship conferences--the Conferences of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM), the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), and the Conference of Major Superiors of Women Religious (CMSWR)--are exploring how leadership corporately can be more active in promoting the priesthood and religious life. For the past thirty-some years, we have quietly and sometimes unconsciously watched more brothers leave our corigregations than Paul Bednarczyk CSC, of his congregation's eastern province, first published this article in Horizon, a journal for vocation directors. His address is Congregation of Holy Cross; 85 Overlook Circle; New Rochelle, New York 10804. Review for Religious enter them. We prayed for vocations, and many communities even maintained their commitment to a full-time vocation director, but few prospects have joined our prenovitiate programs. Although over the years there was a general concern about the lack of new members, still--because numbers of brothers remained in the "work force"--we felt somewhat comfortable regarding our num-bers. These days are now gone. Our congregations are aging, men are retiring, and fewer members remain in full-time ministry. Our younger members continue to be few. We must confront the new-membership question. Much has been written about societal factors that create a cli-mate unfavorable to religious vocations. Family and neighborhood structures are no longer what they once were. We are witnessing changing definitions of family: single-parent homes, blended fam-ilies, children being raised by gay or lesbian couples. In addition, physical, sexual, drug, and alcohol abuse have greatly impacted the trust and stability that families need. Individualism and mate-rialism have consumed our American culture. Authority is looked upon cynically and institutions are considered suspect. Combine that with young people's inability or reluctance to make commit-ments, and religious vocations become an uphill battle. The changing face of the American Catholic and the tension between Catholic teaching and American values also have an impact on the numbers of religious vocations. The rising multi-culturalism of U.S. Catholics challenges us. Many Hispanic peo-ple continue to abandon the Catholic faith of their ancestors for fundamental and evangelical groups. Polls claim that many Catholics believe that the church's teaching on contraception, homosexuality, and premarital sex is outdated. Although young adults in general do not see the difference between clerical and religious celibacy, they will say that celibacy is the primary rea-son why they would not be a priest or a religious. Likewise, given our democratic values, American Catholics must reconcile them-selves with a church that does not function democratically. I believe it important to mention these factors at the outset because, although they are beyond our control, they have an effect on our religious-vocation promotion. In this paper I intend to share my own reflections on why fewer people are choosing to be brothers. Although I belong to the Congregation of Holy Cross, I have shared some of these ideas with brothers in other religious congregations. We are not alone in our struggle. After five years Septentber-October 1999 Bednarczyk ¯ Religious Brothers as vocation director, I offer thoughts I have gleaned from numer-ous vocation talks I have heard and given, from many meetings and discussions withadolescents and young adults, from direct-ing men and women on both personal and group discernment retreats, and from my association with other vocation directors both regionally and nationally. 492 A Question of Visibility We religious brothers are invisible. To put it more precisely, people generally have no clear idea about who or what we are. I say this neither cavalierly nor despairingly, but as simple truth. Part of this is the reality that we are fewer in number. In the United States, according to thd 1998 official Catholic Directory, the number of religious brothers dropped in 1997-98 by 178, resulting in a national total of 6115. Of course, many of these are retired or infirm and therefore no longer engaged in part- or full-time min-istry- and so are even more invisible. Brothers in teaching congregations cannot assume that the freshmen entering our high schools in September know what a religious brother is. Even though some come to us from Catholic grade schools, many have not met a religious brother or sister and know little or nothing about religious life. If they do have a min-imal understanding oic our life, most likely their perceptions have been influenced by what they see in the media, which is often dis-torted, stereotyped, and scandal ridden. Their parents, too, a generation that had greater exposure to religious in classrooms and parishes, have limited understandings of religious life. They may have romanticized notions of who we once were or, on the other hand, may endlessly repeat stories of brothers and sisters maintaining uncompromising discipline and inflicting harsh corporal punishments. In addition, people are con-fused by the polarization of the various religious lifestyles. How do lay people find a balance among various extreme "liberal" and "conservative" positions taken by religious men and women? How do they understand community when the religious they know live in private apartments or are in scattered communities of twos and threes? Although there are justifications for various places on the spectrum, the average persons in the pews just do not understand. I think it safe to say that they are confused, just as we are at times. The question of visibility is more complex than the reality of Review for Relig~o~!s fewer members. It is, I believe, also related to a greater issue in the church. Without a doubt, within the past twenty years our church has become increasingly clerical. At a time when there are fewer and fewer priests, lay religious life is not always promoted in the church as enthusiastically or emphatically as it could be. In litur-gies all of us have heard public prayers for vocations to the priest-hood and privately wondered why we were not also praying for vocations to the religious life. I do not think these omissions are intentional. When I have respectfully asked presiders to include in their future prayers of petition a mention of an increase in candi-dates for religious life as well, I was usually met with sincere apolo-gies and a response such as "To tell you the truth, I didn't even think of it." Such admitted forgetfulness is disarming, but the response remains a telling one. Another reality is that many bishops and priests are "gun shy" of religious men and women. Since many of their dealings with us have been confrontational and neg-ative, it seems they may be choosing to either ignore or avoid us in order to avoid future hostile situa-tions. Likewise, we religious have suffered from our own antago-nisms with the clergy and the hierarchy, and we too may choose to either ignore or avoid them. My point is not to say that we are right and they are wrong, but rather that stereotypes and false generalizations held by either party only lead to further break-downs in communication and in understanding one another's voca-tions in the church. If we assume an "us and them" mentality, we add to the divisiveness that already exists here and there in our church, and it is the church, the people of God, that ultimately suffers from such internal strife. To pin the blame of our invisibility solely on the church would be both unjust and inaccurate. We brothers must own the fact that some of us have chosen to be invisible. In the neighborhoods of some of our communities, I would conjecture that most of the neighbors are unaware that there is a religious community of men living on their block. Instead of participating in the life of our local parish community, some of us have chosen instead to par-ticipate anonymously in a nearby parish that may provide a better liturgy or choir. At a time when many teaching congregations have made concerted and successful efforts at connecting the mission of We religious brothers are invisible. September-October 1999 Bednarczyk ¯ Religious Brotbers their schools with the mission and charism of their community, some brothers choose not to participate in school activities, often to the dismay and wonder of lay colleagues, parents, and alumni. Although reasons for these examples may be acceptable to us, we must realize that such choices promote further invisibility and anonymity, something which we brothers can no longer afford. Without a public presence, our hope for future vocations is dim. The old clich~ has much truth: "Out of sight, out of mind." Not being part of the clerical hierarchy has given us a unique freedom that is comfortable. I heard one brother say about the hierarchy: "It's good that they forget about us--this way they leave us alone!" We come to a religious community not to dis-tance ourselves from the existing tensions or authority in the institutional church, nor to find a supportive haven for our anger against church authority, nor, for that matter, to promote our own church agenda. As consecrated religious we are men of the church and in the church. Our vocation by its very nature calls us to deepen our baptismal commitment and our relationship with the people of God. The faithful see us and look to us for who and what we are: men who through our vows have consecrated ourselves totally to God and to service within the church. They expect us to be integral to the church: when they do not see this, they are surprised and confused. If we are going to welcome men into our communities, I believe that we must all realistically deal with our feelings and beliefs about the church of today--not the church of yesterday or tomorrow, but the church of today in all of its glory and weakness. Generational Differences The majority of us have lived through the social, political, and ecclesial turbulence of the 1960s. We experienced the devastation of political assassinations, the power of the people in working for justice, and the sense of betrayal and shame that resulted from Watergate. We mourned the violence and casualties of the Vietnam War and of the racial wars that were erupting in our city streets. We underwent our own personal and spiritual transformations after the drastic changes set in motion by the Second Vatican Council. Suddenly our equilibrium was shaken. We experienced a shift in values from uniformity to diversity, from authoritarianism to collegiality, from commonality to individuality. Review for Religious We dealt with these dramatic events and changes in a variety of ways. Some simply left religious life. It seems to have been a good decision for some, once they discovered they .may have become brothers for the wrong reasons. On the other hand, oth-ers left and we still wonder why. Regarding these departures we still grieve. And, into the bargain, some of us have stayed. What are our reasons for remaining? After these radical shifts in church, society, and culture, has our dependence upon God and one another deepened, or have we learned instead to place more trust in our own self and in our material security? Have our vows increased our joy and appreciation for life, or have they regretfully only made our life burdensome? Do we face the uncertainty of the future with excitement and hope, or with cynicism and despair? If we are to witness to an attractive lifestyle option, we must answer these questions honestly and reexamine our own commitment to religious life. Unlike many of us who were brought up with the order and constancy of a triumphal church, our young people today have experienced conflicting messages from a church in transition, and they seek, simply, truth. In the face of New Age spirituality and watered-down Christianity, there are those who, in their desire to know more of what it means to be Catholic, resort to tangible, traditionally Catholic symbols. I find it fascinating that Exposition and Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is making a comeback on college campuses. In the midst of the noise and rush of their aca-demic lives, students appreciate the hour of silence in the pres-ence of Mystery. Similarly, young adults are rediscovering the virtue of Mary, and have found the rosary to be an attractive form of prayer that is identifiably Catholic. Some ofos may be quick to categorize these young people as conservative or wacky, but these are students who volunteer weekly at local soup kitchens and par-ticipate in "alternative" spring breaks with Habitat for Humanity. They are also class officers, athletes, and students on the dean's list. As I have discovered, our younger people defy the neat and tight boxes in which we tend to categorize them. Have our VOWS increased our joy and appreciation for life, or have they regretfully only made our life burdensome? Septentber-October 1999 Bednarczyk ¯ Relig4ous Brothers To live with the ideals, hopes, and dreams of the young is inconvenient and at times even uncomfortable. In my meetings with men who are exploring a vocation, I have found that it is not because of ministry, education, or social-justice convictions that they are drawn to religious life. Our church has evolved to where, if this were their primary desire, they could eas-ily do this in a Catholic institution as laypersons. They are com-ing to us first and foremost for the religious life itself. To live in the secular world as a committed Christian espousing Catholic values is difficult for them. They admit their need for a community of like-minded individuals who could strengthen their love for God and their Catholic convic-tions. They are not looking for just a nice group of people who do good work. They are looking for men who know and can lead them to God and who can give them a sense of hope in a world that has become increasingly pessimistic and destructive. They want to pray together, share their faith, and bring the Good News to people through their ministry. They acknowledge the Eucharist as central to our faith, and they have devotion to it. Since they often come from an unchurched, nontraditional back-ground, they seek structure and definition. From our community perspective, that is quite an order to fill! Some of you who are reading this are probably wincing and saying, "I thought we got away from that years ago!" To put it simply, I believe we find ourselves in the middle of a generation gap. Thirty years ago some brothers retained their habits, sat in their pews, and looked with distaste upon those who wore jeans and colored shirts and prayed on throw pillows. They thought that, for sure, religious life was quickly going down the tubes. The younger brothers, however, challenged the older brothers to renew their zeal for religious life by adapting to a different lifestyle, one that was based more on shared expressions of faith and on more interpersonal, communal living. Likewise, the younger members were taught by the elders to appreciate the tradition of our life and consequently were enriched by their fidelity to their vows in the face of change. Since some of us have lost a younger generation in our con-gregations, we have forgotten what it is like to be challenged by the young. The lively community dynamic that occurs with the mix- Review for Religious ture of generations--the elderly, the middle-aged, the young--does not happen in many of our local communities. As a result, many of us have grown comfortable with one another and in our life together. For the majority of us, the mutual challenges and exchanges that we all remember from our earlier years and that occur naturally between the young and old do not happen anymore. At forty-one years old, I am still considered one of the "young" brothers in my community. I realize that much of my religious life has been lived with men older than myself. Although I am thank-ful for the benefit of their example and wisdom, as I enter my own midlife I realize that I have been deprived of living with the con-tagious energy and enthusiasm of much younger religious. I know that I need at times to be challenged to think in new ways and to experience life differently. Most of us are middle-aged or older. If we are to have a newer generation following us, we must--even if it becomes increasingly more difficult as we age--be open to the renewal of our basic val-ues: prayer, community, and lifestyle. Ironically, those who are considering religious life look for deeper community experiences while some veterans of thirty or forty years say they are tired of the routine and demands in community. How do we bridge this gap? To live with the ideals, hopes, and dreams of the young is incon-venient and at times even uncomfortable, but I know of no other way. Although youthful idealism may need some tempering, we must admit that at least it is refreshing. We have now become the "older" brothers of yesterday, and, like the older ones of thirty years ago, we too are invited to new ways of thinking and being as we look to the next generation in religious life. I do not believe that age has to be a deterring factor. When I hosted discernment retreats for prospective candidates at our retire-ment facility, I would invite three of our elderly brothers to tell their vocation stories. The combined witness of almost two hundred years of faithful religious life is better than any vocation brochure I could ever design! Their authentic fulfillment in Holy Cross and their continuing joy and vitality were always evidence to these interested men that this life can be lived and can be lived well. Our young people look to their elders for inspiration. They hunger for the wisdom that comes from living a prayerful and reflective life with God. If, however, they see stagnation, apathy, and cynicism, they are left disillusioned and wanting. For many of us, our lives as religious have been deeply enriching and grace filled, and yet some September-October 1999 Bednarczyk * ReligiousBrotbers of us are reluctant to share these experiences with each other. We underestimate at times the power of our stories. In many religious congregations it has been the tradition to respond to "the signs of the times" and to the contemporary needs of the church. I maintain that we need to continue this spirit of openness not only to our mission and ministries, but also to our religious lives as well. The Answer Is in the Present I do not claim to have the answers for the future. To be truth-ful, my worry is not for the future, nor is it for the past. It is the present that is my concern. We can only theorize about the future, as we can only reminisce about the past. Such intellectual exer-cises tend to distance us from the responsibility of making neces-sary choices about our lives and our community in the present. In general, given the societal changes and challenges discussed above, some recerit shifts in our culture seem to coalesce with our lives as religious brothers. For example, our society displays a renewed interest in spirituality. Celebrities from Oprah to Madonna have made daily meditation chic again! With the pro-liferation of self-help and support groups for every issue imagin-able, people long for connection and belonging. They desire "to share their story" and to be validated by a group. Corporations are supportive of community service, and some school systems have included service components in their curricula. As a result, volunteerism is at an all-time high. Ironically, many authors are making lots of money with their best-selling books on how to sim-plify one's lifestyle. It would seem that religious brotherhood would somehow fit into this picture. Our life is a wonderful secret that needs to be shared more now than ever before. As religious brothers we bring, I believe, a special gift to the church. Our faith teaches us about a God whose love is uncondi-tional and whose mercy is unlimited. If faithfully and genuinely lived, our vows attest that fulfillment is to be found more in the transcendent than in the transitory. Where division and broken relationships characterize many families and marriages, our com-mitment to community life, despite its inherent struggles, myste-riously witnesses to welcome, order, acceptance, and equality. I have read many books and articles detailing futures for reli-gious life in temporary vowed commitments, lay associate mem- Review for Religious bership, satellite communities, blended communities, and so forth. All of that makes for interesting reading and good discussion, but I return to the question: What about now? How do we live now the vows we professed, however many years ago? Do we do so with the passion, zeal, and love of our early years? I do not believe that the answer to the challenges of our pre-sent situation is as simple as the reconstruction of past external structures. Our lives are much more complex today than they were thirty years ago. No one can deny that our traditional structures served us well, considering the church and spirituality of the time, but it would be naive to expect the former ways to meet our con-temporary needs. We can romanticize about the past, but we know that it is impossible to turn the clock back. I am, however, not convinced--at least in my own congrega-tion- that we are at present compelled to create new models and forms of vowed religious life. We do not need to reinvent the wheel. We need to insure that the wheel we already have is on the right track. Besides, since Vatican II, a number of experimental lay and religious communities have already been formed, imple-menting exciting new models of lifestyle and commitment. How they will fare in the future, only time will tell. I am convinced that as brothers we need to reclaim who and what we are. We are men of the church vowed to a life of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. We commit ourselves to a life of prayer and mission with each other in community. Given today's society and culture, these core values are what make us countercultural. Our vows are meant to be lived joyfully, with hope. This life was meant to be lived in relationship with God and with one another. Our challenging times invite us to probe and to enter more deeply into the essence of our vows and the mysterious grace that comes with this life. I believe in the gift of religious life, and particularly in the gift of religious brotherhood. I want a future for us because I believe the church would b6 lacking without us. Knowing how much I have been enriched by my own vocation to Holy Cross, I desire to share this gift with a new generation of religious. I am sure that the majority of members in our communities desires the same, but to do this requires conversion and a courageous open-ness to the Spirit that speaks to us today--and not yesterday and not tomorrow. [--z~00 September-October 1999 AVIS CLENDENEN II On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming journeying It has been sixteen years since I requested and received a dispensation from my religious vows. The following reflection explores--from ethical, psychological, and theological perspectives-- the experience of malting and breaking promises and leaving the vowed religious life. Principally I will be drawing upon the ethical con-siderafions of Sister Margaret Farley RSM, the psycho-logical insights of Dr. Carl Rogers, and the theological depth of Father Karl Rahner SJ. These pages reveal a slice of an experience shared by many--that is, the mak-ing of a religious commitment, living in a vowed reli-gious community for years, developing bonds of trust and friendship, experiencing a crisis of fidelity, discov-ering the personal inability/choice to sustain the orig-inal commitment, and ultimately breaking the commitment and leaving religious life. A suspicion I had as I thought about examining the psychology and theology behind the making and break-ing of promises was that Rogers and Rahner had more than their first names in common. I sensed they shared a fundamental understanding of the human person, the Avis Clendenen PhD, associate professor of religious stud-ies and director of the Pastoral Ministry Institute, teaches pastoral theology and ministry at Saint Xavier University in Chicago, where she can be reached: 3700 West |03rd Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Revie~v for Religimts human dilemma, and the graced and flawed human quest of becom-ing whole and free. The following reflection reveals some signif-icant connections between Rogerian psychology and Rahnerian theology and offers a way of viewing the painful process of leave-taking and becoming. The painful and hopeful contours of this all-too-familiar experience can be traversed again in openness to the possibility of deeper revelations about the choices we make that sustain our word of love. Sixteen years from my departure after a thirteen-year commitment gives me perspective and a desire to return and examine the process of making promises, breaking promises, and becoming. In the fall of 1969 at nineteen years of age I entered the Sisters of Mercy. My letter of request to enter was all of two paragraphs composed by a nineteen-year-old touched and transformed, as late teens can be, by the turbulent events of the 1960s: My reason for choosing religious life as my way of life is because this in the only life that makes sense to me, as an individual. I want to express my life as a commitment of love to God and His Church. I am not quite sure why there is an attraction to the Mercy order in particular, but I believe my potential for giving and receiving, of freedom and ful-fillment, lie within this community. By the time I would profess my final vows in 1978, all refer-ences to God in the masculine pronoun were to be stricken from my vocabulary. By 1978 1 would be a graduate of the Jesuit School of Theology, having been the first woman admitted to its master-of- divinity program. Throughout the 1970s I struggled with the weight of a patriarchal church, including the graces and conflicts surrounding the inclusion of women in all ministries of the church. I would, over the expanse of years, come to greater clarity as to my "attraction" to the Sisters of Mercy as women of valor and vision, with a deepening sense of gratitude for the reciprocity of our rela-tionship. The issues of freedom and fulfillment became bemus-ing, and the turbulent times never did seem to abate. At thirty-three years of age, thirteen years after my entrance and less than four years after my final profession, I received a dis-pensation from my vows of poverty, celibacy, and obedience. The following are excerpts from the letter I wrote to the provincial administrator, initiating the formal leave-taking process: To try and summarize all the spiritual and psychological investigations I have done would be an injustice to all that has September-October 1999 Clendenen ¯ On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming gone into this decision. To say too little would be an injus-tice to the quality of relationship I have shared as a Sister of Mercy throughout these years. I feel great pain as I accept responsibility for breaking my promises. But it was the pain of remaining in religious community that finally made the decision. I have asked myself again and again about the truth and integrity of the final commitment professed in 1978. That moment expressed the insight and honesty that was available to me; and while only four years ago, it's been a lifetime. In the months I have lived alone, I have read all the journals from my thirteen years as a Sister of Mercy. I saw the patterns of my struggles repeated year upon year. I read and remembered delightful times in community. My loneli-ness lines many pages. Notes from numerous retreats reminded me of my love for God. And, oh, the growing rage at the institutional church as it demeaned me and our efforts for women's voice and body to be celebrated all places, including the altar. I do not believe that in asking for a dispensation from my religious vows I am walking away from the vision of Catherine McAuley, the works of mercy, the body of Christ, or the commitment with feminists to liberate ourselves from the patriarchy. I am stepping away from a vowed relationship among you. I promised to persevere for life. I believe I per-severed until there .was no more life for me. I am so very sorry. I do not look for understanding, I~ut I will always expect compassion for that is why we bear our name. For the compassion that has been shown me and I have shared with you, for the years of service given expres-sion to as a Sister of Mercy, for the treasured moments and persons, I will always be grateful. I remain a believer and a daughter of Catherine McAuley. I hold now with courage and trepidation her legacy, my Bible, and I turn a corner. And trust. To Give One's Word Yale University Professor of Christian Ethics and Sister of Mercy Margaret Farley's tough thinking on the meaning of fidelity and its claim of obligation form an important frame of reference in analyzing whether one has the moral sanction to end a com-mitment. Sister Margaret Farley wrote her book on commitment in the late 1980s, when the permanency of commitments in American marriages teetered at a fifty-percent divorce rate and when "defection" from the priesthood and religious life in the Review for Religious American Catholic Church continued to deplete the ranks of ordained and vowed Catholic ecclesial leaders. For many years I successfully avoided Margaret Farley's 1986 book Personal Commitments: Beginning. Keeping. Changing. Research for this article inevitably led me back to her work and the challenges to think hard about why we give our word in mak-ing commitments, why we are obliged to keep them, and under what circumstances we may be morally released from them. Farley suggests that the rise of the human-potential movement served to shift the goals of many from the challenges of permanent commit-ment, fidelity, and responsibility, toward the increasing warrant of the call for per-sonal growth and self-actualization. It was as if these two venues for being and becoming were mutually exclusive. Those who had previously interpreted their life in terms of a religious vocation began to claim the. need to transfer voca-tion from one locus to another. "It was not always easy to tell whether these were expressions of faithfulness or of irresponsibility and betrayal."' What does it mean to say you make a promise with a sense of its truth and integrity and then years later suggest that your insights and sense of integrity have changed so signifi-cantly as to justify a breaking of the bonds and a release from obli-gation? Is emotional pain and lack of personal fulfillment sufficient cause to be dispensed fr6m the vows professed in an act of freedom, a free action always given into the hands of an uncertain future? As Farley eloquently explains, commitment has to do with the free action of free persons who give their word as part of them-selves. Commitment m~ans to give my word because that word belongs to me and I freely choose to entrust it to another's keep-ing. In a sense, commitment means to share with one or more per-sons claims on my being there in a promised way with and for them. While my word is "given away," paradoxically I still pos-sess it because it is myself. In commitment we freely take on an obligation to do as we have promised. The motivation for the kind of commitment we are discussing here is always love. "By assuming certain frameworks for love, we Is emotional pain and lack of personal fulfillment sufficient cause to be dispensed from the vows professed in an act of freedom, September-October 1999 Clendenen ¯ On Promise Making, Leave-Taking, and Becoming commit ourselves to whatever we understand essentially to con-stitute this framework."2 The profession of religious vows to be lived in the mic

Issue 55.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1996. ; lived experience of all who find that the churcfl's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are :meant to be informative, practical, or inspirational, written from a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University. by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP St. Bernadetie Convent ° 76 University Blvd. East ° Silver Spring, MI) 20901 POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ I)uluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1996 Review for Religious Permission is herewith granted to copy an}, ~naterial (articles, poe,ns, 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 Copyrigh~ Law. All copies made under this permission must bear notice of the source, date, and copyright owner on the first page. This permission is NOT extended to copying for commercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read James and Joan Felling Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MARCH/APRIL 1996 * VOLUME55 ¯ NUMBER2 contents 118 symposium - part I Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal: Will Good Intentions Suffice? Miriam Ukeritis CSJ provides some examples of actions taken by various religious congregations in their renewal and makes some evaluative reflections. 133 143 seeking God The Urban Hermit: Monastic Life in the City Theresa Mancuso describes the life of an urban hermit as integrating the contemplative life of the poustinia with the marketplace where a living is earned. Enclosed in the Mystery of Jesus Marie Beha OSC explores various aspects of enclosure as part of the Christian mystery into which we all are invited. Review for Religious 159 171 growing old Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging Daniel J. Harrington SJ offers reflections on a few biblical texts which contribute to constructing a theology and spirituality for us as we grow old as people of Christian faith. On Selling the Chalices: Vincent de Paul on Aging Robert P. Maloney CM shares the insights and feelings of Vincent de Paul in response to the process of aging. 185 report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1995 Kenneth G. Davis OFMConv and Eduardo C. Fern~indez SJ present a panoramic of the year's events within the U.S. Hispanic Catholic community. departments 116 Prisms 204 Canonical Counsel: Authority in Ingtitutes of Consecrated Life 209 Book Reviews March-April 1996 prisms Boundaries are a part of life. We think of how boundaries identify our countries and our states, our soccer fields and our tennis courts. Behavior to be proper and humor to be appreciated observe boundaries. There are time boundaries for speeches to be effective and financial limits for buying and selling. Sometimes we see boundaries through a negative fil-ter. We talk about how we do not want to feel bound in any way since that would close off possible opportunities for ourselves. Boundaries., we say, are restrictions on our human potential and freedom. Yet as a counterpoint we also experience that when cancer breaks down boundaries and has metastasized, life becomes diminished and threat-ened. So too, when people do not acknowledge certain boundaries to their own stamina, they can have a break-down or become sick. Although sometimes appearing to us to be restrictive, boundaries, then, can be appreciated in a life system for the part they play in maintaining good health and vibrant life. Witness the negative results when we humans do not observe boundaries in our polluting of streams and oceans, in our poisoning the atmosphere through chemical emissions, and in our destroying world weather patterns through the deforesting in the Amazon basin. Sometimes people, including women and men reli-gious, view religious life through the filter of boundaries which restrict. Whether it be the observance of the tra-ditional evangelical counsels of chastity, pove(ty, and obe-dience, the acceptance of a life in common, or the practice of enclosure, religious life has always had boundaries. But Review for Religious through an ecological perspective-- that ,is, religious life identi-fied as a life system--we can come to a fresh appreciation of the vital quality of the boundaries we find in it. T6day when membership inclusion for many religious con-gregations seems to eliminate all boundaries, we could ask our-selves whether in a life-system model this movement is going towards health. When there are no boundaries to the kinds of ministries taken on by members of a congregation and no bound-aries to what constitutes a life together, we might wonder whether a deadly cancer may likely enough be coursing through a life sys-tem. Since w~ are so conscious today of environmental and eco-logical concerns with a scientific realism never before possible, we need to apply a similar kind of care to religious life identified as an ecological system. Then our acceptance of certain boundaries will be situated within the .context of health and vitality. Our authors in this issue talk in one: way or another about boundaries. Evangelical counsels, community life, and the enclo-sure associated with contemplative life are all boundaries--bound-aries connected with a furtherance of life. Aging, tog, is a boundary~difficult to face for active, service-oriented people--but aging is seen by faith as another stage in our growing in Christ. Yet doubts, even so, assail us: How can the restrictions of aging, a kind of final boundary of human life, be seen as a growing? The church observance of the Lenten and Easter seasons invites us always to contemplate the growth potential of all the boundaries of human life portrayed in Jesus' paschal mystery. Jesus makes even death no longer a limitation but a boundary that issues into life. We see that Jesus does not take away the boundary of death, but rather allows it--in daily actions and in our final human act--to become the key to our entering into his own paschal mystery, culminating in new and surprising life. Our desire to identify with this paschal mystery as a way of daily living leads us to view all boundaries through the perspective of the risen Jesus. Boundaries, it seems, bring home to us how much we find life as Easter people. David L. Fleming SJ Marcb-April 1996 MIRIAM D. UKERITIS Religious Life'.s Ongoing Renewal: Will Good Intentions Suffice? symposium part Since the publication of the FORUS study, several con-gregations have taken the time to assess their efforts at renewal and plan seriously for their futures.1 This article reviews some of these efforts and identifies areas that con-tinue to require attention. Background Thirty years ago the Decree on the Adaptation and Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae caritatis, 1965) urged a process of renewal that would include returning constantly both to the sources of all Christian life and to the original spirit of one's institute and 'also adapting to the changed conditions of our time (PC §2). The council fathers said that the manner of living, praying, and work-ing should everywhere--especially in mission territories-- be suitably adapted to the modern physical and psychological circumstances of the members and also, as required by the nature of each institute, to the necessi-ties of the apostolate and to cultural, social, and economic Miriam Ukeritis csJ collaborated with David Nygren CM in producing the study "The Future of Religious Orders in the United States" (FORUS). The current article is one of four preo ¯ sentations made at an October 1995 symposium, "Religious Life 30 Years Later: Is This What Vatican II Intended?" held at the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth in Wernersville, Pennsylvania. Correspondence with Miriam Ukeritis should be addressed: De Paul University;' Center for Applied Social Research; 2219 North Kenmore Avenue; Chicago, Illinois 60614. Review.[br Religious demands (§3). Considering the various interpretations of this mandate and the various implementations and results, there can be little wonder that this symposium commemorating Perfectae caritatis is subtitled, "Is This What Vatican II Intended?-2 This question of the council's intent was not a new one. Echoes of such wonderment were heard almost as soon as the period of experimentation began. Many books and articles have appeared, reflecting on the themes of renewing, reweaving, refounding, reclaiming, restructuring, reshaping, rekindling, reen-ergizing, and recreating religious life. Simultaneously, many signs of decline and diminishment have marked the landscape of reli-gious orders in the United States. As early as 1988, in an effort to address this issue, Lilly Endowment funded a three-year study to investigate these phenomena. The researchers, themselves mem-bers of religious orders and trained in the field of psychology, made public their findings in The Future of Religious Orders in the United States (FORUS) report. Almost immediately after its release in mid September 1992, headlines in the secular press proclaimed that "Catholic orders need dramatic change to survive" (New York Times 9/20/92), "Catholic orders shunning poor" (Chicago Tribune 9/16/92), "Roman Catholic orders in decline" (Washington Post 9/26/92), "Study sees Catholic orders losing their way" (Boston Globe 9/16/92), and "Religious orders dying out; hospitals, schools may suffer" (Sunday Denver Post 9/27/92). These reports roused both the interest and the ire of many. Some thought the study an accurate reflection of the state of religious life twenty-five years after Vatican Council II, while others saw it as an unnecessarily negative assessment of religious life's efforts at renewal. In light of the controversy surrounding the establish-ment of the Council of Major Superiors of Women Religious only a few months before the publication of the FORUS findings, this sensitivity, particularly among apostolic women religious, is quite understandable. Too, the Leadership Conference of Women Religious had recently completed Threads for the Loom, its study of membership, some of whose results seemed to be contradicted by the FORUS findings.3 As serious scholars of religion and members-at-large of reli-gious orders pursued a more thorough reading of the results, and as others' reactions and interpretations began to appear in Catholic periodicals and internal newsletters, consensus emerged concerning the significance of the FORUS study.4 One of the most helpful ele- March-April 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal ments of the report was the summary chart, of factors shaping the future of religious life (Figure 1). This chart listed results of the study in a manner that provided agendas for many congregations, chapters, formation conferences, and planning endeavors. For that reason and because of its summary nature, this paper will refer to it in reflecting on how congregations have tried to integrate the research findings into their ongoing efforts at renewal. The diagram takes the form of a force field, a construct com-mon to social scientists. The center oval represents the current state while that on the far right depicts the desired future state. In this project it was defined as "Fidelity .to Purpose and Responsiveness to Absolute Human Need." "Restraining Forces" (left column of arrows) identifies factors which, if not inhibited, will keep a group or system in its current state or cause further decline. "Driving Forces" (right column of arrows) describes fac-tors which, if fostered/will support the movemeht of the group or system to its desired future. In this study the driving forces are portrayed as influenced by conversion, a process necessary'to respond consistently and faithfully to the Spirit of God. Co-opta-tion by the dehumanizing aspects of society permeates the restrain-ing forces. Moving toward the desired future is accomplished by attending to the driving forces and withdrawing energy from those that restrain. Unfortunately, groups tend to do the opposite, endeavoring to root out of what is undesirable and neglecting to put energy into what will take them in the desired direction. Figure 1: Shaping the Future of Religious Life in the U.S. Shaping the Future of Religious Life in the US ~ Driving Forces CONVERSION i-TExcellent Lea~ U ¯ [~ iAuthority ~ N ~ ~Corporate Idenlity T T T ~IThe GOSp~ ~ Review for Religious Overview Since the publication of the FORUS findings, the researchers have frequently been asked: Is there a future for religious life? Invariably they have responded, "Yes, definitely--if you want one and are willing to work for it!" Members of religious orders have devoted much time and effort to reading, attending conferences, and discussing the meaning of renewal. Too often their attention has been directed toward outside experts. Borrowing from the author of Deuteronomy, many act as if the answer were up in the sky or across the sea and others had to be sent to retrieve and interpret it (see Dt 30:12- 14). While consultation and input may be beneficial, the congregation must realize that ultimately the scriptural response applies here; the answer sought is "very near., already in your mouths and in your hearts; you have only to carry it out." It is here, in the imagining and implementing, that the difficulty occurs: As in many other change efforts--be it mastering a language or shedding pounds--good intentions are not enough. Effort is required. Neither Neither the FORUS study nor the presentation of any one of the scholars of religious life provides a quick and simple how-to response to renewal questions. the FORUS study nor the presentation of any one of the scholars of religious life provides a quick and simple how-to response to renewal questions. The finding and carrying out of the answer to the question of how to shape a congregation's future is as unique as the congregation and entails hard work.5 To get results, an action plan must be coupled with concerted and sustained implementation. The plan must take into account the current state of the congregation, the hopds and dreams of its members, the reality of its resources, the constraints and supports which the ~xternal environment brings to bear, and the needs of God's people. Openness to the work of the Spirit, through con-stant prayer, dialogue, and a continuous reading of the signs of the times, is critical. Evaluation and correctiori, during the process and at the conclusion,~will help keep all involved honest about their efforts and effective in the accomplishment of the group's mission. It is unfortunate that some perceive an honest assessment of a congregation's efforts toward renewal as an indictment of the March-April 1996 Uke~tis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal work of previous leadership teams, chapters, or members-at-large. This is hardly so. With. the humble realization that the efforts of these often heroic women and men have brought a group to its current ability to be faithful to its purpose and to minister to God's people, it is only in a spirit of fidelity to the work begun by founders and foundresses, carried on through the decades by countless religious, and most recently updated by those who led initial efforts at renewal that any such critique is offered or may merit being initiated. As many have found, it is out of such love that a response of greater effort is often born. Review of Factors Among the ways that religious orders have used the findings of the FORUS study in their efforts at renewal, the most fre-quently cited areas have been "Individualism/Vocation" (in com-bination with "Role Clarity"), "Average/Excellent Leadership," and "Corporate Identity." The remainder of this reflection will consider these three areas one by one. After a brief discussion of the area, examples will be given of actions taken by some groups or congregations, and then some remaining questions will be examined. Individualism/Vocation Members of religious orders have not been alone in noting the negative consequences of exaggerated individualism. In the United States several commentaries have appeared lamenting what seemed to be an overemphasis on self and a loss of a sense of commu-nity. The work of Robert Bellah is probably the most familiar.6 Granted that a healthy sense of one's own personhood is a critical factor in one's development, it is no news that an overem-phasis on individual concerns can lead to a narcissistic self-absorp-tion. Admittedly, many of the practices and customs that marked religious life up to the time of the council could stifle the fragile sense of self that some brought their early training. Furthermore, for those who entered novitiates in late adolescence, when a per-son's developmental task is identity formation, the foreclosure of that process as they assumed the image of religious in their par-ticular institute left many aspects of these tasks incomplete and made the successful transition into mature adulthood difficult. Hence, the psychological climate in many groups tended to pro- Review for Religious duce individualism, with sentiments reflected in songs of the 1960s and 1970s such as "I Did It My Way" and "I Gotta Be Me." With the numbers of golden and diamond jubilarians far sur-passing the number of silver jubilarians in recent years, questions like "Why religious life?" and "What does it mean to be a reli-gious?" are increasingly relevant to a generation whose develop-mental task is now generativity. Hence, it is hardly surprising that the notion of "call"--particularly, "to or for what?"--is a frequent topic of conversation. (Patricia Wittberg SC reflects, in her writ-ing, on some of the elements involved in responding to a call or commitment, notably, sacrifice, common rituals and traditions, and a sense of boundaries.)7 These conversations may be fright-ening to some insofar as they seem to hark back to former prac-tices that long .ago lost their meaning. In times of transition, as the FORUS report noted, it can be particularly enticing to revert to old ways of being and doing. The challenge for religious today is to put creative energies into finding new ways:--and, in this case, identifying what the distinctive elements of the call to religious life are and how they are to be lived. One of these areas of energy is to be found in the realistic examination many congregations are conducting in the matter of associate programs. Involving laypersons in the congregation's spiritual or ministerial activities has a long history for many groups. Others have adopted it more recently as a means of wel-coming those who share in the charism of the group. Thanks to the work of RosemaryJeffries and others, there is increasing clar-ity as to how individuals who are members of associate commu-nities do and do not relate with vowed members of the congregation,s Appropriate boundaries, the meaning of mem-bership, and modes of belonging are increasingly common topics at formal convenings of religious and around the kitchen table. Such discussions serve to enhance an understanding of vocation in today's world. As a separate but related concern, the FORUS study cited role clarity as a significant issue for members of religious orders, par-ticularly women. There is abundant evidence that religious are struggling to address this. The energy displayed in this country as the Lineamenta document circulated before the 1994 Synod on Religious Life was striking. Intended or not, this event provided an excellent public forum for conversations concerning the role of religious. There can be no doubt tha't religious in the United ~qarcb-Aptql 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongo.ing Renewal States are directing their attention to self-definition rather than looking to outside bodies to provide the answer to the question "What does it mean to be a religious in the church today?" In general, it is encouraging to hear religious focused increas-ingly on the accomplishment of the mission of Jesus as expressed through their charism. While the funding of retirement contin-ues to be a concern in the face of dwindling material resources, the new energies that congregations have been devoting to ministries that address critical needs, to realistic ways of supporting new members, and to clarifying the meaning of membership are all signs of movement in the direction of a vital future.9 In reflecting on issues related to vocation, the meaning of membership in a community remains to be examined. Old ways of belonging (common ministry, common schedule, many restric-tions on external involvements) no longer seem functional, but what are the new ways to determine what being a member of a community means? The 1994 Synod .on Religious Life acknowl-edged that community does not necessarily involve the members' living together. Today, however, it is often easier to state what community is not than to describe what it is. Resistance encoun-tered in attempts to describe what it is may relate~to the reality that any definition will place demands or limits on those who choose to belong. The pull of individualism continues to be strong. There must be continuing efforts to grapple seriously with what vocation means to individuals and what its lived expres-sion should include. Undoubtedly, the lived expression of com-munity will take different forms in different groups. Average/Excellent Leadership Members of religious orders are not alone in expressing great interest in leadership and the development of leaders. Officers of major funding groups and administrators of sponsored institu-tions have, in conversations, voiced serious concern about the ability of religious to provide the leadership required to direct the efforts of religious organizations in an increasingly complex world. The absence of plans to address this concern, even after its identification, is even more alarming. Finally, the fact that the pool of religious from which to select and train leaders is dwin-dling adds to the urgency of this consideration. The search for opportunities for leadership training, based on a set of competencies demonstrated to be critical for religious Review for Rel(glous leadership, continues, Unfortunately but typically, this se~irch starts only after individuals or teams have already been selected for their position. Few congregations are at the point of developing a systematic means of providing their members with leadership training. This is complicated further by the fact that the cost of such programs may be or appear to be beyond the financial means of some congregations. One group reported dif-ficulty in finding a total of $1000 for three days of training for a five-member team. Yet, in the world of professional development, this sum is not an atypical cost for one individual to partic-ipate in a weekend program. Efforts to address seriously the leadership issues within congregations have taken many forms. One group devised a three-year series of four-day leadership-skills workshops. All mem-bers under a certain age were expected to par-ticipate in one cycle. The content of these sessions was basic, ranging from how to run a meeting to how to read a balance sheet. It included segments dealing with human-resource issues such as recruiting, hiring, supervising, and firing staff and managing volunteers as well. This not only provided busy people the opportunity to become acquainted with basics of leadership, but also assisted the congregation in identifying its members' var-ied gifts. It had the side effect of enabling participants to interact with one another in ways they might not otherwise experience and served as a means of encouraging some members who might be hesitant or reluctant to see themselves in positions of leader-ship to pursue additional education. Clearly, this congregation is providing for its own future leadership needs, for at some future time some members of this group will surely find themselves in positions of community leadership. The leadership group of another congregation instituted a mid-term evaluation of their ministry as leaders. Having developed at the beginning of their term a ministry plan for their four years in office, they conducted the evaluation at the end of their second year. Results of this effort provided information concerning where and how they might refocus their efforts, alter their strategy, or enhance communication on critical issues. It also gave them a sense of affirmation regarding work well done. Few congregations are at the point of developing a systematic means of providing their members with leadership training. March-April 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal Corporate identity provides an answer to the question "What is this group known for ?" The constant challenge, along with the gentle shift that is occurring with congregational leadership, manifests itself in the willingness of members to allow leaders to exercise their leader-ship skills. Given that many members are steeped, perhaps uncon-sciously, in a culture of individualism, it can be difficult to attend to the call of a leader or leadership group and to channel one's energy in a direction set by others, especially when it is not one that the member would choose. The good news is that capable leaders have learned much about the when and how of man-aging consensus. Paralysis resulting from rigid adherence to consensus processes is less fre-quent. Some of this is true because outstanding leaders have learned to listen to their members. They read the pulse of the community, under-stand what is said between the lines, and attend to the climate of the group. By doing this they are able to gauge thetiming of a program or intervention, frame it in a manner that enables members to receive it, and reframe it when resistance seems likely to thwart the outcome. The leader-ship of a large congregation encountered such resistance after announcing for the coming year a reflection process on the group's previously identified focus. The chapter's response was loud and clear: resistance, based on the complaint that the congregation's members had not been consulted before the announcement. Rather than insist on its prerogative to lead by setting the agenda for implementing congregational goals, the team responded by acknowledging the concern. In the face of time constraints and at the cost of additional effort willingly contributed by the team members, they amended the plan to include a consultation with the members. In the final analysis, the project ran almost exactly as initially presented--with the addition of the consultation step that ensured the success of the effort. The community experi-enced a year-long dialogue that resulted in deeper self-under-standing and greater commitment to the group's focus. It is not only within congregations that outstanding leaders exercise their ministry. Groups of leaders have joined together to influence not only the church and religious life but also soci-ety at large. One regional group has chosen to confront media use of negative stereotypes in portraying religious. They are deter- Review for Religious mined to educate local media personnel about the positive reali-ties of religious life. Calls by leadership for prayer and fasting are increasingly common and are taken seriously by members. A leadership team formally called its members to prayer and fasting on a set day each week as a means of discerning and seeking openness to the call of the Spirit regarding the future of their congregation. In terms of the questions remaining, the growing number and the growing complexity of contemporary needs appear to out-strip religious orders' ability to develop the leadership skills and organize themselves enough to address these needs. For some individuals, relinquishing both the satisfactions and the pains of direct apostolates in order to develop and use leadership skills to achieve systemic and organizational change may be the form of a new asceticism, For others, learning how to be effective board members of congregational and external institutions may be the way to exercise leadership. The critical issues outlined in the introduction to this section remain. They are summarized best in the question concerning the willingness and the ability of reli-gious congregations to provide leadership not only for themselves but also for the institutions they sponsor and the ministries in which they are involved. Corporate ldentity Of all the driving forces identified in the FORUS study, cor-porate identity was perhaps the most misunderstood. It does not imply a congregation's insistence on one type of ministry or one site at which all would live and work. Corporate identity is, rather, a common focus for the life of the ~roup. In a sense, corporate identity provides an answer to the question "What is this group known for?" Corporate. identity is not identical with charism, but flows" from charism. It is the manner in which a religious con-gregation, being faithful to its founding purpose, attempts to focus its many resources to respond to today's most pressing human needs. As avenues of ministry expanded after the council, it became increasingly common for members to be involved in any of the works in which a professional might be engaged. These ministe-rial moves--often in the form of entrepreneurial enterprises-- reflected the zeal of the members as they sought new ways to minister in today's world while simultaneously using both their March-April 1996 Ukeritis * Religious Life's Ongoing Rene~val innate gifts and the skills they had developed. At other times the forces of individualism moved members to pursue areas of inter-est regardless of the connection of their work with the congre-gation's mission. In both cases, this resulted in the dispersion of religious women and men. Religious came to be identified more and more as individual ministers, frequendy heroic in their efforts, frequently invisible as religious. The mutual relationship between the congregation and the individual member, particularly as related to the mission and ministry, was lost. Media reports that document the work of a religious priest, sister, or brother fre-quently fail to mention the member's congregation by name. Changes in the general population as regards violence, increased poverty, and widespread drug abuse--along with greater cultural diversity in the United States--have forced religious to rethink the locus and mode of their ministerial involvements. Increased complexity resulting from globalization and new tech-nologies has heightened the challenge. The overwhelming demand for new understandings and additional language skills, coupled with the shift in the ability of religious to respond .enthusiasti-cally with bodily presence to many of these situations, demands serious examination of how resources are used and immense cre-ativity in crafting responses. Many able leaders of congregations recognized their mem-bers' need for a focal point of congregational energies. Such a requirement is basic to the dynamics of any functioning group: all the more so for a group of individuals who have professed a life commitment in a religious congregation. In most cases these loci began as small endeavors. In some instances initial efforts seemed to fail, as in the case of one group's attempt to establish a shelter for adolescent girls. Examination of the situation and a willingness to admit shortcomings, learn from apparent .defeat, and directly address problem areas were critical in the. revitalization of that effort and its success today. A group with a long history of staffing private academies opted to replicate a successful project that another congregation had begun in the area. It took the form of a learning center for at-risk middle-school students in the inner city of a metropolitan area. The congregation took care to establish a focused sponsoring group as it missioned some members to initiate the work. This sponsoring group not only provided both the civic and religious communities with a sense of stability regarding the project, but Review for Religious also was a positive factor in securing funding and contributions from outside sources. For example, alumni/ae of other schools sponsored by the congregation (particularly schools that had been closed) found a type of kinship with the ministry. They were enthusiastic in their support of this new educational venture, which included a school, a pre- and after-school study center, summer camp experience, and a locus for parent education. In it they saw themselves forming a link with the next generation of those served by the very congregation that had given them an excellent education. As in the example described in the earlier FORUS report, sev-eral congregations--each one using a process that worked best for it--have selected an issue such as domestic violence, home-lessness, or ecological awareness as a focus for their corporate efforts. In such situations the members' activities range from let-ter writing to involving students or parishioners in direct-service projects. On a congregational scale, artists have pooled their tal-ents to create productions intended both to raise funds to sup-port the work and to raise consciousness about the issue. Members have encouraged their sponsored institutions to participate in walks to support the cause, again both to raise money and to make the public more aware of the issue. Congregations have pooled resources to provide salaries for state or regional advocacy. Once again, both direct action and efforts, at systemic change are crit-ical. As Amata Miller IHM noted in the video presentation that accompanied Threads for the Loom, one o~ the contributions that religious congregations can make is in their commitment to a geographic area. Few individuals are able to commit the twenty or more years required to make significant changes' in a neighbor-hood, but a religious congregation can make that commitment-- and ensure that change. For any group interested in addressing the question of cor-porate identity, several pitfalls remain. The. process requires, com-mitment from a core group. Obtaining a sense of the members--often in the face of great apathy--is key, for this pro-cess is aimed at group ownership of the. project. Congregations that have .experienced success in their efforts have' been willing to think small initially, to celebrate, the seemingly insignificant vic-tories, and to encourage their members to connect the focus with current ministerial efforts. In this process it will be a rare group that does not have members trying to define some issue so that it March-April 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal will encompass everything: ecology and AIDS and educational reform. No one would deny the significance of any of these issues. No one group, in this day, can focus simultaneously and effec-tively on all three. Corporate America provided us recently with this lesson when Anheuser-Busch and AT&T recognized publicly the need to define themselves more clearly in order to provide better service. In 1995 Busch announced its plans to divest itself of both the Eagle snack-foods division and its entertainment parks, and AT&T made public its plans to split into three companies, each focusing on a different service or product area. Admittedly, religious orders are not major for-profit corpo-rations. They do, however, stand to learn something from the world around them. Ultimately, of course, they must make sure that any such efforts of theirs are connected with the mission of Jesus, as expressed by the congregation and its charism. Without this spiritual connection, any such efforts would be a sort of fla-vor- of-the-month dilettantism. Conclusion As the reader may have noted, it is difficult to hold separate the three factors selected for review. Issues of individual mem-bership, and call (individualism/vocation), group identity (corpo-rate identity), and ways of enabling the group to accomplish its task (average/excellent leadership) do not exist in isolation from one another. Given the limits of human abilities, focus on one or another at a given time may be not only appropriate but necessary. Considering one area as the place to find "the answer," however, while ignoring the other areas of concern may lead. away from a successful resolution of a problem or to the ineffective imple-mentation of an intervention. As noted above, the hold of indi-vidualism may tend to block the best efforts of successful leaders. Ineffective leaders may not be able to make good use of a newly focused corporate identity. Clear corporate identity may enable individuals to determine the appropriateness of their member-ship in a given community. Unlike the Israelites who ultimately arrived at the Promised Land, it is not probable--and is very likely undesirable--that reli-gious life will attain the stability it seems to have experienced as late as the early 1960s.I° It is imperative, however, that members of religious orders address realistically the issues related to their Review for Religious viability and vitality)1 More than the ordinary members, religious who have been entrusted with greater responsibility for the charism of their congregation must strive to ensure that the gift given them for all of God's people is passed on. Admittedly, for some, this may entail suppression of an institute or evolution to some new form. Modeling death with dignity, in a Christian atmo-sphere of letting go, may prove to be a great lesson for a society inclined increasingly to resist surrender to the paschal-mystery cycle of life-death-resurrection. However, to fail to address the questions honesdy and work earnestly toward answers and imple-mentation might be a great infidelity to the ever present grace of God. To face all of this, We will need courage. We will need energy. We will need vision. We will need to be at ease with ourselves and our decisions. Above all, like the psalmist, we will need to keep our eyes fixed on the Lord, our God, until God lets us rest. And then we will know, as we have always known, that the effort was worth the gift of our lives, the best of our years, the length of our days.'z The title of this article reflecting on continuing efforts in the renewal of religious life 'contains the question "Will Good Intentions Suffice?" Hopefully, an answer key is not necessary to determine this author's response. Notes ~ See David Nygren CM and Miriam Ukeritis CSJ, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States: Tran~Cormation and Commitment (New York: Praeger, 1993). 2 The Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth in Wernersville, Pennsylvania, with the cosponsorship of Review for Religious, hosted the 26-29 October 1995 symposium "Religious Life 30 Years Later: Is This What Vatican II Intended?" 3 Anne Munley IHM, Threads for the Loom: LCWR Planning and Ministry Studies (Silver Spring, Maryland: Leadership Conference of Women Religious, 1992). 4 For an executive summary of this project, see Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 6-55, or Origins 22, no. 15 (24 September 1992). See also n. 1 above. Marcb-Aptql 1996 Ukeritis ¯ Religious Life's Ongoing Renewal s While levels of energy and constraints of calendar are realities, a mantra-like refrain of "We're too tired!" or "We don't have time!" among members of religious orders would signal a host of issues more critical than age or schedules. 6 Bellah's works on this subject, each with several other authors, include Habits of the Heart (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985) and The Good Society (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1991). 7 Patricia Wittberg SC, Creating a Future for Religious Life: A Sociological Perspective (New York: Paulist Press, 1991). 8 "Results of the Survey on Associate Membership," Horizon 16, no. 2 (Winter 1991). 9 In the early 1980s, one external observer of the religious-forma-tion process likened the care given the few members who entered religious orders to the attention lavished on chicks of a nearly extinct species of birds. Resources were lavished on a few in the hope that they would sur-vive to adulthood. At times formation personnel felt as thpugh they were held hostage by both the candidates and the vowed members until they produced conditions that would get the candidates to make a life com-mitment. ,0 See Patricia Wittberg SC, The Rise and Fall of Catholic Religious Orders (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), for an his-torical perspective on this notion. ,1 In November 1994, the Leadership Conference of Women Religious convened a think tank on the viability of religious institutes. As reported in that month's LCWR Update, the group searched experience for lessons. After looking at examples of the merger or reconfiguration of religious institutes, the suppression of institutes to create a new congregation, and the decision of a congregation to die with grace, the group concluded that the key element in each case was leadership. In every instance the out-come was shaped by the kind of leadership that had been exercised. 12 Clare Dunn CSJ and Judy Lovchik CSJ. Playmates Winter and springtime playing leapfrog together in March, April, May, Dorothy Forman OSF Review for Religious THERESA MANCUSO The Urban Hermit: Monastic Life in the City Does urban monasticism work? What is an urban hermit? How and why live a solitary monastic lifestyle in the midst of the city? Who are these people? New forms and expressions of monastic life have occurred historically throughout the centuries in both Eastern and Western Christian tradition. They continue to evolve today in the new landscape of the modem world where the hermit's life--the monk in solitude--is not lim-ited to a rural setting, but has found its plake in the city. Monks and nuns in the twentieth and twenty-first cen-turies will be eremitical and cenobitical; they will live in communities and alone, in the country and in the. city. Monastic life has but one rule: the Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ. The goal and purpose of the monas-tic way is union with God, the unification of the person, human salvation, enlightenment, and wisdomuin a word, happiness. Accordingly, monastic life in every time and place is a committed and consecrated endeavor to live faithfully by the precepts of Christ. The monastic voca-tion arises when and where it will in direct response to the call of grace. The urban hermit finds himself or her-self immersed in the spiritual treasures of monastic tra-dition, an integral expression here and now of that same tradition. Theresa Mancuso published "Reflection on the Solitary Life'-' in our September-October 1994 issue. She lives at 310 Beverly Road #4F; Brooklyn, New York 11218. seeking God March-April 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit Bede Griffiths, the charismatic, daring Benedictine who took his monastic vocation to India and back, wrote in The Marriage of East and l/Vest that: ¯. whatever the fate of this present world, the real need is to find a way of life which is able to survive all such disas-ters. In the Roman Empire it was monastic life which saved the world . . . monks who fled to the deserts of Egypt, Palestine and Mesopotamia founded a way of life based on prayer and work in conditions of the utmost poverty and simplicity and alone survived the collapse of the Roman Empire . . . [their] teaching and example led to the foun-dation of monasteries all over Eur6pe, in which the basis of a new civilization could be found. Today. there has been a revival of monastic life all over the world., centers of ferment which [may] gradually trans-form society and make possible a new civilization. The world of Bede Griffiths appears, perhaps, far removed from the noisy metropolis of New York, Chicago, Washington, Paris, Ba'rcelona, or Hong Kong. Nevertheless, the same ageless truths of which Bede spoke are the Gospel imperatives that call monastic life into being--new forms and old, today like yesterday. That which impelled Bede Griffiths to live his own monastic life a world away in the Hindu ashram is the same impetus that has given rise to solitary monastic ventures in the heart of the city. There is no geography, no time or place, in which monasticism cannot thrive and contemplative life grow. Prayer, work, poverty, and simplicity are the bedrock of a monastic heart. Alone as solitary or hermit or in the midst of community, the monk's path (monk meaning male and female) is to be immersed in God, preoccupied with the Gospel of Christ, living its life, breathing its breath, soaked in the perennial abso-lutes about which there is no ~luestion, no geography, no barrier of age, time, place, culture, or condition. In days of old, the desert was a city, according to D.J. Chitty in his classic work about early monasticism, The Desert a City. Today, perhaps, we can say it another way: the city a desert. What is this desert, then, so fundamental to the monk's life? Desert is wasteland, wilderness, barren solitude, profound silence. Desert is seclusion where the monk searches in prayer and penance, self-emptying (kenosis), th(deliberate renunciation of selfish desires, striving for inner emptiness, awaiting the hour of God's time (kairos), the manifestation of divine grace. Review for Religious The urban hermit is a kind of monk among many. Like monks everywhere, the urban hermit is consecrated to God by vows, sacred promises public or private, temporary or perpetual, worded traditionally--poverty, chastity, obedience, stability--or stated in creative new expressions. The meaning is the same. The monk is one, consecrated, offered, surrendered in complete dedication to God, steadfast in love, permeated with an all-encompassing charity that defines the heart of the monk as lover of God, com-passionate toward all God's creatures. Love sustains the lifestyle of the monastic vocation. Monasticism is a life of union and unity, communion and com-munity, silence and solitude, depth and diver-sity. Love is the call; love, the vocation; love, the path, the way, the meaning, and the reward. God, not a human inventor, makes monks. And this God does when and where he pleases. With the entire focus of the heart fixed on God, the monastic way may weave a strange thread indeed, not perhaps the dream one had in first embarking on the monastic journey. As life unfolds, so does the call of God. Consecration, dedication, immer-sion in Christ--these are what remains. All the rest is incidental. Accordingly, as the grace of God unfolds in pers.onal human history, the fine tuning of a monastic vocation eventually comes to fit the individual. In other words, who and what we are from the hand of God and our mother's womb finally dictates who and what we must become. The mystery of sanctification is some-times conditioned by transition, but it is always and everywhere in God's hands. To be consecrated means to live in the presence of God, to be centered in him, devoted to him, belonging to him, regardless of the conditions of life which are--after all--only the environment, not the essence of the monastic vocation. It is not surprising, then, or at least it should not be, that we have come to find monks and nuns living alone in the city, years and miles from where their monastic journey began. This, too, is caught up in the mystery of salvation. The beautiful Rule of Life created nearly twenty years ago by Father Pierre-Marie Delfieux for the Jerusalem Community-- monks of the city--says: ". You can live in God's heart at the heart of the city because it is his dwelling place. Be monk and nun in the very heart of the city of God" (No. 128). This is true What is this desert so fundamental to the monk's life? Marcb-dp~ql 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit of individuals as well as communities. Lacking financial endow-ment that might create the illusion of security, safety, and afford complete separation from the world, the urban hermit must go out every single day into the hustle and busde of the city just to make a living. And this is exactly as it should be. To be "monk and nun in the very heart of the city of God" is to work in the midst of humanity, to suffer the problems and dif-ficulties of the job, the discipline of tasks that await one at the workplace. It is not a distraction to work in the real world. It is, rather, a call to the most generous and absolute imperative: to center one's heart by turning inward at the same time as one must turn outward in labor. There is no duality in this process; it is an act of unification, part and parcel of monastic experience. Laborare et orate. The work of balancing internal contemplative life with exter-nal work in the center of the city requires a kind of persever-ance. In the beginning, it may seem impossible to remain contemplative in the busy atmosphere of city life. But, no, it is not impossible. The heart cries out to God, "Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner," and learns, bit by bit, to pray easily in the midst of all the noisy activity and wild frenzy of the city. Over time, the monk in the world realizes the deep-est center to be one's own impenetrable fortress of joy, faith, Spirit, and Life. Later in his Rule, Father Pierre-Marie says: "What the early monks set out to seek yesterday in the desert, you will find today in the city. All monastic life is a fight and urban monasticism calls for fighters. Followers of Christ, the Beatitudes summon you to a life of real struggle in the heart of the city" (No. 129). There is no protection but God's for the urban hermit who lives and dwells in the real world, as stark and naked a reality as ever there was in the heart of the desert. Like the Desert Fathers and Mothers, the urban hermit knows the isolation and threat of the wilderness, the roar of beasts and the temptation of the heart. To find peace in the city is to walk with God in the deepest center of one's being. " The Monastic Typicon ofNeTv Skete (1980) says this about work: "Throughout history, our fathers and brethren in monastic life have taught that work is not only required to sustain oneself, but that it is equally important as a means of self-discipline and as an adiunct to prayer and worship and individual total growth. Review for Religious Work, therefore,ds part and parcel of our life, first of all, because it;is essential to monastic life in general" (Nos. 71 and 72). The urban hermit, bound by the same need to work that char-acterizes all persons, is fortunate if livelihood can be obtained working at home within the poustinia, but this is not always the case. In fact, it is rarely possible. The monk in the world must learn to accommodate to working conditions in the professions or elsewhere, whether the work~is manual or intellectual. Work joins the monk to all people of all time and place. "With the sweat of your brow shall you earn your bread" (Gn 3:19). Over time, work itself becomes sweet to the monk, for it is but another expres-sion of the inner song of the heart: "Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." It has been said that it is not the habit that makes the monk. Nor is it the work. What is essential in mdnastic spirituality is that work and every other dimension of life be characterized by the interior spirit of recollection, purity of intention, and single-mindedness. Work is a sanctifying process, it is not a distraction. By reaching down deeper and deeper into the pool of faith in order to carry out one's work properly, the work and the worker will be immersed and bathed in the light of divine presence. Thus the monk in the marketplace is at home in God's world. In Contemplation in a World of Action, Thomas Merton wrote decades ago, perhaps the prelude for today's monk in the world: "Do we really choose between the world and Christ as between two conflicting realities absolutely opposed? Or do we choose Christ by choosing the world as it really is in Him, that is to say, created and redeemed by him? Do we really renounce ourselves and the world in order to find Christ, or do we renounce our alienated and false selves in order to choose our own deepest truth in choosing both the world and Christ at the same time?" The urban hermit, immersed now in solitude, now in actual labor outside the hermitage, seeks to integrate the contemplative life of the poustinia with the, marketplace where a living is earned. Renunciation of the false self and transcendence over the spirit of the world through the practice of interior recollection and con-templative prayer purify the heart and transform the effort to do one's best into the peaceful harmony that defines right livelihood. The monk is called by God to live alone in him--monos-- monacbos--one--single--alone. In community or in the hermitage wherever it may be, the monk strives to be of single .'focus. In the March-Apt41 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit marketplace the monk is living witness to the holiness of work, the goodness of the world, and the salvation of the earth by the mercy of God. As humility should characterize the soul of a monk, so, too, simplicity, charity, gentleness, tenderness, compassion will exemplify the detachment of heart that frees the religious hermit and enables the monk to live in the world without becoming worldly. The urban hermit strives to renounce that which is worldly (self-centered, egotistical, arrogant, profit-seeking, and decep-tive), to cast out and obliterate those attitudes of mind that block communion with God and harmony with one's fellow creatures on this fragile planet. The pure heart of God's solitary learns to return to the world as often as necessary, not as an adventurer seeking new pleasures or material power, but as one crucified in Christ, transfigured ,by Christ, restored to innocence and holi-ness of life. The soul of the monk, one would hope, gradually becomes transparent, clean, empty, full and brimming over with the joy that comes only from God. The Monastic Typicon of New Skete states that: "Prayer and worship are the major concerns of monastic life. Through the liturgical celebrations [monks] participate in the mysteries of the life and death of Christ, thus moving toward the universal reali-ties of resurrection and transfiguration" (No. 60). The urban her-mit, in communion with monks and nuns of every time and place, lives in the. paschal mystery of the Lord by entering into liturgi-cal celebrations, whether the Liturgy of the Hours or the Eucharist. The "divine office" marks the hours of the day, spiraling the soul in and out of psalmody, uplifting, descending, flying to God, returning to earth. The urban hermit, at work in the marketplace of the world, simply does not have the luxury of stopping to chant the Third Hour, the Sixth Hour, or the Ninth Hour of the day. Nevertheless, interior prayer should never cease, but accompany all our actions, those of labor and social intercourse, as well as the times and places when we are free to enter most deeply into the prayer of the church. Urban hermits try to celebrate as many hours of the "divine office" as are possible in the demands of every day, for life in the world requires the monk to be present to its concerns without losing the focus of vocation. Prime. Lauds. Matins. Vespers. Compline. At least pa~'t of the regular Hours m'ust be celebrated Review for Religio1~s alone or in the parish church if possible. Sometimes the urban hermit may join a religious community for the observance of litur-gical prayer. The wisdom of the desert is today the wisdom of the city-- that is, the city of God. It would be foolishness to overburden one-self by attempting to work a required 35 6r 40 hour week outside the hermitage and expect to be able to complete all the Liturgy of the Hours. Certainly, God does not require the impossible. The rule of faith is simple: Do what is possible. Do what you can. But do everything you can as best you can, with your whole heart, your whole soul, and your whole being. Concentrate the very fiber of your existence on that which is given to God without neglect-ing that which is given to people. What is the difference anyway between the basket-weaving monk in the wilderness of Egypt who goes down to sell wares at the marketplace from time to time and the computer-opera-tor monk in the center of Manhattan who commutes to Brooklyn or Queens by subway after work? It is the spirit, the heart of the monk---interior substance--that matters. That which defines the monastic vocation is singleness of focus. Prayer that is intimate and ongoing moment by moment, hour by hour, cements our union with God and prompts the conversion of our hearts over and over again, making holy not only our poor, fragile lives, but everything we touch and everyone we love. The monk is leaven in the marketplace and remains so by cherishing and using advantageously the secret silenc~e and deep seclusion of the hermitage, even when many hours must be spent outside. The Liturgy of the Hours is first and finally the greatest cel-ebration of the heart and the center of monastic life. It is the joy of Christians and the soul of monasticism. To chant the "divine office" is to enter again and again into the ageless mystery of Christ. Season by season, liturgical texts teach the heart, renew the spirit, and join humanity to God in the person of Christ, the only lover of humanity. Simplicity, charity, gentleness, tenderness, compassion will exemplify the detachment of heart that frees the religious hermit and enables the monk to live in the world without becoming worldly. MarclJ-Aptql 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit The monk at large may celebrate the Liturgy of the Hours in a monastery church with a community of brother or sister monks or in the parish church anywhere in the city or countryside of his or her abode. It does not matter. At the heart of the liturgy is found the whole meaning of the monastic vocation: to die and rise with Christ in fulfillment of the Father's will for the redemp-tion of the world. The Eucharist is the food of monastic life, its sustenance and joy. To find a monk who does not deeply love the liturgy is to find a sorry sort of monk. Therefore, time and energy must be made available to participate properly in the celebration, of the Eucharist. This is the heart and center of the monastic life. As practiced by Pachomius and the monks of Eastern Christendom, the Eucharist was celebrated weekly, not daily, though it remains the privilege and practice in the Latin rite to celebrate Eucharist daily. The liturgical chants that surround the Eucharist provide spiritual nourishment and food for contemplation. The urban hermit goes forth from the church after participation in the liturgy, and carries back to the city and back to the hidden place of his or her own poustinia the wealth of Scripture that echoes in the prayers of the Eucharist. Be it a tiny .apartment in a busy housing complex or a huge industrial or professional workplace, the chants and meaning of the Liturgy of the Hours and the Eucharist remain with the urban hermit all day, eveory day, feed-ing heart and mind with those things which endure, the living breath of contemplative life. Finally, the urban hermit learns to safeguard religious seclu-sion and solitude which provide the depth of silence and cen-teredness that is indispensable to the monastic way. The integrity of monastic life and the monk's personal steadfastness in this voca-tion arise from that wellspring of silence and solitude that ripened by seclusion. Nevertheless, the monk in the city must never become a self-preoccupied hermit whose reclusive tendencies spring from self-deception as if the world were a contagion to be avoided at all cost. A balance of solitude is derived from a healthy view of reality. The opposite is unsound. To live in the midst of the world as an urban hermit is not to sacrifice or minimize the essential quality of seclusion and solitude necessary for ctntemplative prayer. Urban hermits are usually not reclusive. To go inward for the sake of contemplation is a dis- Review for Refigious cipline of the heart, not an act of walls and fences. Monks in the world must come and go; while cherishing and protecting the inner sanctuary of monastic seclusion that is an essential element of the hermit's life. They accomplish this by setting and main-taining proper boundaries. Hospitality and social needs are part of reality--essential for psychological and spiritual balance, no more, no less. They, too, like everything else, must be harmonized with reality in the vocation of the city monk. All the more must the urban hermit learn to bal-ance seclusion and secular involvement, for, being alone, he or she needs to understand what constitutes a necessary monastic enclo-sure in the world and what constitutes run-ning away. Extremes can best be avoided by studying the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Lord went apart to pray; he rested in the desert and returned to the city. So, too, the monk in the marketplace needs separation from the world. If monks today are to be the salt of society, "the monastery" must be accessible to all, so that they (those in the world who come into contact with monastic life) "may savor its life, its worship, and its message" (Monastic Typicon of New Skete, No. 28). The monk who goes forth from the silent sanctuary of a quiet hidden hermitage in the midst of the city to work and walk among the people of the world does so from necessity and generosity to let the world taste and savor the consecrated life, what it is and what it means, inviting the world to share in the worship and message of the monastic vocation. We must not hide from life, but embrace it, immersing every aspect of it into the mystery of Christ as we ourselves plunge our entire existence into the paschal real-ity, first at baptism, then throughout the day~ of our vocation. It is thus that all is transfigured b,y the grace of God and the entire cosmos shares in the transfiguration of Christ. For the urban hermit, this harmonious integration of all things is at the center of the monastic vocation. But tha~ is exacdy as it has always been for monastic life today and throughout its history--the still point in the turning world, where God and humanity meet and the spark of wisdom is given to illuminate the earth. To find a monk who does not deeply love the liturgy is to find a sorry sort of monk. Marcb-Aptql 1996 Mancuso ¯ The Urban Hermit I like to think Bede Griffiths or Thomas Merton, or indeed any of the great monks and nuns who are our spiritual forebears, might share a day or week in the life of an urban monk and find themselves altogether quite comfortable. They would recognize the rhythm of prayer, silence, solitude, work, hospitality, study, lec-tio divina, and liturgy. Those great followers of St. Anthony, father of Egyptian monasticism, or those who walk with St. Benedict, who codified monastic life--and all the others in between--should recognize in the urban hermit, monk in the world, the same hunger for God that led them in their own spiritual journeys. They would know the path, for it is one: forsaking all, embracing all, a voyage of the heart through dark and desolate places, remote and wild, desert and city, places where the monastic vocation thrives and God meets humanity in a singular embrace of love. References Chitty, D.J. The Desert a City. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1961. Griffiths, Bede. The Marriage of East and West. Springfield, Illinois: Templegate Publishers, 1982. Merton, Thomas. Contemplation in a World of Action. New York: Doubleday, 1971. At Hand but Unattended I spend my foolish life in search of marvels, of wonders to delight and startle me. The ordinary could not hold my interest, my soul each da. y demanded mystery.~ I envied those who lived when. Christ was preaching, who saw him work his wonders with a word. What drama to have seen a blind man sighted, the lepers cleansed, the deaf when first they heard. But, oh, how stupid I with all my longing, my searching for a miracle to see. I let my days go by, not ever grasping my miracle was God creating me. James F. Finley Review for Religious MARIE BEHA Enclosed in the Mystery of Jesus My " stery is a reality which we must explore from within, .a. ¯ .~. enter into, and live with. In contrast, a problem is some-thing we must externalize, be objective about, and solve. We pre-fer the latter, delighting in the challenge, the sense of mastery and control which it gives us. So we relish a "mystery" story just because it presents us with a whole set of "problems" to be solved. And we resist the mysteries in our lives even though we are fas-cinated by the breadth and depth of the big questions like "Where do we come from?" and "What is life?" Religious who freely choose to live enclosed lives present problems for many, even for many Catholics, just because they are so mysterious. Why would persons choose to confine them-selves within a drastically limited geographic space, associating, for the most part, with the same few people for the rest of their lives? It sounds as dismal as life-in-prison. But this is to make the mis-take of seeing enclosure in a problematic context. It is to bang our fists demanding an answer that satisfies us. It als0 misses the invitation to explore a mystery. Unfortunately, not much has been written on enclosure, and much of what has been done approaches it from its more prob-lematic side, presenting its canonical aspects, pointing out its rea-sonableness, or seeking to justify its continuance. Valid, certainly, since enclosure, like other incarnational realities, has external shape and form. Far more importantly, it also has a heart of mys-tery that invites exploration. Two contemporary efforts present the basic meaning of enclo-sure, inviting the reader to explore the reality to appreciate its Marie Beha OSC may be addressed at 1916 N. Pleasantburg Drive; Greenville, South Carolina 29609. March-April 1996 Beha * Enclosed in the Mystery of Jerus mystery. The first of these interpretations has been articulated by Sister Chiara Lainati in an article in Forma Sororum (vol. 4/5 [1983]: 200-203) where she describes it as a "particular way in the church of living out the paschal mystery . . . the emptying out of Christ on the cross" (p. 201). The second is that of Father Herbert Schneider:, who in his Commentary on the General Constitutions (private!y publ!shed, 1992, pp. 14-15), p[esents enclo-sure as "the place of decision to remain with the Lord" related to the statement of the Lord, "Remain in my love" (Jn 15:4). Each of our interpreters has the credentials to present this mystery of enclosure. Sister Chiara Lainati is a Poor Clare nun, a member of the protomonastery in Assisi, where she has served as abbess while continuing to do writing and research on topics related to the Poor Clare way of life. Presently she is the abbess of the small group of Clares pioneering a new contemplative foun-dation in the Vatican. Father Herbert Schneider has been provin-cial of the Franciscan province of Cologne and spiritual assistant of the Federation of German-speaking Poor Clares. At present he is in Rome as the delegate general to all communities who claim affiliation with the Franciscan Order, including the Poor Clares, In this office he has visited monasteries all over the world, presenting workshops as well as attending chapters of Poor Clare federations. Although papal enclosure directly involves only a few Christians, the reality which it symbolizes is a staple of Christian living. Each of us in our own style of life needs to incorporate such values as stability, participating in the paschal mystery, and remaining in Christ. To do this we have to accept many kinds of limits, including geographic ones. Enclosed in the Paschal Mystery Sister Chiara Lainati's "Enclosure: Characteristic Way for Clare to Express the Paschal Mystery" begins by rejecting the more traditional interpretations of enclosure as a "means" of pro-tecting chastity or of promoting the life of contemplation. In cri-tiquing the latter she points out that today there are other more suitable means, such as courses on prayer or the word of God. In her view, enclosure, like the other vows, is a way of entering more deeply into the self-emptying of Jesus. Just as poverty is described traditionally as a renunciation of material possessions, chastity as; Review for Religio us renunciation of sexual intimacy, marriage, and family, and obedi-ence as renunciation of one'~ self-will and determination, enclo-sure "limits a person in space, impoverishes her in her possibilities of action and of spatial liberty." This points out the "underside" of all the vows; they all include a saying "no" to some important human values, but only for the sake of a saying "yes" to some-thing else. "In this perspective enclosure has value in itself, as an opening of oneself to grace, just as Christ, alone on the mountain, was open to the contemplation of the Father" (p. 14). Sister Chiara treats of the origins of Clare's profession of enclosure. She believes that it originated during her brief stay at Sant' Angelo di Panzo, after she had left the Benedictine Monastery of San Paolo and before Francis took her to San Damiano, which was to become her true home. According to Sister Chiara, the group at Sant' Angelo was a community of recluses and penitents from whom Clare took "the completely new and revolutionary idea of a bond of deeper union in that kenosis of Christ which is his solitude of death on the cross" (p. ,1'5). Parenthetically Sister Chiara mentions that enclosure was not forced upon IZlare but was' her own free choice; there were other options even in her own .day. Witness the Beguine movement in which groups of pious women lived in common and practiced the corporal works of mercy. Clare could have chosen a similar form of active ministry, but she seems to have felt called to a lifestyle that included the discipline of enclosure. The question, then, is not whether Clare was enclosed, but the why and the bow of her choice. Both, according to Sister Chiara, evolved as expressions of the mystery of the kenosis of Jesus. Over and over again, Clare emphasizes the importance of "keeping one's eyes fixed on Jesus" (Heb 3:1). Specifically she urges Agnes of Prague to look in the mirror that is Jesus and to see reflected there the Infant Christ and the Crucified One: Look at the border of this mirror, that is; the poverty of him who was placed in a manger and wrapped in swaddling clothes. Then at the surface of the mirror, consider the holy humility, the blessed poverty, the untold labors and bur-dens that he endured for the redemption of the whole human race. Then in the depth of this same mirror, con-template the ineffable charity that led him to suffer on the " wood of the cross and to die there the most shameful kind of death. March-April 1996 Beba * Enclosed in the Mystery of Jesus Let us respond with one voice, with one spirit, to him crying and grieving who said: Remembering this over and over leaves my soul downcast within me (IV LAg. 19:22- 26). Looking at Jesus Crucified was not idle speculation for Clare, nor just an exercise in contemplative piety. For her, seeing involved not only believing but also living out of that belief. It meant imitation, a putting on the Lord Jesus that brought about a profound interior change. It was participation in the mystery of Jesus. As Clare looked at Jesus, what she saw was not only his bod-ily suffering but at a deeper level the. self-emptying that was sur-render to the Father's will. It was the same self-emptying that marked the incarnation ("He emptied himself, taking the form' of a servant" Ph 2:7), continued all through his active ministry ("My food is to do the will of the one who sent me" Jn 4:34), and culminated in that last triumphant cry, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit" (Lk 23:46). What does it mean to empty oneself?. At first glance this seems a contradiction. To let go of externals, persons, or things, is theoretically possible, though dif-ficult, but to empty self of self?. How can that be? It sounds, at best, like looking for a way to lift oneself by oneself. Where could one stand, take hold of oneself, to initiate the process? Mystery again. First of all is the mystery of what we mean by self. And if that were not enough, there is the still greater mystery of the process itself. Self, as well as self-emptying, like all mysteries, can only be discovered from inside ourselves. Each of us already has some experience of what we mean by se/fwhen we say, "I am not my best self .today," or affirm, "Yes, that is true of me. That is the way I am." In each instance we have some core experience to which we turn, the bedrock of our personal identity. We recognize ourselves even when we cannot give anything like an adequate description of who we are. This is so because the self that I am is a very sim-ple concept, one that cannot easily be broken down. There is no simple recipe that will blend the right ingredients into a whole we can identify as myself Adding up qualities never sums identity. We can only work toward self-knowledge within the revelatory context of our everyday-lives. This process of self-discovery is initiated with the beginnings of consciousness and continues till death. It is dynamic, a lesson Review for Religious never completely learned but essentially ongoing. Initially the focus is on relating self to an external world, distinguishing myself from other realities. So the baby discovers: I am separate from the surrounding bed, different from mother. How separate? How different? The former distinction will be discovered quite easily; the latter may never be completely accomplished! But this is only negative knowledge: I am not .Ahead lies the whole range of positive identification: "I am .". Others hold up a mirror of how they see us and we begin to discover ourselves in that reflection. I am. baby. I am. good baby., sometimes! Fortunate the individual whose first feedback from others is real-istic and basically positive. Inevitably some of it will be neither. Others may identify us with their problems, ignore us, threaten us, deny us, abuse us. Initially we are almost completely dependent on these impressions received from others; that is why these are so formative. Most of the rest of our lives, we will experience some flashback of these first experiences of who we are. As time goes on, we begin to accumulate a growing memory bank of others' perceptions and of our own self-reflection; together these become the core of our identity We learn how we relate and are related to others, what we can and cannot do, and why we choose or refuse as we do. We come to describe ourselves in such obvious ways as age, sex, size, and shape but much more significandy as smart or stupid, as lovable or unlovable, as good enough or not good enough. Over time these labels take on the reality of personal identity; true or false, they are who we think we are and so tend to become self-fulfilling prophecy. Still, this self-concept that forms me is not written in stone; rather it is as fluid as the flow of time and changing life circum-stances. I can and do become a different person, changing in ways that are more or less profound. Acquaintances who say "I hardly recognize you" may be noting only superficial characteristics. Others who know us better remind us, in the face of surprising changes in the externals of our lives, "I always thought you might. ," under-lining the continuity that is our basic identity. So where does self-emptying come into the picture? What could it mean? On one level it can mean that openness to change which allows us to grow and develop. Unless we are willing to let go of some of our past and present identity, our self-concept remains the same. Detachment is needed if we are to move away from previous self-definition. So change, even freely chosen and Marcb-~lplql 1996 Beba ¯ Enclosed in tbe Mystery of yesus The more significant the change the greater the threat, but conversion never comes without a price tag. desired change, can be painful. It poses risks; our self will never be the same, and We have grown accustomed to its face. The more significant the change the greater the threat, but conversion never comes without a price tag. Yet this is not the fullest meaning of self-emptying. Change is self-improvement or self-destruction, depending on its direc-tion, but self is still very much in the picture. We want it to be; this is how our functional self will grow. Even when we make a destructive choice, we do so under the delusion that this is somehow to our imme-diate advantage, mistakenly opting for imme-diate gratification rather than wait for the slower-appearing benefits of disciplined effort. As our functional self becomes more clearly delineated, we find ourselves growing in per-sonal security. Faithful response to the chal-lenge of ongoing conversion prepares us for another level of letting go; we begin to be capa-ble of self-forgetfulness. The focus shifts from me at the center of the world to a broader view that is increasingly other-centered. The inse-cure .adolescent (of whatever age) grows into the generous adult capable of entering the world of the other with fewer repeated nervous glances back to "how am I doing?" Who of us has not admired individuals mature enough to hold in creative tension the concerns of self with those of oth-ers. Secure in their self-identity, they are not so preoccupied with their own needs that they cannot even see those of others. Nor are they so involved in meeting the neediness of others that the self is at risk of'being destroyed in the process. The latter is only a dis-gnised form of self-gratification that threatens dual destruction. The maturity that makes self-forgetfulness possible opens the self to the world of others, allowing for a truly personal rela-tionship, a dialogue of love. The bonding of parent and child, of a long-married couple, of friends, all exemplify letting go of self for the sake of being with, being for, another. In these experi-ences we begin to discover the paradox that in losing ourselves we find ourselves. We become more ourselves because of the other, and we are grateful. These loving relationships that are first lessons in self-for-getfulness can begin at any age level; they continue for life and are Review for Religious always maturing. But they are not self-emptying. In self-forget-fulness there is still a self, with the focus shifting back and forth between self,and others. We are ourselves and we identify our-selves in loving the others, as loving the other. Self-emptying goes deeper still. Preliminary to it is our will-ingness to allow it to happen. "Let this attitude be in you which was also in Christ Jesus" (Ph 2:5). The self needs to accept self-emp-tying, such is the exquisite courtesy of God who always waits on the consent of our freedom. Still, the initiative is God's inviting us, gradually readying us, then asking us if we are ready. Our hearts must answer, not just our heads. The question: Where is your trea-sure; what do you really want? If our wholehearted response is: God, first of all, more than all, most of all, then the center of self changes. We are no longer just ourselves; our life "is hidden now with Christ, in God" (Col 3:3). This is where "we live and move and have our being" (Ac 17:28), and "I live now, not I . " (Ga 2:20). What was formerly said as pious slogan, then desired more or less seriously, now begins to be realized in our "mortal flesh." This is first experienced with the same sense of awkwardness that accompanies other beginnings. More than just strange, the loss of self is painful. Where is the I? What is happening? Even to ask these questions is to focus back on self. We might expect such a return to normal self-reflectiveness to feel familiar; it may not, and this will be even more disturbing. Who am I and who am I becoming? These questions may be natural enough, but they are no longer important or even relevant. We have to let them go, never mind the risk. This shift from I to the Other of God is as gradual as all other growth. For' a period of time, more or less prolonged, the self is sometimes operative and sometimes gone. We lose ourselves and then recover ourselves. Sometimes our activity will seem self-directed, self-reflective; at other times our focus will move to a self-forgetfulness that allows for a going beyond self. In all of this, though, we are free to say "yes" or "no." We cannot make it happen; that is beyond us. What is ours to do is to accept the divine action or refuse it. The latter occurs when we become afraid, clinging nervously to self; when we yield to the pseudosecurity of self-directed activity; when we try looking back over our shoulder to see ourselves. All of these are perfectly nat-ural, not supernatural; nor do they represent the level on which we are being invited to live. March-April 1996 Beha * Enclosed in the Mystery of yesus The simple truth is that we are no longer our own. We belong to another. "We are God's people, the sheep of God's flock" (Ps 100:3). It sounds fine in general! However, in all the particular-ity of our own experience it presents the most intriguing of mys-teries. Only through generous participation will we be able to share the new life being offered to us. While it is certainly true that we are experiencing a loss of self, it is even truer that we have never been more ourselves. This is who we really are: a creature, created in God's image, redeemed, sanctified and enabled to live divinely./~ are in Christ Jesus. Our truest self exists, lives, only in God, our beginning and our end. This is the self we are called to be "now and forever and forever." How does enclosure further this process of self-emptying? Sister Chiara Lainati states this without developing specifics. I believe the answer lies in the way that enclosure loosens the hold of the functional self and at the same time makes more possible a kind of primary centering on the other that is God. At- least that is its potential; like all of the other vows, enclosure provides an opportunity but does not automatically accomplish what it offers. Let us begin with the loosening of the grip of the functional self. Enclosure clearly limits personal geography so that we become very familiar with our surroundings; we are freer, then, to let go of our self-regarding, cautionary self without endangering life or limb. Contrast this with the degree of anxious concern that marks our traveling into strange space. In the same way, customary rela-tionships with familiar persons relax the ego's grip. We are freed from such self-regarding questions as: Who are we in this new relationship? How are we affected by it? Those are always self-regarding questions. At home and relaxed, we can be ourselves, forget ourselves, and be readied to go beyond ourselves. Similarly, within enclosure, simple, familiar work frees from those compet-itive, complex work situations that underline self-achievement, self-accomplishment, and the building up of the functional self. Put in a more positive way, by limiting one's field of vision, enclosure intensifies the seeing. Like a spotlight, it centers atten-tion on Another. This is illustrated by the inscription over many medieval monastery gates, "God alone," that was both a warning and a promise. Nothing else would be found within; self-seeking would find itself either badly malnourished, trying to satisfy itself on meager rations or starving to death; that was the warning. The promise: Beyond the self God was waiting. Review for Religious But only if the asceticism of an enclosed life was accepted graciously and lived faithfully. Included in the discipline: fidelity to the limits of physical geography, to intracommunity relation-ships and noncompetitive work. But none ,of these can be inter-preted in too materialistic a way. It is the heart that matters, the spirit that must be set free. Limited physical geography can imprison, circumscribed relationships can shrink one's world, and simple work can leave the mind dangerously idle. All such prac-tices can also become self-congratulatory, just as fasting can feed the ego. Each individual must discover for herself and then incorpo-rate into life the particular practices that will allow her to go deeper into the paschal mystery of Jesus. For example: Curiosity may need to be controlled though its object is legitimate; reading, even of a spiritual character, may need restriction lest the func-tional self become too active; even some self-satisfying forms of vocal or mental prayer may need to be abandoned. Examples could be multiplied; what they would have in common is the self-emptying that allows for a more complete immersion into the mystery of God. To the degree that this occurs, enclosure comes to partake in the paradox of the beatitudes. Emptiness will be filled with the fullness of God; being confined will bring greater freedom. Going apart will result in being still more a part; limited apostolic oppor-tunity will hasten the coming of the kingdom through a deepen-ing of the baptismal grace of being "buried with Christ" to "rise to new life with Christ" (Col 2:12). Relating enclosure to the paschal mystery of Jesus as Sister Chiara does permits new emphasis on its sacramental character. It has outward signs, but these point toward a deeper interior reality. But the new life within that is the exciting possibility of enclosure is not guaranteed. Nor is enclosure in the canonical sense of the term the only means. The same process of self-emp-tying for the sake of deeper immersion in the mystery of God can be accomplished in many different life circumstances. For example, fidelity to the limits of a geography circumscribed by poverty or illness, of family relationships stressed by contempo-rary nonvalues, of routine work that offers little room for self-congratulation-- all these can become occasions for self-emptying or for self-seeking. The choice is ours. Freely choosing to live ¯ within the limits of enclosure of whatever kind can be fruitful. March-April 1996 Beha ¯ Enclosed in the Mystery of yesus Though the limits and limitations of any kind of enclosure are real and should not be diluted, its basic purpose is positive: fuller participation in the mystery of God and growing freedom. When chosen as part of an ongoing vocational commitment, it becomes a way of waiting on God, of bringing forth new life in the church and the world, of growing in the freedom that is the power of Christ's redemptive death. Remaining in Jesus Father Herbert Schneider centers his presentation of enclo-sure around the gospel words "Remain in my love" (Jn 15:4). As he explains in his Commentary on the Poor Clare Constitutions, "Enclosure is the place of decision to remain with the Lord. The innermost enclosure is the space of the heart. In relationship to that, the enclosure of the building is a sign and a help" (p. ~14). Because enclosure is primarily a matter of the heart, Schneider suggests that a variety of interpretations may be given to its exter-nal form without changing its essential meaning. What is true is that enclosure has a value of itself and belongs to the basic ~ele-ments of contemplative life (p. 14). ~ Each life has a where, expressed on the geographic level when we say "My address is. ," or "I live in." and rephrased more significantly as ',IYm at home here" or "I no longer know where I am." In the latter two examples ~we begin to explore the way in which external space relates to the world of the psyche and, ulti-mately, to that of the spirit. In everyday parlance, we frequently use spatial metaphors to refer to internal realities: "personal space" and "individual direction." "Don't crowd me" can be meant lit-erally or it can be a graphic way of asking for more time, more space for personal considei, ation. Similarly, when we ask someone to show us the way, we may be hoping for directions on a map or direction fo~: life. As Schneider points out, enclosure is a spatial metaphor for the contemplative desire to remain with God. It is an incarna-tional reality, having both an external form and an interior real-ity. Either one without the other would be less than human, iust as an inanimate body is.only.a corpse and a disembodied soul seems conceivable only as a ghost (or an .angel). Viewed exter-nally, enclosure spells imprisonment, but for a contemplative spirit it provides necessary boundaries. Review for Religio~,s To live contemplatively requires space; that is the basic truth Schneider emphasizes. The external boundaries of enclosure pro-vide sacred space where the heart can find a home. This experi-ence of at-homeness is a familiar one, hopefully, to most of us. Although it may be difficult, even impossible to explain, we know there are places, circumstances, relationships in which we can relax, be ourselves, be at peace. We cher-ish these places, seek to find them, even try to create them. So where is a contemplative at home? Essentially, there is only one place, one circumstance, one relationship: in God. "Our hearts are restless till they rest in thee." Augustine knew from personal experience that we are at home nowhere else. Remain in me, dwell in me, abide in me--the same central truth is nuanced in a changing variety of translations. All use the imperative. We are told in the most direct of terms what we are to do: make our home in God. Though we might like to reduce this to a harmless figure of speech, the gospel command is insistent in its reality. In John's Gospel the details are spelled out with evangelical insistence: "Remain in my love" On 15:9) and "Remain in me, as I remain in you" On 15:4), Where can we find a lasting home? Only by living in love, .remaining there, abiding there. We like the idea, but we protest its impossibility. The world in which we live is not a very loving place:' Unfortunately, that misses the point completely. At issue is not the world around us as much as the world inside us. It is we, .at the very center of our being, who are to abide in love; it is our choice, our decision. No one, nothing outside, can evict us from this home. I may not wish to remain there; I may prefer to roam, seek-ing diversion anywhere I can find it. I am restlessly on the move, changing geography or just changing the subjecwI may look for diversion in the media or seek distraction in idle chatter. I may even allow my mind to slip down into dark valleys of personal gloom or climb the bright uneasy slopes of critical judgment. Any Although it may be difficult, even impossible to expla!n, we know there are places, circumstances, relationships in which we can relax, be ourselves, be at pe.ace. March-April 1996 Beba * Enclosed in the Mystery of yesus escape seems better than no escape. All such forms of selfishness seem to promise oases, but prove to be only deserted places. We need to remain where we are in the reality that is ours: present space, immediate situation, personal relationship, even when this is not comfortable, even when we might prefer to be some place., any place., else. Here is the geography of our real-ity, the enclosed space, that allows us to live in truth and in love. Only when we attempt to remain in this loving truth of pre-sent reality do we discover how much unreality pollutes our human situation. Where we try to live is too often only a castle in the air, a mirage. No wonder we cannot find much of a living there. We cannot dwell where we are not. So we must move on. If the direc-tion of our seeking moves us toward home, then we call our change conversion. The moving now becomes a pilgrimaging, a seeking for our true home. Pilgrims we will always be in this life since the only place where we can have a lasting abode is in our eternal dwelling place. But already in this life we do have a home in God, the God who dwells in the center of our hearts. This is where we must remain in the here and now, loving God, ourselves, others. Then we expe-rience ourselves at home. It is the remaining that often becomes problematic. Monastic enclosure is meant to offer a way of doing so. Time and space for God are its first promise. By setting boundaries on who comes and goes, it reserves a generous amount of time and space that Can be filled with the things of God. Again, what is offered is the opporttmity; what is necessary is faithfulness, not just to making use of the time that is available, but also to the specifics of our own personal vocation. What prayer is God inviting me to here, now? ~- At variant times we may find ourselves called to renewed litur-gical dedication or to a silent waiting on the Lord. Ours may be a prayer of pain or one of more generous service. There will be seasons when we will easily dedicate ourselves to thankfulness and other times when it will be all we can do to muster a decent amount of joy. What remains the same: Be faithful in prayer and you will find the Lord. And find yourselfl This can be even more problematic. People expect to find God (perhaps a "dream" God) within the enclo-sure; they may not be as acceptive or expective of the self they will discover as well. Limited space inevitably brings one face to Review for Religiot~s face with self. Lacking a place to hide, we must face ourselves and learn to love the self that we really are, not the self that we often pretend to be. It is the reality of ourselves just as we are presently that God loves, so we do not have an option about self-acceptance. Remaining true to ourselves opens the door to real love of neighbor. Again, we need to embrace others, not as we would like to remake them, but as they are in Christ Jesus. When we mistake our self-centered labeling of others as lovable/unlovable for the judgment of God, we are left in the darkness of untruth. We do not dare stay there. The only place we can remain is in the all-inclusive tenderness of God's love. Life within an enclosed space is meant to make possible such a love, providing opportunities for in-depth relationships that are tested in the crucible of close living, that endure over a lifetime and bear fruit for eternity. The hope of life enclosed, as Schrieider points out, is that it "leads to nearness and to the ability for relationships" (p. 14). This capacity for relationships extends beyond the monastery. Again it is a matter of the heart. In the bond that is God's life-giv-ing love, all are potentially one. This essential unity is lived out in a faith that makes enclosure as wide as divine mercy and as tender as infinite compassion. Again, no pious dream, but vital enough, to inspire a life of everyday sacrifice and self-giving for the building up of the Body of Christ (Ep 2:20)! This is enclosure's spaciousness, its redemptive power. Slowly, gradually, what was once.intellectual assent to faith's truths becomes experience. We are so united "in Jesus" that each person embracing truth and growing in freedom affects the life of all. We never act alone, because we never are alone; our soli-tude is peopled with all the people of God. When these experi-ences become personal, the contemplative no longer feels constrained by enclosure's limits, but, rather, finds fulfillment in remaining there~ at home in the heart of God. The gospel speaks of such remainirig as living in love and also as living in Jesus. There is a sense in which the two descriptions are redundant; to remain in love is to remain in Jesus. What the latter expression adds is helpful personalization along with the unbelievable promise of a certain reciprocity. We live, are, in Jesus and Jesus lives, is, in us On 14: 20). What does it mean to live in Jesus? For one thing, it requires us to remain in the word of God, allowing it to penetrate our March-Aplql 1996 Beha * Enclosed in the Mystery of yesus very being, shaping all our beliefs, our actions. It means living according to the holy gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ as every Christian professes to do. In practice, this may begin with a sim-ple willingness to takeup the Scriptures each day, remaining with them until the word of God sounds deep in our hearts, At each fresh reading of the gospel message, we ask: What is God's good news for me, today? What am I being called to say, to do, to refrain from saying, from doing? Over the course of time this abiding in the word of God begins to shape me, to shape us into gospel people. We become good news in our immediate environment, voices of encourage-ment, sources of strength even as we continue to grow in healthy awareness of our own weakness, for "when we are weak, then we are strong" (2 Co 12:10). As gospel people, we evangelize just in the living of our everyday lives. This remaining in the word of God that is an abiding in Jesus asks that more and more we live as Jesus lived. We think as Jesus thinks, "Let this mind be in you" (Ph 2:4), turning away from the preoccupation with self as well as the defensive criticism of oth-ers that often fill our thinking. Empowered by the Spirit of Jesus we speak as Jesus spoke, "with authority" (Mk 1:22), no longer threatened by fear or plagued by self-doubt. In Jesus, our lives teach, our touch heals. In Jesus we reach out to the poor, the sick, the troubled, the outcasts. The point of our remaining is not to recreate the past of Jesus' life in any literal sort of way. We are not first-century Palestinian Jews. For each of us, to live in Jesus requires fidelity to the cir-cumstances of'our lives. I need to ask: What is the mind of Jesus on my questions, the problematic situations of my days? What does Jesus say to the pleasure and pain that texture my days, the dailyness of my work, my leisure? In the silent spaciousness of the enclosure, these questions become, not pious, exercises, but literal necessities. I need to discover some specifics of an answer. Essential to such remaining in Jesus is the conviction that Jesus already remains in me. "Abide, dwell, live, in me, as I in you." How does Jesus live in me? In the constancy of faithful commitment, a covenant relationship begun in baptism and endur-ing through .all the circumstances of my life, unless repudiated by a definitive rejection on my part. Jesus lives my every activity; none are excluded as too ordinary, too human, too trivial. That is the truth revealed in the incarnation; it is the possibility of my Review for Religious baptism, but a reality that waits on the yes of my desire. Jesus enioys my joys, suffers in my pains, grows weary at the end of my days. His abiding presence remains a loving constant; only the unreali~ of sinfulness reduces my responsiveness. Unbelievably, we can and often do choose our own way rather than the way of Jesus. We temporize: not here, not yet. We assume control, seek-ing to fulfill ourselves. Fortunate the individuals who are open enough to realize such resistance and turn back. They find Jesus waiting, always there. Within enclosure the realization of our withdrawal, of the unsatisfying nature of our selfish pursuits, can come more quickly.There are fewer places to turn, more helps in returning and remaining faithful to Jesus living in us. Gradually, as Jesus lives more fully in us, we come to pray as he did: "Your kingdom come; your will be done" (Mt 6:10). This is where Jesus lived, where he remained: in the will of the Father. From the beginning of "I come to do your will" (Ps 40:8) to the end of "Not as I will but as you will" (Mk 32:36), Jesus had only one center, one place of peace, the will of the Father. If Jesus is to live ever more fully in us, we must stay in the same place. It must be at our every beginning so that it may be the end of all our endings. Sometimes it will be easy to accept God's will; at other times, costly. Ultimately, it will cost everything as we hand over our lives, with the same surrender of "into your hands" (Lk 23:46). This at the hour of death, but alsb in all the immediacy of today's letting go, for to live in Jesus is to die in daily surrender. Then eternity will be iust a continuation of that "remaining in Jesus" which has been the enclosed dwelling place of all our living. At each fresh reading of the gospel message we ask: What is God's good news for me, today? Conclusion Entering into enclosure is a matter of faith and hope. It is a lived expression of the belief that God is worth a whole life's seek-ing. Those who embrace the limits of enclosure find themselves freed for the paschal mystery of risen life through a going down into the valley of death-to-self and daily surrender. If they remain faithful, remaining in Jesus as Jesus remains in them, they will be March-April 1996 Beba ¯ Enclosed in the Mystery of Jesus transformed. No longe~: living for themselves, their lives "will be hidden now, with Christ, in God" (Col 3:3). This is what it means to live within the enclosure. This is to abide in the glory of that promise, "When Christ, who is your life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory" (Col 3:4). Who Am I? I am the woman tentatively touching the hem of Jesus' garment for healing, and having to tell what it is that ails me, and who and what have failed to heal me until now, all of Which was so much rubbish! I am the woman anxiously sweeping my floor in searchof the lost coin, the last coin I had to.live on. How happy I will be when I see it shining in the dust at my fee!! I am the Woman going into the temple putting that last coin of mine into the treasury. Then I will go home wondering whether it was wise of me to have relinquished the only treasure that I had! Bernadette McC~rrick RSM Review for Religiou.~ DANIEL J. HARRINGTON Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging This year I celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of my ordination to the Catholic priesthood in the New England province of the Society of Jesus. This year no one will be ordained a priest in our province. This year ten men will celebrate fifty years as priests, and fifteen men will observe their fiftieth anniversary as Jesuits. Priests and religious in the U.S.A. and Europe are aging, and so, too, religious life. As we grow older together, we surely need the intel-lectual and spiritual resources of our biblical tradition to help us along the way. Many people assume that aging and the elderly are major topics in the Bible. Perhaps they make this assump-tion because the early chapters of Genesis feature char-acters like Methuselah who live to great ages. Perhaps the reason is that the Bible, as an ancient and wise book, must have something important to say on these matters. But from a quantitative perspective aging and the elderly are not central concerns of the Bible. There is no lengthy biblical treatise.on aging and the elderly. Nor is there any uniform perspective in the rela-tively few texts that do deal with these topics. The more explicit treatments appear in the Old Testament. Old Testament Perspectives The people of the Old Testament lived in a traditional Daniel J. Harrington SJ is editor of New Testament Abstracts. His address is Weston Jesuit School of Theology; 3 Phillips Place; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. March-April 1996 Harrin~ton * Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging, The elderly were expected to be exemplars of wisdom and fear of the Lord. society in which the elderly were held in respect. Most biblical people did not reach the kind of old age that has become common at least in the U.S.A. and parts of Europe since 1950. And so in searching the Scriptures for wisdom on aging and the elderly we need to face from the start the differences between the Old Testament world and our own. We live in a society with little respect for tradition and social .status based on age, and with a great demandfor material productivity and accom-plishment. Moreover, our expanding life spans may be creating problems and possibilities that the bib-lical writers never imagined. Nevertheless, the Bible can contribute to developing a theology of aging today despite these obvious differences. Whatever one makes out of the life spans attributed to the patriarchs in Genesis 5 (930 years for Adam, 912 for Seth, 905 for Enosh, and so on), ordinary Israelites in the period covered in the his-torical books lived much shorter lives. It is safe to say that the lower classes lived between thirty years and fifty years (if they reached adulthood), that aris-tocrats lived between forty and sixty years, and that all regarded a life between seventy and eighty years as an elusive ideal. It was assumed that the elderly showed signs of aging (gray hair, beards for men), and began to experience physical infirmities. The com-mandment to honor one's parents in the Decalogue (Ex 20:12; Dt 5:16) was understood as applying primarily to adults and as urging them to care for their aging parents. It was regarded as a social norm and a divine command to respect older people: "You shall rise before the aged, and defer to the old; and you shall fear your God: 'I am the Lord'" (Lv 19:32). The elderly themselves were expected to be exemplars of wis-dom and fear of the Lord. Male and female elders had the task and privilege of handing on the social and religious tradit~ions. The critical treatments of elders in .lob and Qoheleth only serve to emphasize that in this traditional society the elderly were sup-posed to have an important place. As the testament-of-Jacob scene (see Gn 49) shows, the ideal was to die surrounded by many off-spring and to hand on property and land to one's children. The positive picture of old age in the Old Testament tradition is best stated in a block of random sayings in Sirach 25:3-6. Ben ' Sira, a wisdom teacher of Jerusalem around 200 B.C., concluded Review for Religious his lists of pleasant and hateful things (25:1-2) by expressing a loathing for "an old fool who commits adultery." By a thematic connection he then outlines some positive teachings about aging and the elderly: 3. If you gathered nothing in your youth, how can you find anything in our old age? 4. How attractive is sound judg-ment in the gray-haired, and for the aged to possess good counsel! 5. How attractive is wisdom in the aged, and under-standing and counsel in the venerable! 6. Rich experience is the crown of the aged, and their boast is the fear of the Lord. The three sayings (25:3, 4-5, 6) are only loosely connected by subject matter. The first saying (25:3) makes the point that the quality of one's old age--wise or foolish--grows out of the quality of one's youth. A foolish young person will probably grow into a foolish old person. The mere fact of old age does not work a drastic personal transformation. The second saying (25:4-5) lists the ideal characteristics of the elderly as sound judgment, good counsel, wisdom, and under-standing. These characteristics are basically synonyms; they all refer to the wisdom that is attractive in all people, especially in the elderly. The third saying (2 5:6) acknowledges the life experience of the elderly as a "crown" and holds out as the most important quality of the elderly the "fear of the Lord." Fear of the Lord is one of the chief themes in the biblical wisdom books and in Sirach in particular. It proceeds from an accurate assessment of who God is and who we are before God. It is not the fear that proceeds from anxiety and issues in avoidance or flight. Rather, it refers to the respect and awe that God deserves. That attitude of respect is the beginning of wisdom (see Si 1:14). From it, according to Ben Sira and the other sages, will flow whatever wisdom is necessary for finding one's way through the tests and trials of life. Wisdom and fear of the Lord are two sides of the same coin and express the positive ideal of aging in the Bible. The negative aspects of old age are best described in another wisdom book, Qoheleth (or Ecclesiastes). Here the focus is the decrepitude and death that are part of old age. In the final chap-ter (12) of his book, Qoheleth has clothed a depressing message in a series of exquisitely drawn images. The message is that old age means loss of pleasure, physical infirmity, fear, and death. Qoheleth's picture of the afterlife is shadowy at best: "The dead March-April 1996 Harrington ¯ Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging know nothing; they have no more reward, and even the memory of them is lost" (9:5). So for him the death that accompanies old age is all the more final. 1. Remember your creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come, and the years draw near when you will say, "I have no pleasure in them"; 2. before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return with the rain; 3. in the day when the guards of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, and the women who grind cease working because they are few, and those who look through the windows see dimly; 4. when the doors on the street are shut, and the sound of the grinding is low, and one rises up at the sound of a bird, and all the daughters of song are brought low; 5. when one is afraid of heights, and terrors are in the road; the almond tree blossoms, the grasshopper drags itself along and desire fails; because all must go to their eternal home, and the mourners will go about the streets; 6. before the silver cord is snapped, and the golden bowl is broken, and the pitcher is broken at.the fountain, and the wheel broken at the cis-tern, 7. and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the breath returns to God who gave it. 8 Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher; all is vanity. The one addressed is urged to face the negative realities of old age ("days of trouble") when even the prospect of the years to come gives no pleasure and life seems to be dark and stormy (12:1-2). In a beautiful but disquieting set of images Qoheleth compares the process of aging to the decay of a house fallen into disrepair (12:3-4): loss of eyesight and hearing, loss of teeth with which to chew, and inability to sleep soundly. Then with other images he calls attention to the fear, the loss of desire, and the obsession with death that can be part of old age (12:5). Death is described with images of breaking the silver cord, the golden bowl, the pitcher, and the wheel (12:6). In death the body becomes dust and returns to the earth, while the breath "returns to God who gave it" (12:7), not to immortality or resurrection but at best to the shadowy existence described in 9:5. Death, like all of life (see 1:1- 11), is empty, mere "wind," without lasting substance (12:8). Old age as Qoheleth paints it with his marvelous images is painful and depressing. Young people should enjoy life while they can. The ideal of old age is fullness of wisdom and fear of the Lord (Si 25:3-6). The reality of old age may well involve bodily infir-mity, loss of physical and emotional powers, and fear; death is Review Jbr Religious inevitable (Qoh 12:1-8). In the Jewish tradition it is the duty of adult children to care for their aging parents. That obligation is clearly stated in the Decalogue: "Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you" (Ex 20:12; Dt 5:16). Starting from the commandment in the Decalogue, Ben Sira in Sirach 3:1-16 presents an instruction on the duties of adult children to their aging parents. After addressing his pupils as a father addresses a son (3:1), he gives some reasons why children should care for their parents: 1. Listen to me your father, O children; act accordingly, that you may be kept in safety. 2. For the Lord honors a father above his children, and he confirms a mother's right over her children. 3. Those who honor their father atone for sins, 4. and those who respect their mother are like those who lay up treasure. 5. Those who honor their father will have joy in their own children, and when they pray they will be heard. 6. Those who respect their father will have a long life, and those who honor their mother obey the Lord; 7. they will serve their parents as their masters. Caring for one's elderly parents conforms to the divine order of creation (3:2), atones for sins and merits spiritual treasures (3:3-4), gives good example to one's own children (3:5a), ensures that one's prayers will be heard (3:5b) and that one will live a long life (3:6a), and honors God (3:6b). Ben Sira (and all the biblical writers) lived in a society in which honor and shame were important values. How one appeared to others and in relation to them was very significant, far more so than in our modern individualistic cultures. Failure to honor one's parents brings a curse from them and disgrace in the eyes of others: 8. Honor your father by word and deed, that his blessing may come upon you. 9. For a father's blessing strengthens the houses of the children, but a mother's curse uproots their foundations. 10. Do not glorify yourself by dishon-oring your father, for your father's dishonor is no glory to you. 11. The glory of one's father is one's own glory, and it is a disgrace for children not to respect their mother. The final part (3:12-16) of Ben Sira's instruction gives par-ticular attention to the situation of caring for a parent who loses mental abilities ("even if his mind fails"). It recommends patience and fidelity and promises a reward from God: March-April 1996 Harrington ¯ Biblical Contributions to a Theology of Aging 12. My child, help your father in his old age, and do not grieve him as long as he lives; 13. even if his mind fails, be patient with him; because you have all your faculties do not despise him. 14. For kindness to a fathe~ will not be for-gotten, and will be credited to you against your sins; 15. in the day of your distress it will be remembered in your favor; like frost in fair weather, your sins will melt away. 16. Whoever forsakes a father is like a blasphemer, and whoever angers a mother is cursed by the Lord. Ben Sira's insistence on care for one's parents as leading to forgiveness of sins (3.'3, 14) is especially interesting in light of his own shadowy concepts of afterlife and his enthusiastic support for the Temple's system of sin-offerings and sacrifices. He appar-ently regarded faithful and patient service of one's parents as a privileged way of atoning for one's sins in this life. The three wisdom texts that we have looked at say much of what there is to say about old age and the elderly in the Old Testament. Indeed, they summarize most of the wisdom about these topics outside the Bible and into the present. Their con-tent would have been taken for granted by people in New Testament times. New Testament Perspectives The New Testament does not explicitly offer new and radically different teachings on aging and the elderly. What it does offer is an outline of spirituality that can help aging people and others to confront the reality of old age in faith and confidence. The Old Testament story of salvation began with God's call to Abraham in Genesis 12 and the promise to make of his descen-dants % great nation." We are told that Abraham was seventy-five years old when he departed from Haran (12:4). God's promise was then fulfilled through the birth of Isaac when "Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in age" (18:11). Thus the history of God's people begins in an unlikely and improbable way--from a child born to a very old couple (21:5). According to Luke, the story of salvation through Jesus Christ began with the elderly couple Zechariah and Elizabeth and with the birth of John the Baptist to them. Likewise, the birth of Jesus is properly evaluated and proclaimed by Simeon and Anna in the Jerusalem Temple. These two figures represent the best features of Old Testament piety. Simeon is described as "righteous and Review for Religiotls devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel" (Lk 2:25). He is granted the privilege of seeing and proclaiming the newborn Messiah before his death: "Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace." (Lk 2:29). Anna also, at the age of eighty-four, culminates a long life of piety by praising God and speaking "about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem" (2:38). These two elderly representatives of God's people see in the child Jesus what the religious and political lead-ers of Israel failed to see in Jesus the adult. It is intriguing that elderly people--Abraham and Sarah-- begin the history of salvation according to Genesis, and that elderly people-~Zechariah and Elizabeth, and Simeon and Anna-- recognize clearly the new and definitive chapter in this history that began with the birth of Jesus. These elderly people exem-plify the wisdom and fear of the Lord that are the biblical ideals of old age. They speak the language of the Scriptures (especially Second Isaiah) to proclaim eschatological fullness in Jesus the Messiah. Their openness to God and trust in God allow God to use them as unlikely instruments in the history of salvation. The ways of God are very surprising. While Simeon and Anna provide positive models for elderly people who are serious about the surprising ways of God, we can-not disregard the negative aspects of old age so well described by Qoheleth. Although the New Testament does not deal explicitly with this topic, there are New Testament texts that speak elo-quently to us as we face the physical infirmities and fears that accompany old age. Like Ben Sira and Qoheleth, Jesus was a wisdom teacher. One of the earliest and most eloquent teachings we have from Jesus is his instruction about dealing with anxiety in Luke 12:22-31 (see Mt 6:25-34): 22. He said to his disciples, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. 23. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. 24. Consider the ravens: they nei-ther sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! 25. And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? 26. If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest? 27. Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 28. But if God so clothes the Marcb-~lpril 1996 Ha~ngton ¯ Biblical Cont~butions to a Theology of Aging grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you-- you of little faith! 29. And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. 30. For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them. 31. Insteakl strive for his kingdom, and these things will be given ~o you as well. Though not directly addressed to elderly people, this instruc-tion concerns issues and questions that disturb elderly people especially: How long will I live? What will I eat? What about my health? What will I.wear? Jesus deals with these issues on two fronts. On the one hand, he exposes the futility of anxiety: It does not achieve anything positive (see 12:25-26). Simply telling peo-ple not to worry is not enough to combat anxiety. Jesus places before us some positive considerations about God's care for us and about God's kingdom as the goal of our lives. He first insists that life is more than food or clothing (12:23), and then urges us to consider how God feeds the birds (12:24) and clothes the lilies in splendor (12:27-28). If God so cares for birds and flowers, how much more does God care for us human beings. Jesus reminds us that God already knows what we need (12:30). The primary goal should be striving for God's kingdom, and everything else will fall into place. (12:31). There is great wisdom in this instruction, and it is particularly pertinent to elderly people. But sometimes anxiety turns into reality. Few of us leave this world without experiencing physical or emotional suffering. Here the apostle Paul has some eloquent things to say. Paul took over early Christian formulas of faith that describe Jesus' suffering and death as "for us" or "for our sins" (see Rm 3:25-26; 1 Co 11:24; 15:3). He himself used similar formulas as a matter of course (see Rm 5:6; 14:15; 2 Co 5:14,'21; Ga 1:4; 3:13). These expressions affirm that Jesus as God's servant (see Is 52:13-53:12) suffered and died on our behalf, and so made available to all--Jews and Gentiles alike--right relationship with God and the possibility of eternal salvation. We are saved through Christ's suffering. According to Paul, Christian life involves participation in Jesus' suffering and death as well as his resurrection: "We have been buried with him by baptism into death" (Rm 6:4). This shar-ing continues after baptism: "For just as the sufferings of Christ are abundant for us, so also our consolation is abundant through Christ" (2 Co 1:5). Elsewhere Paul says that we always carry "in Review for Religious the body the death of Jesus" (2 Co 4:10). Paul's ideal for himself and for every Christian is to be "conformed" to Christ; that is, to take on the very "shape" (morphe) of Christ: "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his suf-ferings by becoming like him in his death" (Ph 3:10). For mil-lions of suffering Christians, identification with Christ and participation in his sufferings have provided meaning and comfort in the midst of suffer-ing, and still do. In the Deuteropauline letter to the Colossians the theme of sharing Christ's suf-ferings takes an unusual turn: "In my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Col 1:24). This cannot mean that there is something deficient in the rec-onciliation brought about by Jesus' death and resurrection. The whole New Testament and Colossians 1:19-20 in particular stress the sufficiency of Jesus' sacrificial death. What then does Paul's suffering fill up? The key expression is "Christ's afflictions," or, more accurately, the "tribu-lations (or, woes) of the Messiah." According to contemporary Jewish texts (I Enoch 47:1-4; 2 Baruch 30:2) God has set a limit to the tribulations associated with the Messiah's coming. The state-ment in Colossians 1:24 applies Paul's sufferings to that fixed amount of suffering that must occur before God's kingdom arrives in its fullness. Thus Paul's suffering shortens the time before the fullness of God's kingdom (see Mk 13:20) and contributes to the faster vindication of God's church. This text, which has been a great inspiration to suffering (elderly or not) people, needs to be understood in its proper theological and historical context. Other Pauline texts provide important advice for elderly per-sons (and others) who suffer. In 2 Corinthians 12, Paul, in answer-ing the critics of his ministry as an apostle, boasts about his weaknesses rather than about his strengths and accomplishments. He does so on the basis of what the Lord said to him: "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Co 12:9). In a world that associates power with strength, Paul reminds us that the true power of God is manifested most bril-liantly in the weak---as was the case with Abraham and Sarah, and with Simeon and Anna. Few of us leave this world without experiencing physical or emotional suffering. March-April 1996 Harrington ¯ Biblical Contributio~.~n~.to~ Tb__eo,~lo.~f~A.~n,.g' Eternal life for Christians, according to Paul, begins with baptism, since eternal life comes from participating in Jesus' death and resurrection (see Rm 6:1-11). Therefore death and sin no longer exercise absolute dominion over us. We are already living our eternal life. It does not begin at the moment of our death. The line between physical life and physical death is no longer de

Issue 54.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1995. ; Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Mis'souri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ° 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ° Washington, DC 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. See inside back cover for information on subscription rates. ©1995Review 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 com~nercial distribu-tion, advertising, institutional promotion, or for the creation of new collective works or anthologies. Such permission will only be considered on written application to the Editor, Review for Religious. for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Editorial Staff Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Regina Siegfried ASC Elizabeth McDonough OP Mary Ann Foppe Tracy Gramm Jean Read Joann Wolski Conn PhD Iris Ann Ledden SSND Joel Rippinger OSB Edmundo Rodriguez SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1995 ¯ VOLUME54 ¯ NVUMBER4 contents 486 499 5O8 mission Twenty Inner-City Years Joanna Bramble, CSJ explores feelings, questions, and insights from her effort to revitalize an inner-city neighborhood and empower its people. Corporate Sponsorship: The 1990s and the Fruits of Our Labor Margaret MaW Knittel RSM raises some questions which suggest a fluidity of vision and a loosening of ties in regard to corporate sponsorship and the fruits of our labor. Retirement's Wisdom Years Catherine M. Harmer MMS proposes that retirement for religious may be a time of deepening wisdom and individuation and a time for a greater spirituality to emerge. 519 531 guidance The Enneagram Tad Dunne examines understandings of the enneagram and suggests ways of moving to a larger world of meaning and values. Imaging Spiritual Direction Mary Vginifred CHS discusses guidelines for spiritual direction and presents three images illustrative of the relationship between director and directee. 535 56O heritage The Brazier That Is My God: Teresa on True Prayer's Dispositions, Gifts, and Signs Mary C. Sullivan RSM highlights the prayer of personal conversion wi{h its many gifts as captured by Teresa of Avila in her rich metaphor of "dwelling places." Playing with Edged Tools Donald Macdonald SMNI allows the thought of John Henry Newman to enter us into a richer appreciation of vowed public profession as a part of radical gospel living. 482 Review for Religious spirituality 566 How Am I Doing? Signs of a Healthy Spirituality Melannie Svoboda SND suggests some indicators for checking on how healthy our spirituality is. 573 Appreciating God through Creation Roderick Payne OFM illuminates the heritage of St. Francis to draw attention to some aspects of prayer through creation. 585 589 594 6OO religious life Individualism and Rel!gious Life John Gallagher CSB reflects on three options dealing with the compatibility of contemporary individualism in relation to religious life. Psychological Screening for Religious Life Kevin E. McKenna reviews the help given by the Code of Canon Law for religious congregations attempting to form a consistent policy regarding psychological reports at the time of admission and the maintenance of personnel records. Reformulating the Religious Vows William Reiser SJ reviews the meaning of vows in religious life and suggests that an option for the poor might be a promise for our times. Let's Talk Again about Poverty Richard J. DeMaria CFC probes the meaning of poverty for religious-life practice today. ¯departments 484 Prisms 615 Canonical Counsel: Cloister for Nuns: From the Early Centuries to the 1917 Code 622 Book Reviews ~tuly-August 1995 483 prisms Pope John Paul's two recent docu-ments offer vision and direction: the apostolic letter Orientale lumen (The Light of the East) and the encyclical Ut unum sint (On Commitment to Ecumenism). More than helps to enter into the third millennium, they issue a call to conversion. In Orientale lumen the pope emphasizes that our Eastern Catholic and our Orthodox brothers and sisters are earnest bearers of a venerable and ancient tradition integral to the church's heritage. He calls for all members of the church's Latin tradition to become fully acquainted with this treasure. He desires us all to be fired by a pas-sionate longing that the church's catholicity become man-ifest to church members themselves and to the world, a catholicity comprising the several traditions together rather than in opposition to one another. John Paul uses monasticism as a special vantage point from which we can identify values important today for expressing the contribution of the Christian East to the journey of Christ's church towards the kingdom. In the East, monasticism, which did not experience the differ-ent kinds of apostolic life as in the West, is seen not merely as a separate category of Christians, but rather as a refer-ence point for all the baptized, according to the gifts offered to each by the Lord. John Paul singles out the common traits uniting the monastic experience of the East and the West and forming a bridge of fellowship, "where unity as it is lived shines even more brightly than may appear in the dialogue between the churches." lie empha-sizes the splendid witness of nuns in the Christian East: "This witness has offered an example of giving full value in the church to what is specifically feminine, even break- 484 Review for Religious ing through the mentality of the time. During recent persecu-tions, especially in Eastern European countries, when many male monasteries were forcibly closed, female monasticism kept the torch of the monastic life burning. The nun's charism, with its own specific characteristics, is a visible sign of that motherhood of God to which Sacred Scripture often refers" (9). Among the values reflected in monasticism for the life of the church, the pope highlights 1) a balance in Christian life lived as a personal response to an individual call and as an ecclesial and community event; 2) a liturgy revealing the proper harmony of the baptized-in-Christ and the eucharistic meaning of all creation; 3) a maturing journey in terms of knowing self and being free and able to love as Jesus loves; 4) a tradition of spiritual guidance from brothers and sisters to whom the Spirit has granted this gift; 5) a community showing us a life of communion and service beginning in the family and extending to the wider community; 6) a unity of theology and spirituality deriving from the triune God--the principle and foundation of the Christian understand-ing that the human person is meant for and made for relation-ship; and 7) an all-pervading mystery, enveloped in awe, with which the face of our God presents us. In still wider ways the encyclical Ut unum sint continues the call to deepen the unity we seek with one another and with God. Insisting that the unity of all Christians is God's will and is at the heart of the mission Christ entrusted to his followers, John Paul begs forgiveness for times when Catholics and the papacy itself have contributed to the divisions among Christians and calls for discussion about ways in which the pope can exercise power and authority in a reunited church. He notes that a heritage of saints belonging to all communities provides hope for the dialogue of conversion. "When we speak of a common heritage, we must acknowledge as part of it not only the institutions, rites, means of salvation and the traditions which all the communities have pre-served and by which they have been shaped, but first and foremost this reality of holiness" (84). The urgency of building for the future out of the strengths of Christian heritages marks both of these papal writings. We, like the pope, need to set our sights on this unifying and evangelizing mission of all Christians, thereby living up to religious life's own spiritual heritages. David L. Fleming sJ a~uly-August 1995 485 rnissJon JOANNA BRAMBLE Twenty Inner-City Years After almost twenty years of working towards the revital-ization of West Oakland, a depressed inner-city neigh-borhood, I took a year's sabbatical of travel and spiritual enrichment. In the middle of that year, I decided not to return as director of Jubilee West, the Community Development Corporation I had helped to create. I real-ized that I had unresolved feelings about my years in West Oakland, feelings and questions that I needed to work through before I could move on to the next steps in my work for justice. The reflections below document my liv-ing with those questions. What are my usual feelings about Jubilee West? I feel proud of what it has accomplished, but often I feel deep sadness for the people whose lives have changed very lit-tle, especially the ones I knew well and tried the hardest to help. I feel deep sadness at the unemployment, the drugs, the depressed people, and the piles of garbage that are evident with only a brief drive through the neighbor-hood. I often have an overwhelming sense of failure and powerlessness: so much of my life, love, work, anxiety, joy, hope . . . and so many people still with such con-stricted lives! I feel sadness and grief that the neighbor-hood where I worked for so long was worse after twenty Joanna Bramble CSJ is a consultant to nonprofit organizations in management and program analysis and a member of the provincial council of the Los Angeles province of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. Her address is 529 Jean Street; Oakland, California 94610. 486 Review for Religious years than it was before. It is not that our work did not change anything or made it worse; it just could never do enough. But the main cause of continuing disintegration in that neigh-borhood is not my and others' lack of effort or creative ideas. It is high unemployment and the increasing sale and use of drugs, along with other systemic oppression. How do I keep aware of the interrelatedness of many situations and people and things and somehow see my place as both important and unimportant? What was the situation I came to in 1973? And what did I want to achieve? The 1970 census and the Oakland 701 Study gave the following statistics about the West of Cypress area: ¯ 80 percent black and 18 percent Mexican American ¯ median family income: $3,941 ¯ unemployment rate 26.3 percent for men, 35.7 percent for women ¯ 50 percent of families on welfare; mean welfare income $2,110 ¯ 90 percent of the houses had been expected to be unusable by 1969 (most of these houses are still standing in 1995) ¯ median number of school years completed: 8.4 ¯ 24 percent of people over twenty-five years of age were high school graduates Residents listed their major problems as limited incomes and a high rate of unemployment, extremely poor housing, and poor-quality education. All of these problems still exist and are complex and interrelated. I chose to come to this depressed environment from eleven years of teaching English in white, suburban Catholic high schools. I had interest, concern, compassion, energy, enthusiasm, high hopes . . . and two months of training in community orga-nizing. I remember walking through the neighborhood and mentally singing the words to "Anatevka" from Fiddler on the Roof, newly popular then. The song speaks of the nothingness of the town: "people who pass through Anatevka do not even know they have been here., someone should have set a match to this place years ago." That is what West Oakland looked like to me. But the song goes on to describe Anatevka as home: "where else could Sabbath be so sweet., where I know everyone I meet." That too was West Oakland. It did not take me long to get to know friendly people, many of whom had lived there for years. I walked the streets and .~ly-August 199~ 487 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years sat in people's kitchens to discuss neighborhood problems. Soon some longtime residents and I started the West Oakland Improvement Association. What did I want to achieve? Mainly, I did not want a repeat of Anatevka; I did not want people displaced to make room for gentrification or other forms of development. In 1974 I wrote that my major goal was to help increase the peo-ple's awareness of their power to direct their own lives. Over the next twenty years, I became more deeply aware of the immense problems in people's lives and in the physical neigh-borhood. What I wanted to do both stayed the same and evolved, as did the strategies we used. Always there was the goal of empow-erment. As a community organizer I wanted us to win on issues that people had chosen as urgent concerns. More importantly, I wanted to build an organization that could continue to empower people and revitalize the neighborhood. We won on many issues. Our victories brought pride and increased self-confidence to a number of neighborhood people. But building an organization never really happened. People seemed too concerned with per-sonal survival to stay involved very long. It became more and more difficult to talk with people about community problems when they were concerned with getting enough food for their kids, paying the rent, and dealing with drug problems. These survival issues prompted me and my good friend Sister Pat Sears to start St. Patrick's Center at the Campbell Village Housing Project, where we saw to basic necessities, providing food, clothes, counseling, and a youth program. But decent afford-able housing remained the most urgent problem. Concern about people who were being displaced or were living in substandard housing, inspiration from Jubilee Housing in Washington, D.C., lots of participation from neighborhood people and suburban friends, and awillingness to step into the unknown with faith and hope led me and Pat to start Jubilee West as a nonprofit Community Development Corporation in 1980. We immediately began to buy and fix houses for poverty-level people even though we knew nothing about real estate or construction and had almost no money. Jubilee West also continued and expanded the com-munity services and youth programs begun at St. Patrick's Center. What successes can Jubilee West celebrate over the last fifteen years? Eighty units of scattered-site housing, most of it perma-nently affordable to poverty-level families: five million dollars in property assets removed from speculation and able to be con- 488 Review for Religious trolled by the community far into the future; hundreds of children helped with tutoring and enrichment; many others helped with mentoring and private scholarships to attend college; hundreds of adults placed in jobs, coming to literacy and ESL classes, or receiv- .ing emergency food, clothing, and needed counseling; and an his-toric building rehabilitated to accommodate various community events and to house the offices for other services. When I left, Jubilee West had a committed board of directors, a staff of varying degrees of competence, and a good funding base, although financial crises were and continue to be frequent. So why do I frequently feel like a failure? Mainly because I very much wanted to do something "for the people in the houses" more than just fixing houses and lowering rents and because I feel that most people's lives are not changed very much from what they were before. As I grew to know West Oakland people, I came to be most concerned about what I experienced as the "typical" resident. She is a woman about thirty years old, never mar-ried, with three or four children from different fathers. She has about a tenth-grade education, has never held a paying job, has very poor nutrition, and probably has an alcohol or drug problem. If she is not in JW housing or other subsidized housing, she may pay as much as 60 or 70 percent of her AFDC income in rent, leaving her less than $200 per month for all other expenses. She has no car, and so her experiences and those of her children are mostly limited to the West Oakland neighborhood. She appears depressed and apathetic or else quite hostile. So what did I wantJW to do for this woman? I wanted us to empower her to enrich her own life. What did I mean by this? How would I hope to be able to describe her after a .few years? I have thought a lot about my hopes for her, and I recently became aware that they are similar to my unrealistic goals for myself: As I grew to know West Oakland people, I came to be most concerned about what I experienced as the "typical" resident. She is a woman about thirty years old, never married, with three or four children from different fathers. .~uly-/lugust 199~ 489 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years I want her to have succeeded in or be in the process of get-ting off drugs, getting more education, finding a job and then a better job, stabilizing her family, getting enough income to move out of subsidized housing, deepening her spiritual values, becoming more psychologically whole, building community with her neighbors, keeping her house clean, taking care of her kids, and working for change in the neighborhood through participating in JW and other organizations. I want her to stay in the neighborhood or come back after she succeeds in order to help the commu-nity work for justice. As I write this, it seems so unrealistic that I want to add face-tiously that she should also be thin and beautiful, but not care too much about her looks. Obviously, one reason I feel like a fail-ure is that I had very unrealizable expectations. Only a few peo-ple could achieve the hbove, and only with superhuman effort or lots of good luck. I wanted my "typical" person to be aware of her power to change and control her own life. That sounds like a good goal. But perhaps my biggest mistake was that I did not give enough conscious acknowledgment to the reality of systemic oppression. When she tries to change in other than very small ways, she runs up against huge obstacles that make it exceedingly difficult if not impossible for her to "control her own life." Only a few really "win" in her situation; but, because those few do win, she feels that she too should be able to win. She blames herself and society also blames her, telling her in many ways that it is her fault. In some ways I contribute to this when I talk about "self-help" without at the same time talking about systemic oppres-sion. Her self-blame does not give her more energy to "fight the system" and to make small and then larger changes in her life; instead it leads to depression, apathy, or hostility. Similarly my self-blame, my feeling myself a failure for not being able to empower her, does not give me more energy to fight the system; in me also it leads to depression, apathy, and sometimes hostility. Issues of injustice in economics, politics, and education are profoundly interrelated. A minimum wage that inserts working people into the poverty level without enough money to pay the rent, a business economy dependent on a certain percent of unem-ployment, thousands of job layoffs so that even many people with good educations are unlikely to keep their jobs that pay a living wage, unjust distribution of wealth including "hidden" subsidies 490 Review for Religious for the rich (whereby more money is "spent" on tax write-offs for interest on home-ownership loans than on all the housing programs for the poor), drug traffic that brings huge profits to a few wealthy people, a welfare system that discourages work, the worst schools usually in the poorest areas, housing thought of as an investment for profit rather than a home to live in, pervasive discrimination against minorities, especially African-American males--these are only a few examples of the interconnected sys-tems that cause my "typical" person's situation. I have known all this for a long time. Did I fail to keep it in my awareness because I felt I could do little about it and I like solvable problems? In any case, I concentrated on self-help pro-grams-- how soon I found that often they do not succeed either! Each person in any self-help program must "choose life" for her-self, of course, and begin to act on her own behalf while at the same time society, "the system," must stop oppressing her. Both are interrelated. But as I reflected on my Jubilee West experience, I still heard the same familiar inner voices of my own self-blame. If only I had been smarter, worked harder, tried something more creative, then I could have made a bigger dent in solving these problems. At this point I was fortunate to come across the book Surplus Powerlessness by Michael Lerner. Lerner first talks about real pow-erlessness, the reality of an unequal distribution of power in this society: If a small number of us try to change things, we will run up against a brick wall. In fact, even if millions of people were to engage in activity to change things, in the short run we would find our society very difficult to change. The brick wall is not just a subjective illusion. The basic fact is this: American society is a class-dom-inated society. A small number of people have vast eco-nomic power while the overwhelming.majority has almost no power in the economic realm. Economic power gives that small group a huge amount of political power. While the rest of us have some political power, it takes vast expen-ditures of energy and time to win small victories. But to say that the elites of wealth and power have over-whelming power is not to say that they have absolute power. Things could be quite different if many people were to engage in the struggle for change. It would be a real strug-gle- and there would be many difficult defeats.~ After talking about realpowerlessness, Lerner describes surplus ~uly-Augus~ 199Y 4.91 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years powerlessness as "the set of feelings and beliefs that make people think of themselves as even more powerless than the actual power sit-uation requires, and then leads them to act in ways that actually con-firm them in their powerlessness." He is describing me when he shows how many activists continually manage to redefine the con-ditions of success in such a way that they always feel "one down" for not having accomplished enough; they redefine their victo-ries as failures and do not credit their own real accomplishments. I certainly do that often. Lerner reminds us that when society claims it is set up in a fundamentally fair way, in which people can make it if they really try, powerlessness is seen as a product of the individual's personal failures. Thus self-blame becomes the central element in surplus powerlessness. It grows stronger every time we blame ourselves for having failed in some important way and have no compassion for ourselves in view of all the ways that reality pushes us to be less than we want to be. Taking responsibility for one's own life works only for the part of the population and for the societal issues where objective conditions allow for real change. People need help to distinguish between factors out of their control about which they could be legitimately angry and factors that would change if they changed how they thought about themselves and how they lived their own lives. Surplus powerlessness, self-blame, deflects attention from the real problems and hence from any real solutions. The anger that might be reasonably directed against a social order which gener-ates personal unhappiness is instead directed inwards and becomes depression or a dangerous buildup of repressed violence. But Lerner's next point is also part of my" experience. Once people are no longer disempowered by self-blaming, they are in a better position to change their environment. Surplus power-lessness can be lessened by supportive group interaction and by developing compassion, showing people that the problems they face do not come from personal inadequacies, but are faced by others as well, and that people need one another's help in facing these problems. My reflection on Lerner's concept of surplus powerlessness shows me that I have been blaming the victims, both my typical West Oakland person and myself. I have definitely internalized the American way that tells me that, if I have a problem, I should take care of it, work to change it, and not blame someone else. 492 Review for Religious But, to avoid the extreme of blaming others for my problems, I frequently go to the extreme of not giving much acknowledg-ment to the real powerlessness in my life, to the real systems that are oppressing me as well as my typical West Oakland person. At this point in my reflection, I read Joanna Macy's books Despair and Personal Power and World as Lover, World as Self about the need to feel pain, experience it, work through it: my pain and the pain of others. I see that as a big clue for me. I went back to my sabbatical journal written in Washington, D.C., in 1992. One of the questions in Mary Cosby's class on "call" was "What is your deepest pain?" I wrote, "I'm not aware of very much personal pain. Actually my greatest pain seems to be feel-ing the pain of others: so many homeless people on the street, so many hurting children, so much violence in the world., and feel-ing powerless to do very much about any of this." A few days later at a creative-movement session I felt overcome by sorrow and tears. I kept feeling, saying, crying to myself: "I didn't know how to make it better for people. I am so sad about that ¯ ¯ . sad because people were not helped, not so much that I couldn't help but that they weren't helped., thinking of Sylvia, Spring, Connie, Deedee, Charetta, Pat, A1, Brenda . . . tears because I couldn't do it, but more because life did not change for them . " I remember feeling that I must be avoiding some deeper personal pain if the major pain I was aware of was pain for the world, for other people. Now I see that a major need for me is to feel my pain, which greatly includes pain for the world. Joanna Macy says in Despair and Personal Power: "We have trouble cred-iting the notion that concerns for the general welfare might be acute enough to cause distress., but pain for our world touches each of us, and this pain is rooted in caring., our apparent pub-lic apathy is but a fear of experiencing and expressing this pain, and once it is acknowledged and shared it opens the way to our power." 2 I have definitely internalized the American way that tells me that, if I have a problem, I should take care of it, work to change it, and not blame someone else. July-August 199Y 493 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years During that semester in 1992, I picked up an old journal from 1988, specifically looking for how I dealt at that time with my pain over the distressing situations I experienced daily at Jubilee West. A pattern seemed to be: I would run into a small or large problem that was usually a symptom of a larger systemic problem; feel frustrated and ptwerless; think I should be able to solve it; blame myself because I could not; go to bed depressed, wake up with somehow more energy ready to try again, to think up some new way to address the problem . . . but rarely allow myself to really feel my own pain and sadness. Although many people were involved in Jubilee West, I always felt myself ultimately respon-sible. I also frequently neglected my deep need to gift myself with beauty and nourishment for my soul. I have always felt a great desire for silence, solitude, beauty, prayer--for finding ways to experience the sacred in all of life. But I often let compulsive efforts to solve problems rob me of the centeredness necessary for living and acting from a contemplative way of being. As a step in the process of"living the questions" and of writ-ing this article, I walked around the West Oakland neighborhood visiting some of my longtime friends. I had not been able to do this since leaving Jubilee West three years ago; when we moved away last fall, I just disappeared without telling many people that I was going. So this walk was a pilgrimage for remembering and finding cause to grieve and cause to rejoice. What do I learn for myself from all of this reading and reflec-tion and from my recent pilgrimage of walking in West Oakland? What does my inner wisdom tell me? What follows are some exploratory answers as I live the questions: 1. Feel your pain, take time for it. your personal pain and that of the West Oakland people that you care about, and the world that 'faces the possibility of total destruction. Allowing myself to feel pain is hard to do; I am more used to giving thirty seconds to pain and then moving on to possible solu-tions. But, on my walk through West Oakland, I was more able to be with the pain of what I experienced: my own fear when I went into Campbell Village by myself because of what I know of the violence, drugs, and crime that are always there; the usual mounds of garbage everywhere, especially in front of my friend Sally's apartment; Sally's son in jail for using and selling drugs--I remem-ber him as a cute, loving eight-year-old; the fifteen or twenty men on the corner of 14th and Peralta as they always are--drink- 494 Review for Reh~ious ing and buying drugs; Trisha's house boarded up because she was evicted for drug activity, when she had been one of Jubilee West's most promising tenants. 2. Feelyourjoy also and others' joy as well: celebrate small suc-cesses, continue the lifelong task of dealing with your inner judge that says, "but it isn't enough." My walk through West Oakland gave me many opportunities for experiencing joy. It felt good to remember all the times I have been in people's houses having coffee and conversation. My friend Joanne greeted me with a big hug, and we laughed over old times together. Two of her children are doing very well, she is enjoying her job taking care of hand-icapped people, she still feels empow-ered by the victories we achieved together many years ago, and her sense of humor is still spectacular. Annie also greeted me with open arms; she is an elderly woman who owns her own home and several oth-ers in the neighborhood, though all of them are in various stages of disrepair. As I sat in her tiny kitchen, she asked me who she could get to help her change her will, and I remembered how hard it was, many years ago, to convince her to make a will at all. My last stop was Charles Garcia, who because of our orga-nizing efforts scraped up $1,700 twenty years ago to buy the falling-apart house he was living in--a small amount, even in 1974, but monumental to him. Although he was not home, his pride of ownership was evident everywhere: lots of beautiful roses in the front yard, a stained-glass window over the door; his daugh-ter spoke of wanting to. move her own growing family back to that neighborhood. I was pleased to see that there was only one burned-out house on Chester Street, when there had been many a few years ago, and I felt pride as always at Jubilee West's twenty-two new-con-struction apartments on Goss Street, definitely the ~best-looking housing anywhere in the neighborhood. My experience of joy on my walk through the West of Cypress neighborhood brought home to me the truth of Joanna Macy's Celebrate small successes, continue the life-long task of dealing with your inner judge that says, "but it isn't enough." jUuly-August 199Y 495 Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years words: "When we open our awareness to the web of life, we con-nect not only with the sufferings of others, but to the same mea-sure, with their gifts and powers . . . if we can grieve with the griefs of others, so, by the same token, by the same openness, can we find strength in their strengths, bolstering our own individual supplies of courage, commitment, and endurance."3 3. Acknowledge real powerlessness and systemic oppression. Deepen awareness of this as a reality check, as the main reason for not continuing self-blame, as a step to determining at which point to try to intervene. Catch yourself when you are blaming the vic-tim, whether that victim is yourself or someone else. 4. Acknowledge surplus powerlessness in yourself and in others, and try to find ways to deal with it, mainly by group sharing and by compassion for yourself and others. 5. Give up the myth that there is one key to changing the world. I have had the fantasy hope that there is one key to changing oppres-sive systems and that, if I could just find it, I would know what to do. Now I am more aware that transformation is happening on many levels at once and that it is not necessarily more important to work on one rather than another; I have lots of options for where I can best use my gifts to work for change. 6. Give up the myth that I am totally responsible (even when and if it is my job to be in charge), that I necessarily have the power to create the changes I want. Sometimes I have that power, often I do not. Any transformation will take many people working in many ways. A friend told me recently that she has become passionately committed to nudging the world toward justice and ecological san-ity. The idea of nudging shows a good grasp of reality and the pos-sible, and many people are doing this all over the world. 7. Give as much time as possible to the beauty, silence, and soli-tude that I so long for and know is essential to the life of my soul. My greatest desire is to act from a deeply contemplative stance. I do not always live that way, but I become more and more con-vinced that it is the only way to be who I am, to be at peace with myself and the world. Many questions remain as I come to the end of these reflec-tions, but hopefully every deepened insight leads to new possi-bilities and changes in my way of being, feeling, and acting. My questions will take more than my lifetime to answer. I am reminded of a vivid memory from a few years ago. I was in the midst of a crisis at Jubilee West, and I went to walk around the 496 Review for Religious lake to try to think of what to do. As I walked, I would come up with an idea about a next step, bu~ a voice in me kept asking, "What if you can't solve the problem?" I would be with that ques-tion for a few minutes and then start again to plan strategies. But the voice was persistent: "What if you can't solve the problem?" I have been brought up to believe that, ifI have a problem or see a problem, I should try to solve it. In fact, I very frequently have been able to find solutions to problems, to achieve what-ever I put my mind to achieve. Similarly, in World as Love~; World as Self, Joanna Macy quotes Lyndon B. Johnson as saying during the Vietnam War: "Don't come to me with a problem unless you have a solution." She tells of some colleagues in France who, ridi-culing our American culture for demanding instant solutions to problems, said we should "let the difficulties reveal themselves first before rushing for a ready-made solution, or else you will not understand them.''4 And so, as I walked around the lake struggling with the com-plexities of my crisis, the persistent voice asking "What if you can't solve the problem?" was actually a blessing. It pushed me to experience that often I cannot solve the problem. What is needed then is not more strategies, but waiting in openness: openness to the unfathomable presence, power, energy, connectedness in the universe, in me, in other people, and in all situations--which I call God. What is needed is sitting with open hands and open heart in deep silence and solitude, or dancing with abandonment to powerful music, or walking on the beach feeling the immensity of the ocean, or remembering my redwood tree. What is needed is anything that brings home to me the sacredness of all beings. I am remembering also the poem by Wendell Berry that I first saw on the kitchen wall at Genesis Farm, the environmental study center where I spent six weeks in the spring of 1992. It moved me deeply then and still does, giving me a powerful image of commitment to the possible in the darkest of times: "In the dark of the moon, / In flying snow,/. / The world in danger. / I walk the rocky hillsides / Sowing clover." I wonder what forms my clover will take? In looking through my 1991-92 .journal, I rediscovered another powerful image, a dream I had on 1 February 1992 and had forgotten. The image of wholeness in my dream links with Joanna Macy's wisdom about the interconnected whole in Despair and Personal Power: "What is it that allows us to feel pain for our Bramble ¯ Twenty Inner-City Years world? And what do we discover as we move through it? What awaits us there on the other side of despair? To all these ques-tions there is one answer. It is interconnectedness with life and all other beings. It is the living web out of which our individual, sep-arate existences have risen, and in which we are interwoven."s Deep implications of this dream are gradually surfacing as I continue to reflect on it more than three years later: I am in a house with many people., much chaos., there is a cupboard with a lot of jigsaw puzzles., suddenly they all fall out and come crashing down . . . so there are hun-dreds of puzzle pieces all over the floor., all from differ-ent puzzles . . . instead of feeling hopeless, like I would never be able to sort out the pieces and put each puzzle together again . . . in the dream I feel hopeful . . . like what was individual puzzles is now one big whole . . . and the challenge is to make a new picture in a new way. Soon after I wrote the pages above, my friend Sister Pat, cofounder of Jubilee West, died unexpectedly while we were vaca-tioning in Vermont. We had worked, argued, dreamed, planned, and enjoyed life together in West Oakland for nineteen years of a longer close friendship. Pat was "home" to me; now I feel like a homeless person. In my grief I have felt that God is burning himself into my soul, in intense pain and intense beauty. Was it in another lifetime that I wrote, "I'm not aware of very much per-sonal pain"? I am amazed that "Feel your pain" was one of my "exploratory answers." It has helped me take time for the sadness of my loss. I am hopeful that my pain will give me strength and wisdom to respond to the world's pain in new ways. My under-standing of my own "answers" is deeper than when I wrote them. Hopefully, I am more ready to keep working to create a new pic-ture, a new wholeness. Notes ~ Michael Lerner, Surplus Powerlessness (Oakland: Institute for Labor and Mental Health, 1986). These and other quotations from Lerner are a combination of a variety of pages in this book. 2 Joanna Macy, Despair and Personal Power in the Nuclear Age (Baltimore: New Society Publishers, 1983). These quotations are a com-bination of a variety of pages in chapters 1 and 2. 3 Macy, Despair, p. 32. 4 Joanna Macy, World as Love~; World as Self(Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1991), p. 18. s Macy, Despair, p. 24. 498 Review for Religious MARGARET MARY KNITTEL Corporate Sponsorship: The 1990s and the Fruits of Our Labor I alternate between thinking of the planet as home--dear and familiar stone hearth and garden--and as a hard land of exile in which we are all sojourners. --Annie Dillard, "Sojourner" Mey mother had lived in this home, built by her father, ver since she was eighteen, and now sixty years later she was selling the stained-glass windows, the hardwood floors, everything. All went well but for that last moment holding all the pain. We walked away bearing the image of strangers in that beloved doorway, frame of four generations. Doorways of insti-tutions, too, owned and operated by generations of women reli-gious, hold countless emotionally freighted moments, and near the close of the 20th century the terms "corporate sponsorship" and "fruits of our labor" have become and remain inextricably bound. In one ethical frame come three questions that are relevant to these two realities, corporate sponsorship and fruits of our labor. The three questions suggest a fluidity of vision, a loo'sening of ties. The questions are: Who are we? Who are we becoming? Who are we called to be? Who Are We? Over successive generations the corporately sponsored institutional ministry increasingly became for Catholic women religious in the United States their "hearth and garden," Margaret Mary Knittel RSM served as director of personnel services at Saint Xavier University in Chicago from 1981 to 1987. Presently, as a consultant for nonprofit organizations, she writes to us from I 1 Simpson, H; Geneva, Illinois 60134. ~uly-Aug~st 1995 499 Knittel ¯ Corporate Sponsorship the consummate fruits of their labor, our labor. Hospitals, nurs-ing homes, orphanages, .high schools, and colleges together form a litany of dedicated achievement, of the brick-by-brick accom-plishments of many dedicated women. Annie Dillard's feelings about this planet as hearth and garden and land of exile help identify three groups or generations of women religious who for a hundred years have owned and operated those institutions.1 These generations we shall call the exiles, the arrived, and the The first generation, the exiles, traveled from countries like Ireland, Germany, and Italy to North American mission lands. The second generation, the arrived (or arriv&s), lived in an at-homeness within their institutions in the burgeoning years. Now, in these closing years of the 20th century, we have a third gen-eration, the sojourners, seeking a new way to live their profes-sional commitments and their personal lives as vowed women religious upon finding themselves living in smaller and smaller groupings on a planet presenting challenges and opportunities their pioneering sisters in exile--their grandsisters--would not recognize. For the exiles--pioneers, all of them--the missions of the late 19th and early 20th century meant lives of physical sacrifice and economic deprivation well beyond the virtue or vow of poverty. Those women pieced together budgets, scraping their ingenuity for survival. Having come intent upon working hard, they strove to build hearths and gardens and kept striving and struggling, remaining and reminding themselves to be exiles at heart, women in a foreign land. Echoing the economy at large, the institutional ministries they had founded and maintained boomed after the lean years of the Great Depression. The second generation, the arrived, brought forward personal and corporate energies to build up edu-cational, social-service, and healthcare institutions surpassing the dreams of the earlier immigrant generation, the exiles. With increased settling in, this hearth of the religious women's profes-sional lives, this sponsored work, began for some to take on near-salvific powers. This hospital, this academy, began to hold terrestrial hopes and dreams, promised a salvation, and hinted of a this-side immortality. Plaudits, awards, and status were afforded to this generation of women who had arrived, who in some cases had left a humble family circle for what was increasingly becom- 500 Review for Religious ing an educated, secure middle-class community. They, we, by one definition indeed had arrived. For the arrived, their hospital or academy chapel began to localize the garden of the spirit. Here each morning and evening, all, regardless of professional status, gathered together at prayer. Here the contemplative "side" sought nourishment as the apostolic "side" waited just outside the chapel door. Hearth of work and garden of spirit, these became fix-tures within the corporate institu-tions cared for by the members of this second generation. Who Are We Becoming? In the movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" the central figure, an exceedingly obese mother of four, says to her teenage son in a moment of reconciliation, "I never wanted to be like this." She had eaten her way to virtual immobility after her husband walked away from her and their children. Do we women religious, as this 20th cen-tury of ours draws to a close, gaze at our corporate body and say to ot~rselves, "We never wanted to be like this"? The founders of mis-sions here in the United States began on an inspiration to do good The second generation, the arrived, brought forward personal and corporate energies to build up educational, social-service, and healthcare institutions surpassing the dreams of the earlier immigrant generation, the exiles. in the sight of the God, and now, one or two hundred years later, their legatee corporate body has perhaps come to he something overly substantial: substantial hearth and garden, substantial fruits of our labor. These places, these institutions, became the symbolic body of our corporate identity within the church and the symbolic immortality within our destinies. Boards, philanthropic individ-uals, committees, friendships have been cultivated in the name of a hospital, an orphanage, or a school, and individual women's identities have been formed by and dedicated to bricks and steam pipes and windows. And then, as a distant window opened in the early 1960s and Vatican Council II convened, the corporate body ~ly-August 1995 501 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship began to be looked at and came into question: "Is this who we are becoming?" For some women and men, in and out of religious life, the signs of the times appealed to in the council documents began to replace the signs of success. The prophet Jeremiah's call to voca- Women religious know that an additional thirty years, like those since the council, will not be afforded them. A sizable amount of post-Vatican time has quickly become history, and religious can recite lists of classrooms already vacated, hospital beds unused, and doors closed. tion describes a people God observes burning incense to strange gods and "adoring their own hand-iwork" (Jr 1:16). The prophetic began to ease itself forward. The work of our hands, the fruits of our labor, came into question. Now, in these late days of the 20th century, the hearth lies gray with embers and the garden shows signs of late-summer exhaustion. Women religious know that an additional thirty years, like those since the council, will not be afforded them. A sizable amount of post-Vatican time has quickly become history, and religious can recite lists of classrooms already vacated, hospital beds unused, and doors closed. Worse, we know in our aging the lists of needs more acute, more violent, than our grandsisters might have dared imagine. With abuses crowding our culture into corners that seem to offer no choice, we acknowl-edge there has to be more to this journey. Who Are We Called to Be? Our third generation, the would-be sojourners, wonder at this late-20th-century hour: "Is this our time of exile? Shall we be graced to select to become sojourners. Selecting to be sojourners, to move from being securely settled to securely unsettled, recalls the, sweep of the Hebrew Scriptures showing us a people finding centers other than God. The king-dom, the temple, the land--here was the answer. No, not here, there. No, not there, here. Efforts to restore the earthly kingdom kept centering on realities other than God. But Yahweh contin-ued to insist. 502 Review for Religious Selecting to be sojourners calls us to know how to go into exile, how to travel. Traveling, what shall we pack? Timing, how to schedule transportation, stopovers? And we cannot forget those allowances of minutes and hours, those sponges of time, to absorb this unfamiliar territory, this plan, these new connections. We will not know the language, but will need to interact and relate with others in order to continue on the journey and will have to search our imaginations for ways to communicate constructively. Life will move more slowly even as we continually need to cope with myriad details. Knowing exile, we will know ourselves anew. A clock continues to tick, and while many individual women religious hear it, the instinct to muffle its sound remains. "Enough!" we hear. Our alternative thoughts drift to sojourning, but graying embers say "Enough." We lived through the changes of the 1960s and '70s immediately after the council. No more traveling, turning, leaving, remembering, forgetting, previsioning, refashioning, or paradigm shifting for us! Just leave me alone. Enough. Give me the basics for survival and let me live out my life, here. Give me my job, my position, my power. Give me space. But a clock continues to tick. Learning to Mourn Henri Nouwen has said, "Yes, we must mourn our losses. We cannot talk or act them away, but we can shed tears over them and allow ourselves to grieve deeply. To grieve is to allow our losses to tear apart feelings of security and safety and lead us to the painful truth of our brokenness. Our grief makes us experience the abyss of our own life in which nothing is settled, clear, or obvious, but everything constantly shifting and changing.''2 At issue here is whether or not women religious have the energy to mourn. There have been deaths--countless funerals, remembered rejec-tions, and downright hostilities and hatreds. Yes, death seems to have been an integral part of this life once so much idealized--the youth and the joy! But, through all of these deaths, have we short-circuited a certain human pathos, admixing theologies and spiri-tualities, being at times more stoic than Christian? Several weeks after the death of my mother, an acquaintance asked, "How are you doing?" An incident, fresh that day, helped me to describe a way of being that I would later learn is common to us and may be where the corporate person of religious life .~ly-Auguyt 1995 503 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship finds itself today. I told him of my standing in the middle of a room that morning, about to clean, but not knowing what to do next. My emotional energy was somehow separated from me as a person. As women religious, do we stand in the middle of a room and not know how to clean it, with our individual and corpgrate emo-tional energy elsewhere? Solneone has said, "Leaders are people who do the right thing; managers are people who do things right.''3 Is there a sense that somehow our corporate energy has separated itself from the corporate body so that with our corpo-rate leadership we continue doing things right rather than doing the right thing? Walter Brueggemann has observed that "reli-gious practitioners are often easy and unwitting conspirators with such denial. We become the good-humor men and women, for who among us does not want to rush in and smooth things out, to reassure, to cover grief?.''4 Rush in, smooth out, reassure--sounds familiar. What and where are the deep-down places in which we will individually and corporately rejoin our emotional energies, find ourselves? While sometimes we feel sublimely practiced in the various forms of grief, having experienced death in many forms, have we mourned? Have we cared enough about ourselves individually and corporately to let in the slow, mysterious loneliness, the ever changing healing of life after a death, a shocking, numbing death, has occurred? This work of mourning looks not only to the past but also to the future, fully realizing that new steps must be taken. The ability to bear wholesome and healing grief is every bit as much a fruit of our labor as the most imposing achievement of our corporate endeavors. Who are we called to be in this late 20th century, and is God directly and immediately in charge? Given our status and our connections, have we--women religious who have arrived--cor-porately capitulated to others' being in charge, someone else's agenda. "The task of the prophetic imagination is to cut through the numbness, to penetrate the self-deception, so that the God of endings is confessed as Lord.''s We come through the numbing to learn from a God in charge that the fruit of our labor may be "only" to know Jesus the Christ once again as way, as truth, as life. In this late 20th century, the fruits of our having arrived carry the exotically sweet flavor of success taken for granted and of 504 Review for Religious controlling power. In some instances we think it necessary to cling to these fruits with an even tighter grip. What sadder use of our time than participating in meetings with unseen forces with a view to reconstituting yesteryear rather than working with hope for tomorrow! Is there true conversation within our communi-ties, or merely some talk while waiting for followers to follow? Whether we would speak with Brueggemann's "prophetic imagination" or Philip Keane's "moral imagination," can we imag-ine imagining? Keane has said, "Communities as well as persons need t6 develop moral character and exercise moral imagination as they seek to address the great issues of our times.''6 When a loved one dies, a significant part of our grieving may involve imagining the future without them. We have known and loved them, but deep down we grieve for ourselves in an unknown future--a birthday or a Christmas--without their presence. We deeply miss this lost past. The exile has begun, with or without us. We need to acknowl-edge it, learning more and imagining more about what it means to mourn. We will be sojourners, like our grandsisters before us, leaving the comforts of home, however we currently define and hold on to them. "A number of factors can hinder persons from being genuinely reflective and playful in their moral thinking," says Keane; "power or force is one such factor.''7 Shall we become more reflective, more playful, and imagine leaving our present "homes" of wrongfully constructed political power, of oppressive behaviors? What prevents us from asking: Who are we? Who are we becoming? and Who are we called to be? The answer from some, if not all, may lie in these processes of the prophetic, these questions. Land of Exile: Corporate Sojournership "Fairly often," says Keane, "I run into persons whose image of God is that God is out to get us. Such persons want to be told what to do, and they are afraid of using their moral imaginations. Their religious or prayer lives will often be quite limited because their fear keeps them from really being open to the power of the Gospel stories.''8 As women religious we seek the courage to imag-ine and do corporately what many individual women and men have already wrestled with in their lives. We need, corporately, to turn in the keys, have a good cry, and move on. 3~uly-Al¢g'ust 199Y 505 Knittel * Corporate Sponsorship Turning in the keys does not necessarily mean a wholesale closing of eacli and every institution. Some would like that, but it could indeed prove shortsighted and definitely unimaginative, even though some say the community's need for money is a good reason for selling this hospital or that academy and others say, "If we sell, we would be doing something holy." Abandoning an inner-city hospital without recourse to imaginative possibilities of how this long-cared-for space--the land's square feet and the buildings' cubic feet--could now serve the poor better might well become a new urban tragedy. We will need to go after anew, with all the civic clout that our years of being respectable arrivges can muster, the neighborhood's endemic and systemic problems. The friends of our institutions of the past may not choose to be the companions of our sojourning in the years ahead. But, together with those who would stay with us, we n~ed to find out who we are called to be. In any new land such as the future, there will be questions, then some answers, and then new questions. Our bequest, the fruits of our labor--whether embodied in our present corporate buildings and our present apostolic endeavors or not--must always be directed towards common goods that our corporate resources and corporate energies can hope to accomplish. People reflecting on the conversion to which all of us are called expect that the hearth and garden that halve come down to tis from a former time, these substantial signs of our having arrived, will increasingly suggest to us new common and corpo-rate lives of sojourning exile. These and similar questions will keep occurring to us: How will we use the power and influence we have? What could the prayer of our community be like? How will we imagine and live appropriate ways of coming together and being together--or of being together and going out together? What can we do most effectively for the coming of the kingdom? Shall we be women of vision, corporately attending to the good? Shall we corporately prepare in earnest to live in exile, to be sojourners, persons consciously and deliberately ready for the journey that begins and ends in God? Notes l Annie Dillard, "Sojourner," in Teaching a Stone to Talk (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1988), p. 150. 506 Review for Religious 2 Henri J.M. Nouwen, With Hearts Burning (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1994), p. 27. 3 Warren Bennis, Why Leaders Can't Lead (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1989), p. 18. 4 Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic hnagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978), p. 49. s Brueggemann, p. 49. 6 Philip S. Keane, Christian Ethics and Imagination (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), p. 104. 7 Keane, p. 107. 8 Keane, p. 107. Tourist Your T-shirt's stamped in letters large across your chest: KATMANDU. Your bike is labeled with a hundred road resorts. Your car is dotted round with all your touring triumphs . So, why not take another route today? A low-cost tour to that other inner world inside. Stay quiet by that vast unbounded inner ocean in your mind. Dive, swim and surf. Fly free. Ride high the inner waves of thought and feeling endlessly exhilarated, or delve into the dark and secret untrod cavern of your soul. Discover now the mystery of creation; confront the abyss unending of your own nothing-self becoming. And meet in that remote mysterious empty temple, far inside, your God. Cothrai Gogan CSSP .y~uly-August 199Y 507 CATHERINE M. HARMER Retirement's Wisdom Years One of the recurring discussions at assemblies and chap-ters of religious revolves around the rising median age, the need to care for our elderly, and more subtly the growing costs of such caring. The issue is an important one in that most United States congregations have median ages over sixty. An examination of congregational budgets shows that increasingly large amounts of money are dedicated to the care of the elderly. The National Conference of Catholic Bishops has been sponsor-ing a special collection for aging religious that people contribute to with great generosity, but it covers only a small part of the actual costs. A visit to the motherhouse of almost any group of sisters will show that a large part of what was housing for novices in the past is now dedicated to the aging members. Some motherhouses have very fine infirmaries for the sick elderly. There is no question that religious leaders are making great efforts to provide the best they can for their members through all stages of life. I would like, however, to examine two aspects of that effort. The first has to do with the nursing-home care that many of the sick elderly need. The second has to do with the concept of retirement for religious and the way it has been handled over the last twenty years or so. The Sick Elderly The first topic is the simpler one and will get less treatment in this article. In the care of our sick elderly, the emphasis has Catherine M. Harmer MMS wrote "Election: A Call to Service" for our September-October 1994 issue. Her address is Medical Mission Sisters; 300 W. Wellens Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19120. 508 Review for Religious been changed from the simple caring for them "at home" that was possible when the median age was much lower and the num-ber of elderly religious was either smaller or relatively smaller. When that was the case, at the motherhouse a small staff assisted by novices and postulants could care for them in much the same way that a family could take care of any sick or elderly member of it. Gradually, as the numbers increased and the sick elderly lived longer, a more professional model, that of the nursing home, became more common. As this was happen-ing, the percentage of vigorously active members was decreasing. At present, in most of the retirement facilities I have visited over the years, the staff is largely lay with very few religious among them. In some very large congrega-tions, with several hundred sick elderly members, the facilities com-pare well with any licensed nursing home, often providing much better care and definitely offering more loving care than in the average nurs-ing home for the laity. In smaller congregations the attempt to pro-vide quality nursing care results in Some small congregations in a given area are studying the feasibility of establishing an intercon gregational nursing home. A few religious leaders are looking at ways to provide for their members in general nursing homes in their area. small facilities that are as expensive to maintain as considerably larger ones would be. In some cases a nursing staff (composed mainly of nurse aides) that could care for thirty patients is taking care of ten or fifteen, sometimes fewer. As congregations face the heavy financial drain, there is a movement toward collaboration among the congregations in a geographic area. This is a positive development that could lead to good care for the religious and lower financial costs. Some groups that have larger facilities are opening them to other congrega-tions. Some small congregations in a given area are studying the feasibility of establishing an intercongregational nursing home. A few religious leaders are looking at ways to provide for their mem-bers in general nursing homes in their area. All of these steps are difficult. Often the members of a con-gregation are very unwilling to have their elderly cared for away .~dy-August 199Y 509 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years from their own motherhouse. At times the elderly themselves feel that they are being mistreated by being separated from their tra-ditional homes. Only a few consider it a good thing to be in a nursing home of mixed patients, men and women, religious and lay, in spite of the pastoral potential of such a model. The efforts of leaders and the combined efforts of congrega-tions to deal with both the physical realities and the psychologi-cal and religious values are important ones. Key for the leaders will be understanding, patience, and collaborative stances. For the members, those who are elderly and those who are not, it is important to develop an acceptance of the reality they face and a willingness to keep their last days congruent with what has gone before. I suggest that this requires ongoing education for every-one and a spirituality that looks at one's last days as continuous with the dedication of earlier days. Religious Retirement In our efforts to prepare one another for "retirement," we may have bought into a model that was emerging after World War II and continues to develop in terms of what aging and retir-ing are all about. This brings me to the second topic, the one which will constitute the major portion of this article. It is all the more important because it bears upon the first as well. It has to do with how we are viewing retirement. I believe that we have accepted a way of looking at retirement which is increasingly being challenged in the population at large and that we need to study it in the light of what our entire religious life is about. Several aspects of this model of retirement raise new questions. The current model in the United States assumes that people will retire at sixty-five if not earlier. When Social Security became a reality in the 1930s, life expectancy was lower, many people did hard physical labor and had relatively poor nutritional histories, and their hope was simply that at retirement they could stop working without worry about becoming dependent on their chil-dren or "ending up in the poorhouse." Today life expectancy is much higher, and the reality is that many people stay active, healthy, and alert for twenty years and longer after they retire. A second aspect, then, is that retirement is a time of not work-ing and, instead, spending one's time and energy at play of one sort or another. (Married women often have less of the play since 510 Review for Religious they are still expected to do the work of keeping up the home.) A problem here is that many retired people soon become bored with the play aspect. Some move toward part-time jobs or vol-unteer work, while others become captives of the television or the endless bingo games of our less creative senior centers. A third aspect of the current model that deserves examina-tion is the tendency to move away from the place where most of life was spent. This sometimes has to do with seeking a warmer climate or more economical housing. The result is that, as peo-ple age, they are out of regular con-tact with their family and must develop new friends. Even the elderly who manage well on their own in their original home are often under pressure from relatives and friends to find a smaller place-- which often takes them away from the community in which they have close ties and away from some sig-nificant activities that they could otherwise keep up. People are living longer while remaining physically and mentally vigorous, and yet the model of retirement continues to treat them as if they cannot do anything but play. What is being lost is the opportunity for them to contribute to family, to friends, to com-munity, in a different way than during their working years, but a way that is significant and needed. What is being lost to society at large is the accumulated wisdom of the elderly, a loss our soci-ety cannot afford. It would be a shame for religious congregations to follow the national model for retirement too closely. While few if any con-gregations have fixed ages of retirement from major involvement in ministries, there has been a subtle movement over the last few decades to start "thinking about retirement" while the religious are in their fifties. Without necessarily meaning to do so, this has too frequently led to a mentality that places retiring somewhere in the sixties, even if there is no real reason to do so. I have vis-ited motherhouses where some of the sisters appear to have retired Although the idea that play is the major activity of the retired has not taken hold so completely in religious congregations, what has developed is a sense that this is my time to do with as I wish. J-uly-dugust 199Y 511 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years far too soon and are desperate for some way to be involved in ministry. Mthough the idea that play is the major activity of the retired has not taken hold so completely in religious congregations, what has developed is a sense that this is my time to do with as I wish. Especially in motherhouses, which tend to be out in the country or relatively isolated, this leads to a combination of small tasks around the motherhouse, activities that mimic the senior citizens' centers, and some increased emphasis on the spiritual life without much attention to how that might be different at this stage of life. Often when I talk with the retired themselves I find a deep longing for two things: to find some meaningful part-time min-istry and to explore what spiritual life means at this latter stage of life. When retirement takes place at a motherhouse, you find the same isolation from community that the lay elderly experience who move to Florida. While most religious have lived and worked in a number of places, there was always the parish, the school or hospital, sometimes the neighborhood, as a framework for involve-ment and support. This is now gone, and the beautiful grounds of the motherhouse, the special facilities, and sometimes the large numbers (for those, notably, who were used to smaller groups) are no substitute for what has been lost. Religious do not, on the whole, do a lot of complaining, but the sense of loss is often heard in the undertones of a conversation. We hear ". everything is so nice here., everyone is so kind . . . but."--and the long-ing is very real. I am increasingly convinced that elderly religious should, whenever possible, have the same choices as the younger members. This stage of life is important, and it needs to be rec-ognized as such. In the remainder of this article, I want to address two impor-tant things about aging and retirement for religious: (1) the sec-ond half of life as a time of deepening wisdom and individuation, a time for a greater spirituality to emerge, and (2) the role of elderly religious in continuing the mission of Jesus. For many ideas here, it will be evident that I am indebted to Carl Jung, but also to a fascinating book by Jane R. Pr~tat on the croning years (1994). As I read her book, I found myself dwelling on several ideas: that our society wastes the wisdom of the elderly at a time when we need it most; that aging is not just something that hap-pens, but a part of the whole picture of life; and that much of 512 Review for Religious what is wrong in contemporary ways of looking at and dealing with aging in general are found also in regard to aging among religious, especially in how we treat the reality we call "retire-ment." The Second Half of Life Some years ago a large number of articles, workshops, and counseling programs focused on a particular transition seen as noteworthy, the "mid-life crisis." This concept seems, from a Jungian point of view, relevant to the developmental model's tran-sition from the first to the second half of life. This division into two halves does not have a chronological point, just ~s mid-life cannot be tied to a specific number of years of life. The first half of life is devoted to infancy, childhood, and young adulthood inso-far as these parts of life have to do with coming to know the world around ourselves, coming to an understanding of who we are as separate from our parents, learning, developing a working career, and moving to success within that career. At the midpoint, we might wake up in the morning and ask: Is this all there is to life? How we answer that question may indicate if the second half of life is about to begin. If the answer is "Yes, this is it!" we could spend the rest of our life simply as a continuation of the first half until death. If the answer is "No, there is something more!" we could enter into the second half of life. In the second half of life, the tasks shift to integration of the parts that have been separated during the first half, the move-ment toward individuation, coming to know ourselves in a dif-ferent way, and the decision to move toward wisdom. The "wise old man" and "wise old woman" archetypes begin to emerge dur-ing the early part of this second half of life. I believe that many people make the shift to the second half of life without ever hear-ing about Jung or his developmental theories. They recognize that something is changing in themselves, and they move with those changes. Some of the "play" elements of retirement--the programs for senior citizens that involve bingo, excursions, and hobbies--could be considered a return to an early part of the first half of lifel Now that we have done our work, earned our pension, we can again become the children whose task is play. For people with a limited field of interests, this may mean watching television for ffuly-August 1995 513 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years As we age; there is often a longing for a deeper understanding, a greater closeness to God. It is a normal part of the second half of life. long hours of the day and night. This is to remain in the first half of life, possibly until death, without ever taking the step into the second half. For other people, the leisure activities are part of their under-standing of where they are in terms of age, but other aspects also begin to emerge. Spending time with their children and grand-children can be a way of being the elder who is communicating the lore and the wisdom of life. This is a second-half activity and one much needed in today's culture, in which single-parent families and families with both parents working are becoming the norm. Contact with the older generation, with grandparents, . uncles, and aunts, which for long years was the norm, now is the excep-tion in many families. Wisdom also has to do with com-ing to a deeper knowledge of God, a greater and deeper integration of the spiritual life. For many people, life has been so busy, so full of duties, that the spiritual life was relegated to a set of rituals honored on a daily, weekly, or yearly basis. As we age, there is often a longing for a deeper understanding, a greater closeness to God. It is a normal part of the second half of life. In some cases it is connected with daily Mass for people who during their working years were quite con-tent with the Sunday Mass; it may mean a return to some of the religious practices of childhood; sometimes it is :a search for deeper intimacy with God. This longing belongs to the wisdom quest of this second stage. Religious, hopefully, have not stinted on their attention to the spiritual and to God's presence all through the active first half of their life. Yet the sense that the latter half of life has some-thing special to offer is found among them as well. One cannot deny, though, that some religious at this stage seem to put i:he haain emphasis on play. Their way of playing may be different, but it is still play and may involve television, novel reading, trips to the casino with the senior citizens' group, and considerable family visiting. 514 Review for Religious As a country we have to explore how to make the wisdom of the elders available to our children and to our busy adults. In the extended family of the past, this happened very simply. At one time in my childhood, I went every Friday after school to my grandparents' home so that on Saturday morning I could help .my grandmother with some of the cleaning she found difficult to do. What I remember most is conversations after supper on Friday with my grandfather, who told me the stories of his youth when he was an organizer of the unions in the steel mills of Pittsburgh. I also remember listening to music on the radio, and all three of us reading our separate books or magazines. Elderly religious off in motherhouses and retirement centers lose their easy contact with yoilnger religious, lose casual opportunities to share their wisdom with them, just as grandparents nowadays are often in other states where spending time with their grandchildren is no longer 'possible. In some motherhouses there are now prayer centers and renewal centers that give workshops and courses for sisters and lay people who are interested. At one point I had a constant flow of their catalogues coming across my desk. Fine as many of these centers are, I rarely saw anything that addressed the need for exploring the spirituality of the latter half of life, of the retirement years. Yet in those same houses I often met older sisters who longed for scripture study, for prayer assistance, for some way of understanding and developing the spirit life for this special part of their earthly sojourn. Some Strategies for the Second Half of Life It seems to me, then, that there are two things leadership would do well to do~ (1)to make it possible for elderly religious (granted their varying degrees of diminished energy) to continue to be involved in meaningful ministries that connect with the congregation's charism and mission and (2) to make conscious efforts to help the elderly religious move through the integrative work of the second half of their life in a way that is just as appro-priate as the novitiate training was for the first half. ., I live in a parish at present where more than half of the sis-ters in the local convent are well into the second half of their life and thus are no longer able to be involved full-time in the min-istries of their congregation. The congregation is a teaching one, jg~uly-August 1995 515 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years staffing many parish and,diocesan schools. A few of the sisters teach in the parish school, others commute to diocesan high schools, and the older sisters are engaged in time,limited but very vital ministries, These include teaching and tutoring in the adult literacy center, tutoring children from the grade school, and vis-iting elderly shut-ins 'in the neighborhood. None of these are full-time involvements. In some cases the sisters go to the school, in others the students come to them in the convent. Whenever I meet with these women, I am struck by the joy and peace that are obvious in them. Not everyone can be placed in a parish convent. Some of our elderly need to be in places like motherhouses where their greater physical needs can be provided for. It is sometimes possible to bring ministries to these motherhouses and at the same time pro-vide a wonderful service to others. I have been to motherhouses where there was day care for children in some parts of the build-ing and day care for ~he elderly in other parts. Two wonderful things happened there daily. The children and the elderly spent some time together every day, and both benefited by the experi-ence. The staff of both facilities had "assistants" from among the retired sisters who, like the women in my parish, could not work full-time, but could be counted on for blocks of time on .a regu-lar basis to help with both groups of day-care clients. o To keep our religious involved as long as possible has another imp.ortant benefit. Most o£ the research on the aging process shows that, if people stay physically and mentally active, they stay healthy longer and age more slowly. We have wonderful examples of very elderly people maintaining their mental and physical capacities long past the expected time and making contributions to art, 'literature,. and the commonweal. Even more important, this is a time when .religious can begin to share the wisdom that has come to them with age, experience, and deep reflection on the meaning of life. This is a wisdom that is very much needed in our culture, a wisdom that too often the children and young peo-ple do.not find around them. Religious can become, in~ a very real way, the grandparent figures ifi their parishes, neighborhoods, and institutions. This is the wisdom of experience joined with reflec-tion upon that experience. 0 The second thing needing attention from leadership is the effort to help religious .use their latter years creatively in order to move toward the union with God that has been such a part of our 516 Review for Religious thinking throughout life. Many of the forms of prayer and spiri-tuality that are helpful to members of active religious congrega-tions during their early and middle years are apostolically oriented. Appropriately, the religious appreciate seeing a close connection between their ministry and their spirituality. The inner life and the outer life are integrated, ideally, in a rich and vibrant way. Changes take place as religious move through the early years of the second half of life. Spending less time and energy in direct apostolic efforts, they have more time for more leisurely ways of praying. They are ready for the next stage of devel-opment of their inner life. Their focus at this stage is somewhat different from that of their early and middle years. It has within it many of the same elements, but also some new ones. In this stage the elderly may desire to recall or renew some of the things they learned in earlier years, but did not have time to savor and assim-ilate. Frequently they speak of their desire for scripture classes, for prayer workshops. These can be useful, but they need to be focused clearly and carefully on the latter years. Now the emphasis is not on quantities of information, but rather on depth, on quiet composure and integration within each individual's inner reality. The wisdom years are the time when the. "wise old woman" and "wise old man" archetypes come to the fore. While the wis-dom can be for oneself, it is even more for others. At this stage there is not likely to be any necessity to go out and preach or teach, but there should be a simple and peaceful realization that the wisdom being garnered is also for others. This is why it is important during these years: for religious to have two areas of concern: one for the continuing development of the wisdom that has been growing in them over the years, and the other for shar-ing that wisdom, very simply and directly, with others. As religious move along through this final stage of life, it is essential that they have the assistance they need to foster the growth of their inner life, to be more open to wisdom, and that they have opportunity to share it with others. Thus, the ending of Most of the research on the aging process shows that, if people stay physically and mentally active, they stay healthy longer and age more slowly. ~uly-August 199Y 517 Harmer ¯ Retirement's Wisdom Years life can be as full and as rich spiritually as any of the earlier stages, and it can be lived out in a truly mission-centered way. This will enrich the lives of the elderly religious themselves, but also of those who are yearning for that wisdom and do not yet know where to find it. It will bring a fullness to the lives of the "retired" and of those around them. It will be a far happier period than one given to play, television, and various excursions. Religious have frequently been the pacesetters in ministry. Perhaps it is time for the "retired" religious to begin to model to other retirees a richer, fuller, and more outwardly directed wisdom retirement. References Johnston, Charles M. Necessary Wisdom: Meeting the Challenge of a New Cultural Maturity. Seattle: ICD Press, 1991. Pr~tat, Jane R. Coming to Age: The Croning Years and Late-Life Transformations. Toronto: Inner City Books, 1994. Exposition Bless you, caress you~ enfold and possess you. Blessed by you, caressed by you, enfolded within you. Possessed. Chris Mannion FMS 518 Review for Religious TAD DUNNE The Enneagram Since the. early 1970s, religious educators, spiritual men-tors, retreat directors, and, most recently, management trainers have been talking about the "enneagram." 1 The theory proposes that each person is hooked by one of nine psychological compulsions--similar to the seven "capital" sins in classical Christian literature? Dozens of authors. and lecturers nowadays are teaching the theory to help people discover which of the nine compulsions is theirs and bow to accomplish their psychological liberation from it. The nine types are often referred to in caricatures: the Perfectionist, the Helper, ~he Status Seeker, the Sensitive Artist, the Observer, the Accuser, the Planner, the Bully, and the Slug.3 To edch of these descriptions, enneagram teachers attach longer descriptions of phobias, ambitions, expectations, learning style, sexual dynamics, management style, virtues, prides, blind spots, fixations, senses of time, and so on. The r~lations among the com-pulsions are represented by a circle whose circumference is numbered, at nine equidistant points. Within the circle is a triangle drawn from points three to six to nine. Also within the circle is a folded hexagon drawn through the Tad Dunne is an adjunct professor of medical ethics at Marygrove College, Detroit, and a management consultant for Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Michigan. He has published Spiritual Mentoring (HarperSanFrancisco) and Lonergan and Spirituality (Loyola University Press). He may be addressed at 2923 Woodslee; Royal Oak, Michigan 48073. guidance July-August 199Y 519 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram cycle 1-4-2-8-5-7-1. This strange figure has become the logo of the enneagram system. Enneagram and Myers-Briggs People often compare the enneagram to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which classifies sixteen personality types accord-ing to one's preference for ways of noticing experience and mak-ing decisions. The chief difference between them is that the Myers-Briggs instrument indicates personal preferences, all of which are psychologically normal, while the enneagram indicates pathologies. That is, in the Myers-Briggs'all the types are healthy, while in the enneagram all the types are sick. So the Myers-Briggs is useful for accommodating one's own thinking style with col-laborators'; it helps groups identify the preferences for ways of learning and evaluating that exist,among their members and to deploy their relative .strengths accordingly. The enneagram, in contrast, is useful for identifying neuroses, mostly in oneself. The Myers-Briggs indicator, rooted in Jungian psychology, carries a positive attitude toward human consciousness, whereas the ennea-gram, rooted partly in Freudian psychology, takes a more suspi-cious stand. Few psyqhologists, however, rely on either tool for diagnostic purposes, because of an absence of empirical studies that correlate with validated' tests. Among other helping professionals, the Myers-Briggs indi-cator enjoys a wider and less controversial reputation than the enneagram. The sixteen preferences are easily understood; one can readily find Jung's comments on people's preferences between extraversion and introversion, between sensate observation and intuition, and between thinking and feeling.4 The enneagram, in contrast, has sources shrouded in arcane knowledge from a cor-ner of the Sufi tradition unknown to most Sufis and from George Ivanovich Gurdjieff, a self-styled visionary from Russia with dubi-ous credentials. The many enneagram books and tapes that have been published in the last decade tend to describe each of the nine compialsions in dogmatic terms--a style of presentation that allures some but alienates others,s 520 Some Positive Aspects of the Enneagram One of the most disturbing claims made by enneagram devo- Review for Religious tees is that these nine types cover the total human range of com-pulsions. Not ten, not eight.6 There are subsets among the nine, but these supposedly cover all possibilities. Devotees base this claim on an unfamiliar model of personality and on the ennea-gram logo, whose origins are untraceable.7 But what is really dis-turbing is that, despite the dogmatic claims of the theory and an absence of experiment-based research, it is difficult to find any-one who fails to fit one of the types. Enneagram fans in the help-ing professions, after years of working with the tool, feel that these nine are just about right. And individuals claim that the enneagram has helped them to reach a deeper understanding of their personal compulsions than any other self-help system has, In other words, this weird, unempirical, upsetting, gnostic, and mys-tifying map of the psyche seems to work. In 1990 Claudio Naranjo MD published Ennea-Type Structures: Self-Analysis for the Seeker. Enneagram students were eager to read what he had to say, since he led the development o_f the the-ory among English-speaking publics. His book, the smallest I know of on the subject, builds the theory on much more solid ground. That book is now out of print, but has been incorpo-rated in Naranjo's new and expanded volume, Character and Neurosis, published in 1994. Naranjo lends legitimacy to the theory in several ways. Unlike most other enneag.ram authors, who tend to pile adjective upon adjective and style upon style to cover the many variations possi-ble within each compulsion, Naranjo,keeps the set of descriptors limited. He wants these descriptors to function the way they func-tion in clinical manuals such as the DSM tli, namely, as a list of discreet phenomena sufficient to distinguish one type from another? By describing diseases with as little overlap as possible, he enables therapists to spot the core problem more quickly and waste less time on manifestations of the problem shared with other compulsions. Naranjo also takes pains to make a distinction between pas-sions (anger, envy, gluttony, and so forth) and the cognitive errors that underlie each passion. These errors amount to uncrit-ical assumptions about what life is like--the kind of oversimpli-fied worldview (and subsequent inappropriate adaptive routines) that Ellis deals with in his rational-emotive therapy.9 By pin-pointing cognitive errors, Naranjo believes, a person can iden-tify and dissolve his or her pet myths in order to rob the j~uly-August 199~ 521 Dunne * The Enneagram corresponding passion of its rationale and thereby weaken its grip on the psyche. Another contribution Naranjo makes to the theory is that he consistently explains the psychological dynamics at work in each compulsion, rather than just stating them. By appealing to his readers' understanding rather than their memory, he invites them to consult the workings of their own psyches to verify the pres-ence of certain subconscious routines. This is no small achievement. The mind is easily content with a notional familiarity with terms. Only under the whip of intel-lectual desire will we push forward to uncover for ourselves some of our psychic gremlins that have never seen the light of con-sciousness. Likewise the heart is easily comforted with comfort-able feelings; it takes an inner discipline, responsible to no one but oneself, to face up to the discomforts of acting responsibly. In my limited experience of teaching the theory, I found that many students find it too difficult to allow the teaching to break through their automatic defenses and deal with their hidden fears and cravings. The enneagram doctrine just feeds a ravenous compul-sion. So the Status Seeker uses the enneagram to advance her own reputation. The Observer uses it to gather yet further infor-mation before he ventiares out into the world. And so on. Enneagram work is particularly difficult for teachers. They are tempted to devour the lore with teaching in mind, not learn-ing. The work, however, is for people on a personal mission-- those who possess enough self-knowledge to know they are learners in the school of self-knowledge. Much of Naranjo's prose envisions a therapeutic setting in which a seeker looks to a men-tor for guidance. The aim of the therapy is not to settle what our basic compulsion is, as if from that point on we know what box we are in. The therapeutic outcome is not to identify a conceptual scheme that sometimes describes our behavior. The desired out-come is to understand specific experiences of being not our best selves, using conceptual schemes as initial indicators of what may be causing the trouble. This is why it is important to hold the enneagram types at arm's length. Although some people seem to fit a single type per-fectly, others seem to fit several types. Are these latter persons-- whose self-deceit eludes everyone's analysis--all the while being victims of only a single compulsion? Or have they really developed several distinct alternatives to authentic living? Practically speak- 522 Review for Religious ing, it makes no difference so long as users rely on the ennea-gram as nothing more than clusters of fixations and behaviors that logically hang together. Their conceptual consistency is merely a model to help people raise relevant questions about the inner events that possess a slippery logic of their own. Besides his economy of description and his reliance on per-sonal understanding, a further significant contribution Naranjo makes to the theory lies in how he has analyzed the connection between psychological difficulties and exis-tential decisions about being human. Going beyond Oscar Ichazo, from whom he first learned the theory, as well as beyond the people who had already published his enneagram material, Naranjo bases each psychological dynamic in a fundamental spiritual crisis he calls "ontic obscuration," which is a kind of a deafness to our inner drives to be authentic persons. He proposes that, just as certain cognitive errors under' lie each passion, so certain existential fail-ures underlie each cognitive error. This is significant because it puts the focus directly on the inner work of being fully human. Other authors settle for cate-gorizing people by behavior patterns or look to childhood trau-mas to explain present weirdness--the kinds of analyses commonly found in popular psychology. Indeed, popular psychology usually lacks the words and ideas with which to reflect on that innermost work of authenticity. But, by paying direct attention to "ontic obscuration," individuals can discover that a major driver behind their compulsive responses lies in how seriously they take those quiet impulses to be fully human or else how consistently they have avoided the inner work involved in staying human. This "ontic obscuration" underlies each compulsion in its own manner. The Slug stands at the center, having thoroughly obscured inner voices about how to be one's truest self. The Bully and the Perfectionist hear the voices dimly, but respond through a focus on externals, especially through various forms of anger they feel because things are not what they should be. The Helper, the Status Seeker, and the Sensitive Artist hear the voices, but they divert their desire to become fully human persons into Enneagram work is particularly difficult for teachers. They are tempted to devour the lore with teaching in mind, not learning. ~uly-Augtwt 199Y 523 Dunne ¯ The Enneag'ram becoming just persons whose image carries clout in the lives of o.thers. The Planner, the Accuser, and the Observer also hear the voiceS, but they divert a fear of not becoming fully human into strategies designed to protect the little bits of personhood they believe they possess.l° ¯ Naranjo refers to this approach as his "Nasruddin" theory. The story goes that this mullah was crawling around in an alley near a marketplace, searching for the key to his house. A friend joined in the search and, after finding nothing, asked the mul-lah, "Are you sure you lost the key around here?" The mullah responded, "No, I lost it at home." The friend naturally asked, "Then why are you looking for the key here?" The mullah replied, "The light is much better here." 1, The point is that we often look for the key to our house out under the sun, where everything seems clear. But the key is in the house, an~l the house is dark. The Existential Questign: How Should I Be? For all the benefits ofNaranjo's "ontic obscuration," he does not explain in precise terms what being human involves; he set-tles for a description of some effects of"obscuration." For exam-ple, "loss of a sense of I-am-ness" and "something missing inside.''12 At times he presumes that deep down people really know the experience of "ontic obscuration." At other times he claims that the obscuration itself prevents people from realizing that any kind of obscuration has occurred. So, while it is appro-priate for him to recommend that the seeker find a mentor to help recognize a compulsion, the theory would benefit also from a positive understanding of just what it is that "ontic obscura-tion" obscures. To uncover this prize, we need to reflect on how being human happens to be obscured ifi the first place. Most psychologists agree that the intellect of children develops not only in the amount of information they learn but, more significantly, in whether or not they learn certain higher-level intellectual skills for understanding their experiences. So Naranjo's "ontic obscura-tion'? indicates, not a breakdown in mental development, but rather an unfinished development. It is not a matter of having obscured what once was clear; it is a matter of having been born blind and gradually learning how to see. 524 Review for Religious The developmental problem is how to move from a world of images, behaviors, symbols, and external sensations to the larger world of meaning and values. As children we were able to pose questions about being human only by using images. Should I be pushy? Compliant? Generous? Teacherly? Observant? Like a lion? A turtle? A bird? A monkey? Early successful functioning of one of these styles sets up a habit and provides evidence that the world around us must be of such and such a nature--the one that matches our chosen strategy. To the Bully, then, the world is dog-eat- dog; to the Accuser, the world is ridden with crooks. We build up a behavioral style and support it with a cognitive belief in a par-ticular strategy like one of those described in .the enneagram: being correct, being related, being impressive, being the victim, being retentive, being wary, being pleasing, being pugnacious, or being deaf. We become capable of noticing our compulsions as such only later, when we learn that proper use of our minds and hearts is more important than proper behavior and that intelligent analy-sis and reasonable judgment put us in touch with the real world far better than myths and symbols can. Only p~ople who have learned to think about inner acts of meaning can make a statement such as "There I go again" as they catch on to unreal thinking and feeling. ~ .~ This learning represents a major jump in thinking skills. A person discovers that the world is not just "already out there.''Is The real world is also the invisible world made up of the acts of meaning that occur in people's minds and hearts: the agreements, the plans, the guiding ideas, the reigning values, the loyalties, the spites, the memories, the laws, and the internalized language of the place. Former precepts such as Be corre'ct~ Be connected, Be suc-cessful, and Be the martyr were established in the mind of a~child who had no alternative but to think with pictures and symbols. Bht, in the world of meaning and values, learning how to be human ought to transcend these image-based precepts and adopt precepts based on the functions of the mind and heart. Bernard Lonergan, the late Canadian philosopher whose Insight and Method in Theology have influenced many practitioners in the human and natural sciences, has identified five such func-tion- based precepts. They are: Be attentive, Be intelligent, Be reasonable, Be responsible, Be in love.'4 These voices are in all of us. They are active long before we notice them as distinct July-August 199Y 525 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram impuls.es. Although they still escape the notice of many psychol-ogists as being the most fundamental impulses that make us fully human, they are the living source of our ability to notice, under-stand, realize, take responsibility, and love, For Lonergan, these five precepts support a highly-structured method for the human sciences. But, for people seeking to under-stand their inner compulsions, they can also provide a normal way of referring to the task of being fully human. They can rep-resent the very operations that "ontic obscuration" obscures. These are the events that promise to bring a person to what Naranjo, in a more descriptive and less precise mode, calls "the integrated wholeness of one's experience"; "true aliveness, a sense of existing, a plenitude"; "finding value in the present and the actual.''ts These function-based ~precepts not only transcend image-based precepts; they also enable people to transcend who they are and to rise toward being who they are to be. Lonergan refers to these precepts as "the transcendental precepts." A Therapy of Love The question of how we should be does not end there. While people might rely on a diagnostic tool such as the enneagram to recognize self-defeating thoughts before they become actions, they also need a therapy to help recognize self-transcending thoughts and feelings. This means learning firsthand the differ-ence between the transcendental precepts and their opposites: between being attentive and being oblivious, being intelligent and being stupid, being reasonable and being silly, being respon-sible and being irresponsible, and being loving and being hateful. While anyone can recognize abstractly the contrast between these words, the right-hand members of the pairs conspire quite suc-cessfully to obscure their own functioning right behind our eyes. Fortunately, this conspiracy can be caught in the act. By know-ingly paying attention to the transcendental precepts, we can be more attentive to inner experience. We can be more intelligent about how certain cognitive errors and existential decisions sup-port our compulsions. We can be more reasonable as we admit the truth of how thoroughly our fixation may have dominated our psyches. We can be more responsible in accepting guilt that belongs to us, in shunning guilt that is unreasonable, and in sup-pressing what compulsions we can as they arise. Most wisely, we 526 Review for Religious can let our love for others take the lead more often, including and especially our love for God. When a person falls in love, he or she suddenly sees the exter-nal world as more beautiful, more full of potential, more worthy of respect and care. What has occurred, though, is not a change in the external world one views; it is a self-transcending change in the viewer. Being in love heals much of ~' what was crippled in the other four levels of the person's self-transcendence. That is, being in love gives courage to respon-sibility, realism to reason, insight to intel-ligence, and acumen to attention. The person has risen above the imprisoned self and realized something of the profound marvels of life, nature, and the friendly character of the universe. Love's healing power is evident in the love between friends, within a family, and among fellow citizens and members of a group. It is also evident in the love of God. People who have undergone a religious conversion, whether in a sudden inner revolution or a gradual takeover, experience three new powers. The~y see goodness where the unconverted see only evil. They feel a power to reach out to others at a higher risk to themselves than self-protecting reason would allow. And, after the worst setbacks, they find themselves soon on their feet, mys-teriously alive and submissive to the impulse to love again26 More can be said about the healing effects of religious love, but this milch illustrates how an analysis of our self-transcending acts clar-ifibs'what "being human" means and reveals the available powers that "o'ntic obscuration" obscures. Further analysis along these lines would complement any instance of healing with a thera-peutic theory consistent with religious love. Notice especially how the addition of this account of self-transcendence avoids the typi~cal trap of self-help psychologies. It makes clear that people do not help themselves all by them-selves. When i't is the self that needs help, "self-help" is a con-tradiction in terms. Genuine help must be imported. We rely on each other and we rely on God. In order to let go of our worries that our failures will be someh6w held against us, we rely on the fact that we are loved. Being in love gives courage to responsibility, realism to reason, insight to intelligence, and acumen to attention. Ju~-August199y 527 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram The work of making all this real for oneself is long and hard. It might go something like this: Suppose I typically play the Sensitive Artist, envious of the personas of others and absorbing my injuries in quiet melancholy. I should first keep a diary to log the times I notice my compulsion at work, in order to grow in the habit of noticing, t~nderstanding~ and gradually realizing how precisely my frustrated desire to be a notable person works. (Naranjo suggests that this work on autobiography may take three or four months.) ~7 At the same time, as I grow in self-realization, I should grow in self-responsibility. When I hear the inner voice saying "Be sensitive, be like so-and-so," I should say "Shut up!" and then bend an ear to the quieter voices of authenticity whis-pering, "Just be attentive, intelligent, reasonable, responsible, and in love. Being that is a quite good enough way to be your best." Then, alongside the inner work of self-reflection, I should let myself connect with others. Although Naranjo believes that his book can help a person avoid high-minded and patronizing therapists, I find it hard to imagine people really benefiting from it unless they talk about this inner work with others. Being con-nected to others means obeying the transcendental precept to Be in love. That means letting my love for others be the light that revdals what is truly worth doing, rather than mere consistency or some private ethical principle. Because genuine love heals irre-sponsibility, silliness, stupidity, and inattention, the test of genuine love will be just that: Does it make me more responsible, more ready to face truth, more functionally intelligent, more on the lookout for what really counts? If it does not, it is not love. The inner work also means letting myself be loved. For most of us, with our distorted self-images, this means facing the fact that despite our faults, despite the injuries we have caused others, the person who claims to love us is telling the truth. It means dropping the flimsy defense that "you don't really know me" and admitting that the point is not whether we are fully known, but whether we are appreciated and valued for ourselves. It means realizing that we will never be perfect, that we do not need to expend that much energy defending ourselves, that we do not even need to "fix" ourselves through diligent self-therapy. Unless we rely on God and other people for forgiveness, tolerance, and patience, no pathology or self-help therapy will work. This is only an example of finding our way home. Different people will find different paths. But at least knowing what being 528 Review.for Religious human is about shows us what our home looks like. Gradually-- never fully being, but always becoming, human--we will have returned. We can come in and go out as we please. We will have found our home's key: the house is no longer dark. Notes ~ Enneagram, coined from Greek, means "ninefold marking." 2 Capital means that the sins are principal or "head" (capita) sins from which people's other sins flow. Althofigh the enneagram seems to have arisen independently of the Christian tradition, seven of its compulsions match the seven capital sins. The remaining two are bogus morality (Accuser) and bogus success (Status Seeker). 3 No two authors agree on these generic names, but there is general agreement about the descriptions of each type~ Devotees often refer just to the number, as in "She's a raving Two!" (a Helper). 4 See C.G. Jung, Paychological Types (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1926), chap. 10. Isabel Briggs Myers and her mother, Katharine C. Briggs, developed the fourth pair of preferences, judging and perceiv-ing, based on further observations made byJung. Note that they realize that its usefulness applies mainly to the young. See Isabel Briggs Myers, Introduction to Type (Gainesville, Florida: Center for Publications' of Psychological Types, 1962), p. 8. s The works on which I have based my remarks are: Maria Beesing et al., The Enneagram: A Journey of Self Discovery (Denville: Dimension Books, 1984); Kathleen Hurley and Theodore Dobson, What's My Type? Use the Enneagram and My Best Self (HarperSanFrancisco, 1991 and 1993); Claudio Naranjo, Ennea-Type Structures: Self-Analysis for the Seeker and Character and Neurosis: An Integrative View (Nevada City: Gateways, 1990 and 1994); Helen Pahner, The Enneagram (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988); Don Richard Riso, Personality Types: Using the Enneagram for Self-Discovery (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987). I have also relied on various notes taken by students participating in workshops given by Naranjo and others who derive the substance of their doctrine from him. 6 An exception'is Hurley and Dobson, My Best Self, identifying two distinct compulsions in both the Status Seeker and the Accuser, making a total of eleven compulsions. In .any case, there are no enneagram the-orists I know of who have dealt with the fundamental problem of how to set a limit to types. If there is such a limit, then the types will have to be defined by a set of psychological conditions that are limited and verifiable. For example, Karen Horney's division of three reactions to conflict (against people, toward people, away from people) might be matched against three I-world comparisons (bigger than, equal to, smaller than) to generate exactly nine types. Or against the trio Denial, Overconfidence, Underconfidence. The trio Ignorance, Craving, and Fear seems to under-lie Naranjo's thinking. There are many possibilities. This kind of work will 3~ly-August 1995 529 Dunne ¯ The Enneagram be necessary if the professional psychological community is ever to give credence to the theory and, more to the point, if the theory is ever to be shown to explain the actual range of human compulsions. 7 Gurdjieff, the teacher of this model of personality, claims to have discovered the enneagram in the Sufi tradition, but there is little evi-dence in Sufism of any of the heavy interpretative overlay that it now carries. Gurdjieff's confidence in the diagram seems based on numerol-ogy rather than experiment, and he expected that the diagram could rep-resent any human or natural process. 8 Diagnostic and Stat#tical Manual of Mental Disorders III (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association, 1987). 0 9 See Albert Ellis, Reason and Emotion in Psychotherapy (New York: Lyle Stuart, 1963), chap. 3, "Irrational Ideas Which Cause and Sustain Emotional Disturbances," pp, 60-88. l0 The reader should note inconsistencies in the enneagram designs. In Naranjo's Character and Neurosis, pp. 199 and 245, and throughout his Ennea-Type Structures, the triangle arrows run clockwise. Everywhere else in Character and Neurosis, they run counterclockwise. tt Naranjo, Ennea-Type Structures, pp. xix-xx, and Character and Neurosis, p 36. Hereafter page references will be to Ennea-Type Structures, with corresponding references to Character and Neurosis in italics. ~2 See pp. 30/61 and 63/219. He also describes ontic obscuration as: "obscuration . . . of the natural, original, and truest support for one's sense of personal value" (45/196); "the universal pain of fallen con-sciousness, beyond type-bound characteristics" (45/196); "lack of ground-ingin being" (107/197); and "loss of wholeness and sense of being" (138/150). o 13 Walter Burghardt SJ notes that John Courtney Murray relies on this distinction to clarify how weak the old Catholic reliance on dogma-tism really was. See "The Richness of a Resource," in A Spirituality for Contemporary Life, ed. David L. Fleming SJ (St. Louis: Review for Religious, 1991). Murray may well have relied on Lonergan's Insight (New York: Philosophical Library, 1958) for this notion (for which, see real in its index). 14 See Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), pp. 53, 55, and passim. I have developed these notions more at length in Lonergan and Spirituality (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1985) and Spiritual Mentoring (HarperSanFrancisco, 199 I). Is Naranjo, pp. 47/197, 92/94, and 125/173. 16 These powers are traditionally called faith, charity, and hope. I have avoided the traditional terms in an effort to avoid conceptualism and to make clear how religious love heals the injured psyche. 17 Naranjo, p. 158/275. 530 Review for Religious MARY WINIFRED Imaging Spiritual Direction Ipn spite of a plethora of spiritual direction programs pur-orting to train those who would be spirithal directors, it remains a fact that gifts of direction are just that--gifts, not learned skills. Spiritual direction involves listening and hearing, discernment, clarity of vision, and assistance in the development of a relationship between an 'individual and God. While learned skills may assist a spiritual director, it is only deep sensitivity devel-oped through years of personal prayer that enables true spiritual direction. It is often easier to say what spiritual direction is not, than to describe what it is. For example, spiritual direction is not psychotherapy; it is not life skills taught by a social worker; it is not catechistic training for specific church membership. " In a pamphlet entitled Spiritual Direction, Henri Nouwen says: "It is of great value to submit our prayer life from time to time to the supervision of a spiritual guide. A spiritual director in this strict sense is not a counselor, a therapist, or an analyst, but a mature fellow Christian to whom we choose to be accountable for our spiritual life and from whom we can expect prayerful guid-ance in our constant struggle to discern God's active presence in our lives, A spiritual director can be called 'soul friend' (Kenneth I2eech) or a" 'spiritual friend' (Tilden Edwards). It is important that he or she practice the disciplines of the Church and the Book and thus become familiar with.the space in which we try to listen to God's voice. The way we relate to our spiritual director depends very much on our needs, our personalities, and external circum-stances. Some people may want to see their spiritual director Mary Winifred CtlS is the Sister-in-Charge of St. Cuthbert's Retreat House; Federal Hill Road; Brewster, New York 10509. ¯ July-August 199Y S31 Winifred ¯ Imaging Spiritual Direction biweekly or monthly, others will find it sufficient to be in touch only when the occasion asks for it. Some people may feel the need for a more extensive sharing with their spiritual director, while others will find seeing him or her once in a while for a few short moments to be sufficient. It is essential that one Christian helps another Christian to enter without fear into the presence of God and there to discern God's call" (8-9). Because the singular aim of spiritual direction is to assist in growth toward God, there are no set guidelines, no conventional measuring sticks, no right or wrong answers, and no concretely attainable goals. While training in prayer and meditation may certainly make one a more articulate spiritual director, neverthe-less spiritual direction remains a vocation unfettered by rules and regulations, by industry standards, or by a financial fee scale. Most spiritual directees practice St. Paul's suggestion in the Letter to the Galatians, "Those who are taught the word must share in all good things with their teacher" (6:6), by making some gift to their directors: homemade bread, flowers from the garden, a book or tape, or some other item; money does not usually enter into a spiritual direction agreement, nor should it. Unlike therapy or counseling, which are professional relationships between a ther-apist or counselor and a client, spiritual direction is a relation-ship of charity and generosity between fellow Christians. Spiritual gifts cannot be purchased; they are not for sale. Three images of the spiritual life may help to indicate ways in which the presence of a director (or mentor or soul friend) may effectively aid us in our growth Godwards. The first image, offered by Thomas H. Green, is :that of a marketplace. The marketplace--or, as Green also labels it, the ldtchen!--is the part of our lives that encompasses a multitude of small, necessary, sometimes tedious tasks which can seem to draw us away from the richness and quiet of our interior lives. "Frequently," Green says, "the demands and frustrations of the apostolate, or of raising a family and earning a living, seem to be merely obstacles to a genuine and deep prayer life. But if I am right in explaining the way the Lord works through these exter-nal activities and events, then we should see them quite differ-ently. Far from being obstacles to our interior growth, they become for us the very sandpaper of our sanctification, at least as important to our growth as what happens in the solitude of for-mal prayer" (121). 532 Review for Religious These are not particularly comfortable thoughts, especially for those of~us who would like to discover a large block of unin-terrupted quiet. Often it is only with the help of a wise spiritual director that we can begin to uncover and acknowledge the wealth of spiritual graces hidden in our routine daily tasks and to see opportunities in what have earlier appeared to be only obstacles. Another, who listens with detached concern, will not only listen to the occasional frustration, tiredness, or boredom in our every-day tasks, but will also hear the voice of God calling to us from what may, on the surface, seem to be 'merely dull routine. As surely as God works in this world, God is also available to us in our work, however .tedious and distracting our marketplace--or kitchen--may feel at times. Another ancient and popular image for the spiritual life is that of a journey or pilgrimage. John Gorsuch describes such a spiri-tual journey as a moving out from a place of assumed comfort, beckoned on by God into the unknown. The image of a journey is particularly apt if considered in its various stages: there is a beginning, with its preparations and planning; the travel itself; and the goal of the journey. In the early stages of beginning a journey, there may be excitement and feverish planning--a guide is helpful here in focusing our attention and helping us to leave behind our unnecessary baggage. I once watched my sister prepar-ing for a backpacking trip: with the advice of an experienced back-packer friend, she was encouraged to take only the essential objects, leaving her backpack light enough to carry and yet stocked with exactly what she would need. But traveling, no matter how well it is planned and prepared, is nevertheless an adventure into the unknown. Often we must stop to ask for directions or other help. In traveling this may be as simple as "Yes, you're on the right road" or "Two more blocks Because the singular aim of spiritual direction is to assist in growth toward God, there are no set guidelines, no conventional measuring sticks, no right or wrong answers, and no concretely attainable goals. July-August 199Y 533 Winifred ¯ Imaging Spiritual Direction and then turn left"; on a spiritual journey, as simple as "Keep lis-tening in your prayer" or "Look in the mirror every morning: you will see a person God loves profoundly." If we are fortunate enough to have a good and reliable guide or director, we are soon back on track. At times, too, the journey's route may seem long and wearisome--turning aside or even giving up altogether may look like the most positive option. Then a wise mentor's word of encouragement may challenge and enliven us to continue with new energy and zeal. And then there is the goal to our journey. Sometimes we are so caught up in the travel itself that we lose sight of the goal. A friend and I once planned to spend a restful week together; iron-ically, we also planned too many sight-seeing activities, with the result that the true goals of the week--to ,rest and enjoy each other's company--were lost. So, on a spiritual journey, it is easy to be distracted by circumstances and surroundings from our true goal of knowing God. We need a wise and discerning director to help us in maintaining a clarity of vision about our goal. A third image is that of epiphany. Adrian van Kaam, from whom I have borrowed this image, describes an epiphany as the "shining forth of eternity in daily people, in often unnoticed events and things" (8). It is an epiphany that comes through in the openness and vulnerability of spiritual direction. Van Kaam goes on to say: "The risen Lord is our life now. Our life must become a hymn of praise to Jesus rising in us . Jesus tells us that the kingdom of God is at hand in each of us. It is already here and now, for we are called to share his resurrection in humanity and history" (65). And surely this is the heart of spiritual direction, that one Christian shares freely with another a word of help, a message of encouragement, a glimpse of eternity. Bibliography Gorsuch, John R An Invitation to the Spiritual Journey. Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1990. Green, Thomas H. Darkness in the Marketplace. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1981. Nouwen, Henri. Spiritual Direction. Cincinnati: Forward Movement Publications, 1981. Van Kaam, Adrian. The Music of Eternity. Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1990, 534 Review for Religious MARY C. SULLIVAN The Brazier That Is My God: Teresa on True Prayer's Dispositions, Gifts, and Signs It is 2 June 1577. Teresa of Avila is, in effect, under house arrest in the convent of the Discalced Carmelites in Toledo, Spain--a community she founded in 1569.1 She has been on the road for almost ten years, establishing reformed monasteries of Carmelite women and even of Carmelite men committed to the poverty, silence, soli-tude, penance, prayer, and detachment she believes are envisioned in the primitive Rule. But now for the last year she has been ordered to remain in one of her convents (she chooses Toledo) because of political tensions between the Calced and Discalced Carmelites. She is regarded by the Calced as a ringleader who must be kept out of cir-culation. To add to her isolation, on 18 June 1577 the papal nuncio Nicol~is Ormaneto, who has been friendly to the reform, will die, and his successor, Felipe Sega, will come to Spain in August already prejudiced against Teresa and her work. He will later call her "a. restless gadabout woman, disobedient and stubborn, who under the cloak of devotion invented wicked opinions, going about breaking enclosure, contrary to the decree of the Council of Trent and the orders of her superiors, teaching as if she were a doctor, in contempt of the teaching of St. Paul, who com-manded women not to teach."2 Mary C. Sullivan RSM works in the College of Liberal Arts of Rochester Institute of Technology. She may be addressed at Sisters of Mercy; 18 Upton Park; Rochester, New York 14607. heritage j~uly-August 1995 535 Sullivan ¯ The Brazier That Is My God Prologue But now, in early June 1577, during her enforced reclusion, Teresa is in Toledo, writing a book on prayer at the request of her confessor, Jer6nimo Gracifin, a Discalced priest. By the end of July, after one month of work on Las Moradas (The Interior Castle, or The Dwelling Places3), she will be recalled to Avila, where against her own desire she has again been elected prioress of Incarnation, the Carmelite convent she entered as a young woman and from which in 1562 she will found San Jos4, the first convent of the Reform, across town in Avila. But the Carmelite authorities do not want Teresa to be the prioress of Incarnation. They will call for a second vote, and when fifty-four sisters at Incarnation persist in electing Teresa, these sisters will be ex-communicated and denied the sacraments. On 3 December of this same year, John of the Cross, the confessor and spiritual director at Incarnation, will be abducted from Avila at night by Calced friars and taken to the windowless closet cell in the Toledo monastery of the Calced Carmelites where he will remain impris-oned for six months. Simultaneous with all this, the modern form of the Spanish Inquisition is in full swing in Seville, having been operating as a powerful ecclesiastical tribunal for almost a hundred years. The manuscript of Teresa's Life has been in the Inquisition's possession for two years, after being denounced to it by the dis-appointed and vindictive Princess of Eboli.4 In the midst of all this difficulty, most of which deeply dis-tressed her, in the six-month period from 2 June to 29 November 1577 (which will actually amount to only two months of writing time), Teresa will start and complete her masterwork, The Dwelling Places, the treatise on prayer and virtue which more than any other of her writings led Pope Paul VI in 1970 to declare her a doctor of the universal church. Not once in this volume does Teresa refer explicitly to the external affairs which weigh so heavily on her mind and heart, though her letters of this period amply demon-strate her concern, and dismay. Rather, in this magnificent book about a human person's gradually increasing communion with the God dwelling within her, Teresa speaks about the prayer of per-sonal conversion, the prayer of reordering and reordered charity within the human heart. And so The Dwelling Places is a book which may contribute immeasurably to the present-day conversion of the church, of religious life, and of the hearts of individual Christian women and men. 536 Review for Reli

Issue 51.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1992. ; Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University, by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone: 314-535-3048. Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the "Canonical Counsel" department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ¯ 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 ~,¥ashington, D.C. 20017. I}OSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ¯ P.O. Box 6070 ¯ Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5.00 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15.00 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28.00 plus mailing costs. See inside back cover for subscription information and mailing costs. ©1992 Review for Religious for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Assistant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter sJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe David J. Hassel SJ Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Se;in Sammon FMS Wendy Wright PhD Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living MARCH / APRIL1992 ¯ VOLUMES1 ¯ NUMBER2 contents 166 182 191 2O6 217 229 236 ministry and ministries The Spiritual Exercises as a Foundation for Educational Ministry Walter J. Burghardt SJ reflects on the vision and values given to educational ministry when it is permeated by the spirituality of Ignatius Loyola's Spiritual Exercises. Going the Distance, Sustaining the Gift Melannie Svoboda SND suggests some concrete ways that people can joyfully exercise their ministry over the long haul. Newman's Living the Oratory Charism Halbert G. Weidner CO explains the Oratory foundation of Philip Neri in order to highlight values significant to John Henry Newman's life. theology and spirituality The Resurrection Kernel Dennis Billy CSSR outlines the basic principle of the doctrine of the resurrection in order to show its influence in our way of living. The Fragile Connection between Prayer and Suffering Matthias Neuman OSB speaks from his own experience of how human suffering affects our prayer. To Choose Jesus for My Heaven Donald Macdonald SMM finds Julian of Norwich's insights into the maternal love of Jesus expressed in the Blessed Sacrament. religious life and renewal Seeing in the Dark Janet Ruffing RSM finds light in John of the Cross's description of the Dark Night for understanding the current turmoil in reli-gious life. 162 Review for Religious 249 260 267 Memories of the Future Thomas McKenna CM shows how eschatology as a style of thinking provides understanding for the renewal efforts in reli-gious life. Integrating Postmodernity and Tradition Reid Perkins OP encourages the greater use of narratives in reli-gious life to connect us to the tradition and at the same time to help us overcome the obliviousness of postmodern life. Religious-Life Issues in a Time of Transition John A. Grindel CM and Sean Peters CSJ summarize the results of various studies of U.S. religious life funded by the Lilly Endowment and point to issues still to be dealt with. living religiously 276 Cultivating Uselessness Rose Hoover RC proposes that in the very experience of useless-ness and foolishness lies the gift of religious life to a pragmatic society. 282 Therapy for Religious: The Troublesome Triangle Joyce Harris OSC offers some suggestions for a collaborative rela-tionship among therapist, the individual religious, and the com-munity and its representative. 289 294 Prenovitiate: Theory and Practice Anthony Steel SSG believes a prenovitiate program can help meet the challenges of contemporary cultural attitudes toward religious life and outlines the plan for his community. report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1991 Kenneth Davis OFM Conv reviews the various events and writ-ings in the Catholic Hispanic experience. departments 164 Prisms 303 Canonical Counseh Hermits and Virgins 309 Book Reviews March-April 1992 163 prisms Teilhard de Chardin in The Divine Milieu observes that the larger half of our lives is made up of what happens to us. His observation comes home to us each year as we celebrate the great high holy days of Christianity-- Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday. Paradoxically Jesus accomplishes the work of redemption, his life's purpose, in what happens to him in his suffering, death, and resurrection. We enter into this paradox by our celebration of these days. We cannot change history, we cannot undo what has happened. Our celebration allows us in our own time to enter into what happened to Jesus and to be with him, to stand alongside, to feel com-passion- as helplessly as we listen to someone tell of being tortured by a totalitarian regime or as we sit at the bedside of a dying loved one. No activity of ours changes the event; compassionate presence is the difficult but precious gift we can give. Of course it is also our privilege to share in some-one's joy and happiness, as we do when we celebrate the res-urrection victory of Jesus. Despite the fact that so many of us are spectator-sports people, whether in the stadium or in front of the TV set, we are not comfortable being spectators of an evil we can-not eliminate and sometimes even of a happiness which lit-tle touches our lives. We may find other people's parties empty of fun for ourselves, and we may dread visiting a neighbor in the hospital.We would rather not drive through derelict inner-city neighborhoods, we would brush past the homeless person sleeping over heating grates in our down-towns, or we would switch TV channels if the images of starving Sudanese children with distended stomachs are too graphic. The problems seem too large for our efforts to make a difference. Our activity and our emotions seem 164 Review for Religious frozen. Even though we are members of the Body of Christ, we often choose not to see and not to hear. When hostages return exuberantly to waiting families, when a comatose girl revives to the joy of her parents, when government agencies extend unemployment benefits for those hurting in a reces-sion economy, how often do we feel a thrill and utter a prayer of thanks to God? Too often we keep ourselves emotionally distant even from the joys of others around us, probably because they just "happen" and leave us personally unaffected. St. Paul could state, by analogy with our human bodies, that if one member suffers all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members share its joy. The Easter events challenge us always in what we do and in what happens to us. If God is truly the God of our life, then we find the opportunity of meeting God both in what we set out to do and in what happens to us. Jesus' crucifixion confronts the activist in each of us to question our judgment about our most valued "work." All of our dyings become not the entropy of exhaustive waste, but graced moments of freedom to embrace another givenness of life from our God of life. When St. Paul challenged death--"Where is your sting?"--he did not close his eyes to the evils and losses which all the forms of dying represent. He trumpeted the Easter message that the Christ-redemption event changes not only our attitude but also our ability to value the whole of our life--its successes and accomplishments, its apparent waste matter of sin and failure. As Gospel models, Mary Magdalene (who may have confused sex and love) and Peter (who has grabbed for success and lied for survival) are the first among the evangelizers of this new creation event. Pope John Paul's appeal for a new evangelization takes form in us by our renewed attempt to integrate the active and passive aspects of our daily life. By living faith-lives as "other Christs" we make a dif-ference in what we do and in what we suffer. The call to a new evan-gelization invites us to explore further the struggles of justice and poverty and human living both at our doorstep and in our larger world. Making a difference often seems like planting seeds and hav-ing to wait for things to happen. Easter faith stirs us up in hope, moves us out in action, and integrates us in a compassionate patience. This Easter may the risen Lord embrace us anew with the grace of his passion for life. David L. Fleming sJ March-April 1992 165 WALTER J. BURGHARDT The Spiritual Exercises as a Foundation for Educational Ministry ministry and ministries To speak of basing an educational ministry on the Spiritual Exercises is something of a paradox, an apparent contra-diction. Two things simply do not seem to fit. Are not the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola an experience of the spirit, a thirty-day or eight-day retreat centered on the movement of the Christian soul to heaven, conducted in solitude, far from hustle and bustle, and preferably in silence? And is not a university or college a citadel of the intellect, where the stress is on knowledge, on books, where minds meet in constant conflict, where ideas clash, where noise is in the air, where silence is reserved for a corner of the library? I am not saying that the Spiritual Exercises and the groves of academe are interchangeable terms, that a col-lege or university is a retreat experience, that the class-room is a chapel, that learning is worship. My thesis is that the Spiritual Exercises can be, indeed should be, an exciting foundation for education Jesuit-style. More specif-ically, I see the Spiritual Exercises as a process of conver-sion which in an educational institution aims at altering in students, faculty, and staff (1) their world of learning, the Walter J. Burghardt SJ is director of the Woodstock Theo-logical Center Project Preaching the ffust Word. This article retains the flavor of its original oral presentation made at Creighton University in Omaha, Nebraska, in April 1991. Father Burghardt's address is Manresa-on-Severn; P.O. Box 9; Annapolis, Maryland 21404. 166 Review for Religious life of the mind; (2) their world of loving, their human and reli-gious imagination and affection; (3) their world of living, the life of social realities. Let me explain what I mean in each of these three cases. First, the Spiritual Exercises should alter your world of learn-ing, that is, the life of your mind. You see, basic to the life of the mind, at the root of a university's existence, is a momentous mono-syllable: Why? Why study art and the arts, physical science or political science, law or business or medicine? Now Ignatius does not ask that question in those terms. But "spiritual exercises" he defines as "every way of preparing and disposing" ourselves to remove "all disordered attachments and, after their removal, of seeking and finding God's will in the way we direct our lives.''1 And there definitely are disordered approaches to the life of the mind, strange reasons why some go to college or university or professional school. I am not thinking of the more superficial reasons--college as a four-year Hammer dance2 interrupted by class. I am thinking of an approach to business education guided by a powerful principle: what makes the world go round is economics, and what makes the economy work is greed, the almighty dollar. I am thinking of gifted music and drama students whose aim is fame, the lust for applause, even the TV laugh machine. I am thinking of political-science students whose primary purpose is political power, the thrill in manipulating other men and women. A heart-rending example in this area is Lee Atwater, the manager of George Bush's 1988 presidential campaign who almost single-handedly turned the tide against Dukakis. Not long before his death at forty from a brain tumor on 29 March, this gifted man~ with an incredible instinct for the jugular made this poignant confession: The '80s were about acquiring--acquiring wealth, power, prestige. I know, I acquired more wealth, power and pres-tige than most. But you can acquire all you want and still feel empty. It took a deadly illness to put me eye to eye with that truth, but it is a truth that the country, caught up in its ruthless ambitions and moral decay, can learn on my dime.3 Not that money, fame, power are immoral in themselves; they are not. Without money a university would have little to offer to anyone. Fame makes it easier for the deprived to know you, to beg for the crumbs that fall from your table. Political power makes March-April 1992 167 Burghardt ¯ The Exercises for Educational Ministry possible not only a Persian Gulf war but legislated housing for the poor. Ignatius forces on the retreatant that insistent mono-syllable: Why? Even more radically, the Spiritual Exercises can keep you from segregating learning into a pigeonhole of its own, divorced from the thrust of the spirit towards God. I do not mean that all of learning becomes a religious enterprise. Vatican II made that quite clear. With Vatican I, it distinguished "'two orders of knowl-edge' which are distinct," declared that "the Church does not indeed forbid that 'when the human arts and sciences are practiced they use their own principles and their proper method, each in its own domain.'" In consequence, the council "affirms the legiti-mate autonomy of human culture and especially of the sciences.''4 My point is, the life of the mind is perilously impoverished if knowledge does not lead to wonder. Not sheer questioning: I wonder if Israel should continue populating the West Bank. In the grasp of wonder I marvel: I am surprised, amazed, delighted, enraptured. It is MaW pregnant by God's Spirit: "My spirit finds delight in God my Savior" (Lk 1:47). It is Magdalen about to touch her risen Jesus: "Master!" (Jn 20:16). It is doubting Thomas discovering his God in the wounds of Jesus. It is Michelangelo striking his sculptured Moses: "Speak!" It is Alexander Fleming fascinated by the very first antibiotic, America thrilling to the first footsteps on the moon. It is Mother Teresa cradling a naked retarded child in the rubble of West Beirut, a crippled old man in the excrement of Calcutta. It is the wonder of a first kiss. Such, sooner or later, should be your reaction to the life of learning, such the wonder that should permeate the life of your mind. Not a new methodology for biology or psychology; simply awe in the presence of a fascinating four-letter reality: life. The multifaceted, myriad miracle of life. Amazement at what breadths and depths there are to being alive--from the architectural artistry of the ant and the grace of a loping panther, through the blind-ing speed of a white marlin and the majestic flight of the bald eagle, to the beating heart of a unique fetus, the inspired imagery of Shakespeare, the fantastic forty-eight measures of Tchaikovsky's "Nutcracker," the transforming insight of Einstein. With such wonder you may hope to touch the pinnacle of knowledge. For, as philosopher Jacques Maritain discovered, the height of human knowing is not conceptual; it is experiential. Man or woman feels God. Yes, feels" God. 168 Review for Religious Am I ignoring Ignatius? Have I been distracted from his Spiritual Exercises? Quite the contrary. The Spiritual Exercises are an adventure in experience, in wonder. With all the power of your mental faculties, you enter the kingdom of contemplation--what contemplative William McNamara called % long loving look at the real." The real: all there is--the things of God, the people of God, God's very self. And the high purpose of all this? To be struck, surprised, stunned by the wonder of it all--from the ecstasy of Eden unspoiled, through sin's rape of the earth and earth's dwellers, to the unique love of God-in-our-flesh pinned to a cross, and our rebirth in his rising from the rock. The net effect? Ignatius's final contemplation, the acme of the Exercises: Learning to Love Like God. Here you touch the heart of Ignatius, his awareness of the ceaseless presence of Christ to our earth--now. "Consider," he counsels, "how [Christ] labors for me in all creatures.''s Not a vague, ultrapious generality. Christ behaves like a worker, a laborer, in each and every creature of his creation. How is it that the Rockies still rise in breathtaking splendor, Venus shines brighter than any star, and oil gushes from the fields of Nebraska? Because a risen Christ gives them being. Not once for all; continuously, day after day. How is it that forsythia can herald the approach of spring, corn turn into hot buttered popcorn for your theater, giant red-woods stalk the California sky? Because an imaginative Christ gives them life. How is it that your Irish setter can smell the game beyond your ken, gulls scavenge your ocean, the shad ascend the waters? Because a sensitive Christ gives them senses. How is it that you, this wondrous wedding of molecules and spirit, can shape an idea or send a skyscraper soaring, unveil mystery in a microscope or telescope, join with another--man or woman or God--in deathless oneness? Because Christ labors in you to give you intelligence and love--intelligence that mimics the mind of God, love that stems from a cross on the outskirts of Jerusalem. A thing of beauty and a joy for ever, this life of the mind. But only if the arts and sciences, if professions like law and medicine and business, that legitimately engross you open you to the still richer reality that surrounds you, invades you, transcends you, gives fresh life to the mind you treasure so rightly, the mind you The life of the mind is perilously impoverished if knowledge does not lead to wonder. March-April 1992 169 Burghardt ¯ The Exercises for Educational Ministry accept so lightly. Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises are not the only "way to go." But for openers in two senses--a beginning and an opening--as a basis, a foundation, for the life of the mind, the Spiritual Exercises are an experience difficult to exceed. Second, the Spiritual Exercises should alter your world of loving, that is, your human and religious imagination and affec-tion. Basic to this affirmation is a realization: The life of the human spirit is not circumscribed by reason, by your ability to grasp ideas, to draw conclusions from facts and premises. If your intellectual existence is simply a model of Cartesian clarity, you are limping along on one leg. What is the lamentable lacuna? Imagination. What is this strange creature we call imagination?6 To begin with, what is imagination not? It is not the same thing as fantasy. Fantasy has come to mean the grotesque, the bizarre. That is fan-tastic which is unreal, irrational, wild, unrestrained. We speak of "pure fantasy": It has no connection with reality. It is imagination run wild, on the loose, unbridled, uncontained.7 What is it, then? Imagination is the capacity we have "to make the material an image of the immaterial or spiritual.''8 It is a cre-ative power. You find it in Rembrandt's self-portraits, in Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, in the odor of a new rose or the flavor of an old wine. You find it in dramatists like Aeschylus and Shakespeare, in poets from Sappho to Gerard Manley Hopkins, in storytellers like C.S. Lewis and Stephen King. Now, when I say "capacity," I do not mean a "faculty" like intellect or will. I mean rather a posture of my whole person towards my experience.9 It is a way of seeing. It is, as with Castaneda, looking for the holes in the world or listening to the space between sounds. It is a breaking through the obvious, the surface, the superficial, to the reality beneath and beyond. It is the world of wonder and intuition, of amazement and delight, of fes-tivity and play. How does imagination come to expression? Let me focus on specifically religious imagination. I sketch five ways. 1. A vision. I mean "the emergence either in dreams, trance, or ecstasy, of a pattern of images, words, or dreamlike dramas which are experienced then, and upon later reflection, as having revelatory significance." 10 Examples? Isaiah's vision of the Lord in the temple (Is 6); Moses and Elijah appearing to Jesus and the disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration (Mt 17:1-9); Joan of Arc's "voices"; St. Margaret Mary's vision of the Sacred Heart. 170 Review for Religious 2. Ritual. The form of ritual is action--public, dramatic, pat-terned. A group enacts the presence of the sacred and partici-pates in that presence, usually through some combination of dance, chant, sacrifice, or sacrament.11 3. Story. I mean a narrative, a constellation of images, that recounts incidents or events. As Sallie TeSelle put it, "We all love a good story because of the basic nar-rative quality of human experience: in a sense any story is about ourselves, and a good story is good precisely because somehow it rings true to human life . We recognize our pilgrimage from here to there in a good story.''12 For the religious imagina-tion, three types of stories are particularly impor-tant: parable, allegory, and myth; the parables of Jesus, Lewis's "Chronicles of Narnia," and the Creation myth.13 4. The fine arts. I mean painting and poetry, sculpture and architecture, music, dancing, and dra-matic art. I mean da Vinci and John Donne, the "PietY" and Chartres, Beethoven's "Missa Solemnis," David whirling and skipping before the Ark of the Covenant, the mystery dramas of the Middle Ages. I mean films. 5. Symbol. What symbol means is not easy to say, for even within theology it does not have a univocal sense. Let me define it, with Avery Dulles, as "an externally perceived sign that works mysteriously on the human consciousness so as to suggest more than it can clearly describe or define." 14 Not every sign is a sym-bol. A mere indicator ("This way to the art museum") is not a symbol. "The symbol is a sign pregnant with a depth of meaning which is evoked rather than explicitly stated.''is It might be an artifact, a person, an event, words, a story--parable, allegory, myth. The importance of symbols, of imagination, in a university? I make three points. First, imagination is not at odds with knowl-edge; imagination is a form of cognition. In Whitehead's words, "Imagination is not to be divorced from the facts; it is a way of illuminating the facts.''16 True, it is not a process of reasoning; it is not abstract thought, conceptual analysis, rational demonstra-tion, syllogistic proof. Notre Dame of Paris is not a thesis in the-ology; Lewis's famous trilogy does not demonstrate the origin of evil; Hopkins is not analyzing God's image in us when he sings Imagination is not at odds with knowledge; imagination is a form of cognition. Marcb-April 1992 171 Burghardt ¯ The Exercises for Educational Ministry that "Christ plays in ten thousand places, / Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his / To the Father through the features of men's faces.''17 And still, imaging and imagining is a work of our intellectual nature; through it our spirit reaches the true, the beautiful, and the good. Second, imagination does not so much teach as evoke; it calls something forth from you. And so it is often ambiguous; the image can be understood in different ways. Do you remember the reporters who asked Martha Graham, "Miss Graham, what does your dance mean?" She replied: "Darlings, if I could tell you, I would not have danced it!" Something is lost when we move from imagining to thinking, from art to conceptual clarity. Not that imagination is arbitrary, that "Swan Lake" or the Infancy Narrative or "Hamlet" or the Transfiguration is whatever anyone wants to make of it, my gut feeling. Hostile to a valid imagina-tion is "the cult of imagination for itself alone; vision, phantasy, ecstasy for their own sakes; creativity, spontaneity on their own, without roots, without tradition, without discipline.''1~ Amos Wilder was right: "Inebriation is no substitute for paideia.''19 And still it is true, the image is more open-ended than the con-cept, less confining, less imprisoning. The image evokes our own imagining. Third, religion itself is a system of symbols. As sociologist Andrew Greeley saw, "religion was symbol and story long before it became theology and philosophy and., the poetry of religion was not inferior to its prose but rather anterior to it and, in terms of the whole human person, in some ways superior to it.''2° Biblical revelation is highly symbolic. Skim the Hebrew Scriptures: a burning bush, the miracles of the Exodus, the theo-phanies of Sinai, the "still small voice" heard by Elijah, the visions of the prophets and seers. Scan the New Testament: the circum-stances surrounding Jesus' conception and birth, the descent of the Spirit in the form of a dove, the transfiguration, Calvary, the res-urrection. Take key themes like the kingdom of God, its expres-sion in Jesus' proverbial sayings, in the Lord's Prayer, in the Gospel parables. The kingdom is not a clear concept with a uni-vocal significance. It is a symbol that "can represent or evoke a whole range or series of conceptions or ideas.''21 Turn from Scripture to the Catholic-Protestant problematic. Greeley's research persuades him that "the fundamental differ-ences between Catholicism and Protestantism are not doctrinal or 172 Review for Religious ethical" but "differing sets of symbols.''22 Take the central symbol: God.23 The classical literature of the Catholic tradition assumes a God who is present in the world, disclosing Himself in and through creation. The world and all its events, objects, and people tend to be somewhat like God. The Protestant classics, on the other hand, assume a God who is radically absent from the world and who discloses Herself only on rare occasions (especially in Jesus Christ and Him cruci-fied). The world and all its events, objects, and people tend to be radically different from God.24 Even more concretely, Greeley insists, their different images of God account for different religious behavior between Catholics and Protestants. In the Protestant imagination God is perceived as distant (father, judge, king, master); in the Catholic imagination God is perceived as present (mother, lover, friend, spouse).2s Another crucial example: two approaches to human society shaped by different imaginative pictures. The Catholic tends to see society as a "sacrament" of God, a set of ordered relationships, governed by both justice and love, that reveal, however imperfectly, the presence of God. Society is "natural" and "good," therefore, for humans and their natural response to God is social. The Protestant, on the other hand, tends to see human society as "God-for-saken" and therefore unnatural and oppressive. The indi-vidual stands over against society and not integrated into it. The human becomes fully human only when he is able to break away from social oppression and relate to the absent God as a completely free individual.26 A final example from Greeley's sociological research: The image that most sharply distinguishes the Catholic tradition from other Christian traditions is Mary the mother of Jesus. No one else has Madonna statues in church. MaW is essen-tial to Catholicism, not perhaps on the level of doctrine but surely on the level of imagination, because she more than any other image blatantly confirms the sacramental instinct: the whole of creation and all its processes, especially its lifegiving and life-nurturing processes, reveal the lurking and passionate love of God.27 Once again, have I been distracted from Ignatius and his Spiritual Exercises? Not really. The Exercises, for all their appeal to the Christian intelligence, are not a head trip. They are first and foremost an experience. An experience of Catholic symbols: Adam and Eve and Eden, angels and Satan, hellfire, a virgin and a crib, March-April 1992 173 Burghardt ¯ The Exercises for Educational Ministry The events of Jesus" earthly existence must be seen as a 'today." Egypt and Jerusalem, the transfiguration, bread and wine, blood and water from the side of Christ, nail marks in risen hands, an ascension into heaven. But the experience is not cold reason. Take the experience of sin's devastating impact on angels and humans, sin's ravishing of God's good earth. When you go through the Spiritual Exercises, you do not simply define sin, recall a traditional definition: any thought, word, or action against God's law. Your senses get into the act: you smell sin's stench. Even more importantly, you see sin's cost, image it, weep over it; for sin's cost is a cross, the pierced hands of a God-man. The God-man. The Exercises are a constant contemplation--contemplation of Christ. Never abstract theology, though theology informs it all. In Bethlehem's cave you are a servant; you not only listen to Mary and Joseph, you "smell the infinite flagrance and taste the infinite sweetness of the divinity.''28 You flee with that unique family into Egypt, feel what it means to be a refugee in the Middle East. In a decisive meditation you not only contrast "two standards," two scenarios for orienting your life. The standards take flesh in two persons: in a Satan who inspires "horror and terror," who makes you lust for riches, for honor, for pride; and in a living Christ who attracts you to poverty, insults, and humil-ity.: 9 It is not only Jesus who is tempted in the wilderness; you wrestle with your personal devils, sweat through the temptations that jolted Jesus: Use your powers, your gifts, your possessions just for your own fantastic self, for the sweet smell of success. Like the sinful woman, you wash our Lord's feet with your tears, feel your sins forgiven because you too have "loved much" (Lk 7:47). And so into Christ's passion, which you no longer study with scholarly detachment, comparing different traditions, reconcil-ing inconsistencies. Ignatius wants you to feel: grief and shame indeed, "because the Lord is going to his suffering for [your] sins,''3° but even, if possible, the kiss that betrayed him, the nails that held him fast. And finally, joy in the risen Christ. Not sim-ply a sense of relief; rather your whole being bursting with new life, his life, as you share his rising with his Mother, try to touch him with Magdalen, munch seafood with him and the Eleven. This is not simply your own picture show, on a level with 174 Review for Religious Kevin Costner "Dancing with !/Volves.''31 Ignatius playing with your capacity to imagine is attempting something terribly signif-icant psychologically and spiritually. This "application of the senses" goes back to a medieval tradition that reached Ignatius through a book he read while convalescing from cannon wounds back at Loyola.32 The unknown Franciscan author had written: If you wish to draw profit from these meditations., make everything that the Lord Jesus said and did present to your-self, just as though you were hearing it with your ears and seeing it with your eyes . And even when it is related in the past tense you should contemplate it all as though pres-ent today. VChy is this highly significant for an intelligent spirituality? Because you are no longer looking at the life of Christ sheerly as history, something that took place in the past. The events of Jesus' earthly existence must be seen as a "today," the historical hap-penings drawn into your own world here and now. That is how you achieve not abstract knowledge but what the medievals called "familiarity with Christ," an understanding that takes hold not only of discursive reasoning but of the whole person. Imagination leads to love--a direct experience of love. Ignatius films in living color what Aquinas phrased in attractive abstraction: There are two ways of desiring knowledge. One way is to desire it as a perfection of one's self; and that is the way philosophers desire it. The other way is to desire it not [merely] as a perfection of one's self but because through this knowledge the one we love becomes present to us; and that is the way saints desire it.34 Third, the Spiritual Exercises should alter your world of liv-ing, that is, the life of social realities. Here three facets call for clarification: social realities, the Exercises, and you. What do I mean by social realities? I mean the life of a soci-ety, the life that moves beyond the individual in isolation to com-munity, people interacting, impacting one on another, human persons depending on one another. How do the Spiritual Exercises touch social realities? After all, did not Ignatius himself describe the Exercises as "every way of preparing and disposing" ourselves to remove "all disordered attachments and, after their removal, of seeking and finding God's will in the way we direct our lives"?3s This sounds rather indi-vidualistic, does it not? Or, at best, quite vague. March-April 1992 175 Burghardt ¯ The Exercises for Educational Ministry I am aware that in 1975 the 32nd General Congregation of Jesuits declared, "The mission of the Society of Jesus today is the service of faith, of which the promotion of justice is an absolute requirement.''36 And it went on to assert a bit later: Every sector of our educational works should be subjected to constant review, so that they will not only continue to form young people and adults able and willing to build a more just social order, but do so ever more effectively. Especially should we help form our Christian students as "men [and women]-for-others" in a mature faith and in per-sonal attachment to Jesus Christ, persons whose lively faith impels them to seek and find Christ in the service of their fellow men [and women]. Thus we shall contribute to form-ing persons who will themselves multiply the work of world-wide education.-~7 But our specific question remains: Granted that our colleges should prepare women and men to construct a more just social order, how do the Spiritual Exercises lay a foundation for the social-justice component of Jesuit education? Almost a half century ago, a young Jesuit who had not yet taken his final vows in the Society was asked by his provincial to direct the annual eight-day retreat for the Jesuit theology stu-dents at Alma in California. In the course of the retreat, director Father George H. Dunne reflected on a number of social issues. Dealing with the Sermon on the Mount, for example, and the two great commandments, he "talked about poverty, peace, war, not in the abstract but in the concrete." He "talked about anti- Semitism, Hitler's holocaust, racial segregation, the rat-infested tenements in New York, the exploitation of migrant farm work-ers, the Spanish Civil War, the anguish of the world's poor . -38 Not long after, he received a letter from the representative of the Jesuit superior general for the American provinces during World War II. Father Zacheus J. Maher charged Father Dunne with substituting for the Spiritual Exercises a series of "brilliant talks on social subjects." "Such subjects," he declared, "have no place in the Spiritual Exercises.''> Let us make an admission: Our neighbor, the wider society, is not explicit in the text of the Exercises.4° Not surprising; for the Exercises "are addressed to individuals, and they seek to enable a person to have the interior freedom to serve God . -41 But if you delve more deeply, you discover how profoundly social, societal, the Exercises are. 176 Review for Religious You see, the Ignatian meditations point you ceaselessly to Christ, to the Christ of the Gospels, in that way to absorb the mind of Christ. And so you focus on the programmatic scene in Nazareth's synagogue, where Jesus makes his own the announce-ment in Isaiah: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, for he has anointed me. He has sent me to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release for pris-oners and sight for the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, and to proclaim the Lord's year of favor" (Lk 4:1 8-1 9).42 Through the Exercises that program ceases to be pecu-liarly Jesus'; it becomes your own. What Second Isaiah announced to the people of his day Jesus announces to the poor and impris-oned, the blind and deprived of his day. And this is what Christians in the mold of Ignatius announce to the downtrodden of their day. With Ignatius in the final Contemplation for Learning to Love Like God, you ponder profoundly how Christ "labors for [you] in all creatures on the face of the earth, that is, he behaves like one who labors. In the heav-ens, the elements, the plants, the fruits, the cattle, [man and woman], he gives being, conserves them in existence, confers life and sensation, and so on.''43 And you ask to labor with Christ as he ceaselessly creates, recreates, redeems a fallen world. Last Easter a Catholic professor of history ended his regular column in a diocesan newspaper with two puzzling sentences: "When Jesus rose from the dead, he did not go about lecturing on the social problems of his day. Instead he manifested himself in glory to his disciples in a manner that empowered them to go forth as his courageous emissaries.''44 But neither did the risen Jesus go about celebrating the Eucharist and fingering his rosary. And what did he empower them to go forth to do? To baptize indeed; to preach what he preached. But did he not preach loving your sisters and brothers as Jesus loved you? Does such loving have nothing to do with war on the womb or war in the Middle East? Nothing to do with inhuman poverty or child abuse? Nothing to do with racism or the rape of the earth? What you should experience through the Exercises is that by God's design and initiative human existence is fundamentally social, societal:4s we are "we" before we are "I" and "thou." This By God's design and initiative human existence is fundamentally social, societal. March-April 1992 177 Burghardt ¯ The Exercises for Educational Ministry is central in Christian revelation and of primary importance for our contemporary culture of individualism, where we think first of self and then how we can join with others in community--as though community did not precede the individual genetically, psychically, socially, and spiritually.46 Even Catholic social teach-ing frequently fails to position this fact front and center, because it lays down as primary in its social ethics the "dignity of the human person, who is made to the image of God." From there the teaching argues to the God-invested rights of the individual which other individuals and institutions must respect. This misses the point of the Genesis story (on which it is often based) that the "Adam" who is given such dignity is not an individual but "the hmnan," our whole race in personification.47 How does all this touch us? Very simply, a university or col-lege ought to be not only the seedbed of learning and imagination; it should be the boot camp of our societal existence. The Jesuit educational ideal is not the intellectual mole who lives almost entirely underground, surfaces occasionally for fresh air and a Big Mac, burrows back down to the earthworms before people can distract him. No. A college is where young men and women who may one day profoundly influence America's way of life touch, some for the first time, the ruptures that sever us from our earth, from our sisters and brothers, from our very selves. Not simply in an antiseptic classroom, for all its high importance for under-standing. Even more importantly, experience of rupture: experi-ence not only of ecology but of an earth irreparably ravaged, not only abstract poverty but the stomach-bloated poor, not only the words "child abuse" but the vacant stare of the child abused, not only a book on racism but the hopelessness or hatred in human hearts. To yearn for such experience, I know no better introduc-tion than experiencing the Christ of the Spiritual Exercises, the conversion consequent on seeing Christ more clearly, loving him more dearly. Can you get a 4.0, be learned, a scholar, without such a con-version? Undoubtedly. Can you make megabucks in business or law, in medicine or government without such a conversion? Undoubtedly. Can you marry well, raise two and a half children, treat them to an Ivy school education without such a conversion? Undoubtedly. Can you be deliriously happy without such a con-version? Undoubtedly. Can you live an integrated human and Christian existence without such a conversion? I doubt it. 178 Review for Religious Notes i Spiritual Exercises 1; translation partially mine. 2 Reference to a type of dancing currently in high favor with the young and involving amazing hyperactivity. 3 Thomas B. Edsall, "GOP Battler Lee Atwater Dies at 40," Washington Post, 30 March 1991, 1 and 7. 4 Second Vatican Council, Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, no. 59. s Spiritual Exercises 236. For Christ as the "creator and Lord" of this contemplation, see Hugo Rahner SJ, Ignatius the Theologian (New York: Herder and Herder, 1968 / San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1991), p. 134. 6 Here I am drawing largely, but not entirely, on material in nay book Preaching: The Art and the Craft (New York/Mahwah: Paulist, 1987), pp. 19-25. 7 I am aware that fantasy does not have to mean the bizarre; I am speaking of a com~non current usage. The development was concisely expressed in l/Vebster's New International Dictionary of the English Language (2nd ed. unabridged; Springfield, Mass.: Merriam, 1958), p. 918: "From the conception of fantasy as the faculty of mentally reproducing sensible objects, the meaning appears to have developed into: first, false or delu-sive mental creation; and second, any senselike representation in the mind, equivalent to the less strict use of imagination and fancy. Later fan-tasy acquired, also, a somewhat distinctive usage, taking over the sense of whimsical, grotesque, or bizarre image making. This latter sense, however, did not attach itself to the variant phantasy, which is used for visionary or phantasmic imagination." See also Urban T. Hohnes III, Ministry and Imagination (New York: Seabury, 1976), pp. 100-103. ~ Holmes, ibid, pp. 97-98. Here Holmes is a&nittedly borrowing from Owen Barfield, Saving the Appearances: A Study in Idolatry (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, n.d.). 9 See Holmes, ibid, p. 88. 10 Theodore W. Jennings Jr., Introduction to Theology: An Invitation to Reflection upon the Christian Mythos (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976), p. 49. 1~ See ibid, p. 52. 12 Sallie M. TeSelle, cited by Holmes, Ministry and Imagination, p. 166, from the Journal of the American Academy of Religion 42 (1974): 635. ~3 Lest the reader be unduly disturbed, myth is not opposed to fact or to fancy. Its raw material tnay he fact or it may be fancy; in either case it intends "to narrate the fundamental structure of human being in the world. By the concreteness of its imagery, the universality of its intention, its narrative or stoW form, the myth evokes the identification and par-ticipation of those for whom it functions as revelatory" (Jennings, Introduction to Theology, pp. 51-52). ~4 Avery Dulles SJ, "The Symbolic Structure of Revelation," March-April 1992 179 Burghardt ¯ The Exercises for Educational Ministry Theological Studies 41 (1980): 55-56. Dulles studies the five dominant approaches to revelation: the propositional, historical, mystical, dialecti-cal, and symbolic--with greatest stress on the symbolic. He asks how in each theory revelation is mediated and what kind of truth it has. He con-cludes that in Christ the five aspects coalesce in a kind of unity, but insists that the first four are reconciled and held in unity through the symbolic facet. ~s Ibid, p. 56. 16 A. N. Whitehead, The Aims of Education and Other Essays (New York: Macmillan, 1929), p. 139. 17 Gerard Manley Hopkins, "As kingfishers catch fire. ," Poem 57 in W. H. Gardner and N.H. Mackenzie, eds., The Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins (London: Oxford University, 1970), p. 90. ~ Amos Niven Wilder, Theopoetic: Theology and the Religious Imagination (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976), p. 57. ~') Ibid, p. 67. ~,0 Andrew M. Greeley, The Catholic Myth: The Behavior and Beliefs of American Catholics (New York: Scribner's, 1990), p. 37. 21 Norman Perrin, Jesus and the Language of the Kingdom (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976), p. 33. ~2 Greeley, The Catholic ~Vlyth, p. 44. 23 Here Greeley (p. 45) admits his dependence on David Tracy's The Analogical Imagination (New York: Crossroad, 1981). 24 Greeley, The C)ttholic Myth, p. 45. ~5 See ibid, p. 55. 26 Ibid, p. 45. Hcre, too, Greeley is indebted to David Tracy. Note Greeley's warning to his readers that the word "tend" is "used advisedly. Zero-sum relationships do not exist in the world of the preconscious" (ibid). -,7 Ibid, p. 253. See p. 254: "I argue., that the obvious functional role of Mary the mother of Jesus in the Catholic tradition is to reflect the mother love of God." For detailed presentation of the origins and func-tion of the Mary symbol, see Greeley's The Mary Myth (New York: Seabury, 1977). 2~ Spiritual Exercises 124; text from Louis J. Puhl sJ, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius (Chicago: Loyola University, 195 I), p. 55. 29 Spiritual Exercises 140, 146 (Puhl, pp. 60, 62). 30 Spiritual Exercises 193 (Puhl, p. 81). 31 A current fihn that made off with a number of Academy awards. 3~ The book was Meditationes vitae Christi, long attributed to St. Bonaventure but actually composed by an unknown Franciscan of the fourteenth century; see Rahner, Ignatius the Theologian (n. 5 above), pp. 192-193. Quoted from Rahner, ibid, p. 193. 180 Review for Religious 34 1 have not been able as yet to document this text. 3s Spiritual Exercises 1 ; translation partially mine. 36 Documents of the Thirty-second General Congregatio,z of the Society of Jesus, 2 December 1974--7 March 1975 I, 4 (Washington, D.C.: Jesuit Conference, [1975]), p. 17. 37 Ibid, I, 4, pp. 35-36. 38 King's Pawn: The Memoirs of George H. Dunue, s.J. (Chicago: Loyola University, 1990), p. 70. 39 Ibid, pp. 69, 70. q0 See useful material in Dean Brackley SJ, "Downward Mobility: Social Implications of St. Ignatius's Two Standards," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 20, no. 4 (January 1988): 53; also in Thomas E. Clark SJ, "Ignatian Spirituality and Societal Consciousness," ibid, 7, no. 4 (September 1975): 127-150. 4~ Brackley, "Downward Mobility," p. 12. 42 On this episode see Joseph A. Fitzmyer SJ, The Gospel according to Luke (I-IX) (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1981), p. 529: "Luke had deliberately put this story [4:16-30] at the beginning of the public min-istry to encapsulate the entire ministry of Jesus and the reaction to it." 43 Spiritual Exercises 236; translation partially mine. 44james Hitchcock in St. Louis Review, 29 March 1991, p. 11. 4s See Clarke (n. 40 above), pp. 128-129, for the advantages of the adjective "societal" over "social" in reference to apostolate and ministry. "Social" efforts "seek immediately and personally to alleviate the misery of those individuals who are deprived." "Societal" activity "concerns itself immediately with the healing and transformation of those human struc-tures, institutions, processes, and environments which draw persons into misery or make it difficult for them to emerge from it." 46 See Matthew Lamb, "The Social and Political Dimensions of Lonergan's Theology," in Vernon Gregson, ed., The Desires of the Human Heart (New York/Mahwah: Paulist, 1988), p. 270. 471 owe this paragraph to notes of James L. Connor sJ, director of the Woodstock Theological Center, Washington, D.C., prepared for the inau-gural retreat of my project Preaching the Just Word, an effort to move the preaching of social-justice issues more effectively into the Catholic pul-pits of the United States. March-April 1992 181 MELANNIE SVOBODA Going the Distance, Sustaining the Gift an one of her newspaper columns, Ellen Goodman describes pheno~nenon called "compassion fatigue." This occurs when people who are normally sensitive and generous get "tired of caring." Most Americans, Goodman maintains, are very caring in emergencies. She writes: "We are great at performing the one-night stands for causes. Christmas dinner for the poor, collec-tions for victims of fire or flood or famine." But if the emergency situation becomes chronic, many of us find it difficult to sustain our initial level of concern. When compassion fatigue sets in, says Goodman, "A gift can begin to feel like an obligation, generosity can turn into resentment, and sympathy can turn hard." I think Goodman's article has definite implications for those of us involved in ministry in the church. Let us face it: most of us are in ministry not for a one-night stand. We are in it for years, maybe even for life. The problems we deal with every day--igno-rance, poverty, injustice, sickness, violence--will not go away overnight--or even in a matter of a few years. So the question we have to ask ourselves is: How do we keep our compassion alive over the long haul? How do we fan the flame of enthusiasm for a lifetime of service in the church? Before I suggest some ways of doing this, I would like to say a few words about why. For everything I say is based on the premise Melannie Svoboda SND, with whom our readers are well acquainted, resides at Notre Dame Academy; Route One, Box 197; Middleburg, Virginia 22117. 182 Review for Religious that coinpassion and enthusiasm are essential for ministry in the church. Without them, ministry is at best a mere show and at worst a perversion of the very Gospel we claim to proclaim. To illustrate this fact, I tried to come up with an image of ministry as compassionate, generous, and enthusiastic--and not something performed out of a sense of obligation and even with resentment. The image I came up with may appear an unlikely one: feeding chickens! But let me explain. Feeding Chickens I was born and raised on a small goose farm in Willoughby Hills, Ohio. That rural "initial formation" continues to influence my outlook on life. On our farm we had hundreds of white Emden geese. It was my father and brothers who had the job of feeding them. But we also had a couple dozen chickens, and the task of feeding them usually fell to my mother, my sister, or me. Now what is the connection between feeding chickens and ministering in today's church? Simple. The way I see it, there are three essential elements to proper chicken feeding (and, I might add, to proper church ministry). First, there is the feed itself--the corn, the mash, whatever. The feed is the gift we bring to the chickens. More than that, it is their source of nourishment, of life itself. Without too much of a stretch of the imagination, we can say that the chicken feed is the "good news" we bring each day to our chickens. The second element of chicken feeding involves calling the chickens. We have to get their attention, alert them to the feed we have for them. But a good chicken feeder goes beyond merely calling the chickens. He or she establishes a relationship with them. The feeder talks to the chickens, even thanking them for the fine eggs they have been laying. For a good chicken feeder (like a good church minister) is always aware of being a receiver as well as a giver. The third element of chicken feeding (and of ministry) is the actual broadcasting of the feed. How does an experienced chicken feeder broadcast the feed? Eagerly, generously, unsparingly. Now that is an image of ministry at its best, ministry with compassion and enthusiasm. Ministry at its worst would be the person who sets out to feed the chickens grumbling and mum-bling the whole way to the chicken coop. "I have got to feed those March-April 1992 183 Svoboda ¯ Going the Distance stupid chickens--again. I just fed them yesterday. They're never satisfied. All they do is eat, eat, eat. What good are they, any-way?" Such a feeder might not even call the chickens, thinking: "If I don't call them, maybe they won't come, and then I won't have to feed them." But, of course, the chickens do come, called or uncalled. And how does this kind of feeder broadcast the feed? Perhaps sparingly: "A kernel for you, a kernel for you . " Or angrily, throwing handfuls of feed down on the ground in dis-gust. Or hastily, dumping the whole pail of feed in one spot, just to get the job over with. That is an image of ministry when compassion fatigue has set in. I maintain that ministering in such a way is a contradiction of the Gospel. For we are called to proclaim the good news, not the "ho-hum" news, not the "halfway decent" news. We are called to love the people to whom we minister, not "put up with" them or view them as a nuisance. If we can no longer minister with gen-uine compassion or with vibrant enthusiasm, then maybe we should not be ministering. Years ago I had a Scripture teacher who made this point very clear. He said that on a given day we might wake up crabby, dis-couraged, depressed, mad at the whole world and every human being in it. On such a morning, maybe we should call the office, the school, or the parish and say in all honesty and humility, "I won't be in. I cannot in conscience represent the Gospel today." The suggestion, though perhaps a little extreme, does make a salient point: an anti-sign to the Gospel is probably worse than no sign at all. In other words, if our words, attitude, and whole bear-ing contradict the Good News we represent, then maybe we should not be representing it. Compassion and enthusiasm are requisites for effective min-istry. What, then, are some ways we can "go the distance" and "sustain our gift" of ministering? There are, no doubt, many ways. Here, I suggest four. Retaining the Big Picture The first way is to retain the big picture. Sometimes we lose enthusiasm for our ministry because our perspective becomes too narrow, our vision myopic. We lose sight of the big picture and get enmeshed in the near at hand, the petty, the nitty-gritty. In his book The Art of Choosing, Carlos ~Galles SJ reminds us how impor- 184 Review for Reli~4ous rant it is in life to have a sense of direction. He describes "a lovely little habit" that Ignatius had of stopping himself physically in the middle of a hall and asking himself, "Where am I going? And what for?" That habit was one way Ignatius had of connecting a seemingly insignificant action--going to the dining room to eat, heading for chapel to pray, or walking down the hall to a meet-ing-- with the bigger picture of ministering to God's people. The practice is a good one: regularly and consciously to make ourselves see our daily small actions as part of a greater whole. Recently I watched an artist painting a large mural of a sunrise. I noticed how frequently she stepped back from her work to gain a broader perspective. Then she would step forward, add a few more strokes with the paint roller, and step back again for another look. We must do the same thing in our ministry. Sometimes God seems to provide us with opportunities to do this: after a suc-cessful activity, after an apparent failure, at the time of a transfer or change in ministry, or during a serious illness. But we can also do this more regularly: during an annual retreat or a monthly day of recollection, in the morning before we begin our day, or in the evening before we crawl (or fall) into bed. The habit of ask-ing "Where am I going (or where have I been today) and what for?" will put us in touch with the real zvhat and v:hatfor of our ministry, thus enabling us to catch at least a glimpse of how our "daily chores" fit into the big picture of God's grand design. Seeing Babies A second way of retaining our compassion and enthusiasm I call: seeing babies and not diapers. A priest told me once that a young mother came to him very discouraged and worn out. "I'm sick and tired of changing diapers," she cried. The priest thought for a moment and then gently suggested, "Next time don't change the diaper. Change the baby." He was not being "celibately sar-castic." He was pointing out to her a lesson in perspective. We have to see the tasks we do in relation to the individual human beings for whom we do them. During a retreat another priest told this true stoW. A teenage boy was seriously injured in a car accident. When the parish priest was notified, he immediately went to the hospital to see the boy. When the priest walked in, the boy said, "Father, if you've come here for God's sake, then for God's sake, get out! But if you have March-April 1992 185 Svoboda ¯ Going the Distance come here because you think I am worth it, then please stay." The priest stayed. Maybe for too long we overemphasized "All for the greater honor and glory of God." That phrase certainly encapsulates a marvelous truth, but, like most truths, even that one needs another truth to balance it. In our ministry we do not bypass the human beings we serve. We do not overlook them. We do not use them to win God's favor. We must remember, we minister not to parishes, schools, hospitals, or dioceses. We minister to individ-ual human beings--to Vera, Frank, Carlos, Heather--and each of them is worth it. Getting Support A third way we sustain our gift of ministry is: We get sup-port. The venerable tradition of rugged individualism that helped found this great nation will not "cut it" in ministry. The truth is, we cannot "go it alone." Fortunately, our contemporary times, with its emphasis on support groups, reminds us of this truth. I came to appreciate the importance of support groups when I became a flee-lance writer. Before that I had been a full-time high school teacher for many years. As a teacher I had a built-in support group: the other teachers on the faculty. But when I seri-ously began to write as part of my ministry, I suddenly felt terri-bly isolated and alone. It became difficult for me to sit in front of my typewriter (and later tny computer) for two or three hours a day and write, for I would recall working for hours on a piece only to have it fizzle into nothingness. Or I would send out arti-cles and stories enthusiastically only to have them lost, mutilated, or rejected. Finally I knew I needed support in my ministry--and more than the occasional acceptance letter offers. So I attended some writers' conferences and hooked up with a few other people who write for publication. I rely on these friends for the under-standing and encouragement that only a fellow writer can give. In his book The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis writes beautifully about the origin of a friendship. He says a friendship originates when two people, often engaged in a common task, disclose some-thing of their inner selves to each other. They turn to each other in amazement and say, "You, too?" We in church ministry need to experience that "you-too?-ness" with others who are engaged in the same or similar ministry. 186 Review for Religious Being More than a Minister A fourth way we can go the distance in our ministry is to be more than a minister. We probably all agree that we are more than we do, and that we are far more valuable than what we pro-duce. But an effective minister does more than give intellectual assent to that truth. He or she makes decisions based on it. He or she takes time to be more than a minister, knowing how pathetic it is if a minister's identity is restricted to a particular job or title. There is always a danger of turning even church work into an end in itself. Workaholism is alive and well in most business organizations and (we have to admit with sadness) also in our church. The problem is, workaholism, though a real addiction, looks a lot like dedication. If a minister in the church is addicted to alcohol or gambling or food or sex, chances are someone (or someones) sooner or later will intervene to help that person. But if a minister is addicted to work~staying up all hours of the night, never taking time for a break or vacation, never socializing with people in a nonwork setting--we sometimes let him or her go on. Or even worse, we praise that person, thus encouraging the addiction. In this regard, we should recall that the primary biblical image of heaven is not an office, not a school, not a parish. It is a party, a banquet. If all we do our whole life is work, work, work, chances are we are going to feel extremely out of place in heaven. We will not know what to do, how to let go, how to have fun. No, we ministers should learn how to be party people while we are still here on earth--even as we minister. We work hard, yes, knowing full well that our ministry cannot always be restricted to certain office hours. But we also know how to get away, how to enjoy people and have fun. The Cross, the Cost So far we have looked at four ways to help prevent compas-sion fatigue in our ministry. But there is one more word I wish to say about compassion fatigue: sometimes it is the cross we bear, the cost we pay. Our fatigue is not always a sign that we are doing something wrong. Sometimes it is a sign that we are doing some-thing right. Our periodic fatigue and occasional discouragement put us in touch with our limits. And experiencing our limits is vital to effective ministry. Otherwise we run the risk of living in March-April 1992 187 Svoboda ¯ Going the Distance illusion, of beginning to think that we are responsible for the good we do or that we are the "good news" we proclaim--and not Jesus. Our ministry, in order to be authentic, must cost us some-thing-- in time, in energy, in love. I am reminded of that seem-ingly insignificant incident in the story of David at the end of the second book of Samuel. David, nearing the end of his life, goes to a man named Araunah and asks to buy his threshing place in order to build an altar there for the Lord. Araunah tells David, "Take it, Your Majesty." And he offers to give several oxen, too, all free of charge. But David refuses to accept Araunah's gifts. He insists on paying for everything, saying, "I will not offer the Lord my God sacrifices that have cost me nothing." At times we all get weary in our ministry. Our fatigue, loneliness, or discouragement are part of the cost of our love and service of others, part of the sacrifice we make regularly to God for the privilege of serving in the church. The Ministry of Jesus How does all of this relate to the person of Jesus? How did he remain loving and alive throughout his ministry? First of all, Jesus had the big picture. He possessed an amazingly expansive view of reality. He looked at a crude fisherman and saw a great leader. He observed the birds in the air and comprehended God's provident care. He beheld a sinful woman and recognized her as a woman who loved much. Jesus was always ready to adjust his perspective, to align it ever more closely with that of the Father. Nowhere is that more clearly seen than in Gethsemane. Jesus' initial reaction to his impending crucifixion was "Please let this pass!" But by let-ting go of his limited perspective, he could say, "Your will be done"; in other words, "I embrace your point of view." Jesus saw babies and not diapers. That is, he focused on indi-vidual people and not on the immense task he had to perform. The Gospels show Jesus speaking to large crowds, of course, but more often they show him relating to individuals: the twelve apos-tles, the man with a withered hand, a centurion, a demoniac, Simon's mother-in-law, a particular deaf man, a grieving widow, an epileptic, Jairus, Nicodemus, Mary and Martha, and so forth. The clear impression is that Jesus ministered to individuals. Even more important, individuals were his legacy. Jesus did not leave 188 Review for Relig4ous behind a spiral notebook on how to run a church. He did not write a curriculum nor even one encyclical. Instead, he left behind people--individuals--whose lives he touched and radically altered. Maybe we have to ask ourselves: How do we measure the effectiveness of our ministry? By the number of reports we fill out? By the neatness of our office? By the thick-ness of our files? Or by the individuals we have ministered to and with--and those we have allowed to minister to us? Jesus liked support groups. In fact, he even started one: the apostles. He also went outside that group for the kind of support that those dozen men could not give him. He seemed to need and appreciate the feminine encouragement of a Mary and a Martha, the unique devotion of a Mary Magdalene. The Gospels show Jesus enioying people. He was not always preaching or teaching or giving workshops. He was relaxing in the company of his friends and colleagues. Even in his darkest hour in Gethsemane, he did not "go it alone." He took part of his support group with him: Peter, James, and John. They disappointed him, yes, as people sometimes disappoint us, too. But Jesus understood their weakness and forgave them, knowing his ultimate support group was the Father and the Spirit. Lastly, Jesus was more than a minister, much more. Van Gogh supposedly said, "If you want to know God, love many things." One reason Jesus was so close to God was because he loved so many things, so many varied aspects of life. Jesus was perhaps a carpenter. What can we deduce from that simple fact? He had a "good eye," a highly developed aesthetic sense. He had a steady hand and knew and appreciated wood. Jesus was a storyteller, too, and a fine one. His "Good Samaritan" and "Prodigal Son" are masterpieces. 0nly a person in touch with the core of life could have spun such magnificent yarns. Jesus was well acquainted with other components of life: bread baking, barbecuing, wine making, and farming, to name but a few. He was keenly aware of the political situation of his times. He was in touch with the prejudices of his day as well as the hopes and dreams of his people. He was something of a naturalist, too, sen-sitive to the changing seasons and to the flora and fauna of his Our ministry, in order to be authentic, must cost us something.- in time, in energy, in love. March-April 1992 189 Svoboda ¯ Going the Distance immediate environment. Little wonder Jesus was so effective as a minister--for he was so much more than one. He was a person fascinated by life, and thus he became a source of fascination--and salvation--for others. Yes, Van Gogh said it: "If you want to know God, love many things." But Jesus lived it, leaving an example for all of us who would follow in his footsteps: "If you want to minister, love many things!" The Long-Distance Runner When I taught high school in Raleigh, North Carolina, in the late 70s, I had a senior girl who was a top-ranking long-dis-tance runner. Julie taught me that there is a world of difference between the sprinter and the long-distance runner. The training and techinques are vastly different. The sprinter's goal is near, often clearly visible. He or she relies on a quick burst of energy to reach that goal within a matter of seconds. Because the dis-tance is so short, the sprinter runs side by side, neck and neck, with other runners who provide an impetus for the sprinter to run hard and fast. Not so with the long-distance runner. This runner's goal is miles away, not even visible. He or she must take steps all along the way to conserve energy for the long haul. Pacing becoInes critical. Although the runners in a marathon start out together, toward the end of the race they often find themselves running alone and forced to rely on deep inner resources and not the near-ness of fellow runners to keep them going to the end. The image of the long-distance runner is an appropriate one for those of us engaged in ministry. For most of us are in ministry for the long haul. We do not want our loving service to deterio-rate into a stoic sense of duty, but to remain a joyful gift. We do not want resentment to contaminate our pool of selfless giving. Instead we want our generosity to be alive and well, our com-passion tender and strong. And we wish to carry our enthusiasm for the Good News all the way to the finish line. Thank God, we do not run alone: God, our God, goes with us--the whole distance. 190 Review for Religious HALBERT WEIDNER Newman's Living the Oratory Charism As the biographical approach to writers and thinkers pro-liferates, so does the controversy over its historical worth. I am taking a biographical approach to John Henry Newman with some trepidation because of the length of his life, his great contributions to thought, and the complexities of the issues. Still I am encouraged in the enterprise by Newman him-self, who insisted on the validity of personal influence in the pur-suit of truth) I intend in this essay first to introduce readers to the Oratory of St. Philip Neri, which Newman brought to England, and then to discuss the Oratory as important for understanding certain values in Newman's life. Newman arrived at these values and maintained them at some personal cost. That cost represents for this author, another Oratorian, the personal drama of grace and conversion of a founding father among English-speaking Oratories. The Nature of an Oratory of St. Philip Neri The first thing that should be said about an Oratory is what it is not. It is not a religious order. There are no vows, no oaths, no promises of any kind public or private. There is no Rule. You will see a Rule mentioned in the time of Newman, but actually what you have are constitutions representing the practice of the Roman house in the latter part of the sixteenth century.2 Philip Neri was a reluctant founder who refused to write a Rule or con-stitutions. Halbert Weidner CO sends these reflections from the Spiritual Life Center; 2717 Pamoa Road; Honolulu, Hawaii 96822. March-April 1992 191 This irregular founder lived from 1515 until 1595, coming to Rome as a young Florentine in 1533. He was not ordained until he was thirty-six years old. He had been a student, a hermit and mystic, and a member of a reforming confraternity which served sick pilgrims, that is, the poor who became ill while visit-ing Rome. He lived in a set of apartments with other priests as part of a complex named San Girolamo della Carit~. It was in a prayer room at this church that the crowd who could no longer fit into Philip's rooms began to gather daily at the siesta hour for prayer. It was this afternoon gathering of laity which was the first Oratory.3 Perhaps the best description of St. Philip's intent is given by Newman himself in The Idea of a University: He [Philip Neri] was raised up to do a work ahnost peculiar in the church--not to be a Jerome Savonarola, though Philip had a true devotion towards him and a tender mem-ory of his Florentine house; not to be a St. Charles, though in his beaming countenance Philip had recognized the aure-ole of a saint; not to be a St. Ignatius, wrestling with the foe, though Philip was termed the Society~ bell of call, so many subjects did he send to it; not to be a St. Francis Xavier, though Philip had longed to shed his blood for Christ in India with him; not to be a St. Caietan, or hunter of souls, for Philip preferred, as he expressed it, tranquilly to cast in his net to gain them; he preferred to yield to the stream, and direct the current, which he could not stop, of science, literature, art, and fashion, and to sweeten and to sanctify what God had made very good and man had spoilt.4 Those who gathered around Philip found a mystic, a reformer, and a humanist, but they did not find him in a cloister or in any religious order. They found him in his rooms with the doors wide open to the public and surrounded by laity. This is why the Oratory is first and foremost secular. It was this laity that formed the original gathering for prayer in a place of prayer (that is, an oratory) and these same laypersons who preached, led prayers, sang in the vernacular, and studied together each afternoon under Philip's guidance. The Congregation of the Oratory is a secondary group of secular priests and laity which gathered around Philip as the Oratory became less of a movement and more of an institu-tion. But before this, Philip carried on the ministry of prayer and reflection from 1551 until 1575, more or less activating the laity as the leaders. It was in 1575 that a secondary group of priests and brothers had gathered sufficiently to be formally organized 192 Review for Religious with papal approval. But this Congregation was without any con-stitutions and was still primarily organized for the initial group of laity,s Constitutions for the Congregation were not finished until 1612, seventeen years after Philip's death. Later the institution of the congregation became more clericalized as not only the pri-mary group of laity disappeared, but even the brothers were no longer accepted, leaving a congregation of secular priests who lived together in community. While the Oratory is unique within Roman Catholicism, its values represent a mind-set present among many reformers of the early sixteenth century. This reforming spirit is symbolized by the values St. Jerome came to represent within a church loaded down with religious orders heavy on structure and low in spirit. Erasmus had noted that, in the days of St. Jerome, "the profession of a monk consisted in no more than the practice of the original, free, purely Christian life.''6 The summary of Erasmus's thinking about the ideal religious given us in Eugene Rice's St. Jerome in the Renaissance could also be a description of the spirit animating the early Oratory of St. Philip: Monks then were men who wished only to live with willing friends in liberty of spirit close to the teachings of the Gospel. Their lives were sweetly leisured. No ceremonies or man-made regulations fettered them. No single dress was prescribed. No deference was paid to total abstinence. They studied, they fasted, and sang psalms as the spirit moved them. They took no vows.7 This being said, we can note some positive elements in the Congregation of the Oratory: A. It is a center of prayer by nature. The classical form that this prayer takes dates back to the more intimate group that gath-ered in the evening around Philip. This amounts to about a half hour of silent prayer or meditation concluded with vocal prayers. The two-hour prayer sessions led by and for the laity at the time of St. Philip have been the casualty of time. Likewise the primary group of laity called the Oratory has also passed away except for a remnant often called "the Little Oratory." This name is quite ironic since what has become "little" was in fact the biggest and the first of the founder's works, not to say the very reason behind it all. Except for a directive to somehow maintain the secular or "Little Oratory," the ministry of the Congregation is otherwise unspecified and unspecialized. Each house tends to the work at 21/larch-April992 193 The life of an Oratory is said to be built on a deep regard for "well-known faces.' hand, and assignments tend to reflect the talents of the members. Philip Neri was against centralization and so put on its own every house that wished to follow on his general pattern. He believed that duplication was impossible and that each situation called for its own approach. B. Face-to-face association is essential to the Oratory. In a phrase going back to the community's origins, the life of an Oratory is said to be built on a deep regard for "well-known faces.''8 There were no fears to be engendered in an Oratory over friendships, and such a pol-icy militated against large sizes and the anomaly of "communities" of religious who have to resort to books with mem-bers' pictures for help in identification. C. Relative permanence is an ideal even though there are no vows or any-thing else holding a person to an Oratory. Perseverance is a fundamental aspect of the house spirituality and is often prayed for aloud at community prayer. Note that members cannot be transferred from one house to another and that, if they leave a house to go voluntarily to another that has freely accepted them, they must usually transfer membership as well. This means that problems with and among members must be worked out within the house since, obviously, transference cannot be the solution. Dismissal from a house is a rare and difficult pro-cedure. D. Small numbers, then, are the consequence of Oratorian living. The Constitutions of the Congregation go so far as to say that the power of an Oratory resides in such a small membership. Large numbers would weaken a house, which is supposed to be built on interpersonal relationships. When Newman wrote The Present Position of Catholics in England, he was addressing the men of the secular or Little Oratory. Towards the end, he applies this Oratorian principle of strength despite small numbers when he tells them: Your strength lies in your God and your conscience; there-fore it lies not in your number. It lies not in your number any more than in intrigue, or combination, or worldly wisdom. God saves whether by many or by few; you are to aim at 194 Review for Religious showing forth His light, at diffusing "the sweet odor of His knowledge in every place": numbers would not secure this. On the contrary, the more you grew, the more you might be thrown back into yourselves, by the increased animosity and jealousy of your enemies. You are enabled in some mea-sure to mix with them while you are few; you might be thrown back upon yourselves, when you became many? The Oratory, then, exists to embody the ideal of koinonia, liv-ing together as a fruit of the Holy Spirit and a sign of God's rule. The Oratory is very conscious that only the Spirit can keep it together faithful to the charism and that a life of prayer and open-ness is the only way to persevere with any kind of fruitfulness. Community in this context is not a utility, but an end, the pres-ence of each person's final destiny in the communion of saints somehow present now. E. The Oratory is collegial to a unique degree. All major pol-icy decisions are made by the entire congregation of members who have finished six years. Personnel and financial decisions on a smaller scale are decided by a deputed congregation elected by the membership. The provost is the title of the "superior" who holds the office as first among equals. He is chiefly an adminis-trator and his authority rests in moral persuasion. His only clear power is that of proposal since neither the general congregation nor the smaller deputed congregation can discuss or vote on any-thing without this proposal. Since the provost serves only three years, any provost resisting the majority can only hold out for a certain time. E The Congregation of the Oratory is also juridically pon-tifical. Today each house is now part of a very loose confederation, but each is still a complete pontifical congregation. Each superior is a major superior. In Newman's time there was no confederation at all, and so each house was directly involved with the Roman Curia. This gives each small house a double relationship. They are rooted in their diocese and have a special relationship to the local church and the bishop on one hand, and yet on the other look to the Holy See for the preservation of the charism. We shall see how each of the elements of the Oratory Congregation played a role in the life of Newman. Newman and the Oratory I have chosen five aspects of Newman's life where I believe the March-April 1992 195 Oratorian charism was arrived at and purchased at some cost to him. These are: (1) the elasticity of the Oratory and Newman which was tested in his assumption of the rectorship of the Irish Catholic University, (2) the choice he had between a university apostolate and the Oratory during the Irish Catholic University founding, (3) the promotion of the laity in fields rightly theirs that had been co-opted by clericalism, (4) the resistance to foreign cultural aspects of Roman Catholicism in favor of an indigenous English religious life, (5) fidelity to community life in one place and one people. 1. The Elasticity of the Charism I have said that each Oratory has a great deal of elasticity to it as the congregation has no specific work to which its members are bound. This elasticity is from time to time tested within an individual Oratory, and Newman's assumption of the rectorship of a yet-to-be-founded university in Dublin was a very grave exper-iment in just how flexible an Oratory can be. But the flexibility had a true Oratorian origin. First, it was the result of consultation with both Birmingham and the not-yet-independent London house. Father Faber's letter indicates that the London community thought it good for the congregation that Newman assume the rectorship rather than anything less demand-ing, but less powerful.~° Secondly, it took a papal brief confirm-ing the arrangement before the attempt was made to do the impossible, that is, allow Newman to bilocate as provost in Birmingham and rector in Dublin.11 Thirdly, it was specifically for the purpose of starting a Dublin Oratory, and Newman's build-ing plans indicate he gave priority to the Oratory in that the uni-versity church built there was for the sake of a potential foundation.12 But Newman knew how precarious it was for an Oratorian to be away from his house. In a letter to Ambrose St. John he says, "I trust we shall have an Oratory in Dublin--which is the only thing I can bribe St. Philip with for coming here.''13 That it was a disaster emotionally for Newman and a serious drain on the Birmingham Oratory does not make it any less Oratorian for all that. Because of its lack of structure, it is typical of an Oratory to try to do too much rather than too little. It is easy enough to document other Oratories trying to stretch too thin. Thus we have the Oratory of Goa, India, sending Joseph Vaz to Sri Lanka at a time of persecution and in the clothing of a Hindu 196 Review for Religious holy man. There he labors with other Oratorians scattered around the countryside more like clerks regular than sons of St. Philip.14 My own Oratory in South Carolina had members scattered throughout the state during half of its history and only recently and with great difficulty has been able to return all of the mem-bers to a community life.Is During the time of St. Philip, the Oratory took on dependent missions for a while until St. Philip and the community abruptly called a halt to this development.Is So it is Oratorian to push the Oratory to the extreme and perhaps beyond. It is also Oratorian to eventually return to saner limits and the grace of a life closer to the original charism. 2. The Preference for Obscurity If Newman's acceptance of the rectorship pushed the Oratorian charism beyond limits, his fidelity to an Oratorian voca-tion is demonstrated by his resistance to a classic temptation against the life to which he believed God called him. The asceti-cism of the Oratory is a rigorous egalitarianism. Each member has one vote and all are equal and most aspects of the life are governed by the majority when not regulated by the constitu-tions. It was not uncommon among the best and brightest of St. Philip's followers to leave the Oratory, usually under papal "obe-dience," for higher positions in the church. That St. Philip him-self managed to escape or refuse such offers does not seem to be a grace extended to many of his followers. One of St. Philip's aphorisms was "love to be unknown,''17 but it is a hard saying. And it was a grace extended to Newman. Simply put, when presented with a full-time rectorship of the Irish university, Newman chose the small, obscure Oratory of Birmingham, England.I8 He was consistently resistant to any compromise on this point even though the choice seemed impenetrably obscure to both friends and foes. This disregard for the existence, rights, and potential of the Birmingham Oratory was one of Newman's great crosses. Newman complained, "Me they wish to use--me they wish to detach in every way from my own Fathers.''19 Separating an Oratorian from his community has not always been difficult, and there is evidence to indicate that some of these peo-ple thought they were doing Newman a favor by trying to detach him from the Oratory. Another fear of Newman's was the bad effect an absent provost would have on attracting new members to the Birmingham Oratory. This made the arrangement with the March-April 1992 197 university and Archbishop Cullen finally untenable.2° From inside the Oratory, the sacrifice of an outside position seems to be the heart of a vocation that embraces the asceticism of simply being one among many. 3. Maintaining the Preference for Laity The University episode also exemplifies another Oratorian principle, the importance of laicity to church and Oratory. As I have said, in the nineteenth century much of the lay character of the Oratory was atrophied. Only the little Oratory existed in some places and in some forms. Within some of the Congregations there were lay members or "brothers," for want of a better word, but as in most societies defined as congregations of priests, these brothers had no vote and seniority depended on holy orders first and seminary status second; only third came the brothers, who followed the youngest seminarians. But at a time when brothers in clerical communities of priests were treated as second-class members and even much like servants, Newman wrote to the act-ing superior of Birmingham the following directive: I am somewhat pained, my dear Edward, to hear you speak of us as 'Gentlemen--' We are not Gentlemen in con-tradistinction to the Brothers--they are Gentlemen too, by which 1 mean, not only a Catholic, but a polished refined Catholic. The Brothers are our equals . The Father is above the Brothers sacerdotally--but in the Oratory they are equal2~ This is indeed the spirit of St. Philip, whose esteem for the lay members of the congregation as well as of the religious orders was well known. But making this point about equality is still a struggle today within the congregations. In my opinion, if you ask many Oratorians what the Oratory is, they will simply say that it is a community of priests, without communicating at all the possibility of full lay membership and, since the Second Vatican Council, full voting rights. Newman's second contribution as an Oratorian to laicity was his emphasis on the secular Oratory or the Oratory as a lay move-ment. The revival of the secular or Little Oratory was "more important than anything else," at least in his own eyes. He real-ized that this was not a burning isst.e among the other Oratories, but he himself believed that, if the secular Oratory was not estab-lished, then the Congregation of the Oratory should be consid- 198 Review for Religious ered a faih~re.22 It was, as I said, for the secular Oratory that Newman wrote the lectures now called The Present Position of Catholics, and it is this volume I would call Newman's literary con-tribution to laicity. Perhaps Newman would agree with me, as he believed it in his old age to be his "best written book.''23 It is at any rate, in the opinion of Ian Ker, a popular, even Dickens-like piece of wit and rhetoric introducing the grander themes later developed in his explorations of the nature of a university.24 And, finally, it must be noted that for Newman laity meant men and women. Women had not been his-torically part of the secular Oratory, and so he petitioned Rome for a secular Oratory for women. Even though it did not develop, the rescript obtained estab-lished a new precedent.2s It was this regard for laity as essential to the religious enterprise of the Oratory that informs Newman's Idea of a University, where laicity is central to the educational enterprise. In my reckoning, this is his third contribution to laicity, but probably the best-known outside the Oratory. Newman believed that it was his struggle to appoint a lay vice-rector, to define the university as the province of the laity, and to develop self-moti-vated students with a minimum of authority which led to the ruin of the project.26 It was such "dreadful jealousy of the laity," Newman also believed, which led to the rejection of another planned Oratory at another university, this time no less than Oxford itself.27 Secularity and laicity, principles at the heart of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri, made it impossible for Newman to spread the congregation when both such principles were feared and rejected by church officials who felt the church to be under siege. That the ability to act and to be respectful of church author-ity were compatible seems to be exemplified in the life of the very independent personality Philip Neri. But, when Newman wished to prove the principle by anecdote, he very cleverly chose the most authoritarian of religious societies, the Jesuits, to make his point: "Nothing great or living can be done except when men are self governed and independent: this is quite consistent with a full maintenance of ecclesiastical supremacy. St. Francis Xavier wrote Regard for the laity as essential to the religious enterprise of the Oratory informs Newman's Idea of a University. March-April 1992 199 to St. Ignatius on his knees; but who will say that St. Francis was not a real center of action?''-'s 4. Preference for the Local Culture Around an Oratory Besides preserving laicity, Newman desired also to preserve English culture within the Roman Catholic Church. St. Philip Neri's emphasis on autonomous houses or congregations was rooted in his belief that each locale had its own culture and that the needs of the place had to be met through this culture. There could be nothing more contrary to the spirit of the Oratory than for any of the congregations to see themselves as the importers of foreign customs. The Italian devotionalism of such an Oratorian figure as the famous Father Frederick Faber of London was really a misguided attempt to re-create not only another culture but also another time. Ironically, the culture and time chosen by Faber was the Baroque era--when the Oratory was spreading through Europe, but a century later than Philip's own time and work. The extravagances of Faber and some other members of the London Oratory would not have been as effective as they were without the backing of the Dublin Review (seen to be the voice of London's Archbishop Manning)29 and W.G. Ward. When Newman had a chance to defend Roman Catholicism against some charges of his old Anglican friend E.B. Pusey, there was also the possibility of distancing that same Catholicism from the foreign enthusiasm of converts like Manning, Ward, and Faber. Newman could declare: "I prefer English habits of belief and devotion to foreign, from the same causes, and by the same right, which jus-tifies foreigners in preferring their own. In following those of my people, I show less singularity, and create less disturbance than if I made a flourish with what is novel and exotic.''3° "What is novel and exotic" to many English Catholics was for the London Oratory the true renewal of Catholicism and of the Congregation of the Oratory at the same time. Father Bernard Dalgairns left the Birmingham Oratory for the London house with a condemnation of Newman and his fellow members who had adopted a position paper which has been called an "Apologia pro vita sua--Oratoriana." 3~ Newman had insisted earlier that an Oratory is "the representative of no distant or foreign interest, but lives a~nong and is contented with its own people.''~-~ The con-troversy with Dalgairns assisted the Birmingham house in defin-ing itself against the London clai~n to be normative)3 200 Review for Religious Birmingham did not issue a counterclaim as the true measure of Oratorian life, but it did insist that its own very English adap-tation to education and culture in its own time and place was cer-tainly an authentic version of Oratorian life. The Idea of a University, with its marvelous panegyric of St. Philip Neri, is the public version of these private Oratory position papers which were worked on at the same time. In short, the Birmingham com-munity saw the idea of the Oratory and the idea of the university as complementary and consistent with each other. That authority within another Oratory, authority in the English Catholic hier-archy, and authority in Rome saw this as dangerous eventually prevented Newman from a university ministry and the founding of two Oratories, the one in Dublin, the other in Oxford. If he had not been thwarted--we can ask not only what effect this would have had on the Catholic Church's presence in higher education, but also what kind of model the Oratory would have become for that presence. ~. Fidelity to One Place and Community If Newman's devotion to the Oratory as a humanistic Christian community making the best of its own time and place cost him considerable loss of influence, it also explains why Newman was always hoisted between the limitations of the local hierarchy and Roman authority. As small as an Oratory usually is, it is nevertheless a community of pontifical right. But, because the members never move out of this small community, it is inti-mately involved in the local church and becomes specially related to the bishop. This arrangement was meant to allow the Oratory to serve both worlds best, but it also means that the Oratory is vulnerable to the worst of both. And it was the worst that Newman often had to suffer. Suffering at the hands of both local officials and Curial bureaucrats was the fate of the Oratory's founder, St. Philip Neri, but it took Newman some time to realize that such was his own unavoidable fate.34 In 1856 he could be sanguine about Roman love of an English house of St. Philip ("Be sure," he wrote, "that, if we are really doing work, Rome will never be hard on us, even if we are informal, imprudent, or arbitrary").35 By the 1860s he had suffered enough to be afraid of Rome calling him to the Curia for trial of his opinions and judgments. He was so afraid that he considered such a prospect as the threat of death.36 The March-April 1992 201 bishop of Birmingham was of no help in the face of Roman threats. Newinan wrote privately in 1867 that Ullathorne "wishes to be kind to me, but to stand well with people at Rome super-sedes in his mind every other wish. So he is a coward.''37 We can be considerably grateful that the insight into the abuses of church power led him to write in 1877 the great preface to the ¼"a Media in which he developed a theology of abuses in the church. He asks us to contemplate the implications of Matthew 13 and to choose the complexities and shortcomings of a world church rather than the narrow confines and perfection of a sect. That is, for the sake of Catholicity, we must realize that sanctity will not always be an equally prominent mark of the church.3s Conclusion The burden of this short paper has been to indicate some areas where Newman cannot be completely understood without a direct reference to the Oratory of St. Philip Neri. I would say several areas have been directly touched on. First, there is the mystery Why Birmingham? Why would such a talented person remain faithful to this city when he had been born in London and had adopted Oxford and its university? If living in Birmingham is of any consequence in understanding the mystery of Newman, then only the Oratory suffices for an explanation. Newman consciously rejected the London option because his absence from Birmingham would have been the death of a community wishing to live around him.39 And it is within the mystery of a providence that settled the Oratory in Birmingham that we have the mystery of Newman's fidelity to St. Philip, a fidelity which certainly shaped the field of Newman's activities which we have now inherited. Secondly, knowing the Oratory helps us understand how Newman was able to function as pastor and theologian. He had no official standing in a seminary or a university, and his membership in the Oratory cut him off from preferments in the diocese. Yet, despite the fragility of the Oratory and Newman's vulnerability to his enemies with real power bases, he was able to accomplish much. As a pastor he was perpetually available to a local people, and as a teacher he could, in the Congregation, exercise his tal-ents and find reinforcement of his values. Thirdly, the prophetic stands which he brought to the Roman 202 Review for Religious Catholic Church found a congenial place within the tradition of Philip Neri and the Oratory. Laicity, education, and culture were not feared in the Oratory, but promoted. Certainly the Oratory could accommodate the interests of such a person as Newman, and this I think says a lot for the Oratory. Finally, the Oratory provided an emotional complementarity for Newman. Newman had written that he had "never liked a large Oratory. Twelve working priests has been the limit of my ambition. One cannot love many at one time; one cannot really have many friends.''4° The rather intimate expression of this is found in the well-known conclusion to the Apologia, but I would beg an indulgence to cite a lesser-known example found in Meriol Trevor's Life. Late in life some parishioners brought Newman a portrait of himself as a gift to the Birmingham Oratory. Newman replied to them in these words: You ask for my blessing and I bless you with all my heart, as I desire to be blessed myself. Each one of us has his own individuality, his separate history, his antecedents and his future, his duties, his responsibilities, his solemn trial, and his eternity. May God's grace, His love, His peace rest on all of you, united as you are in the Oratory of St. Philip, on old and young, on confessors and penitents, on teachers and taught, on living and dead. Apart from that grace, that love, that peace, nothing is stable, all things have an end; but the earth will last its time, and while the earth lasts, Holy Church will last, and while the Church lasts, may the Oratory of Birmingham last also, amid the fortunes of many generations one and the same, faithful to St Philip, strong in the protection of our Lady and all Saints, not losing as time goes on its sympathy with its first fathers, whatever may be the burden and interests of its own day, as we in turn now stretch forth our hands with love and awe towards those, our unborn successors, whom on earth we shall never kFIow.41 From the Oratory of Birmingham, England, Newman gives a blessing because he believed his life as an Oratorian was itself a blessing. For this reason the Oratory might merit a considera-tion when we think of Newman and what it cost him to be a Catholic and what it was like for him to rejoice as an old man after a long time not only in the Catholic Church but in the Oratory of St. Philip Neri. March-April 1992 203 Notes ~ NewInan's classical exposition of this is found in University Sermons, vol. 5, pp. 75-98, and elucidated very well by Stephen Dessain in The Spirituality offfobn Henry Newman (Minneapolis, 1977), pp. 31-55. But see this theme repeated in an Oratorian context in Newman's Oratory Paper No. 6 in Placid Murray, Newman the Oratorian (Leominster, England, 1968), pp. 215-216. -' For the documentation of the constitutional development of the Congregation, see Antonius Cistellini CO, Collectanea Vetustorum ac Fundamentalium Documentorum Congregationis Oratorii Sancti Philippi Nerii (Brescia, 1982). ~ The more detailed history of this development can be found in Louis Ponnelle and Louis Border, St. Philip Neri and the Roman Society of His Times (London, 1932), pp. 166-173. 4 Idea, Discourse 9, no. 9. ~ Ponnelle and Bordet, pp. 287-381. 6 Erasmus, Ep. 164, in Opus epistolarum Des. Erasmii Roterodami, ed. P. S. Allen, H.M. Allen, and H.W. Garrod (Oxford, 1906-08), quoted in Eugene Rice Jr., Saint Jerome in the Renaissance (Baltimore, 1985), p. 133. 7 Rice, p. 133. 8 The 1969 Constitutions of the Congregation read in no. 15: "The Congregation follows the primitive Christian community that its char-acteristic power consists not in the multitude of its members, but rather in mutual knowledge--so that there may be a regard for the well-known faces--and in the true bond of love, by which those of the same family may be bound together through the practice of daily customs." See Newman the Oratorian, p. 329, for Newman's familiarity with the con-cept of well-known faces or countenances. ~ Prepos., p. 388. ~o Autobiographical Vt~ritings (AI/V), p. 281. 11AW, p. 286. ~2 Ian Ker, John Henry Newman (Oxford, 1988), p. 433. 13 Letters and Diaries (LD), vol. 14, p. 377. ~4 See S.G. Perera SJ, Life of the Venerable Father Joseph Uaz, Apostle of Ceylon (Galle, 1953). Newman indicates a long-standing knowledge of this special case in a letter written in 1867. ~s There is no history written of this first of the Oratories in the United States, and the archives of the house are very sketchy. There is no written rationale of the house for the scattering of the members, but some effort was made to rotate them back to Rock Hill if they were some distance away. There is an article describing the Rock Hill house written by Edward YVahl, one of the earlier members, in Oratorium, Ann. III, S.I-N. 1, Ian-Iun. 1972, pp. 23-32. ~' Ponnelle and Bordet, pp. 471-474. 204 Review for Religious 17 E A. Agnelli, The Excellencies of the Congregation of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri (Venice, 1825), translated and abridged by F.A. Antrobus, London 1881, chapter 1, section V. is LD, vol. 18, pp. 478,483. 19 LD, vol. 17, p. 447. '-OLD, vol. 18, pp. 114-115. z1 LD, vol. 16, p. 267. 22 LD, vol. 14, p. 274. ,~3 LD, vol. 26, p. 115. 24 Ker, pp. 365-372. 25 LD, vol. 17, p. 137. See Newman the Oratorian, p. 311, for his appre-ciation of the Oratory and women. 26 A~17~ p. 327. 27 LD, vol. 21, p. 327. 28LD, vol. 21, p. 331. ~'9 Ker, p. 579. 3o DiffT, ii, pp. 20-21. 31 Placid Murphy calls these papers another apologia (Newman the Oratoria~l, p. 299). -~'~ Newman the Oratorian, p. 196. 33 Newman the Oratorian, p. 358. 34 The 1848 paper in Newman the Oratorian lists the persecutions Philip suffered (see p. 163). In 1862 he can compare his troubles to the founder's (see AW, pp. 256-257). 35 LD, vol. 17, p. 151. 36 LD, vol. 20, pp. 445-448. ~7 LD, vol. 23, p. 296. 38 See R. Bergeron, LesAbus de L'~glise d'apr& Newman (Paris, 1971), and the annotated edition of Newman's ~a Media (Oxford, 1990), ed. H.D. Weidner. 39 LD, vol. 13, pp. 51-52. 40 Newman the Oratorian. p. 387. 4~ Meriol Trevor, Newman, Light in I:Vinter (New York, 1962), p. 582. March-April 1992 205 DENNIS J. BILLY The Resurrection Kernel theology and spirituality Is there a fundamental principle of the resurrection? The answer to this question depends on the way in which one understands the relationship of history to the reality of the risen Christ. This relationship, in turn, depends on the stance one takes towards the possibility of a transhistorical event and the type of impact it would have on the continuities and discontinuities of historical change. However understood, the impact itself would have vast ramifications for the whole of theology. Resurrection: Distinguishing Idea from Reality At the outset, it may be helpful to distinguish between resurrection (1) as a particular item in the history of ideas and (2) as the reality experienced among the earliest fol-lowers of Christ. The former may be separated from the viewpoint of faith, compared with other ideas about the nature of the afterlife, and evaluated on a rational basis for its various strengths and weaknesses as a viable expla-nation of the nature of life after death. As a transhistori-cal event with historical consequences, the latter is intricately bound to the faith of the primitive Christian community and cannot be studied in such a detached, ana- Dennis J. Billy CSSR continues his reflections on various cen-tral tenets of our faith and their relationship to the vowed life of religious. His address is Accademia Alfonsiana; Via Merulana, 31; C.P. 2458; 00100 Rome, Italy. 206 Review for Religious lyrical manner. Any effort to formulate a fundamental principle of the resurrection must be careful to take both sides of this dis-tinction into account. The Idea of Resurrection. A well-grounded discussion of an idea should begin with an attempt to identify its most distinctive char-acteristics. With respect to its general mean-ing, one could accurately describe the term "resurrection" as a belief common among Christians that, at some point after death, an individual is transformed by the power of the Divinity on every level of his or her anthro-pological makeup--the corporeal, the psy-chological, the spiritual, and the social--and thus raised to a higher level of human exis-tence in a way that always remains in funda-mental continuity with his or her historical, earthly life. The most distinctive marks in this short yet exact account of the idea of resurrection include: (1) personal life after death, (2) in a The idea of resurrection alone safeguards the inviolate dignity of each human being on every level of existence. transformed state, (3) embracing all the anthropological factors of human existence, and (4) in a way continuous with an individual's concrete, earthly life. Each of these elements is essential to the idea of resurrection as it is used in this essay and as it exists in the major Christian traditions. These characteristics also set the idea of resurrection apart from the related idea of bodily resuscitation (for example, the raising of Lazarus, Jn 11:44), as well as from the other major philosophical and religious explanations of the nature of life in the hereafter (for example, the immortality of the soul, reincar-nation, nirvana). When these are compared, the idea of resur-rection distinguishes itselfi (1) from bodily resuscitation, in its emphasis on a transformed existence in life after death; (2) from the immortality of the soul, in its inclusion of all of humanity's anthropological factors in the nature of that existence; (3) from reincarnation, in its rupture of the cycle of time and its insistence on the fundamental continuity of life in the hereafter with a per-son's earthly existence; and (4) from nirvana, in its avowal that final beatitude does not involve the extinction of individual con-sciousness. The greatest strength of the idea of resurrection is March-April 1992 207 that, of all of the ideas about the nature of life after death, it alone safeguards the inviolate dignity of each human being on every level of his or her existence. That is to say that it alone keeps human nature eternally intact while, at the same time, saving the individual from ultimate personal extinction. Its greatest weak-ness is that, in representing the fulfillment of one of the deepest and most profound hopes of the human heart, it seems almost too good to be true, an attractive but highly unlikely possibility. For this reason, of all the ideas of life in the hereafter, resurrec-tion is the one most difficult to accept on the simple basis of faith. The Reality of the Resurrection. Rooted in the hopes of Jewish apoc-alypticism during the centuries just prior to the appearance of Christ, and promulgated during Jesus' own lifetime by the reli-gious elite known as the Pharisees, the idea of resurrection devel-oped to its present form as a result of theological reflection on the nature of the Christ event, most especially in the primitive Christian community's interpretation of the meaning of the apos-tolic experience of the risen Lord. This reflection is intimately tied to the trust that community placed in the validity of the apos-tolic witness and to the experience of faith upon which it rested. It is also the context within which one may speak of the resur-rection not as an idea, but as a reality and a hope. \Vhat precisely happened on the first Easter morning remains shrouded by the subjective awareness of the earliest followers of Jesus. That awareness probably ran the gamut of several emo-tional states--from depression and fear, to suspicion and isola-tion, to incipient faith and the lingering yearning for the retrieval of lost expectations--and most likely varied in each of the persons involved. That is not to say that the event had no basis outside the experience of Jesus' followers, but only that there is no way to determine what it is with any accuracy. It is for this reason that, down through the centuries, the Easter event remains primarily an experience of faith in the lives of Jesus' followers. A distinction must still be made, however, between the faith of those who witnessed the Easter event personally and those whose faith relies on the testimony of the apostles. The procla-mation of the church rests upon the eyewitness accounts of the apostles, that is, on those who made the startling claim to have experienced for themselves the reality of the risen Lord. Their experience of faith remains qualitatively different from that of 208 Review for Religious the believer in the pew, for they claim to have experienced a real-ity outside of themselves, rooted in the objective order, distinct from their own subjectivity, and identified with the person of their Master, Jesus of Nazareth. Without the unprecedented bold-ness and resiliency of these claims, the Christian project would have nothing distinctive in its message and probably would never have gotten off the ground. These apostolic claims emerge from one of two possibilities: the experience of the risen Christ was with or without a basis in the person of Jesus in the external order. That is to say that the experience of the apostles corresponds to a reality outside of themselves or remains entirely subjective in all respects. If the former is true, then the further question must be asked regarding the nature of this basis in the external order. If the latter be true, then the only conclusion to be drawn is that the apostles suffered from self-delusion, that their testimony is false, as is the religion to which it gave rise. The fact that neither of these possibilities can be proven highlights the underlying quality of faith inherent in the conclusions of both the believer and non-believer alike. Still more can be said about the position of the believer. If the apostolic experience of the risen Christ does have an external basis in the person of Jesus, then this affirmation, when combined with the idea of resurrection developed earlier in this essay, nec-essarily points to an event of singular historical significance. Indeed, this event could be measured by the instruments of his-torical observation only by its effects (for example, a missing body) and, for this reason, must be placed in a category unique to itself and understood as a transhistorical event with historical conse-quences. This is so precisely because the risen Christ, existing in a transformed state but in a way continuous with his earthly life, does not lead "a historical existence" in the way in which the phrase is commonly used. That is to say that space and time no longer set the limits for his physical existence. In his resurrected state, Christ is the Alpha and the Omega, a singular dimension unique unto himself, who recapitulates, both now and forever, all The Easter event remains primarily an experience of faith in the lives of lesus" followers. March-April 1992 209 of creation within himself, into the love of the Father and the joy of their Spirit. The Resurrection Kernel From all that has been said, a sound formulation of the fun-damental principle of the resurrection (the resurrection kernel) would consist in the affirmation of faith that the idea of resur-rection has become a reality in the risen Christ. This reality is rooted in the transhistorical nature of the Christ event, whose historical consequences linger even to this day in the ongoing proclamation of the church. Based on the testimony of its apos-tolic forebears, the church has, in its ministry down through the centuries, kept alive for humanity the fervent hope that the deep-est yearnings of the human heart will one day be fully realized. That is to say that the transformation wrought by God in Christ promises to extend itself to all who are incorporated into his body, the church. In this respect, a sharing in the life of the risen Lord may be looked upon as the ultimate destiny of all of humankind and will be impeded only by a stubborn individual or corporate persistence in the life of sin. Given the above formulation, a number of important obser-vations arise: (1) To affirm that an idea has become a reality is to utilize the well-known philosophical distinction between the internal (that is, subjective) and external (that is, objective) orders. The limitations of this distinction are well known, and care must be taken not to stretch the analogy beyond its avowed usefulness. Indeed, special care must be taken not to project the concerns of the so-called critical problem back to a time before its signifi-cance was entirely known. (2) God the Father is the primary agent in bringing about this realization in Christ. Since idea and reality are intimately connected in the Divinity's vision of itself, the resurrection of Christ may be viewed as a providential movement on the part of the Father to bring the plan of redemption in accord with the working of the Divine Mind, that is, the Logos. In this respect, Christ's resurrection is that event which, touching upon history but transcending time, initiates the ultimate return of all created things back to God. (3) This view of Christ's resurrection also sheds light upon 210 Review for Religious the development in the early church of the doctrine of the incar-nation. If it is true that, in Christ's resurrection, flesh has been divinized and lifted up into the reality of the Word, it follows that, at some point prior to this momentous occasion, the Word itself had descended into the reality of human flesh and had become a human person. Putting aside for the moment the vari-ous intricacies involved in discussing the Christological contro-versies in the early centuries of the church, it seems quite appropriate to say that the doctrines of Christ's incarnation and resurrection form two aspects of a single salvific event which, if one were to borrow the Neoplatonic exitus/reditus structure adopted by Aquinas, represents the recreatio,z of all things going out of (exitus) and going back (reditus) to God. It is in this sense that all things are recapitulated in Christ, the New Adam. (4) As described above, the resurrection is not merely the state of Christ's postmortem existence, but an intricate part of the whole process of redemption. If Christ's exitu} from the Father reaches its furthest extension in his passion and death on the cross (described in the Creed as his descent into hell), his reditus is ush-ered in by the events of Easter morning, and his Spirit is the prin-ciple by which all things continue to be gathered into his body and thus into the presence of the Father. (5) As a transhistorical event with historical consequences, the resurrection of Christ exists outside of but in relation to the realm of historical inquiry. In this regard, it lies beyond the realm of scientific investigation and can be affirmed only through faith in the testimony of those claiming to have actually experienced Jesus after his death. That is not to say that the apostles did not experience outside of themselves in the exter-nal order, but only that the basis for their experience cannot be verified. (6) Indeed, probably the only historical consequence of mea-surable scientific value would have been the disappearance of Jesus' body at the actual moment of his resurrection. Since the precise whereabouts of the body was a point of contention even in the initial aftermath of the Easter proclamation (Mt 28:13), one must conclude that, although its disappearance could have been verified, if not scientifically, then at least through pagan eyewitness accounts, it obviously was not. (7) On all other points, the detached observer would not be able to separate the subjective experience of the apostles from March-April 1992 211 the reality of the risen Christ. There would, in other words, have been no way of determining whether or not they were actually experiencing anything beyond their own intensified inner aware-ness. The singularity of this experience would be expected if a transhistorical event were to occur and be experienced in its his-torical consequences. (8) To the extent that it is not based on direct experience but on the testimony of others, the faith of the church is qualitatively different from the faith of the apostles. Not only does it point to the conviction of those who claimed to have experienced the risen Lord, but, in one respect, it is even a purer experience of faith: "Happy are those who have not seen and yet believe" (Jn 20:29). (9) Belief in the risen Christ keeps alive in people the hope that, after death, their lives will not end, but merely change. Because of Christ's resurrection, they look forward to a trans-formed existence in the hereafter, one in continuity with their own lives on earth. Sustained by a believer's prayerful response to the contetnporary challenges of Christian discipleship, this hope forms the basis upon which life in the resurrection is anticipated even in the present. (10) Through their participation in the ministry and life of the church, people receive a foretaste of this transformed exis-tence, especially when they partake of the sacraments around the table of the Lord. It was at the Eucharist where Jesus' disciples recognized him in the breaking of the bread (Lk 24:30). It is there where Christians, even to this day, gather to do the same. This is especially true for those who dedicate their lives to Christ through the following of the evangelical counsels. Religious and the Resurrection In their vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, religious strive to center their lives upon the reality of the risen Christ. They seek to do so by virtue of their firtn conviction that they are called to share in the life of the resurrection by making the idea of the vows a lived reality in their day-to-day existence. Christ, who exhibited both before and after his resurrection a life dedicated to the Father through the eschatological signs of the evangelical counsels, asks religious to do the same. The strength to do so comes from Christ and is mediated by his Spirit through his church and its ministry of the sacraments. While such dedi- 212 Review for Religious cation is never fully realized in the present, religious are called to imitate Christ throughout their entire lives. It is for this reason that, at the end of their earthly lives, they hope to share in the full-ness of his transformed existence. In their vowed life in common, religious pledge to give them-selves over entirely to the life of the risen Lord. In their vow of poverty, they seek both physical and spiritual detachment from material goods, doing so not out of a suspicion about the fundamental good-ness of creation, but from the convic-tion that it too will undergo a transformation in the fullness of Christ's kingdom. In their vow of chastity, they promise to forgo the goods of marriage, children, and sexual pleasure, thereby accepting Christ's Gospel declaration that there will be neither husband nor wife in the life to come (Lk 20:35) and that, even in the realm of relationships, all who abide in him will live a trans-formed existence. In their vow of obe-dience, they promise to accept the will of their superiors as a manifestation of God's plan for their lives, thus hoping to estab-lish within themselves a continual movement of accord between their own wills and that of the their risen Lord. Finally, in their communal existence, they hold each other accountable for the way of life they have chosen and seek to reflect in their mutual relations that dignity and care appropriate to those who are called to be members of Christ's body. By means of their individual and communal dedication to the evangelical counsels, it is clear that religious seek, even in this present life, a deeper share in the life of the resurrection. Through their vowed life in community, religious thus provide a faithful witness for themselves, the rest of the church, and the entire world that the idea of resurrection has not only been made a reality in Christ but that it is striving, at this very moment, to be realized in the lives of those who believe. In this respect, their witness affirms the movement of Christ's Spirit in the life of the church and provides a foretaste of the life to come. That is not to say that religious embody this charismatic dimension of the church better or more faithfully than any of the other vocations within the Belief in the risen Christ keeps alive in people the hope that, after death, their lives will not end, but merely change. March-April 1992 213 church (for example: single, married, priestly states), but only that their way of life is especially suited to it. Of its very nature, the religious life forIns a part of the charismatic dimension of the church. Indeed, to the extent that religious communities do not manifest to both others and themselves the gentle yet challenging presence of the Spirit, they fall short of the explicit nature of their call to center their lives entirely around the reality of the risen Christ. He it was who first imparted the Holy Spirit to his body, the church. He it is who continues to do so even to the present day. Through their faithfulness to the vows, lived in community and in the Spirit, religious seek mainly to nourish their relation-ship with the risen Christ. This personal relationship to the Lord motivates all of their activity for the establishment of God's king-dom; it is also what draws others to follow their particular way of life. Indeed, the care with which they tend this relationship is itself a sign that the reality of Christ's resurrection is meant for all to share and experience in all its fullness. In this respect, reli-gious must be ever conscious that their vowed life in common has little meaning if it is separated from life in the Spirit of the risen Christ and seen as an end in itself. To be sure, there is noth-ing sadder in the life of the church than to see individual reli-gious and, at times, entire communities lose sight of the meaning of their vocation. When people of such great promise and poten-tial compromise themselves and begin to believe that the Spirit is no longer active in their lives and that things will never change for the better, when men and women, who are called to be signs of hope, begin to believe in the voices of hopelessness, then the time is ripe for a prophet to arise within their midst to challenge them to come back to the Lord and to live the life to which they have been called. At the same time, there is nothing more joyful in the life of the church than to see men and women who, out of love for their Lord, renounce the very things for which they most actually strive during their sojourn on earth. To live in poverty, without children or spouse, and without full personal liberty provides oth-ers with the constantly needed reminder that the fullness of riches, family life, and freedom is ultimately found only in one's rela-tionship to him whom the apostles acclaimed to be truly risen. 214 Review for Religious Conclusion This essay has sought to outline the basic, underlying principle of the Christian doctrine of the resurrection. It has done so, on the one hand, by describing in as precise detail as possible the mean-ing of the idea of resurrection as under-stood in the church's teaching and, on the other hand, by looking into some of the fundamental presuppositions regarding the resurrection of Christ as experienced by his earliest followers. Bringing these two currents of inquiry together, the funda-mental principle of the resurrection (the resurrection kernel) was described as the affirmation of faith that the idea of resur-rection has become a reality in the risen Christ. Seen as a transhistorical event with historical consequences, the acclaimed res-urrection of Jesus of Nazareth lies, for all practical purposes, beyond the scope of scientific verification and remains inti- Through their faithfulness to the vows, lived in community and in the Spirit, religious seek mainly to nourish their relationship with the risen Christ. mately tied to the internal, subjective event of faith to which it gave life. That is not to say that Jesus' resurrection has no ground in the external order, but only that it ultimately lies beyond the scope of controlled observation. In this respect, the faith experi-ence of those who experienced the risen Lord is qualitatively dif-ferent from that of those whose faith rests upon their testimony. Blessed precisely because they believe without seeing, today's believers share in the hope of their own transformed existence which, through their experience of the Spirit in the church com-munity of the faithful, may be experienced even now in the quiet anticipation of the fullness of a reality yet to come. They bring their hearts' deepest yearning for the fullest presence of the risen Christ to the table of the Lord, where they are blessed with a glimpse of

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

Issue 45.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1986. ; Direction and Reconciliation The Prayer of Being Responses to Rape The Key to Spiritual Direction Volume 45 N umber 6 Nov.IDec. 1986 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. REVIEW FOR REt.IGIOOS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. © 1986 by REVIEW FOR REL~OOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis. MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $11.00 a year; $20.00 for two years. Other countries: add $4.00 per year (postage). Airmail (Book Rate) $18.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVtEW YOn RELIGIOUS: P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editor Nov./Dec., 1986 Volume 45 Number 6 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REviEw FOR REt.tGtOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Richard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave.; Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REVtEW FOU REHCmUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindeli 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 World Synod of Bishops: The Extraordinary Session of 1985 The Ordinary Session of 1987 Jan Schotte, C.I.C.M. Archbishop Schotte is General Secretary of the World Synod of Bishops. This article is based on his address to the Catholic Press AssOciation Convention, June 7, 1986, the text of which was first published in its The Catholic Journalist, July, 1986, pp. 5-8. ~n this article I will deal with what I have learned, during the past~months since my transfer to the office of Permanent Secretary, about one of the youngest institutions of the Catholic Church, the World Synod of Bishops. When in the course of my remarks I intend also to say a few words about the relationship between the Synod and the media, please accept my contribu-tion as the expressio~n of a deeply held conviction that the media have a major role to play in the mission of the Chm:ch, and especially with regard to the Synod of Bishops. This conviction is based on my experience as a priest and missionary who has been privileged to serve the Gospel of the Lord and his Church in many different functions. I worked with the media as the briefing officer for French-speaking journalists in the 1980 and 1983 Synods of Bishops. In those days, I was somewhat biased in favor 0f media people. Today, as Secretary General of the Synod, I dare to hope that I still carry within me that same favorable bias. I will confine my remarks to.three areas. In the first place, I will share some insight into the preparation, the process and the final product of the Extraordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops, held in 1985. 801 802 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 Secondly, I will brief the reader concerning the next Ordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops on the theme "Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and the World, Twenty Years After the Second Vatican Council," which is scheduled to take place from October 1 through 30, 1987. Finally, I will offer some very tentative comments on the relationship between Synod and media, telling what the Secretary General of the Synod expects from the media, and at the same time expecting to hear from the media professionals, what they expect from the Synod Secretariat. I. The Extraordinary Synod of 1985 The Extraordinary Synod, which received more media attention than any of the previous synods, was first and foremost a Synod of Bishops-- just that, but totally that! What Is the Synod of Bishops? It is not easy to give a brief reply to this question. It becomes especially difficult when the person asking the question expects an answer in terms of civil or political administration. Is it a parliament, a Church senate, a private council of the pope, a mini-ecumenical council? Each of these bodies has some analogy with the Synod, but none is apt to explain the true nature of the Synod. The Synod is explainable only in terms of the interior logic of the Church, from within her structure and her life. Dealing with an ecclesial entity, a juridical-institutional explanation is not sufficient, but it is necessary to have recourse to the notion of the Church as mystery and as communion. The Synod of Bishops has become part of the life of the Catholic Church; we accept its existence as normal, undisputed. From 1967 onwards we have witnessed the synodal assemblies treating topics and arguments of great importance and attracting the attention not only of Catholics but also of many others. The Synod of Bishops has become one of the propulsion centers of the pastoral activity of the Church, introducing into its life the more important reforms called for by Vatican I1. We recall the 1967 Synod which discussed several topics: the basic orienta-tion for the New Code of Canon Law; orientations for the reform of semi-naries; mixed marriages; and institution of the International Theological Commission. The first Extraordinary Synod of 1969 contributed to the clarification of the role of the bishops' conferences their relationship to the Holy See. The Synod of 1971 againdiscussed two fundamental topics: one on the identity of the Catholic priest and the meaning of priestly celibacy; the other on The World Synod of Bishops / 803 social justice. The 1974 Synod was dedicated to the theme of evangeliza-tion. It was followed in 1977 by the Synod on catechesis. The Synod of 198Odiscussed the Christian family. The Synod of 1983 addressed the issue of reconciliation and penance. The Second Extraordinary Synod of 1985 evaluated the implementation and impact of the Second Vatican Council. Truly an impressive list for only twenty years of activity. Such fundamental and vast themes together with their links to the Council and the post-conciliar period suffice to show the growing importance of the Synod of Bishops in the life of the Catholic Church. It is an institution with connotations of universality, agility and topicality, which seeks to fulfill its role as Syn-odos, the "walking together" of bishops for the benefit of the universal Church and all humankind. The Synod of 1985 It is necessary to understand that any .session of the Synod of Bishops is a fruit of the Second Vatican Council, and an expression of collegiality and communion in order to fully grasp the meaning of that special event that was the Second Extraordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops, which took place from November 24 through December 8, 1985, on the theme: "The Second Vatican Council on the Twentieth Anniversary of Its Closing." In recent years, the Church has been subjected to surprises: the death of the smiling Pope John Paul I after only thirty-three days in office; the election of the first non'Italian Pope in four centuries; the vitality and charm of Pope John Paul II who travels to all continents and keeps drawing massive crowds of Catholics and non-Catholics alike. In some way, we have become used to such surprises. Despite all this, when John Paul II made his announcement of an extra-ordinary general session of the Synod of Bishops to evaluate the impact of the Second Vatican Council, the Church and the world were not prepared for this new surprise, so much so that immediately a full-blown debate started in the news media about the purpose Of the Synod, about the intentions of the Holy Father, to say nothing about the feasibility, of calling the bishops to Rome with only eleven months of advance notice. Yet this announcement was fully consistent with the personality and style of the Holy Father, and more especially in accord with his deepest faith convictions. It is no secret that John Paul II has a deep sense of his mission, and that he is constantly looking for ways and means to confirm in the faith his brother bishops and the whole people of God. We also know that he attaches great importance to significant gestures and symbols. We have learned that he is not afraid to face reality and tO assess situations with 804 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 utmost lucidity. All these factors taken together would have been sufficient to explain why he deemed it necessary to convene on short notice an Extra-ordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops, But there is more. John Paul II is a firm believer in the collegiality of the bishops and he is a convinced defender and promoter of the Second,Vatican Council. The Holy Father has always believed and continues to believe in. the Council, not for strategic ~r.easons but for reasons of faith. Vatican II was for him, who participated in all its sessions as a young bishop, an experience which deeply marked .his entire episcopate and pontificate. A faithful analysis of the unwavering support of the Pope ~for the Council seems the only serious and objective method for interpret!~ng the reasons behind the convening of the Second Extraordinary Synod .without falling into the trap of putting the Pope's intentions on trial or of expressing purely subjective judgments. The Pope could not have stated the objectives~of the Synod more clearly: to celebrate,and re-live the extraordinary spirit of the Council; to verify what has been done to implement the Councilteachings; to promote a deeper awareness of the Council and the application of its principles to present and future problems. To look again at the Second Vatican Council and to assess its implemen-tation was, for the bishops at the Synod, a massive program. Yet it was unrealistic to think that the Pope intended to review every single Council document in a comprehensive way within the twelve ~working days that were available. It was equally unlikely that the Holy Father had a further agenda, a hidden one, to throw into reverse the process of renewal initiated by the Council, or to use expressions from certain journalists, "to bury the Council," "to put the brakes on renewal," "to set the clock back," "to roll back the tide," or "to let theprophets of doom back in after they have been banned from the Church by John XXIII." Preparation of the Extraordinary Synod After the surprise announcement by the Holy Father, the General Secretariat of the Synod began immediately the preparation of this unusual event. N,Iy predecessor, the then Archbishop, now Cardinal, Jozef Tomko initiated a series of consultations with a number of bishops and theologians who had participated in all sessions of the Second Vatican Council. Some of those had played a role of primary importance, either as officers of the Council or as participants or experts involved in the drafting of the Council documents. They were asked to react to the three objectives indicated by the Pope and to formulate guidelines for a consultation of all the bishops' conferences. The World Synod of Bishops / 805 The fifteen members of the Council of the General Secretariat were called to Rome for a two-day meeting, March 14-15, 1985, to examine the answers to the preliminary consultation. It was then decided to mail a questionnaire to the patriarchs and metropolitans of the Oriental Churches, to the presidents of bishops' conferences, to the Union of Supefiors General and to the heads of the various departments in the Roman Curia. This questionnaire Went out on April 1, 1985, with a covering letter in which strong emphasis was put on the necessity for a consultation that would reach as many persons and levels of the Local Church as was feasible in so shol~t a time. It was felt that the opinions should be sought not only of the bishops and the experts of the Conference, but also of the priests, religious and laity at large. It was further stressed that the inquiry should try to focus on the major documents of Vatican II, without excluding any of the others. Th6re was no doubt that the debate in the Synod should focus on the nature of the Church and its mission: what is the inner reality of the Church? How does she see herself and, in the light of that perception, how does she organize herself? How does she relate to the complex structures and needs of the world? Such had been the original and genial inspiration of Vatican II itself; any evaluation twenty years later had to concentrate on those same questions. The answers were expected at the General Secretariat by September 1, 1985. However many factors contributed to delays so that the deadline was not respected. The General Secretariat had received only eighteen answers by September I. In the end, however, the result was quite satisfactory: 73.75°70 of the answers'(out of a possible total of 141) were received in time to be incorpo-rated in a summary which reflected the different regional realities, cultures and problems and which~ represented in an objective way the situation of the Church twenty years after the closing of Vatican II. Not every single response to the questionnaire had the same value or authority; some were very detailed while others remained rather schematic; some reflected the thinking of the bishops while 0thersdrew on a large grass-roots response; some had been fully discussed and formulated by the bishops in conference, while others were the work of experts or the secretariat of a conference; some replies reflected rather local concerns while others definitely attempted to see the problems at the level of the Universal Church. All taken together, however, gave a true image of the situation in the Church. I want to share with you a particular observation with regard to this consultation: the formal answers which we received were not the final answers! After the national hierarchies mailed in their submissions, reflection and discussion continued at the level of the single bishop or layperson as well as in the circles of experts, theologians and ecclesial groups or communio 806 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 ties. Many bishops arrived thus at the Synod with different ideas than those expressed in the answers of their respective Conferences. The Final Product The 1985 Synod issued two documents which I am sure you are all familiar with. I feel therefore dispensed from recalling the content of the "Message to the People of God" or of the "Final Report." I only want to clarify a few points. In the media, the fact of the immediate publication of the Final Report was highlighted as an unusual event. Some saw it in terms of a victory of the bisl~ops who wrested this concession from the Pope. The truth of the fact is somewhat different. Every Synod transmits the result of its exchange for consideration to the Holy Father in the form of a report or a list of proposals, or even by entrusting all relevant working papers to the Holy Father, who then decides in what form the results of the Synod will be made public. After the Synods of 1974, 1977 and 1980, the Pope published an "Apostolic Exhortation" in which he presented the results of the Synod. After the 1983 Synod on "Reconciliation and.Penance" however, John Paul II enlisted the collaboration of the bishops elected to the Council of the General Secretariat in preparing a "Post-Synodal Exhortation." During the preparatory phase of the 1985 Extraordinary Synod, many different possibilities for coricluding the Synod had been examined, and the Holy Father did not exclude any, postponing his decision until the Synod had finished its task. When the reports of the small language group~ were presented to the assembly halfway through the proceedings, it became clear that they contained a very rich material, reflecting a large consensus among the participants in evaluating Vatican II's impact and in proposing ways to promote its further implementation. It was then decided to ask the Rappor-teur to .try drafting a final report that would reflect the consensus and the richness of the contributions. This report was debated and finally voted upon. Separate votes were taken on eighteen different sections of the report, and the approval of each one was almost unanimous. In his closing r.emar~s, which followed immediately after the proclamation of the results of the final balloting, the Holy Father stated: Right from the beginning of this Synod, it has appeared clearly how much all those who. were called to participate in it truly shared in its objectives. The results of your work--contained in the "Message" and in the "Final Report"--are witness to your clear-sightedness and your diligent care as well as to your fine ecclesial sense . Therefore, with joy and with sincere gratitude I accept from your hands the "Message" and the "Final Report" which demonstrate this sense of communion: with my consent these docu- The World Synod of Bishops / 807 ments will be rendered public. May the Lord see to it that they bear abundant fruit. It is now your task to ensure that the great force and the awareness of the importance of the Council penetrate deeply into the Universal Church, into your particular churches, and into the various communities. With these words, the Holy Father indicated his approval for the publica-tion of the "Final Report," and manifested at the same time his profound sense of mission and of collegiality. What the "Final Report" makes especially clear is that the Second Vatican Council is the most important event for the Church in the twen-tieth century. The Council offered orientations and answers not only for the questions of the last twenty years, but for the problems of the future as well. The total richness of the documents of the Council, taken together and not separated one from the other, consists in that it explains what the Church is and how she must be Church in the world. The Extraordinary Synod exploded as it were a number of myths which got hold of the minds of many Catholics in the years after Vatican II, and which conditioned the implementation of the Council teaching. Allow me to list just a few. 1. The myth of the primacy of the pastoral over the doctrinal. The "Final Report" affirms: "Special attention must be paid to the four major Consti-tutions of the council, which contain the key for the interpretation of the other Decrees and Declarations. It is not licit to separate the pastoral character from the doctrinal vigor of the documents." 2. The myth of presenting the Vatican Council as a mere historical event, to be left behind as soon as possible in order to work towards Vatican III. The teachings of Vatican II, although looking at the Church and her mission in the light of the prevailing situation, remain valid because they recall funda-mental tenets of the faith and of the Church. 3.The myth of the contradiction between the teachings of Vatican I and Vatican H. The 'Final Report' states: "The Church is one and the same throughout all the Councils." 4. The myth of the preeminence of the spirit over the letter of the Council. The "Final Report" affirms: "It is not legitimate to separate the spirit and the letter of the Council." 5. The myth that pluralism in doctrine o f faith is the way of the future. The "Final Report" states: "The pluralism of fundamentally opposed posi-tions., leads to dissolution, destruction and the loss of identity." 6. The myth that human development is to be promoted without reference to the mystery of the Chu, rch. The "Final Report" says: "It is. necessary to put aside the false and useless opposition between the Church's spiritual mission and diaconia for the world." 81)8 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 7. The myth that any meeting of the world episcopate dissolves auto-matically into opposing camps of North versus South, of East versus West, of liberals versus conservatives. The openness of the debates and the fraternal spirit that was evident from the very first days of the Synod made manifest that there was complete unity. 8. The myth of the intended "'restoration, "" The Bishops affirmed: "The Synod has been for us an occasion which has allowed us once again to experience communion in the one Spirit, in the one faith and hope, and in the one Catholic Church, as well as in the unanimous will to translate the Council into the practice and the life of the Church." We leave to history the final assessment of the Extraordinary Synod of 1985. However it is not presumptuous to state that it was, in many ways, a truly extraordinary event in the life of the Church. The Ordinary Synod on the Laity, 1987 The Synod of Bishops reconvenes in 1987, in ordinary general session, to discuss the "'Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and in the World Twenty Years After the Second Vatican Council." Inevitably the bishops will return yet again to consider the nature of the Church and the responsibility of all baptized for her mission and ministry. The 1985 Extraordinary Synod has provided us with the right theological context in which to prepare for the Synod on the Laity. As you know, the Synod on the Laity was originally scheduled for 1986, The announcement by the Holy Father of an Extraordinary General Session of the Synod in 1985 made it advisable to postpone by one year the con-vening of the Synod on'the Laity. In so doing, the Holy Father acceded to a suggestion that was made by the many bishops' conferences who feared not to have sufficient time for a thorough preparation and consultation with the laity. The deadline for the submission to the Synod Secretariat of con-tributions by the bishops' conferences was therefore extended by six months to May 1, 1986. Not the First Synod on the Laity? The coming Ordinary General Session of the Synod of Bishops will not be the first that deals with the laity. A simple enumeration of the arguments discussed at the past Synods readily demonstrates the continuing and signi-ficant attention which the Synods have devoted to th& theme of the laity. Thus we had the 1971 Synod with its double theme of "Justice in the World" and the "Ministerial Priesthood." Both topics had a particular relevance for the laity: the first in that it touched upon the role of the Church in society--a privileged field of activity for the Christian laity, and the second The World Synod of Bishops / 809 which explored the ministerial priesthood in its connection also with the common priesthood of all the faithful. The 1974 Synod on "Evangelization" recognized and explicitly promoted the specific mission of the laity. It stated: "Lay people, whose particular vocation places them in the midst of the world and in charge of the most varied temporal tasks, must for this very reason exercise a very special form of evangelization." While the 1977 Synod on "Catechesis" stimulated further appreciation of the role of the laity, especially with regard to youth, even more so did the 1980 Synod in its presentation of the Christian family as the primary and basic form of secular vocation and mission in the Church. Finally, the Synod of 1983 recognized and promoted the task of lay people in the work of Christian reconciliation, which finds expression not only within the ecclesial community but also within human society. Reconciliation is not only a personal challenge for each Christian, but a corporate task for the laity. This summary listing of the topics of the Synods amply demo0strates how the Church, through one of her more important institutions, has taken to heart the deepening of her understanding of the vocation and mission of the laity. It could not have been different, since it was one of the major thrusts of the Second Vatican Council to enhance and promote the partici-pation of the laity in the mission of the Church for the salvation of the world. How Was the Theme for the 1987 Synod Chosen? After twenty years of existence, the Synod of Bishops has developed its own procedures and methods, which are all specifically "synodal." This applies also to the selection of a theme for the Synod. At every Ordinary Synod, towards the end of the proceedings, an open debate is organized on possible themes for the next Synod. The Synod Fathers then express their preferences, indicating at the same time why they propose one topic: rather than another. Already at this stage some themes emerge as being especially timely. Immediately after the closing of the Synod, the General Secretary con-tacts all the patriarchs and metropolitans of the Catholic Oriental Church, the heads of the departments of the Roman Curia, and the presidents of national and international conferences of bishops, inviting them to indicate a theme of their choice. This step is necessary since an Ordinary Synod con-sists only of a relatively small number of bishops, and it is imperative to hear from all bishops through their respective conferences. When all the replies have been tallied, the fifteen members of the Council of the Synod Secretariat are then convened to examine the material and 810 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 to formulate more adequately the themes that seem to emerge. Such a further step is necessary because many suggestions from the bishops' conferences will sometimes deal with the same general topic but under different aspects. The top three themes are then prepared for presentation to the Holy Father, who, as the President of the Synod, sets the agenda and determines the topics to be discussed. Up to now, the Holy Father has always been able to honor the results of the consultation, and has steadfastly chosen the theme that emerged as number one. "Vocation and Mission of the Laity in the Church and in the World, Twenty Years After the Second Vatican Council" was requested. The Holy Father, acceding tO this request, told the members of the Council of the General Secretariat on May 19, 1984, the following: It is not difficult to grasp the motives for such a convergence of opinion. In reality, the mission of the laity, as an integral part of the salvific mission of the entire People of God, is of fundamental importance for the life of the Church and for the service which the Church herself is called to render to the world. Among the different motives which have been presented in favor of the theme, the following can be singled out. Within the context of the specifically secular vocation and mission of the laity, there have been numerous posit.ive results and achievements, such as the commitment of many lay men and women in the area of human development, social justice, human rights, peace and international solidarity, politics, human labor and culture. There are also in this area a number of problems which require critical evaluation. Two tendencies which are prob-lematical and raise questions cannot be ignored. A first tendency concerns those among the laity who are so influenced by secularism and by the values, or non-values, of the world that they no longer see that their whole activity in the temporal order is necessarily linked with their faith. This is the case of those men or women who engage in social, political, economic or cultural activity and feel that the inspiration and motivation for their commitment must be found outside their faith. It is the case as well of Catholic public officials who in order to serve all their constituents assume that they must promote positions or norms of behavior which are in contradiction with their faith and their Catholic identity. Another tendency exists where Christians believe that they can carry out their mission by abstaining from any involvement in the problems of society. They withdraw into a purely spiritual or devotional world and close in upon themselves or upon the very private circle of any group or movement to The World Synod of Bishops / 811 which they belong. The Council has very clearly stated that "by reason of their special voca-tion it belongs to the laity to seek the kingdom of God by engaging in the temporal affairs and directing them according to God's will." The same Council also noted that "the laity can be called in different ways to more immediate cooperation in the apostolate of the hierarchy" and that "they have the capability of being appointed by the hierarchy to some ecclesial offices with a view to a spiritual end." In accordance with this conciliar doctrine, a more direct and wider participation of the laity in the pastoral activities of the Church came about. But together with this positive develop-ment, there exists also on the part of some of the laity a far more extensive and stronger demand fo~: access to various "ecclesial ministries." Not all lay participation in ecclesial ministries is without problems. In some local churches, one notices a tendency to restrict the mission of the laity to ecclesial ministries only. This can involve the danger of confusion with regard to the correct understanding of the respective missions of the clergy and of the laity in the Church. We thus see in some situations a real attempt at "clericalization of the laity," while at the same time we assist at the phenome-non of the "laicization of the clergy," when the latter take over the specific mission of the laity in temporal affairs by becoming merely social workers, or p61itical activists. These and other phenomena derive from a particular interpretation given to the vocation and mission of the laity in the Church and in the world presented by Vatican.II. If that interpretation is not correct, the vocation of the laity will not be ~ruly lived out, with the result that harm is done not only to individuals and groups but to the entire ecclesial community. The latter's credibility is impaired and its pastoral efficacy is restricted. It is therefore clear that the doctrine of the Council on the participation of the laity in the mission of the Church and on their own specific mission in the world must be studied in depth at this time. The Preparation of the Synod As soon as the theme of the 1987 Synod had been established, the Secretariat of the Synod invited the bishops' conferences, the Pontifical Council for the Laity and other representative bodies to submit their views on how to approach the theme. The answers were examined first by a task force of theologians, and afterwards by the members of the Council of ti;e General Secretariat. Following the indications contained in the answers from the bishops' conferences and the guidelines elaborated by the fifteen members of the Council, the General Secretariat then produces a preliminary paper called Linearnenta or "outline of the theme." 812 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 The Lineamenta has been sent to all the Hierarchies, not as a working paper for the Synod, but as a help for further study of the theme and for wider consultation in all Local Churches. The outline document is in no way--nor does it pretend to be--a complete and logically ordered treatment of the theme. Neither is it an outline or a draft of a possible future synodal document. It aims to offer a point of departure for analysis, discussion and reflection on the laity: on the doctrinal and pastoral aspects of the question, on values and needs, on achievements and diffict~lties. Its main aim is to stimulate discussion and help the Local Churches deepen their own thinking in. the matter. In the covering letter which accompanied the Lineamenta, the General Secretary insisted that the consultation not be limited to the bishops or to specialized commissions of the bishops' conferences. The letter strongly emphasized that the very nature of the theme, as well as the direct experience of those who fully live their vocation as lay Christians, demand a large scale consultation of the laypeople themselves. This consultation should not be limited to comments on the Lineamenta only, but should continue up to the opening of the Synod itself, so that the participating bishops can truly reflect the situations and expectations of the laity in their particular Churches. Past experience has proven that such a consultation can be a truly bene-ficial event for the Church. It can initiate a process of deeper awareness of all the faithful concerning their own baptismal vocation. In preparation of the 1980 Synod on the Family, the Bishops' Conference of France was able to collect fifty thousand answers from groups and families. Prior to the 1983 Synod on Penance and Reconciliation, the Bishops of Chile gathered twenty-five thousand answers from parishes and small ecclesial communities. The very process of the consultation cannot but have d profound impact on the life of the Local Church when it is carried out at all levels. In order to facilitate a consultation at the grass roots level, the Lineamenta was published in seven languages, and bishops' conferences have translated the document into many more local idioms. It has become one of the most widely distributed texts. At the end of the three chapters of the Lineamenta some questions have been formulated. The answers to the questions, duly synthesized at the level of the bishops' conference of each nation and supplemented by any con-sideration which the bishops themselves might add, will then serve as the basis for the "working paper" which we hope to forward to the future par-ticipants sometime before the opening of the Synod. As of May 1, the cutoff date for the submissions from the particular churches and bishops' conferences, the Secretariat had received answers to the questionnaire from a grand total of three conferences of bishops! The The Worm Synod of Bishops / 813 Extraordinary Synod has certainly interfered with the preparation of the Synod on the Laity. But I also feel that Synods which follow too closeiy must allow sufficient time for a thorough preparation in a way that the whole People of God can feel involved. When I left my office some days ago, the submissions had begun to arrive in larger numbers. Within the next month a Task Force of experts--priests and laity-~will study all the responses and prepare an outline for the working paper (Instrumentum laboris). The fifteen cardinals and bishops, members of the Council of the Synod's General Secretariat, will discuss and finalize ~the outline at the next Council meet-ing, October 8-11. It is clear that the preparation, of the Synod constitutes a unique chal. lenge but also a sterling opportunity for lay men and women to undertake an assessment of their own involvement as baptized Christians in the Church and the world. For the whole Church, it will be an occasion to deepen the understanding of the true nature of the Church on the eve of the Third Millennium of her history. It is an occasion that the Church cannot afford to miss. For Catholic professional media people, the coming Synod offers the possibility to look at their own involvement in the Church and in society, and to assess the role they are called to play as Catholics and as communi-cators. But at the same time the whole People of God, pastors together with the laity, must reflect on the sacredness of the communic~ator's vocation, charisma and ministry. I hope that the following remarks may somewhat contribute to this process of reflection on your part. The Synod and the Media The surprise announcement of the Extraordinary Synod and the relatively short time allotted for its preparation attracted right from the beginning an unusual amount of comment and speculation. Within the Catholic Church, some seemed to fear that the Synod would be used to point the Church in a new direction, signaling a kind of retreat from the principles and attitudes of the Second Vatican Council. Some, on the other hand, saw the Synod as providing an opportunity to identify and correct what they judged to be the mistakes and abuses of the past twenty years. Most however--and this contrary to the impression given by the mass media in the months preceding the Synod--accepted the Synod gratefully as an oppor-tunity to deepen their understanding of the Council, while others, of the younger generation, hailed it as a welcome occasion to discover for the first time in a deeply personal way the message of Vatican II. In spite of the clearly stated intentions of the Holy Father, a debate con-tinued to rage well up to and into the time of the Synod itself. Taking into 814 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 account that some media people have difficulty not to inject into their report-ing their own perceptions and biases, the future debate at the Synod was presented erroneously as a battle between liberals and conservatives. Some seeds of misunderstanding concerning the aims of the Synod may also have been found in the polarization which exists today within many sectors of the Catholic community concerning the nature of the Church and her role. Not a few h~ve retained a position which has not moved beyond the First Vatican Council, and see the Church almost exclusively in structural, institu-tional terms. They have not given enough weight to the work of the Second Vatican Council. They have failed to recognize the essential truth that the Second Vatican C6uncil does not contradict the First Vatican Council, but complements it. The primacy and infallibility of the pope, defined at the First, are not contradicted but developed further at the Second Vatican Council by a fuller consideration of the role and ministry of the bishops. The Second Vatican Council lays emphasis, then, on the collegiality of bishops, on their respon-sibility for their own dioceses and for the good of the Universal Church, on the true nature of the diocese as the Church of God in each locality, and on the dignity and calling of all the baptized. Part of the Church's task in the past twenty years has been to try to find ways of expressing these complementary truths of the First and Second Vatican Councils in struc-tures and attitudes that do justice to both. Inevitably we have failures as well as successes to look back on. But some people have never accepted that that effort had to be made. Others have failed to see how the Church relates to the modern world. In the past, some Christians saw nothing but threat and danger in the world. According to those, the Church stood apart from the world and tended to oppose, reject and condemn it. The Second Vatican Council taught that the Church must be open to the world, its aspirations and struggles, and seek to provide it with a soul and a conscience. Because of those and similar factors, some Catholics came to view the Extraordinary Synod as a moment simply of crisis or conflict. They failed to understand that there is a very real sense in which the life and work of the Church, of a Council as well as of a Synod, can only be seen through the eyes of faith. Many, however, and towards the beginning of the Synod they were a majority, acknowledged the true intentions of the Holy Father. This progres-sive acceptance of the objective and of the true nature of the Extraordinary Synod was the result of many converging factors. The Holy Father himself spoke repeatedly, on the occasion of the Angelus prayer on Sundays, of the teaching and orientations of Vatican II. Bishops, bishops' conferences, The World Synod of Bishops / 815 theologians and lay people engaged, everywhere in a process of further reflec-tion about the Council. Each in their own sphere and field, they began to take stock of where they stood and what ,they had done to implement the Council. And so it could be said that even before the Synod convened its objectives had already been partially achieved through a greater awareness of the total richness of Vatican II for the Church of today. The media interest during the Extraordinary Synod was exceptional. Over and beyond the two hundred fifty journalists with permanent accreditation to the Holy See, some four hundred ten correspondents from thirty-four countries came to Rome for the sole purpose of covering the Synod event. The media of the whole world followed the 1985 Synod with more interest than any of the preceding Synods. Never had the Church attracted so much attention since the days of Vatican II, not even during the Conclaves of 1978, nor even on the day the Pope was shot. The large majority of media professionals.~faithfully reported the true content of the proceedings and of the concluding documents. Wherever I went after the Synod, I was truly amazed at seeing how most of the people that I met had a correct knowledge and understanding of the Synod. And yet, some publications still keep hammering away at the so-called secrecy of the synodal process, at the insufficient briefings or press releases, at the reluctance of Synod officials to talk, at the exclusion of the journalists from the Synod Hall during the meetings, and so on. I will not endeavor to give a deta!led account of all that was done before and during the Synod in order to improve the flow of information. I can only pledge that Archbishop Foley and myself are determined not to put aside any legitimate suggestion that will contribute to better and more objec5 tive information. Today, I only want to share some general observations regarding the relationship between the media and Synod, hoping that those of you who will cover the next Synod may be helped in their task. 1. A Synod of Bishops is an event that must totally and specifically be seen in the context of the Church. Information on ihe Synod has to do with the image of the Church. When one speaks of the image of the Church, there is more at stake than "image" understood in a public relations sense. Something far more fundamental is at stake, namely the self-understanding on the part of the Church of her very nature and mission. Upon that self-understanding or "image" so much else depends, and, in the case that con-cerns us here, on it depends the understanding of the nature and functioning of a Synod of Bishops. 2. The Synod of Bishops is not an ecumenical council where all the bishops of the world, together with the pope, exercise directly and collegially the supreme authority in the Church. The Synod, as set out in the Code 816 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 of Canon Law, is a limited group of bishops who have been chosen from different regions of the world, and who meet at stated times with the pope-- normally every third year. The scope of such meetings is threefold: to fos-ter closer unity between the Roman Pontiff and .the bishops; to assist the Roman Pontiff in safeguarding faith and morals and in strengthening ecclesiastical discipline; to consider questions concerning the Church's activity in the world (Can. 342). It is the role of the Synod of Bishops to discuss the questions on the agenda and to formulate suggestions, but not to decide the issues or to issue decrees, unless the Roman Pontiff in certain cases has endowed the Synod with deliberative power, and even in this event, it is the pope's prerogative to ratify the decision (Can. 343). It is most important to be clear on this point. 3. It is important to realize that the Synod of Bishops is directly under the authority of the pope, who convenes its assembly, ratifies the election of its members and appoints other members, determines the agenda, presides over the Synod and brings it to conclusion (Can. 344). The Synod, then, is not to be seen as a kind of constitutional "check and balance" to the authority of the pope; it is most certainly not an alternative or rival authority; it is one means by which the bishops of the world are given an opportunity to collaborate with the Holy Father for the good of the whole Church. The bishops gathered in Synod together with the pope are not called to promote their own priorities. In listening to and in exchanging with their brother bishops from all continents, they try to achieve a consensus regarding specific recommendations which they wish to propose to the pope. While aware of the needs of their own particular Churches, they must view all questions from the perspective of the universal good of the Church, and thus give equal consideration to the situations prevailing in their own dioceses or nations, as to those of the most distant regions and peoples. 4. The synodal process is unique and cannot be compared with any other process of group dynamics. In a Synod, bishops come together in function of the episcopal mission which they received through sacramental ordination. A Synod will therefore always be first and foremost an event with a spiritual dimension. All through the days of a Synod, bishops open their hearts and minds not only to their brother bishops but to the voice of the Holy Spirit. They allow their convictions to be shaped by human reasoning, by speak-ing out and by listening, by dialogue and discussion, but above all by their willingness to accept the message of Jesus Christ, while together they fathom its depth and relevance under the inspiration of the Spirit. It is therefore normal that at the end of a synodal process bishops approve proposals and express ideas which they did not hold at the beginning, or which differ from what had been stated by their own conference of bishops before the Synod. The World Synod of Bishops / 817 The process of discernment is so essential to the Synod that it should not be made dependent on the ebb and flow of public opinion. That process would be hampered or even distorted if bishops were concerned more with posturing for the media back home than with the collegial search for insight and consensus. 5. Religious editors and correspondents are by and large professionals in the true sense: they know their business and they have a thorough under-standing of the business of the Church. However, time and again some media send to the Synod correspondents who have earned their kudos on the polit-ical scene but are mere apprentices when it comes to Church activities and religious events. The editor of a serious national newspaper or wire service would not dream of sending one of the staff to cover the tennis open unless he or she had demonstrated a solid grip of the intricacies of the game. Nor would a network dispatch to the Pentagon a reporter who has never heard about military strategy, tactics and hardware. And yet, at every Synod we meet media people who see in the Church nothing more than just another political convention or parliamentary assembly where all results are produced through a majority vote. They do not know that the magic of the majority vote does not work when it comes to the formulation of theological principles or moral doctrine! It is not fair to the professional integrity of journalists when they are put in a position of having to relate or interpret events and statements that are totally outside the scope of their qualifications. Goodwill and hard work are not always substitutes for expertise, knowledge and com-petence. A lack of knowledge about religious matters or Church affairs may lead a correspondent to discard whatever news or issue cannot be reduced to "material" or "secular" or "political" categories. 6. A Synod is also a good place to observe trends that are developing in the Church. The last Synods have clearly shown how the presence of bishops from Third World countries is becoming stronger and more influ-ential. Their voices are listened to with greater interest, all the more so since the churches in Africa, Asia and Latin America often present a picture of dynamic growth and joyful celebration that we so sorely miss in many of the churches in the Western world. The Church is no longer Eurocentric or Occidental. Yet among the journalists and correspondents at the Synod, the overwhelming majority comes from Europe and North America, a situa-tion that accurately reflects the distribution of media power in today's interna-tional community. As a consequence, churches in the Third World are almost totally dependent on secondhand information from western sources, except in the case of the few diocesan bulletins that have the good fortune of receiv-ing reports from their own bishops, faithfully composed at the end of each week during a Synod. 818 / Review for Religious, November-Decetnber, 1986 The situation of the Third World churches merits our attention. It is important, therefore, to become more fully aware of the information needs of the younger churches. Media persons should ask themselves whether some-thing more could be done by their publication, by their diocese, at the level of the national Church, particularly of such entities as the Catholic Press Association. It should not be too difficult to come up with some truly imaginative projects, such as sponsoring a religious correspondent from a Third World Church to theupcoming Synod, or organizing internships for young'journalists from Africa or Asia or Latin America who could accom-pany a Western staff to the Synodl These have the means, and I am sure also the motivation, to find a solution to a problem that cannot be solved by them alone, but that will never be solved without their help. I conclude my remarks. Every Synod of Bishops deals with some aspect of the truth of the Church, and always with the entire truth of the Gospel message. The service which the communications media render is, to use an expression dear to John Paul II, "service of truth." In the realm of religious information, the medium cannot be separated from the message of the Lord. We live in an age of increased complexity, confusion and helplessness. In a time of great change and upheaval, there is always, in the Christian com-munity, the human urge to withdraw in a Church-under-siege mentality, to become obsessed with difficulties and dangers, or to suffer paralysis from too much analysis, In the Church we always have a fair share of prophets of doom, those that pull their hair and wring their hands in lament for the loss of faith in our society, while in their own lives they fail to witness to the truth of the Gospel message. Such prophets of doom deny the power of Pentecost and the working of the Spirit, and go forth to proclaim the Good News. In a very special way Catholic media people must be the bringers oftruth, the heralds of the Spirit and the witnesses of love of the Father as revealed in Christ Jesus. The streets and the squares of our cities and villages are teeming with people who wait to hear the truth of the Lord Jesus. We cannot fail them. Pilgrim and Penitent: Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation Shaun McCarty, S.T. Father McCarty writes in his covering letter: "It seems like ages since I've sent in any-thing . A stint on our general council broke the flow of writing." Actually his last article was in 1978, and was entitled: "Religious Roots: Knowing and Owning Our Own Story." He may be addressed at Holy Trinity Mission Seminary; 9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20903. The emergency call from my niece came early one Friday last winter. Her seven-year-old was balking at the prospect of first confession with her class several weeks hence. Reassurances seemed of little help. But Heather was willing to talk with her great-uncle. Faced with the formidable task of meeting with a seven-year-old (I'm used to dealing with grown-ups!), I agreed to come over after school that day for., what? Was it to be penitential catechesis? Spiritual direction? Pastoral counseling? Talk about intimidation! In my own mind I settled for just an avuncular chat! Some hours later, I found myself in peripatetic fashion sloshing through the melting snowbanks at a local park. In between kicking her patent leathers into every icy puddle along the way (and stopping to watch a freight train pass), Heather's predicament unfolded. (It's O.K. to write about this. She said I could tell.) Yes, she was clear about the meaning of the sacrament (she called it "reconciliation" !) and about the ritual involved. Yes, her God-image was in good shape (God was her "friend"). No, she didn't have trouble telling God she was sorry when she didn't behave properly (though she did have some trouble telling her brother!). No, she wasn't afraid of the priest (he was "real nice" with the kids). What her hesitation came down to was: (a) she didn't want to have to 819 820 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 tell all her sins to anyone (at least no one "outside the family!") and (b) she was afraid that, if she did, the priest would tell her parents (apparently they didn't count as part of "the family"!) After some reassurances that lots of grown-ups had difficulties with confession (she was surprised that grown-ups had to go too!), but many I knew found it very helpful. I asked if she thought she might give it a try. Her response: "I'11 have to think it over." By that time we were back to the house. It seemed right to end this avuncular chat at this point. There is a certain irony in what appears to be a simultaneous rise of interest in prayer in the United States~ and a sharp decline in the number of sacramental confessions by "grown-ups" in the last two decades.2 Nor is the latter decline limited to the United States. Church-wide concern was manifest at the Sixth General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops which addressed "Reconciliation and Penance in the Mission of the Church.''3 At the close of the synod, Pope John Paul II called for a "contemporary penitential catechesis." With personal prayer "up" and sacramental confessions "down," there has been correspondingly an increased search for spiritual directors and a decreased demand for confessors. Perhaps it would be mutually advantageous for both the sacramental ministry of reconciliation and the non-sacramental ministry of spiritual direction to see them in relationship to one another. That might be one step toward a contemporary catechesis, hopefully leading to a deepened understanding and appreciation of both ministries. It is my purpose here neither to analyze the reasons for this simultaneous rise and decline, nor to trace the historical development of either ministry to any great extent. Rather, I shall explore some distinctions'and similarities between the two; weigh the comparative merits of keeping them together or separate; and, finally, suggest ways in which the two ministries might be kept correlative and complementary in the lives of Christians called to be both pilgrims and penitents. My two basic premises are: (1) it is generally helpful and sometimes necessary to talk about one's experiences of both grace and sinfulness; (2) spiritual direction and the sacrament of penance are two distinct, but not necessarily separate forms of pastoral care providing forums for such sharing. The choice is not to be pilgrim or penitent; it is how, when and where to assume the modality of each. I use the term pilgrim in a symbolic sense to indicate a person's graced movement towards God which often leads to spiritual direction; I use the term penitent in a symbolic sense to indicate a person's movement away from sin which often leads to confession. To expand the symbols somewhat, a pilgrim might be described as one Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 821 who chooses to embark on an intentional faith-journey. The journey becomes intentional to the extent that a person makes a commitment to give serious and consistent attention to the quest for holiness of life as a disciple. Life becomes a faith-journey to the extent that one believes in and acts as though there is a transcendent dimension to all reality and belief in a God who con-tinues to provide for and to guide creatures as they move through life. There is an outer dimension to this journey as the pilgrim interacts with people, places and events that occur in providential sequence and become part of one's sacred geography. There is an inner dimension to this journey as the pilgrim follows a path that leads to deeper union with the divine. Above all, the pilgrim style is prayerful in that, it provides for uncluttered space for reflection so that the people, places and events of the journey can become revelatory of God's beauty, design and call. For help with this discerning prayer, pilgrims often seek out spiritual directors who act as companions, counselors, guides for the journey. ,. As a symbol, a penitent might be described as one involved in an ongoing process of conversion as a sinner loved by God who shows a spirit of true penitence in seeking forgiveness of sin and reconciliation within the community of believers. Conversion is a lifelong process of allowing the grace of God to unify and to free our divided hearts for perfect love. It is a movement away from self-absorption and towards self-surrender to God's designs. True penitence involves knowing and owning the reality of one's sins, being sorry for them and seeking forgiveness. This inner disposition of penitence becomes outwardly manifest in acknowledging one's sins not just to God, but to another who, as an agent of reconciliation, can enable the process of for-giveness. This mediation can happen in both sacramental and non-sacra-mental ways. Sacramentally it can occur in baptism, anointing and Eucharist as well as in penance. Non-sacramentally, it can happen in a variety of ways including healing services, therapeutic counseling or just a talk with a trusted confidant. There is a splendid example of this latter means in the Fifth of Alcoholics Anonymous' Twelve Steps which states: "Admitted to God, to ourselves, and. to another human being, the exact nature of our wrongs.''4 Prescinding from any canoncial necessity, A.A. attests to the efficacy of confessing to another human being: This practice of admitting one's defects to another person is, of course, very ancient. It has been validated in every century, and it characterizes the lives of all spiritually centered and truly religious people. But today religionis by no means the sole advocate of this saving principle. Psychi-atrists and psychologists point out the deep need every human being has for practical insight and knowledge of his own personality flaws and for a discussion of them with an understanding and trustworthy person. So 822 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 far as alcoholics are concerned, A.A. would go even further. Most of us would declare that without a fearless admission of our defects to another human being we could not stay sober. It seems plain that the grace of God will not enter to expel our destructive obsessions until we are willing to try this.5 Finally, a penitent seeks reconciliation within the community of believers. Since one's sins break or fray the bonds of relationship and tend to alienate or isolate the sinner, there is need to seek at-oneness with others who have been affected by one's dark deeds, words or omissions. And this applies to societal as well as personal sin. For help in seeking forgiveness and recon-ciliation, penitents often seek confessors and confidants with whom they can share their failings and seek absolution. Distinctions Between Spiritual Direction and the Sacrament of Penance Before drawing distinctions between the two ministries, a brief historical sketch of the roles of confessor and spiritual director may prove illuminating. In the tradition of the Eastern Church, there has always .been a clear distinction between confessor (parish priest) and spiritual director (starets). According to P. de R6gis: One confesses to his parish priest, and does so by way of an ecclesiastical obligation. He thus accomplishes a duty of community life. However, he goes to the starers solely with the pure desire for personal perfection . A second trait sets the starets completely apart from the confessor. He is chosen not because of his priestly character, but solely because of his charis-matic gifts which people think they see in him. This situation, without doubt, has always existed everywhere, and it was St. Francis de Sales who recommended that we choose our director carefully from "among ten thousand . ,,6 In the tradition of the Western Church, spiritual direction came to be increasingly combined with sacramental confession, a development that paved the way for the later "confession of devotion.''7 A significant influence in the development of Western sacramental prac-tice has been that of St. Alphonsus Ligouri who, in explaining the duties of a confessor, declares that one of the most important of these duties is that of "directing devout souls.''8 B. Haring reflects this strong Alphon-sian tradition of uniting the role of spiritual director with that of confessor: The confessor must also form the conscience of his penitent to an awareness of the obligation to grow in the love of God . The confesso~:'s role is to guide the penitent through the various pathways to holiness, lighting the way to Christ by helping him to develop a fuller prayer life.9 Others who highlight the liturgical role of the confessor tend to separate Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 823 more the ministries of spiritual director and confessor as, for example, L. Hamelin: Nor is the priest I encounter in this sacrament primarily a director of con-science. All the better if he is this, since such direction is a felicitous pro-longation of confession. But it is not essential to the sacrament of reconciliation that the confessor be a good director. The important thing is that he is charged with a mission, namely, the proclamation of the world's salvation. ~o Notwithstanding a variation of stress on the confessor's role as spiritual director, certain distinctions between the ministries of spiritual direction and the sacrament of reconciliation can be made on the basis of purpose (why), minister (who), content (what), process (how), time (when), place (where) and recipient (for whom). These are not meant to be sharp distinctions. Often what happens more properly in one forum occurs also in the other, but in a more secondary way. For example, healing can happen in direction; prayer does occur in the sacrament. Purpose (Why?): Spiritual direction aims primarily at enabling growth in a person's relationship with God and with others in Christ. In addition to proclaiming the world's salvation, the sacrament of penance aims primarily at mediating God's forgiveness and a person's reconciliation with God, self and others. As A. Von Speyer says, "To put the matter simply, we may say that the main function of the confessor is to set free from sin, that of the director to foster growth in divine love.''~ A further distinction should be made within the sacrament itself -- that of penance as a sacrament of necessity, following mortal sin and that of devotion, useful for spiritual progress. This classical distinction is repeated in the revised Rite of Penance (1973) in numbers six and seven, yet, as L. Orsy points out: Strangely enough., it seems that these two distinct operations of penance are lost from sight; the very term "reconciliation" is used indiscriminately for both, although in its proper sense it should be used for those who "have left the house of their Father," not for ttiose who have remained there.~2 Minister (Who?): The present complex practice of the Church is that confessors be ordained priests with faculties granted by an Ordinary for the administration of the sacrament to specified individuals or classes of people. Spiritual directors, on the other hand, do not hold formal office in the Church. Ideally, they are those charismatically gifted and who have the requisite knowledge, experience and skills to enable spiritual growth, and who are sought out by the community. Content (What?): The focus of content in spiritual direction is on the God-consciousness in a person's life and how that person is responding to 824 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 what is heard/seen/felt. The ministry of direction embraces the entire range of a person's religious identity. Key are the questions: Where is God and his offers of grace in the experiences of my everyday life? What are God's desires for me? What am I doing about it? In the sacrament of penance, the focus of content is on a person's need for the forgiveness of sin by an all-loving and merciful God. Key are the questions: What is the shape of my sinfulness for which I am sorry and seek forgiveness? Can I experience God as merciful and myself as a loved sinner? Process (How?): Confession takes place in the internal sacramental forum according to a prescribed rite and is governed by specific laws. In the revised Rite of Penance, there are three modes of sacramental celebration: two com-munal, one individual. For individual, auricular confession, there are pro-visions for praying with and for the penitent, sharing of texts from Sacred Scripture, listening compassionately to the confession of sins on behalf of God and the community, helping to discern the spiritual situation of the penitent, conveying the forgiveness of God by absolution, expressing the exigence of God's call to conversion by the imposition of an appropriate penance and possibly offering counsel as it seems fitting?3 Spiritual direction takes place in the internal, non-sacramental forum, does not follow any set ritual, noris it generally governed by specific legis-lation beyond the basic norms of moral conduct. Direction involves an inter-personal exchange helpful in discerning God's action in the life of the directee. It proceeds according to a style congenial to a particular director and direc-tee, though there are dynamics foundational to all healthy spiritual direction. Time (When?): Spiritual directors meet with directees on a regular basis determined by a working alliance/contract/covenant mutually agreed upon. Penitents are obliged to receive the sacrament of penance as soon as feasible following mortal sin. For confessions of devotion, frequency rather than regularity seems to be the norm suggested for current Church practice. Place (Where?): The ordinary setting for sacramental confession is either a confessional with screen between priest and pentitent, or a reconciliation room specifically appointed for a more personal and informal exchange between the two. (Heather calls the first "the old way" and the second "the new way"! She likes "the old way"!) There is no designated place for sessions of spiritual direction, though consideration should be given to a discreet setting that provides the requisite comfort and confidentiality for a fruitful exchange. Recipient (For whom?): The sacrament of penance is for Christians assuming the modality of penitent.s. Sp.iritual direction is for those assum-ing the modality of pilgrims. Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation Similarities Between the Two Ministries Just as there are differences I~etween spiritual direction and the sacrament of reconciliation, so are there similarities on the bases of purpose, minister, content, process and recipient. Purpose: Both are concerned with the spiritual condition of the pilgrim/ penitent; one stresses the turning away from sin, and the other, the turning towards God -- two sides of the same coin, conversion. Minister: Both confessor and spiritual director see their roles as instrumental, with the Holy Spirit as the principal agent of both forgiveness and spiritual growth. Their instrumentality is enhanced by many of the same qualities and dispositions like prayerfulness, a listening heart, fraternal exchange, respect for the freedom of the other, observance of confidentiality, Christlike love. Content: On the one hand, matters of spiritual growth often receive attention, especially in confessions of devotion. On the other hand, matters concerning forgiveness frequently are dealt with in spiritual direction. A report to the 1983 Synod of Bishops indicates several ways in which this happens: ". certain forms of spiritual direction are of the nature to redeem sins, as, for instance, the revision de vie, the capitulum culpae, a talk with one's spiritual director, confession to a starets in connection with monastic practice." 14 Process: Many of the activities and dynamics that enable effective com-munication with each other and fruitful mutual listening to the Spirit are the same, These would include: prayer with and for the pilgrim/penitent; sharing of texts from Sacred Scripture; affirming grace; challenging growth; occasional instruction; co-discerning the spiritual condition of the recipient; observing periods of silence; gestures communicating God's prodigal love manifested in Christ. Recipient: Pilgrim and penitent are modalities of the same person. Both modalities build on a foundational awareness and acceptance of being a sinner unconditionally loved by a graciousand merciful God. The qualities that dispose one for a more fruitful use of both spiritual direction and the sacrament of reconciliation are much the same: honesty; openness; trust; humility; gratitude and not least of all, the ability to keep one's gaze up and out towards God, and not down and in on one's feet! Together or Separate? There are some notable advantages in combining spiritual direction with the reception of the sacrament of reconciliation: (1) This situates spiritual direction within a liturgical/sacramental context, thus lending it a more visible ecclesial dimension. To the extent that sacramental celebration brings a 826 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 deepened and broadened sense of Church, one can experience more solidarity, support and nourishment in the twin tasks of reconciliation and spiritual growth. J. Sudbrack goes so far as to say: As Catholicism sees it, the most initmate transactions between man and God become authentically visible in the sacrament of the Church. Now as a matter of fact spiritual guidance has often taken place, historically, in the sacrament of penance. The modern practice of consulting the priest in confession is a revival of an old tradition. Even when confession and spiritual guidance cannot be one and the same., it is desirable that such guidance culminate in sacramental confession.~5 (2) Combining both can lessen the tendency to dichotomize one's growth in prayer from the moral attitudes and behaviors of one's life; (3) The for-giving, healing, reconciling action of the Holy Spirit is particularly evident in the revised Rite of Penance. It would seem particularly appropriate that these issues so inimical to spiritual growth -- alienation, isolation, selfish-ness, woundedness -- be dealt with in the same context as one's growth in the Spirit; (4) With keener discernment in "naming one's demons," in being specific about the shape of one's sinfulness, a person is likely to see more clearly those factors as they dull one's sensitivity to the Spirit; (5) Com-bining spiritual direction and confession can become an occasion when one can catch a fuller glimpse of self, both the sin-side and the grace-side. With such fuller perspective it would seem less likely that a person would fall prey, on the one hand, to a self-absorbing remorsefulness over sins or, on the other hand, to hubris (spiritual pride) over spiritual progress; (6) The penitent/pilgrim might see more clearly that God saves and sanctifies right in the midst of one's sinfulness, using even sinful acts and attitudes to lead to deeper union. G. Croft has expressed this well: Like the father with his prodigal son, God permitted Israel's waywardness of old in order that his chosen people might experience what it meant to be separated from their Father, and thus recognize afresh their need of him. So, too, our Lord's consciousness that he had come to save the lost sheep is reflected in knowledge of him as savior, particularly in the moment when the sinner experiences separation from God and the need of his love and mercy. This moment of grace and of conversion each one of us has experienced . not once but many times; so that even when we cry "out of the depths," our seeking is fraught with thanksgiving as we remember his past mercies.~6 (7) The sacrament is a humbling reminder that no one can grow a whit spiritually on his or her own initiative; (8) As both guilt and giftedness are brought to the same session, it can be seen more clearly that both need con-version, lest one become' self-absorbed in either guilt or gift; (9) Coming Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 827 at once as pilgrim and penitent can bring a more genuine realization of St. Paul's observation, ". power is at full stretch in weakness" (2 Co 12:9); (10) Finally, having the same person for confessor and director seems more conducive to the integration of these two valuable outside helps to holiness in that one person hears the whole story in the same context. Difficulties in Combining Roles On the side of the confessor/director, the most obvious difficulty is that this limits the ministry of spiritual direction presently to celibate, male clerics. With increasing demands on time and ministerial skills along with decreasing numbers of priests, it seems hardly likely that they could even begin to satisfy the rising need for spiritual directors. Besides, not all priests have the charisms for this ministry, not to mention the knowledge, skills and experience that facilitate the use of the gifts. Confessors who feel called to and who are willing to give a priority to spiritual direction for their penitents need adequate preparation for it. The commission's report to the 1983 Synod expressed this strongly: It is true that today the authentic form of private confession needs to be profoundly renewed in its spiritual aspects, and this in connection with the revised Ordo paenitentiae. Without such a renewal the Church will not be able to cope with the crisis of the sacrament of penance. For this a better spiritual and theological formation of priests is required, in order that they be able to deal with what is now demanded from confession, viz., the latter should contain more elements of spiritual direction and of fraternal .exchange. Under this aspect the so-called confession of devotion retains its importance.~7 On the side of the pilgrim/penitent, unless care is taken, the integrity of the two distinct ministries can become clouded. There may be some danger, too, that by locating spiritual direction within the context of confession, the project of spiritual growth could become too sin-oriented. At times, a person's sense of sinfulness ~can become so humiliating and/or immobilizing that open and honest exchange is flawed. Or the preoccupation with sin can so capture a penitent's consciousness that there is little room or energy for dealing with matters of spiritual growth. When Distinct But Not Separate In practice, the two can be kept distinct, but not necessarily separate. This is more likely to happen when both confessor/director and pilgrim/ penitent are clear about the distinction and habitually differentiate between the two ministries. If a choice is made to combine them, certain considera-tions may prove helpful: (1) Every session of spiritual direction need not 828 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 occur in combination with the sacrament of penance; (2)Especially appropriate times for combining them might be the seasons of Advent and Lent as well as periods of retreat; (3) In preparing beforehand, the very nature of one's examen can be such as to lead to a reflection not only on sinfulness, but also on graced invitations for further growth. For example, the Beatitudes might provide such a growth-oriented examen for pilgrim/ penitents. D. Barry makes this recommendation: The Beatitudes immediately recommend themselves as a blueprint for an updated, life-affirming ethical spirituality especially suited to the Christian mission of healing and reconciliation. Since they summarize the essence of Christlike living in a form that makes for easy recall, the Beatitudes offer a particularly rich source of meditation or conscience examination matter for the maturing Christian . They readily lead us to questions about our attitudes and conduct that get right to the heart of what contemporary discipleship is all about.~8 (4) If the penitent chooses to combine both, there should be some indica-tion of this intent at the beginning of the session. The penitential ritual might then be celebrated by itself at the beginning or the end of the time together or the penitent might indicate a desire to use the entire time to open before God his whole spiritual condition, graced and sinful, with a view to abso-lution at the end. As alluded to previously, one can develop a sensitivity to God speaking in the midst of one's sinfulness showing a side of self not otherwise open to awareness and conversion; (5) It would seem appropri-ate, on the occasion of confession/direction, that a pilgrim/penitent, in addi-tion to expressing sorrow for sins, also express gratitude for the graced times that have occurred. This, too, is with a view to keeping the more complete self in perspective as one considers his or her relationships to God, self and others. When Distinct and Separate Though the 1983 Synod of Bishops was primarily concerned with the sacrament of penance and, consequently, the role of the priest-director, the theological commission's report to the Synod did give recognition to extra-sacramental direction: That form of confession of sins, which is tied to spiritual direction, is a' very ancient treasure of the Church. On the one hand, it belongs to the very structure of the Church. On the other hand, as can be seen in the mg.nastic and spiritual traditions, it also has a place outside the sacrament. Both these data are factors in the development which is guided by the spiritual experience of the Church.~9 In the increasing likelihood that more spiritual directors will not be priests, Direction and Sacramental Reconciliation / 829 it would seem appropriate that the ministries be kept correlative and comple-mentary to the sacrament of penance. Some provisions that might help this happen are: (1) Alert and resourceful confessors might recommend qualified spiritual directors to those whose confessions indicate they would benefit from such further help; (2) Both directors and confessors might alert those who come to them to issues that might be dealt with better in the other forum. For example, a director may uncover some significant area that needs sacramental healing. Even if the person feels more comfortable in dealing with the issue in direction, there is the further possibility of celebrating the sacrament of reconciliation later; (3) The relationship between director and directee should be such that the latter will feel free to confide his or her sinful as well as graceful side with a director, lest either side get compart-mentalized; (4) Confessors and directors would do well to cultivate a mutual understanding of and respect for each other's ministries so as to see them-selves not in competition, but in collaboration with each other in their care of souls. Summary In the preceding pages, using the symbols of pilgrim and penitent, I have attempted to further such an understanding and appreciation of the ministries of spiritual direction and sacramental reconciliation by indicating some dis-tinctions and similarities between the two; by weighing the comparative merits and deficits of keeping them together or separate; and, finally, by suggesting some ways in which they might be kept correlative and complementary in the lives of Christians who are called to be both pilgrims and penitents. I close with some verses from the heart of one such pilgrim/penitent who has been on the journey somewhat longer than Heather (by about ninety years)! They are entitled, "Confessor-Director": And then above the dark horizon of my night There beamed a star that bathed my soul with light And beckoned me upon my pilgrim way. My spirit soared to meet the guiding flame That traced a path illuminated by His name And led me on to greet the dawning day! The Day that dawns to span Eternity. P.S. By the way, Heather did join the class for the sacrament of reconcilia- 83!1 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 tion! It seems that Father offered them the option of sitting in his lap. I forgot to ask if she opted for the "new" way! NOTES ~K.A. Briggs, "America's Return to Prayer," New Yoi'k Times Magazine (November 18, 1984), pp. 107-18. 2T.P. Sweetser~ "What Ever Happened to Confession?" New Catholic World (January-February, 1964), pp. 31-2. 3j. Ratzinger, "The Necessity for Personal Confession," Origins 13 (October 20, 1983), pp. 331-2. 4Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions (New York: Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc., 1953), pp. 56ff. 51bid, pp. 57-8. 6p. de R6gis, "Confession and Spiritual Direction in the Oriental Church," The Sacrament of Penance, C. de Vaux St. Cyr et al. (Paramus, N.J.: Paulist, 1966), p. 94. 7H.B. Meyer, "Confession or Spiritual Direction?" Making Sense of Confession, 0. Betz, ed., (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1968), p. 128. 8St. Alphonsus Ligouri, Praxis confessarii, nn. 121-27. 9B. Haring, Shalom: Peace (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giraux, 1967), p. 140. ~°L. Hamelin, Reconciliation in the Church, M.J. O'Connell, trans. (Coliegeville: Liturgical Press, 1980). ~tA Von Speyer, Confession (New York: Herder and Herder), p. 214. ~2L. Orsy, The Evolving Church and the Sacrament of Penance (Denville, N.J.: Dimension, 1978). ~3See M. Hellwig, Sign of Reconciliation (Wilmington: M. Glazier, 1982), especially Chapter VIII which treats the role of the confessor. ~41nternational Theological Commission Report to 1983 Synod of Bishops, Penance and Reconciliation, Origins (January 12, 1984), p. 521. ~sj. Sudbrack, Spiritual Guidance (Paulist, 1983), pp. 24-5. ~6G. Croft, "The Sinner Finds God," The Way (January, 1968), pp. 34-40. ~TReport to 1983 Synod, supra, p. 522. ~SD. Barry, Ministry of Reconciliation (New York: Alba House, 1974), p. 111. ~9Report to 1983 Synod, supra, p. 520. Freed for Life in the Spirit -- Together Romans 12:1-8: A Meditation Daniel J. Harrington, S.J. This biblical meditation on Christian life and community was presented at the assembly of the Jesuit New England Province on June 12, 1986. Father Harrington is professor of New Testament at the Weston School of Theology; 3 Phillips Place; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138. In an extraordinary act of boldness, Paul addressed at great length the Chris-tians of a church that he had not founded. He was bas.ically asking for a room in which to stay before moving on in his mission to Spain. Even before that, he had to bring the proceeds of the collection to J~rusalem, and perhaps also explain his activities to the Christian leaders there. Meanwhile he was hearing reports about frictions within the Roman community, chiefly with regard to divisions between Gentile Christians and Jewish Christians. With all these situations in mind, Paul wrote what has come to be recog-nized as his theological masterpiece -- his letter to the Romans. I find an uncanny parallel between the dynamics, of Romans and of St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises. Paul first establishes the need of all persons -- Gentiles and. Jews alike -- for something or someone beyond themselves if they are to find right relationship with God. Then he roots the person of Jesus and his followers in the tradition of salvation history reaching back to Abraham. Next he reflects on the difference that Jesus has made by freeing us from sin, death and the Law, and by freeing us for life in the Holy Spirit. These first eight chapters laid the foundations for reflection on the mystery of Israel in chapters 9-11, and for addressing problems within the Roman com-munity in chapters 12-16. Romans 12:1-8 presents Paul's vision of life within the Christian com- 831 832 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 munity. That life is first and foremost a response to the difference that Jesus has made. That life is communal, the task of persons freed from sin, death and the Law as potential masters of their lives, and freed for life under the prompting of the Holy Spirit. That life takes a variety of forms with the clear recognition that all the tasks undertaken within the Christian com-munity are important. "Freed for life in the Spirit -- together" -- that was Paul's understanding of Christian life. Perhaps he can help us as we try to give shape to our life as religious together. A Response Paul begins his exhortation in this way: I appeal to you, brothers, through the mercies of God to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this age but be transformed by renewal of mind so that you may discern what is God's will, what is good and pleasing and perfect (vv. 1-2). With these words, Paul provides us with a way of understanding our-selves and our brothers and sisters in Christ. Calling upon familiar terms associated with sacrifice and temple worship, Paul insists that genuine worship of God takes place not merely in a designated place at a set time but rather in all that we do and whenever we do it. Everyday life is the "place" in which the Father of Jesus Christ is worshipped. The sacrifice that we offer to God is ourselves, no more and no less. In this framework, when we Christians do come together in a designated place at a set time, we are simply making concrete what happens throughout our 'lives. All our life is an act of worship, a time for praise and thanksgiving, a sacrifice holy and pleasing to God. Our Christian lives can be a continuing act of worship precisely because of the difference that Jesus Christ has made. Even though the kingdom of God, or the age to come, is not yet here in its fullness, we believe that in some way it has been inaugurated in Christ. Therefore we need not be con-formed to what Paul calls "this age"; that is, we need not be dominated by sin, death and the Law. Christ has freed us to live in the age to come, which he has already begun. And because Christ has freed us and invited us to share in the inaugurated kingdom, we can discern God's will. In Paul's perspective, discernment is not simply clear thinking coming to closure. Rather discernment has been made possible by what God has done for us in Christ. Discernment is our way of living in the inaugurated kingdom, in the age to come. Discernment is the way in which we shape our response to the freedom won for us by Christ. Freed for Life in the Spirit / 833 Christian life as continued worship, as living in the kingdom, as dis-cernment in response to Christ's gift of freedom -- these are the chief ele-ments in Paul's understanding of Christian life. Paul's exhortation continues: For by the grace that has been given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly than he ought to think but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith God has assigned to him (v. 3). Paul speaks sternly here. He wants the Christians at Rome to be more modest and realistic. He wants them to put an end to factionalism and com-petitiveness. He wants to deflate their pretensions. Nevertheless, Paul's way of deflating the Romans' pretensions is amazingly creative and positive. He does not downgrade them or criticize their abilities. Instead, he reminds them about the real source of their powers and indeed about the real source of his own power. In appealing to his own apostolic authority, Paul describes it as "the grace that has been given to me." In urging a more sober estimation of their own intellectual power, Paul tells the Romans to recall that whatever spiritual gifts they have were portioned out to them by God. So in the process of calling to task the Roman Christians, Paul insists on the gift that gives shape to all of Christian life. The fundamental gift of God is Jesus Christ. The ways in which that fundamerital gift is made concrete are themselves gifts. Thus the Christian community is the gathering of gifted persons, who all bear witness to God's most basic gift in Jesus Christ. On the one hand, Paul's doctrine of grace encourages humility, does a~ay with factionalism and competitiveness, and deflates pretensions. On the other hand, Paul's doctrine of grace underlines the "gift" character of Christian life, allows us to look on one another as gifted persons, and helps us to see our lives together as reflections of God's fundamental gift of Christ. No one can boast, precisely because all is gift. Life Together Paul continues: For as in one body we have many members, and all the members do not have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, members each one of the others (vv. 4-5). What coach, what director of a play, what overseer of a trip has not used the body analogy in order to urge greater cooperation among individuals? People of Paul's time were surely familiar with this analogy from a famous fable about the city as a body recorded by Livy. Thus our 834 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 own term, the "body politic." Indeed, there is no need to search for prece-dents or ancient parallels since the analogy is so easy. We all have bodies. Our bodies have many parts. When all the parts work together, each per-forming its proper function, we can accomplish our goal. When one part hurts or fails to function, the whole body suffers. The body analogy is so obvious that we could pass over it quickly if it were not for the small qualifying phrase "in Christ." We are one body in Christ. That is an enormously important qualification. What makes us a body of Christians is not a desire to win a game; or put on a play, or go on a trip: Christ makes us into a body. We become the body of Christ. The life that runs through us all, the spirit that animates us, the force that enlivens us is Christ. Therefore, as we live out our Christian lives as religious, we do so as members of the body of Christ.We are conscious that God has called us to this form of Christian life with other members of Christ's body. We have been called together as a way of responding to God's gift to us. As we work side by side, what we should try to see first and foremost is the life of Christ expressing itself in one another. Service Having laid his foundations about the nature of Christian life and having insisted on Christ as the 'basis of our communal life, Paul now considers the proper response to God's gift of freedom. For what have we been freed? We have been freed for service. In one Of the most tightly packed and meaningful sentences in the entire Pauline co~'pus, Paul says: "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them . . ." (v, 6a). This dense sentence summarizes Paul's approach to the place of service iri Christian life. In addressing the Romans, he assumes that all Christians are gifted ("having gifts"). The word for "gifts" here is charismata, the singular of which is charisma. But Paul does not use the word charisma as we do in our own day when we talk about charismatic politicians or movie actors -- those who have that certain undefinable something, that magic that makes them attractive to us, whose power comes from some unknown source. Paul knows the source of the Christian gifts. It is the Holy Spirit. Paul knows why Christians can do what they do. It is through the Holy Spirit. Paul knows why Christians do what they do. It is to build up the body of Christ. These gifts (charismata) are according to the grace (charis) given to us, By making this qualification; Paul reminds us that charisms flow from the fundamental grace, which is Christ. Charisms make concrete the grace of Christ. They are the means by which the grace of Christ expresses itself Freed for Life in the SpMt / 835 in our place and in our ~ime. These gifts differ. What sounds like an obvious statement on the logical level is not so easy to recognize in practice. Just as in a body the different members have different functions, so in the body of Christ there is astonishing variety.But sometimes variety is intimidating or frightening, and we want to shape others according to our own conceptions of what is good for them. Paul says no to all such attempts at imposing uniformity on the body of Christ. Variety must be respected not because it is refreshing or interesting but .because it witnesses to the marvelous power of God that can work through so many different instruments. "Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us . " All of us are gifted. Our gifts are rooted in God's fundamental gift to us. Our gifts differ. The next and, indeed, necessary step is to use our gifts in service. God's gifts are not our personal possessions to be polished and stored away. They are not occasions for pride or boasting. God's gifts are to be used in free response to Christ our Lord~ Unlike most people today who understand freedom as the absence of any restraint upon them, Paul looked upon freedom as service under the only master worth serving. Whereas for many of our contemporaries "free-dom's just another word for nothing left to lose," for Paul freedom meant putting aside false masters for the sake of serving God and his people. Paul gives us some examples of service: ¯ . . if prophecy, according to the proportion of faith; if service, in service; he who teaches, in teaching; he who exhorts, in exhortation; he who shares, in simplicity; he who presides, in zeal; he who is merciful, cheerfulness (vv. 6-8). The list illustrates concrete ways in which God's gifts are made manifest. The'list includes prophecy, service (diakonia), teaching, exhortation, sharing, presiding or administration, and acts of mercy. I will not comrfient on each of these gifts.Nor do I suggest that we can bE satisfied with merely transferring them into the twentieth century. Nevertheless, the list is instructive fo? us on several counts. The emphasis is on activities rather than offices or the persons who hold the offices. Also, there is no discernible hierarchy in the list, unlike 1 Corinthians 12. All the activities are important. Moreover, there is a stress on the spirit in which the activities are carried out -- moving backward on the list, in cheerfulness, in zeal, in simplicity, and so forth. Paul reminds us that actions are more important than status or office, that all the charisms are significant and help toward the health of the body, and that much depends on the attitudes with which we carry out our activities. Prayer of Being: Intimacy at the Center David Hassel, S.J. ,, In this article Father Hassel continues his study of prayer and intimacy. The work he has done on this subject, much of which has appeared in our pages, is being gathered into a book entitled Dark Intimacy; Hope for Those in Difficult Prayer published in the near future by Paulist Press. Presbntly, Father Hassel, as Research Professor, is devoting him-self fully to writing, primarily in the area of philosophy. He may be addressed at Loyola University of Chicago; 6525 N. Sheridan Road; Chicago, Illinois, 60626. People lose heart when God is drawing them into prayer of being, prayer of simple presence. Here is where people feel most useless to God and to themselves, most empty and unworthy of God. For this prayer is quite silent, ord!narily dry, sometimes hollow, angry-fearsome, briefly joyful, and lacking many former certitudes. If ever a praying person feels far from intimacy with God, it is at this critical growth-point of developing union with God. Here, then, such a person needs reassurance against diffidence. Perhaps assurance will be gained if this prayer of being is recognizably described within one's prayer experience, if its nature is revealed in Scrip-ture, if the disciplining action of this prayer can be sketched accurately, and if the way of living in this prayer can be clearly depicted. All these "ifs" form the strategy of this article. How to Recognize Prayer of Being Prayer of being, lying hidden underneath, at least three layers of expe-rience, has paradoxical features. Probably this is because the depth at which prayer of being occurs makes it describable only in limit-statements. The latter plot out the extreme boundaries of any mysterious experience; 836 Prayer of Being / 837 they do not offer a clear X-ray picture of its inner structure. For example, the first feature of thisprayer of being is its silence. It is gestureless, wordless. When one prays, there seems tobe no response, no sense of God's even hearing one's attempts to reach him. The silver arrows of one's petitions seem to hit the tabernacle and to fall shattered at its base. Praying becomes like the mocking echo of one's own voice when. shouting across.a river to a great bluff on the other side. At the same time, paradoxi-cally, the prayer may be noisy with distractions. One's mind feels like a huge warehouse at which gigantic "semi's" are unloading fresh cargoes of distractions on the warehouse dock and forklift trucks are delivering the boxes of distractions to the center of one's attention. Naturally, such distractedness is accompanied by dryness, the second characteristic of prayer of being. One feels no ready satisfaction, no lifts of the heart with joy. One gains no splendid insights to light up one's path; not even the tired insights of past years arise to illuminate the desert darkness. There is little or no heartfelt attraction for Christ, for Gospel reading, or for generous actions; there is only a certain blankness of mind and a wrinkled leathery feeling in the heart. Yet at the same time, after one has weathered the time given to this prayer (e.g., early in the morning) and started towards breakfast, one experiences a quiet worthwhileness and even a restored strength for the day's duties. These qualities are palpably missing when one omits this prayer; instead, one knows an indefinable seine Of loss and a certain lethargic heaviness. Of course, such experience seems somewhat hollow, the third feature of the prayer of being. The absence of satisfaction felt inside oneself is matched in one's outer activities. Hobbies, entertainment, daily work, favorite diversions--all seem strictly routine, not attractive, and rather superficial as though the silence and dryness of prayer had seeped into one's more exterior doings. Yet in the prayer of being itself and in these activities, there is a remote sense of fullness, as though through the deepest caverns of one's praying/working self there runs a great underground river. This remote fullness expresses itself indirectly when the praying person finds himself or herself saying: "Where else would I want to be than here? Nowhere else. What else would I rather be doing? Nothing else." What is this peculiar sense of rightness amid silence, dryness, and hollowness? Because the person now doing the prayer of being has already lived faithfully with the Lord not a few years, there is the fear that he or she is backsliding, is caught in a web of self-delusion. And yet the person may also feel deep anger towards God at the "unfairness of it all." This is the fourth feature of theprayer of being. For the individual begins to question: "What am I doing wrong that the Lord should be so distant?" And then 838 / Review for Religio'us, November-December, 1986 begins some rummaging around in the past for a disastrously wrong deci-sion, a fatal flaw of character, a refused grace of strategic importance. For example, a retreatant was asking these questions of himself from the fifth to the nineteenth day of his. Ignatian thirty-day retreat and came upon this answer on the nineteenth day: "This retreat is a fraud; your life leading up to this retreat has been equally fraudulent; in fact, you've been embezzling yourself from adolescence till now." On recounting this dazzling insight to his director, the latter said to him: ''Be sure to keep up this type of question-ing. And don't for a moment trust yourself, others, me, or God." This response shocked the retreatant into recognizing both the superficial evi-dence that provoked the questioning and the serenity he experienced deep at the center of his being--paradox of paradoxes. Even as he felt whirled about in swirls of confusion, he also knew that in the depths of his being he was resting at home with the Lord in the center of the universe. He felt like the weather-pilot who had been fighting a bucking plane through the tornado and now has suddenly broken into its quiet eye. But where there is fear, there is often also an accompanying anger. Frustrated with my work, my family, my own self, and embarrassed by my anger at God for all this frustration, I am restless, eager to break out of this suffocating cocoon of self. 'Repulsed by, my negative mood, by the stark vision of my sins .and limitations, by my own littleness compared to God's greatness, I experience a profound, but false sense of guilt. For I have forgotten that one gets most deeply angry only with those one loves best and that to be angry with God is to take seriously his goodness and his providence. Anger with a friend (even with God) can be a secret compliment. ~ Thus the angry Jeremiah felt free to call God to his face "a treacherous brook" (Jr 15:18) and to accuse the Lord of duping him (Jr 20:12). For this reason guilt at my anger is a false guilt, which acts like a suit of armor so that I cannot feel God's touch. Even if I did feel his touch I would deny it, because "what god would want to deal with me." Yet eventually, as a fearful, angry person who is doing the prayer of being, I find myself repeating the words of the fiercely angry prophet in the Book of Lamenta-tions: "The favors of the Lord are not exhausted, his mercies are not spent. They are renewed each morning, so great is his faithfulness" (3:22-23). Amid all this confusion, there are occasional leaps of the heart at God's dim presence. They are very brief and widely spaced, with only.a rare moment when he seems to take over completely. Prayer of being, then, is not one long, monotone bore, A person can, however, overlook these quick touches of the Lord. Once a directee confessed: "If I had not kept a daily diary of this dry prayer Prayer of Being / 839 of mine, I would have complained that God was completely absent these past fifty days. But when I read back, I found four or five spots where the Lord made his presence felt for a few moments." Of course, this informa-tion makes quite a difference not only to the directee but also to the director. Soprayer of being is not a state of prayerlessness; its fifth feature is the Lord's quiet signaling of his companionship in our fears and anger. There is, nevertheless, in this prayer of being a gradual loss of youthful certainties. This constitutes the sixth characteristic of the prayer of being. One feels quite uncertain about so many things: political issues, the nature of holiness, the future of the United States, theological schools of thought, personality theories, economic cure-alls, long-standing family arguments, the proper raising and education of one's children, and so on. This deep wondering issues not so much from tired cynicisms as from a new sens( of mystery. Too often the failure of simple solutions has proved the myste-rious complexity of a person or of a situation, or of some vast plan of social improvement. Sometimes the praying person mistakes the deep wondering at such failures fora faith-loss---especially when a glance at the vine of one's apostolate seemingly reveals only shrunken grapes. A compelling temptation can then arise to find new works to do, new people to consult, new plans to promote. There can be even tears at this point though one is not sure why they come frustration, hope, self-pity, consolation? The most acute sufferings occur when the praying person feels seating doubt about whether he or she can love anyone fully, or be lovable to anyone else. And yet as the praying person descends deep into the self without knowing what lies ahead, there is no desire to go back up, even though the darkness seems to be heavier, for one experiences a strange contentment with the, situation--because one feels loved intimately. Does Prayer of Being Deny Intimacy? These six characteristics of prayer of being: silence, dryness, hollow-ness, fearsome anger, rare inbursts of joy, and loss of certainties would seem almost to deny the presence of any intimacy in this prayer. But the opposite is true. First of all, only by going through the various stages of prayer which require deep intimacy (one-to-one prayer, forgiveness, sinful-ness, apostolic more, and powerlessness) can one enter into the prayer of being. To declare that these stages of intimacy lead only to non-intimacy is to join the absurdist philosophers in stating that the human person is a living contradiction for self-destruction. In fact, the state of dryness charac-teristic of prayer of being is normal to all prayer, just as it is the normal 840 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 condition of any human relationship. It is the state lying between the extremes of consolation and desolation, just as the dryness in marriage or in work is the normal feeling between the ecstacy of love or of high success and the despair of lost love or bankrupt business. Dryness in prayer is the balanced state for enduring well everyday living. It is a secret strengthening joy; it is that sustaining intimacy which arises out of suffering well the everyday routines of prayer and life. Indeed, dryness is very instructive for the praying person. It forces the one who prays to distinguish the various levels of human experience, to enter their depths, to learn, more accurately what passive prayer is, and finally to develop a faithfulness to God which is more independent of consolations or desolations, of elations or depressions, and of subjectively estimated successes and failures. Let us glance at the levels of human experience so as to better under-stand dryness in prayer. There is, first, a superficial level, which consists of pleasures and pains present to our awareness like the constant purr of an air conditioner, the heavy perfume of lilacs, the irritation of a skin rash or a raspy voice, the comforting warmth of a May.sun or the soft touch 9f an April breeze and shower. The first level, then, is a constant stream of sensual impressions, the context of life. Underneath this is a second level of deeper experiences, such as the constant ache of neuralgia, or the deep pleasure of loving interchange, or the delight of solving a perplexing business problem, or the lyric leap of an evening at the symphony, or the exuberant planning for the first baby, or the panic fear of a flashing knife. This second level is more meaningful, and it lends depth to the first one. But underlying both these levels is a still more profound set of expe-riences which make up the third level. It is on this level that one experiences the enervating worry at not having a job, the satisfaction of affectionate family living, the sorrow of watching the alcoholic spouse struggle for respectability, the fulfillment of a project successfully completed which demanded ten years of one's life, the sense of worthwhileness in the costly sacrifice for one's beloved. At this third level, a person's deepest hopes are raised or dashed, a person's finest joys are brought into full bloom, a person's crushing sorrows test the stamina of one's very being. Believe it or not, there is also a fourth level, which is the dynamic basis of the three higher levels of experience. Although the top three levels are directly knowable to the subject, this fourth level is discovered and known' only indirectly, that is, only in contrast with the other three. Thus, a woman can be in good health on the first level, can enjoy a full family life on the second level, can see her role in life as richly meaningful on the third Prayer of Being / 841 level, and yet be restless and pain-filled on the fourth level. If it were not for this dramatic contrast with the top three levels, .she could not possibly come to know the fourth level as part of her experience. This revealing contrast can also occur in the opposite manner. A man may be suffering from a fourteen-day cold on the first level, may feel misunderstood by the family on the second level, experience sharp doubt on the third level about his ability to handle his new and complicated position in the corporation--and yet be peaceful at the fourth level, under-neath the disturbing events of the top three. He could well find himself asking: "What's wrong with me? I should feel depressed and desolate, but I don't. Am I becoming schizoid? Or have I lost interest in my family and my career?" But this startling contrast lets him know, if he reflects on it, that there is a fourth level of his experience, one known only by contrast with the upper three levels. This long explanation is meant to lead to the conclusion that great dryness of prayer at the top three levels of experience can be accompanied by a serene peace and sense of personal worthwhileness lurking underneath at the fourth level. Such a discovery lights up prayer of being, since such prayer happens at this fourth level where one comes into contact with one's being, one's fullest identity. Here, too, is the best rendezvous-point for meeting God. As any prayer which leaves us feeling powerless indicates: God is the one doing the praying in us; and he starts it at the fourth level, then lets it percolate up through the other three levels. In prayer of being, however, God may shut off this percolation into the top three levels. When this happens, one can find God only indirectly, through the contrast of the upper three levels with the fourth-level. At this point the praying person finally recognizes that he or she is totally at the mercy of God's initiative. Again, he or she more sharply appreciates the need to be more pa~ssive under God's action. Most of us, nonetheless, fight hard to be the active senior partner in prayer, and so we struggle mightily On the top three levels to keep control. At the first level we may try new vocal prayers, new Zen techniques, new spiritual reading books; at the second level we may try to pump up old emotions we once felt and duly inscribe in our spiritual diaries, or we may review magnificent panoramic insights of our personal salvation history. On the third level, we may investigate our motivations for being good family people, for becoming career enthusiasts, for entering the life of religious vows, for being unmarried or married, for being lazy or aggres-sive, for being liberal or conservative, and so on. In other words, to avoid the passivity of prayer, we strain to climb the sheer glass mountain of mystery by our fingernails. Inevitably we end up at 842 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 the bottom of the mountain, looking at our bloody hands. Slowly it dawns on us that maybe only God can lift us to the top of the glass mountain, that we have to rest passive in his hands as he lifts us gently and gladly, that only after we admit our total dependence on him, will he lift us to the top of the mountain. We learn, then, what the passivity of prayer is: letting God do the praying in and through our four levels of experience, while we simply furnish ourselves--and some basic conditions for prayer, e.g., time carefully set aside, some reading of Scripture and other spiritual works, a reverent body-position, a readiness to go in prayer wherever the Lord leads, and so on. These conditions God can use or not use as he sees fit. There is a third result of recognizing thi.s fourth level: because of dry7 ness at the upper three levels, one develops a faithfulness to God which is more independent of consolations or. desolations, of elations or depres-sions; one becomes aware of the constant presence of God in this fourth level. There, likea great underground river, he quietly nourishes all one's activities on the top three levels, rendering the praying person serene in the sure direction of the fiver, and letting the person know that he or she is never alone, never far from the center of the universe. This quiet reas-surance can occur in the midst of the most joyful, or the most sorrowful happenings on the upper three levels, and thus it nurtures the wholesome independence of the praying person. So it is no surprise that the person finds the edge taken off deep fears, fierce angers dampened down, and pestering doubts stilled. Thusprayer of being is never a lonely experience, since it is a constant, indirect awareness of God at one's deepest level of experience, at the center of one's being. In this way, divine being speaks within the individual person's being. Paradoxically, such communion is wordless at this silent depth. It is a simple presence to each other like that between long-married partners who have great mutual devotion to each other. In this one-to-one awareness, God and the praying person have, by a kind of osmosis, an underlying, indirect appreciation of each other rather than a direct face-to-face meeting as in the beatific vision. Their co-pres.ence is more by being than by insightful action or by tangible feeling. It is as though the praying person reaches behind his or her back to touch God. For each affects the other by pure presence of being, as happens when people are aware of each other even though separated by oceans and mountain ranges. Because this presence is so deep and subtle, it takes long years and much experience for the average praying person to recognize its potential for intimacy. Such mutual awareness is a beingrfor-the-other. This has a rema~:kable effect on the human partner. He or she finds greater empathy for other human beings at a deep level of experience, namely, that of being, of Prayer of Being / 843 radical person-hood. It is this which enables the praying person to enter more profoundly into the routinized lives of God's marginal people, to feel more deeply the emptiness of their sometimes meaningless lives, and the gestureless silence of their listless suffering. As a result the person in prayer of being becomes more ready to sacrifice, more apostolic in intent, in order to fulfill the needs of the Lord's anawim. Perhaps this is the cosmic com-passion of which Christ speaks: "Love your enemies, pray for your persecu-tors. This will prove that you are sons of your heavenly Father, for his sun rises on the bad and the good, he rains on the just and the unjust. In a word, you must be made perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:44-48). Because this prayer of being issues in close union not only with God but also with his marginal people, it leads to a dynamic compenetration of the two great commandments: to love God is to love neighbor and vice vers~a. In this way, prayer of being becomes like the background music permeating my consciousness as I wait for a client or work over financial accounts or have my teeth cleaned or do housework and gardening. It is a quiet, strengthening, enlivening presence which I may even take for granted until its temporary shutoff leaves me cold and bereft. Perhaps better, it is like a long-term friendship highly prized yet often taken for granted because it has always been the~:e to guide, envigorate, and challenge me, and, finally, to assure me of a happy future in serving others. Thus prayer of being, if it is anything, is a new depth of intimacy not only with God and self but also with all other human beings. Prayer of Being in Scripture Prayer of being is profoundly embedded in Scripture. Among the multiple translations of 'the divine name Yahweh in the Old Testament is: "he-who-is-for-others." Since Yahweh is the continuing creator and perdur-ing animator of all things, he clearly lives up to his name. He literally brings all things into being out of nothingness and then remains in them to pulse their existence constantly lest they sink back into nothingness. He is being for all other beings. It is no wonder, then, that in theprayer of being, the praying person becomes so sensitive to nothingness or emptiness at the same time as he or she notes the fullness of being around and in him or her. Yahweh, nonetheless, is not satisfied with this degree of intimacy within all created beings. Out of all the nations, he selects the weakest, that motley throng of mixed breeds from Egypt called the Israelites, and begins to form them into his people. To do this, he makes a covenant with them; they are to be his people and he, their God. Actually, it later becomes a marriage covenant since he comes to consider the Hebrew nation his bride. To 844 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 demonstrate this, he even tells Hosea, who had unfortunately married a woman turned prostitute, to remarry his bride. In this way is symbolized Yahweh's remarriage with his adulterous Israelite people, and so drama-tized the intimate relationship which Yahweh wants with the Hebrew peo-ple-- a relationshipfar beyond, yet built out of, the intimate relationship of creator and creature in being. Thus any turning of the Hebrew people to another or false God is considered nothing less than adultery--to be pun-ished, for example, by the great exile of 587 B.C. Such being-for-others (Yahweh himself) makes understandable why the second person of the Trinity would be sent into the womb of Mary to become the Jesus of history. The Christ intimately immerses himself in the being and life of his Jewish family, his town of Nazareth, and his country of Palestine. Jesus becomes. Jewish from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Thus he literally is the wedding covenant of Yahweh with the Hebrew people; his very flesh and all his historical actions are divine and human, Godly and Jewish, inextricably. In this way, the God-man can enter into and share our gestureless, wordless silence in the hidden life of Nazareth, our dryness from routinized lives in his daily handyman tasks, our felt hollowness from self-emptying sacrifices for those dear to us (Ph 5:2-7), our fears ("My soul is troubled now, yet what should I say-- Father, save me from this hour?" [Jn 12:27]), and our angry frustrations ("What an unbelieving and perverse lot you are! How long must I remain with you? How long can I endure you?'[Lk 9:41]). He also shares our rare leaps of joy ("At that moment Jesus rejoiced in the Holy Spirit"ILk 9:12]), and our hollowness felt at the center of our beings (Jesus sleeping the sleep of exhaustion in the storm-tossed boat). He knew all the ingredients of being human; he, too, did theprayer of being in relation,to the Father. In his bones and nervous system Jesus felt his being-for-others at the three upper levels of his experience. This being-for-others is best seen, however, in his joy at the fourth level underneath his passion at the upper-three levels. The seven last words of Christ express an exquisitely beautiful and expensive intimacy. When Jesus said: "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me. Weep for yourselves and for your children" (Lk 23:28), could he have been other than a being-for- others amid terrible dryness and felt fear? When he cried out: "Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing" (Lk 23:34), was he not a being-for-others amid the deaf silence of his crucifiers? When he turned his head towards Dismas to say: "This day you .will be with me in paradise" (Lk 23:43), was he not a being-for-others in the brief joy of this moment? When he looked to Mary and John and said: "Woman, there is your son; [son,] there is your mother" (Jn 19:28), was he not a being-for- Prayer of Being / 845 others emptying himself of his last possession? When he screamed out: "I am thirsty" (.Jn 19:28), was he not revealing that his being-for-others felt hollow and dry in its helplessness? When he spoke to the Father appeal-ingly: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Lk 15:34), was he not a being-for-others feeling the loss of cherished certainties? When in a final burst of profound trust he shouted: "Father, into your hands I com-mend my spirit~' (Lk 23:46), was he not a being-for-others stripped down to nothing but trust, having given over to the Father all that was dear to him: Mary, the apostles, Mary Magdalen and the other loyal women, his work of the past thirty-five or so years, and the whole future of his Church? Underneath this crush of even~ts commemorated by Jesus' seven last words, underneath the excruciating agony of the physical, psychological and spiritual levels of Christ's ex.perience, is the fourth level of his joyous strength in the Father's love for him, and in the beautiful "background music" of the Father's tender, caring affection for him. For the death of Christ on the three top levels was simultaneous with the subdued resurrec-tion on the fourth level. This was Christ's continual prayer of being within the Paschal mystery. Has there ever been such intimacy in suffering and joy as that of Christ with the Father and with his people? Thus is revealed dimly the structure of the prayer of being beneath its previous paradoxical features. As Letter,to the Hebrews notes: "For the sake of the joy which lay before him he endured the cross, heedless of its shame" (12:2). The Terrible Liberating, ~iscipHne Of the Prayer of Belng Theprayer of being, therefore, carries within it a terrible, yet beautiful, discipline: the willingness to suffer for what is right and just, true and good. The author of Heb~rews put~ ihe meaning of discipline .bl.untly for us:~ "Endure your trials as the discipline of God who deals with you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? If you do not know the disciplineof sons, you are not sons but bastards" (12:7-8). Evi, dently God disciplines his people out of affection by allowing them to suffer. As a result, aware of powerlessnes.s, they can be endowed with his power without any fear that th, ey wohld claim this power to be their own. Chapters six to nine of Deuteronomy illustrate how a ,terrible discipline prepares for intimacy with God, for prayerof being. There God declares: "You shall not put the Lord to the test" (6:16), that is, demand that he act in your way at your time and place. Clearly, "It was not because you are the largest of all nations that the Lord set his heart on you and chose you, for you are really the smallest of nations. It was because the Lord loved you" 846 / Review for Religious, November-December, 1986 (7:7-8); in your littleness you do not set the music of the dance with God. "For forty years now the Lord, your God, has directed all your journeying in the desert, so as to test you by affliction and find out whether or not it was your intention to keep his commandments" (8:2); ". the Lord, your God, disciplines you even as a man disciplines his son" (8:5); ". [lest] you become haughty of heart and unmindful of the Lord" (8:14). God's guid-ance through the desert (of prayer of being) may seem directionless to us and may seem to undermine our certainties. But our trustful following keeps us from the crazy deviations of pride and of secret contempt for God's providence. This discipline of the prayer of b'eing is necessary because "otherwise you might say to 3)ourselves, 'It is my own power and the strength of my own hand that has obtained for me this wealth'" (8:17). "No, it is not because of your merits or the integrity of your heart" (9:5). This last statement is strangely reassuring for the person doi.ng prayer of being and feeling virtueless, angry, fearful and empty. Such a person has reason to hope because Christ anticipated this: "Son, though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when perfected, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him" (Heb 5:8-9). There is, therefore, a scripti]ral basis for the discipline found in prayer of being. This discipline itself, though painful, is actually a liberation produced by the prayer of being. This liberation, however, is not a secret contempt for the bodily and the sensual; such would be a disincarnation, not an incarnation, of Christ. Nor is this liberation the ability to leave a beloved person or a f~ivorite place-possession-job-ambition without suffering regret; this would be more a cold self-centeredness that is ready to detach itself only in order to grab something or someone better. Rather this liberation is: 1) a willingness to be separated from what one loves for the sake of the beloved without ever ceasing to love this beloved' (seeing off the mis-sionary friend withoUt hope of ever meeting again); 2) a'willingness to let someone dear grow freely without trying to control, even though this means great suffering for both (the parent letting the stubborn twenty-year-old make a d(astic mistake in choosing a job--for the sake of his growth in wisdom); 3) a willingness to risk everything to put God or another person ahead of one's business, sporting succesg, work, comfort, or career, even as one continues tO pursue these ventures; 4) a willingness tO choose the good consistently, i