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Issue 58.1 of the Review for Religious, January/February 1999. ; fo r relg io iu s, Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living jANUARY-FEBRUARY 1999 ¯ VOLUME 58 ¯ NUMBER 1 Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be inforntative, practical, bistorical,'or inspirational, written from a theological or spt~itual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis Universi~, 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; \,Vashington, 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 cover 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. 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 Kathryn Richards FSP Joel Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC .Chrfisfian Heritages and Contemporary Lfiv~ng JANUARY-FEBRUARY 199~ * VOLUME 58 ¯ NUMBER 1 contents 6 28 perspective. Apostles and Martyrs: Consecrated Life at the Bishops' Synod for Asia John Mansford Prior SVD presents the challenge of the 1998 Synod for Asia to enter into a threefold dialogue--with religions, cultures, and the marginalized. Catholic Guides in Dialogue with Buddhist Practice Paul Bernadicou SJ reviews the progress of Catholic writers in their efforts to provide a fruitful exchange between Christianity and Buddhism. 35 42 traditions Lithuanian and American Sisters: A Lively Interactive Dance Barbara Valuckas SSND describes some of the similarities and differences in the issues facing women religious in the West and in Lithuania. Serpents and Doves: The Company of St. Ursula Ann White draws our attention to the pioneering Ursuline Marie Guyart (Blessed Marie of the Incarnation) living out the vision and spirit of the foundress, St. Angela Merici, to combine the secular and sacred, the worldly and the religious. spirituality 48 The Art of Discernment: The Aesthetic Dimension Xavier Plissart MAfr explains that a basic and essential quality of disce~:nment is that it should strive to be as common as possible in its insight and process, and as universal as possible in the aim toward action. Review for Religious 61 The Still Point: Contemplation Kathy Dunne RC shares her experience and her insights into the unitive way, a way not isolated in prayer, but intimately connected with the dance between the contemplative and apostolic life. 68 82 .aging Caring for Our Own: Competent, Personal Long-term Care in a Faith Perspective Imelda Maurer CDP pictures how life in long-term care looks for some communities of women religious and the witness that is given to the human values that our faith provides. What Is My Mission in Retirement? Francis Blouin FIC clarifies the call of service especially for those who no longer serve in active ministry. 86 report Scrupulosity: Age-old Problem, Holistic Response Paul Duckro, C. Alex Pollard, and Jason Williams describe a synergistic collaboration between behavioral science and religious faith for finding an effective response to the problem of scrupulosity. departments 4 Prisms 98 Canonical Counsel: Living the Evangelical Counsels 103 Book Reviews Janualy-l.¥brllaty 1999 Many of us are familiar with the late Henri Nouwen's Return of the Prodigal Son--a book in which Nouwen reflects on the Gospel story and Rembrandt's painting of the same title displayed in the Hermitage musuem in Saint Petersburg in Russia. Some years after writing the book, Nouwen died while he was on a journey to Russia to participate in a television fea-ture dealing with the painting and his book. Nouwen's fascination with Rembrandt's painting of the famous Lucan parable makes a special appeal to us all in the year 1999. As we continue to follow the direc-tions of Pope John Paul's apostolic letter "As the Third Millennium Draws Near," we know that the year 1999 is dedicated to seeing things "in the perspective of Christ: in the perspective Of the 'Father who is in heaven'" (§49; Mt 5: 45). Just as the previous two years were dedicated respectively to Jesus Christ and to the Holy Spirit, so this final year preparatory to the new millennium is focused particul.arly upon God--the One Jesus calls Abba-Father. A dynamic is uniquely associated with this third year of preparation. It is the journey motif. We are to pay special attention to the fact that we human beings are '.'on the journey to the house of the Father." The God we come to know on our journeying is not just a good God but a God of forgiving love, a compassionate God. Following an allusion made by the pope, w.e might iden-tify the year 1999 as the year of the parable of the prodi-gal. Like the prodigal, we all are on the road leading home. Like the prodigal, we may have a mix of feelings about the life choices we have made and the values we Review for Religqous. have lived. Like the prodigal, in the midst of evaluating our life we sometimes find ourselves needing to throw ourselves on God's mercy--and ready to do so. In one way or another, then, we tend to find ourselves on the road with the prodigal, similar in our rue-ful disquiet about past failings and in our modest plans for a fresh start. Most important, though, is our coming to the ever new and deepening understanding of the reality of God's relationship with us--the One who keeps watching for us whenever our approach, the One who hastens to embrace us into the family. Demanding as the actual journeying of our life may be, our attention should be fixed primarily on the journey of our heart. The heart needs to be quiet and hear the questions: Where are we now in our journey? Is life for us Christians lived truly as a pilgrimage--a journey with a direction? How have we come to know God in our adult years? Is God the one we experience as so compassionate to us that we feel the pull to address God with Jesus' intimacy-of-love word Abba? Most commonly, pilgrimage evokes a picturing of a group mov-ing onward together. So, too, in our pilgrimage we are not alone. Our Christian community in all its various forms--family, parish, sodality, religious congregation--makes real that it is a "we" jour-neying together to the Father. The call to a new evangelization summons us, already known in Pauline times as a people of "The Way," to be welcoming to a humanity searching for the way. Pilgrims are known to tell stories as in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, and pilgrims are known to sing songs as the psalms so often describe. As we continue our journeying in 1999, we need to tell one another our own parables of a pilgrimage home. Together we sing songs of praise to the Father "who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing'I (Ep 1:3-4). The year 1999 can be a special pilgrimage for us all. David L. Fleming sJ Januao,-Februaty 1999 JOHN MANSFORD PRIOR Apostles and Martyrs: Consecrated Life at the Bishops' Synod for Asia Nowhere else in the world is religious life flourishing-- in both its traditional and more contemporary forms-- as it seems to be in Asia. Thus, unsurprisingly, of the 252 participants at the Synod for Asia (19 April to 14 May 1998), some 90 were members of religious orders or congregations, 36 percent of the total. Among these 90 were 63 of the 188 synodal fathers (including 10 superiors general) and 27 of the 58 auditors and experts (including 8 sisters, 5 priests, and two brothers). These numbers, of course, do not represent the pro-portions of consecrated life in Asia and are not intended to. Eight sisters among 244 men reflects neither the presence nor the role of sisters--let alone other women--in the mission of the Asian churches. It was, after all, a synod of bishops, not a, meeting of religious. The ninety religious were present because religious are active in Asia today at all levels of ecclesial life. But with over a third' of the participants belonging to religious orders and congregations, religious life in Asia was not far from the surface of the synodal discussions. John Mansford.Prior SVD has worked in Indonesia since 1973 and writes from Seminari St. Paulus Ledalero; Maumere 86152, Flores-NT:r; Indonesia. During the Synod for Asia, he was liaison officer for the English-speaking press. His article is being published also in Informationes SCRIS, the in-house publicatio~a of the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societie~ of ApoStolic Life. Review for Religious The theme of the synod--"Jesus Christ the Savior and his mission of love and service in Asia 'that they may have life and have it abundantly'"--does not refer directly to consecrated life, but it is central to religious life. Religious are active agents in Jesus' mission of love and service, and so consecrated life was referred to in the context of mission. The evangelical theme of the synod was explained at leng.th in two presynodal documents, the lineamenta (guidelines) published in September 1996 and the instrumentum laboris (working docu-ment) published on the eve of the synod itself (February 1998). I wish to glance briefly at these two documents before looking at the synodal documents themselves. Presynodal Documents While all the lineamenta are of interest to religious as mis-sioners, there are just six explicit observations on consecrated life in this document. Half of these are in chapter 2, on the history of Christianity in Asia. Regarding mission in Asia before the 12th century, we read: "Most of these early missionaries and bishops were monks; others were merchants and ordinary Christians" (§9). The important point here is that Eastern-rite churches have been in Asia since Apostolic times and are not the result of Western colonial expansion since the days of da Gama and Columbus. These churches in the Middle East (from Palestine to Iran) and 'in southern India (Kerala), founded long ago by "monks, merchants, and ordinary Christians," are Asian and are accepted as such amid the dominant local populations, whether Muslim or Hindu. This was emphasized time and again by the patriarchs and bishops of these churches. Unfortunately, the story is. different for other churches in Asia. In the 15th and 16th centuries, missionary activity went hand in hand with the colonial expansion of Portugal and Spain. Even today, five hundred years later and half a century since most Asian countries achieve~l political independence, these Latin-rite churches are still looked upon as Western imports. Although some churches were initiated by laypeople (in Indonesia, for example) or even were founded by laypeople (in Korea, for exam-pie), many of these missi6ners were religious. Thus we read in § 10: "Between 1510 and 1640, Franciscans, Jesuits, Dominicans, Augustinians, Carmelites, and Theatines all established houses in Prior * Apostles and Martyrs Asia." Despite the colonial link, the lineamenta emphasize these orders' pioneering work of inculturation. Clearly, the guidelines are rereading history with the needs of contemporary mission in mind. The small, "half-hidden tradition" of dialogue in the past is about to become the great "major tradition" for dialogue in the future. "Many 'missionary-minded' religious congregations sprang up in Europe during the 19th and 20th centuries. Several of these congregations are still at work in Asia. During t.his same period a number of Asian religious congregations of men and women estab-lished themselves in Asia, particularly in India and the Philippines. During the 19th century, for the first time women ventured out into distant lands in Asia to bear witness to Christ and his gospel and to serve the poor . They also became a very essential part of mission in Asia, especially in the preparation of catechumens and the education of children" (§12). One of the signs of renewal since Vatican Council II is the way in which education, previously domesticating, is now. more and more following a liberating model. Such postconciliar renewal is taken up in the following section on "Lessons Learned from History." Among "Significant Contributions" after Vatican II are "con-tinental structures . for the religious in Asia, such as the Asian Meeting of Religious (AMOR), [which] bring the particular churches in Asia together and help coordinate their missionary and pastoral activities" (§14). Perhaps AMOR has achieved more than any other collegial body in opening up the leaders of religious orders and congregations to the wider social realities in which they live and work. This is surely the vital role that Asia-wide bodies are filling: awareness building and ongoing formation among religious leadership. There will be no new evangelization without a shift in consciousness (one of Longeran's "conversions"). Shifts in consciousness come about when we listen to each other and discover the links between our differing situations. Ond important sign that the local churches are now becoming mission-sending churches instead of being exclusivelj~ or mostly mission-receiving churches is the emergence of new Asian mis-sion societies. In the past "the agents of mission were mostly mem-bers of religious orders, congregations, and missionary institutes. Today the local churches of Asia have a number of Asian mis-sionary institutes" (§ 15). As we shall see, this was later taken up on the floor of the synod. Review for Religious Towards the end of the lineamenta ("Agents of Evangelization," §32), the term "consecrated life" is used for the first time. This is in the context of a mission theology of religious life. "It is a very heartening thing to note that many particular churches in Asia have already established mission institutes to send missioners to other countries, even though they themselves are in need of missioners in their own countries. Asian bishops have a particular responsibility to promote mission institutes and to be generous with their personnel for mission areas. Religious orders, congregations, and mission institutes have played a very remarkable role in the evangelization of Asia from the very beginning. Consecrated life is a very privileged means of evange-lization. Persons consecrated by religious vows can dedicate themselves fully to evan-gelization work because of their radical choice of the evangelical counsels, their total availability, their capacity for origi-nality in mission methods--as the history of mission shows, their spirit of generosity and their easy mobility." In this way the lin-eamenta sum up consecrated life in Asia: its historical contribution, distinctive witness, and recent developments. Responses from Asian episcopal conferences to the lineamenta were numerous, some of which have been widely published. Those of Japan, Taiwan, Indonesia, and India appeared in the East Asian Pastoral Review (no. 1, 1998). The instrumentnm laboris, or syn-odal working document, is thus a commentary by the preparatory committee upon the lineamenta, taking into account the views of the Asian bishops. Not surprisingly, the instrumentum is very dif-ferent in both tone and accentuation from the initial document. It is closer to Asia. Religious life gets five explicit mefftions, and these are of inter-est: First, in the historical section, it is regretted that the pio-neering work of dialogue with cultures and other Asian religions was discontinued so quicklyi "Even though the missionaries' efforts met with many successes, it is felt that a proper understanding of these elements in the work of evangelization would have led to a greater acceptance of the faith by the people of Asia . The church's rediscovered appreciation of other religions and cultures should find greater expression in her missidnary approach" (§14). There will be no new evangelization without a shift in consciousness. Janumy-Feb~wa~y 1999 Religious today are being called to recapture these creative insights from the past. However, there is a price to pay. In continuing Jesus' mission of love and service through interreligious and inter-cultural dialogue, consecrated life in the Latin rite will have to leave behind its Western heritage and become radically Asian. This latter point was brought up many times on the floor 6f the synod. While no section in the lineamenta was devoted to religious life, the whole of §16 of the instrumentum is. devoted to "Consecrated Witness." Mention is made of the "steady increase in the number of vocations during the past decades," both to "tra-ditional religious congregations and institutes which are Western in origin; in recent years a number of new local religious congre-gations have sprung up in Asia." "In many cases o . . service pro-vided by missioners has led to martyrdom." "Witness in Asia has ¯ . . come from a great many of the church's religious orders and congregations who have made a major contribution to the growth of the local churches in Asia during the last five hundred years of evangelization. Tens of thousands of religious sisters and brothers, by their love and unselfish service to those who suffer from poverty in its many forms, have contributed to nourishing the faith of many in the church in Asia. Some of these have given an invalu-able service to local churches by establishing houses of formation, especially seminaries. They have been able to reveal the compas-sionate, loving, and caring face of Jesus to the peoples of Asia. Religious brothers have given an outstanding service to the cause of general education, vocational training, technical education, and developmental works. Contemplative religious have also made a unique contribution to the Christian mission in Asia by their prayers and their witness of complete dedication to a life of union with God." Missioners are contemplatives in action--this is a favorite saying of John Paul II. The evaluation of Catholic mission history in Asia (920, "Leaven in Society") highlights the work of religious in educating the laity. Not aJfew outstanding national leaders in cultural, eco-nomic, and .political affairs, even in countries where Christians are a tiny minority, are alumni of Catholic schools. Towards the end of the instrumentum are two more refer-ences to consecrated life, neither of which' is found in the initial lineamenta. In 942, "The Word of God and Mission," we read: "Some responses ask for a greater attention to the Sacred Review for Religious Scriptures, the word of God, in all areas of church life, especially by bishops, priests, deacons, those in consecrated life, catechists, and lay missioners. Preachers, especially missioners, should draw from the Bible and lead their hearers to take up the word of God for personal study and inspiration . God's word has an inherent power to touch the hearts of all peoples, both Christians and believers of other faiths." This link between the centrality of the biblical apostolate in mission and the centrality of the word in the life witness of the missioner came up later on the synodal floor. Finally, in "The Service of Dialogue," we read: "The mission of the church takes place in interaction with others of which dia-logue is an important aspect. Some bishops in Asia have placed an emphasis upon what they term a 'dialogue of life and heart.' . ¯ . Cloistered sisters, who lead lives of prayer and love in open friendship with their neighbors of other faiths, have shown them-selves to be among the most effective practitioners of the dialogue of life." This is one of the few references to contemplative life in the presynodal documents. While just two participants in the synod were from contemplative orders, a central part of the synod was the link between contemplation and action. God-experience and authentic life-witness are crucial. Proclamation in Dialogue During the first seven days, 191 interventions were made by the synodal members and auditors. A quick, thematic analysis of these interventions follows. Twenty-three interventions were on °interfaith dialogue, 18 on the local, church as a communion of communities (a participative, collegial church). Sixteen interven-tions were on inculturation, 11 on the church's option to accom-pany the poor and margin.alized, and 10 on the challenge of economic globalization. Another 10 were on Asian spirituality and God-experience, 7 on youth, and another 7 on the church in China. Six focused on the ancient Apostolic churches of the Middle East, 5 on issues concerning women, 5 concerning the laity, 4 con-cerning schools, 4 concerning ecumenism, 4 concerning indigenous peoples, 4 concerning family life, and so on. VVhat picture emerges from this rough breakdown? Seventy-six percent of the intervention~s (146) dealt with four main topics: the Asian churches in diaiogue with other faith traditions (43 inter-ventions), the church becoming Asian by dialoguing with living Janttary-Februat.'y 1999 Prior ¯ Apostles and Martyrs r ¯ ] cultures (41 interventions), the churches learning to dialogue with the poor (33 interventions), and the Asian church as a church of the laity (29 interventions). Thus, for the bishops and observers, the threefold dialogue with other religions, with cultures, and with the marginalized looks to the context, approach, and con-tent of the New Evangelization. In this threefold dialogue Christ will become all in all, "that they have life and have it abundantly." Clearly, members of religious orders and congregations are involved in this threefold dialogue, one way or another. In responding to Jesus' mission through the threefold dialogue, con-secrated life itself is evange.lized. It must be noted that only three interventions took up conse-crated life as its sole subject (§§2"5, 81, and 99), while three supe-riors general included religious life as one of their topics (§§68, 133, and 134). Others touched upon consecrated life as part of their intervention. Ten superiors general spoke of various aspects of mission. Some other interventions are of direct relevance to religious, those on Asian spirituality, for instance, and on the strug-gle of women. I here pinpoint a few major issues culled from these interventions. Women in Church and Society Keeping in mind that the great majority of religious are women and that the majority of missioners in Asia are women also, the few interventions on women are of particular impor-tance. Sister Filomena Hirota MME (Japan), one of the eight sis-ter auditors pres.ent, spoke on women's growing awareness and on women's movements which demand that the fundamental equal-ity and dignity of all women and girls be respected in thought, attitudes, and practices. After referring to statements by the FABC (Federation of Asian Bishops' Conferences) over the years, she said: "The church in Asia has a predominantly feminine face. In many countries women constitute 70-80 percent of its member-ship. The presence of women in pastoral ministry, their service to the poor and marginated, their commitment to peace and jus-tice in ecumenical and interreligious relationships, and their sol-idarity actions in promoting the dignity and equality of all women, men, and children have been significant and important." She went. on to say: "A new way of being church in Asia calls for a church in solidarity with the cry of women in a prophetic Review for Religious way." The church is called to "become a credible sign of the dig-nity and freedom of women in society and in the world" (Fourth FABC Assembly). The church has to find a concrete way to respond to the Holy Father's words expressing regret and apology for wrongs and insensitivities toward women in the church: "May this regret be transformed, on the part of the whole church, into a renewed commitment to fidelity to the gospel vision" (Letter to Women, 29 June 1995). She made five proposals: (1) "Members of Mother Church are called to be agents of communion, to create wholesome and equal relationships of compassion and care among humankind and with nature." (2) "Theology from women's perspectives and experiences should be introduced in seminaries and mission formation courses." (3) "It is important, indeed necessary, for male members of Mother Church to discover and grow in 'feminine' insights and attitudes in imita-tion of Jesus (see FABC Assembly 1990) so that their service may be fully and genuinely human and Christian in a society where the logic of domination is destroying both human beings and nature." (4) "Future priests should be formed so as to accept women as equal disciples and companions in their evangelization work." (5) "As a concrete sign of recognition of the fundamental equality of all bap-tized persons (including their dignity and rights) and the church's commitment to uphold women as equal partners, it is urgently rec-ommended: (a) that there be a minimum of 30 percent participa-tion of women in all church organizations and councils; (b) that in the church all women, including religious sisters, be justly com-pensated for their work; (c) that women be given support and opportunities which will enable them to study theology and related subjects; (d) that in each diocese a committee be formed to address injustice, especially against women and children, and to take effec-tive appropriate action in coordination with other local, national, and international organizations; (e) that all language (which sub-consciously influences our conscious attitudes) of church-related writings reflect the equality of men and women. May Mary of the Magnificat accompany us in this jourfiey as we women commit ourselves to Jesus' mission of love and service in Asia!" Appropriate here is the intervention of Pastor Agustina Lumentut, of the Central Sulawesi Christian Church of Indonesia, The church in Asia has a predominantly feminine face. Januat3,-FebruaD, 1999 Prior ¯ Apostles and Martyrs one. of the ecumenical delegates from the Christian Conference of Asia. She noted: "In Asia many countries are afflicted by a mon-etary and economic crisis. Therefore poverty and suffering increase for men, but in particular for women who will be hit most by the rising prices of their basic needs. Often the husbands and the older children of Asian women have gone away to the big cities to find a job and never return. No 'syn-odos,' no 'walking-together' any-more for many Asian women and their families. But there is a 'syn-odos,' a 'walking-together' with women from the same reli-gion, but also from other religions, women who have similar expe-riences. As Asian women theologians have stated: 'These shared experiences can become one of the primary sources for theologi-cal reflection, for rereading the Scripture, for a new interpretation, a new perspective.' As long as Asian women find the courage to tell each other their stories and share their .experiences, they have hope. Women are walking together. But is the church walking with them?" David Fleming SM, superior general of the Marianists (inter-vention no. 68), reflected on the compelling power of feminine images of the holy in Asian religions. In Hindu spirituality female images usually stand for shakti, power, creative energy. In Bengali Hinduism great attention is paid to Durga, a feminine image of the holy that is portrayed, almost like the Woman of the Apocalypse (chap. 12) as conquering the forces of evil, crushing the serpent's or dragon's head. Such feminine images, far from inducing passivity and helpless resignation, point to great social dynamism. The many feminine figures in Asia have arisen in a context of theo-logical reflection and catechesis that-is totally different from ours and surely unacceptable to us as Christians on the level of doctrine. Nevertheless, they enshrine some religious imagery that we Christians naturally find realized in Mary. She is a holy woman of contemplative sensitivity, one who experienced God rather than analyzed God. She is full of compassion and sensitivity to the poor and suffering, in dynamic solidarity with them, sharing their strug-gles as a woman of the people in an oppressed nation. In herself she lives a harmony with God, with her fellow human beings, with nature, and with society. David Fleming ended by saying: "Much of this Asian sensitivity for what we might roughly call the 'feminine' aspects of the holy is in fact integrated into the tender and almost cbnnatural devo-tion to Mary that characterizes so many Asian Christians. I am Review for Religious not talking of an integration of doctrine or of any new theologi-cal assertions about Mary. But I believe that a culture that shows so great a sensitivity to the feminine side of the holy has a great deal to contribute to our Christian experience of Mary, not only in Asia but also in the rest of the world. It helps us see the dynamism and vitality of Mary in the work of salvation and her power to motivate us to a commitment in solidarity with the poor. In this way we can give a greater Asian content to the conviction often expressed by the Holy Father that Mary is the 'Star' enlight-ening and directing the progress of the new evangelization in our era." All this is of interest to religious, both women and men. What images of God have we internalized, which images are we proclaiming by our lifestyle and in our work? God-Experience Time and again, bishops spoke out on the centrality of authen-tic experience of the human and the divine. I take up just one example, the presentation of Bishop John Osta of Patna, India (intervention no. 37). It is, "Bishop John said, "not enough to repeat doctrinal or theoretical formulas; personal witness to a personal experience is called for." Bishop John called for a new contem-plative lifestyle for all in the church. In this "rebirthing" of the church, religious have a pioneering role: live the Christian mystew in an Asian way! Integrating prayer forms from other Asian reli-gions is not syncretism, he maintained, but a demand of our times. The bishop continued by quoting FABC (Hong Kong, 1977): "The decisive new phenomenon for Christianity in Asia will be the emergence of genuine Christian communities in Asia, Asian in their way of thinking, praying, living, communicating their own Christ-experience to others . We should beware of seeing our future mission in categories that belong to the past, when the West shaped the churches' history. If the Asian churches do not dis-cover their own identity, they have no future." David Fleming made an interesting contribution on some aspects of the "dialogue of religious experience." His nine years in Nepal and India informed his presentation. He said: "To speak to the heart of Asian people and enter into a genuine dialogue of religious experience, religious and bishops should give special attention to developing the Christian contemplative life in Asia, as well as to enriching the contemplative dim.ension within all insti- P~o__r_ ¯ ~ostles and Martyrs, tutes of consecrated life, in order to create inculturated forms of living the spirituality of each institute. This is an aspiration widely shared, but not always so well realized, by religious institutes pre-sent in Asia." He continued: "Interreligious dialogue on the level of reli-gious experience involves a giving and a receiving, so that much can be learned from the deep religiosity of people and from their religions. Such dialogue shows us concretely how the Spirit of God has been at work through the centuries in the religious expe-rience of others. We often find that interchanges with seekers of holiness in other religions open up new vistas for Christian life and especially refresh our'memory of elements in our Christian spir~ itual heritage that we have tended to forget and neglect." He gave some examples: "A genuinely inculturated celebra-tion of the Eucharist. Very often, after participating in liturgies that integrated elements from the great variety of Indian cultures-- Hindu, Muslim, animist--Indian Catholics told me how richly these inculturated liturgies moved them, touching something that had perhaps been buried and a bit regretted in their souls during their years of taking part in more Western-style liturgies." A sec-ond example: "The disciplines of yoga direct us to pay greater attention to an approach to the body that disposes us to prayer. Similar teaching exists in our Christian tradition, especially in the hesychasm of Eastern medieval Christianity. But I doubt if we will easily rediscover this neglected dimension of spiritual discipline without the help of interreligious dialogue." Another example: "Attention to the rich oriental teaching .on praying with a mantra has sparked a fruitful renewal of c'ontemplative prayer among Christians in our time, often called 'centering prayer.' A similar approach was inculcated in ancient Christian monasticism, from the Egyptian desert through John Cassian, and in the oriental Christian tradition of the Jesus Prayer. The prayer of the rosary is, in its own way, within the same tradition. But today many Christians, East and West, are rediscovering this contemplative form of prayer through interreligious dialogue." Cardinal Eduardo Martfnez Somalo, prefect of the Congregationfor Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life (CICLSAL) gave the 81st intervention. The cardinal's eight points emphasized the centrality of t~tal dedication by the consecrated person. The key to mission witness is who she or he is, not what she or he does. Cardinal Martfnez Somalo linked the Revlew for Religious contemplative and mystical dimension of consecrated life to an ascetical lifestyle. This comment is particularly pertinent as Asia suffers a major monetary crisis on top of long-standing systemic poverty and injustice. In simplicity and prayerful silence, religious undergo day by day conversion to the gospel. After the primacy of religious experience, the cardinal emphasized the need for a solid theological formation, particularly necessary as we enter into dia-logue with Asian cultures and other Asian religions. He ended on a note of joy and hope at the many vocations to religious life in Asia. These key issues echoed and strengthened the contributions from Asia itself. Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, superior general of the Jesuits, con-trastedthose who work for results with those who live out of love (intervention no. 97). The high-quality institutions run by reli-gious orders do not automatically proclaim the love of God. Our apostolates proclaim love when they are run by people "through whom God's love shines." Similarly with the work of dialogue: we dialogue in love without calculation or ulterior motives. In our apostolates we do not proclaim self but Christ crucified. I was reminded of the saying of John of the Cross: "Where there is no love, put love, and you will reap love." A short comment, one of many during the synod, about the centrality of God-experience, came from Bishop Gratian Mundadan (intervention no. 124) of Bijnor of the Syro-Malabar rite, India: "A Hindu sadhu once told Abhishiktanandaswamy: If you want to touch the heart of Indians, every one of you must become a guru. A guru is one who has deep God-experience. Such a guru does not quote, does not instruct, does not formulate, does not dogmatize. The guru shares personal experience of God, It is not just a question of presenting Jesus Christ as the guru; every Christian needs to become a guru--deep in the experience of God. . Spirit-filled and Spirit-led aposdes began their mission with sur-prisingly great success . "Unfortunately the scenario changed. The communities of the Spirit became institutionalized. When possessions, power, and authority increased, the need to rely on the power of the Spirit decreased. The Holy Spirit remained the forgotten person of the Holy Trinity. The humble, poor servant Christ, who came to serve and not to be served, was forced to assume the status of a power-ful king instead of continuing to be the King of the heart. The church began to rely on competency and human efficiency, doc- Jamtao, oPYbruaO, 1999 Prior ¯ Apostles and Martyrs trinal as well as juridical. If the church's power and authority comes only from competency and human efficiency, then we are facing a crisis in our mission. For such a competency based on knowledge, ideas, administrative skills, and laws will search for its legitimacy in the rational, in the human. The power of the church is reli-gious, spiritual, power from heaven. When the leaders of the church are devoid of such a spiritual power, they'will take shelter in juridical power. "There is an urgent need to change this image. The leadership of the church has to change the style of functioning, to become more spiritual, free from institutional authoritarianism and fully at the service of the gospel and the world. Such a leadership will be able to animate people to God-experience and help them translate this experience into fraternal love. This is to be the original con-tribution of the gospel to Asia, where other religions concentrate on God-experience alone without any effort to serve the brethren. The leadership of the church will have to discern and activate the vari-ous charisms of the whole Christian community: build up commu-nities of love and fellowship as did the Apostles. Such a leadership will seek to strengthen the capacity of the people of God to become true faith communities as against the dichotomy that exists today between faith and life among Christians: make these communities powerful evangelizing communities, empower the faithful and enable them to face the challenges of the present day and of the future with interior power, power from above, and not with worldly wisdom and efficiency. ".Following the way of Christ, the church in Asia has to assume the way of kenosis, of self-emptying, of the cross, of loving and self-giving service. We have to develop a kenosis ecclesiology. We have to shed attitudes of power, domination, influence. Such a church will appeal to the Asian mind . Let the call of the synod to the church of Asia be a return to the sources, to the spirit and style of the early church, where the Spirit of God reigned." Asian Mission Societies Edward Malone (Hong Kong) is the long-serving assistant secretary general of the Federation of Asian Bishops' Conferences (FABC). The bishops of south, southeast, and east Asia have belonged to FABC since 1970; they are now to be joined by the churches of central Asia. Father Edward devoted his intervention Review for Religious (no. 99) to Asian mission societies: "Although the number of [Asian] Christians remains small in comparison with Asia's bur-geoning masses (2-3 percent of all Asian peoples), this 'little flock' (Lk 12:32) seeks to share its riches and discovery of Christ with neighboring peoples . They are aware that 85 percent of all the world's non-Christians live in Asia. "Responses to the call of mission and evangelization within Asia have taken a variety of forms. Most international institutes of women and men have a home in Asia. New groups and new forms of religious life, secular institutes, and lay orga-nizations have emerged to respond to the call of world mission. Yet I wish to highlight a unique ~ and essential form of mission response. This charism is that of the missionary society of apos-tolic life. In recent decades, six such societies of men have emerged in Asia: the Missionary Society of the Philippines, the Missionary Society of Saint Thomas the Apostle (India), the Catholic Foreign Mission Society of Korea, the Missionary Society of Thailand, the Lorenzo Ruiz Mission Society (Philippines), and the Heralds of Good News (India) . These societies of men who are pledged to lifelong commitment to foreign mission bring a unique--and essential-~- contribution to the church's missionary activity. "These mission societies of apostolic life contribute a partic-ular focus to mission. Their contribution is ad genres, ad exteros, and ad vitam. They direct their efforts to evangelization ad genres, to those who have not yet heard the liberating and salvific Good News of Jesus Christ; ad exteros, to peoples outside their own coun-try, cultural milieu, and language group; and ad vitam, through a lifelong commitment to this unique form of mission witness. There are countless local churches in Asia that owe the emergence of their faith and communities to the dedicated labors of such mis~ sion societies of apostolic life founded in other parts of the world. The 'time of the heirs' has come for all local churches of Asia to respond by establishing such mission societies . A local church is not intended to live alone; it is 'not a community in isolation from other communities of the church one and catholic. Rather it seeks communion with all of them' (FABC 1). This is a unique con-tribution that mission societies of apostolic life can bring to the local churches throughout Asia. Such societies can become 'bridges 85 percent of all the world's non-Christians live in Asia. Januaty-Febt'tlat3, 1999 Prior * Apostles and Martyrs of communion' by which the sister local churches of Asia can appreciate and exchange their unique gifts. In this way the gospel is proclaimed, communion is strengthened, the 'dream of catholic-ity' emerges and is concretized . Though not limited to Asia alone, their growth will result in Asians evangelizing Asians, the emergence of authentically missionary local churches, the strength-ening of bonds of communion among the churches of Asia . " Edward Malone then pointed out developments that foster or hinder mission ad genres. First, in an ecclesiology of communion, we need bridges of exchange and communion. Missioners ad genres foster communion among sisters churches. Second, churches that do not experience this exchange (sending/receiving) can become closed ih upon themselves. They could become vulnerable to local ideologies and a closed nati'onalism. Third, if ad genres mission is not promoted, there will remai~ many unreached peoples through-out Asia. Fourth, pastoral care even keenly felt must not be allowed to derail the local-church ad gentes mission effort (this has often happened: working abroad with nationals from the same church of origin does not fulfill the ad genres vocation). Father Malone con-cluded by mentioning two current temptations: (1) the "tempta-tion of success" (to settle down with the visible results of evangelization, hesitating to turn over the parishes, schools, and institutions to the local church and diocese and move out to new frontiers) and (2) the "temptation of pastoral care" (seeking to answer all the pastoral needs of a diocese and so losing the will to reaffirm the original charism, "to g9 and make disciples"). Ours must always be the motto of the apostle Paul: "Christus me misit non baptizare, sed evangelizare" (1 Co 1:17). Edward Malone's informative and provocative contribution drew two responses from superiors general of mission societies that originated in the West. Father Franco Cagnasso, PIME superior general (intervention no. 13 3), welcomed the Asian missioners, that is, those who remain authentically Asian. Their presence is positive for the whole church. They are less institutionalized and live close to the poor. Many have a valuable interiorized approach to the mystery of Christ. People from the other continents have redis-covered their Christian faith through reaching out to Asian spiri-tuality. Father Franco ~lso welcomed the fact that Asian churches were open to receiving cross-cultural missioners from outside Asia. The more the Asian churches become self-sufficient pastorally, the more they can move out to dialogue with others. Review for Religious This contribution was followed by that of Father Raymond Rossignol, superior general of the Missions of Paris (intervention no. 134). He emphasized that each and every church should be open to send and receive cross-cultural missioners. No church should be encapsulated. History has left the Asian churches with a problem: they are perceived by majority communities as being foreign (Western). Also, in the past, Western missioners have tended to dominate local church personnel. One reaction to this is for each church to look after itself without outside "interference." However, we need to find suitable ways to ensure that cross-cultural mis-sioners can be present in all churches--not just in those who are not yet "self-sufficient." Raymond Rossignol concluded by saying: "No church is so poor that it has nothing to offer others; no church is rich enough that it cannot receive from others." Formation of Religious One of the burdens of history is that Western-style churches were planted in Asia during the colonial era. In the words of the president of the Catholic Bishops' Conference of Sri Lanka, Bishop Oswald Thomas Colman Gomis (intervention no. 141), "the church has remained foreign in its public image and expression, in liturgy, art, architecture, mannerisms, and presentation of doc-trine, and above all in patterns of life, especially those of her reli-gious . Most of my brothers and sisters here, I believe, would agree with me that this image remains very much a block to evan-gelization today. This synod [should] find some formula to erase this scar inherited at birth by many churches in the countries of Asia." One place to start is formation. Bishop Arturo M. Bastes (intervention no. 25) gave a tour de force, finishing his presentation a split second before the micro-phone was cut off. A former SVD provincial, Bishop Arturo of Romblon, Philippines, spoke on formation for religious in the contemporary Asian context. His exposition focused on four important shifts taking place in the Asian churches: a shift from a Eurocentered church to an authentically Asian church, a shift in our understanding of history, a shift in the model of church, a shift in our understanding of spirituality. Each shift has its impact upon formation communities. ¯ According to Bishop Arturo, the church's mission in Asia has been approached from the perspective of a Eurocentered church, Prior ¯ Apostles andMartyrs deeply conditioned by the European colonialism of the times. Formation of religious was or still is monocultural, Western or European. While religious vocations are rapidly decreasing in Europe and the rest of the Western Hemisphere, there is an ever increasing number of religious vocations in Asia. A contextual-ized formation is suited to the mentality of Asians. There should be real insertion in social reality. Asian formators are developing practical methodologies in contrast to Western academic models. Academic study needs to be accompanied by practical method-ologies in the light of Asian realities. The second shift is in our understanding of history. The great world religions Hinduism and Buddhism, whose cradle is Asia, antedate Christianity by thousands of years. Christianity was born in Asia, but has been alienated from Asia by becoming Eurocentered. The Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines proposed that the synod "explore exhaustively in an open and humble way the revelatory nature" of the religions of Asia and their impact on the church's proclamation of Jesus. There is much that the church can learn from other Asian religions regarding the values of God's reign. Persons beginning religious-life formation need a great feeling of respect for other religious tra-ditions which offer "salvation" even before the coming of Christ. Christian religious should not feel "superior" to people of other traditions. Asian formandi and formandae need to remain Asian even when they join international congregations. The third shift is in church models. When the church embed-ded itself in Europe, a mindset arose that considered Europe Christian and the rest of the world pagan. Unfortunately, they seem to have identified Christianity with whatever is European. Many third-world churches are striving to shift away from a tri-umphalistic model to a church identified with the social condi-tions of the people. Without a sense of the poor, there can be no genuine following of Jesus in Asia. Hence, candidates for the reli-gious life in Asia should be trained to have both an affective and effective commitment to the poor. All religious congregations today emphasize "preferential~ option for the poor." The question is: Do we really mean it? The "passing-over to the poor" is admit-tedly one of the most difficult transitions for a religious congre-gation. The fourth shift highlighted by Bishop Nrmro ~ls in our under-standing of spirituality. Traditionally we have associated spirituality Review for Religious with an institutional way of living. We need to shift our under-standing of spirituality from institutional to incarnational. More basic to each congregational charism is being rooted in the incar-nation of Christ. There is a dynamic and essential relationship between culture and spirituality in a common humanity. The three characteristics of an incarnational spirituality are self-transcen-dence, search for meaning, and the gift of self. These are at the heart of every spirituality, whether Christian or non-Christian. Globalization of the free market is attacking Asia; the prospects of the third millennium are frightening. Religious women and men of Asia should join forces to fight, con-sumerism by living a spiritual life that is accessible to their fellow Asians, whatever their creed. Bishop Arturo concluded by suggesting that religious candidates should seriously study and reflect upon the spirituality of other Asian religions besides the teachings of the Judeo-Christian Scriptures. The Spirit is present in Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism, Islam, and even primal religion. The vocation of Asian religious today is to save Asia, by the wisdom and depth of Asian spirituality with which Asians feel at home, from the onslaught of materialism coming from global market forces. Asian spirituality is not opposed to the teachings of Christ, for it is a true manifestation of God's Spirit working in all peoples. Janet Wang, president of the Conference of Major Religious Superiors of Women of Malaysia-Singapore-Brunei, spoke of dia-logue within the church: only a church in dialogue can dialogue with cultures and other religions. She spoke of mission in the light of the church as communion. The church in Asia needs to grow in dialogue of life and heart so as to be a visible and efficacious sign of communion in the multiracial and multireligious societies in which we live. While we are challenged to intensify interreligious dialogue and dialogue with culture, we cannot ignore the need to improve our capacity to dialogue within the church at the grass-roots level--among priests who work in the same parish, as well as among priests, religious, and laypeople. One of the best forms of The great world religions Hinduism and Buddhism, whose cradle is Asia, antedate Christianity by thousands of years. Prior * Apostles and Martyrs For formation to become Asian, future l rofessors need to do their special studies in Asia rather than in Rome or elsewhere in the West. evangelization in secularized societies like ours is the witness of love and reconciliation, unity in diversity, authority as service. The Spirit is calling us to move away from the image of a cler-ical institution to the building of a participatory church where priests, religious, and laypeople have a common vision of church as communion. The church in Asia will become more alive and efficacious to the extent that the laity and religious are actively involved with their parish priests in pastoral plan-ning and decision making. Sister Janet said, "Our religious communities need to be recognized as Christ-centered basic ecclesial communities within the local church." Changes in attitude, however, do not come automatically. Persons need to be formed in a gradual, experiential way. Sister Janet concluded: "May I strongly recommend, also on behalf of the Conference of Religious Major Superiors of Malaysia, Singapore, and Brunei, (1) that seminarians be formed to a better understanding of consecrated life in the context of the ecclesiology of communion, (2) that pri'ests, religious, and laypeo-pie be formed together towards a new way of being church. With hearts open to the action of the Spirit, we need to listen to the word of God, to pray and reflect together, to search together, and in an atmosphere of dialogue to carry out pastoral planning, pastoral care, and mission outreach together as church, the family of God in Asia." Francis Adeodatus Micallef, apostolic vicar of Kuwait (inter-vention no. 43), also spoke of the spiritual formation of religious. "Spiritual formation of candidates should not suffer as a conse-quence of formation programs . Lifestyle should reflect the deep spiritual formation which these centers are imparting." The key word here is authenticity. Bishop Peter Chun Hon-Ting of Kuching, Malaysia (inter-vention no. 62), spoke on seminary formation; his comments are germane not only to clerical religious. Bishop Peter Chun empha-sized the absolute need for a sound knowledge of the religiocul-tural situation of one's country and a critical knowledge of the ReviewforReligious economic and political conditions that affect people. Many bish-ops emphasized the link between contemplation and involvement, spirituality and politics. Bishop Peter also stressed the dignity and equality of lay and clerical, the Bible as the soul of all theology, and the integration of Asian philosophies and spiritualities into the curriculum. For formation to become Asian, future professors need to do their special studies in Asia rather than in Rome or elsewhere in the West. Not far from the question of formation is that of spiritual direction. Vicente Cajilig OP, secretary to the Office of Education and Student Chaplaincy FABC (Philippines), gave the one inter-vention on spiritual direction. He said: "Spirituality in Asia, as seen by formators, is a form of journey and accompaniment. This journey follows a certain pathway that leads to interiority. The model of all models is Christ, with whom the formandi and for-mandae are configured. The directee arrives eventually at the stature of Christ." He concluded that, above all, a "spiritual pro-gramme that prepares spiritual directors themselves is important. While formation in theology gives candidates a firm foundation in the faith, the handling of the spiritual task requires added know-how on the journey of the Spirit." Schools A continent-wide synod is not the place to look at individual apostolates in any meaningful detail. Where the churches in Asia are small, even insignificant minorities, elite schools have been an important apostolate. As independent governments and majority communities have developed their own, even better, school systems (see intervention no. 125 by Bishop Leo Laba Ladjar of Jayapura, Indonesia), this traditional apostolate is being increasingly ques-tioned. The preferential love for the poor also raises fundamental questions. Alwis Sunanda FMS (Sri Lanka) put it like this: "An educational system, especially at the tertiary level, committed to the service of the values of Jesus and right relationships, orients its curriculum and research towards greater understanding of the social forces at work in exploitative societies such as exist in parts of Asia. It shines light on exploitative and liberative forces in those societies and tries to motivate students and teachers to choose a set of values different from the existing capitalistic, consumerist, wasteful, gender- and ethnically biased values. Its library and social January-February 1999 Prior ¯ Apostles and Martyrs communications would be a help to the poor and the needy, those who are marginalized, and exploited women and men." Brother Alwis, however, went on to suggest that "the social system in the context of Asia tends to ensure that Christian schools serve the interests of more affluent groups in society. How valid, in practice, is the argument that we can influence the future shape of our soci-ety by training the children of the elite in our schools? Are we not, instead, put in a position of maintaining the existing social order, to the extent that our own values and lifestyle are adjusted to continue a system of education that bolsters, if not aggravates, the inequalities? Often a glaring incongruence exists between the gospel we teach and the work we do, between our expressed mes-sage and the lives we live. We ourselves, though, might not notice this by reason of our great dedication to the cause we serve." Brother Alwis concludes, "Today we may have a better chance of being faithful to the call of the gospel by working in programs that foster nonformal education, adult education, values educa-tion, and education through peoples' movements rather than through traditional educational systems." This is just one thoughtful contribution among the many that were made about various apostolates. What is clear is that, fifty years after most Asian countries became independent, religious orders are having to look again at many of their traditional apos-tolates, successful as they superficially look. The Propositions The synod is over and the bishops are back at their posts. Some time in 1999 an apostolic exhortation will be published, based upon the 59 propositions drawn up during the final days of the synod. Two of these propositions, numbers 27 and 28, deal respectively with "consecrated life" and "mission societies of apos-tolic life and other mission societies." I did not receive a copy of the propositions, and the synodal members handed theirs back to the secretariat. From what I heard in the synodal hall, and the notes I made, I can make the following brief cominents. In Proposition 27, religious are looked upon as a reminder of the universal call to holiness who inspire a self-giving love towards everyone, especially the least of their brothers and sisters. The synod calls upon religious to undertake a renewal and revitaliza-tion of their commitment to proclaim the saving message of Jesus Review fo," Religious Christ. Formation should be Christ-centered and contextualized, faithful to the group's charisms, with emphasis upon life witness. Spirituality and lifestyle should be sensitive to the religious her-itage of the people they live with and serve. Proposition 28 acknowledges the continuing contribution made by mission institutes of apostolic life. The recent founding of mission institutes of apostolic life in Asia itself is an expression of the missionary dimension of the churches of Asia. The synod encourages the further establishment of mission societies charac-terized by their commitment to mission ad genres, ad exteros, and ad vitam. Encouraging Words Each and every woman and man dedicated to the consecrated life in Asia has received renewed encouragement from the 1998 synod to .continue the daily witness of risking oneself for Christ's sake. We have been challenged, some thirty-six years after the opening of the Second Vatican Council, to take up the language of the threefold dialogue with religions, cultures, and the marginal-ized and to flesh it out in lives of radical witness to the incarnate Word and graceful Spirit. This threefold dialogue is one integral movement of evangelization, the evangelization of the whole of life in all its myriad dimensions. As apostles of the crucified and risen Lord, we promote life in multicultural, multifaith Asia. As martyrs to the truth-giving Spirit, we endeavor to live ascetically with the marginalized. There is no reason for holding back: we have the dream, we know the strategies. We have the documents, we have the official encouragement~ The only real barrier is the narrowness of our minds and the smallness of our hearts. "Have courage, I have conquered the world!" On 16:33). "For God is greater than our hearts" (1 Jn 3:20). Janualy-Februa~y 1999 PAUL BERNADICOU Catholic Guides in Dialogue with Buddhist Practice Ion the latter 1960s Thomas Merton, prophetic here as in many ther areas with fresh religious insight, declared that, "far from being suspicious of the Oriental mystical traditions, Catholic contemplatives since the Second Vatican Council should be in a position to appreciate the wealth of experience that has accumu-lated in those traditions." His 1967 book Mystics and Zen Masters included an earlier essay expressing admiration for the 16th-cen-turyJesuit missionary effort in China, seeing that effort as a pro-logue to contemporary religious understanding. Merton was joined by a bevy of other Catholic scholars eager now to enter into dialogue rather than to proselytize in their mis-sionary outreach. In the words of the council's Declaration on Non-Christian Religions, Catholics were now asking themselves how these Asian and other ways try to pierce "that ultimate and unutterable mystery which engulfs our being, and whence we take our rise, and whither our journey leads us." The council docu-ment not only gave permission to respect the teachings of these other ways, but also invited Catholic scholars to "acknowledge, preserve, and promote the spiritual and moral goods found among them, as well as the values in their society and culture" (§§1, 2). Just before his tragic death in Bangkok at an East/West monas-tic conference, Merton wrote about his deeply moving sight of the Buddha sculptures at Polonnaruwa (Asian Journal, New Paul Bernadicou SJ chairs the University of San Francisco's theology department and is tertian instructor for the California province of the Society of Jesus. His address is 2130 Fulton Street; San Francisco, California 94117. Review for Religious Directions, 1993, pp. 233-236): "I mean, I know and have seen what I. was obscurely looking for. I do not know what else remains, but I have now seen and have pierced through the surface and got beyond the shadow and the disguise." He wrote beautifully about these huge, silent figures "questioning nothing, knowing every-thing" with their great yet serene smiles. Another Catholic monastic voice from that period was Aelred Graham's, who in Conversations: Christian and Buddhist Encounters in Japan (Harcourt, Brace, 1968, p. xiv) recounts how he sought to pass from the area of academic study to that of firsthand experi-ence of Buddhism. In his sixtieth year, after long experience as a Benedictine, he had the opportunity to speak with some for whom the Buddha was a role model no less than Jesus was for him. He describes the value of such religious encounter as "not at the peripheral level of Christian ecclesiology, which still preoccupies so many Catholic theologians, but at the basically existential level of who we are and what human life is all about." Jesuit Guides The Jesuit missionary H.M. Enomiya Lassalle, already in Japan before World War II, eventually inculturated his Christian Zen meditational practice into a Zen-style Jesuit retreat center in the countryside at a remove from bustling Tokyo. He published his personal findings regarding the helpfulness of Zen for an enhance-ment of Christian meditation. In Zen Meditation for Christians (German original, 1968; Open Court Publishers, 1974, pp. 151- ¯ 152), he illustrates this conviction with the parable of the prodi-gal son. In the typical way of Christian meditation at the time, you would reflectively think about the youth's family circum-stances, then the effrontery of his demand for his inheritance, then his degradation after wasteful spending, and finally his remorse and return to his father's house. A deeper form of medi-tation would not simply use~ the prodigal son as a symbol, but identify with him as an image of oneself. The person meditating would thus become the prodigal son. It is myself who reveled in our father's house only to estrange myself and now hanker to return in repentance and humility. "When we perform medita-tion in this manner and begin anew each time we practice, our heart is then purified and transformed directly and immediately through meditation--rather than indirectly through intellectual Janua~y-Februa~Ty 1999 Bernadicou ¯ Catholic Guides in Dialogue In Zen the method of purification involves working on koans, but in Christianity the emphasis is on meditation and the importance of Scripture. considerations of the will." This type of meditation is similar to Zen, wherein the Zen practitioner becomes one with a koan (that is, a Zen paradox designed to break through discursive con-sciousness to intuitive insight). ~ Heinrich Dumoulin, a Jesuit colleague of Lassalle at Sophia University in Tokyo, edited in the 1970s a series titled Religious Encounter: East and West which was "intended to promote an understanding of the living unity, diversity, and meeting-ground of reli-gious phenomena, Asian and Occidental." Dumoulin's own first contribution to the series, Christianity Meets Buddhism (Open Court, 1974, p. 198), emphasized that interreli-gious dialogue can contribute uniquely toward opening up a new horizon. Both Christianity and Buddhism involve a search for ulti-mate reality, and a dialogue between the two is "perhaps one of mankind's greatest hopes." A Jesuit of Japanese origin also at Sophia University, Joseph Kadowaki, whose youthful background had been Zen Buddhism and who was later baptized a Christian, came to recognize similarities between Zen monastic training and his own Jesuit novitiate training. In Zen the method of purification involves working on koans, but in Christianity the emphasis is on meditation and the imlSortance of Scripture. After he began to practice Zen, Kadowaki found that he could read the Bible in a new light. His book Zen and the Bible (Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1977) describes the method used in solving a Zen koan and shows how to appreciate the many para-doxical or obscure koan-like passages in the Bible. William Johnston, the fourth member of this quartet of Jesuit scholars of Zen at Sophia University, recently published his mag-num opus, Mystical Theology (HarperCollins, 1995, reprinted by Orbis, 1998). He has for more than twenty-five years been in the vanguard of the Christian and Zen Buddhist dialogue. He pub-lished Christian Zen: A Way of Meditation in 1971 (Harper and Row; 2nd edition, 1980); it provides explicit guidelines for a way of Christian meditation that incorporates Zen insight. Wordless Review for Religiot,s meditation, a modified lotus position, rhythmical breathing, and the use of koan are explored as Zen practices which can heighten Christian meditation. This interest in meditation led to his scientific investigation into its effects: Silent Music: The Science of Meditation (1974; reprinted, Fordham University Press, 1997). Johnston surveys what scientific research has uncovered about altered states of con-sciousness, brainwaves, and biofeedback. He investigates both Eastern and Western meditation by which one enters deeper lev-els of consciousness. The discovery of such meditation's "passive energy" and of other physiological and psychological benefits show its power to heal and comfort the distressed. And Johnston points out how the "nonattachment" and "knowledge of empa-thy" required in meditation can help people find genuine friend-ships and intimacy in their relationships. Thus he has added insights from modern science into the dialogue between Eastern and Western religious traditions. His Mystical Theology (1995) updates this message for many contemporary laypeople practicing meditation and finding them-selves drawn into mystical states of consciousness. John of the Cross wrote such a theology for the 16th century, and Johnston attempts it for our own century through his ongoing dialogue with modern science and with Buddhism. "Traditional mystical theology was written for monks and nuns . This is the age of the laity. Now married people who live a busy life in factory or classroom or office or laboratory aspire to a life of meditation and mysticism" (p. I0). They look for spiritual guidance as they grap-ple with problems of sexuality, social justice, world peace, and protection of the environment. Trappist Guides Also at the forefront of contemporary Catholic encounter with Asian practice are the adept Trappist advocates of centering prayer Basil Pennington and Thomas Keating, who have taken up where fellow Trappist Thomas Merton left off. In his 1977 Daily We Touch Him (Doubleday Image, 1979) and 1980 Centering Prayer (Doubleday Image, 1982), Pennington explored how to adapt the principles of Transcendental Meditation (TM) and Zen to Christian meditation. Daily V~e Touch Him is a simple but helpful guide to finding God's presence in one's own daily experience: "God is pre- January-February 1999 Bernadicou * Catholic Guides in Dialogue sent to us from the very first instant that he calls us into being-- and thenceforth forever he touches us at every point and level of our being. He is present to us. But are we present to him?" (pp. 14- 15). With Centering Prayer the focus is on returning to the roots of early Christian prayer, especially in the Eastern church and the patristic traditions. Centering prayer combines the best features of this Eastern Christian practice in a blend of East and West that inspires personal Christian prayer today. Thomas Keating likewise explores the Eastern Christian roots of his contemplative heritage in Open Mind, Open Heart (Continuum, 1994). The book moves beyond discursive meditation and acts of devotion to the intuiti'~e level of contemplation. Keating surveys the history of contemplative prayer in the Christian tradition, and follows with step-by-step direction in the method of centering prayer. He manifests how such an approach opens one's mind and heart to the contemplative dimension of the gospel. His recent Intimacy with God (Crossroad, 1996) builds on his earlier volumes by summarizing material from talks he has given in more recent years to people ranging from advanced prac-titioners of centering prayer to persons just starting out. He con-tinues to provide a Christian alternative to the appeal of Asian practices. His conviction is that our journey into intimacy with God leads us "powerfully outward, toward the bonding that we call the Communion of Saints: the capacity to relate to one another with the unconditional love with which Christ relates to us" (p. 160)~ Keating's prayer instruction parallels the apophatic style of much Buddhist meditation. Christian Theology and Buddhism An outstanding Catholic interlocutor with the Buddhist tra-dition on a more speculative and theological level is the Jesuit Aloysius Pieris, who was the first non-Buddhist to receive the doc-torate in Buddhist studies in his native Sri Lanka. His Love Meets Wisdom: A Christian Experience of Buddhism (Orbis, 1988) consists of a series of essays which explore the social as well as the spiritual side of Buddhism, its political and its religious visions, and issues important to the ongoing Christian-Buddhist dialogue. Pieris thinks that Christians can learn from Buddhism, integrating their own prophetic teaching .of love with the Buddhist mystical appre-ciation of wisdom. If heart-to-heart dialogue is genuinely pur- Review for Religious sued, agapeic Christianity and gnostic Buddhism will be mutually complemented and enriched in an integration of compassionate wisdom that could transform the plight of the oppressed poor and of our threatened environment. Pieris's more recent Fire and VVater: Basic Issues in Asian Buddhism and Christianity (Orbis, 1996) further expands on these liberation themes. Current Contributions Such informed exchange between Catholic and Buddhist monastics continues to proliferate in current publications. Three particularly impressed me when I recently surveyed the literature. 1. The Ground We Share: Everyday Practice, Buddhist and Christian (Shambala, 1996) is a conversation between Zen roshi Robert Aitken and Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast, edited by Nelson Foster. Their dialogue begins with everyday practice rather than with philosophical and theological concepts. The result of their intense and lively conversations was to uncover the com-mon ground of meditational experience that gives hope for fruitful exchanges between Christianity and Buddhism into the future. 2. In The Silent Dialogue: Zen Letters to a Trappist Abbot (Continuum, 1996), David G. Hackett corresponds with sev-eral Trappist monks of St. Joseph's Abbey in Spencer, Massachusetts, dur-ing the 1970s, particularly Abbot Thomas Keating. Mter Hackett's conversion to Catholicism, he set out on a two-year stay in Japan, where he experimented with how Zen practice could deepen his Christian prayer and spirituality. Abbot Keating proved himself a knowledgeable and astute guide in his comprehension and inte-gration of Eastern ways to Christian prayer, as we might have sus-pected from his own writings. 3. The Gethsernani Encounter: A Dialogue on the Spiritual Life by Buddhist and Christian Monastics (Continuum, 1997) captures the voices of some twenty-five Buddhist and twenty-five Christian monks and nuns in a discussion of their contemplative traditions Christians can learn from Buddhism, integrating their own prophetic teaching of love with the Buddhist mystical appreciation of wisdom. Januaty-Febtwa~y 1999 Bernadicou ¯ Catholic Guides in Dialogue at an historic meeting hosted by the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky. The Dalai Lama, who first suggested the conference, also recommended that it be held at Gethsemani in memory of Thomas Merton, whom he had met just before Merton's untimely death while attending a similar Buddhist and Christian monastic exchange at Bangkok. Though scholars in the field of spirituality were present, the focus of the convocation was more expressly on the everyday practice of meditation and prayer in the two tradi-tions. What steps help to progress in meditative enlightenment? What does each tradition have to contribute to our profound human yearning for an encounter with ultimate reality? What can we say and how must we respond to the compassionate wisdom with which this encounter enlightens the seeker? Prescience and Continuing Hope Just before his tragic demise in 1968, Thomas Merton stated in the Temple of Understanding meeting in Calcutta: "I think we have reached a stage of [long-overdue] religious maturity at which it may be possible for someone to remain perfectly faithful to a Christian. commitment and yet to learn in depth from, say, a Buddhist or Hindu discipline and experience." Few realized at the time how prescient this provocative comment would sound nearly thirty years later at the 1996 Gethsemani gathering. Review for Religious BARBARA VALUCKAS Lithuanian and American Sisters: A Lively Inter°active Dance Lithuania, the geographical and cultural gateway to east-ern and central Europe, was the first Soviet republic to declare independence from the Soviet Union just as the last decade of this century began. Almost immediately, American sisters of Lithuanian birth or descent, and American sisters from other ethnic backgrounds as well, went to Lithuania to knit bonds of friendship with women who had been cut off from the, world of women religious during five decades of military occupation and brutal repression of the Catholic Church. Going in response to requests from the Lithuanian congregations,. they were sponsored by the Office to Aid Eastern and Central Europe, of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops (NCCB), by the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR), by the Hilton Fund for Sisters; and by many other organizations including their own congregations. The sisters gave canonical consultation on the adap-tation of constitutions, assisted in the formation of the Lithuanian Conference of Mfijor Superiors, gave pro-grams of theological updating and ongoing formation, and conducted retreats and days of recollection for sis-ters who could barely remember what these were. In Barbara Valuckas SSND wrote "Lithuania: A Return to My Ancestral Home" for our May-June 1995 issue. Her address is Pilgrim Ministries, Inc.; 9 Academy Hill; Watertown, Connecticut 06795. Januao,-l~¥btvtary 1999 Valuckas ¯ Lithuanian and American Sisters the early days of this lively dance, the Lithuanian sisters encour-aged their American counterparts to take the lead although their United States partners learned innumerable steps from them. By 1997 the dance was well along, but the partners were begin-ning to shift places. In January 1997, while I was in Lithuania conducting a program evaluation, the president of the Conference of Major Superiors described plans for the first Congress of Lithuanian Sisters, to be held the following August. When I asked her about the main purpose of the congress, she' replied in two simple but profound words, "We exist!" To be able to affirm this after experiencing decades of efforts to exterminate religion and religious persons from Lithuania was a touching testimony to the deep faith and high courage of the Lithuanian sisters. Some months later, those of us who had worked with the sis-ters in Lithuania received invitations to attend the congress as guests. The invitations were addressed to "you, who have walked with us from the beginning." Our joyful response to this invitation brought us to Kaunas, the old capital of Lithuania, to be enthusi-astic onlookers as the Lithuanian sisters celebrated their own dance of survival and hope for the future. The theme of the congress was "the past, the present, and the future." The president of the Conference of Major Superiors, who had herself experienced years of surveillance by the KGB, recounted the sisters' sufferings during the years of occupation. One of her most startling revelations, however, was this: At the beginning of the occupation, there were seven congregations in Lithuania; at the end of the five decades of attempted annihilation, there were twenty-four! Some of this multiplication was due to the success-ful efforts of KGB infiltrators to fragment the existing congrega-tions, but much of it was due to the clandestine formation of new congregations. God provided for the future of the church through the courage of women who received their entire formation in secret. The several hundred sisters who attended the congress included older sisters who had entered established congregations before the occupation, sisters who had entered existing or new congregations secretly during the occupation, and sisters who had entered the various congregations since independence. These three groupings have had very different experiences of religious life, and yet they face together the challenge of bringing religious life in Lithuania into the future. Review for Religions This will mean facing and moving through the problems of the present. The speakers at the congress were very honest in naming these problems. They are not very different from the ones facing women religious in the West, although the historical context and hence the resolutions may be somewhat different. Some of the main issues identified by speakers at the congress were public wit-ness, community life, and just compensation. Public Witness As in the West, the sisters in Lithuania are grappling with the question of what it means to give public witness. At this point, much of this issue is being discussed in terms of the religious habit. Almost all of the sisters attending the congress wore habits even though they had not ordinarily done so. That is, as an American sis-ter of Lithuanian origin pointed out to us, most of the congregations had never worn habits because they had been formed during the occupation, when habits were forbidden. When Pope John Paul II visited Lithuania in 1993, however, the sisters were asked to come to their meeting with him in the cathedral wearing habits. So the sisters created habits on the spot and appeared before the Holy Father wearing them. They wore them again for the congress. The bishops who were present at the congress and some of the sister speakers expressed the wish that the sisters wear their religious dress at all times. It is worth noting that, unlike the sisters in the West, the women religious in occupied Lithuania were forced to give up their habits and their ministries overnight. Their change to sec-ular dress had not come about from reflection on the Vatican II documents and on the relationship of religious life to culture. By forcing the religious to put their habits away, the occupiers made the church virtually invisible overnight. Now the church hopes to regain its visibility, and wearing the habit or not is a central question. It will have to be resolved from within the lived experi-ence of the Lithuanian sisters, although they have been very inter- As in the West, the sisters in Lithuania are grappling with the question of what it means to give public witness. January-February 1999 Valuckas ¯ Lithuanian and American Sisters ested in learning from the sisters of the West how the habit issue wasrdealt with and resolved. Community Life o Along with their habits, the various congregations lost their buildings, their communal spaces, overnight. Many religious women were forced out onto the streets and lived there or in fields or barns until they were able to find work and lodging. All through the years of occupation, they lived in little flats with one Or two other sisters or with relatives and friends, wherever they could find a place. Now, although somd of the congregations have begun to get their property back from the government, many are still without a common space. Some of the sisters are afraid to form communities again because they have forgotten how to live com-munity life. Others are eager to try it, but feel the need for help in the skills of building community together. The middle group of sisters--those whose formation was clan-destine-- is numerically the smallest; this leaves the elderly sisters and the newest members trying to negotiate a common life :across the barriers of age and extremely different life experiences, Some of the speakers at the congress referred to these cross-genera-tional tensions and pleaded for patience and more effort to deal with them in the process of building community. A special difficulty faces the sisters who have not received' their property back or who never had common property to begin with. The elderly sisters in these congregations live in tiny flats scattered around the cities and villages. They are often dependent on the younger members for both financial support and physi-cal care. It is not uncommon for young sisters to finish a day's work only to begin visiting the individual elderly sisters, bathing them, shopping for them, and providing for other needs of theirs. These younger members are also expected to contribute their services to the growing ministries of a church that has emerged from the underground and seeks to make its voice heard ~in the culture once again. While these conditions are not directly com-parable to conditions in the West, assuring that younger mem-bers have time and space for their own formation and are not unduly burdened with maintenance issues is a Western concern as well. This situation is related to another issue narried by the Lithuanian sisters. ~ Review for Religious. Just Compensation Now that the church is free to operate in the open, the sisters are expected to give time and energy to parish ministries, catech-esis, and so forth. This is usually in addition to their full-time work in the secular economy, which provides the sustenance they and the elderly members in their care need. Speakers at the congress acknowledged the heavy burden placed on the sisters because, to date, their work for the church has gone largely uncompensated. Some speakers indicated that questions have been raised among church officials about why sisters need salaries or pensions. All of this would be very familiar to sisters from the West. Common Questions, Other Questions, Other Steps Given the similarity of the issues facing women religious in both East and West in spite of their cultural and historical differ-ences, one would assume that the dance that began at the begin-ning of this decade could go on for a long time, growing more unified as it moved into: the future. This, however, may not be the case because other dancers have moved into the space in an effort to change the dance into another kind of movement. Some of this change of step has come into Lithuania in the form of newspapers and magazines that portray women religious and reli-gious life in the West as quite degenerate. Some has come in the form of living persons. In informal conversations at the congress, some of the Lithuanian sisters spoke of making a retreat during the summer at which the retreat master gave considerable time to frightening descriptions of religious life in the West. The Lithuanian sisters heard, for example, that sisters in the West had no prayer life and that they had boyfriends. These insinuations had the effect of sowing doubt and suspicion even in sisters who had had very pos-itive experiences of the American sisters who had worked with them directly. Some of the bishops and sister speakers at the congress were quick to warn the Lithuanian sisters about negative influences from the West, especially about feminism and about failure to adhere to the teachings of the church. That some of these warnings came from the very leaders who had invited the American sisters to attend the congress may be a sign of the confusion and ambivalence toward the West that is Janua~y-Febtvlary 1999 Valuckas ¯ Lithuanian and American Sisters In every multicultural dance, there are tensions and always the danger of stepping on one another's cherished values. becoming more prevalent, not only in Lithuania, but in other countries of eastern and central Europe as well. One sister speaker exhorted the Lithuanian sisters to cling to the values of their own religious heritage and not to "turn jewels into stones." Although the majority of the grass-roots Lithuanian sisters begged'us to return to continue sharing experiences with them, seeds of doubt and uncertainty had been sown in their hearts by their own lead-ership. Since the years of occupation and Soviet-style education conditioned most Lithuanians not to trust anyone, these seeds may be falling on soil that is still receptive to doubt and mistrust. An example of this occurred during and after the congress. Speakers represent-ing both the bishops' confer-ence and the superiors' conference stressed the serious need for Lithuanian sisters to be trained in the skills of spir-itual guidance and spiritual formation of others. In fact, the sisters who had attended our workshops in earlier years had, in their evaluations, requested training in these skills. Yet our offer to pro-vide this very kind of assistance with highly trained sisters from the United States was met sometimes with polite silence and some-times with suspicious questions. In such circumstances, it is only natural to wonder about the future direction of the dance. In every multicultural dance, there are tensions and always the danger of stepping on one another's cherished values. It is clear that the Lithuanian sisters need to find their own way, a way that is true to who they are. They need to be able to say "We exist!" not just about their survival through a difficult past, but also about the present and the future. Part of that existence, however, is going to be in an increasingly interde-pendent world. If the "We exist!" is for the future, it may mean enlarging the phrase to "We exist together!" The fact that the Lithuanian con-gregations were able to move from relying on their own congre-gations to creating an intercongregational formation committee is a sign that, given time and trust, they have the inner resources to Review for Religious move to a larger "we." The initiation of this intercongregational committee had, in fact, been inspired by the intercongregational nature of the teams of American sisters who had come to work with them. The Lithuanian sisters quickly saw that a larger "we" was not only possible but very rich in its possibilities for a happy sharing of many various gifts. We sisters from the West, on the other hand, need to keep remembering that our "we" is not the only "we" in the world. We need to be willing to look at the fears and suspicions about us. To the extent that they are justified, we need to allow ourselves to be called to conversion of heart and life. To the extent that they are not, we need to live with integrity and truth and to search patiently and mutually for new dance steps. Perhaps it is in our conversion of heart together that the Spirit will lead us all in a new dance of interdependence. Dispossessed Who believing would not hope? the child asked herself, dismantling in one stroke a holy triad. But stay, time-taught. It always does. Faith came easy. She was born believing unseen worlds. ¯ And lo~? Without it, there'd be chaos. As for hope? That limpid bird fled, sickened with the weight of errant expectation-- until finally the woman lay down and cried and cried and cried and cried-- while faith and love held hands and waited. Maryanne Casey Hannan .Tanaa~y-Febtvtao, 1999 ANN WHITE Serpents and Doves:, The Company of St. Ursula I n Quebec City, high above the St. Lawrence River, some eligious women live behind a cedar fence in a convent, sup-posedly set apart from the world. Yet the world of New France, as it existed nearly four hundred years ago, comes to them every single day in the persons of innumerable Amerindians. Who could possibly tell where these women's religious life leaves off and worldly life begins? We divide life into the sacred and the secular, and have done so since the 16th century, when Reformers who thought and prayed under dull northern skies became 'disengaged from the ideas of Renaissance painters and explorers and princes of Europe's sunlit south. Ever since, we have distinguished the worldly--rev-elers and artists and livers of free lifestyles--from religious peo-ple who go to church, pray, do good works. This division blurs the truth about people in both categories, sacrecl and secular. Consider the Company of St. Ursula, a boldly daring 16th-century Roman Catholic women's community. In the Ursulines' lives, religion and worldly adventure mixed inseparably. But Ursulines do not appear in secular books that tell adventure sto-ries. Ursulines show up in books about religion, written in sober words that mask the daring quality of their thoughts and acts. The Ursulines first caught my attention in Quebec City, where their convent has stood in the Rue Donnacona since the 17th century. As I gazed at the convent's faqade, I wondered why Ann White has a Ph.D. in history and teaches at the Edmund Burke School in Washington. Her address is 5130 Connecticut Avenue, N.W., apt. 203; Washington, D.C. 20008. Review for Religious any woman would give up cultivated, comfortable French life for the frigid wilderness of Quebec. My guidebook said the nuns came to found a girls' school. Everyone knows the name of Samuel de Champlain, the explorer who established the first French settle-ment at Quebec City, but how many know the name of the woman who started the first girls' school in the Nev~ World? She was Marie Guyart, member of the Order of St. Ursula, who arrived in Canada from Tours, France, in 1639. Her name fails to appear in books about explorers' and pioneers' adventures because those are "secular" stories. Yet Marie Guyart was a pioneer. Starting a girls' school anywhere in the 17th century was a pioneering act, and starting a school in the New World for girls of warring Amerindian tribes required a large dollop of pioneering bravery. Not only Marie Guyart's physical bravery impressed me, but also her idea of adventuring in unknown spaces. She had never traveled outside the Touraine region of France, yet as she sat in her convent she pictured herself in what she called the "vastitudes" of New France. "My body was in our monastery, but my spirit was tied to that of Jesus and could not be enclosed," she said. What did she know about Canadian vastitudes? Practically noth-ing. She had never heard the word "Canada" until four years before she departed for its frosty landscape. But being enclosed within four walls of a convent in Tours did not prevent her from imagining herself founding "a -house for Jesus and Mary" in an unknown land across a vast ocean. Marie Guyart acquired her expansive, daring cast of mind from her Ursuline company, who inherited it from their founder, Angela Merici. As much a child of the Italian Renaissance as Christopher Columbus, Angela Merici founded the Ursulines just forty-three years after Columbus's first voyage. Columbus, says one of his biographers, combined Christian faith with an impulse toward expansion. We ignore the faith, concentrate on the expan-sion, and place him in our secular category. Angela Merici pos-sessed the same Renaissance combination of faith and expansiveness as Columbus, but we ignore her expansiveness, con-centrate on her faith, and pop her into our religious pigeonhole. Angela Merici did not found the Ursulines until she was in her sixties. A farmer's daughter from northern Italy, she spent years working with a group of lay Christians to relieve misery brought to Brescia, a city near her birthplace, by the French inva-sion of Italy. She helped to organize orphanages and refuges for January-February 1999 White ¯ Serpents and Doves prostitutes, and she worked in a hospital for incurables, the only hospital that would accept Brescia's increasing numbers of syphil-itics. By the time Angela Merici traveled to the Holy Land around age fifty, her skills at helping the sick and the poor were well known--so well known that, when she stopped in Venice on her way home from Palestine, the city fathers asked her to remain there and organize charitfible works in their city. She said no. Furthermore, she left Venice immediately, so that they could not ask the archbishop to command her to stay. Soon afterwards she went to Rome, where once, again there came a request to borrow her skills. This time the pope himself, Clement vii, who asked her to remain and organize charitable works in his city. Surely this was an offer that Angela Merici could not refuse. Any "religious" woman would say yes to the pope, would she not? Angela Merici said no. Her Renaissance mind fit no pigeon-hole. She went back to Brescia to formulate a vision as expansive in its own way as Columbus's vision. Her company of women, named after a 3rd-century patron of young scholars, would be the first Christian company dedicated to instructing young girls. They would also tend the sick. These female teacher-work(rs would live in the world. No medieval convent walls would constrain them; they would freely walk the streets of north Italian cities from Milan to Venice. This Ursuline plan ignored religious/secular categorizing. Though Angela Merici never met her contemporary Martin Luther, her mind grasped the same idea that his mind grasped, a very old Christian idea, that the church's lay people--worldly, sec~ ular people--hear God's call as clearly as the clergy, the church's religious people. Angela Merici created an institution that blended the religious and the worldly. A young woman joining the Company of St. Ursula would pledge herself to virginity, but she would not live in a convent and she would not wear a habit. She would live at home with her family as she taught girls and tended the sick. Before Angela Merici's time, young women faced a stark, secular-versus-sacred choice: they could marry or they could enter a convent. Angela Merici's Ursuline plan gave them another option: pursuing useful work in the world while maintaining a religious identity. Habits of religious pigeonholing make us see Angela Merici, with her piety and good works, as blandly "religious," while we ignore her extraordinary worldly shrewdness. Not only did she Review f!~r Religious have enough sense of her own purpose to spurn a pope's offer, not only did she single-handedly offer devout European young women a new vocational opportunity, but she also obtained a papal decree permitting members of her company to hold a dowry from their families just as securely as if they were marrying or entering a convent. Moreover, her Testament for the Ursulines' four-woman board of directors shows she understood that her young women would face changing circumstances in the future: "If, according to times and needs, new rules should be made, or any change introduced, do it prudently and with good advice." It was with such worldly sagacity that Angela Merici deployed her Christian faith in 16th-century Italy. She shows us what Jesus meant when he told his disciples they needed to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Angela Merici's "religious" accom-plishment is incomprehensible without an understanding of her "secular" insight. ~ As her Ursulines spread throughout northern Italy and into France over the next half century, people with a pigeonholing men-tality-- churchmen, parents of Ursulines, and Ursulines them-selves-- changed the company's organization into something more recognizably religious. When Marie Guyart became an Ursuline in 1631, less than a hundred years after the first Ursulines signed their names in a book in Brescia, she entered a convent and, she donned a habit. The Company of St. Ursula, contrary to Angela Merici's vision, by Marie Guyart's time had become a religious order like other religious orders. Yet even in a convent Marie Guyart shared Angela Merici's expansive Renaissance spirit as she thought about the danger of dying from hunger and cold or at the hands of Canadian savages. These considerations, she said, made "no change at all in the dis-position of my spirit." "Secular" explorers like Champlain were plainly not the only people in 17th-century France who dreamed great, daring dreams. In New France (whose soil she kissed upon her arrival), Marie Guyart continued to live according to the rule of enclosure. She Angela Merici's Ursuline plan gave another option: pursuing useful work in the world while maintaining a religious identity. Januaty-Febt'uaty 1999 lq/'Isite ¯ Serpents and Doves This mixing of sacred and secular in the Canadian convent yard was part of Marie Guyart's theology. and her fellow Ursulines lived in convent buildings set within a large yard on the promontory overlooking the St. Lawrence River. They stayed within the yard's cedar fence, obeying their religious rule about not going out into the "world." But this enclosure was very different from the Tours convent for Marie Guyart: In New France the woodland world came to her: Algonquins, Montagnais, and Hurons; Abenakis, Nipissings, and Attikamegues; Iroquois girls sent by their mothers to learn the elements of the Christian faith. Twenty to fifty young girls lived in a boarding school that the Ursulines established within their convent walls. Amerindian men also visited the convent, for a meal or for instruction or simply to find out what went on there. Marie Guyart wrote, "I see generous and brave captains on their knees at my feet, begging me to have them pray to God before they eat." Moreover, this mixing of sacred and sec-ular in the Canadian convent yard was part of Marie Guyart's theology. She not only wel-comed inhabitants of Canada's woodland world to her convent, but also saw her savage Christian converts as every bit as religious as those labeled religious, the Ursulines and Jesuits in New France. "A savage confesses just as well as a reli-gious," she said. The Jesuits emphasized how hard it was for Amerindian Christians to behave the way they thought Christians should behave; Marie Guyart saw in them the full capacity for Christianity. The converts' devotion, she said, reminded her of the Christians of the early church. So what do these moments of Ursuline history--the lives of Angela Mericiand Marie Guyart--show us? That enclosure in a convent is bad? That the Ursulines-were more progressive than ,other Catholic groups because at first they spurned convent life? By no means. Ursuline history shows us Christian life without religious/secular categories: Angela Merici taking advantage of Renaissance Italy's expansive spirit to create an effective vehicle .for faith; Marie Guyart joining Christ among the Amerindians while living in a convent. Jesus did not say, be a serpent or a dove, choose between the secular and the sacred. He said, achieve worldly wisdom and reli- Review for Religious gious innocence, both at the same time. The famous figures who lived five hundred years ago, at the birth of the modern age, do not fit our narrow classification scheme of religious versus secular. Emperor Charles v was as much a man of faith as he was an effi-cient 16th-century ruler. Martin Luther was as much poet as priest--so much the poet that, in the judgment of one Reformation historian, if he had lived in another age he would have produced an epic rather than a new church. Michelangelo's art fused his awe of human beauty with his awe of the greatness of God. Nonetheless, we are in the habit of relentlessly classifying these people--the "religious" writer, the "secular" politician, the "sec-ular" artist--missing the breadth of their persons and the com-plexity of their accomplishments. Not so rigidly fixed in our minds as these famous figures, Angela Merici and Marie Guyart will fly right out of their religious pigeonhole if we let them. The two Ursulines were wise enough to take advantage of Renaissance Europe's expansive spirit, faith-ful enough to take big risks for Christ. Their lives overmatch our narrow categories of secular and sacred. Each was worldly and religious, both serpent and dove at the very same time. "But you, who do you say that I am?" (Matthew 16:15) Not in wisdoms Echoed from borrowed minds, Nor in quick phrases Caught and snatched and etched On today's tongues, Not even in the warm whispers Patterned on a mother's speech, A teacher's truth, A prophet's cry. Who do you say that I am When only you are left to form the words? When only I am left to listen? Suzanne Mayer IHM JanuaL'F-FebruaO, 1999 XAVIER PLISSART The Art of Discernment: The Aesthetic Dimension In this paper I discuss what I call the aesthetic dimen-sion of the art of discernment. I want to show that dis-cernment is an attempt to enter into the original divine creative dynamism for the whole of creation. This attempt is itself a creative activity aimed at realizing creation's original harmony. Since the whole of creation shares the same source and is directed towards the same goal, discernment should ideally be a striving towards communality. Consequently, a basic and essential qual-ity of discernment is that it should strive to be as com-mon as possible in its insight and process, and as universal as possible in its aim toward action. Theological Foundation Creation The initial insight for spiritual discernment is that God is active in our world, that creation is dynamic. The original goodness that God imparted to creation is more a life than a state: divine life continues to be breathed into the whole of creation. Essentially, discernment is a matter of seeing more accurately where and how this Xavier Plissart M_Mr has done formation work and taught in various African countries. He is currently attached to the Centre de Recherche et de Documentation Africaine. His address is: Bukavu, R~p. D~m. du Congo; B.P. 333, Cyangugu; Rwanda (Africa). Review for Religious divine "inspiration" is operative. The effort to see this depends upon our having the faith conviction that God's creativity in our regard is a genuine invitation to participate in divine life, an invi-tation that recognizes the full validity of creation's "otherness." The faith insight above applies to the totality of creation. Everything created proclaims in some way the fullness of divine life. But the proclamation acquires a special significance when we turn to. humans beings, for it depends upon their receiving an invitation to proclaim God's life and their conscious responding to it. Created in the image of God (imago Dei), we in turn become creative through our free response. We have the imagination (in Hebrew, yetzer) that makes it possible for us to integrate our actions in the flow of divine creativity, or not. Consequently, it is important for us to discern and decide how we shall orient our life and direct our actions. Context and History Divine dynamism has been at work in creation from the begin-ning, and human consciousness, responding in various ways, has shaped our world until the present day. We must, therefore, be fully conscious of the past. Discernment always implies looking back (if we use visual imagery) or listening (if we use acoustic imagery). God's conversation with the world and with humankind results in what we live and experience today. At the most personal level, St. Ignatius Loyola advises retreatants of the Spiritual Exercises to examine regularly the content and flow of their spir-itual life and life of prayer. Many religious persons and commu-nities today have gained great benefit from what is called "life review" to see God at work in their own history. It is also common practice now to try to "read" the "signs of the times" to see the underlying current. Believers find God at work, but unbelievers alike may discover the dynamism of creative energy with which they want to connect. Believing that God has been and is active in the world, we see, too, that we have the creative potential to go with or against this divine activity. In the Spiritual Exercises Ignatius describes in detail how one can become aware of inner movements that are aligned with the divine plan or that militate against it. This takes place in a context of faith and in an atmosphere of prayer. His analysis of consolations and desolations has served as a guide for many. Recently, however, spiritual writers have felt the need to widen the Plissart ¯ The Art of Discernment field of application. When we become more keenly aware of all the areas in which the Spirit of God is at work, it becomes evident that we must try to widen our horizon if we want to obtain a more accu-rate idea of God's action, a wiser discernment. Consolations and Desolations Revisited Ignatius himself implicitly recognizes the need for an inter-personal attentiveness to the Spirit when he advises that discern-ment should take place with the guidance of a spiritual director. Today we would include here the validity and even necessity of discussing the matter with one's spouse (if one is married) or a uniquely close "soul friend." An uneasiness in the friend or spouse might be a sign of desolation, and both persons would do well to become aware of it in the effort to find the will of God. Ignatius speaks of taking into account the position of the church. If with Vatican ~I we see the church as the people of God, our attentiveness to God's presence becomes broader and much more varied. Tensions in a community could well be interpreted as "desolation," or gratuitous excitement as false "consolation." We could and should make use of the well-developed techniques of group dynamics and see how a discerning insight might help us to perceive more clearly whether the movements animating a par-ticular group are from God. The vision we speak of here comes from faith; it can be of advantage only to individuals and groups that genuinely want to follow the Lord. Similarly, in discernment we do well to explore critically the meaning of divisions, resentments, estrangements, and insensi-tivity within ecclesial structures and institutions to see how these "motions" speak to us of God's creative or challenging activity in our world. Can we say that controversies on, say, contraception or feminism have nothing.to tell us about the divine activity in our world and in the hearts and minds of God's own people? I believe that an unwillingness to see the significance of such "movements" would represent a dire lack of a discerning spirit. Jon Sobrino, Enrique Dussel, J.B. Libanio, and others have shown clearly how, as we find ourselves confronted with a theol-ogy of domination, we must take into account the sociopolitical reality in order to make a valid discernment. The option for the poor which theologians of liberation advocate is not just another theological position. It is the result of a careful reading of the core message of Jesus in its relationship with the social reality. Review for Religions As the Quakers tell us, the "light of God" is also present and active beyond the confines of the circle of Christian believers. Indeed, this was also recognized in the documents of Vatican II. So we will have to .learn to discern how God speaks through the political debates of our present age, through intercultural struggles, through the economic and ecological issues of our world, and through people's search for a cosmic spirituality. Would we not say that people's uneasi-ness when faced with news ¯ items depicting poverty can be a sign of "desolation" calling for conversion and a change ¯ of heart? Would we not say that people's fear of an atomic disaster can~ be understood as a sign of "desolation" in a world which gives priority to war over peace? Would we not say that the renewed interest and practice of meditation of all kinds is a sign of "consolation" in a rediscovery of the importance of the inner world? The first, step in this reflection has brought us to the conclu-sion that, if we truly believe that God's Spirit. is indeed active in the world and if our aim is to integrate our decisions and actions as perfectly as possibly into this creative dynamism, then we will have to widen considerably the scope of our attentiveness to the divine presence. Our discerning of God's ~vill seems ~to bring us much further than it used to, well beyond the realm of personal spiritual life. No more can we think of attaining holiness through a private imitation of Christ (see Castillo). What we have examined is the first aspect of discernment, the "listening" element. It corresponds to what is called in Ignatian spirituality the "discernment of spirits" and also, in the Quaker tradition, to the simple prayer meeting. The regular practice of such discernment helps people to be more aware of God's pres-ence in their life. But it should also help friends or groups to a vision of where God is leading them communally. It can give us an insight into God's guidance for the church, for society, and indeed for the whole world. Acquiring such a common insight will be of great advantage in tackling the second aspect of discernment which we examine below. Tensions in a community could well be interpreted as "desolation," or gratuitous excitement as false "consolation." January-FebtvtaD, 1999 Plissart ¯ The Art of Discernment Anthropological Foundation: How Do We Decide? The Point of Entry Insight into the divine activity is not just an academic exercise. We have already indicated above that it has a very clear purpose. We do not "listen" to the voice of God simply to admire its har-monic quality. We want to add our voice to the symphony. Peters clarifies the distinction between discernment and elec-tion, but goes too far when he says that "the method [of election] is a way of finding the will of God, and has nothing to do with dis-cerning movements" (p. 30). Our insight into God's creative activ-ity inevitably challenges us to a response. Thus we seek not only to hear God's voice, but to discern God's will. This becomes a direct call. The general inspiration which we have discerned ini-tially takes shape gradually and becomes a specific invitation. This is where we move from a "discernment of spirits" to a process of election: we are faced with alternatiyes, and we have to make a choice. What is happening is that we become aware of a krisis, a fork in the road. This requires a diakrisis: deciding which way to go. The process of decision is always situated existentially, and it is good, indeed important, to know the path that has led to it, the approach to the point of entry. Ignatian spirituality has clarified the process itself, but has not specified precisely the scope of what to consider. In the Spiritual Exercises lgnatius's guidance in the pro-cess of election seems to be directed mainly to an individual mak-ing a decision about his or her future state of life. But commentators indicate that the principles are not restricted to such instances. Since Ignatius and his companions use similar prin-ciples for many of their decisions, it would seem that the process of election is applicable to all levels of human decision. This is indeed to be expected if we are fully aware of divine invitations at all levels of human activity. So we have to widen the scope here also. The most obvious level of decision making is that of the con-scious self. It concerns an action for which .one will be directly and personally responsible. But not many decisions, if any, are totally private. So the interpersonal is nearly always present in decision making. It is then a decision that affects those who are involved in a relationship, and we would expect that the process of discernment would implicate all participants. Decisions concern-ing close friendship and marriage are good examples of this, and Review for Religious one can widen the scope to community decisions, family deci-sions, and so forth. The moment of decision, the need for discernment, may not be obvious when persons reflect and discern purely as individuals, but may become obvious on the social level and then brought down to the personal. Good examples of this would be an eco-nomic crisis or a population crisis, each with its repercussions on the life of the community, the family, and the individual. Still wider areas of decision may involve cultural changes, religious or institu-tional sclerosis, or natural disasters. These will require decision-making processes that have a wide place of entry, but do not ignore personal elements (which are never absent). In these areas Ren~ Simon's reflection on the relationship between law and discernment is helpful. The process of election will be very different, but the basic elements will be these: insight based on some interpretative belief, examination of the challenge by means of dialogue, and proiection towards the realm of action for assess-ment and choice. With regard to the charismatic role of discern-ment in relation to institutional sclerosis, Ladislaus Boros makes the following interesting remark: "The charismatic and underiv-able aspect is essential to the church, .for God has never retired, as it were, in favor of the official ecclesial administration. Nor has he abdicated in favor of the guidance of the Holy Spirit given to the higher and highest instances of.the church. God himself is the Spirit [see Jn 3:8] blowing 'where it listeth,' [blowing] alike on children and idiots, the poor and simple, and theologians of all kinds" (p. 78). Clearly we are dealing here with a widening continuum. Division into sections is arbitrary. Yet there appear to be both an inner limit to this continuum and an outer one, limits beyond which we seem to lose control. At the inner limit we enter so deeply into the self that the processes become unconscious. The creative dynamism is still active, but escapes our grasp. Eastern religions (Hinduism and Buddhism) and perhaps certain forms of Christian mysticism situate our connection to the absolute at this level. At the outer limit we grope toward the immensity of the cosmos and fail to grasp it. This time it is the far heavens that are beyond us. Within these two limits we can set the realm and scope The interpersonal is nearly always present in decision making. Januaty-Febrnaty 1999 Plissart ¯ The Art of Discernment of responsible praxis, the point of application of the process of discernment leading to action. The Question of Universality We are now becoming more aware that any discernment in a process of election has repercussions at all levels. Wherever. the stone may fall, it creates ripples over the whole surface of the lake. Decisions involve the same universal creative dynamism, and they have effects that resound through the whole realm of responsible praxis. This would seem to make the task of discernment abso-lutely daunting: What attitude, then, can we take? Many spiritual writers indicate that discernment does not lead to certainty. This is something we must accept at all stages of the process. We try to examine God's creative and dynamic presencefin our life, in the life of others', in our society and culture, in the world as a whole. But our point of view is inevitably limited. We try to take into account the flow of our own life from the moment of birth, or the flow of history in our communal, eccesial, or social context, but we cannot see the whole picture. Then when a prob-lem occurs, when the moment of decision arises, we try to situate ourselves in this picture, to ga~ther all possible data that might be relevant, but we can see only a few elements and have.,to be con-tent with that. We want to listen to as many people as possible because each one can give us a useful insight into the light of God that illurfiines our search, but there is always more light beyond, which we cannot fathom. We do not want to be biased; we want to be "indifferent" and try to avoid undue influences from our own background, from our s6cial or physical environment, and so forth, but we cannot extract ourselves from our own existence. We may try to see the consequences of a certain decision so as to make a better assessment, but we can see only that far, and no further. Clearly we cannot take everything into account. One rather unsatisfactory way in which this problem has usu-ally been solved, at least at the practical level, was to look at the process simply from its point of entry. For instance, if the issue was to decide about my own vocation, I would simply examine what my decision on this should be in the context of my life, and leave other decisions to be made by others, for example, church offi-cials, parents, civil authority, and so forth. Or, if the issue involved natural science--whether, for example, .to continue to develop nuclear technology--scientists would limit themselves to the sci- Revibw for Religious entific possibility and expediency and leave civil rulers to decide on the social consequences. In a sense there may be a vision of faith in such a position. If each person decides validly within his or her restricted level of insight, can we not trust the original cre-ative dynamism to realize the harmony that is its aim? Perhaps. But I believe that the above position has far too often been interpreted in a minimalist way. I believe that it is defeatist and dangerous. I believe that a true vision of faith will require of us that we try to achieve as wide a scope as possible. Therefore, at the close of this paper I would like to advocate a maximalist inter-pretation of the question I raised in the previous paragraph. The Criterion of Harmony Common Discernment Spiritual discernment and discernment in view of making a decision according to the divine will have always been considered an art. This is an implicit acceptance of the tentative value of the conclusions that are reached. But at the same time it points to the totality of impact of any decision within the whole creative flow. Our attentiveness to God's voice in our life and in the world cannot be restrictive. It must always tend to its widest possible scope. Only then can the full impact of divine creativity be recog-nized and accepted. The search for the divine will in any particular instance, and the attempt to discern which course of action would best coincide with that divine will, must situate the process of examination as widely as possible. I emphasize that it is" in the measure in which this is attempted and achieved that the dis-cernment will be a valid one and that global harmony will be fos-tered. Some examples will show this more in detail. A young woman aware of God's presence in her life, believes she is called to serve God in a special way. She enters a process of discernment to find out whether and how she should respond to such an invitation. Clearly, at least three groups will have to be involved in her discernment process to make it valid. First, she will have to consult with family and friends. The decision would Our attentiveness to God's voice in our life and in the world cannot be restrictive. January-February 1999 Plissart ¯ The Art of Discernment change not only her life, but also their relationship with her. Second, the new group she wants to join will have to be part of the discernment too, since the decision means that the group will or will not go through the change of integrating her into their circle. Third, the discernment will involve the church in which the com-mitment would be made, since her decision will occur in that con-text. Traditionally, each group of people would make their own dis-cernment and, if no consensus was reached, the final say would be settled through the exercise of authority. Yet it seems evident that a greater harmony could be achieved if each group would in some way participate in a common process of discernment. The young woman can dialogue with family and friends about her pos-sible vocation. She can dialogue with the new group to see how her decision would affect her and them. Members of the group can meet her family and exchange opinions on the project, church officials could speak with representatives of the group about the decision, and so forth. If each participant is genuinely searching for guidance from above, the. decision-making process itself and the outcome of it will foster harmony among these people. Such coop-eration will witness to divine creativity at work. Another example. A local religious community wants to decide whether to continue its insertion into a depressed urban area or take on another responsibility. Traditionally, they go through a process of discernment as a group while their superiors also con-sider the decision. Though the local church community might be implicated in the decision, it might not be consulted. When groups arrive at opinions separately, tension easily arises if and when sep-arately formed opinions do not coincide. Here again a common discernment process--at various levels according to possibilities-- would undoubtedly foster harmony: Let the local religious group and the local Christian community meet and exchange on the pro-ject. Let superiors come and .discuss the issue with the local reli-gious community. Let all persons in the several groups be given a chance to go through their personal discernment process in dia-logue with each other. Let the local church authorities dialogue with the group of religious and with the local Christian commu-nity, and so forth. Let the participants allow, in each of these encounters, the Spirit of God to illumine their hearts and minds through the contributions of others. Thereby they will witness to. God's creation of, respect for, and empowering of people who Review for Religious have wonderful differences among themselves. In doing so they will certainly create harmony. A final example. A number of homeless people have occupied a derelict building and are now threatened with eviction because the area must be transformed into a recreation ground. The home-less people refuse to leave. Some local pastors support them in the name of the gospel. The local politician is under pres-sure because the potential inv

Issue 55.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1996. ; Revi for Retig ous i, a fo .m for shared res ea on on the lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practical, or inspirational, written from a tbeological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis UniversiD, 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@SL UVCA.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 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 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. ©1996 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 religiou$ 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 JULY/AUGUST1996 *VOLUME55 *' NUMBER4 contents 342 symposium - part 3 Religious Life: Directions for a Future Albert Dilanni SM reviews three stages of religious-life renewal and sets forth those areas for future efforts. 365 expanding vision Internationality: Consciousness Raising and Conversion Janet Malone CND highlights six stages of consciousness raising in the process of a religious group's becoming purposefully international. 373 Toward Multiculturalizing a Religious Community Finian McGinn OFM presents the challenge of multicultural diversity in religious-life communities and some directions towards resolution. Review for Religious 388 396 new life It's Summer! A Letter to Young Religious Robert P. Maloney CM encourages those who are young to enjoy and use well the gifts of this summertime of life. Emerging Forms of U.S. Religious Life Marlene Weisenbeck FSPA identifies the motivations and the relationships between charism, mission, and ministry in the formation of new communities and styles of consecrated life. 414 425 340 431 436 witnessing I Guess and Fear Donald Macdonald SMM suggests some clarity points in the midst of current confusions in religious life. Force of Habit William Jud Weiksnar OFM reflects upon the sign and symbol value of the simple brown tunic of a Franciscan. departments Prisms Canonical Counsel: General Chapters: Current Legislation Book Reviews .~uly-August 1996 prisms FVhenT/~7 is "enough" enough? It is the common question: Did you get enough to eat? enough to drink? Is the room warm (cool) enough for you? Enough is a hard concept to define in our practical living. If people's perception of their own worth as persons is tied up in their work, when have they worked long enough or hard enough? Some people find it difficult to turn over responsibility to others or "to retire." Enough seems not to have a place in their vocabulary. Others at a younger age let work consume their days and evenings and weekends. They, too, seem oblivious to the possibil-ity of freely chosen limits. We have heard the phrase "get a life" and we know that it can be a criticism to the quick for such people. Besides questions of food and drink and work and rest, enough plays a similarly difficult role in determining security. When are there more lights outside and more locks and alarm systems than we need for reasonable secu-rity? When do we have enough money for travel and its surprises and emergencies? When is there enough money put aside for care of the elderly--others or ourselves? The danger with a money-focus is, as Jesus describes in a story, that our barns are never quite big enough to hold our piled-up wealth. When we consider healthcare in the industrialized countries, we find again the difficulty of knowing when enough medical care has been called upon and when we are moving into extraordinary and sometimes minimally enhancing medical procedures. The subtlety of enough allows us morally to steer our way between the always immoral assistdd suicide and the decision to refuse any extraordinary means to prolong life. Review for Religious For each of us, in our uniqueness, to know how to live enough and move enough and have being enough remains a rich grace-gift to be prayed for. We call the gift which helps us to say "enough" Christian discernment. To be a person who discerns demands that we be people attuned to the working of God's Spirit in our lives. Discernment is not a process of decision making that we stir up on a moment's whim. When we think of people (per-haps including ourselves) as being attuned to God, we mean that they have a serious and ongoing relationship with God in prayer and in reflecting on the Scriptures and God's workings in the world. Such people find themselves growing in a sensitivity, as all lovers do, to the ways of seeing, the desires, and the ways of acting of the one loved. That kind of sensitivity is the power source of our Christian discernment. Because sensitivity is involved, it is not something we learn by rulebooks although Jesus reminds us that "I have come, not to abolish [the law and the prophets], but to fulfill them" (Mt 5:17). As we can appreciate, the process of discerning is not a sometime thing that we can blithely manage at short notice unless we are sensitized lovers of God. The dailyness of prayer and Eucharist are privileged ways for us becoming lovers growing in sensitivity. Today we seem to live with the question of Enough? in many areas of our lives, and our personal decision about enough does not come easy. We need to enter deeply into our Catholic faith and experience Jesus' promise of "another Paraclete." Yet there is one instance of enough which remains a paradox. Can we ever grow enough in God's love that our sensitivity for discernment can say "enough"? David L. Fleming SJ NOTE: On our inside front cover we provide our E-mail address. For some of our domestic and international subscribers, it may give convenient and helpful access to our editorial office. ALBERT DI IANNI Religious Life: Directions for a Future symposium part 3 Today we often hear a question seldom asked before Vatican Council II: "How is it going with your congre-gation?" And We know immediately that the questioner is interested in vocations. Nearly always the answer is: "Quite good in the third world, but bad in the first world." After thirty years of renewal efforts, the average age of most congregations founded before the 20th century is in the 60s for male l~eligious.and in the 70s for female reli-gious. Patricia Wittberg speaks of "catastrophic decline," "collapse," and "probable demise," and Markham, of "mas-sive denial." In the 1960s religious women in the United States numbered over 200,000. They have suffered a 55 percent decline and now number about 90,000. Given their average age we can expect further decline. Male reli-gious have suffered a decline of over 30 percent. We can hedge about these cold facts, but they are a cause for deep concern. A moderate decline in vocations would be man-ageable, but such a steep decline demands that we ask searching questions about the process of renewal. There are disparities within the vocation situation. In the first world, some communities are attracting significant numbers of candidates. They are the newer communities like Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity and the Albert Dilanni SM last wrote for us in September-October 1993. He is now superior of the Marist novitiate, Our Lady of Mercy, at 15 Notre Dame Avenue; Cambridge, Massachusetts 02140. Review for Retigio'us Legionaries of Christ. In Mexico the Legionaries are referred to as the. new Jesuits and are subjected to criticisms similar to those launched against Jesuits in an earlier age. (A new group with a similar name, Cruzados de Cristo, has sprung up in Mexico and is enjoying similar vocational success.) The Fellowship of New Religious Communities had sixty-three new Catholic congrega-tions on its 1993 mailing list. There are at least two dozen oth-ers) Most of these groups are traditional in theology, but creative in developing community structures and prayer forms and in their integration of the laity. Even in the third world, vocational growth is not homoge-neous. The .main areas of growth are sub-Saharan Africa and parts of Asia, especially India and Indonesia. Brazil, on the other hand, is either stable or on the decline. The crucial factor seems to be that the churches of Africa and Asia, often surrounded by strong Muslim groups, tend to be more "conservative" of classical Catholic practices and spirituality, while the Brazilian church more than all others has adopted liberationist tendencies. Three Stages of Renewal I believe that we are in the second' phase of a three-step pro-cess in the renewal of religious life since Vatican II. The first step was the explosion immediately after Vatican II, an explosion pro-voked not only by the council but by the secular cultural revolu-tion. It was a time for rejecting all categories and trying to live in the in between. It was a time'of high experimentation in theology and lifestyles, of reexamination of all institutions including the family, traditional morality, and etiquette. In religious life we moved away from whatever seemed rigid, artificial, and stiflingly traditional, in favor of what seemed more dynamic, new, and life-giving. No longer defensive regarding the democratic ideals of the West, we sought to integrate them into our congregational existence. We dismantled structures that were in place for cen-turies, emphasized interpersonal dialogue and individual needs, decentralized authority, created leadership teams, redefined poverty, chastity, and obedience, abandoned institutional aposto-lates in favor of small-group work with the poor or the marginal, and reinterpreted community in terms of sharing quality time together. It was the best of times and the worst of times. It was a time of great creativity especially in the founding of new types J'ul),-./lugust 19~6 Dilanni ¯ ReligiousLife The second stage of the renewal, is the time of the winnowing fan, the stage of sober reassessment. of apostolate--Joan Chittister often stresses this and women's role in it--but also a time of great confusion, of loss of identity, of abandonment of loyalties, of many departures and few arrivals, of decline in morale and fear of the future. The second stage of the renewal, in which we presently find ourselves, is the time of the winnowing fan, the stage of sober reassessment. Recent books and articles from all "over the ideo-logical spectrum are calling for self-criticism and evaluation of the directions taken .by the renewal: Avery Dulles, Elizabeth McDonough, Joan Chittister, Patricia Wittberg, Martin Tripole, Mary Jo Leddy, Judith Merkle, David Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis, and on and on. Almos~ all urge a move beyond the individualism apparent in the so-called "liberal" model. They speak of the need of "common vision" and a "corporate sense" and "criteria by which the validity of their lives can be measured." The authors do not agree on the solution. Some call for a deeper retrieval of the community's charism (if it has a charism); others, for a real communal commit-ment to helping the poor and the oppressed; and still others, like MaryJo Leddy and Joan Chittister, for a move beyond liberalism to something even more radical or revolutionary. The third stage in this renewal process will be, I believe, a time of greater peace, when the good features of the new have been institutionalized and its excesses discarded and Catholics once again view religious life as a way to follow Christ in a more literal way. In this symposium, however, we are still at the stage of sober reassessment, discussing whether we need to shift into a new gear and or just stay on cruise-control. I approach this challenge not in despair but in hope, a hope that arises out of reading the his-tory of religious life. Before the French Revolution (1789) there were 300,000 male religious "in Europe. Forty years after the Revolution this number had decreased by more than two-thirds to 70,000. But in the 1830s a great revival began. Some 600 new Roman Catholic religious congregations were founded in the 19th century, more than at any other period, and the actual number of religious attained historic new heights. The Jesuits, who had been suppressed from 1773 to 1814, flourished as never before. A similar reflowering is not impossible in our time. Review for Religious o The contemporary crisis of religious life has been very deep. It is related to the .attempt to restate the Christian faith for an age called postmodernity. We have been adapting with great strain to a new kind of need for God, not a God of the gaps who fills in for the weaknesses of science, but a God at the center of life, a God who provides depth of meaning and answers our ultimate concern. Directions for a Future: Background Considerations ., George Aschenbrenner SJ felt that in my 1994 book I had set down criteria that might guide a reevaluation of the renewal and an effective move to the future.2 So for the present symposium he assigned me this topic: What are the criteria for judging whether a .proposed change of direction or structure in religious life will be a profitable change? What are the signs of a good change? I have interpreted his question as asking: In what directions should we move, and why? But, before we can entertain the question of directions, some background considerations are necessary. First, we must realize that the theological backdrop to religious life has shifted dra-matically. Up to thirty years ago, all religious, irrespective of their style of life, shared a theological consensus that dated back to the early church. Whether they were hermits, monks and nuns, medieval mendicants, apostolic Jesuit-type religious, or religious of the newer 19th-century type, all religious viewed themselves as primarily engaged in saving souls, their own and those of others. Christianity in general and religious life in particular were given a mystical and eschatological interpretation and were concerned with union with God and "the four last things." Intellectual activ-ity and teaching and care of the sick were important, but were subordinate to a concern for eternal salvation, the "one thing necessary." Since Vatican II, however, chinks have appeared in this higher unity, this sacred canopy, and basic questions have been asked about the meaning of Christianity and the place of religious within it. While the media and some religious focus on controversial issues of church polity like clerical celibacy and women's ordination, the deeper questions are: How should we conceive of our relationship to God? Does salvation begin on earth? What is the meaning of the kingdom of God? Within the mystical-eschatological emphasis, the dominant metaphor for women's congregations was that of becoming a ~uly-Aug~st 1996 Dilanni ¯ Reli~ous L~e "spouse of Christ." To some people of today, this may seem intol-erably sexist, patriarchal or "kyriarchal," but the image contains a core of meaning valid for both men and women. It underscores the need for an affective union with Christ and with a personal God. Mystical language was its common coinage. Commentators spoke of "spiritual marriage" and "transforming union." Many books were written about progress in mental prayer, contempla-tion, and the three stages of the interior life. Today a hunger for spirituality is still alive among religious, witness the popularity of directed retreats and the Ignatian Exercises. It is part of what David Tracy calls an "amazing resurgence in spirituality.''3 Nevertheless, our consuming interest has been elsewhere. Whereas previously religious sought to move outward from a deep interiority, we have preferred to begin with exteriority. Like behaviorists, we have been convinced that action shapes hearts and that congregational renewal would come from movement into relevant apostolates that reexpressed our charism. The "spouse of Christ" model was criticized as a "beautiful soul" spir-ituality, and its practitioners were compared to birds preening themselves. Salvation was brought down to earth, and holiness was linked with wholeness--becoming a well-integrated person-- and with service to others. "Crazy" saints like Philip Neri (who did outlandish things out of humility) were out. The fasting of Catherine of Siena and others has been understood as "holy anorexia" (Rudolph Bell's term), a subconscious protest against male domination. Unless mortification was relational--a sacri-fice involved in one's work for others--it was conside~'ed unhealthy. Better to work for and with the poor than to fast in adoration of God. As a result, a new metaphor for religious life replaced spouse of Christ. It was the image of the prophet at the cutting edge of social and political issues,, breaking new ground in the liberation and humanization of peoples, especially through systemic change in favor of the poor and oppressed. After the Jesuits' dramatic shift toward faith and justice, the charisms of most other active congregations, no matter how diverse, were suddenly found to center on these same concerns. The Roman synod of 1971 called social justice a "constitutive" part of the Christian apostolate, and many interpreted this as meaning that it was to be a necessary component of each apostolate. Most recently, however, a reac-tion has set in. Jesuits like Avery Dulles and Martin Tripole, while Review for Religious agreeing .that social justice should be a fundamental concern of religious life, resist the notion that it is an essential ingredient of each Jesuit apostolate. It is now reported that even Pedro Arrupe SJ, its principal protagonist, had second thoughts about how it was absolutized.4 Strangely, the metaphor of religious as social prophet did not attract numbers of vocations, certainly not in the first world. Marie Augusta Neal admits this and attributes it to fear of its inherent difficulty and risks. But, historically, danger did not deter but rather whetted the appetite of people intent on the religious adventure. Nineteenth-century missionaries like St. Peter Chanel boarded rickety ships on precarious one-way trips lasting eleven months to preach to peoples who had not yet emerged from can-nibalism. Could the resistance to the new prophetic stance be due to something other than fear? Could it be that, however admirable, it is not perceived by Christian consciousness to be at the center of the religious project? In what follows I will set out three directions in which we must move in future efforts toward renewal. The first two are sociological and could apply to almost any social group or cor-porate entity. They are actually dialogues with Wittberg and with Nygren and Ukeritis, whose studies I find revealing. The third direction is theological and addresses some of the questions just raised. Directions for a Future The first direction: An effective religious community must be visible. Recent authors have sounded the alarm that religious life, especially among women, is disappearing as a visible corporate entity, as an institutional presence. Joan Chittister writes that religious communities have "done a great deal to foster the prophetic individuals in their midst," but "at the same time, they have done very little to function as prophetic groups.''5 Elsewhere she dramatizes: "Religious must ask themselves what they stand for as a congregation and who knows it, because if nobody knows it we don't stand for it." She continues: "When we stood for edu-cation, health service, and the care of innocent children, everyone knew it. When we stood for insertion of Catholics into the white Anglo-Saxon world, no one called that political, and everyone knew what we were about, Religious congregations stood as bul-j~ uly-dug~st 1996 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life warks against ignorance, illiteracy, disease, abandonment, and secularism. We turned our resources in those directions. Now we have the best-educated groups in the world, each member of which is regarded with professional respect, and the most invisi-ble congregations.''6 " This is an important point that should guide future planning. If as religious we desire truly to influence others and attract new candidates, we cannot act as disembodied spirits, noncorporeal freedoms, anti-institutional angels. We must witness not only as individuals but as a collective unity. And to do so we must be vis-ible as a collective unity. Clearly, religious were more visible as members of a group when they worked in institutional commit-ments and wore an identifiable religious habit. When they left these institutions and took on secular jobs in social service, when they declined the habit and were absorbed into the crowd, they tended to lose corporate impact of all kinds, even the new one of being socioreligious prophets. "The more its members became unidentifiable," says Wittberg, "the more difficult it became for any order, as a corporate entity, to fulfill its newly defined prophetic role.''7 Another major cause of the current invisibility of religious congregations has been our readiness to embrace contemporary democracy's postmodern move toward absolute egalitarianism and nonelitism. Eager to abdicate every hint of triumphalism, we have become levelers. This is seen in the way we have interpreted Lumen gentium's universal call to holiness, which, according to Wittberg, hit like a bombshell and robbed religious of a sense of distinctive identity. It had this effect because theologians and reli-gious interpreted it politically rather than theologically or spiri-tually. "We are all called to holiness," said the commentators, emphasizing the word all, as if the point of the doctrine were to rule out all talk about more or less effective roads to holiness or about religious life being a way of perfection aspiring to something higher. But is the political point the central thrust of the decla-ration? Should we not place less stress on the "all" and more on what we are all called to, that is, holiness? Should religious not be less worried about standing out (or failing to stand out) and more concerned about redoubling their efforts to achieve holiness within their life and lifestyle? In fact, what happened was that the idea of striving for personal holiness dropped out as the cen-tral concern for religious. Review for Religious The reason for this overemphasis on the political may be due to the church's relative inexperience with democracy and moder-nity. In her sociological study of religious orders; Wittberg con-tends that the 19th-century religious congregations, sharing the restorationist mentality of the church, never really came to grips with the modern thrust toward liberty, fraternity, and equality. Rather, these congregations retreated into a fuga mundi (flight from the world), reinstated 17th-century practices, and lived in a time warp for years. In America this was exacerbated because most religious sprang from and ° worked in isolated immigrant subcultures. It is perhaps because of this that, when Vatican II opened the doors, the congre-gations went overboard in their embrace of the new forms of participative democ-racy. We eagerly adopted its absolute horror of distinctions for fear of elitism and played down all differences between religious and laypersons. As a result we vanished as visible corporate groups purporting to be on a different road to holiness.8 But can this continue? Can the concept of religious life long endure in an atmosphere of hyper-egalitarianism? Would reli-gious life ever have sprung up at all if some persons did not desire to be different and follow Jesus in a more literal way? Wittberg describes religious life as a form of virtuoso or (less frequently) heroic religiosity. Practitioners of virtuoso religiosity are those within a religion who want to go the extra mile. They want to create a zone of intensity within the field of holiness. They p(r-ceive themselves as different and, to some degree, as exemplars. Prospective virtuosi come together, says Wittberg, "in the expec-tation that their participation will help to maintain some collective good--the health and welfare of the destitute, or the conversion of heretics, or even the establishment of a utopia of saints on earth that can serve as a beacon to others.''9 Christianity and other religions have always spawned such virtuosi. Luther dissolved the vows of the monks and declared everyone equal in the quest for holiness, but soon Protestantism was crowded with Pietists, Mennonites, and Anabaptists. Later it was the Shakers and today the Pentecostals. Recently, new virtu-osi groups have mushroomed Within Catholicism: the Legionaries of Christ, the Missionaries of Charity, the Lion ofJuda, Les Fr~res We must witness not only as individuals but as a collective unity. July-August 1996 DiIanni ¯ Religious Life de. St. Jean, the Opus Dei, the Neo-catechumenate, the Focolare, the Sant' Egidio community of Rome, Comunione e liberazione, and so forth. All model themselves on the early Christian com-munity in Acts or the seventy disciples commissioned by Jesus (Lk 10), both of which seem to represent Christianity lived in its highest purity. Like the early Christians, these new groups believe that forming Christians is not easy, but requires being challenged to live one's baptism; requires a formation process, a "way" (some form of RCI& program), a sustaining community, and a partici-pative liturgy. We must accept the fact that as religious we desire to be dif-ferent and follow Christ in a distinctive way. If we are to influence others, to witness as prophets, our commitment must be in some way public and Visible. If this is perceived as a higher way, so be it. Chalk it up to diversity. We cannot blur all distinctions out of a fear of elitism. All groups that aspire for something more are in danger of elitism and must be warned against it, but their enthu-siasm should not be crushed. Members of religious congregations purport to live their Christianity in a way that is differently orga-nized, more regulated, more intense, and at times more difficult than that of other Christians. They will have an impact on oth-ers to the degree that their sacrifice is real and their corporate witness is visible. Whether through all this they always succeed in becoming men and women of God is another question. The second direction: Effective religious community should be inten-tional as opposed to merely associational, and this demands a transcen-dent corporate goal and adequate commitment mechanisms. An intentional community is a community with a purpose for the sake of which members are willing to make significant sacri-fices of their individual preferences. Examples are sports teams and the military. An intentional community is different from an associational community, which admits a plurality of goals and calls for a lesser degree of sacrificing of individual preferences. Intentional communities have a strong sense of direction. This is due to at least two things: a transcendent corporate cause and a set of commitment mechanisms, that is, common sacrificial prac-tices that reinforce commitment at a level deeper than rational persuasion. We will consider these two elements in turn. A transcendent corporate goal: Discussing visibility, we have already dealt with the need for a goal, for being clear on where the Review for Religious group stands. Here I make the further point that the goal must be one that transcends the community itself. I say this because some authors seem to believe that the goal of a community can be inter-nal to ~the community itself. Edwin Keel and Susan Beaudry, for example, propose a third ruling metaphor for religious life, beyond those of the spouse of Christ and prophecy. For them, religious life is best presented under the image of a journey together toward God. They maintain that "what religious have been seeking, whether they realize it or not, and what religious community can offer, is neither surrogate family life, nor friendship, nor the intio macy~of small groupings, but faith companionship on the spiritual journey." 10 They describe the common spiritual journey in terms of a discovery of one's personal vocation before God and an integra-tion of it with that of others. Spiritual maturity is achieved by getting in touch with what Jung calls the Self, which lies deeper than the ego and is the place where we truly meet God. The old perfection model of holiness with its rigid rules tended to flat-ten individual differences and to foster immaturity. The journey image with its new and democratic skills--province assemblies, mission statements, corporate reflection processes, confrontation techniques (all now permanent parts of religious life)--may seem messier, but is psychologically healthier. Community life is like a family going on a trip in a crowded van, constantly negotiating, sometimes bickering, always arriving, never reaching. Some of these spiritual-journey elements are valuable; but I wonder whether the journey can be the dominant metaphor of religious life. Does it not tempt us to remain in an associational model of community, which, to believe tl~e experts, does not endure beyond one generation?I' Does it not come too close to what Gerald Arbuckle has called the "therapeutic" community? Can it generate the needed intensity and direction? For all the benefits of psychology, are not psychological self-absorption and an overly intense regard for the internal aspects of community part of the cause of our present decline? Wittberg says, "'The dominant language of religious life., shifted from theological constructs to social and psychological paradigms,' that were inad-equate to explain what was distinct or desirable about the lifestyle."~2 This has gone so far that in some congregations com-munity members who desire entry into a new local community must first present a written evaluation of themselves from the July-August 1996 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life community they are leaving. In other congregations the .concern for personal autonomy and consensus has at times resulted in the election of effete leaders at the local level. Is there nota middle ground between the not-in-touch-with-their-feelings religious of the past and some present-day religious who have become too self-involved as individuals or as community? In order to form an intentional community, people must come together for the sake of a cause that transcends both themselves and their experience of journeying together. A clearly articulated spiritual or apostolic vision and ideal must draw them on. Each member must partially relinquish his or her personal, vocation in favor of the vocation of the congregation. One's personal project must be trimmed in favor of the community proiect, Older reli-gious tell stories of pioneer days in schools and hospitals when they roomed together in classrooms and toiled almost slave hours. They may stress the pain and suffering, but from the glee with which they tell the stoW we know they would not have exchanged it for the world. Their reward lies in having been part of some-thing greater thanthemselves, protagonists together in a great religious adventure. Commitment mechanisms: Historically, intentional religious groups have been sustained in their resolve not only by clear tran-scendent goals but also by a number of practices that sociologists call commitment mechanisms. These are practices, customs, or rituals that reinforce motivation by solidifying the affective ties between the members. Sociologist Benjamin Zablocki contends that the commitment mechanisms discarded by congregations after Vatican II were actually essential for community survival.~3 The primary types of commitment mechanisms were first developed in the monasteries and then adapted to other forms of religious life. They are (1) common rules and rituals, (2) boundary maintenance, (3) shared sacrifices, and (4) mortification practices. 1. Common rules or rituals include the daily horarium and schedule, spiritual exercises, meals :in common, reading at meals, and grand silence. They are found in the constitutions and in books of customs. 2. Boundary-maintenance mechanisms Fiave the purpose of maintaining a clear distinction between members of the group and other people. Examples of such mechanisms are: wearing a common habit, living together in cloistered convents, bestowing new names, and reducing the visits of family and outsiders. (Today Review for Religious the lack of vocations has spawned the phenomenon of associative membership, which renders the boundaries more fluid and lessens the sense of identity. Most recently commentators are beginning to bemoan an excessive fluidity. Their plea is that such a religious congregation cannot long endure unless there is a strong core group of full-fledged members who are strongly distinguished from others.) 3. Shared sacrifices arise out of involvement in common works of the congregation. Historically there was no stronger source of cohesion than shared sacrifices in behalf of an institute's common apostolates. 4. Mortification practices include such customs as culpas, the chapter of faults, receiving monition, fasting on certain days, taking the discipline, wearing a common habit, and wearing a veil. These worked to strip off an old identity in favor of a new one and in the process helped to cement people into a higher unity. In reviewing these mechanisms I am in no way advocating a return to all or to any of them. On the other hand, religious life cannot prosper without some structures that reinforce motivation at the affective level. To move beyond individualism we need to invent common rituals and symbols that speak to us at the level of the subcon-scious. We cannot build community by teaching a charism only conceptually while leaving it to each member to embody it in his or her own way. If our religious life has no face, our communities will end up being only comfortable hotels. In replacing outdated commitment mechanisms, we must employ new psychological insights and provide adequate room for personal differences. But these new mechanisms must have some relation to past ones. In creating them we must carefully study the older structures to see what purpose they had in the mind of the founder, to discover what aspect of the charism they expressed. The new structures must be more suited to our times, but they must also connect with and incarnate the charism and spirituality of the institute. The role of the superior is a commitment mechanism of tra-ditional religious life that is not often mentioned. We must admit, People must come together for the sake of a cause that transcends both themselves and their experience of journeying together. ~dy-AuKtwt 1996 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life however, that nothing worked better to reinforce collective unity than Mother Superior. The traditional superior, especially when he or she was also the founder, was considered a voice of God. Today, conversely, some 75 percent of religious communities of women have no superior in any traditional sense. Mother Superior has been replaced by the "director" or "animator" or by a "lead-ership team." Such language, it seems to me, confuses two dif-ferent realities, authority and leadership. The first is the attribute of an office; the second, the quality of a person. In some congregations the role of superior has been largely taken over by an appointed middle-management bureaucracy with tendencies to perpetuate itself.~4 One sister has written to me say-i. ng, "Our best leaders are in our cemetery." Without desiring to turn back the clock, I ask: Was there a resonance present in the traditional role of superior that has been lost? If past superiors were legalistic and overbearing, were the best of them not the true spiritual leaders that We still hanker for? Were they not per-sons who loved the congregation and its charism and knew how to stir hearts and shape a vision? Commitment mechanisms are making a comeback in the new congregations and in the new lay religious movements in Europe and Latin America. The Neo-catechumenate, for example, invites members into a "way" (camino), which comprises certain distinct steps, a kind of RCIA for Catholics, through which each mem-ber must pass before they are considered "formed Christians." Some of their techniques involve confrontation and mutual crit-icism. New seminaries using Neo-catechumenal techniques, all called Redemptoris Mater, are springing up in many parts of the world. The Sant' Egidio lay community of Rome invites its mem-bers to sung vespers and a commentary on the Scripture every evening. Many religious congregations use directed retreats and the renewed thirty-day Ignatian Exercises as a more personalized form of commitment mechanism. Other communities have intro-duced formal faith-sharing sessions, a kind of lectio divina in which members Ponder scripture passages or the constitutions together and then discuss them. Patricia Wittberg suggests that it might be profitable to explore the new religious movements to see how traditional Catholic frameworks for "religious virtuos-ity are being reworked, whether consciously or unconsciously. ¯ in order to address the assumptions and values of the late-20th-and early-21 st-century American culture." 1~ Review for Religiou~ Visibility, intentionality, a clear and transcendent goal, and some commitment mechanisms--these are the sociological aspects necessary to be effective as a group. For Wittberg, their lack has been the major reason why the new metaphor of religious as reli-gious prophets has not truly taken hold. Ithas failed to galvanize religious communities, she believes, because contemporary indi-vidualism and pluralism have been allowed to dominate religious life. As a good sociologist, she remains neutral with regard to the desirability of the new metaphor itself. I wonder, however, if this goes far enough. Are there not other and deeper reasons why the new metaphor of religious prophet has not really caught on? If prophecy means being on the cutting edge, the question remains: On the cutting edge of what? of politics? of social betterment? of all this, plus something more? I accept and welcome the model of prophecy, but I do question its content as expounded by many religious at the pres-ent time. I believe that the prophet must identify the deepest assumptions of the age and try to respond to its deepest hungers. Have we; aspiring religious prophets, truly engaged our culture at its deepest levels? This brings me to my third and last statement of direction. Third direction: Effective religious community demands a concept of prophecy that engages the surrounding culture at its deepest levels and responds to its most profound hungers. Wittherg and others believe that because of restorationism the 19th-century church and its many new religious orders did not come to grips with the problems of modernity. My question is: In the prophetic model as currently understood, do we do so even now? I concur with Nygren and Ukeritis, who say that those con-gregations will be revitalized that are "rooted in their relationship with God, and that, in a spirit of fidelity to their founding purpose and responsiveness to absolute human need, confront the current gap between Gospel and the culture.''16 1 agree with Chittister's formal principle that religious congregations must "release every-where in society, at every level, through every individual member, wherever the members are, and whatever separate things they do, the white heat of those congregations' charism in one great cor-porate mind and one easily seen communal heart.''17 We must engage the dominant first-world culture and do so as corporate .t~uly-August 1996 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life entities. We cannot run from it or remain indifferent. But, because we are religious, we must be careful to engage it at its deepest levels and not merely superficially. Historically, religious life flourished precisely when it was perceived as countering a culture's expressed values while answer-ing its deepest hungers. St. Francis of Assisi attracted followers, not because he was in conformity with his times, but because he challenged his times and in this way spoke to its heart of hearts. As we move toward the future, we must ask ourselves: What are the deepest hungers of our culture? Judith Merkle says that "the question which faces religious congregations today is what aspect of reality has the power to most deeply call us to life." 18. This is really the same question, for we are part of our culture, and our own deepest hungers will not differ much from those of the general culture. Some authors answer this question by insisting that we will be called to life by moving away from individualism and becoming a transformative community bent on creating a better world. In their eyes, the deepest need of contemporary culture is to achieve better rela-tionship with the poor, the oppressed, and the marginal; and this will be achieved by eradicating unjust social structures and oppos-ing oppressive ideologies like patriarchy, sexism, and racism. But is such a project sufficient? Is it at the center of religious prophecy? Is it where we address the deepest needs of our culture? Certainly, many of these ethical issues are important. They are a response to Gaudium et spes and in tune with the attempt of the-ologians to develop a more earth-centered interpretation of the kingdom. This new notion of the kingdom does not contradict the traditional view, but complements it. It asks us not to allow our desire for heaven to blind us to our duty to extirpate crass injus-tices in this world. In this view, the kingdom is not only a future heaven but the actual presence of God's power for transforming the world. So the religious project, the kingdom, has two loci. But, in many religious congregations, has the sociopolitical not become the solitary day-to-day focus? Is this not why the so-called prophetic model attracts so few first-world candidates? Have we not gone the route of liberal Protestantism, which in its social-gospel emphasis is fast losing ground to the Pentecostals and Evangelicals? In their nonparticipation and shifts of loyalty, are not lay Christians trying to tell us something? Review for Religious Can a religious congregation survive if its primary, all-inclu-sive goal is to solve complex and intractable social and moral issues? I doubt it. This is so especially when, in practice if not in theory, God is reduced to being a ground for human generativity or creativity in the social arena. Sociopolitical issues are impor-tant and can even be construed as religious in nature, but they are not at the center of the religious project. The center of the religious project is clear and simple: to affirm the existence and the love of God. This is true especially in our times, in which the major event has been the "death of God," the conviction that the idea of God is either meaningless or even detrimental. The first attitude comes from the side of science and the second from an existential-ist philosophy of life. The scientific picture as taught in many universities is one of a world that evolved by sheer chance from a big bang to con-scious, reflective beings. If through some. accident all conscious beings are destroyed, the Godless universe would be bereft of consciousness, and being would be a perpetual winter, In the sci-entistic worldview, sheer chance takes the place of God, and human life is voided of any objective meaning or purpose. Moral ¯ systems' become games contrived by human 'beings to bring about the maximal satisfaction of desires while avoiding conflict. The moral game is born of an enlightened egoism. For existentialists, following Nietzsche, religion must be ban-ished because it is repressive and life-denying and robs us of rad-ical freedom. It imposes an objective moral system that does not allow us to create values. We must choose between a life of free-dom and a God of enslavement. "Man dies at the touch of the Absolute," says Merleau-Ponty. One way in which existentialist atheism shows up in our culture is in its penchant for absolutiz-ing choice. No matter how dire the consequences, Americans will plump for choice on any issue. If there is no God, then each indi-vidual can be God, not only in general but at every moment and in every decision. This combination of scientific atheism and an existentialist absolutizing of individual power and choice has given rise, as Nietzsche predicted, to a sense of meaninglessness, to nihilism, to The center of the religious project is clear and simple: to affirm the existence and the love of God. July-August 1996 DiIanni ¯ Religious Life the banalizing of life, to the "unbearable lightness of being," The death of God has ushered in the death of man (and woman). Choosing and consuming, consuming and choosing, modern men and women are stranded on the anorexia-bulimia line--on the endless shuttle between fullness and emptiness." Is this all there is?" they ask. And many teenagers commit suicide or random murder, and others just keep on dancing. "Even more than athe-ism," says Walter Kasper, "the nihilism that flows from atheism is the real mark of the age."~9 This nihilism or voiding of meaning has its positive side. It is the modern expression of the hunger for God. It is in providing a lived response to this hunger that contemporary religious life will achieve its true prophetic role. Beyond all else, religious life must be a drumbeat proclaiming that God exists, that God's love for us through Jesus is unconditional, that it sustains us in suffering and continues beyond our death. The way for religious to engage the surrounding culture effectively is to witness that, far from crush-ing life, God alone gives it ultimate meaning and sense. I believe that at least two things must be retrieved by religious to help them achieve this truly religious end: interiority and, along .with it, an ardent desire to relate to the personal God who transcends the world. By interiorityI mean a new emphasis on the life of prayer and reflection and on being teachers of the spiritual life. Pierre Hadot, a French historian of philosophy, is influencing sophisticated the-ologians like David Tracy into bringing spirituality into the cen-ter of theology. He criticizes modern theology for its sharp division between theory and spiritual practice. Hadot insists that, unlike people of earlier times and of non-Western cultures, we Western moderns have not allowed theology to express itself in spiritual exercises. The old Stoics had spiritual exercises for com-ing into contact with the Logos, and this was one reason why Simone Weil loved the Stoics. The modern segmenting of the-ology and praxis--seen, for example, in the dropping of devo-tions since Vatican II--is one reason for the deep hunger for spirituality today. R~ligious must once again emphasize growth in personal holiness and speak to people about their experience of prayer, about their interior praxis with God. Our formation pro-grams must not fail to impart a sense that each person has 'a spir-itual life in which it is possible to make progress through prayer. Joan Chittister is correct when she insists that we cannot "confuse work with prayer, good intentions with the spiritual life:''2° Review for Religious We must regain a sense of the personal God who transcends the world, but with whom we can enter into intimate union. In a 1989 America article I spoke of our need to love God as well as our neighbor and said that the love of God cannot be totally expressed through neighbor love, Several weeks later, in a letter to the edi-tor, J. Robert Hilbert sJ wrote that "one must be careful" in draw-ing a distinction between love of God and love of neighbor. "God," he says, "is not an 'other' in the sense of a categorical object to be spoken of in parallel with other objects of my knowl-edge and love. It is rather precisely in God's transcendentality as the absolute Other that love of God and love of neighbor come together in a unique and necessary oneness.''2~ I do not know if such talk of God as the "absolute Other" does the job of maintaining the necessary balance between the immanence and transcendence of God. I am sure, however, that in their return to spirituality contemporary Christians are rebelling against attempts to blur the distinction between the love of God and the love of neighbor, even though both are absolutely necesshry and intimately intertwined. Classically God has been conceived of as higher than and dis-tinct from the world, a Creator who does not need us but who loves us even beyond our death and asks us to requite that love. In ~our effort to rethink the notion of God in a way acceptable to modernity, we must avoid the danger of turning God into some underlying catalyst for our doing :good, an ~lan vital or wisdom force. In the last thirty years, so many theologians liberationists, feminists, process theologians, all striving to develop an idea of a God who is intrinsic to our lives--may have fallen into just this trap, Have they not carried too far the idea that we are God's project for social betterment, that in some Hegelian way the Absolute is working through our creativity to achieve a world of peace and justice? I have two problems with the current political and this-worldly interpretations of the kingdom. The first is with the type of pol-itics it generally espouses, and the second with the primacy of politics itself. ¯ First, does not the particular type of politics espoused by some religious carry a great deal of questionable ideological baggage? A "politically correct" reading is .given to work with the poor and oppressed. The abortion question is often studiously avoided. Feminist publications of the most radical sort are taken seriously. 3~uly-August 1996 Dilanni ¯ Religious Life Environmentalism is fast becoming a new religion among some religious, while they fail to realize that it has become extremely big business filling many already fat pockets. A listening ear is not lent to the arguments of those who distinguish between good and bad ways of helping the poor, arguments presented in thoughtful books like Marvin Olasky's Tragedy of American Compassion. And yet anybody who is truly concerned about the poor should also be attentive to the ways in which, with the best of motives, we may be locking them into a perpetual victimhood. But, beyond these particular issues, I think there is an overem-phasis on the sociopolitical in general. Social justice and the fos-tering of the earthly kingdom is not the whole gospel nor even the center of it. The hunger for another justice beyond social justice is never altogether absent from the human heart, Social justice is important, of course, because it is the minimum, upon which an earthly Christian community can be built. When it is dramat-ically absent, we cannot remain passive. When it is dramatically absent for many years for great numbers of people, it can for a time even be a consuming passion. But we must be careful that the gospel not be totally reduced to it. For the fact remains that we die eventually and that no program of social justice exists that can prevent our death or provide meaning to our dying. Beyond social justice, the church must have something to say also, perhaps especially, to those who are about to conclude their earthly life.22 Most religious, no matter how radical their politics, do retain a strong belief in a transcendent and personal God and a faith in the resurrection of the dead. But often this does not appear to be the main focus of their life and action. Unsure of the existence~ of the devil, many religious are very adept at naming the demonic. They are sure that sin has changed and we now better understand what constitutes real sin and real virtue, Evil, they think, is not located primarily in personal sins of commission, but in 'political and economic structures and in the sins of omission that keep these structures in place. Along with this perception, they have the conviction that the new technological possibilities available to us bring new responsibilities. Thus, they are fond of repeating that, since it is now possible for the first time to feed everyone, we have a special duty to create political structures and delivery sys-tems to implement this possibility. There is doubtless much to be said in favor of this, but, religiously speaking, it contains little that is new. Systemic and structural change is simply a new aspect Review for Religious that the perennial Christian demand of love of neighbor and of the stranger has assumed today. There remains the caveat of humility: that we not think we possess the answers to complex structural problems of politics and economics and that we curb the thought that we can ever build utopia on earth. In spite ofmy theoretical recognition of social justice's impor-tance and in spite of my practical efforts, past and present, in behalf of civil rights and of the poor, I believe that, from a reli-gious point of view, the social project remains ,superficial. Metaphysically, it is ultimately uninteresting. Cornel West, the brilliant black theology professor at Harvard Divinity School, often discusses social issues on Boston television. One day he was especially aroused and ended his speech with: "My brothers and sisters, this is the real important stuf!!" I shook my head and thought: Millions of people are dead and everyone is going to die. How can a theologian give such ultimate importance to this transient consciousness show we call the world? I am more in tune with Wilfrid Duffy SM, a priest-poet friend of mine afflicted with Parkinson's, whom I took to visit Michelangelo's statue of Moses in Rome. Disappointed with Moses' worldly appearance, he wrote a poem called "The Death of Moses" which ends with these words: ~ There was no dirge-- Just hard marble, noble features, Well-spaced fingers and toes, a certain strength, and some magnificence. But no d~sert; no voice of God, Unless I was not listen.ing. Perhaps it was I who had died. In the sociopolitical vision of the kingdom as practiced by some, where is the magic Of Bernini's sculpture of St. Teresa of Avila in rapture with God? What is the meaning of fasting, prayer, personal mortification, the Eucharist, confession, the drama of conversion and grace, justification, of Jacob wrestling with an angel? Interiority and mystery seem to get short shrift in the cur-rent version of the prophetic vision, as do original sin and personal sanctification and, yes, even ultimate salvation. Have we learned the Marxist lesson too well? Annette Pelletier IHM asks some poignant questions in this regard. "Have any., of the adaptations since Vatican II pro-claimed to the people of God the basic message that grace works? yuly-August 1996 Dilanni ¯ Reli~ousLife Politics, justice, and even morality cannot be the absolute center of the religious-life agenda. What else will or can ever change the present identity crisis of consecrated persons and their various congregations into an opportunity for reform, revitalization, and renewal if not the power of Mystery to fascinate but also to convert? Has this pri-mal experience of the Judeo-Christian tradition fallen by the way-side?" She continues: "Since Vatican II, adaptation and renewal have bridged the gap between the world and the consecrated life, but of what metal has that bridge been forged? Could it be that in bridging the gap an essential element of the identity of persons consecrated to God some-how got lost? What credible and clear evi-dence do religious women and men give to show that contact with the Holy somehow, mysteriously, does make a difference?" She quotes Richard Fragomeni saying that "the Christian tradition ultimately stands in silence before the operation of grace, the wonder of surprise, and the movement of a power beyond that of human consciousness and performance.''23 To be truly prophetic in the religious sense, religious life requires an integration of these two points of view about the king-dom-- the mystical-eschatological and the sociopsychological-- both of which have their roots in the gospel. The first rightly stresses the need for a mystical union with God' in this life and the hope for ultimate union with God hereafter. The first com-mandment, said Jesus, is that we love God with our whole heart. On the other hand, the Jesus we meet in prayer and in the Scriptures is the very embodiment of a God of compassion. Jesus reveals that Yahweh is not a "generic" God (Brueggemann), but a God who is interested in justice. To be involved with the God of Jesus is to be involved with the poor and the marginal of this world. We cannot be satisfied with urging them to suffer in the hope of an eternal reward in heaven. And yet secularism remains the deepest problem of the dom-inant culture, and it is at the center of the religious project. It is in grappling with this aspect of our culture that religious ,;rill truly and most deeply engage it. The deconstructionists are hard at work trying to be rid of all "metanarratives," and the pragma-tists are banishing any attempt to ground any~statement as true, A valedictorian at Harvard recently said: "At Harvard they teach Review for Religious you that you can hold any value you want, as long as you don't hold it to be true." Television is not far behind. It continues to dis-place the deep and serious with celebrity, with hi-tech gossip, and with the tolerance morality of the talk shows. I strongly applaud Joan Chittister's suggestion that we must be corporately visible, but the principal goals she sets--educating the world about °the new social questions of the age, about sexism, racism, the environment, and multiculturalism, about the whole agenda of political correctness--all remain at the level of politics and sometimes debatable politics. There is justice and justice. Politics, justice, and even morality cannot be the absolute center of the religious-life agenda. But coming to grips with an atheis-tic secularism can, for it is a directly theological and religious issue. What is more countercultural, to say that we are going to save planet Earth or to say that Jesus rose from the dead and that this makes all the difference? Which answers our deepest and most ultimate concerns? Which, metaphysically speaking, and which, from a religious point of view, is more interesting? Perhaps the last thirty years of religious life have been fruit-ful after all. With T.S. Eliot we may be able now to cease our exploration, return home, anddiscover the place for the first time. For in thirty years we have changed and perhaps only now have the wisdom to plan a renewal and a future. In our planning for the 21st century, can we not truly join action and contemplation, this-worldly love and the inystical-eschatological--envisage, that is, a close friendship between oneself as prophet and oneself as spouse of Christ? And can we not then send them both off on a splendid quest that we might call, according to the metaphor Qf Keel and Beaudry, "a journey together toward God"? Notes * See Patricia Wittberg, The Rise and Fall of Catholic Religious Orders (Albany: SUNY Press, 1994), p. 269. 2 See Albert DiIanni, Religious Life as Adventure (Staten Island: Alba House, 1994). 3 William R. Burrows's interview with David Tracy in America, 14 October 1995, p. 16. 4 See Martin R. Tripole, "The Roots of Faith-and-Justice: Critical Assessment," Review for Religious 54, no. 5 (September-October 1995): passim. s Joan Chittister, "Religious Life Today: Response to Kerkhofs," Religious Life Review 32, no. 4' (1993): 203. Dilanni ¯ Religious Life 6 Joan Chittister, "Religious Orders," National Catholic Reporter, 18 February 1994, p. 16. 7 Wittberg, Rise and Fall, p. 239. s The findings of Nygren and Ukeritis also seem to confirm that the flight to democracy was not well thought out: "Assumption~ regarding the applicabilit~ of democratic forms of governance to religious life were made with little or no conversation regarding the appropriateness of this move. Centuries-old notions of obedience were dismissed and replaced with concepts such as ,listening to the Spirit' which, while challenging, lack a history of experience to provide a context that produces consis-tency in form or process" (David Nygren and Miriam Ukeritis, The Future of Religious Orders in the United States [FORUS] [Westport, Connecticut: Praeger, 1993], p. 240). 9 Wittberg, Rise and Fall, p. 27. ,0 Edwin L. Keel SM and Susan Beaudry PM, "Journeying to God Together," Review for Religious 53, no. 3 (May-June 1994): 441. 1, See Elizabeth McDonough, "The Past Is Prologue: Quid Agis?" Review for Religious 51, no. 1 (January-February 1992): 82, and also Wittberg, Rise and Fall, p. 193. ,2Wittberg, Rise and Fall, p. 256. 13 See Wittberg, Rise and Fall, p. xi. 14On developments of this sort, see Elizabeth McDonough, "Beyond the Liberal Model: Quo Vadis?" Review for Religious 50, no. 2 (March- April 1991), pp. 172-173 and 176-177, and her "Past Is Prologue," pp. 79- 82. In the latter article she is using material from Patricia Wittberg, Creating a Future for Religious Life (New York: Paulist Press, 1991). ,s Wittberg, Rise and Fall, p. 270. ,6 .Nygren and Ukeritis, FORUS, p. 244. ,7 Chittister, "Religious Orders," p. 16. 18 Judith A. Merkel, Committed by Choice (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1992), p. 54. ,9 Walter Kasper, The God of Jesus Christ (New York: Crossroad, 1986), p. ll. 20 Chittister, "Religious Orders," p. 17. 2,America, 2 September 1989, p. 127. 22 It is unjust to ask some to struggle to the death for a future utopia to be enjoyed only by others in the future. Even the Marxist philosopher Theodore Adorno was exercised by this problem and insisted that there must also be a justice for the dead. 23 Annette M. Pelletier, "Fascination with the Holy--and Conversion," Review for Religious 53, no. 4 (July-August 1994): 562-563,565. Review for Religious JANET MALONE Internationality: ConsciousnessRaising and Conversion nternationality in religious congregations has a price, and .l. congregations that in recent years have called themselves inter-national are now in the various stages of conversion requisite to being purposefully international or what Catherine Harmer has called intentionally international. At this point it is important for them to keep their eyes open to internationality's richness, for the changes and conversion that are requisite to being truly interna-tional bring the difficulties--the price--very much to the fore. Ways of Coping Change can be scary, and becoming an international congre-gation has been quite difficult for many communities, to the point where certain resistances have surfaced as ways of coping with this new "crisis." In working with such congregations, I have noted various ways of coping. Some groups want to downplay the full connotation of internationality in its mission sense of supra-nationality even when in fact, with acceptance and incorporation of some different cultures and nationalities, a new congregational culture has already come into being that, in many ways, goes well beyond being the mere sum of its older and newer parts. Other congregations that have called themselves international by reason of their physical expansion into other nations now deal Janet Malone CND wrote "Coming Home: The Journey Within" for our May-June 1995 issue. Her address is 24-1002 Dufferin Avenue; Saskatoon, Saskatchewan; S7H 2C1 Canada. ~uly-August 1996 Malone ¯ Internationality with subtle and varying aspects of resistance throughout their congregations. In still other congregations, the resistance has been quite subtle, with efforts by some members to have their congregations refer to themselves, not as "international," but as "multicultural" or "intercultural" or as congregations "with an international character." Some congregations seem ready to rescind the appellation of internationality because of the cost in terms of both personal and corporate conversion. They would justify this retrograde step by emphasizing that they are not really international because they are present in only.a few other nations. On the other hand, if a congregation purposefully decides to become or to remain an international one, it most likely must go through, both personally and corporately, an actual step-by-step process of conversion. This involves consciousness raising. The Process of Consciousness Rai sing In this article I want to highlight the different stages of con-sciousness raising. Being consciously aware of these stages can help change "hearts of stone to hearts of flesh" (Ez 36:26) in the process of becoming purposefully international. In my January- February 1992 article "Internationality--At What Price?" I spoke about conversion; herein I shall elaborate on what I now see as the intermediate steps of consciousness raising in the conversion process. Sometimes the dominant culture is replaced by another group's culture with the result that the oppressed become the oppressor. When that happens, a congregation--using power in a way that creates scarcity, and marginalization--plays'the game of musical chairs. Whether the oppression is conscious or not, those with power marginalize others and continue the injustice. It is normal for there to be resistances, biases, prejudices, and stereotypes as a congregation becomes truly international, for various members are at different stages of consciousness awareness (and conversion) in their own. enculturation, acculturation, and inculturation. It has been my experience in worki.'ng with inter-national groups that resistance to change in the form of preju-dices and stereotypes comes from very sincere people who feel threatened by the unknown and wonder how the proposed changes will affect them. Like most things in life, consciousness Review for Religious raising does not happen all at once. Rather, it is a process of awareness and evaluation of hitherto unperceived injustices that preclude the changes necessary for conversion. The rhythm of consciousness raising is different for different individuals, and it holds a particular challenge for those in lead-ership roles in a congregation. These need to be somewhat com-fortable with the unknown, with taking risks. Only then can they encourage the members to take some requisite steps toward becoming comfortable with the attitudinal and structural changes that can eliminate subtle oppressions of which many members may be quite unaware. In so doing, they model equality and mutuality. Consciousness raising he.lps to bring about real change in the attitudes of individuals and in congregational structures that reflect the dominant culture. Consciousness raising gradually brings a group to an honest evaluation of the ways of being and doing in the group that, in many instances, are distinctive of the domi-nant, founding group. Such an evaluation can then lead to the necessary changes in praxis. Stages of Consciousness Raising Adapting the work of Gaylor and Fitzpatrick, I will now high-light six differeht stages of consciousness raising in congregations becoming purposefully international. Not linear, these six stages in consciousness raising tend to overlap in a helical fashion. The first stage, the "no big deal" stage, is characterized by per-plexity and sometimes denial that there is a problem, This can be experienced by both sides of the internationality challenge: those who are the majority and see no oppression whatsoever and those who--unaware of it or only minimally aware--are the receivers of such oppression. Thus, there can be outright denial of the injustice and dismissal of any claims of it or a trivializa-tion of the injustice. For example, in a mixed-language group where there is "whisper" translation, people in the majority group may interrupt a minority speaker in midsentence and demand immediate translation. On the other hand, members of the major-ity group may carry on a full conversation among themselves while translation is being provided for the minority group. Members of a majority find it difficult to see this kind of problem even when it is pointed out. The minority group may see this as ,the way things have always been and display a certain ffuly-August 1996 Malone ¯ Internationality passivity or resignation. In both instances there is no awareness or almost none in this "~no big deal" stage. If, however, a congrega-tion is really serious about its internationality, then each language group, regardless of numbers, deserves a sacred space to under-stand and be understood. At this stage, discrepancies between the majority's demands and the needs of the minority can be trivialized by the majority with such statements as "Oh, it wasn't intentional" and by the minority with "They don't mean to be rude." In both instances there is no consciousness or only a minimal awareness of injustices and oppression, subtle or otherwise. The second, "eye-opening" stage occurs when a member of either group, the majority or the minority, experiences such types of oppression with some discomfort. Itis very easy here to revert back to the "no big deal" stage, but at .this second stage both groups can see previously status-quo experiences in a new light. Consciousness is being raised; as Ecclesiastes 3 observes, the "sea-son" for it has come. Experiences that were seen as normal are now evaluated some-what differently. Still, this evaluation is fragile. If, as a member of the dominant group, I am not much impressed by this new eval-uation, then I. may become ambivalent and protective of the sta-res quo. If I am a member of the minority group, I may not speak out on an injustice for fear of being rejectedand labeled a trou-blemaker. Members of the majority may realize for the first time that they refer to a minority group from a developing nation as "cute" and "innocent," with "so much to learn." In this stage they come to a deeper insight into what they are really saying. The third, "on the fence" stage is that point where, although: individuals or groups in an international congregation now se,e unequivocally the injustices within the congregation towards cer-tain groups, they still do not have the courage to "walk their talk." They still try to curry favor with both sides. Being "on the fence," they maneuver between the two sides without taking a firm stand on the side of the oppressed. Although it is important to see both sides of any situation, still it is critical at certain times to get "off: the fence." The warn-ing of Jesus about being lukewarm resounds here. For example, in a congregation which has called itself international, a particular group lobbies to change that term to something like intercultural because it thinks, that will solve the discontent of some of the Review for Religious majority group. Without a critical analysis of the issues involved, many congregation members may stay "on the fence" and not try to explore possible resistances underneath. The fourth, "coming home" stage of consciousness raising is that point where an individual or a group in the international congregation moves to making public various convictions on issues integral to internationality. It is the point where the personal convictions expressed heretofore only in safe, private spaces are now shared in more public places within the congregation, although still in rather circumspect ways. This stage is both diffi-cult and challenging because "the medium becomes the message." For example, a per-son or a group may submit to the congre~ gational leadership a proposal for specific structural changes to enhance the congre-gation's internationality. The private has become public, but not as yet within the public forum of a chapter or assembly of the total congregation. The fifth, "passion" stage of conscious-ness raising is a .more integrated stage involving both head and heart. Persons immediately come to mind who have had a passion for certain truths: "I have a dream."; "Ask not what your country can do for you."; "Go and gather up the drops of blood . " This stage challenges individuals and groups to lace their reasoned and dispassionate discourse with some emotion, such as anger at instances of oppression and injustice. When expressed construc-tively and nonviolently, such anger can be an energy and .catalyst for change. For example, at international meetings where an impasse has been reached because of fears and resistances, a spe-cial meeting might be called to get at these fears and blocks to any change. The danger here can be that the only interventions rec-ognized in the group are those which focus solely on "defini-tions," "constitutions," and "canon law." The challenge is to get underneath the words to the energy of the emotions. Only when the stories of personal experiences around such feelings are shared is there any movement in the group toward some deeper con-scious awareness. Members of the majority may realize that they refer to a minority group from a developing nation as "cute" and "innocent," with "so much to learn." Malone ¯ Internationality Patience and waiting are also critically important in this stage; planting the seeds of change and waiting for them to blossom is what being prophetic is all about. It is the process of going from "mine" to "ours." For example, an important component of being international is to have an international communications office and journal, both of which are grassroots and decentralized so that inculturation can gradually occur from the bottom up. It may take some time for that dream to move from being "mine" to "ours" in an international group because of many different variables, some of which may be subtle efforts to hold on to the status quo. The sixth and last stage, "acceptance/appropriation/incorpora-tion," is the crux of consciousness raising. It is that season in the life of a congregation where being international is not just the decision of a chapter or decision-making body. Rather, it is the season where internationality is the lived reality in the group. Such acceptance/appropriation/incorporation leads to a sense of equality and mutuality in the congregation and is reflected in both personal and corporate attitudinal and structural changes. Personal Conversion Having surveyed the stages of consciousness raising about biases, prejudices, stereotypes, and resultant injustices and oppres-sion, we now explore their implications for conversion. Personal conversion may take many different shapes including intellectual, moral, and spiritual conversion. Although conversion, like con-sciousness raising, is not a linear process but in many ways a gift of the grace of G6d, yet this helical process has some distinct aspects. Intellectual conversion interfaces directly with the stages of consciousness raising. It is a seeing with new eyes that continuing to support or collude with oppressive structures and ways of being in one's congregation is wrong. Now morally aware of behaviors in these matters that are actually sinful, the members of the dom-inant group must become morally aware also of their passivity in not speaking out about an ol6pressive status quo. An attitudinal shift must occur that moves them to do something about the injus-tice, be that something ever so small in the large scale of things. When people perceive the general pattern of increased aware-ness and its call for moral conversion, they may notice the :pattern in groups not only where they oppress others but also where oth- Review for Religious ers oppress them. They should notice, too, that it is very easy for the oppressed to become the oppressors in other circumstances. Unless there is a conscious intent to break the cycle of oppression, ¯ it is likely to continue. Spiritual conversion calls members of a congregation to live the gospel in .a radical way, such that there can be true love, for-giveness, and reconciliation as the different ways of oppressing come to light. Such conversion is countercultural when there is reconciliation and not revenge. "Love is patient, kind, not jealous, does not seek its own interests, is not quick-tempered, and does not brood over injury. It does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with.the truth" (1 Co 13:4-6). Corporate Conversion Corporate conversion requires changes within the organiza-tional structures of the congregation so thfit the sense Of mutuality and equality will exist both in word and in the lived praxis. Catherine Harmer details the structural changes required to become intentionally international. These changes are summa-rized here: 1. Each of the different provinces/regions/cultural entities in a congregation has the necessary autonomy to make local decisions regarding ministry choices, personnel changes, formation, and finances. 2. The leadership in each province/region/area should normally be made up of the people of that country. 3. International congregational committees and task forces must include representatives from all areas. 4. General chapters must also be representative of the total congregation not bnly in attendance but also in plan-ning and staff. 5. Provision must be made to accommodate diverse lan-guage groups at such meetings. 6. The members of the central administration of the con-gregation must reflect its internationality. 7. The founding group should eventually cease to domi-nate in all aspects of the congregational life. Conclusion Some congregations, ~n their beginnings, were not founded as international groups.~ In recent years they may have called July-August 1996 Malone * Internationali~ themselves international because of their "physical" expansion to different nations. They go through birthpangs when this acci-dental internationality becomes a purposeful or intentional inter-nationality. This article has affirmed that various resistances to the new and the temptation to go back to the "good old days" are a nor~ mal part of such a new birth. This process, for both personal and corporate conversion, has been clarified by the application of Gaylor and Fitzpatrick's stages of consciousness raising to the matter of becoming a truly international congregation. References Jean Alvarez. "Prejudice in Religious Congregations." Human Development, Winter 1983. Christine C. Gaylor and Annelle Fitzpatrick. "The Stages of Consciousness Raising." Human Development, Fall 1987. Catherine Harmer. "Internationality: Intentional or Accidental." Review for Religious 52, no. 1 (January-February 1993): 111-118. Janet Malone. "Internationality--At What Price?" Review for Religious 51, no. 1 (January-February 1992): 109-117. Dorcas Surely, there was time to miss what might be missed: garments made, acts of charity attested to by friends and neighbors, the complexities of a simple style, feel of wool well-woven, the breathless moment prior to a newborn's angry cry. Then, did you hesitate at all on that gruff apostle's word before, gazelle-like (how else), you leapt from there to here? Leonar~i Cochran OP Review for Religious FINIAN McGINN Toward Multiculturalizing a Religious Community ~nheaot happens when a community evolves from a homoge- us ethnic group to a heterogeneous ethnic group? Do the inner structures of the group change? Do they have to change; if so, how far? How can we change structures to meet the multi-cultural needs of the members? Do we have any models of recent attempts toward multiculturalization of institutions? With more Hispanic and southeast Asian membership in U.S. religious com-munities, what are the areas of greatest tension? How do we pre-pare our members for a multicultural institution? Is there a different type of preparation for the older members than for the younger? Does the same phenomenon happen to public educational institu-tions, businesses, and large corporations? These are but a few of the issues confronting provincials in the United States as they realize that they have been writing more letters in Spanish to their members than those of the previous administration and that they see more and more Vietnamese-- survivors of the fall of Saigon in 1975--in their houses of forma-tion. What has happened to the province we entered in the 1950s? At that time most of us were German, Italian, Polish, and Irish-- predominantly Westerners of European descent. Now, in the mid 1990s, we have become pluralistic, much more ethnically diverse, and the old ways of doing things have begun to change. As ministers of the local :church, most of us have witnessed our parishes and other apostolates change demographically, but we Finian McGinn OFM serves as vicar provincial for the Santa Barbara province of the Franciscan friars. His address is 1500 34th Avenue; Oakland, California 94601. ffuly-August 1996 McGinn * Toward Multiculturalizin~ a Reli~ous Communi~ have failed to look inward at our own religious communities. We have tried to prepare the people in our areas of work by inviting experts to give inservices and workshops to inform the parish-ioners about the new reality they face and to help them understand the new refugee and immigrant neighbors in their midst. We have applied multicultural solutions to our apostolates, but we have failed to prescribe them for our own religious communities. Immigrants and Refugees in General What are the differences of today? Ethnographers tell us that the Hispanic, the southeast Asian, and the African American have different ways of looking at the family, at community life, work, interpersonal relationships, prayer; recreation, decision making, and at many other issues which are essential to religious life. Even though 'we see out communities beginning to change demo-graphically we continue to do what we have been doing for years. Superiors are becoming aware that many of the strategies that were used before are no longer effective today because of the dif-ferent cultural values held by the members. Is there agreement on a common hierarchy of values? How does a superior take into consideration the Asian notion of "sav-ing face" in his or her decision making? If the culture affirms dependence and docility, how does one teach independence, assertiveness and confrontation? If the culture emphasizes family, interpersonal relationships with persons of the same culture and close-knit ingroupings, how does it embrace a larger community of muhiethnic members? How do different cultural groups view the vows; how do they see religious obedience? How much does a province change to accommodate the new cultures? .Multiculturalizing in the United States presents a rather polit-ically sticky problem. At present the United States offers a con-text where xenophobia is quite present. Historically we have gone from the melting pot model to a nonwelcoming model and from: "Come but assimilate quickly" to "Don't come and, in fact; you're not welcome!" Today movements against immigration are strong; foreigners are looked upon as inferior, their culture deficient, their language an obstacle to the acquisition of English. The province is aware of and perhaps may even pick up these negative attitudes by contagion or osmosis. Minority candidates who lived in the society where antiimmigration propaganda is prevalent Review for Religious approach the province wondering in what manner they will be received. R. Otheguy, commenting on the melting pot notion of the United States, remarks: "Because of their experience with racism in this country, many Hispanics have long ago given up hope of disappearing"--of blending into U.S. society. Baker takes the reasoning a step further and concludes that Hispanics found in multiculturalism a way to become at least somewhat American and keep their cultural values at the same time. He states, "Because of the [Hispanic's] history of being the victim of racism, the result may be the prevention of assimilation and integration with a consequent need to embrace some form of multicultural-ism for survival, security, status, and self-enhancement." Ethnic minorities themselves speak of additive biculturalism and bilingualism (Cummins, 1989). The melting pot paradigm has stressed a subtractive aspect: "Acquire English and lose your native language! Assimilate into U.S. society and forget your own culture; it's a deficit." Ethnographers and multiculturalists, on the other hand, speak of English-plus and acculturation to the host cul-ture. "ApprEciate your own language and learn English too. Take on the good U.S. cultural values, but don't lose your own culture in the process!" Most minorities lean toward maintenance of their language and culture as they adapt them-selves to the U.S. resettlement process (Lambert & Taylor). Paulo Freire describes the approach whereby the dominant culture wit-tingly or unwittingly attempts to impose the mainstream culture on new arrivals as "cultural invasion . a form of cultural domi-nation." Hopefully today's religious community advocates the addi-tive approach. As in many of these issues, however, it is much easier to speak about it than to do it. How do different cultural groups view the vows; how do they see religious obedience? How much does a province change to accommodate. the new cultures ? A Pluralistic Religious Community in Missionary Lands After some years in a missionary area, the superior general of a congregation in Rome insists that groups of a congregation 3~uly-August 1996 McGinn ¯ Toward Multiculturalizing a Religious Community from different nations in a foreign missionary country form one province. Each small group initially came to the mission country and received a portion of the mission territory within which to work. Members of the same ethnic group struggled with the lan-guage together, worked together, prayed together, evangelized the territory together, and accepted and formed native vocations. After some years this group and others in the missionary nation are asked to begin to form one entity together with the native religious of the area. This is an extremely difficult process and almost always poses a threat to both the foreigners and the native-born religious. The foreigners are no longer the majority in the group. They brought the faith, founded the missions, trained and even baptized and formed the native religious. In fact, they are still held in awe by the native religious members of the congregation. The foreigners are older and have been trained in a different the-ology of mission. The native religious, members of the host cul-ture, know the nation and its culture much better ,than do the foreigners. They have definite ideas on what should be done in their own country but are afraid to offend the foreigners who have given them the faith in the first place. This leads to a cultural impasse. To form the one entity from many disparate groups and to agree upon a common set of values is fraught with tension. In the United States In religious communities of the United States, however, usu-ally the majority membership of the institution is of white west-ern European stock; they are members of the host culture who have been living religious life for some time and have reached a consensus or implicit agreement upon certain common values of the institution. The tension arises as other multiethnic members become a sizeable minority, become visible, and begin to make their voices heard within the membership. How do the new mem-bers fit in? How does the larger group make room for them? What interior and exterior changes must take place to allow this to happen? How Other Institutions Meet the Challenge Businesses are learning new strategies to capitalize on inter-national markets and to improve communication with foreign Review for Religious nationals. Many public school districts, impacted by the influx of immigrants and refugees, offer classes, inservices and workshops on understanding cultural differences to relate with parents and members of the minority community and to enhance crosscul-tural communication. Business and education are presently publishing ma6~y books and articles dealing with multicultural differences and ways of adapting to and understanding people of other cultures. We, as religious, have not yet tapped these sources for our own com-munities. Business Since the Peace Corps in the early 1960s, many types of cross-cultural training programs have been designed to prepare indi-viduals for life in another culture. The goal of such programs is to help the business organization reduce and' prevent business losses and personal trauma. Harris and Moran. describe at least four models of training in cross-cultural orientation programs, ranging from lectures and readings about the culturel through simulation activities and sen-sitivity training to a cultural awareness model which seeks to develop one's ability to recognize ~cultural influence~ in personal values, behaviors, and cognitions. The goals of any training in cultural awareness are the following: a)to develop one's skill in diagnosing .difficulties in intercultural communication, b) to teach one when to suspend judgment when confronted with behavior which appears odd, c) to help one become aware of one's lack of sufficient knowledge of the other culture, and d) to increase one's motivation to learn more about the culture and the people. Public School Districts Public schools train cultural staff persons in cross cultural com-munication and hire. experts of the target 'cultural groups to present orientation and inservice to administrators and both certificated and classified personnel. These inservices and workshops are offered to both new and veteran teachers and staff. The host culture is compared to the immigrant or refugee culture. Culture brokers and the cultural specialists explain the areas of possible tension and/or misunderstanding; differing'values are examined, discussedL, 3-7-7- .~dy-Aug~tst 1996 McGinn ¯ Toward Multiculturalizing a Religious Community and understood. The goal of the process is twofold. It seeks to offer awareness and understanding of the newly arrived ethnic group and to examine the behavior of the teachers, administrators, and staff toward this group. James A. Banks distinguishes between two types of curricula in the schools: the manifest curriculum and the hidden curriculum. It is the hidden curriculum which is more cogent and which impo.ses the implicit norms and values of the school. Hopefully, the process of cultural awareness will shed some light on the hidden values and norms of the institution. Steps Religious Groups Are Taking By far one of the most multicultural communities in the United States and elsewhere is the international community of the Franciscan Missionaries of Mary. From its very foundation it has been international and universal in scope. It has no set policy governing ethnicity in the local house, yet from the beginning of the institute, its communities have been from different countries, ethnic groups, and cultures. Members of the institute have con-sistendy affirmed the intention that wherever possible, their com-munities be international in membership. Although they do not have formal courses in international living, the administration does try to provide the members with experiences locally, provincially, and at the general level that will expose them to the reality of living in a multicultural commu-nity. In recent years, two continuing formation programs have helped the members deepen this expression of international, mul-ticultural living in community: They also have regional meetings and meetings of administrators. "All of these gatherings, while addressing specific questions, give the opportunity for the sisters to get to know one another and to build up understanding and relationships. [The gatherings] deepen the sense of our being from many different places and our unity in diversity" (MOtte). It should be noted that in the gatherings the sisters use three linguae francae--French, Spanish, and English as official languages dur-ing the meetings. Maryknoll , Maryknoll has developed its Cross-Cultural Training Services for those who wish to discern theircall and prepare for cross- Review for Religious cultural ministry. A team of experts directs a month-long, inten-sive preparation, including a week retreat, for those planning to work abroad. The topics discussed during the training include culture and society, adjustment to a new culture, strategies for surviving culture and language shock, spirituality, inculturation, and discernment. As always, Maryknoll continues to offer a realistic prepara-tion to both religious and lay persons who find themselves called to a global ministry. Much of the content studied in the training sessions is vital and, with a little adaptation, can easily be used in workshops for religious institutions in the United States which are in the process of becoming multiethnic. Content of a Multicultural Awareness Program Should any province wish to set up a program to make itself more multicultural there shoul~t be certain key components of the content area. The actual training program could range from lectures, workshops to an institute, or any combination of the three. The speakers at the events should be experts in various areas of ethnic studies, preferably not members of the partici-pating religious group. In the world of language-minority students, J. Cummins speaks of certain "dimensions" necessary for the empowerment of minorities. The dimensions mentioned in Cummins's paradigm for empowerment touch the very center of multicultural living. They can easily be adapted from an educational institution to a reli-gious community. Cummins stresses four essential dimensions: language, collaboration, reciprocity, and advocacy. A. Language. The language issue is important. Theoreticians speak of language shock as. they describe, the early years of a person's resettlement in the United States. Bilingualists stress :the incor-poration of one's home language into the life of the school and its curriculum. The inclusion of the minority language and culture into the school has significant effects on the personality, attitudes, and the social and emotional well being of the students and their parents. The language issue in a religious community is also of impor-tance. The minority candidate must feel at ease in the language of the .host country. At times, both community and ministry err by failing to allow sufficient time f6r the acquisition of higher cog- 3~dy-.4ug~t 1996 McGinn * Toward Multiculturalizing a Religious Community The emotional drain of trying to live in a society that speaks one's second language is stressful for the minority religious. nitive and academic vocabulary to emerge in second-language acquisition, and, satisfied with the conversational idiom which we hear daily, tell the newly arrived religious, "There's a great need in the ministry for a Spanish-speaking religious. You know enough English now, get to work in a barrio parish. Fulfill our need in the Spanish-speaking ministry!" (The language learner, too, may become impatient with the slowness of the acquisition process and, in his or her impatience, opt to begin ministry sooner than he or she should.) This may be a great boon for the ministry of the province, but not for com-munity life. We have deprived the candi-date and the religious community of the depth and the wisdom which both can bring to community living. In this area it seems much better to err on the side of more English. rather than less. The'emotional drain of trying to live in a society that speaks one's second lan-guage is stressful for the minority religious. No matter how proficient one is in L2, there are times when learners simply shut down. Teachers, those who have studied abroad, and linguists describe the state of one who has paid attention all day to academic discourse in the weaker language and in the evening simply blanks out and is unable to comprehend even the simplest of phrases in L2. Larson and Smalley describe language shock as a component of culture shock that has profound effects on one who is trying to acquire the lan-guage of the host society. Rese~irchers point out that the disori-entation caused by language shock can induce a whole syndrome of rejection. The newly arrived must cope with the new stress and therefore must divert attention and energy from learning the second language. The learner begins to reject speakers of the tar-get language. These speakers become the source of his or her dis-orientation and, therefore, he or she has difficulty forming identifications necessary to learn the language of the host coun-try. The problem becomes even more complex if the learner per-ceives, erroneously or otherwise, that the speakers of the target language reject the learner and his or her culture .and language. Language has many paradoxical uses. Instead of opening doors, it can close them. It can,; at times, be used as a wall, or a Revlew for Religious defense to unite a group or to keep others out. Knowingly or unknowningly, fluently bilingual speakers will use the language which other members of the community do not understand to keep them out of the circle or to provide a feeling of belonging for themselves. Unless one knows the linguistic code--he or she can-not enter the inner circle. Opportunities to study the languages of the members of the community should also be offered and even encouraged for the majority members of the religious congregation. Bialystok and Hakuta treat the types of motivation in second-language learning and come to the conclusion that few of us learn a second lan-guage as an end in itself. Most of us learn it "to gain access, through verbal interaction, to cultural dealings with people who lay claim to that language." As most of us can read a language better than we can speak it, community liturgies and prayer of the hours could be said on alternate days in either language if the members of the local com-munity were in the process of~becoming bilingual. Fine language courses with new, nonthreatening and nonbelittling methodol-ogy are offered in practically every large city of the country. Corollary 1. Spending the time and energy in the attempt to learn a language used by a large number of the religious congregation (that of the host country and that of the minority cultures) is a good investment by the province in community life. B. Collaboration. Cummins claims that where the culture of the family is not given status in the school and communities and parents are kept powerless, then inferiority and lack of school progress may result. When there is parental collaboration with the teacher there is usually success. Religious communities at times tend to take the culture of origin of the member for granted and in no way envision it as a factor in the religious formation of the individual. We tend to think that their mother and dad are like our mother and dad and that their home is like our home. With the advent of people from many diverse areas of the world, the assumption no longer works if it ever did. The following is an example from education of this type of reasoning. A successful middle-school teacher recently remarked: "I just assumed that their home was like my home and for two years in middle school I demanded at least thirty minutes of written homework. Then I visited one of the homes. It was a revelation. ~dy-August 1996 McGinn ¯ Toward Multiculturalizing a Religious Community The.home and local community of the culturally different are areas that the religious province cannot afford to ignore. In a two-bedroom apartment three families were living (around 16 individuals). There was no quiet space, very lit.de furniture, and little ones were scurrying all around. If any homework could be done, it would be done at the kitchen-table, the only table in the home. This would be done while the five elders were watching television at the same time in the same room. I began to realize that doing homework in'a home such as that one was notan easy task. The example was not characteristic of only one family but of the vast majority of families of Hmong students at that school." Awareness of the culture and the val-ues of the minority religious is essential. Conchita Delgado-Gaitan has many stud-ies that analyze learning experiences in the home and parental strategies used to impart knowledge and values to the chil-dren. She compared the home strategies with those used by the school of the dom-inant culture to discover convergence or dissonance. She studied the linkage between the culture of the home and that of the school. The home and local community of the culturally different are areas that the religious province cannot afford to ignore. Culture shock, discussed in most cultural orientation work-shops, is not as easily remedied as one might think. This psychic ~hock is the anxiety which results from the disorientation encoun-tered upon entering a new culture. Larson and Smalley describe how essential characteristics of good mental health are often lost just by moving into a new culture. Extreme symptoms of culture shock may pass relatively quickly as ways of coping with the new environment are acquired. More subtle problems, however, may persist and produce stress which can last for years. Paul Pedersen, in his recent book, A Handbook for Developing Multicultural Awareness, confirms that culture shock is likely to last over the visitor's entire stay in an unfamiliar culture, reappear in a variety of forms, and not be limited to an initial adjustment. Spindler and Spindler, of Stanford University, have been train-ing people in ethnographic evaluation of educational environ, ments for many years. Cultural therapy, the term the ,Spindlers use to describe a procedure of reflective, cross-cultural analysis of Review for Religious individuals of different cultures through personal encounters, has become quite famous. The aim of the therapy is to promote cross cultural and intracultural behavioral understanding. The process involves open dialogue between people of different cultures (teacher and student or a member of the host culture and one of the cultural minority). It seeks to reveal to the educator and to the minority student unconscious biases and cultural ethnocentrism. Trueba shows how culture shock experienced by the culturally diverse can have an effect on the members of the host culture, and he observes: "Therefore, it is extremely important for teach-ers to realize that they are experiencing cultural shock when they try to function effectively with children who do not share their values and expectations. Academic success requires, then, that both teachers and students build learning environments in which success is possible for both." How can we make the local reli-gious communities places which assure success and fairness for all members of whatever culture? With each of the four dimensions paternalism on the part of the member of the host culture is a temptation, Among members of the religious institute, the environment should be one of equal-ity. A paternalistic attitude in this process would promote a depen-dency which would impede empowerment and fail to promote success. On the other hand, members of the religious commu-nity who have lived in other countries and those who have strug-gled to acquire another language--of host country or of the language minority--are equipped to act as culture brokers and even cultural therapists in helping to make the new culture more familiar and less strange and in creating an atmosphere which insures fairness and success. Corollary 2. Awareness of the new cultures in the religious community should be encouraged. Study of one's own culture and that of other members of the community should be pro-moted. Appreciation of the ethnic diversity of the community by listening and telling stories without ethnocentric bias and judgment will hopefully develop respect for the legitimate cultural differences of the religious community. C. Reciprocity. Cummi~as's third dimension stresses the fact that the language minority student must not simply receive the new knowledge passively but there should be a reciprocal inter-action, a dialogue in which the minority students bring their rich-ness to the process. 3n~uly-August 1996 McGinn ¯ Toward Multicultu~alizing a Religious Community In a religious community this type of sharing appears to be difficult to attain. It demands that those who have lived in the host country all their lives and have been in the religious com-munity for many more years must begin to listen to the new ones and look at the goals and mission of the congregation from their perspective. It requires a change of attitude. In a nonjudgmental manner, one can begin to act as an ethnographer and discover new realities and appreciate the vibrant faith and the beauty in approaches to the sacred which have not been part of one's own history. To do this one must allow a forum for the culturally dif-ferent and listen to them with respect. They become the teachers. Bilingual members and members who have lived in mission lands are an asset to the religious community. Religious of diverse cultures are at different levels of acculturation, and the bilingual and former missionary members of the community are equipped to act as bridge makers in opening the dialogue between the older religious of the host country and those who are culturally diverse. Corollary 3. Reciprocity is a step toward healing the rem-nants of cultural shock. "I struggle to understand and appre-ciate the minority religious' culture, language, approach to the divine, family, and community, and the newly arrived struggle to appreciate my culture, language, approach to the divine, family, and community." ~Many demands are involved in the process, but the struggle leads to mutual respect and understanding. D. Advocacy. In a school setting, Cummins insists that the majority teachers become advocates for the language minority children. Many of the instruments used in the evaluation of minor-ity students are based and standardized on the language of the majority population, and it is often easy to detect types of insti-tutionalized racism in the school and even in the hidden curric-ula. Therefore, the minority student needs someone who is able to open doors, give advice, and accompany him or her in situations which involve power and status relationships between dominant and dominated groups at different levels of a society. When we apply this to a religious community, we can begin to consider the customs of the congregation and its particular provincial statutes to discover cultural differences which could render harmonious living difficult. Advocacy involves seeing that house libraries have sufficient current books and periodicals in the mother tongue and insisting upon minority representation at Review for Religious various levels of formation and administration even to the actual selection of superiors who are open, tolerant and appreciative of other cultures represented in the community. Benjamin Schwarz states: "Dissatisfied minorities want, at a minimum, a real voice in determining their future--but a real voice for the minority means real sacrifice for the majority." Corollary. 4. Those who enjoy acceptance in the dominant society and who are comfortable with the everyday life in the religious community spontaneously offer direction and knowledgeable advocacy. They also help to provide a voice for the ethnic minority members of the community. Toward Multiculturalization Developing multicultural awareness in a community requires many changes. Pedersen concludes his work for cross-cultural counselors by stating that the many changes involved "will pro-duce a widening ripple effect as these changes bring about other changes." He continues: "We are moving toward a future that requires us to understand persons who are different from our-selves, whatever our culture might be. Developing multicultural awareness is the strategy for our survival as well as our growth in meeting the diverse needs of a multicultural global village." In a recent letter to all the friars, Herman Schaluck the gen-eral of the Order of Friars Minor, told his brothers that the new projects which the order has embarked upon in Africa, Thailand, and the former Soviet Union were intentionally international and multicultural in makeup to sign a new way of thinking. In spite of the difficulties inherent in the understanding of an international, multicultural fraternity, the order seeks this new quality of liv-ing together. The general explains: "Paul insistently states (Ga 6) that it is not a matter of being Jews or pagans, of being cir-cumcised or uncircumcised, but of being a 'new creature.' Life in an international [multicultural] fraternity is therefore not some-thing of secondary importance or a question of strategic maneu-vering: it is rather already evangelization itself by way of example." An Apostolic Challenge We considered a number of apparently hypothetical ques-tions about a religious community evolving from a homogeneous to a heterogeneous grouping. What happens? What changes ~uly-August 1996 McGinn ¯ Toward Multiculturalizing a Religious Community occur? Can it be done? Suppose we did design workshops and planning sessions on cross-cultural awareness for the total com-munity from the insights offered by education, business, and the training programs~for foreign missionaries. Suppose, to.o, we set up processes within the provincial structures for dialogue, reciprocity, and advocacy. Would the program be successful? Certainly many changes would occur, and change is almost always tension-filled and difficult to accept. However, it would be quite exciting to embark upon such a journey. It would demand much tolerance, patience, and charity on the part of the total member-ship to ensure that the program would succeed. What a sign of forgiveness, openness, trust, and conversion such a religious com-munity could offer the world around it. The approach would cer-tainly be countercultural. Only the members themselves know whether they are willing to do this. Perhaps a religious community is the only institution which can meet this challenge. I have spent many years trying to con-vince public schools, public school districts, and even welfare departments to become more multicultural but to no avail. Conversion, forgiveness, sacrifice, patience, understanding, and charity are woven into the very fabric of religious life. These are the same virtues required to make an institution multicultural. We religious are called to be a sign. Perhaps we Can be a sign to U.S. society that actually e pluribus unum is realizable. Bibliography Baker, C. Foundations of Bilingt~.al Education and Bilingualism. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, 1993. Banks, J.A., and McGee Banks, C.A., eds. Multicultural Education. Boston: Allyn and Bacon, 1989. Bialystok, E., and Hakuta, K. In Other Words. New York: Basic Books, 1994. Cummins, J. Empowering Minority Students. Sacramento: CABE, 1989. Delgado-Gaitan, C. "Traditions and Transitions in the Learning Process of Mexican Children: A Ethnographic View." In Spindler, G. and L. (eds.) Interpretive Ethnography of Education: At Home and Abroad. Hillsdale: Laurence Erlbaum, 1987a. Delgado-Gaitan, C. "Parent Perceptions of School: Supportive Environments for Children." In Trueba, H. (ed.) Success or Failure? Learning and the Language Minority Student. Cambridge: Harper and Row, 1987b. Review for Religious Delgado-Gaitan, C~, and' Trueba, H. Crossing Cultural Borders: Education for Immigrant Families in America. New York: Falmer, 1991. Freire, P. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Seabury, 1970. Freire, P. The Politics of Education. Boston: Bergin and Garvey, 1985. Hanley, K., csj. Cross Cultural Training Services. Maryknoll, New York, Harr.is, ER., and Moran, R.T. Managing Cultural Differences. Houston: Gulf Publishing, 1991. Lambert, W.E., and Taylor, D.M. Coping with Cultural and Racial Diversi~y in Urban America. New York: Praeger, 1990. Larson, D.N., and Smalley,'W.A. Becoming Bilinguak A Guide to Learning Language. California: William Carey Library, 1972. Law, E.H.E The VVolf Shall Dwell with the Lamb. St. Louis: Chalice Press, 1993. Motte, personal correspondence, 1995. Otheguy, R. "Thinking about Bilingual Education: A Critical Appraisal." Harvard Educatiorial Review 52 (3), 1982. Pedersen, P. A Handbook for Developing Multicultural Awareness: Alexandria: A~. erican CounselingAssociation, 1994. Schaluck, H., OFM. "On the Way Towards a New Era," May 8. Prot. 083!.19. S'chwarz, B. "The Diversity Myth: America's Leading Export." The Atlantic Monthly 275 (5), 1985. Spindler, G., and Spindler, L., eds. Pathways to Cultural Awareness. Thousand Oaks: Sage, 1994. Trueba, H.T., Jacobs, L., and Kirton, E. Cultural Conflict and Adaptation: The Case of Hmong Children in American Society. New York: Falmer, 1990. JUST PUBLISHED-- The Best of the Review - 5 The Church and 'Consecrated Life (see insert at back of book for ordering) "At a time when hope for religious life and its future is once again on the rise, the articles in this book offer an exceptional and much needed panorama of the critical issues of renewal faced by contemporary men and women religious. Elizabeth McDonough and David Fleming have done us an enormous favor in bringing together the Best of the Review in this area. I recommend this book enthusiastically; its authors take us another step along the journey to that future for religious life for which we all long." --Se~nSammon FMS Vicar General Marist Brothers, Rome 3~uly-August 1996 new life ROBERT E MALONEY It's Summer! A Letter to Young Religious J My dear brothers and sisters, It is wonderful to be young. At least, most of us who have grown older think so! Young adulthood is the summer of life; autumn and winter follow only later. In the vibrant years of youth, heart, respiration, and physical strength are at their peak efficiency. Our inner drives, too, are fully alive: our quest for meaning, our longing for deeper rela-tionships, our yearning to create a better future. I am writ-ing today to encourage you who are young to enjoy, and use well, the gifts of this summertimh in your life. Youth has many striking advantages. As the superior general of a community, I often see these in the lives of young religious, both men and women. Let me describe some of them briefly. First, youth has drive and enthusiasm. It is good to rejoice in youth's vigor. I can remember a period in my life when I could interview ~tudents all day long, prepar.e classes until late at night, be up again at five the next morning for prayer and the Eucharist, and then teach a full schedule. The day arrived when I could no longer do that. But I still look back with happy memories on the vibrant energies of youth. Young people can give with zest. And they want to give their lives to something'worth-while. They seek a cause, and when they find one they Robert P. Maloney CM serves as superior general of the Vincentians. His address is Congregazione della Missione; Via dei Capasso, 30; 00164 Roma, Italy. Revie~ for Religious ? launch into it with enthusiasm. ,Their dreams, their~hopes, their vision of the future have not yet been dimmed by bitter experi-ences, or failures, or the harsh fact' that much of reality changes quite slowly. Young people gaze at the world's needs and believe that they can make a contribution. Second, youth has imagination and spontaneity. Young people bring new horizons to communities~ They have the capacity to envision new solutions, They often feel free from rigid categories or structures that have become creaky or clumsily reinforced over the years. They find it easy to identify with the words of Vincent' de Paul that "love is inventive even to infinity.''1 They are willing to "dream the impossible dream." Spontaneity is one of the refreshing aspects of youth. Young people say unexpected things. They question practices that some of us older people never had any doubts about. At times we may find that. their questions make us uncomfortable or defensive. But we should by no means be quick to interpret youth's spontaneity as a sign of aggres-siveness; rather, it often comes from a genuine desire to seek the truth. Third, youth is able to change. Those of us who are older have ploughed deep furrows. It becomes increasingly harder for us to climb out of the ruts we have dug. The furrows of the young are shal-lower. They can be ploughed over. Their direction can be changed so that new waters run through them and new life sprouts up. That is why good initial formation is important for the young. They are pliable enough to ~hink new thoughts, learn new.ways, and create new things. Of course, youth has its struggles too, its gnawing problems. Let me dwell just for a moment on a few of these. Because youth is searching, it is often uncertain about its goals or even its values. Experience tells us that, today especially, young people have diffi-culty making a permanent commitment. There is so much rapid change in society, there is so much disillusionment with those whose values the young may once have prized, that they find it hard to decide where to sink their roots. This means that young people are often confused. They are grappling with the meaning of their live~i They are hesitant about making a definitive commitment. Experience tells us that, today especially, young people have difficulty making a permanent commitment. ff~uly-August 1996 Malone~ * It's Summer? One of the greatest challenges in ministry today is to present attractive, even risky, alternatives to young people and accom-pany them in the difficult task of deciding, Several recent studies point out that young'people seek explicit religious goals, intense community life and solidarity, and explicit and worldwide service to the most needy. Young people can certainly find these goals realized in the call to follow Christ faithfully and to give them-selves to the church's preferential option for the poor. Young people often struggle with thei~ sexuality. Of course, those of us who are older are engaged in the same~struggle too. But the young experience in an~ awakening way strong physical drive; sex-ual energy, a desire for close, intimate relationships. And, unfor-tunately, the turbulent years of adolescence often do not come to a calm, peaceful resolution, but rather to a negotiated truce, after which war may soon break out again. It is~helpful for those of us who live in community to recognize that this is a basic human story, not just ours. It is also important for the young to speak about their sexual struggles with great simplicity with a wise spiritual guide. Youth lacks experience. This is an inevitable fact. All of us expe~ rience life's joys and its sorrows only gradually. Growth takes time. Yet there is a deep knowledge and love that come only from experience. There is gold that can be refined only in the fire. Of Course, not everyone who experiences life's joys and .suf-ferings grows, But, on the other hand, no one grows without a healthy dose of realistic experience. Our ongoing formation pro-grams must. help young people reflect on their experience and grow from it. Having said all this, let me acknowledge that I have painted with broad strokes. Some of the gifts that I have described as characterizing young people are often found in good measure in those who are older too. Likewise, some of the problems that have briefly touched on above plague not just the young, buvalso their elders. Today let me lay before you, young religious, a series of chal-lenges. As .the superior general of an apostolic community, I find that these are the most important things in my heart as I think of the many young men and women who long to live religious life generously today. I call them challenges because my own per-sonal experience, with its frequent failures, tells me they are not easy to respond to deeply. Review for Religious Be deeply rooted in the person of Jesus. This seems obvious, but there is nothing more important that as an older brother I could say to you. "Remember," St. Vincent de Paul once wrote, "that we live in Jesus Christ by the death of Jesus Christ and that we ought to die in Jesus Christ by the life of Jesus Christ and that our life ought to be hidden in Jesus Christ and full of Jesus Christ and that in order to die like Jesus Christ it is necessary to live like Jesus Christ.''2 The Gospels ring with this conviction: Jesus is the absolute center. "I am the way, the truth, and the life," Jesus says. "No one comes to the Father except through me." "I am the vine." "I am the gate." "I am the shepherd." "I am the light." "I am the true bread come down from heaven. The one who feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood will live forever.''3 Let me simply recall to you today the wonderful prayer attributed to St. Patrick: Chri]t be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me. Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in c~'uiet, Christ in danger, Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger. I recommend two principal means for focusing on the per-son of Jesus, The first is daily meditative prayer. Make Christ the center of that prayer, especially the crucified Lord. Engage in a well-defined period of reflective prayer each day (for example, a half hour), and let the Lord capture your mind and your heart. The second means--and it is not completely distinct from the .first--is to find, love, and serve Christ in the person of the poor. They are our lords and masters. Jesus li~es on in them in a special way, particularly in the crucified peoples. It is so easy for the "world," and for us too, to become numb to their plight: the 5.7 million people of Haiti, who have been so poor for so long that their pain is no longer news; the 2.5 million Bosnian refugees, victims of "ethnic cleansing"i the 1.5 million Somalians on the edge of death by starvation; the countless Rwandans who have been brutally slain. Our contemplation of the crucified Lord can-not remain merely a pious exercise, nor can it be simply medita-tion on a past event. The Lord lives on in his members. He is .~uly-Auffust 1996 Maloney ¯ It's Summer? crucified in individual persons and in suffering peoples. The call is to see him and to serve him there. "When I was hungry you gave me to eat. When Iwas thirsty you gave me to drink.When I was naked you clothed me" (Mt 25:35-36). Learn from. the poor, and be inventive in serving them. I say this to you very directly: it is only the simple and hum~ ble who really grow in the Lord's life. Only0 they can learn the depths of God's wisdom. The saints knew this very well because they had made the gospel teachings their own. That is why the founders of communities urge. all their members to grow in sim-plicity and humility. Learn especially from the poor. They can teach all of us about gratitude for small gifts, about patience in waiting, about hoping against hope, about loving those around us, even in the midst of suffering and oppression, and about shar-ing the little that we have with our brothers and sisters. It is only when we have learned from the poor that we can be inventive in serving them. It is they who will explain to us their deepest needs, and then we can bring them gifts that will really be helpful. Your creativity and imaginativeness as young people will be nourished by what you can learn from them. They will be a life-giving source in your ongoing formation. I encou

Issue 50.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1991. ; Review fOl~ Religious Volume 50 Number 4 July/August 1991 P()STMAS'I'I'.'ll: Send mhh'c.~.~ chang~'s Io Rl.:Vll.:W 1.~ nt ll,.:i.i~ ;i, ~i,s; P.(). Box 6071); l)llhli h, M N 55806. .~lll~scriplioll raics: .~illglc c.py $3.51) plus lll~lililig 1991 RI.:VIEW I)avid L. Fleming, ~.l. Philip C. Fischen S.I. Michad G. I-hzrter, ~.l. Elizabeth Mcl)omm~h, 0.1: Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Edilor Asxocial~" Cammical Co.nsc/Edilor Assistant Editors David J. Hassel, S.J. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Wendy Wright, Ph.D. Advisory Board Mary Margaret Johanning, S.S.N.D. Sean Sammon, F.M.S. Suzanne Zuercher, O.S.B. July/August 1991 Volume 50 Number 4 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor should be sent to R~vl~w rot R~lous; 3601 Lindell Boulevard; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Elizabeth McDonougb, O.P.; 5001 Eastern Avenue; P.O. 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This order is for [] a new subscription [] a renewal [] a restart of a lapsed subscription MAIL TO: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS ¯ 3601 LINDELL BOULEVARD ° ST.LOu1S, MO 63108 1-91" PRISMS. The word ordinary seems to imply the bland, the unexciting, the run-of-the- mill, the everyday. In fact, for many of us even the liturgical year of the Church suffers from being divided into two parts: the Seasons and Ordinary Time. Although liturgy properly speaks of our celebrations, we tend to find it hard to celebrate what is called ordinary. Perhaps the very distinction which the Church highlights in so dividing the liturgical year calls us to a deeper reflection upon our understanding of the ordinary. God creates the ordinary., and calls it good. It is true: the ordinary is the very substance of our world. While being itself God's cre-ation, the ordinary is also the substance with which God works. We, by being ordinary, can be touched and molded and transfigured by God. Often we try to escape from being ordinary, and in the process we shut ourselves off from being available to God's action in our lives. In the bibli-cal accounts of creation, we find the lure of an escape from the ordinary the root crisis of properly using our God-given freedom. The story of Lucifer and the fallen angels is a story of beings discontent with being ordinary. As they try to move beyond the ordinary by shutting out God, this becomes their hell. So, too, the story of Adam and Eve is a story of two people, in the freshness of human life, already desirous of escaping the ordinary--to be like gods. Sacramentally we are reminded that God continues to take the ordi-nary- water, bread and wine, oil--to make extraordinary contact with us. Even when our prayer or the spirituality we live is--try as we may---ordi-nary, we thus have the very quality which allows it to become the vehicle of God's action. The difficulty for us in accepting the ordinary is not just from an inherent human tendency to want to be noticed and praised, but also from the graced impetus to strive, to struggle, to desire to grow beyond where we are. How are we to distinguish these spirits within us, distinguish move-ments that would lead us to close ourselves off to God by our self-focus from movements whereby God is drawing us ever closer in our surrender? Our writers in this issue provide us with various approaches to a lived answer. John Wickham goes right to the heart of our reflections in the lead article by focusing on our choice of being "just ordinary." McMurray and Conroy and Kroeger turn our gaze to the whole complexus of activities 481 482 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 which make up our spirituality--how do we work at making a spirituality our "ordinary" life-source? A different question is posed by Samy and Fichtner when they ask whether the ordinary practices which we find in a spirituality which is not Christian can be an aid in our openness to God. Vest and Schwarz and Gottemoeller draw our attention to various aspects of the ordinary Christian lay life as influenced by a spirituality which is described as monastic, by a new kind of membership relation to a traditional religious congregation, or by a new responsibility within the institutions formerly identified with a particular religious order. In the midst of some of the liturgical renewal stimulated by Vatican II, the practice of a daily Eucharistic celebration has sometimes been a point of dispute, especially among those priests and religious whose congregational rule or custom clearly called for such observance. The confusion often turned on what was celebratory and what was ordinary or daily. John Huels weaves his way through various schools of thought in order to provide a group with a whole cloth of ordinary spiritual practice. Although contemplative life in its dedicated form is recognized as truly a special calling in the Church, Clifford Stevens would have us all draw some nourishment today from its age-old sources. And finally, four different writers--Navone, Monteleone, Seethaler, and Billy--lead us further along in the most common activity of human interaction with God, our attempt at praying. As portrayed in the gospels, Jesus had to spend a lot of his efforts both in his ordinary apostolic life and then again in his resurrected life to prove his ordinariness. He gets tired, he eats and drinks, he needs friends, and he takes time to pray--all ordinary activities for us humans. And yet it was in these very ordinary dealings that God is fully present to us in Jesus Christ. Perhaps the part of the Church year we call "ordinary time" is a necessary reminder to us of how God wants to work with us. David L. Fleming, S.J. Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" John Wickham, S.J Father John Wickham, S.J., is a member of the Upper Canada Province of the Society of Jesus. He is the author of The Common Faith and The Communal Exercises (Ignatian Centre in Montreal): His address is Ignatian Centre; 4567 West Broadway; Montreal, Quebec; Canada H4B 2A7. There is something new, I believe, about the feeling often experienced today of being "just an ordinary person." Many recurrently feel that way despite their natural gifts, highly developed skills, or honored positions. Nor do they need to deny those advantages. In contrast to what others may tend to think, or what the world expects of them, their subjective experience of themselves--what it feels like from within their own skins--is that of a worthwhile even if unfinished, rather unique and yet uncertainly striving, interesting enough but still "just ordinary" life. It is midway between what is heroic and what is base. It is not very glamorous, but neither is it paltry. Its special taste, which is quite different from these alternatives, makes it a rather new kind of experience. If at times we do recognize that experience in ourselves, then we may face a range of questions. Should I accept the feeling as a true and good one? Or would I be better off without it? Should I choose it so often and persis-tently that it becomes habitual for me? Or would that turn into an inauthentic pose? Should I try to find some part of my real identity there? And what exactly would that imply? For example, would it mean I am choosing to be mediocre? The fact that a feeling arises, St. Ignatius tells us, does not prove it to be from God. The latter point needs to be discerned. And kinds of feeling that become widespread in a given society need to be discerned just as much as do feelings that arise only in a particular individual. In fact, our faith com-munities must often set themselves against cultural trends in the world around them. 483 484 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 In order to get at underlying issues, I wish to consider this topic in two stages. The first will be restricted to the phenomenon itself of a "just ordi-nary" feeling as a secular event in our world. Only then will I turn to the sec-ond stage, namely, to take up the kinds of faith response which we might wish to give it today. The first part, then, attempts an analysis of the "feel-ing." The second considers when, or in what circumstances, we might "choose" in faith to make it our own. Our New Cultural Situation To rephrase my opening statement, I believe that a "just ordinary" feel-ing about oneself is somewhat new as a more widespread and recurrent experience in Western culture. In recent years nearly everyone I have spoken to about this has nodded at once and said, "Yes, that's exactly how I often feel." While I possess no statistical data on its prevalence, my impression is that quite a few people have come to recognize its presence in themselves. Let me try to locate this experience more precisely. I am referring to something secular in origin and not necessarily Christian or religious in itself. Like God's rain and sunshine, it may affect everyone, just :and unjust, believer and unbeliever alike. Perhaps it was triggered off by the countercultural movement of the nineteen-sixties, since during the seventies commentators often pointed out the exaggerated attention then being given to inner feel-ings- to the personal self of each one apart from their external involvements. At that time many were being thrown back upon their subjective states of awareness to a degree that had rarely happened before. The seventies were called the "Me Decade," one that belonged to the "Me Generation" whose subjective responses (often referred to then as "getting in touch with your feelings") were given unprecedented emphasis and publicity. What had previously been mostly private now became blatantly public. But perhaps during the eighties not only the novelty but some of the disturbing quality, too, of that rather messy explosion of "subjectivity" in our midst has worn off and subsided to a degree--enough to allow "just ordinary" feelings to rise to the surface and gain attention today. What had occurred, then, was an intensification of self-awareness, a heightening of subjective consciousness among much larger segments of our population than before, and even a thematization of this event in our culture. "Souls" had been transformed into "subjects." Individuals became persons. This had happened much earlier, of course, for some exceptional people and even for smallish groups here and there, but it had never before become such a widespread phenomenon. And it involves matters of considerable importance, not easily dis- Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 41~5 missed. Bernard Lonergan has written of "the shift to interiority" in the twentieth century as the emergence of a new "realm" of human reality, i At the opposite end of the scale, the usual wild and foolish misuse of a new gift by the more excitable members of society should not blind us to its underly-ing significance. That is the larger context. More in particular I wish to stress, first of all, the quieter reverberations which those noisy events have left with many per-sons today. The gift itself of interiority is multifaceted, of course, but a first approach would notice that in part it may belong with the newly "expressive self' which has emerged alongside, and often independently of, the older "utilitarian self.''2 While the latter continues to exert a dominant influence in our midst, it must now share the public table with a more mystical parmer. From a slightly different viewpoint the "just ordinary" feeling should be seen mainly as a response to the puritan "strong self' of modern culture. After the nineteenth century in the West we gained the capacity-- appropri-ate to a technocratic society---of developing our ego-strengths. That is, a cer-tain knack, at least for special purposes, of withholding or excluding deeper levels of feeling can free an individual to concentrate on impersonal obser-vations, accurate calculations, and carefully directed efforts of the will. Further development of this inner self-control is required for any kind of efficiency and productivity in the working world. It is clear that the requisite skills are not given by nature but must be culturally developed. Not only our workplaces but our schools and colleges, too, call insistently for the formation of habits (especially of technical reason and will) which enable entry into the competitive society with all the bureau-cratic ladders and graduated salary scales of a successful career---or not-so-successful, as the case may (more often) be. In contrast to this still urgent public arena of "strong selves," individual members also return to private worlds of rest, relaxation, and entertainment, to times of weakness when they may face their own ignorance about the questions posed to them in life and recogn!ze their lack of energy for the continual efforts required. Human beings, it should be stressed, when separated from their social roles and active commitments and thrown back upon their private resources, usually do not find a great deal of their own to sustain them. Modern urban ways have cut people off from the deeply penetrating and densely inter-twined supports of rural societies. As a result, the rootless city dweller becomes conscious of boredom, of empty times to be filled up, of personal neediness and spiritual hungers not easily satisfied. An individual person, after all, is usually endangered by too much isolation from others, and mod- 4~16 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 em technologies often weaken or destroy traditional communities (families, neighborhoods, parishes). Besides, whenever institutions let us down or defeat our aims, or when hurtful clashes disturb our feelings for others, we are left alone to deal with a diminishing present and a more uncertain future. That is when a loving spouse and intimate friends (if available)become essential to our very sur-vival; without them, depressed feelings all too easily turn to thoughts of nonexistence. It was the countercultural movement which reacted against the giant bureaucratic institutions of our world and forced into the broader stream of public life the previously underground resource of subjective feelings. It transformed leisure moments of the kind just mentioned into recurrent times of self-expression which are portrayed and celebrated in our electronic media. This revealed to large numbers of fairly well-off persons in Western societies that their interior selves need to be cultivated in ways that differ enormously from the older patterns of successful selfhood modeled for them in corporate institutions. The counterculture managed to give sustained pub-licity to a host of "alternative lifestyles"---that is, a diverse range of subjec-tive modes in self-identity and interpersonal relating. This vastly expanded "realm of interiority" provides a cultural context for, and is itself fostered by, many recent movements: affirmations of per-sonal rights, the reawakening of charismata, the turn to the East, the renewal of contemplative prayer traditions, and the broadly secular interest in spiritu-alities of all kinds. It is surpi'ising to notice how the word "spiritual" and its cognates have gained such widespread use not only in the arts but in sports, politics, business enterprises, salesmanship, the military--almost every-where today. In our faith tradition, on the other hand, the interior life had a much more restricted meaning. Medieval interiority was exclusively religious--the very opposite of anything secular or worldly. In order to develop one's union with God, according to the late-medieval Imitation of Christ, believers were expected to withdraw from external involvements--at least, from all the habits and attitudes belonging to them--and to cultivate an inner commu-nion with the Lord deep within their hearts. The Imitation, we should remember, is the most popular spiritual classic of all time.3 A crucial aspect of its teaching has to do with the personal self so poignantly revealed by means of a prolonged withdrawal of the kind rec-ommended. But when thrown back upon oneself in this way, what does one find? The oft-repeated answer to this question shows how bare the cup-boards of subjectivity can be: Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 487 This is the greatest and most useful lesson we can learn: to know our-selves for what we truly are, to admit freely our own weaknesses and failings.4 I am nothing, and I did not even know it. If left to myself, I am noth-ing; I am all weakness. But if you turn your face to me, [Lord,] I am at once made strong and am filled with new happiness.5 Oh, how humbly and lowly I ought to feel about myself, and even if I seem to have goodness, I ought to think nothing of it . I find myself to be nothing but nothing, absolutely nothing . I peer deep within myself and I find nothing but total nothingness.6 No doubt, older Christians today will recall teachings of this kind as familiar features of their early training. And some of its emphases tend to give us pause. What about the inherent goodness of each human self?. This was occasionally noticed in the Imitation, but should it not have received much more attention? On this question two historical points should perhaps be made. First, the Imitation itself arose from the Devotio Moderna's care for many ordinary members of society who desired to cultivate a devout life amid late-medieval disruptions of Christian Europe (the Black Death and subsequent plagues, persistent warfare, economic hardship, the Great Western Schism).7 Out of their prolonged experience of public calamities came this first popular expression of the personal subject in the West--at least, among the little seg-ments of the population influenced by the "new devotion." The point for us here is that a faith response to those troubled times made possible an interior life for many more persons than before (including lay members living in the world). An inner self could then be cultivated by means of the careful religious teachings extended to them by The Imitation of Christ and similar writings of the movement. Thus, interiority was initial-ly a sacred realm, not a secular one. In order to develop at all, it had to define itself against the secular world. This meant, of course, that the self had precisely "nothing" of its own to fall back upon--no widely accepted norms of individual worth had as yet been formulated. The themes of individualism which we take for granted today as "natural" were simply not available in the Middle Ages. The Devotio Moderna may, in fact, have contributed notably to the first social expression of our individual sense of self. It follows that to blame it for not supplying what it was in the very process of begetting seems misguided. That would be reading history backward--a frequent modern failing. Secondly, it seems that the difference between selfhood (a good sense of self) and selfishness (a bad sense) had not as yet been separately felt. In that 488 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 sacred milieu the differentiation of a secular goodness of creation apart from the fallen condition so frequently stressed in spiritual teachings remained for the future to bring about. In other words, the self-in-its-own-being could not possibly then have been "tasted" distinctly from the self-as-sinful or the self-as- saved-by-grace (or both together). True enough, humility was sometimes considered apart from habits of sinfulness--namely in Mary and in the saints--but even there what received emphasis was the divine grace of their redemption (in Mary's case extending to her prior preservation) from sin's more normal dominion. These excep-tions only proved the rule that humility--as we hear its accents in the Imitation--arises from the sharpened interior taste of one's sinful self that usually follows upon forgiveness. In view of this cultural moment of The Imitation of Christ in the early fifteenth century, its lack of any emphasis on natural goodness for the indi-vidual self is understandabl~. It is true that, by the later sixteenth century, Montaigne's Essays and Shakespeare's Hamlet and Richard II had begun to anticipate modem feelings of individual selfhood, but this was still an excep-tional happening within the sacred medieval precincts, it may be said. So many developments have taken place in the centuries since that time--the Cartesian ego, theKantian turn to the subject, the Romantic movement, nineteenth-century liberalism, as well as the already mentioned "shift to interiority" ~ind countercultural movement in our own century, that we cannot have recourse solely to a retrieval of medieval gifts. In short, the new interiority of our day differs a great deal from the "interior life" handed down to us in our spiritual tradition. The old interiority was (a) fully sacred in meaning, (b) defined in opposition to the "world," (c) low in self-esteem while high in reliance on God alone, and (d) rarely to be shared with others socially. By contrast, the new interiority is (a) mainly sec-ular in meaning, (b) defined against the mainline institutions of society (including those of the Church), (c) self-affirming and self-accepting, even if admitting one's need of friends and of the divine Other, and (d) eagerly shared with others in public lifestyles. Like many others, in my Jesuit formation I was often counseled to ignore, set aside, or "offer up" my individual feelings as distracting or, more likely, harmful to my fuller appropriation of the uniform spiritual teachings provided. These latter consisted in learning the general answers true for everyone alike and in keeping the rules set down for all without exception. That way of forming members, as we know, has been in great part aban-doned in recent decades. In any case, it had introduced painful distortions into our medieval heritage. Choosing to be 'Just Ordinary" / 489 The main "warp" in question was directly related, I believe, to the nine-teent~ h-century rise of the "strong self" already mentioned. Let me briefly review that development. As I have noted, humility had traditionally been ~'ocused on the sinful condition of those converted to the Lord. It did not dwell merely on mortal sins committed prior to their deeper conversion, but much more on the venial sins which they came to recognize in present self-awareness. This medieval tradition may be gathered in detail from Alphonsus Rodriguez's Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues.8 Against that backdrop the modem ideal of a "strong sell" to be fash-ioned in youth by anyone hoping to succeed in the secular world, or even to survive in it, presented a considerable contrast. Prior to 1965, our Catholic parishes and schools managed to combine this modem requirement (a strong selfhood formed in the conscious mind through repression of deeper feel-ings) With traditional teachings on humility (reliance on God alone because of personal sinfulness and the "nothingness" of self). This was made easier by means of the invisible wall erected around the distinctly Catholic world. By the later nineteenth century, of course, Christian faith had already become to a large extent privatized, separated from public life and domesticated in family and parish activities. For Catholics in North America, the immigrant Church had developed its own "garrison" mentality so effective!y that one could cultivate a traditionally humble self in the narrowly religious realm and at the same time a secularly aggressive self in the business, professional, political, or broadly social realm. That was the religious situation in which I was raised, and I did not then advert to its inconsistencies. Perhaps many others today can recall this com-bination of strivings. However opposite they were in character, we tried to attain them both and to some extent we succeeded--by the grace of God. In recent decades that whole effort has disappeared and as a result (among many other quandaries) a whole spectrum of possible selves has become available today. It is a somewhat unsettling set of choices. But amidst all our struggles to find or fashion personal identities (or perhaps to fortify older ways in the very teeth of these developments), the curious new event has made its presence felt--the "just ordinary" feeling. Contemporary Faith Responses At this point I wish to bring into our discussion a distinction rather dif-ferent from any mentioned so far. In a recent book, Hopkins, the Self and God, Walter Ong, S.J., has emphasized the "taste of self" which figured so prominently in Gerard Hopkins's poetry, letters, and notebooks.9 As a chap- 490 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 ter on the Victorian context makes clear, the theme was not unusual even then. But Hopkins, because of his unique attention to it and extraordinary gifts of language and feeling, managed to anticipate many of our present concerns. The distinction employed by Fr. Ong in his discussion is between the self as "I" or "me" in the densely concrete, subjective stance underlying all one's experiences and, on the other hand, the self as objectified in various characteristics, habitual attitudes, and acquired abilities. Ong names the first of these "the subject-self' and the second "the self-concept"--a terminology already in use. More is meant than merely a difference between subjective and objec-tive qualities of the self. The so-called "objective" side points to an individu-al's attempts to gain a sense of developing identity--at first through the reactions :of other people, and then through one's own continued striving. Often a variety of contrasting possibilities are "tried on for size" and lived out for a time, but later modified or rejected. But underneath every such effort lurks a richer source of seifhood that unifies the ongoing and often interrupted sequence. Moreover, the subject-self also feels--at least indirectly--the inadequa-cy of whatever aspects of self-conception are presently entertained. The lat-ter are never quite right. There is always a certain sense of"more to come": Why do I doubt my capacity to keep this up any longer? Maybe I should change my mind about the whole business? Or am I trapped in a "fate" of being the way I am?l° And as soon as some new aspect of the self gains initial clarity, there is often a tendency to react in a different direction. Even if I should rejoice in a rather flattering or at least affirmative symbol of myself, my subconscious feelings may tend to exert a counterinfluence. Or if snubbed by others or blamed in any way, I might resent it at several levels at once (despite a ten-dency to self-doubt), but I will also search for memories of my better qualities. A great variety of varying patterns of such "identity searches" may be noted in spiritual direction. But what I wish to stress here is the unifying "I" in every pattern or in every sequence of changing patterns over years of per-sonal growth. "I" am the enduring (somehow even unchanging?) recipient, resource, and agent of all such reflexive feelings, perceptions, visions, and (as Eliot has taught us) endless revisions. For I am always the one who is unfinished. I exist amid processes that are ever moving me into uncertain futures. This mysterious "I" may be used, of course, in a way that includes the self-concept of my current identity. Most often the two blend together in my Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 49'1 experience of them. Wider, more inclusive self-affirmations are normal and even important. For the self-concept can never really be independent of the subject-self--the two functions are inherently connected and interactive. My various self-conceptions (especially at their least vague, most fully articulat-ed stages) need to be tested repeatedly in the subject-self. Do I feel at home in them? In fact, their authenticity becomes known only insofar as they truly actualize my subjectively felt potentials. On the other side, the subject-self cannot long endure without some kind of self-concept. Even when denied previous realizations in the social world, the subject-self may have recourse to fantasy roles in the theatre of imagina-tion. For I cannot avoid notions of selfhood altogether--my neediness finds relief only in the movement to some form of self-realization, however indi-rect, implied, or even self-sacrificial it may become for a time. But what is new today for many persons is that 'T' may recurrently refer quite exclusively to the subject-self alone. In such cases the needful relation to identities is not denied but somehow "bracketed out" or "put on hold." This distinction appears to be called for by what I have named the "just ordi- ¯nary" feeling. More precisely, the "just ordinary" feeling belongs especially to the subject-self. Now, this distinction may unlock several, of the puzzling questions which arise .from our cultural situation today. It might resolve the problem for all who try to decide whether or not--even precisely as a Christian-- they should choose to be "just ordinary." Not Mediocrity, but Limitation A first question to be faced concerns mediocrity. If one settles into a "just ordinary" feeling of oneself, would this not bring an end to growth, to any serious striving for improvement? Would it not ring the death knell of idealism (in a good sense)? Would it banish from the competitive society believers who chose to accept it--as though our economic system as such is inherently alien? Even more traditional spiritualities sought to refute the accusation that Christian faith necessarily inclined believers to accept the established pow-ers and to resign themselves to exploitation by cle4er elites (Marx's "opium of the people" view about the role of religion in society). But that false use of Christian faith is not in question here. If a devout life means acceptance of manipulation and coercion by others, then it has simply lost its roots in the prophetic teachings of Christ. Instead, what is relevant here is the insight that only the subject-self can feel "just ordinary." Such a feeling cannot rightly belong to the self-concept. 499 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 My position is that only insofar as one becomes aware of one's "purely" sub-jective selfhood in contrast to current or possible fulfillments of one's poten-tials (the self-concept always means that) does the "just ordinary" feeling arise in the first place. It would follow, then, that for persons who do not experience this newish feeling (and no one is required to do so!) a decision to be "just ordinary" might mean choosing to be mediocre. That is not the case, however, for those who do recognize the new feel-ing in themselves; what they experience, I would say, is a new sense of per-sonal limits. No doubt, our knowledge of limitations is pluriform. Each person would tend to stress different aspects of the overall human "contin-gency" (its more technical name) as this comes home to individual lives. Limits are reached in our work, our relationships, our different life-stages, our suffering of reverses, rejections, sickness, injuries, or close encounters with death and dying: Our knowledge and abilities have a great variety of limitations, but so do our energies and our capacity for making creative responses. There are traditional ways of coming to know and accept our littleness, but what I have in mind here gives a different resonance to these more familiar events. In Western cultures it may seem natural to invest one's whole identity in a career role, with its achievements, or with honors already received (here the "strong self" makes its presence felt). But against this tendency I find it possible, like Hopkins, to identify mainly with my subject-self--even though my developed talents, skills, and other acquisitions (whatever their true worth) may be kept in view. I do not deny the crucial importance of these factors in my life as a whole. But I know I could lose all use of them if I suffered a grave stroke or a debilitating heart attack, for example. And throughout that illness, whose effects could be long-lasting, I would contin-ue to experience myself as "me"--a limited person, unique in my special taste of self, the same as I was as a child and teenager, and surely to remain so until death. If I am unable to make this sort of self-identification, but insist on claiming my developed self-concept as the only true "me," the danger is that a debilitating illness may tend to destroy me altogether. And those who live into old age, even if they never suffer a health crisis of the dramatic sort mentioned, may eventually experience their subject-self as "just ordinary"-- stripped of any actual use of their various gifts. In traditional Christian teaching our need for reliance on God will nor-mally be heightened and dramatized by major experiences of suffering (',limit" situations). This will surely continue to exert a central influence on personal realizations of Christ's paschal mystery. The unusual note to be Choosing to be "Just Ordinary '" / 493 sounded here, however, concerns the dimension of selfhood which our cul-tural moment may be bringing alive. The 'T' whom Jesus calls and unites to himself, the "I" who undergoes spiritual deaths and who may then receive new life in the risen Lord--this 'T' may now choose to identify with "just ordinary" feelings rather than either "nothing" or "something good denied." It is a form of limited selfhood available today to a much larger number of persons than ever before. Humility in a New Key As cultural events bring forward different ways of experiencing not only the humanized world but also the human subject in and by whom the world is humanized, individuals growing aware of their own gifts are always exposed to new dangers from pride. In his "Two Standards," we remember, St. Ignatius highlights the time-honored medieval teaching that pride is the source and origin of every other vice, and that humility, as St. Bernard puts it, is "the foundation and safeguard of all virtues." It follows that the emer-gence of a "just ordinary" feeling raises another question: precisely what effect might this have on our traditional sense of what the virtue of humility requires? No doubt, the rise of modern democracies brought a stronger emphasis on equality into social relations in the West (in contrast to earlier ideals of "subordination," of submission to those in higher orders). Every member, rich or poor, is supposed to stand on the same ground, in a civil sense as well as "before God," as every other member. But this opened the way to compe-tition in the public "free marketplace," where the many levels of social clas-sification become even more clearly marked than in the premodern world. Personal evaluations and interpersonal judgments are so much more intense than previously that the "neurotic" society of our day has become familiar to US.11 In this context modern teachings on humility tended to stress the differ-ence between the office and the office holder. And this traditional distinction was often combined with a focus on teamwork or group contributions. In sports, the heroes who score the highest number of points, even the winning goals, humbly acknowledge the help of their teammates and the glory of the whole team, rather than their individual merits. In short, modern humility consists mainly in putting oneself down. Self-abasement, especially after some signs of achievement appear in the struggle for success over others, is felt to be essential. This means that humility and humiliation are closely approximated in modern competitive societies. But in the postmodern world (if that is where we are today) many are 494 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 beginning to sense their subjective distance from the very structures of suc-cess and achievement themselves. Perhaps this is why human vulnerability and powerlessness have received so much attention in recent years. If I am right in this--to some extent and for some members only, of course--then the "just ordinary" feeling would denote an ability to experience self-worth independently of competition for successful contributions in the established institutions of the world. When the feeling does mean that, I would argue in favor of seeking to realize it in one's life. This would not necessarily signify nonparticipation in the large struc-tures of society--whether in business, politics, sports, communications, or whatever. But it could qualify the style of our participation because our main sense of self would no longer consist in whatever we might be able to achieve. To gain this rather sophisticated balance, of course, might not always be easy. It would mean learning how to give one's whole energies to highly skilled performances without pinning one's sense of self to success in performing well. Whatever the-degree of success or failure realized over time, those who contribute would continue to experience themselves to be "just ordinary" members of a community which regularly affirms their worth on a basis other than that of competition, success, or failure. This would bring a newish tone, a new chord, I think, to the age-old music of humility. Sacred and Secular Community The "just ordinary" feeling may also raise a question because of its very secularity. Normally the Church lives in a certa{n state of tension with the secular society in which its witness to Christ's message is to be given. But the quality of that "creative tension" can vary a great deal. In our day the tension may disappear whenever a new secular discovery affecting human growth is announced in a book or magazine, or its virtues are proclaimed in the media. It may then be taken up by skilled practitioners and made available in local programs. In recent decades we have received many such gifts. An example might be the interpretation of dreams by means of Jung's psychological theories. This can become quite an interesting activity, valu-able in itself. But there is a danger that believers who are attracted to it may then transfer most of their religious energies to essentially secular programs of this kind (think, too, of the many self-help groups claiming attehtion today) and thereafter give little attention to more central Christian practices. In particular, our own question concerns the "just ordinary" feeling. Is it another "brand-new discovery" of the type just mentioned? Does it not sug-gest a secular facet of human life which may all too easily replace more Choosing to be 'Just Ordinary" / 495 authentic 'teachings? Are we simply "shaking holy water" on secular objects and calling them Christian? I would reply that, while its potential misuses are undeniable, its right use may also be safeguarded if the underlying issue is kept clearly in sight-- the issue of the human call to transcendence. I will conclude this essay by exploring that deeper concem. At one level we remember that any new discovery may be claimed by Christian faith because all that is human belongs to God the Creator. Thus, we may recognize and welcome every fresh gift of human expertise, inte-grate it within the larger faith (making it subordinate, not dominant), and in this manner sanctify all things in Christ. No doubt this should be so. But at a deeper level of analysis the question arises in a new form because secularity (secular realities taken in a good sense, as differing from secularism) is always related to the sacred as its opposite. In this way Judaism and Christianity themselves initiated a radical process of secularization. For us the world is no longer "full of gods" since we believe in the one Creator who is beyond all created things (transcen-dent). Our faith has secularized the cosmos. Later on in history the civilized world, too, took further giant steps on the same journey. In great part today our political, economic, social, and cultural institutions are experienced not as immediately God-given but as humanly devised. In this more radical sense, then, whenever ongoing secularization enables a new gift of human life to be realized, the sacred powers of tradi-tional faith need to be adapted to the new situation. What had formerly been handled indirectly by religious beliefs has now come directly (even if incom-pletely) under human management. In faith we may welcome such events as fulfillments of God's intentions in creating humans "in his own image and likeness" (that is, cocreative with him). But we also note an important clue: there should be no change in secularity without a corresponding change in sacrality. The frequent failure here is a simple transfer of energies from the sacred into the secular realm while reducing religious operations to empty words alone. More specifically, if the emergence of "just ordinary" feelings can bring new aspects of human existence within the range of human competency, then we may rejoice in this prospect on condition that a corresponding, positive change occurs in our sense of specifically sacred gifts. But if the change should be merely negative, a loss of religious energies, then something has gone wrong. For example, the work of Carl Rogers and others on self-actualization and self-realization has an obvious bearing on our topic, but even here the 496 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 "just ordinary" feeling takes the process a step further, I think. All of these factors, we should remember, are secularizations of human powers which previously had been contained or implied within sacred gifts. 12 In Gerard Hopkins's poetry the sacred envelope remained untorn: Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves--goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying What I do is me: for that I came. I say more: the just man justices; Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces; Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is-- Christ--for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his . 13 Even more to the point are his famous closing lines in another poem: In a flash, at a trumpet clash, I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, Is immortal diamond. 14 The eternal worth to be realized at last in Christ is anticipated by a believer who knows his subject-self as "poor potsherd" and "matchwood." Surely this comes close to our "just ordinary" feeling even if its validation depends on faith in the resurrection. If we look back to Hopkins, we can per-ceive its secular potentials lurking within his very religious lines. In any case, now that it has emerged to stand on its own feet in our midst, we are challenged to respond afresh in faith to a new aspect of human self-realization. We may rejoice inthis event, but without a positive religious response of some kind the 16ss of transcendence becomes palpable. We may happily accept the growth of a human value, but its simultaneous excision from religious meanings calls for new initiatives, for real adaptations which do not downgrade the relevance of our transcendent faith but rather give it fresh impetus, redirecting its energies in new ways. Two principles may be l~ormulated in this regard. I have already been exploring the first of these, which might be put as follows: The Principle of Adaptation: Every new growth of secular competence should stimulate a corresponding renewal of sacred powers. The second may'be named: The Principle of Intensity: In our creative response to a given process of secularization, one important criterion would be a specific heighten-ing, rather than any lessening, in the experience of transcendence. Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 497 Whenever the Christian component is subtly reduced to a comfortable repetition of now irrelevant phrases, this second principle has been ignored. The urgency of transcendent faith for human affairs can easily be diminished without any advertence to its loss. Our "just ordinary" feeling, for example, simply cries out for creative faith responses. But what are these to be? That is the real issue. Will our sense of Christian humility be intensifie~l instead of being replaced? What fresh meaning can we now give to the crucial "poverty of spirit" which indicates membership in the Lord's kingdom? The heightened subjectivity that often seems to afflict us may also serve to awaken creative potentials previously unknown. Even though it makes us experience our human limits as never before, our acceptance of "just ordi-nary" feelings could, in fact, lead to new dimensions of liberation. But this will not be automatic. Our spiritual behavior will need to adjust itself cre-atively to the new gift. Possible responses are always at hand. Whenever in faith the members of our new communities reflect upon the significance of feeling "just ordinary" togetherl I believe the Real Presence of the risen Christ may receive a fresh emphasis. This heightened communal awareness may correspond in a unique way to our traditional poverty of spir-it. Precisely here a new intensity of faith may be gathering force. During the nineteen-twenties T.S. Eliot insistently employed the symbol of the Angelus bell, a traditional reminder of the moment of Incarnation. In that extraordinary instant, and whenever it is made present to us today, tran-scendent powers cut through the secular time dimension to disturb our mod-em preoccupations. In similar fashion a few decades earlier, wher~ striving to resist new inroads of modernity Pope Pius X led Catholic parishes to give renewed attention to the Real Presence in the Eucharist (mainly as reserved in the tabernacle or received during Holy Communion). Whatever judgments we may wish to pass upon those earlier modes of resis-tance, it seems clear that a creative response for today will need to focus on the Eucharist as an action performed by the whole community. We may be able to enter the eucharistic action as full participants because we surrender in faith to the Lord who makes his Real Presence felt in our ways of relating to one another. The "just ordinary" feeling may be chosen as a means to that effective recognition. When in a small faith community the members have learned how to act and speak out of their newfound sense of ordinary selfhood, all their gifts may be appreciated warmly and without exaggeration. They can be put into action zestfully since the members are set free from the anxieties of personal competition. Each one's acceptance by all the others may become intensified through the distinctly felt presence of the risen Lord in their community today--not merely by anticipat.ing the Second Coming. 498 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 In short, we are being graced, membered in a new life, invigorated, and turned in hope to the future by this much more active presence of Christ. That intensification of God's "reigning" in us may correspond accurately and be found to dovetail beautifully with the newly released "just ordinary" feelings of the members about themselves. NOTES l Method in Theology, New York: Herder & Herder, 1972, pp. 257-262. 2 On this distinction see Robert Bellah and others, Habits of the Heart, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: Univ. of California Press, 1985, pp. 32-35 and passim. 3 SeeThomas ~ Kempis, The Imitation of Christ, trans. Wm. Creasy, Notre Dame, Ind.: Ave Maria Press, 1989; "Introduction," pp. 11-13. Also Devotio Moderna: Basic Writings, trans. J. van Engen, New York: Paulist Press, 1988; "Introduction," p. 8: "The Imitation of Christ has undoubtedly proved the most influential devotional book in Western Christian history." It has also been translated into all the great lan-guages of the world. 4 Book I, chap. 28; trans. Creasy, p. 32. 5 Book III, chap. 8; trans. Creasy, p. 95. 6 Book III, chap. 14; trans. Creasy, p. 102. 7 Details are given in J. Leclercq, E Vandenbrouke, L. Bouyer, The Spirituality of the Middle Ages (vol. 11 of The History of Christian Spirituality), London: Bums & Oates, 1968, pp. 481-486 (text by F. Vandenbrouke). 8 Trans. Joseph Rickaby, S.J., Chicago: Loyola Univ. Press, 1929; vol. II, pp. 165- 352: "The Eleventh Treatise: On Humility." See chap. IIl: "Of Another Main Motive for a Man to. gain Humility, which is the Consideration of His Sins." (The first main motive, given in chap. II, is "To know oneself to be full of miseries and weak-nesses.") 9 Walter J. Ong, S.J., Hopkins, the Self, and God, Toronto, Buffalo, London: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1986; see especially pp. 22-28. For a recent philosophical discus-sion see Frederick Copleston, S.J., The Tablet, 11 Nov. 1989 (vol. 243, no. 7791), pp. 1302-1303. l0 Cited by Alphonsus Rodriguez, Practice of Perfection and Christian Virtues, p. 168, see n. 8, above. Chap. II, "That Humility is the Foundation of All Virtues," pp. 168-170; chap. III, "In Which It Is Shown More in Detail How Humility Is the Foundation of All Virtues, by Going Through the Chief of Them." ~l On this, see Bellah and others, Habits of the Heart (n. 2, above), pp. 117-121, for its development in the U.S.A. But similar versions of "modem nervousness" and "therapeutic culture" could be gathered from the other Western traditions (Continental, English, Canadian.). ~2 Confer Paul C. Vitz, Psychology As Religion, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1977, pp. 20-27, for a discussion of Carl Rogers, Abraham Maslow, and Rollo May as moving from religious into secular concerns. Choosing to be "Just Ordinary" / 499 ~3 The Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, ed. W.H. Gardiner and N.H. MacKenzie, 4th ed., London: Oxford Univ. Press, 1967; poem no. 57, p. 90. 14 Ibid, poem no. 72, p. 106. The Hunter Yahweh's manifest love has all the proud and fierce majesty of a turkey buzzard flying with outstretched wings upon hot afternoon breezes, which are thrust upward unconstrained from ocher grabens below. This carnivorous bird is the other side of the symbolic dove. It is the Master of the Universe when he is not content waiting for hesitant or indifferent souls who fail to seek him. Rather, he becomes the strident hunter pursuing those who choose hiding in dark shadows caused by lichen-covered trees, or along cow-trodden riverbanks, where brown mud oozes into slowly flowing, opaque waters. Yahweh spreads his wings, searches for the goats and lambs, such as you and me, when we forget how to look for him circling over us in the translucent sky. Brother Richard Heatley, F. S. C. De La Salle, "Oaklands" 131 Farnham Avenue Toronto, Ontario Canada M4A 1H7 At the Threshold of a Christian Spirituality: Ira Progoff's Intensive Journal Method John McMurry, S. S Father John McMurry, S.S., cun'ently serves at the St. Mary's Spiritual Center and as a spiritual director for St. Mary's Seminary and University in Baltimore, Maryland. He has taken part in thirty workshops led by Dr. Ira Progoff since 1976, and he has led some sixty Intensive Journal workshops since 1978. His address is All Saints Church; 4408 Liberty Heights Avenue; Baltimore, Maryland 21207. Since 1978 1 have been teaching Ira Progoff's Intensive Journal method occasionally at weekend workshops. Dialogue House, the umbrella organiza-tion covering all of Progoff's works, describes his method as a program of "professional and personal growth with a spiritual point of view." It is a non-analytic means for individuals to attain two goals. First, it enables individu-als to recognize and accept the wholeness of their life without denying the reality of any of its contents, no matter how unpleasant or embarrassing. Secondly, it enables individuals to get a feel for the consistency in the direc-tion that their life is taking as they discover potentials for the future hidden within their personal past. The goals of the program are attained by means of a variety of written exercises which are done in a group setting under the direction of an experi-enced leader who is committed to follow authorized guidelines. Individuals in the group work in private with the contents of their own life. The only prereq-uisites are an atmosphere of quiet and mutual respect, and an attitude of open-ness and acceptance on the part of each exercitant toward his or her own life. The program is not only nonanalytic; it is also nonjudgmental and is structured to help people experientially discover answers to questions such as the following: Where am I in the course of my life right now? How did I get to the place where I am in the course of life? Where is my life trying to go from here? What is the next step? 500 Progoffs Intensive Journal Method / 501 The Intensive Journal method itself has no content. The method is a dynamic structure to which each person supplies the content from one's own life. The structure aims at enabling individuals to establish deeper contact with the flow of creative energy in their own life. It is especially useful for people engaged in decision-making, for people who feel confused about the next step in life, for those who have lost contact with the direction their life wants to take, for those who feel alienated, isolated, or meaningless, and for those who simply want to expand their personal horizons of creativity. In creating the Intensive Journal program, Progoff had in mind people in a secular culture who are unfamiliar with or alienated by traditional religious language. However, the awarenesses stimulated by the exercises of his method serve to help Christians experience meaning in traditional doctrines which might otherwise remain merely propositional. In the case of people who approach it from the perspective of faith, the Intensive Journal program is a form of prayer. The Intensive Journal Method as Prayer In a chapter entitled "Prayer as Dialogue," Karl Rahner discusses prayer in terms apropos of the Intensive Journal method. He is addressing a com-mon problem of people who are earnest in their efforts to enter into dialogue with God. They often state the problem something like this: "When I pray, I cannot tell whether I am talking to myself or to God." Rahner challenges the presupposition that God says "something" to us in prayer. He raises some "what-ifs": What if we were to say that in prayer we experience ourselves as the utterance of God, ourselves as arising from and decreed by God's freedom in the concreteness of our existence? What if what God primarily says to us is ourselves in the facticity of our past and present and in the freedom of our future? Rahner concludes that when, by grace, we experience ourselves as the utterance of God to himself and understand this as our true essence, which includes the free grace of God's self-communication, and when in prayer we freely accept our existence as the word of God in which God promises him-self to us with his word, then our prayer is already dialogic, an exchange with God. Then we hear ourself as God's address. We do not hear "some-thing" in addition to ourself as the one already presupposed in our dead fac-ticity, but we hear ourself as the self-promised word in which God sets up a listener and to which God speaks himself as an answer. 1 Rahner is suggesting that God's word to me in prayer is not an idea; rather, God's word to me in prayer'is myself, that is, my personal, individual life story--past, present, and future. The implication is that my life story is 502 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 important in my relationship with God because it is the way God speaks to me and I to God. A further implication of Rahner's proposal is that I enter into dialogue with God ipsofacto under three conditions: 1) when I experience my life story as God's word addressed to himself; 2) when at the same time I understand that God is really present in my actual life story--past, present, and future-- as a free and undeserved gift of himself to me; 3) and when I freely accept my life story as the word of God in which God promises his Word to me. The Intensive Journal program is an instrument which lends itself to the discovery of the real presence of God in one's own personal life story. The content of the program is the content of the life of the Journal-writer; hence it is through the life of the Journal-writer that Christian faith may enter into the individual's use of the Intensive Journal exercises. Progoff has described the prayer dimension of his method as follows: The Intensive Journal work is indeed a species of prayer and meditation, but not in isolation from life and not in contrast to active life involve-ment. Rather, it is meditation in the midst of the actuality of our life experiences. It draws upon the actualities of life for new awarenesses, and it feeds these back into the movement of each life as a whole.2 The Intensive Journal Method and Spirituality In his "handbook of contemporary spirituality," Rahner raises the ques-tion whether the term "spirituality" is good, understandable, useful, or even has any meaning. Then he makes the observation that the crucial point for personal and pastoral life today is not so much a matter of getting the "spiri-tual" dimension of existence into our heads or other people's by means of abstract and conceptual indoctrination (which he says is ineffective anyway) as it is a matter of discovering the Spirit as that which we really experience in ourselves.3 Perhaps Rahner slightly understates the case. It may be that the crucial point for us personally and in our pastoral work today is simply to discover "the Spirit" as a fact of our own personal experience and to help others do the same. Furthermore, in order to be able to use the word "spirituality," we might let it refer simply to the individual's .relationship with God or, in other words, to what goes on in the creative process between God and each of us. This article presents Ira Progoff's Intensive Journal program as an aid to the process which is going on between an individual and God. The program adds no content to the life of the individual; it mirrors the movement which is already going on and stimulates that movement by feeding new aware- Progoffs Intensive Journal Method / 503 nesses back into the movement of life. ("Journal feedback" is one of the main features which distinguish this method from an ordinary diary.) This program, then, is a dynamic structure for evoking self-transcendence from the factual contents of a life story. For a person of faith it is a way of discov-ering the Spirit "as what we really experience in ourselves." Genesis of the Intensive Journal Method Following Progoff's discharge from the U.S. Army, he earned a doctor-ate in the area of'the history of ideas from the New School of Social Research in New York City. On the basis of his dissertation, Jung's Psychology and Its Social Meaning, published in 1953 and still in print, Progoff was awarded grants for postdoctoral studies with Carl Jung for two years. By virtue of those studies Progoff was licensed as a therapist by the state of New York, where he went into private practice after returning from Switzerland. In 1959 Progoff founded the Institute for Research in Depth Psychology at Drew University in New Jersey and served as its director until 1971. During those twelve years-he and his graduate students searched out the dynamics of creativity in published biographies of creative people whose life stories had ended. From his research Progoff concluded that creativity occurs through the interplay among various dimensions of life which may at first seem disparate. On the surface it may appear that the process in one dimension is unrelated to the process in another dimension, whereas in fact something new comes into being when the individual makes correlations among the dimensions of life. It is as though the individual is a complexus of certain processes which occur throughout life on different planes. Progoff has developed, the Intensive Journal method over more than a quarter-century of helping his clients apply the fruits of his research by dis-covering hidden sources of creativity within their own lives. He began teach-ing his method to groups in the late 1950s. In 1975 he published At a Journal Workshop, a thorough description of his haethod up to that time. In 1980 he published a companion volume, The Practice of Process Meditation, which added another dimension to the program. Dimensions of Human Existence In Progoff's view, the artist is paradigmatic. Each individual is both the artist and the ultimate artwork of life, and yet individuals execute the art-work which is themselves by engaging in outer activity which has inner meaning for the one doing it and beneficial consequences for society. In other words, in order for each of us to be fulfilled as an individual, we must 504 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 do some work (opus as distinguished from labor) which is both personally and socially meaningful. At the same time as we are creating our lifework, the doing of the work is creative of us. The basic dialogue of life is the dynamic actual (as distinguished from logical) dialogue between human cre-ators and their works. In Progoff's words, "Outward activity propelled from within is the essence of creative existence.''4 From his research on the lives of creative people Progoff learned to dis-tinguish certain dimensions of life as loci of the components of creativity. The Intensive Journal method recognizes those dimensions as sources of the raw material of creativity in anybody's life, They are the dimensions of time, ¯ of relationships, and of personal symbols. The Intensive Journal workbook uses color-coded dividers to mark off various sections in each of which the Journal-writer deals with the move-ment in one particular dimension of life. Within each of the main sections are tabbed subdividers of the same color as the main divider. Each tab bears the name of the specific exercise to be entered there. For example, the "Life/Time Dimension" is indicated by a red divider and contains four tabbed red subdividers; each of the four tabs bears the title of the written exercise to be entered there by the Journal writer. Similarly, the dimension of personal relationships in life, called the "Dialogue Dimension," is indicated by an orange divider and comprises five tabbed subdividers for each of the five "dialogue exercises." The part of the Intensive Journal workbook for making entries which deal with dreams and personal imagery is called the "Depth Dimension." It is indicated by a blue divider and five tabbed blue subdividers. In summary, the workbook comprises sections which reflect and stimu-late the movement of an individual life in each of its dimensions. Each of the main sections of the workbook represents a dimension of life and comprises several subsections for various written exercises which deal with the con- "tents of that life in styles appropriate to that particular dimension. The Dimension of Life/Time We do not get the chance to start life over, but the Intensive Journal pro-gram does offer us a tested means of restructuring our life from the perspec-tive of the present. At the same time it provides a means of discovering unactualized potentials which we may have overlooked the first time around, or which were not ripe then and may at some point in time be able to take a form they could not have taken originally. In studying the biography of a deceased person generally recognized as creative, the end or goal of that career may be clear and unmistakable, even Progof['s Intensive Journal Method / 505 though the lif'e story includes setbacks, stalls, reversals, and obstacles. It may be easy to see how everything in that life was leading up to some great scientific or philosophical work because we are viewing it from the perspec-tive of the end. But what if I am the life story I am working with? In that case the life process is still in progress. I am not looking at a still photograph but a mov-ing picture, and I am looking at it from the inside. In that case I start with the present epoch of my personal life and get a feel for this period of life from the inside. That is, I allow myself to feel the quality or tone of my life during this present period and record it objectively. The record I make of the pre-sent period will be an objective statement of my subjective experience of life at present. Then I am in a position to allow the course of my life to present itself to me from the perspective of the present in the form of about a dozen significant events. Each of those significant events serves to characterize a whole period of life. Of course, many other things also happened during that period. There are other exercises for dealing with them. The idea in this exercise is to get a feel for the wholeness and continuity of my life as I allow it to present itself to me in an articulated form so that I can use other Journal exercises to deal with it one period at a time. All the Intensive Journal exercises presuppose the attitude of openness and receptivity mentioned above, a nonjudgmental attitude toward life. It is not so much the objective contents of a life that affect its degree of creativi-ty, as the subjective attitude toward that life. In the creative restructuring of a life, a relaxed, friendly approach which allows surprises is important. Dimension of Relationships In the life/time dimension treated above, there is a principle of whole-ness, continuity, and direction,toward-a-goal at work. In the dimension of relationships, the dynamic is that of dialogue, that is, the give-and-take of equals listening and responding to each other in a spirit of mutual trust and acceptance. The principle of "dialogue relationship" applies first of all to significant people during various epochs of life. The. same dynamic applies analogously to meaningful work-projects (opera), which, like persons, seem to have a life of their own. In his research on creative lives, Progoff discovered that creativity occurs when people approach several kinds of meaningful contents of their life not as inert matter to be manipulated but as personal entities. That is, he discovered that creativity occurs when people acknowledge that each of sev-eral meaningful contents of their life has a life story of its own analogous to 506 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 that of a person. Each of these contents of life has a life story with blockages to growth toward a goal, with hopes, disappointments, successes, and so forth. He found that for the sake of movement toward acceptance of life and all it holds, it is of paramount importance to establish a "dialogue rel~ition-ship" not only with persons and works but witl~ the physical and societal dimensions of life, and with events, situations, and circumstances of life which "just happen." Progoff's research into de facto creative lives yielded two important corollaries. First, the movement which the dialogue relationship fosters is intrinsic to the "creative spirit. Secondly, in the dimension of relationships as well as in other dimensions of life, the factual contents of life are less impor-tant in the creative process than the way people relate to whatever the con-tents of their life are. The "Dialogue Dimension" of the Intensive Journal workbook offers a format for a variety of exercises which enable the Journal writer to engage in written dialogue with people who have played meaningful roles in their life, with work projects, their own body, sources of values in their life (v.g., fami-ly, ethnicity, religious commitment), and things over which they had no con-trol. The purpose of these dialogue scripts is to give a voice to the meaningful contents of life, that is, to provide them a forum in which mutu-ality can flourish in the form of a "dialogue relationship" rather than a mere-ly utilitarian relationship. This leaves the Journal writer open to the possibility of something new emerging from an old relationship from the past. That new something may contribute an insight or an awareness which is of benefit to another relationship or which creatively affects the movement in another dimension of life. The Dimension of Inner Symbols This dimension of life refers to dreams, "twilight imagery" and personal wisdom-figures as the vehicles which come forward spontaneously to carry the movement of life further. The aim of the exercises in this part of the Journal, called the "Depth Dimension," is to facilitate spontaneous correla-tions between inner imagery and outer life so that new insights, awarenesses, and possibilities for action and decision-making might come to the surface of consciousness. Then, by means of appropriate Journal exercises, they can be fed back into the ongoing movement of life and thus stimulate growth by creating new configurations in the way things fit together in life. Progoff tends to shy away from the use of dreams in his method because many people seem unable to deal with them except analytically. The Intensive Journal method of working with dreams is basically to allow the movement Progoffs Intensive Journal Method / 507 in a recurring dream or in a cluster of dreams to suggest some correlation with movement in one of the other dimensions of life. Then the exercitant may use appropriate Journal exercises to work in that dimension of life. The Fourth Dimension: The Spiritual As mentioned above, Progoff sees the Intensive Journal work in geoeral as "a species of prayer and meditation., in the midst of the actuality of our life experiences." However, he came to appreciate the role of the spiritual dimension in creativity only after he had developed Journal exercises in the three dimensions of life treated briefly above. The specifically spiritual dimension is reflected in his program as the dimension of meaning. The procedures for working in that dimension are called "Process Meditation." In the Intensive Journal program, formal work in this dimension is reserved for those who have already taken part in the "Life Context Workshop," which deals with the three dimensions of life treated above. As Rahner has said, "A basic and original transcendental experience is really rooted [in] a finite spirit's subjective and free experience of itself.''5 The "process" of "Process Meditation" refers to "the principle of conti-nuity in the universe" which is found on three levels: the cosmic, the s6ci-etal, and the personally interior.6 The Intensive Journal method helps the individual relate to "process" on the interior level. The movement of life in the three dimensions treated above is character-istically movement toward personal wholeness and the integration of the individual with oneself. Progoff calls that movement "core creativity." "In terms of individual lives," he writes, "the essence of process in human expe-rience lies in the continuity of its movement toward new integrations, the formation of new holistic units [of life/time].''7 In the spiritual dimension of life the movement is characterized by rela-tionships which transcend the core creativity of the individual. The roots of such relationships--even the personal relationship of the individual to God--are to be found in the stuff of everyday life, but at a deeper than ordi-nary level. Rahner speaks of the knowledge of God as "concrete, original, histori-cally constituted, and transcendental." He further says that such knowledge of God "is inevitably present in the depths of existence in the most ordinary human life.''8 Progoff interprets "meditation" broadly. In his usage it refers to whatev-er methods or practices one uses in the effort to reach out toward meaning. "The essence of meditation," he says, "lies in its intention, in its commit- 508 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 ment to work inwardly to reach into the depths beyond the doctrines of our beliefs.''9 Hence, "Process Meditation" refers to a set of exercises which draw on the individual exercitant's intimations or experiences of connected-ness to the principle of continuity in the universe. Progoff describes his method of Process Meditation as follows: Our basic procedure is to reenter the process by which our individual spiritual history has been moving toward meaning . We reenter that pro-cess so as to reconnect ourselves with the inner principle of its move-ment, and especially so that we can take a further step toward the artwork that is our personal sense of meaning,l° Conclusion In a review of The Practice of Process Meditation, William V. Dych, S.J., translator of Rahner into English, compares what Rahner calls "the uni-versal presence of grace and the Spirit" with Progoff's thesis that "there is in every human being an inner source of new light and life that expresses itself whenever the circumstances are right." Dych views Progoff's thesis as so supportive of Rahner's position that it would be hard to imagine a more pos-itive affirmation of it. ~ NOTES i Karl Rahner, The Practice of Faith: A Handbook of Contemporary Spirituality, ed. Karl Lehmann'and Albert Raffelt (New York: Crossroad, 1984), pp. 94-95. 1 Ira Progoff, The Practice of Process Meditation: The Intensive Journal Way to Spiritual Experience (New York: Dialogue House Library, 1980), p. 18. 3 Rahner, op cit, p. ! 86. 4 Ira Progoff, At a Journal Workshop: The Basic Text and Guide for Using the Intensive Journal (New York: Dialogue House Library, 1975), p. 35. 5 Karl Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith: An Introduction to the Idea of Christianity, trans. William V. Dych (New York: The Seabury Press, 1978), p. 75. 6 Progoff, The Practice of Process Meditation, p. 40. 7 Ibid, p. 58. 8 Rahner, Foundations of Christian Faith, p. 57. 9 Progoff, The Practice of Process Meditation, p. 34. l0 Ibid, p. 82. II William V. Dych, "The Stream that Feeds the Well Within," Commonweal, 25 September 1981 Our Journey Inward: A Spirituality of Addiction and Recovery Maureen Conroy, R.S.M. Sister Maureen Conroy is co-director of the Upper Room Spiritual Center; EO. Box 1104; Neptune, New Jersey 07753. [~qany of us travel a great deal throughout our lives. With advanced means of transportation, traveling around the state, country, or world has become second nature to us. However, no matter how much or how far we travel, as we journey through life we discover that there is no journey more challeng-ing and scary than the journey inward, the journey to find true happiness and our most authentic self. We search for what is fulfilling and life-giving, but at times our searching takes us down the dark road of addictive behavior. We search for happiness in compulsive ways that deaden us rather than give us life--until we experience a desperate need for help. In this article I reflect on the darkness pervading the addictive process and some ways to journey through the darkness to our truer self. I discuss three aspects of our journey from addiction to recovery--woundedness and wholeness, powerlessness and surrender, and pain and compassion--and describe some dimensions of a spirituality of addiction and recovery related to these three aspects. A Spirituality of Woundedness and Wholeness As human beings God has given us the gifts of strength and freedom; we are called to live in the light. It is also true, however, that we are wounded, weak, vulnerable, broken people. We come from an environment of dark-ness. The brokenness in our ancestry and the dysfunction in our families has influenced our growth as free human beings. We are broken and we are in deep need of healing and redemption. We cannot save ourselves. In our addictive stance we want to avoid our woundedness, ignore our 509 510 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 weakness, and run from our vulnerability. We seek fulfillment through an object, a substance, or a process; that is, we form a pathological relationship with a mood-altering reality in order to find wholeness and happiness. We find it difficult to be honest about the dysfunction in our families and the brokenness in ourselves, so we look for something outside ourselves to keep us from facing our darkness. Spiritual growth and recovery, however, are just the opposite of this avoidance. To grow humanly and spiritually we must journey in and through our woundedness; we must face it head on. We need to feel the messiness of our brokenness and to discover God there. As Psalm 50 says, "a broken and humbled heart, O God, you will not spurn." We must discover that God's heart of love encompasses and holds as precious our wounded hearts, bodies, and spirits. It is through dwelling in our woundedness and vulnerability that we experience our authentic self and that we enable our addictive self to grow less powerful. We come to experience the child within and integrate our dark side with our light side. How do we make this journey in and through our woundedness? We do it by uncovering our addiction layer by layer. By this I mean we allow the walls of denial and layers of dishonesty to reveal themselves; we honestly appraise our unhealthy behaviorL Denial blocks our inner journey. It is a buffer against any reality thatis not acceptable to us, a way to protect our-selves from awareness of realities that are too difficult to face. Spiritual growth happens when we remove layer upon layer of denial that covers over our woundedness and our truer selves. Rather than avoiding our wounds, we need to expose them to the fresh air, to expose our broken hearts to the heal-ing .heart of God, to bring our darkness out into the light of day, to bring hid-den realities out to the light of God's love and the care of others. As Meister Eckhart says, "God is not found in the soul by adding anything, but by a pro-cess of subtraction." So it is through peeling off layer upon layer of denial and dishonesty that we discover God in our brokenness. We discover the original blessing that we are, our deeper and truer selves. We see and feel the aspects of ourselves--minds, hearts, and bodies--that mirror God's pres-ence. We experience the truth of the Genesis story where God says, "Let us make people in our image and likeness." We discover the authentic self that God desires to be fully human and fully alive. Growth in wholeness, therefore, takes place through integrating our dark side with our light side, through accepting our brokenness as we journey through it, by seeing the original blessing that we are. We discover that "darkness and light are the same" (Ps 139:12), that God is present in every dimension of our being. Thus, our woundedness becomes a gift, so rather Our Journey Inward / S'l'l than covering it over with layers of denial, we come to feel at home there because God is there. We discover our truer self underneath the layers of an addictive self. We integrate our wounded and blessed self, our darkness and our light, and we become more and more a whole person. We experience the truth proclaimed by St. Irenaeus: "God's greatest glory is a person fully alive." A Spirituality of Powerlessness and Surrender The journey through addiction to recovery is also one of powerlessness and surrender. God sent Jesus in the flesh to free us from our enslavement to sin and to show us the way t6 live in freedom. It was through Jesus' total surrender to his death on the cross that he experienced new life and showed us the way to true freedom, the freedom of letting go and surrender. In our addictive stance, we are trying to control everyone and everything around us. We grow hardheaded and hardhearted, and we attempt to control the sub-stance or process that we are abusing--alcohol, food, money, sex, work, or an obsessive relationship. We are out of control, and the more we try to con-trol everyone and everything around us, even the substance we are abusing, the more out of control we become. Our addiction is enslaving us to our own self-centered needs and desires. We are "number one" when we are addicted; our addictive needs come bei'ore everyone else. Our addiction enslaves us to an object or process that we think is going to bring us lasting happiness when it is really bringing us misery and isolation. It enslaves us emotionally, spiritually, physically, and socially. The more we try to control the use of our addictive reality, the more we lose con-trol. We deny the basic reality that Paul~ expresses: "The desire to do right is within me, but not the power. What happens is that I do, not the good I will, but the evil I do not intend. But if I do what is against my will, it is not I who do it but sin which dwells in me" (Rm 7~18-20). In our denial we keep think-ing we can choose to keep this substance in right order; however, the rbality is that our will is not working, it is diseased. We are powerless. So how does spiritual growth and recovery happen in relation to our being out of control? It begins when we admit our powerlessness, realize the insanity of thinking that we can control all aspects of our lives and our des-tiny. Spiritual growth happens through the journey of surrender, not control; it begins at the moment of surrender. We need to admit that our ability to choose has become greatly impaired through the disease of our addiction. Our trying to choose not to drink, not to overeat, not to overwork, not to engage in compulsive sexual activity, is just not working. Our willpower simply does not work. As we begin to admit our powerlessness and surrender to God, we find 512 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 new life. When we surrender rather than control, we are choosing life: "I have set before you life and death, a blessing and a curse. Choose life, then, that you may live, by loving the Lord your God, heeding God's voice and holding fast to God. For that will mean life for you" (Dt 30:19-20). As we admit our powerlessness and surrender to God, true power grows within us--the power to love others, the power to experience God's love, and the power to love ourselves. Through our surrender we come more deeply in touch with our authentic self--the self that is alive and not dead, free and not enslaved, joyful and not depressed. True freedom grows--a freedom that heals rather than hurts, that brings about growth rather than destruction, that results in life rather than death. In our surrender we begin to make positive choices for recovery, attend-ing twelve-step meetings and living the twelve-step program. We choose to take responsibility for our lives and our recovery, like the paralyzed man who had lain at the pool of Bethsaida for thirty-eight years until Jesus asked: "Do you want to be healed?" We need to respond to that same question in our addiction because recovery is hard work; it involves a gre.at deal of sacri-fice and responsibility. Also, through our daily admission of powerlessness and constant atti-tude of surrender, we discover God in a new way--a God who supports us in our weakness and strengthens us in time of need, a God who will not leave us even in our most out-of-control moments. We discover in Jesus a God " who has experienced weakness and powerlessness, a God who has stood totally stripped and poor, a God who invites us to have the attitude of a vul-nerable child rather than a controlling adult: "Unless you become like a little child, you shall not enter the kingdom of God." We experience a God whose power takes over in our weakness, as St. Paul discovered through his strug-gle: "Three times [which means numerous times] I begged the Lord that this might leave me. God said to me, 'My grace is enough for you, for in weak-ness power reaches perfection.' " It was through constantly admitting his powerlessness that Paul's spiritual growth and recovery took place. So he says: "I willingly boast of my weaknesses instead, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I am content with weakness., for when I am powerless it is then that I am strong" (2 Co 12:8-10). Thus, through admit-ting our powerlessness over an object of addiction and surrend.ering to God our weakness, we experience the power of God, the love of God, new life, renewed freedom. We move forward on the journey ,of recovery. A Spirituality of Pain and Compassion Finally, the journey through addiction to recovery is one of pain and Our Journey Inward / ~313 compassion. One of the hard facts of life is that suffering is an integral part of it. Jesus himself had to suffer great pain in order to bring new life. Our God is not a distant God but a compassionate God who experienced great pain, the pain of loving us. In our addictive stance, we deal with pain in an unhealthy way. We want to run from it, cover it over, deny it. We are caught in a "Catch 22" situation because, in using a substance to avoid our pain, we are really in great pain-- the pain of loneliness, isolation, and alienation from our true self and from healthy relationships with others. As our addiction progresses, it becomes increasingly painful to maintain our denial. We are overcome by the pain of shame and self-disgust. Spiritual growth and recovery take place when we face that pain, feeling it, looking at it square in the face, rather than avoiding it by abusing a sub-stance. As our walls of denial break down, we begin to feel the pain we have been covering up--the pain of living, the pain of loss, the pain of being human, the pain of developing intimate relationships, the pain of childhood neglect and abuse. We find out that healing involves pain, as in the case of lepers. Leprosy causes numbness. When Jesus healed the leper, he invited him to feel pain in the areas of previous nrmbness. The same is true of the leprosy of our addiction: as we begin to let down the walls of denial, we begin to feel pain. We realize that recovery and healing are not easy. As we journey through deeper levels of pain in our recovery, we discover a God who knows what it is to suffer. As Meister Eckhart says: "Jesus becam~ a human being because God, the Compassionate One, lacked a back to be beaten. God needed a back like our backs on which to receive blows and therefore to perform compassion as well as to preach it." Our compassionate God became a suffering God. Our God feels with us, suffers with us. Again, Eckhart says, "However great one's suffering is, if it comes through God, God suffers from it first." What a gift we have in a God who suffers with us! As we experience this tremendous love of a compassionate God, we become people of compassion, persons who can feel with others in their bro-kenness. We become more vulnerable and grow toward greater wholeness because love is the greatest healer. As our walls of denial are penetrated with God's compassionate love and we become more vulnerable, we can be with people in their brokenness. That is one of the beautiful realities of the twelve-step program: it is a group of people who are in touch with their bro-kenness and therefore have great compassion for those who are struggling. They live out these words of McNeill, Morrison, and Nouwen: "Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into places of pain, to share in broken-ness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with 514 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human" (Compassion, p. 4). As we feel the pain that our addiction has tried to cover, we become wounded healers--people who minister out of our woundedness as well as our strength. "What you have received as a gift. give as a gift" (Mt 10:8). Our pain becomes a gift that we can give to other addicted people as we compas-sionately help them to face the devastation of their addictive behaviors. In sum, our inward journey involves walking down the dark paths of our brokenness into the light of God's presence and our authentic self. A spiritu-ality of addiction and recovery must include two sides of reality: awareness of our woundedness, powerlessness, and pain as well as growth in wholeness, surrender, and compassion. Without a vivid sense of the depths of our bro-kenness in our addicted self, we cannot move toward the wholeness of our authentic self. Without a keen awareness of our darkness, we are blind to the light of God's healing presence. Without an acute sense of our vulnerability, we cannot become compassionate healers who stand with others in their pain. Though scary and challenging, our journey through our own darkness will lead us to the light of true happiness, deeper fulfillment, and new life. Awareness Examen for Recovering People In God's presence, take ten to fifteen minutes to prayerfully reflect on your day. Contemplate your day together--you and God. Prayer of Thanksgiving I thank God for the gift of this day, the gift of my sobriety, the gift of my recovery. I thank God for specific git~s of life that come to mind, such as my health, my family, my community, my friends, my job, my twelve-step program. I thank God for gifts of my inner life, such as the ability to feel and think, energizing feelings I had during the day (name them), specific values and beliefs that guided my actions, ways I used my thinking and imagination for growth, positive choices for recovery which I made today, God's life within me. I thank God for two or three concrete life gifts and inner gifts that I am particularly aware of and grateful for today. Prayer for Light I humbly ask God to help me see myself and my life today as God sees Our Journey Inward them. I ask God to remove blindness and denial from my mind and heart. I ask God for the gift of honesty with myself and God. I ask God for a dis-ceming heart and a truthful mind. Prayer of Awareness God and I contemplate my life, my heart, and my thinking this day from the moment I woke up until now. What specific feelings did I feel today? When did I feel most alive today? most my true self?, most joyful? most peaceful? most in tune with my deeper self?. How did I feel God's presence today? What was that feeling like? What was God like? At what moment did I feel God's presence the strongest? When did I feel powerless today? out of control? enslaved? unfree? What was I powerless over? Did I surrender that reality to God? When did I feel vulnerable today? When did I feel pain today? What was the pain about? Did I share that painful feeling with God or another? With whom have I been most honest today? myself?, another? God? What was I honest about? How did I struggle with honesty today? With what issue or feeling? ' What were my feelings underneath the struggle? fear? anger? guilt? Which of the twelve steps was my strength today? How did I live it, carry it out, in a practical way? In what concrete ways did I strive to improve my conscious contact with God? What choices did I make for my recovery today? How do I feel about those choices? When did I feel compassion for another person today? How did I reach out to others today? show concem and care? make amends? Prayer of Amends I ask God to forgive any specific wrongdoings of today. I ask God to have mercy on any negative attitudes or feelings that I got stuck in today. Prayer of Surrender I surrender all to God: my life, my will, my brokenness, my addictions, my imagination, my thoughts, my feelings. I surrender to God specific attitudes, feelings, thoughts, actions over which I felt powerless today. I ask God's strength to take over in my specific weaknesses. I ask God's power to be present in the specific areas in which I feel helpless and powerless. 516 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 O God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Take, O Lord, and receive my liberty, my memory, my understanding, my entire will, all that I have and possess. You have given all to me. To you, O God, I return it. All is yours, dispose of it wholly according to your will. Give me your love and your grace, for this is sufficient for me. (Prayer from the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius) RECOMMENDED READING Larsen, Eamie. Stage H Recovery: Life Beyond Addiction. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1985. May, Gerald. Addiction and Grace. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988. McNeill, Donald; Morrison, Douglas; and Nouwen, Henri. Compassion. New York: Doubleday & Co., 1966. Nakken, Craig. The Addictive Personality: Roots, Rituals, Recovery. Center City, Minn.: Hazelden, 1988. Whitfield, Charles L. Healing the Child Within. Pompano Beach, Florida: Health Communications, 1987. A Gift to Share The Jesuit Heritage Today "Ignatian prayer puts the history of salvation into the present tense." --Walter Burghardt, S.J. A Spirituality for Contemporary Life ¯ presents six stimulating reflections on the Jesuit heritage today. Theologians Walter IBurghardt, David Fleming, Monika Hellwig, Jon Sobrino, ElizabethJohnson, andJohn Padberg speak about living with God in ordinary life. ISBN 0-924768-02-9 112 pages List Price $5.95 A Resource to Keep See Order Form Inside Back Cover for Special Offer for Readers of Review for Religious Apostolic Spirituality: Aware We Are Sent James H. Kroeger, M.M. Father James Kroeger last appeared in our pages in May/June 1988. He has a doctor-ate in missiology from the Gregorian University and has published five books. His address: Maryknoll Fathers; EO. Box 285; Greenhills Post Office; 1502 Metro Manila; Philippines. Adequately capturing realities in the spiritual life always demands the use of dynamic, expansive language. For this reason, spirituality is frequently described in relational categories--between a Christian and a personal God, between the servant-herald and the crucified and risen Lord. Such a relation-ship of intimacy is at the heart of biblical spirituality: "I will be your God and you shall be my people"; Christians are Jesus' friends and call their heavenly Father "Abba." Spirituality may also variously be described as growth, an evolution toward maturity, a pilgrimage. Each category presents an authentic, albeit partial, grasp of the human-divine dynamic operative in our lives. In this article, "consciousness" or "awareness" is the category for our insight into spirituality, and it naturally overflows with an apostolic or missionary dynamism. Consciousness: A Window into Spirituality Consciousness may seem to be an elusive concept, yet no one would deny the reality. An individual is in a conscious state when perceptual and cognitive faculties function normally. One continuously synthesizes various stimuli from within and from without; ideally, the result is a healthy personal integration. Notice that many constitutive elements are included in consciousness: seeing, hearing, feeling, thinking, desiring, experiencing. Consciousness incorporates perceptions, emotions, observations, thoughts, aspirations, 517 5"11~ / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 choices. It also includes an introspective awareness of the personal impact of all events and experience. In light of this brief and rudimentary description of the phenomenon of human consciousness, one may begin to elaborate the relationship between consciousness and a spirituality of the apostolate. Our service--all focused on raising our God-consciousness and expanding the horizons of our spiritu-al awareness. We want to use our eyes to see perceptively and our ears to hear attentively; we hope to gain deepened insight into our lives through faith's mirror (Jm 1:22-25). In another vein, a look at the venerable Eastern traditions of many Asian nations reveals that the man of God or the God-conscious, God-focused per-son is essentially a seer, sage, or mystic. Such a person "sees" and experi-ences God; God is not an object of knowledge, but a subject of experience. To grow in holistic spirituality is concomitant with an experiential awareness and consciousness of God's presence and activity in all dimensions of one's life (Arguelles, 50-51). The beautiful prayer in the Upanishads, one of the Hindu sacred books, expresses the aspiration and spiritual desire to come to this deeper conscious union with the divine. In Sanskrit and English it is: Asato ma satgamaya Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya Mrutyu ma amrutam gamaya. God, lead me from untruth to truth Lead me from darkness to light Lead me from death to immortality. Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk and spiritual writer (1915-1968), has enabled countless people to gain insights into their spirituality. Merton inti-mately links spirituality and prayer with the transformation of conscious-ness. He sees that a renewed conscious awareness underlies all spiritual growth; Christians must cease to assert themselves as the center of con-sciousness and discover God's presence as the deepest center of conscious-ness within them. Thus, as their self-consciousness changes, they are transformed; their self is no longer its own center, it is now centered on God. It is important to note that for Merton no one will ever be capable of communion with God and others without ttiis deep awakening, this transfor-mation of consciousness. Such transformative growth "consists in a double movement, man's entering into the deepest center of himself, and then, after passing through that center, going out of himself to God" (Higgins, 49). Merton asserts that, unless our spirituality or prayer "does something to awaken in us a consciousness of our union with God, of our complete depen- Apostolic Spirituality / 5'19 dence upon him for all our vital acts in the spiritual life, and of his constant loving presence in the depths of our soul, it has not achieved the full effect for which it is intended" (Merton-A, 67). In today's world, "What is required of Christians is that they develop a completely modern and contemporary consciousness in which their experience as men of our century is integrated with their experiences as children of God redeemed by Christ" (Merton-B, 279). The renowned Indian theologian D.S. Amalorpavadass has written elo-quently on the role of consciousness or awareness in attaining spiritual inte-gration and interiorization: "If wholeness is a state of being at which one should finally arrive in stages, awareness is the running thread and unifying force. Awareness needs to flow like a river, like a blood-stream . Awareness is also the core of spirituality and God-experience." He repeats: "Awareness or consciousness should flow through the various actions of our life. One should maintain awareness in all that one does. It should serve as a running thread and connecting bond., through the various activities of our day, and the different periods and stages of our life, in an uninterrupted and continuous flow. This flow will make our whole life a continuous prayer and a state of contemplation" (Amalorpavadass, 4, 24). Brief glimpses of Scripture, Eastern traditions, a Trappist monk, and a contemporary theologian have shown that "consciousness" helps one grasp the human-divine dynamic operative in the Christian life. Within this catego-ry- which is foundational--a vibrant spirituality and a concomitant mis-sionary dynamism can flourish. And, in a Marian spirit, Christians who are missionary will grow ever more conscious of the marvelous deeds that God is accomplishing in us, our neighbors, our society, our Church, and the entire world. The Consciousness of Paul the Missionary The New Testament describes Paul's radical awareness of God's active presence in his life. Though not naturally prone to humility, Paul admits that he was knocked to the/~round; in Damascus "something like scales fell from his eyes," By grace h~ perceived that he was the chosen instrument to bring Good News to the Gentiles and that he would accomplish his mission only with hardship and suffering (Ac 9). Paul's consciousness of his apostolic calling was certainly at the basis of his extraordinary missionary journeys. Without a vivid perception and faith commitment, no one would willingly endure the challenges Paul faced. Such endurance would be foolishness. Yet Paul is never willing, even momentari-ly, to minimize his authority and commitment as an apostle; the introductory 520 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 verses of many of his letters are clear evidence of this. Paul's conversion was no superficial or passing phenomenon. It penetrated the core of his person and totally transformed his way of thinking and acting--his consciousness. Further investigation into Pauline theology and spirituality reveals the depth of his convictions. Paul is absolutely certain that God has a wonderful, marvelous, loving plan of salvation for the entire world (note his frequent use of the words mysterion and oikonomia). His letter to the Ephesians con-vincingly, almost mystically, explains how "God has given us the wisdom to understand fully the mystery,'~ "the mysterious design which for ages was hidden in God." Pauline reflection on God's loving plan of salvation (mysterion) synthe-sizes his belief that this design has been fully revealed in Christ and will be recapitulated in Christ at the end of time. This manifestation is focused on salvation, not condemnation or judgment, and is open to all peoples. It unfolds in stages: God, Jesus, Spirit, Church, world. Humanity's response is faith or personal appropriation of the mysterion (Fitzmyer, 807-808). A recent scholarly investigation (Plevnik, 477-478) has concluded that "Any center of Pauline theology must therefore include all these components of the apostle's gospel, his understanding of Christ, involving the Easter event and its implications, the present lordship, the future coming of Christ, and the appropriation of salvation. The center is thus not any single aspect of Christ, or of God's action through Christ, but rather the whole and undivided richness and mystery of Christ and of the Father's saving purpose through his Son" (mysterion). Mystery, in one word, captures the Christian message. Paul is the missionary par excellence because he believed, lived, prayed, served, reflected, witnessed, preached, and suffered so that God's mysterion would be known, extended, loved, and freely received. Obviously, Paul's missionary consciousness had the "mysterion encounter" as its central focus and driving force. Paul's self-awareness as an apostle was rooted in being chosen as a ser-vant and minister of God's loving plan of salvation. It might be asserted that the mysterion engulfed and consumed Paul; his consciousness was so trans-formed that he could assert that Christ lived in him, that fellow Christians could imitate him, that life or death no longer mattered, and that he gloried in giving his life for Christ. In a word, the mysterion is foundational to Paul's missionary identity and consciousness. Mission and Mysterion Consciousness The Second Vatican Council in its decree on the missionary activity of the Church places mission and evangelization at the center of the Church-- Apostolic Spirituality / 52'1 not allowing this task to float somewhere on the periphery: "The pilgrim Church is missionary by her very nature" (AG, 2). Pope Paul VI continues in the same vein: "We wish to confirm once more that the task of evangelizing all peoples constitutes the essential mission of the Church . Evangelizing is in fact the grace and vocation proper to the Church, her deepest identity. She exists in order to evangelize." (EN, 14). To evangelize--what meaning does this imperative have for the Church? It is to be no less than the living proclamation of the mysterion, God's loving design of universal salvation. As the community of Jesus' disciples, the Church realizes her "deepest identity" and "her very nature" when she ful-fills her mission of evangelization. She is to be always and everywhere "the universal sacrament of salvation" (LG, 48; AG, 1). For her, to live is to evangelize. In contemporary terms, the Church accomplishes her "self-realization" or "self-actualization" through mission and evangelization. She is only authentic and true to herself when she is announcing and witnessing the mys-terion. A nonmissionary Church is impossible; it is self-contradictory. The great missionary pope Paul VI writes that the Church "is linked to evange-lization in her most intimate being" (EN, 15); mission is not "an optional contribution for the Church" (EN, 5). In addition, the Church's missionary identity is not a late afterthought of the risen Jesus--though this outlook may seem true today of some Christians and local churches. Animation and rededication are necessary because Christians "are faithful to the nature of the Church to the degree that we love and sincerely promote her missionary activity" (EE, 2). These few paragraphs may invite the comment "I have heard it all before." True, yet all of us often hear without hearing, see without seeing, and listen without comprehending. It is precisely at this juncture that conscious-ness is poignantly relevant. Many Christians do not deny the missionary nature of the Church, but their level of conscious awareness is weak or mini-mal. This fact is unfortunately true even of many full-time Church personnel. The intention here is not to berate or castigate individuals. Rather, it is a stark statement of the need for "consciousness-raising"; it is a call for Christians to expand and deepen their awareness; all urgently need "conscientization-into-mission." In short, the entire Church herself must experience a profound reevangelization in order to become a truly evangelizing community. Recall the themes presented earlier on the centrality of consciousness in Christian life and spirituality. They seem particularly relevant as the Church struggles with her fundamental missionary identity. Is not this a central burn-ing question in the Church today: What has happened to her mission con- 522 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 sciousness--where is its urgency and dynamism--where are the contempo-rary St. Pauls? A rephrasing in mission terms of earlier quotes on consciousness from Amalorpavadass may prove enlightening. Church-as-mission is "the running thread and unifying force"; it "needs to flow like a river, like a blood-stream"; it is at "the core of spirituality and God-experience"; ira"will make our whole life a continuous prayer and state of contemplation." Trinitarian Basis of Mission Consciousness and Spirituality In the same breath that the Vatican Council spoke of the Church's mis-sionary identity, it presented the foundational rationale of mission. In a word, the why of Church-as-mission is Trinitarian, "for it is from the mission of the Son and the mission of the Holy Spirit that she takes her origin, in accordance with the decree of God the Father" (AG, 2). This mission vision, expressed in Trinitarian language, must not frighten or intimidate readers. Do not say, "I do not understand Trinitarian theology, so I cannot grasp this." While a bit difficult and challenging, this insight is also beautiful and rewarding. It transports us to the heart of mission; it flows from the core of our faith in the Trinity; it greatly enhances our mission con-sciousness and spirituality. The most inviting manner to appreciate mission--via the Trinity--is to remember that it is an eminently personal approach. The Father is a person, his son Jesus is a person, their girl of the Spirit is also a person. This is only a statement of a basic dogma of the faith. Grasping the immanence and closeness of the three Persons appears far more fruitful than grappling with the incomprehensibility of the transcendent Trinity (Billy, 602-611). Growth in conscious awareness, experience, and encounter with each of the three Persons richly broadens our vision of mission. It also manifests that mission theology and spirituality draw from the same wellspring. An appre-ciation of the roles of the Father, the Son, and the Spirit in mission produces an integrated missiology, incorporating "Abba" theology, Christology, and pneumatology. The result will certainly be a more holistic theology and spir-ituality of mission. Finally, it is the conviction of this author that such an approach relieves some current tensions and answers some questions in mission. For example, debates centered on interreligious dialogue with the living faith traditions of the world can probably be better resolved more from a pneumatological approach than from only a Christological one. Therefore, if mission theology and spirituality are an integrated endeavor, the deepened consciousness will provide insights for both theoretical and practical questions. Apostolic Spirituality / 523 Our attention now tums to the roles of Father, Son, and Spirit in mis-sion. How does each person of the Trinity send and accompany us into mis-sion? Recall the title of this presentation, which links mission and spirituality with a consciousness of being sent. The Role of the Father The Father is presented in Scripture as the harvest master and vineyard owner. Mission, therefore, originates with the Father; mission is God's pro-ject. The Father determines its parameters. Already this awareness places the Church and her evangelizers in an auxiliary, servant role. Vatican II clearly set aside triumphalistic ecclesiology as well as any simplistic identification of the Church and the Kingdom of God. As servant of the kingdom or laborer in the vineyard, the Church is to be "the kingdom of Christ now present in mystery" and the "the initial budding forth of that kingdom" (LG, 3, 5). In addition, the Council, situating the Church within the larger framework of God's design of salvation (mysterion), entitled its first chapter of the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church "The Mystery of the Church." The Church and all missioners must radically see themselves serving the mysterion "according to the will of God the Father" (AG, 2). The Father desires generous cooperators and humble workers for the harvest. He freely chooses them and they are to belong to him (Lk 6:13; Mk 3:13-16; Jn 15:15-16). These passages remind evangelizers that all mission is a sending (missio/mittere), originating in the Father; their vocation is God's gratuitous gift. Missioners do not send themselves; mission cannot be defined in legal terms; all must be according to the Father's gracious design. Affirming mission, therefore, as a gratuitous gift in the Father's gracious vision, emphasizes the centrality of grace. Thus, missioners understand, as the country priest in Bernanos' novel says on his deathbed, in all vocations "Grace is everywhere" (Bernanos, 233). Trinitarian mission is always soteriological; its purpose is liberation and salvation. The Father has no other goal, as Paul clearly reminded Timothy: He "wants all to be saved and come to know the truth." Condemnation or rejection are inconsistent with the Father's design (Jn 3:16-17; Mt 18:14). The Father, overwhelmingly "rich in mercy" (Ep 2:4), extends his great love to everyone, as the universalism of both Luke and Paul make clear. All evangelizers have experienced "the kindness and love of God" (Tt 3:4); it is out of their deep consciousness of the Father's personal graciousness that they journey to all places, peoples, and cultures. They are aware that they have received all as girl, and they desire to give all with the same generosity (Mt 10:8). Any missioner would relish being described as "rich in mercy." 594 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 The Father cannot be surpassed in his kindness and generosity (Jm 1:5, 17); his mercy is made concrete and visible when he sends Jesus, his Son. This is definitely a new mode of God's presence with his people; it is love in personal form. This unfolding of the mysterion far surpasses previous mani-festations of Yahweh's presence to his people Israel (Heb 1:1-2). Missioners strive to be continuations of the love of God manifested personally in Jesus, and this approach brings transformation and deepened consciousness. Our discussion of the Father's role in mission carries us back to the heart of the Trinity: God is love (1 Jn 4:8), and all manifestations flow from this identity. No less than the inner life of the Trinity is founded on the dynamism of divine love. Thus, the mysterion necessarily is a loving design since it arises "from that 'fountain of love' or charity (fontalis amor) within God the Father" (AG, 2). It is imperative that missioners and evangelizers become mystics like John the Evangelist (see 1 Jn 4:7-21); nothing less can explain the love of God for a fallen world and rebellious humanity. No other motivation is ade-quate to the missionary calling--of the entire Church. Mother Teresa of Calcutta has named her congregation the Missionaries of Charity, and she never tires, of reminding her audiences that this is the fundamental vocation of all Christians. It sounds fantastic, but it is true: The love of the Trinity is personally poured into our hearts and it transforms all evangelizers into mis-sionary messengers of God's limitless love. Knowing our personal God as the font of love is the highest level of consciousness possible. Mission spiri-tuality becomes a conscious centering on Trinitarian love. This is the solid missiology-become-spirituality promoted by Vatican II. The Mission of the Son Jesus declares openly that he has been sent by his loving Father; the phrase "the Father who sent me" occurs forty-six times in the Gospel of John. And a salvific thrust is evident in the missioning of Jesus by his Father. Vatican II expresses Jesus' missioning as a reconciling presence "to establish peace or communion between sinful human beings and himself . Jesus Christ was sent into the world as a real mediator between God and men" (AG, 3). In Paul's theology, mediation and reconciliation are vital ele-ments of the mysterion (2 Co 5:19; Col 1:13; Rm 5:1)~ Jesus' continuing "Abba experience" (Kavunkal, 9-15), enabling him to faithfully accomplish his mission, has several dimensions: his coming or proceeding from the Father (noted above), his remaining with the Father (Jn 10:38; 16:32), and his eventual return to the Father (Jn 16:5; 7:33; 13:36). This means that Jesus fulfills his mission in light of a particular conscious- Apostolic Spirituality / 525 ness: continual intimacy with his Father. Luke tells us that, before making such a decisive move in his ministry as the choice of the Twelve, Jesus "went out to the mountains to pray, spending the night in communion with God" (Lk 6:12). Mission in the Jesus mode has its source, continuation, and fulfill-ment in the Abba experience. This dimension of Jesus' living of his mission provides evangelizers an inviting model for their own mission consciousness. In its holistic vision of God's design for salvation, the Council sees the Church as continuing, developing, and unfolding "the mission of Christ him-self" (AG, 5). The apostolic exhortation Evangelii Nuntiandi (13-16, 59-60) and the pastoral statement on world mission of the United States Bishops To the Ends of the Earth (25-27) also confirm mission as an ecclesial act in fidelity to Jesus. Contemporary evangelizers, cognizant of the Jesus-Church continuity, seek to live and witness as the community of Jesus' followers. They recall his promises (Mt 16:18; 28:20), but readily admit they are fragile "earthen vessels." They faithfully accept that "Christ in his mission from the Father is the fountain and source of the whole apostolate of the Church" (AA, 4). A missioner's model is "sentire cum ecclesia'" (feel and think with the Church), frankly admitting that one is "simuljustus et peccator" (concomi-tantly both upright and sinful). Who among Jesus' followers does not need a deeper consciousness of these realities? Central to the mission of Jesus is the mystery of the Incarnation: "The Son of God walked the ways of a true incarnation that he might make men sharers in the divine nature" (AG, 3). This radical identification of our broth-er Jesus with us mortals (Heb 4:15) makes us rich out of his poverty (2 Co 8:9). He became a servant (Mk 10:45) and gave his life "as a ransom for the many--that is, for all" (AG, 3). Consistently, Church Fathers .of both East and West have held that "what was not taken up [assumed] by Christ was not healed" (Abbott, 587, note 9). Thus, when Jesus took to himself our entire humanity, he healed, renewed, and saved us. In brief, incarnation is the fundamental pattern of all mission. Today evangelizers are deeply conscious of the ramifications of mission as incarnation. No missioner worthy of the name underestimates the impor-tance of indigenization and inculturation; they develop a spirituality of "depth identification," becoming as vulnerable as Jesus was in his humanity. This same pattern is the model of growth and development of all local churches (AG, 22). While it is certain that the mission of Jesus is initiated at the Incarnation, his baptism by John in the Jordan is an act of public commitment and conse-cration to mission. Jesus pursues his ministry; though it will encounter grow- 526 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 ing opposition and lead to the human disaster of Calvary, he will not betray his commitment. Note that Matthew, Mark, and Luke all juxtapose Jesus' baptism and the triple temptation in the wilderness. The tactic of Satan is to subvert Jesus with possessions, pride, and power; at the core, all Satan's promises tempt Jesus to renege on his dedication to mission. The more conscious an evange-lizer becomes of the struggle involved in mission faithfulness, the closer he will be drawn to Jesus. "who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin." The missioner will constantly and with confidence "approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and favor and to find help in time of need" (Heb 4:15-16). Instructive for the Church and her evangelizers is an appreciation of the continual action of the Spirit in the life of Jesus. The creed affirms that he was conceived "by the power of the Holy Spirit." The same Spirit descends on Jesus at the moment of his baptism (Mt 3:17); he is led by the Spirit to the desert (Mt 4:1); he returns to Galilee in the power of the Spirit (Lk 4:14); he begins his preaching mission at Nazareth asserting that "the Spirit of the Lord is upon me" (Lk 4:18). As Jesus was empowered by the Spirit, he sends forth his own disciples saying: "Receive the Holy Spirit" (Jn 20:22). Peter (Ac 4:8), Paul (Ac 9:17), Stephen (Ac 6:5; 7:55), and those who listened to their preaching (Ac 10:44) were all filled with the Spirit. In fact, the entire nascent Church brims with the Spirit's presence (Ac 2:4), and thus the community increases while it enjoys the consolation of the befriending Spirit (Ac 9:31). Jesus, his disci-ples, and likew.ise today's evangelizers all are in mission through the mar-velous action of the Spirit (Kroeger-A, 3- 12). Concretely in the practical order, Jesus carries out his mission through evangelization--proclaimiog the GoodNews of the Kingdom. The first words that Mark places on Jesus' lips are centered on this very theme (Mk 1"15). Luke also portrays Jesus' mission as focused on glad tidings to the "little ones of this world" (Lk 4:18-19). As Paul VI has noted, this theme "sums up the whole mission of Jesus" (EN, 6). Jesus could not be impeded in his ministry: "I must announce the good news of the reign of God, because that is why I was sent" (Lk 4:43). Contemporary evangelizers, reflecting on the urgency and scope of Jesus' kingdom proclamation, will find themselves imitating Jesus' ministry as he lived it in silence, in action, in dialogue, in teaching, and in prayer. Yes, the Good News of the Kingdom for Jesus means an integral, holistic approach to evangelization--because all dimensions of the total gospel are expressions of his enduring love (Jn 13:1). Apostolic Spirituality / 527 Jesus' entire life, from the Incarnation to the Ascension, was a procla-mation. All he said and did were a testimony to the Father's loving design (Jn 3:31-35; 7:16; 8:38; 14:24). Jesus existed on nothing else; his "suste-nance/ food/meat" was to do the will and work of the one who sent him (Jn 4:34). In everything Jesus was faithful to the Father. Reflective, insightful evangelizers interiorize the fidelity mind-set of Jesus (Ph 2:5); they also imitate St. Paul in his concern for faithful transmis-sion of the message of Jesus preserved by the Church (1 Co 15:3, 11). In prayer and meditation missioners refocus themselves on Jesus and his king-dom, and often this demands setting aside personal opinions and ambitions. Mother Teresa of Calcutta notes that Jesus does not always call us to be suc-cessful, but he always invites us to be faithful. This fidelity to Jesus and his message should not be interpreted in too narrow a sense. As announcers of Good News, we consciously interiorize Jesus' gospel values; however, we seek to transmit them to humanity in all its cultural, social, religious, and politico-economic diversity. Certainly, this is a fantastic challenge; it is central to contemporary evangelization. Paul VI expressed it wisely and poignantly: "This fidelity both to a message whose servants we are and to the people to whom we must transmit it living and intact is central axis of evangelization" (EN, 4). Lifestyle is key in any vision of evangelization. For our contemporaries, who willingly listen only to witnesses (not theoreticians), the missioner's authenticity and transparency are generally the first elements in evangeliza-tion; wordless witness is already a silent, powerful, and effective proclama-tion. It is an initial act of evangelization (EN, 21, 41). Jesus himself adopted a particular, concrete lifestyle. His mind-set was fidelity and obedience to his Father; his outward manner manifested the lived values of poverty, total dedication, persecution, apparent failure. The Church and her evangelizers "must walk the same road which Christ walked, a road of poverty and obedience, of service and self-sacrifice to the death" (AG, 5). Bluntly, there is no authentic Christian mission without the cross and all its surprises, foolishness, and scandal (1 Co 1:18-25). True mission is always signed by the cross, and without it we cannot be Jesus' disciples. The evan-gelizer is always generous in bearing a personal share of the hardships which the gospel entails (2 Tm 1:8). Constantly the Christian disciple is measuring his life and apostolate against the lifestyle of Jesus and the patterns of the gospel. Sustained prayerful reflection and an ever deepening consciousness of one's personal relationship with the Trinity are the unique way of interior-izing the paradox of the cross and the power of the resurrection. 528 / Review for Religious, July-August 1991 An anonymous poet, speaking of the centrality of the Incarnation and Redemption in Christianity, noted that there are no definitions in God's dic-tionary for these terms. One must search for the meaning of Bethlehem and Calvary under another category. Their significance is to be found only when one reads how God defines love. Indeed, God's loving plan of salvation is a message of hope for all peo-ples. It is universal and should be preached and witnessed "to the ends of the earth." To spread this universal message demands great dedication and faith, as seen in the practical advice that Paul gave to Timothy (2 Tm 4:1-5). The evangelizer, conscious of his role in the actualization of the mysteri-on, will surrender enthusiastically to the invitation of Jesus: Come and fol-low me in my mission. This conscious surrender will open his eyes to perceive, not so much what his efforts are accomplishing, but how Father, Son, and Spirit are working fruitfully in and through his life. With this vision, contemplation and actibn harmoniously blend and sustain one anoth-er; the evangelizer experiences living the mysterion. Eventually, all will be recapitulated in Christ and God will be

Issue 47.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1988. ; A Spirituality of Suffering Issues and .Trends--1987 Advance Health-Care Directives Evaluating Chapters Volume 47 Number,2 March/April 1988 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published every two months, is edited in collaboration with the faculty members of the Department of Theological Studies of St. Louis University. The edito-rial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO. 63108-3393. REvmw FOR REL=G=OUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, MO. ©1988 by REvmw FOR RELiGiOUS. Single copies $3.00. Subscriptions: U.S.A. $12.00 a year; $22.00 for two years. Other countries: for surface mail, add $5.00 per year; for airmail, add $20.00 per year. For subscription orders or change of address, write: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, MN 55806. Philip C. Fischer, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Iris Ann Ledden, S.S.N.D. Richard A. Hill, S.J. Jean Read M. Anne Maskey, O.S.F. Acting Editor Associate Editor Review Editor Contributing Editor Assistant Editors March/April, 1988 Volume 47 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW VOR REIoU;IOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the department "Canonical Counsel" should be addressed to Rich-ard A. Hill, S.J.; J.S.T.B.; 1735 LeRoy Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709. Back issues and reprints should be ordered from REWEW VOR RE~olt;Iot~S; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. "Out of print" issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major portion of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY 10010. Charism as E powerment to Discerff, to, De.cide,, tO Act, to Assess : F:intan D: Sheeran, SS.CC:. ' ~, Fathbr Fint~n D. 'Sheei'an'is a priest ih the" Congregation of, the Sacred Hearts. He works p~'esently as a.consultant.to religious communities and resides in his Congre-gatio, n's formatjo.,.n.~.c.ommunity, in Ch,everly, ,Ma.ryland: This is ,hi~s first contribution to our pages. He may:be addressed. ~ at Damien House; 6013 Inwood Stre~et;,. Chev-. erl~, Maryland 20785. harles de.,Gaulle.is supposed to have puzzled ove.r the possibility of.gov-erning a people who had more,t~.an three hundred diffeyent cheeses. Per-haps Church authoritie~s~are affli.cted with somewhat similar doubts as they cpntemplate the present state,of religiou~s life .and,especially the pre-sent state,of study and writing 9.n,the re.ligious life. ~Prior .to the CQuncil, a narrowly ju.ridic and0institutional~ u~nderstanding ~i'nd interpretation of re,ligious life0dominated practi.caily all writing and reflection on the sub-ject and there was consider~ible:hom.og.eneity in the field, even by pre-conciliar~ standards. Since the Council, there has been.a rich and continu-i, ng outpouring of reflection as atte,mpts have been and go on being made to understand and to.reinterpret,the religious life from various~vantage pojn~ts including in the light of.dev~eloping experience. The author of~one such ,r.ecent .i~nterpretatip.n, ,Sar~dra .Schnei.ders,. ob.serves about .this, "What a).l~ of t.hese attempts have demonstrated is the richness of the phe-nomenon of religious life and,.the,fecun~dity of approachi.ng its mean!ng fnraotemd b_trhoea dtheero.p.looignyt~s ooff 'rveileiwgi othuasn l itfhee a dt olegamsat tsiicn jcuer itdhiec aCl oounnec tihl.aotf h ~arde ndto. m~iz One fairl3~ prominent feature of all, of this.reflection has been the con-siderable ¯ attention given to charism the charism of, religious life, the charism of founders, the charism of particular congregations. This atten- 161 Review for Religious, March-APr~ il 1988 tion has included reflection by religious themselves, u~sually in a pastor-~ ally oriented way, as an element of such enterprises as rewriting consti-tutions, establishing apostolic criteria or mission statements and so on. Then, forthe first time, there have been statements on charism in offi-cial Church documents. These have been well noted. Evangelica Tes-tificatio speaks of the charism of founders (n. I I ) and Mutuae Relationes of the chai'ism of particular congregations (nn. I l, 12). Finally, charism has been touched on, to a greater or lesser degree, by practically every t.heologian writing comprehensively about the religious life since Vati-can II.2 Among theologian~ none has given more particular attention to the nature and role of charism in religious life than Tillard in line with his strong accent on the religious life as the "following of Christ." I will touch briefly on some of his reflections on charism referring in par-ticular to his There Are Charisms and Charisms.3 What I wish to speak about in this pres.ent article is Charism from a dynamic or "functional" perspective rather than from the point ofview of '~'content," meahing ho~ a charism is a particular Gospel orientation with certain evangelical accents and nuances. I am concerned rather with how a charism "func-tions" if one can speak in such a way, in the ongoing life of a congrega-tion, how it can be a source of life, of unity and of dynamic newness. A religious congregation is born of a Personal and particular experi-ence of Christ and his Spirit, a charismatic experience in the sense that it is the Spirit alone who initiates the encounter that leads to such a re-alization. ".the charism~of the religious life, far from being an im-pulse born of flesh and blood . ~. is the fruit of the Holy Spirit." (Evangelica Testifi~atio n. 11). "The 'charism ~f the founders' (ET n. 11) .appears as 'an experience of the Spirit'." (Mutuae Relationes n. 11). The person is ~eized by the Spirit. To iliuminate this experienc,e Til-lard turns to the New Testament narratives of apostolic vocation and re-sponse. 4 It is Jesus who invites; it is he;who takes the initiative, filling the life of the person ~ind leading them to the service of the kingdom. This divine initiative d0e~ not at :all depend upon any moral excellence on the part of the humarl partner in the encounter nor does it of itself im-mediately :add anything to their moral stature. (This point has larger im-plications with which we are not immediately concerned here with ref-erence to the truth that vocation to the religious life is in no way a call to any "higher" degree or form of holiness than the call of every Chris-tian in virtue of baptism.) It is an encounter with the Risen Lord which reorients the persoh's life creating a mysterious enthusiasm in which ex-planation for the otherwise inexplicably radical response is rooted. As Charism as Empowerment / 16~$ John Lozano remarks, commenting on the call of the apostles: ¯ . .They leave e~,erything--family and occupation--and go off with him. As an event in a chronicle, it would not make any sense. But it is not just any "unknown man" who passes through the account . The center of it all is relationship with Christ, understood, of cou~:se, in a post-resurrecti~on sense, when these accounts were shaped as an ex-pression of faith in theoSon of God.5 For the founder and for every religious, as for the apostles, this fol-lowing of Christ originates in an encounter'which is "charismatic"--it is of Christ and his Spirit. At the deepest level the reason a person be-comes a founder (or a member) of a religious congregation is ": . . not a for . . . but a because of. One does. not become a religious for something, ,with a view to something; one enters the religious life be-cause of JesUs Christ and0his ascendancy.''6 I make these remarks and references centering on the fundamental character of the charism of religious life because while my concern in this article is with the ongoing dynamism of charism in our religious com-munities this dynamism is inseparable from what charism is at root. Be-fore moving along it is also worth no~ting some of the marks of authen-ticity of the charism of a congregati6n, marks which continue to have considerable import for the life of a group. Mutuae Relationes mentions a number of the "true marks of an authentic charism" (12). One of these is a distinct quality of newness. "Every authentic charism brings an ele-ment. of real originality in the spiritual life of the Church along with fresh initiatives for action" (12). (The document does'not fail to note that this very newness may be a cause of difficult);. Most religious congregations can offer some testimony from their history to the truth of this. observa-tion. Nor need they always go back.to the archives to obtain it.) It is help-ful to look at something of the nature of this "newness." . The newness of charism is a n~wness of action and realization and not just of thoughts and words. The charism translates into pastoral life and action on behalf of God's people and not just into words and docu-ments. It is an originality which relates intimately and penetratingly to the reality of a particular time and place. Founders and foundresses are people of their own time, place, and culture, and they have a keen aware-ness of their environment. Moreover, they discover their vocation pre-cisely in the context of that environment. It is in terms of their percep-tion of reality and of their vision and articulation of a response that the newness of the Spirit is revealed. Their concrete pastoral response is a "fresh initiative for action"; ~it is new; it is other than the response (or 16~1 / Review forReligious, .March-April 1988 lack of response) customarily being made by'society .or tt~e Church to this part!cular need. In facL it frequently reveals the~pgvert~y of the percep-tion and the.ineptitude.of the response of the Church~and of society ~gener-ally. No wonder, as Mutua'e Relationes delicatel,y remarks, such re-sponses "~ay appear unseasonable to many." A further trem(ndously powerful element of the'freshness and :new-ness of c,harism is an aspect of which we are be(oming more awa~re. It is that the charism empo.wers the ,founders of religiou_s_:congregations to anticipate and to shape the,future in concretely effective~ways. Charism is, by its. very nature futtire-0riented. But it is an,orientation filled with purpose and with the power to achieve its purpose. This becomes clear when we read the histories.of our congregations in. the light of whatis for u~ arelatively recent perception: that history procee~ds, from, the choices, decisions and actidns 9f individuals'and particularly of groups, organized groups,of all osorts--politic'alo parties,, unions, corporations, churches, and so forth. Social realities are, the result, of human choices and decisions made in the context of economic, social,.political alterna-- tires and not simply the product~ of blind 'processes. and intractable natu-ral. forces. These actions ot~ individuals and groups create structures and systems 'whiCh in turn condition and limit our perception and options. The Shape of our society is chosen. The choi(es and action of the Church and its commuhities"fall within this complex. A~social history of eight-eenth- and nineteenth-century Europe."would surely show that society~as it was then constituted required .and secured the existence of large masses of illiierate poor in order to maintain itself as it actually was. When in-spired women and men commiited themselves to creating religious con, gregations who would,educate and care for the. illiterate poor, they did much ~more than perform an immediate work of mercy~--they became ef-fective ~gent.s of social transformation. They anticipated and shaped an alternate, future, a "new" future. The "newness" which has charism as its source is dynamic and creative; it "renews the face of the earth," "In realit.y, the charism of the religious life . . is the fruit of the Holy Spirit, who is always at work within the Church.'. It is precisely here that the dynamism pr.oper.to each religious.famil3) finds its origin" (ET, 11). My concern with charism ~is exactly with the dynamism proper to religious congregations not simply as regards their origins but more as regards their ongoing life and mission. Again the actual experience of the foundersand foundresses is illuminating. Orie significant practi, cal outcome o~f~a renewed .focus on~ charism in many congregatiQns has been the serious study given to the lives of the founders anti, also in some charism as Empowerment / 165 instances to congregations" initial or "'primitive" commt~nities. These studies have been motivat(d by a~desire to rediscover th~ originating his-tory of the community as it really was and especially to know the persoh oLthe founder or foundress freed from the m3~ths and apocrypha which had often accumulated over years of neglect of critical history. Almost invariably, the result has been someth.ing like the restoration or,rediscov-ery of the work of Michaelangelo in the Sistine Chapel. Anyone who has had the opportunity to be present while the work of restoration in' the Chapel has been going on has to have been powerfully impressed by see-ing the ~"old" and the. "new" side by side. From behind the dust and debris of years thereoemerges into the light astonishingly rich and pow-erful portraits, far more striking and iml6ressive than the painting that had been accepted as authentic for years. Similarly, the women and men with whom we come into contact in recent studies of foundress~s and foun-ders ~re~p.eople'of'vividly living faith, of prophetic imagination and origi-nality; they are deeply human people with 'a'great stor~e of practicality arid common sense; men and women who were wholly, given to the Church'e~,en as they'had the insight and courage to name its needs and to confront its resistan~'eg.7 What had passed for authentic portraits had frequently~obscured a more~brilliant reality. Because of the ~i+ailability of many such Studies~ it is also possible to see, in very rough outline certainly, but perhii~ps more clearly than be-fore, something of a c6ifirhon pattern' of'movi~ment marking these jour-neys that culminate in the foundation of ~ congregation. What we are lo6k-ing at is the historical realization of charisms, their taking on concrete form and incarnation in real people, real groups. I beliexie that there is a movem6nt'inv01ved which has a typical~ rhythm, one marked by dis-tinct phases or "moments." There is an initial moment of sear6h~iSt dis: cernment with regard to the'authenticity of the call tO move in the di~'ec-tion of commencing a project; there i~ a moment of definite ch6ice 'or decision; there is a rn'oment.of action and finally a moment of assessment or evaluation. The word "moment" could be misleading. While deci-sion or choice is always in itself a m~tter of a moment'whatever the prece-dents, the actual history of ]~oundations shows clearly that the other so-called moments can be a matter of a Io,ng time, many years even; or of a relatively short period. It'varies greatly from one founder or foundress to another but these moments as such are, I believe, discernible in their histories. Obviously these moments are0quite ordinary in the sense that th~ey represent the elements of any careful decision-making and action process; in that sense they are to be expected,. Our interest in,them, how- 166 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 ever, is in how in fact they take on a distinctively "charismatic" char-acter, how they embody the "functional dynamics" of charism, how in this sense they. are utterly.di.,stinctive. . The moment of search or discernment is that period when the per-son begins to be aware of being called by God in a special way but as yet lacks assurance about this. They wonder, pray: seek counsel. Clearly there are instances where this moment stretched on for years, where the interval between the first intuition and the moment of decision was con-siderable. The time of search is followed by a moment of decision. The person now sets aside all doubts about their call and embraces the invitation of the Lord wholeheartedly and without reserve. Choice is made and com-plete commitment. One way that this new and profound option is mani-fested in the life of the person concerned i.s by an important change in their language. A confident assurance that their inspiration is from God, prev!ously absent, now marks their expression. What in other circum-stances might be regarded as simply pious phrases or even trite expres-sions take on a clear and undeniable authority and power. Such phrases as, "This is God's will" or "This is the will of ~Divine Providence" or "This is God's work" are now used in reference to their efforts. There is a new transparency of purpose; a clear~, simple and confident assurance marks their speech, as indeed a great courage,° freedom and enthusiasm marks their conduct, about the enterprise. These very quali-ties are, without doubt, key to their capacity to attract others to join them. The third moment is.the moment of actign, of doing the thing that they are called to do, gathering people together in a spirit of mission. The moment of decision and the moment of action are not the same. There c~an be instances where the decision has indeed been made but ac-tion is delayed. In the history of the foundation of my own congregation there is an example of the founder making a decision to commit himself to the project of foundation and then delaying to act on the decision. In the event he felt himself to be called to account by the Lord and repented of his delay. ~. The charism of founding a congregation comes to fruition and real-ity only when the group actually, exists and from,the beginning the un-folding of the project in fact will always involve the unforeseen and un-foreseeable. It may be better not to think of the charis.m of a founder as separated from fits realization in the original group. In a sense the foun-der or foundress must wait to 'see what God has wrought but there is ai- Charism as Empowerment / 167 ways an intuition and sense of what the new community must~be which is key to judgment on its development. While it is never a question of checking against a preexisting blueprint, there is a need to assess and to assure fidelity to the inspiration which called it into being. This moment has parti(ular significance for the founder and for the primitive commu-nity but it is a moment which must continue as long as the community endures. So indeed must all of these moments in their own way. They comprise the charism in action, the "dynamism proper to each religious family." What I wish to suggest now is that this same rhythm, these same mo-ments must continue to mark the "functional dynamics" of the charism as it exists and is exercised in a congregation. Mutuae Relationes (11) speaks of.the charism of the founders which ".hppears as 'an expe-rience of the Spirit' transmitted to their followers to be lived by them, to be preserved, deepened and constantly, developed in harmony with the Body of Christ continually in a process of growth." The charism enables" the group to search and discern what it must be and do, what must be its way of life and of pastoral action in response to the world in which it finds itselfand to do this with a certain perspective, a certain orienta-tion and point of view, a particular spirit. ~ The implication is that the group must actively.commit itself as a group to such search and discernment evdn as the founder or foundress did. It is a search by the group in such fashion that if must guard and foster that level of unity which alone makes corporate search possible. This search in turn deepens and strengthens the real unity of the group. A province, for example, needs to identify and tO sustain the processes and structures which make a group or corporate reflection and search pos-sible as a province in a stable rather than a merely elbisodic manner: Lead-ers need to'know how to promote and foster such processes of reflection and the structures they require. The charism of a group is riot "auto-matic" nor does it function in any magical way. It can remain virtually inoperative for want of sufficient cohesion within the group or for lack of sustained 6ommunal processes. The charism enables the group to search out what it must be and do and to what it must commit itself in the power of the Spirit, animated by precisely those attitudes and values which constitute the "content'" of the charism, meaning that particular Gospel orientation or accent which characterizes every charism. The grbup is enabled to make judgments which are inspired by the same spirit which animated the founding vision. More, they can experience a confi-dence in their capacity for authentic and profoundly religious newness 161~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 in their.:pastoral responses. As with the founder 9r f0undress, it is Jesus who in~,ites;.it is he who takes the init!ative.leading us in. service to the kingdom in,this time and this place. Nor is that initiative~depe_ndent on any spl.endid historic achievement b.y the congregation orieven on ;the measure of its present, resources: But process and structure are necess~ary. The processless,~ s~ructure!ess~co.ngregation or.province is a mirage, Which is not to say, ho.wever, that the processes and structures must.be t.his.or, that~type, an.d even less that there i~s only one acceptable _form. While the cultivation and sustenance of process and structure make~ par~ ticular demands on,!eadership, it is also one,area.where the real mean-i. ng o.f" membership"~_ is tested. Real living commitment, to the commu-nity demandsoand is .revealed in a real investment of time, energy and presence in. its pro.cesses and structur.e~. C, ommitm~nt ,to the,"spjrit of the. cgngregation. ," while h.a.ving no time for its. process.es, is commit-ment. to the dance w~hile disdaining the steps; it becomes increasingly, ethe-real. ~ ~. ¯ . ~., ~- .- .~ ~ Secondly,, the .charism enables a group to. make decisions and choices whic_h ar~e faithful expressions of the charism oitself. It is a.grace which leads to and-enables choices made for the sake of the kingd0m,and bear-ing the mark of a certain spirit and orientation. Some groups find it prac-tically impossible~ to make real decisi0.ns and diffiRult choices. People go through .the for.ms and moti0ns~of, decision-makin~g, 9t. chapte.rs ,for ex-a. rnple., only.to, discover in time that no real commitment had been gen-erated and that implementation is_ unlikely or impossi.ble.There had,been only the,~.utward app~earance.of dec.!sion. It is.not a questiQn of .bad faith but.of processes in, adequate to the challenge. Of eyoking commitment at deep level. One of the dynamic ':,fu.nctions" of charism is to empow~er and enable the group to truly choose and gen~uinelydecide; to risk, to surrender, .to be converted. At a time when all of our, congregation~.s.ar~e. confronted~ wit.h, chali,.en.ging choices of serious consequence,, this is, an area where we read.ily experience.both the neeod that, charism play its em-powering ¯ role and tha!0we be open. to .it. -The charism further enables the group,to act and to act corporately. This means that the charism enables in the.group that level of, shared per-ception and vision, of shared aspiration and intent, w, ithout which cor-porate choice and action are impossible. And it empower.s, apos.tolic 9c-tion. "Corporat.e action" js not a .question of everybody, doing the same thing but rather that the members.of t.he group act~by intent in .the~iight of a shared vision of, direction which can give uni.ty and .c.oherenceto quite varied _ministries. For example, a group .may-have achieved a Charism as.Empowerment / 1169 shared understanding of.what '.'evangelization" means in this particu, lar place and time and, though in the.service of that vision:the members. pursfie quite diverse ministries, they are aware that they pursuea com-mon goal,. On the contrary it can happen that people exercise th'e same ministry (even hll te~iching in the'same school; for example) withotit hav-ing any shared visionOf what, they are doing or even having quite 6p-posed perceptions of ~hat it is that.they are about. " ' ~ Finally the charism enables th~ "group to assess its decisions add choices~ i!,s orier~tati~ons and actions in terms of fidelity to th~ founding ifispiratio~i and ~esp~si.veness to current needs. I re~eat here without. ~ilab~ratii~n ~th~t all Of this does not happen aiatomatically. It demands susz' tained effd~t I~y the~r~tip p~ec.i~sely, as a group ~r~d it is ~,i~rtually !n~pos'- sible without having in pla.,Ce;oin a stable way, those processes and struc-tures which ~ak~e bngoin~or~orate rei'lection,~choice 'and'~actiofi the'nor-m'al way Of life of the group~.°These 'processes and structures will vary, greatly from gr6up~°to group depending on their h.~story and trad~tlon~s,. their niamb~rs, ~g~ographical dispersion, and so forth.- I must point Out that while i tiavetried in thi~ ~irticqb to k6ep the "c6n-tent'" of charism and°its' "dyna~aic functi~_.n" separate, in th'~ end this is, of cgurs6, impossible and it'seems more especially so now in these time's thah ever. The "functioning of a religious congregation ~s ~n-s'eparabl~ .from its id~n~ti.ty, 'fro~ the radical meaning of its ~li~;e in°the Chu~'~h "/~ffci just as the f'6under ~nd (o'undress discovered their v~ocation , . .~ ~,; ~ - _ , . ~ o , o "~ ~ . : . - and ~ts meamng and shaped what they d~d and how'they d~d ~t ~n the con-text df their envir6nment, so do we. A sh~arp aware~ness of the i'6ality of our world and of. our place in it is as much a par~ of out vocation's iri-" gredi~nts ~is it was that 6f our fo'u'fiders ~nd foundres'ses. And we have avail~ble to us by God;S gift~,inst~:uha'ents and r~6ans for awareness; for takir~ cri{icai dista~e and for critic~ii~nalysis whicl~ th'.ey did riot. Tti~se are means which can enhance our capacity for pt:ophEtic dis~ernmeni, choice and.action,, means~which are immeasurably deepened and sharp-ened by the charismatic gifts that root the life'of.the congregation. I~'wouli:l conclude with a brief comment on the relationship between the charism of a religious congregation and the place of the c6ngrega-tion in t~ local ChUrch. The first obedience owed by every religi6us ~con-gregati'oia tc~ tile Church isto be faithfully itself. As a ~ift' given by the Spirit io the Churcl~'a congi'~gati6n remaihs "useful" to the extent that it remains faithful to its charism. If it is authentic, this ~lways'r~eans deeper ~olidafity with the olife and' ministry of the Church.This deeper solidarity is not just a matter of rendering more services or of undiscrimi- 170 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 nated availability. Rather it is a matter of living and acting as a congre-gation in the Church more and more in virtue of the charism. "The re-ligious life is a state within the Church, not just in the sense that it op-erates within the Church, receives grace from the Church and is legally sanctioned by the Church, but in the sense that it shares in a.special way in the mystery of the Church, is one of her organs through which, the Chi~rch perfects her own life."8 The charism is the first medium of our solidarity with the Church as a congregation. And so we bring to the lo-cal Church, for example, not only ministers and services, but a particu-lar point of View, a particular capacity for discernment needed by the Church,~a. capacity for choices, actions~, assessments, illuminated by a definite Gospel inspiration. Solidarity with the Church, in turn, evokes and animates ih~e~charism of a congregation. A congregation can therefore be profoundly obedient to its charism and to the Church to the degree that it is integrated in the life of the Church. Where the local Church strives to be a Church which integrates all of its m~mbers in its life and mission, in its discernment and decision-making, it gre.atly facilitates the deepest obedience of religious congre-gations. Where the local Church integr.ates all of its members in a search for God's ,will for his Church, in choosing direction for its mission and in implementing, its decision~, in such a Church, the charism of the reli-gious congrega[ion, a gift given for the Church, will grow to full stat-ure. Such obedience must never be substituted by a mere rendering of services in an undisce,,rned way even---or especially when there is much regi~rd for service and little appreciation of the meaning of charism and of its role in the Church. I offer here a brief ~uote from Bishoia Stanley Schlarman of Dodge City. In January o~" thins year' I~e wrote a pastoral letter to his people in which he reflected on religious life in the light of the dialogue with the religious of his diocese. , Furthermpre because religious become even more skilled in searching out God's will together, they can initiate new ways of answering the needs of the times, even taking risks, when needed on behalf of the poor and oppressed . In the light of these reflections I want to invite each person in our dibc~san family into a Trinity experience of community through knbwl-edge and love, dialogue and respect, and the mutual s6pport of one an-other's vocation.9 For religious that is an invitation to charismatic life, dynamism and newness. Charism as Empowerment / 17'1 NOTES ~ Sandra M. Schneiders, New Wineskins, (New York: Paulist Press, 1986) p. 28. 2 For a very useful survey of writing on charism see M. Midali, "Contemporary Theo-logical Trends in The Charism of Religious Life: A Gift of the Spirit to Church and World" USG. (Rome, 1981). 3 j. M. R. Tillard, There Are Charisms and Charisms, trans. O. Prendergast, (Brus-sels, Lumen Vitae, 1977). '* lbid, p. 41 ft. 5 John M. Lozano, Life As Parable (New York: Paulist Press, 1986) p. 28. 6 j. M. R. Tillard, op. cit., p. 56. 7 Francis J. Maioney, Disciples and Prophets, (New York: Crossroad, 1986) pp. 161- 2. Maloney stresses especially the prophetic dimension of religious life and of the role of founders and foundresses. 8 Friedrich Wulf, Decree on the Ai~propriate Renewal of Religious Life: Commen-tary on'the Documents of Vatican II, Vol. !I (New York: Herder and Herder, 1968) pp. 669-70. 9 Bishop Stanley Schlarman, "Reflections on a Dialogue With Religious," Origins, March 5, 1987, pp. 669-70. ApostOlate of the Moment Frank Quinlivan, C.S.C. Father Quinlivan,is director of, his novitiate and,has served as a missionary. He may be addressed at Holy Cross Novitiate; P.O. Box 749;,Cascade, Colorado 80809. ~kctive religious life has a rootlessness to it. Religious are a truly pilgrim people. We move on. We are seldom anywhere long enough to put down deep and permanent roots. We enter.into the lives of others and they en-ter our lives, but we pass through each other's lives. It is not uncommon for us to long for more "normalcy" in our lives--what we see as some permanence and stability, a place to pitch our tent for more than a season, a set of relationships which endure. Min-istry today, however, seldom affords us this. Even those whose ministry allows them to be in one place for an ex-tended period of time still find a certain rootlessness because in our highly mobile and nuclear society the people ai'ound us move on. Hos-pitals and schools have a built-in turnover of people. Today urban par-ishes see a large and continuous flow of people in and out. The pace of change is rapid. Perhaps most disconcerting of all is to look back and see that we have left few, if any, permanent marks behind us. So many years and so much effort leave little to show. The things we began, the work we did has ceased to exist or else has been greatly altered. The lives we touched have moved on and changed. We quite literally "lose track." We enter into many lives. That is what ministry is. We enter into people's lives in significant ways. We are there in a special way, invited into the hearts and consciences of people in a moment of pain, of joy, of growth or healing. But where are those people now? Maybe we still get Christmas cards from a few of them. 172 Apostolate of the, Moment / 173 ¯ ' 'Did our ministry make a difference a long-term, lasting differefice? Sometimes we may know, but'usually we.don'-t., In-an effort to p¢ofessionalize our ministry we have learned to do a great deal of lo'ng-ran~e planning and goal setting, of clarification bf ob- ¯ jectives and intensive evaluations. Ou~: experience of ministry, however, is" often that we ehd up walking a path that we did not envision and through areas that w~ 'have not charted. We can take the tools of management and apply them to ministry. They cfin help; 15uttheir applicati6n is ne~r perfect. If we do not lobk at ministry~as often perhaps most often unexpected, unplann+d, mo-meritai'y ~ind without measurable long-term consequences, we will be building up gomething Which can 6nly be frustrated and frustrating. It is important that we see much of ministry as an ap.ostolate of the moment. We are here now in this place with this person and it has, made a difference at this time inthis iife and that is enough. Fieeting contacts between pe~pJe where something human happens, often unplanned and impo.s'sible to follow up on, are how the history of the kipgdom and of ministry are most often written. This pers~)n was min-istered to at this moment,, l,oved, served, ,forgiven, encourage~d. There was,, a pointof huma~n~ con, tact, a sharing, a totJ~hing,, ~eemingly not sig-nificant, nor planned and, perhaps, not even remembered, but,this was the building of the_ kingdom. We move through others' lives and they thro~ugh ours, often in a.jum-ble, but the.points of intersection and meeting are the way. We,do not know, where fully ninety percent of them are-now. It is enough that their Way and our way crossed. ~ When we have aplan, be it for our lives or for only the day; we tend. to get very upset by interruptions. The in,terruptions, perhaps, are what we are meant to be doing. As'ministers we~are meant to be interrupted. ~ This is not an argument against planning and evaluation, or against efforts to make ministers "more professional: It is an argument, however, fOrothe" need to realize that ministry'does not°often ,fit into these catego-ries. It ,is possible .for us, like so many people,, to so live and work in the past or in the future, that we fail to,understand the,importance of the present moment. Yet it is in this.very moment that ministry is done.:" Our very rootlessness, as disboncerting'as it can be for us, is a key factorin our ministry. It allox;vs us to be.present this moment, the time when ministry.is done. It allows us to'be true agents,of the kingdom which is built up by many cups of cold wate~ given~in Jesus? name., 174 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 The apostolate of the moment is tied to our definition of .success. The normal definition of success hinges on things which we can point to and count, marks left behind which are permanent and observable. Ministry affords us little of this. How are we to know that weare ~uccessful min-isters, ,when. we have so little to "show"? All of us have been to funerals in our community when an elderly religious is laid to rest. We can ihink:of the countless lives he or she has touched. We can think of the thousands of points of intersection where his or her life and works touched ~nother's. Yet when they die, other than the community, there is usually no one else there.~ Most of the peo-ple they ministered to, in those special moments, are not aware of their death, do not remember the moment of ministry, do not recall even their name. Success in ministry, in our apostolate of the moment, cannot be meas-ured by conventional standards of success. Lives, may hav~ been touched profoundly, deep change~ may have occurred, but our rootlessness will mean that we will often never even know this. Jesus speaks of salt and seeds and yeast: They "are little things, seem-ingly insignificant, that effect great works, u~ually unseen, transformed into something else, hidden from notice, known only if they are lack-ing. This is'~how the success of our apostolate of~the moment must be understood. Let us attempt to plan and .to evaluate, but let us also understand our apostolate of the moment. Each human life is God-given and precious, beyond all value. Each moment of each life is precious and invaluable. That we are there in this moment is tremendously important. If there be an enduring effect or long-range consequence, we may never know. It is enough simply that we were there at that moment. A final word. Jesus tells us that he is the vine and we are the branches. When we reflect on ~his and on our rootlessness, there is much to learn. A branch does not have rootsoof its own. Separated from the vine it will die, but it is rooted in and through the vine. What weexperi-ence as rootlessness is, in truth, deeply rooted in Jesus. All ministry is his. The branches may grow in all directions; but the vine ties them to-gether and ~provides them .with root and life. The branches are often pruned and cut back so that there may be new growth in new directions, but they are neveruproote.d or cut off from the vine entirely. Much of our ministry is momentary, but its significance is eternal. Jesus told us that even a cup of cold water, given in passing, was not without lasting, even eternal significance. Apos~tolate of"the Moment / 175 It is difficult ifor us to be content with an apostolate of the moment. It would be satisfying to be able to see enduring effect and accomplish-ment. Our planning actually accounts for little of what we end up doing and there is so little visible to evaluate. It is, in the end, a matter of deep faith that we will not show up empty-handed before the Lord, but rather loaded down with a great deal of fruit despite being so rootless. Thief You kissed me - a Child of five - and stole my heart away. You called me - a girl of fourteen - and became h~y "first love." You covenanted me - a young woman - and bound me to You, eternally. O, gentle Thief, never give me away, nor ever set rile free! Claire Mahaney, R.S.C.J. Valparaiso Community 140 Valparaiso Avenue Menlo Park, California 94025 Eoaluating General and Provincial Chapters Gerald A. A~buckle, s.M. Father Arbuckle continues to give workshops on "refounding" religious life and to write for this review. His "Beyond Frontiers: The Supranational Challenge of the Gospel" appeared in the May/June 1987 isSue. His permanent mailing address is: East Asian Pastoral Institute; P.O. Box ~1815; Manila 2800; Philippines. Come now, let us talk this over, says Yahweh (Is 1.'18). People differ about the effectiveness of general and provincial chapters they attend. In the evaluations of a general chapter held recently, par-ticipants varied in'their assessment. Some were thoroughly satisfied; oth-ers felt that it was a useless experience since ~participants were not.com-mitted to implement the chapter's mission statement and decisions. Oth-ers claimed the chapter ignored'realities, while some felt that they had been manipulated by well-organized groups. Who is right? Without some objective criteria to judge the chapter by, it is impossible to even begin to answer that~question. This article is an attempt to offer sonie ~ciological and faith criteria to help readers evaluate their chapters. It is not in, any way an exhaus-tive study on how to assess the effe~tiyeness of chapters. My aim sim-ply is to answer this question: Are there certain attitudes, ways of look-ing at the world, procedural methods,, and ideologies which hinder or facilitate the work of chapt6i's? I will concentrate on general chapters, but my comments will apply with only very minor adjustments to provincial chapters. To aid in ~y analysis I will list a selection of comments by participants of general chap-ters held from 1971 to 1985 and then use them as catalysts for my own 176 Evaluating Chapters /:177 evaluatiofi of,such gath6rings. Hopefully, readers will be able to iden-tify from their own experience with several of these comments and. then be helped by my .,a.ssessment. I will proceed by defining,the nature and aims of a general chapter; by recording various comments by participants of general chapters; and then by evaluating thes~,corfihaents in lighi 6f sociological and:faith, criteria. ', Aims ~f ~en~r~i,,c]t~pters ,.~ "; ~dd~lly,° 'a general chapter, "aft a ~'ign of unit~, in charity," ~ho~u.ld be "a moment of grace and of the action of the Hbly Spirit in an insti-tute. It should be a joyful, paschal,, and ecclesial'experience which bene-fits the institute itself and also the ,whole Church.-The,general chapter is meant to renew and protect the spiritual patrimony of the institute as well as elect the highest superior ahd councilors; conduct major, matters of business, and issue norms for the whole institute.''~ There are two key emphases in this. desc~ription: the apostolic .calls to w~tness h~r6 a'ntt now and to plan for the futur6. I ffill~expI~iin briefly what ~acl~ em a~is means. In order to ffitnes~ h'ere and now, 'ihe chapter is to I~ a faith experi-ence, a cooperative action of both the Holy Si~irit ~nd the" memb~i's of the chapter. It is to be to the.Church and to the,congregation a vivid com-munity expression of,g.osl~el°charity and joy;:.comm~union will .arise out of a pro~cess bf personal a~nd .corporate convers~ign. ~ , . In planning for the~future, t.he chapter is. to,c.a, II the congregation to be accountable to the ideals of the Gospel and its charism, praising crea-tive apostolic, initiatives' and correcting aberrations since the: last chap-ter. It should establish~policies that~ relate the congregation's-charism, ap-ostolic life, and personnel resources to the ever changing pastoral needs of the People of Gbd. It is to.elect,the,highes(officer and his or her~ as-sistants on the basis of their abiliti~e~ to4ead~and inspire ~the 6ongregation to conversion, to its faith-and-justice mission, and tb the implementation of the chapter's policies and decisions.~ It should, call p.a,~icipants to com-mit themselves to lead within the~pr~ovi~ces i'fi impl~m~i~ing thee policies and decrees of the chapter. The two calls'are" complementary. 0n~ m~st not e~i~t:without the other. If all the chapter does is to formulate polici.es for the coming years, it is no different.than a commercial board of directgr~ which meets to plan and choose its executive officers. If, on the other hand, the mem-bers believe that all they have to doAs pray and live in charity and thus fail to prepare theologically and in every,,other way necessary to make sound pastoral and religious-life policies,, ~then they gravely misunder- 178 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 stand the incarnational role of the apostolic Christian and so of their con-gregation; they are running away'from serious obligations, taking refuge in a false spirituality or supernaturalism (see Lk 6~46-49). Reflections on Reality Do chapters in fact realize this twofold.call? To help readers answer this question, ~ list some evaluative comments of the participants 0f sev-eral chapters; then I attempt to assess them in tile light of the ideals for cha~ters given above. i. "No outward conflicts, but~there was too much pressure for con-sensus .in all things. The time for divisions was over, we were told. The consensus just covered over deep divisions; I "and others became in-tensely angry because of this. The chapter was not a reconciling event that it is said to have been." 2. "The c~hapter was to be a time for dialogue, yet it was riddled with conflicts. Some group said they were out to bring reality into the chap-ter. They caused conflicts all the time, refusing to listen to contrary views. We agreed on nothing." 3. "I tried to raise the important initial-formation issue, but the emo-tional reaction and pressure of the group against it was so great that I had to drop it. I was marginalized for proposing a discussion. So we strug-gle in ignorance for. six mor6 years about formation." 4. "We had a good chapter, since we stressed the discernment pro-cess, downplayed debates and the study of reports on the congregation." 5. ~'I feel unhappy with our chapter. One national group effectively stopped the discernment process. 'We don't decide things by prayer! That's pre-Vatican pie.ty,' they said." 6. "Some participants held back from sha~ring their views until they had ihe right momeni for maximum impact; they would not listen to others. I thought they used their silence as power to manipulate us." 7. "People say that there sfiould never be conflicts, but only'consensus' on issues. This puzzles me. Perhaps disceinment might'help." 8. "I feel the chapter was an experience of grace. I did not feel the under-" ~urrent of ideological pressure groups, power movements, national/ cultural lobbying, that characterized our last chapter." Evaluating Chapters 9. "There was hardheaded debate, but a spirit of listening, openness to reports of the world we must be evangelizing, an experience 0f rec-onciliation and sisterhood. I believe there was a deep conversion to the Lord in all of us. Discernment, research, and prayerful preparation helped. Decisions are being now implemented." 10. "Every now and then our chapter made self-congratulatory expres-sions or decisions that were so unreal. You would think that the whole world was waiting on every word, yearning to be led by a dynamic con-gregation, well equipped for apostolic action. We wrote a mission state-ment,- but ignored priority of apostolic needs, the insights of theologi-cal e.xperts--anything, it seems, that would have embarrassed us to face the poverty of our spiritual and human resources. We had warm, comfort-ing liturgieS. It made people feel good. What a sad, escapist experi-ence!" I I. "'We wrote many documents, including a mission statement. We felt we had accomplished much because we did a lot of writing, but the real issue of conversion remains unconfronted." 12. "I was frightened by the repeated labeling of participants as 'right-ists' or 'leftists.' If you were classed as a leftist by one vocal group, there was nothing one could do wrong in the chap~ter. Groups, especially some national groups, spoke of 'winning or losing battles,' obviously rejoicing when rivals were 'conquered.' " 13. "It was a prayerful chapter. We got to the painful issues, and made good decisions. Now, several month~ later,participants are not inter-ested in doing anything about the decisions." 14. "Two sma!l, but vocal, groups struggled to dominate or manipu-late our chapter. One group wanted by force of law to restore the status quo, the opposite group wanted.change to be,imposed by law on all of us. Both were humorless, almost fanatical." Some of these comments are optimistic, but, overall, respondents are uneasy about the effectiveness of'their chapters. Given the frequent, un-critical 'use of such value~charged sociological terms as "conflict" and "consensus," I estimate that their unease is justified. I suspect that sev-eral chapters described by participants were insensitive to how power can be manipulated, sometimes by people with immense goodwill but with little knowledge of the social sciences, in ways that are quite contrary to gospel values. Review for Religious, March-April 1988 Because of the confusion that Can exist about how a culture or group functions?internally, a, confusion evideht in the comments listed, my task is now to, ex.plain the n'ature-and function of two popular models of so-cieties: the confliCt arid ~the consensus models; this will necessitate an analysis of the strengths and weaknesses'oUsociological models in gen-eral. Also, after showing how these two models can be misused w~hen applied to the'an, al.ysis of r~li~iOus~congregations., I,shali ~xialain the role of di~ce~'nment in m~k.ing'decisions. Models of Society , - A model, o~: ideal-type, analysis denotes a~particular and popular method of sociological investigation of society. An idea.! type i~ an "ex-aggerat! on',' .of cert,/in features which tend to be present in society; once the type is constructed by ttie researcher; ~i°concrete s'ittiation can then be better understood by means of comparison with the ideal type. For ex-ample, the researcher concludes that a particu, lar society is like, or di-verges from,~the ideal type in this or that way. Ideal-types have been con-structed, for example, of capitalism, communism, bureaucracy, and pre- Vatican II religiouscongregational governments.3 In summary, an ideal type has the following qualitieS: First, it is not "ideal" ir~ an ethical way. Secondly, it is rather "ideal" in a logical sense;it is freely d~signed by the researcher in an effort to better ~om-preh~ nd reality by isolating, accehtuating or emphgsi~ing, arid artiCulat-ing the elements of a recurrent social phenomenon (bureaucracy~ for ex-ample) into an internally consistent system of relationship. Thirdly, an ideal~type in no way em.b~.~ces all details of the~rea!ity; the aim, as opted, is to emphasize or highlight "significant" recurrent social phenomena. This means that various aspects of society are not included in the model because they do, not fit its Overall purpose or focus~ Hence, to get the best possible analysis of a social situation~, it would be.important to construct several ideal types for analytical use. The response can then be integrated to give a fuller picture of the sit'uation. ~ Fourthly, ideal types are not hypotheses; they are not falsified if they are not, fully substantiated in a particular situation or even,at all, but they are research aids in the building of hypotheses, Fifthly, ideal types gen~ erally are~really scientific refinements of~ common sense. ,For example, the fact!that people use,(even correctly) the two models we describe be-low (consensus and conflict models) does not necessarily mean,~they°are trained social scientists. It ma~, mean that they instinctively.feel, for.~what-ever~ reason~ comfortable, with the emphases that .the models describe~ Moreover, some models, such as the two we are to describe, have.~be~ Evaluating. ~hapters / 181 comepopular!zed in all l~inds of literature, so that the nonexpert" readily absorbs the language particular to the models ,and thus uses it in ways that may or may not be sociologically exact. Finally, an ideal type or model is not a caricature of reality. A cari-cature, when made of a person, consists of a graphic distortion of the s~a-lient points of his or her appearance or habitual costume so as to excite amusement oro.contempt; a caric,ature of a society or. group has the same deliberate distortion.An ideal type does not distort reality, but only high-lights particular details to facilitate a better knowledge of a situation. Of course, if an ideal type is ,wrongly, used, it can well become a caricature. Consensus and Conflict Models of Society Cooperation or Consensus and conflict are two basic processes of group life. Consensus is that general agreement in thought a~d feeling which~tends to l~roduce order where the~e was disorder. Conflictu~l'i'ela-tionships c~n be~=ategorized in terms of competition (mutually opposed efforts to obtain the sa~ne objectives), rivalry (conscious competition be-tween particular groups), or~conflict (the struggle over val~es and claims to scarce resources in which the aims of the opponents are to neutralize, injure, or eliminate their rivals). Two commonly used~ideai types have been constructed~ around'these two words: consensus and conflict (see Fig-ure ~1) 4 . Inthe cQnsensus model the.assumption is that people generally agre~e on values and norms; soqial life.is.basically.stable becausecooperatipn is rewarding.A spirit, of interdependenc,e pervades the society. Conflic-tual situations do ,emerge (~r~iters on this-model then tend to speak of "strained," "otense," "rival ".or, "competitive" relationships rather than "conflictual" o.nes), but they, do not threaten the dominant, consen-sus; .conflict resolutionS°in which equilibrium or harmooy 'i~ resto~r.ed, is achi.e~ed othr.~ugh trust :~n~ di,alogue and with ~'he aid of legitimate lead-ershi. p.,5 Maj.or social change comes very siowly and .depends on signifi-cantly large shifts in a~t.itud.e, and belief. The model therefore is conser-vative 'about change; many su~ggestions for chang~e are considered unre-alistic because people hold so firmly to their existing attitudes, vaiues~ and customs. ' In.the conflict model the key characteristic is the domination of some groups~by others, and actual or.potential conflict is at the heart of all so-cial relations. If~consensus exists-it is only a.facade. Behind this mask of.harmony the powerful, including ;the legitimate authorities, in order to maintain their-positions of .influence, manipulate or oppress othi~rs through the use of coercive power. ,Change comes about when existing 112 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 Key Points I. Basic qualities 2. Social life involves is essentially and depends on or produces 3. Leadership through 4. Social systems are and tend to Figure 1. Models of Society Consensus or Integration Model no'ms/values commitments cohesive consensus, solidarity,. reciprocity, coopera-tion, dialogue legitimate authority integrated remain Conflict or Coercion Model interests inducement and coercion divisive structured conflict, op-position, exclusion, and hostility power ¯malintegrated 9nd con-tain "contradictions" change conflictual situations are further exacerbated and new groups or individu-als emerge who manage to challenge the power structures in a confron-tational manner. Adversaries in conflicts generally judge the outcomes in terms of victories and defeats, wins or losses. In brief, at the heart of the conflict model is the assumption that conflict is the indispensable force in society. Ali relationships are coloreffby' it. The model empha-sizes the role of structures in society and how the powerful can use them to their advantage, and hence emphasiz,es'that change comes about through the alteration of structures through various forms of coercion. The roots of the conflict model go back to .people like Machiavelli and Hobbes. Karl Marx helped to refine the conflict model; conflict leads to revolutionary change rather than fi~aintenance of the system and, in the end, to what Marx claimed Would be a better society. His influence in the social sciences is considerable, though supporters tod~y do not nec-essarily agree with all that he said.6 Uses and Abuses of Models of Society As pointed out above, models are human constructs that articulate emphases in society. The models help us measure particular societies or cultures; enabling us to get a better understanding of their structures and dynamics. Most social scientists today would avoid adopting exclusively either the conflict or the consensus model; depending 9.n the nature of the particular group being studied, they would draw. on the.~trengths of Evaluating Chapters both models. Cultural anthropologists, whose task it is to study in depth a cultural situation, generally feel more comfortable with the consensus rather than the conflict model; they discover that people are more apt to resist change, often vigorously,~ because it threatens their critical need for cultural identity, security, and sense of belonging. People may adopt the jargon of the conflict model and yet remain at heart most unwilling to change. The process of facilitating change is more complex than the en-couragement of conflict; that may have quite the opposite effect. Abuses of the models occur inseveral ways. (A) One way is through the unscientific and exclusive application of one or other of the models to reality. People are then blinded to wider realities and values that may significantly influence the behavior of people. For example, as regards the mainline Filipino culture, it is .unwise to apply the cohsensus model exclusively, even though most key aspects of that model are evidently present. The emphasis is on the external maintenance of smooth, inter-personal, cohesive relationships and consensus in decision, making. If the enforcing of justice endangers harmony, then justice may have to be sac-i'ificed~ However, if theconsensus model is uncritically applied to the culture, it will not bring to light the intense conflictual anger and°resent-ment that can build up within individuals, for example because human rights are being ignored. A pointcan be reached when the anger cannot be contained, and it then breaks out with a feroc!ty and intensity that can stun the.unwary observer.7 On the other hand, the exclusive use of the conflict model blinds peo-ple to the existence of values, held in common and to the attitudinal re-sistance to change that generally exists at any level. The mere change of power structures, without attitudinal change or a chaiige of values, will lead to new forms of oppression. (B) Another abuse of the models occurs through the conscious or un-conscious desire to deny uncomfortable or embarrassing realities. There is the urge in all of us to deny awkward truths about ourselves or others, for if we acknowledged their existence we would have to do something about them. (C) A.-third abuse is the turning of either model into an ideology. By ideology I here mean (I am defining it in its pejorative sense) an action-oriented understanding of the person, of history, and of the world. The understanding is dramatic; the individual identifies ~vith it, is emotion-ally and totally gripped by it; one's :personal identity is constructed around the ideology and one accepts a role within the action drama. An ideology is apt to become for its adherents a dogmatic faith, blocking out 184 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 all challenge~ to it; people believe.,in it, then they~beheve in beliex;ing in'it.8 Ideologists readily use emotion-'ch~rged'labels.ofithemselves and others, for example; "libei-als, . conservatives," . ~ rightists,"~ "left-ists," o "radicals.",' An ideology is a caricature of an ideal type of soci-ety.~ My e.xperience'is that ideologists can,,~become so fanatically con-sumed by the rightness of their cause that. humor is beyond them, most certainly~,:t~he gift. of being~able to laugh at themselv.es.9 Ideologists are blinded to anything that threatens to undermi~n.e their assumptions. Take the conflict ideologlst. Situations and people are sim-plistically categorized, fo~xample, into '~pEre.ss~rs.and t.he oppressed, so that no gray ar,~e,a in the.a, nalys.is is. perm, itted. A.nyone who .~lares to doub! the analysi.s is lqgically (and emotively) assigned to the category "oppressor." ~0 Sigilarly, the consensus ideologist will not tolerate ai~y-thing~ but "harmony,," so that even ~enuine 90nflictual sitt]ations ar.e cov-ered over.~,,. Consensus/Conflict Model Analysis and'the Church Interest in the conflict perspective ih social'relations revived~ ht least in the Ehglish-speaking 'hations, in the. 1960s: In ~r~ceding decades, the dominant" sbc°ial-science theori~'s a~d:m0del~°d'eiaicted societie's~as founded and maintained o~ consensus ar~l ~ooperatiori. Howe~ier, the po-litical upheavals~ of th~ 1960s, 'botli domestic and international; focused attent~oh;ofi~)cial coffflicts and'~h6ir r~solution~ through ye~hlore con-flicts. For example, as concern for world poverty gi'6~v, people 6~ed the cbnflict rno~l~i to'better appreciate how pbwer (~conomic, l~olit'ical, and military) ~otild be i~ed to'impose unequal'exchanges which lead toga ~vorld system ina?ked by dependency arid pb~?erty. : : ~ ~ At the same time as the conflict"fia-6del was being revitalized and re-fined in the secular world, the Church began to ekperience the impact of'the incarnational and social-justice thrust of Vatican II.'Papal social documents 'and'synodal statements reflected,this trend. Proponents of lib-eratidn theolo~gy pointed'out that the philosophy of'cohsensus was being twisted, into an ideology in South America by the powerful minority to oppress the poor. Structural poverty must be tackled in order to briffg genu-ine relief. The.bishops~-'conference at Medellin in 1968 shocked partici-pants. into an awareness of this fact, and thereafter the small ~eed of lib: eration.theoiogy'sp~routed and grew rapidly. The documents of Medellin clearly show thd powerful influence of~the conflict-model in aiding the bishops to grasp the efiormity of the injustices being experienced by their people. On the wider intbrnational scene,.,Paul VI in his~landmark 197.1 document Octogesima Adveniens and in his Ef;ang~lii Ntintiandi (30-39) . Evaluating. Chapters o.f L975.and the bishops; 1971 ,synod on Justice in the World pinpointed ~he~caus.es of. world pox~erty in terms of the sgci.ological conflict model; but cle.arly rejecte.d ~both conflict and ,~consensus ideologies. , In the late 1970s there developed among concerned pastoral workers what became.known as Structural Analysis. This is a heightened criti-cal~ iselfrawareness of. .the wgys in which we c.an be. biase.d~ oLlimite.d in 9ur own thinking by our soqial, e.conom!c, cultural, or religious-life con-text. Advocacy, for the poor is a~critique of conservative-establishment power, domination, and wealth ideology. Identification with the poor and the oppressed is pictured as a "war waged on a more or less clearly iden-tifiable enem~,. The model is essehtially a conflict one where the promo-tion of a good ~s ,~nextrlcably hnked to a fight w~th a known adversary. ~ Unfprtunately, Structural'Analys~s, when it is used by tl~e amateur so-cial scientist, can r~adily t'~:n into a conflict~ ideology and'~hus"b~ the. cause of inj~Jst'ic~rather than an ~nstrument for its'removal. There are example~ of this in the evaluative coinment~ of genei'al ~ch~l~ters gi~,i~ri above. ' ~: :" " In summary, in the main Church documents that set out evangeliz, a, tion's preferentia! option for the poor: 1. The conflict/coercion/consensus models are used as ins, t.ruments of ~ocial/power ,analy.sis. 13 ,o 2. The limitations a,nd.~the dangers of misusiog the conflict mode!,in pa~rticular are pointed out: (.A) The,model cannot embrace theotransce_~n~ de.n,t; concern for just~ice mustoembrace the fullness of the ggspelme, s.- sage: "the prophetic~proc~l.amation of a herea.fter, man's profound and definitive calling, in both cofltin~uity and dis.cgntinuity with the present situation." 14 o~ ~ (B) The model must not be turned into a violence or conflict ideol-ogy;~ 5 "the action which,[the Church] sanctions is not the struggle of one~ class agai.nst an.other !n ord.er to eliminate the foe. She does not.pro~ ~ce.e.d from a mistaken acceptance of an alleged la~ of history: . . . The~ ~Chris.t~ian :wil~l always prefer the path of dia!ogue and joint action.' ,.~6 Nor should the conflict model be turned.into an °ideology that interprets the special option for the poor as embra~cing evaong.el.ically only;one section of the population: "This option excludes no one. This is whyothe Church cannot express this option by means of re.ducti.ve sociological and ideo-logical categories which would make this preference a partis.an choice and~ a.sourc~e of conflict." ~7 0 (C) Sociological models, 0.r ideologies that use these models, do not take into account the reality of sin; efforts at attitudinal or structural 11t6 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 change that ignore our proneness to sin are d6omed to failure. The urge to dominate or neutralize one's opponents, and the culpable escape from the realities of mortality, find their causes within our desire to deny God and replace him with gods of our own making.~8 (D) True dialogue between individuals or groups is not based on the ability to dominate, but on a spirituality of powerlessness born of char-ity; charity moves us to be open to others in order to respect and listen to them. 19 iE) E~vangelizers must watch lest they use the models in an amateur, but osten.sibly scientific~ way ~ manipulate and oppress people.2° 3. The~commitment to the social-justice apostolate must come out of a deep spiritual conv6rsion nourished by pra~yer. Prayer brings us to un-derstahd, how injustice is rooted in the sinfulness and selfishness of our hearts, it is prayer which calls on th~ Spirit to create within us both the courage and the love to bring about a conversion in people's hearts and the renewal of all structures of society.2~ Understanding Discernment "Discernment" is another frequently used term in the chapter com-ments noted ~bove. Discernment is a prayerful reflection on a human situ-ation in the light of faith. I must discover and root out all the attitudes, ignorance;, and prejudices that obstruct ~y ~penness to the Holy Spirit. Hence, I turn to whatever can hell~ me sharpen my grasp of truth--to the-ology, to social sciences, to discussion. But for discernment I need more than skilled human insights. I need the openness of a converting listener of the Lord. Discernment is not so much a skill as a presence with the Lord. It is being a Mary, "who sat down at the Lord's feet and listened to him speaking" (Lk 10:38). Father Thomas Green, S.J., points out that there are three presuppo-sitions of genuine discernment in the life of a Christian. First, discern-ment assumes that a person sincerely desires:to do what the Lord wants; secondly, this desire involves an openness to what God wants without reservations. Thirdly, the discerner must know the~ Lord in love, an ex-perienced intimate knowledge of God that a converted person has espe-cially through prayer. Discernment assumes conversion or the fact that the person has responded to God's grace and abandoned himself or her-self to the Lord. As Green says, "Discernment is.a function of a lov-ing, pe~rsonal relationship to the Lord. It can normally be only as deep and as solid as that relationship itself. The true discerner must be a pray-ing, loving person."22 Evaluating Chapters The presuppositions for communaLdiscernment are the logical exten-sion of the requirements for individual discernment.23 Every person of. the community must desire God's will; there must already be that open-nes, s, that intimate union of friendship in Christ. Without these qualities, communal'and individual discernment-remain human actions or tech-niques, not movements .in faith. Only'an individual or,group that has ex-perienced "that peace of God which is so much greater than we can un-derstand," and which ought to "guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus" (Ph 4:7), can identify what the Lord is asking. Discernment does not dispense with the need to use every human method possible--for exa~nple, sociological research, theological discus-sion-- to clarify the options that one must choos~ from. At tim6s this may require vigorous debate Or discussion. This is indispensable preparatory activity. To neglect it is to ekpect the Lord to work miracles, and'because of our laziness this he will not do. However, despite the perfection of our research, there are limits to our insights. We are relating to a God and Savior whose ways~ can be humanly inconceivable and unpredic.table; so, once the background material has been clarified, then we take it in a prayerful way, to the Lord and with him we contemplate the options. Evaluation of General ~Chapter Comments In view of the above explanation, many of the evaluative comments on several general chapters are not at all surprising. ShOrtly after the end of Vatican II, congregations initiated a series of provincial and general chapters of renewal aimed at updating legislation arid approving new con-stitutions. In the 1970s and 1980s the j.argon of ihe consensus, and espe-cially the conflict, mode~ls of analysis became increasingly popular and acceptable in secular and theological circles. Participants at congregaz tional chapters merely reflected ~hat was happening in the wider Church and society. Our formation p~ograms unfortunately had not adequat~ely prepared us in the social-gcience disciplines always to use sociologica~l or anthropological models with the needed professional caution. We have used sociological terminology, especially of the conflict model, but have frequently failed to grasp the technical ramifications of the language. In very recent years, as congregations have slipped more and more into the stage of chaos,24 religious have grown suspicious of the simplis-tic use of the conflict model and more aware of the attitudinal and spiri-tual dimensions needed i~ charige. Structural changes have not had the desired miraculous effect. Now the terms "consensus" and "discern-ment" are the "in" words though there is frequent confusion about their 188 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 meaning, as is evident in the following analysis of the chapter evalu- ¯ ations. Mis'use of tl~e Conflict Model (Reread Con~ments 2, 3, 5, ,,6, 12,~ 14) Delil~erately or otherwise~people coerced other participants. Com-ment 3 p,oints to an~,,atmosphere of subtle,.but effect!ve, coercion; the in-dividual feltemotionally pressured io withdrawoa mgtteroof considergble importance to the congregation~--initial formation. In comment 5 one na-tional group r~efuses to cooperate in the discernment process, so the only option ope.n is the ~use of power politics~ pressure grouping, wins and losses. In comment 6 some manipulate the group through orchestrated sile~nc,e.s; they will not risk shar!ng views~ntil they are in a positio,n to d~minate the g~roup with their own decisions. Christi.an mutuality.d~es np.t. ex!.s,t: In comment ~2 i.ndividuals are thor~ughgoin~g ideglogists; they openly proclaim that nothing will be done except through confhcts initi-ated by .them. MisUse~%f the Consensus Model (Comments 1, 7) In comment 1 participants Were using corisensus ideologically, though they may not have been aware of it. Obviously, they had experi-enced in the past the disruptive b,!tt, erness and failure of.the conflict ide-ology. and wanted to~ avoid it at all-costs., They the.n misunderstood the meaning of consensus. People of comment 7 are se~rc,hing to grasi~ the meaning of discernment. Misufider~.tanding of Discernn~ent (cpmments.4, 9, i3) Comment 9 ~vould suggest that a positive chapter was held; not so with .the chapters referred to in comr~efits 4 and 13. A l~'ey presupposi-tion in dis~ernmen(is, the willingness to do what God wants ~f us, no matter h~ow Oistastefql it may be. The fact that "nothingohas been d~)ne about th6 Chapter decrees" shows that this effective willingness was not present. ~, Escdpism/Denial (Comments V,~' 2,, 3;~ 4, 5, 6, 7) ~ . Ernest Becket claims that the root cause of human evil is that our "natural and inevital~ie .urge" is "to deny mortality and achieve a he-roic self-image."25 Discernment demands that we admit our mortality, our,absolute need~of God. This means f.acing ~up constantly to the reali-ties of our 'own sinfulness and our need to be dying to ourselves in order that we rise in Christ, This is painful. It attacks that which we so enjoy-- our .pride and~ self-sufficiency, ., ' ~ EvaluaiingChapters / t89 ~There are examples and hints of participants denying their own per- ,sonai and corporate mortality and thus avOiding reality, for example'; through the misuse.of conserisus and conflict models and the failure to have the openness to one another that.comes 6nly through the risk of faith. Power, as commonly understood in:the comments, is unilateral; that is, people are out to impose their influenc~ on others while cloging then~selves to the'insights of the'latter. RelationalpoWer is precisely the ability t~O listen to others as well as being available to influence the same people (see comments 2, 3).26 InSistence on conflict or c6nsensus at all costs overlooks, the fact that ultimately there can be nor worthwhile change unless it springs out of one's conversion to the Lord'~ his love, his meekness. Fine documents do not effect conversion (comment~l l')~. In response to.grace we must turn wholehe~rtedly to the Lord. No culture must ever be the norm for the Christian.-A cultu;e may or. ma3? not facilitate dialogue, but ultimately dialogue for tl~e Christian must=have its roots in faith and in imitation of Christ.'He is the exemplar of relational power, the power of mutuality and risk' in .~harity. He thtis teaches us what genuine dialogue means. Ponder how often he asks peo-pie wh~it, they wish of him. He does not tell them what hE thinks they need: "'What do ~,ou want me to do.for you?" he said to the blind man. "Master, let me see again'~' (Mk 10"51). Or take that in~ident~in which Jesus enters into dialogue with the Canaanite woman who persistently begs him to heal her daughter. She does not take no for an answer, and Jesus listens (Mr 15:21-28), just as he does with the Samar.!tan woman at the well and his perplexed follow+r.s on the rgad ,to Emmaus. Then the touching interchange on the cross itself, when Jesus in his agony listens and responds to the repentant thief. The ultimat~e~source of his gift of lis-tenir~ g is the divine/human e£change bf th( incarnation itself:"'Hi~ State was divine, yet he did not cling to his equa!ity with~God, but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave" (Ph' 2:6-7). Conclusion " Chapters are called to be witnesses of charity to the Church and to their own congregations and to apostolically relate their ~institutes to the needs of a changing world: In order to know these needs, "participants must break through the'barriers of their own pr6judices and ignbrance. An amateurish use of the social sciences, for exampl.e, through the mis-use, of sociological models of analysis, only iincrease~ these barriers. St. Paul was never a trained social scientist, but he had a shrewd in-sight into how people could misuse power. He detested those who sought to divide the Church into exclusive, conflictual, unlistening po~er blocks "191~ / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 that aimed to dominate one another--all in the name of Christ: "What could be~more unspiritual than your slogans, 'I am for Paul' and 'I am for Apollos'?" (1 Co 3:4), That approach, he insists, traps.people and deprives them of their freedom and openness to the Spirit; it. is a "sec-ondhand, empty, rational philosophy based on the principles of this world instead of on Christ;' (Col 2:8). Paul then is condemning ideologies, or any action-oriented beliefs, which claim to legitimize the domi~nation or manipulation of people. At root, "feuds. and wrangling, jealousy, bad temper and quarrels, disagree-ments, factions . . . and similar things" are the fruit of "self-indul-gence," which "is the opposite of the Spirit, and the Spirit is totally agaipst such a thing" (Ga 5:20, 17). The sign of the converting, therefore listening, person or group is love, for "Love is always patient and kind; ~t is never jealous., never rude or selfish., not resentful . [It] delights in the truth; it is al-ways ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and .to endure whatever comes" (I Co 13:4-7). Such ~people will do all they can to discover God's will, for they take to heart the ever pressing invitation of the Lord: "Come now, let us talk this over, says Yahweh. Though.your sins are like scar-let, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool" (Is 1:18). NOTES t Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes, Essential Elements in the Church's Teaching on Religious Life, May 1981, par. 51. 2 See G. A. Arbuckle's Strategies for Growth in Religious Life (New York: Alba House, ! 986), pp. I 16- I 19. 3 See Max Weber, TheMeth~gdology of the Social Sciences (Glencoe: The Free Press, 1949), passim. 4'See P. S. Cohen, Modern Social Theory (London: Heinemann, 1968), p. 167. 5 See presentation of model by Talcott Parsons, The Social System (New York: The Free Press, 1949), passim. 6 See Steven Vago, Social Change (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1980), pp. 39-44. 7 For a Japanese parallel see lan Buruma, A Japanese Mirror: Heroes and Villains of Japanese Culture (London: Jonathan Cape, 1984), pp. 219ff. 8 See Antonio B. Lambino, "Ideology, Social Change and the Christian Con-science," in Loyola Papers, Manila, 1976, nn. 7/8, pp. I If. 9 See Arbuckle, StrategieS, pp. 67-87. t0 See insights by Renato A. Ocampo and Francisco F. Claver in Pulso, Institute on Church and Social Issues, Manila, voi. I, no. I (1984), pp. 7-16, 48-63. t t John L. Seymour, "Social Analysis and Pastoral Studies: A Critical Theological Assessment," in Pastoral Sciences, vol. 4 (1985), p. 58. Evaluating Chapters / 191 12 See Joe Holland and Peter Henriot, Social Analysis: Linking Faith and Justice (Ma-ryknolh Orbis, 1984); pp. 14-44. 13 See Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation, 22 March 1986, par. 42; also Donal Dorr, Option for the Poor: A Hundred Years of Vatican Social Teaching (Maryknoih Orbis, 1983), pp. 175,244- 250. 14 Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi, 1975, par. 28. 15 Paul VI, Octogesima Adveniens, 1971, par. 28. 16 Instruction, op. cir., par. 77. ~7 lbid, par. 68. ~8 lbid, pars. 38, 39. ~9 lbid, pars. 55-57. 2o Octogesima Adveniens, pars. 38, 39. 21 Evangelii Nuntiandi, par. 15. 22 Weeds Among the Wheat: Discernment--Where Prayer and Action Meet (Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 1984), p. 64. 23 See John Futrell, "Communal Discernment: Reflections on Experience" in Stud-ies in the Spirituality of Jesuits, vol. 4, no. 5 (1972), passim; and Brian P. Hall and Benjamin Tonna, God's Plans for Us: A Practical Strategy for Communal Discern-ment of Spirits (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), passim. 24 See Arbuckle, Strategies, pp. 23-66. 25 Escapefr~om Evil (New York: The Free Press, 1976), p. xvii. 26 See Evelyn Woodward, "Uses of Power in Community," in Human Develop-ment, vol. 4, no. 2 (1983), pp. 27-29. The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell~ Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 The ,Relevance of Life Review tO the Vowed Life James J. Magee, D.S.W. ~ ~o' Doctor Magee has, done extensive research and consultative work in the j'ield of re-tirement programs for religious women~ His last article in these pages, "Confidants Help Older Religious with Life Review," appeared in the issue of March/April 1987., He may be addressed,at the College of New Rochelle; New Rochelle, New York 10805. ¯, ~ ¯ , In response to the "graying" of their membership, many religious com-munities have begun to draw upon the reminiscences of their older mem-bers as a valued resource. Communities have sponsored groups to tape oral histories of the personalities, geographical sites, institutional crises, and developmental issues for which only the older members can give first-hand accounts. They have asked members whb are retired from their pri- ~ mary mini, str~!e~s~i'tg~.feiz.0.~d ~th.~zhaile~i'~es t,h~t iin~ar)'~.bly cbn.fro~t those who succeed them. Ttiey have, encouraged them, too,. to value the in- . creaseo ~nvo~vemento~n~4tte rewew that accompanies'aging:as occasions for healing memorie_s and di.sce~rning God's gracious intervention through-out their lives. Life review is a fo£m of reminisce.nce,~in whic,h persons recall long-forgotten incidents, dwell on them, and re6apture the emotions that origi-nally accompanied them, often while trying to convey these felt experi-ences to a listener. Thes'e.re~zollections are:usuhlly clear and vivid, ac-' companied by pleasant or uncomf6rtabl~ emotions varying in intensity. Life review increases dra~atie~ll~ in middle age and continues un-abated among older adult~':~In, life~re~,iew:ifii:li.vidfi~als reflect upon their personal history and accept responsibility for it. It is a process in which reviewers gradually r.ecpns~truct and assess their past, using their current 192 Life Review and the Vowed Life / 193 values to weigh behavior that memories progressively retum to conscious-ness. It focuses attention upon the connectedness of their: past with their current sense of themselves, evoking memories of formative experiences that influenced their personal development (Merriam, 1980). Life Review and the Daily Examen This description of life review overlaps several of the functions of the daily examen. A critical evaluation of life experiences with a goal of integrating them in an acceptance of oneself here and now is common to them both. Life review, however, is seldom a structured progression of memories. Usually it proceeds circuitously through reverie, reflection, dreams, diary or journal entries, correspondence, and storytelling. More significantly, life review enhances the fruitfulness of the daily examen by focusing upon the vowed lifestyle as a way of life that can release its members from compulsions that impede their self-actualiza-tion and intimacy with God. Like everyone who engages in life review, older religious become enmeshed in memories which join their own per-sonal history with the history of their family. They particularly recog-nize the ways in which they have mishandled in their own lives some is-sue( s) that they know various family members have mishandled over gen-erations. In a previous article in this journal (Magee, 1987), I indicated that these intergenerationai issues characteristically include the fol-lowing: WEALTH. (How much is enough? Who has access to it? What is sup-posed to be done with it?) HEALTH. (Use/avoidance of preventive and rehabilitative services, hy-pochondria, phobias) SEXUALITY. (Knowledgeability, scrupulosity, homophobia, premari-tal and extramarital activity) WORK. (Workaholism/inertia, process/product orientation) ANGER. (Forms of ex.pression, targets, repression, degrees of openness to resolving differences) RELIGION. (Freedom to participate/disaffiliate, questioning institutional teaching) AUTONOMY. (What decisions are mine to make? Where can I live? How often am I expected to contact kin?) These issues recur in families over generations because they have never been resolved. Instead of coping with them when they arise, fam-ily members react with a heightened anxiety which spurs demonstrations of denial, projection, and somatic symptoms. One authority refers to such issues as "islands of sensitivity" in a family. When family mem- Review for Religious, March-April 1988 bers even approach one of the "islands," no more than a particular kind of look, gesture, word, or tone of voice is needed to arouse an emotional explosion (Fogarty, 1977). ¯ Life Review and the Vowed Life How appropriate, then, that the lifestyle of living in community un-der vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience should lead religious to con-front the very issues which hold such intractable control over most peo-ple's lives. Texts concerning formative spirituality consistently em-phasize the inevitability of the vowed life engaging religious with their tenacious, problematic attitudes toward status, sexuality, and autonomy. It is to be .expected, then, that life review will elicit memories that reit-erate the difficulties religious had in observing their community's way of life precisely because that lifestyle addressed issues of exquisite sen-sitivity in their families. Consider the situation of a son who intervened between his parents who were estranged over any subject involving finances. The mother, in turn, invested in a compensatory relationship with her son, while the fa-ther maintained a deprecatory attitude toward him. The son rallied to-ward his mother, but experienced increasing anxiety over the intensity of their relationship. Later, after entering his religious community, he remained sensitized to expressions of anger, even disagreement. He was unable to resolve arguments, felt drawn to one member against another, and yet believed he must work everything out between them. Finally, he remained particularly scrupulous about observing the letter of his vowed poverty, and alert to any apparent laxity in the observance of other com-munity members. A second example concerns a woman religious who was raised in a patriarchal household in which daughters were assigned, without right of protest, the least challenging and most wearisome chores. Although she demonstrated exceptional organizational abilities in her community, she participated only reluctantly whenever her superior asked her to co-ordinate retreats conducted by a priest rather than by another woman re-ligious. In fact, whenever community liturgies involved several male cele-brants, she suffered symptoms severe enough to keep her from attending the services. A final example concerns a friar who grew up in a tradition-oriented family in which the eldest son for four consecutive generations had as-sumed direction of the family business. In this man's case, however, he entered his community even though he was the firstborn and had been christened with his great-grandfather's name. He maintains that his Life Review and the Vowed Life choice of vocation was the only discontinuity with his family of origin. For the family's entrepreneurial orientation and expectations for his as-gendancy continued throughout his life to compound his difficulties in sharing in the give-and-take exchange of community living and in ob-serving prescribed consultations with his superior. Life Review and Depression For most older religious, life review affirms their self-esteem as saved sinners, "in Christ, a new creation." Insight into the heritage of their family-based compulsions demystifies so much of their dysfunc-tional behavior. With faith, they see their frailties of character as graced opportunities "to boast of nothing but the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." For a troubled minority, however, life review, like the examen it-self, can lead to depression instead of peace. For three groups, life re-view can precipitate a crisis of conscience and faith. One group consists of religious who "have consciously exercised the human capacity to in-jure others" and cannot imagine that they could be forgiven by those whom they have injured or by God (Butler, ! 963). They feel that no re-course exists to undo whatever harm they have inflicted. Often they ap-pear obsessed with a theme or event, discussing it with one listener after another. Somerset Maugham's (1959) observation about reminiscence is poignantly relevant to members of this group: "What makes old age hard to bear is not a failing of one's faculties, mental and physical, but the burden of one's memories." Members of the second group.are those charact.eroiogically arrogant and proud. They use life review not to appreciate the gratifications that their memories recall, but to accentuate that their accomplishments and sources of life satisfaction are now behind them. Moreover, because they have built their self-esteem upon recognition for their achievements and affiliations rather than on their inherent worth as human beings, they view aging as distancing them further from the bases for their self-worth. Life review may also lead to depression for a third group who have tended throughout their life cycle to live in the future. Their memories surface a lifetime of opportunities missed because they were focusing uport tomorrow rather than upon today. Feeling powerless to modify their future-orientation and seeing death as foreclosing further opportunities, they become disconsolate over a life that appears to them as wasted. These three groups are in crisis about their spiritual life and their men- Review for Religious, March-April 1988 tal health. Their depression requires professional mental health attention. Conclusion Increased investment in life review is a developmental attribute of aging. As members of religious communities age, life review becomes a more potent resource. It enhances the quality of the daily examen. It helps religious to understand lifelong difficulties they may have had with their vowed community lifestyle. Finally, it helps in identifying relig-ious who need mental health services as well as spiritual direction. REFERENCES Butler, R. (1963). The life review: An interpretation of reminiscence in the aged. Psychiatry, 26, p. 70. Fogarty, T. (1977). Fusion. The Family, 4(2), p. 56. Magee, J. (1987). Confidants help older religious with life review. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 46(2), p. 235. Maugham, S. (1959). Points of view. Garden City: Doubleday. Merriam, S. (1980). The concept and function of reminiscence: A review of the re-search. The Gerontologist, 20(5), pp. 604-609. The Cross Reconsidered William F. Hogan, C.S.C. Father Hogan's last article, "Eucharistic Community of Disciples," appeared in the issue of November/December 1985. He continues to reside at the generalate of the Christian Brothers: Fratelli Cristiani; Via della Maglianella, 375; 00166 Roma, Italy. History points to the virtual impossibility of maintaining balance between all the facets of the mystery of Christ, his person and his message. Theo-logical controversies over the centuries bear witness to this; current spiri-tual movements, as in the past, similarly offer testimony. ~ In the present day, emphasis on the Cross would appear to be one aspect of theology-spirituality that has receded in the light of other stresses, and a variety .of reasons could be adduced, not the least of which would be a reaction against some of the negativism in the past associated with the attention given= to the cru~ifixiofi in the Paschal Mystery and the insufficient ac-cent on the resurrection. Further, the broader view of the theology of crea-tion and incarnation has been seen .as necessary for a better appreciation of the basic concept of mission and our part in it today. It is not surprising that the recent extraordinary synod pointed to the need of recognizing "that in today's difficulties God wants us to teach more profoundly the value, importance, and :centrality of the cross of Je-sus Christ."2 These words assume a particular importance when we re-flect on the many kinds of life-struggles in our world and the areas need-ing redemption. What the synod said concerning teaching the Cross should not be restricted to ministerial actions toward others, for the mes-sage touches life and spirituality and needs to be integrated therein. But how a person approaches the centrality of the Cross in ministry as well as in personal life is very important, for there is need for integration as such. We cannot just let the. Cross remain outside ourselves as a reality 197 Review for Religious, March-April 1988 to be looked at. (While this may seem obvious, in fact, in our daily liv-ing we may well find ourselves looking at the Cross disinterestedly as an object.) The Cross is not simply a thing, static; rather it involves and expresses a relation of personal self-emptying love and total giving for us. Unless seen in that perspective, it will not touch us concretely and we will find much more comfort in concentrating on the Risen Jesus, avoiding the starkness and pain of the Cross. Touch us it must, for the Cross is at the core of Christian discipleship and reveals the mystery of divine love in the gift of the person of Christ, who invites us to follow him into the Paschal Mystery. Discipleship entails such a preferential love for Jesus as to demand that we go after him all the way into the mys-tery of his death-resurrection and not be deterred by lesser preoccupa-tions. The integration of the mystery of the Cross into our lives is inti-mately associated with the whole question of our human sinfulness and brokenness and how we own that as part of our lives. Often we would prefer not to look at that side of ourselves, since it can be discouraging and depressing. Some past approaches of spirituality urged people to re-flect on sin in such a way as to foster morbidity and gloom because of insufficient attention to the love of Jesus and that of the Father in send-ing him to humankind. As a result, instead of a deep spirit of sorrow for sin, a sense of guilt took its place, accompanied by feelings of shame, where the attention is at least unconsciously on self and not on God-- "I thought I was better than that." And then for many the next logical step is the loss of a meaningful sense of sin out of a flight from guilt and shame. No doubt, it can be frightening to see some aspects of ourselves, when at times we catch a glimpse of our dark side or it catches us by surprise; and we would prefer not to acknowledge to ourselves our sin-fulness, brokenness, and weakness. Yet a major factor in this reluctance may be how we look at this part of our lives. Do we view it separately in itself or in conjunction with the Cross and the healing power of God's love? Do we at the same time see God's power operative in the midst of our human frailty, using it as an occasion to break into our lives? A basic call is given to each of us to accept ourselves as we are if we are to grow to maturity. This includes acceptance of our dark side as well as the brightness of gifts, talents, and admirable qualities. However, the acceptance of one's sinfulness must be against the background of the re-ality of the Cross and divine love eager to lead us through our b~oken-ness towards wholeness, analogous to the felix culpa message proclaimed The Cross Reconsidered / 199 in the Exsultet of the Easter Vigil Service, We are not to cling to our sinfulness in a wrong way, trying to hide it from ourselves and from God, but let him use it and operate through it--sincerely believing that "for those who love God all things work together unto good" (Rm 8:28). A correlated sense of sin and of the Cross leads to greater convic-tion of need for, dependence on, and openness to the God who loves us in our weakness; simultaneously there is a breaking down of the exagger-ated kind of personal autonomy that lies at the root of so many personal and societal problems. And the human person gradually becomes steeped in the gratefulness to God that is the antithesis of the ingratitude of sin. Joyful dependence on God should overflow into a sense of dependence on others, enabling us to more intensely live Jesus' message of interde-pendeiace. We need each other, as we all need God and his redemptive love, because of our mutual brokenness and sinfulness. And in a very real way it can be said that God uses individual frailty as a means of be-coming a life-giving channel for others when we accept them and need them in their sinfulness. God ministers to them through us when we com-mune with them in our mutual need for healing and strength; and at the same time we receive God ministering to us. The Cross is not an isolated reality, for it extends to all aspects of individual and social life in touching what is most fundamental in hu-man nature. Each season of the liturgical year, while concentrating on one or other dimension of the mystery of salvation in Christ, must ulti-mately be viewed from the perspective of the Paschal Mystery. The Cross and resurrection are present in all of them even as they were pre-sent in the lifelong discipleship of Jesus. His self-emptying in following the will of the Father and seeking the Father's glory in all the phases of his life led to the culmination of kenosis in laying down his life. Any-one who would respond to Jesus' call of discipleship must necessarily make the same journey from self to the Father, and the Cross is inescap-able. We may~not like the manner of expression of the Imitation of Christ, but the message still holds true: The cross is always ready and everywhere waits for thee. Thou canst not escape it, whithersoever thou runnest; for whithersoever thou goest, thou carriest thyself with thee and shalt always find thyself. Turn thyself up-wards, or turn thyself downwards; turn thyself without or turn thyself within thee, and everywhere thou shalt find the cross.3 Various spiritualities in the past emphasi~.ed practices related to the Cross and some of them have been dropped. Perhaps this was wise and 900 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 even necessary because the devotions were not sufficiently well grounded for some people and even, in fact, became ends in themselves. Now may be the opportune time to take another look at the values these devotions and practices were meant to instill and deepen and to seek to reincorpo-rate them with new expressions and emphases, especially making a more explicit link to discipleship and our human brokenness. This could be help-ful in enabling us to perceive life and ministry struggles in terms of the Cross and drinking the cup (see Mt 20:22). Similarly opportune would be ongoing personal reflection on God's personal redemptive love for the individual--a truth that can never be deeply enough engraved on our hearts, a truth intellectually admitted but so often not interiorly believed such as to affect our lives. In the awareness of the pilgrimage of our lives, we need to see the already attained as having been reached in terms of God's love and the power of the Cross and the "not yet" element as something to be faced in the light of the same. Throughout the centuries the Cross has been a symbol of Christ, point-ing backward through history to the salvific event and at the same time forward with a prophetic call. It speaks to the world and to individuals about love, unlimited love, the love to which we are still challenged to-day: What I say to you is: offer no resistance to injury. When a person strikes you on the right cheek, turn and offer him the other. If anyone wants to go to law over your shirt, hand him your coat as well. Should anyone press you into service for one mile, go with him two miles. Give tqthe man who begs from you. Do not turn your back on the borrower. You have heard the commandment, "You shall love your countryman but hate your enemy." My command to you is: love your enemies, pray for your persecutors. This will prove that you are sons of your heavenly Fa-ther, for his sun rises on the bad and the good, he rains on the just and unjust (Mt 5:39-45). The disciple of Christ, even in his/her sinfulness, is empowered to take up the challenge of Christ through the power of the Cross operative today and, in trying to witness to this love, will be living out the Pas-chal Mystery. How important it is that we seriously reconsider the Cross and its im-plications in our lives today, for it is so easy to forget or at least take it for granted. The Cross Reconsidered NOTES ~ See John Dalrymple, "Not Peace but the Sword," in The Way, January 1986, where the author indicates how some elements of charismatic spirituality tend to cloud over some disturbing aspects of Christ and his message. 2 L'Osservatore Romano, December 10, 1985, Documents section, Relatio Finalis D. 2. 3 Thomas a Kempis, My Imitation of Christ, Confraternity of the Precious Blood," Brooklyn, New York, 1954, p. 147. A Sister's Passing I watched the sunlight touch the corners of the sky and softly climb the hills, while you-- so still-- let the light fade in your room and quietly went.away to another mansion where mysteries are no more, and the Son-light never dims. I shall not question your going. R.LP. Sistei" Dorothy Clark, R.S.C.J. 2/6/85 Claire Mahaney, R.S.C.J. 140 Valparaiso Ave. Menlo Park, CA 94025 Advance Directives for Health Care: A Proposal for Priests and Religious Ruth Caspar, O.P., Ph.D. Sister Ruth, recently returned from a sabbatical devoted to research in bioethics, is a consultant in biomedical ethics along with being Professor and Chair of the De-partment of Philosophy at Ohio Dominican College; 1216 Sunbury Road; Colum-bus, Ohio 43219. The events surrounding the recent death of Monsignor.Thomas O'Brien will put clergy and members of religious congregations on notice that they should enact directives concerning their preferences regarding medi-cal treatment well in advance of the age of 83. ~ This was the age of Mon-signor O'Brien at the time of the severe stroke that left him paralyzed, unable to swallow and take nourishment, and incapable of speech. It was also the age of Brother Charles Fox when he suffered cardiac arrest and anoxia during routine surgery.2 In both cases, medical technology was available to sustain the lives of these patients, and in both cases persons close to them--friends who could have been expected to know their val-ues and preferences--sought the removal of these medical interventions. A review of the medical, legal, and ethical aspects of these cases, which differ in significant respects, will be instructive in providing a con-text for the discussion of Advance Directives "for members of the clergy and of refigious congregations. Brother Fox In the literature of bioethics, the case known in law as Eichner v. Dillon stands as one of the precedent-setting decisions regarding proxy consent authorizing termination of treatment for an adult incompetent pa-tient. 3 Father Philip K. Eichner, S.M., secured in that decision judicial 202 Health-Care Directives / 903 approval from the Appellate Court, Second Department, of New York State to remove respirator support from Brother Joseph Charles Fox, di-agnosed as suffering from "permanent or chronic vegetative coma." This petition had initially been approved by a trial court order, but was appealed by Nassau County District Attorney Denis Dillon. Both Father Eichner and Brother Fox were members of the Society of Mary, and both at that time belonged to the community at Chaminade High School in Mineola, N.Y. When Brother Fox entered Nassau Hos-pital for routine surgery for a hernia in October 1979, he had spent 66 of his 83 years as a Marianist Brother, the last ten of them in retirement at Chaminade, where his longtime friend Father Eichner served as relig-ious Superior and president of the high school. Their relationship, beyond that of friendship, was also established on the trust and respect that are part of the structure of religious community life under vows of obedi-ence. In 1953, Eichner had been a novice under the guidance of Brother Fox, then prefect of novices; in 1979 this role was reversed, and Fox lived and worked as a member of a community under the direction of Fa-ther Eichner. Why did this case make legal and bioethical history? Removal of a respirator from a patient in chronic vegetative state, with no hope of re-covery of cognitive functioning, is now fairly well supported in legal precedent and moral consensus; the debate in the courts and among bioethicists today focuses on the withdrawal of a further and more con-troversial intervention: tube feeding, which is at issue in the O'Brien case. But this was not the agenda in 1979 when Quinlan was foremost in the consciousness of the courts and the public as a result of media ex-posure. The Fox case was not finally resolved until March 31, 1981, when a decision of the New York Court of Appeals, highest court in that state, consolidating Eichner v. Dillon with Storar, upheld the decision of the lower court regarding Fox. It had opened on October 2, 1979, when Brother Fox, in relatively good health but advanced age, went in for sur-gery to correct a hernia he had suffered while gardening. In the course of the surgery he suffered cardiopulmonary arrest. Heart massage even-tually restored a heartbeat, but not before oxygen deprivation tothe brain had reduced Brother Fox to dependence on a respirator to sustain even the most basic ~of vital functions, with no hope of regaining conscious-ness. When this prognosis was confirmed by neurosurgeons, Father Eich-ner requested that the hospital remove the patient from interventions that 204 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 were clearly "extraordinary" under the well-articulated moral teaching of the Catholic Church. He was supported in this request by Brother Fox's nieces and nephews, all of whom concurred in this decision. More-over, Father Eichner and the provincial, Father Keenan, could report that they had heard Brother Fox express his preferences regarding the mat-ter. In discussions surrounding Quinlan he had said that he would not want to have his life prolonged by such extraordinary and artificial meas-ures, a conviction he reiterated immedi~ately prior to his own s.urgery. He had, however, no written document stating his position. When hospital officials refused, alleging both legal and moral qualms, Eichner was left with no alternative but to go to court if he wished to honor the known preferen.ces of his Marianist brother. He sought a court order appointing him as proxy for the incompetent patient with authority todecide whether life-sustaining equipment should be with-drawn. This was granted by the trial court on December 6, 1979 (Brother Fox had by now been in deep coma for two months); the order was im-mediately appealed by Dillon. Before the subsequent decision in favor of Eichner was rendered, Brother Fox died on January 24, 1980. Citing the far-reaching impact of the issues contested in the case, the Appellate Division proceeded with the case, announcing its decision two months later (Eichner v. Dillon, March 27, 1980). Dillon appealed once again, to the highest court in the state; once again Father Eichner's right as proxy to authorize the termi-n~ ition of treatment for Fox was upheld in the 1981 decision In re Storar. Though vindicated at every level of court review, the progress of the Fox case nevertheless incurred $20,000 in legal fees and over $80,000 in medi-cal costs. Monsignor O'Brien If the Fox case seems relatively clear and straightforward in spite of the difficulties encountered in its progress, that of Monsignor Thomas O'Brien, had it proceeded through court review, would have been a storm center. Nevertheless it presents an even stronger argument for a need for Advance Directives on the part of clergy and religious. Father Thomas O'Brien, ordained a priest for the archdiocese of New York, served over the many years of his priestly ministry at St. Paul's in Harlem, St. Anastasia's in the Bronx, and St. Malachy's, the "Ac-tor's Chapel," in Manhattan, where in retirement he held a position as Pastor Emeritus. He is described in the court record as "a lively, gre-garious loving man, an avid reader, a rapt conversationalist, and a good friend to the members of his parish."4 Health-Care Directives / 905 At the age of 83, he was severely disabled by a stroke suffered on May 25, 1986. As a result of the stroke~and subsequent paralysis, he was restricted in his movements, unable, initially, to swallow or take notir-ishment, and incapable of speech. In response to the medical emergency, a nasogastric tube was in-serted for the provision of nourishment. As the name suggests, these tubes are inserted through the nose and pass to the stomach. No consent form was required for this "noninvasive" intervention. Alth6ugh there was some difference of expert opinion about Father O'Brien's degree of competence, the record indicates that "he was not happy with the tube that was inserted and would have preferred to have it out." This he com-municated clearly by attempting to remove it fifteen times. At this point, hospital officials at Frances Shervier Home and Hos-pital in Riverdale, N.Y., petitioned the court for a conservator for pur-poses of consenting to the surgical insertion of a feeding-tube directly through the abdomen into the stomach: a gastrostomy.Such a procedure would allow the continued provision of life-sustaining nourishment with-out the irritation and discomfort associated with the nasogastric tube. It would also, from the perspective of the hospital, "buy time" for the reso-lution of the question bf competence. With the consent of a court-appointed guardian, "there being some conflict in psychiatric testimony.as to whether Msgr. O'Brien was or was not competent to make a decision as to the continuation of life-sustain-ing procedures," the surgery was performed on September 17, 1986. The issue, now that the stomach tube was in place, was whether it could be removed. To determine this, the court sought additional psychiatric testimony and heard the opinions of those most closely associated with the patient. There were no family members in a position to speak for Father O'Brien, nor had he personally authorized anyone to make decisions regarding his health care. No living will was available. One fellow priest is mentioned in the court record--the director of the residence where Father O'Brien livi~d--but he did not act as proxy decision-maker. The person who seemed to be best able to speak for the patient was a Iongtime friend who had initially requested removal ofthe NG tube. His opinion is noted in the record with respect ("His integrity and concern define what true friendship is all about"), but it was not held to be binding. Four psychiatrists, examining the patient who now had the stomach tube in place, found that he "was not so depressed or withdrawn as to render him incapable of making a rational decision affecting his life." 906 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 His method of communication, however, was limited to affirmative and negative responses which he communicated by squeezing the .hand of the speaker or nodding his head. In this way he indicated that he was not happy with the tube. He understood that it was necessary to sustain life. Did he want to live? No. Did he want to die? No. Hearing his testimony, Judge Greenfield found it necessary to visit the patient himself and to conduct his own assessment of competency and patient preference. Once again he found the evidence unclear and the mes-sages ambiguous, leading him to conclude that the court could not order the removal of the tube. "It will not order the discontinuance of a life-support mechanism without the clearest and most compelling indications from the person most directly involved. Whenever there is doubt, a court must opt for the affirmation of life." For some weeks after the insertion of the stomach tube, Monsignor O'Brien seemed to improve. Attorney for the Shervier Home, Thomas Ford, reported that he took some food orally, attended physical therapy, and prayed the rosary with his nurse.5 He died on December 8, 1986, three months after surgery for the gastrostomy. No further legal action was taken with respect to his case. Who Speaks for the Incompetent Priest or Religious? In the wake of~ Eichner v. Dillon major superiors of religious con-gregations in the United States commissioned a study of the legal issues surrounding treatment decisions in terminal illness, patient rights, and sur-rogate decision-making for their members. Prepared in 1983 by Mary Cos-grove Consentino, Esq., for the Leadership Conference of Women Re-ligious and the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (LCWR/CMSM), Health Care Decision Making for Incompetent Patients: Who Decides? provided an analysis of these issues, a review of rulings in the six states that had, at that time, acted on matters regarding who might decide whether life-sustaining equipment might be withheld from a terminally ill or permanently unconscious incompetent adult, and a set of recom-mendations for effecting surrogate decisi0n-making. Although this paper was not addressed specifically to clergy who are not members of religious institutes, many of its suggestions could be adapted for their use, and indeed for anyone contemplating the designa-tion of a proxy for health-care decisions. In the case of sisters, brothers, and priests who are members of religious communities, the analogy with the family offers strong support for the recognition of a fellow-member as the person best able to speak for an incompetent patient. Health-Care Directives / 207 Religious communities and dioceses will be concerned about these matters for a number of reasons. The individual person's rights of self-determination, privacy, and dignity in dying will be of paramount im-portance. In addition, there are legitimate concerns regarding the finan-cial costs of unnecessary and. futile treatment, the desire to avoid litiga-tion, and a need to clarify the roles of family and community members in decisions regarding medical treatment for priests .and religious sisters and brothers. The LCWR/CMSM paper recommends oral discussions--both for-mal and informal--as one means for bringing these concerns to the sur-face within a religious congregation. It had been this type of discussion that provided the occasion for Brother Fox to articulate his personal pref-erences regarding life-extending technology, remarks that were accepted as evidence by the courts. Increasingly, however, a more formal vehicle for the expression of directions concerning terminal care in the event of incompetency is advised. Referred to generically as Advance Directives, these may take the form of a living will or a durable power of attorney for health care. The living will is a directive executed by an individual while com-petent, specifying preferences concerning the types of treatment that one would wish in the event of incapacity. Typically these directives, antici-pating a condition of terminal illness and incompetency, request the with-holding of life-extending measures that would have the effect only of pro-longing the dying process. Durable powers of attorney are legal docu-ments authorizing an agent (the "attorney in fact") to make decisions on behalf of another person, even a~ter that person becomes incompe-tent (hence "durable" since traditional powers of attorney terminate with the incapacity of the principal). In each jurisdiction th'e binding force of living wills and durable pow-ers of attorney will depend on legislation (Natural Death Acts), compli-ance with statutory regulations, and the interpretation of the courts. As anyone familiar with the d~iily news will know, this is one of the most rapidly developing fields in medico-legal affairs. The LCWR/CMSM'pa-per reflects the state of the question on these matters only for ! 983 and must be updated. Highly recommended for this purpose is the recent publica~tion, A Mat-ter of Choice: Planning Ahead for Health Care Decisions, prepared in 1986 by attorney Barbara Mishkin for the U.S. Senate Special Commit-tee on Aging and distributed through the Special Projects Department of the American Association of Retired Persons.6 A Matter of Choice pro- 208 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 vides essential information that will greatly assist anyone contemplating the preparation of an Advance Directive for health care, as well as those charged with planning and implementing policy on these matters. Included in this report are the statutory provisions for the enactment of living wills in the 38 states that had legislated Natural Death Acts by September 1986, and a complete discussion of the durable power of at-torney, now recognized in all 50 states. Information regardingfamily con-sent statutes in the 17 states that have specific legislation regarding the rights of family members to make health-care decisions for incap.acitated adults is also provided, as are the provisions for making donations of bod-ily tissue or organs through the Uniform Anatomical Gift Act. Sample forms for living wills and durable powers of attorney are provided in an Appendix. The Durable Power of Attorney for Health Care There are some clear advantages of the DPA, making it preferable to a living will, and reflected in the recommendation and endorsement by the President's Commission for the Study of Ethical Problems in Medi-cine and Biomedical and Behavioral Research in 1983.7 As an Advance Directive it is more flexible and more personal: phy-sicians and others involved in health care will be interacting with a per-son who is cognizant of the actual condition of the patient, rather than with a document drafted at some time in the past. The agent, chosen by the patient with a view to being able to speak in his or her behalf, will be in a better position to authorize either continuation or termination of treatment, in consultation with physicians and others responsible for the patient's care. DPAs can be used in behalf of persons not terminally ill (someone with permanent loss of consciousness or with degenerative ill-ness) and can be drafted to authorize a variety of services. A further advantage over the living will is the fact that, with the leg-islation by the District of Columbia in January 1987, 50 states and the District now have DPA statutes. There is great variety among them, how-ever, and only the most recently enacted were designed explicitly for use in medical-treatment decisions. Since most were enacted primarily to authorize decisions regarding property, they are silent with regard to their possible use for health care. Increasingly, however, they are being rec-ommended for this purpose. Attorney Mishkin's report for the Senate Committee is optimistic regarding their application to this field: No court has ruled on the validity of powers of attorney in this context, however; therefore no one can say with absolute certainty that a power Health-Care Directives / 20~ of attorney for health care would be implemented by a court, if the ques-tion were posed. Nevertheless, since courts generally will accept clear and convincing evidence of a patient's wishes in matters concerning health care, the probability is high that a court would accept an incapaci-tated patient's designation of a proxy health care decision maker through a durable power of attorney.8 For members of religious congregations, the DPA seems best suited to one very important function: clarifying who may speak for the com-munity member when physicians and courts, in the absence of such a des-ignated proxy, may tend to assume that it would be next of kin. This is not to say that family members might not be involved in the consulta-tion, but that the designated spokesperson would be a member of the re-ligious institute. An Education Program for Priests and Religious In recent years many religious congregations, provinces, and dio-ceses in the U.S. have begun the process of widespread education of their members regarding these matters. In some instances these programs are well underway or nearing completion, with all members aware of their rights and responsibilities, in consultation with the legal, medical, and ethical expertise needed to facilitate the implementation of an effective policy. Others have just begun. The rapidly developing fields of biome-dical ethics and the law surrounding terminal care will assure that this will be an ongoing project for all groups. For those who have not yet fully considered these issues, a program for community education is sketched in broad outline. Whatever ap-proach is taken, the design should enabi~ members to come to g~:ips with the,major theological, ethical, legal, and medical questions raised by the new life-extending technologies. For members of communities under vow, these will be considered in the cohtext of congregational expecta-tions with respect to a common life, simplicity, and justice in the alloca-tion of resources. Theological Reflection Priests, brothers, and sisters who have chosen to live in dedicated service within the Roman Catholic Church will want to ground their re-flections on the long and well-articulated tradition of that Church regard-ing the sanctity of life, the ministry of healing and caring that defines Catholic health care, the redemptive role of pain and suffering, and the reality of human finitude and mortality. No document better summarizes 210 / Review for Religious, March-April 1988 that tradition and addresses the pressing moral questions t~aised by new forms of treatment than the Vatican Declaration on Euthanasia.9 The 1980 Declaration, prepared by the Congregation for the Doc-trine of the Faith, carefully distinguishes the terminology used in the eutha-nasia debate: actions and omissions, intentions and consequences, ordi-nary and extraordinary means-~clarified in this document in terms of treat-ments offering "proportionate" or "disproportionate" burdens and bene-fits. Its principles are clear and offer realistic guidelines. While affirming the.sanctity of life and God's sovereignty, the Dec-laration speaks also of the unavoidability of death. Seen in the light bf faith, death provides entrance into eternal life. We may not hasten the hour of death through suicide or murder, but we are not required to sub-mit to treatment that "would only secure a precarious and burdensome prolongation of life, so long as normal care due to the sick person in simi-lar cases is not interrupted." Care-givers act conscientiously when they "administer the remedies that seem necessary or useful." Medical in-terventions that are normally optional, are those in which "the investment in instruments and personnel is disproportionate to the results foreseen" or" those that "impose on the patient strain or suffering out of propor-tion with the benefits which he or she may gain from such techniques." Some Catholic religious may be initially hesitant regarding the legiti-macy of enacting advance directives, having read of the opposition of their bishops to living wills. In this regard it will be important to clarify that the opposition of Conferences of Bishops to state legislation of cer-tain Natural Death Acts was directed at the legislation and not at an indi-vidual person's right of self-determination in writin~g such a directive. Foreseeing the rapid development of law (39 states now have such legis-lation), the National Conference of Bishops, through its Committee for Pro-Life Activities, issued on November 10, 1984, "Guidelines for Leg-islation On Life-Sustaining Treatment." ~0 These guidelines, reflecting the Vatican Declaration, propose "ways of respecting the moral principles ¯ . . as well as related concerns of the Church, whenever there is a de-bate on whether existing or proposed legislation adequately addresses the subject. ' ' The Catholic Health Association distributes a directive, the "Chris-tian Affirmation of Life: A Statement on Terminal Illness," that provide.s an opportunity for a person to state his or her wishes regarding treatment in terminal illness, in full compliance with the principles of the Church. ~ In states that have legislation regarding living wills, some, but not all, Health-Care Directives / 911 allow departures from the statutory form, and this document might be used as an alternative. Women and men whose lives have been lived in faith will also ap-proach sickness and death inspired by the same faith, identifying with Jesus in obedience to the call of the Father. They will appreciate the min-istry of their brothers and sisters who care for them in their illness, and will be concerned to act as responsibly with the resources of their com-munities in their illness as they have done in good health. Belief in res-urrection and eternal life places decisions regarding medical intervention within a faith-context. It will be inappropriate to deny death by insisting on medical interventions that are futile and that only prolong the dying process. Ethical Principles Ethical discussion of the issues raised by new developments in medi-cine and life-extending technologies, when addressed to a broader pub-lic than the Catholic community, is frequently framed in terms of cer-tain principles that must be honored and balanced in the delivery of good health care. Among the principles most central to this debate and to the matter of advance directives are these four: self-determination (or auton-omy), beneficence, justice, and fidelity. The principle of autonomy is derivative from a recognition of the in-herent dignity of the person as a free and self-determining individual. As such., competent adults have a right to control what will be done to them regarding medical treatment, and others have a responsibility to respect their reasonable wishes. This right holds, also, for previously competent adults who have indicated what their preferences would be in the event of incompetency andlor who have designated a proxy to make decisions for them. The full exercise of this right requires adequate disclosure of information--the risks and benefits of alternative procedures--as foun-dation for truly informed consent or refusal. The right to self-determination is not absolute and may be overrid-den in certain circumstances. Patients, thus, may expect that their pref-erences will be honored unless they are in conflict with "compelling state interest," the stated policies of the health-care facility, or the pro-fessional integrity of the care-givers (who are also persons with the right to self-determination). For the religious who has freely joined and re-mained as a member of a community guided by the teachings of the Catho-lic Church, choices will be further limited by fidelity to those teachings. The more extreme interpretations of autonomy assume a radical individu- Review for Religious, March-April 1988 alism that is contrary to the commitment that members of a voluntary com-munity have with respect to one another. The principle of beneficence, or patient benefit in this context, re-quires that one do good and avoid doing harm. The negative requirement (nonrrialeficence) is a more stringent duty than is the need to provide posi-tive benefit to improve the lot of the patient. In fact, these two aspects of o

Issue 57.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1998. ; lived experience of all who find that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Cbristian lives. The articles in the jou.rnal are meant to be ~nformative, practical, bistorical, or inspirational,°written from a tbeologi.cal o.r 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 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 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 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. ©1998 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 creatio.n 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 Kathryn Richards FSP Joe~ Rippinger OSB Bishop Carlos A. Sevilla SJ David Werthmann CSSR Pa~icia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST 1998 ¯ VOLUME 57 ¯ NUMBER 4 contents 342 looking forward Encountering Hinduism: Being Stretched by God Elizabeth Hillis OCD presents her own experience of encountering another religion as a valuable gift and a new way of deepening our faith in God, who is always greater' than our understanding. 354 Towards the Millennium Donald Macdonald SMM ponders the different a'pproaches to the millennium--through our focus on circumstance or our focus on Christ. 368 pioneers Two 17th-Century Women of Wisdom: Mary Ward and Marguerite Bourgeoys Marion Norman IBVM presents, from the changing world of three and four centuries ago, two venturesome women as models of lived wisdom for the church and world of today. 387 A Path Traced Out: Providence in Mother Theodore Guerin's Life Mary Roger Madden SP draws a picture of Mother Theodore Guerin, a pioneer for the missions of the Sisters of Providence in the United States, who will be beatified on 25 October 1998. 33-8J Review for Religious 394 consecrated life Merger Issues and Ways to Address Them Beatrice M. Eichten OSF describes core issues involved when religious congregations seek some sort of merger and offers practical reflections on how to go about it. 4O7 Refounding by Honing the Purpose Concept Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR distinguishes two pursuits, purpose and values, and shows how such careful thinking can help religious in the renewal of their lives together. 419 living together Community: Intentional or. ? Catherine Harmer MMS clarifies the meaning of Christian community, with its four elements of support, challenge, accountability, and discernment. 429 Community Living: A Question of Balance Melannie Svoboda SND, on two continuums, sketches expectations and caring within religious communities and then offers individuals and communities some reflection questions. departments 340 Prisms 435 Canonical Counsel: The Evangelical Counsel of Obedience: Background and Development 441 Book Reviews ~dy-August 1998 Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you shall forgive. prisms One of the most moving moments for me during a meeting with women and men religious in Johannesburg, South Africa, had to do with forgiveness and reconciliation. One of the participants, an Augustinian novice director, observed that, just as the government had set up a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to bring a certain peaceful closure to the painful memories of the apartheid era, so it might be help-ful in the church and in our various religious congrega-tions to establish a similar kind of commission. He noted: "The differences in policies and practices among whites, coloreds, and blacks--in our memberships and in our min-istries, not just between parish congregations but even within a single province of women or men religious---have caused pain and left scars that a church or religious-life truth and reconciliation commission might go a long way to healing." A deeply reflective silence followed, and then a chorus of voices began to express a universal agreement among the white, colored, and black religious present that this agenda needed to be pursued in future meetings among the conference members. Our life experience tells us that we human beings do not easily come to forgiveness and reconciliation. We even find the gift of forgiveness by God the most difficult of God's many gifts for us to accept. Commonly we try to earn forgiveness; we attempt to "make up" for whatever we have done badly or left undone. Our behavior is just as consistent in our relations with one another as it is with God. It is often evident in the way we offer forgiveness: on Review for Religious the condition that the person--whether it is my brother or sister, my son or daughter, my friend or fellow worker--performs in a way to deserve it. And yet forgiveness is just that: a gift "given for" someone. Jesus made it clear through his parables and his example that forgiveness is first a gift from God--given for us--and then God invites us into sharing the gift by the way we live. God so much wanted us to share in the divine way of acting that in the prayer that Jesus taught, it is the only petition to which our personal actions are connected: "Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us." Forgiveness is so far beyond our ordinary human capacities, Jesus seems to indicate, that, we need to pray for the gift in every "Our Father" we say. On that first Easter Sunday evening, Jesus appears to his dis-ciples-- all locked up in fear--and offers first for their peace the gift of his Spirit. With the permanent gifting of the Holy Spirit comes the power for us to forgive. The church for centuries has seen in these very words the foundation of the sacrament of rec-onciliation. But, long before the sacramental system was clearly delineated, the church understood the gifting of the Spirit and the power to forgive as an essential part of our Christian living in peace. Like Jesus, we are meant to stand ready always to forgive. The old saw "to err is human, to forgive divine" is very true. Even with the baptismal and confirmation gift of the Spirit, we more often feel weighted by our human meanness than moved by divine forgiveness. At first we might be inclined to think of forgiveness as being about the past. But, just as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission may be recalling past happenings only to look towards the future of South African society, so God's forgiveness of us and our forgiveness of one another always look toward the future--the way we will relate and the way we will act. That is why, as we prepare to enter into the third millennium, we need to invoke the Spirit. For our wbrld of age-old hatreds and fresh hurts cries out for us Christians to give witness to the precious gift of forgiveness. Giving witness to forgiveness--that will be our new evangelization. David L. Fleming SJ ~ly-August 1998 ELIZABETH HILLIS Encountering Hinduism: Being Stretched by God looking forward I am a Christian, a contemplative religious, yet for sev-eral years I have been learning about my God and about my faith from Hinduism. Is this a contradiction? Is it unusual? I do not think so. Religious pluralism surrounds us and allows us to cross boundaries that once set us apart from those who believe differently. Theologians study and write about how other religions experience God and the world; East-West dialogues have been set up between Christian and Buddhist monastic communities; in secu-lar and professional life we frequently encounter Hindus and Muslims, take classes in yoga, read about kundalini awakening, practice Zen sitting. How is the Catholic to grapple with the challenge to faith presented by such encounters? There is no easy answer, but from prayer-fully reflecting on my own experience I have gained some insights into this important adventure. First, I would like to make clear my belief that encountering.another religion is a valuable gift, that it is actually a divine call to open ourselves to a new way of finding ourselves in a world that is growing smaller, a new way of deepening our faith in God., who is always greater than our understanding. This gift may noF be for everyone, and it is seldom something we choose for ourselves. It just happens. Then we have to make room for it in our lives, room which may reorganize everything else. That is how Elizabeth Hillis OCD writes from Carmel of the Holy Family; 3176 Fairmount Boulevard; Cleveland Heights, Ohio 44118. Review for Religious it was for me, and this article presents some aspects of what I have learned in the process. My first direct contact with Hinduism was through a medical professional whom I met in 1989. From my first meeting with her, I was impressed with something that I felt instinctively had to do with her Indian origin and her Hindu beliefs. What drew me to her seems to have been related to the quality of her silence and serenity. Though busy with her medical practice and busy with being a wife and the mother of teenage children, she seemed to. possess a poise and centeredness, an evenness of mind and judgment, a detached yet focused compassion for her patients and colleagues that was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. She seemed to have a secret source of strength. She once gave this state of centeredness a Sanskrit name, sthita-prajna, and spoke of how she had seen this quality in her own mother the last time she saw her before she died. With her husband and children, she had returned to India to visit her parental home. Her mother had welcomed them joyously, but,. when it came time for them to leave, the mother was equally able to let them go. Her outward serenity seemed clearly to come from serenity within. It was the same quality that I had noticed in this woman. Stbita-prajna, written on a small piece of Post-it paper (that I still have!), was the beginning of my study of Hindu religious texts. My first reading was of the Bhagavad-Gita, probably the most pop-ular and widely read of all the Hindu scriptures, and that which is dearest to many Hindus. There, in the second chapter, I met stbita-prajna again, where K_rishna explains to Arjuna the qualities of an integrated person who can regard all things, persons, and experi-ences equally with detached interest. The Gita states: When a man puts from him all desires that prey upon the mind, himself contented in self alone, then is he called a man of steady wisdom. Whose mind is undismayed though beset by many a sor-row, who for pleasures has rio further.longing, from whom all passion, fear, and wrath have fled, such a man is called a man of steadied thought, a silent sage. Who l~as no love for any thing, who rejoices not at whatever good befalls him nor hates the bad that comes his way-- firm-stablished is the wisdom of such a man. And when he draws in on every side his senses from their proper objects as a tortoise might draw in its limbs--firm-stablished is the wisdom of such a man.~ ~uly-August 1998 Hillis ¯ Encountering Hinduism While this text does not represent the whole of Hindu thought, it does touch on an important element, the yoga (or practice) of renunciation. What is renounced here is not human activity or experience, but the tendency to attach oneself to human experi-ences in such a way that they destabilize the self. These are the "desires that prey upon the mind." Pleasures and sorrows, good and bad experiences, still come and go, but they no longer disturb the person who is established in the truth of the self (atman). Such a person lives in a state of equanimity, stbita-prajna, "steady wisdom" or stable consciousness. My friend had seen this in her mother, and I had seen it in her. In ~ubsequent conversations she explained her understand-ing of a related discipline, what the Gita calls karma yoga or the "yoga of detached action." All work is to be done with detach-ment because it is our duty. Attachment to the reward of our works ties us to what we do; nonattachment frees us from such bondage to deeds (karma). Therefore, detached, perform unceasingly the works that must be done, for the man detached who labors on to the highest must win through. (BG 3.19, p, 55) Furthermore, offering the work to God is a spiritual sacrifice that brings freedom. Content to take whatever chance may bring his way, sur-mounting all dualities, knowing no envy, the same in success and failure, though working still he is not bound. Attachment gone, deliverance won, his thoughts are fixed on wisdom: he works for sacrifice alone, and all the work he ever did entirely melts away. (BG 4.22-23, p. 59) The Gita goes on to teach that the person who is stabilized in self, sthita-prajna, and who engages in d~tached action, karma yoga, has yet another step to take toward complete integration and freedom: devotion or bhakti. This is to make all existence, all action, a means of loving God. The god referred to in the Gita is Krishna, an incarnation of Vishnu, and it is he who instructs Arjuna: "Let him sit, his self all stilled . . . his thoughts on Me, integrated, yet intent on Me" (BG 6.14, p. 66). Thus the stabi-lization of self and the yoga of detached action are not enough by themselves to bring liberation: one needs to focus the mind and heart entirely on a personal god. Bhakti (loving devotion) is nec-essary; a surrender to the divine being both completes the task of personal integration and makes it possible. Review for Religious The source of all am I; from Me all things proceed: this knowing, wise men commune with Me in love, full filled with warm affection . To these men who are ever inte-grated and commune with Me in love I give that integration of the soul by which they may draw nigh to Me. (BG 10.8,10, p. 78) Steady consciousness, detached action, and loving devotion to a personal god, such are a few basic teachings of the Gita which might be an interesting parallel to the Christian path toward union with God. But I am not sure that the study of Hindu texts alone would have held my interest if it had not been for the liv-ing example and friendship of a contemporary Indian woman who was willing to share with me her own experience of her religion. In addition to our infrequent conversations, I had the witness of her own life, which concretely modeled what I~read. She partic-ularly exemplified the path of karma yoga by making offerings to God of her everyday actions: her medical practice, her care of husband and children, driving a car, shopping. I am not speak-ing here of a woman who was externally "religious" in an obvious way. She was far from any Hindu community where she might visit a temple or gather with others in .devotional rituals. Her home, her clothing, her habits were fully American. Her children attended the local public high school. Yet she was attempting to conform her life to the wisdom of the Gita, to live an integrated life as best she could, to work with detachment, to teach her chil-dren the values and beliefs she had internalized. Did she succeed? It seems to me that she did in a way she never planned. In November 1991 she was diagnosed as having a brain tumor, which in spite of all treatment slowly took every-thing away from her: her medical practice, her power of thought and judgme.nt, and even life itself. In this situation of tragedy, she asked, not (as we all might) "Why me?" but "Why now?" She regretted more than anything that she would not see her chil-dren grow up. Yet at the same time she struggled to live in a spirit of self-surrender, one day at a time, sometimes feeling better, often feeling worse. I saw in her a growing search for a hope that could take her beyond the limitations of her physical weakness. From time to time she asked her husband to bring her to our monastery chapel, where she spent time in silent meditation, sit-ting beside him or with one of her sisters who had come from India to care for her. She brought all of her family to meet me, to Hillis ¯ Encountering Hinduism talk about meditation, or to share her questions on whether to seek further treatment. She asked for the address of a place of prayer where she could make a retreat, though she was never well enough to carry out this i~lan. . For me it is significant that this Hindu woman found in a Christian monastic setting a place where she could experience peace and gain insight again into how to live her life fully to the end. We had never spoken of religious questions with a view to converting one another, and yet, with each other's help, both of us had grown in following our own path to God. I like to think that, just as her %lues and beliefs had deepened mine, the witness of a contemplative religious had helped develop in her the "devo-tion" to a personal god that she knew from the Gita: Whoso at the hour of death, abandoning his mortal frame, bears Me in mind and passes on, acdedes to my own mode of being; there is no doubt of this . Then muse upon Me.always. for, if you fix your mind and soul on Me, you will, nothing doubting, come to Me. (BG 8.5,7, p. 72) I have no evidence that my friend found consolation in this text of the Gita as I do now when I think back to her last months. There comes a time when we cannot accompany those we love in their final journey. But knowing that these scriptures were part of the fabric of her life makes me sure that their content and mean-ing had been internalizeddn the way that we Christians have sim-ilar texts engraved in our memory and our heart: "Come to me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest" (Mr 11:28). In~ the end the truths that we live by, and die by, are very simple. I miss Shobha. I know that in some mysterious way my life was changed by our friendship. But it was also changed by the religious encounter that was the context of our relationship. Since her death I have studied Hinduism patiently and perseveringly from many different perspectives, and I know that I shall con-tinue to. do so because, just as it did in the beginning through her, this encounter with another religion still constantly reveals God to me. I have taken some time to detail what "happened" to me. Now I need to question how I have (or have not) integrated it into my life. How do I remain a Christian and deepen my Christian under-standing and commitments by learning from Hinduism? How Revlew for Religious does anyone stay balanced when crossing the boundary that nor-mally sets Christian experience apart from the non-Christian? I have formulated four guidelines for my own use, which could be applied to any situation of interreligious exploration, but which here I apply to my study of Hinduism. They are, briefly: (1) Take seriously the differences between my own tradition and that of another religion. (2) Pay attention to the details that I notice. (3) Follow the questions that naturally arise. And (4) keep looking back at my own tradition. First, I need to take seriously the differences between my Catholic beliefs, theology, and practices and those I see in a Hindu friend or read about in a Hindu text. Great injustice can be done both to my own self-understanding and to my real appreciation of the "other" if I look only for similarity of shared views or experience. We may have much in common, but there is probably a much greater area of difference. To over-look this, or to settle for a vague intuition of universal connectedness, is not helpful. It may even be harmful, and it is certainly not respectful of the other. It is usually not true that we are all saying the same things in dif-ferent words. Very often we are saying quite different things about the divine, about human life, and about the nature of human/divine interaction. I had to keep this realization in mind during my conversations with Shobha. It was necessary for me continually to ask myself what she meant by a certain explanation of her beliefs. I had to go to the texts she quoted and try to understand them as she did rather than separate out inspiring' thoughts that fit comfortably into my Catholic framework. An example is found in the texts quoted above from the Bhagavad-Gita and the Gospel of Matthew. In both places the words "come to me" are used, by Jesus and by Krishna. Yet the context shows that Matthew's Jesus is inviting his hearers to human discipleship in the present life, a discipleship which involves a specific sort of following, a willingness to learn of Christ, humility of heart, and the patient carrying of the burdens of life. On the other hand, the Krishna of the Gita calls the devo- How does anyone s tay balanced when crossing the boundary that normally sets Christian experience apart from the non-Christian? Hillis ¯ Encountering Hinduism tee to an inner concentration on his divine being, leaving behind any attachment to human life which could tie the soul to earthly existence and necessitate further cycles of rebirth. In both situa-tions divine comfort is offered to the person who approaches God in loving trust, but in one case the fulfillment given by Jesus is incarnational while, in the other case, material exis(ence must be transcended for the sake of merging with Krishna in his univer-sal form. On the surface it is natural that the words of Krishna would call to mind those of Jesus, but it must always be kept in mind that Krishna is not Christ, nor is his relationship to the devotee the same as that of Christ to the Christian disciple. It seems best to let the differences simply stand as they are. We can learn from the tension of holding these texts side by side and see-ing both what they are saying and what they are not saying. We also learn the detachment of letting others come to Krishna dif-ferently than we come to Christ. This recognition of difference leads into the second guide-line, to pay attention to the details we notice. It is in the details that we most frequently confront the differences that exist between religions. Although it may seem helpful to generalize about another religion in order to have a coherent way to grasp its tenets and the interrelationship of belief and practice, such generaliza, tion gives a false sense of mastery. It glosses over unwieldy facts which do not fit the pattern that a predetermined theology assigns to "non-Christian" experience. If we really want to take another religion seriously, it is worthwhile to read its sacred writings and hear what its followers have to say about themselves. This means attentive listening and openness to a diversity we might not expect. Unfamiliar mythology will frequently perplex us; moving rituals or insightful texts will possibly attract us; exotic practices may repel us. In one way or another, a good many unmanageable details will keep us aware that Hinduism is vast, complex, and varied in its expressions. It takes time and serious application on our part to identify and unlock the meaning of certain key con-cepts. Patient attention to the details we do not understand keeps us in a position of humility. There is much we may have to leave unexplored and unexplained. This is in itself a most respectful way of approaching the "other"--to acknowledge the mystery and to let it stand as it is. It is God we are meeting in this mys-tery of the other, God who acts in the lives .and values of real people who do not believe or think or Worship as we do, God Review for Religious whose grace is far more extensive than our theological constructs might have us realize. Details lead us to question what we are learning. It is impor-tant at this point to follow the questions that arise and to allow them to open new questions, new vistas of understanding, and new mys-teries of God that we cannot begin to penetrate. When the details make me aware that Krishna cannot really be considered a Christ-figure, that he teaches a very different sort of doctrine than Jesus, then I naturally begin to ask: Who is this Krishna? What is his origin? How is he human, how divine? What sort of deity is he? How do people relate to him, worship him, love him, serve him? Such questions are the heart of interreligious experience, but they probably cannot be asked until we have gone through the pre-liminary steps of taking seriously the other religion. As long as I do not consider Krishna to be an authentic deity for a con-siderable number of real people, there is a danger that I will consider him to be only a fable, a religious fiction that need not be reckoned with in a serious way. The situation becomes even more complex if I .begin to follow these initial questions and find that there is not only the Krishna of the Gita, but also the Krishna of north-Indian mythology and the Krishna of south-Indian devotional poetry. How are they the same deity and how different and how do the various strands of the Krishna tradition combine and intermingle? To find out who Krishna is will lead me to question what a deity is, how mythology is part of every religious figure, how story and experience and ritual play a part in the development of belief. These vast questions have opened up for me simply because I paid attention to details about a god who is foreign to my religious tradition. It soon becomes obvious that, to pursue these questions, one must study seriously. This is an important point because encoun-tering another religion has to engage more than my feelings of attraction or repulsion or my intuition of realities beyond words. I need to use my mind in a careful and persevering way in order to enter into the world of the Hindu, who may seem to have Encountering another religion has to engage more than my feelings of attraction or repulsion or my intuition of realities beyond words. ff~dy-August 1998 Hillis ¯ Encounte~ing Hinduism human feelings of devotion similar to mine, but whose way of thinking about religious truths may be unlike any systematic approach familiar to me. Unless thought is explored by thought, there can be no real understanding of the other. To set ourselves to this task is, in one sense, to pursue an unrealistic goal, because the scope of another religion is so vast and the context so for-eign. Yet the very impossibility of the endeavor to think beyond our categories is what calls us to begin, in whatever small ways we can. To try to think with a Hindu about her beliefs, even by read-ing a sacred text she treasures, to set aside prejudgments that would restructure her beliefs in a Christian framework, to thoughtfully pursue questions about the differences we see, but without ever coming to the end of those questions, is to stumble into the vastness of God with a new appreciation of how very limited is the human grasp of Divine Reality. Vv'hen it is so difficult and time consuming to learn about another religion, why would anyone bother? The reason may be that there is an Other whom we do not know and curiosity leads us to investigate beyond what is familiar and comfortable. The exploration of cosmic space is an example of the insatiable need we have to go where we have never been, to understand what we do not yet know. In the experience of going beyond our bound-aries, an incredible miracle can happen. Our astronauts experi-enced it the first time they walked on the moon. It was the miracle of looking back and seeing the planet Earth as one single unit, not a globe divided into nations and territories. It so changed their view of life that, when they returned home, they were impelled to do all they could for unity among the peoples who inhabit the planet, to share their vision of the whole with as many as could receive it. A similar paradigm shift occurs when we try to step into the world of another religion: we see the human quest for God in a different way than before. It becomes necessary to work for a more reverent view of the religious "other." It is no longer possible to criticize or to compete or even to compare; in whatever limited way we can, we must seek to understand. Boundaries between countries and differences between religions will continue to exist, and such differentiation is healthy. But the boundaries can become permeable; the differences can contribute to increased self, understanding. The last step in the process of learning from another religion seems to be that it leads us to keep looking back at our own tradi- Review for Religious tion. Whether we start our investigation because we are curious, or because it seems a good thing to pursue, or simply because it "happens" to us, we will always find it necessary to look back. We need to be firmly grounded in our own tradition and to be deepening our roots continuously as we look outward. In my case, many years of pondering the Scriptures, the Carmelite mystical tradition, and other Christian mystical writings--and some famil-iarity with theology--give me a stable position for looking into Hinduism. I am spontaneously attracted to the writings of Hindu mystics, and these, in turn, call me back to well-known Christian texts that seem almost parallel in their expression of the search for God. Let us put the above-quoted text from the Gita on detached work alongside a maxim of John of the Cross: Therefore, detached, perform unceasingly the works that must be done, for the man detached who labors on to the highest must win through. Content to take whatever chance may bring his way, surmounting all dualities, knowing no envy, the same in ~uccess and failure, though working still he is not bound. Attachment gone, deliverance won, his thoughts are fixed on wis-dom: he works for sacrifice alone, and all the work he ever did entirely melts away. (Bhagavad-Gita 3.19, 4.22-23, pp. 55 and 59) God is more pleased by one work however small, done secretly, without desire that it be known, than a thousand done with the desire that people know of them. Those who work for God with purest love not only care nothing about whether others see their works, but do not even seek that God himself know of them. Such persons would riot cease to render God the same services, with the same joy and purity of love, even if God were never to know of these. (St. John of the Cross, Sayings of Light and Love, 20)2 When texts are paired in this way, we can look back and forth between one tradition and another and gain from the light each one reflects upon the other. We see the obvious and important dif-ferences and the questions which these raise, but this need not prevent us from letting the two texts illumine one another. Francis X. Clooney SJ, to whom I am indebted for this insightful model of comparison, makes this comment about parallel texts: "As I read back and forth., each keeps showing me a way to the other, ~uly-August 1998 Hillis ¯ Encountering Hinduism and I end up with a doubled insight, a spiritual 'sense that goes beyond either text by itself. Pairing texts such as these creates a visual tension and emphasizes the enhancement of meaning occurring when we take our own tradition and another seriously and reverently, at the same time, together.''3 Such a bringing together of texts provides a way of integrat-ing our previous Christian commitment with any experiences that cross religious boundaries. Each encounter with the "Other" echoes back to something familiar even as it draws us beyond. We learn to look alternately in both directions without criticism or superiority, but in humble and careful appreciation. Actually what seems to take place when we look into another religion and then back at our own over a period of time is a weaving back and forth between the two in such a way that the ideas, texts, or expe-riences complement each other and intermingle fruitfully without distortion of their origin.al identity. We do not try to force par-allels, but merely look back and forth from one text to another where different traditions are attempting to grapple with com-mon questions about human experience of the divine. What I learned from Hinduism about sthita-prajna, about karma yoga, and about bhakti enable me to take a new look at detachment, duty, and devotion and at the freedom I have in sur-render to Christ. My frame of reference is not the same as that of the Gita; I am not a devotee of Krishna, but a disciple of Christ. Yet I believe I am a better follower of the gospel and a better reli-gious because of my contact with the Gita and with a woman whose life exemplified for me her Hindu beliefs. My questions about Krishna and what sort of deity he is lead me to look at what sort of God I worship and love and serve in Jesus. Without the vantage point of Hinduism, without (as it were) standing on the moon, I might not have had the perspective to look back and see in simpler terms the unity of my own Catholic faith and the rad-icality of my contemplative quest. I am certain that, without step-ping outside my own Catholic worldview, I would not have been grasped and changed by the vastness of God, who is very present in Hinduism in a way that will always be a mystery to me. The gift of encountering another religion is well worth the demands it makes on us in time, openness, vulnerability, or patient study. There is risk, but if we look back as well as forward, if we stay poised in the tension created by who we are as Catholic and how we are discovering God in non-Christian experiences, if we Review for Religious pay attention to differences, details, and questions, it is very pos-sible that we will be overtaken by the miracle of finding ourselves anew in a world of faith, where we learn from our non-Christian neighbor how very big God is. Notes ~ The Bhagavad-Gita 2.55-58, trans. R.C. Zaehner (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), p. 52. The Zaehner translation of the Gita is the most tex-tually accurate, but I quote with apology for the lack of inclusive lan-guage. The Sanskrit text meant "he" because it was primarily addressed to higher-caste males. 2 The Collected Vdorks of St. John of the Cross, trans. Kieran Kavanaugh OCD and Otilio Rodriguez OCD (Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1991), pp. 86-87. 3 Francis X. Clooney SJ, "In Ten Thousand Places, in Every Blade of Grass: Uneventful but True Confessions about Finding God in India, and Here Too," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 28, no. 3 (May 1996), pp. 1-42, esp. pp. 2-3. See also his "Praying through the Non-Christian," Review for Religious 49, no. 3 (May-June 1990), pp. 434-444, and his Seeing Through Texts (New York: SUNY Press, 1996). In chapter 5 of this work, Clooney gives many illuminating examples of parallel Hindu and Christian texts. Many foreign missionaries depend upon people like you who donate subscriptions for them to Review for Religious. To start a subscription for a deserving missionary, please send $24 to: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Blvd. ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108 To pay by credit card, phone: 314-977-7363 or fax: 314-977-7362 L353.-- July-August 1998 DONALD MACDONALD Towards the Millennium Ibrecall a series of magazine articles on foreign travel written y people who had never been to the countries they described--this approach would be objective! The magazine was, of course, being humorous. But, in fast-moving times such as ours, we perhaps speak too glibly of the years ahead. Wisely, then, does Tertio millennio adveniente emphasize "preparation for." with a view to being ready for the psychological dynamism of a new beginning should it come. For it is better to examine the present moment with a view to the future than to just dream of what may or may not be. From the Christian perspective, we have the choice of cen-tering either on circumstance or on Christ. I shall sketch briefly what each of these choices means, and then examine them both at greater length. The center of gravity of mature individuals, it has been said, is always to be found where they actually are. Such people accept responsibility for and from the situation in which they now find themselves, even when it is a difficult one. While all of us grow older, not all of us grow up, and so not everyone manages to retain this center of gravity, this poise. We do not automatically mature. People try to avoid responsibility and look for the gap in the hedge. By profession, by publicly giving our word, we religious are considered to have invested ourselves in a group of people who have the intention of identifying with the will of God. Here we are Donald Macdonald S!VIM writes for us the first time eve~ from his native Scodand: Montfort House; Darnley Road; Barrhead; G78 1TA; Scotland, U.K. Review for Religious meant to strike root, and growing maturity should help us exam-ine the present and future landscape from that perspective. In practice, then, our center of gravity is either in circum-stance or in Christ. Present circumstances, like the electricity bill, seem so real as to define reality; they appear so immediate that response to them seems inescapable. Yet, if we are always latch-ing on to current circumstance, reacting to what we think is hap-pening, we should not be surprised to find ourselves with the patchwork personality of a rag doll. It is almost impossible to have a center of gravity in forever changing circumstance. To drive a particular car, the advertiser tells us, means "You know you are a success." Equally the ecology lobby may suggest an indifference to our present environment. Fashions change even in church and religious life. Wise are the religious who never iden-tify wholly with what they are doing at the expense of who they are. To have even a toehold in the present, it helps to have a foothold in the past; "real development is not leaving things behind as on a road, but drawing life from them as from a root.''~ Taking our identity and sense of worth chiefly from present cir-cumstance can never give us such a root; hence, as the millen-nium approaches, there is a sense of rootlessness among many people, people who are subject to the tyranny of the contempo-rary. On the other hand, what is our perspective on life when our center of gravity is in Christ? The ministry [of Christ] has gone on for nineteen centuries and more, and it still goes on. What is the secret of its stay-ing power? The answer of the whole New Testament is that it is the risen Christ himself who is carrying it out. It is very easy for us, who have been brought up in a scientific age, to think of Jesus bequeathing his principles and ideals to his followers and leaving it to them to take up and carry on the task he is presumed to have laid down somewhere about A.D. 30. That is not the New Testament picture at all. There can be little doubt that, if it had been left to the disciples to take up tasks, their choice would have fallen elsewhere . No: the secret of the matter is that it is Christ who picks up the threads, Christ who takes the lead, Christ whose presence and power are one constant inspiration and strength. The resurrection means above all just this, that Christians do not inherit their task from Christ, they share it with him. We are not the successors of Jesus but his com- ~dy-August 1998 MacdonaM ¯ Towards the Millennium panions. That is the measure both of our privilege and our personality.2 Insofar as this insight of faith matures and truly becomes our own, we are taken out of ourselves into a growing realization of the gift of God in Christ in the present moment. This should be an endless source of wonder. We mature as Christians precisely insofar as we realize the wonder of the companionship offered through our baptism into Christ--that we are in the church and with him in the church. Transfiguration into Christ should be seen as a real option. Generations of saints and the genuinely good prove it. There is a world of difference between "succes-sor" and "companion." If we have not matured in Christ, as the New Testament understands it, we shall never understand this, and that perspective will not be ours. We are then unable to see what is there in the present moment in Christ. We are left to look for meaning and purpose in life elsewhere, not least in response to circumstances over which we have little control. A Prey to Circumstance The first thing to be said about approaching the millennium under the tutelage of circumstance is that we may not see it. We may have died. We may, too, be ill or incapacitated. Our limited circumstances will be world enough for us then. Some of us may decide to jump ship to look for a safer berth outside of our order or congregation. This is understandable as a response to circum-stance. Circumstances change and we fear the changes. What will happen to us in the millennium? The thought of sitting among strangers all day in a home for the elderly run by the town coun-cil, with little status and less independence, can really frighten us. Seen as changing circumstances, the millennium means inse-curry. That then, for the first time since our prot~ession, we might find ourselves genuinely "poor in fact and spirit" (Perfectae cari-tatis §13) might weigh little against our fear of radically changing circumstances. We will likely feel bullied and frightened as the coming millennium takes us into an unfamiliar world that we can-not control. We may also be afraid of the changing culture, particularly in the West. The values which to some extent have formed us and to which we have tried to give our lives may increasingly be pushed to the edge. The sales person with a product nobody wants is in Review for Religious a frightening position. Contemporary movers and shakers who set the pace and seem to write the agenda for living may marginal-ize us. The millennium may see us, then, washed further up onto the shore of utter irrelevance. Who are we then? From a Christian standpoint, there is a progressive coarsen-ing of life generally. The positive values of our culture--built on our Judeo-Christian ethic, however imperfectly practiced--have hitherto managed to order relationships between individuals, neighborhoods, bureaucracy, law, and society. Shared assumptions mapped out life around us. This is now changing. The unborn, children, and the elderly are particu-larly vulnerable. The intrinsic dignity of individuals as created by God and redeemed by Christ, along with that dignity's call for respect, is under increasing pressure as the gospel light which illumined human reality is dimmed. Tabloid newspapers and media culture generally appear to be governed by "the bottom line." People are treated cruelly and privacy is invaded as the poor and immature are exploited to make a dead-line. The worldwide picture seems even worse. Power, money, and sex have always been dominant in human behavior, but the pounds, francs, and dollars purchased in that world are often at the expense of the basic currency used there--people. Inevitably, reli-gious whose identity is primarily from circumstance will be influ-enced when not overwhelmed by this. They may approach the coming millennium in a state of free-fall, with numbing fear rather than challenging expectation. Contemporary culture is not wholly negative. The concern for our global environment is a positive value without being made an ersatz religion as well. There is, too, an active social concern to better the lives of people worldwide. But even here, with icons like Francis of Assisi, Mother Teresa, and many a selfless Christian neighbor, the picture painted is often of the church scrambling to catch up with something contemporary and worthwhile whose impetus comes from elsewhere. Whether this is true or not is beside the poin.t to people who take their cue. mainly from the present situation. We mature as Christians precisely insofar as we realize the wonder of the companionship offered through our baptism into Christ. y~uly-dug'ust 1998 Macdonald ¯ Towards the Millennium A further positive value is a growing awareness of transcen-dence and the spiritual. The church, which religious represent and which, one might think, could offer so much here, is again dis-advantaged. A common perception is that the Christian religion emphasizes morality at the expense of spirituality whereas Buddhism, for example, gives primacy to spirituality. It is sad to see this, but in practice it is often the gospel as lived and preached even by committed believers. The Pauline way of centering first on Christ, and then from within that companionship being open to life regardless of circumstance, is far from universal in Christianity as commonly experienced. There is often no real understanding of the motivation for Christian behavior. Religious marked with that lack are handicapped in approaching the mil-lennium. We cannot bring to the millennium values we do not yet have. An increasing desire for the spiritual cannot be met by religious who do not know how to mine that seam from within the past aiad present of their church. Whoever thinks of the future must be concerned with the worrying question of vocations to religious life. In much of the world, families are becoming smaller. The two-child family is not especially suited to being the home of vocations to religious life. And, with family relationships frequently breaking up, the home is not often a likely place for the nurture and support of religious vocations. Against this background the'shortage of candidates cannot just be put down to "bad" men and women religious not living up to the evangelical life to which they are committed. Young people growing up in a sometimes decadent media/pop culture readily get used to being fed on a diet of having rather than giving. "What's in it for me? It does nothing for me! The magic's gone! I'm too young for responsibility!"--such words, all turning on the idea of self-fulfillment, do not create a seedbed for future vocations to any form of adult Christian life. Long-term, open-ended, lifelong commitment is increasingly rare in contemporary culture. Nothing lasts. You are always let down. In nominally Christian communities, many adults do not mea-sure up and do not take responsibility for where they are. The increasing spread of what is held to be politically cor-rect can suffocate an authentic gospel life. The young, especially, need vision and courage if they are not to succumb, in an endless succession, to one or another flavor of the month. Often what is politically correct may not be evangelically right. A newspaper Review for Religious" cartoon, for example, shows a schoolboy buying cigarettes and asking the shopkeeper to wrap them in a copy of Gay News--an acerbic comment on a government policy advocating sixteen as the minimum legal age for homosexual relations while holding to the age of eighteen for buying cigarettes. In webs of circumstance like this, many young people may not be able to hear a call to religious life that is otherwise clear and inviting. Another problem today is that for many young persons the test of reality is how they themselves experience life. No one, particularly no authority figure, is going to tell them how to live their life! They are free! Vv'hat counts is what is trueJbr them. Reality is what they feel it is. Drawing upon a wealth of 20th-century experience, they are chary of giving ourselves to a guru, whether secu-lar or Christian. From the infamous results of "only obeying orders" to the pain caused by religious guides with feet of clay, the path is littered with casualties, and the hurts go deep. What people do not so well defend themselves against--and it can be just as damaging--is losing, unawares, their freedom regarding some contemporary matters, matters about which they adopt unthink-ingly the politically correct answer. The fetters here can hold as firmly as any medieval mindset is alleged to have done, and the damage may be terminal. To vow ourselves to God in religious life means that, to a greater or lesser extent, we commit ourselves to an overarching tradition and to a particular superior. Few people like constraint, and today God, parents, teachers, and other authority figures are often treated with pointed disrespect. There seems to be a com-pulsion for people to assert themselves in opposition to them, whereas nonauthority figures are often worshiped and can take us where they will. If the surface aggression is paramount, there is litde place for trust, and so a genuinely gospel community can-not be built. If this immaturity is carried to the approaching mil-lennium, there will be an inbuilt fault in the foundations of whatever we attempt to create. In the church, superiors are sometimes seen as the unaccept-able face of religion. Yet someone has to be willing to take the The increasing spread of what is held to be politically correct can suffocate an authentic gospel life. J~dy-August 1998 Macdonald * Towards the Millennium responsibility, especially in our unsetded times. It may cost much. The superior, in thrall to circumstance, will suffer particularly, always presupposing his or her own integrity while in office. A for-mer provincial superior, reflecting on his time in office, said; "One loses one's innocence when one is in a position of author-ity. Would it were otherwise"--but he notes that the great major-ity are not the cause of his hurt.3 Cardinal Basil Hume OSB, archbishop of Westminster, spoke of being misunderstood, misrepresented, disliked, criticized, and written off as a disaster.4 (Of course, this kind of thing, in today's jargon, "goes with the territory," but also is not always unde-served.) Yet now he has come to see such suffering as really a blessing. The disguise may seem impenetrable, but the blessing is there. When circumstances chastened and hurt him despite his best endeavors, he found it a marvelous way to grow in the Spirit. In the situation he came to see that only the gospel lasts. Everything else falls away, and ultimately he is graced with the realization that there is only the fidelity of God in Christ to be relied on. St. Paul, writing from prison, would agree: "God. has gra-ciously granted you the privilege (charis) not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well" (Ph 1:29). When we feel hemmed in and hurt by circumstance as we approach the millen-nium, it would help immeasurably if we were at home with the small print of the gospel. It really does translate experience for us--provided that we focus in any and every situation not on cir-cumstance, no matter how immediate, but on our risen Lord. The Company of Christ and Each Other As the basic guide for religious "is a following of Christ as proposed by the gospel" (Perfectae caritatis §2), it follows that to attempt this we need to know how to approach the New Testament, where the authentic portrait of Christ is to be found. We should test the assumption that, come the millennium, we will really know how to do this. It is the claim of Pope John Paul II that, given "the prayerful and meditated reading of the word . . . a humble and loving lis-tening to him who speaks., one's own vocation can be discov-ered and understood, loved and followed, and one's own mission carried out.''s This is a major claim, but the Holy Father rein- Review for Religious forces it when he says "the person's entire existence finds its uni-fying, radical, meaning in being the terminus of God's word." That is to say, if we mature into habitually, instinctively being a terminus of the gospel, all the threads of a situation and the capac-ity of life to shock or puzzle us will be brought together; whatever lies deepest in us will be reached; and we will be given to see pur-pose in life. For many this is but a worthy platitude, notionally true but factually unreal. Yet the claim stands. If we can find our way to becoming a terminus of the word of God, we will not nec-essarily have a trouble-free life, but we will be given a security which jostling circumstance cannot unsettle. We are, as has been well said, then in touch with the Pilot. Imagine if we approached the millennium from within that perspective, knowing it to be true! A cameo, chiefly from a few verses of Philippians 3, gives us a glimpse of how this might be done and of the dividends to be gained from doing it. From prison St. Paul wrote to his people in Philippi to thank them for remembering him there and for gen-erously sending one of their number to help and encourage him. The backdrop to the letter (and, in truth, the foreground to Paul's understanding of community) is soon stated: "I thank my God . ¯. for your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now" (1:3,5). Invariably it is "us" with St. Paul, never "me and you" unless he is forced to "speak like a fool" in defense of his stand-ing as a genuine apostle. This fellowship (koinonia) between Paul and his people, which stems from the realization of their oneness in Christ through baptism, is the overall context in which the interchange of the letter takes place. When, as here, it is under-stood and reciprocated, it both thrills and puts new heart into him. He writes from within the strength of that relationship to encourage it and further it. That insight of responsibility for each other in Christ is as valid today as then. If we approach the millennium determined to make our baptismal fellowship real by investing ourselves in the c.ommunity, we will communicate, at a deep level. It should be a priority and is well within the competence of most of us if, for example, it is expressed in a word of appreciation, a word of sym-pathy, a word of encouragement, a word of thanks. These are the building blocks, and the present moment is the time and place to lay them. As we know from experience, a word "in season," when genuinely meant, does really help and might encourage us and ~tly-Augttst 1998 Macdonald ¯ Towards the Millennium those around us to reach and welcome the millennium. "Friends are facts, and the good things you have done to them are facts," said G.K. Chesterton. This is time usefully and evangelically spent. Only insofar as we mature in Christian life will we do this and be able to sense how shoes pinch other people's feet. St. Paul writes of his present situation: "I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things" (3:8). The verb suggests total loss as in shipwreck or business failure. Everything has gone--family, status, career, security, good name. He writes from prison now. Initially he was compelled to leave Philippi after being given the standard flogging for a trouble-maker. His present situation follows the same pattern. Then, as now, circumstances are none of his choosing, but in the situation, as Cardinal Hume and many others found when similarly placed, he finds God in Christ: "for his sake I have suffered the loss of all things., in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him" (3:8-9). He is in fact in prison, but Paul knows that he is in Christ! There is his center of gravity. From the viewpoint of circumstance, his fidelity to the call of God's providence in Christ has wrapped him in rags and insecurity. The same situation, seen from the insight of faith, is altogether worthwhile, for it enables him to "gain Christ and be found in him." This is a superb place to be, with an enviable grasp of reality. What a center to move out from! Religious approaching the millennium would do well to try to make that perspective theirs. Whatever the circumstance, our risen Lord is there. We date the present from the moment of Christ's birth. He is our companion now. Each moment of each day as well as the millennium finds us wanting "to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his suffering by becoming like him in his death" (3:10). The verb implies close identity, and again transfiguration is offered as a real possibility. Paul discovered this not by whisding in a cemetery or in a library, but by applying the insight of faith to the circumstances of every-day life, good days and bad. Attempting in such company to become a terminus of the word of God offers us virtually unquan-tifiable dividends. Finally, for our purposes, Paul says, "I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own" (3:12). Again the situation is prison. Paul writes of racing to the finish of a race Review for Religious when in fact he is not going anywhere without his jailers' per-mission. The marathon of the Christian life which he entered at baptism is not particularly concerned with going from A to B to C, Rather, it means interpreting the present situation through a progressive deepening of understanding of what it means to be in Christ, There is never a situation or circumstance where our risen Lord is not there. Even in the isolation of crucifixion, if life is so cruel, even there we are nailed to the cross with Christ. Paul says that he has not yet fully matured in Christ. There is always more to be sounded in those unfathomable depths. The dynamic here is the wonderful realization that "Christ Jesus has made me his own." He wants to hold as he is now being held. Held within the security of his Lord who rose from a grave to make him "his own," Paul is a driven man. He is aware that his present situation may cost him his life--"I am being poured out as a libation" (2:17)--but it can never separate him from Christ. From this unchanging center, there is much more to be received and, within himself, much still to be surrendered. So, from within the security of his risen Lord whatever the circumstance, Paul is "still running, trying to capture the prize for which Christ Jesus captured me" (3:14). The imaginative appeal Of the imagery comes from an imprisoned Christian individual writing a letter of thanks and encouragement to his no doubt frightened people. So much seems to go so wrong so often. Yet he would have them think as he does: "Let those of us then who are mature be of the same mind" (3:15). Just what does he see? Religious who would be more mature as they approach the millennium could usefully examine their situation from that perspective. Does that insight interpret life for us at any level? Baptism into Christ means an invitation to a present relationship with God through the Spirit, not just loose membership in a particular group. Religious life has no other purpose than to invite us to enflesh that in ourselves by attempting to live for God alone at one with his will. The experience of St. Paul in times past is not without value, but what if it could be mine now? Understood from within a Spirit-graced Christian community, it pays altogether richer div-idends. It is not just an example of what someone did then, but an There is never a situation or circumstance where our risen Lord is not there. Macdonald ¯ Towards the Millennium invitation to consider what we can do now. This is interpreting life in the light of the gospel. Unifying, radical meaning is on offer here to those who try to be habitually open to receive. In Christ ours is a present reality. We are his companions, not his succes-sors trying to make what we can of a long-dead tradition. Accordingly, "to mature" means here that we have Someone to give and someone to be. This is not the least of what we can bring to the millennium. If we stay rooted in Christ, into whom we have been bap-tized, we can come to know that immediate circumstance is not all there is in defining present reality. There is no need to approach the millennium like stunned rabbits caught in the headlights. In Christ there is a vast arc of gospel fellowship among the living and the dead, all held in the present moment. We are one in Christ with so very many; and, if we can mature in their faith, we shall be given to see meaning in life. Rather than consider the millen-nium a milestone to be reached at a future date, a milestone that is being surrounded more and more by the massed choirs of the advertising media, why not stay where we are now in Christ and let the millennium (as indeed any circumstance) come to us? Always to be in the one place in Christ!--our center of gravity, our spiritual focal point, can only become more secure as we more and more see God giving himself to us there in Christ. This is where we are. We can then try to interpret circumstance through our risen Lord, knowing that, whether life is good or ill, we are never without the power of his resurrection or the fellowship of his suffering. Travel Light This is not to ~dvocate the passivity of a cow in the field. How could it when the reality of our life comes from our risen Lord who has made us his own? This is energizing, delightful presence, compelling us to be enlivened by it. Whatever a future calendar date brings, it cannot break that firm bond. Ultimately, it is all there is. We then want to make Christ really our own as he has made us truly his. For religious this should mean a hard look at our rule or founder's insight in the light of the gospel. We may have accumulated much. A mere middle-class lifestyle-- without the potentially maturing presence of husband, wife, or child--will not attract or challenge others. Should we not travel Review for Religious light to the millennium? Circumstances may be stripping us of much that we are attached to and find hard to give up, but we can nonetheless choose to drop even more. More has to be done to make our fellowship in the gospel a practical, reality. Arguably, the word community is heard now more than ever before, although there seems to be less of it. Religious profess to find God's will among a particular group of people. But only insofar as the risen Christ is real to them do imperfect individuals, living among others also imperfect and even dys-functional, have the courage to attempt this. If anything is to come of it, then, Christian maturity is essential. Without it we have nowhere to come home to--and indeed no one to be. It is no small achievement to welcome the millennium in the company of Christ and in full awareness that this company is all we have. How best to have this awareness in changing circumstances and amid lessening numbers is a problem. It is for different people to find various solutions in view of their temperaments and God-given gifts. No one can read the future, but, as T.W. Manson pointed out earlier, we are Christ's companions and the initiative of the entire gospel enterprise lies with him. There is no future for the maverick away from Christ. Inspirational individuals will always be found among those who habitually listen to the gospel, wishing to follow wher-ever it leads. Risk, challenge, and retrenching may be factors in an apostolate for the millennium. Community, it has been said, should be more like a hive than a nest. Ultimately, if the millennium finds us in Christ as the gospel understands this, we shall reflect his presence there. The pres-ence of Christ is the one ageless gift we have to offer. Circumstances change and situations sometimes frighten and even crucify, but the underlying reality for those who see with eyes of faith is the presence and power of our risen Lord. Here is where we live and move and have our being. We let life come and find us here. But we cannot do this complacently. We must foster a growing sense of awe and of our good fortune. The more real this awareness of presence is, the keener are we to share it with others. The sacraments (not least the Blessed Sacrament) are realities of presence, and we should try to share The presence of Christ is the one ageless gift we have to offer. d~lly-Augvtst 1998 Macdonald ¯ Towards the Millennium what we find there. They feed us as our life progresses. They are glimpses of life at the heart of our community, and they reflect mystery at the heart of reality. There is much more here than we can see, even graced by the insight of faith. As companions of Jesus, one with him and each other through baptism, we need to try to bring gospel fellowship to people in ways they can understand. Circumstances had Paul in prison miles away from his anxious people. To encourage him they sent one of their number. To thank them he wrote them a letter. They did what they could in less-than-ideal circumstances. Although cir-cumstances do not allow us to do all that we would like, we should not be discouraged from trying to do what we can with what falls into our hands. Remember, the initiative is from the presence and Spirit of our risen Lord. When we are open to his presence, we find we have a community; we have Someone to share. The millennium offers a challenge, and one of the best ways to meet it is for ourselves, our individual selves, to really make Christ our own and so try to be found always in him--and then to give from that center and invite others to meet Christ there. Our Lady and a cloud of saints once lived this life of faith, and, whatever the reasons for moving their statues from our churches and communities, we should again savor their company now in Christ. In the fellowship of the gospel, they can be real and not static presences. Many a secular idol will be worshiped as we approach the millennium. The Christian community can offer more than that. It was individuals sharing with others what they themselves had been inspired to see of the gospel who thereby inspired oth-ers so that even more followed and formed our various religious orders and congregations. We present-day members, perhaps feel-ing our lack of inspiration or vision, would do well to recognize our situation for what it is. If we are afraid, let us admit it, but let us not focus on fears without bringing to them the faith vision that so helped Paul and his people. For them this was no theo-retical exercise. It. could be equally real for us. "A loving knowl-edge of the word of God and a prayerful familiarity with it are specifically important for the prophetic ministry," says Pope John Paul. This echoes the conviction of the best in the church over centuries. This insight had and has now the power both to form an elite and encourage the frail. Review for Religious i G.K. Chesterton, The I~ctorian Age in Literature (London, no date), p. 12. 2 T.W. Manson, The Servant Messiah (Cambridge University Press, 1953), p. 98. 3 R. Rolheiser OMI, "The Last Word," The Catholic Herald (London), 4 July 1997. 4 Cardinal Basil Hume OSB, "Reflections on Leadership" (keynote address at Conference of Religious, 1997), Signum, 20 February 1997, p. 10. s John Paul II, Pastores dabo vobis, 1992. This and the next two quo-tations are from §47. Spirit Prayer Spiritt. Holy! Stirring birds and buds and Buddhists, Moving mothers, monks and Muslims, Turning wheels and churning waters, Shifting rocks and shaking ridges, Sweeping fields and forests, Raising bread and bodies, Spinning dreams and dancers, Whirling clouds and clowns, Filling sails and souls, sifting, Sounding, Singing, Sighing, Spirit, oht. Do what you do, Dance where you dance, Blow when you blow, Move us to move, To break from the laze of our days At the Word we have heard, With the Breath that will lift us from death. Mary Alban Bouchard CSJ j~dy~August 1998 MARION NORMAN Two 17th-Century Women of Wisdom: Mary Ward and Marguerite Bourgeoys pioneers Wisdom, which in biblical literature is usually personi-fied as a woman, is described in Proverbs 8:12-14 as "mis-tress of the art of thought" who shares house with Discretion; hates pride and arrogance, wicked behavior, and a lying mouth; and is a source of good advice, pru-dence, and perception. The Hebrew words for wisdom and wise man (hokhmah, Ex 36:2, and hokham, Jr 9:23) are used in various ways throughout the Old Testament to connote the skills needed to carry out tasks successfully. Hokhmah implies a deeper quality than cleverness, and hokham means not a clever know-it-all but a sage, one who, having acquired knowledge of the world and human nature, can penetrate to the depths of the human situa-tion, seeing it as a whole and then sharing that vision by giving prudent advice or immortalizing it in the form of proverbs or aphorisms. The prophet Jeremiah declares, "Let not the wise man (hokham) glory in his wisdom; neither let the mighty man glory in his might." In rabbinic literature, however, the wisdom of Proverbs has come to refer to the "wisdom of the Torah,". and the wise man now becomes the scholar Marion Norman IBVM (Loretto Sisters) presented this paper, here slightly revised, at the International Mediaeval and Renaissance Conference in Banff in May 1997. Her address is Loretto College; 70 St. Mary Street; Toronto, Ontario MSS 1J3; Canada. Review for Religious well versed in the Torah. The identification of Torah with wisdom dates from Deuteronomy (4:4-6): See I have imparted to you laws and rules, as the Lord my God has commanded me, for you to abide by in the land which you are about to invade and occupy. Observe them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and dis-cernment to other people, who on hearing all these laws will say, "Surely that great nation is a wise and discerning people." Thus, from originally implying little more than technical abil-ity, wisdom took on moral and religious connotations. In time it became synonymous with reverence for the Lord, as expressed in the Book of Proverbs: "Reverence for the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction" and "Let your trust be in the Lord. to show what is right and true" (Pr 24:7, 22). Hebrew wisdom was not alone in leaving its indelible mark on Western culture. Greek and Roman wisdom (usually referred to as philosophy) played a significant role as well, as did the leading Hellenistic philosophers, who claimed to teach their disciples how to live by providing moral instruction about what was right and wrong and how best to carry out their duties as individuals and in social relationships. Early Christianity perceived a certain affinity between its own aims, as expressed in the Sermon on the Mount, and those of Judaism and the best Greco-Roman philosophies. All three strains had a great influence on Western culture and, at the time of the Renaissance, came together to provide the intellectual, social, and religious context for the kinds of wisdom exemplified by the two 17th-century women of wisdom who are the subjects of this study. My selection of them has not been arbitrary. That the Bible even more than the Greco-Roman classics has' been the principal source of inspiration for both readers and writers of English lit-erature has long been recognized. Little wonder, then, that the biblical ideal of wisdom was carried over into the conduct of peo-ple's daily lives. This was particularly true of women, who, deprived of formal education in the s~ven liberal arts (reserved almost exclusively for males), relied on biblical primers and the Bible itself as their sole textbooks. We read, for instance, of female servants, shopkeepers, and housewives, especially among the Puritans, painfully acquiring a knowledge of the original biblical July-Aug'ust 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17th-Century Women of Wisdom languages for better access to the scriptural message. And, with the greater availability of biblical texts since the invention of printing and the Reformers' stress on the Bible as the "sole rule of faith," reliance on individual inspiration assumed central sig-nificance. The biblical concept of wisdom saw God as the source of wisdom for individuals seeking humbly to discover and imple-ment it as it was spelled out in the Torah. Each of these two 17th-century women received intimations of the direction in which the Lord was leading her, and, responding with docility and trust, received further clarification about God's plan for her in her own daily living. The response of Mary Ward (1585-1645) and Marguerite Bourgeoys (1620-1700) to God's invitation had implications both negative and positive. It meant, first of all, rejecting the usual pattern of marriage and family in favor of an exclusive conse-crated discipleship, freeing them for the service of the entire Christian community. This, in turn, involved a readiness to leave home and country if God asked it of them. Mary Ward For Mary Ward, at a moment in English history when adher-ence to the traditional religion was proscribed by the state and its preservation imperiled, the immediate need, as revealed to her by God and further discerned by experience, was for a total and free commitment to God that would flow out into love for oth-ers. She felt empowered to reach out to new needs and to devise whatever might be required to meet those needs. Inevitably, how-ever, the wisdom imparted in her close union with God in prayer entailed "the rejection, in whole or in part, of older, conventional patterns and methods that were no longer meeting new needs and situations. The clash between fidelity to divine guidance and official representatives of authority, as in the case of earlier bib-lical prophets like Isaiah and Jeremiah, was inevitable. Mary Ward's own response, which she constantly urged on her com-panions as well, was single-minded and unequivocal: "After busi-nesses I go to find myself in God, without any will or private interest and with a will only to have his will, which I cease not till I find."1 Mary understood this open and faithful orientation to God's will--desiring solely to love God and refer all actions to Review for Religious him--as adapting to the lives of consecrated women the lifestyle the church had already approved for Jesuits in their Formula insti-tuti. Precisely what this would entail was not revealed to her at once. In the first half of the 17th century, the cultural climate cre-ated by the Puritan and Parliamentary ascendancy brought forth a highly vocal group of educational reformers such as John Milton, John Dury, Marchmount Nedham, Samuel Hartlib, and Jan Comenius. At the same time the new scientific movement-- inspired by Francis Bacon as spokesman and promoted, under royal sponsorship, by the Royal Society of London--put Britain in touch with parallel interna-tional movements in France, Italy, and elsewhere. Voices of dissent were not failing, moreover, to speak out coura-geously on behalf of neglected groups of people--especially children of the poor and girls and women. These asserted, by their writings and actions, the rights of the counterculture against the prevailing climate of opinion, including the tendency to denigrate women. It is in the light of such conflicting views on the aims, con-tent, and methods of instruction that the enlightened and coura-geous leadership of women of wisdom like Mary Ward and Marguerite Bourgeoys should be seen. Although 17th-century politicians, theologians, and educational theorists were united in seeing the inadequacy of the current educational system to meet changing needs and priorities, they could agree on little else. Neither Francis Bacon nor John Milton apparently perceived women's education as necessary or even desirable. None seemed to see the value of preparing future mothers who would be responsible for the basic training of the young as future morally responsible and loyal citizens. For English Catholics the educational situation was particularly critical. Harassed politically, sodally, and economically and denied access to such employment as their rank and abilities deserved, they were crippled by taxes for nonattendance at Anglican services and threatened with imprisonment or death for possessing Catholic The biblical concept of wisdom saw God as the source of wisdom for individuals seeking humbly to discover and implement it. July-Aug~tst 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17tb-Century Women of V~dom books or providing accommodation to priests or Catholic instruc-tors. At an early age their children were forced to seek schooling on the continent, facing for up to nine years the loneliness, the foreign customs, languages, and climate, and the other handicaps of exile. Those without the necessary means were denied even basic instruction, while the care of the needy, the sick, the dis-abled, the aged, and the prisoners was entirely dependent on what-ever could be provided by families or individuals. Little wonder that the principal responsibility for transmission of and instruc-tion in the faith heritage devolved on the womenfolk and that, in the face of growing apostasy and indifference, a sound education for women as well as males came to be of crucial importance. Mary Ward, called by a recent historian "the greatest Englishwoman of the 17th century," was born at Mulwith near Ripon, Yorkshire, on 23 January 1585 (shortly before the defeat of the Spanish Armada) and died 30 January 1645 (shortly before the beheading of Charles I at the height of the Civil War). She came from a family noted for its staunch loyalty to the old reli-gion, which had been proscribed in England for more than sixty years. Failure to swear to the Acts of Supremacy and Succession and to attend services weekly in the local Anglican parish church made heads of families liable to imprisonment or even death. Mary's own parents and grandparents and she herself experienced such imprisonment, and several relatives were executed for their faith. The year before her birth, her fellow countrywoman, Margaret Clitherow, had been martyred at York. Like most children in such devout Catholic families, Mary received her early schooling and religious instruction in her own home and in homes of relatives and family friends. During those years she first felt the call to follow Christ in a life consecrated by vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Since the time of Christ and the Apostles (as can be seen in the New Testament), women as well as men had chosen such a way of loving discipleship. From the Middle Ages, too, despite the weight of authority against women's right to education or the exercise of leadership outside their own homes, a surprising quantity of writ-ings by women has survived. Exceptional women like Hildegard of Bingen and Catherine of Siena played prominent roles that changed the course of history, notwithstanding the patriarchalism of church and state. Until the early 17th century, however, women's accepted' mode of service of Christ, apart from that of "helpmeet" Review for Religiotts in marriage, was a lifetime spent in contemplation within monas-teries such as those of Poor Clares and Carmelites. After the dis-solution of religious houses in England, that meant for Englishwomen a lifetime of exile in some foreign climate. Prayerful discernment, as well as natural prudence and obser-vation, convinced Mary that the best way for her to give her life to the service of her "Friend of friends" would be, not marriage, but "some other thing., without all comparison more to the glory of God.-2 Further light came in November 1615 regarding the kind of holi-ness which that "other thing" would require. Rejecting the commonly held view that "women could not do good except to themselves," Mary envisioned a different kind of women's vocation, one engaged in education and other works "congruent to the times." Her institute would be one marked by "a singular freedom from all that could make one adhere to earthly things, with an entire application and apt disposition to all good works." Members would "refer all to God," doing "works of justice. [We would] be such as we appear and appear such as we are . Grounded in this, we should gain at God's hands true wisdom."3 Mary defined what came to be called her concept of "the Just Soul" in terms of three kinds of freedom: freedom from attach-ment to worldly values, freedom for all works of justice necessary in this world, and freedom to "refer all to God." Her words for this special kind of holiness ~'evealed to her were "freedom," "justice," and "sincerity" (or "verity"), the qualifies by which we as human beings participate in God's own life of goodness and wisdom, and which, she insisted, we have the right to ask and expect of God. What seems clear is that Mary, considering these three free-doms of "the Just Soul" to be the qualities essential for living out the ideal of Christian holiness as envisioned by Ignatius Loyola, could see nothing to prevent their application to women as well Mary defined "the Just Soul" in terms of three kinds of freedom: freedom from attachment to worldly values, freedom for all works of justice necessary in this world, and freedom to "refer all to God." ff'uly-Aug'ust 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17th-Century Women of V~sdom as men. This became even more explicit in Mary's speech to her companions (1617) describing the virtues required for their way of life, of which a cleric had disparagingly said, "When all is done, they are but women." Mary's speech, because its depth of insight and vision for the future transcend her own institute and pertain to the whole concept of women's discipleship, deserves to be quoted: I would know what you think he meant by this speech . Fervor is a will to do good, that is, a preventing [preve-nient] grace of G~)d and a gift given gratis by God, which we could not merit. It is true [that] fervor doth many times grow cold, but what is the cause? Is it because we are women? No, but because we are imperfect women. There is no such difference between men and women. Therefore, it is not because we are women, but, as I have said before, because we are imperfect women and love not verity. It is not veritas hominum, verity of men nor verity of women, but veritas Domini, and this verity women may have, as well as men.4 Such was the vision that drove Mary Ward (after her two tri-als of the strictest form of women's contemplative life then known, the Poor Clares, both Flemish and English) and her five like-minded companions to cross the English Channel again in 1609. But Mary was a woman not only of vision but of practical common sense and ingenuity as well. Because at-the time both faith and morals were daily being eroded by ignorance and lack of access to the sacraments, the most pressing need seemed to be the provision of instruction for both children and adults. So, at St. Omer in the Catholic Netherlands, where there was a large English refugee population, they began educating, in secular and religious subjects, children of English refugees and the local poor. Their freedom from enclosure and from distinctive religious costume allowed them a helpful flexibility in their min-istry. They would sometimes wear fashionable dress when calling on gentlefolk (such as the archbishop of Canterbury, who had been desirous of meeting these ladies who had done "more harm than six Jesuits"), and sometimes "mean clothing" when visiting the prisoners or the sick (Mary Ward once disguising herself as a maid to gain access to a lady and bring her back to the practice of her faith),s Because adults, too, lacked instruction and often were destitute as well, the sisters extended their ministry to these further needs of those critical times.6 Review for Religious This new concept of religious life, freed of the restrictions of cloister, of government by male superiors, and of older male-inspired Rules, was so revolutionary that it proved both incomprehensible and unacceptable to ecclesiastical authorities steeped in the patriarchal assumptions of centuries. Today, when church and society are still trying to come to terms on the role of women, Mary Ward seems indeed a prophetic woman of wisdom in the Old Testament tradition. Unlike many visionaries, however, this woman had a vigorous practicality about her. What others said, Mary Ward did. Erasmus and Ftnelon said girls should be educated and, if they were above average intelligence, even taught some Latin as the key to all learning (though under male, direction, of course). Mary Ward opened schools in St. Omer, in Rome, and (under the very noses of pursuivants) even in London to provide education for all who desired it and, as far as they could, regardless of social distinctions. Guided but not bound by the Jesuit Ratio studiorum (1599), Mary believed that, since education is for life and a woman's life is not the same as a man's, the content should differ, though a woman's intellectual powers were by no means to be underrated. "God can use only good ones," she said of both teachers and pupils. So, in addition to the liberal arts and, of course, religion, her curriculum included painting, dancing, music (both vocal and instrumental), handwriting, speech training, drama, and modern languages. Language teaching was always a specialty in her schools, and for this no mere smattering would do, but only suf-ficient mastery to read the best authors of each language and to write it well.7 Originally most pupils were English refugees, but, as the schools spread throughout Europe, though English continued to be taught as a second language, the local vernaculars--French, Flemish, German, and Italian--were added. The nuns, who, as Mary Ward's Memorial of 1629 says, included '"Italians, Spanish, French, Germans, Netherlanders, Bohemians, Hungarians, English, and Irish," usually wrote to one another in Latin, Italian, or French (to make things harder for the English government's paid interceptors of mail). Another evidence of the foundress's farsightedness was that the syllabus included, besides the usual subjects, simple mathematics or "accounts." When one recalls that Samuel Pepys, secretary of the royal navy and a university graduate, required special tutoring to master the multiplication Norman ¯ Two 17th-Century Women of VV'tsdom table, this was very avant garde indeed, as was the inclusion of "globes," a combination of geography and astronomy. As her contemporary Richard Mulcaster had urged better training for teachers, so Mary trained hers so well as to attract the favorable notice of civil authorities (according to documents in the Brussels royal archives) and to elicit a request that she set up a training school for others. As prescribed in the Jesuit Ratio stu-diorum, Mary gave high priority to the teaching and supervision of educators. Writing to their novice mistress about two of her young sisters, Catherine and Cecilia, Mary insisted that their Latin studies should have precedence over everything except prayer and, as to fears that such studies would undermine humil-ity, she sensibly added: "This must and will be so common to all that there will be no cause of complaining." As an early memo in the archives expresses it, "The design of gur school being the sanctification of the mistresses who are members of it for the children of their care, they must be. proficient in writing and reading Latin and English."s The consequences of these high standards soon became so widely recognized that, as one Bavarian ecclesiastic expressed it, "The English Ladies. instill into both aristocratic and ordinary children a noble and well-mannered mode of living., so that they are kept with a loving restraint within the limits of good manners and propriety.''9 And, while the harsh treatment of chil-dren in English boarding schools was notorious even down to the 20th century, Mary advised: "In our calling, a cheerful mind, a good understanding, and a great desire after virtue are neces-sary, but of all these a cheerful mind is the most so.''1° Whenever a foundation was made, two schools were opened simultaneously: a boarding school, mainly for English refugee girls, and a free day school, the criteria for both being tractabil-ity, good manners, and the ability to profit from study rather than wealth or social position. In fact, because of the penury of many English refugees, fees were low and often totally remitted; in any case, they seldom kept up with inflation, especially in the countries affected by the Thirty Years' War. For the poorer chil-dren, especially those in the Italian slums, she provided training in skills that would enable them to earn an honest living, so much so that complaints arose that soon there would be none left to run the houses of ill fame. In imitation of what had been done ear-lier by St. Charles Borromeo, her sisters also ran Sunday schools, Review for Religious providing young servants with religious instruction, basic lan-guage skills, and preparation for the sacraments. And in England, where the priests had a price on their heads, both children and adults were made ready to receive the sacraments and opportu-nities were provided for them to do so. For the sake of mission, one member known only to the oth-ers as Sister Dorothea, living like members of modern secular institutes such as the Grail and Focolare, served as maid-com-panion in the home of the wealthy Suffolk gentlewoman Lady Timperley. Her own description of this ministry has a singularly modern ring: "I dare not keep schools publicly, as we do beyond the seas, . . . but I teach and instruct children in the houses of par-ents . Besides teaching of children, I endeavor to instruct the simple and vul-gar sort. I teach them their. Pater, Ave, Creed, Commandments, etc . I tend and serve poor people in their sickness., make salves., endeavor to make peace among those at variance."11 For the apostolate to spread, it soon became apparent that it needed to be put on a permanent basis and also needed official approbation beyond what it had already received from the local church and civil officials. Despite the often vituperative opposi-tion already encountered (especially from certain members of the Society of Jesus and the English secular clergy, who saw in her work a challenge to their authority), Mary set out with some con-fidence to win formal approval for her institute from three suc-cessive popes: Paul v, Gregory xv, and Urban VIII. Despite ill health, poverty, dangers, and cold, she made three trips on foot over the Alps to Rome to plead her cause in person before the committee appointed to examine her Formula instituti (virtually identical with that approved for the Jesuits).~2 But, though she explained at some length her primary purpose ("striving for the defense and propagation of the faith and progress of souls in Christian life and doctrine"), the means (a new kind of women's order without walls or distinctive clothing, engaged in education and other works congruous with the times), and the instruments (women, distinguished by their well-ordered interior disposition and the virtues of freedom, justice, and verity that characterize the "estate of justice"), these were considered dangerously novel ideas Mary gave high priority to the teaching and supervision of educators. ~7~nly-Aug~st 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17tb-Century Women of Wisdom bordering on heresy with which the good but somewhat obtuse legalists of the time felt unable tO cope except by denial.~3 The foundress was imprisoned by order of the Inquisition, and the institute's way of life was declared contrary to the nature of women and a danger to morals.~4 The savagely worded bull of suppression of 1631 destroyed her first institute, and its members' vows were declared null and void. They were offered the alternatives of marriage, joining some other established order, or living as individual laywomen under private vows. When Mary pointed out the state of these young women, homeless, penniless, and in times of persecution unable to return to their own country, the pope offered them a house in Rome and, under his personal protection, allowed them to resume teaching in Rome, Naples, Munich, and even London and York.~s Mary herself, exonerated of all heresy, was allowed to return to her native country, where, in the midst of the Civil War, she spent the last six years of her life. She and her com-panions remained true to the institute and loyal in obedience to the church, and they continued to be highly commended by those for whom they worked.16 After her death at just over sixty, her tombstone in the Anglican churchyard at Osbaldwick bore this touching tribute: "To love the poore, persevere in the same, live, die, and,rise again with them, was all the aim of Mary Ward.''~7 How is the wisdom revealed by God to individuals to be rec-ognized when, as happened in the case of the Old Testament prophets and Mary Ward, it runs counter to legitimate authority by anticipating the future? Diversity, according to R.B.Y. Scott in his comprehensive study of biblical wisdom, has always attended this concept's evolution and its exemplars, the prophets, as well.~8 Inevitably, however, there is conflict when the fulfillment of the vision comes up against more limited goals and values and older ways of achieving them. Such was the case in the 17th century when it became increas-ingly apparent that the well-worn structures and familiar modes of acting were insufficient to meet the sudden and unexpected challenges in the church and in the world around it. Many were unable or unwilling to accept the fact that new kinds of service were needed to meet these new challenges. In particular, the attempt of the Council of Trent to turn the clock backward, in the case of women, by insisting on enclosure, distinctive clothing, and subjection to male authority severely hampered efforts to Review for Religious envision new forms of discipleship that would free women for more effective service of the church. Instead, they were con-demned as "pernicious growths" needing to be eradicated. Their apostolate, however, continued to grow fruitfully and to encour-age imitators. When official recognition finally came at the begin-ning of the 20th century, Mary Ward's institute had spread round the world to six continents. That Mary Ward was truly a "woman of wisdom," discerning, from her intimacy with God in prayer, the practical needs of her time and place and addressing herself to meet them with pru-dence and courage, was belatedly affirmed in Vatican II's docu-ment on the appropriate renewal of religious life, Pe~fectae caritatis, which reads in part: All those who are called by God to practice the evangelical counsels., devote themse!ves in a special way to the Lord. ¯ . . The religious life is intended above all else to lead . . . to union with God. [but] the manner of living, praying, and working should be suitably adapted to the physical and psychological conditions of today's religious and also . . . to the needs of the apostolate, the requirements of a given culture, the social and economic circumstances anywhere, but especially in missionary territories." (§§ 1-3 passim) Marguerite Bourgeoys Marguerite Bourgeoys was born at Troyes in the province of Champagne in 1620, her youth overlapping the latter years of Mary Ward. At an early age she had a similar experience of God's intervention in her life and felt God's gradual imparting of the gift of wisdom. In 1626, to meet the critical need in that war-torn province for religious instruction and care ofthe needy, a saintly priest, Peter Fourier, organized four hundred volunteer laywomen to go out in pairs among the poor. Attached as externs to the cloistered Congregation de Notre Dame de Troyes, they lived lives of prayer as far as their other duties permitted. Under the supervision of Mme. Louise de Chomedey, a sister of Paul de Chomedey, Sieur de Maisonneuve, the founder and governor of Montreal, Marguerite became one of three prefects in charge of the group. When her desire for the life of a consecrated religious seemed doomed to frustration (both the Carmelites and another cloistered congregation having rejected her application), she pru-dently sought an experienced guide, M. Gendret, chaplain of the J~dy-August 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17tb-Century Women of Wisdom Carmelites. He advised her, while awaiting further light on God's will for her, to consecrate her life by private vows of poverty and chastity.~9 In the spirit of the much-needed religious renewal initiated in the early 17th century by st. Vincent de Paul, M. Gendret had for some time envisaged a form of consecrated life for women adapted to the needs of the time, with a mobility that existing rules of enclosure did not allow. In Marguerite Bourgeoys he now recognized the spiritual and intellectual qualities that would be necessary to lead such an undertaking. A further providential intervention in her life came with her meeting Sieur de Maisonneuve in the home of his sister Mme. de Chevilly. He was visiting France to gather a hundred recruits to work in Montreal. Explaining the need for one teacher to supply the need of reli-gious instruction for his "foolish adventure," he invited Marguerite's help. Realizing partly what it might involve for her as the only woman among male recruits, Marguerite, after prayer and after consulting her spiritual director and the vicar general of the diocese (who gave the plan their blessing), perceived it to be God's will that she should go. Arriving at Quebec on 22 September 1653 and at Ville Marie (Montreal) on 16 November, she began at once a thorough assess-ment of the needs of her new mission, the (pitifully inadequate) resources to meet them, and the obstacles to be faced (such as inclement weather and threats from hostile Indians). Some notion of the risks may be gathered from the warning sent by the French-born mystic Marie of the Incarnation, of the cloistered Ursulines, who had been teaching both native and French children in Quebec since 1639. Writing to the sisters back in Troyes, she said: "If you knew what Montreal actually is like, you would be very careful about sending religious there . . . because of the harsh conditions of the country.''2° Marguerite and her compan-ions not only endured the cold, hunger, and dangers, but also shared their scanty living quarters with the poor, even giving up their own mattresses and blankets. In early-17th-century France, the notion of women religious engaging in apostolic work was only beginning to emerge. To meet the pressing needs of the spiritually illiterate general pop-ulation and the inadequately trained clergy, St. Francis de Sales and St. Vincent de Paul had enlisted generous, skilled women to serve in education, health care, and social work. At the price of Review for Reh~ious their obtaining ecclesiastical recognition, they had had to com-promise: the Visitandines accepting the restrictions of enclo-sure (and thereby qualifying as a religious order) and the Daughters of Charity becoming a society of apostolic life, a group of pious laywomen living in common under simple vows renewed annually. It was immediately evident to the prophetic insight of Marguerite Bourgeoys that neither alternative was desirable or suitable to meet the needs and living conditions of Montreal. Apart from teaching language skills and religion free of charge to both boys and girls of the French set-tlers and military people, there were native children to be edu-cated; adults to be instructed, counseled, prepared for the sacra-ments; and health needs cared for--along with the constant threat from hostile Indian raiders and rival English colonists to the south. The sisters supported themselves by doing laundry, sewing, and mending for families after the day's teaching in school.21 Declaring their readiness to undertake just about anything required to meet the social needs of frontier life, Marguerite and her companions (their number augmented by recruitment on subsequent trips back to France) determined with prudence and divine guidance to take steps to ensure the permanence of their work. The first step, dictated by Marguerite's solid bourgeois back-ground, was to obtain from the king a civil charter permanently entitling them to their place of residence, the abandoned stone stable given them by the governor to serve as their school and as the teachers' living quarters.22 Next they applied to and eventu-ally obtained from Bishop Laval ecclesiastical approval "to teach anywhere in his diocese." In both of these ventures, they received ample support from the laity, whose openhearted response to Marguerite Bourgeoys and her companions' concern for their family life and educational needs was generous and continuous. Evidence of this trust is seen in the young bride on the morn-ing after her wedding coming to weep on Marguerite's shoulder upon finding what was expected of her in marriage, and also in the The sisters supported themselves by doing laundry, sewing, and mending for families after the day's teaching in school. ~dy-Augwst 1998 Norman * Two 17th-Century Women of Wisdom adoption of a nine-month-old native baby who had been aban-doned by her mother and whom Marguerite cared for till she died at the age of six.23 In their practical attention to every aspect of the life of the church in Montreal, the tiny Congregation de Notre Dame, as they came to be called, was ready to meet needs as they presented themselves: premarriage counseling, witnessing of marriages, vocational training, adult education, home eco-nomics, visiting the sick, and preparing the dead for burial. Though they were intent upon living as religious so far as spirit, purpose, and prayer were concerned, it became increas-ingly apparent that their manner of observing common life and serving as disciples would have to be adapted to frontier condi-tions and to "the strengths and talents of each" rather than to preconceived ecclesial rules of enclosure. "If it is the will of God that I go to Montreal," Marguerite had said in response to Maisonneuve's invitation, "I shall want for nothing.''24 Marguerite's wisdom continued to be manifested in her response to divine guidance and providential care in each new enterprise. Her trust in God's will was, however, severely tested on more than one occasion as the years went on. Though provi-sionally approved by Bishop Laval in May 1669, their lifestyle received his official written approval only as "a community in the state of secular women, that is, not bound by enclosure."~s Their Rule, inspired by M. Gendret, which they had been liv-ing, had still to receive formal approval by the church, and for this Bishop Laval, because of the enclosure problem, was unwilling to apply. As Marguerite's biographer wryly ?emarks, the bishop had difficulty distinguishing between the will of God and that of Francois de Montmorency Laval.26 When, upon her return from France with six new recruits, Marguerite was greeted with the news that her community had disintegrated, she replied with calm confidence in God: "He who brings about its fall can very well raise it up again whenever he pleases.''27 When further contro-versy arose over the admission of new members (born in Canada, not France, and two of them aborigines), she felt no longer trusted and offered to resign. The result was an overwhelming reaffir-mation by the entire community of her leadership and special charism.2s Another aspect of Marguerite Bourgeoys's wisdom is reflected in her response to Laval's criticisms of her choice of new candi-dates and her recourse to experienced persons other than himself Review for Religious regarding the community's Rule. Though submitting with humil-ity, she prudently continued to consult the Sulpician directors of the Grande S~minaire, who fully endorsed her wise decision--a visionary missionary thrust far ahead of her time--not to impose a strange civilization on native converts. Her two guideposts, to imitate our Lady and live in the presence of God, fitted admirably into the concept of discipleship she bequeathed to her sisters as that of following la vie voyagOre of the Blessed Virgin. From M. Gendret's explanations long ago, she recalled the distinctions between the three states in which women could follow Christ and serve the church in these words: that of St. Mary Magdalen. observed by the Carmelites and other recluses and that of St. Martha by the cloistered religious who serve their neighbor; but that the outgoing life of the Blessed Virgin was not honored as it should be, and ¯. even without veil and wimple she could be a true reli-giousfl9 The term vie voyagOre (the equivalent of the modern English phrase "to be a pilgrim") seemed to imply, as Marguerite used it, a certain flexibility and adaptability in the service of others and going out into the world wherever there was need. If the first mark of the truly wise person is charity that reflects her close union with God, then it is especially in time of trial that it can best be judged. Such testing was Marguerite's. First came the disastrous fire of 6-7 December 1683, after which the community was reduced to literal destitution. But, when Bishop Laval seized the occasion to urge them to merge with the clois-tered Ursulines, Marguerite firmly defended the identity of her "journeying sisters," modeled on our Lady, Christ's first disci-ple. 3° When an impasse over business matters occurred, she sim-ply turned the whole matter over in prayer to her patroness with the words "Blessed Virgin, I can do no more.''3~ Again, when a visionary in her own community denounced her publicly as in "a state of damnation" and proposed founding a new institute with herself as head, Marguerite, although ready to acknowledge the possibility of having lost God's friendship, persisted in abandoning herself to his divine justice and charity. Her resignation and her replacement as chief superior by the first Montreal-born member, Marie Barbier, reflected both her humil-ity and her openness of spirit.32 At the same time, in trusting Canadian-born candidates and leadership instead of continuing to July-August 1998 Norman ¯ Two 17tb-Century Women of Wisdom depend on reinforcements from France, she was wisely investing in the permanence of her community in New France. The final ecclesiastical approval of the Rule was again to be made contingent on accepting enclosure, vowing obedience to the bishop, and requiring dowries. Though remaining obedient to the new bishop, Jean Baptiste de Saint-Vallier, Marguerite firmly and prudendy defended her original vision of the congre-gation's members as "daughters of the parish" and of the Blessed Virgin herself as their only superior.33 For the sake of survival, she had for the moment to submit to the bishop, and on 24 June 1698 the sisters finally accepted the approved Rules and next day solemnly pronounced their vows. But before her death (12 January 1700) she took care to record in her spiritual autobiography her original divinely inspired intuitions, 'with shrewd observations based on her lived experience and her hopes and fears for the continued existence of her congregation. Like the Ursulines and many other women's congregations of the Counter-Reformation peribd, this uncloistered community of Montreal agreed to modifications in their original Rule on condition that its underlying principles and, above all, their "out-going life" were not sacrificed. Their charism was summed up in the words of the foundress herself: When he ascended into heaven, our Lord left on earth a type of congregation of women which included all the states. Mary was its first superior . The Blessed Virgin, who was a teacher, included all the other things in her own per-son in an eminent degree. She was mother and teacher to the newborn church, which she formed and instructed in all kinds of good, by her words and by her example. Instruction and edification were her principal characteris-tics., particularly to teach in a way that was all the more profitable for everyone [and] within the reach of all.34 Models for Today What did these 17th-century women of wisdom have in com-mon, and of what relevance are their lives to ours on the eve of the 21st century? For answers we need to look at the very human and very universal situation underlying their lives. Each might be described (in terms applied to Joan of Arc by Joan Chittister, an eloquent defender of Christian feminism) as "a model of con-science development, a monument to the feminine relationship to Review for Religious God, and a breaker of the stereotypes that block the will of God."35 In every age, authority figures (usually male) have busied themselves with telling people what they should do, usually cloak-ing their goals in moral terms. Suddenly appears someone-- indeed, a woman!--who has a mission, someone who is bold enough to claim that God has revealed plans to her that may seem outrageous, someone who confronts them with a question greater than they are able or willing to handle and who is pre-pared to fight and even die for it if necessary so that truth may prevail and others may benefit. Mary Ward and Marguerite Bourgeoys were such women, role models for all who have heard the voice of God calling them to transcend the limitations of the present and enable freedom, justice, and sincerity (verity) to triumph everywhere and for all time. Notes a Mary Ward's Retreat Notes, 1619, unpublished collection. 2 Cited by Catherine Elizabeth Chambers, Life of Mary Ward, 2 vols. (London, 1882 and 1885), vol. 1, p. 227. 3 Letter to Roger Lee SJ, 1 November 1615, cited by Chambers, vol. 1, pp. 346-347. 4 Cited by Chambers, vol. 1, pp. 407-408. 5 Chambers, vol. 1, p. 407 and 217-224. 6 Letter of Bishop Blaise, cited by Chambers, vol. 1, pp. 319-320. 7 Chambers, vol. 2, p. 531. s Chambers, vol. 2, p. 249. 9Winkler MS, p. 20. ~°Cited by Chambers, vol. 1, p. 468. ~a Chambers vol. 2, p. 27. Chambers vol. Chambers vol. Chambers vol. Chambers vol. Chambers vol. 2, p. 387. 2, pp. 289-290. 2, p. 325. 2, p. 325. 2, p. 331. a7 Chambers vol. 2, p. 504. as R.B.Y. Scott, Relevance of the Prophets, rev. ed. (Toronto: Collier Macmillan, 1969), p. 13. 19 Patricia Simpson, Marguerite Bourgeoys and Montreal, 1640-166~ (Montreal: McGil!-Queen'~ University Press, 1997), p. 46. ~3~nly~Aug~tst 1998 Norman * Two 17tb-Century Women of l~tsdom 20 Cited by Simone Pgissant CND, Marguer~e Bourgeoys, trans. Frances Kirwan (Montreal: Les Editions Bellarmin, 1982), p. 34. 2~ Simpson, p. 160. z2 Simpson, pp. 117-118, 164-165. 23 Simpson, pp. 109, 126. 24 Poissant, pp. 23-24. 2s Poissant, p. 35. 26 Simpson, p. 175. 27 Poissant, p. 36 . 28 Poissant, p. 43. 29 Letter of Marguerite Bourgeoys to Louis Tronson, September 1693, "Ecrits de M~re Bourgeoys," p. 20, quoted by Elizabeth Rapley, The Dgvotes (McGill: Queen's Press, 1990), p. 101. 30 Poissant, p. 51. 3~ Poissant, p. 52. 32Poissant, pp. 53-55. 33 Poissant, p. 57. 34 Poissant, pp. 49-50. 3s Joan Chittister, A Passion for Life (New York: Orbis Books, 1996), pp. 127-129. Review for Religious MARY ROGER MADDEN A Path Traced Out: Providence in Mother Theodore Guerin's Life M~ther Theodore Guerin founded the Sisters of rovidence at Saint Mary-of-the-Woods, Indiana, on 22 October 1840 and left her mark not only: on an extensive reli-gious congregation, but also--through the schools she established and the philosophy of education she fostered--on tens of thou-sands of lay men and women. Born 2 October 1798 in the village of Etables-sur-Mer, in the diocese of Saint-Brieuc, Anne-Th4r~se Gu4rin was the daugh-ter of Laurent Gu~rin, a naval officer in the service of Napoleon, and Isabelle Lefevre Gu~rin. She had two younger brothers, both of whom died in early childhood, and one younger sister, Marie Jeanne. Her mother taught her to read and write and instructed her in the basics of religion. When she was nine years of age, she attended a small school run by a pious laywoman of Etables. Anne- TMr~se learned quickly and was bored by the basic nature of the instruction. She would often slip away to the seashore, hiding herself among the rocks and cliffs. There, contemplating the vast-ness of the sea, she early learned to pray. A distant relative, a young seminarian forced to postpone his education because of the religious upheaval following the Revolution, came to live with the Gu~rin family. He served as Anne-TMr~se's tutor, calling her his "little theologian." Perhaps because of this advanced religious instruction, she was able to receive her first Holy Communion at the early age of Mary Roger Madden SP writes from Christina Hall; Saint Mary-of-the- Woods, Indiana 47876. 3~:uly-August 1998 Madden ¯ A Path Traced Out ten. At that time she confided to her confessor that she wished to devote her life to God. The kindly priest told her to pray and to be a good, obedient child and wait for God to open the way for her. The even tenor of the Gu~rin family life was disrupted when Laurent Gu~rin, on his way home to rejoin his family after being demobilized, was attacked by brigands, robbed, and killed. Isabelle, who had already suffered the loss of her father and one brother at sea and of her two infant sons by fire, was traumatized by this latest tragedy. She went into a complete physical and mental decline, leaving Anne-Th~r~se, then sixteen years of age, as the main support of the family. Anne-Th~r~se cared for her younger sister and nursed her mother back to health while supporting the little family with her sewing. She never abandoned her desire to devote her life to God. In 1823, when the younger sister had reached an age when she could be expected to take Anne-Th~r~se's place, Isabelle Gu~rin gave reluctant permission for her elder daughter to enter the Sisters of Providence of Ruill~-sur-Loir. This congregation, dedicated to the education of youth and the care of the sick. poor in their homes, had been founded in 1806 by Jacques-FranFois Dujari~, founder also of the Brothers of Saint Joseph, known today as the Brothers of the Holy Cross. A small and relatively obscure congregation, the Sisters of Providence were struggling to establish themselves in a country still reeling from the aftershocks of the Revolution. Anne-Th~r~se, who was given the name Sister Saint- Theodore, soon became a valued member of the family of Providence. Her novitiate had to be prolonged because she con-tracted typhoid fever as a postulant. When she appeared to be on the verge of death, the physician, frantic to save her, adminis-tered such severe remedies as to leave her with impaired health. Never again was she able to digest solid food. Because of her illness, her reception of the habit had been postponed until 5 September 1826; three days later she was per-mitted to take her first vows. She was sent at once to administer one of the most challenging of their missions in the city of Rennes. In 1828 the sisters elected her a member of the first general coun-cil to Mother Mary Lecor, the superior general, During the years at Rennes and later at Soulaines, her exper-tise as an administrator and a teacher was recognized by the Academy of Angers (Universit~ de France), which awarded her Review for Religious an honorary medallion in recognition of her excellence as an educator. In the summer of 1839, the sisters were gathered at the moth-erhouse for their annual retreat when they received a distinguished visitor. Celestine de la Hailandi~re, bishop of Vincennes in Indiana, came requesting sisters to teach the children of the pio-neers in his diocese. The superiors asked for volunteers from among the mem-bership. Although many sisters volunteered, Mother Mary found no one among them with the qualities nec-essary for the leader of such an expedition. She favored Sister Saint-Theodore, who, fearing that her chronic poor health would hinder the work of the mission, had not volunteered. On being told that the supe-riors would accept the mission only if she would lead it, she agreed to go to Indiana. After a turbulent journey of three months by sailing vessel, river boat, canal boat, and stagecoach, the sisters arrived on 22 October 1840 in a dense forest of Indiana. Located five miles from the fron-tier river town of Terre Haute, the little settlement had been named Saint Mary-of- the-Woods by Simon Brut4~ first bishop of Vincennes. Oral tradition has it that he remarked at the time to one of his com-panions, "You will see what great things will be done here." Arriving that dark, damp October evening, Sister Saint- Theodore and her five companions proceeded at once to the small log cabin that was both the dwelling place of the missionary priest and the temporary church. A partially completed building was intended by the bishop as a convent, but no school had yet been started. Waiting for them at the farmhouse belonging to the Joseph Thralls family were four young women who had come to join them. ~.~ The Thralls family turned over to the ten women one of the two rooms which constituted their home, along with half the loft. There they spent the first winter learning English, preparing classes for the opening of the school, and instructing the new members in the principles of the religious life. In November, Mother Theodore, as she was now known, with Sister Saint-Theodore, fearing that her chronic poor health would hinder the work of the mission, had not volunteered. Madden ¯ A Path Traced Out the help of the bishop and some of the money obtained from friends in France, was able to purchase the Thralls farmhouse for a Convent. She found the building planned for them by the bishop "too grand" for a convent and decided instead to open there a boarding school and academy to be called Saint Mary's Female Institute. In July 1841 classes began with five students, three of whom were not Catholic. Indiana's. educational system was in its infancy in the 1840s. Good education, especially for girls, was at a premium. Mother Theodore set about filling this need by establishing free schools side by side. with the popular female academies which were open to Catholic and non-Catholic alike. Despite her wretched health, she visited the schools regu-larly, traveling in the uncomfortable conditions of the day, in order to encourage and support the sisters. Their educational endeavors were conducted in the primitive one- or two-room buildings that often served as both school and convent. In order to compensate for the harshness of their living conditions, she brought them every summer to Saint Mary-of-the-Woods for rest, relaxation, study, and spiritual retreat. In the midst of her exhausting labors, Mother Theodore. suf-fered from constant humiliations and misunderstanding from her superiors both in France and in North America. At Ruill~ the superiors, who were never able to visit the mission in Indiana, had no concept of what the sisters suffered from the intemperate cli-mate, the bigoted populace, and the poor living conditions. Mother Theodore's frequent letters, though strictly factual, were dis-counted as "romances." It would be years before the superiors rec-ognized all that she had suffered. She, on the other hand, never faltered in her love and devotion to the French congregation and its superiors. In the United States, Hailandi~re was provoked by her resis-tance to his interference with the internal government of the con-gregation. He had told Mother Mary that he wanted the sisters in order that they might establish in his diocese the French reli-gious spirit. He praised their constitutions when he read them in France, but, when Mother Theodore attempted to put them into practice, he seemed to have forgotten his former approval. He wished to ,be the one to decide on the acceptance of postulants and the profession of novices; to move the sisters from mission to mission; to open and close missions (without consulting the sis- Review for Religious ters); and, in general, to act as the major superior of the congre-gation. Most disturbing to Mother Theodore was his desire to conduct all visitations of the missions, confining Mother Theodore to Saint Mary-of-the-Woods. His efforts to remove her from office by holding elections, even in her absence, failed; for the sisters simply united in unan-imously reelecting Mother Theodore. The climax came when, frustrated by her gentle but firm resistance, he went so far as to expel her from the diocese, threatening with excommunication any sister who harbored her or attempted to follow her.- This unjust treatment she bore with remarkable patience. In 1847, at the very hour when she was being expelled, an announcement from Rome arrived, accepting Hailandi~re's resigna-tion as bishop of Vincennes and appoint-ing Bishop Jean Bazin as his replacement. Bazin exonerated her and restored her to her congregatiom Mother Theodore's greatest legacy was the example of her love of God and neighbor, a dynamic self-giving that never flagged or slackened, from her girlhood on Brittany's shores to her death in the midst of the Indiana forest. Only a year before that death, she would write to Sister Saint-Athanase, one of the French sisters who had been a companion of hers in the novi-tiate: "How fortunate we are to have given the days of our youth to that God of love who gives us so much affection, and even more when we are old, infirm, and crippled than when we were young and robust." All her other virtues flowed from this ,one deeply held con-viction-- that God's love for her was unconditional. Her humility makes sense in light of her understanding of the mystery of the incarnation, by which the Second Person of the Trinity, for love of us, came to share our lowly estate. Her confidence in the provi-dence of God was nourished by that love. For her part, she saw the cross that marked her life for over fifty years as the mystic sign by which she rejoiced to return some part of that infinite love. In her concern for the p~oor and the ignorant, in her devo-tion to all her sisters, we see the authentic expression of love of neighbor. The love of God which welled up in her spilled over All her other virtues flowed from this one deeply held conviction-- that God's love for her was unconditional. 1998 Madden ¯ A Path Traced Out into the lives of everyone she met. She quickly forgave frailties of human nature that caused her suffering and endeavored to avoid inflicting similar sufferings on others. The last nine years of her life proceeded in relative peace and prosperity. By 1854 the congregation had grown to almost one hundred sisters, who were instructing over one thousand chil-dren in parish schools, academies, and orphanages in Jasper, Vincennes, Madison, Terre Haute, Fort Wayne, Columbus, and Evansville. At the motherhouse she built a four-story brick con-vent to replace the farmhouse in which they had lived since 1840. The heritage of devotion to the education of women contin-ues to be cherished by the Sisters of Providence down to the pres-ent day, when Saint Mary-of-the-Woods College, the oldest Catholic liberal arts college for women in the United States, stands on the site of that first small academy. Physically debilitated by her trials and the hardships of a pio-neer life, Mother Theodore died on 14 May 1856. Reports of her holiness of life spread both during her life and after her death. In December 1908 Francis Silas Chatard, bishop of Indianapolis, instituted proceedings for her canonization. On 11 July 1992 Pope John Paul II, in the name of the church, proclaimed the heroic virtue exhibited by the Servant of God, according her the title Venerable. On 7 July 1997 he formally accepted the first-class miracle needed for the process of beatification to go for-ward. The date of her arrival at Saint Mary-of-the-Woods, 22 October, will be celebrated as the feast of Blessed Mother Theodore Guerin, who said of her own life: "This is the path traced out by the providence of God. I follow it." According to Jean-Baptiste Caussade, "The life of each saint is the life of Jesus Christ. It is a new gospel." As we study the gospel God has written in the life of this valiant woman, we are confirmed in our confidence in the mysterious ways of God, which continue to instruct and enlighten us. Bibliography Belsen, Sister Anita Cotter, SP. Soitvenir of the Fiftieth Anniversary or Golden Jubilee of Saint Mary's Academic Institute. New York: Benziger Brothers, 1891. Brown, Sister Mary Borromeo, SP. History of the Sisters of Providence, Vol. I. New York: Benziger Brothers, 1949. Burton, Katherine. Faith Is the Substance. New York: Herder, 1959. Review for Religious Gonner, Sister Laurence, SP. "A History of the First Fifty Years of the Sisters of Providence in America." Master's thesis, Loyola University, Chicago, 1933. Guerin, Mother Theodore. Journals and Letters of Mother Theodore Gudrin. ed. S. Mary Theodosi

Issue 45.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1986. ; Vocation Ministry A Sociological View of Commitment Religious and Secular Institutes Imagination Within the Act of Faith Volume 46 Number 2 March/April, 1986 REvIEw FOR REI,IGIOUS (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 EOt~ REI.IGIOUS is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute of the Society of Jesus, St. Louis, M O © 1986 by REVIEW FOR RELtGIOOS. Composed. printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, MO. Single copies: $2.50. Subscription U.S.A. $ I 1.00 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 REVIEW FOR 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 March/April, 1986 Volume 46 Number 2 Manuscripts, books for review and correspondence with the editor should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGtOUS; 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 p~int~ issues and articles not published as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 N. Zeeb Rd.; Ann Arbor, MI 48106. A major po~on of each issue is also available on cassette recordings as a service for the visually impaired. Write to the Xavier Society for the Blind; 154 East 23rd Street; New York, NY I0010. The Vowed Life in a Secularized World Desmond O'Donnell, O M.I. Father O'Donnell's earlier "Focused Freedom: To Someone in Formation"appeared in the issue of January/February, 1985. He is a General Councillor for his community and, though often on the road, may be addressed at its Generalate: Oblati di Maria; C.P. 9061; 00100 Roma Aurelia, Italy. ouring out a plethora of easy answers to complex questions does not bring us any closer to permanent solutions. Neither is it helpful to offer a new one-word solution for everything taking place in the Church at this time. And yet secularization might be a useful umbrella-word ~,to explain much, of what is taking place both, to the Church and to the vowed life today. If it is in fact found to be a satisfactory seminal term, it will also help us to focus rather than to diffuse our response. It can aid the process of discernment. Situating the Question The good news about our way of life is that a deep spiritual renewal is being experienced by many and that the importance of prayer is being rediscovered. There has been a notable updating in theology and real--if not always successful--attempts to build authentic faith-communities. There also is a growing freedom and practice of discernment about our apostolates and about our private lives as well. There is other news which does not' seem so obviously good, such as the large numbers who left us, the small numbers joining and the increasing median age. In some places, community life is moving towards becoming politely-shared space, enclosing many unspoken polarizations about deep realities among us. Authority has tended to go from heavy-handedness to 161 "i69/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 ¯ laissez-faire and so consensus about anything of serious communal signifi-cance is often hard to come by. Governments gradually move in to take over our institutions, either because we have chosen to let them or because they have helped themselves. The degree to which all this is related to secularization is disputable, but related it is, and I will try to show why this is so. Before we go into this, may I look at some more personal experiences of vowed people in most countries today--experiences which I think are related to secularization even more deeply than those mentioned above. Many of us have been through more or less severe vocational question-ing of some kind in recent years, because the rationale of our way Of life did not seem capable of answering the questions popping up all around us. Maybe it was triggered off by simply seeing one of our now-married novitiate companions do equally good apostolic work and do it well. It may also have been that we grew tired of mobility, or just vaguely short of motivation for the continual questioning of our chosen lifestyle. Many of us have found some new difficulties in prayer, as God seemed to withdraw and leaqe the world to evil pebple. Or maybe the emergence of so many small friendship-groups has left us out in the cold called "com-munity life." The variety of new prayer-forms and so many seminars, have a way of increasing our desire for some stability and wondering if it might not be found elsewhere, In response to'all of this, many felt the growing ambiguities and endless updating led them to personal selectivity in belief and practice. Others moved to the edge~of the storm by choosing some form of fundamentalism or an atheism' which expressed itself in mere social horizontalism while still remaining in the ~3ongregation. Some of us chose to becom~ left-wing unloving critics of the present and others moved to become right-wing uncritical lovers of the past, as the middle ground grew unpopular and became such a solitary exprience. These deeper and more personal phenomena~ are related to modernization and secularization too, as I will try to demonstrate. And so the response to these experiences, might first be to understand the meaning of modernization and the resultihg secularization-experience. Modernization The amount of knowledge in the world continues to increase because of constant research and it is rapidly diffused through very efficient communicatioh systems. Modernization is what happens when the knowledge is~ transferred into technology, which then has ~increasing and unforeseeable effects on economic growth, on social systems and on political decisidns. Inevitably the individual too is affected in his or her The Vowed Life in a Secularized World / 165 values, attitudes, beliefs and behavior. Most of us remember the discovery of plastic 'in the 40s, of the transistor in the 50s, of computers in the 60s, of microcomputers in .the 70s and now we observe technology move forward into genetic engineering in the 80s. All of these have affected people and systems in serious and often irreversibl~e ways. This march of modernization shows no signs of slowing down and often appears to have its own~self-propelled, autonomous momentum. It took one hundred twelve years for photography to go from discovery to commercial product, fifty-six for the telephone, thirty-five for the radio, fifteen for radar, twelve for television and only five for transistors to find their way from the laboratory into the market. Again, as each of these products comes on the market, it touches--and in the case of genetic engineering, tampers with human nature and human systems in often lastingly significant ways, It is with the human effects of modernity that we are concerned and these are sometime.s good, sometimes evil, and often ambiguous. Moder-nity can lead to human community and comfort,-.or to pollution and poverty for millions; it can facilitate or disrupt human values; it can enrich °a poor country or steal its unrenewable sources of energy; it can help in the diffusion of truth or of lies through the media and it can pass on productive information or child,pornography. In each of our .lives it can .make the superfluous become the convenient, ~the convenient become the necessary and the necessary become the indispensable, thus changing human nature itself. ~ Peter Berger's definition summarizes, all this: "Modernization is the transformation of the world, brought about by the technological innova-tions of the last few centuries having economic, social and political dimen-sions all immense in scope." With many otherwriters he goes on to outline the many very,personal effects resulting from the economic, social, political ones in his definition, Secularization is a very significant one of these. Secularization It is important to stress that we are not talking here about secularism which is a theory, an ideology denying the existence of God or at least his action and relevance in the world. Nor is secularization .to be equated with atheism when in fact it might be the very opposite experience for many who are desperately trying to hold on toGod who seems to be withdrawing from them. And certainly it would be simplistic to think that secularization is the same as materialism, Secularization is claimed to.be more a fact than a theory, a reality more than an ideology, a process taking place more than.a point of view. While it "i64/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 can lead to secularism, materialism, or atheism, it is in fact none of these. Some religious people find words like secularism, materialism and atheism convenient labels for what is happening in the Church or in_the vowed life today and it may be a description in some cases, but it is not addressing the deeper and more pervasive reality we call secularization. Secularization manifests itself when explanations of reality previously attributed to mythical or religious sources, are shown to have .rational ones, as when the~scientist takes over from the witch doctor, the. psychologist assumes some previously priestly functions or when a technological discovo ery,disintegrates a theological theory. A group of Animists in Java lost their gods a few years ago when a new seismographic station began to foretell and explain volcanic eruptions more accurately than the local holy man, The Diak people of Borneo lost their fear of and their belief in their forest gods when bulldozers razed the jungle. For some people, the study of a good theology of providence could have a similar effect. These people are experiencing secularization. In a similar way, many modern Christians first felt uncomfortable and then felt their faith questioned by a good church-history book, an accurate TV documentary, a skilled psychiatrist, two men on the moon, an old law proven pointless, a church authority found unworthy, a symbol disappear-ing or a culture collapsing~-all more or less the result of modernization. The resulting discomfort and questioning within the individual person, is close to the secularization-experience. It is an experience of no longer having one overall reference-point--a feeling of increasing disintegration. If you are experiencing that somehow God is withdrawing because religious explanations are increasingly less necessary, that the quantum of the secular is increasing at the expense of the sacred, that maybe~ God is now less necessary as a postulate for human living or that because of modern evidence your longheld experience of God is no longer a comfort-able one, you are probably undergoing the pressure of the secularization-experience. This is not a decisionnor even a desire to become an atheist; even if it could lead to it. Nor is it necessarily the result of "giving in" to materialism or to less-than-moral behavior, admitting, of course, that both of these can easily increase its momentum. If you are not undergoing the experience of secularization, then it is still important to uiaderstand it, because most of the peopl~ you are trying to evangelize, especially in the developed world, are probably experiencing it. It is from this fact that the present great missiological question arises--how announce the Good News of Jesus Christ to a secularized world? Moderni-zation and its result in secularization are now recognized as cultures, new cultures, ever-changing cultures and it is at this point that we recognize the The Vowed l_Jfe in a Secularized World / 165 break between faith and culture today. Thus for the modern person, secularization is a feelin~ of dissonance in .trying to hold together what is happening in the world and what the Bible seems to say about God's providence or what is often said in churches and what is taking place in real life around us. It results in discomfort with one's present experience of God. Any naive belief in the immediacy of God will be challenged .by secularization and modernity. Old fashioned god-words and some ecclesiastical jargon will appear increasingly irrelevant to sincere secularized persons everywhere. Secularization can be defined as the grad-ual disappearance of mythical and religious legitimations or explanations of society. Living with the ambiguities of the secularization-experience leads to a temptation to take refuge in fundamentalism which can be described as believing more and more in less and less in order to feel secure, or in agnosticism which is a lazy neither-nor ~land excusing one from the strug-gles, doubts and decisions which are part of any faith. Let us now try to analyze the challenge and opportunity which secularization offers the vowed life. The Vowed Life For the vowed life, secularization can be a deep call and a deep grace. Lumen Gentium calls us to enrich, challenge, encourage and stimulate the Church by our lives and our action (Par. 44). This is all the more reason why we must study, understand and give a gospel response to seculariza-tion, to a secularized world. Because secularization implies change at so many levels of human existence, we should recall that sociologists stress the vital importance of internal consistency for all groups in time of change. This internal consis-tency- our basic authenticity measured against what we claim to be--is now a matter of survival. Institutions which lack internal consistency are likdy to disappear in tim~s of rapid change, especially if their external image is also unclear. For these reasons, we who profess the vowed life must address the phenomenon and the grace of secularization. May I suggest that there are five areas where God might well be speaking to us in all this? ~ansmitting a New Integrating Presence of God Secularization, as we saw, forces us to find a new presence of God, a presence which permeates, integrates, energizes for action and which brings human and divine values into secular realities. Karl Rahner spoke of the vowed woman as having a profession which has no justification from the "166 / Review for :Religious, March-April, 1986 secular point of view even if she performs many useful secular tasks. What then might her iprofession and that of vowed men be? It is surely--as it always was--to give or rather to share with people their own experience of God. This is a demanding task; it demands that we each have such an experience first of all. We will have to pass on "so.mething which we have seen with our own eyes, that we have watched and touched with our own .hands" (1 Jn l:l'b) and it will be vital that "in Christ we speak as men of sincerity, as envoys of God and in God's presence" (2 Co 2:17), It seems to be a call to discover and lead in a new integrating mysticism as this quote from John Macquarie expresses: ¯ It is interesting to note that Bonhoeffer, though he advocated a 'worldly' Christia°nity, made it 'perfectly explicit that the kind of w0rldline~ss that he had in mind has nothing to do with the immersion in"material pursuits and enjoyments that we commonly associate with the "worldly' man. Bon-hoeffer makes a :statement that ought to be'pondered by those who invoke his support for a thoroughly secularized Christianity. He says: 'In Christ we are offered the possibility of partaking in the reality'of God and in the reality of the world, but not in the one without the other The reality of God discloses itself only by setting me entirely in the reality of the world, and when I encounter the reality of the world, it is always already sus-tained: accepted and reconciled in the reality of God.' There is a dialectic here that takes us beyond any naive world affirmation, just as it rules out any false religiosity. God,is met in the world, but the world is known in its reality only as Grd's world? Back in 1970, Karl Rahner wrote: Maybe we [he was addressing his own Society] ourselves have been super-f! cialized by the consumer society. Maybe we ourselves have not come to any original experience of God. Maybe we have not taken .the .trouble to let others participate in the mystical technique leading.to such an expe-rience. If all that is the case, we have of course, no alternative but to take refuge in a secular horizontalism which tries to interpret and live our own lives on the same level . The coming thing is the spiritual dimension, the experience of God, the taste of eternity no matte~ how valid our social involvement (with ~regard to which we have a terrible'lot to make up). The coming thing is sober peace, in face of all the absurdity of existence, the absurdity which no social involvement will spirit away. That rather bour-geois- chequered spirituality which was found--to outward appearances at least--in the orders before the first world war and which influenced reli-gious life too much~ may belong to the past and the young may say rightly that it is useless.from the start. But a new spirituality in religious life and in the Church will be assured of a real future. Whatever form this new spirituality will have, it must surely~be a very 7he Vowed life in a Secularized Worm personal "faith in the Son of God who loved me and who sacrificed himself for my sake" (Ga 2:20) and a very integrating one, enabling us to "bring everything together~ under Christ" (Ep 1:10). This--it seemsto me--is the most serious challenge which secularization puts to vowed communities today. Integration Through Reflection As we saw, one of the deepest effects of secularization is disintegration. There is no longer any one overarching human legitimation for the think-ing person today. We, even as vowed people, stand and struggle side by side with the modem person in loneliness, doubts, fears' and feelings of disinte-gration. We too are among the "new poor." The third world is closer to us than we think; it is inside our shirts especially if we have already chosen the still greater poverty of fundamentalism with iis moral, dogmatic and spirit-ual naivet6 and ~elitism. We are, however, expected to .stand with our fellow Christians in seren-ity and in a "peace which the world cannot give" (Jfi 14:27). We stand with them in a spirit of confidence too, as Jesus did with his disciples, when for him and for them everything seemed lost; "I have told you all this so that you may find peace in me. In the world you will have trouble, but be brave; I have overcome the world" (Jn 16:23). Only a life of prayer can discover and sustain this peace, this joy in the midst of a secularizing experience. Jesus led a busy life and had constant calls on his service, but we find the source of his power in the actual physical withdrawal, to be with God: "His reputation continued to grow and large crowds would gather to hear him and to have their sickness cured but ~he would always go away to some place to be alone and pray" (Lk 15:16). The form of prayer for today would seem to be what Macquarie calls "prayer as thinking";5 it is a prayer.which reflects on what God is doing in the world more than on what he,has done in scriptural times, without of course neglecting this latter. It is a praye~: which keeps our spiritual faculties alive. All reality, especially fast-changing or disintegrated reality~ is opaque and this is especially true in the m6dern world when ambiguity is part of life everywhere. We need to sharpen our spiritual eyesight to see what Bonhoffer described as the "holy depths" of.things and events. It is not so much a prayer "giving us time to refuel, but a prayer'which gives us increased awareness for better and deeper involvement and which motivates us for the human task of offering the world salvation from '~'everything that oppresses the.human person especially sin and the .evil one" (EN n. 9). Lest we ourselves succumb to the burnout of compulsive activity or the dropout of ceaseless seminars this life of "prayer as thinking" 1611/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 seems essential. . A long time ago, Christopher Dawson observed: "Men today are divided between those who have kept their spiritual roots and lost their contact with the existing order of society, and those who have preserved their social contacts and lost their spiritual roots." Could this be a descrip-tion of vowed persons today? Relativization of All Reality ~ I read somewhere that the Talmud says we will be held accountable to God for all the legitimate pleasures we have not enjoyed. When all this is said and dqne, there still remains the fact that so many of life's legitimate-- or even essential--pleasures are denied millions today, in even our devel-oped world. There also stands the fact that "we have not here a lasting city" (Heb 1:3:14) ahd that we possess only the certaintY of Christian hope: "We have a sure hope and the promise of an inheritance that can never be spoilt or soiled and never fade away because it is being kept for you in the heavens" (1 P 3:4). One part of our mission is to keep.Christian hope clearly before people and thus relativize reality, both good and evil. Secularization or not, the human person has a tendency to appropriate goods, material and spiritual, to hold them closely and even to be possessed by them. Our lives if they are lived in the simplicity and detachment which we .profess, will relativize the enjoyment or deprivation of material things and remind others that t.hey are to be shared: "Warn those who are rich in this world's goods, that they are not to look down on other people and not to set their hopes on money which is untrustworthy but on God, who out of his riches, gives us all that we need for our happiness. Tell them that they are to do good and be rich in good works, to be generous and willing to share"(l Tm 6:17,18). We can do this "telling" by our lifestyle, before we do it in words, the opportunity for which may never come our way. We also speak to the poor enabling them to relativize their desire for justice and to recall that while they struggle for their rights, there isan opportunity for growth in their poverty too. "Listen, my dear brothers, it was those who are poor accord, ing to the world that God chose to be rich in faith and to be heirs to the kingdom which he promised to those who love him" (Jm 2:5). Modernization has created so many who are enduring forced celibacy through broken marriages or infidelity and who are still avalanched by the media's sexual imperative. We can support these people even without speaking, because our lives experience the same yearnings and our minds are exposed to the same urgings and yet we struggle successfully on, with-out the assurance of genital involvement. But all this depends on our Vowed ~'fe in a Secularized World / 169 manifesting balanced and happy personalities, as people who have inte-grated their relationships and their sexuality in a healthy way. For secular-ized persons--many of whom suffer from confused psychosexuality--we can be supportive signs of survival and of fulfilled happiness through our lived celibacy. Individualism is a mark of the secularized person, coming very often as it does from hurt, insecurity and alienation. This can be so in our own communities too. The insecure person lives ambivalently between a desire to be accepted through cooperation and a fear of being dominated by submission. This is part of the disintegrating experience of modern life. If alienation is the pathology of our age, individualism is one of its clearest manifestations. By our vow of obedience lived out and seen not as "doing what one is told" but as discernment of what is best leadership in and through a caring community, we have much to say to the modern person about finding his or her own best expression of self in a confused world. It is even humanly true that "none of us is as wise as all of us." The secularized person, tempted to extreme individualism needs to rediscover this; for the good of ¯ families, local groups and for national and international survival, o Process.and Pilgrimage , It is clear that we vowed people will not be on the edge of the human experience of secularization and its consequential feeling of disintegration much longer. We share with men and women everywhere their search for stability and for lost certainties as the river of secularization tries to move all of us up, down and forward. To an extent, we found ourselves insulated from the human condition until recently, but no longer. Even if it were. not through necessity, we know that if we are to hold conversation with and to evangelize the world, we must pitch our tents within it; as God did. We must be prepared to pilgrimage our way once again and enter into the human process which we'should never have deserted. The fact that we accept this, will help so many others who find it difficult and who drop out into drugs or other forms of anomie and despair. Again, our vows lived authentically prepare us for the pilgrimage, ready us to keep moving, because we have publicly professed not to hold on, not to settle and not to be held. By our lived poverty, we refuse to be possessed by any material consideration and by our vows of chastity we also refuse to be possessed by ahy relationship. Obedience enables us to keep listening and looking at the map of moving events with eyes of faith and lbve. To quote Karl Rahner again from the same article: "The concrete future of Christianity, the Church and religious life remains largely hidden 17{I / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 from us . what historical and social form the Church and ecclesial Christianity will take in the future, remains largely hidden from us., we have to fight for victory without.a prognosis of victory" (p. 136). He was not° referring tothe effects of secularization at that time, but what he wrote is truer than ever now, and it puts us side by side and hopefully hand in hand with the modern man or woman as they endure the sec-ularization- experience. Interdependence and Involvement Our communities are not islands of isolated peace in a troubled uni-verse. No, they are sources from which we. emerge to makea more human and so a more godly world. Our vows enable us to do this; having freed us from, they also free usforLin a liberating way. ~',~ Our vow of poverty truly lived, makes us free for involvement. Because we have nothing to lose, we can carry the struggle for justice .further and when our lives are skilled in dispossession, we are not open to criticism from the rich~whose lives we question for the sake of the poor. Our good news for the poor has to be in some way perceived as bad news for the rich and they will readily point to any beam or bank account in our own lives if these are obvious. Only 'by relinquishing the power of possessions .can we demonstrate our competence to communicate freedom. Our vow of chastity makes us free to keep moving and to freely ask even our close friends: "Do you want to go away too?" (Jn 6:67). Again, we can take risks which married people with concern for their,families and for each other cannot be asked to take. Obedience, as we saw, offers us a freedom to live out a ,radar-like listening to God's word in the world around us. Truth comes only with listening :and discernment and these take. place best among a group of sharing people~ Obedience is .a public statement, that we bind ourselves to listen within and are missioned by a community through its leaders. This offers a model~for others to do the same in the Church. The quality of relationships and of concern for anyone at a distance suffers greatly in this time of disintegrative secularization, as each one looks to his or her own very personal success or survival. Nations do the same. This di-ama is, played out on a smaller scale every day in the average city too. Surely our communities have something important to say to people in this bleak situation. In our public interaction with one another° and for those who visit our communities,.the prayer ot~Jesus for his whole Church must tend towards .fulfillment: "_May they all be one, Father, may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you, so that the world may believe it was you who sent me" (.In 17:21). The Vowed Life in a Secularized Worm / 1.71 In' conclusion, I submit that we are approaching the ideal today, as we find the vowed life standing less at a point of comfortable distance from the world and more at a point of painful dialectic with it. At this point it must be ready to say a confirming yes or a challenging no--and do this by its life and activity--to all the results of secularization. To quote .the Anglican writer, Macquarie again: Here it must be said with regret that the trouble with some of our less responsible contemporary Christian secularizers is that they have taken up the ideal of holy worldliness, but seem to have promptly forgotten the adjective and reduced the ideal to a worldly concern tout court. They tell us that Christianity is a purely secular movement, their ideal of the good life seems scarcely distinguishable from the one that is so assiduously propagated by Madison Avenue, and the more extreme among them, in their horror at any supposed 'withdrawal' from the world, come near to advocating that the time has arrived to replace "poverty, chastity, and obedience with affluence, promiscuity, and autonomy as the highest goals for human life, or even as (he new evangelical counsels! The s!ogan for all this'is that w'e sho.uld 'say yes' to the world. But I do not think thata simple world affirmatioa will either help us to find God in the world or help the world to know his presence.6 - ~ Indeed, if we are to follow the words of Lumen Gentium, Chapter VI, par 44, the vowed life must say yes and no even to the Church itself. NOTES ~Facing Up to Moflernity, New York: Basic Books, 1977, 2John Macquarie, New Directions in Theology Today, Vol. III, p. 67, Philadelphia: 1981. 3"The Future of Religious Life" in Supplement to Doctrine and Life, Dublin: Domini-can l%_blications, May, 1972. 4The Greek' word anakephalasiosastai~is used in secular literature to express the con-ceptof many different ideas being subsumed under one theme. 5John Macquarie, Paths in Spirituality, Chapter 3, SCM Press, 1980, 6Op tit 2, p. 66. Vocation Ministry: Continuing the Invitation of Jesus Thomas E. Clark, ES.C. Brother Clark, Associate Vocation Director for the Chicago Province of the Christian Brothers, sees his work to be very much a ministry. This article is based on a presenta-tion he gave to the faculties of his congregation's schools in the Chicago area. He may be addressed at his .office: 200 De La Salle Drive; Romeoville, lllinois 60441. y ~vork 'as a full'time vocation minister for my community has often given me the opportunity to speak with young people, both individually and in groups, about the experience of being called by the Lord. My message to them is nearly identical to that of hundreds of other vocation ministers: each of us is called by God, each of us has a vocation, and it is up to each of us to discover what that vocation is. Onthe surface, the message seems clear, theologically sound, and understandable. However, what I have become aware of recently is th~at, in the two years I have been deliver-ing the message that each of us is called, the feeling with which I have been delivering that message has sometimes left something to be desired. Rather than offering a challenge to the young people with whbm I speak--a ch~allenge to discover a meaningful and significant way of living the Gospel ¯ in today's world--I've often felt that I am offering instead an apology for the choices I have made. It is as though the challenge of the Gospel might be just a little too naive for today's world, and to invite anyone to take it seriously may seem foolish and unrealistic. And even more foolish might be the invitation of young people to consider religious life and Church ministry as real options for themselves, ways of living out the Gospel challenge. I would certainly be out of touch with reality, I sometimes feel,-if I were to think that these people sitting in front of me--healthy, normal, 172 Vocation Ministry American young adults might consider religious life and Church ministry as serious-options for themselves. Thus when I speak with them, my invitation is sometimes clouded over with justifications ("I'm here today simply to make you aware of some choices I've made"), or sprinkled with "escape clauses" ("Any career you choose can be ministry"). The'underlying message, of course, is "I don't really expect you to consider any of these things for yourself." (In citing the above examples, of justification and "escape clauses," I do not mean to imply that there is no place in vocation ministry for "awareness education" or for a broad understanding of minis-try and community. On the contrary, these two approaches are essential to vocation ministry. They do not, however, constitute the whole of vocation ministry, and are sometimes used to avoid its more challenging aspect: that of invitation.) In speaking with a number of religious who are involved in vocation ministry, I have discovered that they, too, have much the same experience at times. Put simply, there are times when I do not believe there are any people who would be open to considering religious life as an option for themselves. Such an attitude is easily communicated to others, though it may not be directly stated,'and has the effect of turning away anyone who may consider religious life as a personal option. Further, a religious who holds such an attitude could never extend a confident and joyful invitation to an individual to consider religious life. It is my belief that such an attitude will keep religious not just from extending invitations to people to consider religious life, but on a deeper and more fundamental level, will keep us from fulfilling the responsibility we have to call people to build the kingdom of God. It is this invitation to the kingdom which is at the heart of vocation ministry, and which I wish to explore in more detail. In doing so, I shall consider several related topics: the model of invitation which Jesus gives us in the Gospels; vocation ministry as a means of living out that model; the philosophy of vocation ministry which has emerged in recent years; and finally, the challenge which we religious have been given in regard to vocation ministry. Jesus: Model of Invitation A simple perusal of the Gospels will show that Jesus had no hesitation about inviting peopl~ to follow him. His invitations are clear and concise. There is no misunderstanding what he means; the challenge is laid out on the table and nothing is hidden: Come after me and I will make you fishers of men (Mr 5:19). Follow me (Mr 9:9). Come and see (Jn 1:39). 1"/4/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 While such invitations may have been disarming or even~ unne ,rying to his listeners, it is difficult to imagine their being misunderstood. Jesus .has asked someone'to be his follower; it is as simple as that. ~ Neither does Jesus fail to make known to his followers his expe~ctations of them. In fact, his~requirements are so clear that~ sometimes they sound almost harsh. Whoever wishes to be my follower must deny his very self, thke Up his° '~ cross each day, and follow in my steps. Whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will save it (Lk 9:23-24). ~.Let the dead bury their dead; come away and proclaim the kingdom of God (Lk 9:60). The requirements of following Jesus are great. He knows this, and does not hide this frown those whom he invites. At the same time, the invitation is issued with a certain excitement stemming from urgency of the call as well as its promise: Tliis is the tim~ of fulfillment. The reign of God is at hand! Refo~-m ~our lives and believe in the Gospel! (Mk 1":5). Go a~d sell what you have and give to the poor; you will then have treasure in heaven. After that, come and follow me (Mk 10:21). This last invitation of Jesus was issued in response to the question of the rich young man, "What must I do to share in everlasting life?" (Mk 10".17). An.d it is here that we find out why Jesus issues the invitation t[iat he does: He knows everlasting life, and wants to share that with us. Again and again, Jesus promises us the kingdom and all that goes with it: fullness of life (Jn 10:10); complete joy (Jn 17:13); knowledge of th~ true God (Jn 17:3); the freedom of the truth (Jn 8:32); his own peace (Jn 14:27); the hundredfold and ~verlasting life (Mk 10:30). Jesus knows the k.ingdom and the gifts of the kingdom, and wants that experience for those to whom he has been sent. Herein we find the motivation behind his in~vitation, his c~all to take up the cross, [o sell all our possessions, to follow him. It is becaus~ he knows it will lead to the kingdom and everlasting lye,, arid he wants nothing less for us. It is love which has produced the clear, concise and even harsh invitation we find in the Gospel. With what kind of response .did Jesus' invitation meet? The Gospels sl~ow us pictures of every kind of response imaginable: Peter and Andrew "abandoned their nets and became his followers," as did James and John (Mt 4:20-22); Matthew left his post as tax collec~tor (Mt 9:9). The rich young man went away sad because of his many possessions (Mk 10:22). In a particularl~ poignant episode ~ecorded in John's gospel, Jesus' teaching leads many of his disciples to protest and ultimately to break away from his company. On seeing this, Jesus asks the Twelve if they, too, will leave him. Vocation Ministry / 175 Peter responds, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words :of eternal life" (Jn 6:60 ff.). Thus, the responses to Jesus' invitations are many and varied, for Jesus always allowed the individual to respond freely. What is evident, however, is that Jesus never stopped inviting, no matter what kind of response he met with. For Jesus, the important thing is that everyone be invited to follow him and to proclaim the kingdom. Negative responses, while disheartening, must not keep one from continuing to:issue the call, for all people deserve the opportunity to respond to the call. It is a matter of no :smalLsignificance, I believe, that the final words of Jesus in John's gospel are: "Follow me" (Jn 21:22). Continuing the Invitation: Vocation Ministry What does this never-ending invitation mean for us religio.us? What does it tell us, not only about our own response to Jesus' call, but about the mess-age we takb to the ~vorld? We have noted that Jesus' invitation flows from his expe~rience. He knows the Father, and the life that the Father gives~ Be.cause he knows, he Can ~nvite clearly, concisely and with authority. As men and women who have made life choices for the kingdom, and who have shared, at least in part, in the life of the kingdom, we too can invite others to embrace th~ kingdom. As men and women who have clearly chosen community and. ministry in the Church, we can invite others to conside~ community and ministry in the Chhrch as optionsfor.themselves. As men and women who have experieficed joy and. peace and life in these choices, as well as hardship and even pain, we can invite with the same confidence of Jesus, for we, too, know the burden and the gifts of the kingdom. In fact, Oot only can we continue to issue the invitation of Jesus, but in a certain sense, we have a responsibility to issue that invitation. !n a world where nuclear holocaust seems imminent, where starvation is the daily experience of millions, where poverty, unemployment and illiteracy a.re the lifestyle of whole ~egments of the world population.---in such a world, we who have been given the knowledge of the kingdom have a responsibility to call others to build that kingdom. In a world where people, especially young people, are searching for meaning and significance in their lives, where many live in confusion caused by crises of every kind, where whole societies are caught in the race for economic and political superiority--in such a world, we who have been promised the everlasting life of the kingdom have a responsibility to share that gift with this world. It is not that we .are holier o.r wiser than the rest of the world. Rather, we have been given the gift ~of a vision of how things can be. It is not our vision; it is God's vision that we have been given. And because we have 176/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 been given the vision, we must also bear theresponsibility--sometimes the burdgnsome responsibility--of calling others to God's vision. As religious, we have publicly proclaimed with joy and faith our desire to be a part of the kingdom, and that desire has been accepted joyfully by God. Now we must set ourselves to the task of inviting others, with our lives, to the ultimate meaning and significance which God's vision, the vision of the Kingdom, holds for the world. In the course of this lived invitation, we, like Jesus, must invite others clearly, concisely and directly to join us in bringing about God's vision for the world. We have the responsibility to say to people: "Sell all you have, give to the poor, and come away to proclaim the kingdom of God!" We must invite those with whom we work and pray and live to "Come and see" what we have seen. Like Jesus, our invitation will have authority if its motivation is love and its roots are found in our lived experien.ce. Thus, if we have found the meaning and significance of the kingdom in our religious commitment, in our community life, and in our ministry, then we must invlte others to that same experience. If religious life has been the context of God's kingdom for us, then we must invite others to consider that same context for themselves. We cannot deny others the opportunity that is ours, the gift we have been given in religious life. I believe that not to make others aware of this gift, not to speak of God's vision for us, and most importantly, not to invite others to consider this gift for themselves would constitute such a denial. I believe that vocation ministry if you will, the ministry of invitation and discovery--can be a powerful means of carrying on the invitation of Jesus. A Philosophy of ¥ootion Ministry Vocation ministry has emerged in recent years as a valid and accepted ministry in the ~Church. This emergence is due in large part to a new u~nderstanding of vocation ministry, an understanding which has its foun-dation in the model of 'invitation which Jesus provides in the Gospel. Unfortunateiy, this approach to vocation ministry is not' understood by many religious, and consequently keeps them from supporting the voca-tion efforts of their communities, and even more importantly, from involv-ing themselves in these efforts. As we have seen, vocation ministry, when considered as a ministry of invitation, is modeled by Jesus. But such an understanding of vocation ministry is relatively new. There was ~ time in the not too distant past (and which still e~xists today in some circles) when vocation ministry was consi-dered to be "recruitment," and the person who did this work was known as the "recruiter." This designation was appropriate at the time, for the person Vocation Ministry / 177 who served as a recruiter for a religious community attempted to find and enlist people, especially young peol~le, who seemed suitable for her or his particular community. The religious recruiter was searching for people to carry onthe work--the good work---of her or. his congregation. The job of the religious recruiter was similar to that of recruiters for the military, for schools or for corporations: namely, to ensure the continuance of the group's interests. The beneficiary of this process was the group and in 'the case of the religious recruiter, the beneficiary was her or his community and the people the community served. The term "recruitment" and the philosophy ~vhich it designates does not fit what Jesus does in the Gospels when he invites people to follow him. I believe that as the work of "recruitment" becomes more and more pat-terned after the model of invitation which Jesus provides, we need to call it by another name. It is at this point that we can begin to speak of "vocation ministry." The difference in language is reflective of the difference in philos-ophy and practice. It is, in fact, the difference between "recruitment and ministry," and it is shown in a new role for the person who does this work. This role is no longer one of serving primarily the needs of the congrega-tion, but is one of serving the needs of the people with whom the vocation minister works directly, the people whom she or he assists in discovering how and where and with whom the Lord calls them to build the kingdom. The priorities of the vocation minister have changed, from a focus on ensuring that the life of her or his congregation continues by enlisting people into the order, to a focus on ensuring that people discover who it is that God calls them to be. The agenda from which the vocation minister works has changed, from being primarily the order's agenda, to being primarily God's agenda. To some, such differentiation rhay seem too subtle to be of any impor-tance; .it may even seem like hairsplitting or word games. I believe, how-ever, that it is not too subtle, nor is =it hairsplitting, nor is it word games. For when looked at from the perspective of the person attempting to discern God's call, and especially the young person faced with fife-choices to make, there is a world of difference between the recruiter who wants that person to be a sister or brother or priest, and the minister who wants to help that person discover where God calls him or her to build the kingdom, where life will hold the most meaning for him or her, with no preconceived notion of where that might be. I contend further that, when considered from God's perspective, there is an ~ven more profound difference between "recruitment" and "ministry." It is the difference between the recruiter who believes that the continuance of her or his congregation is in the recruiter's hands, and that it is up to the recruiter to supply the needs of the order; and 1711 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 the minister.who trusts that God callg people to build his kingdom as sisters,, brothers, priests, married people and single people, and belieVes that her or his role is to act as Jesus did in inviting people to listen for God's .call and to act on it. Such a stand places the responsibility for supplying the needs of the order in God's hands, and~ recognizes the responsibility of the vocation minister and° the members of the congrega-tion to act as instruments-of his call by issuing the invitation to the kingdom. ~ Vocation ministry, and not recruitment, is the responsibility of every religious. It is a responsibility which stems not from fear for the future of religious life, but rather from the fact that each of us has been given a great and wonderful gift in religious life, a gift which must be shared with others. Our invitation to religious life is given in the context of the kingdom: because we have known the kingdom in our life and ministry with one another, we'invite others to that same experience. It is not recruitment for a particular order that vocation ministry is about; it is an invitation to nothing less than the kingdom of God that we,. as religious, must be about. The Challenge to Re!igious When vocation ministry is seen not as recruitment but as a ministry whose foundation is the model of invitation, which Jesus himself offers, an entirely new challenge is given to .religious. It is a challenge which brings about a n.ew set of questions: --Have I ~experien~ed the kingdom of"God? Where and with. whom was that experience~of the kingdom ? --Is the experience of living in religious community and doing Church ministry an experience of the kingdom for me? --Do I sense both the responsibility and the desire to share the king-dom with others by inviting them to build the kingdom? -~Am I willing to invite others to consider religious community and Church ministry as a way of building the kingdom, a way which has been life-giving and Satisfying for me? I believe that we religious can continue to invite others to join us i~n community and m~nistry. Some Of those whom we invite will join us; others will find another flay of building the. kingdom; still others~will go away sad. But vhatever the response, we can continue to invite, secure in the knowl-keidngged otmha~t,, tion wouhric rhe lwigei oinuvs i~teo mthmosiet mwehnotm, w we eh maveee tb. eOenu rg iinvveinta"ati osnh ai'sr.em iont it-he vated not by fear of the fu(ure, but rather by a sincere desire to share the gift we have been given, With joy ~and confidence we can coniinue to spe~k the invitation of Jesus: "Come away and proclaim the kingdom of God!" Gentle Exile: Reflections on Formation Mary Ellen Dougherty~ S.S.N.D. After a long stint in formation work for her community, Sister Dougherty has returned to the teaching of English. Sh.e may be addressed at The College of Notre Dame of Maryland; 4701 N. Charles Street; Baltimore, Maryland 21210. Shortly.before I finished a long term in formation work, I told myself that eventually I would write an article that might be of use to others in that ministry. I waited. I needed distance. After a year or so, subjectivity settled into uncertainty. I did not know what I wanted to say. Now, more than four years later, I think 1 do. ~ Initially, I would have commented on the characteristics of candidates currently interested in religious life, the inevitable challenges in dealing with them, and the necessity of both structure and latitude in a formation program. I would have talked about the generosity of young people in ministry, their ambivalence about vows. Now, however, I would like to focus on formation, personnel. 1 address my remarks especially to those who are in the work, and to those who .are considering it as ministry. In more than.eight ye~ars in this ministry, I worked, directly, in various team arrangements, with eight different directors. As director of novices, I participated, with the novices, in intercommunity programs in which directors shared on a regular basis. I speak, then, out of my own experience, and out of some ongoing reflections with at least two dozen directors, men and women. And I speak, still, tentatively. These are my insights now. In many ways I was nbt an effective director. In some ways I was. I have learned from both. I do not think there is a standard profile for a successful director~ There are countless variations on virtues that could be 179 1110/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 considered. Certainly a consistent attitude and practice of prayer, along with a keen mind and a clean heart, are essential. Inner freedom issuing from a clear depth of uncluttered spirituality is central. It is not my intention, however, to explore these here. That, perhaps, is another article. I would like, instead, to address three fundamental areas which, in practice, prove t.o be crucial: experience, affectivity, and integrity. Experience Age, I think, is only a factor for the director insofar as it permits experience. What one has done is not necessarily what one has experienced. To receive experiences of poverty, failure, darkness, in the light of grace, balanced with experiences of fulfillment and productivity, requires time; one must have lived long enough and well enough to know the inevitability of the rhythm, to expect the seasons to change. In that sense, age is important. It is not just what one has experienced, but what one has not experienced that should be consid~reff. One who has been given the time to live as well as the time to die, and has learned to receive both with equanimity, has lived long enough. And one who has not, should not be expected to deal with her own discoveries easily in the context of formation work. Events may always surprise us; the curr~nt of life should not. Affectivity I am not professionally equipped in terms of academic background t6 talk about the psychology of affectivity, or stages of affective development. My observations are purely practical: when the affective or relational life of a director is undeveloped or undernourished, there are generall~ relational problems with those she is directing; these are Often lodged in some variation of dependency, usually mutual. The director, from my observa-tions, usually takes the relationship more seriously, in the long run, than the candidate; the director seems to have some expectations of permanence, whereas the candidate, especially if she is young, is more than likely to tr~insfer her emotions rather quickly. There often is, however, some degree of mutual destruction. It is essential, 'then, that formation directors have the capacity for, and the activity of, peer relationships, that over the years they demonstrate an ability to interact in friendship with inutuality and absence of unwarranted dependency. The demands of formation work are constant and draining, especially if the director is living ~vith her directees. Candidates, especially younger ones, often exhibit a love-hate response toward authority. Unless the director has a belief in her own lovableness, created by a deep personal sense of God, and the experience of significant peer relationships over the years, she can be quickly undone. So can those Gentle Exile / 1111 she directs. Oia the other hand, a director who has a variety of relationships, and who is secure in at least a few of them, is not likely to need her directees. She may, over the months or the years, develop some friendships among them, but these will be a matter of choice, not of necessity. Integrity, Given a person who has lived long enough and loved hard enough, we come to the point of integrity, which I use in a limited sense here. I speak only of that dimension of integrity which enables one to experience some independent clarity about the truth, and to be faithful to it in spite of opposition. It is not my intention to suggest moral judgments. Like many people in positions of authority, formation directors must be able, if necessary, to stand alone. They must be capable of making and living out graced decisions which may create great conflict. And they must be as capable of independent thinking as, they are of consultation. A director who is not comfortable thinking for herself, who relies too heavily on approval and too little, on her own graced instincts, is usually transparent to her directees; wittingly or unwittingly, they may use her. While the need for dialogue, for collaboration, for consensus cannot be overstated, neither can the need for slow, clear, independent decisions that begin in the deepest level of self, where, in the face of opposition, integrity, a matter of grace, becomes a manifestation of courage. When all is said and done, it is fidelity (or infidelity) to the graced self with whom one must live. There is nothing new under the sun. The ability to receive experience and to let it become wisdom; the calbacity to love and to be loved without ownership; the self-possession and the faith to risk a gentle (or not so gentle) exile--these are characteristic of any authority who claims Jesus as her source. If formation work is anything, it is daily. If anyone needs Jesus as her source, a formation director does. Working with the Young Adult with Temporary Vows Vito Aresto, EM. S._ Brother Aresto is Vice Provincial and .Director of Formation for,the Poughkeepsie (NY) Province of the Marist Brothers. Heohas been ,working with brothers under temporary profession for more than six years. He may be addressed at his Vice-Pro-vincial Office: 4200 W. l i5th Street; Chicago, Illinois 60655. Much has been written over the last several years about_the conditions and problems of the yoeng adult within formation programs of, religious life. Since many of the young people who come seeking this new lifestyle come after years 9f college or work experience, formation directors are finding that the traditionally tried and true methods, of formation~seem to contain significant gaps when dealing with this new kind of person. The problem becomes even more complicated when the young person is in t~emporary vows. In this paper I would like to delve into some of the significant areas that have emerged in my working with our temporary professed. For the most part they are young men who have achieved rather comfortable recogni-tion professionally. They have taken their first vows in their middle twen-ties and look forward to years of growth and service within religious life. Final profession comes somewhere around age thirty. Developmental psychology has examined this period of growth young adulthood with great earnestness. Clearly, it is being recggnized that as life develops it confronts, struggles, and tackles successive issues in life's fabric and resolves them only to move forward to confront still newer issues towards growth. Such progress is noted as maturation, growing in one's potential, developing into a full human person. ~Vorking with the Young Adult . When the issues of spirituality are overlayed upon this rich process, we begin to see something of the concept of conversion. Obviously, when one begins to probe conversion, there is a point where even the best of the social sciences"pales before the mystery of faith: But nonetheless, we can learn much about growth and developmenL particularly in the struggles of a young adult who is attempting to find his or her place within a religious .family. This unfolding of life's grandeur and mystery is not at all easy. It can never be pain free if it is authentic. For the formation personnel working with young religious a good grasp of this process is obviously needed. Crisis needs to be viewed as part of the human drama, and neither .overstated nor underplayed. Rather the formation director can be a calming influence for~ individuals as they probe the' issues and unravel a course of action. In this light it is also very important to note that the director ~should be very comfortable with assisting the young adult to tap into such helping services as therapy or spiritual direction. It is important to realize that the varying issues which emerge are not all vocational conflicts. Rather some very necessary growing-pain situations may be interpreted as "vocational,' which in actual fact are merely struggles with growth issues. At other times personal,life issues may be confused as stress issues needing therapy, but are deeply vocational. Finally, there may be.a blend of both. It is the task of the formatioh director .as calming influence to help the young person wade through the issues, and recognize where they lie. In naming the dil~.~a, the course.to resolution becomes less threatening. For most young religious the transition from novitiate life to active ministry carries with it some straining adjustments. There is a great differ, ence between accepting the need to integrate the essential elements of reli-gious life and actually attempting to do so. This strain to interpret and realize the ideal can either bring about growth in young persons, or have them develop a selective sense which, ma~y in the long run distort growth. Each person must face honestly that the balance of the essential elements of the religious life structure cannot be merely put aside for some personal notion of the greater good. In the long run true growth for the young religious only takes place in confronting each aspect of vowed life as important, and then developing a proper rhythm for themselves. Fidelity to their vowed commitment must be presented as their primary work, By doing this they will be realistic in discerning this lifestyle within their congregation and how it truly fits into their own needs ~ind response to the Lord and his people. This approach, one that asks young persons not to compromise any aspect of their vowed commitment, even when faced with the tremendous 11t4 / Review for Religi~ous, March.April, 1986 pressures of the varying adjustments of prayer, community and apostolate, is utterly honest in recognizing and treating religious as adults. The fact remains that as they unravel their dreams and expectationsi they must also be totally immersed in what actually is the life they now share in their new religious family. This task can become even more burdensome as the young religious begin to recognize and feel the depth of confusion, and even sinfulness within their chosen religious family. Yet, within this sobering reality one fundamental task for.the temporary professed religious is to come to real-ize whether their dreams can be honestly integrated within this particular congregation. If this cannot be done then an honest and courageous act would be to depart. The Lord is not asking anyone to surrender his or her dreams, nor is he asking the impossible in great and massive adjustments to what a person holds sacred to the purpose and direction in life. It becomes the task of the formation director to help and accompany the young religious in this discerning process. But the director should never water down or compromise in the name of charity what he or she knows are realities incompatible to the values and goals of the congregation. Furthermore, the director must a.lways make the distinction between fidel-ity to a lifestyle and fidelity to the Lord. The young must come to realize that commitment to Jesus as their Lord can be lived in all the genuine forms and calls to holiness within the Church. Hopefully, the novitiate process has solidly grounded these young persons in their commitment to Jesus. Temporary vows must focus on the parameters of this particular religious family and charism as one valid and true means towards holiness for this young religious. Therefore, a truly respectful and, honest relationship must exist between the formation direc-tor and the young religious so that.real growth and integrity can develop. It is of paramount importance then, that the young,~religious' dreams must be found to be possible in the congregation they have chosen to enter. This is not only vitally important for the growth and development of the young religious, it is also vital for the growth and development of the congregation. The life given to this young religious by God is also a gift of life for all the members of the congregation. When such interaction is in process a certain sense of peace and purpose prevail. When it is. not present one readily begins to sense and hear bitterness, sarcasm, and resentment., Understanding the vital need of a dream in a young religious' life must therefore be one of the important areas into which a director must examine and explore. The novitiate will set up ideals that are solidly grounded in spiritual and scriptural foundations, but these ideals will not be realized except in the attempt at the actual riving out of community within, a local Working with the Young Adult / 1115 setting. It must be realized that each local community is itself struggling to unravel the full meaning and purpose of its shared life direction. Although young religious may leave the novitiate in full recognition that life is a process of growth and integration, it will only be in the experience of community that they will begin to understand the journey with their broth-ers or sisters that they have begun. Therefore, understanding the dreams and also knowing deeply the real struggles of this religious family is a task that each formation director must grasp when dealing with temporary professed. Ultimately, the focus must be turned completely on the Lord. He must remain the very purpose and intention of the young religious. Service will only .spring from the well of deep commitment to the Lord who loved all people even, unto death. More times than not, the young religious' grasp of the importance of intimacy is also wrapped up in their understanding of their dream. They do not enter religious life accepting the fact that there will be little or no intimate relationships in their lives. Obviously, religious life does afford the opportunities for a rich relational life; but that can only come through the struggle of integrating the vows in the light of each one's intimate relational needs. For young religious who must deal with this issue through the maze of the various transitional periods of growth, the very issue of intimacy can become pivotal to successful integration, and thus to peace within this chosen lifestyle. The movement towards dealing with one's~relational life also has impli-cations for community and ministerial life. In community this can expand one's depth of compassion, and in ministry it can help focus one's work beyond the notion of career to an expression of the Lord's service con-tinued through his Church. Each step of this awareness will heighten the young religious' recognition that he or she has truly been called by Another. Gradually imprinted upon the life and work of each young reli-gious is the paschal ,mystery, each one's transformation into Christ. The weathering of growth issues can therefore be the seed for a deepening of vocational understanding that is not only personal but intimate with the Lord. As young religious move closer to their thirtieth year there is to be noted a very subtle but careful evaluation taking place. Some significant issues have emerged and been confronted. The young religious also begin to recognize.that all the aspects of their dreams and aspirations may not be completely realized. They begin to feel, and not merely know, the implica-tions of being chaste and obedient. The cultural values of their society, with its push towards success, ambition, and recognition weigh on their poverty. Ultimately, as final commitment approaches, so does the trauma of the 186 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 "second calling." It is at this moment that the formation director must gently accompany~the young religious. The time for mentofing has ended. It becomes important that unconditional acceptance pervade the whole relationship, If the journey through those years of temporary vows has been honest and rich in successful and mature handling of life issues, then the response to this second calling--a permanent commitment to the Lord within this congregation--will~ be made with the totality possible to this young adult. Fundamentally, as one accompanies young adults~through their initial years of religious commitment, one quickly realizes that formation is.lrela-tional growth. The young religious come eager to respond to the Lord~. Their response has been wrapped and colored within their dreams of Ltheir future life and ministry. Novitiate naturally assists in a solid grounding and underpinning, but it°is not until there is full immersion in the daily routine of life in common and in ministry that they begin to confront and grow within their religious commitment. For the formation director the journey of this pilgrimage is one of trust and love. Ultimately, the individual must come to a sense of'personal peace. This peace is only born in the honest relational growth between each individual and the Lord, between the individual and his or her brothers or sisters, and the individual and the people they are sent to work with and serve. This peace should become the full flowering of a love that rests solidly on the motivation and direction of a life-decision made to the Lord and his people, within this special band of disciples that he or she chose for a religious family. '~ Reflectively, we can turn to Jesus as the model for the formation director who works' with young adults. Particularly is this so if we. focus upon his dealings with Peter. Here we note the care and compassion that must be evidenced by the director. For three years Jesus guided, taught and challenged Peter. These lessons werenot ~beyond the scope of correction and prodding, but they were also done in sincere and tender cbncern. And yet when the supreme :momefit for Jesus arrived, his hour of glory, Peter was still unaware of the magnitude of Jesus' mission. Much like the novice who enters first profession, Peter needed to continue to grow and ~be challenged, even in the darkness of near despair. It was not until the depth of his relationship with the Lord was securely grounded that Peter was ready to shepherd. Only then did he fully comprehend the-initial call that was repeated in the marvelous second calling at the end of John's gospel, "Do you love me? . Come, follow me!" Strangely enough in that rich relational bond between Peter and the Lord did his fondest dreams become rei~l. He no longer needed~io hold Working with the Young Adult / 187 tightly to privilege or rank. Now he no longer saw himself as solely the "rock," but rather could he challenge all that he shepherded to be "living stones," part of the "edifice" of the Lord and his Church. He understood clearly all that was needed to continue the process of growth, a journey into wholeness and holiness. For the young religious the journey is similar. The director must guide and accompany them so that the echo of the initial call of the Lord can be profoundly realized and incorporated into the very identity and dreams of these young persons. Permanent commitment becomes a full expression of a relationship that is central to their meaning and purpose. Christ the Center of Our Vowed Life by" ~Boniface Ramsey, O.P. Father Ramsey's three articles on .,the vows of religion are available as a single reprint: i - The Center of Religious Poverty ii - Christocentric Celibacy iii - Cru~ciform Obedience Price: $1.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review ~or Religious Rm 428 ~3601 Lindell Blvd. St: Louis, Missouri 63108 Commitment in a Religious Order: A Sociological View Joseph C. Doyle Dr. Doyle teaches at Seton Hall University (South Orange Ave; South Orange, Neff Jersey 07079), where he may be addressed. There is a special quality about people who are committed to something, whether it be to another person, a group, an organization, a career, or an idea. That quality can be captured by such words as "loyalty," "allegiance," or "steadfastness." For to be committed is to be involved in a relationship which has priority in one's life over alternative relationships or only one-self. This does not mean that a person's other involvements are ignored bu.t only that when push comes to shove this relationship has singular importance. Obviously, this is a key feature of religious life, for the purpose of religious orders is to foster growth in each member's commitment to Christ. In fact, it has often been assumed, both by people within and without such institutions, that this is the sole ~ocus of the members' ~om-mitments-- that they "have the faith." In the past fifteen years or so, how-ever, the large scale exodus of members from the various forms of religious life has raised serious questions in many quarters concerning this one dimensional view of religious commitment. In particular, such authors as ~Marie Augusta Neal,~ Helen Ebaugh,2 Lucinda San Giovanni,3 Richard Schoenhern and Andrew Greeley,4 and Patricia Wittberg5 have all attemp-ted to shed a social scientific light on some of these questions. This paper is meant to be a reflection on some themes developed out of this tradition. It will attempt to present the results of some findings gleaned 188 Commitment in a Religious Order / 1119 from interviews with twenty women involved in a religious order in the eastern United States. Its major interest will be the way commitment in religious life passes through different forms, forms which seem to be affected by the kinds oof structures established by religious orders and by the way their members respond to these structures. It is, of course, danger-ous to generalize from a group 6f this size. Thus, the following remarks should be read as an'effort to explore some pertinent issues in the quality of commitment rhther than to offer a definitive statement on these issues. I. Sociology and Commitment Because this paper relies upon insights developed in sociology, perhaps it would be helpful to first briefly explain some key sociological ideas concerning commitment before delving into the material from the in/er-views. Over the past thirty years or so, sociology has developed a number of concepts for dealing with the experience of commitment. By and large, these ideas are rooted in the perspective that c6mrnitment is the result of certain ,mechanisms operating in groups or organizations that mold indi-viduals into loyal members. Thus; the primary attention is on how these social factors operate to produce a committed person. One of the more prominent efforts in this field can be found in the work of Rosabeth Kanter, particularly in her book Commitment and Community.6 While the analysis that follows utilizes these insights, it also attempts to show how individual members of a religious order responded to these forces and tried to grow beyond them. Kanter views commitment in terms of three interrelated dimensions: instrumental, affe.ctive.and moral. In addition, each of these dimensions is the result of a set of factors bY which a community leads its novices into full membership. By instrumental commitment Kanter means a felt attachment to a social role that is more rewarding or less costly than the roles outside of the community. In this kind of commitment the person wants to live up to the behavioral expectations that others in the community have of him or her. This attachm~ent is achieved, according to Kanter, by having the novice undergo experiences ,whereby the individual has to invest her time and energy in doing the work of the community and to sacrifice her own possessions on behalf of the community. In this way the person finds himself or herself wanting to remain because of all that has been expended ¯ in the effort to achieve full membership. As Kanter puts it: When profits and costs are considered, participants find the cost of leaving the system would be greater than the cost of remaining; "profit," in a net psychic sense, compels continual part;_cipation.7 190/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 By affective commitment Kanter means an attachment to a set of relationships whose ties are more gratifying than the ties with .alternative relationships. To find a particular,~set of relatio, nships more gratifying than others means recognizing that set as the,primary source of. affection and support in one's life. This dimension is realized by having novice members renounc6 all previous ties of affection as being primary for them and by involving them in communal activities with members of th~eir group. In these ways the new participant comes to develop emotional ties with these others and a cohesive bond develops amongst them. Finally, by moral or normative commitment'Kanter means an alle-giance to the values and norms of the community and a willingness to obey the authority structure of the community as the ultimate interpreter of those norms and .values. However, this allegiance doesonot necessarily develop after a careful evaluation of these norms and structures. Instead, Kanter sees this dimension arising from a set of beliefs and values that have been internalized in an often irrational or unc_ritical way. In Some respects, commitment to norms and values resembles the concept of superego, which binds the evaluative components bf the self t6 norms of a system through an internalized authority.8 The moral commitment of members is achieved, Kanter notes, by techniques that encourage novices to'deny significance to their own ideas and desires and to place their trust more in the community than 'in them-selves. Thus, new members come to see the way of life of the coinmunity as more meaningful than that of competing alternatives. This sociological view of commitment may, at first sight, be rather upsetting to people who form a community in order "to ddepen their rela-~ tionship with God. '-I Would suggest that this reaction is a rather well-founded one. For what sociology has uncovered, and what many of the" religious women 1 interviewed realized after being in their order for a few years, is that there can be a very real difference between commitment to God and commitment to a religious organization. For this latter institution attempts to offer its members a way to God, but lhis "way" is embodied in historically realized rules, procedures;practices and customs that can often become ends in themselves in the minds and hearts of these members. The sociological point, of course, is that a religiouscommunity hasto empha-size these aspects if it is going to survive and so it has to foster commitment to them. Naturally, a religious institution hopes that its" members will develop spiritually by such practices, and many have done so. Nevertheless, as the' following analysis will show, the danger can also be that the corn= mitment does not get beyond these dimensions. How that can'happen and what can be done about it are the concerns of the rest of this paper. Commitment in a Religious Order / "191 II. A Sociology of Commitment in Religious Life A. Internalizing a Theme ~ The model of commitment presented by Kanter can be a useful tool for interpreting the experiences of the twenty women I interviewed. While these women all came from the same order, they varied as far as age (32-63), length of time in the order (9 years to over 40 years), and the kind of positions they held at the time of the interview (teaching, pastoral and the central administration of the order). Nevertheless, they all described their early years in religious life in ways that can b~e captured by Kanter's categories. 1: Internalizing the Instrumental Dimension One of the interesting findings of these interviews was that many of the nuns felt that the years taken up by their training were preoccupied with the proper performance of their duties, with what they called "the externals." In Kanter's terminology they were committed to the role of a religious person. She claims that it is possible for a person just to behave in a committed way, i:e., remain in the group but not necessarily care about the ideals or values of that group.9 While she'herself did not think that this was a full commitment, she did seeit as a possibility. When the nrns were asked about significant changes in their lives, one of the events frequently brought up was when they recognized that they had been caught up in the mere activity of being a nun. For example: when I came to religious hfe I switched to the externals because that is what I thought I was supposed to do and that was what was always talked about., how you dressed, how you performed this and how you did your chores, but I wasn't co~mfortable with that. When we first entered, the activities were important as you grow into being a member of the community. I think at some point you get caught up in the reception of the habit., that is a big day in your life., and you try to act like the pdrfect nun and" that sort of thing. ~ In addition to acting out the role of a reli~gious woman, many of the respondents reported recognizing, a period in their lives when their minis-try, or more pr.ecisel3~, their work, was mrre important to them than any other dimension. Years ago, I guess I was work-oriented and it was the thing that people saw. And the thing I could let go of was my prayer life because no one ever saw that and I wasn't accountable for it. I cou.ld go to confession and say I didn't haeditate that week and that wruld t~ike care of the guilt part. But I never made ~ny cofinectionJwith the rest of iny life. 192 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 As these quotes indicate, the focus on minist.ry and on the proper fulfillment of the "externals" of the religious role were the dimensions to which most of these women became initially committed. ,And, for some of these sisters, the ministry remained central for them well beyond the period of their training. However, while this was a key feature of religious life for many of these women, they eventually began to question the validity of this preoccupa-tion, and for some this orientation is no longer dominant in their lives. 2. Internalizing the Affective Dimension Kanter's second type of commitment was also evident at an early stage of the nun's training. For some of these women, this. involvement in community life coincided with their involvement in ministry. What did you think you were committing yourself to at that~time? I thought I was committing myself to ministry and to community life but not to a deep personal prayer life. I was still struggling with thaIt t.r.i.e. d to take time for it but more often than not, that got pushed aside. What was there about ministry and community life that made you want to commit yourself?. I just" saw goo~d in it. I saw myself functioning very well in it, being comfortable in it, not having any kind of desire not to be there. Some of the other nuns, however, found that a focus on community followed, in time, a commitment to ministry, and sometimes the tension between ministry and community would be resolved in favor of community¯ , ¯. I consider myselfa community-minded person; for whatever reason, ~ prefer working within the community., like coming to the infirmary and working right here with our sisters. I was more than happy todo that. I didn't find myself looking to go really outside of the community. (I. Why was that~ Well, I guess in that it's doing for my own sisters, primarily, rather than people on the outside¯ You are doing the same kind of thing but for whatever reason my preference would be my sisters first. Thus, while ministry may be seen as rewarding, by itself it does not suffice. For this woman and for others, it was and still is a matter of the emotional bond one has with the group with whom she rhinisters that is crucial. Where ministry can be judged in terms of rewards and costs, more non-rational considerations have to be used to judge the relationships one has with others. However, ~s was seen in the discussion of instrumental commitment, this affective dimension did not r6main as dominant for all the nuns. As the following quote suggests, this orientation is no longer as crucial as it once was. Commitment in a Religious Order / 1~ ¯ I really don't know how we remained faithful then. I'm sure if it was another type of community, I don't know, maybe it's because we're more of a family, you know, we feel for one another, um, and that was always our sister, and if you didn't hang in there because your superiors were no good, you'd hang in there because your friends were there. Your commitment to them kind of seemed important to you. 3. Internalizing the Normative Dimension Finally, the third of Kanter's types of commitment was also a focus of allegiance for most of the women during their training. This is particularly obvious in the way many of them had accepted the authority of their superiors during that period. ¯. 1 never felt pressured or stepped on or however people fed. I never felt that. I guess as I entered community it was something I wanted to do. or the Lord called me to do, so I did what I was supposed to do . However, while there were nuns who were very compliant, some found themselves questioning the purpose behind some of the orders. For them, willing obedience was built on an obedience motivated by a fear of being dismissed. Were there people in your class who questioned a lot? Yes, they are no longer here. In novitiate I was very docile. I was probably stupid. If they told me tO do it, I did it because if you didn't do it, they were going to send you home. ~. So you did it out of fear more than anything else. Yes. Yet I liked the days of formation and everything else, but if they said do it, I did it; and when we did it and thought it was crazy, we Used to laugh about it, but we still did it.°, there was no heart in it or anything like that, but we did it to shut them up and get them off our backs. Whether this emphasis on atithority and obedience was complied with willingly or out of fear, it had a dual effect in the training period: it seemed to focus attention on role conformity or the "externals," as was seen before, and it created a sense of dependency on the leadership of the community in many of these women. But in the minds of some Of the nuns, this would often translate into valuing obedience to the rules 'over the needs encountered in one's ministry. Let's say the mother of one of the children was pregnant and her husband had just kicked her in the stomach and kicked her downstairs, and she came to me after ~chool, as did happen once, and when I tried to share with her and show her a little sympathy, I got in trouble because I stayed over in school even though it was that type of thing. I didn't mind getting into trouble, but ! just couldn't understand that whole thing. And in those 1~ / Review for Religious, March-ApriL 1986 days, if she came again, I would probably say "I can't see you," thinking that obedience was the greater thing at that time~ While some of the evidence suggests that many of the nuns interpreted this dependency on authority as something they have left'behind, this is not so for all of them. Even with the much publicized changes in convent life, with the "loosening up of the structures," the importance of the normative dimension of commitment still comes through for many of them. As this following quote demonstrates, however, it is internalized dependency: The change that has been significant has been in the individual being responsible for he~'self. We still have in our community superiors in our local convents. However~ the emphasis has been on individuals being responsible for themselves, for the cbmmitment that they have made, for' living according to the rules and the constitution, for keeping the vows . B. l/ariations on a Theme . ~ Hopefully, the preceding exploration has shown that the women I interviewed responded to the demands made upon them in their formation years in the convent .in ways that the order wanted them to respond. In effect, they internalized the theme of religious life espoused by their order. This, of course, is not to pass judgment on the sincerity of intention of any of these women or on the integrity of those tesponsible~for their training. It is instead to recognize what most of these sisters have realized and what Kanter's model of commitment can help us to see: religious commitment is more than simply doing religious things. When attention is concentrated on the activity of being religious without an ~ffort at helpi~ng the novice to discern the place of these activities in an overall lifestyle, then the only result will be religious conformity and a commitment to the means established to realize a life in Christ rather than to that life itself. However, as many of the above quotes intimated, the story of the commitments of these women does not end in mere conformity. Most of the nuns found that by the time of their final vows or in the five years or so after final profession, t.hey had begun the process of perso~nalizing many of the practices they had learned. This effort at personalization took one of two forms: varying the order's style of religious life to meet o~ne's own personality and characteristics, or creating a style of religious life that was in keeping with the core values of that lii~ but no longer was solely modeled on their order's particular historical interpretation of those values. I would now like to explore the first of the~e responses which I will call "variant commitments." In the third pai't of this paper, I will examine the second form.- The term "variant commitment", refers to a more reflective response to 'Commitment in a Religious Order the demands of convent life than the conformist response did. The idea for it comes from another sociologist named Robert Merton.~0 Writing in a different context (but, nevertheless, in one that is still applicable to our purposes), Merton referred to people who were sensitive to the demands of their institutions but were willing to test some of the limits of those demands. He had in mind men of science like Pasteur or Einstein who were committed to the goals of science but who engaged in the kind of research that resulted in new ways of conceiving the world around us. In a similar way, many of the nuns I interviewed were very much committed t9 the goals of their order, but they were also involved in efforts to alter its style of religious living. Where their training had taught them to exhibit routine adaptations to the expectations of the order, they later became more willing to modify these demands while still remaining within the normative character of the community. By briefly looking at some examples of these variant responses in the light of Kanter's model, it will. be possible to show concretely the kind of changes that took place in these women, 1. Variations on the Instrumental Theme It will be recalled that in this dimension of commitment members involved themselves in the performance of those activities that hdped maintain the community as an ongoing entity. In religious life, one of the more important of these role expectations was a faithful participation in the liturgy. For sisters in training the ordinary round of prayer activities became part of the behavior of the "ideal" nun. By the time of final vows, these activities had become second nature to them. Following the Second Vatican Council, however, the order began to loosen its rather rigid structure, and local convents wer9 allowed to establish their own format for commu.nal prayers. This usually involved a group decision concerning the times to be set aside, as well as the particular style the prayer activities would take. In addition, there was also the expectation that individual sisters would develop their own schedul~ and forms for their personal prayer life. Thus, new regulations were made which allowed for more decentralized variation and individual freedom in fulfillment of the order's goal to develop prayerful sisters. The result of these reforms appears to be a more conscious involvement on the part of most of the nuns in this dimension of their lives: The .emphasis, I think, in the younger days was not on my personal religious or spiritual development, as much as it is now., the job is important but the prayer part of it is more important. Ifa decision was to be made that I would have to give up my prayer life to be an 1~ / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 administrator, I think I would give up the administrator part. I'm sure years ago I couldn't have said that. I'm going into my fifth year here, and I was very nervous coming here because I had heard about their prayer life~ But it's really been good. It's more spontaneous than at other places. Like we do the reading of the day, and then we share with each other what they are saying to us or one of us will give a homily. As these quotes indicate, within the overall values of communal and personal prayer, the nuns have sought to fashion attitudes and practices that reflect a more conscious appreciation for these features than was true in their earlier days. This consciousness in some cases was an attitudinal shift, such as the rededication of oneself to a life of prayer;'or in other instances, it was a greater willingness to participate in a variation of public prayer that had not been tried before. In'both examples though, a shift to a more reflective response is evident, and this allows for personal and local variations of a communal expectation. 2. Variations on the Affective Theme The second area of religious life to which most of the nuns can be said to have been reflectively responding is the communal dimension. On both a formal and an informal basis, it is expected that the members will participate in the affairs and functions of the community and that this group will be primary in each person's life. In the period before the Vatican Council, these expectations usually meant a high degree of uniformity among the order's members. In the years following the Council, they frequently have involved rather innovative attempts to develop a greater sense of camaraderie among local community members. This can be seen in the following instances which suggest a changing vision of the meaning of community and a willingness to put into actual practice what some have only been able to dream about. What is your vision of community? I would like it more personal, um, with small groups where there is sharing not only of your work but of your basic spirituality, your vision, and maybe with people that you could work it out with so that your vision could: become a reality. I think the great disillusionment with religious life is that your vision remains a vision and there's not too many to share that vision. We were pioneers. My first year in grad school and after that we lived in a convent and commuted to school. We used to pray together and just try to share our lives. We could do creative things like alternative prayer styles and a lot of sharing about community and about the Lord. Commitment in a Religious Order Of course, not all the women in the group were as originally so enthusiastic about this new style, as the above excerpts may suggest. Nevertheless, those who have tried it have overcome their initial restraint and now see it'as a more beneficial way of living than the older style. Once again, a relaxation of rather rigid structures has allowed for a greater amount of reflective expression and thus for the introduction of alternative approaches to a goal of the order. 3. l/'ariations on the Normative Theme The final dimension that exhibits the effects of a more reflective response to religious life concerns the commitment to the norms and values of the community. According to Kanter this commitment is demonstrated in the supportive attitudes members have toward those in authority and toward the ideology of the group. One of the areas in convent life where an important shift in this dimension has occurred is in the vow of obedience. In the days when the nuns I interviewed first entered and until quite recently, obedience to the "Will of God" meant, in fact, concrete submis-sion to what the s,uperiors interpreted what that "Will" was. Today, this submissiveness, while still expected on a daily practical level, is somewhat tempered by the recognition, in their order's rule, that all the sisters share a genuine responsibility for th6 goals of the community. This basically seems to mean that the individu~il sisters are left alone to freely do what is expected of them rather than have a local superior enforcing each of the rules. Naturally, such a situ~ttion leaves room for individual variation, both attitudinally ahd behaviorally. I guess my attitude is that this is not somebody or something imposing on me, or the constitution saying I have to do it, or I feel that my superior is going to say that you are not doing this or that. There are days, for exahaple, when I don't spend much time in prayer at all for one reason ~or another, because it's ministry, or I'm getting in at midnight and I can't function the next day. But ifI don't do it for a couple of days, I know it and I really.have to say, I have todo it tonight regardless of what else turns up, so that it becomes a priority. I think it puts more responsibility on the individuals for their own lives. Ten years ago the superior was saying no, you may not go. I think it places more responsibility on the individual not to maybe abuse missing prayers or Mass or house meetings or meals . . . there is a little more freedom and people are more relaxed . , . to be more responsible for themselves. As these quotes indicate, members are freer to interpret when a particu-lar rule should be obeyed and when it should not. Of course, this does not i911 ] Review for Religious, March.April, 1986 mean that they can or would do whatever they please with no sense of normative .obligation, Thus, the conscious choice on the part ~of~the member is to decide when there are legitimate exceptions to a given rule and toact on those exceptions. In the long run, however, the orientation of the nuns is to the normative expectations of the order. - ~ C. Creating a Theme Hopefully, the previous section has shown that the story of the com-mitments of the twenty women I interviewed took a new turn in the years after their final vows. Because of the changes in the formal structures of the order, these nuns were able to move from a rather conformist-oriented appioach to religio.us life to an approach that reflected more of each individual's perso~nality and needs. However, while this newer style was more personalistic than before, it still was within the definition of religious life as formulated by the order. Thus, it is still possible for members to be committed to the instrumental, affective, and moral dimensions of their community (albeit, in their contemporary forms) rather than to the com-munity's underlying purpose, i.e., to one's life in Christ. Of course, as I indicated earlier, this is not necessarily in all instances what has happened. Instead, it is to point out a continual danger in community life, a d[inger that some of the nuns themselves have recognized: structured behavior and attitudes, even when they are loosened up, can become a substitute for personal responsibility for the purpose of those structures. This danger and a potential way to avoid it can be captured more clearly by examining the second type of reflective response that the women I interviewed exhibited. Nine of the twenty nuns responded to the ques-tions I raised in a way that was somewhat different from the others. I have called this type of response "creative commitment." By this I mean a commitment to a notion of religious life that reflected the women's struggle with an appropriation of a set of ideals and interpretations that trans-cended the institutionalized approach in which they found themselves. This did not mean an outright rejection of their community. Rather, it was an attempt to combine themes learned from sources outside the order with the basic values learned from the community into a more personal style of sisterhood than the one in which they had been trained. Their involvement in the community, is now no longer predicated on the constraints the institution can bring to bear on them. Instead, since their commitment is to a vision~of what religious life can be, they have relativized the role that the community has in their lives. This rather abstract definition can be made more.concre[e by compar-ing some of the "variant responses" some of the nuns made to the questions Commitment in a Religious Order / 199 I asked with the "creative responses" nine of the women mad~ to the same questions. As before, these responses can be presented in terms of the model developed by Kanter. I. Relativizing Instrumental Commitment The first dimension of concern will be the attitudes of the nuns toward the role of a sister. In order to ascertain the overall quality of a member's role involvement in the order, I asked what perception each one had of herself as a sister. As the following quote exemplifies, many of the~s.e women have adopted the role of a nun as traditionally defined, ~that is, as one who is supposed to represent in a special way the presence of the sacred in human life. To be sure, they do not appear to be caught up with the prestige symbols of the role--the habit, the title, the little signs of respect. But they dowish to see themselves perceived as religious women, as part of a religio, us organization, and in this sense, the institutional role is important to them. How do you see yourself as a sister? That's hard to answer. I guess. I am living out what I think I am called to be, but I am not just living it for me. but for other people~ Do you mean what effect you have on people? ¯. Yes, like when people ask me to pray for them or for members of their families. I'm not just some fixture or some teacher. Do I convey the o message of Christ to people? Do I carry the name of (order's name) well, and what that community is about, or do I downgrade the community? In comparison with this perception, the following nun appears to dis-tinguish herself and her role as. a sister. While being a nun is important to her, it is not her whole self. This type of perception cropped up °quite often in discussions with these nine women. In effect, the role has been redefined from being a place in an overall organization to being a vehicle for allowing a more personal style of religious life to be expressed. What that,style is depends upon the individual and how she understands herself; but in general, it seems to encompass an effort to live out the central values of Christianity as these are being interpreted by contemporary thinkers. This woman's notion that "sisterhood" includes her relationships with whom-ever she meets is an indication of this redefining process. when I first came to the community, I saw a sister as functional, whereas now I see sister as a relationship that is not only to the people that I work with but it is. much more universal in a sense. It is me as I relate to whoever it may be . It's much more a sense of I am who I am and a good part of who I am happens to be a sister and what lproject is all of me, the totality of life. 200/ Review for Religious, March,April, 1986 2. Relativizing Affective Commitment The second area of discussion deals with the emotional ties members develop toward the relationships they have in the order and toward the order as a whole. The quality of these ties can be captured by the reaction of members to questions concerning the possibility of the order disbanding. While this is an admittedly hypothetical situation, the reactions of the sisters revealed their attitudes towards the community as a whole. For example, as the following citation suggests, many of the sisters see their well-being as tied up with the well-being of the order.~ Because they tend to seetheir lives as coextensive With the life of the community, these women can be said to~ have Committed themselves to the institution. What would happen if your community died? I would be very sad. As a person I think it would be devastating. I guess the charisma of the (order's name) community is important to me. I chose to belong to a group, and this group meant something to me. for whatever reason they became important. I chose to make final vows, and I chose to make it something permanent in my life. When this response is compared with the following one, however, a different understanding of this relationship is revealed. According to this woman, the institution exists to serve a need; and if it no longer can do this, then the nuns should disband and find other communities. This willingness to let go of what must be a home for this woman suggests a degree of autonomy that was also present in the other more innovative nuns. But this autonomy should not be interpreted as a cold independence from the order for-it seems to rest, for each of these women, on a distinction they have made between tbeir particular order and their understanding of religious life in general. In their interpretation of the order, it exists as a means to realize their religious ideals. Thus, religious life is always broader than the order's way of approaching it and for them it is their approach to that life that counts. I don't know exactly. I don't know if I would; then I would look and see if another group would like to get together to form something else, or if I would join another group. I don't think I would be upset. I wouldn't feel that my whole life has gone because I think what this community has done UP to this point has been very good and very worthwhile, and if it is not necessary, it's not necessary. I don't feel any urge to prolong somethin~g that is no longer necessary, so that would not bother me. Another indicator of the relativization of the order in the lives of these women is their willingness to look beyond it for sources of emotional support. While they.were in training, the community encouraged them to develop their personal relationships with their fellow members by severely Commitment in a Religious Order limiting outside contacts, even with members of their own families. Although these nine women still have deep personal ties within their order, they have also consciously developed friendships with others outside of that community, including laypeople. A couple of them have also become part ofqocal communities that are made up of nuns from bther orders instead of the more traditional, homogeneous units. Most of my really close friends have left the community., but it's not quite as dramatic as it sounds because I do have a couple of very good friends who have been very supporting, one who is married who has always supported me. Then. one who I'm even closer to who was in the community who has left. She continues to be one of the most supportive people in my life. It's fine with her that I am here; ~nd it's fine with me that she is there. How many friends do you have outside the community? I'd say that it's probably about fifty-fifty between people within the com-munity and people outside that I really consider myself close to. Four of us broke off from that larger grou.p because we are for'a simpler lifestyle, and we are now living in a house., the three of us from our order, one happens to. be the school person, and two of us who are in .other ministries and then the fourth sister who is from (another order) who is also in another ministry. That's working out pretty well now. 3.' Relativizing Normative Commitment ~ The third area deals with the willingness on the part of members to allow the community to control their lives. Over the past fifteen years or so, the order has loosened up its authority structure somewhat so that now the nuns are encouraged to speak their minds more so than they were in ~he past. Nevertheless, the ultimate expectations for many of the women is .that it is their duty to obey the wish of the superior. As this example demon-. strates, the notion that "the voice of the superior is the voice of God" dies hard. My attitude towards religious life, I don't think, has basically changed in the sense that I still fed that my superiors, those who are in charge, whatever they would ask I would accept it in the same wa~y I did years ago. I would question now, not saying that I wouldn't.do what they asked, but I would question it now. While the above quote demonstrates an attitude toward obedience that can be characterized as superior-oriented, the next citation reveals another approach to this subject. Instead of first looking to what the superior wants, this nun believes that one should first be obedient to oneself. The distinction is crucial for it places the sister on a par with her superior.and 902/ Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 enables her to exercise genuine responsibility for her own life. This is probably the most important characteristic of the innovative nuns because it seems to be that which distinguishes them most clearly from the others. Although these others often spoke about the necessity of being self-respon-sible, their 6rientation very frequently was to the community and their superiors. On the other hand~ the innovative nuns more frequently were willing to look beyond the institution for grappling with the issues of religious life and to examine any ideas in terms of where they might fit into their own lives, I believe in obedience to the Lord in tune with what is going on with my own inner' feelings, as contrasted to what I may believe in terms of the' voice 6f the superior although I don't deny that. I think you have to listen ¯. but I would say I would be more in tune with obedience to God; I would say that it's a little more,obedience to myself than I would say obedience to the vow or to the superior. Interestingly enough, one of the ways in which these women have sought to take responsibility for themselves is precisely in the area of the vows. One of the features that comes across very clearly is their desire to distinguish their understanding of the vows from the institutionalized ver-sion. This does not seem to mean an idiosyncratic interpretation of them that is divorced from what other approaches, even institutionalized ones, may offer. Instead, it seems to involve an effort to formulate a conception of the vows that takes into consideration what others,may say; but at the same time, ~it-attempts to create out of ,them an understanding that responds to the personal needs and goals of the individual herself. It should be pointed out that by the term "other interpretations" is meant sources of meaning outside the order, including the general culture, contemporary sourcbs' within the order, as well as the more traditional interpretations, whether they come from formal or informal sources. What seems to be crucial, .in any event, is the consciousness of these sisters of the difference between saying what others have understood what the vows mean and saying ,what they personally think they mean. I took these vows, but I thought. I'm doing my job, I'm praying, so don't b~ther me about the vows . !~ow looking back, I probably detached the vows from the life, or I said I have to take these vows in order to live this religious community life that I want to live. Now what's it like? ~ Now it's thinking about it and reflecting on it and saying there is some-thing more to this and I don't know what it is yet . I could tell you what ~ so and so says and what the books say, but personally., what do I think, Commitment in a R~ligious Order that's what I'm coming to. When you started to reexamine the vows, did you find yourself coming to a personal interpretation of them, or did you sifnply accept the given interpretation? Oh no! I made my own interpretation, and whether that's right or wrong, it's something l'm going to have to live with. No, I think it's my own personal thing . I have been attempting to distinguish creative responses to institutional demands from variant responses to these same demands. Hopefully, this has clarified the difference between the two. If 1 have been interpreting this material accurately, then a commitment can be said to be creative when the individual personally recognizes the primacy of her relationship with God in her life. That happens, it seems, as the individual assumes greater and greater responsibility for that relationship and the role of the order becomes more secondary as far as that relationship is concerned. In other words, the institution becomes a vehicle whereby a person can live out a way of life that she has created. As the following sistei~ asserted in ~ rather straightforward fashion, the order has become a means to an end hot arl end in itself. I say I commit myself to the Lord through this institution and I never expect that I will break that commitment to t~he Lord. I am not .always saying that 1 make a commitment to an institution: (I. Why no~t~ R. It's just the medium for me. Conclusions I ~began this paper by remarking that religious 9ommitment is often understood in a one dimensional way, as simply a commitment to Christ. Utilizing the insights of sociology, however, it is now possible.to see that religious commitment is a multi-dimensional affair which can often inter-fere with the fuller realization of a Christocentric lifestyle. For instead of a single focus on the proper spiritual characteristics of being a religious woman, this analysis found that members of an order can become more concerned about the instrumental, communal and normative dimensions of sisterhood. The result of this is a preoccupation with the means of religious life rather than its ends. Because this was a sociological analysis, it highlighted the fact that this preoccupation was, in part at least, the result of the order's necessary concern with its self-preservation. This does not mean, however, that such a preoccupation is inevitable. As the information concerning the more creative women has shown, it is also possible to relativize the impact of the " 2011 ] Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 social requirements of communal living and to begin to achieve the under-lying purpose of religious life. But to do this requires an effort on the part of the order to become sensitive to the effects its structures have on the spiritual journey of each of its members and an effort on the part of each member to be radically honest with himself or herself about the real con-cerns which occupy one's life in a religious setting. NOTES ~Marie Augusta Neal, "The Relation Between Religious Belief and Structural Change in Religiiaus Orders: Developing an Effective Measurement," Review of Religious Research 12, 1 (Fall, 1970), pp. 2-16. 2Helen Ebaugh, Out of the Cloister (University of Texas Press, Austin, 1977.). 3Lucinda San Giovanni, Ex-Nuns (Ables, Norwood, New Jersey, 1978). 4Rich~ard Schoenherno and Andrew Greeley, "Role Commitment Processes and the American Catholic Priesthood," American Sociological Review 39 (1974) pp. 417-426. ~Patricia Wittberg, "Transformations in Religious Commitment" REVIEW FOR RELI- ~31OtJS, Vol. 42 No. 2 (1985), pp. 161-170. 6Rosabeth Kanter, Commitment and Community (Harvard University Press, Cam-bridge, 1972). 7Ibid, p. 69: 8lbid, p. 69. 91bid, p. 67. ~ORobert Merton, ~Social Conformity, Deviation, and Opportunity Structures: A Comment on the Contributions of Dubin and Cloward," American Sociological Review 24 (1959), pp. 177-188. Two Forms of Consecrated Life: Religious and Secular Institutes David E O'Connor, S. T. Father O'Connor holds the chair of the Department of Church Law at Washington Theological Union and resides at Holy Trinity Mission Seminary (9001 New Hampshire Avenue; Silver Spring, Maryland 20910). His previous article in these pages was "Lay Associate Programs: Some Canonical and Practical Considerations," which appeared in last year's March/April issue. Th~ 1983 Revised Code of Canon Law in, canons 573-730 designates both religious and secular institutes as Institutes of the Consecrated Life. This is a new classification in church law, In its simplicity, it is open to some misunderstanding as a juridical oversimplification because, in fact, both types of institutes are very different. This may just be another exam-ple of the limitations of all canonical categories which are not capable of fully expressing the charisms and gifts of the Spirit to the Church. While the members of both forms of~the consecrated life do profess the evangeli-cal counsels of chastity, poverty and obedience, their lifestyles manifest two rather divergent forms of ecclesial dedication. The intention of this brief article is to explore some of the similarities and real differences between these two types of consecrated lives and to promote a better appreciation of the distinctiveness,~ the identity and the place each one has in the Church. Let it be stated at the outset that neither form of ecclesial dedication is presented as better or superior tO the other. While canonical religious life has been a recognized and important part of Church life for centuries, it has taken a variety of shapes and forms. Secular institutes, canonically and historically, have received ecclesial recognition only within the last fifty years and are still in the process of trying to have their uniqueness under- 205 906 / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 .stood and appreciated. The new Code of Canon Law is a welcome and innovative move in this direction. It is a positive step forward in giving secular institutes the canon-ical identity and ecclesial status which they deserve. In canon 710, the new code describes a secular institute as one in which the Christian faithful living in the world strive for perfection in charity and work for the sanctifi-cation of the world, especially from within. Canon 607, §2 describes a religious institute as one in which the members, according to proper law, pronounce public vows, either.perpetual or temporary, which are to be renewed when they have lapsed, and live in common as brothers or sisters. A quick perusal of these canonical descriptions makes apparent some of the. differences between these two types of institutes. The members of secular institutes are to "live in the world" and work for its sanctification "especially from within." On the other hand, religious are to live "in com-mon as brothers or sisters" and profess "public" vows. These and other distinctive features of both forms of ecclesial dedication need to be more closely examined and elaborated upon in order to manifest the special style of consecration lived by the members of the different institutes. In order to facilitate this examination, a comparison of these two types of consecrated life has been organized under the following five headings: Secularity, Community Life, Apostolic Activity, Evangelical Counsels and Canonical Status. There will be, necessarily, some repetition involved because it is impossible to treat the distinctiveness of each institute without there being some overlapping of ideas. For example, it is not possible to consider the evangelical counsels as lived in religious institutes without considering them in the context of common life. Nor is it possible, to con-sider adequately the evangelical counsels as lived by members of secular institutes without examining them in the context of the secularity which is essential to the life of the members. I ask the reader to be patient in this matter as efforts are made to emphasize the genuine distinctiveness and special characteristics of each form of the consecrated life. Se~.ulariff. The primarY and foremost characteristic of secular institutes is that they are secular. This has been repeatedly emphasized in all the ecclesiasti-cal documents which address the nature and role of these institutes, from Provida Mater Ecclesia (February 2, 1947) and the Motu Proprio, Primo Feliciter (March 12, 1947), through the documents of Vatican II (1962-1965), especially ,Perfectae Caritatis,, 11, to the 1983 Code of Canon Law. It is "secularity" which totally colors the way oof life of the members and is the most significant characteristic of their consecrated way of life. Two Forms of Consecrated Ltfe/ 207 The members remain lay people or secular priests. They are not reli-gious ~nor are they expected to live in any manner which approximates or imitates the religious life.~ In every, sense of the term, they are to cultivate their consecrated secularity as ordinary people; living "in-the world and, as it were, from the world. "~ They should be involved in the social milieu and professional life proper to each member in the concrete circumstances of that member's place, time and culture. Indeed, members are to have a secular outlook and acknowledge themselves as "part" of the world and committed to sanctifying it from within) Hehce, the style of life of the lay members of a secular.,institu~te is that~ of a consecrated person living a rather inconspicuous and ordinary life, holding down a job or involved in a profession, while living alone or wi[h family or friends. Externally they will not appear to be different from any other lay person in a similar situation. Indeed, Pope John Paul II has encouraged them to develop their professional life and to be, at the level of Knowledge and experience, really competent in their specific field of endeavor.4 Religious, on the other hand, are required and expected by/heir own consecrated way of life to have a certain "separation from the world prpper to the character and purpose of each institute.'~ Obviously, this is expressed very differently by monastic communities and by apostolic reli-gious. Members of apostolic religious institutes frequent~ly find themselves immers~ed in the world with similar demands made upon them to have the professional competence required in their particular formJ of apostolate or ministry. Yet, at the same time, they may be more likely to think of themselves, while at the service of people and the Church,.as "being in the world, but not of it." Indeed, they are often readily identifiable as "Church-people" even if they are not wearing a habit or clerical garb. Furthermore, they often live in houses or convents associated with their ir~titutional apostolate which helps identify them as Church-workers. Thus their com-munity lifestyle and their corporate apostolate or form of ministry, in one sense, sets them apart and "separates" them from" the ordinary lifestyle of lay people. There are incarnational and eschatological dimensions" to the life of every Christian. However, it appears that the Church considers thai the incarnational should be especially clear in the Christian life of the dedicated laity and that the eschatological or transcendental should be-particularly manifested through the dedicated life of members of religious institutes. One form of the consecrated life the secular institute emphasizes the goodness of the world and of all God's creation (Gn l:3,1); the Other the religious institute emphasizes the radical discipleship of Jesus which involves some separation from or renunciation of the world (Jn 15:19). 901t / Review for Religious, March-April, 1986 Community Life Some form of life in common or community life has been a part of religious life from timeqmmemorial. It is a clear requirement of the new Code of Canon Law.6 Members of a religious community are to live in a house-of their own institute with their brothers or sisters and under the autl~ority of a religious superior.7 This is the place where they conduct their day-to-day life and offer their companionship and support to one another. It is the place where they gather about the eucharistic table and pray together. It is from there that apostolic religious reach out to others in a variety of ministries and dedicated ecclesial service. Therefore, some form of commu~nity life has been a perennial dimension of religious~ life and presented as an ecclesial witness of Christian love. The common life of religious does differ somewhat fro~a community to community, and is radically different for: monastic and apostolic religious. However, it is a necessary dimension of religious life and one of its special characteristics. Common life is not a part °of the consecrated life of members of secular institutes. While some institutes may have, as part of their particular tradi-tion, residences which belong to the institute, community life is not an expectation, requirement or characteristic of secular institutes in general. In fact, it has often been positively discouraged as contrary to a truly secular style of life and an unfortunate move toward the imitation of a life approp-riate to a religious institute. ~ The secular quality does not permit of community life on the part of mem-o ~rs, even as an option. It is too easy to slip from the notion of a "group" life to that of a "com.mon" life inconsistent with the personl liberty and the vari-ety of commitments which the ideal of presence in the world entails.8 The new 9od,e does not require the administrators or leaders of a secular institute to have their own residence, nor is it necessary to have a house where formation programs can be conducted.9 Members of secular i~stitutes are expected to live as ordinary lay people, either alone or with their families, or in a group as brothers and sisters.~0 Diocesan priests, who are members of a secular institute, likewise, are expected to live as the other priests in the diocese. That is, they are to live in the rectory to which they haye been assigned by their bishop. There is to be nothing unusual or exter-nally distinctive in their style of life in the world. However, as canon 716 of the code states, the members of a secular institute are urged to share actively in the institute according to their own proper law. They are to maintain a certain "communion" among them-selves arid carefully foster a unity of ~pirit and genuine relationships as brothers and sisters. The constitutions and statutes of each institute should specify how this is to be done, but should not imply that cohabitation or Two Forms of Consecrated Life / 209 any form of common life similar to that of religious is expected. It is the obligation of leaders and moderators in the institute to promo.te this spirit of unity and an active participation of the members)~ Apostolic Activity The new Code of Canon Law succinctly expresses the manner in which apostoli~ activity is to be exercised by the members o

Issue 64.3 of the Review for Religious, 2005. ; lglous Witnessing The Spirit QUARTERLY 64.3 2005: Review for Religious fosters dialogue with God, dialogue with ourselves, and dialogue with one another about the holiness we try to live according to cbarisms 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: 314-977-7363 ¯ Fax: 314-977-7362 E-Mail: review@slu.edu ¯ ~Veb 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. ©2005 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. ev'iew for religious Editor Associate Editor Canonical Counsel Scripture Scope Editorial Staff Wetrmaster Adv#ory 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 Steve Erspamer SM Kathleen Hughes RSCJ Louis and Angela Menard Bishop Terry Steib SVD Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ QUARTERLY 64.3 2005 contents 228 prisms Prisms community chapters 230 Where Two or More Are Gathered Ted Dunn explores some of the unique challenges and opportunities pertaining to religious chapters of election, especially highlighting the differences between politics and discernment. 242 Chapter Delegates, Once and Future Sister Marie de Lourdes Mates IHM recapitulates and refurbishes some earnest practical suggestions about what to look for in chapter delegates. 252 Community Chapters: Seven Personal Beliefs Melannie Svoboda SND presents an outline of concrete expectations for a religious congregation's chapter meeting. Reflection and Discussion 226 259 religious life Invisible--Even to Ourselves? Marie Brinkman SCL emphasizes that visible unity-- community bonds--must become the sign of Christ and his church that religious life is meant to be. Review for Religious 269 Living in Community: Continuing the Conversation Doris Gottemoeller RSM returns to the discussion about the place of community living as an uncommon and striking witness to the power of the gospel and the dynamism of a congregation's charism. Psalm Prayer Reflection and Discussion 281 witnessing With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux: Letters of Mother Teresa and St. Thdr~se Mary C. Carroll SSSF gives witness to the wisdom of a loving friendship expressed in the letter exchanges of Mother Teresa of Calcutta and Father Michael van der Peet SCJ and Thdr~se of Lisieux and Maurice Barth~l~my-Belli~re. 296 Alfred Delp SJ and the Heart of Jesus Mary Frances Coady focuses on Alfred Delp's devotion to the Heart of Jesus that sustained him in his Nazi imprisonment and eventual death by hanging. 301 the spirit Led by the Spirit: St. Basil the Great Andrew Ryder SCJ enters us into St. Basil the Great's contributions to our theological understanding and appre-ciation of the Holy Spirit as the third person of the Trinity. departments 316 Scripture Scope: Encountering the Parables of Jesus 321 Canonical Counsel: Additional Comments on Interpretation 326 Book Reviews 64.3 200~ prisms The prevalent theological cat-egory in describing the church is the word com-munion. It is significant that this choice of word confronts the most serious need of our times. Communion emphasizes what binds us together. Theologians today want to say that this word most captures what the church is all about. Pope Benedict xvI, in his initial addresses as the leader of the Roman Catholic commu-nity, has called for a renewed effort among all peoples of religion to look to some kind of bonding or communion. The essential witness that any Christian gives is that of bonding. There is no working for justice unless there is a bonding with the "other." There is no exercise of charity unless there is a communion with the ones being served. As Jesus pointed out consistently, each one of us as a follower comes to serve and not be served--like him. We do not serve justice or charity out of a superior stance; we can only be on the same level, as with our sisters and broth-ers, and it is there that we work. Perhaps we may look like good secular social workers. As Christians, we want more; we are looking towards communion. If marriage in the Christian community has no greater rate of fidelity than secular marriage, then as Christians we are failing. If men and women in religious life commitment do not give Review for Religious witness to a life in common, then they fail in the most essential witness of their religious life. It is not just in entering upon a vocation and it is not just in generous service that we show ourselves to be Christian. The "proof of the pudding" is whether we truly are people who "bond," who live in communion because commu-nion is entering into God's life, the life of the Trinity. How in our times have we lost some ways of "bond-ing," of being in communion? It seems we no longer recognize that there are three progressive steps which Jesus has identified for us in the Gospels. First, there is detachment ("leave your father and your mother," "go, sell") or what we might today call availability. We come with so many non-negotiables; we come with our needs and our demands. Many of us Christians are unavailable to God and to one another. And. so the first step in bond-ing or communion is being available. The second step is generosity or being in service ("come, follow"). We often pride ourselves on how much we do for others, extending ourselves generously with our time and tal-ent. No doubt we are people of service, but is it all on our terms? Are we covetously in control of all our works of justice and charity? Both the first and the second steps can be half steps in living as a Christian. Are half steps any steps at all? The third is, simply, sharing or, rightly understood, surrendering ("take up your cross"). Commun. ion hap-pens when we are available, when we give. generously in service, and when we share our lives unstintingly--as God does with us. Communion or bonding is our 21 st-_century quest as a Catholic community. It is a quest that Jesus tells us is within our ~raced reach. David L. Fleming SJ 64.3 2005 TED DLrNN Where Two or More Are Gathered community chapters It has been said, "Where two or more are gathered, there is politics." Though many religious communities have embraced communal discernment as their preferred means for electing leadership, they are still not immune to the pulls and trappings of politics. Seeking to hear the voice of the Spirit through communal discernment can, at its best, eclipse and far surpass the influence of politics. Communal discernment, however, no matter how well practiced, will neither eradicate politics nor guarantee that there will be no regressive pulls in chapters of election. But awareness of the differences between discernment and politics can help chapter participan~ts resist the forces of politics and secure the grace-filled opportunities of discernment. Ted Dunn, a clinical psychglogist, wrote for us in our 63.3 issue (July 2004). His address remains Comprehensive Consulting Services; 6209 Mid "Rivers Mall Drive, Suite 294; St. Charles, Missouri 63304. Review for Religgous When discernment and politics collide, how can chapter participants make sense of all the forces in play? During a chapter of election, what are some of the regressive urges that may work against a community's efforts at discernment? What are some of the differences between "political" conversations and "discerning" ones? These are questions I address in this article. We are not likely to rid ourselves of politics completely, but I am confident that, if communities commit themselves to communal discernment, they can grow in their capacity to use it well. From my years of facilitating communal discernment, I am confident that goodwill and good ways of channeling it can enhance discernment and diminish politicking. This, in turn, can help communities to seek God's will more fully and thereby discern their choice of leadership more wisely. In line with this I plan to point out some differences between discernment and politics from three angles, namely, numbers, powers of persuasion, and so-called winners and losers. But first I want to set the context by elaborating on regression (returning to old patterns). Regression often emerges during chapters of election and, if left unrecognized and unchecked, can blight a community's desire to put discernment ahead of politics. Regression in the Face of Discernment For a chapter to be a success, its participants should check their human propensities to constrict the movement of the Spirit, and instead work Collectively toward welcoming the Spirit present among them to liberate and enlighten. They should seek ways of enhancing their own spiritual freedom and that of the group, avoiding anything that might hinder it. They need to be alert to personal and group patterns of regression and strive to eliminate them. I would guess that every 64.3 200Y Dunn ¯ Where Two or More Are Gathered community has had, at one time or another, a dark moment in which its chapter of election fell far short of its best intentions and let, for example, politics take precedence over discernment. I would also guess that-- although such a moment tends to recede from the community's consciousness between chapters--it often returns at the beginning of the next chapter. It is as if the walls of the chapter hall hold the memories and, when the chapter is convoked, so too are the memories. Despite such experiences, or perhaps because of them, individuals and communities I am acquainted with have made courageous efforts to move beyond the pain of past elections and write new memories upon the walls. I have witnessed participants building new bridges, mending frayed relationships, offering and accepting olive branches, and all in all seeking greater unity. Communities yearn to grow in discernment and put forth their best green-gold efforts when given the opportunity. Yet I also know that, as in all growing, communities are at risk. They repeat old patterns of tension and vulnerability. As a psychologist I recognize that regression is a natural and normal response in the face of threat. It is a coping mechanism that people use when new ways of behaving seem shaky or are perceived as failing. Think of the first time you tried a new prayer form and it was not working for you. You likely sought refuge, at least temporarily, in the tried and true. Recall a return to your family of origin. Despite your growth in other relationships, in a difficult interaction with a relative you may have returned to a once-outlived means of coping (withdrawing, clashing, and so forth). Recall your community's initial efforts at the more fluid processes of communal discernment and the simulta_neous urges to return to the familiar confines of Robert's Rules and carefully orchestrated conversations. Review for Religious When it comes to elections, politics is what is most familiar to us. It is part of our culture and is no less a part of religious life. Discernment is newly learned and also countercultural behavior. And so, when tensions arise during a chapter, you have any number of urges to return to old patterns, the patterns of politics. You may have urges to-rally around your friends, to defend perceived "victims," to speak for those not speaking. You may want to tune out, or argue with what you do not want to hear, or go silent in the hope of being rescued by others more vocal. You may want to have the meeting outside the meeting (in the halls and over coffee) instead of in the assembly room. You may want to campaign for some, and against some others, and so on. The good news is that such urges do not have to be your destiny. Your next chapter presents you with the challenge and opportunity to write new memories on the walls of your assembly room. It is a chance to further reconcile and redeem the pain of past elections. It is a chance to weave new patterns of interacting into the collective experience of chapters of election and place discernment ahead of politics. But the undertow toward politics will, if left unrecognized, take away your freedom and wreak havoc upon your desire to grow beyond your past. If it is recognized, however, communities have the opportunity to catch themselves and choose instead the grace and gift of communal discernment. Politics as an Impediment to Discernment We humans have an insatiable appetite for politics. Enquiring minds want to know: Who's on first? Who's it Discernment is' newly learned and also coun~ercultural behavior. 64.3 2005 Dunn ¯ 14~bere Two or'More ~lre Gathered going to be? Who's ahead in the polls? In an election year, politics and politicians dominate the evening news, CNN, and the front page. Political talk is with us at meals and up and down hallways and sidewalks. Religious communities, it seems to me, are no less involved with politics. In fact, if politics means involvement, interest, and concern for how you govern yourselves, religious are just as political as any other segment of society. They desire to understand what is going on in the world, in the church, and in the community and to participate in shaping the future. Politics, then, has its good points, but it is important to understand its pitfalls and get beyond them in order to do the deeper work of communal discernment. One risk is that politics and discernment have definite similarities. Both lead to an informed vote in an election. Both seek understanding and involvement. In both methods, information serves to influence people and to moderate that influence. And both methods are about power. There are other commonalities as well, but there are definite distinctions to be drawn too. Where does politics end and discernment begin? Numbers. First let us talk numbers. Numbers sometimes talk long before people get acquainted with the candidates and their character. In the politics of our day, there are endless permutations of the numbers. Numbers are the heartbeat of American pre-election activity. Pollsters keep taking political pulses and making election prognostications. There are more permutations of polls than there are stats on the Super Bowl. Results are statistically projected hours before the polls close. Such results are not official, of course, but they cause people to think and say, "Why vote? It's a done deal." In discernment, however, the significance of numbers is little or none. In many discernment processes a Review for Religious member needs only one endorsement to enter into it. And entering is far more important than trying to forecast where you will end up. Entering the mystery, walking the Emmaus journey, searching out your future together by collectively seeking God's intentions--these things are not concerned with numbers. Numbers will not answer a community's quest for healing, yearnings for a stronger partnership, desires for deeper understanding, or efforts to resolve differences. Counting numbers, wondering how many votes you or someone else might get, will not help you hear the voice of the Spirit. You cannot take a poll to find out what God wants. Numbers at the moment of election have a different, though still secondary, importance. Ideally, numbers are the result of, not the means for, discernment. Ideally, they are the outcome that confirms the will of the Spirit mediated through the chapter. I do not know about your community, but in some communities, once the balloting begins, discernment goes out the window and people start listening to the numbers. They write the numbers down, tally the votes, and track who is getting what. Like a runaway train people start following the numbers instead of the Spirit. The numbers take over. It is important to work as a chapter body to prevent a numbers-oriented election. Facilitators need to intersperse .processes into the election itself to help the community discern its way through to the end. Ideally, the election process should be the culmination of the discernment process, not detached or separate from discernment. In my experience, when an election keeps the integrity of the discerning body and its discernment process intact, then numbers, if used at all, are of negligible importance. Pozver~ of Persuasion. In politics, power is .sought from a variety of sources through a variety of means. Power is 64.3 2005 Dunn ¯ Where Two or More ~qre Gathered found first in the money used for campaigning. Money pays for ads and buys favors from special-interest groups that in turn lobby for their candidates. In one form or another, money runs the machinery that shapes the information that people receive, which is of course the ultimate means of influence. In American politics "information is power," and, if you want to know who has it, "follow the money." While voters want information about what their candidates hope to accomplish, and while politicians vow that they will "stick to the issues," too often there is regression toward name-calling and mudslinging. Politicians know that there is great power in casting doubt upon their opponents. So-called "negative campaigning" persists despite the public outcry against it, in large part because research shows that when used skillfully it works. Political elections, as we have witnessed, are not about how you play the game; they are about winning, no matter the cost. Politics centers on persuasion as a means to attain desired outcomes. Spin doctors seek to persuade by parsing the truth. Political strategists provide different information for different target groups, strategically timing the leakage of news, all in an effort to sway specific voters. Party politics uses these powers of persuasion to garner support for their respective camps, which in turn support their candidates. Selective information to induce fear or call for party loyalty is among the powers of persuasion in American politics. In discernment, though, how you play the game and what kind of power you use make all the difference. The power of discernment rests on faith. It rests on your ability to pray, reflect, and journey together in such a way as to discover your collective truth, to experience the movement of the Spirit among yourselves. Paradoxically, Review for Religious the power of discernment is inversely related to persuading others or controlling the outcome. In fact, detachment from the outcome, rather than attempting to engineer the outcome, is a hallmark of discernment. Discernment requires conversations about the direction your community is moving, the issues you face, and the ideal team to facilitate the desired movement. It is about who can complement whom, not who is better than whom. It is not about camps competing around special interests. It is about cooperating in the interests of the whole. Instead of trying to convince others of your truth, communal discernment invites you to discover the community's collective truth. Discernment is not about campaigning, convincing, and cajoling, but about listening, sharing, and deepening the common understanding. Chapter participants are not chosen to elect favorite, candidates to represent personal interests, but rather to come up with a team of persons who together can best serve the interests of the entire community. I believe that the power of communal discernment is in direct proportion to a group's determination to be enlightened by one another and by the commitment of all to the common good. This power is present in direct proportion to your freedom, individually and collectively, to respond to the Spirit echoed in the voices of all the chapter members. It is present to the degree you are interiorly free from whatever might bind you, be it your loyalties to others, passions around your own agendas, fears of being hurt or hurting others, or haunting and hurting memories. It is present when people are free of 64.3 2005 Dunn ¯ Where Two or More Are Gathered prejudice and free of gossipy reputations, of labels that persist year after year. Being flee, however, does not mean an absence of anxiety and fears. Rather, it means a willingness to name, claim, and, if possible, work through your fears rather than succumb to them. It means acknowledging your desired outcomes while simultaneously relinquishing any efforts to control them. It means a willingness to enter the unpredictability and mystery of your personal and communal faith journey. If you are free enough to embrace a truth larger than your own--free of efforts to hide from uncomfortable truths or blind yourselves to a common good that may ask more of you than you want to give--then your power to discern is enhanced. The power of such spiritual freedom is yours to claim. No one can claim it for you or work towards it for you. Freedom is inherently yours to begin with. If you do this work collectively, if you maintain deep roots of knowledge, passion, and conviction while holding all things lightly, then you will have access to the Spirit moving through you and among you, The movement of the Spirit and your own search for enlightenment and understanding are at the heart of discernment. Discernment is the polar opposite of politics. It is a continuous focus on winning, not on having won and resting on our laurels. Winners and Losers. Let us talk about so-called winners and losers. Who is better? The St. Louis Rams or the Dallas Cowboys, the French or the Irish, African Americans or Caucasians or Hispanics, rich or poor, tall or short, women at the well or men at the "Y," a lilac ora rose? We humans are prone to thinking in categories and classes. We have carved up God's creation into categories. We have boxed and labeled the people and things of our world as good or bad, right or wrong, winners or losers. Review for Religious ¯ We have prejudices, biases, preconceived notions, assumptions, and conscious and subconscious judgments that put price tags on so many things that God looked at and said are "good." God sees us all as both blessed and broken, but we seem to view ourselves as good, better, best, less than good or less than evil, depending upon our looks, ethnicity, friends, affiliations, or supposed motives. Children not chosen for this or that often feel "excluded" and "hurt." Out of such feelings we form judgments and begin to think in terms of winners and losers. From facilitating many community discernments over the years, I consider all participants winners. All community members who are endorsed, who come to discernment gatherings, who respond to the call to serve in elected leadership are winners. They take risks that have brought hurts in the past and perhaps even made them say to themselves "Never again." COmmunal disdernment i~,~[fOiJ[: ~de" }in g women ~ ~or men ~who,brzn~ g together a complement of gifls tha~;~in its ~isimportant for ~he :enti@ ~com~u~ity. Those who participate in discernment are asked to reach deep inside themselves to find hope again, when staying disengaged would be easier. Individually and together they are winners as they extend themselves beyond their comfort zone in response to calls from their community. Conventional politics would suggest that those who are elected have the "right stuff" and those who are not elected do not. Communal discernment, however, is about electing women or men who bring together a complement of gifts that, in its unity, is important for the entire community. 64.3 200Y Dunn ¯ Where Two or More Are Gathered Not long ago my wife and I attended our daughters' graduations, Kelly from high school and Colleen from middle school. For the occasion we went out to buy them some flowers. The florist asked, "What are their colors?" I was taken aback, having expected to pick out bouquets from the showcase and be done with it. She escorted us to a refrigerator, showed us a vast array of flowers, and urged us to have a whiff and take a good look at them. Before long we had flowers and greenery and paper strewn over the counter. Other customers watched us try various combinations to see what would best fit each girl's particular likes and sense of beauty. There were lilacs, roses, and other flowers whose names escape me. In combination, some were not the right color and some not the right fragrance. Some got lost alongside others. All were beautiful in their own right, but some fit better than others in the bouquets. At last we had two unique bouquets, each beautiful, each saying what we wanted to say. In your next communal discernment, remember that every individual has a beauty all her own. Blessed and broken, gifted and flawed, they are on the same journey as you. Some combinations of their beauty will express what you want to say, what you hope leadership to be. Others will not. This makes them no less wonderful, no less worthy. Their beauty will find other bouquets. In your next discernment, honor all these women (or men) with your prayers. Support all of them with your encouragement. Affirm them for their courage in walking deep into discernment with you, opening themselves up in personal ways to you, to each other, and to God. Walk gently with them. Your next chapter of election will be a continuation of the work you have begun at earlier chapters. It presents you with an opportunity to grow in communal discernment and Review for Religious be more faithful on your personal and communal faith journey. Anticipate, identify, and resist any regressive tendencies. Keep the election a matter of the Spirit, not a matter of mere numbers. Do not let it be about winners and losers. You are all winners, for you are all on the same team. Be gentle with yourselves and with your mistakes, for mistakes will surely be made. In your efforts to write new memories on the walls, may the Holy Spirit be your guide, and, where two or more of you are gathered, may you find Jesus in your midst. The Transient Seed To go wherever you would lead Will mean ourselves to die, Forsaking self and every need For you, risen, on high. Buried with you, the transient seed Awaits your Spirit-cry Creating us anew, rubied By blood from Calvary. Walt Bado SJ 64.3 2005 MARIE DE LOURDES MATES Chapter Delegates, Once and Future ~onh~hne m qyu arleigtiieosn aanl dsu rpeesrpioonr saisbkileidti ems eo tfo c shpaepatekr delegates, my response was typically prophetic. I screamed into the phone: "What? Me? Why me? Don't you think I'm a bit too old for this? You're twenty-five years too late! I know a lot of people who could do a better job." She listened politely and then replied, "Well, will you at least think about it?" So I did, and for some reason I just could not say no. Father Robert Morneau's article (1977, almost thirty years ago) was suggested as the basis for what I might say. Since I did not have a copy of it, I began to make my own list of qualities a delegate should have. I came up with a dozen or so. To my surprise, when the article arrived I discovered that the future bishop and I were thinking along the same lines. I thought to myself, "Maybe I should have been a bishop!" Many of you could Marie de Lourdes Mates IHM, who has taught at all levels of K-12 and published various articles, resides at the IHM House of Prayer; 140 West Mill Street; Nesquehoning, Pennsylvania 18240. Review for Religious come up with a similar list. I admit, though, that I learned a great deal in getting this presentation ready and even experienced a kind of conversion. That is what I will share with you now. The first word that came to my mind was articulate. I wanted delegates who would speak out loud and clear. But almost immediately I had a second thought--Whoa! Suppose they go too far and destroy what our unique history has gifted us with. No, another thing that must be present is a listening ear. This slowed me down, and I pondered the word dialogical, which Bishop Morneau had used. I called upon Webster for help: "dialogue: a talking together, a conversation." Not sufficient! Definition 2: "an interchange and discussion of ideas, especially when open and frank, as in seeking mutual understanding and harmony." Perfect! In other words, the listening has to be of a special kind, but so also does the speaking. To be articulate means to speak easily and clearly; you have to be pretty well convinced about what you are saying. Let me interject here a little story about listening. An interaction years ago with a freshman girl stopped me in my tracks and made me realize I was not truly lis-tening. Her parents were divorced. Her father was out of sight. The thirteen-year-old and her mother lived together, but in time the mother became interested in another man. She left her teenage daughter to fend for herself every weekend while she traveled by plane to spend two days with him. When. the daughter told me this story, I tried to explain that her mother had needs also. She looked up at me with tear-filled eyes and said in a shaking voice "But what about me?" I knew at once I had failed to enter into her world. I have never for-gotten her words, and even now they haunt me, still find-ing it hard to really listen. 64.3 200.q Mates ¯ Chapter Delegates, Once and Future Our delegates need to speak easily and clearly, but they also need to listen with a compassionate desire to enter into the speaker's world, not necessarily agreeing but at least understanding. Besides speaking and listen-ing well, Bishop Morneau said delegates must have trust. I thought, "Oh, this is an easy one. Isn't it a given that members of a religious community have a deep abiding trust in each other, as their polite conduct habitually shows? The thing that stymied me was that Morneau went on to say that they must have trust also in themselves. I puzzled over this long and hard. I came to realize that persons who have trust in themselves will speak their own insights and convictions with a certain self-confidence. I realized, too, that to do this they must spend time and energy listening to others and be willing to say inside chapter what they say outside chapter. Coupled with trust is another virtue, desire for truth. Regardless of who speaks--a retired sister, a young novice, a former mother general, an infirm sister, an artist (musician, painter, sculptor, poet, and so forth), or just one of the rest of us--the delegate's desire for truth must help her listen and then evaluate. She needs to turn off the stream of consciousness that runs all day long and sometimes washes past others, hardly slowing down for them. Our delegates should be prophetic persons. The Old Testament prophets acquiesced to God's call only reluc-tantly. Consider the following. Isaiah says, "What a wretched state I'm in. I am a man of unclean lips." Review for Religious Jeremiah says, "Look, I do not know how to speak; I am a child." Jonah--well, he just ran away. But God was insistent. With Isaiah: "Let's see if this live coal touching your lips will help." With Jeremiah: "Don't say you are a child. Go, now!" With Jonah, a storm at sea begins to get him to pay some mind to God. Consider the great-est prophet of all, Jesus: "Father, if it be your will, let this chalice pass. However, not my will, but yours be done." Being prophetic does not appear to be a much-sought- after vocation. I am mentioning these things about prophets because the women we elect as delegates will automatically assume the role of prophet. They will be missioned by us to determine the future direction of our IHM commu-nity. If this direction is to be in accord with the will of God, certain characteristics should be evident. They should be women who are perceptive, sensitive to the here and now. We hope they will walk unshod the way of the lowest and the least. We want them to come up with new and exciting ideas for all of us--the old and infirm, the young and ambitious, those nearing retirement, those changing their apostolates. We want them to respond sensitively to the question "But what about me?" as each group asks it. We also want them to be sensitive to our roots and traditions, knowing enough of our history to stand firmly on the shoulders of the courageous holy women who were here before us. Prophets are courageous. Consider some from our own time. Dorothy Day, who did jail time for civil disobedi-ence and also (as Father Richard McSorley said) "led the way within the Catholic Church on solidarity with the poor, racial justice., all those big issues., she brought the name Catholic to all of them. These issues that pri-vate Catholics see as politics she saw as faith, and knew it had to come from faith and be alive with faith." 64.3 200~ Mates ¯ Cbapter Delegates, Once and Future Consider our foundress, Mother Theresa Maxis, who was forced to live outside the community she had worked so hard to establish. Consider Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who embraced lepers and opened her heart to the poor-est of the poor. Consider Joan Chittister, Benedictine sister, ' whose outcries for justice and peace have been heard and will continue to be heard by many around the world. Perhaps now as we prepare for the chapter of 2006, some new courageous happenings will occur. Courage can be manifested in all kinds of ways. It might be just bringing an issue to the forefront for consideration. It might be putting some relationships in jeopardy because of what some see only as boldness or outspokenness. The model delegate should be a person of vision-- but what exactly does that mean? It definitely does not mean they live in la-la land. Sometimes, however, I think that the term vision triggers a picture of someone out in space. So let us bring it down to earth. Simply, an IHM sister of vision sees something that many do not. That "something" could be anything from a cute idea to a unique dream. It could be something so commonplace as a one-on-one learning environment, only one teacher and one learner. It could be a duck farm. A friend called me one day and asked if she and her cousin could use my computer and set up a conference call with a con-struction company. I said yes, thinking it was a matter of great import. It turned out that he was just starting to plan a duck farm. His long-range plan was to raise ducks for gourmet restaurants. To me this seemed crazy, but when he promised me a duck dinner I thought--who knows?--that maybe in the not-too-distant future he would be a man of means. The sister who has vision will see value in what at first seems crazy to most people. I am suggesting that Review for Religious we have to look beyond the ends of our noses to deter-mine the best direction for our aging community. We need to have some answers for the young, the old, and the in-between in our community when they ask, "But, what about me?" Victor Hugo, author of Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre Dame, had this to say about visions: "Progress will be carried forward by a series of dazzling visions." I love that word "dazzling." The visions have to be startling; they have to awaken us and get us moving. Long before Victor Hugo, the prophet Habakkuk also had something to say about "the vision." I remember it from a time about twenty-five years ago. In her morning talk a speaker had created an air of excitement, but in the after-noon session the excitement disappeared. I left the assem- .,,. Prophetie delegates need t6 be pcrsoqs, of " ,de ray&;: especially script al prayer. bly feeling rather down, but I remembered the words of Habakkuk from the day's Scripture reading. It is time to hear those words again: Write down the vision clearly upon the tablets, so that one can read it readily. For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint. If it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late. (Hab 2:2-3) As I said, being a prophet is not a fun thing. Prophetic delegates have to work hard: read, study, do research. They have to make decisions, some very hard decisions. They have to make them decisively, with cer-titude (as Morneau says, referring to Newman), and then hold themselves responsible for what results. They need to be persons of deep prayer, especially Scriptural prayer. 64.3 200Y Mates ¯ Chapter Delegates, Once and Future Such prayer will illuminate their understanding of con-temporary issues. Dorothy Day can help us here. In her autobiography The Long Loneliness, she describes herself at the age of ten. "We lived in a house with an attic, and I spent hours one rainy Sunday afternoon reading the Bible. I remember nothing that I read, just the sense of holiness in holding the book in my hands. I did not know then that the Word in the Book and the Word in the flesh of Christ's humanity were the same, but I felt I was handling something holy." Dorothy's love of the Scriptures persisted throughout her lifetime and even-tually led to her conversion to Catholicism and to her lifelong work with the poor. Scriptural prayer should be the mainstay of every chapter member. It already plays a major role in all of our lives in the Christian Prayer that we pray three times a day. It would be worth the while of every chapter delegate, in fact every sister who puts her name on the list of nom-inees, to ponder well the words of Hebrews 4:12: "The Word of God is something alive and active: it cuts like any double-edged sword but more finely; it can slip through the place where the soul is divided from the spirit, or joints from the marrow; it can judge the secret emo-tions and thoughts." And then suddenly in verse 13 it switches from the Word of God as an "it" to the Word of God as "the one": "No created thing can hide from him; everything is uncovered and open to the eyes of the one to whom we must give account of ourselves." Dorothy Day at age ten was assuredly an inspired person. You might wonder why I have referred to Dorothy Day more than once. When I was a junior in high school, I joined the Martin de Porres Club at Harrisburg Catholic High. Every Thursday my friends and I traveled to an inner-city house run by a woman named Mary Frecon. There we taught little African American children, helping Review for Religious them with their school work and interacting with them. One Thursday I noticed that the work space was spruced up as if for something important to happen. About the middle of the session, Mary came through accompanied by an elderly woman with white hair. They simply paused for a few minutes, and I simply ignored them, being involved with the children and their work. Afterwards Mary came back and exclaimed, "Do you know who that was?" I shrugged my shoulders. She said, "That was Dorothy Day." I shrugged my shoulders again. Later on in life, I got to know about Dorothy Day. I have never forgotten her favorite quotation, taken directly from Dostoyevsky's The Possessed: "All my life I have been haunted by God." To that I add: All my life I have been haunted by Dorothy Day! To me her life seems the per-fect response to the question of the poor, the addicted, the sick, the helpless when they ask "But what about me?" Morneau ends his article about chapters by portray-ing the delegate as a wounded healer, the term that Henri Nouwen had introduced. Most of us would admit to being wounded people, people who have experienced some deep hurts, which sometimes seem beyond heal-ing. But out of those hurts can come deep compassion for others who are hurting. Without being told, one can sense it. Compassion heals, not only the one to whom the compassion is directed but also the one who is showing compassion. Hopefully, the delegates we choose will be women of compassion. Persons of compassion do not make judgments on the motives of others. If you have ever been the object of judgmentalism, your experience helps you avoid inflicting such destructiveness on others. A delegate should be able to balance tolerance of per-sons with an intolerance of falsity. Do not be dismayed if you are chosen to be a chap-ter delegate and you do not have all these qualities. It 64.3 2005 Mates ¯ Chapter Delegates, Once and Future will be an elegant sufficiency if the chapter assembly itself contains individuals who together have these qual-ities. It would be a miracle if anyone had all of them. Here let me quote, what Morneau quotes toward the end of his article (Micah 6:8): "This is what Yahweh asks of you: only this, to act justly, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly with your God." I would emphas!ze the first challenge: "to act justly." I believe it encompasses everything that has been said up to this point. If we work to act justly, to DO justice, everything else will fall into place. As a community we are already becoming more involved in works of justice. We are responding to the poor and the needy here in the United States and in Haiti, Peru, and Chile. We are attentive to the question "But what about me?" and are alleviating pain and suffering where we are able. One day in Louisville, Kentucky, at Fourth and Locust, Thomas Merton suddenly realized that he loved all people and no one was alien to him. As a community we are growing in that same realization. For me there occurred a profound conversion to justice in the sum-mer of 1973, while I was studying physics at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, New York. One weekend a Franciscan sister took me along to her motherhouse in Buffalo. We visited Niagara Falls, and I was duly impressed. But later we drove upstream to view the Niagara River, the flow of which creates the falls--and mesmerized me. The river's swiftness took my breath away. The sunlight glittering off the surging waters filled me with a kind of supernatural joy, while their force to sweep everything before it--and me too if I let it--fright-ened me. I have never forgotten that impression. The memory awakes in me every time I read the prophet Amos (5:24, l~SV):."But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." Review for Religious Can you imagine what our world would be like if more and more people let their justice roll down like a river? For us I think the time is ripe. Let's ROLL! The Crossing John 6:17 The crossing is hazardous: fragility 6fold wood in a fretful sea, the weight of oars against contentious waves, implacable darkness, absence of horizon, ominous thunders. Then - the skin grows cold with terror - like a brooding spirit he comes gravely across the water: fathomless radiance, first light of a new world. They stammer in recognition and welcome him into the boat where no one dares question what darkness he has crossed to bring them safe to land. Kate Martin OSC 64.3 2005 MELANNIE SVOBODA Community Chapters: Seven Personal Beliefs y personal beliefs about this chapter we are ~. iv .1. beginning amount to seven, the perfect biblical number. 1. This chaplet won't be easy. I say this not because I have some secret knowledge of what will transpire here these next few days. I say it because this chapter is a part of life and life is not easy. As we know, in the Bible the primary image of life is a journey, and any journey is fraught with difficulties. It takes courage even to embark on a journey, because we must leave where we are, we must let go of the known. We cannot start on a journey and stay put at the same time. Once we have taken to the road, we must negotiate unexpected turns, steer clear of dangerous potholes, plan regular "pit stops," devise detours around roadblocks, interpret road signs, and check the fuel gauge regularly. (Recently I saw a cartoon of two men walking away from their car. They had run Melannie Svoboda SND, provincial of the Sisters of Notre Dame of Chardon, Ohio, presented this material as part of the opening of their chapter of December 2003. Her address is 13000 Auburn Road; Chardon, Ohio 44024. Review for Religious out of gas. One man says to the other, "I thought the E meant Enough!" It is one thing to see signs, another to interpret them correctly!)Journeying is hard work. Small wonder that we are often tempted to forsake the life journey by going back into the past (it is familiar and feels safe), by stopping altogether, or by taking a side road that is easier but leads to no place worth going. At this chapter let us recommit ourselves to the hard work of daily living, to the hard work of our earthly jour-neying. And let us commit ourselves to the hard work of this particular chapter--four days of undeniable self-discipline, the discipline of sitting, listening, speaking, praying, discerning, waiting in line. Talk about modern asceticism! 2. This chapter will be fun. It will be fun because we are here--and just look at us! What a unique group we are! Has God got a sense of humor or what? This chapter will be fun because where we are there is bound to be some joy and laughter. When we did the recent inter-views for the Appreciative Inquiry, how many of us said that one reason we were drawn to the Sisters of Notre Dame in the first place was their joyfulness! This chap-ter will be fun also because the planning committee has thought up some fun activities for us to do. But, most of all, it will be fun because we know who is ultimately in charge of this chapter. Not me, not our facilitator, but God! Yes, at this chapter we will discuss some seri-ous issues. Yes, we will make some serious decisions. Yes, there may even be a few tears as we try to express what is deepest in our hearts. But I hope we will do the work of this chapter with a lightness of heart that comes from our charism: that deep experience of God's goodness and provident care. Jesus is at this chapter. Maybe we should have made a folder with his name on it, Jesus is here in word, in 64.3 2005 Svoboda ¯ Community Chapters 254 sacrament, in each other. It is in Jesus' name that we are gathered here, and, as Jesus promised, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I will be!" Jesus is with us. Emmanuel. That fact cannot help but bring smiles to our faces! 3. This chapter needs me. This chapter needs every sis-ter regardless of her age, education, health, ministry, temperament, background, mood. It needs every sister regardless of her chosen level of participation. In the name of all of us, then, I welcome every sister to speak. And I welcome every sister to listen and to pray. Throughout these days we will have times of formal dis-cussion. But we will also have times of informal sharing as we gather around the coffee urn, eat lunch together, meet in the hall, or ride back and forth in a car. The Spirit can use even these times to move hearts. Perhaps I may never say anything at the open mike, but I can still influence this chapter by some.thing I say in my small group or even while standing in line for the restroom. 4. This chapter must be rooted in the real world. God is found only in the real world--not some fantasy world of our own making. No, in the real world. And what does the real world look like? First of all, it is a world of incomparable beauty--from stars to snowflakes, roses to mountains, sunsets to the Grand Canyon. So much beauty! It is a world filled with innumerable people of goodwill--in all lands, in all cultures--people who live their lives with faith and love. But the real world is also a world steeped in war and violence. Historians tell us the 20th century was the bloodiest century in human his-tory. Ours is a world of the obscenely unfair distribu-tion of the world's limited resources--where 1.2 billion people live on less than one dollar a day. The Jesuit Jon Sobrino calls this reality a "macro blasphemy." It is a world filled with hunger, poverty, greed, corruption, and Review for Religious wanton disregard for the sanctity of human life. I could go on. But, the fact remains, this is the world into which Jesus was born over two thousand years ago, the world in which he still lives. And it is the world he calls us to serve today. This chapter, therefore, must acknowledge both the beauty and the ugliness of the real world. It must take into consider-ation both the light and the darkness in the world--the world not only out there, but the world in here, in °,. ,,. ~ .~' .' our community and in our own hearts. We began our chapter with a reconciliation service. That was no accident. May forgiveness and rec-onciliation be an underlying theme of everything we do here these days--and beyond. 5. This chapter can't do everything, but it must do some-thing. When we contemplate all the needs of the world, we can become overwhelmed. So many voices crying out for help! Yet our resources are so limited. At times the inces-sant cry of the poor can even paralyze us. We can find ourselves crying, "We can't do everything!" And that is true. We cannot. But, for God's sake, let us do something. I believe this chapter will do something. I do not know what, but it will. That something might be the passing of a proposal dear to my heart--or the defeat of one I cher-ish. Maybe this chapter will result in a single step in a new direction or an old one. Or maybe this chapter will begin to name the content of our next province plan, the focus of future province summer assemblies, or the agenda for the next provincial leadership team. Whatever this chapter does, I hope and pray it will result in some definite corporate movement forward. But °our chapter i ith recOnciliation service? 64.3 2005 Svoboda ¯ Community Chapters I also hope this chapter will challenge me on a deeply personal level. I hope it will make demands upon me, stretch my thinking, and cause me to question some of my daily choices--and cause me to alter them in per-haps subtle but very real ways. 6. This chapter will not be perfect. That is because we are not perfect. And imperfect people do not a perfect chapter make! Sometimes I hear sisters say, "I don't expect much from this chapter, because all we do is talk about the same stuff over and over again. I'm tired of it!" Well, I'm not! I am not tired of the fact that we often end up talking about the "same stuff"--like community, ministry, prayer, the vows, mission. I am not surprised or disappointed either, because that "stuff" lies at the very core of our identity as women religious. The way I see it, we will always be talking about these things--we should be! Why? Because we are on a journey, and, as we go forward, life will continuously challenge our under-standing of who we are and what we should be about. Could we ever exhaust the topic of prayer? No. Will we ever be "finished" with mission? No. Will we ever be able to say, "Well, we have no more problems with community living." Or, "Well, we've got poverty down pat now, so let's move on to something else. How about chastity?" No. In the novel The Secret Life of Bees, August, a middle-aged black woman, says to the little girl Lily, "There is nothing perfect. There is only life." We could say something similar: there is no perfect chapter. There is only this chapter. The feast of Christmas reminds us that Jesus came into our broken and messy world. He did not wait for the ideal time to come. Let us not let our hopes for the ideal chapter prevent us from doing some-thing good with this real one. 7. This chapter must be about loving. Let there be no mistake: we are gathered here these four days for one Review for Religious purpose only: to become better lovers. That is the bot-tom line. This chapter must help us to love better the incredible God who seduced each one of us into mak-ing a lifelong commitment of "chastity, poverty, and obe-dience according to the spirit and content of the Constitutions of the Sisters of Notre Dame." God seduced us. I know of no better word to describe the experience we all underwent. As consecrated religious we have the duty to keep ourselves in this ardent, pas-sionate, and dangerous state of loving. May this chapter rekindle our wholehearted and reck-less love for God, for Jesus. May it remind us that we are partners with Jesus in his mission--not because we have signed up for a cause, but because we have said a loving yes to a person. May this chap-ter rekindle our love for the. church. Oh, the church! Our poor, poor church! The terri-ble scandals! The unspeakable crimes! The betrayal, the deceit! But may we remember that this church is still our church. It is still Christ's church. As Archbishop Sean O'Malley, of Boston, said at his installation ceremony, "though we are living through a ~ad chapter in the church's history, we must recall that it is a chapter, not the whole book!" And then he said these profound words: "We come here today to ask God to make our pain redemptive." What fitting words for us, as Sisters of Notre Dame who have a 153-year-old history of being marked by the cross and a 153-year-old tradition of loy-alty to the church. And, finally, may this chapter rekindle our love and devotion to one another. May it remind us that, by mak- , H'a~v .e. .w. e :ever tho:u g h t ¯of a chapter as having onepuNoseonlY) :to become ,better.lovers ? 64.3 200Y Svoboda * Community Chapters ing our vows, we have bound ourselves to one another for the term of our whole lives. We have promised to live religious life not in the abstract, but within this partic-ular, concrete congregation, the Sisters of Notre Dame. For most of us that means being embedded in the province of Christ the King of Chardon, Ohio. We live in a culture that deifies privacy, individualism, and con-trol of one's destiny. Such a culture desperately needs our witness of community, the witness of diverse indi-viduals living and working together--selflessly and joy-fully-- in Jesus' name to bring about the kingdom of God. My final prayer is a simple one. May this chapter rekindle in us the hope-filled daring of St. Julie, of Sister Aloysia, and of those countless sisters who have gone before us. And may our hope-filled daring be an inspi-ration for those Sisters of Notre Dame who will come after us--in whatever country they may be. In his apos-tolic exhortation Vita consecrata (§110), Pope John Paul says these words to us: "You have not only a glorious history to remember and recount, but also a great history to be accomplished." May this chapter be one small step toward the accomplishment of that great history. 258 Reflection Questions 1. What are the personal beliefs I would list about an upcoming chapter in my congregation? 2. What are some of the ways that we, could bring a sense of joy and a sense of passion into the ordinary busi-ness of a chapter? Review for Religious MARIE BRINKMAN Invisible-- Even to Ourselves? It comes as something of a shock to learn that some people of the Catholic faith community do not know what we are up to--we women reli-gious, that is. Engrossed in ministry as we are most of the time and in close touch with asso-ciates, colleagues, and other friends who by now take for granted our attire and our social or pro-fessional habits, we hardly realize that some still wonder where we have gone or why we live as we do.~ Others see almost nothing of our pre-sent community life or our ministries born of renewal, for we have made ourselves invisible. Unless they happen to know one or two us per-sonally, young women see little of the differ-ence we make to the church and less to attract them to the vowed life we lead. This is a claim many of us might question or debate, but few young women are knocking at our doors to give themselves to our enterprise. ] 259 I :. Marie Brinkman SCL wrote for us in 1971 and 2001. She may be addressed at Sisters of Charity; 4200 South Fourth Street; Leavenworth, Kansas 66048. 64.3 2005 Brinlrman * Invisible ~ Even to Ourselves? I want a other generation Of sisters for the ture mission and life of our community? This is not the place or time to raise moot questions about discarded religious symbolism. Options have been made available, freedom to discern how we will dress and where or with whom we will live in relation to ministries that we believe witness to the gospel. Yet, forty years after the beginning of our renewal, people ask if we are going to survive as vowed communities or congregations. How have we failed to convey to ,:~ them that we are not only alive and well but also are planning for a future even more vigorous and effective than our past? Given our reduced numbers and what some perceive as a disappear-ing act, that may sound like a pipe dream: Women's intu-ition, unreliable. Wishful thinking. Plain presumption. We stand open to such charges, but we do not accept them. Our young sisters are realists and pose questions of their own. Let me mention a few I encountered as we. were preparing for our sixteenth general chapter. In the reports from the council, from task forces, and from standing committees, notes from sisters fifty-five and younger were given careful attention. Calling themselves "Between Alpha and Omega," these sisters--who stand between the community's past and future--asked about the quality of community life, the diffusion of ministries, and a "visioning process" for looking at our future. A few paradoxes appeared as well as concerns we should all share. Repeatedly they asked for direction from com-munity leadership. ¯ Does the small size of local houses limit choices of how we can live in community? Review for Religious ¯ Are local communities willing to support a new kind of associate program allowing young people to live with some of us for a limited or extended time? ¯ How can we envision the future of relationships between SCLs and HCLs (our North American sis-ters and our hermanas of Latin America) and between our sponsored works and new ministries? That is, how can we deepen our unity of mission?2 Questions from the Associate Program director sug-gest the need for greater unity with the laity with whom we have intentionally allied ourselves for the past twenty years. Ties have been forged, and leadership within our institutions has been handed over; the identity and roles of our 180 associates are not so clear. One of them asked me how they might become more aware of the issues we face in chapter and beyond. That suggests a need for better communication and stronger collaboration with our associates--a stage other communities have already reached and gone beyond.3 A fundamental question the director of vocation min-istry posed to chapter delegates was a challenge that implied more than prayer and moral support. She asked us to ask ourselves: "Do I want another generation of sis-ters for the future mission and life of our community?" A firm yes in reply would bring a pledge to tithe a percent-age of time for the effort. Extrapolating from her recom-mendations suggests ways of committing time and talent. For example, the communication office for promotion of religious life in every channel of the media could draw on the volunteer services of active retired sisters. Houses of hospitality throughout the community could use the services of partially employed or volunteer sisters.4 A startling question came from the director of ini-tial formation, speaking in chapter on behalf of the fifty-five- and-under group. She wondered whether we realize 64.3 200~ Brinkman ¯ Invisible --Even to Ourselves? that, as women religious deepening our renewal of mis-sion and ministry, we are living "on the fringe" of the church in its present hierarchical operation,s Given facts from which the question comes, I would have replied that on the contrary we are at the heart of the church renewing itself. It is a matter of perspective, but I think she is the more realistic about the present and a consid-erable piece of the future. During a chat after an inter-congregational gathering, a novice, expressing what she felt, said in effect: "Where's our vision? Let's not be dis-tracted by a future of diminishing numbers and advanc-ing age. I want to hear us talk about the present and our potential and what we can do now to make a new future come to be.''6 She wondered whether so many small dwellings and so little cultural diversity can offer com-munity to new members. That is the voice of new life and promise. That is the echo of our founders, who knew nothing but risk and challenge. What they did we can do on new frontiers and in new ways. In her report a community councilor considered our progress in living out the vision statement of the 1998 general chapter, pledging us "to love the poor, to love one another, to live simply, and to unite the whole of our lives in the poor and loving Christ." Some of her questions challenged us to assess our lives in the light of priorities we have set for ourselves: to partner with the poor for mutual transformation, to simplify our lives in the spirit of our founders, and to make our local com-munity a welcoming experience and genuine support for each member--rather than a comfort to ourselves. Other questions challenged us to deeper awareness of what globalization has brought to the poor, to all our ministries, and to the life and mission of the church. They asked us to examine what "gospel values" and "work for systemic change" mean--in terms, for example, Review for Religious of personal and house budgets. They asked if we wish to--or even can--remain an ethnically homogenous group in the face of cultural diversity that is literally changing the face of the country we live in. Does our advocacy for the poor change us as it should?7 The councilor's questions carried implications. We may not be aware of who we really are or have become. Deeply different experiences of religious life and com-munity living divide us even within our day-to-day unity. The reconciliation we struggled to achieve during renewal chapters allows for a degree of hid-den complacency. Different perspectives on how our ministries--individual and community-sponsored-- manifest our mission may hinder further transforming action. Do we know what we are capable of and to what the Spirit now calls us? It is only fair to remark here that the chapter confronted these and other prob-ing questions persistently and with no little vision and courage. Writing the story of our community's last fifty years, I have learned something of the potential residing in institutions we sponsor and in various ways still staff. Their growth over these decades of diminishment reveals what women have always done in times of retrenchment: put people first, get purposes clear, find means where there were none, and never take no for an answer. The deluge of facts and figures took shape in patterns of change and renewal that most congrega- 64.3 2005 Brinkman ¯ Invisible -- Even to Ourselves? tions could duplicate or surpass. They include: ¯ mergers and coordinated systems of parochial schools, moving from strength of programs into lay administra-tion and staffing, and continuing commitment to under-served or inner-city areas ¯ the maturing of a small liberal-arts college for women into a coeducational university offering baccalaureate and masters' degrees to working adults, getting under-prepared minority students ready for college, educating youth to service ¯ incorporation of hospitals--regional leaders in health-care-- under a centralized health-services system com-mitted to community education and the care of all persons in need regardless of their ability to pay ¯ operating clinics staffed by sister or lay administrators and volunteer professionals to serve uninsured families and individuals ¯ transforming homes for parentless children into com-plex professional partnerships for treatment, care, and schooling of emotionally disturbed youngsters in both residential and day programs ¯ staffing missions in Latin America through forty years of growth into native leadership in formation and expan-sion of catechetical and healthcare ministries. As separate incorporation and lay boards for hospitals, homes, and the unive~'sity became advisable and advan-tageous, community sponsorship maintained the charism of the Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth through strong programs of mission integration. Certainly such collab-orationand continued presence in institutions that serve cities, states, and regions affirm an identity and confirm a religious mission. Are numbers, uniform dress, and common quarters necessary for recognition and symbolic significance to those who care anything about it? If not, what then is lacking? Why are those who retain such out- Review for Religious ward signs drawing young candidates, and why are we who faithfully minister without them relatively invisible? Individual ministries have witnessed to the gospel and offered religious presence in unprecedented ways during the last four decades. Pastoral ministry drew early numbers; women took leading roles in liturgical renewal, youth ministry, and the adaptation of the RCIA to cate-chesis and religious formation. Degrees in theology, min-istry, and canon law led sisters to chancery offices and marriage tribunals, to social services and diocesan hous-ing, and to spiritual direction and retreat centers. Choices of hospital chaplaincy, ministry to the dying and their families, guidance in holistic health, and counseling of delinquents, single parents, and families meant personal encounters that called on a deep prayer life and com-munity bonds. More rare but equally demanding have been calls to scholarship, writing, and the creative arts. Potentially paradigmatic in their effectiveness and extent are individual ministries to AIDS patients, admin-istration of mission and even city parishes in the West, and repair and renovation of houses for poor families in urban areas. Partnering with civic agencies is integral to such ministries. Our Office of Social Justice and Peace has allied our communi~ for these thirty years with the lobbying forces of Network, with religious and lay groups committed to creating a sustainable environment and combating systemic poverty and oppression, and with the humanitarian offices of the United Nations. Such collaboration is common to most religious congrega-tions. The community's leadership has allied us with the Charity Federation and the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) in their proactive agendas of renewal and mission. All of these ministries and alliances are familiar to professed religious. To allude to them is to make a point, 64.3 2005 Brinkman ¯ Invisible --Even to Ourselves? 266 namely, that the renewed unity of mission and ministry that many now seek and a renewed visibility in service to the church consist in much more than celebrating our differences and prioritizing our use of limited resources. Our unity and visibility consist, on the other hand, in more than freedom to diversify our ministries in part-nering with the poor. Making our mission and commu-nity manifest requires that we discern the Spirit's call to all women religious who believe that in their unity the people of God have a unique source of power. Our vis-ible unity must become the sign of Christ and his church that religious life is meant to be. Our unity is a crucial response to the Spirit, whose power alone can transform the church and turn back the global tide of cultural enmity and systematized violence. One of the foundations for our own faith in our future is the solid work of renewal that has continued through decades of loss and diminishment and through a period of relative immaturity in dealing with new free-doms to dress, drive, reside, and relax as we chose. This renewal effort hungers for deeper prayer life while seek-ing more effective channels of action. This renewal effort calls for community bonds that will hold firm across dis-tances and separations. Once realized, it is communion, the ultimate grace of vowed life on earth. The unity we seek requires deliberate decisions like these, adaptable to our individual communities: ¯ To find common ground for all our ministries, individ-ual and communal, in the church's mission to transform social and economic structures of oppression into resources of human growth. This means conscious commitment to uncover and combat causes of the suffering we constantly work to alleviate. ¯ To create a community culture that is welcoming and visible to young women who may desire to live and work Review for Religious with us for varying periods of time as associates com-mitted to the gospel. This means opening certain con-vents to women of various ethnic and educational backgrounds willing to learn of our charism and mission without seeking a vowed life. ¯ To make of our community communications a min-istry (rather than simply sources of information), a min-istry that lets our various publics know that all our ministries are part of the broad mission of the church on earth. Admirable models of print and electronic media exist that show salaried personnel and volunteer workers dedicatedly pursuing the goals of the religious commu-nities that own or sponsor the various large or small institutions and initiatives. ¯ To seek new ways of bringing gospel values into the national conversation: new forms of education at all lev-els (like the Jesuits' Cristo Rey schools), or public lec-tures and dialogue inspired by the community's mission (like the Benedictines' Atchison Threshold or the Global Institute at Leavenworth's University of Saint Mary). This means collaborating imaginatively and being will-ing to take some risks. ¯ To seek collaborators among associates, alumni/ae, and other friends for ventures into the public arena that do not depend on financial support or common allegiances. This means engaging partners as Vincent de Paul and Louise de Marillac and other founders of apostolic con-gregations did, perfecting the art of bridge building between those with means and those without. ¯ To create offices of mission and ministry that assist sisters in transition or nearing retirement to discern where best to contribute their services, within commu-nity- sponsored institution( or in partnership with sisters and associates in other activities that can use their help. This may well mean active/retirement residences for the 64.~ 200~ Brinkman * Invisible ~ Even to Ourselves? mutual support of those more active and less active. If we energetically choose some paths like these to a renewed unity of mission and ministry in our communi-ties, a new visibility will surely follow. Notes t A case in point is John Fialka's Sisters: Catholic Nuns and the Making of America (St. Martin's Press) and Ken Woodward's review in the New York Times Book Review. 2 Sister Elizabeth Youngs SCL, "Between Alpha and Omega," Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth Report for the Sixteenth Chapter, June 2004, pp. 117-119. 3 Sister Sharon Smith SCL, "Associates Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth," in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 105-107. 4 Sister Sharon Smit,h SCL, "Vocation Ministry," in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 99-101. s Sister Mary Beth Minges SCL, "Initial Formation. 1998-2004," in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 102-104. 6 Conversation with Sister Erica Berg SCL, May 2004. 7 Report from Sister Constance Phelps SCL, community councilor 1998-2004, in SCL Sixteenth Chapter, pp. 16-25. ,Review for Religious DORIS GOTTEMOELLER Living in Community: Continuing the Conversation Scix years ago I published an article titled "Living in ommunity: Beginning the Conversation." In it I suggested that the unwillingness or inability of contem-porary religious congregations to discuss this aspect of our way of life may well be our Achilles' heel, the point of vulnerability that diminishes our integrity and threat-ens our future. The article included some definitions, theological underpinnings for community living, sup-portive spiritual practices, reflections on the role of lead-ership in creating and sustaining community, and some special challenges.1 The dozens of responses to this article that I received from readers in the United States and abroad convince me that I touched on a neuralgic point. I would say the responses fall into three categories: (1) Yes, you have touched on a vital topic, tell us what to do; (2) Yes, you have touched on a vital topic, but it is too late--we have lost too much to ever regain a commitment to commu- Doris Gottemoeller RSM last wrote for us in our 62.2 issue of 2003. Her address remains Catholic Healthcare Partners; 615 Elsinore Place; Cincinnati, Ohio 45202. 64.3 200Y Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community nity living; and (3) No, you do not know what you are talking about; it is the wrong issue and the wrong premise. In these pages I would like to dialogue with these groups. "Tell Us What to Do" The first two groups affirm the significance of com-munity living, but seek direction for its revitalization, so I will respond to them together. Several authors offer helpful insights. In a talk given to the National Religious Vocation Conference Study Days in September 1999, Nancy Schreck OSF addressed "The forces that push us toward and pull us away from community.''2 She begins with the assumption that community involves persons living together in shared space with shared resources, not in order to re-create family relationships, but in order to create the possibility of a radical following of Jesus. She develops a force field analysis in which com-peting forces or energies impinge on the reality of com-munity. The driving forces that she identifies include cosmic awareness, the struggle with diversity, the need for prophetic witness, the action of the Spirit, the iden-tity of religious life, mission effectiveness, a new desire in the members, the desire of new members, and lim-ited resources. The forces that move against community include paradigm paralysis, U.S. mainstream culture, patriarchal influence, drift, lowest-common-denomina-tor performance, adjustments made in good faith, lack of need, lack of energy, community as an event, ability of members, public witness, the asceticism of personal growth, and participation in multiple communities. This is not the place to analyze these competing forces. They are, however, part of the ambiance of religious life today, and have to be taken into consideration in any effort to energize community living. Her article could be a won- Review for Religious derful starting point for a conversation in any local com-munity or congregation. Another analysis of the current reality comes from women religious under fifty in their newsletter Giving VOICE. The December 1999 issue addresses this topic in a number of thoughtful reflections) The editor, Jan Hayes RSM, reports that the editorial team received "an avalanche" of responses to the questions: How do you define community? Does it include communal living or doesn't it? VVhat is your experience of communal living? VV-hat is it that you bring to group living situ-ations? What is it that you need? Does communal liv-ing add to the vitality of the larger community or doesn't it? Is communal living still an integral part Do ,we findit~ helpful to compare' the loosening of communal bonds: in American society tO the ~ame phenomenon in 'women's ,religious life ? of religious life? Space precludes summarizing all of the excellent contributions on this issue, both in the articles and in the comments received from emails and letters to the editor. The overall tenor of the contributions, however, affirms the centrality of communal living to the sisters' understanding of their vocation and their desire to grow in this dimension of their life. The sociologist Mary Johnson SNDdeN addressed the issue in these pages in her article titled "Bowling Alone, Living Alone: Current Social Contexts for Living the Vows.''4 She responds to an article by Robert D. Putnam titled "Bowling Alone: America's Declining Social Capital"S and to my earlier article. Putnam's the-sis is that there has been a .loosening of communal bonds across U.S. society in the last thirty years. His provoca- 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community 272 five title comes from his observation that persons tend to bowl alone or in small groups today, rather than joining leagues, which require regular attendance. He has pre-sented this viewpoint in Vghite House conferences and national workshops and in other publications as well, and he has been quoted frequently. In Putnam's analysis, communal bonds, norms, and networks constitute "social capital" that facilitates coordination and cooperation for mutual benefit. He cites evidence of decline in religious involvement, labor-union membership, involvement in parent-teacher associations, and volunteering in civic, fraternal, and women's organizations like the Red Cross, the Boy Scouts, the Shriners, the Jaycees, and the League of Women Voters. He acknowledges that groups like the Sierra Club, the National Organization for Women, and the American Association of Retired Persons have seen a dramatic rise in membership in recent decades. But, as Johnson notes, while the political clout of these orga-nizations is considerable, the nature of involvement is vastly different from the organizations discussed previ-ously. Putnam says: "For the vast majority of their mem-bers (Sierra, NOW, AARP, and so forth), the only act of membership consists of writing a check for dues or per-haps occasionally reading a newsletter. Their ties, in short, are to common symbols, common leaders, and perhaps common ideals, but not to one another. From the point of view of social connectedness, the Environmental Defense Fund and a bowling league are just not in the same category." Similarly, Johnson adds, "a group of friends that meets quarterly, a prayer group that meets monthly, and a support group that meets weekly are just not in the same category as a c.ommunity that lives under the same roof and interacts daily." Johnson goes on to compare the loosening of communal bonds in American society to Review for Religious the same phenomenon in women's religious life. As evi-dence she cites research findings, funded by the Lilly Foundation, from a national survey of women who entered apostolic, monastic, and evangelical orders since 1965. Her data, based on responses from 70 percent of the women's institutes (whose membership constitutes 84 percent of the sisters in the United States), indicate that 69 percent of religious houses consist of one or two sisters. When asked "If you had your preference right now, with how many sisters would you prefer to live?" these post-Vatican II sisters responded as follows: with none (11%); with one other sister (14%), with two other sisters (12%); in a group of 4-7 sisters (45%); in a group of 8-10 sisters (6%); in a group of 11-15 sisters (2%); in a group of 16-20 sisters (4%); in a group of more than 20 sisters (6%). The gap between what sisters experience and what they would prefer is intriguing. No doubt the restrain-ing forces cited by Schreck above would help explain the disparity. There is much more in Johnson's article, but overall she believes that "the work of sharply defining and rebuilding community is essential to the mission and future of apostolic religious life in the United States and other nations where religious life struggles to free itself from the hegemonic hold of middle-class values." This probably summarizes the opinion of most of the respon-dents in this first group. Now to another viewpoint. "Wrong Issue, Wrong Premise" The most explicit argument is voiced by Barbara Fiand SNDdeN in Refocusing the Vision: Religious Life into the Future.6 In chapter 4 she differs strongly with Johnson and me (pp. 147-149). Citing both of our articles, she accuses us of a bias toward living together and a "high-handed" rejection of other experiences, saying that some- 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community thing new is evolving from the grassroots which needs to be taken into consideration. Because of the diversity of living situations today, she says, "the whole tenor of what used to be called 'community living' has changed." She adds that the alleged desire of potential new members for residential community living needs to be probed fur-ther lest it be mistaken for an adequate reason for becom-ing a religious. Finally, she suggests that Johnson's bias toward community living prejudices her as a professional investigator. Fiand seems to believe--as do others with whom I have spoken--that promoting communal living today would be an example of restorationism, a regrettable regression into some prerenewal version of religious life. It is regarded as giving way to nostalgia, a selective mem-ory about the benefits and joys of living together. Nostalgia screens out, she says, the struggles and dys-functions that were part of the reality. In response I would suggest that to restore an earlier practice with a renewed understanding of its value and with suitable adaptation to changing circumstances can be a valuable retrieval. Others object to efforts to restore community living on historical grounds. They charge that women religious lived "in community" only because the hierarchical church imposed this on us. Or, similarly, they say that something which was essential to monastic life was inap-propriately required of evangelical and apostolic reli-gious life as well. This objection would require substantial historical research. Investigation would prob-ably show, for example, that the Council of Trent's effort to insist on cloister for women's religious orders was widely resisted, as much by bishops as by women them-selves, since the works entrusted to them required the ability to be out and among the people. Cloister or papal Review for Religious enclosure, of course, is not what today's supporters of communal living envision for their apostolic lives. Investigation would probably also show that various founders from the 16th century to the present have had different ideas about the significance and modality of community living, and so the research would need to make a congregation-by-congregation review. The most neuralgic point in any discussion of com-munity living is whether a congregation should express and promote any norms around living "in common," that is, in groups of two or more. The most helpful resource here is Sandra Schneiders IHM's treatment of the issue in Selling All: Commitment, Consecrated Celibacy, and Community in Catholic Religious Life.7 The premise and context of her discussion is life in a "mobile ministerial religious congregation." Her thesis is that community life, "an intrinsic and constitutive dimension of minis-terial religious life, is theologically necessary for all mem-bers of the congregation, but that it can be embodied on the personal level in a plurality of lifestyles, both group and individual, which are related to each other as equally valid variations, not as legitimate to aberration, normative to exceptional, or superior to inferior" (p. 350, italics added). Specifically, she discusses congregational group living. (pp. 317-330) and three varieties of indi-vidual living. She defines each and spells out the cir-cumstances which may prompt it and the major advantages and challenges each brings. The three forms of individual living are living singly (pp. 330-335), living alone (pp. 336-339), and living in solitude (pp. 339-349). The first is the case of someone who would not choose individual living, but is compelled to do so by educational, ministerial, or personal respon-sibilities (such as the care of aging parents). Vghen the circumstances change, persons in this category are likely 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community 276t 7 ~ to return to group living. The second is the case of some-one who is self-marginalized, on a sort of exclaustration without going through the formalities. This is the per-son who probably has not been seen at a community event in anyone's memory. The third form of individual living is the case of per-sons who seek and choose solitude for their own spiritual development and psychological health. Schneiders describes them as neither alienated nor estranged, but deeply committed and actively involved, perhaps even holding congregational leadership posts. They are fully accountable to congregational leadership in regard to finances, ministry, and personal lifestyle; they are fre-quently involved in very demanding ministries; they are actively committed to the justice agenda. My observation about sisters in this third category is that they are the very persons with whom I would like to share community living and that, for every one of them who opts for solitary living, there is one less com-panion available to those who desire healthy group liv-ing. And so I do not agree with Schneiders that the choice to live individually is without consequence for the rest of the group, or that a norm favoring group liv-ing would be inappropriate. Each member's choice enlarges or diminishes options for others. The more often healthy and active sisters choose to live alone, the more the impression may be given that those who choose to live together are immature, dependent, and nonre-newed. Creating the Future What are some considerations for sisters who want to break through the hesitancy and silence that surround the issue of community living? Here are four sugges-tions. First, the venue for choice of a norm around com- Review for Religious munity living is the congregational chapter. By the very nature of what is involved--an authoritative interpreta-tion of the commitment to community--an individual sister or small group of sisters cannot be determinative. As with any norm, interpretations in specific cases and exceptions for specific individuals can be made by the leadership. This authority to interpret the Rule and to apply it in specific circumstances is one of the highest obligations of leadership. If done sensitively and consis-tently, it will build up the common good and respond to individual needs. Exceptions, then, will not detract from the clarity of the ideal embraced by the membership and the good-faith efforts to strive toward the ideal. Second, congregations will legitimately differ in their interpretation of their commitment. Their history, tra-ditions, and present circumstances may prompt some to choose the norm of living in common, others of living singly, and others of honoring individual choice. Clarity about what the normative interpretation of community is may lead to less diversity in lifestyle within a congre-gation and more diversity among congregations. This clarity should be valuable in describing a congregation to the larger church and to potential new members. Third, in discerning their choice around community living, each congregation should factor in how its choice influences its practice of poverty, of obedience, of celibacy, of prayer, and of ministry. Each of these ele-ments of religious life is meant to interact with the oth-ers to create a synergistic whole. How is a communal spirituality built up through the daily efforts of the mem-bers? How is the sharing of goods implied by poverty realized in practice? And so forth. In a way the manner of community living chosen creates a template for the realization of each of the other elements. The discern-ment should also project the possible impact of the 277 ¯ 64.3 2005 Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community 278] choice into the future. What will be the possible impact of the congregation's present choice a generation from now? Fourth, the congregation's choice of a norm around community living must be supported by appropriate resources, both material and spiritual. If it is true that forty-five percent of sisters desire to live in groups of four to seven, and this is consistent with the congrega-tion's norm, then housing must be found to make that possible. The loss of parish convents is one of the factors that led to the drift into individual living, and apart-ments will seldom accommodate more than two people. Of course, the investment in living space requires a good-faith commitment on the part of groups to use the space. Congregational leadership has to invite and promote the dialogues that lead to these choices. Leaders .also have to make available other resources, such as materials for group prayer and ritual, occasional group facilitation, intervention in crisis situations, and a general climate of encouragement and support. The intention in pursuing this conversation is not to simplify what is a very complex issue, having historical, cultural, sociological, and theological dimensions. Nor is it to minimize the experience of anyone living religious life today. Rather, the purpose is to call attention to a principal dimension of religious life and to invite a cor-porate discernment. Few questions cut closer to the real-ity of a congregation's identity than its norm or lack of norm around community living. Attempts at dialogue are sometimes stalled by the prospect of choosing between ministry and community living, with the assumptions that members cannot be expected to bring energy to both and that ministry is to be preferred. A better perspective would be to view both ministry and community as equally valuable expressions Review for Religiozts of mission, each strengthening the other. The presence of adults living together in simplicity and harmony, shar-ing prayer, hospitality, and the duties and struggles of daily living, is an uncommon and striking witness to the power of the gospel and the dynamism of a congrega-tion's charism, so much so that it deserves to be called a prophetic stance. Six years ago I closed with the phrase that is the sub-title of the Vatican document on community, "The Love of Christ Gathers Us into Unity." This phrase captures the motive and dynamism of community life. Only the love of Christ is enough to support and sustain this way of life. Love attracts and gathers us. The process is never finished, always calling us to greater unity, greater gen-erosity, greater zeal. We will all fall short of this ideal, but it is one that will never be approached unless it is artic-ulated in behavioral expectations appropriate to a con-gregation's charism and mission. Notes ~ Review for Religious 58, no. 2 (March-April 1999): 137-149. See also my article "Community and Communion: Making the Connections," Review for Religious 60, no. 2 (March-April 2001): 139-151. 2 Horizon, Spring 2000, 7-15. 3 Giving VOICE 1, no. 3 (December 1999). Contributors include Denise Starkley OP, "Community: An Essential Part of Charism"; Rayleen Giannotti RSM, "A Common Life and a Vibrant Spirituality"; Janice Bader CPPS, "Commitment Grows through the 'Rubbing of Elbows'"; Debbie Wells CPPS, "Generation Xers in Community: A Cultural Expert--No Experience Necessary!"; and Kathy Wright SL, "Community ls for Mission." 4 Review for Religious 59, no. 2 (March-April 2000): 118-130. s Journal of Democracy 6, no. 1 (January 1995): 65-78. 6 Barbara Fiand SNDdeN, Refocusing the Vision (New York: Crossroad Publishing Co., 2001). 7 Sandra Schneiders IHM, Selling All, Vol. 2 of Religious Life in a New Millennium (New York: Paulist Press, 2001). 279 64.3 200Y Gottemoeller ¯ Living in Community Prayer: Psalm 122:1-3, 6-9 I rejoiced because they said to me, "We ~ill go up to the house of the Lord." And now we have set foot within your gates, O Jerusalem-- Jerusalem, built as a city with compact unity. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem! May those who love you prosper! May peace be within your walls, prosperity in your buildings. Because of my relatives and friends I will say " Peace be'within you!" Because of the house of the Lord, our God, I will pray for your good. Reflection and Discussion What is my personal experience of community support and sharing in our congregational vocation and charism? Religious community life mirrors the secular cultural breakdown of social groupings. Do we agree or disagree? If we agree, what kind of changes would we want to work for in religious life? What would be some "norms" that a religious congrega-tion might establish to support and sustain a healthy living "in common"? Review for Religiou~ MARY C. CARROLL With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux: Letters of Mother Teresa and St. Th~r~se When Father Michael van der Peet SCJ, A col-league of mine and seminary spiritual director, lectured on Mother Teresa of Calcutta, it was not just his reporting of particular facts but the heartfelt friendship he had with this remarkable woman that inspired me.~ Because of my com-pelling interest, Father shared the twenty let-ters he had received from Mother Teresa and spoke at length about their conversations and his continuing sense of her presence in his life. I was reminded of another friendship and the poignant letters exchanged between Maurice Barth~l~my-Belli~re, an aspiring seminarian, and Th6r~se of Lisieux. As he departed from France for the African missions, Maurice was deeply consoled by the assuring words of Th~r~se that somehow she would be with him. What is it that motivates and sustains such relationships? Mother Teresa wrote her letters in Mary C. Carroll SSSF is a professor and spiritual director at Sacred Heart School of Theology; .7335 South Highway 100; P.O. Box 429; Hales Corners, Wisconsin 53130. witnessing 64.3 2005 Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 282 the midst of enormous travel demands, and Th~r~se of Lisieux wrote even when she was extremely ill. What is it that so strongly moves people to assist one another on the spiritual journey? Examining these two relationships may provide insight into Jesus' admonition to "abide in my love" (Jn 15:9). My purpose here is (1) to describe the origins of these two friendships, (2) to explore the contents of select letters and conversations, and (3) to share the wisdom of the relationships. Mother Teresa of Calcutta and Father Michael At a bus stop in Rome, Father Michael--a native of Holland and something of a world traveler himself-- noticed that the diminutive woman patiently waiting was Mother Teresa. Considering how rare such a respite must have been for her, he thought of giving her just a nod of recognition. But then he thought: "Here is a saint and I am a sinner. At least I can ask her to pray for me." Fortuitously the conversation that ensued included an invitation to give a talk to Mother's congregation, the Missionaries of Charity, in Rome. Arriving early and sitting in the chapel, Father Michael noticed the Ego Sum (I Am) on the tabernacle door. This became a prayer focus and filled him with a sense of "holy ground." This day concluded with another invitation, for a retreat. Mother requested continuing contact because, as she told him, "You kriow Jesus and you know us.''~ In her first letter Mother says: I would be grateful if I could turn to you for spiritual help, but I am absolutely too small and empty. Only Jesus can stoop so low as to be in love with one such as me. Pray for me--that "No" does not pass through my heart and lips---when Jesus asks. (Letter 1, 11/16/75) Because of traveling, Mother apologizes for a delay in her next letter; she assures Father Michael, however, that Review for Reli~ous a holy hour follows every Mass so that "I get the two hours with Jesus before people and sisters start using me. I let Him use me first" (Letter 2, 3/6/76). Several months later Mother is in New York and invites Father Michael to a private meeting, during which he suggests leaving after an hour. Mother's response is "No. The morning is for us, and the media don't know where I am." On. another occasion Father Michael raised a question: "Wherever you go, Mother, people con-sider you to be a heroine or saint. You received all those beautiful prizes. The Holy Father admires and praises you. You were the guest of Indira Gandhi, of Queen Elizabeth, and of President and Mrs. Reagan. How do you handle all of that?" She laughed and said: "Father, [pointing to her ear] it goes in here and comes out there. I am too small to contain it all. Jesus has given me a great grace, and that is the absoluteconviction that I am nothing without Him. If He could find a poorer woman than I, He would not choose me but He would choose that woman." This theme of "littleness" appears again in a letter: I want to write, but I have nothing to say, but that wonder at His great humility and my smallness--noth-ingness. I believe--this is where Jesus and I meet-- He is everything to me--and I--His own little one--so helpless--so empty--so small that all these things that people keep pouring at and round me, can-not enter within me. Maybe because of the darkness I do not see. Maybe He just wants it to be so. I let Him have His way. I smile at the cardboard box [referring "If He co ld find a poorer w man than!, He would noLchoose me but He would choose tha woman." 283 64.3 2005 Carroll * With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 284[ to herself] getting filled--with all kinds of things-- Big things, most of which I do not understand, but I know that I am being used--only--for and by them so that they proclaim the presence of the Poor--and their concern for the poor. And so I accept everything with a smile in their name. (Letter 3, 5/29/76) In another letter the theme of an unconditional love-- despite the inexplicable darkness that encircles Jesus within her--is quite pronounced in the last paragraph: My love for Jesus keeps growing more simple and more I think personal. Like our Poor, I try to accept my poverty of being small, helpless, incapable of great love, but I want to love Jesus with Mary's love, and His Father with Jesus' love. I know you are praying for me. I want Him to be at ease with me--not to mind my feelings--as long as He feels alright--not to mind even the darkness that surrounds Him in me-- but that in spite of everything Jesus is all to me and that I love no one but only Jesus. (Letter 4, 6/19/76) Within a few months Mother is writing of Brother Roger of Taizd's presence in Calcutta and marveling at someone so full of God and willing to live right in the slums. She promises Father Michael more sharing when her table is "a little empty of letters" (Letter 5, 11/6/76). There is a specificity of issues--providence and faith-fulness- mentioned in the following letter. First Mother refers to their wonderful "chance" meeting in Rome. We have received much from accepting to meet-- without being consulted or prepared. I do not know how He does with you--but with me He always does so--just to make me realize His tender concern for me and my nothingness--His fullness and my empti-ness- His infinite Love and my childlike love. (Letter 6, 11/26/76) Then she addresses Father Michael's personal concerns: Review for Religious "Let not your infidelity and hesitancy as you say--pre-occupy you, but accept all that He gives and give what-ever He takes with a big smile. For this is holiness: to do His will with a big smile" (Letter 6, 11/26/76). But that smile is difficult for her too as she handles her celebrity status in a visit to the United States. "It was all one act of blind obedience. I began to understand the Stations of the Cross with a deeper meaning. The Police, the crowds, it all seemed as if Calvary was being re-enacted all over again" (Letter 6, 11/26/76). The significance of the Missionaries of Charity and the Eucharist are recurring themes as well. Mother is impressed by a priest who points out that God has to exist or else the MCs have "no meaning at all." She agrees, but adds that the essential source for this ministry is the meekness and humility of Jesus: To be able to eat the Bread of Life--we need meekness and humility--if we want to feed Him in the hungry one. I would be happy if you [Father Michael] wrote about the hunger of man and the Bread of Life, the hunger of God and the Hungry One in the distressing disguise of the Poor. (Letter 6, 11/26/76) Regarding hours of adoration, Mother confides, "Here lies our strength and our joy." She concludes: "I ask you to tell Jesus--when at your wordwthe bread becomes His Body and wine becomes His Blood--to change my heart, give me His own Heart so that I can love Him as He loves me" (Letter 6, 11/26/76). Within the year, Mother makes a similar plea with deep affection: "My prayer is very close to you. I do hope you will keep me close to you in your prayer--and love Jesus for me, for all the times when my heart is cold and empty" (Letter 7, 6/20/77). A short time later Father Michael is planning an extended time of reflection and Mother has some pas-toral words for him: 64.3 200~ Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Li~'eux It is just like you to ask to spend the [three] 3 months with Jesus alone, but if during this time the hunger for Jesus in hearts of His people is greater than yours for Jesus you should not remain alone with Jesus for all the time. You must allow Jesus to make you bread to be eaten by all those you come in touch with. Let the people eat you up--by the Word and presence you proclaim Jesus. (Letter 8, 2/17/78) She then lays out a tentative plan for her scheduled time in St. Louis: I wish you would be there. We could--maybe have Adoration every day and so bring . . . our lives [together] with the Bread of Life. No greater love, not even God could give than in giving Himself as Bread of life to be broken to be eaten so that you and I may eat and live, may eat and satisfy our hunger for love--and He seemed yet not satisfied for He too was hungry for love, so He made Himself the Hungry One, the Thirsty One, the Naked One, the Homeless [One]. (Letter 8, 2/17/78) Mother claims that she can understand Jesus' majesty because He is God, but "His humility is beyond my understanding because He makes Himself the Bread of Life so that even a child as small as I can eat Him and live." In further reflection on the Eucharist, she recalls an awesome memory: Some days back, when giving Holy Communion to our Sisters in the Mother House, suddenly I realized I was holding God between my [two] 2 fingers. The greatness of [the] humility of God. Really no greater love--no greater love than the love of Christ. You, I am sure must feel often like that when, at your word ¯. the [b]read becomes the Body of Christ, the wine becomes the Blood of Christ. (Letter 8, 2/17/78) Her closing comment is characteristic: "He [Jesus] Review for Religious can do with me just as it pleases Him without even a thought of consoling me. I iust want to be His own lit-tle one, if He so wants. Otherwise I will be happy to be just Nothing and He everything" (Letter 8, 2/I 7/78). After more than a year's lapse, a subsequent letter includes an apology for a "long silence." She refers to the Silver Jubilee celebration since, with the foundation in Beirut, twenty-five tabernacles are established in MC houses around the world. With reference to the Eucharist, she again ponders the ineffable: "I just under-stand less and less the humility of God-made-man for love of us" (Letter 9, 5/30/79). A few months later, at the time of the congregational chapter, Mother makes a request: "Ask Our Lady to take care of our Society, which was born at her pleading and grew under her care. I would love to be just a simple Sister. I will not ask--let Jesus do whatever He wills without con-suiting me, for I belong to Him" (Letter 10, 9/22/79). She also offers an apology for leaving Father Michael and oth-ers at a profession in New York to join Cardinal Terence Cooke in meeting with the boat people: "The sea has become an open Calvary where the Passion of Christ is being relived . You only wonder how people can suffer so much and never break. Looking at them I feel physical pain right in my heart" (Letter 10, 9/22/79). Mingled with joy in the expanding congregation, the letter contains signs of a dark night of the soul: "As for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear. The tongue moves but does not speak. Helpless yet daring." Mother asks for prayer so that "I let Him have a free hand and even if He chooses to cut me to pieces that every single piece, however small, be only His." Mother ends with "Ask Our Lady to take care of me as she took [care] of Jesus" (Letter 10, 9/22/79). 64.3 2005 Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 288 There is a postmark from Rome on the next letter. "A bishop told me that I will spend my Purgatory in writing letters, because I am so bad in answering" is her opening statement. Even so, she claims that, "however long Purgatory may be, there is the beautiful hope of seeing Jesus, one day." Her delay is, to some extent, due to her presence at a synod. She expresses amazement to be "with all the big people of Church" (Letter 11, 10/18/80). At the synod Mother requests that the bishops and the Holy Father "give us holy Priests." She then reflects on Father Michael's priesthood: "How tenderly Jesus must love you as to use your tongue to change [b]read into the Body of Christ and through your absolution take away the sins, wash the sins with His precious Blood." Mother is delighted that soon "we shall have Priest-Co-workers." She closes with "Let us keep the joy of loving Jesus in our hearts and share this joy with all we meet" (Letter 11, 10/18/80). During the next decade Mother's letters are less fre-quent but, with reference to Father Michael's corre-spondence, she repeats, "They are my strength" (Letter 12, 12/29/82). Upon returning from Ethiopia she somberly says, "I only saw an open Calvary, where the Passion of Christ was being relived in the bodies of crowds and crowds of people." She hopes, however, to send more sisters to be Jesus' gentle presence to them (Letter 13, I/1/1985). "Often I have wanted to write, but not knowing where you are--it was [a] good excuse not to write" is one of the opening lines of her next letter. With so much poverty around the world, the three hundred and fifty MC houses in seventy-seven countries console her. In her imaginative way she says: St. Peter must be wondering what is happening in the homes of the MC's, as each one who dies in our homes Review for Religious goes to heaven with a ticket for St. Peter. [Twenty-three] 23 thousand have died with us only in Calcutta out of the 53,000 that we had picked up dying from the streets. Same is happening in New York. Already [fifty] 50 have died a beautiful death . At the begin-ning St~ Peter would not let me enter Heaven, because there were no slums in Heaven. Now Heaven is full of slum people. Jesus must be very happy to have those thousands coming to Him with love from Calcutta. (Letter 14, 1/1/88) Although there is a short typed note expressing grat-itude, the last hand-written letter arrives in March 1992. Mother repeats an earlier refrain, "Your letter brought me great joy that you still remember me and pray for me after such a long time." She is happy with an expanding congregation but hopes that the "Society remains only all for Jesus through Mary" (Letter 17, 3/3/92). Then, until Mother's death in 1997, the notes are short and typed but her spirit comes through, especially in the final letter: "God's blessings be on you as you continue to satiate the burning Thirst of Jesus." The last line concludes with "Please, pray for our Society and for me that we may not in any way spoil the works of love" (Letter 20, 3/10/97). In reflecting on his experience, Father Michael mea-sures each word as he says, "With her, you inhale God's presence." Mother's decorum is not "pietistic or exag-gerated." There is a flow of "something genuine, natu-ral, and spontaneous." At the ceremony for the beatification of Mother Teresa, Father Michael watched carefully at the unveiling of her picture and with grati-tude said in his heart, "There is my friend." In the years that have followed since her death, Father Michael says, "She has never been far from me." Whereas Father Michael and Mother Teresa met numerous times and exchanged over fifty letters, Maurice 289 64.3 2005 Carroll ¯Witb Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 290 Belli~re and Th~r~se of Lisieux never met, and exchanged only twenty-one letters. Nevertheless, their correspondence also provides a rich dynamic of a grow-ing friendship. Let us now turn to the genesis of that relationship and some excerpts from Th~rEse's letters. Thdri~se of Lisieux and Maurice Barth~l~my-Bellii~re Like Father Michael van der Peet, Maurice Belli~re --a twenty-one-year-old French ~eminarian--reached out for someone to pray for him by writing to a Carmelite convent. Mother Agnes of Jesus, Th~r~se's older sister Pauline, received the letter in which Maurice introduced himself with the words, "The grace of God, which impelled me toward the Sanctuary, has not washed away the last traces of a thoughtless life., and in spite of my efforts I have a hard time absorbing the spirit of the Church and holding myself to all the demands of the seminary rule." 3 Subsequently, while in the mundane surroundings of a laundry room, Pauline asked Th~r~se to become a spir-itual sister to Maurice by praying for him. Th~r~se was delighted, and, although they never met, thus began a significant friendship manifested in the letters exchanged, largely during the last year of her life. When Maurice Belli~re sent his first letter to the Carmel of Lisieux, he was desperate because his manda-tory military service was interrupting his seminary stud-ies and it could negatively affect his vocation. Within a week Pauline assured Maurice that a "little saint" would be praying for him. His next letter is quite idealistic, for he does not want to come back from military service "without bringing some souls back to the true Light." En route to the barracks in Caen, he drops off a postcard recommending prayer for the seminarian-soldiers and their saddened families. Review for Religious It is another nine months before Maurice sends a let-ter revealing a man, fresh from the seminary, whose per-sonal confidence in his ideals have been severely challenged. What exactly happened in the army is mys-terious; obviously, Maurice is disillusioned. He writes again, to the new prioress, Mother Gonzague, who turns the correspondence over to Th~r~se. With alacrity and sisterly concern, Th~r~se responds and soon learns that Maurice--having finished his military stint and returned to his religious pursuits--is now anxiously awaiting acceptance in the Missionaries of Africa (White Fathers). Excerpts from Th~r~se's first letter (December 26, 1896) are full of encouragement for the aspiring missionary: Let us work together for the salvation of souls. We have only the one day of this life to save them and thus to give Our Lord some proof of our love. The tomorrow of this day will be eternity, when Jesus will reward you with the hundredfold of those sweet and lawful joys which you are giving up for Him . I hope, Monsieur l'Abb~, that you will continue to pray for me, who am no angel as you seem to think, but a poor little Carmelite who is very imperfect--yet who in spite of her poverty wants, like yourself, to work for the glory of God. Thtr~se includes some of her poems. Maurice is grateful, apologizing for his "rough and ready" prose but saying he feels that something in her communication is working in the depths of his soul. Th~r~se responds with equal gratitude: "Truly, only in heaven will you know how dear you are to me. I feel our souls are made to understand each other." In this same letter Th~r~se articulates her "little way" by saying: "Since He Himself has chosen me to be your sis-ter, I hope that He will not take notice of my weakness, or rather that He will use that very weakness to do His work: 29i 64.3 200~ Carroll ¯ With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 2921 for the Strong God likes to show His power by making use of nothing." Th~r~se has lofty desires that can be accomplished by being the "small flower" in the apostolic garden. For Thdr~se, the Divine One is not giving awards to the competent but rewards to the humble who are con-fident in Him, It is not entitlement but instrumentality. There is an increasing intimacy in Thdr~se's saluta-tion in the next letter. "My dear little Brother" replaces the formal "Monsieur l'Abb&" Fearing an overestima-tion of her person, she says, "I beg you to believe me that the good God has given you as your sister not a great soul." But she hastens to add: "Don't think that this is humility which prevents me from recognizing the gifts of the good God. I know that He has done great things in me, and every day I sing to Him with joy for doing so." Her motivation has also crystallized. "I under-stood my mission was not to crown a mortal king, but to make the King of Heaven loved, to conquer for Him the kingdom of hearts." Just months before her death, Thdr~se takes advan-tage of the privacy afforded her in the infirmary to answer Maurice's letters. She makes it clear that she is facing the end and assumes that, when he receives her letter, she will have left this "land of exile." There seems to be a sense of urgency when she says, "I would like to tell you a thousand things which I understand as I stand at the door of Eternity." One thing is clear: "I under-stand more than ever that only one thing is necessary, and that is to work solely for Him." A month later Thdr~se says, "The Spouse is at the door." Facing her own demise, she wants Maurice to know that their relationship will continue. "When my dear lit-tle brother leaves for Africa, I shall follow him not only in thought and in prayer; my soul will be with him for-ever." But Maurice is devastated when he understands Review for Religious that TMr~se's days are numbered, for he has found "a lovely home" in her friendship. He lets her know that she has been instrumental in his finding Jesus. Maurice soon expresses his anxieties and moral weak-ness. Thdr~se uses the image of an elevator of love, not fear, that takes us to God. She gives the exam-ple of two children who are disobedient. One withdraws in fright, but the other throws himself into their father's arms to beg forgiveness. Thdr~se promises to help Maurice remedy his hesitancy with God. "I think it will be easier for you to live with Jesus once I am there at His side forever." Thdr~se knows she must wait for the next life to further converse on these profound realities. In Thdr~se's last letter she speaks of knowing that her passport for heaven is ready and credits her deceased father for the grace of that awareness. Once again she assures Maurice that, whatever his faults, he is .dealing with the infinite mercy of God. She closes with: "ADieu, dear little brother, may God give us the grace to love Him and to save souls for Him." In the meantime Maurice is on board a ship destined for Africa. He recalls looking up at the stars and praying for Thdr~se, unaware it was the night she died. His first day in Africa is Thdr~se's first day in eternity. Later he is convinced that his peacefulness and joy are attributable to her. If today one goes to Maurice's grave, there is a plaque on the wall of the nearby church acknowledging this relationship: Maurice Belli~re, Spiritual Brother and Protdgd of Saint Th4r~se. A Dieu, dear littlebrother, may God give us the grace to love Him and to save soulsfor Him," 1293 64.3 2005 Carroll * With Love from Calcutta and Lisieux 294 Summary Observations These two women--sending letters permeated with affection, gratitude, and insights--gifted both Father Michael van der Peet and Maurice Barth~l~my-Belli~re. Mother Teresa's themes are more broadly based: retreat requests, Eucharistic insights, concern for an expanding congregation, global poverty, and a thirst for God whet-ted by an acute spiritual darkness that seem to hollow her out for a greater fullness of Jesus' presence. In each MC house she had the phrase "I thirst" given a prominent place as a reminder of Jesus' longing for souls, and per-haps as a reflection of her own longing for God. Th~r~se and Maurice were in their twenties and fer-vently idealistic. Th~r~se articulates the "little way" to accompany her dreams. She uses the face of Jesus and the phrase "King of Hearts" to focus her image of her Beloved. There is immediacy in Th~r~se's writing because it is penned as she stands at the door of death while whispering secrets to Maurice. Although cloistered in life, she promises that in eternity she will travel with him as a spiritual companion. Both women view themselves as God's instruments: a cardboard box, an insignificant flower. In life, many know similar images of themselves and reluctantly accept them, but these women rejoice in them. Both knew they are not sources, only conduits, of love. Both women say to their friends what John the Baptist once said: "He must increase, and I must decrease" (Jn 3:30). But, most especially, both women testify to a divine indwelling through Jesus that makes true friendship possible. "As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my love" (Jn 15:9). Notes ~ Father Michael van der Peer, a member of the international Congregation of the Priests of the Sacred Heart (SCJ), served on the Review for Religious commission for the beatification of Mother Teresa of Calcutta. He has graciously given me permission to quote from her letters and has answered numerous questions. Further resources regarding her expe-rience with spiritual direction are J. Neuner SJ, "Mother Teresa's Charism," and Albert Huart SJ, "Mother Teresa: Joy in the Night," Review for Religious 60 (September-October 2001): 479-493 and 494- 502 respectively. 2 Words quoted here and below (whether Mother Teresa's or Father Michael's), if not otherwise documented, are from my interviews with Father van der Peet. 3 Patrick Ahern, Maurice and Tberese: The Story of a Love (New York: Doubleday, 1998), p. 15. Below, other quotations longer than three words are from the following pages of this book: 25, 65-66, 82 and 86, 82, 103 and 108, 104-I05, 106, 130, 129-130, 152 and 155, 153,188, and 211. At Cana Before time was, She was in God's eye, As a bloom in the bud Awaits its moment. And the moment, too, Was in God's eye, That sees and saves, Counts hairs on heads, Yet defers to her, Her.unspoken wish Already his command. Leonard Cochran OP 64.3 2005 MARY FRANCES COADY Alfred Delp SJ and the Heart of Jesus 296 O n the first day of December 1944, a thirty-seven- year-old Jesuit, imprisoned in Berlin and awaiting trial for treason against the Third Reich, edged himself between the plank bed and table of his small cell and with manacled hands began to write a reflection on the Heart of Jesus. His name was Alfred Delp, and he had been arrested four months earlier in an all-out purge following a failed attempt on Hitler's life the previous July. He had been interrogated and tortured. In letters smuggled out of prison by two women who brought clean laundry and other supplies to prisoners, he had written about his fear, his struggles against despair, his optimistic hopes for acquittal and release, and his desire to leave his fate in the hands of God. The date, 1 December, that he began putting his meditation to paper is significant, for as the day dawned he realized it was the first Friday of the month, the day honoring the Heart of Jesus. This devotion held a cen- Mary Frances Coady published With Bound Hands, about Father Delp, at Loyola Press in 2003. She writes from 35 Cowan Avenue; Toronto, Ontario; M6K 2N1 Canada. tral place in Delp's prayer life. The veneration of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, with its deep biblical roots, had grown to enormous popularity with the revelations to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque in the late 17th century. This obscure Visitation nun received visions of Jesus in the chapel of her convent in the town of Paray-le- Monial, in Burgundy. In these visions Jesus exposed his heart to her, saying, "Behold my heart, which burns with love for all humanity." He added that those who received Communion for nine consecutive first Fridays in repa-ration for sins against his love were assured of dying in the state of grace. In the following centuries and under Jesuit influence, the Sacred Heart devotion ushered in a new and more gentle approach to the Christian spiritual life--one of self-abandonment, trust, and surrender--as a means of combatting the cold, harsh spirit of Jansenism that had permeated the church. The Litany of the Heart of Jesus was given official church approval in 1891. Along the way, however, the devotion became encrusted with infe-rior art, sugary sentimentality, and obsessive supersti-tions regarding the nine first Fridays. Alfred Delp, the product of a Catholic-Lutheran mar-riage, grew up without Catholic devotions because his father insisted he be brought up a Lutheran. The Sacred Heart caught up with him, however, after his adolescent embrace of his mother's Catholicism and his subsequent entrance into the Society of Jesus in 1926. A book of Jesuit devotions, one of which was the Litany of the Sacred Heart, was sent to him in prison. Delp had studied philosophy and political theory, but his prayer life as a Jesuit had been fashioned by the Catholic piety of the time. As a preacher and writer, he had tried to infuse his philosophical work with his deep-ening sense of the divine mystery at the core of his devo- 64.3 2005 298 tions. On the first Friday of December, in his cold prison cell, his hands in manacles, he pondered the love of God as the driving force of the universe. In the extremity of his situation, he realized the immensity of God's love for him, that God was holding him and protecting him with a love that was infinitely greater and more powerful than the forces imprisoning him. And so he began to write his meditation on the Litany of the Heart of Jesus. The heart represents the essence, or center, of a per-son, and he had earlier written of the heart as the only way to God. Now, in a preamble to his meditation, he lamented the dissociation of the devotional from the the-ological. Without a theological foundation, he wrote, the devotion can dissolve into mush, and without the devotion the theology becomes dry and devoid of personal passion. He described the arc that moves between the divine and the human: the basis of this devotion is the cry of the creature in need and the offer of help from God through Jesus Christ. The answer from God takes two forms: a healing, redemptive help and a call for humanity to share in that healing. And so this is not a just a "me and God" approach to the heart of Jesus, but a proposal to be a graced presence for others as well. The language used in the prayer is the language of love, but the theological framework is there. The prayer expresses a deep, myste-rious relationship between God and humanity, he wrote, and must not be demeaned by sentimentality. As with other litanies, the Litany of the Heart of Jesus follows an antiphonal course; the response "Have mercy on us" follows each of the various titles attributed to Jesus. What follows is my translation of an excerpt from Delp's reflection on the first invocation: "Heart of Jesus, Son of the eternal Father." "We call upon the Heart of the Son of the eternal Father. In this invocation there are particular consider- Review for Religious ations for us to contemplate. Heart: here, as in the whole litany, we are calling upon the love of God. The Heart is the symbol of God's innermost being and God's fun-damental relationship with us. A person who does not believe in God in this way should not continue praying, because that person is not up to the words of the prayer. "Heart of the Son: one ought to be able to state briefly what theology has to say about the Son. But one thing should be men-tioned as far as this devo-tion is concerned: from the beginning, the Son is the place of comfort and belonging for the world. The Word is God's image, of which we are shadows. He has always been the living incarnation of God's commitment to the worl

Issue 25.5 of the Review for Religious, 1966. ; Mal~ Religious in Past and Present by Maurice A. ROche, C.M. 749 Updating the Cloister by Sister Teresa Margaret, O.C:D. 770 ' Directed vs. Preached.Retreats by Ladislas M. Ors,2, S.J. 781 The Religious Teacher by Sister M. Fredericus, O.P. 797 The Woman Religious and Leadership by William J. Kelly, S.J. 814 Retreat: Dialogue or Silence? by Ambrose de Groot, O.F.M.Cap. 828 A Pastoral Theology Program by Gerald G. Daily, S.J. 836 The Eucharist as Symbolic Reality by J. P. de Jong 853 Retreat or Community Experience by George A. Aschenbrenner, S.J. 860 The Problem of Vitality by John Carmody, S.J. 867 D, irection and the Spiritual Exercises by Daniel J. Shine, S.J. 888 Poems 897 Survey of Roman Documents 899 Views, News, Previews 906 Questions and Answers 909 Book Reviews 925 VOLUM~ 25 NUMBER 5 September 1966 Notice to Subscribers Because of constantly increasing costs, REVIEW FOR RELK;IOUS finds it necessary to increase the cost of its individual issues as well as of its sub-scriptions. The new rates, effective in 1967, will be the following: (l) Individual issues of the REVIEW will cost one dollar; this price will apply not only to all issues beginning with 1967 but also to all previously published issues. (2) Subscriptions in the United. States, Canada, and Mexico will cost $5.00 per year; $9.00 for two years. (3) Subscriptions to other countries will cost ~;5.50 per year; ~;10.00 for two years. (4) All the above prices are in terms of U.S.A. dollars; accordingly all payments must be made in U.S.A. funds. These prices will affect all individual issues sold on or after January 1, 1967. The new subscription prices will be applicable to all subscriptions-- new and renewed---beginning with the January, 1967, issue of the REVIEW. MAURICE A. ROCHE; C.M. The Male Religious in Past and Present What is the perfect Christian life? Can it be lived? If so, how? Does it entail the transformation of all human society? Can in-dividuals be immersed in a prevailingly or partially un-Christian society without compromising their principles and be fully Christian? To be fully Christian, is it necessary to withdraw from society? If so, must one live alone, or must those intent on the complete Christian life seek it in.community with othersP These and similar questions have been asked by zeal-ous Christians and by the Church herself since the time of Christ. According to the circumstances of time and place, the answer of the Church has varied. This article will treat in summary form the major manifestations of the "perfect life" as .they have appeared in the Western part of the Catholic Church during the past nineteen hundred years. As with most 'institutions in the Church, both the idea and practice of: the religious life developed rather slowly. Some of the elements of the religious life, for example, common purse, existed among the disciples even during the lifetime of Christ.2 Shortly after Pentecost at least some of the disciples gave all their possessions to the p0or.s In the First Epistle to the Corinthians (written about the year 57), St. Paul talks about the concern of a Christian father for his virgin daughter;4 presumably the motive for her virginity was a religious one. ÷ During ,the first two centuries, the life of perfection was lived within the family circle; domestic asceticism + was the rule. Given the small number of Christians in a pagan society, no othel- solution seemed feasible. Such persdns engaged in ordinary employments; each local church usuall~ had a number of these "continentes" ; ampton, 1 Kenneth S. Latourette, .4 History ol Christianity (New York: vania 18967. H~rper ~nd Row, 1953), p. 221. =Jn 13529. VOLUME 25, 1966 ' 1 Cor 7:36-8. 749 Father Maurice A. Roche, C.M., is a faculty member of Mary Immaculate Seminary; North- Pennsyl- + ÷ ÷ M. A. Roche, .M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 750 and "virgines." They formed a sort of spiritual aristoc-racy and occupied special places in the church. These primitive ascetics differed in many respects from the later religious: no special ceremony marked their entrance into the ascetical life; they wore no distinctive clothing; they did not live in community (though they might fre-quently assemble for mutual encouragement); they did not abstain from ordinary employment; they did not devote themselves as a matter of course or in .any special way to the corporal works of mercy. This mode of striv-ing for perfection has never died out in the Church; every parish still has its group of unmarried women who work for a living and are exceptional for their piety. About the middle of the third century there arose in Egypt the institution of monasticism. Authors have ad-vanced various reasons to explain its development in this place at this time. (a) Pagan Egypt had a strain of .mysticism in it. (It was in Alexandria that Ammonius Saccas [d. 245] had founded Neoplatonism.) Thus the Egyptian people were not entirely unprelSared for this mode of life which purported to lead to mystical union with God. (b) The desert wastes of Egypt made it easy to find solitude. Food and water were a constant problem of course, but the hot dry climate simplified the matter of clothing, shelter; and so forth. (c) The Decian persecution (249-251) was particularly thorough in Egypt and the desert offered a safe refuge. Some, driven out of the cities by the persecutors, sought refuge in the wilderness, liked the solitude, and remained there. Each of the above statements is true, and probably each contributed in some way to the growth of monasti-cism. They seem, however, to be occasions rather than causes. The basic cause for going to and remaining in the desert was the desire to live completely for God, a desire that was difficult of fulfillment in the still pagan atmosphere of the cities. Some ascetics had previously attempted to live in seclusion on the outskirts of the in-habited areas; this halfway measure proved in the main unworkable, and so the more zealous among them aban-doned the dwelling of men completely. Traditionally, the first hermit was St. Paul of Thebes (228-340) who fled to a remote mountain during the Decian persecution. St. Antony (250-356) was for a time a solitary hermit, but eventually a group of disciples gathered about him. Basically, these men were still her-mits, each living in his own ceil, giving hihaself to pri-vate prayer, reading, and manual work. Occasional dis-courses by St. Antony (and perhaps Mass) were the only occasions on which silence was broken. St. Antony was at heart a hermit, yet the needs of the Church twice called him to the active life. In 311 he left his retreat in order to encourage the victims of the persecution of Maximin, and about 338 he quitted his solitude in order to confer with St. Athanasius on means to defeat the Arian heresy. Between these two dates the desert had flowered: in the ),ear 325 the Nitrian Desert alone counted some five thousand men dedicated to God. Five years before this, another manifestation of the perfect life had appeared in Egypt: cenobitism, of which St. Pachomius (d. 348) is considered the initiator. His followers were not solitary hermits, nor were they inde-pendent hermits joined together by an accident of loca-tion; rather, they lived in common in subjection to ~he rule of the superior or abbot. Unlike some solitaries who neglected the sacraments, the Pachomian monks took part in Mass twice weekly, at one of which celebrations they communicated. The Pachomian rule tended to moderate some of the corporal austerities of the hermits, but it was withal quite severe. St. Pachomius was, it seems, the first to draw up a rule for monks. The great codifier of Eastern monasticism was not 'he, however, but St. Basil the Great (329-379). To his personal sanctity and firsthand experience with the dangers and advantages of monasticism, he added familiarity with the~ problems of rule, the grace of the episcopal office, a good education, and a keen intellect. His rule became the norm for Eastern monasticism, and in its broad lines at least is still followed today. More to our purpose, however, St. Basil's rule had an effect on the rule drawn up by St. Benedict in the sixth century. Before leaving the East completely, reference should be made at least in passing to the pillar saints, of whom the most famous was St. Simeon Stylites (d. 459). This singular expression of the perfect life had a brilliant but short-lived existence. Up until this time, monasticism had not developed much in the West. For the most part an importation from the East, it was, like much Eastern food, too highly seasoned for. the Western man: it did not suit Western climate, Western mentality, or Western man. Mention Should be made, however, of those who were more or less successful in forming monasteries after the Eastern fash-ion: Saints Hilary (315-367), Martin (c. 315-c. 399), Am-brose (339-397), Jerome (c. 347-419 or 420), Honoratus (c~ 350-430); and John Cassian (c. 360-c. 430).5 St. Augus-tine of ~Hippo (354-430) lived a common life with his clergy, but these were (to use a later terminology) can-ons regular rather than monks. ,~ Cassian is not usually recognized as a saint; this is probably a re-sult of his views in what has come to be known as the semi-Pelagian controversy. ÷ ÷ ÷ The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 ÷ ÷ ÷ M~ A. Roche,~ C.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 752 By the end of the fifth century, monasticism, already firmly established in the East, had begun to sink roots in the West, although its exact form had not yet been definitively established. Over the years monasticism would undergo many changes in the West; "but in its various ramifications it was to be the main channel through which new bursts of life were to find expression in the various churches which conserved' the traditions of the Catholic Church of the Roman Empire," ~ The institution had already been in existence over two hun-dred years by the time St. Benedict of Nursia (480-550) was born; the number of monasteries varied greatly from place to place at this date in the Ctiristian West, but the institution as such had gained ac.ceptance in the minds of men. The work of St. Benedict was not pre-cisely to introduce a completely new organism into the Western Church; it was more to reform and adapt an existing institution so that it might be viable and useful in his time and place. In drawing up his rule, St. Bene-dict apparently took the rule of St. Basil as a model, though he did not imitate it slavishly; rather, he modi-fied it in order to suit the needs of himself and of his followers. The judgment of Latourette on St. Benedict's rule is worth noting: ~ The rule of Benedict became standard in the West, probably because of i~s intrinsic worth. Pope Gregory the Great did much to give it popularity. It was taken to Britain by missionaries sent by Gregory from: Rome . In the seventh century it began to gain in Gaul. Charlemagne admired it and furthered its adop-tion. By the latter part,of the eighth century it was generally ac, cepted. No central organization existed for its enforcement and to bring uniformity. Each monastery was independent of ~very other." Modifications might and often were made in the rule by individual houses. Yet it became the model from which many other rules stemmed. In an age of disorder the Benedictine monasteries were centres of quiet and orderly livfng, communities where prayer, work, and study were the custom, and that in a society where prayer was ignored or was regarded as magic to be practised for selfish ends, where work was despised as servile, where even princes were .illiterate, where war was chronic. ,.Like other monastic establishments, Benedictine foun~lations tended' to decline from the high ideals setby the rule. Many were heavily endowed and in numbers of them life became easy and at times sCa'ndalous. When awakenings occurred, they often took the form of a re-turn to the rule or its modification in t.he direction of greater austerity. Even when the rule was strictly observed, the mon-astertes were self-centered and were not concerned with the sal-vation of the so~:iety about them, except to draw individuals from it into their fellowship.' Hdwever., the missionaries of the e Latourette, History o[ Christianity, p. 233. ' As it stands, this sentence is far too sweeping. The monks at this time (outside of mission lands) did not engage in parochial wo~'k; but the monastic priests did not refuse their ministration to those lay Western Church were predominantly monks. It was chiefly through them, although often at the initiative and under the protection of lay princes, that the faith was carried beyond its existing frontiers. Later, moreover, monks of the Benedictine rule became prominent in the general life of the Church and of the community as a whole,s The life [in the monastery] was orderly but was not unduly severe and was probably more comfortable than was that of the great masses of the population. Clothing and meals were simple but adequate, and special provision was made for the ill, the aged, the very young, and those doing heavy manual labour. There was to be fasting at regular times, but this was not the kind practised by the extreme ascetics . Much weight was given to humility. Provision was made for various degrees of discipline, from private admonition to physical punishment, ex-communication, and as a final resort, expulsion. The entire round of twenty-four hours was provided for, with eight services, one every three hours, and with .periods for sleep, including a rest early in the afternoon, for eating, and for labour . Silence was encouraged and was the rule at meals and after compline. . Stress was placed on worship b.y the entire community and directions were given for the services. There was a place for priests, for they were needed to say mass, but they were to obey the rule as fully as the lay monks. The rule was wisely designed for a group of men of various ages living together in worship and in work for the cultivation of the full Christian life as it was con-ceived by the monk? The spirit of the rule is perhaps best summed up by its author in the prologue when he wrote: Therefore we must establish a school of the Lord's service, in founding which we hope to ordain nothing that is harsh or burdensome?° Dorn David Knowles writes: ¯. if the Rule holds within it so much of th~ wisdom and ex-perience of the past, its anticipation of the needs of the future is even more striking. The ancient world, with its city life, its great seats of culture, its graded society and its wide and rapid means of communication, was rapidly disappearing. In the new world that was coming into being, the estate, the village, the district were the units; Europe, from being a single complex organism was becoming an aggregate of cells, bound to one an-other by the loosest of ties. St. Benedict lived in a society where the scope and opportunities of education, secular and theologi-cal, were yearly narrowing, and in which the numbers of the people who sought it. The monks also wrote works for the edification of the faithful and furthered the development of theology¯ Moreover, their example of selfless devotion to God had a salutary impact even on those who did not become monks themselves¯ Finally, an important part of the religious life was prayer for the benefactors, for the local clergy, for the civil government, for the conversion of pagans, and so forth. Even the most cloistered monk was solicitous for the salvation of the society about him. s Latourette, History o] Christianity, pp. 335-6. 9 Ibid¯, pp. 33,1-5. l° Justin McCann, "The Rule of St. Benedict," cited in Colman Barry, Readings in Church History, v. 1 (~Vestminster: Newman, 1960), p. 168. 4- 4- 4- The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 4" M, ,4. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS educated were yearly lessening; a socie(y in.which the family, the farm;the estate was strong--a society continually threatened with extinction., by invasion, or (with) chaos, and which therefore needed above all some clear, simple, basic principles to which it might hold and rally . This suitability to the needs of the time was met at every level of life, by the monastery of the Kule . Only in the early centuries or backward countries of medieval times could such a community continue to be a norm, and it did not, in fact, long endure in its original com-prehensiveness . A full acknowledgment of the unique ex-cellence of the Ruie does not imply that it had no limitations. Such are inevitable in every code that bears the stamp of time and place . ~ Benedictinism was not without rivals in the West. There were the Eastern-type monasteries founded before the time of St. Benedict, most if not all of which were within the then existing boundaries of the Roman Em-pire. 12 Of more importance and more influence were the Celtic monasteries initiated both before and after the lifetime of the saint of Nursia. For the most part these monasteries were located in regions that had never been or were not at the time of foundation within the. con-fines of the Empire. This Celtic monasticism was il-lumined by a galaxy of brilliant saints like Columkil (521-597) and Columban (540-615), the latter of whom composed the rule that bears his name. Much shorter than the Benedictine rule, the Columban rule Was Orien-tal in spirit. (This is not so strange as it may at first appear: St. Patrick had been formed to the religious life in the Eastern-type Abbey of Lerins founded by St. Honoratus about 400 A.D. and the influence of, the East had remained strong among the Celtic Christians.) The Celtic rule was very severe: hours of prayer and of work were multiplied; discipline was strict, with corporal pun-ishment meted out even for slight faults,' Columban monks went to England and to the continent in great numbers and started monasteries--such as Ltixeuil, Bob-bio, and Saint Ga!l--which were of great importance in the Middle Ages. The C61umban rule produced spiritual giants; but conversely, it was made only for spiritual giants, not for ordinary men. By what seems to us a strange quirk, this very strict rule allowed great freedom ~Dom David Knowles, The Monastic Order in England (2nd ed~; Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1963), pp. 9-11. = No one rule predominated here. Rufinus had translated and abridged the rule of St. Basil; St. Jerome had put the rule of St. Pachomius 'into Latin. Some in the West drew up new rtiles: St. Honoratus of Lerins gave out certain constitutions which are no longer extant; we do, however, possess the Regula ad monachos and the Regula ad virgines of St. Caesarius of Aries (469-542) and also rules by Aurelianus, bishop of Aries from 546 to 551. See P. de Labriolle et al., "De la mort de Th~odose h l'fiiection de Gr~goire le Grand," v. 4 of Histoire de l'Eglise, ed. by Fliche and Martin (Paris: Bloud and Gay, 1948), p. 592. of travel, and this sometimes led to disorder. For a while both the Benedictine and Columban rules existed over large portions of Western Europe; but eventually the Celtic Rule was forced to yield: in England at the Synod of Whitby in 664, in the Frankish Empire at the Synod of Autun in 670. Only in Ireland.did the Celtic Rule manage to endure. Even there it was eventually replaced, though by the stricter Cistercian Rule rather than by the Benedictine Rule strictly so-called. Even in defeat the austere:Irish monks won half a victory. , The character of Western monasticism, influenced.to some degree by St. Columban, was affected even more by the saint'g Italian contemporary, Pope St. Gregory I (540-604). About the year 575, he converted his parental home on the Caelian Hill into a monastery (St. An-drew, s), and there lived as a simple monk until chosen abbot in 585. The, regime at St. Andrew's was Benedic-tine in spirit; perhaps it even followed the Rule of St. Benedict explicitly. At any rate, St. Gregory was himself formed according to the Benedictine ideal. Chosen as bishop of Rome in 590, six or seven years later he sent St. Augustine and other monks from St. Andrew's to evangelize" the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes in present-day England. His use of monks as missionaries undoubtedly effected a notable change in the Character of Western monasticism. Up until his time, Benedictinism had been basically a lay movement. In the mission lands, clergy were needed; and so most of the missionary monks re-ceived ordination. By the end of the Carolingian era, the great majority of monks were priests. Besides con-tributing to the clericalization of the monasteries, the missionary movement also fostered an activist strain in Western monasticism. From time to time this tendency would become prominent in the West; it is the more noticeable because such external work is much less en-couraged in Eastern monasticism. As the number of clerical monks increased, manual labor was relegated to servants, and the liturgy was lengthened. In 817 St. Benedict of Aniane attempted a monastic confederation, but feudal disorders hindered his work. The last half of the ninth and the first half of the tenth centuries were periods of great disorder in the civil and religious fields. Civil wars; invasions by Northmen, Muslim, Magyars; lay patronage; and so forth contributed to the breakdown of civil government, to the physical destruction of numerous monasteries, and to the relaxing of morals, both within and without the monasteries. In the second half of the tenth century, a great re-awakening occurred in the Western Church. Of major importance was the reform of Cluny, initiated by. its ÷ ÷ ÷ The Mal.e,~Re.ligious VOLUME 25~ 1966 M. A. Roche, C.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS first abbot, St. Berno (850-927) in 910 and continued for some two and one half centuries by a series of outstand-ing and long-lived successors. An important innovation in the Cluniac reform was its centralizing tendency. Dur-ing the years after 910, many monasteries placed them-selves under the aegis of Cluny. The Cluniac regulations as eventually in force under St. Odilo (abbot from 994 to 1049) suppressed the title of abbot for heads of sub-ordinate houses; in charge of these lesser foundations were priors, subjected to the sole rule of the abbot of Cluny. By the beginning of the twelfth century, the num-ber of subordinate houses had risen to three hundred, the number of monks to ten thousand. Next to Rome, Cluny was regarded as the ecclesiastical center of Europe. Equally important to the monastic renewal was a movement, largely successful, to free the monasteries from the control of local lay lords and diocesan bishops. This question of exemption is a very involved affair, but it seems good to present a summary of the chief develop-ments in order that we may view with objectivity the events of the tenth and later centuries.13 The early monks, usually far removed from the cities (and from the bishops resident there), tended to develop independently of the hierarchy. The cenobitic life, more-over, demands a certain independence for the superior, or else he is superior in name only and powerless to lead his monks. Hence a certain tension developed between the legitimate abbatial desire for independence, and the likewise legitimate episcopal concern lest diocesan dis-cipline be subverted. The oldest extant conciliar legislation regarding monks and domestic ascetics goes back to the fourth century. The Council of Gangra in Paphlagonia (c. 340- 350) issued a series of anathemas against false ascetics; a council at Saragossa (380) speaks of the cleric who be-came a monk out of a spirit of pride and makes provi-sion for religious profession and veiling of virgins.14 Im-portant here is the fourth canon of the Council of Chalcedon (451): Those who lead a true and sincere monastic life ought to en-joy due honor. Since, however, there are some who, using the monastic state as a pretext, disturb the churches and the affairs of state, roam about aimlessly in the cities, and even undertake to establish monasteries for themselves, it is decided that no one shall build or found a monastery or a house of prayer without the consent of the bishop of the city. It is de.cided furthermore that all monks in every city and country place shall be subject to 13 The following remarks on exemption are taken for the most part from E. Fogliasso, "Exemption des religieux," Dictionnaire de droit canonique, v. 5, col. 646-51. 1, Hefele-Leclercq, Histoire des Conciles, v. 1.2 (Paris: 1907), pp. 1029-45; 986-7. the bishop, that they love silence and attend only to fasting and prayer, remaining in the places in which they renounced the world; that they shall not leave their monasteries and burden themselves either with ecclesiastical or worldly affairs or take part in them unless they are commissioned to do so for some necessary purpose by the bishop of the city; that no slave shall be received into the monasteries and become a monk without the consent of his master. Whosoever transgresses this decision of ours shall be excommunicated . ~ Though the text seems to subject the monks without any restriction to the local bishop, E. Fogliasso comes to a different conclusion. In his opinion, the council merely stated the general principle that monks are sub-ject to the bishop but did nothing to revoke the various customs which in practice limited episcopal control, The council did not annul the authority of abbots, nor did it reserve to the bishop the choice of the abbot, nor did it regulate the administrative relations between monastery and diocese; all of these continued in the same way as beforehand. In short, .relations between bishop and monks were not yet precisely regulated. The Council of Chalcedon had dealt chiefly with problems of the East rather than of the West, and there were comparatively few Western bishops in attendance. Hence the canons did not impress the Western bishops with their urgency; just four years after Chalcedon a council was held in Aries which, among other concerns, regulated the relations of bishop and monks. Without saying so in so many words, the council in effect held that the bishop was to regulate the external activities of the monks, while the monks were independent of the bishop in their internal affairs. This division of control (which later became normative in the West) was not ac-cepted everywhere immediately. Some particular coun-cils, especially the African, gave to the monks a very great liberty; other councils subjected the monks more strictly to the bishop. With St.: Gregory I, the concept of the regimen inter-num became more precise. St. Gregory desired that the internal independence of the monasteries be preserved, particularly in the choice of the abbot and in temporal administration. A short time later, in 628 to be exact, Pope Honorius I (625-638) went much further: he re-moved the monastery of Bobbio (founded near Milan in 613 by the wandering Celt St. Columban) completely from the jurisdiction of the local ordinary. Monasteries in Benevento (714 and 741) and Fulda (751) were granted exemptio.n by the Apostolic See in the next century. About this time, another current of events was leading a~ H. H. Schroeder, Disciplinary Decrees o] the General Councils (St. Louis: Herder, 1937), p. 92. -I. ÷ ÷ The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 757 ÷ + + to or at least facilitating exemption from the bishop: the so-called "gift to St. Peter." 16 Pious laics would found a monastery and then give it to St. Peter, repre~ sented by his vicar in Rome. The prestige of the Apostle and of his vicar were so great, it was hoped, that no king, bishop, or lesser person would dare seize the foundation for his own ends. A few examples of this occur in Italy in the eighth century; in the ninth cen-tury, the custom crossed over the Alps.17 In this period, too, certain lay persons were persuaded to abandon the dominium that they had acquired over religious houses. In virtue of this and in virtue of the above mentioned donation to St. Peter, many monasteries succeeded in avoiding or in freeing themselves from lay control. This independence from local lay control must have also en-couraged the monks to seek exemption from the reli-gious control of the local ordinary. After this long digression to obtain the background, we return to Cluny; at its foundation in 910 it was do-nated to St. Peter; a few years later (912) it was given exemption from episcopal authority by Pope Anastasius III. This exemption it communicated to all the monas-teries subject to it, in virtue of a special papal concession given in order that the reform work of Cluny might be furthered. Toward the end of the tenth century, the question of exemption became more difficult. Many monks felt that the local bishop was not respecting their rights: he would demand the fulfillment of unjust and unreason-able conditions before he would perform the services for which only he had the power and jurisdiction. The bishops on the other hand claimed that the monks were exceeding their rights and privileges: disparaging the prelates, absolving from censures when they had no au-thority to do so, and so forth. In the pontificate of Pope Gregory V (996-999), exemptions multiplied both in number and in extension. Cluny was the beneficiary of further privileges: no one, not even the local ordinary, could enter the monastery to ordain without the permis-sion of the abbot, and the abbot could invite any bishop to ordain his men without even consulting the ordinary of the place. As a result of these and similar privileges, the great abbeys succeeded from the beginning of the eleventh century in freeing themselves completely from the authority of the diocesan bishop. This exemption soon characterized all the monastic orders. ¯ M. A. Roche~ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 10 Emile Amann, "L'Eglise au pouvoir des laics," in v. 7 of Fliche- Martin's Histoire de l'Eglise (Paris: Bloud and Gay, 1948), pp. 343-64. 1~ It should be noted that this donation referred to the temporalities of the abbey; it had nothing to do with withdrawing the monastery from the spiritual jurisdiction of the local ordinary. Other centrally organized Benedictine groups came into existence after Cluny: the Camaldolese founded about 1015 by St. Romuald (950-1027); the Vallombro-sians begun about 1038 by St. John Gualbert (958- 1073). Distinct from these were the more eremitical Carthusians initiated about 1084 by St. Bruno (1030- 1101); to them Innocent XI in 1688 gave the supreme compliment: "Cartusa nnmqnam reformata, quia num-quam deformata." In the twelfth century, the leadership in vigorous, creative monastic life passed from Cluny to Citeaux, established in 1098 by St. Robert (1029-1111). The dis-tinctive features of this new Benedictine movement in-cluded: (a) white rather than black habits; (b) a strong insistence on the observance of poverty; (c) the establishment of monasteries far from the haunts of men; (d) a lessening of liturgical prayer and an increase of private prayer; and (e) a provision for uniting all the houses together into an integrated order, the first of its kind and precur-sor of many others. The houses of the older Cluniac reform were theo-retically under the control of the motherhouse, but they soon became too numerous for one abbot to rule. In the Cistercian system each monastery retained a large degree of autonomy, but there were also certain unify-ing factors. Identical service books were provided for all houses; each abbey was visited annually by the abbot of Citeaux or by the abbot of one of the four other oldest foundations (La Ferte, Pontigny, Clairvaux,18 Mori-mond); every year all the abbots assembled at Citeaux in a general chapter in order to maintain unity and mu-tual charity and to take such legislative and disciplinary actions as might be necessary. The Cistercians are usu-ally credited with the introduction (or better, reintro-duction) of laymen into the monastery. In Cluny and its dependent houses, all monks were clerics and took part in choir; manual labor was done by serfs. The Cister-cians admitted to tI~e habit such as were nnwilling or unable to become choir monks. These non-choral reli-gious were called "conversi" or lay brothers; they did the manual work of the monastery and were complete though subordinate members of the monastic family. Though Citeaux at first refused exemption from episcopal authority, it later accepted that privilege. As with Cluny, the primitive fervor of the Cistercians is Clairvaux was made famous by its abbot St. Bernard (1090-1153), the most influential ecclesiastic of his time. The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 759 4. 4. 4. M. ~. Roche, .M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS '760 gradually waned. The downfall of the order has been attributed to internal disorder around the beginning (1378) of the Great,Western .Schism; self-willed abbots abused local autonomy, capitulated to national differ-ences, and allowed frequent exceptions to the rule. Learning came into prominence, flesh meat was allowed, wealth .and pomp entered in. Efforts to restore pristine observance broke dowm with the cessation of general chapters in 1411 during the Great Western Schism. The order later split into congregations more or less dis-tinct. ; Thus far this article has limited itself to the monastic life. It should be noted that the influence of the monastic life upon the non-religious clergy has been profound. It is perhaps not too much to say that clerical celibacy be-came morally necessary in the West in order to main-tain the prestige of the parochial clergy against odious comparison with monks. The more zealous ~ among the non-monastic clergy have always been eager to borrow such elements of religious observance as would be com-patible with their duties. It may be that the direct in-fluence of the Cluniac reform upon the secular clergy has been exaggerated; but undoubtedly the spiritual success, of Cluny suggested the advantage of cooperative effort in promoting one's individual holiness and~ in furthering reform on a broader scale. Up until the time of Gregory the Great, it will be recalled, monasticism was chiefly ~a lay movement; few clerics were involved. The only place in which there was a number of clerics was in the city, for only the city needed the services of more than a few ministers. Those clerics who lived together in a city under a rule (usually with their bishop at the head) were' not known as monks; later they would be known as canons regular. The credit for organizing the first body of ministers in the common life is usually given to St. Eu~ebius of Vercelli (d. c. 370), though the influence of St. Augustine (354- 430) in this field was much more profound. At the time of the barbarian invasions, the canonical life as well as many other Christian practices suffered greatly; in fact the next great man whose name is strongly associated with the canonical life is St. Chrodegang of Metz (700- 786), who is considered the proximate founder of the canonical life in the Teutonic West.19 His ideal was to lOThe canons were distinguished from the monks by their es-sentially pastoral orientation, The canon was basically a member of the pastoral clergy who followed a rule and lived in common with others of like mind in order to sanctify himself and to make.his work mo~e effective. The monk, on the other hand, became a monk not in order to minister but in order to seek God; if he later became a priest and did work among the people, this was not an essential part of his vocation as a monk. combine the apostolate to the laity with the practice of monastic asceticism; he therefore adapted the rule of St. Benedict to the life of the parochial clergy, prescrib-ing a common dwelling, common table, and common dormitory. Chanting of the Divine Office was to take place at fixed hours. It is uncertain why these men were called "canons." Perhaps it was because their names were inscribed on a "canon", that is, on a list; or maybe because they re-citedthe horae canonicae; maybe because they lived ac-cording to a canon or rule. Their institute was especially (and perhaps uniquely) suited to churches where many priests were attached. Though the institution of canons did considerable good for'a while, it had within itself a cancer which would destroy it: the absence of a rule of poverty. Archbishop Gunther of Cologne about the middle of the ninth century authorized his canons to use and administer the ecclesiastical revenues at will, and very soon the common life ended for those canons. Other groups of canons followed the example of Co-logne, and by the end of the ninth century there were few canons still living the common life. Those canons who lived in private dwellings but still were attached to the cathedral or collegiate churches came to be known as secular canons (which is almost a contradiction in terms); those canons who continued to live the common life were known as regular canons (which is almost redundant). In the eleventh and twelfth centuries there occurred a great revival among the canons, as elsewhere in the Church; in many secu-larized cathedral and collegiate chapters, canonici saecu-lares began to live the common life again and thus be-came canonici regulares2°. The best known group of canons regular are the Premonstratensians~ founded about 1120 by St. Norbert (1080-1134). They remained subject to the local bishop, rejecting all exemption un-til the fifteenth century. A second group is the Canons Regular of St. Victor, formed in 1108 by William of Champeaux (1071-1121). There were in addition many loosely knit bodies of Canons Regular of Saint Augustine, usually of diocesan proportions; they numbered some four hundred housesby the sixteenth century.21 The age of the Crusades produced the next species of religious observance: the military orders, which com-bined practices of the monastic life (including the three vows) with the chivalry of knighthood. The government ~o Karl Bihhneyer, Church History, trans. Victor E. Mills, v. 2 (Westminster: Newman, 1963), p. 222. ~The Canons Regular of St. Augustine are to be distinguished from the Hermits of St. Augustine later fused by papal authority into the Augustinian Friars. 4. 4. 4- The Male Religious VOLUME 25, ~966 761 ÷ ÷ ÷ M. A. Roche, C.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 762 of these military orders was,, as may be expected, strongly centralized; only the general chapter could limit the power.0f the grand master. The Knights of St. John or Hospitalers were organized around a hospital in Jeru-salem by a knight named Gerard (d. c. 1120). Succes-sively removed to Rhodes and Malta, they still survive. The Knights Templar were formed at Jerusalem in II19 ,by Hugh of Payens and seven other French knights. Like the Knights of St. John, they defended the Holy Land with courage; they were, however, sup-pressed by Pope Clement V in 1312. The Knights of St. Mary were instituted at Acre around 1198; eventually they became preponderantly German (whence the name Teutonic Knights), and moved their field of operations to the Baltic. In 1525 the grand master Albert of Brandenburg secularized the order's holdings, erected them into the hereditary Duchy of Prussia, and. became a Lutheran. Even though a Protestant as well as a Catho-lic branch of the order survived, for all practical pur-poses the order was dead. Other knightly orders existed ~n the Iberian peninsula. These military orders had a relatively brief existence; of far greater importance to the history of the Church are the mendicant orders which next appeared: The emergence of the me0dicant orders was associated with the growth of cities in Western Europe. By the thirteenth cen-tury, that part of the world was beginning to move out of the almost exclusively agricultural economy which had followed the decline of the Roman Empire and the disappearance of the urban civilization that had characterized that realm. Cities were once more appearing. It was to deepening the religious life of the populace of the cities and towns that the friars devoted much of their energy. Most of the monasteries had chosen solitude and centers remote from the contaminfiting influences of the world. In contrast, the mendicant orders sought the places where men congregated and endeavoured to bring the Gospel to them there. The older monasteries were associated with a prevailing rural and feudal ,milieu. The mendicant orders flourished in the rapidly growing urban populations,m The mendicants are usually listed as four: the Car-melites whose foundations were laid in 1156; the Franciscans begun by St. Francis of Assisi (1181 or 1182- 1226) and given tentative approval in 1210; the Order of Preachers instituted by St. Dominic (I170-1221) and approved in 1216; the Augustinians, amalgamated and formed as an order only in 1256.28 Sometimes the list of mendicants is expanded in order to include the Ser-vites: established in 1223 by seven youths from aristo-cratic Florentine families, the group was constituted an = Latourette, History of Christianity, p. 428. = The order formed in 1256 was composed of preexisting congre-gations, one of which had been founded by St. William about 1156. order in 1240, although final approval did not come un-til 1304. The largest of the mendicant groups owes its origin to St. Francis of Assisi. He wrote a rule for his followers in 1221, and a second one in 1223. After his death, the friars (First Order) split, chiefly on the question of pov-erty, into the Observants and Conventuals. The Second Order developed from the little group of women headed by St. Clare. The Third Order, established in.1221 under the name of the Brothers and Sitters of Penance, de-veloped into the Third Order Secular '(persons living in the world), the Third Order Regular, and numerous other tertiary organizations basing themselves on the Franciscan rule. The friars of the various orders quickly spread and rapidly attracted large numbers of members. Perhaps this Was due to the fact that they combined in an obvi-ous way the love of God (as' did the monks) with service to others. This growth b~ought the mendicants into re-peated conflicts with the secular ~lergy. The friars were by the nature of their institute destined to go°and to minister to the people everywhere. To do this, they needed exemption from the diocesan bishops, exemp-tion that was not local (as in a monastery), but personal. This exemption the popes gladly gave, for they saw 'in the friars a most powerful aid in the work of reform. During the fourteenth century, the Brothers of the Common Life, a congregation of laymen without vows under the leadership of Gerard de Groote (1340-1384) did much to revitalize education. They attempted to combine a thorough Catholic training with the new classical curriculum. Despite their work and despite the presence of some religious saints, the fourteenth~ century was in general one of decline among monks, canons, and mendicants. In the years around 1350, the Black Death took a heavy toll among the more zealous; While in some lands religious life recovered, in many places the de-terioration in discipline and morals seems to have been especially marked in the latter part of the fourteenth and in the fifteenth centuries. Besides the Brothers of the Common Life, only a few small religious groups were founded. There were nevertheless some attempts at re-form among the Franciscan groups and among the Dominicans. The Augustinian friars experienced a re-form in certain countries; it was to an Observant friary that Martin Luther would apply. The Carmelites un-derwent a reform movement in Italy about 1413, but this gradually spent itself. In general, these pre-Triden-tine reforms lacked thoroughness and permanency. At the time of the Reformation, consequently, many religious houses were in a low spiritual state and their ÷ ÷ The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 196~ 763 + + + M. A. Roche, C.M. REWEW FOR .~ELm~OUS 764 members were unprepared to meet the attractions of Protestantism. The list of those who embraced the new religion included many priests and nuns. Reform came, though somewhat late, to the older or-ders. The Dominicans, less in need of moral than in-tellectual renewal, were given impetus in the latter field by Cardinal Cajetan (1469-1534). The Franciscans were again reorganized (in 1517) into Conventuals and Ob-servants; a later offshoot of the latter group is the Capuchins. The Augustinians were reformed by their general, Giles of Viterbo (d. 1532). The work of renewal undertaken on behalf of the Carmelites by St. John of the Cross (1542-1591) and St. Teresa (1515-1582) re-sulted in the separation of the new Discalced Carmelites from what came to be called the Calced Carmelites. Re-form was also undertaken with more or less success by the Benedictines,~4 Camaldolese,~5 Ciste~'cians,2~ Canons P,.egular,"-'7 and other groups. Before the opening of the Council of Trent (1545- 1563), the reform movement in the Church had pro-duced a number of new institutes. Prominent among these are the clerks regularY8 Included in this group are the Theatines founded in 1516 by St. Cajetan of Thiene (1480-1547); the Barnabites initiated in 1532 by St. An-thony Zaccaria (1502-1539); and the Somaschi begun in 1532 by St. Jerome Aemilian (1481-1537). The most important of these pre-Tridentine founda-tions was the Society of Jesus begun in 1540 by St. Ig-natius of Loyola (1496-1556). The Society had many unique qualities, so that some feel that it should be classified not as an order of clerks regular but in a sepa-rate classification.-~9 Among the distinctive features of the Jesuits were: (a) a two-year novitiate; (b) the deferral of profession for ten, fifteen, or more years after the novitiate; .-4 A reformed cmlgregation of Benedictines that received papal ap-proval in 1604; an offshoot of this reform is the later Congregation of St. Maur. = Paolo Giustiniani (1475-1528) worked to restore the primitive spirit of the Camaldolese. -~ A reformed group of Cistercians (the Feuillants) arose in France under the leadership of Jean de la Barri~re (1544-1600). In 1662 Ar-mand de Ranc~ (d. 1700) initiated the reform of La Trappe. -~ Peter Fourier (1565-1640) worked to renew the canons regular in Lo~:raine. ~ The clerks regular are distinguished from (a) canons regular, in that the clerks do not have Office in choir in order to have more time for the ministry; (b) monks, in that they are pastorally oriented; (c) mendicants, in that they do not subsist from alms and do not recite the choral Office; and (d) secular priests, in that that they live a com-mon life with vows. -~ Ricardo Garcia Villoslada, Historia de la lglesia Cat61ica, v. 3 (Madrid: 1960), p. 827. (c) the division into the professed of the four vows (a minority who take solemn vows); and the ordinary members, coadjutors spiritual (priests) and coadjutors temporal (lay brothers); (d) the great power of the superior general; (e) a fourth vow of obedience to the Roman Pontiff; and (f) the elimination of the choral Office. The members of the Company wore no garb other than the ordinary dress of secular clerics; made much of study; and engaged in works of education, mission; and controversy. They were ch.iefly responsible for halting the further spread of the Reformation; indeed, they often succeeded in winning back regions that had fallen to Protestantism. Especially noteworthy .were their works in the foreign missions. After much delay, the Council of Trent finally opened in 1545. Besides the many other pressing problems, the Council fathers interested themselves also in the ques-tion of religious orders. By this time exemption had grown so universal that it created administrative chaos in the Church. The council decided what the local or-dinary could do in regard to regulars jure ordinario, jure delegato and utroque simul jure. Thus, for exam-pie, a bishop was empowered to punish regulars for crimes committed outside the house, if his superiors failed to act, and so forth, In general, Trent preserved the internal autonomy of religious, but subjected them to the authority of the local ordinary in all ministry to the bishop's people and in all things looking to the common good of the Church. After the Council of Trent, a new type of clerical life became exceedingly popular: that of secular priests liv-ing in common but not bound by vows.s° One of the earliest of these groups was the Oratory founded in 1564 by St. Philip Neri (1515-1595). The members of the ora-tory lived together without vows, retained their own property, and provided for their own needs except for lodging. The superior was more a chairman than a ruler, since no public act could be decided without the approbation of a majority of the members. Each house was independent, although the personal influence of St. Philip was very great. In France, Pierre Cardinal de B~rulle (1575-1629) organized a French oratory on the principles of St. Philip, though the independence of each house was re- ~o These priests resemble the canons of the time of St. Chrodegang in that they are priests living in common without vows. The canons of St. Chrodegang were almost all in the parochial ministry; the newer groups, on the other hand, engage in a great variety of works: parishes, schools, seminaries, domestic missions, foreign missions, and so forth. + + + The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 765 ÷ ÷ ÷ M. A. Roche, .M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 766 placed by a type of federation. Similar groups were the Oblates of St. Ambrose initiated in 1578 in Milan by St. Charles Borromeo (1538-1584); the Doctrinaires begun in 1592 by Caesar de Bus (1544-1607); the Lazarists or Vincentians" founded in 1625 by St. Vincent de Paul (1581-1660); the Sulpicians begun in 1642 by Jean- Jacques Olier (1608-1657); the Eudists formed in 1643 by St. Jean Eudes (1601-1680); the Paris Foreign Mis-sion Society organized in 1660 at Paris by Pope Alex-ander VII (1599-1667). After the Council of Trent there also arose new com-munities of religious who differed from the newer com-munities of secular priests in that they took the usual three vows of religion, and from the older orders in that these vows were not solemn but simple.The great ma-jority of post-Tridentine religious groups are of this type. Among them are the Camillans organized in 1584 by St. Camilhls de Lellis (1550-1614); the Passionists begun in 1737 by St. Paul of the Cross (1694--1775); the Redemptorists started by St. Alphonsus Ligouri (1696- 1787); the Company of Mary initiated by St. Louis Marie de Montfort (1673-1716). The above congregations were composed chietly of priests; St. John Baptist de la Salle (1651-1719) organized abont the year 1684 a congrega-tion of non-clerics, the Brothers of the Christian Schools. Despite these new foundations and despite the re-newal of the older orders, the religious life began to decay ;~gain during the second half of the eighteenth cen-tury. Gallicanism, Josephism, Jansenism, and subservi-ence to the king seriously weakened Catholic life in gen-eral and reached even into religion. The suppression of the .Jesuits by Pope Clement XIV in 1773 temporarily removed the Society from the scene; the French Revolu-tion and the Napoleonic era dealt harshly with com-munity life in what remained of Catholic Europe. The one other area of ltourishing religious observance, Span-ish America, lost most of its monasteries and convents during the wars for independence and the subsequent years of turmoil. In 1815, then, the religious life among clerics had to ;i large degree disappeared; but the nineteenth century witnessed an extraordinary revival. The Society of Jesus (granted some sort of recognition in 1801) was restored to the whole world in 1814. The Benedictines--their houses reduced to about thirty--took on new life. Not the least of their contributions was the impetus given to liturgical study and liturgical worship by Dora Gu~r-anger. The Cistercians reopened many old monasteries and made new foundations. The Dominicans acquired fresh vigor--the name of Lacordaire. is important here-- and qnickly accepted the invitation of Leo XIII to re- vive the philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas. The Fran-ciscans were again reorganized in 1897. Numerous new institutes of clerics arose, almost all (if not all) congregations with simple vows. St. ,John Bosco (1815-1888) begafi the Salesians; Blessed Peter Julian Eyniard (1811-1868) started the Priests of the Blessed Sacrament. The Congregation of the Immacu-late Heart of Mary (1841) of Venerable Frances Lieber-mann merged with the Fathers of the Holy Ghost in 1848; William Chaminade initiated the Marianists around 1815 or 1816; in 1816 Eugene de Mazenod founded the Oblates of Mary Immaculate; in the same year Jean Claude Marie Colin (1790-1875) began the Marists. Blessed Vincent Palotti (1798-1850) about 1835 formed the Pious Society of the Missions, soon called after him the Pallotine Fathers; two existing groups united in France in 1842 to form the Congregation of Holy Cross. In 1898 the Anglican Father Paul Francis established the Society of the Atonement; in 1908 he and most of his followers were received into the Church. Several new congregations of religious clerics with simple vows were initiated solely or primarily for work on the foreign missions. Among these are the Congrega-tion of the Immaculate Heart of Mary begun in 1863 by Theophile Verbiest in Belgium; the Society of the Di-vine Word inaugurated in 1875 by Arnold Janssen; the Mill Hill Fathers, started in England in 1866 by Her-bert Cardinal Vaughan. In addition to the above religious congregations, sev-eral societies were formed for priests living in commu-nity without vows: the Precious Blood Fathers started in 1815 by Gaspar del Bufalo; the Paulists formed by Isaac Hecker (1819-1888); the Maryknoll Fathers established in 1911 by James Walsh and Thomas Price; the Joseph-ite Fathers inaugurated in 1893; the White Fathers be-gun by Charles Cardinal Lavigerie in Algiers in 1868. As this paper draws to a close, perhaps it will be help-ful to give a panoramic view of the religious life as we have it today in the western Church. The modern canoni-cal organization of the religious life is divided into the orders (in which solemn vows are pronounced) and con-gregations (in which simple vows are taken). Included among the orders (in their order of precedence) are: (a) canons regular, for example, the Canons Regular of St. Augustine at St. Maurice, Switzerland; (b) monks, such as Benedictines, Cistercians, and so forth; and (c) other regulars, such as mendicants (Franciscans, Dominicans, and so forth) and clerks regular (Barnabites, Jesuits, and so forth). ÷ ÷ ÷ The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 767 + + M. A. Roche, C.M. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 768 Among the congregations aye the Passionists, Redemp-torists, Salesians, and most of the newer groups. Somewhat like the congregations are the societies of secular priests living in common without vows: Sulpi-cians, Vincentians, Maryknoll, Paulists, and so forth. It seems fitting here to add a word about secular in-stitutes. They are societies, whether clerical or lay, whose members profess the evangelical counsels in the world in order to attain Christian perfection and to ex-ercise a full apostolate. Though these institutes are still in the embryonic stage, they show much promise [or the future. A treatment of these, is beyond the scope of this article, but it is interesting to note that they are somewhat akin to (though better organized than) the groups of domestic ascetics of the first century. The wheel has returned to its starting place. At the end of this article, it seems appropriate to list some conclusions that may be drawn from a study of the historical aspect of religious life.al (1) The practice of the evangelical counsels with or without vows has always been esteemed in the Church; moreover, it has a necessary.role to play. (2) As a general rule, religious orders increase in power between general councils as a result of papal grant. During general councils, religious usually lose power as a result of episcopal action. (3) A good criterion for the vitality of the Church in any period or in any area is the vitality of the religious (and especially of the monastic) observance. (4) Every approved form of religious life gives wit-ness to a special attribu'te of God or to a special truth that needs emphasis. The monk, for example, witnesses to the absolute primacy of the supernatural; the Domini-can to the wisdom of God; the Franciscan to the neces-sity of detachment and to the joy of the Christian life; the Mayknoller to God's universal salvific will, and so forth. In addition to this basic emphasis, most religious engage in work for the people. At times it may seem that a par-ticular form of religious life is today not the most efficient type for external work; perhaps, for example, the choral Office or prescribed manual labor or the vow of poverty may hinder to some degree the work of the ministry. This does not mean, however, that a seemingly less efficient group should be allowed to die; nor that it ought to change its nature radically. Every religious group still serves a most useful purpose in the Church by witnessing to its basic orientations. In the case o[ those who vow = Some of these points were made by Pope Paul VI in his allocu-tion, Magno gaudio, of May 23, 1964, treating of the religious life; an English translation of the allocution can be found in REVIEW FOR RELIC~OUS, V. 23 (1964), pp. 698-704. poverty, for example, their profession of detachment is of great value to the Church and ought not to be aban-doned lightly. (5) As a corollary to the foregoing, it can be said that religious orders and congregations ought to adhere as closely as possible to the spirit given them by their founders, for only then can they give the witness for which they were created. A further corollary is that there is need for a periodic examination of conscience by every order and congregation to see whether it has really kept its original orientation. (6) The history of religious life is not necessarily an e~colution from a less perfect to a more perfect form. A particular form appears because changed conditions have called for a new mode of religious observance. Thus the monastery (and it alone) was ideal in the agrarian society of the early Middle Ages; there was in fact little call for wandering friars. The reurbanization of Europe in the eleventh and twelfth centuries did not necessitate the abandonment of monasticism; but it did call for another expression of the religious life, and the friars appeared. (7) As a corollary of this, it is quite possible that mod-ern times demand new types of religious life, types which up till now have not been tried. It is also quite possible that these new forms will have a difficult birth, that some attempts will be premature and abortive. Only time will tell. In the past, certain representatives of es-tablished forms of the religious life have with the best of intentions attempted to thwart men seeking to estab-lish newer forms of religious observance. It would be a tragedy if today we repeat these errors of the past. It would be far better if the established orders, congrega- ¯ tions, and societies would assist these new attempts with their counsel, encouragement, and prayer. Love of one's own institute ought not to blind a man to the fact that there are other ways of serving God. We know that God is wonderful in His saints; He is also wonderful in the variety and holiness of religious life. The Male Religious VOLUME 25, 1966 769 SISTER TERESA MARGARET, O.C.D. Updating the Cloister ÷ ÷ ÷ Sister Teresa Margaret, O.C~D,, writes from the Carmelite Mona-stery; Bridell, (~ar-digan; Wales. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS We have reached a turning point in history, it would seem, when the world is taking a new path and when, in the words of the late Cardinal Suhard, "the greatest mis-take the Christians of the twentieth century could make would be to let the world develop and unify itself with-out them." In saying this, the cardinal was urging the Church to emerge from her closed circle and become immersed in the activity of the world. But his words apply no less to the necessity of the religious "emergence" by shedding the inhibitions and barnacles of centuries. Adaptation and Renewal. Cardinal Suenens and other notable writers on the subject of religious reform have confined their suggestions and criticisms, to the active apostolate, specifically excluding the enclosed orders of ~women from their remarks. This has been interpreted in many cloisters as indicating that in our case no updat-ing was necessary, either because our customs and the externals of our life were "changeless" (which, in effect, merely means that they have not changed since the sixteenth century), or because they are so perfect in themselves that they stand in no need of renewal-- which sounds like the stock formulation of Pharisa-ism. Glosses traditionally applied to the monastic life as an anticipation of heaven or a continuation of the Gospels should be taken for what they are--metaphors --and not lead cloistered religious to believe that they form a privileged elite of humanity, a class of Christian different from and superior to all others. Everything human changes with time except human nature itself; and in a world subject to continuous alteration; it would indeed be a rare individual or community that stood in no need of renovation. Any lingering doubts on this score should be dispelled by the Decree on the Adaptation and Renewal of the Religious Life promulgated by Paul VI on October 28, 1965: The adaptation and renewal of the religious life includes both the constant return to the sources of all Christian life and to the original spirit of the institutes and their adaptation to the changed conditions of our time. [but] even the best adjust-ments made in accordance with the needs of our age will be in-effectual unless they are animated by a renewal of spirit . Therefore let constitutions, directories, customs books, books of prayer and ceremonies and such like be suitably re-edited and, obsolete laws being suppressed, be adapted to the decrees of this sacred synod . Papal cloister should be maintained in the case of nuns engaged exclusively in the contemplative life. However, it must be adjusted to conditions of time and place and obsolete wactices suppressed? External Reforms 1. Enclosure. A recently published symposium entitled Religious Orders in the Modern World2 contains as the last and longest contribution a survey of practical aspects of renewal made by the Bishop of Arras, Mgr. Gerard Huyghe, a couple of years ago. Bishop Huyghe does not limit himself to criticisms of outmoded customs, and dress that hamper the exercise of the active apostolate but turns his searchlight also upon the cloister. Present forms of enclosure, he rightly says, are a legacy from' the Middle Ages, grilles, curtains, and turns being, "doubtless a survival from the long period of Moslem domination over the Iberian peninsula," a weight of custom that is purposeless and ridiculous in this age. Certainly it is advisable for [cloistered] nuns to live entirely apart from the world--partly for protection against the noise of the world, and as a defense against the temptation to go out too much; but mainly as an unequivocal sign that they have chosen to offer their services gratuitously to praise God in the Church's name. But all external signs of such enclosure should be ruth-lessly eliminated, and the law on enclosure for nuns should be brought into harmony with the law on monks' enclosure, which is much more humane and has more respect for the dignity of the person . Canonical penalties like excommunication should be abolished, because they are a threat to none but the scrup-ulous; 8 I would like to make it clear at the outset that in relegating grilles and prison bars to the category of "obsolete practices" which the decree recommends should be "suppressed," I am in no way championing claustral emancipation in the sense of more contact with the secular world, or any mitigation of the monastic need for withdrawal and rules of silence and solitude. But it is a poor form o~ "aloneness with God" that can be enforced only under lock and key. If one has not already erected a cloister of the heart, no multiplying of bolts and veils will provide the necessary withdrawal, which is something essentially interior. No, my reasons ~ Decree on Adaptation and Renewal of Religious Life, nos. 2, 3, 16. -" Geoffrey Chapman (ed.), Religious Orders in the Modern World (London: 1965). ~ Ibid., p. 156. Updating the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 771 + Sister Teresa Margaret REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS for assuming the grille to be obsolete are all strictly utilitarian. It hinders vocations, creating antagonism and an entirely false and unhealthy conception of the con-templative life in the modern generation; it causes un-told and unnecessary suffering for parents; and it serves no useful purpose. If I wanted to get out of this cloister tomorrow, I could achieve it with the greatest of ease and without any need to make a dramatic nocturnal escape over the wall. It is anti-feminist discrimination that presumes no woman may be trusted except under lock and key and constant supervision, else why are regulations for enclosed men so different? It is shocking that in this day and age some monasteries of women actu-ally continue the most reprehensible practice of sending "companions" to the parlor so that a sister may not speak to a friend or relative except in the presence of a monitor. If she cannot be trusted in the parlor, then by all means keep her out of it; but do not send her with a hidden vigilante. Again, why may a nun not embrace her mother, or sit with her in the parlor in the normal way, as any monk does when his parents visit him? Why may a monk offer Mass in the public sanctuary of an enclosed convent while the nuns must "participate" from the other side of a grille? These are all matters of discrimination and serve no usefizl or sensible purpose except that since time imme-morial women and children were expected to show so little discretion that they must be confined to the nursery under the watchfi~l eye of a governess. Bishop Huyghe says: A final reason for abolishing some of the externals of the nuns' enclosure is connected with the present needs of the Christian people in liturgical matters. As a nun says: "Priests and sacred ministers are allowed to enter the enclosure to bury the dead (Inter coetera, n. 27). Why should they not also do so for the processions on the Rogation Days and Palm Sunday? It becomes increasingly difficult for us to see why the priest should be left 'marking time' on one side of the grille, while the nuns go off to perform their own little ceremony on the other. Why should a function like the Easter Vigil be cut in two by a grille? Moreover, I do not see why there should be a grille separating the nuns from the altar. Would it not be more reason-able if the priest came in to say Mass and went out as soon as the sacrifice was over?" ' We have been told by the highest authority that cl6istered nuns are not to remain aloof from litur-gical participation by silence, darkened choirs, or veiled faces, but to join in with celebrant and congre-gation in dialogue Masses, hymns, Benediction, Bible vigils, and such services. But present claustral regulations do not facilitate participation, tending to isolate the nuns' choir from the action in the sanctuary and chapel beyond the grille, both physically and psychologically. Ibid., p. 156-7. 2.Habits. Any suggestion to modify nuns' habits meets ~with varying reactions; and, in fact, little practical lead has been given in the matter, although in recent years there has been considerable reduction of the bulk, both in material and unnecessary layers of garment. But the habits still look voluminous, unhygienic, and incon-venient. And they are. Nowadays few would agree that this is an acceptable or reasonable form of penance, for wearing heavy clothes fatigues one unnecessarily and reduces efficiency and working capacity. Is there any reason why habits should not be shorter and lighter so that wasted energy could be redirected into more pro-ductive activities than mere physical exhaustion? Nor can I see much force in the argument that, were habits not at least ankle-length, Poor Clares and Discalced Carmelites who do not wear shoes, would look most inelegant. Granted they would. But why not adopt normal twentieth century footgear as the more sensible alternative? The Council fathers in their decree stress that the religious habit is an outward mark of con-secration to God and therefore "should be simple and modest, poor and at the same time.becoming. In addition it must meet the requirements of health and be suited to circumstances of time and place., the habits of both men and women ~religious which do not conform to these norms must be changed," ~ and that, one imagines, would include the habits of most enclosed orders, male and female, Can one think of anything less practicable than the white habits of Cistercians, Carthusians, and Dominicans? And' th~ fact that brown or black merely do not show th~ dirt is 'little recommendation'. In the interest of simplicity, I fail to see why we can-not have a common habit for all religious. For the various, congregations, teachers, nurses, catechists, social workers, could not each group, rather than each congre-gation, wear a common "religious" dress for inside their convents/and another suitable costume (with, perhaps, a distinguishing badge) for external work? And could' not all cloistered nuns and monks have a common habit, combining the best and most servicei~ble features of all? The cloistered religious could retain veil and scapular (in a modified form), which would clearly differentiate them from their apostolic sisters. Thus a nun would be easily identified on sight without this perennial hunt for a different style to mark off the var-ious orders which has led to such exaggerated headgear in the recent past, when latecomers in the field found that all moderate, styles for coifs had already been snapped up. The badge of the order or congregation would distinguish one's identity and form of work. ~ Decree on Adal~tation and Renewal oI Religious Life, n. 17. + + ÷ Updating the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 773 ÷ 4. ÷ Sister Teresa Margaret REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 3. Legislation. Another point that needs urgent re-vision is the framing of our laws, which is at present done exclusively by men who, however learned and holy, simply do not understand women's domestic prob-lems. Thus, no sooner are new regulations issued than it is necessary to apply for dispensations and indults be-cause of local conditions; and it seems an anomalous rule that can be maintained only by constant dispensations. Why [asks Mgr. Huyghe] should [women] not be allowed to share in the work of reformation themselves, as they are the principal persons to be affected by it? It is not fitting that the rules for contemplative houses of women should be made ex-clusively by men, even if these men belong to the same Order as the nuns? Principles of Renewal The above matters are all more or less self-evident, but merely "keeping abreast of the times" or "adapting ourselves to the modern world" is not enough. However, the impressive bulk of bibliography about religious life, theory and practice, theology and pastoral application, does not on the whole contain a great deal of fun-damental thinking or real help. No order or congre-gation can effectively undertake reform or renewal with-out a very clear grasp of the principles that are its underpinning. Too often the accidental has been allowed to shift to main focus so that the means take precedence over the end, customs which have no longer any relevance become canonized and then fossilized until some religious seem to fear that their removal will topple the whole structure of religious life. But surely it is built on a sounder foundation than that. Nor will renewal be effected by adding new gimmicks; merely because they are modern, brightly packaged and labor-saving, they are no more going to effect the necessary aggiornamento of themselves, than those sixteenth century ones they are replacing. There is no such thing as push button renewal. In his speech to the Council fathers proclaiming a jubilee to mark the close of Vatican II, Pope Paul said: We ought not to pay attention to these reforms, however necessary they are, at the expense of those moral and spiritual reforms which can make us more like our Divine Master and better equipped for the duties of our vocation. To this we should attend principally: to our effective sanctification and to realizing our capacities for spreading the Gospel message among the men of our time7 Superiority-complex. Caste spirit is strong in human Chapman, Religious Orders, p. 162. Quoted in the Tablet, Nov. 27, 1965. nature, and religious are human beings. Of course, the religious is not .seeking personal aggrandizement; but she knows that the order she has entered is undoubtedly the most perfect form Of life in the Church. Cardinal Costantini wrote: Take religious individually and you will find them of the highest calibre: broadminded, genuinely devout and often excellent theologians. As individuals they are faithful to the vows., humble.Yet taken together, in the Congregation, the sun1 of these virtues undergoes a change. The members' natural instincts for glory, power and wealth are transferred to the Congregation. The members themselves are humble; but no one must touch d~eir Congregation, its honor or its prestige. The members are poor individually, but do not ask that their Congregation should be poor . s Obvious examples of this have been the blatant an-nexation of saints to which many orders have no legitimate claim and even the fabrication of "saints" who have never existed; the astounding .n~ture of some supposed "relics" that have been exposed and venerated m Europe and the Middle East; and in our own day, the fervor with which, in the face of liturgical renewal, so many orders cling to their own rites and liturgies. Any reform immediately meets with requests from some reli-gious congregation for a dispensation, since a "venerable tradition" in their institute has always celebrated such-and- such a feast as a double of the first class or with a privileged octave, and despite the fact that the Sacred Congregation has issued a uniform ruling for the universal Church, their first instinct is to preserve intact their own beloved rubric. Can religious wonder if at times the laity regard them as being outside the main stream of °the Church's life when they deliberately seek special donditions for no really good reason (except hidebound custom), thus putting themselves into a special category? Religious life is a special consecration to God indeed; but it is a sharing of the life of the Church. Wholehearted participation in that life is essential for any really effective renewal in religious life. To seek anything else wot~Id be no less unfruitful than cutting ourselves off from the sacraments, as death-dealin~ as .closing off a main artery. Reform Is Not Revolt. There are many cloistered nuns who harbor an unexpressed fear that to plunge into the main stream would be synonymous with a loss of monastic 'status, the first step on the downgrade to secularism. Take away the grilles, open the cloister win-dows, let in some fresh air, and who knows what kind of virus and restlessness will find its way in with it. Could this be the thin end of the wedge that will eventually send s Chaptnan, Religious Orders, p. 142. 4- Updating the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 775 + ÷ ÷ Sister Teresa Margaret REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS us out into the world to assist in the active, apostolate~ The fathers of the Council have no such scruples: Communities which are entirely dedicated to contemplation, so that their members in solitude and silence,, with constant prayer and penance willingly undertaken, occupy themselves with God alone, retain at all times, no matter how pressing the needs of'the active apostolate may be, an honorabl~ place in the Mystical Body of Christ, whose "members do not all have the same function" (Rom 12:4) . Nevertheless their manner of living should be revised according to the principles and cri-teria of adaptation and renewal mentioned above. However their withdrawal from the world and the exercises proper to the contemplative life should be preserved with the utmost care. [Italics mine]? Nor can adaptation to the twentieth century be interpreted merely as a movement "back to the founders," if by that we mean a literal interpretation of what was laid down and practiced by our founders in the sixteenth, twelfth, or sixth centuries. Yet one hears astounding reports of communities where oil lamps, are still used and bathing is prohibited because the founder had specific remarks to make on such matters. Even more absurd are the accounts of importation, at exorbitant costs, of a particular type of pottery which the founder legislated for refectory use and which can now only be obtained at great expense abroad, handmade and fired, in the precise shade and shape used by the first monastery of the order. Common sense and genuine poverty.demand that we use wl~at is the cheapest and commonest' ware today, as such pottery (now a luxury ware, the art dealer's province) was in the time of the founder. Archaeologism is one of the pitfalls that beset any movement back to the past. Return to Sources. How, then, should we implement the "constant return to the sources of all Christian life and the original spirit of our institutes,'~' as the decree puts it? We cannot return to the conditions, social~ cultural economic, and religious, that prevailed then and which shaped the founders' minds and spirituality, dictating the norms of their institutes. Religious orders no less than civilizations and nations are living entities, subject to growth, change, evolution; and in all live organisms change is an indispensable condition. Only a mummified body does not alter, for even a corpse decays. The original institute cannot be regarded as a finished work, coming down from heaven like the New Je.rusalem, perfect in every detail, which subsequent generations ne~ed only maintain in that condition, occasionally scraping off time's corrosion to restore it to its :pristine glory. Rather it is the mustard seed which grows into a Decree on Adaptation and Renewal o[ Religious LiIe, n. 7. plant, then a huge tree in which the birds of the air shel-ter. The holy rule leaves its mark on all.the members of the order, but no less do they leave their mark on the holy rule, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. I fancy that St. Teresa of Avila would make one of her characteristic "God preserve me from." exclamations were she to find her daughters today clinging like limpets to some outmoded custom that was a normal social acceptance four centuries ago. St. Teresa herself was as strong a champion of flexibility as St. Ignatius was of mobility; and neither of them would have wished their sons and daughters to imprison themselves in the narrow groove of formalism which precludes either. As a concrete example: St. Teresa swept away much of the protocol both of speech and elaborate ceremony surrounding social life in her day, which was meticu-lously observed in religious houses, her attempt being to "return to sources," that is, of the gospel. The result was that her ceremonial and customs book were extremely simple for the times; and if today some of the prescribed c.urtsies, inclinations, and forms of address seem to us excessive that is only because such tokens of personal reverence to teachers and parents have entirely disap-peared from the modern scene. To drop them betokens no disrespect; they are simply archaic. Again, St. Teresa ruthlessly swept away the elaborate clothing, the yards of material, trains, rings, pectoral crosses, croziers, and all the episcopal insignia that abbesses had gradually acquired through the Middle Ages. She laid down unequivocally that habits and cloaks and all garments were to be as spare as decency allowed, so that only the minimum of material and work might be expended on clothing. In St. Teresa's day the Carmelite habit as she reconstituted it was simple to the point of skimpiness. It is not today, but that is because a yard of material now suffices to clothe our modern contemporaries. Even St. Teresa would not wish her daughters to get about in a cotton shift; but in a period when it is ho longer considered immodest for girls to go bareheaded, stockingless, and with bare arms, she might not consider that the Carmelite habit was any longer "as spare as possible." Another interpretation of "returning to the founders" has been that superiors should translate the founder's intentions and principles into present day norms and conditions, bringing the institute into line with them by striving to do what the founder would do here and now in this situation, did she live today instead of in a previous age. But this is not really possible, unless the superior is to become herself a founder or at least a reformer. The superior today has inherited not only the time-honored ÷ ÷ ÷ Updating ,the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 + + + Sister Teresa Margare¢ REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS traditions, but a way of life that has been approved by the Church for centuries. What she must do is take the situa-tion ~as it exists and work on and with that, for in the first clause of the above quotation, the conciliar decree provides th~ solution to this question: ". constant re-turn to the sources of all Christian life." No founder, however holy, however inspired, is the source of all Christian life. Christ alone is that, and the return to the sources envisaged by the decree can mean only one thing: renewal in the spirit of the gospel according to the par-ticular forms of life framed by the founder for this insti-tute and sanctioned by the Church. When on a Sunday afternoon I look out of my window ~nd see a row of schoolgirls pass, dressed all in black, wearing ridicu-lous berets and led by a sour-faced nun, also in black, I cannot help wondering. Is that really what the Church should look like, what Christianity should look like? Is that the only ex-ample we can give the faithful and the rest of the world? Is that negative attitude 'to the simplest and most elementary values of life the necessary premise of a life consecrated to God? ~o Starting Point: The End. The end of thereligious life is no different from that of ever~ Christian life: the attainment of perfect charity towards God and men. All Christians are called to perfection, to love God and their neighbor with their whole heart an'd mind and strength; and this is exactly what perfection means, this is the essential end Of the Christian life, whether one is a religious or not. The perfect love of God" and men to which each is called in a particular state of life and consonant with his own gifts and graces, is an obligation laid on all: "Ydu therefore .are to be perfect, even as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt 5:48). But the talents we have received differ; and "the administrator must be content with his administration, the teacher with his work of teaching, the preacher with his preaching. Each must perform his own task well; giving alms with generosity, exercising authority with anx-ious care, or doing works of mercy smilingly" (Rom 12:7-8). There are in the Church orders whose purpose is to promote the prayer life of their members, as there are congregations constituted for the performance of char-itable and apostolic works. Each and every form of life and work of mercy, spiritual, corporal or material, contributes to the building up of the Church. "The eye cannot say to the hand, I do not need~thy help; nor again 10 Bernard Besret, S.O.Cist., in Chapman,.Religious Orders, p. 121. The questions of the ends of religious life and return to Gospel sources for principles of renewal are discussed at length in two outstanding egsays by Fr~ Besret in this book. They should be read by all religious interested ih these matters. the head to the feet, I have no need of you" (1 Cor 12:21). The hand, however efficient, is simply incapable of performing the fnnction of the eye, or vice versa, so it is futile to argue whether cloistered nuns should go out and work in soup kitchens or nursing sisters incarcerate themselves in monasteries. But it is well not to lose sight of the fact that the classifications of ',active" and "con-templative" lives are a comparatively modern inno-vation. In the monastic tradition and the writing of the fathers, the terms "active" and "contemplative" do not represent two separate and mutually exclusive states' of life deriving their distinctive character from the work engaged in; they were rather two stages of the same spiritual growth: asceticism or the practice of the virtues (active life); and union with God, knowledge and ex-perience of His love (contemplative life) was the goal. for which the active asdeticism was but a preparation and training. This remains substantially true today. There is no teacher, preacher, missionary, or nurse who is so committed to non-stop activity as to have no time f6r prayer; any more than there is any such creature as a "pure contemplative" so emancipated from the mate-rial needs of this life and the demands of charity as never to engage in some form or degree of activity. I doubt whether any modern exegete would try to defend the overworked interpretation of Luke 10:38-42 as a contrast made by Christ between the apostolate (Martha) and the life of prayer (Mary), let alone that He preferred the second. In fact, many i'ecent works of exegesis have demonstrated clearly that he was in no way pointing to different canonical forms of religious life as we know them, but which were neither born nor thought of during His lifetime. Every active missionary since St. Paul understands the need of a vital life of prayer if his apostolate is to succeed; and it is only in this sense that the Church stresses the value of the contemplative life, for unless they called down "an abundant rain of divine graces to make this harvest fertile, the workers ~f the Gospel would reap less fruit." 11 The Church, in proclaiming St. Teresa of Lisieux co-patroness of the missions with St. Francis Xavier, has underlined the mutual assistance of the interior life and apostolate for souls, not only in the missions but in every sphere of activity. St. Teresa and St. Francis Xavier are eminent representatives of the Gospel commandment of love, which is twofold: God and our neighbor. Not that one does the work and the other the praying; such an apportionment is never possible. St. Francis Xavier would not have been the perfect, or even a good, mission-n Pius XI, Umbratilem. + + updating the Cloister VOLUME 25, 1966 779 ary without a deep interior life; nor would St. Teresa have perfectly fulfilled her contemplative vocation unless her love and zeal for souls was overflowing the narrow horizons of her own cloister and embracing the whole world, preparing the ground for future evangelization. But it was fitting that two outstanding patrons should jointly watch over both parts of the commandment. Practical forms of renewal are urgent and necessary; but it must never be forgotten that the principle "First things first" applies here as elsewhere. Unless "they are animated by a renewal of spirit" says the decree, "even the best adjustments made in accordance with the needs of our age will be ineffectual . This must take precedence over even the active ministry." 1.o To attempt anything else is not repairing the foundations; it is merely plastering over cracks. Decree on Adaotation and Renewal of Religious Life, n. 2. 4. 4. Sister Teresa Margaret REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 78O LADISLAS M. ~SRSY, S.J. Directed Re reats vs. Preached Retreats With the expansion and renewal of the retreat move-merit there is an increasing interest in the so called di-rected retreats as distinct from the tradkionally well known preached retreats. Priests who give retreats re-ceive inquiries frequently from persons and communities about the desirability or feasibility of a directed re-treat. The inquiries are in many cases followed by invi-tations to help make one. Moreover, there are retreat masters who insist that all retreats should conform to this apparently new pattern that consists more in direc-tion given personally to each of the retreatants than in talks or conferences given to a community. This movement of directed retreats has existed long enough and made enough progress to permit the assess-ing of its value and its suitability for the needs of vari-ous persons and communities. In this article my intention is precisely to attempt this evaluation; and I shall do it through three steps. First, I shall try to present the method of directed retreats; then I shall recall briefly the way in which preached retreats are given; an.d fi-nally I shall attempt to draw up a balance of advantages and disadvantages that may flow from the application of the two different methods. Directed Retreats A retreat is usually called a directed one when the emphasis is not put on talks and conferences given to a community but on personal prayer under the guidance of the retreat master. Talks to the community are not fully excluded, but they are reduced to a minimum: one or two rather short conferences a day. Even these few conferences would be marked by a certain simplicity and clarity so that the minds of the retreatants might not be overcrowded with ideas, or their nerves over-whelmed with holy but unruly emotions. It would be ÷ ÷ Ladislas M. Orsy, s.J., is professor of canon law at the Catholic Univer-sity; Washington, D.C. 2O017. VOLUME 25, 1966 expected that each one of the persons in retreat will be in close contact with the director and will keep him in-formed about his progress in prayer, about the inner world of his conscience where the grace of God meets his human nature. The retreat master in his turn would help him to discern the inspirations of the Holy Spirit from other movements in his soul and to obey the will of God thus manifested. One can see that the emphasis is on personal activity. Or, more correctly, on a right type of passivity which is the fertile soil for activity. This passivity makes a person able to receive the grace of God, to become aware of the life of God in himself.1 It has a hidden dynamism and very soon it blossoms out into personal activity. One is reminded of the evangelical parable: when the good seed takes root in receptive soil it will finally grow into a large tree. If this is the essence of a directed retreat, the inade-quacy of the term directed comes to the fore. There is really no question of a continuous direction. The retreat master's office is to convey some basic elements of the gospel to the retreatant, letting him penetrate its depth with the light of grace and reason. The work of the director consists more in reviewing and somewhat con-trolling the internal life of his disciple, more in watching over his progress than in giving him direction in the ordinary full sense of the term. The example of John the Baptist is a good illustration of the office of the director: he pointed out the Messiah to the disciples, sent them to Christ, and then withdrew since his mis-sion was accomplished. The retreat master presents the image of Christ to the person under his care, sends him to Christ, then leaves him alone with the Redeemer. It is this meeting that brings into motion the whole internal world of the retreatant. He will experience the attraction of grace that calls him to follow Christ. He + + + L. M. Orsy, S.]. REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS 782 a The genuine Ignatian method of prayer is really a incthod to build up a disposition in the mind and the heart of the retreatant to receive the grace of simple prayer. The Saint never intended to impose a rigid logical pattern on those who are seeking the grace of God, but he tried to help them to detach themselves from the visible world in order to enter into God's invisible mystery. All the preludes and points in a meditation serve to tune up, to warm up the person to the communications or consolations of the Holy Spirit. Once God's grace is somehow experienced, the method has fulfilled its purpose and the person in prayer should enjoy the freedom of the children of God. No formal meditation in the world could give him so much as the Holy Spirit working in him. Paradoxically, the purpose of the Ig-natian meditation is to help a person to abandon meditation and to take up a simpler form of prayer. St. Ignatius does not seem to think that this development should take a long time. He certainly assumes that some transformation will take place in a well

Issue 58.4 of the Review for Religious, July/August 1999. ; Review for Religious is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who ~nd that the church's rich heritages of spirituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives, The articles in the journal are meant to be informative, practical; historical, 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 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; YVashington, 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 cover for information on subscription rates. ©1999 Review for Re!igious 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 ~nust 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 Adviso.ry 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 $3 David Werthmann CSSR Patricia Wittberg SC Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living JULY-AUGUST1999 ¯ VOLUME58 ¯ NUMBER4 contents 342 feature U.S. Catholic Re!igious and Slavery: A Seldom Told Story James Fitz SM examines the significant 19th-century issue of social justice and human transformation, the story of slavery, and how relig!ous in the United States were involved. 364 372 witness Edith Stein: St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross OCD Rita E. Goldman reviews the life of Edith Stein and points out ways she models a contemporary holy life. At Home by the S~a: ' Isabel Green SCN and the House of Prayer Experience C. Walker Golla~ PhD tells the story of Sister Isabel SCN and her influence in the development .of the Hou~se of Prayer movement for spiritual renewal. 384 393 consecrated life Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows Dennis J. Billy CSSR develops five basic anthropological dimensions of human existence for a more thorough understanding of the vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience. Authority among Religious in South Asia Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR explores some of the issues dealing with the religious tradition of authority and obedience within different cultural contexts. 403 424 discerning Becoming a Nun: A General Model of Entering Religious Life Barbara Zajac proposes from her sociological research that personal contact and visibility are key elements in fostering vocations to consecrated life. Discerning Community Leadership Mary Benet McKinney OSB presents the advantages and the difficulties that are involved in a community's use of the discernment process. departments 340 Prisms 429 Canonical Counsel: Admission to an Institute of Consecrated Life 435 Book Reviews July-August 1999 prisms In this year dedicated to God the Father, we would do well to bring into sharper focus to whom we pray. For the sake of our prayer life, we might examine how our praying is shaped by Jesus' teaching the Our Father. What are the ordinary elements that we as Christ's disciples appropriately bring to our day-to-day way of l~raying? Our Father Our prayer begins with our, not my, "hello" to One who has loved us into life, the One we call upon as the "God of our life," "Giver of all good gifts," "Abba" (Jesus' love word). who art in heaven One so close, so totally present to us, and yet not in the world of our control--beyond the sphere of limitation and death. hallowed be thy name You are holy--totally other than us; you are God, and we are not. It is your world; we are your creation. Awe-filled, we say "Holy your name!" thy kingdom come For us and for the world, we want what you want. Why? because it is out of love you create and you act and you seek out. thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven May your desires become our desires and so let us act with you--as ones who love. give us this day our daily brei~d Daily let us be with you and work with you for all that sustains our life with Review for Religious and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us There are times we pay no heed to you; we become so caught up in our own way of finding life and in our own way of seeking love. Forgive us for receiving your love so awkwardly, sometimes so grudgingly. Help us to act like you in offering forgiveness to others who hurt us in any way. and lead us not into temptation You know our limits; please be gentle with us in your unquenchable love. Even more we ask you to be strong within us as together we face the things that might make us less than the human persons you call us to be. but deliver us from evil We know that you are always a saving God, and we stand always in your presence as ones who need saving--so we believe, so we trust, so we love. Moved by Christ's Spirit, our praying may take shape in any and all of these reflections of Jesus' way of teaching us to pray. So we pray in Jesus' name. There are some changes within the Review for Religious staffing that I would like all of you, our readers, to know about. Miss Jean Read is retiring after serving some twenty-three years after her first "retirement" from a variety of Jesuit works. Sister Regina Siegfried ASC is returning to full-time teaching and student counseling after six years on our editorial staff. We remain grate-ful for their lasting contributions. We welcome Sister Clare Boehmer ASC to the editorial staff, who assumes special care for the Reviews department. David L. Fleming sJ P.S. To honor Jean Read, who has shouldered a major respon-sibility for the publishing of all the books in the Best of the Review series, we are publishing a new book, Life through a Poet's Eyes, The Best of the Review - 6. See the insert page at the end of this issue. L___2,4.1__ JAMES FITZ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery: A Seldom Told Story feature For religious of the United States, actions for social jus-tice and human transformation have become a signifi-cant aspect of our mission since the promulgation of Gaudium et spes at the conclusion of the Second Vatican Council. "The joys and the hopes, the griefs and anxi-eties of the people of- this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and the hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ" (§1). The (all to social justice and human transforma-tion was notably addressed to religious in a 1981 docu-ment from the Sacred Congregation for Religious and Secular Institutes (SCRIS) titled "Religious and Human Advancement" (Le scelte evangdiche). l This call was reaf-firmed most recently by the Synod on Consecrated Life in 1994 and the postsynodal apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata (see §82) in 1996. In June 1997 Representative Tony Hall, Democrat from Dayton, Ohio, and a bipartisan group of eleven members of the United States House of Representatives introduced a one-sentence resolution that the U.S. Congress apologize to African Americans, "whose ances-tors suffered as slaves under the Constitution and laws of the United States until 1865:."2 Thi~ resolution, a James Fitz SM returns to our pages after a busy twelve-year absence. His address is Office of Campus Ministry; University of Dayton; 300 College Park; Dayton, Ohio 45469. Review for Religious response to President Clinton's initiative to heal racial division in this country, began a national debate over whether a national ~apol-ogy for slavery is necessary or useful. The recent movie Amistad has heightened awareness of this issue. In this article I examine this significant 19th-century issue of social justice and human transformation, the story of slavery, and how religious in the U.S.A. were involved in and responded to this critical issue in our American social history. This story is sel-dom told. Hardly one of the glorious moments in the history of American religious life, this story can give us religious a perspec-tive and context for understanding present-day events and can teach us multiple ways of bringing our Christian commitment and tradition to contemporary issues. Also, as history has a way of doing, it witnesses to "development of doctrine," with implica-tions for new issues facing the church today. History challenges its students to remember so they will not repeat mistakes of the past. As Elie Wiesel (Jewish scholar, sur-vivor of the Holocaust, and Nobel Prize winner) has pointed out many times, remembering is important. From remembering and pondering the American practice and eventual proscription of slav-ery, what can we religious learn? In the history of the United States, the Civil War (1861-1865) was a profound trial and test of liberty and equality. As President Abraham Lincoln said at Gettysburg, the "nation was "engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so con-ceived and so dedicated, can long endure." This struggle split the country. Among the various causes of the war, the different approaches to slavery in the North and the South were clearly one, and the abolition of slavery was one of the social transfor-mations that resulted from the war. This article examines how religious in the United States responded to the "peculiar institution" of slavery and to its trans-formation. 3 First, how did the overall U.S. Catholic Church respond to slavery? Second, what was the involvement of religious with slaves and with ministry to slaves? Third, what was the atti-tude of religious toward slaves and the institution of slavery? Lastly, what tentative conclusions can be drawn fo~ religious living in today's world? Besides some primary ~ources, there are significant studies (by Jesuits and Vincentians, for example) on the involvement of their particular religious orders with slavery.4 Many religious commu- July-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery nities either have not written or are in the process of writing or rewriting histories of their foundations in this country. Once com-pleted, these congregational histories will be valuable in nuanc-ing any conclusions drawn from the information now available. A thorough study of the archives of religious orders and congrega-tions throughout the country could reveal some significant details and interesting historical anecdotes to complete the picture. The information already available, however, is enough for an overview of the response of U.S. religious to slavery. Attitude toward Slavery in the Catholic Church of the United States I suspect that for most American religious of the 20th cen-tury, the ownership of sla~es by their forebears in religion is dis-turbing. For religious formed since Vatican Council II, this fact might seem incomprehensible. That council places slavery among the crimes against the dignity of the human person and calls the church to work to eliminate all forms of slavery: The varieties of crime are numerous:., all offenses against human dignity, such as subhuman living conditions, arbi-trary imprisonment, deportation, slavery, prostitution, the selling of women and children, degrading working condi-tions where people are treated as mere tools for profit rathe.r than free and responsible persons: all these and the like are criminal; they poison civilization; and they debase the per-petrators more than the victims and militate against the honor of the creator . Human institutions, both private and public, must labor to minister to the dignity and purpose of the human person. At the same time let them put up a stubborn fight against any kind of slavery, whether social or political, and safeguard the basic rights of the human person under every political system. (GS §§27, 29) In the Catholic Church of the early 19th century, no formal and absolute condemnation of slavery as an institution existed. Although recognizing abuses in the system, the ch~arch did not see slavery as a moral evil in itself, but as a result of original sin, Christians found no condemnation of slavery in the Scriptures or in the writings of early church theologians. "From Genesis to Philemon one could find no condemnation of the practice. Jesus did not utter one word of censure against slavery even though it was in full existence-in,his day. St. Paul, who claimed to have met Review for Religious the resurrected Christ, did nothing to abolish it--in fact, he did just the opposite when he said, 'Slaves, be obedient to your masters.'" Although slavery per se was not condemned, Pope Pius II in 1482 and Pope Urban viii in 1639 had condemned the slave trade. Pope Benedict XlV condemned the continued enslavement of native peoples in 1741.5 By the end of the 18th century, abolition movements began in various countries and in some of the states of the United States. In 1839 Pope Gregory Xvi issued an apostolic letter again calling for the elimination of the African slave trade.6 Voices opposing slavery began to arise among Catholics in European countries.7 Catholics in the United States, how-ever, did not take a lead in the aboli-tionist movement. Of the few significant Catholic voices, the most prominent came from outside the United States--the Irish leader Daniel O'Connell. His voice did not, however, receive a warm welcome in the United States) Catholic leaders consistently tended to identify the abolitionists with anti-Catholic and In the Catholic Church of the early 19th century, no formal and absolute condemnation of slavery as an institution existed. nativist sentiments. The Know-Nothing party platform of 1855, which combined anti-slavery, nativist, and anti-Catholic concerns, did nothing to win Catholic converts to the antislavery movement.9 Catholics leaders tended to avoid the slavery issue, which divided the nation. In their 1859 provincial council meeting in Baltimore, the bishops of the United States avoided taking a stand on the issues. Although Catholic leaders admitted that human bondage was not an ideal system, they differed on the gravity of the evil and the practicality of proposals to end the system. The only element upon which they agreed was that the principles and methods of the abolitionists were a threat to the safety of the country2° At time of the Civil War, northern church leaders generally supported the position of the union, and southern church leaders generally supported the confederacy. In 1862 Orestes Brownson, a prominent American Catholic layman and thinker, wrote that in the mind of Catholics the preservation of the union took prece-dence over the abolition of slavery. As a northerner he wrote that it was his impression that the majority of Catholics opposed the July-August 1999 Fit~ * U.S. C~tbolic Religious and Slavery abolitionists, but were neither in favor of slavery nor opposed to gradual emancipation. At the time he himself supported emanci-pation as a political and military necessity.1~ In his manual of moral theology written in the early 1840s, Francis Patrick Kenrick, bishop of Philadelphia and later archbishop of Baltimore, regretted the institution of slavery as it was practiced in the United States, but generally acquiesced in the prevailing conditions in the country. Although especially concerned about the restrictions on the edu-cation of slaves and on the slaves' freedom to practice religion, he nevertheless opposed violation of laws controlling slavery. He encouraged slaves to be obedient and masters to be just and kind. Though he considered the original seizure of slaves to be immoral, he argued that the descendants of those who originally purchased the slaves should not be held accountable.~2 Kenrick represented Catholic opinion in the United States, which generally supported the status quo. Those Catholics who saw slavery as an evil were generally for gradual, not forced, emancipation. Southern Catholic Church leaders defended slavery, although some, like Bishop Augustin Verot of St. Augustine, Florida, also pointed out that many southern masters had abused slaves, and that the war might be God's punishment for this. Among the abuses Verot listed were masters separating families, masters taking advan-tage of female slaves, and masters providing neither religious instruction nor proper clothing, food, and dwellings for slaves.~3 Like many of their fellow Americans, many Catholics also had racist attitudes toward the slaves. Although Catholics recognized slaves as human persons, they did not necessarily accept them as equals. Reflecting this belief, Orestes Brownson could write, "We recognize in the Negro a man, and assert for him in their plenitude the natural rights of man, but we do not believe him the equal of the white man, and we would not give him in society with white men equality of respect to those rights derived not immediately from manhood, but mediately from political and civil society, and in this we express, we apprehend, the general sentiment of the Catholic population of this country." 14 Religious Involvement with Slaves In his first report to the prefect of the Congregation de Propaganda Fide, Father John Carroll, superior of the priests in the missions of Maryland (and later the first American bishop), sent the Review for Religious statistics concerning Catholics in the United States. African slaves were a significant part of the Catholic Church in Maryland, about twenty percent of the Catholic population.~s Catholics owned most of these slaves. In the period before the Civil War, some American religious, like their American compatriots and fellow Catholics, owned slaves, Most early American Catholics lived in Maryland and Kentucky, states that permitted slavery. The owning of slaves was an adaptation religious made to living in America. Records document that both men and women religious owned slaves. The Jesuits were major slave owners. Lord Baltimore had granted them extensive lands. They owned four large estates in Maryland in Prince Georges, Charles, and St. Mary's counties and two smaller plan-tations on the Eastern Shore. They also had two farms in eastern Pennsylvania. At first they relied upon indentured servants, a practice they never completely aban-doned. "As this form of labor became increasingly difficult to secure and retain in Maryland, the Jesuit missionaries, like their secular fellow planters, turned to slave labor." The first explicit reference to slaves is from 1711, although they probably had slaves before then. By 1765 they had 192 slaves.~6 The Jesuits also owned slaves in the Louisiana Territory, in both St. Louis and New Orleans27 Two congregations of men came to America to establish sem-inaries: the Sulpicians and the Vincentians (Congregation of the Mission). Because the Sulpicians were not large landowners, they did not own 'a large number of slaves. Individual Sulpicians in Emmitsburg and Louisville (Bardstown) owned slaves28 At the invitation of William DuBourg, apostolic administrator of the Louisiana territory, the Vincentians staffed St. Mary's Seminary in Perry County, Missouri, beginning in 1818. DuBourg provided them slaves. The first Vincentian superior of the American mission, Father Felix DeAndreis, hesitated to accept them, but did so because there were no lay brothers who could do the manual labor. In fact, DeAndreis considered the possibility of.enlisting free blacks and mulattoes into the Vincentian community, but discarded the idea because he was convinced, probably rightly at the time, that no white men would enter the community. The introduction of slaves was considered a necessary adaptation to the American sit- The owning of slaves was an adaptation religious made to living in America. Jtdy-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery uation. A'major concern of the Vincentian superiors in Rome was that a woman was admitted to the kitchen and thus within the com-munity living quarters. There was no comment about the fact that she was a slave. In 1830 the seminary had twenty-seven slaves; this appears to be the highest number at any one time.~9 Of the first eight permanent communities of women religious founded within the original boundaries of the United States, six had Slaves: three in Maryland (the Carmelites of Port Tobacco, the Visitation Sisters of Georgetown, the Sisters of Charity of Emmitsburg) and three in Kentucky (the Sisters of Loretto, the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, and 'the Dominican Sisters of St. Catherine). The annals and traditions of these six communities refer to "Negro" or "colored" servants" brought by some women as part of their down. For example, at the Carmelite convent, where the slaves numbered thirty by 1829, they lived "comfort-ably" outside the cloister and did the farm work.2° Of the first eight congregations, the Oblate Sisters of Divine Providence (an order of African American religious in Baltimore) and the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy (Charleston, South Carolina) were the two con-gregations that did not have slaves. The other major grouping of religious during the time of slav-ery were those who came to the Louisiana Territory, which became part of the United States in 1803. Most of these religious were French-speaking congregations, although Spanish religious served during the time of Spanish control. In the Louisiana Territory, the Capuchins owned slaves to work their plantations. Mready mentioned was the Jesuit ownership of slaves in the territory.2! Among the communities of women, French-speaking Ursulines were the first to come to New Orleans in 1727. They had slaves provided as part of their contract with the Company of the Indies.22 Although at first reluctant to purchase a slave, Mother Hyacinth, of the Daughters of the Cross (Cocoville, Louisiana), accepted the recommendation of the bishop and purchased a slave.23 The Madames (Religious) of the Sacred Heart had slaves at Grand Coteau, Louisiana, and in Missouri.24 There is correspondence from St. Philippine Duchesne requesting a slave from the Vincentians. The Sisters of Loretto of Bethlehem convent across the road from the Vincentians in Perry County, Missouri, also owned slaves.25 The owning of slaves led consequently to the involvement of religious in the purchase and sale of slaves. For the Sisters of Review for Religious Charity of Nazareth, the purchase of slaves in 1840 was an eco-nomic decision: "The Council decided it was better to buy ser-vants for the farm, and so forth, than pay so much for hire and then often get bad ones."26 When the Carmelites left Charles County for Baltimore in 1831, the disposal of their slaves was one of their difficulties. According to the Carmelite centennial histo-rian, the slaves became a source of anxiety because the sisters did not have the resources to grant them their freedom, so they gave them permission to seek their own masters. The sisters received whatever price the new master gave. Older slaves were left to the care of competent persons, and the sisters provided for their neces-sities until their deaths.27 The involvement in the sale of slaves by the Vincentians is documented in the previously mentioned study. The ownership of slaves led the Vincentians to become involved in the sale and purchase of slaves. There was an attempt t9 be faithful to church law. In a letter addressed to the Vincentian general in 1840, the American provincial, Father John Timon, explained that the"pur-pose of the increased buying of slaves was to bring families together. The Vincentians slowly phased out slaveholding during the 1850s and 1860s. Although personally opposed to slavery, Timon justified the decision to sell the slaves in terms of economic and political rather than moral factors. Freeing the slaves was not considered.28 The sale of the Jesuit slaves in Maryland caused great con-troversy. Some Jesuits sought to free the slaves and, in the pro-cess, change the labor force running their farms from slave to free. When the Jesuits were restored in 1814, the civil corpora-tion made a resolution to this effect in that same year; it was, however, never carried out. The Jesuits became embroiled in a dispute with Ambrose Marechal, the new archbishop of Baltimore, who had initiated claims against the Jesuit estates, arguing that they were meant to support the entire church in Maryland, not just the Jesuits.29 Any sales were delayed until the dispute could be settled. By the 1830s the new group of younger Jesuits was becoming uncomfortable with the estates and their status as slave owners. By this time, however, the climate in the country had changed and the policy of deferred emancipation became more difficult to fol-low. Older Jesuits, mostly Europeans, supported keeping the estates. Younger Jesuits, mostly Americans, wanted to sell them July-Augl~St 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery and the slaves and concentrate on education. The older Jesuits argued that the slaves were a patrimony. Father Francis Dzierozynski wrote, "I consider the blacks under this respect only, that they are our sons, whose care and salvation have been entrusted to us by Divine Providence and who are always happy under our Fathers." For Dzierozynski and~others, the bond between the slaves and the Jesuits was not to be broken for finan-cial reasons. They argued that selling the slaves would lead to the slaves' physical and moral ruin and would give great scandal.3° In October 1836 the superior general approved the sale of the slaves with the condition that their religious needs must be met, families must not be separated (especially spouses), and the money must be invested for the support of Jesuits in training.31 In June, Father Thomas Mulledy, the provincial, sold the slaves to Henry Johnson of Louisiana. The main group of the slaves was sent to Louisiana in November 1838. Mulledy was denounced to the supe-rior general because some of the slave families were separated, and Mulledy was subsequently replaced. The change to tenant farming ended the Jesuit history as slaveholders. Clearly the young Jesuits who advocated sale of the slaves perceived correctly that owning slaves was scandalous. Their manner of handling the sale clearly violated the principles of the church concerning the sale and treatment of slaves, and they did not provide for their even-tual emancipation. This too wa~ a scandal. ~ In general, how did religious treat their slaves? In his study on American Catholics and slavery, Kenneth Zanca notes "that reli-gious orders treated their slaves more humanely than other slave holders and generally saw to their religious education--even in the defiance of state laws. To be a 'priest's slave' or a 'nun's slave' was considered a fortunate circumstance for a slave.''32 Although the slaves of religious may have been treated more humanely than other, slaves, problems persisted. Father Adam Marshall, the Jesuit charged with overseeing the plantations for the corporation, described the dwellings for the slaves as "almost universally unfit for human beings to live in." When possible, Jesuit brothers were given charge of the farms. Father .Peter Kenney, an Irish Jesuit, sent by the Jesuit superior general as a special visitor to evaluate the American mission in 1819, took exception to the arbitrary treatment of the slaves by the brothers. He found general disaffection among the slaves and particular abuses (for example, whipping pregnant women). He also found the Review for Religious behavior of the slaves scandalous and their practice of religion vir-tually nonexistent. Because of the poor financial condition of the Jesuits in general in the early 1820s, the living conditions of the slaves on most of the plantations were less than adequate. However, with new management the material conditions of the slaves seemed to improve by the 1830s. At St. Inigoes, the most thriving of the plantations, Father Joseph Carberry instituted a system of incentives for the slaves, which led to their economic improvement. Concerning their moral and spiritual condition, despite catech-esis and required attendance at Mass, Kenney found the slaves' lives to be a "moral wasteland and scandalous reproach to the Society" of Jesus. "Some Jesuits attributed the moral anarchy to the Society's own failure to discipline the slaves." 3 3 Some accounts about slaves owned by religious report a general affection by the slaves for their religious owners. At St. Catherine, Kentucky, this is how the ~rs~a~e laws. relationship between the Dominican sis-ters and their slaves is reported.34 When the sisters wanted to build a new chapel, some of the slaves who had come to the sisters as part of a dowry voluntarily offered to do without new clothes for a year so that the money might be donated to the chapel fund. Some slaves gave their earnings toward the project. Even after emancipation, some slaves remained with the sisters until their deaths.3s A report about the slaves owned by the Religious of the Sacred Heart indicates that they were "happy as possible in their snug little cabins" and were converted to the Catholic faith and the "love of the Sacred Heart that was the reason for Grand Coteau's existence.''36 An historian of the earlier Jesuit mission in the United States claims that dur-ing the Revolutionary War the slaves of the Jesuits could have abandoned the Jesuit plantations when British ships raided the plantations. The priests' slaves, unlike neighboring slaves, did not do so. The historian takes this as a sign of the slaves' devotion to their masters.37 There are, however, no accounts from the slaves themselves to confirm these impressions. Religious orders treated their slaves more humanely than other slave holders and generally saw to their religious education-- even in the defiance Ju~-dugltst 1999 Fitz * U.S. Catholic Religious and Slaver~ Ministry by Religious to Slaves Before the Civil War the Catholic Church in the South was small, poor, and understaffed. "Catholicism, in short, could not ade-quately minister to either the slave or the free blacks in the South ([whether] Catholic or non-Catholic), nor could Catholicism prac-tically enforce its own teaching on the proper treatment of slaves."3s The church was hesitant and ambivalent in most of its efforts to work among African Americans, whether slave or free.39 John Carroll was concerned about "a general lack of care in instructing their children and especially the Negro slaves in their religion.''4° Although local parish records indicate a high rate of baptisms among slaves throughout the antebellum period, "there is little evidence of high rates of slave identification with Catholicism in terms of attendance at Mass, marriage in the church, or other signs of Catholic activity and devotion.''4~ Despite this general lack of ade, quate ministry, religious provided some ministry to slaves. Most commonly, it was religious-order priests who provided for the slaves the celebration of the Sunday and holy day Eucharists and the celebration of baptism and marriage. The Vincentians and Capuchins ministered to slaves on the plantations in the Louisiana Territory.42 As noted earlier, the Jesuits provided sacramental min-istry for their slaves, both in Louisiana and Maryland, and for the slaves of Catholic masters in Maryland.43 A Jesuit mission band giving revivals on southern Maryland farms in the Jubilee Year 1851 also served slaves.44 Some religious priests tried to protect slaves from abuse. In 1791, for example, Capuchin Father Joaquin de Portillo ordered slaves to stop working on a holy day of obligation and reported the incident to the Louisiana Eovernor because work on a holy day was a violation of the slave code in the colony.~s In general, religious catechized their slaves and sometimes provided them basic education. As mentioned earlier, the Jesuits taught catechism to their slaves. Religious women catechized and educated black slaves, especially children.In a letter of 1856, Mother Hyacinth indicates that they educated their slave named Simon.46 There is evidence that the Visitation Sisters educated free black girls, and this tradition may have "its origins in the instruction given to their slaves.''47 Bishop England founded the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy in Charleston, South Carolina, for the purpose of establishing a school for "free colored girls, and to give religious instruction to female slaves.''~s A letter of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton provides evidence of catechetical work among African American children.49 The Daughters of Charity organized classes to teach religion to their slaves,s° The Ursulines in New Orleans also catechized slaves,s| Two religious orders of African American women were founded to educate and catechize African American children. "To work for the Christian education of colored children," four Haitian refugees founded the Oblate Sisters of Divine Providence, "a Religious Society of virgins and widows of color." They provided education for African American children who had no other possi-bilities. Some children they educated may have been slave chil-dren, although that is not clear from the sources,s2 Supported at first by the Sulpicians in the person of Father James Joubert and later by the Redemptorists under the direction of Father Thaddeus Anwander, who was influenced by Father John Neumann, the sis-ters went about their mission under difficult circumstances includ-ing years of neglect and hardship. They continued a school in Baltimore that several of the sisters had started before ~their orga-nization as a religious congregation in 1829. The other religious community of African American sisters, the Sisters of the Holy Family, was founded in New Orleans for the purpose of serving and educating the poor. Before she founded the community, Henriette DeLille had entered into the work of teaching religion to slaves,s3 Although much of their educational work and service ministry was with poor free African Americans, they also did catechetical work among the slaves,s4 Care of slaves was also part of the outreach ministry of women religious. The Sisters of the Holy Family, prompted by the wretched condition of old, abandoned slaves; opened a home for the aged.ss The Hotel Dieu, run by the Daughters of Charity in New Orleans, had a slave department that had special rates and "superior advantages" for members of this class,s6 Attitude of Religious toward the Institution of Slavery and toward Slaves Slavery The attitude of religious in the United States toward slavery tended to mirror the attitude of United States Catholics in general. No religious and no Catholic occupied the' forefront of the aboli-tionist movement. ~uly-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery There are, however, records of individual religious who were opposed to slavery. A Sulpician, Father Louis-Regis Deluol, and a Vincentian, Father John Timon, are two examples. In a letter to Charles Carroll's granddaughter, Deluol wrote that his feelings were most violently opposed to slavery. In the same letter, though, he indicated that he did not see slavery as opposed to divine or ecclesiastical law.57 Timon, the Vincentian superior of the American mission who was responsible for ending Vincentian involvement in slavery, accepted the bishopric of Buffalo, New York, because he feared he might be named coadjutor of Bardstown. Timon "would have intensely disliked that appointment because Negro slavery obtains in the state of Kentucky."58 Opposition to slavery did not, in general, lead religious to participate in the abolitionist move-ment or to the manumission of slaves. There were religious who supported slavery. Father John Ryder SJ, of Georgetown University, addressing an audience in Richmond in 183 5, defended slavery "as a positive benefit to the slav.e, while arguing that abolitionism was incompatible with Catholicism."59 One of the most prominent Catholic figures of the 19th cen-tury was Isaac Thomas Hecker, a convert to Roman Catholicism, a religious, and the founder of the Paulists. Oversimplifying, one can say that Hecker saw as his task the adaptation of the Roman Catholic Church to America, "proving to Catholics that their coun-try was not Protestant at its ideological roots, .and to Protestants that Catholics were not inherendy anti-democratic." Like his men-tor Orestes Brownson, Hecker saw Roman Catholic natural-law theory as a stronger grounding for democracy than Protestantism or Lockean liberalism. Hecker's dream of America's conversion to Catholicism never materialized.6° At the time of the Civil War, Hecker was laying the founda-tions of the Paulist community. In his writings and letters he hardly mentions the raging political issues of slavery and expansion.6~ In a sermon written in April 1861 b~t apparently never delivered, Hecker was convinced that the "root of the problem between the states was a lack of common religion.62 In a series of articles before the war, Hecker had written that the Catholic Church was friend of both master and slave. He had cohtrasted the Catholic Church, which supported union and reconciliation, with the fanatic and divisive Protestant abolitionists. I-Iecker saw the war as a perfect example of how the Catholic Church would have prevented hos- Review for Religious tility. "Slavery, under the benign influence of Catholic principles and legislation, voluntarily and insensibly disappears, just as serf-dom was made to give way to modern society without violence or bloodshed." Hecker hoped that the Civil War would lead the coun-try to see the value of Catholicism.63 On the issue of slavery itself, Hecker held views conventional for a Roman Catholic of his day. There is evidence of his views in correspondence with Jane Sedgwick, a convert and friend in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, in the spring of 1861. Hecker's letter to Sedgwick no longer exists, but her response indicates her dis-agreement with his defense of servitude under certain conditions. We have no record of Hecker's response to her questions and argu-ments. "Once the war came, Hecker told friends he had always been opposed to slavery; he even told Bishop Lynch of Charleston that he regarded the war as a punishment of the South for its evils.''64 One of his biographers, David O'Brien, quotes a passage from a letter of September 1861 : The sentiment of loyal Americans whether Catholic or not is getting always [more] and more strong and united every day against slavery and without any change of principle. We have always taken the ground that it is an evil and a disgrace which might be tolerated for a time, but ought to be grad-ually abolished. The Constitutional rights of the states for-bade, however, any direct meddling and made it our duty to protect the institution of slavery against unjust aggression. Now, however, since slavery is so destructive of national prosperity, and the South by its rebellion has forfeited all claim to the forbearance of the North, we think the time will soon come to expel slavery from our entire country.65 Slaves Attitudes toward slaves among religious are similar to those held by other white Catholic Americans. Although some English Protestants held the view that Negroes were incapable of baptism because they were not strictly human, Catholics did baptize slaves when the occasion presented itself, especially when the slaves were their own.6. Father George Hunter, a Jesuit, reminded masters of their duty to treat slaves with charity. "As they are members of Jesus Christ, redeemed by his precious blood, they are to be dealt with in a charitable, Christian, paternal manner; which is at the same time a great means to bring them to do their duty to God, and therefore to gain their souls.".7 Although seen as human, slaves were often treated and described in condescending and paternal- July-August 1999 Fitz * U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery istic terms. The treatment of slaves as property (moving them from one place to another) manifests the failure of religious to treat slaves as fully human. The language of religious also por-trayed their condescending attitudes toward slaves. Father Joseph Mosley SJ, who came to Maryland at the time of the Jesuit sup-pression in 1773, wrote to his sister the following year: "They ['the Negroes'] are naturally inclined to thieving, lying, and much lechery. I believe want [poverty] makes them worse thieves and liars, and the innate heat .of the climate of Africa and their natu-ral temper of constitution gives them a bent to lechery.''6s Another Jesuit, Brother Mobberly, who managed St. Inigoes from 1806 to 1820, felt that a lack of discipline was the root of the slaves' prob-lems. He developed a racial theory of African subservience.69 Mobberly wrote in his diary: "The better a Negro is treated, the worse he becomes." With this attitude, there is little wonder that Mobberly was removed a month after the visit of Father Kenney in 1820.70 Against the background of slavery, Vincentian lay brothers felt and caused some difficulty within their congregation. "The broth-ers resented the implicit identification of their work with that of slaves and were increasingly reluctant to do certain types of labor, perhaps under the influence of American attitudes." Like many white laborers, the lay brothers disliked doing the kind of work slaves did, considering it degradation. Father Rosati, one of the Vincentian superiors, struggled with the duplicity he saw in the lay brothers: they did not want slaves, but refused to do the work that the slaves were hired or bought to do.71 Some religious felt compassion for the slaves, although this compassion did not always lead to action. Mother Theodore Guerin, who founded the Sisters of Providence of Saint Mary-of-the-Woods in Indiana, wrote the following in her journal about her trip to New Orleans: The most painful sight I saw in New Orleans was the selling of slaves. Every day in the streets at appointed places, Negroes and Negresses in holiday attire are exposed for this shameful traffic, like the meanest of animals at our fairs. This spectacle oppressed my heart. Lo! I said to myself, these Americans, so proud of their liberty, thus make game of the liberty of others. Poor Negroes! I would have wished to buy them all that I might say to them, "Go! Bless Providence. You are free." But such feelings must be concealed from the Louisianians, as this is a point on which they are very sensio tire.72 Review for Religious The Vincentian Father DeAndreis also felt compassion toward the slaves. In a letter of 1819 to the Vincentian community at Monte Citoria, he wrote: .With regard to the situation of the blacks and mulattoes, these are for the most part slaves, who are condemned to eat the bread of sorrow and to bear pondus diei et aestus [the burden of the day and the scorching heat (Mt 20:12)] and, what is worse, in their harsh condition to serve the passions of others and to be in the moral impossibility of knowing and practicing religion. They are commonly forbidden to contract marriage because of the loss that their masters would suffer as a result, something that exposes them to a thou-sand dangers. For the rest these natives of Africa are for the most part simple and disposed to profit by the labors that are undertaken for their salvation. They are moved at seeing a white priest interested in them since they are regarded as the offscouring and refuse of the human race. How many subjects of consolation do not these poor creatures offer me! They are instructed, they make their first communion, and then they frequent the sacraments.73 DeAndreis's writing flowed from personal experience. After arriving in St. Louis in 1818, he made the African Americans of the city an object of his special ministry. His friend Joseph Rosati, who became the first bishop of St. Louis, recollected that people were astonished at seeing a scholar applying himself to this min-istry with special ardor and dedication.74 Conclusion Several general trends can be drawn from this study of American religious and slavery. Like their fellow Catholics, some American religious owned and sold slaves and became entangled in the control and supervision of slaves. Although some commenta-tors indicate that, in general, religious treated their slaves better than .other slave masters, there are few slave witnesses to verify this perception. Religious provided sacramental ministry and edu-cation (mostly catechetical) to their slaves and to the slaves of other Catholic masters. Religious also provided limited social ser-vices to slaves. With regard to the institution of slavery, American religious mirrored American Catholics in general. They did not see slav-ery as intrinsically wrong. If they opposed slavery, they were for gradual emancipation. Although they saw slaves as human, slaves 3%dy-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery were often described in condescending and racist terms. Some compassion was shown, but this did not often lead to action or a desire to eliminate the institution. As an historical account, this article could end at this point. But should more be said? Is there anything we, as religious living near the end of the 20th century, might learn from our forebears in the faith as we grapple with social-justice and social-transformation issues in the world today? There are several important lessons. A first lesson might be a challenge for us as religious to exam-ine more critically our relationship to culture. As religious, we are called to be prophetic. Hopefully, our words, actions, and lives will perform at least two prophetic functions: criticize the existing sinful and unjust social consciousness and energize the world by embodying an alternative way to live that brings hope.7s This prophetic witness can be greatly compromised if we live com-pletely apart from the culture. Conversely, if we are so immersed in the culture that we do not see injustices, and in fact participate in them, our actions become a source of scandal. American reli-gious quickly adapted to the American experience of slavery. Was this an example of being too immersed in the culture to be truly prophetic to it? Were some religious so much outsiders (for exam-ple, Catholic, French extraction, unmarried women) that criticism was muted in order not too offend? The experience of slavery of American religious in the 19th century can challenge religious today to look at our present culture. Are there structures in which we are so immersed that we fail to see injustice present? Are there unjust structures that we are afraid to challenge because the chal-lenge might cost us personally or communally? Are we alert and attentive to the structures of culture that may need prophetic chal-lenge and a witness to :an alternative way? For international institutes, these same questions may be asked concerning new implantations in other cultures. What aspects of the new culture should be accepted as compatible with and expres~ sive of gospel values? What aspects are unjust and need to be opposed? As the first religious in America quickly adapted to the institution of slavery, are there aspects of other cultures to which we are easily adapting without critical thought? These are not easy questions, but they are important if we are to be faithful to our prophetic witness. Second, the slavery issue can be a lesson in listening to and evaluating the message of another. Catholics, including religious, Review for Religqous did not listen to the abolitionists because a significant group of abolitionists was anti-Catholic as well (though this was not true of all of them). Although abolitionists may have been wrong in their anti,Catholicism, they were prophetic in their respect for the dignity of African Americans. In our own day the truth may be proclaimed by someone with whom we have little in common or with whom we disagree on significant issues. Truth can come from anywhere, and we need to hear the truth whether it comes from friend or foe, compan-ion or opponent. Are we today open to the truth, from whatever source? Have we stopped listening to some group where the truth may be present, even in the midst of error? A third lesson concerns the development of doctrine in the history of the Catholic Church. In the area of social justice and trans-formation, there are significant examples of this development. The institution of slavery, once considered a moral way to treat individuals, is now considered immoral. Reflection over the years has helped the church come to a new understanding of the implications of the reign of God as Jesus proclaimed it. As the early church struggled with the issue of accepting Gentiles into the church, so American Christians of the 19th century grappled with the implications of the gospel in terms of slavery. Statements made by bishops over a hun-dred and fifty years ago have been reversed by bishops in our own day. What was once considered not intrinsically wrong is now con-sidered a crime against human dignity. This development of doc-trine, therefore, can be a source of hope as we grapple with new justice issues today. As we deal with right-to-life issues (think of abortion and capital punishment), dignity-of-women issues, and other such issues, what appears as a small glimmer of light (even a light from outside the church) may be the source of new insight and a new living of the reign of God in future generations. A call for change, for which there may be little'support now, may gain considerable support as time passes. Religious in the United States have been called by the church to commit themselves to social justice and social transformation. We have chosen to commit ourselves to these values. Although the story of American religious involvement in and response to Are there structures in which we are so immersed that we fail to see injustice present ? ~uly-August 1999 Fitz * U.S. Catholic Religious and Slavery the institution of slavery in this country is not one of the glorious moments in our history, we can hope that the experience of our forebears in dealing with this issue may bring light and insight to our present-day struggle to discern the call of the Spirit in our world. Notes ~ I am using Austin Flannery's translation of the tide of this document, which has elsewhere been called "Religious and Human Promotion." The document was issued by the congregation in January 1981. See Origins 10, no. 34 (5 February 1981): 529-541. 2 House Concurrent Resolution 96, Congressional Record, 1997, H3890-3891. 3 A term I have borrowed from Kenneth M. Stamp, The Peculiar Institution: Slavery in the Ante-Bellum South (New York: Vintage Books, 1956). 4 R. Emmett Curran, "'Splendid Poverty': Jesuit Slaveholding in Maryland, 1805-1838," in Randall M. Miller and John L. Wakelyn, eds., Catholics in the Old South: Essays on Church and Culture (Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1983); Stafford Poole CM and Douglas J. Slawson CM, Church and Slave in Perry Country, Missouri, 1818-1865 (Lewistown, New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1986). s Kenneth J. Zanca, ed., Amen'can Catholics and Slavery, 1789-1866: An Anthology of Primary Documents (Latham, Maryland: University Press of America, 1994), pp. xxxi and 37-39. 6 Madeleine Hooke Rice, American Catholic Opinion in the Slavery Controversy (Gloucester: Peter Smith, 1964), p. 21. 7 John Francis Maxwell, Slavery and the Catholic Church: The History of Catholic Teaching concerning the Moral Legitimacy of the Institution of Slavery (London: Barry Rose Publishers, 1975), pp. 101-110. 8 David J. O'Brien, Public Catholicism, 2nd ed. (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1996), p. 65. See also Rice, American Catholic Opinion, pp. 80-85. 90'Brien, Public Catholicism, p. 53. ,0 Rice, American Catholic Opinion, p. 85. ii Zanca, American Catholics, pp. 134-139. This is an article from Brownson 's Quarterly Review. 12 Zanca, American Catholics, p. 200. See also Joseph D. Brokhage, Francis Patrick Kenrick's Opinion on Slavery (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1955), pp. 122-124. 13 Zanca, American Catholics, pp. 201-209. This is a sermon preached by Verot in 1861. ~ Zanca, American Catholics, p. 136. ts Cyprian Davis, The History of Black Catholics in the United States (New York: Crossroad, 1990), p. 35. Review for Religious ,6 Curran, "Splendid Poverty," p. 126. 17 Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 180-181. ~8 Christopher J. Kauffmar~, Tradition and Transformation in Catholic Culture: The Priests of Saint Sulpice in the United States from 1791 to the Present (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1988), p. 146. See also Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, p. 143. 19 Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 144-158 and 162. 20 Barbara Misner, Highly Respectable and Accomplished Ladies: Catholic Women Religious in America, 1790-18~0, Vol. 22 of The Heritage of American Catholicism, ed. Timothy Walch (New York: Garland Publishing, 1988), pp. 75 and 76. See also Mary Ewens OP, "The Role of the Nun in Nineteenth-Century America: Variations on the International Theme" (Doctoral diss., University of Minnesota, 1971), p. 38. 2t Roger Baudier, The Catholic Church in Louisiana (New Orleans, 1939), pp. 89, 108-109, 115-116, 131-132,139, 202. 22 Sister Frances Jerome Woods, "Congregations of Religious Women in the Old South," in Catholics in the Old South: Essays on Church and Culture, ed. Randall M. Miller and Jon L. Wakelyn (Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1983), p. 112. 23 Woods, "Congregations,,' p. 113. See also Ewens, "Role of the Nun," p. 22. 24 Woods, "Congregations," p. 114. See also Ewens, p. 64, and Davis, History, p. 39. 2s Poole and Slawson, Church andSlave, pp. 171 and 172. 26Misner, Highly Respectable, p. 82, quoting from an archival record. 27Misner, Highly Respectable, p. 77. 28Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 186-189. 29Curran, "Splendid Poverty," pp. 134-135. 30Curran, "Splendid Poverty," pp. 138, 140, 141. ~ Curran, "Splendid Poverty," p. 142. 32 Zanca, American Catholics, p. 111. ~3 Curran, "Splendid Poverty," pp. 129, 130, 132. 34 V~Zoods, "Congregations," p. 114. ~5 Misner, Highly Respectable, p. 84, and Woods, "Congregations," p. 114. The two authors seem to be using a common source, Commemorative booklet for American Bicentennial (St. Catherine, 1976). 36 Woods, "Congregations," p. 114, quoting from Margaret Williams, Second Sowing: The Life of Mary Aloysia Hardey (New York, 1942), p. 103. 37 Thomas Hughes SJ, History of the Society of ffesus in North America, Colonial and Federak Text, From 164Y till 1773, Vol. 2 (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1917), p. 565. ~8 Michael McNally, "A Minority of a Minority: The Witness of Black July-August 1999 Fitz ¯ U.S. Catholic Religious ~nd Slavery Women Religious in the Antebellum South," Review for Religious 40, no. 2 (March 1981): 261. 39 Margaret Susan Thompson, "Philemon's Dilemma: Nuns and the Black Community in Nineteenth-Century America: Some Findings," in The American Catholic Religious Life: Selected Historical Essays, ed. Joseph M. White (New York: Garland Publishing, 1988), p. 83. 40 John Carroll, "The First American Report to Propaganda on Catholicism in the United States, March 1, 1785," in Documents of American Catholic History, Vol. 1, 1493 to 186~, ed. John Tracy Ellis (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1987), p. 149. 4~ Randall M. Miller, "The Failed Mission: The Catholic Church and Black Catholics in the Old South," in Miller and Wakelyn, Catholics in the Old South, p. 152. 42 Baudier, Catholic Church, pp. 76-77. 43 Baudier, Catholic Church, pp. 139, 161. The Capuchins provided ministry to slaves in Louisiana. A dispute arouse between the Jesuits and the Capuchins over whether the Jesuits, who were assigned to the Indian missions, had jurisdiction and could minister to their own slaves (see Baudier, pp. 115-116). ~4 Edward E Beckett SJ, "Listening to Our History: Inculturation and Jesuit Slaveholding," Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 28, no. 5 (November 1996): 15. 4s Baudier, p. 213. 4~ Woods, "Congregations," p. 113. 47 Misner, Highly Respectable, p. 203 48 Misner, Highly Respectable, pp. 204-205. 49 Zanca, American Catholics, p. 143. ' 50 Woods, "Congregations," p. 112. s~ Baudier, Catholic Church, p. 183. 52 Sister M. Reginald Gerdes OSP, "To Educate and Evangelize: Black Catholic Schools of the Oblate Sisters of Providence (1828-1880)," U.S. Catholic Historian 7, nos. 2 and 3 (Spring/Summer 1988): 183-199. s3 Woods, "Congregations," p. 115. 54 Davis, History, pp. 105-I10. See also Woods, "Congregations," p. 116, and Baudier, Catholic Church, p. 397. 55 McNally, "Minority," p. 264. ~6 Woods, "Congregations," p. 113, and Baudier, p. 396. Baudier is quoting from the silver-jubilee booklet of the Hotel Dieu School of Nursing in 1927. 57Kauffman, Tradition and Transfomnation, p. 146. 58 Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, p. 179. 59 Beckett, "Listening to Our History," p. 45, fn. 186. 60 Edward J. Langlois, "Isaac Hecker's Political Thought," in Hecker Review for Religions Studies: Essays on the Thought of Isaac Hecker, ed. John Farina (New York: Paulist Press, 1983), pp. 51 and 66. 6, David J. O'Brien, Isaac Hecker: An American Catholic (New York: Paulist Press, 1992), p. 191. 62 Langlois, "Isaac Hecker's Political Thought," p. 68. See also p. 85, fn. 36. 63 Hecker's sermon, quoted in Langlois, p. 69. 64 O'Brien, lsaac Hecker, p. 192. 6s O'Brien, Isaac Hecko; p. 192. 66Zanca, American Catholics, p. 113 67Hughes,.History, Vol. 2, p. 559. 68Zanca, American Catholics, pp. 1 I3-114. 69Beckett, "Listening to Our History," p. 2 I. 70Curran, "Splendid Poverty," p. 133. 7~ Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 156-157. 72 Zanca, American Catholics, p. 117. 73Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, pp. 145-146. ~4 Poole and Slawson, Church and Slave, p. 147. 75 For further development of the concept of religious life as acted prophecy, see my article "Religious Life as~Acted Prophecy," Review for Religious 41, no. 6 (November-December 1982): 923-927. I Will I will survive even though I have doubts and fears, I will survive when my eyes are full of tears, I will go on with faith in God's hands I will trust my Jesus for I know he understands. Janice Barham July-August 1999 RITA E. GOLDMAN Edith Stein: St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross OCD witness We might begin by asking ourselves, who is Edith Stein? First and foremost, she is a woman, a Jewish woman, student, nurse, scholar/philosopher, teacher, Carmelite nun, and confessor/martyr saint. She was inscribed in the calendar of saints on 11 October 1998, having been beatified at Cologne, Germany, on 1 May 1987. On the last few pages of her work On the Problem of Empathy, she has left us a short biographic sketch. She writes: "I, Edith Stein, was born on 12 October 1891 in Breslau, the daughter of the deceased merchant Siegfried Stein and his wife, Auguste, n~e Courant. I am a Prussian citizen and Jewish." She tells us that, in the year she was born, 12 October was the greatest Jewish holy day, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Her mother, a devout Jew, always considered this a great blessing, having her last child on the Day of Atonement. Edith was the youngest of eleven children, of whom only seven sur-vived. Her mother was widowed twenty-one months after Edith was born. She tells of where she went to school and then of beginning the study of philosophy, to be interrupted in 1916 when she served with the Red Cross during the Rita E. Goldman wrote "Frances Cabrini: A Woman for Today" for our November-December 1996 issue, Her address is 3041 North Country Club Road, Apartment 220; Tucson, Arizona 85716. Revie~v for Religious First World War. After the war she became a teacher at a girls' secondary school in Breslau. Later she began work on her doc-torate in phenomenology, becoming an assistant to Edmund Husserl. In 1917 she was asked by the widow of her former teacher Adolf Reinach, who had died at the front, to help put her hus-band's papers in order. Frau Reinach was a devout Christian; and it was from her influence that Edith began to move toward the Christian faith. In the summer of 1921 she read the autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila, the great Carmelite mystic of the 16th cen-tury. "This," she concluded, "is the truth." She was baptized on New Year's Day 1922. After her baptism Edith spent the next eight years teaching German and literature at St. Magdalena's, a teacher training insti-tute run by the Dominican Sisters at Speyer. During this time she continued her philosophic interests, writing a two-volume study of the philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas. She tried to obtain a pro-fessorship at Freiburg, but was refused because she was a woman. Though she was later to be barred from publishing and lecturing because of being Jewish, at this time she traveled extensively to give lectures in places as varied as Munich, Vienna, Prague, Juvisy (near Paris), and Zurich. In 1932 she accepted a teaching post at the German Institute for Scientific Pedagogy in MOnster. The following year she was denied her lectureship under a Nazi decree aimed at Jews. In October 1933, on the Feast of St. Teresa of Avila, Edith entered the Carmel at Cologne. When the situation in Germany became very bad for Jews, Edith was transferred to the Carmel at Echt, in Holland. But this move did not save her, and in August 1942 she and her sister Rosa were arrested and deported. She died at Auschwitz, on or near 9 August 1942. What I have said above is a general outline of Edith Stein's life, but I think we are more concerned with her thought, what led her to become a Catholic, what called her to become a Carmelite nun, than with the externals of her life. At the age of fifteen, Edith decided she did not believe in God. When she was twenty-four, during her study of phenomenology, a flicker of faith began to catch her ey.e. Then came her contact with Frau Reinach and her reading of the life of St. Teresa of Avila. In St. Teresa's response to Christ's love, Edith found the answer she had sought. She decided to follow Christ's invitation and enter July-Augtlst 1999 GoMman ¯ Edith Stein the Catholic Church. (Even at that time Edith was strongly aware that an attraction to live out her baptismal commitment as a mem-ber of the Discalced Carmelite Order and as a daughter of St. Teresa was inseparable from her resolve to enter the church.) Edith bought a catechism and a missal, studied them thor-oughly, then went to her first Mass in the parish church of Bergzabern, celebrated by the pastor, Monsignor Breitling. Finding that she had no difficulty in following the Mass, she approached Monsignor Breitling afterwards and asked for baptism. The sur-prised pastor told her that there is usually an extended period of preparation before someone is received into the church. But Edith would not relent and asked that he examine her right then on the truths of the faith. The "examination" went so well that her bap-tism was set for the coming New Year's Day. Edith began attend-ing Mass daily--it became the center of her spiritual life. During the years she taught at St. Magdalena's, she was remembered as a teacher who was "modest and unassuming., she went about her work pretty much unseen and unheard, always friendly and ready to be of help." As one student wrote of her rec-ollections of Edith Stein: "Actually, she gave us everything. Though we were all very young at the time, none of us has ever been able to forget the spell that her personality exerted. Her manner alone made her a model for us at that critical time. There's not a single remark of hers that I can repeat--and it isn't that her comments were not memorable, but that she was a quiet, untalkative person who could influence us simply by who she was." These words reflect what Edith herself said of her teaching. She regarded edu-cation as a form of apostolate and generously devoted herself to all the needs of her students. When in 1932-1933 Edith could no longer teach or publish because of the situation in Germany, she at last received permis-sion to enter the Cologne Carmel. This was something she had wanted to do since the day she was baptized, and now it was to be fulfilled. From 16 July to 15 August 1933, she lived in the extern guest quarters at the C.ologne convent while getting acquainted with the sisters. After" that she spent several months in Breslau doing all she could to make her leave-taking easier on her family before her entrance into Carmel on 15 October, the feast of St. Teresa. For six months she was a postulant, being admitted to the novitiate on 15 April 1934. At this time she received her name in religion, Sister Teresa .Benedicta of the Cross. She had taken the Review for Religious name of Teresa at the time of her baptism and took the name Benedicta of the Cross--blessed by the cross--which was her great devotion. She took the name Benedicta also in honor of St. Benedict, since she had been the spiritual child of Archabbot Walzer, who was the abbot at Beuron, the monastery where she had spent much time. In 1935 on Easter Sunday she pronounced her first vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience and three years later, on 21 April 1938, she made her final solemn profession. Life in the monastery was for Edith very different from what she had experienced in the world. She was forty-two years old, and the other novices were in their twenties. She was not accus-tomed to housework and made all kinds of mistakes. The novice mistress had been a bit worried at first when she heard she would have to teach a scholar, but Edith was so amiable and eager to learn that the novice mistress forgot her nervousness. Another thing, her time was not her own--and was very much regulated by bells. After the novitiate, however, much of her assigned work was of an intellectual nature. She revised some of the things she had written while at Speyer. Some of her writings during this period are published in The Hidden Life. At times she also served as receptionist (at the "turn" and on the telephone) and as infirmarian. On 31 December 1938 she was driven across the border to the Carmelite monastery at Echt in Holland. Since Kristallnacht (8 November 1938), Edith had thought it best not to endanger the Cologne Carmel any longer with her presence. Sister Teresa Benedicta spent only a little over three years in the Echt Carmel. During this time she suffered greatly, not know-ing what was happening to her family. Some of her brothers and sisters were able to emigrate to America, but several were not per-mitted to go. Her sister Rosa was with her, having become a Catholic after the death of their mother in 1936. Edith's letters at this time express a central theme: Do everything you can to give joy to others; let God guide you without resistance; fill up She had taken the name of Teresa at the time of her baptism and took the name Benedicta of the Cross-blessed by the cross - which was her great devotion. July-Augv~st 1999 Goldman ¯ Edith Stein the emptiness of your heart with love of God and neighbor. In 1939 she composed her final testament. It reveals more than anything else her conscious acceptance of her particular mis-sion. I quote from the concluding lines: I joyfully accept in advance the death God has appointed for me, in perfect submission to his most holy will. May the Lord accept my life and death for the honor and glory of his name, for the needs of his holy Church (especially the preservation, sanctification, and final perfecting, of our holy order, and in particular for the Carmels of Cologne and Echt), for the Jewish people, that the Lord may be received by his own and his kingdom come in glory, for the deliverance of Germany and peace throughout the world, and finally for all my relatives living and dead and all whom God has given me: may none of them be lost. In late July 1942 the Dutch bishops issued a pastoral letter that was read in all the Catholic parishes of the Netherlands con-demning the deportation of Jews. One week after the bishops' pas-toral letter, on 2 August 1942, the Nazis in a single sweeping operation rounded up all Jewish Catholics, among them Edith and Rosa Stein. On 6 August Edith and Rosa and many other Jewish Catholics were at Westerbork awaiting deportation to the "east." The destination was Auschwitz, where it is believed both Edith and Rosa were executed on 9 August. When the church canonizes someone, it is in essence saying that it is safe to imitate this person. In putting its final approval on Edith Stein by declaring her a saint, the church says to us that we cannot go wrong if we incorporate into our lives the ideals that she professed. Edith Stein gave much to our world by her life and death, and now that she is ranked among the saints in heaven, she is still able to give to us by her example and prayers. I think Edith Stein could easily be the patron saint of academics, school teach-ers, and certainly single people living in the world, since this was her life before she entered Carmel. We may not be called upon to give our lives for our faith, but there are endless possibilities of our practicing virtue as exemplified in Edith Stein's life. First of all, she was a modern woman, one who lived in the world, made her living, and when time permitted spent many hours at home with her family--remember she came from a large fam-ily and her mother died in her eighty-seventh year in 1936. She is a 20th-century woman, one who had a deep regard for the voca-tion of women in our world. I point out her book on woman, Review for Religions where she brings out the vocation of women, their education and professionalism, their life not only in the church, but in civic and national life as well. She had experienced exclusion from a pro-fessorship because she was a'woman--Edith Stein could easily be the patron saint of the feminist movement of our day. Edith Stein is a model for our prayer life. Even from the time before her baptism, daily Mass was on her agenda, and she was very familiar with the other official prayer of the church, the Divine Office, the Breviary, now called the Liturgy of the Hours. She often went to the Benedictine abbey at Beuron and participated in the choral praying of the Liturgy of the Hours. Being there for Holy Week services was something she anticipated yearly. Besides Mass and Office, she was accustomed to spending several hours daily in private prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. She had a great familiarity with Scripture and quotes it often in her letters. Before she entered Carmel, she would accompany her mother to the synagogue and pray the psalms in Latin that her mother was praying in Hebrew. Even in her busy life of teaching, writing, counseling students, giving lectures, and so forth~ she always found time for prayer. I hope that this brief sketch provides some insight into this new saint of ours, one who is very aware of our times. Edith Stein is being proclaimed a martyr and a confessor. At the homily of her beatification, Pope John Paul II declared: "In the extermina-tion camp She died as a daughter of Israel 'for the glory of the Most Holy Name' and, at the same time, as Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, literally, 'blessed b~ the cross.'" The "cause" of her martyrdom, the pope said, was the Dutch bishops' letter of protest against the deportation 6f the Jews. But, he added, because of her great desire to unite with the sufferings of Christ on the cross, she "offered herself to God as a 'sacrifice for genuine peace' and above all for her threatened and humiliated Jewish people." Prudently he left unmentioned her desire to atone for Jewish "unbelief." To many Jewish people the canonization of Edith Stein is an affront. What about the six million Jews who were exterminated and are not saints in the Catholic sense? In my opinion Edith Stein is a Catholic saint who iust happened to have Jewish origins, some-thing she was especially proud of after she came into the church. Edith Stein is a model for our prayer life. July-August 1999 Goldman ¯ Edith Stein Perhaps it is also a mystery. In my own life, being Jewish and Catholic has been a great grace. I have always said that I did not really convert, but just kept going on. Judaism is the beginnings of Christianity, and my own beginnings have been fulfilled in my life. I am sure Edith Stein looked at this in the same way. I close this brief essay with the prayer from the Mass of St. Edith Stein, whose feast will be celebrated.on 9 August: Lord God of our ancestors, you brought St. Teresa Benedicta to the fullness of the science of the cro~s at the hour of her martyrdom. Fill us with that same knowledge; and, through her intercession, allow us always to seek after you, the supreme truth, and to remain faithftil until death to the covenant of love ratified in the blood of your Son for the salvation of all. Grant this through Christ our Lord. Amen. Select Bibliography Works by Edith Stein: Collected Works of Edith Stein. Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications¯ Vol. I: Life in a Jewish Family. Trans. Josephihe Koeppel OCD. Vol. 2: Essays on Woman. Trans. Freda M. Oben PhD. Vol. 3: The Problem of Empathy. Tians. Waltraut Stein PhD. Vol. 4: The Hidden Life. Trans. Waltraut Stein PhD Vol. 5: Self-Portrait in Letters 1916-1942. Trans. Josephine Koeppel OCD. Edith Stein: Selected Writings, ed. Susanne M. Batzdorff. Springfield, Illinois: Templegate Publishers, 1990. On the Problem of Empathy (Zum Problem der Einfiihlung). Trans¯ Waltraut Stein. The Hague: M. Nijhoff, 1964. The Science of the Cross (Kreuzewissenschaf~). Trans. Hilda Graef. Chicago: Regnery, 1960. "Ways to Know God" (Wege der Gotteserkenntnis). Trans. M. Rudolf Mlers. The Thomist, July 1946. Works about Edith Stein: Batzdorff, Susanne M. Aunt Edith: The Jewish Heritage of a Catholic Saint. ~Springfield, Illinois: Templegate Publishers, 1998. Graef, Hilda. Writings of Edith Stein. Westminster, Maryland: Newman Press, 1956. Herbstrith, Waltraud. Edith Stein: A Biography. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1985¯ ¯ Never Forget¯ Washington, D.C.: ICS Publications, 1998. Oben, Freda Mary, PhD. Edith Stein: Scholar, Feminist, Saint¯ Staten Island: Review for Religious Alba House, 1988). Oesterreicher, John M. Walls Are Crumbling. London: Hollis and Carter, 1953. Pp. 288-329. Woodward, Kenneth L. Making Saints: How the Catholic Church Determines Who Becomes a Saint, Who Doesn't, and Why. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1990. Pp. 135-144. Also articles in various periodicals such as America, London Tablet, Spiritual Life, and Carmelite Digest. In Passing In the morning when Jesus walked with the disciples by his side, he encountered the wildflowers, the grains of wheat caught by the breeze, and the songbirds that greeted him with their unending hosannas. Now as I stroll past the flowers , their colors brightening my path and the trees 'beckoning to me to partake of the lilting songs of birds hidden in their branches, I recall all Jesus said and did as he walked the roads of this life, and I try to keep his great love, compassion and zest for life in the tabernacle of my heart. Neil C. Fitzgerald ~dy-August 1999 C. WALKER GOLLAR At Home by the Sea: Isabel Green SCN and the House of Prayer Experience Teponymous hero of Richard Bach's 1970 book Jonathan ingston Seagull at one point employs a rare maneuver in order to test two other seagulls that caught his eye. Jonathan pre-viously has been obsessed with speed, but, upon seeing these two unusual birds, Jonathan "twisted his wings land] .slowed to a sin-gle mile per hour above stall, [but then, much to his surprise, the] two radiant birds slowed with him, smoothly, locked in position. They knew about slow flying.''1 Like Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the Catholic female reli-gious orders of the 1940s and '50s could demonstrate great skill along with an increasing level of professionalism. As institutions they flew at top speeds, even though their abundance of ritual, order, and bureaucracy often seemed to stray far from their sim-ple beginnings. In the 1960s the Second Vatican Council chal-lenged communities of religious not only to get in touch with their roots, but also to recultivate the equivalent of slow flying, that is, prayer and contemplation. One directive that accompanied this challenge called for the creation of houses of prayer. Several men, including Bernard H~iring, Thomas Merton, and David Steindl- Rast, promoted the idea, but religious women effectively saw to its realization. The House of Prayer Movement grew, not out of a set of theological concepts, but rather out of the very real efforts C. Walker Gollar, an assistant professor of church history, writes from the Department of Theology; Xavier University; 3800 Victory Parkway; Cincinnati, Ohio 45207. Review for Religious of women looking to be regrafted onto their ministry's spiritual roots. The progress made by one woman will illustrate how this prayer initiative enriched not only her life, but also the lives of thousands of other religious women heeding the call of the Second Vatican Council. Eleanor Isabel Green was born on 19 June 1921 in Lebanon, Kentucky, the third child and first daughter of Nell Churchill Putnam Green. Nell's husband, a local dentist named William Spalding Green, died in 1926 of a rare heart condition at the age of forty-three, when Isabel was only five. Isabel's mother never remarried; she raised her five children largely by herself. On Sunday evening, 3 November 1935, when only fourteen, Isabel was in a car accident that resulted in the amputation of her right leg below the knee. By all accounts she quickly accepted this hand-icap as part of God's plan and then got on with her life. She grad-uated from St. Augustine High School in Lebanon in June 1938 and then enrolled at Nazareth College, nineteen miles away, at the Motherhouse of the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, Kentucky, just north of Bardstown. Sister Catherine Spalding After her second year, the school's chaplain, Father James McGee, persuaded Isabel to become a novice with the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth. She professed vows on 19 July 1941. Her ancestors included the Spalding family of old Kentucky. Archbishop Martin John Spalding of Baltimore and Bishop John Lancaster Spalding of Peoria, Illinois, were her uncles from two different generations. Because of these connections, Isabel was the first sister in the order allowed to assume the name of their foundress, Mother Catherine Spalding, a cousin of Archbishop Spalding. As Sister Catherine Spalding, Isabel immediately fell into the busyness of religious life. Heeding an older nun's advice that "it's better to wear out than to rust out," over the next quar-ter of a century Isabel served the college as registrar, treasurer, dean, financial-aid advisor, director of admissions, and alumnae and public-relations director.2 She recalled that all these skills, and many others as well, were learned "on the.job.''3 During these years, by her own account, she "worked with and dealt with all kinds of people in all kinds of situations--young and old, reli-gious and lay, foreigners and American, black, white, yellow, and July-August 1999 Gollar ¯ /It Home by the Sea red, rich and poor, socially elite and simple, professionals, etc.''4 Into the 1960s she served, in effect, as president of the college even though she did not hold the title. As tireless service to others began to take its toll on Isabel, she listened intently to the admonitions of her neighbor, the Trappist monk Thomas Merton of Gethsemani, which is located just a few miles from Nazareth. "We have to learn to commune with our-selves," he explained, "before we can communicate with other men [and women] and with God.''s At the same time, however, Merton insisted that we become our true selves only through identification with God as the reason and fulfillment of our exis-tence. This identification emerged out of what Merton called "active contemplation."6 Like countless other religious women at this time, Isabel had become highly professional; to use Merton's terminology, she gained her identity primarily through the actions of her external or false self. She soon came to realize, as Merton had written, that there are "times when in order to keep ourselves in existence at all we simply have to sit back for a while and do nothing.''7 As did many though certainly not all religious, Isabel wel-comed the directives of the Second Vatican Council (1961-1965), which called not only for adaptation to the times; but also for fundamental renewal in the religious life. The Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae caritatis) indi-cated that religious should be thoroughly prepared for their min-istry and also be afforded the opportunity and time for ongoing spiritual, doctrinal, and professional development. Such growth must include a "continuous return to the sources of all Christian life," including Scripture and the Eucharist. As Merton had already argued~ this decree likewise maintained that religious communi-ties should make a genuine commitment not only to apostolic love, but also to contemplation aimed at an "intimate union" with Jesus Christ.8 In response to this conciliar exhortation, theologian Bernard Hiiring CSSR suggested that female orders set aside specific places at each convent that would be devoted to prayer. He had been inspired by Isaiah 56:7: "I will make them joyful in my house of prayer." On 12 March 1967 Marie Goldstein RSHM and Ruth Caspar OP convened a spontaneous workshop at Notre Dame University in order to discuss the feasibility of establishing houses of prayer. Several other sisters, two priests, and one layman Review for Religious attended. The group suggested that these houses should seek to balance the pervasive "thrust towards hyperactivism" with "a cor-responding thrust towards radical prayer." Each house should become a center for the study of mysticism and ascetic theology, including the practice of Yoga and Zen. The spirit of poverty and simplicity should reign, with the houses providing a place for divine energy and peace as well as psychological serenity. With these aims, houses of prayer could constitute, the group said, "one of the greatest hopes for an authentic understanding of church renewal." In the September 1967 issue of Review for Religious, the group published under H~iring's name a report on their meet-ing. H~iring had not attended the gathering at Notre Dame, though he was supportive of the proceedings. His name certainly added weight to the report.9 A New Apostolate Thomas Merton's death at Bangkok on 10 December 1968 accelerated Isabel's own movement away from the convent into a house of prayer. Almost exactly one year earlier, Isabel's mother had passed away. With a heavy heart Isabel attended Merton's funeral in Kentucky, then~reevaluated the course of her own life. After twenty-three years of service to the college, Isabel concluded that she had given all she wan~ed to give to the field of'education. Following the directives of Merton, she asked her community for time to pray. In her late forties, she was overworked and, as she said, was "tired." She knew that the college was going to close anyway, but.also sensed a growing need to care for her own spirit. Completely of her own accord she resigned from the position at Nazareth College in Januai'y 1969. The school closed two years later. ~0 From January to June she lived with a group of Sisters of Charity of Nazareth at the Cardinal Cushing Hospital in Brockton, Massachusetts, where, besides praying, she studied what some were calling HOPE, which stood for House of Prayer Experience. At the end of this time she spent seven weeks in a House of Prayer program sponsored by the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary in Monroe, Michigan. Under the direction of Margaret Brennan and Ann Chester, the IHM sisters had taken the lead in this move-ment. The seven-week program, called HOPE '69, terminated with a retreat under Bernard H~iring. He considered his presence at July-Augv~st 1999 Gollar ¯ At Home by the Sea the end to be providential. After the 136 participants had been living in fourteen different locations for seven weeks, H~iring cel-ebrated the fact that these women had brought to life houses of prayer on their own. During the concluding retreat, one woman suggested that a priest should h'ave been part of each house. To this, H~iring emphatically answered: No-o-o. You are too prone to rely on a priest. This House of Prayer is your charism. Use your own ingenuity to develop it. The best way to produce something new is to trust the charism of those involved, as they are open to the Spirit and to one another. The Holy Spirit does not work through inflexible people.'ll Some men did get involved in the movement, certainly~contributed excellent work, and provided important insights. Ann Chester nonetheless contended "that the leadership in the movement and the main development have been the work of women religious."12 After the experience in Monroe, Isabel ct)nvinced the' Sisters of Charity of Nazareth to offer their support. The 1969 chapter commissioned her to introduce, over six months beginning in September, the House of Prayer Movement to all 110 communi-ties in the order. She stirred up great interest and then, from February to June 1970, while residing back at St. Joseph's Infirmary in Louisville, continued extensive planning. That sum-mer she coordinated the running of~ fourteen houses of. prayer open to various religious communities in the Archdiocese of Louisville. In September 1970 she accepted a two-year grant from the Center for Spiritual Studies at Mount Saviour Benedictine Monastery in Elmira, New York, to assist Brother David Steindl- Rast in the House of Prayer Movement. She lived at the monastery for three months. Gloucester During this time Isabel and Brother David searched for a suit-able place0.for another house of prayer that might s.erve a range of active orders beyond the Sisters of Charity. Since 1957 'the Jesuits had offered high school retreats for boys at Gonzaga, a revamped turn-of-the-century stone mansion that overlooked Brace Cove and the Atlantic Ocean at Eastern Point: in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Next to the retreat house Isabel and Brother David spied a five-bedroom servants' outbuilding that had stood virtually Review for Religious unused for many years. In December 1970 they secured permission from the Jesuits to rent this space for a house of prayer. Isabel and Brother David invited two religious women not of the Sisters of Charity, a Catholic layman, and a Jewish expert in Hatha Yoga, Ravi Baumann, to be a part of the first core group. Over the next few months this team gradually established prayerful routines, while they also cleaned and rearranged the house. Then in late May 1971 Isabel bade adieu to Brother David and the initial core team, which by this time not only had readied the place for its first real guests, but also had begun to discuss what the permanent thrust of the house should be. They had agreed that the door would be open to anyone who wished to come anytime throughout the year, though special emphasis would be placed on the summer, when presum-ably more people could get away from their jobs. Individuals who could stay for up to a year might be asked to become part of new core teams that would take special responsibility for run-ning the house. No 'set fees were charged, though guests would be invited to make donations to help cover operating expenses. In the summer of 1971, for the first time at Gloucester, Isabel sponsored two five-week summer experiences. Seven sisters from at least four different orders con-stituted the first group; several religious men joined other sisters during the second session. They came from all over North America. After this time Isabel decided upon the four essential aspects of her house: simplicity, silence, prayer, and hospitality. Isabel decided upon the four essential aspects of her house: simplicity, silence, prayer, and hospitality. Essential Aspects of the House of Prayer Simplicity was apparent in the furnishing and the free atmo-sphere. The house had no frills, no bedspreads, and no curtains other than fishnet draped across curtain rods. Lobster traps served as tables, while carpet samples donated by a local store decorated the floors of the upstairg hallway and chapel. Since many of the guests who would visit over the next fifteen years left incredibly busy schedules to come to Gloucester, Isabel tried her best to ~u~-August1999 Gollar * At Home by the Sea uncomplicate things for them. "Of intent purpose," she once explained, "not much 'busyness' or 'business' goes on here.''~3 Freed from their jobs and left without much to do, many guests eventually discovered new freedom. Sisters, brothers, priests, and an increasing number of laypersons often found their inner selves again at Gloucester. One woman wrote, "For the first time in my life, I feel free--free to be me.''~4 The simplicity of Gloucester encouraged persons to uncover their true selves in an environ-ment that sanctioned doing nothing. Beyond the simple environment, for Isabel the key to the House of Prayer was the pervasiveness of what she called "life-giv-ing silence." ~s This was not, as a core member once explained, a matter of waiting for what was going to happen next, but rather "a happening in itself."'6 Such silence was rarely found in bustling convents, even though in Isabel's mind silence constituted every-one's "birthright." Conversation at the House of Prayer was lim-ited to the noon meal, while TVs and typewriters were nowhere to be found. One telephone was available, though out of sight in a closet underneath the main stairwell. "If you're going to talk to God," Isabel insisted, "then it's easier when you're not talking to someone else at the same time." ~v The house provided quiet space and time for theological reflection and prayerful discernment, so that visitors might, in Isabel's words, "look at and attempt to answer the questions we all are asking ourselves.''~8 Silence at Gloucester effectively b~came a means to communication both with yourself and with others. One priest, for example, while at the House of Prayer faced for the first time what he called his "shat-tered self." Out on the rocks he discovered "that I was deeply afraid of death and very angry at a 'god' who took my parents in the prime of their lives." He voiced this anger, then in faith began to see that death was not the end he had so desperately feared?9 Other guests often emerged out of their silence, needing to talk to Isabel, and she gladly lent her ear. The group conversations at the noon meal were especially enriching. The Eastern Point House of Prayer never had a name, though, after reading Trina Paulus's Hope for the Flowers,. Isabel once considered calling the place the "Cocoon House.'! Many visitors left Gloucester like beautiful butterflies, reinvigorated and sometimes transformed. Temporary retreat from life's incessant demands encouraged more spirit-filled worldly work.2° In a simple and silent environment, the Eastern Point House Review for Religious of Prayer became, in Isabel's words, primarily "a community of praying people who live in praise of the Lord all day, every day.''2~ In contrast to the complicated, impersonal rote prayers of the con-vent, Isabel encouraged simple encounters with God. Brother David had helped her distinguish between the "prayers" that often get in the way of prayer, and "prayer" as the "total confrontation of the human heart with God.''22 During her months of prepara-tion, Isabel had searched the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures for every name that could be attributed to Jesus and then arranged these titles with a Hare Krishna chant used by Eastern yogis. At Gloucester, with the gong of a melodious bowl, Isabel called guests to gather in the chapel to greet the sunrise, bless the water, and invite God into their hearts with the chanting of this Jesus prayer. This ritual was repeated at noon and often at compline around the living-room fireplace. Each session of prayer ended with the chant "Om shanti," a cry for peace. One core member spoke for many others when she explained that, before her year at Gloucester, prayer "was something I had to do and did, but it seemed never to mean much." After her visit the Jesus prayer became a vital part of her life.23 Many religious traditions met at Gloucester. A small menorah burned in the chapel during Hanukkah, while yoga was adapted to Christianity in order to enrich experiences of prayer. Isabel explained that yoga could be practiced by anyone regardless of his or her faith, for yoga simply encourages relaxation and emotional integration. At this time a Congregational minister and frequent visitor to the House of Prayer, R. Cameron Borton from nearby Rockport, Massachusetts, was happy to note that, while many young persons were leaving Christianity in pursuit of Eastern reli-gions, the House of Prayer demonstrated a way in which both tra-ditions could be integrated. Catholic liturgies were celebrated on most afternoons; these liturgies were, in Isabel's words. "really different.''24 A small group of participants gathered on pillows around a squared piece of drift-wood used as the altar. Gifts from~the sea, as well as a portrait of Robert Kennedy, decorated the walls. The celebrant, wearing only minimal vestments, encouraged everyone to participate especially in the shared homilies. Openly expressing individual concerns kept participants in touch with the larger world community. During these services Reverend Borton witnessed what he called "the Catholic Church in a way free from the overpowering structures, July-August 1999 Gollar ¯ At Home by the Sea massive institudonalism, and impersonalism I had come to associate with the Catholic Church." He saw the House of Prayer as "a very crucial ecumenical bridge for these reasons.''2s To foster reconciliation within the Catholic community, Isabel still insisted that the Eucharist be available for perpetual adoration. For the alarming number of Catholics who had grown alienated from the church during or after the Second Vatican Council, the Eastern Point House of Prayer was a safe place to come. Broken individuals, as well as those simply searching for something more, came to Gloucester. Often, in the chapel before the Eucharist, new direction was found among sisters who might otherwise have lost their vocation, lay people whose only thread of contact with the church was provided at the House of Prayer, and priests in search of the contemplative roots of their ministry. Everyone was welcome at Gloucester. Rooted in Isaiah 55, -Ish_.bel extended her hospitality: "Oh, come to the water, all you who are thirsty; though you have no money, come!. Listen, lis-ten to me, and you will have good things to eat and rich food to enjoy. Pay attention, come to me; listen, and your soul will live." A wide range of persons visited the House of Prayer, including, according to Isabel's ~ecollection, "blacks, Jews, orientals, hus-bands and wives, [the divorced, widowed, and alcoholic], children, married deacons, ministers (both men and women), priests, reli-gious, [seminarians, Pax Christi groups, and Catholic Worker peo-ple].'' 26 As one outsider observed, coming to Eastern Point seemed easy--it was the leaving that was hard.27 Most visitors agreed with one woman who remarked that at Gloucester "I was home.''2~ Wider Significance , With this spirit of simplicity, silence, prayer, and hospitality, the Eastdrn Point House of Prayer quickly became known all .around the country. Brother David had gone on to inspire many other houses of prayer, yet still acclaimed Gloucester as "one of the most successful realizations of the House of Prayer idea.''29 Like most observers, Brother D~vid attributed much of the success of Eastern Point to Isabel's own unique gifts. She was able to inspire many persons who had ~received their "basic training" at Gloucester to start other houses of prayer across the United States and in Canada, Chile, and Ireland as well. Though the House of Prayer Movement lost some steam by the early 1980s, with many houses Review for Relig'ious closing or changing focus, Isabel reported to the Jesuits that over the years very little had changed at Gloucester. She had always been able to maintain the original purpose of the house. The House of Prayer breathed new life into the Jesuit Retreat House next door and also supported other communities like the Wellspring House, started in Gloucester in 1981 by several persons including lay theologian Rosemary Haughton. Occasionally Wellspring did not have enough room to put up some homeless men. Wellspring's director, Nancy Schworer, asked Isabel to help out; Despite her suspi-cion that the Jesuits would not approve, Isabel told Schworer to bring them over, but to cut her lights when she pulled up to the House of Prayer. "I did," Schworer said.3° The Jesuits still grew suspicious of Isabel. Over the years the Jesuits periodically challenged Isabel's use of the property, but despite some battles her days at Eastern Point remained vibrant until she was diag-nosed with terminal cancer in 1985. That summer her family brought her back to Kentucky, to the Nazareth Home in Louisville, where she spent her last days. Once the Jesuits realized she would never return to Gloucester, they began to reno-vate the House of Prayer, eventually mak-ing it an extension of the retreat house, which is what it remains to this day. The Jesuits defended this readaptation, explaining that no one could replace Isabel. Still, the decision to close the House of Prayer must have been linked to periodic suspicions regarding the creative community that existed on their property but was effectively out of their control. Because of its radical openness to God, the House of Prayer invited renewal in ways that undoubt-edly seemed threatening to certain entrenched church str~ctures. Isabel passed away on Wednesday, 15 January 1986. Order was restored at Gloucester, but a certain creativity was lost. In his 1977 novel, Illusions, Richard Bach tells of a creature that dared to let go of the twigs and rocks on the river bottom to which all other creatures previously had clung. The current lifted him free. Thomas Merton, Bernard H~ring, David Steindl-Rast, and the fathers of the Second Vatican Council called for change, To foster reconciliation within the Catholic community, Isabel insisted that the Eucharist be available for perpetual adoration. July-August 1999 Gollar ¯ At Home by the Sea but people in houses of prayer, especially women like Isabel Green, realized the anticipated renewal. Many guests let go of their busy-ness, put behind the patriarchal structures of the past, and tran-scended traditional Catholic boundaries in search of deeper knowledge of themselves. Visitors to houses of prayer replaced detached, regulated prayers with intimate encounters with God, and with all of creation too, especially those who were struggling for personal and social integrity. In. so doing these guests discov-ered new possibilities for their ministries. Like Richard, Bach's courageous river creature, Isabel Green sounded the good news of the Second Vatican Council when, in the silence of the. Eastern Point House of Prayer, she announced: "The [water] delights to lift us free, if only we dare let go.''3~ Notes ~ Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, A Story (New York: Macmillan, 1970), p. 46. 2 Isabel Green papers (hereafter IGP), Isabel Green to Katie Pumam, 10 February 1948, Nazareth, Kentucky. Isabel Green is the aunt of the author of this article; he inherited her papers. 3 IGP, Talk to Jesuits, 7 February 1983 (hereafter Talk), p. 1. 4 IGP, 1974 Resum~ for Brian Duffy SJ, p. 1. 5 Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1955), p. 120. 6 Thomas Merton, Woods, Shore, Desert: A Notebook, May 1960 (Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico Press, 1982), 6 May, p. 10. 7 Thomas Merton, No Man lsan Island, p. 122. 8 Decree on the Appropriate Renewal of the Religious Life (Perfectae caritatis), §§2 and 8. 9 Bernard H~iring, "A Contemplative House: Notes from a Discussion Held at Notre Dame," Review for Religious 26, no. 5 (September 1967): 772; and H~iring, Acting on the Word: The Challenge to Religious Communities in an Age of Renewal (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1968), p. 204. H~ring's book reprinted part of the article and added a few new insights. 10 IGP, Talk, p. 1. " Quoted in Ann Chester, My Journey in the House of Prayer (Monroe, Michigan: Pathways Press, 1991), p. 42. ~2 Chester, MyJourney~ p. 16. ~3 IGP, Open letter of solicitation for "testimonials," by Isabel Green SCN, November 1973, Gloucester, Massachusetts. Review for Religious ~4 IGP, Ann to Isabel Green SCN, 22 January 1975, no place. ~3 IGP, General Statement by Isabel Green SCN directed to Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, 26 February 1984 (hereafter General Statement). ~6 IGP, Michael van der Peer SCJ to Isabel Green SCN, 7 January 1975, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. ~7 Quoted in Gloucester Community News, "Nuns Rise at Dawn for Daily Yoga," 21 November 1975. ~8 IGP, General Statement. 19 IGP, Sister Darlene Kern to Isabel Green SCN, 3 January 1975, St. Pius X Convent, Billings, Montana. 20 IGP, Michael Guimon OSM to Isabel Green SCN, 20 January 1975, Detroit, Michigan. 2~ IGP, Janet L. SSJ to Isabel Green SCN, 11 January 1975, Providence, Rhode Island. 22 IGP, Janine to Isabel Green SCN, undated (c. 1 January 1975). 23 Isabel Green, "Eastern Shoreside House of Prayer," SCNews (April 1973), p. 4; Tina Paulus, Hope for the Flowers (New York: Paulist Press, 1972). 24 IGP, Talk, p. 4 zs Steindl-Rast, "Prayer in the Twenty-first Century," Audiotape by Credence Cassettes, AA2566, 1992. 26 IGP, Jean Kilvin to Isabel Green SCN, 2 February 1975, Halifax, Nova Scotia. 27 IGP, Talk, p. 8. 2.8 IGP, Reverend R. Camer~)n Borton to Isabel Green SCN, 20 January 1975, Rockport, Massachusetts. 29 IGP, Talk, p. 9. Some well-known theologians including Avery Dulles visited the Eastern Point House of Prayer. 30 "At Home by the Sea: Intercommunity Prayer, Often Interfaith Too," Crux of Prayer, February 1976. 3~ IGP, Sheila Ford SCN to Isabel GreenSCN, January 1975, Eastern Point House of Prayer, Gloucester. 32 IGP, David Steindl-Ra~t OSB to Isabel G~'een SCN, 5 January 1975, West Tremont, Maine. 33 Phone interview with Nancy Schworer, 3 March 1998. 34 Richard Bach, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah (New York: Dell Publishing Co., 1977), p. 17. 57uly-August 1999 consecrated lile DENNIS J. BILLY Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows In Vita consecrata (1996), his postsynodal apostolic exhor-tatioff on the consecrated life, Pope John Paul II writes of "the profound anthropological significance of the coun-sels" (§87). He does so while treating the prophetic stance of the consecrated life before some of the difficult chal-lenges facing the church today. This explicit statement of the intricate connection between the theology of the counsels and the character of human existence makes the phrase one of the most important in the entire docu-ment. In it the pope bids us to note not only how the vows relate to our self-understanding, but also how, through them, human understanding itself can be transz formed. My purpose in this essay is to draw out some of the implications of this key anthropological statement. The Right Question What we think about the vows and how we live them tells us something about how we view ourselves and the world we live in. This has always been the case, even long ago in the church's .past when philosophical and theological justifications of the counsels thrived that now seem somewhat dubious and even embarrassing. At one Dennis J. Billy CSSR, a frequent contributor, writes again from Rome, where his address is Accademia Alfonsiana; C.P. 2458; 00100 Roma, Italy. Review for Religio us time, for example, the counsels were seen as a way of rising above the material dimension of human existence and escaping the bonds that the physical world placed on us--including our own sexuality. Lives of perfect chastity, poverty, and obedience were thought to lead religious to a higher plane of existence where they could over-come'bodily passions and be free of attachments to family, pos-sessions, and self-will. Such a conception of the counsels was supported by an ethi-cal dualism in the church's understanding of human existence that manifested itself in a deep distrust of the body and bodily pas-sions. This deep-seated suspicion predated but was galvanized by Augustine's doctrine of original sin, which affirmed its orthodoxy, on the one hand, by condemning the Gnostic equation of matter with evil and Gnostic ascetic rigor and, on the other, by main-taining a close association between sin and sexual intercourse. Traces of this pessimistic estimation of the body and bodily passion (what Augustine called "concupiscence") have filtered through the church's historical memory and continue to exert a subtle influence on our reception and understanding of the counsels. This is so even though many of the anthropological assumptions that presently guide our theological understanding of the vows (and of the doctrine of original sin) are decidedly different. We lack the space to go into any of these assumptions in detail. My point, however, is very simple. In the church's past, every the-ology of the counsels has made certain anthropological assump-tions. The more we are aware of them, the better we can examine them and discern whether they are appropriate expressions of our own self-understanding. The counsels have had and will always have a deep anthropological significance. The question we need to pose is: Which anthropology and what significance? We need to ask these questions today. Vita Consecrata In his apostolic exhortation, the pope describes the anthro-pological significance of the vows in this way: The decision to follow the counsels, far from involving an impoverishment o~ truly human values, leads instead to their transformation. The evangelical counsels should not be considered as a denial of the values inherent in sexual° ity, in the legitimate desire to possess material goods or July-August 1999 Billy * Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows to make decisions for oneself. Insofar as these inclinations are based on nature, they are good in themselves. Human beings, however, weakened as they are by original sin, run the risk of acting on them in a way which transgresses the moral norms. The profession of chastity, poverty, and obe-dience is a warning not to underestimate the wound of original sin and, while affirming the value of created goods, it relativizes them by pointing to God as the absolute good. Thus, while those who follow the evangelical counsels seek holiness for themselves, they propose, so to speak, a spir-itual "therapy" for humanity, because they reject the idol-atry of anything created and in a certain way they make visible the living God. The consecrated life, especially in difficult times, is a blessing for human life and for the life of the church. (§87) In this passage John Paul affirms the fundamental goodness of human sexuality, material possessions, and human freedom. At the same time he recognizes the capacity each of us has by reason of our weakened state to abuse these basic human goods and even to idolize them. VChat the evangelical counsels do.is "cut them down to size" by referring them to God, the absolute good of human life, and thus diminishing the exaggerated worth we may be tempted to place in them. This process offers humanity a "spiritual therapy" which, through the operation of grace, promises to heal its wounds and bring about the transformation of all human values. Unfortunately, the pope does not go into detail about how this treatment or ther-apy might function. Nor does he tell us the extent to which this rel-ativizing process takes place. By invoking God as the absolute good to which the counsels point, he simply reminds us that human existence is not an end in itself, but is actually oriented beyond itself. It is precisely by looking beyond itself that humanity is able to discover its truest, deepest meaning. In this presentation of the counsels, the pope affirms (1) the fundamental goodness of all creation, (2) the weakness (and not total corruption) of human nature due to original sin, (3) the abso-lute goodness of God, who alone is worthy of our praise and ado-ration, (4) the eschatological orientation of the vows, which relativize human existence by pointing beyond it and by empha-sizing its inherent creaturely status, and (5) the specific anthro-pological orientation of the vows by virtue of their therapeutic (that is, healing) and transformative (that is, elevating) effect on Review for Religious people's lives. Each of these affirmations is both theological and anthropological in orientation. Together they draw the parame-ters within which the counsels are to be understood and assimilated in our lives. Together they remind us that we are wounded crea-tures capable of being healed and elevated by the grace of a truly plentiful redemption. Within this context the pope speaks about three major chal-lenges facing the church today and how the consecrated life has a prophetic role to play in responding to each of them. The first challenge is "that of a hedonistic culture which separates sexuality from all objective norms, often treating it as a mere diversion and a consumer good and, with the complicity of the means of social communication, justifying a kind of idolatry of the sexual instinct" (§88). Consecrated persons, he states, respond to such values by showing through their lives of chastity that it is possible "to love God with all one's heart, putting him above every other love, and thus to love every creature with the freedom of God" (§88). The second challenge is "that of a materialism which cravespos-sessions, heedless of the needs and sufferings of the weakest, and lacking any concern for the balance of natural resources" (§89). Here again, consecrated persons respond by a life of evangelical poverty, which attests "that God is the true wealth of the human heart" and which "forcefully challenges the idolatry of money, making a prophetic appeal as it were to society, which in so many parts of the developed world risks losing the sense of proportion and the very meaning of things" (§90). The third challenge "comes from those notions of freedom which separate this fundamental human good from its essential relationship to the truth and to moral norms" (§91). To this, con-secrated persons respond th.rough a life which "reproposes the obedience of Christ to the Father and., testifies that there is no contradiction between obedience and freedom" (§91). Consecrated per-sons, in other words, respond to the challenges facing the church in today's world through lives dedicated to the evangelical coun-sels. They do so not alone, but through life in community. This is especially important, since community is "the particular sign, before church and society, of the bond which comes from the same call and the common desire--notwithstanding differences of race and origin, language and culture--to be obedient to that call" (§92). Life in community is nbt only an aid to living the counsels, but also a sign of that toward which both church and July-August 1999 Billy ¯ Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows society are tending. It forges the vows into an eschatological sign of the kingdom that is, at one and the same time, already here and yet to come. Further Integration Although the pope provides many fine insights into the anthro-pological dimensions of the consecrated life and the prophetic response it makes to the challenges facing the church today, I can-not help feeling that even further development of his fundamen-tal insights is possible and even necessary for a more thorough understanding of the vows. I would see this development taking place in five basic anthropological dimensions of human existence: the physical, the emotional, the mental, the spiritual, and the social. The Physical. The counsels make sense only if they have a con-crete, physical expression in the world. If they do not, then con-secrated persons need to ask themselves if they are only pretending to lead lives of chastity, poverty, and obedience. It is very easy to talk about the counsels. It is much more difficult to live them and to insure that they have repercussions in the concrete circum-stances of one's life. I am not going into what these concrete expressions might be. They are probably clearer for some counsels (chastity) than others (poverty and obedience)--although not nec-essarily. My point is that we need to take the physical, bodily expressions of the vows seriously. Consecrated persons are called to be chaste, to be poor, to be obedient; and this should be obvi-ous to other people by the lives we lead. We need to be careful not to fall into the trap of self-deception. It is easy for us to ratio-nalize the compromises we make with the counsels. If we are not careful, we can end up being chaste, poor, and obedient in name only. We are called to much more than that. The Emotional. The physical expression of the counsels, how-ever, would be cold and void of meaning if our hearts were not in it. The emotional side of human existence is very complex and, to many, extremely threatening. It too needs to be integrated in a life dedicated to the counsels. If it is not, then there is a strong possibility that we will end up leading double lives, where our out-ward actions do not correspond with our deepest feelings and emo-tions. Integrating our emotions is a lifelong process. One of the mistakes that institutes of consecrated life have made in the past and which, sad to say, some continue to make is to repress or (per- Review for Religious haps worse) completely ignore this dimension of human existence. Like others, consecrated persons need to be taught how to deal with their emotions--those which help them deepen their com-mitment, as well as those which could weaken it--and integrate them into their life commitments. If they are not taught this, they run the risk of just going through the motions or perhaps not even bothering with them. Consecrated persons who have not learned how to integrate their emotions with the rest of their lives are usually very unhappy people who do a good job of making other people unhappy. They can be difficult to get along with in community. The Intellectual. It is important also that we reflect on the counsels regularly--both individually and as a group. Consecrated persons need to keep abreast of the latest developments in the psychological and social sciences with a view to understand-ing more profoundly their own charism within the church. The theology of the counsels has undergone a great deal of change down through the years, especially since the end of the Second Vatican Council. It shall continue to change. If we fail to reflect upon the meaning the counsels have for us, if we fail to read what theologians and spiritual writers are saying about them, if we fail to talk about them among ourselves, then we run the risk of isolating our vowed commitments from the rest of life. When this happens, we can easily get stuck in old patterns of expression that do not help us meet the challenges of the day. Consecrated persons need to be creative in the way they give witness in the world through the counsels. Theological reading, reflection, and conversation are ways of insuring that such ideas will come to us and find expression in our lives and ministry. It is a mistake to think, for example, that religious learn everything they need to know about the vows during the novitiate. In these matters there needs to be lifelong growth; the intellectual component of that growth should not be overlooked. The Spiritual. Consecrated persons also need to be still and let their spirits yearn for God. It is in the deepest dimension of the self that the Spirit of God communes with consecrated persons' own spirits; it is there that they can find strength for living their Consecrated persons need to be creative in the way they give witness in the world through the counsels. ~uly-August 1999 Billy ¯ Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows We are social beings by nature. We become who we are called to be through our interaction with others. vowed life. By professing the evangelical counsels, consecrated per-sons seek to follow in the footsteps of Jesus. This life of imitation is not meant to be a cold, external effort.'We are much too weak for that. Rather, it involves an intimate relationship with the Spirit of Jesus, which propels us to live the way he did and to do so with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. For this to happen, conse-crated people need to be men and women of contemplation. Surely there are many forms of prayer; both as individuals and as communities, we favor certain ones. Among these forms we should not forget the contemplative dimension of our lives. On the contrary, we should give it priority of place. If we do not allow ourselves to be still and to listen, if we do not know how to allow our spirits to yearn, to groan, to breathe, then we are overlooking in our prayer a tremendous help in living the counsels. It is through contemplation that we gradually tame, and integrate into the rest of our lives, the deep, inordi-nate passions that affect us by reason of our weakened state. Through contemplation our spirits gradually become chaste, poor, and obedient to the movements of the Holy Spirit in our lives. Without it, it will become all the more difficult for us to live "in the Spirit" and to see how our vows fit into such a life. The Social. We live the vows individually, but also in community. Consecrated persons cannot go it alone. They need the support of others to help them along. They should be encouraged to have close, intimate friends with whom they feel free and secure enough to share their problems and difficulties. They also need the support of a wider circle of friends and acquaintances. Most of all, they need community. We are social beings by nature. We learn about ourselves and we become who we are called to be through our interaction with others. It is through our interaction with others that we learn the meaning of the counsels and receive help to live them. Consecrated persons are oriented toward community life because the counsels themselves are rooted in a communal under-standing of human existence. If we overlook the social dimensions of our lives as consecrated persons, it is almost certain that we will be overlooking in our lives some aspect of what it means to be chaste, poor, and obedient. Living the counsels and living in com-munity are closely tied. This holds true even for the hermit, who Review for Religious lives alone, but whose life and actions lie hidden in the contem-plative heart of the church. These dimensions are important for living the counsels. That is not to say, however, that they will be understood and incorpo-rated in the same degree in every life dedicated to living them. Differences in personality, family background, and cultural prove-nance all come into play, as do such other factors as level of edu-cation, religious training, and long-standing community traditions. The goal for consecrated persons should be to try to integrate all of these elements into their lives, adverting to them and giving them appropriate expression. To overlook some of them or, worse, simply to refuse to take them into account reveals a severe defi-ciency in living the life of the counsels. Counsels and Challenges All of this helps us to view John Paul's emphasis on the anthro-pological dimensions of the counsels and the challenges facing the church today in a slightly different light. For one thing, it helps us to see the challenge beneath the challenges that face consecrated persons in the church today. The counsels must penetrate every part of our lives, not simply those we find most convenient or accommodating to our needs. We will not be able to give a true prophetic response to the hedonism, materialism, and individual-ism in the world today if we exclude the counsels from any of the dimensions I have mentioned--the physical, the emotional, the intellectual, the spiritual, and the social. If we do, we compart-mentalize the counsels, allowing them to take shape in one or more areas of our lives, but not in all of them. When this hap-pens, we wind up with only a halfhearted commitment to the life of chastity, poverty, and obedience. The result is a diminution of our prophetic call. People will refuse to take us seriously because we do not take ourselves seriously. They will only half-believe the words we say, because they will be convinced that we only half-believe them ourselves. John Paul's reflection on the anthropological significance of the counsels can be applied in a reflective and consistent manner to each of these five dimensions. When this is done, an even deeper sense of the anthropological (ignificance of the counsels results. The goodness of creation, foi" example, extends not only to our physical well-being but to the emotional, the intellectual, the spir- July-August 1999 Billy ¯ Vita Consecrata and the Anthropology of the Vows itual, and the social as well. All of these dimensions, though they are weakened by the results of humanity's primordial fall and seem insignificant in comparison with God the Absolute Good, never-theless have an eschatological significance and hold promise of being both healed and elevated by God's plentiful redeeming grace. It is in these contexts that the counsels deepen our understand-ing of human existence and help us see the whole of life as radically dependent on God. This is what consecrated persons give witness to, live their lives for, and die for. Tidal Wave - Papua New Guinea 7 July 1998 Deadly as a cobra, hooded wide The tidal wave lifts ten meters And sweeps across the Bay Swallowing tall pandanus palms, Crossed timbers of the villages, Once the necklace of the North. Midst the flotsam and jetsam A woman, one foot torn away, grasps a tree top And suddenly gives birth. A scream. And a small brown babe Is lifted above the swirl. "Oh God[ Where are You?" and the wood replies: "He has known the waves of sin His feet were spiked with pain And He, too, died upon a tree." Mary O'Neil RSM Review for Religious NIHAL ABEYASINGHA Authority among Religious in South Asia T[superior general of a male international religious con-gation, after visiting several units of the insftute in South Asia, said he found it difficult to understand the defiance of author-ity and the backbiting that go on in this area. He added that his lack of understanding of this phenomenon was perhaps due to his own foreign cultural perspective. Such an observation from a man of wide experience should at least pose a question to Asian religious. Every culture functions on certain assumptions. They are sel-dom clearly articulated, but they are real and they are operative. For example, in a culture that links equality with freedom, there is a growing awareness that men have, in fact, been afforded greater freedom than women. In order to repair the imbalance, people seek to equalize the position of the sexes by using equality as their criterion. It is not difficult to generate enthusiasm in the public forum for a movement towards equality. Another culture, however, could work from a different assumption. It could consider women to be worthy of much esteem as members of society because of their special role to give birth to and nurture new life in that society. This culture would express that esteem by providing the security of a stable mar-riage and home and by linking this to a limited set of achieve-ments expected of every woman. VChat we tend to forget is that Nihal Abeyasingha CSSR wrote about an approach to refounding in our July-August 1998 issue. Hi

Issue 52.6 of the Review for Religious, November/December 1993. ; Review for Religious (ISSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis University by the Jesuits of the Missouri Province. Editorial Office: 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Telephone:314-535-3048 ° FAX: 314-535-0601 Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ° St. Louis, Missouri 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Canonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP ° 5001 Eastern Avenue ¯ P.O. Box 29260 Washington, D.C. 20017. POSTMASTER Send address changes to Review for Religious ° P.O. Box 6070 ° Duluth, MN 55806. Second-class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri, and additional mailing offices. SUBSCRIPTION RATES Single copy $5 includes surface mailing costs. One-year subscription $15 plus mailing costs. Two-year subscription $28 plus ~nailing costs. See inside back cover for more subscription information and mailing costs. ©1993 Review for Religious review for religious Editor Associate Editors Canonical Counsel Editor Ass#tant Editors Advisory Board David L. Fleming SJ Philip C. Fischer SJ Michael G. Harter SJ Elizabeth McDonough OP Jean Read Mary Ann Foppe Joann Wolski Conn PhD Mary Margaret Johanning SSND Iris Ann Ledden SSND Edmundo Rodriguez SJ Sefin Sammon FMS Suzanne Zuercher OSB Christian Heritages and Contemporary Living NOVEMBER-DECEMBER 1993 ¯ VOLUME 52 ¯ NUMBER 6 contents 806 feature Religious Life and Conversion Language Dennis J. Billy CSSR provides a language of conversion so that religious might more readily integrate their individual lives with their corporate existences. 817 828 835 842 spirituality Are We Relating to God in a New Way? Gerald M. Fagin SJ proposes five polarities which are always present in our spiritual lives. Desire, Asking, and Answers A. Paul Dominic SJ emphasizes the importance of praying from our desires by exampleg from the Bible. Companionship Spirituality in Ruth Judette A. Gallares RC explores covenantal faith through the symbol of companionship portrayed between Ruth and Naomi. The Spirituality of Surrender John P. Mossi SJ proposes three models of a spiritual surrender-ing as a means of coming home to God. 849 865 ecumenism The Ecumenical Vocation of Religious Jeffrey Gros FSC highlights the importance of ecumenical for-mation and collaboration for women and men religious. The Religious Call of Ecumenism Jude D. Weisenbeck SDS suggests ways in which the needs of the ecumenical movement can well be met by the resources of religious communities. 802 Reviezv for Religious 870 875 ministry Frustrations--Jesus' Ministry and Ours James Martin SJ seeks a fresh perspective on dealing with frustra-tions arising from ministry to the poor. Jesuit Spirituality and Catholic Higher Education Claude N. Pavur SJ stresses the importance of an Ignatian spiritu-ality, invigorating the efforts of educators in the Jesuit tradition. poverty 886 Option for the Poor: God's Pedagogy Marcello Azevedo SJ analyzes the meaning and life-applications of the phrase "option for the poor" in terms of our faith. 893 Who Evangelizes Whom? The Poor Evangelizers John F. Talbot SJ explores the evangelizing potential of the poor. 898 a life of promise Two Cheers for Celibacy William McDonough clarifies the meaning of prie, stly celibacy by combining Robert Bellah's use of institution and Thomas Aquinas's moral vision. 911 Charismatic Renewal and Consecrated Life 920 Susan Rakoczy IHM reflects from a r~ligious-life experience of twenty-five years on the blessings of the charismatic renewal in regard to consecrated life. Death as a Community Event Annette Frey SC shares the stqry of a friend's illness and death as an integrating factor in community life. departments 804 Prisms 927 Canonical Counsel: Lumen Gentium's Chapter 6: Religious 933 Book Reviews 951 Indexes to Volume 52 November-December 1993 803 prisms ~oho are the people by whom you have been most influenced? Many of us must at one time or another have tried to answer this question for ourselves or at the inquiry of others: Precisely which people have strongly influenced my life? Some may quickly name their fathers and mothers; others go on to name favorite teachers or special friends. Still others may name people in world affairs or in the worlds of sports, the arts, or medicine. Probably not very many of us spontaneously turn to the men and women whom the church has declared holy and named as outstanding members of the communion of saints. Yet the reason why the church calls our attention to these people is to allow us to see in other followers of Christ what we hope to become. Just as the church of the Eastern rites emphasizes icons that give us a glimpse of the world of the holy, so the Latin-rite church proposes the study of the lives of ~aints so that we may be inspired by them and formed and then moved along a path of holiness as Jesus' apostles. Perhaps at one time many of us did not appreciate how the more medieval theology of mediators needed updating like so many timebound ways of expressing our faith and its practices--the process mandated by Vatican II. Now it seems that we stand more ready for and in need of the kind of influence which our fellow Christians, can-onized and otherwise esteemed, can exercise in ore: lives. No longer do we, almost superstitiously, look to Mary or other chosen saints for special favors. Instead we take our direction from the Vatican II understanding and descrip-tion of Mary's place in the communion of saints under the 804 Review for Religious specially privileged titles of mother and first disciple. And so we look to our favorite men and women saints particularly in their relationship to us as brothers and sisters and as our fellow disci-ples. If Christians in general are exhibiting a greater need for this kind of influence in their devotional lives, even more might men and women religious look to the holy ones special to their con-gregations for living the kind of discipleship charismatically appro-priate to their following of Christ. ~;Vhether it be the contemporary retelling of saints' lives or recapturing their spirit in new artistic portrayals or recovering prayers of theirs that are appropriate to our times--there still are ways for holy men and women to touch us in our daily living. We may more readily find light coming to us in dark moments of our experience from the uncovered lamp of these human lives than from any theoretical studies or documents. We may also find ourselves more energized for entering into the evangelizing mission of Jesus through the radiance of their inspiration and example. Probably even more surprising than our slowness in naming saints as major influences in our lives is the not infrequent omis-sion of even the name Jesus. As we enter into the Advent and Christmas seasons, maybe more fully than Jesus being "the reason for the season," we might say that the reason for the season is for us to remind ourselves that Jesus is the unique influence upon our lives all year long. Jesus is the one who has influenced how we live, how we pray, how we interact, how we die. Jesus is the one who calls us to a way of following; Jesus is the Teacher, and we all remain the lifelong learners, the ones in continuing formation. Perhaps we need to ask ourselves another question. Is it true that for us not to name Jesus as the great influence of our lives is more than just a memory slip? Does our answer uncover for us that our everyday, busy lives are being spent on behalf of lesser gods than the God Incarnate? The question is worth more than a Christmastime reflection. That the peace and grace of God, Emmanuel, be richly yours is the wish of all the staff of Review for Religious. David L. Fleming SJ November-December 1993 805 DENNIS J. BILLY Religious Life and Conversion Language The crisis faced by many of today's religious goes beyond the breakdown of their founding myths and the resulting lack of purpose in their corporate existences. While many (I daresay most) are at least peripherally aware of having lost in recent years something of great importance for their lives as professed religious, they usually have no idea whatsoever of how to retrieve it or what to put in its place. Nor are they very articulate about just what it is they have lost and why precisely they want it back. Confronted by their own aging, a steady flow of ygunger members from their ranks, and fewer and fewer vocational prospects, many have become disillusioned and desire some sort of immediate respite from their mount-ing misfortunes. They pursue it in any number of ways. Some display a nostalgic desire for the not too distant past--"the good old days," as.they are called, which were probably never quite so good as they now seem. Others resign themselves passively to their "inevitable corporate extinction," an increasingly attractive choice for many. Still others sink deeper and deeper into the quagmire of confusion and doubt about the relevance of religious life in the postmodern world--which does nothing but com-pound an already complex and. difficult situation. Regardless of the motivations behind them or their point Dennis J. Billy CSSR is author of the recently published Evangelical Kernels: A Theological Spirituality of Religious Life (Mba House, 1993). His address is Accademia Alfonsiana; Via Merulana, 31; C.P. 2458; 00100 Rome; Italy. 806 Review for Religious of origin, none of these responses are adequate to the crisis at hand. In order to move forward, today's religious must choose a path other than that of denial and escape. At this critical point of their history, what they need is a language of conversion that will enable them to give an honest account of themselves, will help them to integrate their private lives with their corporate existences, and will show them how they, as a group, can con-front the cynical doubts that writhe beneath the surface of their professional respectability. Conversion Language A language of conversion must speak to both the mind and the heart. It must make sense to.people in a way that will satisfy their intellectual longings. It must also motivate them to exanaine their situation in life with renewed strength and vigor--as if with dif-ferent eyes. More importantly, it must reshape their interpretation of experience so that, through the action of divine grace, they see their denial for what it is and then find it possible to realign their personal powers of commitment with those of the religious insti-tute to which they belong. Only from such a realignment will dusty and creaky institu-tional structures and the people who stubbornly inhabit and main-tain them have any hope of being refurbished for a brighter future. Failure to achieve this renewal of human heart and human social structure will result only in more of the same problem: individ-ualism amid corrosive social ills; continuing loss of confidence in and commitment to one's religious community; the persistence of the "double life" syndrome that has plagued so many first-world congregations since the Second Vatican Council. By most assessments, the very future of religiou~ life is at stake. The thesis is clear: the circular relationship between individ-ual and corporate change must come to the fore in any further dis-cussions about authentic conversion, particularly with respect to those who have dedicated their lives to following the evangelical counsels. "The whole cannot be understood without its parts; nor the parts without the whole." This fundamental problem of inter-pretation-- the so-called hermeneutical problem--lies at the root of the present crisis in religious life. To deal with it effectively, a language of conversion must address both the individual and the November-December 1993 807 Billy ¯ Religious Life and Conversion Language group, as well as their ongoing mutual relationship. It can do so, however, only if it encompasses (1) a sound Christian anthropol-ogy that stresses the dignity of human persons on every level of their existence, (2) a persuasive philosophical link between the personal and the corporate wholes, and (3) a recognition of its own inherent limitations with a corresponding openness to the re-creative presence of God. Without these important ingredi-ents of change, no language of conversion, regardless of how elo-quent or comprehensive it may appear, will be adequate to the enormous task at hand. A Sound Christian Anthropology The connotations of the phrase "a sound Christian anthro-pology" need some explaining. An "anthropology" may be described as a specific and coordinated assessment of human exis-tence. It is "Christian" insofar as it receives its inspiration from the insights of Christian traditions. To the extent that there are numerous interpretations of the meaning of Christianity, there are also varying Christian anthropologies. In this essay, a "sound" Christian anthropology is understood as one which integrates four fundamental dimensions of human existence: the physical, the rational (or mental), the spiritual, and the social. All of these are found ih the teaching of St. Paul and are made explicit in the juxtaposition of his doctrine of the Body of Christ (1 Cor 12:12- 31) and the tripartite understanding of the person found in such verses as this: "May the God of peace make you perfect in holi-ness. May he preserve you whole and entire, spirit (pneuma), soul (psyche), and body (soma), irreproachable at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Th 5:23). Together these verses express the Pauline understanding of the complexity of human existence and qualify as a solid basis for further theological reflection. Of what do these basic dimensions consist? People's spirit (pneuma) is the deepest part of their being. It yearns for God with unutterabl.e groanings (Rm 8:23) and has the potential to be lifted up into intimate communion with the very Spirit of God. Ever elusive and difficult to describe, it is that aspect of human exis-tence which affirms each human person as capax Dei, that is, capa-ble of God. People's soul (psyche), by contrast, is their animating principle of life. It encompasses, not only the rational, but also the emotive, nutritive, and reproductive sides of human existence. 808 Review for Religious Rational activity, the soul's highest and noblest function, enables people to wonder about the meaning of life and to think criti-cally about its problems. People's bodies (somata) are the material extension of their existence. Unlike the Pauline term for "flesh" (sarx), which has close associations with a life of sin leading to death, soma can be used for good or for ill and is hence a morally neutral concept. Finally, people's social dimension is a constituent part of their anthropological makeup. A human per-son. arises out of and exists in a social context and cannot be understood apart from it. For Christians, the primary social arena in which they live out their lives is that of the Body of Christ as it exists in its various expressions such as the family, the parish, the diocese, and the church universal. The interrelated nature of these various dimensions of human existence cannot be stressed highly enough. Spirit does not exist apart from a person's body, soul, and social relationships-- nor vice versa. Not one of them can be separated and treated in isolation from the others, as if a person were an arti-ficial composite of four disparate parts. A continuous and unbroken anthropo- For Christians, the primary social arena in which they live out their lives is that of the Body of Christ as it exists in its various expressions such as the family, the parish, the diocese, and the church universal. logical relationship exists among all of them. So strong are these bonds that not even death can sever them completely and pre-vent their ongoing functioning. To do so would mean the ulti-mate dissolution of the human person and the corresponding passage from being to nonbeing which the Christian faith so strongly rejects as a possibility of human destiny. That is not to say that a certain priority of relationships does not exist among these various anthropological factors: spirit relates to soul as soul to body. Balanced and healthy relationships among these affect the way in which a person interacts with others. A sound social environment, in turn, produces profound healing effects on a per-son's bodily, spiritual, and mental well-being. This circular rela-tionship is important for understanding the present crisis of religious life, which now can be understood as involving not only November-Deconber 1993 809 Billy ¯ Reli~ous Life and Conversion Language the vast array of dysfunctional social structures, but also a deeper relational imbalance operative on the most basic levels of human existence. Linking the Personal and the Corporate Social structures are both products of the mind and a means through which human intelligence and human spirit are shaped. ' When functioning according to justice, they give all people their due and educate them in virtue. At other times they work to the benefit of a privileged elite at the expense of an oppressed under-class. The interests of justice are not adequately served when existing social structures help to perpetuate a mentality of control that legitimizes the unjust treatment of other human beings. Such structures are sinful and need to be changed. When they are not (as can be the case in religious life), it may very well be simply because those involved feel overwhelmed by the immensity of the task before them. Such feelings can easily lead people to a sense of helplessness or even indifference about their ability to influence their surrounding social structures. An implicit dualism then arises in the private and social spheres of religious life: individuals grad-ually lose ownership of their ruling structures; the latter go on unchallenged more out of a paralyzing lack of interest than any-one's stubborn resistance to change. One way to overcome this implicit dualism is to introduce the related concepts of microcosm and macrocosm into the cur-rent vocabulary of religious life. Rooted in the primitive Greek idea of the human person as a small-scale model of the cosmos, this distinction was eventually adapted by Plato as a way of describing the relationship of individuals to the society (see Republic, 441c). According to this adjusted version, the underlying structure of human society is nearly the same as that of the human soul. The rational element corresponds to the republic's govern-ing class; the irascible (or spirited), to its martial orders; the con-cupiscible, to its productive masses. As "the human soul writ large," society offers individuals not only a particular place in the " social hierarchy, but also the opportunity of seeing themselves projected onto the collective whole. Individuals find their reflec-tion in the whole; the whole, in the individual. Plato's application of the microcosm/macrocosm distinction is not relevant in all its details to religious life in its contemporary 810 Review for Religious ¯ Western setting. His assertion, however, of an underlying struc-tural continuity between individuals and the society to which they belong has much to its credit: (1) it preserves the circular rela-tionship between individual and social functions; (2) it allows for certain structural similarities between human beings and their primary social environment; and (3) it maintains the distinctive-ness of individuals in the face of the larger community. When combined with the Christian anthropology outlined in the pre-vious section (as opposed to the Platonic one with which it is nor-mally associated), this seminal idea can help individuals in today's religious communities to regain their sense of identity with the larger whole. The analogy would go something like this: both the human person and the religious community possess spiritual, mental, physical, and social dimensions. The relationships among the various dimensions within the human person are proportion-ate to those in the religious community (for example, human spirit / human soul = community spirit / community soul, and so forth). Cross references also remain proportionate, but only with regard to corresponding terms (that is, human spirit /communal spirit = human soul / community soul, and so forth). In all cases the rule of proper proportionality applies (a/b = a'/b'). The strength of this approach is that it maintains a fundamental continuity between the underlying anthropological structure of individuals and that of their religious community. And it is able to do so even when taking into account the limitations of the language it uses to describe the quiet, abiding presence of God in the life of the . community. The Silent Presence of Grace One of the underlying dangers in the current discussion about the future of religious life is the tendency to substitute lengthy theories for the simplicity of God's intervening grace. Uneasiness about their present situation in life has led many religious into a quest for the perfect plan that will explain in fine detail (1) why they find themselves in their present situation, (2) how they can get themselves out of it, and (3) where they should be going. Search as they may, they will inevitably end up frustrated. No magic elixir of man-made theories can satisfy expectations of such exalted heights. To achieve its ends, a theory of refounding or revitalization must place God, not itself, atthe center of attention. November-Deconber 1993 811 Billy ¯ Religious Life and Conversion Language To do so, it must first recognize that conversion on any level--the personal, the communal, the societal--comes directly from God's own initiative. And since God is not limited to the narrow confines of human theorizing, the theory in question can propose nothing but one of many possibilities of how God's transforming action may occur. By placing itself on the periphery (not at the center) of divine action, such a theory acknowledges its inherent limita-tions and places itself more readily at the disposal of God's re-creative activity. "The wind blows where it wills" (Jn 3:8). The movement of God's grace is capable of transforming both individuals and the social structures they inhabit. What God does or how is not always discernible to the human eye. What is important in any of life's sit-uations-- and, in this case, in the present crisis facing many reli-gious communities--is that people (both as individuals and as a group) expand their awareness of God working quietly in the cir-cumstances of their daily lives. Where is God in the present cri-sis facing religious life? What is God saying in the graying of once thriving religious communities, in their steady loss of younger members, in their failure to attract vocations, and in their overall decline in numbers? Why does God permit the cur-rent lack of identity and firmness of purpose which characterizes so many of today's religious communities? Where is God lead-ing them--if at all? And to serve what purpose? When sincerely reflected upon, such questions lead people either to affirm or deny God's active involvement in their own life and in the life of " their religious community. The answer, however, may not end up in the shape of a simple yes or no. In a matter of faith, a believer's response must involve more than a facile determination of whether God is with this particular community or has abandoned it. Such a reply may evade the issue altogether. An authentic outpouring of God's grace will foster a deep sense of listening in the life of a religious community. Most peo-ple, religious included, are more ready to give their own opinion than to hear that of another. They are usually so heavily interested in what they themselves have to say that they talk past those around them or, at best, tolerate what is said until the next oppor-tunity arises for them to speak. What passes for conversation is often nothing more than a continuous chain of vaguely connected monologues. Such is not the case with God, the preeminent lis-tener, nor should it be the case of those stirr.ed by the free gift of 812 Review for Religious grace. Those who listen carefully--to their own hearts, to those around them, to the needs of the community, and to those outside the community--are able to discern more clearly the voice of God in their own lives. When they nurture this quiet witness of faith, religious create a space in their community where others know that their presence will be gratefully recognized and their stories listened to with interest. To empty oneself so that others may be heard is an important quality in authentic Christian living. The language of conversion cannot be spoken, let alone heard, apart from the re-creative silence of God's transforming grace. R.eligious and the Language of Conversion The rudiments of an authentic language of conversion are now in place: a sound Christian anthropology, a way of bringing together individuals and corporate wholes, and a recognition of God's creative initiative in the process of conversion. The inte-gration of these elements and their use as an active, functioning language will enable religious to find greater insight into their present difficulties and will lead them to a deeper awareness of the proper course of action to be taken. To further advance this claim, a number of observations are in order: 1. A language of conversion such as the one suggested above will challenge religious to remove the "problem solving" glasses that regularly color their current outlook. Rather than poring over "what must we change in order to secure our institutional viability," they will focus on questions about the authenticity of their reli-gious lives. A religious community, in other words, turns its life more completely over to God, not out of any ulterior motives (for example, to get more vocations, to stem the exodus of disenchanted members), but simply because that is what God asks of them. 2. Religious need to examine, in their common spiritual out-look, the relationship they maintain between "being" and "action." Informed by an anthropology that draws strong bonds between the bodily, mental, spiritual, and social dimensions of human exis-tence, they will be more apt to be sensitive to how their actions-- both private and corporate--are expressions of who they are and sensitive as well to how their actions affect their being as human persons. 3. Religious must articulate in their daily lives a deeper appre-ciation of the basic human elements of community living. November-December 1993 813 Billy ¯ Religious Life and Conversion Language Membership in a religious congregation involves more than mere physical presence. It also entails a shared commitment to common goals and values, a general sense of how these ends are to be achieved, the fostering of community spirit, and a network of sound spiritual and social ties. Since these elements are them-selves all intimately related, care must be taken that members manage to relate well on all of them. Structures must be set in place to facilitate this process. 4. Particular emphasis should be given to the community's spiritual well-being. Just as the spirit is the deepest part of the human person--that part which yearns for God and which affirms oneself as capax Dei--so too is it the truest, most authentic part of the religious community. When the spirit of a religious commu-nity suffers, the other dimensions cannot help being affected. Efforts must be made to heal the wounded spirit of religious com-munity life. Among other things, this will mean working through such difficult issues as human intimacy, vocational crises, mourn-ing the loss of members, and dealing constructively with members who display dysfunctional and addictive behaviors. Only through healing of the spirit of religious community life is there any hope of recovery. 5. One way of healing a community's wounded spirit is for its members to reserve time and community space for genuine listening. By being attentive to the words of others--the stories they tell, the experiences they wish to share--people enter into the thick of life and allow for the possibility of God's presence to break into ordinary daily events. When a religious community fosters this attitude of respect for the need of people to share themselves openly without feeling threatened, it begins to go beneath the superficial ways of relating by which its members all too often relate hardly at all. One of the great sins of religious life is that people can live together for years and barely know each other. 6. It is also sad that a person can live the religious life for yea~rs without ever developing a close relationship with God. Addressing this problem, the language of conversion places God at the center of attention. The whole purpose of life, and of reli-gious life especially, is for a person to enter into a deep and last-ing friendship with God. This purpose must not be lost sight of in discussions about the future of religious life. Religious vow to live the evangelical counsels in order to walk more closely along 814 Revie~ for Religious the way of the Lord Jesus. They do so, if for no other reason, in order to enter more closely into union with him and the One who sent him. 7. People cannot know God, however, if their spirit (or the spirit of the community, for that matter) does not commune with the Spirit of God in the quiet groves of contemplation. Many religious, unfortunately, have forgotten all about what it means to seek the Lord in prayer. Having lost the incentive to pray, they merely go through the motions of living out their evangelical commitments; their lives, as a result, can easily become devoid of all meaning. Religious need to see through the self-deceptions that have gradually led them to compromise their vows. To retrieve the meaning of their religious life, they must return to a balanced regimen of prayer whereby they can gather in God's name and continually invoke the divine presence. 8. Finally, no one undergoes conversion outside a specific community environment. Religious must develop a keen sense of boundary definition that will enable them to distribute their time appropriately between their own religious community and the people they serve in the apostolate. While benefiting from the authentic sharing that goes on within their communities (an essential priority of a well functioning community), they must take care not to become inordinately introspective and so lose all desire to reach beyond their immediate circle. The apostolic orientation of all religious communities (even those with a strictly contem-plative lifestyle) must always remain a primary concern. With this orientation religious supported and energized by their communi-ties will be able--both individually and together--to do great work for both the church and for society at large. Just as the spirit is the deepest part of the human person-- that part which yearns for God and which affirms oneself as capax Dei--so too is it the truest, most authentic part of the religious community. Conclusion The present crisis in religious life is largely a lack of balance between the individual and the community. In many respects the November-December 1993 815 Billy ¯ ReIigious Life and Conversion Language crisis is a scaled-down version of the age-old philosophical prob-lem of the one and the many, an issue which has always lurked behind the scenes of Western philosophical thought and which remains, even today, largely unresolved. In recent years the pen-dulum has swung from one extreme to the other, with the indi-vidual being either submerged in the collective (as was often the case before Vatican II) or much removed from it (as has often occurred since the council). While nearly everyone agrees that a healthy balance needs to be struck, there is little consensus con-cerning just what must be done to achieve it. These pages have used certain categories from the Western religious and philosophical traditions in an effort to nudge reli-gious communities gently toward a prudent--even though pre-carious- balance. The categories include (1) a Pauline anthropology that emphasizes the four basic dimensions of human existence (spiritual, mental, bodily, and social), (2) a philosophi-cal link between individual and corporate wholes (the micro-cosm/ macrocosm distinction of the ancient Greek philosophers), and (3) a deepened awareness of the inherent limitations of lan-guage (and by extension all theories) with a corresponding focus on the creative initiative of divine grace. While none of these cat-egories are entirely disregarded in current discourse about reli-gious life, rarely have they been used in conjunction with one another and certainly not in what has been termed "a language of conversion." By assimilating these categories of conversion, religious can begin to change some of their dysfunctional ways of relating and nurse some of the open wounds that their communities now endure. First of all, they must get beyond claiming that the call to conversion extends only to individuals and not to the social struc-tures they inhabit. An awareness of the circular relationship between the human heart and the human social structure is ~un-damental to any serious discussion of religious life's future. Without it the dissatisfaction of many of today's religious with their institutional structures will continue to grow. 816 Review for Religious GERALD M. FAGIN Are We Relating to God in a New Way? When I entered a Jesuit novitiate thirty-five years ago, I was introduced to a way of relating to God deeply rooted in the tradition of the church and in the Society of Jesus. It was a way of experiencing God and of responding to God that was shaped by a clearly defined theological understanding of God, the church, and the human per-son. What characterized that spirituality was what char-acterized the spirituality of most Catholics, both lay and religious, in the years before Vatican Council II. What has emerged in the last twenty-five years is a new way of relating to God, a spirituality rooted in a plurality of the-ological understandings of God, the church, and the human person. We might describe it as a shift in model or simply as a shift from one pole of the necessary tension in our spiritual lives to the other. What is important is that we describe and understand what has happened, for too often a lack of understanding has led to confusion, guilt, and quarreling among Christians. I offer five tensions or polarities that are always pres-ent in our spiritual lives. What has happened in lived Christian spirituality can be described in terms of these tensions. spirituality From Objective to Subject-Centered The spirituality of thirty-five years ago was an objec- Gerald M. Fagin sJ, professor of theology, can be addressed at Loyola University; 6363 St. Charles Avenue; New Orleans, Louisiana 70118. Noven~ber-Decen~ber 1993 817 Fagin ¯ Are We Relating to God in a New Way? tive spirituality measured in terms of laws kept, mortifications and virtues and devotions practiced, prayers said, and Masses attended. A typical day in a novitiate was structured around an early morning Latin Mass, an hour of meditation, the rosary, the stations of the cross, examination of conscience, spiritual read-ing, and an instruction on religious life. The spiritual life of the Catholic laity was measured and identified by similar norms and practices. This way of life was supported by a clearly defined Catholic culture that gave Catholics a sense of identity rooted in unambiguous doctrinal and moral teaching and distinct rituals and practices. It was the world of the Baltimore catechism, Friday abstinence, fasting in Lent, First Friday and First Saturday devo-tions, benediction, indulgences, and St. Jude devotions. It demanded discipline and obedience and self-sacrifice, but it offered clear expectations and a structured and measurable way of living out a committed Christian life that led to sanctity. Such objectivity is an essential element in any relationship .to God. Rituals, practices, and devotions are at the heart of a gen-uine experience of God and a faithful response to God. We need clear guidelines and traditional structures if we are to be account-able and if we are to guard against the kind of subjectivity that is open to deception and divisiveness. What has emerged, then, is not a total rejection of this way of relating to God, but a new emphasis on the human person as a free and developing subject in the spiritual life. This subject-centered spirituality is a spirituality measured in terms of people's inner growth and actualization, the quality of their prayer and personal affective development. The spiritual life is described in terms'of a growth in trust and love and openness and freedom and sensi-tivity to the Spirit. Religious experience rather than religious practice is central to this approach. The focus is growth in peo-ple's personal relationship with God and on God's call addressed ¯ uniquely to individuals in their specific life circumstances. In con-sidering fidelity to God, the language of conformity and obedience to rules gives way to discernment and dialogue. Prayer becomes less a meditation on the truths of Christianity and more a lan-guage of the heart, an affective prayer that centers on God's ini-tiative more than our initiative. The role of the spiritual director puts less emphasis on teaching and guidance and more emphasis on facilitating the directee's relationship with God. The didactic gifts of the director become less important than a listening and 818 Review for Religious discerning heart that can clarify the movement of God in the directee's heart. Thirty-five years ago my spiritual director asked me about my fidelity to my spiritual exercises, the subject matter of my meditation, and the resolutions from my latest retreat. Today my spiritual director asks me about the movement of God in my heart and the consolation and desolation that are the signposts of my discernment. The presupposition is that God is at work in the individual soul and that this movement of God can be observed and discerned. The shift to a subject-centered spirituality is clearly seen in the rediscovery of the directed retreat. Conference-style or preached retreats focus on a common teaching or subject matter for reflec-tion. Everyone responds to and prays over the same material, often more doctrinal than scriptural, and not selected as a specific response to the needs and grace directions of the individuals. The subject matter of the directed retreat is each individual's experience of God, the movement of the Spirit within that person. Scripture is chosen to focus and highlight the graces of the retreatant. There is not one set program for everyone. It is pre-sumed that each person will experience and respond to God's grace in an individual way. Underlying this shift to the subject is a different under-standing of revelation. Revelation is imaged not primarily as propositions to be affirmed but as God's self-communication. Revelation is not first a series of statements about God and the human condition, but a series of experiences of God that reveal who God is and how God deals with us. Jesus is the fullness of God's revelation so that our faith life is a response to someone rather than an assent to propositions. God's self-revelation in Christ calls us to a new relationship with.God. Experience, both individual and communal, precedes articulation; and our rela- This subject-centered spirituality is a spirituality measured in terms of people's inner growth and actualization, the quality of their prayer and personal affective development. November-December 1993 819 Fagqn ¯ Are We Relating to God in a New Way? tionship with God begins in an experience of God that then finds words in doctrines and expression in rituals. From Perfection to Process The novice of thirty-five years ago set out on the road to per-fection. Every imperfection was to be weeded out, every virtue practiced. The ideals were clear, even if unattainable. The goal was set: "Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect." The perfec-tion model envisioned our spiritual lives as a striving for an ideal, a state of perfection that was never attained. Too often our spir-itual lives were evaluated in terms of our failures to reach the ideal or the degree to which we had failed to attain perfection. As in the objective model, the focus was on an observance of laws and duties. Novices were told, "Keep the rule and the rule will keep you." This approach tended to be legalistic and Pelagian and to generate undue fear in our relationship with God. We were always aware that we were not measuring up to the ideal. No matter how fervent our spiritual lives and how detailed our obser-vance, we remained unworthy servants who had yet to reach per-fection. We placed much more emphasis on what we had failed to do or achieve than on the level of our desire and hope and love and our moments of fidelity. This perfection model focused on the goal, not the process to the goal. God's love and affirmation were often thought of as the reward for our completing the process, for our faithful observance. A corollary of the shift from objective to subject-centered is the shift from this perfection model to a process model in our relationship with God. The process model envisions our spiri-tual lives as a journey that can be measured not only in terms of how far we have to go, but especially in terms of how far we have come. Besides sorrow for our failure to attain perfection, there is gratitude for all that God has accomplished in us, the work of God's grace in our lives. Our spiritual lives are viewed as a rela-tionship with God that grows, not as a project that needs to be accomplished. Such a model is sensitive to the adult stages of growth in the human process. Conversion is emphasized as an ongoing process of discovering and purification and commitment. Creative fidelity in the midst of new challenges and opportunities replaces perseverance in a static commitment. The love of God is experienced in the midst of the process as an abiding source of 820 Review for Religious support and inspiration. God loves us where we are and invites us to a fuller life. We find God, then, where we are and not where we would like to be. We pray out of our present experience, not out of as-yet-unrealized goals. At the root of this shift from perfection to process is a renewed understanding of grace. Grace is defined not primarily in ontological terms and categories, certainly not as a quantity to be gained and lost by observance or lack of observance. Rather it is understood as a growth in a relationship of love with some-one, a growth into a richer and fuller life. Our relationship with God is an invitation to friendship and intimacy with God, a gift of new life. God's grace is the giving of Godself that transforms us and empowers us to live God's life. From Private to Communal The novitiate of thirty-five years ago was highly structured and programmed. With rare exceptions, everyone followed the same order of the day, listened to the same conferences and instructions, and even read many of the same books. The reality of large numbers of novices made personal attention less available, even though the novice master was concerned for the well-being of each novice. At the same time, the spirituality proposed was very individualistic. People's relation with God was private and expressed in personal devotions and practices. They found God in the solitude of their'own heart and gave little emphasis to a com-munity of shared faith and communal discernment. There was a strong sense of corporate identity, but one's own spiritual life was private and to be shared only with a spiritual director or supe-rior. The support came from the awareness that everyone was praying at the same time in private, not from any ~hared sense of what was happening in the prayer of individuals. This personal piety that privatized one's relationship with God followed upon an understanding of the church as an insti-tution from which grace flows from the top through a hierarchi-cal structure to the individual. God spoke through superiors and religious leaders, not through the members of the community. Sacraments too were privatized. They were channels of individ-ual grace and a personal relationship with God. Confession was an experience of forgiveness of my sins with little sense of reconcil-iation with the community. Eucharist focused on the offering of November-December 1993 821 Fagin ¯ Are We Relating to God in a New Way? Christ's sacrifice and my reception of Communion, followed by my private thanksgiving with .Jesus. Often Eucharist was a pri-vate Mass with a single server symbolizing a broader community that was not evidently there. All of this, of course, reflected a the-ology of church and sacrament that shaped and reinforced a sense of a private relationship with God. A communal model, on the other hand, emphasizes that we encounter God in community. It respects the personal and unique aspect of one's relationship with God and the areas of religious experience that are shared only with a spiritual guide or a close friend, but it images our relationship with God in the context of a community of faith. The Spirit speaks through all, and we grow in our faith life with, in, and through others. We are one body. We are branches on the same vine. Shared prayer and communal dis-cernment are important means of developing our relationship with God. This derives from an understanding of church as pri-marily a community of believers called together in faith. The church is an institution with visible structures and offices, but it is first the gathering of disciples that find and celebrate God's presence in their midst. Liturgy is experienced as ecclesial, as the coming together of God's people to hear the word in common and share the meal of the Reign of God. Jesus is present, not only in the consecrated bread and wine, but also in the assembly. We find Jesus in the community. Sacraments, then, are experienced as communal moments Of celebration that bind us together and deepen our corporate identity as the people of God. Christians share a common story of salvation and live out that story as mem-bers of the one body of Christ. That sense of a common story deepens our awareness of God's self-revelation to us in commu-nity and our need to listen and respond as God's people bound together by a covenant relationship. From Dualism to Wholeness From its earliest days Christianity has struggled with a dual-ism that put a wedge between the spiritual and the physical, the body and the soul. Gnosticism, Manicheanism, and Jansenism are only historical surfacings of a constant and strong undercurrent of thought that considers the physical to be evil and the source of temptation. Not surprisingly, the novitiate of thirty-five years ago put little emphasis on emotional growth and psychosexual devel- 822 Review for Religious opment. The prominent role of physical penances and the pro-hibition about novices touching one another dramatized not only a needed asceticism, but also a distrust of anything relating to the human body. Holiness was often identified with a flight from the body and from the emotions. The body was seen as a hin-drance to the spirit, and the emotions were dismissed or sup-pressed as irrelevant and debilitating. Reason and volition were the only reliable means of directing our spiritual lives. Discernment was reduced to a rational process or replaced by. logical analysis. Faith was seen primarily as an act of the intellect and holiness as an act of the will. In the end, the spiritual life was often per-ceived as set apart in a higher realm divorced from the growth of the whole person. Contemporary spirituality is more clearly holistic. It respects and encourages the growth of the whole person. The process of human-ization is an integral part of spiritual develop-ment. Spiritual maturity presupposes a certain psychological health as a foundation. The role of affectivity and an appreciation of our phys-icality become important elements of our growth to spiritual wholeness. Discernment is appreciated as noticing and evaluating the affective as well as the rational movements of God within the soul, sifting through experiences of consolation and desolation. Faith is the response of the whole person to God's self-revela-tion. A renewed value is given to human desire as a place where God touches and inspires the soul and calls a person to fuller life. Contemporary spiritua~ty knows well that something of this holis-tic approach can be found in a fresh reading of many of the mys-tics and spiritual classics, but modern awareness and appreciation of the complexities of the human person have insisted even more that holiness is a developmental process of integrating all aspects of the human person. The shift from dualism to wholeness is rooted in an under-standing of the human person as a unity rather than a duality of spirit and body. Psychology and religion can work together to transform and sanctify every dimension of the person. The Enneagram, Jungian personality types, dream analysis, Intensive Journaling--all these and more can enrich our appreciation and Christians share a common story of salvation and live out that story as members of the one body of Christ. November-December 1993 823 Fagin ¯ Are We Relating to God in a New Way? understanding of the human psyche and be positive helps to our spiritual growth. There is, of course, an element of truth in the dualistic approach. Physical and even psychological wholeness are not indispensable to Christian holiness. God can and does work through our brokenness. The ideal of self-actualization and human growth must always be relativized by the gospel call to self-emp-tying surrender. On the other hand, the dualistic approach, when taken to an extreme, can produce an impoverished human per-son insensitive to the riches of imagination and affect in relating to God and other people. In such a case, little or no value is given to the affective movements of the heart in the search for God. The ordering of affectivity is reduced to the suppression of affec-tivity, and an ascetic ideal is proposed that allows little room for human emotion. From Other-Worldly to This-Worldly "Just a little while and then eternity." These words attributed to St. John Berchmans set the tone for my novitiate experience thirty-five years ago. At the heart of the relationship with God was a call to renunciation of the material world. The world was a place of temptation and trial. We were pilgrims on a journey to salvation in the next life. Sanctity demanded detachment from the world. Matter was evil, the source of sin. Penance was a way to punish the flesh and control its appetites. The novitiate was in an isolated place far from the allurements of the world. There were no newspapers or magazines or movies or TV. The harshest judgment passed on any novice was that he was "worldly." At the root of this approach was a negative vision of the world as cor-rupted by sin. Flight from the world was the road to sanctity. Even apostolic religious orders tended to propose monastic ide-als that emphasized separation from the world. A special impor-tance was given to the words of Seneca (Letters, no. 7) quoted in the Imitation of Christ (I, 20): "As often as I have been among men, I have returned less a man." No one can deny the truth in this approach to the world. Growth in a relationship with God demands a radical detachment and renunciation. We live in a world of obscured values and dis-torted perceptions, a world infected with sin that stands in oppo-sition to the values of the reign of God. The world is groaning for 824 Review for Religious redemption, and Christianity must stand as a countercultural force in a broken and wounded world. Contemporary spirituality, however, takes a more positive view of the world, seeing it as the product of God's love and the locus of God's redemptive presence. The Vatican II document Gaudium et Spes (The Church in the Modern World) proposed a world-affirming vision that recognized the value and autonomy of human society and culture and that took responsibility for the world. A renewed theology of creation takes seriously Genesis's declaration of the goodness of creation and the dignity of humans as images of God. Such a creation-centered spirituality rejoices in the world as a gift.from the hands of a loving God. Our relationship with God is expressed in a concern for the earth and a sense of stew-ardship for the resources entrusted to us. The reign of God is already a reality "bud-ding forth," and our human efforts are an essential element in building the final reign of God. God, then, is found in human experience and human achievement, and this world becomes a sacred place for encountering God. A genuine apostolic spirituality recognizes that we work out our salvation by involvement in the human struggle for justice. The desert invades the marketplace and the monk speaks a prophetic word in the city. The reason for the shift to a this-worldly spiritua'lity is, then, a more positive view of the world and a renewed understanding of salvation. An important corollary of this new understanding and appre-ciation of the world is a reevaluation of the relation between reli-gious life and the lay vocation. In the other-worldly view of the Christian life, monastic spirituality was considered normative, and so the life of a single or a married person in the world was necessarily a less radical commitment to a relationship with God. Lay spirituality was at best a watered-down adaptation of the higher calling of religious life. Vatican II, by contrast, speaks of a universal call to holiness. All Christians are called to the per-fection of charity and commitment to Christ. Religious life and the A genuine apostolic spirituality recognizes that we work out our salvation by involvement in the human struggle for justice. November-December 1993 825 Fagin ¯ Are V~e Relating to God in a New tVay? lay vocation are two different ways of responding to the radical gospel call to discipleship. At best one can speak of religious life as a more explicit and unambiguous lifestyle that witnesses to the common vocation of all Christians. Conclusion The tensions just described are an enduring part of our rela-tionship with God. Our spirituality will always be a balance between objective and subjective, perfection and process, private and communal, dualism and wholeness, other-worldly and this-worldly. As Richard McBrien has pointed out frequently, Catholicism is not a matter of either/or but of both/and. There is no question of rejecting one way and replacing it completely with another, but rather of claiming a new richness that respects the older way and opens new ways of living our Christian lives. My novitiate experience of thirty-five ye~ars ago focused almost exclu-sively on the objective, perfection, private, dualistic, and other-worldly dimensions of our relationship with God. Contemporary spirituality has swung the pendulum dramatically to the other pole. The challenge is to move beyond a reactionary position and to integrate the truth of the previous way of relating to God with a new and rich experience of God and the human person. The swing of the pendulum, as we have seen, comes from a new under-standing of revelation, grace, and the church and of the human person, the world, and salvation. Developments in theology and new dimensions of religious experience continue to enrich one another and open new possibilities in our relationship with God. Each age in the life of the church struggles to define Christians' relationship with God. Christian spirituality is a lived experience shaped by life, culture, and theology, but above all by the graced invitation of God. I conclude by suggesting four char-acteristics of a Christian spirituality that is responsive to the invi-tation and challenge of the contemporary world. We need an incarnational spirituality that finds mystery and the sacred in the midst of a radical affirmation of the giftedness of the world, that finds God not only above us but also with us. We need a holistic spirituality that integrates more fully into our spiritual growth the nonrational dimensions of our person, fostering a healthy sense of sin and forgiveness and respecting the human psyche's limitations and possibilities for growth in God's life. We need a 826 Review for Religious prophet# spirituality that integrates the mystical and the political and sees a passion for justice and solidarity with the poor as inte-gral to contemplative union with God. We need an ecdesial spir-ituality that lives out our relationship with God in the community of disciples, harmonizes discernment and religious authority, and responds to the call to ministry that baptismal grace enables us to hear. In the end, Christian spirituality will always remain a response to the gospel call to conversion and discipleship. In every age it promises a growth in a personal relationship with God and demands a commitment in the context of a community of faith, but in the midst 6f these constant elements Christians will con-tinue to be attentive to the movements of the Spirit in their lives and to explore new ways of relating to God. Holofrosts The offerings to God this winter's morning Are holofrosts, not burnt but frozen;fruit Of the vine hangs shriveled as nuggets of ice, The works of human hands .are noughted out By whiteness of snow. Offering God of his own From the elements given us, we lift up As gifts at his altar: his earth, air, Water, hard-touched by December, challenging Us to be devout in our changing seasons Of spring-weather faith, frost-withered doubt. Nancy G. Westerfield November-December 1993 827 A. PAUL DOMINIC Desire, Asking, and Answers porayer, as St. Thomas Aquinas said, is the articulation of ur desire before God.~ That is the way we teach our chil-dren their first practical lesson in religion: we teach them to ask God for what they want. As people grow in spiritual life, they can never outgrow the spirit of their beginnings, if for no other reason than that the highest reaches cannot exist without the low-est attainments. There is reason, then, not to abandon altogether the early, petitionary stage of spiritual life, but to continue to experience its varying moods and movements. Here biblical personages at once spiritual and earthy can be illustrative and illuminative. The recorded experiences of Hannah, David, and Job are relevant. They are all apparently of marked spirituality, notably above the ordinary. Yet in their dealings with God they do not remain always ethereal. Possessed of human desires, too, as down-to-earth people, they approach God openly with the desires of their heart. That is to say, they are simple enough not to be shatmning but to move with the tide of their life. Spiritually oriented people will neglect this basic lesson only to their cost. Not much is known of Hannah, surely; but the little that is known of her reveals her womanly spiritual fiber. Her husband, Elkanah, less known than herself, is religious too, but in the usual way, performing the regular practices like yearly pilgrimage. Perhaps part of his routine spirituality is his seeming resignation A. Paul Dominic SJ, author of God of Justice (Bombay: St. Paul Publications), is well known to our readers. His address is Satyodayam; S. Lallaguda; Secunderabad 500 017; India. 828 Review for Religious to God's disposition regarding Hannah's barrenness. But Hannah herself would not be resigned to her situation. She burns with desire for a son as much as, or even more than, she is resentful and in distress because of the taunts of the other wife, who is not bar-ren. All this compounded desire of her heart she pours out to her God, completely oblivious of her surroundings, and she keeps on beseeching him for a son till--that is the important point here-- she is assured that she will get what she has painfully longed for. She has not supplicated in vain. No wonder she knows peace in her heart. David is great in every way, in particular in his spiritual gifts. He attains spiritual heights on certain occasions when God sur-prises him with choice favors. But he also knows low spirits and even falls. Then he prays, staying where he is. One such occa-sion is when he realizes that he has to pay for his adultery by the death of the child of adultery. Though he owns his sin, still he wants the son his sin produced. How he prays for the life of the child, struck by God with a grave illness! He pleads with God for his child, fasting and lying on the ground for days together. He prays with all his energies, hoping against hope till he realizes that the child has died. He has supplicated in vain and still, sur-prisingly enough, seems to find unusual peace in his heart. Job is an exceptional figure who manages a happy blend of his wealth in the world with his godly life. If he has enjoyed all the prosperity in the world, still he seeks and humbly keeps his integrity before his God. Such a man, however, meets with one disaster after another. Even then he allows no curse to cross his mind or lips; on the contrary, he walks humbly with God, bless-ing him still. However, in the prolonged anguish of his final dis-aster, made worse by his three friends preachifying to the effect that every sufferer must be necessarily a sinner, he is stung to the quick and so driven to defend his honor. He argues with them point by point, personally convinced that there is no sin that would explain his suffering. In between he puts the matter before God, too, quite unafraid, now lamenting his plight, now com-plaining to him, now appealing to him, now reasoning with him, now challenging him, then yearning to reach him, all the while wanting to vindicate his stand that he is innocent, whatever the traditional doctrine of retribution may be. He has supplicated alone and in company, aloud and in silence, passing through the struggle of it all, only to be surprised at the end by the mysteri- Nove~nber-Decen;ber 1993 829 Dontinic ¯ Desire, Asking, and Answers ous and yet overwhelmingly peaceful vision of God clearing up all the aggnizing questions and difficulties. The three biblical episodes ~nay be compared to one another as regards three elements common to them. First, the three pro-tagonists experience an urgent desire. Second, they take it up in their prayer, making it indeed their whole prayer, however long drawn out it may be. Third, they attain something positive. First, then, they are alike in experiencing desires, however various the desires may be. Hannah desires a son. Her desire is natural, normal, proper, appropriate, and worthy inasmuch as she wants only the full enjoyment of her marriage as willed by God right from the beginning. David desires that the son of his passion, born of another man's wife, should live and not die. His desire, too, is natural and normal and yet perhaps not especially worthy, if only because the circumstantial will of God is for the child of adultery to die. Job desires an answer to the puzzle of his unde-served suffering. His desire, too, is nor~nal and natural and yet only dubiously proper against the background of the common traditional belief that every suffering implies some sin in the suf-ferer. While Hannah's desire is in every way agreeable, David's and Job's are not particularly so. David resists the apparent mind of God regarding the fruit of his sin, and Job's honest and frank desire is naively bold because it seems to put God in the wrong. Second, however one evaluates the three desires, they are nevertheless real and candid; the persons know and feel their desire as only they can. They find it so urgent that they do not fight shy of voicing it before other "people and even before God. They do not simply pray about it, but make it their sole and con-stant prayer. Without any distracting self-consciousness, they sim-ply present themselves before God as they experience their desire consuming them, not minding or caring whether they might come across to casual observers as strange or surprising or suspect. Possessed by their sole burning desire, they beseech God persis-tently without any thought of circumspection or shame or seem-ing propriety till something good happens to them--which leads to my third point. In Hannah's case, what happens is just what she has desired and prayed for. She gets a son and calls him Samuel since, as she says, "I asked Yahweh iCor him" (i S 1:20). In David's case, what happens is just the opposite:of his lingering desire and prayer. His ill-gotten child whom he wants to see saved dies of illness. But 830 Re'view for Religious David--note well--comes alive after the whole ordeal of pray-ing, pining, and fasting. He bathes, anoints himself, dresses up, goes to the sanctuary, then sits down to a meal, and finally even consoles his forlorn Bathsheba. In Job's case, what happens is not just what he agonizingly wanted to find, for he finds far more than he has dared ask. He has asked only for a vindicating proof of his undeserved suffering, but he is given to see God himself, the answer of all possible problems and puzzles. It may appear at first sight that the prayer arising from and suffused with unquenchable desire turns out to be a success for Hannah, a fail-ure for David, and a mere struggle for Job. But further reflection would show that the reality or radicality of their experience is not that simple. The feverish desires of David and Job may not have ended in natural, ordinary, and expected satisfaction as in the case of Hannah. But they too have their definite, unmistakable denouement, with their desires set at rest. Indeed, they attain what may be called the res-olution of their desires, a positive ending to their experience of desire in and through and by means of prayer. Here is a lesson for life. Despite the obvious differences in their desires, Hannah, David, and Job all end up with positive experiences through prayer. Their prayer experience has some-thing in common: making their desire transparent to God or, bet-ter, living their desire before God in all its urgency. The experience of any urgent desire is itself a sort of struggle till its ful-fillment. This is only accentuated when the fulfillment of desire depends, not on oneself, but on the good pleasure of another--in the present context, God. So Hannah prays in an unusual manner, speaking under her breath, giving room for suspicion that she is drunk. So too does David, to the surprise of his officials, covering himself with sack-ing, lying on the bare ground and keeping a strict fast. So too does Job, confounding and shocking his onlookers by his unortho-dox stand that, though he has been afflicted with the worst of Despite the obvious differences in their desires, Hannah, David, and Job all end up with positive experiences through prayer. November-December 1993 831 Dominic ¯ Desire, Asking, and Answers sufferings, he cannot be accused of having really sinned. Even if he occasionally concedes, for the sake of argument, that he has sinned, he challenges God outright: "Suppose I have sinned, what have I done to you?" (Jb 7:20). But the burden of his prayer runs now and again in such words as these: "I shall say to God, 'Do not condemn me, but tell me the reason for your assault. Is it right for you to injure me, cheapening the work of your own hands and abetting the schemes of the wicked?'" (Jb 10:2-3). He ends his apologia daringly with no apology whatever: "I have had my say, from A to Z; now let Shaddai answer me" (Jb 31:35). How acute must be the struggle of the man who, in his dire straits, makes bold to speak to God without mincing words about what he wants. If Hannah and David, too, definitely pass through quite a struggle in their prayer seeking what they want, theirs would seem to be nothing compared with the struggle of Job for God's own vindication of his innocence. Generally speaking, the struggle experienced in prayer as peo-ple keep on imploring God for what they want is proportionate to the intensity of their desire. The surpassing struggle Job goes through in his prayer reveals how hard he desires. There is, if one may put it this way, truth in his desire. That is to say, his desire is so true and so truly possessing and consuming him that he needs must seek its fulfillment by every means possible, even if it should entail a gigantic struggle. Here may be raised a very important question concerning prayer. If people pray and complain that they do not get an answer to their prayer, it may be asked whether their prayer arises out of truth, the truth of their desire in the sense suggested above. People may be accustomed to and satisfied with bland preferences, with mere velleities, and thus ,nay not have true desire even if they know, or seem to know, what they desire. Certainly velleities are palt~ desires. It is worth noting in this context that Job with his ruling desire and passionate prayer is a fictitious figure, unlike Hannah and David. From this may one not infer that people like Job are seldom found in real life, that rarely are real people moved by strong, ardent, fervent, and in a word true desire? But without desire there can be no prayer, for desire is part and parcel of prayer. St. Thomas said so (as I have indicated above), and St. Augustine had said something similar much ear-lier. Writing to Proba on prayer, he pointed out that, if the Lord wants us to pray even though he certainly knows independently 832 Review for Religious our wants and needs, it is because "he wants our desire to be exer-cised in prayer, thus enabling us to grasp what he is preparing to give.''2 He added: "We pray always in faith, hope, and love, with uninterrupted desire. Btit at certain hours and seasons we also pray with words. We use these signs of realities to rouse our-selves, to become aware of the growth of our desire, and to strongly move ourselves to increase it . What do the Apostle's words, 'Pray constantly,' mean, if not that we must constantly desire. ?-3 Of course, one may remark quite correctly that in the context Augustine had in his mind a constant desire for the blessedness of eternal life. One may observe just as correctly, however, that what we do in prayer--namely, exercise our desire--may reach out not only to eternal life, but to present life as well, with aH that we want here and now. Anyhow, the very prayer that Jesus taught explicitly is not confined to holy desires connected with God and his kingdom, but, in the phrase "daily bread," makes mention of ordinary human desires and material needs. The Lord's Prayer certainly includes the gamut of human desires, from the lofty to the lowly. Other teachings of Jesus on prayer also focus on desire expe-rienced and expressed before God. The parables of the importu-nate friend and the widow (Lk 11:5-8; 18:1-8), for instance, emphasize the keenness of desire without which prayer would flag and falter. Apart from desire there can be no meaning in prayer of peti.tion; and it is this sort of simple, straightforward prayer that Jesus mostly speaks of. His injunction regarding effec-tive, infallible prayer is to "ask. search., knock" (Mr 7:7); and this really means that one should go on asking and searching and knocking with the growing impulse of intense desire. This real-ity of glowing desire may throw light even on the basic require-ment-- namely, belief or faith--in all such prayer. For instance, in the saying of Jesus that "everything you ask and pray for, believe that );ou have it already, and it will be yours" (Mk 11:24), the action of belief is as much an activity of desire as it is anything else.4 When belief comes into play in prayer, it invariably brings desire into the foreground, the desire which was already there in the prayer right from the start. All this is not a matter of theory but of practice, as may be seen in dealings of Jesus wifla people to whom he grants favors. In the case of the Syrophoenician woman, Jesus senses right from November-Decentber 1993 833 Dominic ¯ Desire, Asking, and Answers the beginning how badly she desires the healing of her daughter. His apparent reluctance to accede to her request only brings out all the more her desire, at once insistent and persistent, regard-ing her daughter's welfare. He takes note of it and refers to it with pleasant surprise when he finally' gives his word of favor to her request (see Mk 7:24-30).s Just the opposite is the story of the sick man at the Pool of Bethzatha (Jn 5:1-6). When Jesus sees him and knows how long he has been ill, he asks him, "Do you want to be well again?" It is a surprising question at first, but on reflection very revealing. Jesus cannot heal the sick man unless he first desires it. As the man had been ill for so long, perhaps he no longer has any desire for healing. It is precisely to awaken this desire that Jesus puts the question to him. Today, too, neither Jesus nor his Father can hear any prayer unless it arises in real desire and is poured out in ardent desire and sustained in unabated desire. It matters how much and how far we desire whatever we desire. As I conclude, I find myself won-derii~ g if social activists have an idea how much they can effect by prayer that is sharpened by the "violence" of desire. When I say violence here, I am thinking of that intriguing logion: "The king-dom of God has been subjected to violence and the violent are tak-ing it by storm" (Mt 11:12). Notes ~ See Simon Tugwell, Prayer in Practice (Springfield, Illinois, 1974), p. 75. 2 See The Divine Office, vol. 3 (London, Glasgow, Sydney, Dublin, 1974), p. 662. 3 Letters of Saint Augustine, ed. and trans. John Leinenweber (Liguori, Missouri: Triumph Books, 1992), p. 172. 4 The Markan version lends itself to such an interpretation, unlike the Matthean parallel 21:22 with its connotation of faith as a matter of not doubting about what is prayed for. s Here again Mark is different from Matthew. Mark tells the plain story of the woman with her heart's desire whereas Matthew stylizes it in terms of faith (Mt 15:21-28). 834 Review for Religious JUDETTE A. GALLARES Companionship Spirituality in Ruth Te Book of Ruth is one of the immortal love stories in the ble. It takes as its characters and events ordinary people and mundane life situations to which we can easily find parallels in our world today. The book's primary purpose, however, is not to entertain and delight its audience with plot complications, sus-pense, and a satisfying denouement, but to hold up to its readers and listeners authentic models of covenantal faith? What is this covenantal faith, and how does companionship enter into its perspective? What does the spirituality of compan-ionship teach us in our experiences of change, life transitions, and emptiness? To glean some answers to these questions, it is beneficial to allow to sink into our consciousness Ruth's words to Naomi, her mother-in-law, which have become an immortal prayer of companionship. Let us look at her words within their context as summarized here. During the time of the judges, Elimelech of Bethlehem, together with his wife Naomi and his two sons Mahlon and Chilion, migrated to Moab to escape a famine in Judah. Elimelech died in Moab. His sons married two Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth. The two sons also died, however, leaving two childless wid-ows with their widowed mother-in-law. Naomi decided to return to Bethlehem, and her daughters-in-law, set off with her. While they were on the road, she urged her daughters-in-law each to return to her mother's house, for she was unsure of what future Judette A. Gallares RC is involved in spiritual direction and retreat work in the Philippines and conducts courses on biblical spirituality and spiritual direction for lay and religious formators. Her address is Cenacle Sisters; 217-G.D. Jakosalem Street; Cebu City 6000; Philippines. Novetnber-Deconber 1993 835 Gallares ¯ Companionship Spirituality in Ruth they would have with her. Orpah sorrowfully returned to her fam-ily, but Ruth clung to her mother-in-law in spite of Naomi's prod-ding that she follow Orpah's decision. Instead, she responded in these words: Do not press me to leave you and to stop going with you, for wherever you go, I shall go, wherever you live, I shall live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Where you die, I shall die and there I shall be buried. Let Yahweh bring unnameable ills on me and worse ills, too, if anything but death should part me from you! (Rt 1:16-17). Realizing that Ruth was determined to go with her, Naomi stopped urging her. Both went on their journey until they reached Bethlehem. Migration was rather typical of ancient Palestine. Families often migrated because of the frequent occurrence of famine in the area. The country of Moab, with a narrow strip of well-watered and fertile land running north and south in its center, was an attractive refuge, and so Elimelech, Naomi, and their two sons migrated there. This scenario is familiar even today. To escape economic dif-ficulties caused by drought or increased militarization in third-world rural areas, people flock to the cities and towns seeking either the pot of gold or refuge from military oppression. Professionals continually migrate from third-world to first-world countries in search of better opportunities even though, regret-tably, this slows down socioeconomic development in their own countries. Migration for the sake of survival and a better life is an undei'- standable occurrence in any generation and culture. Biblical lit-erature records a number of such departures. We recall Joseph and his famil)) moving to Goshen (Gn 47:27) and a widow fol-lowing Elisha's advice and moving to the land of the Philistines (2 K 8). So Elimelech's decision to leave Bethlehem of Judah together with his family is understandable. To alert us immediately to the development and historical probability of the story, the author also gives the characters names which in Hebrew have symbolic meanings. Elimelech means "my God is king"; Naomi means "pleasant"; the two sons' names, Mahlon and Chilion, .mean "sickness" and "wasting," respectively.2 After they have settled in Moab, death strikes the male members 836 Review for Religious of Naomi's family. Elimelech dies first. Naomi is left with her two sons, who later marry native women. But after ten years the sons also die without leaving any sons. Naomi, a widow of advanced age with no sons but only non-Jewish and childless daughters-in-law, is therefore destined for a life of destitution and social oppression. In her emptiness and poverty, Naomi decides to return to the land of her birth because the famine there is over. Perhaps she thinks her own townspeople will be kinder to her in her poverty than if she were to remain in Moab as a widowed foreigner. Her two widowed daughters-in-law initially go with her, but she urges them to return to their own families. She just cannot impose her desire and longing for her own land and people on her already suffering daughters-in-law, nor can she deprive them of the small consolation that their own homeland would provide them. Besides, she knows that it would be much more dif-ficult for them, being foreigners, to remarry in her homeland than in theirs because Hebrew laws discourage marriage with foreigners.3 Here Naomi is projected as a practical person. She uses the time, not for grieving, but for doing something in a situation that needs a practical solution. Naomi's use of the unusual phrase "mother's house" is to be noted, for a house is usually designated as one's father's.4 Some com-mentators believe it is used to symbolize or to emphasize the absence of men in the women's lives.5 From another perspective it can also be seen as words of consolation to the suffering women, for the word "mother" evokes images of the love, care, and nur-turance one would long for in a time of brokenness. Orpah heeds Naomi's advice and returns to her people: Ruth refuses. Mthough the motif of ~mptiness is strongly accentuated here, by Naomi's saying that her womb will have no more sons, we see that she is not totally bereft, for Ruth would cling to her and not allow her to return to her homeland alone. Responding to her mother-in-law's pleading send-off with words of loyalty and devotion, Ruth vows to accompany Naomi through a per-ilous journey into an uncertain future. Migration for the sake of survival and a better life is an understandable occurrence in any generation and culture. Novevnber-Dece~nber 1993 837 Gallares ¯ Companionship Spirituality in Ruth Ruth pledges covenant fidelity and claims as her own Naomi's place, people, and God.6 In her beautiful and moving response, Ruth clings not to a past but to a present--not to a male through whom she may achieve power and access, but to a female, one who needs her, one for whom she will provide protection, care, and access.7 Ruth thus gives to her mother-in-law the only thing she possesses, her very self. Even if society destines both of them to a life of extreme poverty as widows, they still have each other. We can still see this kind of attitude among simple poor families. They are extremely loyal to their own members and sacrifice for and protect one another in good times and in bad. Together the two widows now turn their faces resolutely toward Palestine and the city of Bethlehem. The distance between Moab and Bethlehem is only about 120 miles, but this stretch represents a long, fatiguing, and dangerous trek in this period, especially for two women who have neither money beyond their barest needs nor protector.8 It is this journey through barren places that will perhaps bring them closer to each other and cause them to cling more closely together for protection, comfort, and support. Covenantal Faith amid Emptiness in Life Transitions The contrast between emptiness and fullness runs through the entire book. This is seen, not only in the setting itself, but also in the lives of the women characters. The famine or the emptiness of the land that sets the story in motion drives Naomi's family to seek greener fields. Leaving one's country and culture as Naomi did is an experience of emptying, an experience of loss: food, rela-tionships, property, land. It is a recurring motif in the life of Israel and throughout salvation history, beginning with God inviting Abraham to leave his clan and his ancestral home for a promised land. In Abraham we see that God's promise and blessing are indissolubly bound up with a departure, an emptying of anything that prevents one from setting out on an adventure with God. For Naomi, however, Moab turned out to be a place of empti-ness, not a land of promise. There she lost not only her husband but her two sons as well. Her emptiness seemed irreparable, her life hollow deep within. These words of the psalmist could have echoed in her heai't: "How could we sing a song of the Lord in a foreign land?" (Ps 137:4 NAB).)It would be difficult indeed for 838 Review for Religious anyone in Naomi's predicament to sing a song to God amid feel-ings of alienation from God, life, others, and even self. Grief has a way of devouring our spiritual life, leaving us in the desert to feel parched, empty, depleted, lonely, and alienated. Naomi could attribute the cause of her incurable emptiness only to God: "Yahweh's hand has been raised against me." Thus, only God also could fill it. Beyond her empty feeling and sense of God's absence is perhaps a fragile hope that God will also cause her misery to cease. Perhaps this was in her mind and heart when, "having heard that Yahweh had come to help his people by giving them food, Naomi prepared to return home." Her poverty and her emptiness are so basic that they can be intimated by an unadorned reference to food. Beyond a need to fill her physical hunger, she perhaps has a keen desire to reconcile herself with the past, to catch a glimpse of home and of who she is meant to be. John Dunne once wrote9: At every turn in the road a new illuminating is needed to find the way and a new kindling is needed to follow the way. Dunne seems to speak here of moments of transition in one's life when one needs to search within to find illumination or guid-ance to continue going forward on the road to life. This search involves returning to the past, to one's home and roots and being reconciled with them. Naomi, in her poverty and emptiness, thinks of home not only as a place where she could experience God's blessing again' (having heard that Yahweh had come to help his people), but also as a place where she can find peace and acceptance of her painful situation ("Do not call me Naomi. Call me Mara, for God has made life bitter for me"). Her words reflect a deep longing that is present in every human heart. A part in us is always yearning and quietly crying out for the true homeland where life is no longer painful and unfair,l° Undoubtedly Naomi's two Moabite daughters-in-law are also experiencing emptiness and grief at losing their husbands. In their loss their initial response is to cling to what is familiar (to continue living with Naomi and to remain in her clan) even if it does not seem to give them any kind of future. Orpah is practical minded in dealing with her emptiness. In spite of the pain of saying good-bye to Naomi and Ruth and to matters that have become famil-iar to her, she heeds Naomi's advice and returns to her mother's November-December 199~ 839 Gallares ¯ Companionship Spirituality in Ruth house. Perhaps she feels hopeful that life can still offer her a future in her own homeland, and perhaps she, like Naomi, has a renewed glimpse of home and the possibility of who she can still become. Companionship in Time of Transition On the other hand, Ruth clings to her mother-in-law and takes the risk of embracing, her, her land, and her God even if the future is uncertain and seemingly bleak. Although she too is going through ~ransition, she offers Naomi her presence and com-panionship. She feels for her mother-in-law because she too knows the pain of loss and the difficulty of adjusting to a new reality. But, unlike Naomi, she is not allowing this life transition to dis-courage her or to embitter her. For her a return to her mother's house has seemed to be a movement away from what and who she is meant to be. Instead, she follows the movement of Israel's first patriarch by leaving her homeland and venturing into the unknown. Like Abraham she departs from her homeland and empties herself of anything that prevents her from setting out on an adventure with Abraham's and Naomi's God. But, unlike Abraham, she does not perceive the God of Israel as giving her a promise and a blessing. She has none of these assurances. She leaves relying only on Naomi's God and the strength of her love for her mother-in-law. She deals with her emptiness by further emptying herself s~ she can embrace totally the God of Abraham, of Naomi, and of Israel. She lets go of the past in order to embrace the future with great faithfulness. And in these b~autiful words which have become an immortal prayer of fidelity, ~he accompa-nies Naomi through her life transition: Wherever you go, I shill go, wherever you live, I shall live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I shall die and there I shall be buried. Let Yahweh bring unnameable ills on me and worse ills, too, if anything but death should part me from you! (1:16-17 NJB). As we have seen, biblical fidelity recalls the faith of Israel that began with the departure of Abraham and led to the Mosaic covenant with God. It remembers the unique friendship estab-lished between God and Israel that is echoed in the entire Book of.Ruth and is exemplified by Ruth and other people in the story. 840 Review for Religiot~s At the heart of this covenant fidelity is the people's faith that Yahweh is the God of life who calls them to greater life. In the language and setting of today, faith calls us to face the light and to choose life. It enables us to look upon each letting go with optimism and prepares us to face other more painful relin-quishments that commit us more fully to God's service. It enables us to catch a glimpse of who we are meant to be. As with Ruth and Naomi, faith urges us to move forward and embrace the God of life. Notes L Alice L. Laffey, "Ruth," in the New Jerome Biblical Commentary (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1990), p. 553. 2 Ibid. 3 Intermarriage was prohibited, not on ethnic grounds, but to avoid religious syncretism and to foster the worship of Yahweh (see Ex 34:15ff). See Madeleine S. Miller and J. Lane Miller, Harper's Bible Dictiona,7 (New York: Harper and Row Publishers, 1973), p. 422. 4 Ibid. s Ibid. 6 See Laffey, p. 555. 7 Ibid. 8 Edith Deen, All of the Women of the Bible (San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers, 1983), p. 84. 9 Quoted byJoyce Rupp OSM in Praying Our Goodbyes (Notre Dame, Ind.: Ave Maria Press, 1988), p. 77. ~0 Ibid, p. 24. Novonber-Decentber 1993 841 JOHN P. MOSSI The Spirituality of Surrender Losing, whether it is losing a friendly bet, an important argument, or a business contract, is a difficult pill to swal-low. We detest losing. The same is true for tiny diehard sports fan who endures a hometown rout. We walk away replaying the game, blaming the unfair referees, or creating strategies that "would have" favorably altered the score. When the defeat entails greater stakes, there is higher resis-tance to a surrender. To address a serious problem like addiction is personally painful. Implicit in such reality is a pervasive sense of failure. One has lost control over life's direction. The only way to regain control is to surrender what has not worked and seek a new way. This process is replete with difficulty. This article will examine the spirituality of surrender as a means of comin.g home to God? Surrendering to God will be looked at in three ways. The first involves an understanding of how surrender is operative in twelve-step recovery programs like Alcoholics Anonymous. The second involves a look at the life of Ignatius of Loyola and the surrender components of the final prayer of the Spiritual Exercises, the "Suscipe," or "Take and Receive." The third considers Jesus' act of surrender on the cross in Luke 23:46. Each of these three different "ways" of surren-dering involves putting our ultimate identity and confidence in God. John P. Mossi SJ, a member of the Religious Studies Department at Gonzaga University, facilitates courses in pastoral counseling, spiritual mentoring, addiction and pastoral approaches to recovery, and Catholicism. His address is Gonzaga University; Jesuit Residence; Spokane, Washington 99258. 842 Review for Religious Let Go, Let God At Alcoholics Anonymous meetings or twelve-step recovery retreats, the expression "Let go, let God" is often used. These four important words constitute the core spirituality of A.A. and similar recovery programs that have adapted the twelve steps to their particular addiction. "Let go, let God" is an invitation to surrender one's umnanageable life to God. "Let go, let God" is a gentle conversion reminder, a kind of mantra, which assists us both to admit the addiction and to hand it over along with its various forms of com-pulsions to God. The long form of the prayer would be something like "Let go of alcohol (or whatever the specific substance or non-substance addiction might be) and let the hand and grace of God guide my life." The prayer is not magic. Saying "Let go, let God" does not instantaneously bring about recovery. Its first purpose is to assist the recov-ering addict to keep to the daily partnership task of surrendering the addiction to God. The second purpose of "Let go, let God" is. to be a prayer of liberation, to call on the greater power of God to help one escape from destructive lifestyle patterns. In this way the creative resources of the individual and the action of God are focused on together. The prayer also serves to silence those addic-tion- related inner-committee tapes and voices of doubt, loneli-ness, fear, and caustic shame that can interfere with a person's slow recovery. These, too, need to be handed over to God. I have the greatest admiration for all who enter the surrender process of a twelve-step program. For many, it is the difference between death and life, the difference between barely existing as a human and participating in community, between dysfunction-alism and experiencing the serenity that only God gives with amazing grace. The first three steps of Anonymous programs set up this "Let go, let God" dynamic. The language of the twelve steps is straight-forward and simple. This is part of their wisdom and wide appeal. The steps make sense to a lot of people. Since A.A. began in 1935 at Akron, Ohio, Anonymous recovery programs have multiplied to treat various forms of addiction.2 These include Narcotics "Let go, let God" is an invitation to surrender one's unmanageable life to God. November-December 1993 843 Mossi ¯ The Spirituality of Surrender Anonymous, Overeaters Anonymous, Gamblers Anonymous, Emotions Anonymous, Workaholics Anonymous, Sexaholics Anonymous, M-Anon, and Adult Children of Mcoholics. Let us examine these first three steps. 1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol [or the other specific addiction], that our lives had become unmanageable) The first step is crucial. You admit you have a serious prob-lem. There is no denial of the fact. The blunt reality is your life is out of control, in fact, unmanageable. Furthermore, you are powerless to do anything about it. At Anonymous meetings, this first step is handled in an up-front manner. When members speak, they state their first name and their addictiveness: "I'm John. I'm an alcoholic." "I'm Susan. I'm a recovering overeater." In formal religion we might refer to this acknowledgment as group confession. In recovery programs it is simply admitting what can no longer be denied. Step one is an honest, vulnerable beginning place. Owning and naming the unmanageable addiction is essential to the surrendering process. When one is aware o£ a specific uncontrollable disease, one can effectively pray "Let go." But to whom does one surrender? Steps two and three look at the second part of the mantra: "Let God." God is the significant associate in restoring harmony. To appreciate the spirituality of the twelve steps, it is important to reflect that the existence and action of God are mentioned seven times in the twelve steps. The par-ticular addiction is only mentioned once, and that is in the first step. The activity of surrendering one's addiction and life to God becomes the spirituality cornerstone of the remaining steps. 2. We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.4 Step two admits the need of an outside corrective authority, a Higher Power, to bring about a stability in one's life. This is the first glimpse of light that invites God in as the restorer of sanity. There are two other important spirituality elements opera-tire in the second step: (i) the belief that a Higher Wisdom exists and (2) a disposition of humility on the part of the believer. These two qualities counterculturally work against the arrogance of the ego that craves to cling to the addiction. Step two indicates that the recovery process entails an attentive listening to a new Teacher, which means that the addict has to take on the attitude 844 Review for Religious of learner. There is a major shift in trust: from addiction to God. 3. We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him.s Step three is where the capitulation actually occurs. First, a concrete decision to surrender has to be made. Second, this deci-sion is total. It includes the will making conscious choices, and it affects one's entire being and journey. Third, the whole person is placed in the care of God according to the individual's faith back-ground. The spirituality of "Let go, let God" is a conversion process. Conversion of its nature has two basic movements: the surren-dering of the compulsion, shame, and destructive addictive pat-terns which reduce freedom; the turning to the care of God and the Holy Spirit to be one's permanent resource of wisdom and identity. Matthew 11:28-30 speaks of a "letting go, letting God" pro-cess: "Come to me, all you who labor and are overburdened, and I will give you rest. Shoulder my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Yes, my yoke is easy and my burden light.''6 These three verses contain the confirmation signs that accompany a true surrender. A learning will occur, the process will be gentle and humble. Rest will be experienced. A new relationship arises, a companionship with the Master, which will be nonaddictive, easy, and light. The Surrender of Ignatius of Loyola Another way of surrendering one's life to God comes from the spirituality of Ignatius's surrender as expressed in his prayer the "Suscipe," or "Take and Receive." On his pilgrim journey Ignatius was called to surrender on several notable occasions. The first was during the defense of the city of Pamplona, Spain. In 1521 Ignatius, wounded by cannon shrapnel, reviewed the illusions of his life as sober death approached. But he did not die. His long convalescence became a conversion process. He gradually yielded up his stubborn self-preoccupation, bravado, and ambition and began to discover a new self in God.7 The spirituality record of Ignatius's surrender to God is found in his classic work, the Spiritual Exercises. Today, 450 years after its first published edition, it is still considered a significant theo-logical work noted for its integration of Scripture, guidelines for Nove~nber-Dece'mber 1993 845 Mossi ¯ The Spirituality of Surrender discernment, sense of mission, and themes of justice. The Exercises' developmental stages of growth in discipleship and intimacy enable a person to come home to God. The last prayer of the Exercises is called the "Suscipe" or "Take and Receive." I invite you to spend some time contemplating the components of this prayer. What is Ignatius, the once vain soldier-at- arms, now a mystic, asking us to do? Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will-- all that I have and call my own. You have given it all to me. To you, Lord, I return it. Everything is yours; do with it what you will. Give me only your love and your grace. That is enough for me.8 The "Suscipe" is a deceptively profound prayer. It invites us to acknowledge the primacy of God in our totality; it answers the humbling question "What aspect of our being is not a gift of God?" In the light of this answer, Ignatius invites us to surrender all to God. The last part of the prayer is a seeking of the purer gifts: "Give me only your love and grace. That is enough for me." Ignatius does not compromise in the process of "letting go of self and letting God in." I recall a forceful experience in praying the "Suscipe." It hap-pened fifteen years ago during a retreat. I attempted to pray and could not. I realized I had not surrendered anything, certainly not my liberty, memory, understanding, and will to anyone, much less to God. I told my director that I could not pray this prayer at all. As a consequence, I seriously questioned remaining a Jesuit. The director gave sage advice. He invited me to return to the chapel and pray the "Suscipe" with my own words in my own way. I prayed, "Lord, I give you my sins which I know so well, those many areas of my life where I am not obedient, poor, and chaste. I give you my pride, my negativity, my hatred and vin-dictiveness, my compulsive rebellion and addictiveness to self. I am overly familiar with these dark recesses. And I truly need to sur-render these to you. Send forth your Holy Spirit to guide, anoint, ¯ and heal with a love that I am most in need of, your grace." 846 Review for Religious Like an ambush, the opportunity to surrender can appear at unlikely moments. Do not let the occasion pass by. The benefit of letting God in always outweighs whatever is surrendered. Jesus on the Cross We turn to the spirituality of Jesus and the particular way he has taught us to surrender. He, too, had to face a special moment of surrender. His prayer in Luke 23:46 is a powerful expression of letting go: "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.''9 Here on the cross Jesus is still the master teacher. He models for us how to pray and hand over our daily experiences and our life to God. Notice the key elements: (1) The prayer is addressed to the Father; (2)Jesus urges us to surrender, to commend, to let go; (3) Jesus specifies what is to be handed over. He gives what little is left, his spirit and last breath. In the daily minor or major surrenders of our own pilgrimage, we can pray in the spirituality of either the twelve steps, Ignatius, or Jesus. Specify in the "Let go, let God" mantra and the "Suscipe" whatever needs to be named and yielded: "Let go of addiction and manipulation. Let God in." "Take, Lord, my dis-honesty, my hurts, my doubts and sinfulness." God can handle and work with these blighted areas quite well. Adapt the prayer of Jesus to your immediate concerns: "Father, into your hands I commit my grief, my sense of failure, my disappointment, my pettiness and vulnerability." Commend these regions of brokenness to the higher compassion and under-standing of God. It is clear that not only our joys but also our sorrows must be offered to God. Our ability to be powerless allows God to meet us and tenderly heal us on our journey, embracing us as we truly are. Moreover, the art 6f surrendering involves a lifelong process. Some days we succeed better than others. If we post-pone learning the spirituality of surrender, we will face it unpre-pared at death, when .the surrender is sudden. Perhaps we can learn to surrender to the care, to the heart, of God in advance. Notes ~ For more information on this topic, see Gerald G. May, Addiction and Grace (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1991), pp. 162-181. Nove'mber-December 1993 847 Mossi * The Spirituality of Surrender 2 Ernest Kurtz, Not-God: A Histo~7 of Alcoholics Anonymous (Center City, Minn.: Hazeldon, 1991), pp. 37-57. 3 Anonymous, Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions (New York: Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, 1952), p. 21. 4 Ibid, p. 25. ~ Ibid, p. 34. 6 The New Jerusalem Bible (New York: Doubleday, 1985). 7 St. Ignatius' Own Story, trans. William J. Young sJ (Chicago: Henry Regnery Co., 1956), pp. 7-27. 8 David L. Fleming SJ, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius: A Literal Translation and a Contemporary Reading (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1980), p. 141. 9 The New Jerusalem Bible. Retreat: A Flight The gulls are going wild over the waters; dipping, zooming, swirling over the wild waters. Far away, at horizon's edge, two ships imperceptibly inch against a purpling sky. I look up and see clouds playing charades before my eyes; straight out, the waves, wind-tossed, chase the dunes relentlessly. It is December at Mantoloking, and my Advent prayer has taken off with the clouds and the winds and the waves. I surrender, like a Maid of long ago to a time of begetting: in Mary, a Word made Flesh. in me, a sign become Faith. each a way of holding Beauty as a born-for-us Savior in a free-for-all world where the gulls (and my heart) go dipping, zooming, swirling with the wild of wonder. Anna Marie Mack SSJ 848 Review for Religious JEFFREY GROS The Ecumenical Vocation of Religious When Pope John emphasized the unity of the church and its openness to the world in inaugurating Vatican Council II, few realized the cost that such conversion would exact. Some felt euphoria, expecting the whole Roman Catholic Church to be zealous for reunion among Christians and hoping for a quick resolution of the theological, sacra-mental, and historical problems dividing the churches. Others, even some receptive to conciliar reform, had the superficial expectation that ecumenical openness would settle for a warm but noncommittal outreach, diminishing hostilities but not calling for the radical conversion and institutional reform outlined in the conciliar decree on ecumenism. The last twenty-five years have been a reward-ing and challenging pilgrimage for the Roman Catholic Church and for its Christian partners on the road toward full visible unity. Those who would consider the ecu-menical movement dead have not been following the lit-erature nor have they felt spiritual bonds of communion becoming stronger as many ofhers have. The Holy Spirit has been very much at work, but not all have yet been vis-ited with the gift of conversion. It is small wonder that, as the Roman Catholic Church assesses its ecumenical involvement and charts its course for the future, its Directory for the Application of Principles Jeffrey Gros FSC works in the Secretariat for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs. His address is 3211 4th Street N.E.; Washington, D.C. 20017-1194. ecurnenJsrn November-December 1993 849 Coos * The Ecumenical Vocation of Reli#ous and Norms on Ecumenism (June 1993) gives special emphasis to ecumenical formation.~ Indeed, the ecumenical movement has been so successful that a whole genre of literature has emerged, resulting from the ecumenical dialogue, that calls for both spe-cialized study and incorporation into the spiritual life of all Catholics, including religious. Twenty-five years ago it was pos-sible to be ecumenical merely by being open to and supportive of the general conciliar position and by praying for the unity of the church. Today ecumenical commitments have become a richer and more complex spectrum. Most religious-formation programs gave emphasis to ecumenism a decade or two ago. They need evaluation today to see if they continue faithful to the develop-ments of this part of Catholic identity. In the new Directory there is for the first time a specific section devoted to institutes of con-secrated life and societies of apostolic life, not only laying out principles, but also proposing delegates and commissions for ecu-menism at the highest levels in religious institutes.2 This Directory is a help towards renewal. It covers such top-ics as the basis in Catholic theology for ecumenical commitment; the structures in the Catholic Church--including religious com-munities- to support the ecumenical commitment; ecumenical formation of the laity and the clergy, and within specialized min-istries and institutions; spirituality as it pertains to common bap-tism, marriage, and sacramental sharing; and cooperation and common witness. After a short introduction this essay will be lim-ited to some rather general comments on two issues: ecumenical formation and collaboration. Religious have been instrumental in Roman Catholic ecu-menism- such pioneers as Congar, Tavard, Rahner, and Dulles. Some religious communities have prayer and work for the unity of the church as their charism, like the Graymoor friars and sis-ters and the Paulist fathers? Others have set up special supports for the ecumenical movement, like the Jesuit Society of Ecumenists and the Benedictine centers at Collegeville, Chevetogne, Turvey, and Niederaltaich. Outreach programs to incorporate lay people in, for example, Jesuit, Mercy, or Lasallian spirituality and apostolates have been thoroughly ecumenical in their membership and formation. Schools, hospitals, and other institutions animated by religious in leadership positions have pioneered the ecumenical program of the Catholic Church. Among diocesan ecumenical officers are many religious. Where 850 Review for Religious shared mission is a priority, the baptismal basis and commitment to full ecclesial communion are central to the common forma-tion of the fellow Christians who are brought into collaboration with Roman Catholic religious according to their particular charisms. These developments, like the other elements of renewal, have been adapted according to cultural context and the quality of vision provided by ecclesiastical and religious leadership. The Context Certainly many bishops and religious superiors will use the occasion of the publication of the Directory as an opportunity to train specialists in ecumenical leadership, much as retraining in canon law developed after the publication of the 1983 Code.4 As in biblical, social, and liturgical renewal, expertise is necessary in ecumenism. It is essential, however, that all religious, lay, and clerical members of the church be formed ecumenically as part of their spiritual and apostolic life. The Second Vatican Council clearly asked Catholics to reach out in love to all other Christians with a charity that desires and works actively to overcome in truth whatever divides them from one another. For the council, Catholics are to act in hope and in prayer to promote Christian unity. They will be prompted and instructed by their faith in the mystery of the church, and their ecumenical activity will be inspired and guided by a true understanding of the church as "sacrament or iristrumental sign of intimate union with God, and of unity of the whole human race.''s In this sho~'t essay attention will be called to the ecumenical dimension of Roman Catholic spirituality and identity in its pres-ent challenges. Among the institutional supports to religious involved in the ecumenical movement is the National Ecumenical Consultation of Men and Women Religious. This .group's publication of Religious for Christian Unity as an ecumenical resource and direc-tory and its sponsorship of a national ecumenical conference under the theme "Toward a Communion in Faith Life and Witness" are indications of a certain maturity.6 Although there has been an international ecumenical consultation for twenty years, the United States consultation is only nine years old. It is sponsored in part by the Conference of Major Superiors of Men and the Leadership Conference of Women Religious. With the publication and the November-December 1993 851 Gros ¯ The Ecumenical Vocation of Reh~ous May 1993 conference, the specific ecumenical contribution of religious begins to have a higher profile. For the first time, the Directory proposes a structure within religious congregations to assist in the ecumenical activity of com-munities at all levels: It is very opportune that the various institutes of conse-crated life and societies of apostolic life establish, on the level of their central authorities, a delegate or a commis-sion charged with promoting and assisting their ecumenical engagement. The function of these delegates or commis-sions will be to encourage the ecumenical formation of all the members, aid the specific ecumenical formation of those who have particular offices, and act as advisors for ecu-menical affairs to the various general and local authorities of the institutes and societies, especially for initiating or carrying forward the activities described [in the Directory].7 This initiative will elicit considerable work on the part of major superiors, general councils, and chapters. The implications of this proposal will need to be developed in writing for the var-ious institutes. For this project the Directory will be useful. Elements of the Ecumenical Spirituality At the root of loyalty to Christ's will for the church and for church unity is the process of conversion, personal and institu-tional, s There are cultural dispositions that make the formation for such a conversion more or less easy. Of course, a prayerful open-ness to the Holy Spirit's action in the church, in other churches, and in fellow Christians is foundational. Because ecumenism with all its human and moral require-ments is rooted so profoundly in the mysterious working out of the providence of the Father, through the Son and the Spirit, it reaches into the depths of Christian spirituality. It calls for [a] "change of heart and holiness of life, along with public and private prayer for the unity of Christians. ¯ ." Those who identify deeply with Christ must identify with his prayer, and especially with his prayer for unity; . . ¯ those whose lives are marked by repentance will be espe-cially sensitive to the sinfulness of divisions and will pray for forgiveness and con, version. Those who seek holiness will be able to recognize its fruits also outside the visible boundaries of their own church.9 However, studies of seminary formation that were made by 852 Review for Religious diocesan ecumenical officers demonstrate that the most effective ecumenical formative experience is growing up in an interchurch family. Other elements that contributed most to the ecumenical dimension of priestly formation in the United States are (I) internship with an ecumenically effective priest, (2) ecumenically effective spiritual directors, (3) internships with an ecumenically informed non-Catholic minister, and (4) experiences in ecu-menically mixed clinical pastoral education programs. All of the seminaries report that the ecumenical dimension is fully inte-grated into the curriculum. The Directory will be helpful for eval-uating these claims. As sketched out by the council, the elements of Roman Catholic participation in the ecumenical movement include (1) the ecumenical dimension of spirituality, (2) theological dialogues leading to deeper understanding and toward full church unity, (3) collaboration in common witness and service, and (4) internal renewal of the members and structures of the church in response to ecumenical commitments. Attention needs to be given to each of these dimensions in initial and continuing formation and in the ongoing life of a religious community or parish. Ecumenical Spirituality for the Church An ecumenical spirituality is at the center of every aspect of the renewal of religious and lay life in the church. Without con-version to Christ's will for the church--in this case its visible unity and Roman Catholic contributions thereto--any theologi-cal, institutional, or educational progress towards full commu-nion will be superficial. If, on the other hand, Catholics are fully committed to all to whom they are bound by real, if imperfect, communion in baptism and to Christ's will for the visible unity of the church, then no setbacks on the road toward that unity will discourage them or make them complacent about divisions: The ecumenical movement is a grace of God, given by the Father in answer to the prayer of Jesus and the supplica-tion of the church inspired by the Holy Spirit. While it is carried out within the general mission of the church to unite humanity in Christ, its own specific field is the restoration of unity among Christians. Those who are baptized in the name of Christ are, by that very fact, called to commit themselves to the search for unity?° Noventber-Decevnber 1993 853 Coos ¯ The Ecumenical Vocation of Religious While individual religious and some communities have given considerable leadership to church reform in general and ecu-menism in particular, identity problems also affect the relationship of religious and the church. The Nygren/Ukeritis studies show that United States religious have "a stronger ecclesiology than Christology." ii This is not surprising, given the Roman Catholic The vast amount of ecumenical literature that has emerged in the last thi'rty years can help people renew their understandings of sacramental faith together. understanding of spirituality. I would understand this conclusion to mean that Christ is experienced more sacramentally, communally, and in mission than in indi-vidualistic or contemplative encounters. Such a focus on community can mean two things, as a resource for Catholic ecu-menical commitment. In one instance it can mean a more closed and sectarian approach, where primary religious identity and meaning come from the proximate religious community, its institution~ and ministry, rather than from Christ's wider will for the church and the world. Needless to say, this provides a weaker basis for ecu-menical conversion and formation. On the other hand,this ecclesiocen-tric spirituality could indicate that the experience of Christ is primarily in the call to community in the church, in the wider Christian society, and in the whole human family. At this stage in the reporting of the data, "ecclesiology" is yet to be defined. Be that as it may, the fully Catholic religious sees his or her sacramental life as yet defi-cient, short of the full communion of all Christians around the eucharistic table. The data from the same study shows religious to be "clear in their lowered respect for the magisterial authority of the church and the U.S. hierarchy in. general.''12 These words, negative as they sound, may however be interpreted as a critical fidelity to the Holy Spirit's call to the church for its renewal. A higher ideal for the church, its renewal, its leadership, and its eventual unity may not be so much "lowered respect" as elevated expectation and longer-range vision. The movement toward Christ's will for a united church is a critical fidelity for all of the churches involved in the ecumenical movement. 854 Review for Religious The vast amount of ecumenical literature that has emerged in 'the last thirty years can help people renew their understandings of sacramental faith together. The agreements on "justification by grace through faith" with the Lutherans, for example, provide an important contribution to faith development, self-under-standing, and spiritual direction?3 These documents will not reach their full fruitfulness unless they transform the prayer life, litur-gical celebration, and community understanding of the churches that produced them: Catholics should also give value to certain elements and goods, sources of spiritual life, which are found in other churches and ecclesial communities, and which belong to the one church of Christ: Holy Scripture, the sacraments and other sacred actibns, faith, hope, charity and other gifts of the Spirit. These goods have borne fruit for example in the mystical tradition of the Christian East and the spiritual treasures of the monastic life, in the worship and piety of Anglicans, in the Evangelical prayer and the diverse forms of Protestant spirituality. This appreciation should not remain merely theoreti-cal; in suitable particular conditions, it should be completed by the practical knowledge of other traditions of spiritual-ity. Therefore, sharing prayer and participating in some form of public worship or in devotional acts of other Christians can have a formative value when in accord with existing directives.14 Religious have a unique role in translating these intellectual con-tributions into popular piety. Indeed, several ecumenical books on the Blessed Virgin have already provided an invaluable resource, as can be noted by the many languages into which they have been translated,is The lives of ecumenical figures from Luther to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., from John WeslEy to C.S. Lewis, have enr.iched the spiritual reading of a generation and made the divisions both more clear and more subject to the healing power of the Holy Spirit. The modern availability of the spiritual classics from the full range of ecumenical sources, Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox, and Anglican has enabled all to be enriched. The living presence of fellow Christians with whom we share Christ--in a variety of traditions, but with a common will to be obedient to Christ's call to visible unity--is a rich complement to the liturgical, bio-graphical, and literary gifts we receive from one another. Like the charisms of the various religious communities and their November-December 1993 855 Gros ¯ The Ecumenical Vocation of Religlous founders, each church brings to a united church gifts we dare not lose as we reconcile our divisions. More particularly, giveR the legitimate variety of charisms and of the work of monasteries, institutes of consecrated life, and societies of apostolic life, it is very important that "all communities should participate in the life of the church. According to its individual character, each should make its own and foster in every possible way the enterprises and objectives of the church," including the "ecumenical field.''~6 In addition to personal and communal ecumenical spirituality, an "ecumenical hermeneutics of piety" will need to be developed as we move forward towards full communion?7 Indeed, as the "lineamenta" document for the 1994 synod notes, the baptismal consecration, beyond the narrow borders of the Roman Catholic Church, is the criterion for our communi-tarian outreach: As a reflection of church communion, the community is not a unit closed in.upon itself. Rather, it is open to the multiplicity of relationships with others which are provided by prayer, apostolic service, and collaboration with other members of the church, all of whom share in the same bap-tismal consecration and are called to holiness and mission in the variety and complementarity of each vocation. In its communitarian aspect, the role of the consecrated life is to offer to all members of the people of God the supreme value of the charity of Christ's disciples, lived in perseverance in fraternal communion.~8 Likewise, the agenda of the synod is very explicit about the spe.cificity of the spiritual calling: Those in the consecrated life have a special role in this ecu-menical task, in dialogue with the spiritual experiences akin to those of other churches and Christian confessions, in a spiritual ecumenism of conversion, prayer, dialogue and mutual edification, always in kedping with their proper iden-tity in the faith and their charism?9 Formation for an Ecumenical Spirituality While prayer and ecumenical openness are central to the ecu-menical vocation of Catholics, including the religious communi-ties, this spirituality also has specific intellectual content. It is a truism that one cannot be an effective ecumenist from any tradi- 856 Review for Religious tion without being firmly grounded in one's own faith and iden-tity. 2° However, 'the intellectual content of the ecumenical move-ment, including Roman Catholic principles and history within that movement, is an essential component for the formation of any ministry in the church, lay, clerical, or religious. In addition to the foundational principles enunciated in the conciliar and postconciliar docu-ments, 21 there has been a rich harvest of dialogue agreements.~ All of these texts are resources for spiritual and intellectual " renewal, requiring the same level of delib-erate systematic effort as did the early days of the biblical and liturgical renewal. Until leaders in our institutions, dioceses, and religious communities become well formed in these matters, their spirit will not be able to come alive in our Catholic life. Indeed, these dialogues and the researches and methodologies that stand behind them transform not only our appreciation of our own Catholic faith, but also of the changes necessary if our insti-tutions and practices are to be converted to reach the ideal we outline with our ecumenical partners. As was noted above, the curricula of seminaries have been transformed by the ecumenical movement. Those who receive their training in ecumenical con-sortia are probably the most sensitive to the ecumenical dimen-sion, but no one taking a Catholic scripture course can be ignorant of the full integration of Catholic and Protestant biblical schol-arship since the council. Similarly, any competent liturgy or sacramental-theology course will be informed by the vast literature that has come from the World Council's "Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry" processz3 over the last decade and from the bilateral agreements of a wide variety of churches. Soteriology, spiritual development, and eccle-siology are all informed by the Lutheran/Catholic work on grace cited above. Ecclesiology will include not only the principles of Catholic ecumenism, but also the work done in the World Council and in various dialogues on such topics as the local and the uni-versal church, religious liberty and proselytism, and papal pri- One cannot be an effective ecumenist from any tradition without being firmly grounded in one's own faith and identity. November-December 1993 857 Coos * The Ecumenical Vocation of Relig4ous macy and infallibility. The Directory gives helpful detail for plan-ning both clerical and nonclerical religious formation.24 For the first time a section in this Directory sets the stage for the work of ecumenical formation among religious: While the concern for restoring Christian unity involves the whole church, clergy and laity alike, relig

Issue 15.2 of the Review for Religious, 1956. ; MARCH ]5', 1956 VOLUME XV NUMBER 2 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS VOLUME XV FEBRUARY, 1956 NUMBER 2 CONTENTS MOTHER CORNELIA CONNELLY--Mother Mary Eleanor, S.H.C.J.57 THE MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE-~--Bernard Leeming, S.J .6.9. SUMMER SESSIONS . 90 SISTERS' RETREATS--II--Thomas Dubay, S.M .9.1. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS-- 9. Entrance Fee for Postulants and Novices . 97 10. Residen~ Chaplain as Confessor . 98 11. Legal Protection Against Remuneration for Services . . . 99 12, Correspondence with the Vicar Also Exempt .100 13. Washing of Purificators, Palls, and Corporals ., . .: . . . :. 101 14. New Rubrics for Little Office of the B.V.M .1.0.1 15. Sending Letters to Superior General .102 16. The Meaning of a Plus Book . 102 BOOK REVIEWS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS-- Editor: Bernard A. Hausmann, S.J. West Baden College West Baden Springs, Indiana . 103 CATHOLIC ALMANAC, 1956 . 112 OUR CONTRIBUTORS . 112 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, March, 1956. Vol. XV, No. 2. Published bi-monthly: January, March, May, July, September, and November, at the College Press, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas, by St. Mary's College St. Marys, Kansas, with ecclesiastical approbation. Entered as second class matter, 2anuary 15, 1942, at the Post Office, Topeka, Kansas, under the act of March 3, 1879. Editorial Board: Augustine G. Ell~d, S.3., Gerald Kelly, S.3., Henry Willmerlng, S.3. Literary Editor: Edwin F. Falteisek, S.J. Copyright,'1956, by Reoieto for Religious. Permission is hereby granted for quo-tations of reasonable length, provided due credit be given this review and the ahthor Subscription price: 3 dollars a year; 50 cents a .copy. Printed in U. S. A~ Before writing to us, please consult notice on inside back cover. The Myst:ici m of Obedience Bernard keeming, S.J. ALL great things are simple. God is great and God is simple. If we are united with God's will, we are uiaited with God,. because God's will is" God. And if we are united with God, we are united with F~ither, Son, and Holy Ghost; for the Trinity is simple also. Obedience is a great thing and obedience is simple. "If you love me, ke~p my commandments" (John 14: 15). If you wish to be perfect, just~ do as y~u are told. "He that keepeth my commandments, is he th~at loveth me, and he that loveth me, ~hall be loved of my Father, and I will love him and will manifest myself to him" (John 14:2.1). In obedience we truly receive a revelation of Christ. St. Teresa gives several rexamples Qf what she thought sim-plicity or ":innocenc'e" in obediende. At Avila, she, says, "One thing I remember, which is this: once'in the refectory we had cucumbers given us'for our portions, and to me a very small one, "rotten within. Pretending not to l£e aware of. thi), I called a sister, one of the most able and sensible in the h'ouse, and, to try her'obedi-, ?nce, told her to go and plant it in a .little garden we had. She asked me Whether it was to be planted endways or sideways. I told her sideways, She went and planted it, without thinking that it could not possibly fail to die. The. fact that she was acting under obedi-ence made her natural reason blind, so that she believed that what she did was perfectly right" i( Foundations, ed. Lewis, p. 6). And, probably at Toledo or Mailagon, she narrates: "To a prioress came a nun, and showed her a very large worm, saying, 'Look how beautiful it is!' The prioress in jest replied 'Then go and eat it,' She went and fried it. The Cook asked her why she fried a worm, and she answered, 'To eat ;it,' and would have done so. Thus thro,ugh a great carelessness of that prioress that nun might have done herself much barni" (ibid., p. 161)." For my own part, fear I wonder if the two nuns in question were quite so simple as St, _Teresa imagined they were! However, not to delay on planting cucumbers or frying worms, there are four considerations we make about obedience which show that there is a great mystery in it, and a great reality' Of union with God. , 69 BERNARD LEEMING Review for Religious 1. Our Saviour's obedience to His Father reveals to us some-thing of the eternal relations of the Blessed Trinity. 2. Through obedience we attain union with Christ and with His Father in the Holy Ghost. 3. Our Saviour's obedience sums up the mystery of the Re-demption of mankind. 4. Through obedience likewise we "cooperate with Christ, in a true sense make one with Christ, in His redeeming and saving mlSslon. CHRIST'S OBEDIENCE AND THE BLESSED TRINITY Nothing is dearer in the Gospels than that Christ is one with the Father in understanding, willir~g, accomplishing, and in very being. Christ's teaching was at once His own, and yet in a sense, not His own but the Father's: "My doctrine is not mine, but His who sent me" (John 7:16), that is, the teaching is not Christ's alone, but'equally the Father's: it is not' Christ's as separated from God. "He who sent me is true, and the things I have heard of Him, these same I speak in the world . I do nothing of m;fself, but as the Father has taught me, these things I speak" (John 8:26, 28). Even the Father does not judge alone: "Neither doth the Father judge any man, but hath given all judgment to the Son" (John 5:22); and yet the Father does judge with the Son: "Arid if I do judge, my judgment is true: because I am not alone,but I and the .Father that sent me" (John 8:16). Hence it is that acceptance of Christ is acceptance of the Father: "He that believeth in me, doth not believe in me, but in him that sent me . I have not spoken of myself; but the Father who sent me, he gave me com-mandment what I should say and what I should speak" (John 12: 44, 49). Incidentally, the same is true of the Hol~ Ghost: He, too, "shall not speak of himself: but what things soever be shall hear, he Shall speak . . . he shall glorify me, because he shall receive of mine" (John 16:13). Only the Father has knowledge without origin; the Sod and the Holy Ghost bare the same identical knowledge, but from the Father. In the same way, Christ says that He did not come to do His own will, but the will of Him who sent Him. None can doubt that Christ's will was for the salvdtion of men: "I am~ the good shepherd. The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep . . . therefore doth the Father love me, because I lay down my life 7O March, 1956 THE MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE that I may tak~ it again" (dohn 10:il, 17). And yet He says: "I came down from heaven not to do my own w, ill, but the will of Him that sent me" (3ohn 6:38 andcf, v. 30). The heart of Christ is not more compassionate nor more tender than the heart of His Father: "For God so loved the world, as to give His only begotten Son: that whosoever believeth in him,' may not perish, but may have life everlasting" (John 3:16). The will of the Father and the will of the Son for the salvation of the world is the same, "for God sent not his "Son into the world, to judge the world, but that the world might be saved by, him" (John 3:17). This unity of will is touchingly manifest.on the death of Lazarus. Jesus had wept, "and the Jews said, "Behold bow be loved him." And when the stone was removed, lifting up his eyes, He said: "Father, I give thanks that thou hast heard me. And I know that thou hearest me always; but because of the people who stand about I have said it, that they may believe that thou hast sent me." Then He cal.led the dead man out of the tomb. He knew His Father's will was to do what He wished. They willed the same, and Christ's human will was perfectly in accord with His Father's divine will. Christ's power is the same as His Father's. "The Son cannot do anything of Himself, but what he seeth the Father doing: for what things so ever he doth, these the Son Mso doth in like man-ner. For as the Father raiseth up the dead and giveth life: so also the Son giveth life to whom he will" (John 5:20). "If I do not the works of my Father, believe me not" (John 10:37). The works, of course, referred pri'marily to the miracles: stilling the storm, feeding the five thousand, giving sight to the blind man, raising Lazarus from the dead;, but they include all that Christ did. "Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father in me? The words that I speak to you, I speak not of myself. But the Father who abideth in ,me, he doth His own works" (John 14:10). But the unity of power is most clearly showia when Christ speaks of protecting His sheep: He knows His sheep and they follow Him and He will give them life everlasting. "No man shall pluck them out of my hand." Whence this absolute confi-dence that no created power can steal away His sheep? "No one can snatch them out of the hand of my Father. I and the Father are one" (John 10:29, 30). His power is the same as His Father's All that Christ'has is given. Him by the Father; and the Father holds nothing back from the Son, not even His own life. His dis- 7.1 BERNARD LEEMING Review /:or Religious ciples wh~ weke,faithful to Him were given Him by His Father: "Thine they were, and to me thou gavest them" (John 17:6). deed, all the Father has, is the Son's: "All my things are thine, and thine are mine" (John 17:1Q). "The Father loveth the Son, and he hath given all things into his hand;' (John 3:35). And . before the washing of the feet, perhaps surprisingly~ St. John tells us: "Knowing that the Father had given him all things into 'his hands, and that he cache from God and goeth to God: he "riseth Trom sup-per, and layeth aside his garments, and having .taken a ,towel, girded himself'" and put the water into a basin and began to wa~sh ¯ ,the feet of the disciples (John 13:3 ff.). His knowledge that all He had was of the Father is perhaps the very reason why He wished to inculcate humility; since the Father kept back nothing from Him, He in turn wished to give His service and to show that such humble service is a reflection of the very life of God. But the Father gives even His own life: "As the F'ather hath life in himself, so be bath given to the Son also to have life in himself" (John 5:26). "The living Father has sent me and I live by the Father" (John 6:58). "Philip, he that seeth me, seeth the Father also. How sayeth thou, Shew us the Father? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father in me?" (John 14:9, 10.) Hence it is that Christ is the Utterance of God (John 1:1), the Image of God (II Cor. 4:4), the Radiance of God's splendour and the very expression of His being (Heb. 1;3), the Light of God (John 1:9), the Way to God: "No man cometh to the Father but by me" (John 14:6). Yet in spite of this perfect equality, the Son is sent by His Father, and receives commands from His Father. "Do you say of him whom the Father. hath sanctified and sent into the world: Thou blasphemest, because I said, I am the Son of God?" (John 10:36.) "Thou hast sent me into the world" (John 17:18). After the conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well, the apostles urged Him to eat: "But he said to them: I have meat to eat; which you know not. The disciples therefore 'said one to an-other: Hath any man brought him to eat? Jesus said to them: M_y meat is to do the will of him that sent me, that~I may perfect his work"' (John 4:32-35). His very life, His sustenance and strength consisted in d, oing His Father's will and work. The Father even commands Him; at the very end of the discourse about the Good Shepherd, our Lbrd said: "This commandment have I re- March, 1956 THE MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE ceived bf my father," (John 10:18), and the commandmbnt ap-pears to be that He should be the Good Shepherd, who lays down His life for His sheep. Just before going, to Gethsemani, He said: "But that the world may know that I love the Father, and as the Father hath given me commandment, so do I: Arise let us go hence" (John 14:31). And Of his whole sojourn in the. world, at the end He said: "I have glorified thee on the earth; I have finished the work which thou gav, est me.to do" (John 7:4). Now, of course, the giving of a command can only be because Christ is man; and. yet the commandment, like the sending, reflects the eternal relation between Father and Son. It is the Son who is sent, not the Father: not sent as a servant by a master, nor even as a king might be sent to war by advisers and counsellors; but sent somewhat as a flower is sent forth by a .plant. The temporafl sending, with its resultant presenc,e in a different way--f.6r Christ as God is present everywhere, but as man only in Palestine--re-flects the eternal relation of origin from the Father (St. Thomas, Summa, 1, Q. 43,-a.1). The Father could not be sent, because He is Father; and, although all that He has is the Son's, neverthe- .less that "all He has" and even the divine being is the Son's, al-ways with the relationship of originating from the Father. As of the sending, so too of 'the obedience. That too arises naturally from the eternal relationsh'ip between Father and Son; for as the 'Son originates from the Father in very being, so too do all His thinking and His willing. What our Lord wanted was what or-iginated in the Father, and He could not want anything whatever' which did not originate in the Father. Thus His obedience reflects his eternal relationship to ,the Father and is a manifestation to us of that. mysterious unity of being and nature which yet admits distinctive of persons. Through our Lord's unity with God by obedience in his incarnate life, we are led on to know his unitY with God in His divine life. , OUR OBEDIENCE AND OUR SHARE IN THE LIFE OF GOD Very often obedience is thought of as a matter of our owrl effort, something we must do, and do with striving and resolution. We must, indeed; nevertheless, obedience is a gift of God. As the Father gave all things to His Son," even t6 having absolutely the same will, so, too, if we are to have absolutely the same will as our Father and as Christ, we must receive it of the Father, through the Son, and in the Holy Ghost. For to have the same will "as God 73 BERNARD LEEMING Reoiew for Religious means that we become sharers in God's nature, as Christ our Lord truly was God and showed it by doing the works of His Father, -while yet remaining a distinct person. There was unity of nature, ot: doing and accomplishing: they willed absolutely the same and tl~is willing the same reflected the unity of being which was theirs. So too our, coming to bare the same will as God can only arise from a unity of being. God's will" IS Himself: He does not change, to-day wanting one thing, tomorrow another; but from all eternity He is His will; and, 'though in time His will is accomplished in different acts, those acts only reflect the will that was unchanging from eternity and conform the changing to the Eternal. "The Father who abidetb in me, He dotb the works" can become true of us, likewise, but only because of the gift of God of Himself, the gift of His abiding in us. And that God should abide in us, surely that is His free gift to us, which no effort of our own could at-tain and no prayer of ours--apart from His desire told to us-- could aspire to ask. God is God and man is man, but His surpass-ing gift is that we should truly become sharers in the divine nature (II Peter 1:4) and hence sharers in His divine will, sent forth from Him as Son and Holy Ghost are sen,t forth, yet completely and utterly one with Him always. This is one of the greatest gifts that God gives us in our vo-cation as religious, to enable us~ to share in that complete self-giv-ing which is the life of the Blessed Trinity, to be enabled to give to Him our last self-possession, our own will and judgment, and by giving it to Him, to receive it back from Him glorious, and divinized,.part even of Himself. "And the glory which thou hast given me, I have given to them; that they may be one, as we also are one: I in them, and thou in me; that they may be made perfect in one" ~Jobn 17:23). "To leave the world and give up exterior pos-sessions," says St. Gregory, "is possibly easy to some; but for a man to give up himself, to immolate what is most precious to him by.surrendering his entire liberty is a much more arduous task; to forsake what one has is a small thing: to forsake what one is, that is the supreme gift" (Horn. 32, MPL 76 col. 1233). And it isthe supreme gift, because it most reflects the life of the Blessed Trinity. Our obedience is grounded upon faith. Military obedience-- aport from the subjective motive of individuals--is based upon practical necessity and utility: someone must decide, and there is not. time to explain the reasons for the decision to each soldieL Without obedience, there would be confusion and defeat. Never- 74 March, 1956 THE MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE theless, military obedience has its limits. Of certain soldiers who refused to obey it was said that "they were to~ intelligent to get themselves killed just to prove that some general was a fool." That is one reason why General M~ntgomery in his book on generalship declares that "it is part of the art of command to inspire and main-tain confidence in the soldiers, and why in his battles he explained a great deal of his plans to the soldiers. But religious obedience has a different basis. It is true that obedience does make for efficient work, for order, for unity. But this is not the reason ultimately why religious obey. We obey because we belieoe, believe that it is God who speaks to us in the person of our superior, and that, consequently, when we do the superior's will, we do God's will and hence are united to God. In this sense, obedience is not a means to an end; it is an end in itself; for by faith we believe that in uniting ourselves to the superior's will we unite ourselves to God's own will, and unity with God is not a means to anything else. This, naturally, supposes that we obey from love of God, git)ir~q ourselves to God in obedience; and thus the utility of doing what we are told to do does not enter in; whatever the effect of what we do, here and now by obeying I am united to God; and, in the absolutely ultimate result, the effect must be good, no matter what the immediate effects. Obedience is like faith. Often, though we know it is fully reasonable to believe, the obscurity of faith comes home to us: hoto can it be that Christ is present beneath the appearances of a wafer? How can a good God permit so many evils? Neverthless, this ob-scurity does not shake our faith, though it may afflict the imagina-tion and the power of reasoning. We know that He is King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and that His dwelling is in unapproach-able light; no human eye has ever seen Him or can ever see Him (I Tim. 6:16). We know that "my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor your ways my ways: for as the heavens are ex-alted above the earth, so are my ways exalted above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts" (Isaias 4:8, 9). Nothing could shake our faith, because it is God whom we believe. Now, similarly, our obedience like our faith involves obscurity. How could God be represented by one so ignorant, prejudiced, and unlikable? How could God ratify so stupid a policy, one based on complete ignor-ance of the conditions? How can God permit this situation to con-tinue, when His own interests are at stake? Such obscurities may indeed trouble our imaginations and even our powers of reasoning; 5 'BERNARD LEEMING Review for Religio-s nevertheless they cannot shake the deep conviction that in obeying this superior, in this policy, in this mariner of proceeding, I am obeying God Himself; I am doing His will, arid notthe ignorant, stupid, or prejudiced will of any creature. My obedience rests on the faith that believes God does act thro,ugh creatures, that He is immanent to creatures and-not afar off. St. Margaret Mary had revelations from our Lord, revelations approved by the Church afterwards; and yet our Lord said to her that she should prefer th'e will of her superiors to a'fly command of His. W~e' look with ey,es of faith, not upon a weak creature, but upon the infinitely holy and infinitely wise God of all consolation, who acts in and through the creature. Blessed Claude de la Colombi~re once wrote: "A Superior may 'govern badly, but it is impossible that G~d should not govern you well by means of him. My dear Sister, let that be your deepest conviction. For if you do not', base yourself firmly on this prin-ciply, you are losing your time in religion: for your whole life is nothing but obedience, arid this obedience.is meritless unless offered to God in the person whom He has put in place of Himself. A:nd we certainly do not turn our gaze on God when we undertak'e to judge, examine and above all to condemn what is commanded us. When it is the Holy Ghost who possesses us, He inspires us with the simplicity of a child who finds everything good and everything reasonable; or. if you prefer, with a divine prudence which discov-ers God in everything,' and recogmzes Him in. all those who rep-resent Him, even in those who are poorest in virtue and in natural and supernatural qualities." (Oeut;res, VII, 109-10, 1853 ed.) = ,In those words Blessed Claude expressed part of the gift of obedience: the inspiration of the Holy Ghost to make us simple, to give us supernatural prudence to see God truly in superiors. St. Catherine of Siena, in her delightful Dialogue ot~ Obedience (trans-lated by Algar Thorold). insists greatly on faith being the means of obedience and teaches likewise that we may progress in obedi-ence. God speaks and says to her: "Now I wish thee to see and know this most excellent virtue in that humble and immaculate Lamb, and the source whence it proceeds. What caused the great obedience of the Word? The love which He had for My honour and your salvatiofi. Whence proceeded this love? From the clear vision with which His soul saw the divine essence and the eternal Trinity, thus always looking on Me, the eternal G6d. His fidelity obtained this vision for Him, and most perfectly, ~ which vision you 76 March, 1956 THE MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE imperfectly enjoy by th~ light,of holy faith" (Ch. 135). And thig vision both comes through obedience and fosters obedience. "Does the weight of obedience," she asks, "cause the obedient man pain? No, for he has trampled on his own will and does not care to ex-amine or, judge the will of his superior, for with the light of faith he sees My will !in him, believing truly that My clemency causes him to dommand according to the needs of his subject's sal-vation" (Ch. 140). "Obedience gives a !ight in the soul, which shows whether she is faithful to Me and her order and superior, in which light of holy faith she forgets hersel£; for by the obedience which she has ac-quired through the light of faith, she shows that her will is dead' to its own feeling, and seeks the advantage of others and not her own. Just as the disobedient man who examines the will, of his superior, may ju.dge~it according to his own low opinion and dark-ened knowled~ge instead of judging his own perverse will which' gives him death, the truly obedient man, illumined by faith, judge's ~the will of his superior to be good, and therefore does not examine it, but inclines his bead and nourishes his soul with the odour of true and holy obedience. And this virtue increases in the soul in proportion to the shinin~.l of the light of fhith, with which the soul knows herself, and Me, whom she loves, and humbles her-self; and the more she loves Me and humbles herself, the more obedient she becomes, for, obedience, and her sister patience prove whether the soul is in truth Clothed with the nuptial garment of charity, which is necessary to enter into eternal life" (Cb. 44). St. Teresa of Avila also declares that obedience is something like a treasure in a mine, Which can only be. dug out gradually and progressively. Speaking of the treasure of complete union with God, she says: "Bellevue me, then there is no better way of finding this treasure than that of toiling and digging so as to draw it forth from the mine of obedience; for the more we dig the more we shall find, and the more we ,subject ourselves to men, having no other will but that of those who are over us, the more we shall master our will so as to conform it to the will of God:' (Foundations, Ch. 5).,~ St. Ignatius of ~oyola puts three degrees of obedience: the first, when wi actually do what we are c6mmanded; the second, when wedo it willingly; and the third, when we submt.t our understandL ing to the superior's and come to have the,lsame judgment as bis: Now these are not necessarily stages through iwhich we hi~ve to pass, 77 BERNARD LEEMING Review for Religious though indeed they.may be kinds of stages through which we pass; but they clearly indicate divisions into which obedience may fall. It is possible to do what we are ordered but to rebel interiorly, or even to grumble and complain and yet carry out the order. It is possible also to cajole a superior into agreement with what we want. This is indeed a certain kind of obedience. Then there_is willingness ,in obedience: to do the thing promptly, perseveringly, and putting our best efforts into it to make it suc'ceed. But the highest degree is' had when we agree with the superior's mind and have the same view and ~outlook on the thing aS he has. It is clear that this last most closely approaches to the obedience of'Christ to His Father: His docffine, was not His own, but His Father's. He judges with the Father; He does not speak of Himself, but as the Father gives Him to speak; and He is the very word of the Father, the expression of the Father, the very mind of the Father: He and His Father are one. If the superior represents God for us, then no lower standard than our Lord's obedience to His Father can content us. How is it possible to be united in mind with a superior who is stupid," unwise, and imprudent in his commands? Christ could obey His Father absolutely because His Father was absolute truth; absolute wisdom; but how can we conform our minds to one who is by no means absolute truth or wisdom? The answer is that where the superior commands, we unite our wills and minds with his exactly insofar as he commands, not necessarily insofar as his command is designed to attain a particu-lar purpose. The purpose of the command is not part of the com-mand. For instance, a provincial superior may order a local superior to be indulgent, or to be severe, with a particular s, ubject. The local superior may on natural' grounds be convinced that i.ndulgence, or severity, is injurious to the subject, that the provincial superior is mistaken in his estimate of the method required. It is here, partly, that the mystery enters; for the theory of obedience holds that the judgment about success or failure is irrelevant: who can tell what, in God's eyes, is success or failure? The order must be obeyed, and in the spirit, with trust in God's over-riding providence: He will bless the obedience, although we cannot see how. For me, I see Christ in the command and that is enough. What does it matter, in the last analysis, about the "success" or "failure" of the policy? God must look to that; and I can leave it to Him, doir~g so the ¯ more trustfully the less I see how He can draw good out of it. 78 March, 1956 THE ~MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE How do we progress in obedience~? Ver~y gener1a1 y at the be, ginning of our religigus life obedience on theI whole is not difficult; there may be strange customs, repugnances to be overcome in ac-commodating ourselves to different points of the Rule. But on the whole, obedience is likely to be taken more or less for granted as part of the religious regime. Nevertheless, sooner or later trials are likely to arise. A superior may not understand us, ol may dis-approve of us; and then obedience can be a very arid affair indeed. There is small comfort in it; and, if one takes literally the superior for God, one is inclined to imagine that a superior's disapproval means God's disapproval. This is not, of'course, strictly irue; for a superior is not judge of our spiritual state, but takes the place of God in telling us what to do. Nevertheless, a superior's disapproval may be a searing trial, especially for some characters; and it is then that one must walk by blind faith, hoping against hope, as it were, that God will bring all right, possessing our soul in patience and bending our minds and wills as best we can. This may be only a purifying trial: to wean us from our purely natural obedience, to prevent us thinking obedience is within our own natural power. Then we can only be faithful, be patient, andtrust God: believing still that He is acting in the superior. But, if we are faithful, the light will surely break through: there can come a certain sense of reverence for God, even in this superior: a sense that we are really held captive by God, and so a certain peace in obeying which is not upset by surges of feeling, whether of depression or of irritation or of rebellion. God is there in spit~ of everything; and somehow fears begin to vanish: in sick-ness or in.health, in success or failure: "For I know whom I have believed, and I am certain that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him, against that day" (II Tim. 1:12). Our trans-formation into Christ proceeds; and His obedience begins to seem a reality to us, and self-will, self-settlement, self-judgment begin to fade away. The memory, the imagination, and even the reason-ing powers may play tricks; but the calm conviction remains that it is good for me to cleave to the Lord, and that at the head of my book it is written that I should do Thy Will, O God. And here it may be well to return to another aspect of Christ's obedience; an aspect which shows how obedience made Him our °saving Victim, and how obedience will unite us to Him in a u~nion truly trarisforming. , 79 BERNARD LEEMING Reoiew for Religio'us CHRIST'S OBEDIENCE AND.THE REDEMPTION OF MANKIND Our Saviour's obedience was neither negative nor passive; He did not merely abstain from forbidden things, nor-did He, as it were, merely wait on events and allow Himself to be governed' by them. It w, as not the case that He came to endure death, and in consequence merely waited for the Jews to come and kill ,Him. On the contrary, His obedience was positive and active. 'He knew in-deed the inevitable end, but He knew that end was to come only as'a consequence of His active obedience to His Father's command to be the Good Sh.epherd. He journeyed from Nazareth to Caphar-nauru through Galilee, up to Cesarea Philippi, nearer Damascus than Jerusalem, and to Bethsaida, and through Sar;aaria, and to Jericho and Jerusalem, probably more than once. Pharisees were attracted to him from every town of Galilee, Judea, and Jerusalem (Luke 5:17). He gathered twelve apostles and seventy-two d~isciples and instructed them. He ,taught the people in the synagogues, in the tqwns, in the fields, on the mountain sides, by the lake sides, His energy and His force, the power he had, roused the fear of thd chief priests and the Jews, and they said: "Do you" see that we preva, il nothing? behold the whole world is gone after him" (John 12:19). He rebuked their hypocrisy fiercely and fearlessly. He drove the buyers and sellers from the temple, "and the disciples remembered that it was written 'The zeal of thy house hath eaten meoUP' " (John 2:17). The Jews put spies to report His words, and to lay traps for Him (Luke 20:19-20). "This command 'have I received'frdm my F'athe~," a command to spread the truth and the charit,y of His Father, even if in ful-filling that command He was to provoke the enmi'ty of the wicked and to draw down death unto Himself. About ,this obedience of Christ, St. Thomas puts the objection: ,"The will of God is not for the death Of ,men, even of sinners, but rather for their life, as Ezechiel ~ays:'I will not the death ofthe sinner but tl~at he should b~ converted and live. Much less then could it have been thd will of God the Father that the most perfect of .all men should be sub-jected to death." And ~he answers: "Although the will of God is 'not for the death of any man, nevertheless God-wills the virtue by which a. man bravely endures death and from charity exposes him-self to the peril of death. And in this.sense was the will of God for the death of Christ, in as much as Christ incurred the risk of death from charity and bravely endured death" (Contra Gentiles, 4, 55, ad 15). "As the Father has given me commandment, so 80 (¢larch, 1956 THE MYSTIC.ISM OF ~)BEDIENCE do I." Christ incurred the risk of death-not by passivity,' but by an activity which provoked opposition, by an actiVity which upset the whole of 3udaea and Palestine. Thus our Lord's obedience was vibrant with energy and was most complete.ly in accord with the mind and intentions and desire of His Father. He and the Father were one, in very being, though not in person; and when the Son became man among men there was One who gave to the most loving God the rndst energetic and loving service and praise, and gave it not on.ly for God's sake, but. for man's sake. It was by His obedience that Christ redeemed the world: "for as by the disobedience of one man," says St. Paul, "th~ many were made sinners; so also by the obedience of one, the many shall be made just" (Rom. 5:19). Surely a great mystery, that the destiny of us all should be so linked with the obedience or dis-obedience of two men: a mystery reflected in minor degree by the mysterious fact that we are all to some degree dependent upon one another in so many ways. It was because of obedience that Christ received the name Jesus. St. Paul tells us" that God in his fore-knowledge of the obedience unto death had given Him the name above all names (Phil. 2:8, 9).; and the angel ordered St.Joseph "and thou shalt call Hi~ name Jesus, ~for He shall save his people from their sins" (Matt. 1:21). Because He was obedient unto death, therefore He has that name above all names: Jesus the obedi-ent, Jesus the Saviour. And because of that same obedience He is a priest forever. Our redemption was accomplished by the sacrifice of Christ, pr.ecisely because that sacrifice was an expression of the 'most ab-solute submission of the will of the Incarnate Son of God to the will of God. St. paul puts it in chapter ten of his letter to the Hebrews: "For it is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats should take away sin. Hence he saith When entering into the world: Sacrifice and offering thou hast not desired. But thou hast pierced ~ars for me (a body thou hast prepared for ine). In holocausts and sin-offerings thou hast taken no pleasure: Then I said: Behold I am come (In the volume so it is written of me) To do, O God, thy will. In virtue of this 'will' we are sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus once for all" (Heb. 10:4 ff., Boylan's, transla-tion in the Westminster versiorl). The line quoted by St. Paul from Ps. 39: "thou has pierced ears for me" is given thus in the Hebrew and in the Douay: but St. Paul probably quoted from the Septuagint. The piercing of ears 81 BERNARD LEEMING Review for Religiod's means the power of listening to God and hence of obeying Him. We find the same usage in English. Children are told by their mothers, "You will not listen to me"--you will not accept my advice nor do what I want; and children in turn think it wrong "not to listen .to me muther." What pleased God in Christ was the complete acceptance of His divine will: the highest offering to God is the offering of the whole b~ing to do His will; and, because it was a divine Person who made that offering with the uttermost perfec-tion as a man on earth, and made it for our sakes, to fulfill God's will that we might be .sanctified, we therefore all receive the power of being made holy through the sacrifice of Christ. There is yet another m~stery in this obedience of Christ: al-though He was God's own Son and knew perfectly His Father's will and loved that will, nevertheless He feels repugnance in the actual carrying of it into effect. One might perhaps imagine that' one so infinitely holy as our Lord would be so lifted up that there would be no feeling of recoil or repugnance from whatever His loving Father willed. Yet we know it was not so. When He was riding to Jerusalem just before the last Passover, certain Gr.eeks wanted to see Him, and He spoke of the underlying mystery of His life and death: "Unless the grain of wheat falling into the ground die, itself remaineth alone. But if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. He that loveth his life shall lose it, and he that hateth his life in this world, keepeth it unto life eternal" and then, mys-teriously, "Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I sa.y? Father, save me from this hour. But for this cause I came unto this hour" (John 12:27). How can He pray His Father to save Him from the pain and suffering and death, when it was precisely to endure them that He came? And yet, His very soul is distressed; it is an anticipation of the agony in the garden, when He "began to fear and t6 13e heavy, and he said to them, 'My soul is sorrowful even unto death' . . . and he fell flat on the ground; and he prayed, that.if it might be, the hour might'pass from him. !~nd he sayeth, Abba, Father, all things ar~ possible, to thee: remove this c~halice from me; but. not what I will, but what thou wilt" (Mark 14:33-35). What His Father willed was not to be fulfilled directly between Him and His Father, but through people like Judas, Annas, Caiphas, Pilate, the Jewish mob, and the Roman soldiers; and it means not only physical suffering but denial of justice, denial of a fair bear-ing'of what He had to say, and. to say not so much for Himself 82 March, 1956 THE MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE but for His Father, for God; 'it meant acceptance of that humanly mysterious providence of God which_ permits so much evil. Our Lord was a real man, with all a man's feeling, instincts, natural reactions: His divinity did not derogate in the least fro'm the full-ness of His humanity. Consequently, He experienced the ifistinc-. tive recoil of the feelings against pain and against death; further, even His natural reason and intellectual choice judged that death and rejection were hateful and in themselves to be avoided, and so His prayer was "if it be possible; let this chalice pass." St: Thomas tells us that our Lord prayed so to show us the reality of His human nature and to show that it is permissible, according merely to natural impulses to wish what God does not wish ("ut ostenderet quod homini iicet secundum naturalem affectum aliquid velle quod Deus non vult," Summa, 3, (~.21,a.2). Nevertheless the absolute choice; when all is conside.re.d, goes out straight to God's will, however repugnant to instincts and feeling and merely natural judgment (Summa, 3, Q. 18,a.6), and is in a sense the more united to God's will, because with His human will He ap-proves the instinctive reluctance of human 'nature, is glad to find it hard; and thus He can make the offering .of submission most truly as a man and with the fullness of His manhood. Not, in-deed, that these natural recoils against the horrors of the Passion in any way divided Christ in Himself, or lessened His glorious ac- ¯ ceptance of His Father's will, or blurred in any way the clearness of His vision--as fears and hopes and emotions do in us; never-theless, He felt the difficulties, even mental, just as acutely and more acutely than we could do, just as He could suffer physical pain as we do, and feel it more acutely. St. Paul spea.ks of Christ's obedience in a,way in which per-haps we might hesitate to do; he says: "Christ during his earthly life, offered prayer and entreaty to the God who could .save him from death, not without a piercing cry, not without tears; yet with. such piety as won him a hearing. Son of God though be was, he learned obedience in the school of suffering, and now, his full achievement reached, he wins eternal salvation for all those who render obedience to him" (Heb. 5:7-9, Knox tr.). St. Thomas, in his commentary on this text, makes this ob-jection: "To learn things, presupposes that one is ignorant of them. But Christ from all eternity~ being God, and even a's man from the first instant of His conception knew everything and had the fullness of knowledge. Consequently, since He knew every- 83 BERNARD LEEMING ~ Reoieto for Religious thing, how can it be said that He learned ,things?" . St." Thom, as answers': "There is a double kind of knowledge, the first being simple awhreness of the truth, and in this sense~Christ was ignorant of nothing. But there is also the knowledge begotten of experience, and according to this Paul says 'He learned from what He suffered [or in the school of experience]',' that is by actu-ally °experiencing. And the Apostle speaks thus because he who learns anything must willingly put himself in a position to learn it. Now Christ willingly took to Himself our weakness; and hence Paul says 'he learned obedience,' that is, how hard it is to obey, becauseoHe obeyed in most onerous and difficult matters, even to the death of the cross. And here he shows how difficult it is to attain the good of obedience. Because they who have not experi-enced obedience and have not learned it in difficult matters, believe that to obey is very easy. But in'fact to grasp what obedience really is, one has to learn to obey in difficult affairs, and he who has'not learned by'obedience to be subject, never knows how to command well and be a superior. Christ, therefore, although from eternity he knew by simple awareness what obedience was, nevertheless learned by experience obedience from what He suffered, that is, in. actual difficulties, through suffering and death" (Cornmentartl in Hebrews, ad loc.). But there is yet a greater myster~ here. The prayers of Christ, His tears, His entreaty to God who could save Him from death, these are not merely individual: they are His as head of the body, as forming one with us. He prays, entreats, weeps, ~uffers .for us and with us. S~. Gregory~Nazianzus says that w.hen Christ prayed upon the cross: "My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me?'" He spoke in the person of all mankind; and adds that this text about learning obedience must be understood in the same way: ':Having taken the nature of a slave, He condescends to enter fully into the life of His fellow-slaves and of slaves generally; and assumes a form different from His own, bearin'g the whole of me and all that I am within Himself, in order that in Himself. He may melt away my lower self, as fire the wax and the sun the morning mists, in order that I, through fusion with Him, may take in exthangeall that is His. Hence in very deed does He honour obedience and make trial of it in suffering. For the mere intention was not enough, just as it is not enough for us, unless we 'carry it out in act. For the act is the proof of the intention. Nor would it be far wrong to" understand that. He experienced our obedience and measured all 84 March, 1956 '~. THE MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE human things by, His own sufferings, and did so because of ,His affection and love for men: so that He.can estimate our experiences by His own, and reckon by suffering and weakness how much to demand of us and how much to yield to ,our infirmity" (Oratio Theologica 1, n.6; Migne Patres Graeci, 36, col. 109, 112). It was not He alone who was saved from death, but,the whole Of mankin~l who are united to Him, for whom He prayed, for whom He obeyed, "and offered His sacrifice. St. Leo says that the cross was the altar on ~vhich "through that saving victim the of-fering of the whole of ,human nature was a, ccomplished" (Sermo c.3; M.P.L. 54, 324). He ,bears "the whole of me and"all that I am within Himself" and offers His obedience for me to make up for my failures, to transfuse my dull and murky obedience with the radiance of His infinitely glorious obedience; and to* do the same for the, whole of mankind, becoming "hostiam. puram, hostian~ sanctam, bostiam immaculatam'" a sacrifice wholly sincere, holy, immaculate, and hence utterly acceptable to God for all of us. OUR OBEDIENCE AND OUR UNION WITH CHRIST THE SAVIOUR Our Lord is very explicit that "I am the way, the truth and the life. No man cometh to the Father, but by me." .It is only Christ who sends the iSpirit of God (John 16:7) and even the Spirit of God "receiveth of Christ's and shows it to us (John 16 : 15). "And because you are sons God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts'" (Gal. 4:9). "God has sent his only begotten Son into the world that we may live by him" (I John 4:9). There is no way in which we can go to God except in. Christ. There is no right manner of praying which neglects the Incariaate Word, or so tries to dispense with images or use of the imagination 'that-it passes over Jesus of Nazareth. There is no true mysticism save that Which is based upon faith in Jesus Christ. Now our Lord greatly commends obediencd to us. "Whoever shall do "the will of my Father, 'that is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother" (Matt 12:50). Even His own dear~other was dear to Him most of all because she "heard the word of God" and kept it (Luke 9:28). "Fie that bath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me. And he that loveth me shall be lox)ed of my Father: and I will love Jaim': and will manifest myself to him." Our Lord could not make us a greater promise than to be~loved of His-FatheL to be Ioved.by Him, and to receive a manifestation, a re;celation of our Lord" Himself. BERNARD LEEMING Review [or Religious Based~upon these promises, to our Lord, the saints most strongly commend obedience to us'. St. Teresa says: "I believe that since Satan sees there is no road that leads more quickly to the highest perfection than this of obedience, he suggests many difficulties under the colour of some good, and makes it distasteful: let people look well into it, and they will see plainly that I am telling the truth. Wherein lies the highest perfection? It is clear that it does not lie in interior delights, not in great raptures, not in visions, not in the spirit of prophecy, but in the conformity of our will to the will of God, so that there shall be nothing we know He wills that we do not will ourselves with our whole will, and accept the bitter as joyfully as the sweet, knowing it to be His Majesty's will" (Fodndations, ch. 5). The reason for this statement, that our, union with God is in ~vill rather than in any perceptions that belong to our intellectual fac.ulties, seems to be this: anything that we know, we know accord-ing to our o.wn mind; the object known comes into our mind and necessarily to some extent takes on the shape of our mind, and hence shares in the limitations of our mind. The mind assimilates to itself the object known, and in so doing limits the obje'ct in some way. Consequently, we can only know God by means of comparisons, indirectly: in this life we cannot see God directly as He is, because be is too great for our minds to take in. -But the will is different from the intellect in that it does not ~bape the object by drawing the object into itself, but ,rather goes out to the object as it is in itself; the will therefore does not limit the object by its own limitations as the mind do~s. It follows from this, tb_at, although we cannot know God, in this life, exactly as He is, nevertheless we can love God Himself exactly as He is, be-cause our minds can get to God truly ~nd hence our wills can go out to God insofar as He is truly represented in oflr minds, and not insofar as the mind obscures God by imperfect, indirect knowl-edge. I can love a person, even though I do not knov¢ him thor-ougbly: I can know him enough to love him, and it is he himself that I love, and not my own imperfect conception of him. Hence, in this life our union with God is primarily a uni6n of will, although since man is one whole, that union of will reacts upon the intellect and upon all the powers of the soul, and bell~s to greater perception and awareness. One cannot be united to God in will without somehow coming to be aware of that~ fusion of wills and thus coming into almost direct contact with God Him- 86 March, 1956 THE MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE self. St. Catherine of Siena was told that "the truly obedient man , always retains the desire of submission, and that this desire is like an inward refrain of music" (quoted by Marmion from the Dialogue~ on Obedience : Christ the Ideal of the Monk, p. 262). In this way, obedience is really a form of contemplation, simple, easy, and effective; and not wearisome to the bead. "This is what I am or-dered to do. It is God's will for me. I do it. That is God. That is all." Nor is this hindered if our obedience is very active, even if in obedience we must use initiative and ingenuity and resource. It is then that the very powers of the mind are given to God, wl~at intelligence we may have, what force of character, what gift of imagination, even what magnetism we may have to attract others. These are given to God, through the hands of the human beings who represent Him, and used gladly as we are directed~ because there is great security in using all our gifts as the mind of God, represented by a human superior, directs. Nothing could be m6re mistaken than to take the comparisons 9ften used by the saints, of a d~ad body, or an old man's staff, and apply them beyond their real application. They are not used to indicate complete passivity, but to indicate that we make no resistance to being moved from this house to the other, from this post to the other, or, even, that we are content if obedience makes no use of our talents at all. They in-dicate that we are completely dead and nothing but a walking stick as regards our own peculiar ideas when they clash with the su-perior's. Perhaps if the saints bad known of bose pipes, with a strong and full pressure of water in them, they might have used the comparison of a hose pipe which could be turned in this direc-tion or that, made to'give a heavy stream of water or a narrow jet, according as the bands holding it directed. The comparisons mean that the force and power which God may- bare given us is placed utterly in the control of the superior, as representing God; and that by faith we believe that the only good result will come from the union of that force and powe.r with the will of God as interpreted to us by His representative. . Here, too, enters what is called blind obedience. Now to inter-pret blind obedience as unintelligent, stupid obedience would be itself unintelligent and stupid. The more intelligent people are the more they must use their intelligence in order to obey well. The blindness only comes in after all due representations bare been made --and it is part of the duty of obedience to make reasonable repre- BERNARD LEEMING Review for Religious sentations, even to make them forcibly on .occasion-- and the su-perior orders us to do something with which our natural reason does not agree, for which we cannot see the reasons or the reason-ableiaess. It is then that we must be carried by an impulse of the will, blind to natural reasons, desirous only of conforming the understanding to the mind of the superior. And mtich can be done in this way: to close our mental ears to contrary reasonings, to look at it from the superior's side, and to make ourselves well af-fected to our superior. We cannot, of course, assent contrary to the known truth; but often the truth about the wisdom of a course of action can be perceived differently according to the antecedent state of mind in which we train ourselves, and according to the way we allow our minds toact. If we have opened our minds to the reve-lation of 6ur Lord beneath the deficiencies of the human agent, then it is easier to see God's will in what may naturally only look like ignorance, prejudice, favouritisrri, or vanity, So often it happens that lack of the spirit of obedience leads to narrow and restricted views. Obedience can and does take the ,long view. God's providence works oddly. Perhaps God sometimes 'wishes a poor superior, an incompetent superior, in order to use them as a lesson for subjects, or perhaps one special subject, a lesson to teach them what to do, and ~hat not to do, when they themselves are superiors! And to oppose that superior, to magnify his defects, to allow feelings to become ruffled, or depression to take possession of the 'spirit--this is Clearly to oppose God Himself, contrary to what we have promised Him." Perhaps God wants a certain 'work to fail, and to fai.1 precisely through our most obedient efforts and strivings, in order'to obtain some greater good of which we cannot be aware. In this sense, it is perfectly true that obedience, although. its proper fruit may seem to be to perfect the will, :nevertheless also perfects the understanding: it gives the understanding length and breadth and depth, conforming it to the infinite wisdom and knowl-edge of God. Often only in retrospect are we able to see that it was not only virtuous to obey, but was very wise, also. "Because you are conscious within yourselves," says St. Ig-natius of Loyola, "that you have undergone this yoke of obedi-ence for the love of God, to the end that you might, in following the Superior's will, more assuredly follow the divine, will; doubt not, but that the mgst faithful charity of our Lord continually directs you and .leads you in the right Way" by the hands of those whom He gives you for Superiors.''~ 88 March, 1956 THE MYSTICISM OF OBEDIENCE This yoke of obedience: it can indeed bear heavily, it ban chafe and sometimes cut, and force us to go on and on dragging a weari-some burden. Christ Hirhself'felt the burden, and even prayed that it might be lifted from Him. And yet to Him, His Father's charity was faithful, most faithful; and even through the hands of Annas and Caiphas, of Judas and of Pilate, that faithful charity of His Father led Christ in that right way that led to our salvation. Christ obeyed for me. Christ }rusted His father for me. Christ loved me and delivered Himself for met delivered Himself for me not only that my sins migh}: be forgiven, that grace might come to me, but als'o that to me might come the honour of sharing His obedience with Him, of offering the noblest part of me to His Father with His offering, even of making myself one with His self-giving for the redemption~ of mankind. Nothing so unites us to Christ as Obedience;. for perfect obedi-ence gives to Him our liberty, our memory, and our very under-standing. What more" have we that we can give? And this giving is the most perfect charity: if you love me,. keep my commandments. Yet we give them in such simple, often almost commonplace, ways: doing what we are told, be it great or small, be it important or un: important, be it hard or easy. Nevertheless, if we do gi.ve our whole selves to Him in this simplicity of obedience, be sure that His most faithful charity does stay~ with us. Gradually He ta.kes us all: our remnants of self-contentment, our rags of pride, our dirtiness of devious self-seeking; of all these and suchlike His faithful charity gradually strips us: a pain at once and yet a joy, He is meek and humble of heart, even in His purifying of us to make us more fit to share with Him in His unutterably pure sacrifice to God. ,,He fills us with His own love of His Father. He gives us sometimes to feel something of that. joy with which He went to His Father. He allows us sometimes to see that His saving work goes on, even thrbugh me, even through me: but yet not through me, only through Him, and I spoil it, and yet He does not let me Spoil it quite, because it is truly He who obeys in me, and His obeying is of infinite love, even God's own love, The mystery of obedience: it is the mystery °of Christ; the mystery of the Blessed Trinity, in whom all is one, even to the blessedness qf giving of the WhOle and yet" receiving, of the Whole". And yet, it is quite simple: "If you love me, keep my command-_ ments. BERNARD LEEMING To conclude, then: ! 1. Obedience is a good in itself, and not for any utilitarian purpose, because obedience in itself unites me to God; and unity with God is an end in itself. 2. Obedience reflects the unity of Christ with His Father and reflects the divine life in Him. So it does likewise in me. 3. It is through obedience, as such, and not through human advantages secured by obedience, that Christ redeemed us. It is through obedience that we share His redeeming mission, share His power to save souls. 4. Progress in obedience means progress in union with Christ and means, too, greater accomplishment in our redemptive union with Him. With Christ we are co-workers in redemption; but that co-working (s, first and middle and last, union in His obedience. 5. Conkequently, let us pray for opportunities of obedience: that we may do each task because God commands it, that we may find our love and our life in doing His will. If the commands are simple, thank God; if they are difficult--perhaps removal from an office, perhaps subordination to an uncongenial senior--thank God more, for what else" are we for but to obey? SUMMER SESSIONS The Institute for Religious at College Misericordia, Dallas, Pennsylvania (a three-year summer course of twelve days in canon law and ascetical theology for siste.rs), will be held this year August 20-31. This is the first year in the triennial course. The'course in canon law is given by the Reverend 3osepb F. Gallen, S.2'., that in ascetical theology by the Reverend Daniel 2. M. Callahan, S.2., both of Woodstock College, Woodstock, Maryland. The registration is restricted to higher superiors, their councilors, general and provincial officials, mistresses of novices, and those in similar positions. Applications are to be addressed to the Reverend doseph F. Gallen, S.2., Woodstock College, Woodstock, Md. Gonzaga University offers three summer institutes for religious women only. These institutes were inspired by the recent emphasis on the religious formation of sisters. The topics and dates for the institutes are: moral direction for others~ dune 19-30; understanding human nature, 2'uly 2-13; personal holiness, 2.uly 16-27. Gonzaga also offers two institutes for priests only; one on sacred eloquence, the other on-the psychology of the adolescent. For further information write to the Reverend Leo 2". Robinson, S.3., Gonzaga University, Spokane 2, Washington. 90 Sist:ers' Ret:reat:s--I I Thomad Dubay, S.M. APPROACH TO SUB3ECT MATTER |N this second article on our sisters' retreat survey, we will discuss I the retreat master's approach to his subject matter. The first of the questions asked the sisters dealt with the technique the re-treat master uses in setting forth his tea.ching. We can convey what is here meant~ in no better way than by, reproducing the question just as it was asked.To avoid needless repetition, we will indicate the sisters' choices together with the statement of the survey question. Which of the following emphases in meditation exposes do you usually prefer? __many quotations from Sacred Scripture . 27 4.0%) __intellectual explanation of doctrine, principles, etc .115 16.9 %) __emotional approach (stress on beautiful images, language, etc.) .o . :'. . 4 .6%) ____combination of first and second . 195 (28.6%) ¯ __combination of first and third . 16 (2.3%) __combination of Second and third . 28 (4.1%) __mixture of all three . 297 (43~.5%) Further comment: (space p.rovided) From this data several conclusions seem unavoidable: 1. Almost none of the sisters (.6%) want stress placed on the emotions alone. 2. The group of sisters who want any notable stress placed on the emotions is decidedly small (7%). This conclusion is reached by combining categories 3, 5, and 6. 3. The vast majority (91.3%) want emphasis placed on solid intellectual content whatever the combination of emphases might be. This con, clusion is obtained by combining groups 2, 4, 5, and 7. 4. A large minority (45.5%) prefer no emotional appeal mixed in with the intellectual. This can be seen by uniting the results from categories 2 and 4. 5. The frequent use~of Sacred Scripture follows the intellectual approach in popularity among the sisters. The comments of the sisters on this problem are both interest-ing and enlightening. All three, but the emotional element ought to be relatively small. If the intellectual explanation is ignored, women's piety tends to becom~ soft, enervated, spineless. A thought-provoking, solid presentation with enough of the emotional to make it spiritually palatable appears best to me. 91 THOMAS DUBAY Reuieu~ for Religious I believe that principles for religious life should be based on .Holy Scripture. It is only too late that one finds the beauty and worthwhile passages in Holy Scripture. Personally, I have, found myself living in close union with God by just one passage studied in the New Testament at meditation or spiritual reading. Let's have intellectual explanation. If the priest has the ability to express his ideas well so much the better. The use of Scriptu.re must be an overflow from the medi-tative life of the speaker. There has been too much emphasis on' the emotional approach, so why not get meditation on a solid basis for a change? Intellectual and emotional--I don't mean sentimental. God made things t0 be beautiful. Why not~ talk about those beautiful things? A balanced mixture with no excess in any one. Flowery language annoys more than appeals, I think, Father; however, a correct, flfient style helps much--language from the heart to the heart--without being dramatic or emotional. Mixture of all. A retreat group made up of different personalities, characters, men~ talkies, etc. needs meditation exposds that will to a certain extent reach all. Beautiful thoughts stay in the memory much longer than cold cut and dry ones. Women love beautiful things, why not give them to us? I dislike retreat masters who key their meditations to the emotions. Probably they do this because they have been led to think women prefer this. I do not find the e~otional approach "stands up" under the r~alistic test of a year in the religlous life, Exposition of the Sacred Scriptures appeals to me as most fruitful for meditation. (Texts on Public Life of Christ.) Some emotion has its place, undoubtedly, but I think to be effective it requires the most complete sincerity on the part of the retreat master--otherwise it only makes one uncomfortable. Some emotional stress helps, but I resent having my emotions obviously played upon. Besides, the emotional effect is most iikely to wear off. I would like to add emotional approach in the original meaning of appeal to the emotions or affections, not sentimentality, but with much intellectual and doctrinal support. Never emotional. ,Meditation becomes more fruitful, more satisfying as knowledge, of the Scriptures and doctrine increases. Quotation from Scriptures is fine IF that quotation is explained. Content thoroughly intellectual. Manner of presentation depending on the indi-vidual's broad reading, conversations, and own conviction and realization (we need some variety here!). Structure stemming from Scripture. All three. ~owever, oratory (?), (shouting, whispering, and dramatic pauses) can be omitted in ALL exposes. God forbid! (emotional approach) It is amazing how all three sprinkled in can provide the "oil" for my own "ma-chinery"-- in other wolds, "the Holy Ghost can work through all three approaches to fit the individual--don't limit the approach and.keep 'em happy! and thinking. 92 March, 1956 SISTERS' RETREATS "---II IX view of the sisters' observations just given and the numerical data previously noted, it appears that retreat masters should attempt to tailor their techniques accor~ling to the conclusions we have al-ready indicated. AMOUNT OF THEOLOGY We approach now a much-bandied-about question in the circles of sister formation interests: theology. Here we shall view the problem from the vantage point of retreat content, which, of course, touches upon in-service sister f6rmation. The amount of theology desirable in a retreat and the degree in which the sisters un'derstand it were the objects of two questions, the first of which follows: Do you think that the amount of theology ordinarily presented in retreat meditations is __ekcessive '.2__~too little __about right Further comment :__ A notable majority, 486 (72.6 %), of the sisters are well sails-fled with the amount of theology they ordinarily receive in their rdreats, although a sizeable minority, 171 (25.6%), decidedly think they hear too little. A v~ry small gr0ui~, 12 (1.8%), feel that too much theology is presented. The pres~ent writer has the impression from reading the many replies that the more completely educated sisters tend in greater ,.numbers to want more theology in their retreats, whil'e those with less formal training tend in greater nu~nbers to feel satisfied with the status quo. These tendencies are not, however, universal, for there are sister-teachers in college who are satisfied with retreat theology as it stands and some domestic sisters who desire more. The sisters offered the following comments on' their answers: Representative of those who think the theology is excessive: Excessive because of mixed groups of domestic sisters, etc.; otherwise it would be about right. Sisters who think the theology too little: ' Too much "dry" repetition of elementary data on the fundamentals., Religious should be mature and treated as such. o ¯ The more the better. We need it for .our teaching preparations. I have found it of great advantage when theology was much presented, since I only had an elementary education. Superiors should be advised to give books of theology to read to their sisters, if the confessor appr6ves of it, when a sister desires .it. ' 93 THOMAS DUBAY Revieu~ for Religious \ Many sisters are starved for real spiritual meat which can be satisfied only through theology. For many of the sisters retreat time is the only time they get a chance to get some theology. I don't think xve can get too much! Much too little. In some God is hardly mentioned except as author" of this or that law. And the Holy Ghost not so much as heard of. "Religious who think the amount of theology about right: Some tend to overdo it, but I think it appears excessive only if the retreat master uses too many abstract technical terms. I like points of theology brought out since I never studied it as such. Although it is not too little, there could be more as a number of us have the oc-casion to use it daily, Depends on retreat master. I find retreat masters about right; too little usually. Also depends on individual. It differs from a great deal to too little. Perhaps it could be more in most cases. I am satisfied with just the Personality of Christ according to Gospels. Retreat days ought not be a course in theology. If necessary, this should be taken care of otherwise. Some give more, others less, so that on the whole I'd say it evens up about right. As far as I am concerned, a deep theological retreat would be out of place. The mental training of our sisters is too varied to admit of excessive technicality in meditations. Sound, simple explanation of dogma is always welcome. Rather excess than defect. Sisters need solid dogmatic principles always. Do much harm a,mong those taught if they lack principles. Sometimes it is very excessive, but usually about right. However, they often presuppose more theological knowledge on our part than many of us actually possess. For our younger sisters who have had many courses in theology, it may be about right. For our older people and those who because of the work they do, do not continue.their education, it is probably excessive, except where the retreat master takes the trouble to clearly explain his points. Distinguish: amount of theology usually presented--O.K.; skill in bringing out theological implications, e.g., in a meditation on the Passion, without getting dry and classroomish--tbis is rarer. Too much, I believe, would dishearten the less intellectual; too little would make it impossible to form a foundation for the convictions necessary in living a spir-itual life. In coming toa satisfactory conclusion on this whole problem of theology it seems that the retreat m~ister must keep two cardinal points in mind: the sisters' background and his own treatment. March, 1956 SISTERS' RETREAT'S--II Both of these points are so relative that no possible suggestion to be adopted by all retreat masters can be given here. What is excessive for one community (or for one group of. sisters within it) may be too little for a second and about right for a third. Likewise, the same theology in the mouth of one priest may be excessive; in that of another, too little. To adjust the first relative element the retreat master might conduct a careful investigation of the sisters to whom he is going to give his retreat. He could write the provincial superior requesting information on the education and works of the sisters making the retreat and then adapt his methodology accordingly. An appraisal of the second element (the priest's treatment of theology) could be effected by. a simple, one-page questionnaire given by the retreat master to the sisters after his retreats. He could ask whether he had given enough theology, whether his e~planation was simple and clear, and any other question that might contribute to greater efficiency. This information would not benefit the sisters who furnished it, but it could be most helpful in subsequent retreats given by the retreat m~ister. /SISTERS' UNDERSTANDING OF THEOLOGY The sisters were next asked if they thought that the theology that was presented in their retreats was understood. Do you think that the sisters can understand the theology that is presented at least fairly well? __.most of them "do __some do __few do Further comment:__ The breakdown of the answers to this .query is percentage-wise quite close to that of the preceding question. The presence of too many diverse factors, however, prevents us from asserting that this correlation is really significant. For example, on this question some of the sisters answered in an unexpected way. These few indicated that the amount of theology discussed in retreats is too little and then in the present question chose the response ""some do" rather than "most do." Of the sisters ans.wering this question, 517 (76.2%) "think that most understand the theology, 153 (22.5%) that only some grasp it, and 9 (1.3%) that few sisters understand it. For this question it does not seem necessary to divide the sisters' further comments into categories, for their meaning is clear enough as they stand. 95 THOMAS DUBAY I'm not anything when it comes to brain power, but 1 can say. that I understood everything I've heard so far. Most sisters with high school or. colleg'e education can understand. Sisters with elementary education who have grown old with hard manual labor in homes or seminaries cannot. All in my community understand what is presented,, and most do it better than "fairly well.'~ I don't know how other sisters feel about it, but I like it. I think perhaps most of the priests think we have had more theology than we really have had. I certainly feel the sisters would be capable of receiving more if it were given. Before retreat begins we are able rather accurately to predict the outline of the con-ferences, if not .the matti~r of each conference. No challenge! ,. Very poor foundation in theology obtained in thee novitiate. Since most sisters either have a college education or are receiving it, they can under-stand considerably more than is usually offered, i believe. The fact that they might not [understand] would seem to indicate a further need for it. Too often I feel that the retreats are directed prima,rily to the teachers and the others find it difficult to follow ot:' gain much from it. Most' of them do, but not all like it. There is a certain type of nun who likes simple retreats. I do not believe it is a case of sisters failing to understand theology, but a case of retreat masters failing to present theology. Sisters have often gone through retreats without deriving much practical help. All sisters do not have a high inte!ligence and need more explaining. Much depends On the master's ability to make theological truths clear and mean-ingful, A retreat master should conduct the retreat on as high a theological, philosophical,. ascetical, and even mystical a plane as he is able. He should give sisters exactly the same substantial content as he would give to other priests. He need have no fear that they will not be able to understand and live what he himself understands and lives. He should deliver his message however without scholarly verbiage, Latinisms, and all the other .trappings~which' serve to impress rather than to clarify. Through no fault of 'their own, sisters do not have the information to cgpe with this. It is a great m'istake however--and sad to say a common one--to confound a sister's lack of technical theological learning with a lack of intelligence. It is the priest's task to make the technical comprehensible to the non-theologian. This of course demands much more unde~rstanding than does a presentation in the language of the manu'als. Most retreat masters present a very thin spiritual gruel by comparison with what they could give if they. had greater respect for the potentialities of the sisters. ~ The suggestions appended to our discussion of the immediately preceding question would appear to apply to this present problem with equal validity. 96 ( .uesHons and Answers [The following answ,ers are given by°Father Joseph F. Gallen, S.d., professor of canon law at Woodsiock College, W, oodstock, Maryland.] tI,t 9 ' Ih our concjrecjatlon of :sis ers here is a fee c~harcjed for the expenses of the postulancy and noviceshipI. Recently a novice had to have an op-eratlon for append|c,tls. Are tile expenses of th,s operat,on included ~n the fee, or are her parents obl,cjed to pay them? As permitted by can. 570~ § 1, and found at least frequently in all types of religious institutes', the constitutions of nuns and sisters ordinarily d~mand that the ca!ndidate brin~ prescribed clothing and personal effects with her to the postulancy and pay an established sum for the expenses ofthe" Ipostulancy and noviceship. The ex-penses for which payment mawr be demanded are only the ordinary and common expenses of food and clothing. The cost of the medi-cines and similar personal necessities that are usually required may be included under food. The I . ~ordmg of the canon does not permit an exaction for lodging nor for the cost of formation. Much less does it permit that the sum be~ established also for the profit of the institute, as if the,subject wer,e a student of an academy or college. The spirit of the canon is rather that nothing should be demanded if such a polic3r is a practical conform to this spirit at least readiness to grant necessary di Extraordinary expenses, e. g., serious illness, are not inciucJ The institute may rightfully that such expenses be borne b3 cases can readily and frequent'~ dent or inconsiderate to urge possibility~ Superiors should and do the extent of a prompt and cheerful pensationL whether whole or partial. those of :a surgical operation or of a '.d in this fee for ordir~ary expenses. demand, as in the present question, the subject or her parents. However, ~" occur in which it would be impru-his right: If the postulant or novice leaves or is dismissed, the insti}ute is entitled to payment of ex-p~ nses only for the time spe~nt in'the institute. 'Some aspects of the practice should be studied for possible re-vision. The list of things thalt the candidate is to bring with 'her should ,not be so massive as to]dismay a~ay-girl. Perhaps this is male ignorance, but it does not seem efficient to have each candidate bring such objects as towels, sheets, blankets, napkins, and silverware. I should think that uniformity of size and quality would be desir-" QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Re~iew for Religious able in such objects, that the institute could purchase them at a lower price, and that it would be more efficient to increase the fee somewhat. Despite any ancient authority that may be cited for this and similar.practices, I cannot see how personalized silverware contributes to speed in setting up a large refectory and much less to the supposed simplicity and humility of the religious life. Although extraneous to the present question, I would hold the same for a train on the religious habit, which appears to me to be neither simple nor humble and to be at least dubious in the field of hygiene. The customary practice of requiring that parents continue to supply during .the postulancy and noviceship things such as soap and toothpaste and articles of clothing that have been exhausted or worn out is the deceptive economy of money saved, but with un-noted spirit, ual depreciatiofi. The practice does not manifest a gen-erous spirit on the part of the institute and is not apt to engender a spirit of devotion and loyalty in the subject. It may also be the primaryreason why so many professed secure necessities from ex-terns. The psychology of religious infancy can be more lasting and tenacious than that of human infancy, and the usual correlative of stinginess of superiors is stubborn infidelity of subjects to. the ob-ligations of the vow and the laws on poverty. It is evidently con-trary to the quasi-contract of profession for an institute to exact payment from parents for expenses incurred after profession. Free gifts may be accepted. Expenses for food and clothing should not be charged for any period in which the postulants and novices are 'fully applied to the external works of the institute, e. g., as full-time teachers or nurses. It is conservative to state that few parents of religious are wealthy. Many have exhausted their financial capability in giving a son or daughter a high school education. They have sac-rificed any return on a child's earnings by the entrance into religion. Further exactions should not be imposed on them without at least careful and considerate thought. Finally, it is always to be remem-bered that it is extravagance, not~generosity, that is incompatible with religious poverty. ~0 Is it true that a resident chaplain should never hear ÷he confessions of ~'he sisters of the convent of which he is chaplain'? A chaplain as such is not the ordinary, extrhordinary, nor a sup-plementary confessor of the community. He may be appqinted as such. I believe that many would agree with me .in the statement that it is better not to appoint him as the ordinary" or extraordinary 98 March, 1956 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS c~nfessor of the c6mmunity. Anything alSproaching authority, mere friendship, and frequent soc"la 1a1n d b u s'iness contacts can be harmful to the greater efficacy of confeIs s. ion. It is therefore bettek not to ap-point a priest such as a chapla~in or one teaching in the school' with the sisters as their ordinary or extraordinary confessor. Since the confession will be the choice of the individual sister, no such reason exists against his appointment as the special ordinary of a sister or as a supplementary confessor of the convent of which he is,chap-lain. In the latter case he is evidently obliged in virtue of this ap-pointment to hear the confession of any sister 6f the convent who approaches him for confession when there is a just reason and for as long as the just reason continues. There is no question that he will be willing to hear'the confession of a sister in danger of death¯ Inasmuch as he possesses confessioIial jurisdiction for women, he can be both an occasional and a confessor of seriously sick sisters¯ As such he is obviously not to usurp the duty of the ordinary confessor of the community, but he should be willing to hear the confessions of sisters who reasonably request him to do so. He cannot be un-mindful of charity, and his study of moral theology and can6n law should have convinced him that cases of real spiritual necessity occur in all states of life. Furthermore, the Sacred Congregation of the Sacraments has emphasized the principle with regard to the members of any type of community: ". what is especial, ly important, that they should have the opportunity to make a confession also shortly before the time of Communion . . . where frequent and daily Com-munion is in vogue, frequent and daily opportunity for sacramental confession, as far as that is possible, must also be afforded¯"' (Bous-caren, Canon Laco Digest, II, 210.) The Sacred Congregation could not have been unaware of the fact that the only priest who is cus-tomarily present in a house of lay religious daily, especially immedi-ately before Mass, is the resident chaplain or the priest who says the daily Mass. II We are a diocesan concjregation. Sometime in the past we had a particular sister who left; if she had not left, we would have tried to dis-miss her. She was a most difficult and peculiar subject. On leavlncj, she threatened to sue us for the work she had done in the concjrecjation. How could we have protected ourselves.'! Relig'ious progression contains two elements, the taking o;f the vows and a quasi-contract between the subject and the institute. One of the elements of this quasi-contract is that the religious gives 99 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERff Review for Religious over all her. labor to the institute. For. this reason can. 580, § 2, logically declares that anything given to a religious for his work belongs to the institute~ With equal logic can. 643, § 1, declares that a professed religious who leaves or is dismissed may not seek com-pensation for services rendered to the institute. This Canon is in-serted in constitutions approved by the Holy See. It is also under-stood that the same dedication of services applies to postulants and novices. The Holy See in approving constltut~ons adds a provision to can. 643 § 1. This provision enacts'that aspirants on their admis-sion to the postulancy must signa civilly valid document in which they dechlre that they will not demand any remuneration for serv-ices given in .the institute if they leave or are dismissed. The Holy. See of late has also been requiring that this declaration be renewed at the time of perpet[~al profession. It is understood that this pro-vision applies also to the postulancy and noviceship and is to be so wprded. To avoid any future difficulty, "such a provision should be made, even if it is not prescribed in the constitutions. The reason for the renewed declaration prescribed at the time of perpetual pro-fession is to make certain that the declaration will be made at a legal age, since .perpetual~ profession cannot be validly made until the day after the twenty-first birthday (c. 573). -12 Is correspondence'with the vicar for religious exempt from the in~pec-tion of superiors? Canon 611 exempts from inspection correspondence °with the local ordinaries to whom the religious is subject in matters in which the religious is subject to the ordinaries. It is probable that this same exemption extends to corresigondence with the priest delegated by l;h.e local ordinary to take care of the affairs of a igarticular community or of some or all communities of the diocese, since in fact such a priest i's handling the matters that appertain to the ordinary. It can be objected that the canon does not say, "to the local ordinary or his delegate," and fi superior could licitly deny that the exemption is proved.' However, it would be the part of prudence at least' not to subject such mail to any inspection. Religious ~bould be instructed not to be quick td write to the Holy See, the cardinal protector, " the apostoli~'deleg~ite; or the local ordinary, or his delegate. Such letters derriand a serious m~itter that cannot be resolved by recourse to one's own religious, suPeriors. °External authorities and dignitaries'should. 100 March, 1956 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS n6t,be annoyed by, needless a'nd extraneous correspondence; and do-mestic grievances, especially if purely personfil' or subjective, are to be confined by the family walls. How many "washings must alprlest do of the puHficators, palls, and corporals? Purifactors, palls, and cor~orals~ used in the sacrifice of the Mass are to be washed by. a cleric in major orders ,before being laundered by lay persons. The water of thls first w, ashing is to be poured into the sacrarium. The cleric in m~jor orders is obliged to only one ritual .washing; he may'do three if l~e wisbes to do so. The first washing may not be done even by rehglous women without an indult from the Holy See. The local ordinaries in mission countries have the power of granting such perm~ssmn to religious women. Cf. c. 1306, § 2; Cori3nata, Institutiones Iu~is Canonici, II, n. 887, 2*; J. O'Con-nell, The Celebration of Mas's, 256; Collins, The Church Edi[ice and Its AppOintments, 219-2~: Britt, Church Linens, 32; Murphy, The Sacristan's Manual, 12-13; Winslow, A Cornrnentarg on the Apostolic Faculties, 61. " Does the general ~decree on ~he simplification of the rubrics apply to the Lfffle Office of the ELV.M.? The decree of the Sacred [Congregation of Rites is confined to the rubrics of the Divine Office, and Mass, but from analogy the norms on the beginning and ~nd of the hours nSay be licitly used in both the choral and indivi~tual recitation of the Little Office of the B. V. M. The following, is a summary of the ~.ertinent parts of the decree. In beginnin~ both the pub(ic and private recitation c~f the canoni-cal hours, the Our Father, Hail Mary, and Apostles' Cr~ed are omitted; and the hours begin~ absolutely as follows: Matins from Domine, labia mea aperies; Cc~mpline from Iube, dorone benedicere; all others from Deus, tn adtut~orturn. In both public and private recitation, the canonical hours end as follov~s: Prime with Dom~mus nos benedicat; Complin~ with Benedicat et custodiat; all others,including Matins if recited pri-vately, with Fideliurn anirnae.~ The office ends after Compline with the recitation of the ,custo-mary antiphon of the B. V-. M., which is said here only, and Divinum auxiliurn. The indult and indulgences granted for the recit'ation of QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS Sacrosanctae are attached to this same final antiphon 6f the B, V, M. Cf.~ M.'Noir0t, L'Arni du C!erg~, August, 1955, 512, note 2. 15 I wished to send a letter ,÷o ~he superior general, and I believed there was a serious reason why'th~ sehdincj of this letter should hive remained completely unknown to the local superior. How c,oulc~ I have accomplished this without violating our regulations? Correspohden~e with-higher superiors is exempt in virtue of c. 611. Exemption means the right to send and receive determined let-ters without permission, to receive them u~aopened, to send them uninspected, and probably the right to send and receive ttSem com-pletely unknown to the superior. Therefore, a superior is not to open sfich letters; and they are to be sealed before being presented to a s'uperior. The probable right o.f sending and receiving them com-pletely unknown to the superior is founded on the wording of c. 611, which states that exempt letters .are subject to n6 inspection. Article 180 of the Normae of 1901 aflir;ned that th~se letter~ were free of any inspection. It can be argued, at least with probability, that they would be subject to some inspection if they had to be presented to or received by the superior. Ordinarily there will be no special reasons against transmitting these letters sealed through the local superior. However, it should be possible to obtain a stamp unknown'to,the.superior; e." g., by having some stamps in the custody of the local.assistant or another religious. If a subject cannot so ob-tain a ~tam. p and wishes to send an exempt letter free of all inspec-tion,° he may obtain a stamp from other sources. He is to avoid all disedification in such.an act. It is not necessary to go to the ex-treme of having the porter separate all exempted envelopes and hand them immediately to the individual religious. ~16~ Our constifutlons state that the reading at table is to be from a pious book. What is the meaning of a pious book? This article of the constitutions is based, on article 182 of th~ Normae of 1901, which specified that the reading was to be from "some 16ious book." This does not demand that. the .reading be always from~ a ~spiritual book; the interpretatior~.is that the reading should be spiritual or useful. Therefore," the reading mgy be also from su{h book~ as" ecclesiastical histories, histories of'religious in-stitutes, e~clesiastical biog~aphies,'etc.,, and, also from instructive and hppropridte secular works. Cf. Battandie'r, Guide Canonique, n. 303. 102 90o! Reviews [All material for this department should be sent to: Book Review Editor, REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, West Baden College. West Baden Springs, Indiana.] THE MYSTICAL BODY OF CHRIST AS THE BASIC PRINCIPLE OF SPIRITUAL,LIFE. By F~iedr[ch Jurcjensmeler. Translafed by Harrier G. Sfrauss. Pp. 379. Sheed and Ward, New York. 1954. $5.00. If ever there was a work of love; it is Father Jurgensmeier's The Mystical Bod~l of Christ. This is flue not ~nly of its subject matter but also of its authorship" an4 translation. The author, rector of the Archiepisocpal Seminary of Paderborn from 1938 to 1946 and martyr of necessary overwork, wrote only this one book, spending years on it and seemingly integrating his whole life, thought, and reading in it. The translator, Harriet G. Strauss, a convert, worked intermittently for five years under 'the direction of Provost Heinrich Seidler of Dresden putting the book into English. The first part of the book. is a comprehensive synthesis df Pauline "texts concerning the Mystical Body, a synthesis which both leads "the reader to the conclusion that the living union with Christ in the MysticalBody is the core of St. Paul's message and makes him anx-ious to read through the Epistles of St. Pa'ul to discover for himself ,their.wealth ~of meaning~ This section is followed' by a difficult dogmatic_ exposition demonstrating that whether one traces the dogmatic path leading from man to God or the one leading from ¯ God through grace to man, one nevertheless ends up at the same place, union with Christ in the Mystical Body. Thus the Mystical Body dogma, because of its central and fundamental position in dogmatic theology, ,is also the basic prificiple for the ascetical life. The last and most rewarding part of the book shows how the Mystical Body doctrine, 'as the fundamental principle of the as-cetical life, not only balances the roles of grace and human effort in" asceticism, but centers attention on Christ rather than on peripheral matters. It does this because it clearly-shows union with Christ as the center and source of all spiritual life; because it focuses atten-tion on the'sacraments as forces integrating us into the structure of the~Mystical Body of Christ and uniting us more closely with Him; because it regulates private devotion and'the liturgy,: and co-ordinates them into .the sacrificial action of Christ the High Priest;- because without neglecting the moral virtues it emphasizes the the- 103 BOOK REVIEWS Review for Retigiou~ ological as uniting with Christ, because it reveals suffering as the finest living of Christ's life and charity as the chief duty in one united with Christ; because it spotlights the fact that each one of us, no matter how insignificant, has a unique and important personal work to accomplish' in Christ's Mystical Body. ° If there are three strata of knowledge in theology, the topmost for the experts, the middle for eager students, and the lowermost for the average Catholic, then Father 3urgensmeier's work would be on the second level sinc,e it demands concentration and study. The translator-edftor is to be lauded for her work in bringing this book into conformity with Pius XII's~M~stici Corporis, but sh~ has not succeeded in all respects. For example, Father Jurgensmeier's errors concerning the extent of and conditions for incorporation in the Mystical Body, though removed in mor.e evident passages, still persist in less noti.ceable ones. Nor are the quotations from M~stici Corporis always apt in selection and textual integration. Father Jurgensmeier himself has complicated the task of the translator by using the same terms in two senses, sdmetimes within the same sen-tence, wiihout warning the reader. Further, in praiseworthily en-deavoring to clarify the meaning of that special mystical identifica- 'tion with \Christ, he has ambiguously described it as a personal character. But these,qualifications, though meant as a warning of caution too the reader, are not intended as derogatory to this magnificent work. Rather it should be considered, as Archbishop Cushing notes in the Foreword, o"a spiritual masterpiece" which can be reread and reread always with g~eater profit. DAVID d. HASSEL, S.J. I AM A DAUGHTER OF THE CHURCH. A Practical Synthesis of Car-mellfe Splrifuality. Volume II. By P. Marie-Eucjane, O.C.D. Trans-la÷e~: l by SMer M. Verda Clare,: C.S.C. Pp. 667. Fides Publishers, Chicacjo 10, Illinois. 19SS. $6.75. In 1953 Fides Publishers produced the first part of a synthesis of the teachings of St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross (with examples from the life of the Little Flower) under the title 1 Want to See God. The present work brings to a close this bril-liant and compendious study, explaining as it does the; soul's prog-ress from the beginning of supernatural contemplation in the fourth" of the Teresan.mansions to ~the~ ultimate union °with God in the seventh, .104 March, "1956 ." BOOK REVIEWS Anyone interested in the various stages of supernatural and mystical prayer will find this work of great assistance. The author's genius for synthesis--abundant quotations woven together "with commentary into an orderly development--is evident as he treats in turn supernatural recollection and the prayer of quiet, contem-plative dryness, the dark night of sense, union of the will, the dark night of the spirit, and, finally, transforming union of the soul with God in perfect love. His deft reconciling of apparent divergences in the doctrines of St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross is especially notable. Two short sections of the book stand out significantly for souls whose vocation is to be apostles in the modern world, whether or not God has raised them to the higher mansions. The first is Chap-ter X of Part IV, "The Mystery of the Church" (pp. 186-201). Upon reaching a state of union of the will with God (fifth man-sion), Teresa says that the soul is seized with an intense concern for the salvation of other souls. Its eyes are opened to thee.mission it must fulfill in' the Mystical Body. This is what Fath'er Marie- Eugene terms the soul's "~iscovery of the Church." At this point, tvhaetnio, nh eto s kbeet cehffeesc atend e bxyc e~lltehnet usnuimtimnga royf oafll t mhee dni vtoin Ce hprliasnt, oinf sthale-. Mystical Body--a program which dominated' St. Paul's thinking, and which he called the mystery. In Chapter IX of Part V, "The Saint in the Whole Christ" (pp. 606-62), the author b.egins by stressing the exalted and im-perious demands the lov~ of God makes on the soul raised to the sixth and seventh mansions to help in saving other souls. Then in a section'which is almost wholly original, though strictly in har-mony with Teresan spirituality, Father Marie;Eugene discusses the place of contemplation in the lives of modern apostles. It is this section of the book which, he says in the introduction, "he was tempted toe expand. What he has written is most valuable; we may hope that he is able to develop his ideas in their fullness in a future work., Among other sections which may attract special interest., are those on extraordin.ary.favor~ (pp. 243-97), which a.mounts to,a concise treatise on the~subject, and the. lengthy explanation of the dark night of the spirit (pp. 300-506): The publisher .has rendered a distinct .service to American read-ers by presenting these books in English, The typography is well chosen (save, I would say, for the title page and table of contents). 105. BOOK REVIEWS Review [or Religious A handy summary of Teresan spirituality, according to, the char-acteristics of the seven mansions, is printed inside the front cover. The inclusion of a combined index for both volumes would have enhanced the book's value even more. A final word of congratulation must be reserved for the trans-lator, who has produced as smoo.th and' forceful a translation as if the work had been written originally in English. May she turn her hand to other works where less skilled translators" fail to tread! --THEODORE W. WALTERS, TRUE MORALITY AND ITS COUNTERFEITS.' A Critical Analysis of Ex-is÷en÷ialisfic E÷hics. By Diefrlch yon Hildebrand wi÷h Alice Jourdaln. Pp. 179. David McKay Co., Inc., New York. 195S. $3.00. This book, after a brief introduction in which the author clearly states his object and method, contains nine chapters dealing mostly with "circumstance ethics." An appendix, "Allocution du St. P~re d la Fdd~ration. Mondiale des deunessbs "F~minines Catboliques'" (April, 1952) forms the conclusion. As far as can be seen, the book is the work of Von Hildebrand alone. We have ~here a vigor-ous attack both on "situa~tion or circumstances ethics" as well as on "sin m~rsticism." The former, already analyzed and condemned by the Pope in the allocution above referred to, is subjected to a ldnger analysis here. The results are the same--a ringing condem-nation of "situation ethics." The author grants the complexity ~of the individual moral situation, details the pertinent f~ctors'at play therein, but insists with the Pope upon the primacy of universal moral laws. Th~ exaggerations, even the unchristianity, of "~itu-ation ethics" is shown.- The final chapter is a positive statement of Christian ethics. Of more interest and originality, perhaps, are the parts which deal with "sin mysticism," a phrase taken from the German the-ologian, K. Rahner, S.d. This is a.kind of lived .application of some of the principles of "situa~tion ethics" manifested especially in liter-ature. It con'sists in the exaltation'of the tragic~ sinner over the self-righteous, mediocre, or merely conyentionally moral man. Von Hildebrand fi, nds traces of this tendency, in varying~ degress~ in' Catholic writers like Mauriac, Greene, Gertriad~ yon Le Fort and others. Since these Catholic authors~ are read by our students on the college level, at least, teachers of literature will want to read the indictment. Von Hildebrand is certainly not unsympathetic 1.06 March, 1956 ' " BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS towards these writers; he admits~ what he considers the truth they contain, recalls several necessary dtstlnctlons from Catholic ethics, but, in the end, is driven to condemn this tendency in them. --JAMES d. DOYLE, S.J. BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS )kVE MARIA PRESS, Notre Dame, Indiana. Spirituality for: Postulate, NoOitiate, SchoIasticate, l~y Jar~es F. McElhone, C.S.C., is a book on the spiritual life written ex-plicitly fo~ beginners. It !is not a complete treatise on the religious life but alms to lay a solid foundation for such a life. It fills a need long felt by directors of young religious. Pp. 196. $3.00. THE B'RUCE PUBLISHING COMPANY, Milwaukee 1, WiSconsin. Helps and Hindrances to Perfection, by Thomas J. Higgins, S.J., is a sequel to the author's Perfection Is.for You. The readers for whom it is intended'are all ~he members of the Mystical Body of Christ, for each is bound to tend toward perfection. All can find in these pages help and inspiration. Houses where closed lay re-treats are conducted would do well to add both these volumes to the r~treatants library: .Pp. 258.$4.50. CARMELITE THIRD ORDER PRESS, 6415 Woodlawn Ave., Chicago 37, Ill. Mary and the Saints of Carmel, By-Reverend Valentine L. Boyle, O.Carm. This is a book of meditations on the feasts of our Lady and the saints of the Carmelite Order. Each meditation con-sists of a hundred-word biographical sketch, a one-sentence appli-cation, and the prayer of the-saint from the Carmelite missal. It is profusely illustrated in black and white. Pp. 185. $1.50. Carmel--Mary's Own. A History of the Carmelite Order. Part I. The Elian Origin o? Carmel. Pp. 64, 25c. Part II. The Golden Age of Car~el. Pp. 70. 25c. Part III. Carmel in Modern Times. Pp. 68. 25c. CLONMORE AND REYNOLDS, LTD., 29 Kildare St., Dublin. The Spiritual Teacl~ing of Venerable Francis Libermann. By Bernard J. Kelly, C.S.Sp. Founders of religious orders and con-gregations receive many. special graces from God to enable them to guide wisely in the paths of perfection those ,whom God gives them as followers. That is why the writings of. such founders are esteemed and treasured. The Venerable Francis Libermann, founder. 107 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Review for Religious of the Congregations of the Holy 'Ghost and the Immaculate Heart of Mary, left his followers many valuable documents. Father Kelly has put these in the framework of a treatise on the spiritual life and so has made the wise counsels of the founder of his congrega-tion available to a wider circle of readers. Pp. 201. 13/-. DAUGHTERS OF SAINT PAUL, Old Lake Shore Road, Derby," N. Y. In The Daily Gospel we bare a harmonization of the four G~s-pels due essentially to Father Szczepanski, S.J. A portion of the Gospel is presented for each day of the year. Each selection is fol-lowed by a pertinent quotation from the fathers of the Church and a reflection. The reflections were compiled by John E. Robaldo, S.S.P. The text of the Gospels is the Confraternity version. Keep this book hand~; on your desk and nourish your soul with the Words of Life. Pp. 495. Paper $3.00. Cloth $4.00. Bible Stories for Children. Written and illustrated by the Daughters of' St. Paul. The book contains twenty-six stories from the Old Testament and fifty from the New. Each story is illus-trated with a full page attractive picture in four colors. Pp. 165. Soft cover $1.75. Cloth $3.00. St. Paul Catechism of Christian Doctrine. Prepared and illus-trated by the Daughters of St. Paul. There are six books in the set, one for each grade from one to six. They are richly illustrated in four colors. "Each lesson is divided into three parts: Catechism, Sacred Scripture, and Liturgy. Single copies retail for from 30 to 60 cents. DESCLEE COMPANY, INC., 280 Broadway, New York 7. A Short Histoql of Philosophg. By F. J. Thonnard, A.A. Translated by Edward A. Maziarz, C.PP.S. This is an excellent philosophical presentation of the major trends, schools, and leaders of Western philosophic thought. The intrinsic connection between the presuppositions, basic principles, and doctrines of the major philosohers is emphasized and their thought is briefly evaluated in" the light of Thomistic principles. The. work has excellent bibli-ographies and a valuable doctrinal table. This Efiglish translation, though faulty, will be welcome. Pp. 1074. $6.50. DOYLE AND FINEGAN, Collegeville, Minnesota. The-Simplilication of the Rubrics. Text of the Decree toitb Commentar~.1. By Annibale Bugnini, C.M. Translated by Leonard J. Doyle.~ Father Bugnini's commentary is by far the best that 108 March, 1956 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS has appeared so far and will do much to give a better understanding of the new rubrics. Pp. 131. $1.50. Order for Office and Mass, 1956. This is an English Ordo written for those who say the Divine Office in Engllsb. Pp. 115. $1.25. FELICIAN SISTERS, 600 Doat .St., Buffalo, N. Y. Magnigcat. A Centennial Record of the Congregation of the Sisters of Saint Felix. The appearance of this book announces the happy completion of a century of growth and progress of the Felician sisters. All religious will find this book both interesting and in-spiring. To learn what others have done and are doing for the love of God is an external grace which stimulates to greater and more generous efforts in the following of Christ. It is a .valuable his-torical do.cument that every Catholic library should have. Pp. 155. GRAIL PUBLICATIONS, St. Meinrad, Indiana. Religio Religiosi. By Aidan Cardinal Gasquet, O.S.B. Though published in England in 1923, this little volume is not very well known in this country; and it should be better known. If all who have to face the problem of a choice of a state in life 'would read this book, vocations to the religious life would be multiplied. Pp. 120. $2.50. True Christmas Spirit. By Reverend Edward J. Sutfin. Here is a °book on the Christmas liturgy written at the request of edu-cators to assist them in teaching liturgy to children. It draws on the treasury of world literature and custom. Religious devoted to teaching will find this book most helpful. Pp. 154. $3,00. The Help of His Grace. The Storg of a Benedictine Sister. By Sister Jean Marie, O.S.B. This booklet is a new addition to vo-cational literature. Girls who wish to decide whether they have a vocation to the Benedictine way of life will find it most helpful. Pp. 108. $.50. ~ B. HERDER BOOK COMPANY, 15 South Broadway, St. Louis 2, Mo. The Names of Christ. By Louis of Leon, O.S.A. Translated by Edward J. Schuster. The author of this book was a professor of the University of Salamanca and a contemporary of St. Teresa of Avila and of St. John of the Cross. His spiritual doctrine is well summed up in the present volume. It is the sixth in the Cross .and Crown Series of Spirituality. Pp. 315. $4.75. The Church Teaches. Documents of the Church in English 109 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Reoiew [or Religious Translation. By the Jesuit Fathers of St. Mary's College, St. Mar~;s, Kansas. The gratifying growth of the departments of religion in our-Catholic colleges and universities makes bool~s like the pres.ent volume a necessity. The argument from tradition will always be a major argument in all religious questions. Hence the necessity of translating the documents enshrining this tradition into English, since a knowledge of Latin and Greek can no longer be presupposed in tb~ students of religion. This book is a "must" for teachers of "rel'igion. Pp. 400. $5.75. :" Introduction to the Philosoph~t of Animate Nature. By Henry J. Koren, C.S.Sp. Teachers of philosophy will welcome this ne~i addition to Catholic texts on rational psychology. There is more 'than enough material for a three-hour one-semester course. An ap-pendix .contain~ a list of review questions and suggested readings. Pp. 341. $4.75. An Introduction to the Science of Metapbgsics. By Henry J. Koren, C.S.Sp. This clear, understandable, and orderly textbook, giving the traditional Thomistic doctrine of being, is divided into two parts: being in general (,its nature, its transcendental properties and its limitation), and finite being (its nature and multiplication, its categories, and its causes). For a three-hour one-semester course some selection of material will be necessary. Pp. 341. $4.75. THI~ NI~WMAN IaRI~SS, Westminster, .Ma'ryland. An Hour with Jesus. Meditations for Religious. By Abbe Gaston Courtois. Translated by 'Sister Helen Madeleine, S.N.D. Religious women whose work is education will find enlightenment, encouragement, and many practical, suggestions in this volume. Used as an aid for meditation, the book should do much to advance its users in. the art of mental prayer. Pp. 161. $3.00. :'"Cleanse mg Heart. Meditations on .the Sunda~t Gospels. By Vincerit P. McCorry, S.J. Readers of America will be familiar with Father McCorry's liturgical column "The Word." They will be pleased that one year's offerings have been given a more permanent form in the present volume. Pp. 179. $2.75. Graceful Living. A Course in the Appreciation of the Sacra-ments. By John Fearon, O.P. This is a book on the theology of the sacraments written in a popular vein to catch the interest of the ordinary Catholic and so help him to a fuller Catholic life. It was a selection of the Spiritual Book Associates. Pp. 160. $2.50. Leauen of Holiness. Conferences for Religious. By Reverend 110 March, 1956 BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS Charles Hugo Doyle. Those who have read Father Doyle's first book of conferences for religious, In Pursuit of Perfection, will find in this volume the same freshness of style and vigor of presentation. Pp. 242. $3.50. Meditations Before Mass. By Romano Guardini. Translated by Elinor C. Briefs. Despite the title, this is not a book of medi-tations. It is rather a collection of conferences given originally before Mass to enable the congregation to enter fully into the divine action. Its purpose is to teach a greater appreciation of and participation in the holy sacrifice. Pp. 203'. $3.00. THE PRIORY PRESS, Asbury Road, Dubuque, Iowa. Beginnings: Genesis and Modern Science. By Charles Hauret. Translated and adapted from the 4th French edition by E. P. Em-mans, O.P. and S.S.Prolyta. There can be no conflict between faith and science since God is the author of both. Yet there may be ap-parent conflict. Father Hauret, a scientist in his own right, squarely faces the problems posed by the account of creation in the first three chapters of Genesis and the findings of modern science. If you teach religion, this is a book you should read. You will learn much about the Sacred Scriptures as well as about modern science, and you will be in a position to give satisfactory answers to modern doubters. Pp. 304. $3.25. SAINT CHARLES SEMINARY, 209 Flagg Place, Staten Island 4, N. Y. Father to the Immigrants. dohn Baptist Scalabrini, Bishop of Piacenza. By Icilio Felici. Translated by Carol della Chiesa. On June 1, 1905, John Baptist Scalabrini, Bishop of Piacenza died a holy death. He was a remarkable man, and his memory is honored particularly for his heroic labors in behalf of Italian immigrants in both Americas. He came to their aid by founding the Society of St. Raphael, a lay organization, to alleviate their material wants; by founding a society of missionary priests, now popularly known as the Scalabrinian fathers, to care for their spiritual needs; by starting a congregation of sisters to care for the orphaned and the sick among them. It. was be who came to" the rescue of the Mis-sionary Zelatrices of the Sacred Heart, when it seemed that they must disband, and interested them in work for immigrants. It was he too who urged Mother Cabrini to choose America rather than the Orient for bet field of labors. This is the first full-length bi-ography in English of this saintly bishop, a milestone on the way to his beatification. Pp. 248. $3.00. BOOK ANNOUNCEMENTS SAINT PAUL PUBLICATIONS, 2187 Victory Blvd., Staten Island 14, N. Y. The Perennial Order by Martin Versfeld is a book on Catholic philosophy which is not a textbook. It will be read with interest and profit even by those who have had the usual courses in philo-sophy, for it deals with many topics not mentioned in the conven-tional courses. It is an apostolic book in the sense that it is written also for non-Catholics. It should do much to answer many an in-tellectual difficulty of the sincere inquirer and so prepare the way for conversion. Pp. 250. $3.00. SHEED AND WARD, 840 Broadway, New York 3. Su)ift Victory. Essays on the Gifts of the Holy Spirit. By Walter Farrell, O.P. and Dominic Hughes, O.P. It is perhaps no exaggeration to say that most Catholics know so little of the gifts of the Hoiy Ghost that they cannot even name them all. The reason possibly is that they are not something to strive for, but something freely granted to those who love God. Every Catholic should know more about these treasures which are his. Pp. 211. $3.25. In Soft Garments. A Collection of Oxford Conferences. By Ronatd A. Knox. This collection was first published in 1942. The present reprint is in response to popular demand. Pp. 214. $3.00. TEMPLEGATE, Springfield, Illinois. Loue of Our Neighbor. Edited by Albert Ple, O.P. Translated by Donald Attwater and R. F. Trevett. This book is the report of a symposium on charity in which this virtue was dealt with from many angles. Part one deals with charity and Revelation. Part two treats of the theology of this virtue. Part three has such chapters as "A Philosophy of Relation to Others," "Psychoanalysis and Love of One's Neighbors," "Love of Our Neighbor and the Economics of Giving." Part four consists of an outline of what a complete treatise on the love of our neighbor must be if it is ever to be written. Pp. 182. $3.95. CATHOLIC ALMANAC, 1956 The 1956 National Catholic Almanac, a very valuable reference book, is now available at the St. Anthony Guild Press, 508 Marshall St., Paterson, New Jersey. Cloth, $2.50; paper, $2.00. OUR CONTRIBUTORS MOTHER MARY ELEANOR teaches at Rosemont College, Rosemont, Penn-sylvania. BERNARD LEEMING is a professor of theology at Heythrop College, Oxon, England. THOMAS DUBAY teaches theology and homiletics at Marist College, Washington, D. C. 112 InJ:orma!:ion [or Subscribers BUSINESS OFFICE ADDRESS: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas. SEND ALL RENEWALS AND SUBSCRIPTIONS TO: REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, 606 Harrison Street, Topeka, Kansas. NOTICES OF EXPIRATION have been mailed to all sub-scribers whose subscriptions expired with Jan., 1956. We hope that those who have not yet done so may find it convenient to renew at an early date. When renewing please return the postal-card notice sent to you. It is of great assistance to us in making prompt and ac-curate identification of renewals. EARLY RENEWAL of subscriptions enables us to prepare our ~-~.mailing list for tl~ next issue and avoids delays incurred by later additional mailings. 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Issue 56.2 of the Review for Religious, March/April 1997. ; for religious C}ar~s6an Heritages and Contemporary L~v~r~g MARCH-APRIL 1997 ¯ VOLUME 56 ° NUMBER 2 Review for Relig4ous is a forum for shared reflection on the lived experience of all who 3~nd that the church's rich heritages of spffituality support their personal and apostolic Christian lives. The articles in tbe journal are meant to be informative, practical, or inspirational, written front a theological or spiritual or sometimes canonical point of view. Review for Religious (1SSN 0034-639X) is published bi-monthly at Saint Louis Universit3., 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: I~OI~PI~MA@SLU.H)U Manuscripts, books for review, and correspondence with the editor: Review for Religious ¯ 3601 Lindell Boulevard ¯ St. Louis, MO 63108-3393. Correspondence about the Cauonical Counsel department: Elizabeth McDonough OP 1150 Cedar Cove Road ¯ Henderson, NC 27536 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. ©~997 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 aud/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 per,nission 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. ligious 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 1997 * VoLuME56 ¯ N~3MBER2 contents 118 132 143 communion and community: a symposium Communion: Divine Life Enlarging Our Desires David L. Fleming SJ explores the implications of communion for the spirituality and mission of consecrated life. Communion in Community: Some Hopeful Understandings Theresa Galvan CND proposes some ideas about and suggestions for the enfleshing of communion in the community life of today's religious. Community and Prophetic Witness Anne Munley IHM calls the religious community to understand the world in which we live in order to challenge the status quo and imagine and announce an alternative future. 156 lenten reflections John Cassian on Asceticism Kenneth C. Russell examines Cassian's teachings on asceticism and finds a therapeutic tool to recondition, under grace, the reaction of body and mind so that all our actions will be in harmony with our intentions to love God and neighbor and ourselves. Review for Religious " 169 Contemplating the Crucified: A Woman's Reflection Laurie Cassidy makes use of one woman's experience to raise the question of how other women's experience of contemplating the Crucified can offer new ways to image God's redemptive work in Jesus. 182 The Waters of Vaucluse Dennis J. Billy CSSR relates how the pool of Vaucluse not only inspires wonder by its natural beauty, but also reminds us of the centrality of prayer and of the urgency of calming the raging passion of life's inner demons. 187 report U.S. Hispanic Catholics: Trends and Works 1996 Kenneth G. Davis OFMConv and Eduardo C. Fernfindez SJ present a panoramic of the year's events within the U.S. Hispanic Catholic community. departments 116 Prisms 207 Canonical Counsel: Apostolic Institutes 212 Book Reviews 145--- Marcb-Aln'il 1996 prisms A crucifix as a symbol of God's love speaks out a richer and deeper meaning than all the learned and devotional treatises of theologians and mys-tics. We spend the special liturgical seas6n of Lent allow-ing the crucified Jesus to touch our lives more closely and to call us to realize a similar willingness to love with all our mind, with all our heart, with all our strength, and with our whole soul. One of the great wonderments of our Christian Lenten season is the gift to see God in a wholly new way. Philip boldly proposes to Jesus: "Show us the Father and that will be enough for us." And Jesus even more boldly responds to Philip's request that "whoever has .seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:8-9). As we look upon the face of the crucified One, we see a face of God never imaged by philosophers. In reasoning to a God, we find ourselves caught in a morass of concepts about an all-powerful Being, an impassible Being, a Being far removed from the limitations of our time and space. Even theologians struggle to hold intact Jesus, the Word made flesh, from his conception to his death and resurrection, through all his experiences of loving, being tempted, learning, enjoying, feeling abandoned, suffer-ing, and dying. But, in looking at a crucifix, we rise above all the somersaults the human mind has to make. We look up and see simply the face of God waiting and loving us with a suffering and compassionate love. Jesus shows us God looking with love and distress upon so much.of our inhumane behavior to one another. He says, "Forgive, they do not know what they are doing." Review for Religious Through Jesus we see a God who has great desires expressed as "I thirst"--a God who hungers and thirsts for divine justice to per-meate our human dealings within families, in workplaces, between nations, so allowing God's glory to shine through. The crucified Jesus helps us to come forward fearlessly before God and plead "Remember me"--for the good that we have done or tried to do, for the pardon that we need, just for the gaze of God's attention. The crucifix allows us to glimpse the face of God's concern, try-ing to provide support and comfort to all of us Marys and Johns in the midst of our most empty and desolate moments. This is a God who empties Self in each of the gifts presented to us. As we celebrate this year of our millennium preparations with its dedication to Jesus, Lent's preparatory season for the paschal time provides us with the opportunity to grasp anew the wonder of our Christian understanding of God. Who is this God who has called us into a familial relationship, sharing the very divine life, making us truly brothers and sisters to one another? Who is this God who, waiting patiently in weakness for our love response, gives us further signs of love,~ each a plea for our attention? Who is this God who labors with us, sometimes the potter, at other times the alert assistant to our own creative actions? Perhaps we all need to be surprised again that gazing upon the crucifix gives rich insight into our God. Through Jesus, and even more particularly in his crucifixion, we come to know God in intimate ways--ways "hidden from the learned and the clever" and now revealed to us, "the merest children" (Lk 10:21). To us in our 1997 preparations Jesus says, "Blest are the eyes that see what you see. I tell you, many prophets and kings wished to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it" (Lk 10:24). David L. Fleming SJ March-Aptql 1996 communi j DAVID L. FLEMING Communion: Divine Life Enlarging Our Desires Communion, community, and common life are themes big enough to involve our whole human world, touching people in every land, in every culture. They are themes small enough to touch us in the local ~eligious community where we live and in the ministries which we do. I believe that, if we take the time to understand communion (com-munio) and make the effort consciously to li;¢e it, we will find that it will clarify and enlarge our identity (who we are as persons and as a group) and enrich our mission (what-ever our ministry in Christ's name). For communion is about life--living a life for God and sharing that life from God with others. In exploring the implications of communion, I pro-. pose these six steps: (1) to examine the word communion; (2) to consider the church context; (3) to zero in on the context of The Consecrated Life; (4) to look at some expe-riences of a communion theology; (5) to examine the meanings of a spirituality of communion; and (6) to ques, tion what it might mean to be agents of communion. The Word Communio Communio, a Latin word, bears the weight of a theo- David L. Fleming SJ, editor of this journal, first presented the content of this article as a part of a symposium on Community and Consecrated Life sponsored by the Jesuit Center for Spiritual Growth at Wernersville, Pennsylvania, in October 1996. The fol-lowing two articles complete the presentations of this symposium. Review for Religious logical emphasis, renewed in our time but ancient in its roots. When a word has an almost technical meaning, we often find it helpful to consider its etymology. Etymology gives us a kind of entrance, but still we must be careful about word derivations. Communio at first might seem to come from the Latin unio, mean-ing "union," and the Latin preposition cure, meaning "with." But etymologists--those people who study language and its develop-ments-- wouldpoint out that. we are not paying attention to the two "m's." Communio appears to derive from the Latin word munus, which means "function," "task," "office," or "duty." With the preposition cure added, we get a word meaning common task, common function, or common responsibility. Etymologically, then, communio presents us with not just togetherness (union), but rather with a stress on the activity of togetherness. Moving from linguistic roots to the history of the word, com-munio was the Latin equivalent for the Greek word koinonia. In the early church three words were descriptive of its existence: kerygma, koinonia, and diakonia. Kerygma is rendered in English as "preach-ing" or "proclamation." When we use the English equivalent, we need to remember that kerygma denotes both the act and the mes-sage- perhaps better caught in our word preaching. In a similar way, diakonia, translated as "service" or "ministry," signifies both the action itself and the kind of service rendered. As we might suspect, koinonia is meant to parallel the usage found in kerygma and diakonia. Koinonia, simply translated as "community," tended to be understood by us only in its substantive reality--an assem-bly, a congregation, a society. Communio, the Latin equivalent of koinonia, especially in its current theological usage, alerts us to focus on the dynamic action of the very forming of a group of people into a "community"as well as the formed group itself. In Latin we may make a distinction between the words communio and communitas which underlines the emphasis we are trying to grasp. Communitas is a word to apply to a certain objective or substantive reality--a group of people who are together, having something in common. Communio, for its part, emphasizes the process or the actual sharing and thus the dynamism or energy ¯ necessary for a community to become and to remain a community. I believe that we can trace back these active meanings of koinonia and communio into two images found in the New Testament. Although we have expression~ of our substantive rela-tionship to God in Christ and to one another in the metaphors of l~larch-April 1997 a building not made by human hands or "my Father's house with many mansions" or a temple built of various materials, the dynamic images of the "vine and branches" in St. John's Gospel and of the "members of the Body" in the writings of St: Paul seem truer to our active living of the Christian life. We know what it means to be growing in our relationship to Jesus and to one another; we also know its setbacks. We know the stresses of being an eye wanting to say to the hand "I do not need you," as Paul reflects in his first letter to the church at Corinth. And yet we have experience of being members of one Body. We have a sense of the here-and-now reality of our relationship to Christ and to God, and we also have the sense of being "on the way" or always "in process." That is communion. The Church Context John Paul II said to the United States bishops in 1987 that "the concept of communion lies 'at the heart of the church's self-understanding.'" The official document of the 1985 Extraordinary Synod, held on the twentieth anniversary of Vatican Council II, says, "The ecclesiology of communion is a central and fundamen-tal concept in the conciliar documents." And the 1993 Directgry for Ecumenism identifies communion as "a key concept which inspired the ecclesiology of the Second Vatican Council and to which recent teaching of the magisterium has given great impor-tance." But we could also discover other opinions about the impor-tance of communion. For example, in The New Dictionary of Catholic Spirituality, under the entry "Church" by Leonard Doohan, we read: "The fact that the faithful can readily identify with People of God, while they have little understanding of~ the theological con-cept communio--even, it has been suggested, 'hidden' in Latin--has given rise to severe criticism. Communio is an important dimension of the Church and has already been used to redraft the document for the Synod on the Laity (1987) and to help in the rethinking of the roles of episcopal conferences (1989), but like the concept 'sacrament of the world' it is hardly ever to gain as widespread use as 'People of God' has and will continue to have." So what has been identified as a tfieological term--communio--has been called "central" to our understanding of church by its supporters, and it has been labeled confusing and abstract by its critics. In The Consecrated Life John Paul II challenges all consecrated Review for Religious people to become true experts of communion and t9 practice the spirituality of communion (§46). He proposes that communities of consecrated life have the particular task of spreading the spir-ituality of communion (§5 I). Both as individuals and as congre- " gations, consecrated persons are called to become "agents of communion." What is a spirituality of communion, what does it mean for us to be expert in it, and how do we go about becoming agents of communion? With such major questions, all dealing with the difficult term communio, we had better consider more closely the context of the apostolic exhortation The Consecrated Life. Communio and The Consecrated Life An important key for me in entering into The Consecrated Life is John Paul's use of the transfiguration passage from Matthew's Gospel. He presents a reading of the Gospel text, but at the same time he tells us that he wants us to use the text as an icon and so to let the visual scene draw us into its reality. The pope calls us to consider the transfiguration icon as the icon of our consecrated lives. The icon brings us Latin-rite Catholics into a world that is not very familiar to us. We are used to our statues, paintings, and stained-glass windows, but for most of us the icon remains a rather cold, stylized picture. I have heard one story about the icon which I find very helpful for giving me an appreciation of this art form. When people feel a call to become a painter of the icon, they seek out a master or mentor who will help in their training: All apprentices iare started in their training in the same way: over and over they keep painting the same subject matter until the master approves. The subject matter for every appren-tice is the gospel scene of the transfiguration. Why do they need to repeat the effort of painting this pa{ticular subject over and over again? The master is judging whether the apprentice is devel-oping "eyes of faith." "Eyes of faith" are necessary to be able to paint an icon as well as to let the icon help us see. For this r~ason, it seems to Both as individuals and as congregations, consecrated persons are called to become "agents of communion." ~Ylarch-ApHl 1997 Fleming ¯ Communion me, Pope John Paul begins our consideration of consecrated life by using the icon of the transfiguration. There is only one way to begin our consideration of consecrated life, and that is: we must begin with "eyes of faith." Icons are described as windows or doors opening out into a divine world; they allow us entrance into God's world. For the Orthodox, they are like a sacrament in that an icon is a grace, a being touched by God, a new sharing in God's life, a moment of communion. The pope d6es not suggest just any icon; he speci-fies the icon of the transfiguration. He provides a verbal content of the icon in citing Matthew 17:1-9. Our focus is on Jesus. By observ-ing the startling change in him--his face bright as the sun, and his clothes white as light--we enter into a world of God's presence shining through the surface of our ordinary everyday experience. We must pay attention to our experience. First of all, we are struck by the experience of "beauty"--the brightness almost hurts our eyes, but we do not want to stop looking. Beauty and wonder and awe--we would like the moment to never end. We are con-scious that we have touched into another world--it is a religious experi~ence. The experience of seeing and hearing and being touched are all so different from ordinary seeing and hearing and touching--and yet those words describe best what our experience is: a seeing, a hearing, and a being touched. Second, although we need a little distance from the event to say this, the experience is "of the whole." Yes, we can focus and let our glance go here or there; we can look intently, almost shut-ting everything else out; we can listen so totally that it seems we are nothing but ears. The experience seems to be so total, so much a whole--and yet in retrospect we realize that we can describe many instances, different moments, within the whole-ness of the experience. We are like the apostle companions who years later still remember so many details from this transfigura-tion experience. Finally, it is when we review and recollect these "instances" that we realize the icon is an occasion of "learning." Our focus-ing, our reflections on our seeing, on our hearing, and on our being touched provide us with insight and understanding. We see relationships, we grasp how everything fits, we feel that we have an "aha!" or a "eureka!" learning time. In such a manner, .in The Consecrated Life the pope enters us into theological reflection, but through the door which must give Review for Religious entrance to all theological development, the door of prayer. Some of our revered theologians--the ones often referred to as "Fathers of the Church"--kept repeating in the early days of the church's theological development that all theology comes from prayer and leads to prayer. John Paul II models this approach in The Consecrated Life. But now let us step away from the document and let a broader experience of our Christian living give us evidence for a communion theology. A Communion Theology Do you remember when you "made" your first Communion? How often have you heard the question or spoken it yourself: "Are you going to Communion?" Perhaps we all know some peo-ple still adjusting to Vatican II changes who find it hard to "receive" Communion from anyone but a priest. What is this Communion that we can "make" or "go to" or "receive"? From our experience we know what we mean by our various verbal ~xpressions, but it is helpful for us to reflect a lit-tle more carefully about comm~znion. Communion, as we use it in terms of "making our first .'. ," or "receiving," or "going to," means the sacrament of the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Christ under the forms of bread and wine. We often use the fuller expression "holy Communion." We take for granted Jesus truly does give himself as the food and drink of life and that, in eating his body and drinking his blood, 'we are in communion with him in a most real and privileged way. But this food acts like no other food. In our eating the Body and drinking the Blood of Christ, the food does not become a part of us, as we understand our faith, but we are being joined into Christ's life. This is a matter, not so much of us "feeding on Christ," but rather of us (like food) being assimilated through Christ into the divine life. The Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin suggests (in his 1944."Introduction to Christian Life") that we understand our individual "receptions" of Communion not as single, discrete moments of union, but rather as a single lifelong process of our being assimilated into Christ. Our experience is that Communion is a special sacramental moment of union with Christ, of Christ's presence within us. Christ is the one who gives himself in this sacrament, and he waits upon our readiness and availability to receive him. So we cor-rectly speak of "receiving Communion," receiving a gift given. '123 - March-April 1997 Fleming ¯ Communion And in our designation of "holy Communion" we point to the inherent quality of the divine, of God being involved in this unit-ing. As we examine our experience of "going to Communion," we discover that it includes (i) a presence--Christ's "being with" us in a special (sacramental) way; (2) a gifting--the initiative com-ing from Christ or God; and (3) a holiness--the mysterious qual-ity which we identify with God and with divine life being imparted to us or shared with us. But, at the very time of God's activity, Communion demands our being present, our being available, our coming forward--caught up in our expression "making our first Communion." There is no Communion possible for us if we do not give ourselves over to its possibility. The Latin word commu-nit, perhaps more than our English Communion, lays stress on the activity, the dynamism, the energizing within our presence to one another, the uniting, the coming together. Communion in com-mon usage describes the sacrament of Christ's presence for us, but the word in its deeper reality speaks rather of Christ's "being .with" us and his "shaping" us in his image and "forming" us into his Body, the church. Communion effects, that is, causes, a new way of living. Let us enlarge our considerations from holy Communion to holy Eucharist--or what we commonly refer to as the Mass. The center and focus of Christian life is the celebration of the Eucharist. The Eucharist may appear to be a ritual that is repeated over and over again; only the liturgy of the word--prayers and readings--seems to have variation. But the Eucharist is the prayer-action in which we come to join ourselves with Jesus in his total gift of self to the Father's love. The Eucharist is ever new, not so much in the newly cycled readings as in the inclusion of this com-munity (of this very day) in Christ's offering. We pray to God: "Send your Spirit upon these gifts and make them holy. Let them become for us the Body and Blood of Christ." What we call here the Eucharistic action is again a moment of communio--bringing together a group of individuals whom Christ's Spirit overshad-ows as gifts along with the gift of Christ himself. We see how we say that the Eucharist is the continual formation of God's people into the Body of Christ and that the act of receiving Communion is the confirmation of that reality. The original use of the expres-sion "communion of the saints," found in St. Paul's letters, des-ignated that reality--the common sharing of believers in the body of Christ with one another and with God in Christ through the Review for Religious power of the Spirit. So, too, even today the communion of saints signifies the active care and concern of all church members for one another--the church militant (here on earth), the church suffer-ing (those in purgatory), and the church triumphant (those in heaven), in their continuing activity with the Lord. Our consideration of the Eucharist pushes us back one further step in our exploration of this word communio. How do we first find our identity as Christian? In baptism. We present ourselves (probably most of us were presented by our parents and godparents) to an identi-fying of ourselves with Jesus as our savior. Through the waters of baptism we sym-bolize our rebirth, our rising, that follows upon our symbolic dying with Christ. By baptism we enter into a new life, a com-munion with Christ, and we find our-selves members of his Body, the church. And so we now repeat what we talked about earlier: the reality of our new way of living in our active participation in the communion of saints. The 1985 Extraordinary Synod described baptism as the door and foundation of commu-nion. It went on to say that the Eucharist is the source and culmination of the whole Christian life. Receiving Communion, that is, the eucharis-tic Body of Christ, signifies and produces the building up of the ones called Christian into the Body of Christ which is the church. From our experience of the sacrament of the Eucharist, the Mass, and baptism, we might well say that communion--commu-nio-- is not so much an acting, a joining, as it is a person. Clearly, in the Eucharist it is Christ, but Christ actively engaging us with God and with others. In the Mass and in baptism, communion happens in and through thd Spirit. In our Trinitarian theology we say that the bonding of love between Father and Son is so perfect and full that Love is a person, the third person of our tri-une God. How do we image the Spirit? In the Old Testament a favorite image of God's Spirit is ruah, a mighty force or wind or breath. Even in the light of the New Testament, the Spirit still seems to us to .be that kind of dynamism or energy--but with a face. In Jesus and in the Spirit, com~nunio is not an abstract and airy Communio is a gifting from God, through Christ and in the Spirit, that allows us personally to share in the very communion which is God's lif~. ½25- -- March-April 1997 Fleming * Communion notion--just a kind of grouping or union--but a reality we are caught up in, which is personalizing and enlarging and engaging us all at the same time. Communio is a gifting from God, through Christ and in the Spirit, that allows us personally to share in the very communion which is God's life (or should we say "share in the very Communio who is God"?) and which joins us together as God's people and the Body of Christ. A Spirituality of Communion The transfiguration icon, the Gospel text, and our own Christian experience and prayer--all contribute to our under-standing of communio in the context of the document The Consecrated Life. Pope John Paul suggests that praying the myste~ of the transfiguration sheds light in a singularly helpful way upon the vocation of consecrated life. From ancient times we have been blessed with a spiritual tradition which sees in this icon of the transfiguration a link between .people following the call to the contemplative fife and Jesus in his prayer on the mountain. But the pope points out that the active dimension of consecrated life is also included, "for the transfiguration is not only the revelation of Christ's glory, but also a preparation for facing Christ's cross" (§14). It involves both a "going up the mountain" and a "coming down the mountain." What do we mean by the word spirituality? And what is involved in living a spirituality? We use the word spirituality fre-quently today, and I would like to touch upon its two aspects. Spirituality can be described as a Way of understanding and living out our relationship to God, to ourselves, to others, and to our world. For us Christians I would add: "in the light of our fol-lowing Jesus Christ, as revealed to us in the Scriptures and the tra-ditions of the church." That would be our Christian spirituality. Note that it is a way of understanding and living out a relation-ship. Another aspect of spirituality--a further refinement--is to define spirituality as a theological discipline in terms of its being a study of our way of understanding and living out a relationship to God, to ourselves, to others, and to our world. How might we describe a spirituality of communion' in the light of the transfiguration? The scene involves us With Jesus in prayer, transfigured before his disciples (Peter, James, and John) so that his face shone like the sun and his garments became white Review for Religious as light. Then there appeared to them Moses and Elijah talking with him. Ih the midst of Peter's response to all this happening, there came a bright and overshadowing cloud, with a voice declar-ing, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him." The Trinitarian life of Father, Son, and Spirit is made mani-fest inthe voice (the Father) and the cloud (the Spirit), all part of the glory shining forth from Jesus' humanity. Peter's response, "It is good for us to be here," contained an expression of gratitude for a gift, still barely realized. In the Father's call to listen to Jesus, to place all their trust in him, to make him the center of their lives, the disciples stood on the threshold of a door leading to a wholly new relationship with God. Through Jesus they were being invited to the intimacy of the interior life of our triune God, a life of communio. For men and women religious who still follow the call of the Father (as the icon emphasizes, the Father's call always precedes the call of Christ in our lives) and accord-ingly follow the call of Jesus, listening is still essential. A spirituality of communion begins, with listening. We listen to the word of God--first in the Scriptures and then, by this light, in all the ways God speaks to us tl]rough the entire universe around us. A spirituality of communion follows the lead of Christ, both in being with him in prayer on the mountain and in following him down the mountain and onto the road to Jerusalem. Prayer and all the other elements that make up our life called conse-crated provide the continuing moments of communio for us, just as they did for Jesus. Jesus in~augurated this new family union--all those ready to "do the will of God." This communio changes human relationships and creates a new type of union, so interac-tively close that it gets described by Jesus in family terms and by the pope in terms of a solidarity. After the gifting of the Spirit at Pentecost, the first followers of Christ, as recorded in the early chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, share in his life completely. This model of communio has inspired many founders and foundresses in their visioning of how a particular group would come together. Moved by the Spirit, Charism is our own particular ingredient effecting and affecting our communion, our personal lives and our lives together. March-April 1997 Fleming ¯ Communion we in consecrated life today find our way of sharing in common a necessary part of our spirituality of communion. Charism is our own particular ingredient effecting and affecting our communion, our personal lives and our lives together. We will be exploring this reality in the other articles of this symposium. Here it is enough to note that charism gives a unique quality or character to communion. Each of the traditional evangelical counsels--chastity, poverty, and obedience--is nuanced by our consciously living a spiritual-ity of communion. Chastity--for us, an undivided heart--is :a reflection of Jesus' choice, but even deeper down, for his life and for ours, chastity is a reflection of the infinite love which links the three Divine Persons--an undivided love. We strive to reflect such a fullness of divine love with what we call "our undivided heart." Poverty, whereby we proclaim that God is our only real treasure, reflects the "emptying" of the incarnate Son, even to death by crucifixion, to become one with us so that we can become rich with his resurrected fullness. But poverty for Jesus and so for us, too, reflects the total gift of self---holding nothing back-- which the three Divine Persons make to one another. Obedience shows the liberating beauty of a dependence modeled on Jesus, whose "meat and drink" is to do the "will of Him who sent me;" but even deeper down, for Jesus and for us, a life-dependence reflecting the loving harmony between the three Divine Persons. As an instance of this harmony, St. Ignatius Loyola in his Spiritual Exercises suggests that as we enter the m~stery of the annunciation we picture the Trinity in conference--seeing the human world as they see it, hearing its cries of joy and sorrow, hope and despair, and then noting their decision setting in motion the salvation project made visible in the obedient incarnation of the Second Person. As we grow in our love of Jesus by imitating him in our choice of the evangelical counsels, we find ourselves growing in our communion with the triune God. The Eucharist remains the central daily act for those living a spirituality of communion. It is in the celebration of the Eucharist that we understand most clearly that communion leads to mis-sion and itself becomes mission. In the transfiguration passage in Luke's Gospel, Jesus is understood to be conversing with Moses and Elijah (symbols summing up the Old Testament, both the Law and the Prophets) about the biblical passage he was to fulfill in Jerusalem. The transfiguration icon, as the pope has reminded Re~iew for Religious us, contains both the "going up the mountain" (prayer) and "com-ing down the mountain" (mission). The "Ire, missa est" (not, "go, the Mass is ended" but "go, there is a sending forth") was in the context of fragments of the consecrated host being brought around to all the churches in Rome--a sending forth to solidify again the communion among all the Christian communities. In such a context, the very Communion of the community is its mission, and in its mission is found communion. Agents of Communion For all those living the consecrated-life vocation, there is the need to explicitly foster a spirituality basic to this way of life--a spirituality of communion. Not only does such a growth begin to be exercised as one gives oneself over to a religious congrega-tion, but the congregation itself needs always to promote its own communion among all its members over cultures and geograph-ical regions and age spans. And the congregation members find themselves involved in ever widening arcs in working with others in ministry, always seeking and providing a support and union in life and in service. By their being continually configured to Christ, consecrated persons join their own prayer and action with a spe-cial intensity to Jesus' own prayer "that all may be one." What impresses me in Peter's response within the transfigu-ration icon, "It is good for us to be here," is the call for all con-secrated people to be "agents of communion." Perhaps in our own day it gives a new intensity to the famous Pauline identity of our common Christian mission as "ambassadors Of reconcilia-tion." How necessary it is to work at and enhance our spiritual-ity of communion! We are to be agents of communion, ambassadors of reconciliation, in a church often divided in strident ways between liberals and conservatives, divided by mistrust between the laity and the hierarchy, and even divided over living our life together, over our prayer and our ministry, as members of one and the same religious congregation. We are to be agents of communion in countries and societies that are torn by racial divi-sion, agents of communion in a Christian church scandalously fractured into so many denominations professing Christ that our missionary effort is weakened, agents of communion in cultures where the many belief and value systems serve only to divide peo-ple. There is only one way to become better agents of commu-l~ larclJ-April 1997 Fleming ¯ Communion nion, and that is to imbibe a spirituality of communion and put it into action. The icon brings home a togetherness in prayer and in action. "It is good for us . " "Good for us" is the attitude and mind-set of people trying to live out a spirituality of communion. Dialogue becomes a way of life for an agent of communion. And so we find ourselves by our very choice of consecrated life with a chosen responsibility to integrate a spirituality of seeking communion with the charismatic spirituality of our own conse-crated lifeform. For all of us, whatever our charism, both con-templative and actively apostolic, are being called to be agents of communion. I want to close these reflections with one striking example of being an agent of communion in dialogue. The story is that of the seven Cistercians martyred in Algeria in 1996. In this journal's November-December 1996 issue, Father Basil Pennington has published an account of these men. I present just one element of the story here. Seven Trappist monks from Our Lady of Atlas monastery in Tibhirine, Algeria, were executed by the GIA (a kind of Islamic freedom fighters group) on 21 May 1996. The prior, Dom Christian, had written a final testament and sent it to his abbot general~some months earlier, with the instruction that it be opened upon his death. The testament includes these words: This is what I shall be able to do, if God wills: immerse my gaze in that of the Father to contemplate with him his chil-dren of Islam as he sees them, all shining with the glory of Christ, fruit of his Passion, filled with the gift of the Spirit, whose secret joy will always be to establish communion and to refashion the likeness in playing with the differences. For this life lost, totally mine and totally theirs, I thank God, who seems to have wished it entirely for the sake of that joy in and in'spite of everything. In this thank-you where, once and for all, all is said about my life, I certainly include you, friends of yesterday and today, and you, 0 my friends of this place, at the side of my mother and my father, my sisters and my brothers and their families--the hundredfold as he had promised! And you, too, my last-minute friend, who would not have known what you were doing; yes, for you too I say this thank-you and this a-dieu--to commend you to the God in whose face I see yours. And may he grant to us to find each other, happy thieves, in Paradise, if it please God, the Father of us both. Amen! Review for Religious In describing the role of agents of communion, the pope's apostolic exhortation had proclaimed, only two months before this 1994 testament was opened, that consecrated persons have "the particular task of spreading the spirituality of communion first of all in their internal life and then in the ecclesial commu-nity, and even beyond its boundaries, by opening or continuing dialogue in charity, especially where today's world is torn apart by ethnic hatred or senseless violence." Consecrated persons are described as"signs that dialogue is always possible and that com-munion can bring differences into harmony." The Trappists laid down their lives in such hope. The pope began his apostolic exhortation with an icon. We have a modern-day icon here in our Trappist martyrs of Algeria. They are incarnate signs--witnesses, in their identity and in their mission--of what communion (communio) is all about. May these two icons Transfiguration and Trappists--lead us to enlarge our desires for our identity and for our mission through a spirituality of communion. Easter Service A tiny spark fumbled to an ordered flame; one candle lit, then once and twice proclaimed by solemn voice. The fire links out ~spread candle to candle widening in hearthy ripple. Expectant eyes glinting and cheeks Rembrandted the community crackles and breathes anew. The voice intones once more: Hope. Hope. Hope. Stephen Eric Smyth FMS March-April 1997 '131 . THERESA GALVAN Communion in Community: Some Hopeful Understandings My task in this symposium on religious life is to reflect on ome attitudes and mentalities, some understandings and agreements, and some practical efforts that must all be oper-ative if communion is to take flesh in a religious community of women or men. My reflections flow from my personal experi-ence, of course, but they include some of the urgency and hope I have felt during my service of province leadership within my own congregation and in my interaction with leadership of other reli-gious institutes of women and men these past eight years. Since the Second Vatican Council, much outstanding theol-ogy, sociology, psychology, philosophy, and spirituality has been made available to women and men religious. Many writers have influenced the movement of religious life in the church and in society. For their gift of clear articulation, I am very grateful; some of my words will echo their wisdom and research. I am grateful also to all the religious I consulted before writing this paper, members of my own and other religious institutes. Their faith-filled experience and insights will also be echoi.ng in my words. Beyond that, my task is quite simple: to draw from my more recent experiences some ideas about and suggestions for the enfleshing of communion in the community life of today's religious. Theresa Galvan CND has served as provincial superior of the U.S.A. province of the Congregation of Notre Dame. Her address is Congregation of Notre Dame; 391 East Marsile Street; Bourbonnais, Illinois 60914. Review for Religious Before talking about attitudes, mentalities, and practical understandings that are necessary if this is to occur, I want to reflect briefly on Jesus' intimacy with his disciples in the upper room just before his death. It could not have been an easy moment. The time of parting had come, a time redolent of both love and betrayal. But Jesus wanted them to remember why they were there, with each other and with him; why they had been called; and to what they must remain faithful. If anything was to give them courage and even joy in the days ahead, it could only be their memory of this time, calling them to the only thing, the only One, that gave meaning to their lives. Their fears, their arro-gance, their doubts were, at least for this moment, being sup-planted by the intimacy of their oneness with him. T.his fire within them would indeed ensure their ultimate fidelity to him. I have said these things to you while still with you; but the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name will teach you everything and remind you of all I have said to you . Make your home in me as I make mine in you. As a branch cannot bear fruit by itself, but must remain part of the vine, neither can you unless you remain in me . This is my commandment: love one another, as I have loved you. (Jn 14:25-26, 15:3-4, 15:12,JB) The communion of Jesus with his beloved Abba and with the Spirit of Truth, the communion of Jesus with his beloved disciples, is felt and expressed, and is sent forth beyond that uppe~" room. That communion, so fragile and yet so intense, is celebrated, is remembered; it will be tested by the fires of Calvary and all the Calvarys that the disciples and future followers of Jesus will embrace because of their oneness with him, with his mind and heart. If we seek to incarnate--in our community experience as women and men religious--our communion with God in Jesus "Christ, then our starting point must surely be this: the Christ who calls; Christ, whom we follow; Christ, with whom we have cast our lot in the company 6f others similarity called; Christ, whose intense, familiar oneness .with his Father rendered him empty of his divinity through his obedience, his hunger to do his beloved Father's desires "even ufito death"; Christ, who lived and prayed from the depths of his relationship with his Father, who went off alone at times to savor that relationship and to find light and strength for his mission; Christ, who, living always in this Presence, taught the disciples and us, by what he said and how he ~l~arch-April 1997 Galvan ¯ Communion in Community We would do well to look back to our initial commitment and remember its enthusiasm and even extravagance beyond all human reason. lived, to forgive beyond measure, to love unto death, to believe beyond failures, to serve with graciousness, to favor the poor, and to surrender all we have because of love. Before we can sort through our personal attitudes and men-talities and our corporate understandings and agreements (which could once again solidify religious communities, identifying them as models of vibrant communion), it seems to me that we would do well to look back to our initial com-mitment and remember its enthusi-asm and even extravagance beyond all human reason. We need to see, trusting the certitude of our encounters with God since that ini-tial commitment, how Christ has continued to call us. We need to see that in our many responses we have indeed experienced conversions, deepenings of commitment, expan-sions of heart; that we are carried, with no doubt quieter extravagance, to new and deeper levels of self-giving. This is the fire that must remain alive in us if com-munion is to be ignited around us. Webster defines communion as "a sharing; possession in com-mon; an intimate spiritual relationship; a group of people of the same religious faith." Such communion will necessarily spill over in some obvious and tangible ways. It was the experience of the early Christians as they came together for the Eucharist and com-mon prayers and for the purpose of caring for the poor among them. The incarnation of communion in community is indeed both witness and mission. This enfleshing of communion is also a personal need if one's personal communion with Christ and his mission is to remain alive, vibrant, and missionary. The recent apostolic exhortation Vita consecrata (§46) reminds us that "con-secrated persons are called to be true experts of communion and to practice .a 'spirituality of communion' as witnesses and.archi-tects of the plan of unity which is the crowning point of human history in God's design." It is obvious, I think, that communion and community are critically central to our call, commitment, and mission as conse-crated religious in today's world and church. Yet the meaning and Revieu, for Religious the living of community have become major areas of difference for today's religious. Community life has certainly gone through major deconstruction in the past thirty years. Some of it has been necessary, but some of it may be detrimental to our vowed iden-tity, our corporate focus and mission, and our prophetic witness. I want to mention some of the recurring difficulties in com-munity life for today's religious. (Many of them have already been highlighted in the research study by Nygren and Ukeritis on the Future of Religious Orders in the United States.I): ¯ Individualism and the absence of a clear corporate plan of action for mission in some congregations have increased the sense of isolation, of separation, and even of meaning-lessness that contrasts sharply with the members' original expectations. ¯ Some religious have taken on lifestyles of materialism, consumerism, and geographic settledness and have embraced a comfortableness which deadens the missionary spirit, that is, the unencumbered freedom to, go beyond oneself in communion with the poor Christ and'with other people. ¯ Our very ministries have become, for some, overinvolve-ment with the work force to the exclusion of sharing in community responsibilities, being accountable to others in the community, and offering the supportive presence that builds +ommunion. Consequently, personal contemplative communion with God is seriously affected; and community prayer and faith sharing, meals and celebrations together, and other rich human interactions of persons who have responded to a common call are denied the group. ¯ The breakdown of some of a congregation's legitimate leadership structures regarding mission and consecrated commitment has.led to situations of fending for oneself, ~ doing one's own thing, and losing the larger congregational vision, perhaps losing even religious obedience's interior sense of self-giving. ¯ Self-care and personal growth, necessary as these are, have led some to turn in on themselves or to set out on a futile search for the "perfect" community in which there is no room for the sick of mind, body, or spirit. ¯ The Eucharist, for some, has become aSunday-only or occasional event at best, not from legitimate inability to be present, but as a reaction to current church teaching and practice. This way of acting has seriously affected the very heart of Christian communion and religious community life. March-Ap~q11997 Galvan ¯ Communion in Community ¯ Some have simply given up and wait out their~years, claim-ing their own personal fidelity as the extent of their efforts, thus depriving the larger community of their piece of truth, their experience, their graced spiritual wisdom. I believe that there is a hunger in us for communion--with God, with one another, with the church, with our brothers and sis-ters in the wider world. What is keeping us, at least some of us, from entering and living more fully this communion? We must begin to look honestly at some necessary shifts of attitudes, and not only of internal mind-sets, but also their expres-sion in our external manner of being and acting. These shifts must occur if religious community life is to reflect the commu-nion of hearts and minds that single-hearted love of God makes possible, communion that witnesses to the mind of Christ, sup-ports commitment, gives witness to the possibility of selfless love in a hurting world, and urges religious to a greater fidelity to mission. We must not forget that attitudes--those inner dispositions which express themselves outwardly--will not change by external force or coercion. Inner movements toward something more spring generally from the knowledge of being loved and the desire to reciprocate love. Vita consecrata urges us not to lose sight of the fact that the purpose of our lives and commitment is a passionate love for God that finds its expression in communion and a mis-sionary spirit. It is in this inner fire that worthy attitudes are formed and refined. It would seem that some of that fire smolders and is in need of stoking. It seems to me, then, that we need to move: FROM a deadening satisfaction in living community life in the most minimal fashion, leaving each member undisturbed by community expectations and thus neutralizing any engaged commitment, TO living again with the fire of one's initial religious com-mitment (but as it has penetrated deeper in the ensuing years) and daring to dialogue with one another around what is most central to our consecrated, identity and mission. FROM an individualism in community which emotionally and actually isolates us from one another and renders us the sole directors of our individual lives and actions TO an interdependence whereby we are willing to assume influential responsibility for the common good and to let the course of our life be influenced by those with whom we have cast our lot. Review for Religqous FROM a privatized personal prayer that attempts to control the voice, of God, whether speaking to us directly or through events and persons, TO a contemplative prayer which, though taking place in the solitude of ourself with God, includes a desire to hear from the greater communion and by it to be moved beyond ourself. ¯ FROM a paralyzing fixation with former styles of commu-nity life (whether hankering for their seeming assurances and predictabilities or decrying some very real distortions and abuses) TO a healthy retaining of what was good and a letting go of the rest. FROM a lifestyle which reflects a consumerism and mate-rialism based on first-world influences TO an authentically simple lifestyle which mirrors both our single-hearted attachment to Christ and a desire to share both personal and community goods with the larger world. FROM an excessive professional busyness that is destructive of both our personal relationship with God and our com-munity life ¯ TO an active and growing effort to build community by living together in faith our vowed identity, our prayer, and our mission. FROM a "closed" self-righteousness that categorizes indi-viduals, groups, and institutions as unenlightened or out-dated, too liberal or too conservative, and so forth, TO a humble receptivity in dialogue, reconciliation, and bridge building. FROM a posture of strength or power (personal or insti-tutional) stemming from education, academic eminence, or religious profession TO being faith sharers, discerners, and mutually both teach-ers and learners--in solidarity rather than by privileged separateness. FROM an entrenchment in or a preference for "comforts" that are coincident with present-day chaos regarding con-secrated identity TO an acknowledgment that we resist some of the lights we have and then to a greater receptiveness regarding con-version, change, and communion.2 FROM unreflective rejection of some legitimate mediations solely because of the source (church officials, religious lead-ership, private suggestions, and so forth) '-13-7- ~lCarch-April 1997 Galvan * Communion in Community TO an informed and loving critique or reception of the mediation after we have listened and discerned carefully, willing to be moved towards God's desires for us, whatever the channel of communication. FROM a movement away from the cross and its part in the paschal journey TO an embracing of its mystery along with Christ, in the light of who we are and are called to be. FROM a temptation to discouragement in the face of the realities of membership and mission TO a deep trust in God, who has called us to this conse-crated way of life. Attitudinal shifts ordinarily do not happen abruptly. Although God's grace, as we know, sometimes moves us quicHy out of our narrow fears and selfishness, ordinarily shifts in attitudes and mentalities happen slowly, even imperceptibly. My sense is that most often we find ourselves struggling with the subtle and not-so- subtle forces at war within us as we genuinely try to remain poised, with an interior honesty and transparency, to discern God's great and holy desires for us. My experiences these past few years as provincial leave me hopeful. Although I have observed and experienced many of the negative trends cited in the study by Nygren and Ukeritis on the Future of Religious Orders in the United States, I believe that a certain reversal is occurring in some of the trends cited in that study. For example, I am hearing that a growing number of reli-gi. ous are dissatisfied with the individualism that has taken hold of too many in our communities. At more and more congregational meetings, I am hearing of deliberate movement toward a corpo-rate focus and a common vision for mission. Members are being called to participate in rec.laiming their common vision. Such chfinge will demand a letting go of one's independence. It will mean a return to communion with the larger community as the group walks in fidelity to its call and mission in the church and society. It will mean that one is ready to be sent," in the name of the community, in the vision of the community, and in the mission of the church. A call for personal responsibility is implied. The demands and risks of accountability are obvious, but for many they are welcome. Above all, an expressed desire to know and companion Christ poor, chaste, and obedient in his embrace of the mission given him by his beloved Abba continues to be a hunger Review for Religious and the great drawing force for communion in religious life; Ongoing dialogue as believers with a common commitment in the face of the mystery of this call, a dialogue of trust in our own and others' integrity, a dialogue of respect for the movements of the Spirit at work in ourselves and others, a dialogue in an atmo-sphere where one can speak one's personal truth in freedom, acceptance, and love, is of course imperative if what seem to be shifting attitudes and trends are to take root. Yet dialogue, nec-essary as it is, cannot of itself effect the desired end. Each mem-ber of the community must become engaged in what Vita consecrata refers to as a "spirituality of commu-nion" in a world looking for meaning. VChat, then, might be some basic understand-ings and some concrete things a community must agree on if communion--that union of minds and hearts around Christ and his mission--is to be enfleshed, incarnated, made visible among, in, and through them? First, I think that the community must desire to be a place where the members can continue to respond to their call to be with and follow Christ, the poor, chaste, and obedient One. From this desire in each member of the community, the basic under-standings and concrete ways of living that desire will take shape. This implies an atmosphere, the availability of unmistakable spaces where that intimate, personal solitude with God can be experi-enced and deepened. It implies an atmosphere where one's vowed life can find concrete expression and ~where the mission and charism of the larger religious congregation is a lived reality. This atmosphere, this space, this place, is where communion is inte-grated in prayer, identity, and mission. Second, the community must agree to be a place where per-sonal conversion continues. This means that all the members see themselves as still needing conversion. It demands a certain degree of healthy self-acceptance. It also means that members allow for the ongoing conversion of the other members. It anticipates moments of and times for reconciliation as one moves from shadow and darkness to light. It embraces the sinner among us, both in ourselves and in others. It welcomes the dialogue of faith where members can simply share some aspects of their unique journey with God and with their brothers and sisters. It is a place The community must agree to be a place where personal conversion continues. ~lard.,-April 1997 Galvan ¯ Communion in Community where we can be transformed by God, even radically, and find ourselves in an atmosphere of a rejoicing community. Third, the group must see itself as a community where dis-cerning hearts will continue to seek together what God desires of them. It assumes that members are in consistent, personal prayer with God, certainly sometimes struggling with God, but ultimately wanting to know and to be moved to the more of God's loving hopes for them. It will mean that the building of communion in this particular community will be done by all the members. They will feel responsible for their lives together by prayerfully sorting out how the community will grow and deepen in its commitment. A dis-cerning community is one which remains in close dialogue with its largerreligious congregation so that the mission of the reli-gious institute will not be limited in time, space, or place. It means that all the members of the community are implicitly or even explic-itly ready to be called out of the group for the sake of mission. Fourth, though conflicts and differences and misunderstand-ings are inevitable even in the best endeavors to foster commu-nion, nonviolence must be the understood atmosphere of their living and acting. This means that all members will respect the dignity of one another and of themselves as loved by God. It means that conflicts will be resolved in direct and peace-filled (even if strong) dialogue. It means that personality differences will be good-humoredly accepted, and value differences rever-ently discussed. It will be a place where visitors will instinctively feel the quieting peace of God's presence. Finally, and closely tied to the first understanding cited above, the community needs to be clear about its place in the larger reli-gious institute, that is, about its founding spirit, charism, mission orientation, and so forth. This clarity is important because com-munion and community must be lived and expressed faithfully within the boundaries, the identity, of a particular religious insti-tute and according to the specificity of one's consecrated com-mitment in it. Given these basic understandings and some of the attitudi-nal shifts necessary if consecrated religious are to move beyond individualism to a shared communion lived in community, there are, I think, some concrete things the group needs to agree on in order to become communities of real communion on mission: ¯ specific, consistent times for prayer together and simple faith-sharing and also for meals and social and celebrative Review for Retigiou.~ gatherings, keeping in mind and respecting the varying per-sonal and ministerial needs and responsibilities of the mem-bers of the community; ¯ times for dialogue about the vowed life, shared values, and other issues pertaining to our consecrated commitment and mission and also for larger congregational issues and global issues as well; ~ the centrality of the Eucharist in the life of the commu-nity; ¯ the expectations and (especially in the larger religious institutes) structures for co-responsibility and accountabil-ity in support of our vowed commitment and mission; ¯ the type of corporate lifestyle which, even in individual expressions of it, will give witness to our vowed commu-nity life; ¯ the knowledge of how to deal nonviolently with conflict and differences; ¯ a prayerful approach to community dialogue/discussion leading to corporate decisions, so that members may be mindful of working together to know God's desires for them in this; ¯ expectations regarding relaxed times together, times of enjoyment and simple togetherness, so that, even within their busy ministry schedules, members will have the time and the space to receive one another's vulnerability, to address conflicts peacefully, to offer and be offered recon-ciliation when necessary, and to support one another in their ministry. None of this is new in our experiences of religious life together. In my experience as provincial, communities which did agree to work consciously and simply at building quality community in sup-port of mission and commitment, in a communion of minds and hearts, had no trouble getting others interested in joining them. What I have outlined regarding attitudes, mentalities, under-standings necessary for the enfleshing of communion in commu-nity life may seem overwhelming if we view community as a task rather than simply as a way of sharing communion. As a provin-cial I always felt I was in a very privileged place when I was in dialogue with my sisters about our experiences of God as conse-crated vowed women in our congregation. Invariably our dia-logue would move into issues of community life and the question of the more that it could be--with our inner communion of minds and hearts becoming mole manifest, with our experiencing one another's support more dynamically, with our reaching out to oth-ers more widely. March-April 1997 Galvan ¯ Communion in Community Some have despaired that this kind of thing could happen. Some have already walked away emotionally and settled into their own world. Some are discouraged but still hopeful. Some have found and helped build such a community. Religious congregations spend much time--and often it is necessary--in meetings, gatherings, chapters where the agendas find their way even into mealtimes. Everyone complains, but the hectic pace of our gatherings continues. I think it might be good if each religious congregation would spend some extended time together with no other agenda than to share with one another, prayerfully and simply, some pieces of the story of our personal communion with God as we have experienced it in our particular religious institute. I believe that from such a gathering, from such a shared communion, a new fire--of joy in being together, of per-sonal and community energy for mission--would give witness to the presence, Within us and among us, of a God worthy of our all. I have spoken of the hope I sense as I hear religious speak of the desire for the more to which God calls us in our consecrated commitment and our mission in a hurting world. It is not a hope that is settled in false complacency and renders us stagnant, in deadening self-satisfaction. It is a fiery hope that gives us a holy sense of urgency and a willingness to be further transformed into what God desires us to be. It is a hope that has the buoyancy of love when it is founded on faith. It is a hope which gives life. Notes i David J. Nygren CM and Miriam D. Ukeritis CSJ, "Future of Religious Orders in the United States," Origins 22,.no. 15 (24 September 1992), and Review for Religious 52, no. I (January-February 1993): 6-55, esp. pp. 42-51. 2 From a presentation to our province in the summer of 1993 by Barbara Valuckas SSND, PhD (PILGRIMinistries; 9 Academy Hill Road; Watertown, Connecticut 06795): "From Chaos, Facing Resistances, Acting on the Lights." Review for Religious ANNE MUNLEY Community and Prophetic Witness Idn this reflection on the ministerial, prophetic, and witness imensi0ns of communion, community, and common life, I have drawn from Vita consecrata (25 March 1996) and from vari-ous other writings about religious life "or being prophetic in today's society. I have considered some of the critical challenges and sin-ful distortions that are rupturing right relationship~s in our coun-try and our world. I have thought about some breative efforts of United States women religious to respond to urgent needs through a wide array of ministries flowing from their charisms. And I have found that a major benefit of reading or listening to material on the Synod on Consecrated Life has been ~in increased awareness of the church's universality and of the importance of being open to insights of other cultures and other areas of the world. The Icon of the Transfiguration Vita consecrata sets consecrated life on Trinftarian and Christological foundations. The icon of,the transfigured Christ provides a theological and spiritual view of the document. It helps us see that consecrated life has its center in the mystery of God, For many of us this may be a different entry point for reflecting on Anne Munley IHM, congregational administrator for the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary of Scranton, Pennsylvania, also serves as president of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious. Her address is Immaculate Heart of Mary Center; 2300 Adams Avenue; Scranton, Pennsylvania 18509. March-April 1997 Munley * Community and Prophetic lVitness consecrated life, communion, community, and mission. It emphasizes the Eastern concept of love of divine beauty and a mystical, contemplative focus that ultimately gets to action. In the West we tend to emphasize transformation, incarnation, kenosis, and an image of Jesus as "the anointed one" who pours forth his life for the sake of the many. In the transfiguration story, the disciples go up the mountain with Jesus and there they experience the beauty of God in the face of Jesus. It is an experience of communion and community. The disciples stay on the mountain experiencing the transfiguration together with Jesus; then together they go down the mountain to serve. In Vita consecrata the transfiguration icon is used to express an identity for consecrated life. It reminds us that we are called to be icons of God's love and beauty in the midst of the people and that it is the experience of communion with God, one another, and the world that impels us to mission. Further on in the document, a wonderful passage ties the quest for divine beauty direcdy to the imperative of prophetic witness amid urgent needs of the times: "The quest for divine beauty impels consecrated persons to care for the deformed image of God on the faces of their brothers and sisters, faces disfigured by hunger, faces disillusioned by political promises, faces humiliated by seeing their culture despised, faces frightened by constant and indiscriminate violence, the anguished faces of minors, the hurt and humiliated faces of women, the tired faces of migrants who are not given a warm welcome, the faces of the elderly who are without even the minimum conditions for a dignified life. The consecrated life thus shows with the eloquence of works that divine charity is the foundation and stimulus of freely given and active love" (VC §75). The transfiguration story offers much to ponder in regard to communion, community, the common good, prophetic living, and witnessing to the gospel. The Value of Both Being and Doing Vita consecrata and other contemporary works about religious life remind us that there is immense value in both being and doing. Vita consecrata describes community life, "understood as a life shared in love," as "an eloquent sign of ecclesial communion" (§42), It views consecrated life itself as % mission, as was the whole of Jesus' life," and defines this mission as "making Christ present Review for Religious to the world through personal witness" (§72). In Vita consecrata, "the witness of life and the witness of works of the apostolate and human development" are seen as "equally necessary" (§72). While being and doing are both important, it is our reason for being that gives shape to our doing. What religious must be in society is a far more significant question than what religious must do in society. In The Fire in These Ashes, Joan Chittister OSB vigorously calls attention to matters of being and doing. If religious life is to fulfill its purpose, it must be the kind of contemplative presence in the world that manifests the reign of God. It is not what we religious do that makes us witnesses to a God .who loves and liberates. It is why we do what we do and how we do it that signals hope to a hurting world. At a time when we hear much about diminishing numbers and relinquishment of long-cherished works, Chittister makes an important point: "The fact is that religious life was never meant simply to be a labor force in the church; it was meant to be a searing presence, a paradigm of search, a mark oi: human soul, and a catalyst to conscience in the society in which it emerged" (p. 2). To the extent that the quality of our communal presence in society and the collective witness of our works evoke awareness of the presence of a .compassionate and loving God, to that extent is our world being brought closer to God's reign. What religious must be in society is a far more significant question than what religious must do in society. The Prophetic Role of Consecrated Life Consecrated life is a dynamic gift of God to the church and to the world. It is neither static nor ahistorical, nor is it a self-serving refuge from the critical questions and pressing problems of our times. It is a call to be life for the world. It is a call to be a spar, k of light and a force for love in a world that cries oht for healing, truth, goodness, compassion, beauty, justice, community, and the full realization of human dignity and potential. All across history, religious life has been at its best when it has engaged directly with the culture of which it is a part, raising up what is good and lamenting all that distorts God's holy purposes. March-Aptql 1997 Munley * Community and Prophetic Witness The founders and foundresses of religious congregations were acutely sensitive to gaps that existed in their day between the realities of life and the vision set forth by Jesus. With great practicality, integrity, faith, courage, and trust, they named the pain of God's people, proclaimed an alternate vision, paid ~the price for their convictions, and with incredible ingenuity and resourcefulness inspired others to join with them in an effort to bear witness to a God of love, liberation, hope, mercy, and forgiveness. Today, too, critical involvement with the culture is essential to consecrated life. We must understand the world in which we live in order to challenge the status quo and imagine and announce an alternative future. It is for us, the believing community, to be bearers of hope. Our world needs to hear the challenge of prophetic words and to be challenged by prophetic action. As religious we need to be willing and able to "tell it as it is" and as it can be. We ourselves must turn away from sinful distortions that create gaps between the is and the ought to be. We must consciously choose to pay the price that fidelity will entail. We must be men and women of courage who find our strength and hope in God. Vita consecrata recognizes the prophetic role of religious life: "The consecrated life has the prophetic task of rec~lling and serving the divine plan for humanity, as it is announced in Scripture and as it emerges from an attentive reading of the signs of God's providential action in history" (§73). It reminds us that, in order to advance the prophetic t.ask, one needs profound experience of God, awareness of the challenges of the times, and an understanding of the theological meaning of these challenges in the light of the gospel. Vita consecrata.calls us once again, in the words of Gaudium et spes, to "respond to the perennial questions which people ask about this present life and the life to come, and about the relationship of the one to the other" and challenges us "to present new answers to the new problems of today's world" (§73). Joan Chittister OSB has given similar expression to the prophetic role of consecrated life: "The purpose of religious life is not survival; it is prophecy. The role of religious life is to bring to visibility what is Good News for our time now." (p. 26). She has described the relationship of religious li'fe to culture in varioug images as "a voice, a call, a presence, and a prophet in the world" (p. 71), as "a glaring light of conscience in a world grown coarse under the weight of an amoral, if not immoral kind of capitalism" Review for Religious (p. 22), and as a "sentry on the wall," a "bugler at dawn," "a lamplighter at night," and-"a candle on a far hill" (p. 71). The prophetic witness to which religious congregations are called has a communal and corporate character. Religious institutes are made up of men and women who hive publicly committed themselves to a life of radical interdependence and commonness of purpose. Individuals join communities to do together what they cannot do alone. Just as the participation of every member is needed to carry forward the mission and corporate direction of the congregation, so too are the voices of religious needed to raise up 'critical questions for the sake of the common good. In every culture and in every era there are expressions of grace and beauty as well as elements of de-humanization. It is a central task of religious life to give spiritual energy to the culture of the .times by calling the attention of the world to the spiritual dimensions of its actions. This is a task that closely parallels that of the Hebrew prophets. In denouncing poverty and the injustice and sinfulness of what was happening, they helped the community to grieve, lament, see other possibilities, and change ways in order to become whole. In calling anew for the presence and help of God, the prophets were able to reveal something new, a path not yet seen by the people. Vita consecrata and other works appropriately highlight the prophetic role that is fundamental to the life and mission of every religious congregation. Being called to engage with others in bearing prophetic witness is both challenging and disturbing; It sets before those of us who have freely chosen to live our baptismal call as members of a religious congregation some significant questions: Are we clear enough about who we are, what we stand for, and whom we stand with to critique our culture honestly and without bias? Are we passionate enough about our convictions to mirror to our culture the radical concern for the welfare of others that is at the heart of the gospel message? Do we have the generosity of spirit, tenacity, integrity, and resolve to change what needs to be changed in ourselves if we are to be a moral voice and prophetic sign of hope to our world? The prophetic witness to which religious congregations are called has a communal and corporate character. 147 March-April 1997 Munley ¯ Community and Prophetic Witness In a world of polarizations, strife, and divisions of every kind, the witness of community and concern for the common good are needed more than ever. God's self-communication takes place in every period of history. Present realities are the locus in which we encounter God. As at every other time, the prophetic role of religious life cannot be furthered without utter reliance on God, attention to and reflection on depth levels of experience, and a commitment to justice making--all fostered by contemplative prayer. Contemplation allows us to see injustice, to confront our own need for conversion, to lament, to see through situations, and to name new possibilities as we engage with the world and attempt to live the gospel. Prophets have a quality of attentiveness that lends integrity and authenticity to their lives. Contemplative attentiveness enables the prophet to hear the cry of the poor, to read the signs of the times, to experience Jesus as liberator and healer, and to pay the price of commitment. Community as a Prophetic Reminder Prophecy is an enduring gift of the Spirit. In the Hebrew Scriptures prophecy was the realm of individuals explicitly called by God to remind those in power that preserving the status quo cannot take precedence over the good of people, especially, the frailest and most vulnerable. In the Christian Scriptures the whole believing community is called to imagine and live toward the reality of God's reign in covenant relationships not only with God but with one another. In both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, caring for the poor and needy is an act of knowing God. A shared faith vision and unity of mind and heart ire identifying characteristics of Christian community. These are beautifully described in Acts 4:32-36: "The whole group of believers was united, heart and soul; no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, as everything they owned was held in common. The apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus with great power, and they were all accorded great respect. None of their members was ever in want, as all those who owned land or houses would sell them and bring the money from Review for Religious the sale of them to present to the aposdes; it was then distributed to any who might be in need?' This passage is a wonderful entry point for reflecting on community as a form of prophetic witness. The moral foundation for community lies in the simple fact that human beings need one another. By our vary nature we are meant for relationship. From the cradle to the grave, human beings hunger for bonds of unity, for support and connection. Jean Vanier, founder of L'Arche, knows well the power and the pull of community: We are, of course, called to grow and to grow in strength and competence, but this strength is for building up humanity in love, not for our own glory and power. We are not called to be independent islands separated from one another, closed up in self-satisfaction. We are all interconnected, interdependent, called to be one body. The weak need the strong just as the strong need the weak in order not to close up in suicidal acts of power and pride, wounding the child within. The mutual need of hearts is communion. (p. 167) Community is visible where the values of inclusion, participation, generosity, compassion, service, mutuality, shared responsibility, accountability, collective witness, and respect for diversity are put into practice. Living these values is both countercultural and transformative. For almost two thousand years, religious men and women have lived the struggle and sought the goal of community. Community life is an ideal worth keeping. It is a prophetic reminder that all human beings are called to oneness in God. In a world of polarizations, strife, and divisions of every kind, the witness of community and concern for the common good are needed more than ever. The call to unity in diversity is a centralparadox of the gospel as well as a challenge that transcends time and culture. It is a struggle of global proportions that also touches each of us very direcdy in the day-to-day circumstances of our lives in community and in mission. The struggle for unity in diversity can be painful because it involves yielding and relinquishment. Yet it also offers people of faith an opportunity to give transformative prophetic witness. !49 Marcb-Ap141 1997 Munley ¯ Community and Prophetic IVitness Issues of oneness and diversity are as old as human history. Anthropologists, historians, and sociologists have written volumes about the human consequences of "consciousness of kind" and "consciousness of difference" as they are played out in war, oppression, discrimination, and decisions about who matters and who does not matter. All of us have been affected by deeply internalized values, assumptions, opinions, stereotypes, and worldviews that consciously or unconsciously govern our behavior. We have all been affected profoundly by arbitrary lines that we humans draw to separate and fragment people and cultures. Yet, at the innermost levels of our being, we long for unity, harmony, wholeness, and a right ordering of relationships: One of the most challenging dimensions of faith is that we are called to oneness in God On 17:21). In struggling to be prophetic signs of unity inclusive of diversity, we have much to learn from a God who loves unconditionally and excludes no one. Throughout his entire life Jesus lived the principle of inclusive love to the fullest. The Gospels are rich with stories of his healing and empowering encounters with men and women of different classes, life experiences, and cultural traditions. Jes9s was a living reminder that harmony exists when wholeness incorporates diversity. In John's Gospel, during the discourse at the Last Supper, Jesus set forth his loving communion with his Father as the model for the love of disciples. The good news of the incarnation is that we are called to that same relationship with God and with one another. This call continues to be a prophetic challenge for our times. Some questions worth pondering with respect to the potential impact of the witness of religious community are: How big is our sense of community? Who is included and who is excluded? How can our modeling of community help to bridge cultural biases, ethnocentric thinking, and learned patterns of prejudice and discrimination? Some Signs of the Times Prophets and prophetic communities have the gift of. being able to read the signs of the times. What are some of the signs of our times that cry out for the healing restoration of community and the witness of prophetic action? As I reflect on .this world and on our compelling call to be prophetic signs of Gbd's all-inclusive love, I am struck by several Review for Religious ruptures in our social fabric that affect us as religious. As we stand on the threshold of the new millennium, our world is devastated by clashes that arise from hate and fear of "people who are not like us." In the cities, neighborhoods, and villages of Africa and Asia, Afghanistan, Northern Ireland, the Mideast, and North, Central, and South America, human beings are trampling on human rights and killing one another over economic, religious, political, racial, ethnic, or cultural differences. Hatred, racism, sexism, intolerance, greed, ,distorted loyalties, terrorism, and fanaticism are jeopardizing the survival of civilization. Worldwide and here in the United States, this sign of the times is challenging religious communities to show in practical ways a compassionate capacity to live together in wholeness without suppressing differences, blaming victims, or scapegoating the vulnerable. The level of violence in the world today is morally intolerable. It transcends national, cultural, and racial boundaries; it is more likely to occur in the home than on the streets; and it devastates the lives of families and children. In the United States alone, twenty-five children, the equivalent of a classroomful, are killed by guns every two days (State of America's Children). It is a national tragedy that inner-city children as young as ten tell psychiatrists and social workers that they think about death all the time. It is a national tragedy that many young black and Hispanic men have little or no hope of living beyond the age of eighteen. It is a national tragedy that one out of every five Americanochildren lives in poverty. It is a national tragedy that forty-one million uninsured lack healthcare coverage. It is a national tragedy that we have forged a culture hostile to .aliens and immigrants. Random shootings, domestic violence, and the killing of children by children are manifestations of systemic problems. Poverty, homelessness, racism, hate crimes, cheapened sexuality, materialism, ecological irresponsibility, and a devaluing of human life are all symptomatic of an erosion of compassion, community, social accountability, and spiritual values. There is something grossly out of balance in our world when the amount of money paid in one yea,r to a star athlete for endorsing a product is more than the combined wages paid to the factory workers who actually made the product (Wallis, p. 92). In the United States, income inequality continues to rise. In 1993, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, the wealthiest 20 percent of Americans earned 48 percent of all household income, ~'Harcb-ApHI 1997 Munley ¯ Community and Propbetic Wifness the highest ever recorded. In terms of poverty rates, the most vulnerable segments of the U.S. population are female-headed households (35 percent), African Americans (33 percent), Hispanics (31 percent), and children (20 percent). At present more than 39 million Americans, more than 15 percent of the population, live below the poverty level (Wallis, p. 95). All this occurs while euphemisms about welfare reform threaten the most helpless women and children in our society. Predictions for the future are bleak if root causes of social breakdown remain t~naddressed. The Children's Defense League projects that if social and economic trends of the last twenty years are allowed to continue, 24 percent of all American children under 18 will be poor by the year 2001; one million babies will be born into poverty each year; 44,000 teen mothers will give birth every month; and 37,000 children will be arrested every week (State of America's Children, p. xxii). Globally we know there is a failure of community when the richest 20 percent of the world's population enjoys 85 percent of the world's income, while the poorest 20 percent struggles to survive on only two percent (1994 U.N. Human Development Report). There is a failure of community when nearly 800 million people face persistent everyday hunger and much larger numbers suffer from malnutrition and temporary hunger ("Hunger--the Facts," pp. 18-19). If the prophets of old were here today, they would have much to lament and alternative possibilities to hold up before us. Prophets have the task of keeping the vision before the people. Prophets are keenly attuned to the critical needs of their time. This is a time when the gospel mandate of love of God and love of neighbor requires much of religious communities, It is a time for us to help regenerate a sense of community from the ground up. It is a time to learn and to teach others how to communicate across boundaries. It is a time to model nonviolent ways of resolving disputes. It is a time to rekindle willingness to support and enable one another in meeting unmet needs. It is a time to raise up questions of the common good. It is a time for a spiritual transformation of attitudes, values, and behaviors, It is a time when actions of the present will profoundly impact the future. It has often been said that the best test of a nation is how it treats children, the poor, strangers, outcasts, the weak, and the vulnerable. The Hebrew prophets saw this as the truest measure of Review for Religious integrity. As religious communities we have a wonderful capacity to be forces for justice and integrity. As we look to the future, do we have the faith, courage, and commitment to be a voice for the voiceless? How strong is our corporate resolve to be creators of community, menders of broken relationships, and healers of a troubled world? The Need for Creative Response As I look back on the history of religious life in the United States, I am awed by how much has been accomplished with so little in the way of material resources. What our forbears were able to do, often in unassuming ways, is truly astounding. It was prophetic reading of the times that prompted them to create Catholic healthcare, an educational system that spans from early childhood to late life, and a bevy of catechetical, pastoral, and social services for'a nation of immigrants. They were pioneers who saw what needed to be done arid ~et about doing it togethdr. Their willingness to sacrifice for what they believed in and their passionate Commitment to God, the church, their congregations, and one another were priceless resources. They were individuals bonded by a shared sense of purpose, experience of communion, and the support of community life. They were men and women whose prophetic witness of community and ministry made significant impact on their times. Among the key findings of the 1992 LCWR Threads for the Loom study of the ministry of women religious is the fact that, even at a time of diminishment, U.S. women religious are persistent in their efforts to respond to urgent needs in a world and society characterized by shifting valties and an unprecedented rate of change. This study provides considerable evidence of concern for the common good and of ongoing responsiveness to populations at risk: children, young people, the elderly, women, families in crisis, and the urban poor. Almost ninety percent of the respondents report that their institutes have enabled uncompensated ministry with the materially poor. Eighty-five percent indicate that their institutes have sponsored works that imply attentiveness to As religious communities we have a wonderful capacity to be forces for justice and integrity. March-April 1997 Munley ¯ Community and Prophetic Witness emerging needs. Almost thirty percent say that their institutes have created new not-for-profit corporations. Of these, almost sixty percent describe the new ministry corporations as addressing various needs for housing. In terms of projections, fifty percent of the participants in this study predicted an increase in the number of their sisters who would be serving five needy population groups by 1996: the homeless, women, persons with AIDS, the elderly, and persons for whom English is a second language. Community leaders also projected increased involvement of their sisters in programs concerned with hunger, housing, unemployment, infant and child day care, latchkey children, adult day care, women's resource centers, English as a second language, ecology, and peace. In the various institutes' statements regarding future directions for ministry, five themes emerged: a preferential option f6r and solidarity with the poor; the promotion of systemic change; ministry with and empowerment of women; collaboration with other groups and other religious institutes; and ministry with children, young people, and families in distress. How accurate were these projections? Information about various collaborative ministry projects gathered by LCWR from 1994 to the present suggests that religious institutes across the country--in collaboration with one another and with dioceses and civic and social agencies--are responding to those in greatest need with creativity, ingenuity, and significant sharing of resources. Most of the projects focus on the needs of poor women or of poor women and children. Areas of ministry targeted by the projects include education on all levels, literacy, housing, domestic violence, homelessness, healthcare, crisis intervention, empowerment, after-school programs, social services, and retreat work.~Many of these ministries serve multicultural populations. None of them would have come into being without the commitment and participation of religious communities. In Vita consecrata the religious of the world are urged to respond to the needs of the times with "creative fidelity" to, their charisms. Like the prophets, of old, with an eye to the contemporary scene and an ear attuned to God, religious communities are attempting to do this. Tl~e fact that religious live a common life enables and sustains empowering ministry among God's people. At a time when many forces converge to make God less visible in society, the witness of community life is a sign of the Review for Religious beauty and power of God's love at work in our world. The reign of God is both here and not yet. Contemplative attention to the injustices, sufferings, and spiritual hungers of our day shows that much is needed for our wounded world's healing. Yet, through the goodness of God, so much has begun. Some words of the poet Denise Levertov invite further reflection: How could we tire of hope? --so much is in bud. How can desire fail? --we have only begun. Works Cited Chittister, Joan. The Fire in These Ashes. Kansas City: Sheed and Ward, 1995. "Hunger--the Facts." New Internationalist. May 1995: 18-19. Lahr, Dolores. Collaborative Ministry Projects: 1994, 199Y, and 1996 vol-umes. Silver Sj3ring, Maryland: Leadership Conference of Women Religious, 1994, 1995, and 1996. Levertov, Denise. "Beginners." In Cries of the Spirit, edited by Marilyn Sewell. Boston: Beacon Press, 1991. Munley, Anne. Threads for the Loom. Silver Spring, Maryland: Leadership Conference of Women Religious, 1992. I~94 Unite~ Nations Human Development Report. New York: United Nations, 1994. The State of America's Children: Yearbook 1994. Washington, D.C.: Children's Defense Fund, 1994. U.S, Census Bureau. The Dynamics of Economic Well-Being: Poverty 1990- 1992. Washingtonl D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1995. Va.nier, Jean. Jesus the Gift of Love. New York: Crossroad, 1994. Wallis, Jim. Who Speaks for God? New York: Delacorte Press, 1996. I55 ~larch-April 1997 KENNETH C. RUSSELL John Cassian on Asceticism lenten reflections Asceticism has not only acquired a bad reputation, it sim-ply no longer seems relevant. It does not help, of course, that for some people the very word conjures up images of hairshirts and spiked belts, of frenzied monks beating themselves black and blue with lead-studded Whips, and of hermits in narrow cells hooking their knotted hair to nails in the wall to hold themselves upright while they sleep. Even in its more prosaic forms, asceticism suggests "self-denial," the disciplining of the "sinful" body. Try as they may to justify these various practices, many people of the 1990s feel uncomfortable with the body-soul split that makes the corporeal aspect of their being the enemy to be overcome. They readily subscribe, therefore, to the view that traditional asceticism was essentially a Greek-inspired aberration that is better left behind, now that people fully appreciate the body-soul integrity of their human nature. They welcome the idea that a new, unselfish, socially-oriented asceticism, in which people expend them-selves in the service of their neighbor, has pushed aside an earlier version that was self-centered and focused on pun-ishing the body. The new asceticism, after all, is about being in the world rather than escapingfr0m it. This is all well and good, but unfortunately we of the 1990s still find ourselves drinking too much, eating too much or too little, driven by ambition, anxious, worried, Kenneth C. Russell, now retired from St. Paul University in Ottawa, lives at 1505-40 Landry Street; Vanier, Ontario; K1L 8K4 Canada. Review for Religious sad, or perhaps simply adrift. Our discomfort with the way we are forces us to seek the assistance of therapists, psychiatrists, and self-help books. The one place where we seldom go for help is tra-ditional asceticism. We may continue to pay lip service to it, but it is forever associated in our minds with an anti-body stance we find repugnant. It is no longer relevant. This point is repeated over and over again in articles and talks. But is it true? Certainly at some point something did go wrong with asceticism. At some point asceticism became a primarily puni-tive, penitential action aimed at the body. This is undeniable. But does this fact--which must, of course, be qualified far more than I have time to do here--justify the presumption that traditional asceti-cism was skewed from the very beginning? Was there perhaps something good there after all? In fact, how can we even jump to the conclusion that asceticism was one tightly unified doctrine in the early church, given the differ-ences between Basil, Augustine, Evagrius, Jerome, and many oth-ers? If the Greek attitude toward the body was indeed a virus that Cassian's keen awareness of psychology and spiritual development provides a basis for the integration of the practical wisdom of the desert and modern psychology. infected Christian thinking, would it not have infected the thought of some writers more than others? Would these ideas not be stronger in one place than in another? Scholars love to ponder the erudite works of Evagrius Ponticus, the courtier turned her-mit, but is it so certain that theory predominated over practice in the heat of the Egyptian desert, where most of the hermits were uneducated peasants? In our rush to move on, are we seeing unity where in. fact there was diversity? Have we stopped listening to the past on the issue of asceticism simply because "the anti-body, Greek aberration" label we encounter so often has led us to pre-sume that what is being said there is not worth our full attention? I want to challenge this fashionable writing off of the past by examining John Cassian's basic theories on asceticism. I have cho-sen Cassian (ca. 365-ca. 435) for several reasons. First, he was one of the major channels through which the ascetical tradition of the Egyptian desert reached Western monasticism. As everyone knows, ~S¢larch-April 1997 Russell ¯ ~obn Cassian on Asceticism St. Benedict's Rule recommends the reading of Cassian's Institutes and Conferences. Secdnd, it is my conviction that Cassian's keen awareness of psychology and spiritual development provides a basis for the integration of the practical wisdom of the desert and mod-ern psychology. In other words, I maintain that, if we hope to reconstruct a healing, reformative asceticism that respects our human nature and spiritual destiny, we must go back to Cassian and build from there. Be that as it may, my immediate purpose is merely to demonstrate that the "anti-body" label routinely attached to the teaching of the Fathers is not necessarily accurate. I want to look at three elements of John Cassian's thought. First, his anthropology. How does he understand the interaction of the body and the mind, the flesh and the spirit? What does he make of the tension between them? Second, I want to examine the goal and purpose of asceticism as they are set out in his writ-ings. Third, I want to consider his teaching on the various "pas-sions" that afflict us because, unless we accurately hear what he has to say about these compulsive patterns of behavior, we will not appreciate the therapeutic dimension of his thought. Anthropology "How authors deal 5vith the tension between flesh and spirit vividlydescribed by St. Paul (Ga 5:17 and Rm 7-8) is surely the touchstone by which their view of human nature may be assessed. Cassian discusses this issue in his fourth conference, which is sup-posedly spoken to Cassian and his traveling companion Germanus by Abba Daniel, one of the desert masters of the spiritual life. I call attention, first, to Cassian's fundamentally optimistic stance toward the way thin'gs are. He insists that the tension between flesh and spirit has been implanted in us by God. How, then, he asks, can something that God has implanted in each of us possi-bly be harmful rather than helpful? We note here something that recurs throughout Cassian's writings: the conviction that a mea-sure of struggle and stress is good for us: This conflict implanted in us by the arrangement of the Creator is in a way useful to us, and calls and urges us on to a higher state; and, if it ceased, most surely would ensue on the other hand a peace that is fraught with danger.* Cassian would rather have us involved in a moral struggle than see us calmly drifting along in what amounts to a false peace. Review for Religious The weakness of the flesh keeps the soaring spirit realistic, while the spirit keeps the flesh from reducing life to food, drink, and sex. In John Cassian's oddly existentialist view of life, there is no gain without pain. We become human by taking hold of the ele-ments of our life and dealing with them. Our identity, we might say, is not given at birth, but achieved by the effort to become an adult. Difficulties, pains, and struggles of various kinds are seen, therefore, as grace-given opportunities for advancement. Cassian teaches that we must deal with our "carnality," that we must accept the challenges it poses for us, because the peaceful alternative, which might well look appealing, is actually a descent into animality. Animals live in the given without struggle. We human beings become animal, not when we become carnal, but when we aban'don efforts to become human by effecting a peace-ful consortium of body and soul. The carnal condition of human-ity, uncomfortable as it may be at times, is therefore a great blessing. But how does Cassian interpret Paul's reference to "flesh" and "spirit"? He begins by remarking that flesh has various mean-ings in the Bible. Sometimes it refers to the whole human beirig, body and soul; at other times, to people as sinners or to the sins themselves. It can also indicate a "flesh of my flesh" closeness. But he argues that, in Paul's reference to the conflict between flesh and spirit, the two terms have an active rather than a sub-stantive meaning. They indicate the direction of the will, the ori-entation of the whole being. Flesh is an orientation toward the delights of the present life: a full stomach and a sound night's sleep. Spirit thirsts for spiritual things even to the extent of being in danger of neglecting the body's needs. We are not far here from the argument of modern exegetes who maintain that spirit is the'whole being under the influence of the Spirit and that flesh is the human being alienated from God and focused on lesser ends. We note, however, that Cassian asso-ciates "flesh" with the body inasmuch as the body is the vehicle of present delights--although this is balanced by his realization that "spirit," the basic orientation toward God and virtue, can be exces-sive and can lead us to disregard the needs of our fragile bodies. Consequently, in Cassian's view, the struggle we experience within us is between our spiritual aspirations and the basic needs of the body. We must opt for spirit, but not to such an extent that we try to bypass our human reality. 2~larch-Apri11997 Russell ¯ .~obn Cassian on Asceticism In fact, as we have seen, we achieve our full human stature precisely through t,.his flesh-spirit conflict: When, in consequence of the lukewarmness arising from this sluggish will of which we have spoken; the mind has been more easily entangled in carnal desires, it is checked by the desire of the spirit, which by no means acquiesces in~ earthly sins; and again, if through overmuch feeling our spirit has been carried in unbounded fervor towards ill-con-sidered and impossible heights, it is recalled by the weakness of the flesh to sounder considerations and, rising above the lukewarm condition of our free will with due proportion and even course, proceeds along the way of perfection? We must keep in mind that Cassian sees this tug and pull of flesh and spirit as a limitation that is a blessing from God. He puts it on a par with the fracturing of the universal language at the Tower of Babel, which, in his view, rescued humanity from its pride by reminding it of its fragility. In Cassian's opinion, the struggle between flesh and spirit keeps us conscious that we are human. Actually, the bo.dy's needs serve Cassian as the norm by which the appropriateness or excessiveness of asceticism may be mea-sured. The body's legitimate needs moderate any spiritual exces-siveness that tries to bypass or ignore our human condition: "We ought to refresh ourselves with food and sleep at the proper time even if we dislike it.''3 Indeed, Cassian insists that it would be cruel to fast when the body needs food. It would be equally wrong to deprive the body of the sleep it needs. In fact, the failure to meet the body's need of both nutrition and rest backfires because the imprudent ascetic is left feeling weak and drowsy. Excess, in other words, interferes with the alertness and strength needed to maintain a vigorous life of prayer. It is important to keep this principle of meeting the body's needs in mind because it will moderate our shock at the asceticism the Desert Fathers actually practiced. We must realize that, when Cassian's interlocutors suggest for each day two hardtack buns weighing scarcely a pound, a little water, and a few hours sleep overnight, they are conforming to their understanding of what the body's needs are. They are not out to hurt the body or even to deny it anything necessary for its well-being. They are simply attempting to pare away all excess. A softer image of Cassian's attitude toward the body is given in the last paragraphs of several conferences where we see the abba break off his talk to ensure that his listeners get the sleep they Review for Religious need. In one conference there is even a delightful account of an abba setting a mouth-watering Sunday banquet before his guests. Each monk present is served three olives, five chick-peas, two prunes, and one fig, in addition to the normal allotment of bread! Little touches such as this make the desert seem a human place despite the austerities that were practiced there. There are other stories, unfortunately, which indicate that some hermits refused to respect the body-spirit reality of the human condition, One solitary went to such extremes in fasting and solitude that he lost his mental bal-ance and became convinced that, should he fall from a great height, he would be borne up on angel wings. He died from his injuries shortly after putting his theory to the test. Cassian emphasizes that, if we avoid the flesh-spirit conflict, we turn into animals. He also emphasizes that, if we act as though we are angels without a human body, we run the risk of spiritual shipwreck. Too little food and sleep is just as bad as too much food and sleep, "for excess of fasting and gluttony come to the same thing, and an unlimited continuance of vigils is equally injurious to a monk as the torpor of deep sleep.''4 The extremes touch.In relation to the body, therefore, asceticism is about meeting needs rather than satisfying desires. The problem, obviously, is that we want more than we need. Asceticism does not ignore human needs; it refuses to cater to excessive desires. Although Cassian advocates an aus-tere ascetical regime, the theory behind it is a long way from the self-denying, penitential asceticism with which we are familiar. It has a different basis altogether. It also has a different purpose. People today often associate asceticism With the effort to gain self-control through a "mind over matter" exercise, or they think of it as penance done for sins committed. Cassian sees it, however, as a more integral part of the spiritual life. This is particularly significant for the monastic audience he addresses. In fact, in the first conference of the series, Abba Moses identifies the ascetical life with the monastic life itself. Asceticism does not ignore human needs; it refuses to cater to excessive desires. The Goal and Purpose of Asceticism Every art or discipline, Abba MoseS points out, has two goals: :lqarch-April 1997 Russell ¯ ~obn Cassian on Asceticism one immediate and the other long-range. The immediate goal serves as the means to attain the ultimate goal. A farmer, for exam-ple, works hard to have a good yield from his fields. The boun-tiful harvest constitutes his immediate goal. It is the sine qua non of the good life that is his ultimate aim. What, Abba Moses asks, is the ultimate aim of the monk, and what is the immediate goal which serves as the necessary means to that end? Cassian and Germanus answer that the final aim of the monas-tic life--its ultimate goal--is the kingdom of God. But what, they ask, is the immediate goal by which the ultimate end is attained, partially by hints here and now and completely in the life to come? Abba Moses replies: Purity of heart. We must not be too quick to write off "purity of heart" as merely a biblical expression that enables Cassian to sidestep the negative connotations the West associated with apatheia. Nor must we let our awareness of how much Cassian the practitioner owes to Evagrius the theoretician lead us to conclude that purity of heart is merely apatheia masquerading under another name. The best way to detour around our prejudices about either term is to consider what "purity of heart" actually means in Cassian's works. First of all, it is synonymous with holiness. It is sanctity achieved, if we may use such an acquisitive adjective for a grace-given condition. Cassian makes the correspondence between love and purity of heart clear when he says that the goal of asceticism is "purity of heart, which is charity." This is really the point of the ascetical practices: "that through them we may be enabled to prepare our heart and to keep it unharmed by all evil passions, and resting on these steps to mount to the perfection of charity.''5 Purity of heart is, consequently, the condition of peo-ple so possessed by love that they act spontaneously out of love rather than out of concupiscence. The Passions When Cassian talks about purity of heart or perfect love, he means more than a noble intention or act of will. He has in mind a spontaneous, unfailing readiness to act out of love. Love, in other words, must become the energy driving all our actions. We must become loving. It is easy to say we love God, but the fact of the matter is that all kinds of behavior patterns automatically spring into action Review for Religious throughout the day to contradict our words. Let someone cut us off in traffic and we respond aggressively without thinking. Let some coworker boast a bit, and we find ourselves competitively parading our own petty triumphs for applause. We say we love God above all things, but we render ourselves less fit for service by habits of eating and drinking that are detrimental to our health. Or, taking the opposite tack, we give such strict attention to what we eat and drink that we ourselves seem to assume first place in the universe. We seem, in short, to be pro-grammed by our training and habits to act in certain ways. These automatic patterns of behavior, these pressures, these compulsions, are what Cassian refers to when he speaks about "the passions." He looks at human beings from a phenomenological point of view. What he sees is that one person is prone to eat too much and another, too little; that one individual is pulled toward greed and another toward lust. He sees that this is the way things are, but, unlike ourselves, who are under the influence of Freud, he has no interest in discovering why this person feels one compulsion and that person quite another, The immediate problem itself is what holds his attention. What is evident is that, whatever our self-centered reactions may be, they interfere with our desire to love God and neighbor. We say we love, but we are not sponta-neously loving. We still act in ways that are against God, our neighbor, and our own well-being. Cassian is not really preoccupied with gluttons, sex-fiends, or proud dictators trying to dominate the world. He is concerned, not with vices, but with the traces of them in good, morally upright Christians who are striving to do their best. He is talking, therefore, not about sins, but about the moral diseases which afflict us. If these diseases go untreated, they can indeed take over our whole life; they can become vices. As the list Cassian received from Evagrius Ponticus passed through time, it became a list of vices or capital sins. But we must bear in mind that for Cassian it is a list of diseases, which call for healing. Sickness, not guilt, is the primary reality, and the issue is not how we got this way but what we are going to do about it. When Cassian talks about purity of heart or perfect love, he has in mind a spontaneous, unfailing readiness to act out of love. March-Ap~q11997 Russell * ~obn Cassian on Asceticism These pressures we experience stand in the way of purity of heart or perfect love. We are not well. Cassian, therefore, asks: How do we get better? The same question could be formulated in different terms: How do we find freedom? How can we acquire a tranquil mind and be at peace with God, neighbor, the world, and our very self?. This is a medical question, at least metaphorically. Ca~sian, therefore, takes a medical approach and offers a medical answer. His medical orientation is evident, first of all, in the diagnostic model he employs. Anyone who has read the Greek historian Thucydides' vivid description of the bubonic plague that struck Athens in 430 B.C. (History of the Peloponnesian War, Book 2) is familiar with the Greek diagnostic technique. This approach meticulously notes the symptoms of an illness, its development, and, finally, what it is like at its most virulent stage when it has, in effect, taken over a person's life. Cassian deals briefly with disordered eating, sexual tension, avarice, anger, sadness, acedia, vainglory, and pride in conference 5, but he discusses each one at length in a series of studies in his Institutions (Books 5-12). The usual procedure is for the symp-toms of the disease to be outlined and a full-blown case to be described. The case studies actually make this 5th-century work seem very contemporary, for it is precisely this approach we are used to encountering in books and articles popularizing various psychological theories. This is an important point because it reminds us that Cassian's conception of asceticism is broader than our own. Cassian is deal-ing with complex psychospiritual and social elements which press an individual in one direction or another. Asceticism, therefore, is as much about psychology as it is about spirituality. Cassian, in fact, has a holistic view of human nature. He is trying to solve human problems, and, since he does not share our piecemeal view that this is a psychological problem while that is a spiritual prob-lem, his asceticism aspires to cure the Whole person. What he communicates in his examples, therefore, is the psy-chological and spiritual wisdom of the Egyptian desert. This wis-dom can be brought into dialogue with our own knowledge of psychology so that a mutual enrichment and correction can take place. At the very least, this awareness of the psychological dimen-sion of asceticism should force us to integrate asceticism into the whole story of our life instead of letting it sit on the periphery like Review for Religious some alien technique that has little to do with our total growth. If asceticism is about punishing or disciplining the wayward body, we feel we. can live without it. But, if asceticism is about coming to grips with the psychospiritual and social pressures we experi-ence, then it may indeed have a place in our lives. Cassian uses the medical model to shape the large-scale struc-ture of his studies on the passions. It is even more significant, however, that he uses medical terminology to discuss moral issues. Such words as "illness" and "infection," "remedy" and "cure," are found throughout Cassian's works. Their recurrence reinforces the point that what is at issue is sickness and healing, not sin and punishment. When asceticism is linked to sin and punishment, it follows that, though one form of penance may be harder than another, they are all essentially the same. They differ only in how quickly or how slowly they expiate sin. Once this prin-ciple is accepted, people can balance their penitential accounts by .substituting a long penance for a shorter but harder one. In fact, all kinds of ingenious equiv-alencies become possible. For example, when King Henry II received three years on crusade as part of his. penance for the murder of Archbishop Thomas Becket, he arranged to substitute the establishment of three monasteries for the period of military service. But, if asceticism is viewed as therapeutic, one ascetical strat-egy cannot be substituted for another. One ascetical effort, like some medications, may be helpful in treating more than one ill-ness, but by and large the forms of asceticism are not inter-changeable. If acedia (a sort of listless discontent with where we are and what we are doing) is the problem, "taking" the remedy for sadness is not going to help. The struggle against acedia, the infamous "noonday demon" of the desert, demands that we hold on hard to the doorposts of our cell so that nothing can pull us away from it, while the strug-gle against sadness requires us to force our way through the dark-ness to fix our eyes on our future hope. Both of these ascetical strategies are actually more psychological than physical, but this If asceticism is about coming to grip.s with the psychospiritual and social pressures we experience, then it may indeed have a place in our lives. 16Y March-April 1997 Russell ¯ ~obn Cassian on Asceticism only serves to underline that Cassian does not think of asceticism as a purely physical action to discipline the body. If our spiritual problem is in the mind, disciplining the body does not make much sense. Practicing some physical form of asceticism while ignoring the mental dimension of all we do leads to failure. Thus, although Cassian recommends fasting as an effective remedy for sexual ten-sion, he is also aware of the psychological, aspects of the prob-lem. He insists that we take care not to let ourselves become overly pressured by our work or other preoccupations. Cassian's medical bag does not contain a plethora of physical means of asceticism. There is little more than fasting and vigils or, in other words, the regulation of food and sleep. In both cases the plan is to have not less than needed, but the barebones right amount with no excess for self-indulgence. Fasting is not a mat-ter of eating less on certain days, but of eating the same amount later in the day than usual. The hungry hermit's question was not "How much will I eat today?" but "Will I eat once or twice today and when?" Fasting, however, does serve Cassian as a kind of basic rem-edy to accompany all other prescriptions. Fasting, after all, strikes at our drive to put ourselves at the center of the world, with all other things and people for our use. Nothing is more self-cen-tered, assertive, and potentially aggressive than eating. It is a miniaturization of our readiness to ingest the world. Fasting reins in this egocentricity and ensures that eating serve the needs of the body rather than the expansive claims of the imperial self. Disordered eating--overeating, undereating, eating at inap-propriate times, and so forth--stands at the head of the list of passions Cassian inherited. There was a tendency, therefore, for some of the monks in the Egyptian desert to think that, if they could stave off moral decline by remedying any tendency to dis-ordered eating by fasting, they would have nothing further to worry about. They thought, in effect, that if they stopped the moral ball from tumbling down the hill by giving all their atten-tion to disordered eating, they would not have to tackle the other passions in the list. This is naive, of course, and a misunder-standing of the moral complexity the list describes. It also makes fasting far more important than it should be. It becomes the sole and exclusive key to peace of heart and tranquillity of mind. Worst of all, since this view of asceticism separates fasting from a ther~ apeutic context, it encourages an anti-body attitude. Review for Religious Cassian considers untenable the notion that fasting is all there is to asceticism and moral reform. He has three reasbns. First, noting that some passions have a physical origin, that others have a mental one, and that still others stem from both mind and body, he shows that fasting leaves one of these groups untouched. Second, although Cassian has been accused of semi-Pelagianism for his inept opposition to Augustine's darker view of fallen human nature, he makes it clear that asceticism is merely a means to an end--no more than a tool--and that the ascetical practices of the Egyptian desert are merely one set of tools; another set includes almsgiving and social service. Third, and most important, what-ever means a person may use, the result ultimately depends on the grace of God. The tools must not become an end in them-selves, for all the fasting and sleeplessness in the world are not going to merit salvation for a monk. Two Ways of Looking at Cassian There are two ways of looking at John Cassian's work. If we make a point of standing back to get an objective view, we are likely to see a body of writings focused exclusively on a monastic, ascetical lifestyle far from the world of commerce and family life. Even admitting that Cassian must have been aware that sanctity can be attained at least occasionally along a different path, we might still find in him an obsession with monasticism that seems an implicit denigration of the other, active forms of Christian life. Moreover, the asceticism he puts forward as moderate may strike us as severe. Indeed, the whole ascetical regime of the desert hermits may suggest that the Egyptian desert was a highly com-petitive place where altogether too much attention was paid to the quest for personal sanctity. This view, I would argue, is the product of a superficial reading. In this article we have tried, on the contrary, to look at Cassian's teaching on asceticism from his own point of view. This leaves us with the idea tl~at asceticism is a therapeutic tool to recondition, under grace, the reactions of body and mind so that all our actions, even those we perform spontaneously without thought, will be in harmony with our int6ntion to love God, our neighbor, and ourselves. Cassian was in error about how much food and sleep the body needs. It is also evident that his teachings on the passions need to 2~larcb-April 1997 Russell ¯ ~obn Cassian on Asceticism be corrected in some instances and supplemented in all of them. We cannot follow him, for example, in his effort to eradicate anger because, unlike him, we appreciate that the inclination to anger plays a positive role in human life. But, by and large, Cassian's orientation is sound and wholesome. In the secular world in which we live, we realize that for many reasons we are not the free, healthy human persons we would like to be, and so we seek to be healed. In this, Cassian shares our point of view. He sees asceticism as a therapeutic program to help people .toward their ultimate goal. In addition, far from spurn-ing our bodily reality, he insists that it be recognized and respected. His teaching challenges the conviction common today that early asceticism was always a body-hating aberration of the Greek mind-set. I suggest, moreover, that Cassian's writings of sixteen hundred years ago provide healthy roots on which today's Christians might graft a hardy new synthesis of spirituality and contemporary psychology for third-millennial people on their journey to God. Notes t John Cassian, Conference 4.7, in Edgar C.S. Gibson, "The Works of John Cassian," in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fatbers, 2nd series, vol. 11, A Select Library of the Christian Church (Oxford: James Parker and Co., 1894, reprinted by William B. Eerdmans in 1964), p. 333. 2 Conference 4.12, p. 335. 3 Conference 2.17, p. 316. 4 Conference 2.16, p. 316. s Conference 1.7, p. 297. Mary's Steps Childish toes kiss temple stairs. Maiden soles take joy's fleet wing. Fleeing heels, in exile bound. Searching feet, he must be found. Weary ~steps

Issue 38.2 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; Psychotherapy: Its Potential and Limit Models of Community A Directory for the use of Scripture in Retreat Volume 38 Number 2 March 1979 REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X) is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Depa:-tment of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. © 1979 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year; $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; P.O. Box 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor March, 1979 Volume 38 Number 2 Correspondence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIC:IOUS; Room 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Religious and Social Justice Mary Evelyn Jegen, S.N.D. Sister Mary Evelyn is an adjunct faculty member of Mundelein College in Chicago, and teaches in the Christian Spirituality Program at Creightori University in Omaha. She resides at 3000 N. Mango Ave.; Chicago, IL 60634. istorically we are still in an early phase of the age of the Second Vatican Council. The context of our call to collaborate in the work of human promotion is beautifully stated in the opening words of the Pastoral Consti-tution on the Church in the Modern World (Gaudium et Spes). Here, in language that has the grandeur and immediacy of a psalm, is set forth the intimate bond between the Church and society, or more precisely, between the Church and all humanity: The joys and hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these too are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ. When we specify the "joys and hope.s, the griefs and anxieties" of all our brothers and sisters, we find those signs of the times, those temporal sacramentals in which God reveals himself to hs, and through which he calls us forward to .freedom" in him. What, then, are the most visible "joys and hopes, griefs and anxi-eties" for our sister and brother religious today? We recognize in the reality of our religious life itself the most profound sign of joy and hope. There are reasons which transcend history, but there are also historical factors which today take on particular significance. It is a.prophetic sign for our times that religious life carries within it the seed and promise of that global community which transcends narrow nationalism. Today, in a way that has never been 161 162 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 true before, the very survival of the human race depends on the ability to transcend local and national loyalties without abandoning them. And reli-gious have some experience of this. Imperfect as religious life is, carrying the scars of personal and collec-tive sin, it also shines with the brilliance of the healing, redemptive love of Jesus. Because we each have our own congregation and local community, we forget that we also exist as a whole, that we are physically present in the world as a transnational community founded on a commitment to a radical following of the Way of Jesus. World civilization has reached the stage where.its continuation depends on the ability of all men to perceive and express in many ways their solidarity with a race that is fundamentally one. They must learn to experience the unity of the human family which has become increasingly interdependent. Physical and economic interdepend-ence is a fact. The oil-rich countries, if they choose, can paralyze the world. The food-rich countries can starve the world into submission. Neither would need to deploy a single bomb. In such a world, what must become a choice is love. We must love or perish. And how is that love to be expressed? In the words of.Pope Paul VI at the Eucharistic Congress in Bogotb.: "Justice is love's absolute minimum." Reflecting, then, on the nature of religious life as it both expresses and prefigures the necessary evolution of the human family towards unity, we begin to come to an intuition that our transnational nature should manifest itself in signs that can easily be read by others. This becomes even more clear when we turn to a reflection on the other griefs and anxieties of so many of the men, women, and children of our time. In Octogesima Adveniens (1971), Pope Paul called our attention to the "new poor," those on the fringe of society. In actual fact, the "marginal" constitute the vast majority of the human family. These are the ones who do not have access to an equitable share of the underpinnings of life. It is difficult for men to bring this home to themselves when they do not live in daily contact with such all-pervasive suffering. But they are kept at least minimally aware through religious, and others, who have physically cast their lot with the poor. Though there are many forms of human suffering today, two global manifestations of injustice are of such magnitude that the effect can be numbing. These two griefs and anxieties are hunger and the arms race. The first is the greatest actual killer of the innocent; the second is the increas-ingly dangerous threat to the continuation of the human race itself. And the two are intimately connected in a cause-and-effect relationship. Even if the arms are never used, according to a Vatican note to the Secretary General of the United Nations (30 April, 1976), the armaments race "is in itself an act of aggression against those who are the victims of it. It is an act of aggression which amounts to a crime, for even when they are not used, by their cost alone, armaments kill the poor by causing them to starve." Religious and Social Justice / 163 Hunger still condemns 450 million of our brothers and sisters to an earthly existence which is degrading and destructive. The spectacle of 5000 hungry people moved Jesus to active compassion. How are we called to respond to children gone blind for lack of vitamin A, to the grief of parents unable to provide food for their offspring? It is in this context that our Holy Father and the bishops in the 1974 Synod issued a statement on the human rights most threatened today. Under the title of the right to life, they specified the arms race as "an insanity that burdens the world and creates the conditions for even more massive destruction of life." They next specified "the right to eat" as "directly linked to the right to life," and they called upon governments, not merely individuals, "to undergo a conversion in their attitude toward the victims of hunger, to respond to the imperatives of justice and reconcilia-tion and speedily to find the means of feeding those who are without food." Within weeks of that statement, Pope Paul iterated the concept of the "right to eat" in an address to the delegates to the World Food Conference, November 9, 1974. He said: The right to satisfy one's hunger must finally be recognized for everyone, accord-ing to the specific requirements of his age and activity. This right is based on the fact that all the goods of the earth are destined primarily for universal use and for the subsistence of all men, before any individual appropriation. Christ based theju'dgment of each human being on respect for this right (see Mt. 25:34). He went on to make a recommendation linking, concretely two central issues of justice and peace, when he said, As far back as 1964, on the occasion of our journey to India, we launched an appeal to the nations, asking that, by a truly substantial commitment--the result mainly of a reduction in expenditures on arms~there be set up a Fund with the aim of giving a decisive impulse to the integral advancement of the less well-endowed sectors of mankind. Today the time has come for an energetic and bindin~ decision along the same lines. Will such a decision--not yet obtained by a sense of solidarity or rather elementary social justice, which consists not only in not "'stealing" but also in know-ing how to share--finally be imposed by the perils of the present moment? The link between violence and injustice, and therefore, between peace and justice, is. intrinsic. It is p.rophesied in Isaiah: "They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks." Today we cannot have food for the hungry unless we purchase it at the expense of preparation for genocidal war. The call to religious to become engaged in the work of human promotion may take many forms. Certainly the call to re.ligious who form a corporate body, a body transcending national boundaries, is a call to enter more deeply, prophetically, and sacrificially into the struggle for peace and jus-tice, a call expressed in the agony of human destruction through hunger and the agony that witnesses the escalation of preparations for war. Later in thispaper I will try to.suggest some concrete possibilities. "164 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 Perceptions of Religious in Various Situations First, however, let us review the different situations of religious in our world, a world which is characterized by the joys, hopes, griefs and anxie-ties described above. In some places, religious perceive as their greatest problem and challenge an oppressive political regime which also stifles religious liberty, threatening the possibility of an authentic catechesis. These totalitarian regimes are related to ideologies of the "left" in Eastern Europe and some parts of Asia, and to the "right," especially in Latin America. In either case, any adequate analysis will reveal institutionalized fear at the rort of oppressive political structures. Ultimately, only the liberty of the children of God tan heal that fear, and we seem a very great distance from that liberty. In other places, Western Europe and North America, for example, religious perceive acutely a responsibility to resist many elements of their society which they see as unjustly exploiting the poor and the weak around the world. If the economic practices of the affluent nations do not always directly cause hunger and poverty, at the very least these practices do not vigorously seek to redress an unjust situation. The gap between the rich and poor continues to widen, as the rich have more goods and more power, even when this is at the expense of the vast majority who have relatively less--less even of the basic necessities of life, and less power over their destinies. That is why a macro-analysis of global economics which includes an examination of trade and financial policies (lending and foreign aid) and of the practices of multinational corporations leads inescapably to the con-clusion that no amount of individual generosity, though it is more in-dispensable than ever, can get at the root-causes of poverty and oppression in our world. Moved b~, the compassion of our Lord, we must turn our efforts towards nothing less than reshaping the political and economic institutions which control the lives of all of us. Surely this is what the Synod Fathers meant in 1971, when they said that "Action on behalf of justice and for the transformation of the world fully appears to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the gospel, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppres-sive. situation." Obviously, we must find ways of acting in concert with many others. To work in any other way would be to admit that either we do not understand the situation or that we do not care enough to become realistically engaged in the struggle for justice and peace. The Spirituality of Human Promotion We are all aware of the phenomenon of the person who burns himself out in activity related to social injustice. This points to the importance of finding the key to a spiritual dynamic which will sustain action without Religious and Social Justice / 165 destroying the person. We find such a dynamic in the reality of freedom or liberty. Freedom is both gift and prize; and, as prize, it is won not once and for all. Rather, it develops organically, as it were, once certain fundamental choices are made. In The Church in the Modern World there is a marvelous description of the external conditions of human liberty. Article 31 reads: Now a man can scarcely arrive at the needed sense of responsibility unless his living conditions allow him to be conscious of his dignity, and to rise to his destiny by spending himself for God and for others. But human freedom is often crippled when a man falls into extreme poverty, just as it withers when he indulges in too many of life's comforts and imprisons hi.mself in a kindof splendid isolation. Freedom acquires new strength, by contrast, when a man consents to the unavoidable requirements of social life, takes on the manifold demands of human partnership, and commits himself to the service of the hum&n community. Hence, the will to play one's role in common endeavors should be everywhere encouraged. This passage aptly describes the external situation of a free person, a person whose life is ordered, by commitment, to the service of the human community, to service by deliberate choice. As the passage points out, this kind of freedom is crippled when a person is caught in a situation where all energies must be expended in providing for survival needs. It is a kind of obscenity to talk about freedom to a person or a nation that is denied access to control over the means of production and distribution of basic goods. But freedom can also wither, and this is, too, the case, according to the passage just quoted, when a person "indulges in too many of life's comforts and imprisons himself in a kind of splendid isolation." This is the state of many people of the rich nations, who have only a foggy, shallow notion of the political and economic realities of most of the human family. We re-ligious must not avoid the continuing and painful examination that looks to see whether, and to what extent, we are among those whose spiritual freedom or maturity (the two are the same) is debilitated by a materially comfortable way of life. The 1971 Synod document, Justice in the World, asked for this ongoing corporate examination of conscience. Have we re-sponded to the call of the Lord in the pointed question (Article 48), " . . . [Does] our life-style exemplify that sparingness with regard to consumption which we preach to others as necessary in order that so many millions of hungry people throughout the world may be fed?" But what is the interior dynamic of a free person, a person committed to the service of the human community? Here, Justice in the World pro-vides a response, founded on a Pauline theology: According to Saint Paul, the whole of the Christian life is summed up in faith effecting that love and service of neighbor which involve thefulfillment of the demands of justice. The Christian lives under the interior law of liberty, which is a permanent call to man to turn away from self-sufficiency to confidence in God, and from concern for self to a sincere love of neighbor. Thus takes place his genuine liberation and the gift of himself for the freedom of others. "166 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 On the personal level, this interior law of freedom involves a call to shift the center of one's existence, or, in the more beautiful words of Jesus, to let the seed die, to lose one's life in order to find it, to lay down one's life for one's friends, knowing that only this is the full measure of love. Only those who are willing to die are free. For us Christians, this willingness can only be a gift, the gift of a growing identification with Jesus in his passion, death, and resurrection. The obstacles to the shift of one's center, or to living in the interior law of liberty, are fundamentally fear and selfishness. These counterweights to liberty are embodied in institutions as well as in the human heart. It is precisely where the process of personal conversion bears on the effort at structural change or conversion that we have a struggle, an "agony," an experience of the mystery of the Cross. Corporate Action for Human Promotion Having reflected on the exterior and interior dynamics of freedom in the Lord, we ask ourselves this question. Are there any ways in which religious across the world could act in concert in'the work of human promotion? The deepest value of concerted action, it seems to me, would be its power to prefigure and prepare for the new forms of transnational political, social, and economic life that are essential if the human family is to live in justice and peace. What are some forms that such concerted action might take? COuld we set an example by modifying our own budgets? Granted, there is a fundamental difference between a national budget and our own. We do not, happily, allocate funds for weapons of war. Nonetheless, we have our own funds for commmunity security and for personal and community goods beyond our basic needs. Are we not called to share these goods more liberally in our moment in history? In the early seventh century, pope St. Gregory the Great said, "Feed the man dying of hunger, for if you have not fed him you have killed him." The quotation found its way into Gaudium et Spes (Article 69). How would Saint Gregory apply that principle to our situation? We would miss a great opportunity, however, if we modified our com-munity budget in favor of children with shriveled limbs and swollen bellies, in favor of the 100,000 persons in Asia who go blind each year for lack of vitamin A, in favor of the malnourished of our own inner cities, and stopped there. We need to link our justified economy with the Eucharist. We could fast in solidarity with our poor brothers and sisters, who fast not by choice but by necessity. That fast could be in conscious preparation for our cele-bration of the Eucharist, the memorial of Christ's own giving of his Body and Blood to be our food. The money saved by fasting could be an exten-sion of our eucharistic celebration, our going together in peace to love and serve the Lord, the same Jesus who nourishes us, and who also hungers for us in his most distressing disguise. Religious and Social Justice / 167 If religious across the world joined together this way, we could antic-ipate our governments in creating the Great World Fund that Pope Paul was urging. We could use our experience to urge other societies to do the same--within religious life, from local community to province to generalate level; beyond our congregations from parish to diocese to na-tional conference. In all this we should remember the norm of Populorum Progressio, which echoes the constant tradition of the Church, that we are asked to share not only from our abundance, but even from our necessities. In this way we act in faith in our Father's providence, and we forge the bonds of loving solidarity with all members of our huma~ family. If Christians also learned to live this way, the climate would be prepared for moving our governments. Truth would indeed be speaking to power. We would experience a profound renewal of our eucharistic life, and our reli-gious life would know a new birth of deepest freedom in Christ Jesus, our Lord. It would, of course, be only a beginning of the ways in which we might celebrate our corporate life in the Lord. But ~iven the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the men and women of our time, it may be an indispensable beginning. Now Available As A Reprint The "Active-Contemplative' _ Problem in Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Psychotherapy: A Consideration of Its Potential and Limit Gillian Straker Doctor Straker teaches psychology at the University of the Witwatersrand in South Africa; she also has a private practice in therapy in the same city. Her address at the university is Jan Smuts Ave.; Johannesburg, South Africa. The purpose of this article is to outline the basic philosophies underlying some of the more popular psychotherapies currently in vogue. Its intention is to assist religious who have been, are, or will be in therapy to come to a more realistic evaluation of the potential and limits of psychotherapy as a facilitator of growth. Given that psychological and spiritual growth are interconnected, it is the thesis of this paper that psychotherapy can be a useful tool--provided its limits are clearly perceived by both the client and the therapist. This involves a realization by both that,while psychological and spiritual growth are related, they are not synonymous. Furthermore, psychotherapy should never be regarded as autonomous in its own right but should rather be seen as a possible means to certain goals. In the case of the religious, these goals have been set a priori. It is not the function of the therapist to attempt to alter theseends/goals or to provide alternative philosophies of life. A religious in therapy who feels that the therapist is more involved in trying to get him to alter his goals than in exploring reasons for his diffi-culties in achieving these goals, should consider terminating treatment and seeking help elsewhere. A therapist who attempts to change goals when a client has indicated a commitment to them, or who subtly devalues these goals by continually trying to explain them away in psychological terms, is 168 Psychotherapy: Its Potential and Limit / 169 indicating not only a lack of awareness of the boundaries of his area of expertise but also an unawareness of his personal limits. It should be clearly recognized that such a therapist is, in a sense, guilty of malpractice and it is such misuse of the practice of psychotherapy which should be con-demned rather than the practice itself. Having drawn the limits applicable to all therapies, it might now be of value to examine some specific therapies in more depth. As has been indicated, it is the personality and personal attributes of the individual therapist which play the most vital role in determining not only the direction of therapy, but also its success or failure. The school to which a therapist belongs is a very important factor, as his allegiance reflects something of his personal ideals and values. A recent survey in America revealed that at present there are more than one hundred and forty different kinds of psychotherapy actually being practiced.~ However, these types of therapy can quite conveniently be categorized under three main headings, viz., the psychoanalytically, be-haviorally, and experientially oriented approaches to psychotherapy. Each of these three schools has a different view of man, which then dictates its psychotherapeutic techniques. The psychoanalytic view subscribes to the idea that man is a victim of turbulent inner forces from the power of which he continually struggles to be set free. In the Freudian view, these inner forces are largely sexual in nature; but later analysts felt that these inner forces were not only sexual but reflected, for example, a will to power, or a will to superiority. In terms of this view man is seen as fraught with inner and unknown urgings and contradictory pulls. He is subject to, and resists against, a reservoir of impulses which are largely inaccessible to the conscious self. He thus is troubled by behaviors and symptoms which he often cannot understand himself and which seem resistant to control by a conscious act of will. The aim, therefore, of psychoanalytically oriented therapy is to give the individual insight into the forces against which he is battling, so as to help him gain more control over his behavior and to enable him to give expression to these forces in a more socially acceptable way. I do not think religious would dissent much with these stated goals. The idea of gaining insight into motives and trying to express impulses in more acceptable ways would probably accord well with the outlook of religious. The.re are some pitfalls however, as there is a tendency among psychoana-lysts to explain all behavior including e.g., a belief in God, as being merely an expression of repressed impulses. A further difficulty which the psychoanalytic approach might pose for religious is in terms of method. In order to encourage the expression of feelings by the individual, so as to facilitate an awareness of desires and ~Parloff, H., Twenty-five Years of Research in Psychotherapy, New York, Albert Einstein College of Medicine, October, 1975. "170 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 needs which have blocked his emotional life, the analyst creates an environ-ment of almost total permissiveness. Such a process which is essential in the analytic situation is surely disastrous as a way of life. Psychoanalytic principles, by their very nature, cannot relate to morality or define limits for permissiveness. Thus, if the client or the therapist perceives that this kind of therapy is to become a life-style, a modus vivendi, the end-point will be an overvaluing of the mind and the expression of emotion, and a failure to move beyond the emotional blocks once they have been uncovered. Nevertheless the value of the psychoanalytically oriented therapies in uncovering these emotional blocks should not be ignored. These therapies are specifically geared for this. Once the blocks have been uncovered, the individual should become free to work through and beyond them in what-ever framework he has chosen for himself. For the religious, Christianity would obviously be his framework, and it is within this that he would continue to work from where the therapy had left off. We turn now to the second major school of psychotherapy, viz., the behavioral school. This school does not see behavior as determined by internal conflicts but rather sees all behavior, both normal and abnormal, as a product of what man has learned. Behavior consists of learned habits reinforced either by the self or by the environment. Thus therapy consists of teaching the individual alternative modes of behavior which have to be practiced both inside and outside of the therapy situation. This school of therapy probably holds the least potential danger for the religious since it deals mainly with overt behavior and de-emphasizes affective issues. This school does not primarily concern itself either with issues concerning in-ternal motivations or with questions concerning ideals and values. However, this very defocusing from self-exploration which diminishes this approach's potential danger is also, in my view, the factor which limits its potential as a facilitator of growth. In addition, the view of man which underlies the behaviorist approach is a deterministic one. As such, it is opposed to the Catholic idea of free choice. Man is primarily seen as a product of his environment, in this de-emphasis on man's capacity for choice, the behaviorists are similar to the analysts, although they differ from one another in the reasons they give to justify this. Nevertheless if the referring problem of the religious is a specific and definite symptom such as a phobia, rather than something less definite, such as generalized interper-sonal difficulties, the behaviorist approach might be the treatment of choice because of its concern with discrete symptoms and overt behavior-patterns. The final main school of. psychotherapy which calls for our present attention is the experiential school. Of the three schools of psychotherapy discussed here, this is the one which in some sense comes closest to the ideals proffered by Christianity. But again, in some regards it is the most dangerous school within which the religious would seek help. Experiential-ists reject the view that man is predominantly passive, subservient to the Psychotherapy: Its Potential and Limit / 171 less conscious aspects of himself, or to the stimuli in his environment. The experientialists criticize the psychoanalysts and behaviorists for their com-mitment to science, and for their underplaying of man's ethical dimension, his will, choices and moral relations to others. This emphasis on man's personal responsibility is what leads the experientialist to seem most sym-pathetic to the religious. However, given that man is considered responsi-ble by the experientialists, the ihamediate question which comes to mind is: "Responsible to whom and responsible for what?" It is at this point that there would probably be some divergence in thought. On the whole the experientialists see man as responsible to himself for the actualization of his potential. This leaves unanswered the question of when one man's freedom becomes another's bondage. However, in partial answer to this vexing dilemma most of the experientialists put forward the view that man is basically good and thus actualization will always involve actualization to the good for himself and others. This is an assumption which lacks full support. Nevertheless, some of the intermediate goals of certain experientialists would not conflict with Christian ideas. Helping the individual to relate in a "meaningful way" is one such goal which the experientialists have. They define a fulfilling relationship as one in which the individuals have come to terms with the paradoxical nature of love, in which love and power are not opposed but complementary. In this kind of love "we find ourselves at our strongest and most powerful when we are able to transcend ourselves in communion with another.''2 This notion of love involving selflessness would accord with the Christian ideal. Similarly congruent is the idea that we are "less-than-perfect creatures who need to live with ourselves as we are, while still attempting to grow toward an unattainable vision.'''~ In terms of this it is the aim of the experientialist not merely to heal illness but to promote growth. However, many experientialists hold an implicit assumption which would conflict with views held by his religious client. This assumption is that man himself, as an autonomous being, has within himself the capacity to bring about his own actualization to good. There is no acceptance of the idea that man cannot bring about his own salvation. There is a belief that man himself can, via various methodologies, aimed at the promotion of dimensions such as self-determination, authen-ticity and creativity, bring about an ultimate integration of his body, mind and soul. It is from this idea that the basic divergence between the experien-tialists and the religious comes. The former believes himself to be respon-sible to himself and at times to society. There is no higher authority than himself, and he is capable of bringing about his own integration. This is totally opposed to the idea of the religious concerning man's dependence on 2Forish, B. "Fulfilling Relationships: The Vision and Reality," J. Humanistic Psychology, V. 18, No. i, Winter, 1978. 31bid. 172 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 God for the integrating gift of grace and salvation. In terms of methodology, this school has hazards because, in its thera-peutic approach more than any other, the personal attributes of the thera-pist are of paramount importance. This is because, on the whole, experien-tial schools renounce specific techniques as part of their understanding of human existence. The therapist is, for the most part, discouraged from applying techniques, although, in some of the more radical branches of this school, nonverbal techniques are used as a means of helping the individual to get in touch with his feelings. Generally, though, therapy is assumed to occur naturally if the therapist can, as far as possible, share the being and experience of the client. It is the mutual encounter between therapist and patient in which both attempt to communicate honestly with one another which is seen as the sine qua non of growth. The experiential therapist, therefore, does not have a contract with the client other than to interact as honestly as he can. Thus the therapist, in his own person, is the primary tool for change. Experientialists are probably correct in stating this and making their assumptions explicit. This means though, that a client entering into this kind of therapy must be aware that what he is contracting for is to be exposed to the person of the therapist. Thus the client must evaluate more than ever whether he has confidence in the therapist as a person, not primarily as a psychologist or trained expert who has something to offer. If the answer to this is negative, then it is best not to enter into the contract of such a relationship. If the answer is affirmative, this school could offer something very positive because its therapists are committed to being honest, making their own values, beliefs and assumptions explicit in a way which the psychoanalysts, for example, are not. Thus, in psychoanalysis, the influence of the values of the therapist are much more subtle, and therefore difficult to deal with. However, in some ways this disclosure of values is less important in a psychoanalytic situation because the goals of the approach are limited to freeing the individual from repression rather than the more extended goal of the experientialists to promote a "higher level of consciousness.''4 Of course it is for the individual religious to °decide what it is he wants from therapy. In my view, though, for the religious, therapy should perhaps end at the point of freeing the individual from his blocks, since religious should have available to him other and better means than therapy to promote growth. Nevertheless therapy can be extremely valuable as a means of putting the individual in touch with his emotional difficulties, as well as the needs and motives which may be controlling his behavior. Therapy can assist the individual in working through these, and, since working through things is surely a prelude to working beyond them, it would seem that therapy can indeed be a useful tool, provided both client and therapist clearly acknowledge its limits. 4Maslow, A. The Farther Reaches of Human Nature. New York: Viking, 1971. Resentment William F. Kraft Dr. Kraft is well known to our readers. His last article, "Nothingness and Spiritual Growth" appeared in the November, 1978 issue. He is professor of psychology at Carlow College; 3333 Fifth Ave.: Pittsburgh, PA 15213. I admit that I'm bitter. I resent the way she treated me. Just to see her irritates me. What really galls me is that she behaves as though nothing ever happened! It's like there's nothing wrong with her--the whole fault is mine. ! resent her for that. Sure, I have to admit that she really did help me. When l first met Sister, I was timid and shy, never really sharing with anyone. She listened, and encouraged m~i to give of myself. I guess i have to thank her for that. But when i really started to open up, and asked her to reciprocate, suddenly she seemed to become distant, not at all friendly as she once was. i asked her a couple of times what was wrong, and all she said was, "Nothing." I guess what I'm saying is that when i was lower and she was higher, things went well. But when we became more equal, our relationship changed. ! resent that. I don't like the way I feel. Even when I just think of her or hear about her, I get these strong feelings, l realize that they aren't doing me any good, but that's the way I feel. l just can't push a button to stop these feelings. I'd like to love. It would make life a lot easier. I'd like to forgive, and not feel the way I do. And I don't like hurting her, besides hurting myself, with this psychological cancer. But how do 1 stop feeling this way? Resentment is an experience that is completely foreign to very few peo-ple. We know that it is an intense, unpleasant feeling that can alienate even close friends, even brothers and sisters. Few, if any people, enjoy feeling resentful. But it happens all too often. We would rather be in love than at odds with one another; But things just don't work out that way. 173 174 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 Still, love and resentment need not necessarily be mutually exclusive. Though resentment can be destructive and negative, it can also be positive. For example, I can resent your lying to me. I can resent your attempts at manipulating and scandalizing me. I may validly resent your rank-pulling behavior that violates my dignity. But we seldom think of resentment in terms of its being positive. Along with looking at experiences and theories of resentment, a clue to the meaning of resentment lies in its etymology: "to feel again." One of the peculiar features of resentment is that it is a feeling that we hang on to--or perhaps it hangs onto us. It is as though we are in a state of constant edginess, just waiting to be "triggered off." We also see that resentment is similar to anger and hostility, at least in the form of being aggressive and disapproving. In a sense, resentment points to a "no" that will not go away. Resentment is intense and highly personal. Rather than being oriented toward a peripheral or passing experi-ence, resentment tends to center around important values and especially around our own dignity. Resentment is persistent in that it tends to remain fixed. It is always "there" as a kind of warning. It also involves an indignant stand that protests insults or unjust acts that violate or threaten me. Finally, resent-ment incorporates disapproval--a "no" that proclaims that I will not con-done or sanction such action. Resentment involves an affective judgment that attempts to reclaim, maintain, or proclaim my worth. Thus, resentment refers to holding on to a feeling which serves as a warning to stop indignant treatment. In resentment, I say that I will never tolerate, accept, or condone such behavior. I say: "If you act this way, I'm ready for you." Resentment is a constant readiness to defend, protect, and protest. In light of this description, it is important to make the distinction be-tween the experience or feeling of resentment and what constitutes resent-ful behavior. How 1 behave or act on my resentful feelings is much more within my will than how I feel. The ideal is to listen to feelings of resentment so that I can act in a positive way. Let us first examine resentment in its positive form. Positive Resentment Positive resentment is a protest against a violation of my dignity. When my worth as a person, including who and what 1 hold most sacred, is violated, I have the responsibility and the duty to feel resentment; other-wise, 1 become less, or settle for less, than 1 really am. Not only am I insulted but also 1 insult myself. Furthermore, it is not fair to let others violate my dignity because ! am letting them be less than they are. Thus, my readiness to respond in indignant disapproval is a way of maintaining and promoting my own dignity and evoking the dignity of others. Resentment / 175 For example, people who pull rank on me, try to make me les's than l am, and make themselves more than they really are. My resentment can be in service of the truth that we should be (and ontologically are) brothers and sisters together rather than on different planes or in different worlds. My vigilant'and steadfast "No" to such manipulation can be a form of healthy resentment. I resent being used as a thing because I am infinitely more than that. We should feel resentful for being treated as second-class citizens. So, a woman should deeply resent sexist treatment because she is used and being treated as less than she really is. Being treated unjustly can also evoke resentment. For instance, a sister may feel resentment because she is always the one told to have phone duty or because she feels she is never appreciated. Unfortunately, a sister espe-cially if she is middle-aged may feel guilty over such reactions of resent-ment. Actually, the sister should "listen" to her resentment as a means of maintaining and proclaiming her dignity and as a gift that may motivate her to seek to change the situation. I should feel resentment if ! am used as the community scapegoat, always made fun of, only seen as a workhorse. My resentment clearly says that when you treat me as less than 1 am, you are not going to get away with it. 1 am going to protest, 1 am going to try to change the situation. I am going to manifest myself as more than you see. Healthy resentment, which it can be paradoxically called, is primarily a function of love. It emerges out of and is an expression of love more than of hostility or hate. In positive or healthy resentment, my intention is not to get even, to hurt, or to lower the other. My intention is to manifest and deepen my own dignity and the dignity of the other. In fact to condone behavior that violates my dignity is what would not be healthy. Indeed, 1 can accept and even understand people's acts of aggression, their insulting me, being unjust to me, exploiting or manipulating me. But I neither have to, nor should !, condone their mad behavior. Along with and sometimes beyond these purely psychological ap-proaches, I can also choose to act in a directly spiritual way. In fact, rather than being a matter of "intellectual gymnastics" or mere theological rhetoric, the spiritual resolution of resentment can also be clinically opera-tive. For example, if 1 am a ~:ommunity scapegoat who is manipulated and used unjustly, I should try to determine whether and how I may myself be responsible. I can ask myself, for instance, if ! have an unconscious need to be exploited, or if I have a compulsion to please. But even if I fail to cope healthily with my area of responsibility, or if I am psychologically naive, 1 can still transcend the experience spiritually. Experientially and behaviorally I can identity with Jesus Christ--the Supreme Scapegoat. Such an approach to transcendence need not be a sentimental, saccharine basking in pseudo-spirituality. 1 can actually dif-fuse and dissolve m.y resentment when its grounds are accepted (not wanted masochistically) in Christ. For instance, regardless of, and beyond, 176 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 psychological analysis, I can foster a "crucified love." In the Spirit of our Lord, I can choose to act on the grace which enables me to suffer for the welfare of those who persecute me. This is not pietistic masochism, suffer-ing for my own sake under the guise of love, but rather it is becoming a disciple of Christ. How realistically possible and frequent such a spiritual approach is for most of us is another issue. But it is possible to strive to practice the message of the Cross that redeems and heals. Negative Resentment Instead of emerging out of and in the service of love, negative resent-ment is fixated, closed, and retaliatory. In negative resentment, I try to hurt, to lower the other. My persistence is fixated rather than cieative. It is destructive rather than self-creative, selfish rather than life-giving, closed rather than open, hindering rather than helping. In negative resentment, 1 simply will not or cannot "let go." You--the resented one--haunt me so much that at times 1 feel that 1 would want you dead so that you can no longer hurt me. At least, I would like to cripple or lower you to the state of being powerless. I want to even the score. Such retaliatory fixation cuts offany future, it identifies you with the past. Rather than being open to new possibilities, 1 tend to identify you with what hurts me. To be sure, I feel indignant: my dignity has been hurt. But instead of responding creatively out of love, l try to make you hurt worse than I. 1 try to get the better of you so that 1 can control and manipulate you. l try to make you become less worthy than I feel. Of course, in trying to pull you down, ! lose my own dignity rather than gain it. My disapproval can too easily turn to hate or hostility. At the very minimum my intention is to make you powerless and me more powerful, and then maybe you will come to me for help. Actually, I am trying to make myself bigger and higher precisely because I feel smaller and lower. In making you helpless, I have the illusion of being higher, more powerful, and more valuable. Clearly negative resentment violates and can even destroy community. It fractures, fragments, and fixates the community. Rather than growing together in love, which can include some positive resentment, we hurt and alienate one another. Still, there is some sense in the apparent nonsense of negative resentment. Let us look at some of the more common reasons for negative resentment. Psychological transference can be a dynamic which produces negative resentment. For instance, I may resent my parents, perhaps for good rea-son, but then I transfer my feelings or displace them onto other authority figures. Though 1 may feel and behave well in most areas, I find myself resentful toward authorities, though I can find no particular reason to feel resentful. I have to realize that my resentment may be rooted primarily in the past rather than in the present. Resentment / 177 Similarly, if 1 am in a position of authority by virtue of my function as a superior, teacher or whatever, I may be confused and hurt with peo-ple who resent me. I sincerely feel that such people may resent me not primarily for what I am doing or even for who I am, but because I evoke past unresolved feelings that are now transferred or "dumped" on me. Of course, I have to discern honestly whether I have my own authority problems that evoke positive resentment that may or may not be com-pounded and blurred with transference. "Divinizing" can easily lead to negative resentment. When I divinize you (a friend, parent, or authority figure), I put you on a pedestal. 1 look up to you and expect you to be perfect. Perhaps you meet my expectation, or at least try to be perfect for me. But when you begin to show your imper-fections, 1 may feel cheated and hurt. Then, instead of divinizing you, I demonize you. Feeling let down, I angrily pull you off your celestial pedestal (of my own making) and perhaps put you in hell. To be freed from such a resentful bind, to be free for a forgiving love, it will help if I can discern why 1 initially had the need to divinize you. Did I humanly but foolishly become too dependent on you for affirmation and support? Why did 1 make you a god when actually you are essentially the same as I? Did I, and do I, sell myself short? Why do 1 need you either in heaven or hell rather than where you really are---on earth? Poor self-esteem and consequent insecurity is a frequent cause of resentment. For whatever reasons (which can be rooted in the first few years of life), I can too easily be insulted, lowered or threatened. Conse-quently I may feel compelled to have a divine love which will never hurt or let me down. Or, from another direction, I put you down in the futile attempt to raise myself; in short, my worth eventually comes from making you feel and look bad, at least in my eyes. In such a situation, I may not only resent what you did but also and perhaps more radically who you are. Your very being threatens me so much that 1 resent you just for being. It is not rare to place too much of one's self-worth in another. If I am too dependent on you, 1 can resent you when you hurt me. And if you deliberately and willfully hurt me, I should resent you. But if you hurt me because of your imperfections or limits, or because of some painful truth, my resentment may be only negative. Then, I can no longer face or trust you. I cannot "let go" and forgive, because my heart is broken. I am afraid I will be "wiped out." I am fearful of losing my dignity and sense of life. Resentment can also emerge out of and be combined with jealousy. In jealousy I feel compelled to minimize the worth of a third person because he or she threatens me; that is, the presence of the other means that I may lose your love and therefore my dignity. Too much of my security depends on our relationship and on your affirmation of me. Or, if our friendship ends, 1 may resent you for years, becoming embittered. Instead of being my friend, you are my enemy. Though losing a friendship usually is painful, too 171~ /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 much of my dignity had been dependent on our friendship. My resentment is a desperate attempt to maintain my dignity, but also a defense against my insecurity and lack of self-affirmation. Resentment can also be a way of controlling you so that the you will not hurt or humiliate me again. My resentment puts you on edge. It keeps you wary and at a distance. Though it is understandable that I do not want to be hurt, my resentful behavior cannot be justified. Ideally, 1 should not try to hurt you because you hurt me. Rather than manipulating you, I should strive to give you the freedom to emerge. Arrogance, too, can be at the root of resentment. When I am arrogant, I blow myself up out of proportion. I claim higher rank, greater dignity or more power than I really have. In arrogance I am likely to feel that 1 know better than others, that I am always right. So when you criticize, disagree, or threaten me, I may resent you as a way of affirming my arrogant self-concept and as a way of lowering and controlling you. When you do not give me homage, I resent you. In effect 1 say: "How dare you act this way to me. Don't you know that 1 am better than you are? I am too good for such treatment, and therefore 1 will make you pay for it." Different life-styles can be a threat to my worth. If I am so insecure that I need other people to affirm my ways of living and consequently cannot be open to their other ways, I can easily feel resentment. When I am insecure about my own way, other ways intimidate me, evoking resentment. For instance, if my life depends on watching or not watching television, people who are bored by television may evoke resentment. Or if my life depends exclusively on certain kinds of prayer, other modalities may evoke resent-ment in me. Ideally, I should be open to many kinds of activities or prayer, though I do not have to agree with, condone, or follow them. In the same way, if people force or embarrass me into doing "their thing," perhaps I should feel justified resentment. For instance, some people may uncon-sciously resent my "old-fashioned" ways and try to make me feel guilty for not following their "modern" methods. Of course, the opposite is also possible. How to I-leip The starting point of helping others is to help oneself. When you mani-fest resentment toward me, first I must try to understand myself. I must discern whether I have anything to do with causing your resentful feelings. For example, did I unconsciously encourage you to put me on a pedestal, or be too dependent on me? Did I think to try to fulfill the role and expec-tation of being perfect? Was I subtlely arrogant in my desire to be helpful? Did I imply that I was '~the way, the truth and the life"? After taking stock of myself, then I can begin to help you take stock of yourself. In feeling your resentment, I should not try to retaliate with bitterness, hostility, or withdrawal. Though withdrawal out of love may sometimes be Resentment / 179 necessary, withdrawal should not be a form of passive hostility, perhaps taking the form of the "ice water treatment." Thus, when feeling the fire of resentment, I should try not to burn in return. Ideally, I should be available in love. I should try to understand and appreciate your reasons for being resentful. When I can make sense of such apparent nonsense, I can help you affirm your true source of dignity. Though important, reasons and words are secondary to seeing and responding to your dignity no matter what you are doing. Rather than being overwhelmed with resentment and returning the hurt, the challenge is to affirm your dignity through your hostility and hate. No matter what, I can always "be for you" in love. The way I might confront you is primarily a function of our relationship. When confronting another, I must be willing and able to take the time, energy, and responsibility for the consequences. It is usually unfair and poor "pop" psychology to express feelings "honestly and sincerely" or to expose another's psychic nerve endings without working through, perhaps for weeks or months, what occurred and will emerge. To confront irrespon-sibly can justly evoke positive resentment. A primary goal is to forgive. Forgiving includes "letting go," allowing ourselves to become more than resentful. Forgiveness also points to a giving that is always there no matter what; I am always there for you regardless of how you or I feel. And, I can and should forgive myself. I cannot always immediately forgive, so that, at times, I may have to forgive my own lack of forgiveness. Forgiveness does not simply mean to forget. Indeed, forgetting may be unjust to both of us. Forgetting our resentment, for example, can decrease opportunities to learn fi'om our obstacles and increase the likelihood of being caught again in the same trap. But, forgiveness does mean not bearing a grudge or identifying you with your faults. My la(k of forgiveness often is a way of controlling and fixating you and myself. Whatever the reason, at base I cannot forgive because forgiveness makes us equally sinners struggling in love. Though I may have been hurt justly or unjustly, it is good to keep perspective and tO experience you as really more than just a hurting person. Even if you are evil, it is highly doubtful that your entire personhood and life are negative. More likely, you stand on the same ground as I do and are much more similar to, than different from, me. To abstain from identifying you with one of your functions or qualities helps to keep perspective and to foster a forgiving and compassionate stand. To be resentful in love is a saving grace. Though seldom can I determine completely the way I feel, I can be vigilant in staying in love. In love, I can embrace all of myself and you. Love heals our wounded and broken lives. Even though we may feel bitter, love allows and encourages us to see more than is apparently there. In love, we get a glimpse of what can be---of the Kingdom already begun on earth. The Stage of the Hidden Spring Carol Jean Vale, S.S.J. Sister Carol teaches English at Delone Catholic High School. She resides at St. Joseph Academy; Main St.; McSherrystown, PA 17344. What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well . ~ We stand today at a crossroad in the passage of time. Vatican II altered the course of the modern Church and, in so doing, changed the direction of all responsible Christian lives. The council demanded that all renew them-selves and, in conjunction with this dictum, many of our general chapters have mandated for us a real participation in renewal; certainly for the dedicated religious no option exists. Refusal to renew is tantamount to a direct refusal to correspond to the will of God. Such a renewal demands a radical conversion to the person of Jesus. It is a call to a unique type of selflessness and self-emptying. The twentieth century is starved for men and women who express by their lives the truth of the message they proclaim. Such a correlation between spoken word and lived reality comes within the realm of possibility only when Christ touches the human heart and turns it completely toward himself. Vatican II has asked us all to undergo such a spiritual revolution. In- .deed, Jesus came to preach a revolution; a revolution not of social values or political ideologies, nor of.scientific values or economic policies. The 1Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1943), p. 75. 180 The State of the Hidden Spring Lord came to effect the most radical revolution possible; to overthrow and free the heart of each person who would ever embark upon the adventure of living.2 To show us a Father's love, to make us new in that love, to recreate us in our real image is the reason for his coming. Difficulties will continue to arise in the pursuit of renewal. Being made fresh involves grinding down the rough edges of personalities, scraping clean the tartared remnants of sin, scooping out our full abundance of selfishness. It means allowing Christ to polish us until we shine as precious stones. "I will lure her out into the wilderness and speak to her heart" (Ho 2:14). That is precisely what Jesus wishes to do to each of us--take us with him to a desert place and there speak a new word known only toour hearts: a word that transforms self-consciousness into other-consciousness, a word that magnifies and evokes all our latent potentialities, a word that enkindles a fire capable of warming another's heart. Interior renewal is difficult because it asks that we journey into this desert with Christ and there face ourselves. This tryst heralds many significant repercussions. Although the Lord leads us as solitaries into the wilderness, he takes us there not for ourselves alone. The desert remains a proving ground, a training camp where we prepare and are prepared for others. Nothing is ever given for the self alone, but rather to be shared so that others might eat, be nourished, be healed, and in turn give to yet others from their new abundance. Our m6st intimate moments alone with the Lord reverberate with worldwide significance. We stand alone before God, but in God we stand together. I am at once by myself and yet a multitude, a solitary yet an assembly, an individual yet a community. I am; we are. We live in relationship, and there exists no exit where we can escape this fact. We are one in Jesus with one another. The desert teaches this fact undeniably. To meet Jesus Christ is to meet our fellow men and women. Success in the apostolate will be in direct proportion to our living out of this desert experience. In the desert, our praye~" life soars to new depths of intimacy with the Lord. A person can be transformed in minutes when touched by someone alive with Jesus. Without him, we can talk for a lifetime, spend human energy, use every gimmick available, and change no one. He alone can give the increase; and he works through us only in the measure to which he first is living within us. The world in which we live thirsts for prayerful men and women. It hungers for a transformation powered by the dynamic of understanding love, reverent gentleness, and uncompromised integrity. It starves for peo-ple who are committed to ideals and values that remain despite the fluctuations of time. Today's world craves persons who possess the power of the Spirit, for only this power turns hearts of stone into those of flesh. zCarlo Carretto, The God Who Comes (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1974), p. 143. 11~2 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 Until new growth in the Spirit happens, until more of us grow into living enfleshments of Jesus and bid others do the same, there will be no peace; rather fear and hatred will continue to wreak their havoc on humankind. The religious person must combat the apathy, the hatred, and the cruelty of our times. We are summoned to be countercultural, different, to proclaim the values of the Gospel--values that never have been, are not now, and never will be popular. Christianity means the cross. The Resur-rection and Crucifixion may never be divorced. In America especially, the concept of an "Alleluia People" is being misconstrued to perpetuate a cross-less Christianity. Yet our joy is only as deep as the depth of the pain we have suffered. Suffering prepares the soil of our deepest persons for a harvest of joy. Suffering well-embraced, builds, not breaks the human spirit. Jesus is calling us now to suffer and to die with him. We are being graced as instruments for the redemption of the modern world. Redemption costs bloodbsometimes our own blood. The future demands of us the courage to pay such a price. With these thoughts in mind, then, let us ask why it is that, after more than a decade, religious communities are still struggling internally with the problem of renewal. If we believe in those concepts, what is it that still holds us back from becoming truly renewed? Perhaps the difficulty can be recognized as possessing two very interrelated dimensions. First, there exists the challenge of aiding those religious who seem totally incapable of bridging the gap between past and present. Second, there is the often unrecognized problem of the religious, who though in step with the changed pace of the Church, is still not manifestly credible or visibly authentic in his life's reflection of this change. These two types of persons responding tO the renewal effort generate confusion and uncertainty for all involved. Further-more, the latter, living a seemingly unauthentic response to the call of Vatican II, inadvertently perpetrates a negative response to renewal. This outward lack of credibility on the part of the ostensibly renewed is indeed at the core of the renewal problem today. Multitudes of words have been written concerning the first type of religious; therefore, let us concentrate for a brief space on those religious who have embraced the call of the Vatican Council to renew. Could it be that this renewal has been stalled or slowed because of the way it has been introduced and conducted'? Do those who are fearful of change see in the renewed religious a person of Christ-like depth? This is perhaps the central question that must be asked. If the religious does not first possess a heart converted to warm, compassionate love, to gentle, untiring presence, and to tender, forgiving concern, others will not see in him a model worthy of imitation. From the very beginning of renewal, there has been a firm distinc-tion between renewal and adaptation of life-style. This writer suggests, that while there has been much adaptation, there is still lacking a great deal of visible renewal. Yet this is th~ case through no one's conscious fault. The State of the Hidden Spring / 1 !13 Renewal is a basic conversion experience and lies at the very core of the Christian message. Metanoia comes as a gift from the Lord and cannot be earned or merited. It takes a long time to change a heart, and a longer time for that change to evidence itself in the behavioral patterns of an indi-vidual's day-to-day life. So much of human development and growth occurs in the dark, in the unseeable recesses of the inner heart. The journey from seed to even a small shoot is a long and arduous ascent. Frequently, this maturation process is hidden even from the person engaged in it. Only the gnawing hunger and unquenchable thirst for the ideal hint at the unfolding life within. In our journey on the road c~f renewal, we have come but a brief dis-tance. Often there exists a real gap between what we are saying and believ-ing and proclaiming and how we are living and loving and being. This is not because the renewal is not real, but rather because so much of the growth it has birthed is as yet invisible to the naked eye. The outward changes and adaptations manifest themselves in a visible form readily apparent to the most unperceiving human eye. However, it is much easier to take off a habit, change apostolates, and alter structures than it is to allow one's heart to be made flesh, to put on Jesus Christ, to become an empty vessel of the Spirit's fashioning. The former changes require weeks or months, the latter, years of even the space of a lifetime. Inner change and growth hide in the deepest chambers of the human person and grow ever so slowly to the light, while the outward adaptations flourish in the light and yet, paradoxically, must grow slowly inward to be understood and espoused by a heart-in-process- of-transformation. Adaptation and renewal must converge at some point within the center of the heart and there mingle, coalesce and become lost one in the other. This union between inner belief and outward practice will empower and energize the religious to live out in an ever fuller manner the true message of Jesus as proclaimed by the Second Vatican Council. However, it must be remembered that at this time, this dynamic is still in process of becoming a reality within the hearts of many religious. Perhaps such facts as these will help those fearful of renewal to under-stand why there is so often a disparity between the real and the ideal. Because of this dichotomy, the renewed religious must strive consciously and persistently to overcome such disparities, to be more loving in the face of a frustration that is but a fear of a dreaded unknown. Those who are fighting renewal are basically good, holy men and women. Fear and insecur-ity often cause them to be powerless .before a resistance within them that they cannot stem or control. All that they have known, loved and worked for seems to be in jeopardy of being eradicated permanently and without an understandable cause. Often they feel crushed or useless, weighed down by a burden too heavy for them to lift alone. Such anxiety can be assuaged only where there is selfless, warm, compassionate, sacrificial love. Those who are freer to be less fearful must also be freer to die in all those 11~4 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 ways that are not vital to the renewal. This dying includes taking the time to listen to the fears and anxieties of others without trying to force new ideas upon them before they have been allowed to know that they have been understood where they are. It is incredible how a listener changes when he finally begins to understand exactly how another feels and why he feels that way. Such a listener becomes more reverent and accepting of the pain and fear that choke someone into inaction or even active resistance. This dying means being willing to taste the pain of another's heart and to truly let that experience sink into and permeate one's entire being. It means compromising whenever and wherever possible no matter what the cost to self. It means going the extra milel giving away also the tunic, and turning the other cheek. It means loving with the whole of one's self---open, exposed, vulnerable, and weak. It means being so renewed that others will yearn to share the vision that draws such a religious on to ever greater heights of faith-lived love. Those who harbor a fear of the present and a dread of the future can be put at ease only by a person very much at home with his own weaknesses and failings, a person who is willing to share his own fears and dreads, a person who is not threatened by a truth different from his own. At the present many of those who are fearful of renewal are unable to reach out even halfway to the renewal effort. Therefore, the demand is often doubly difficult because time and time again, the renewed religious must be willing to go the whole distance. Yet, if we are willing to do this, we will gradually find that the miles are fewer and those with whom we are meeting, more willing to communicate. Perhaps the demand of renewal at present is to listen with a loving heart, say little, but be by one's presence a witness of all that is best in renewal. Those who question renewal must remember what was mentioned earlier--that growth is slow and that it takes many years for it to evidence itself. Renewal is yet young, and so there is often little outward manifesta-tion of transformation. This does not mean that growth is not there, but just that there has not been enough time for it to become visible. Patience becomes a demand on everyone's part. It must also be remembered that it is imperative to the future of religious life and to the future of our world that we accept.fully the challenge of the Council. If we do not, the twenty-first century will form itself without our aid. The result will.be destruction, if not physical,-then moral. Structures cannot be changed unless the hearts of those who build the structures are reformed and created new in Christ Jesus. These hearts will be touched only if we first let the Lord Jesus remold us into his image and likeness. Before we can affect anyone we must first renew ourselves. In community, we have one another as a source of strength and support for this renewal. Together we may begin to build new selves transformed in Christ. The very painful act of this growth to authenticity will be redemptive. To offer our The State of the Hidden Spring pain for the world is itselfa beginning of our participation in the redemption that our earth awaits. Our pain constitutes a saving difference. We are called to proclaim in our flesh the mystery of Jesus. We are summoned to give witness by our lives that true joy abounds when a person lives in relationship to the Lord. We are called to enable others to change, to be "Christ-ed." To baptize our earth in Jesus we must relinquish ourselves in "self" death. If we do not recognize this, if we do not allow Jesus to change us, then religious life itself will die; and with our death, who can even guess what other values will perish forever? For those fearful of all that this renewal asks because it seems to demand a break with the past, it is important to recall a few thoughts. The past is a part of us. We have imbibed, assimilated and integrated it into the reality of who we are. Our lives reflect the truth and vitality of all that has been as our present witness gives life to that reality in an ever-deepening dimension of being. Future seeds of life are at this moment being planted in us. Our past gives life to our present while our present nurtures all possibilities for the future. Indeed, the good of the past lives on in the present and creates the pattern for the future. All that we are and have been will continue to develop and mature into an ever fuller expression of the Person who we are as Church. Who we are will not change, but perhaps how we express who we are will be different. To stand at this crossroad--to live in a time of transition is both a curse and a blessing. It is a curse because of the tension and turmoil so innate to all change; yet a blessing because we are faced with the challenge of helping to make all things new in Christ. It is a blessing because the future rests in our hands and we are asked to shape it, mold it, form it into the reality that will meet the measure of tomorrow's need. At the moment, we move at a point of invisible growth. With regard to renewal we still must journey in the dryness of the desert, in the darkness of the night. A time of pain it is undeniably, but we have cause for a deep, resilient hope and a new, vibrant faith, for the path we tread is but "the stage of the hidden spring." One day the hidden water will gush freely and, at another moment in time, our thirst will be quenched with the vision of the beauty of the Church transformed. I will open up rivers on the bare heights, and fountains in the broad valleys: I will turn the desert into a marshland, and the dry ground into springs of water. 1 will plant in the desert the cedar, acacia, myrtle, and olive; I will set in the wasteland the cypress, together with the plane tree and the pine, That all may see and know, observe and understand. That the hand of the Lord has done this, the Holy One of Israel has created it (Is 41:18-20). The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows Vincent J. Genovesi, S.J. Father Genovesi is an Associate Professor of Theology at St. Joseph's University. He resides at St. Alphonsus House; 5800 Overbrook Ave.; Philadelphia, PA 19131. Peace I bequeath to you, my own peace I give you, a peace the world cannot give, this is my gift to you (Jn 14:27). These words from Christ's farewell to us are unquestionably encouraging, but they are not the whole story. What is left unsaid but is necessarily implied here is this: "Peace is my challenge to you." I say this because peace, like any gift, must be received in order really to be a gift. To receive the peace of Christ, then, we are challenged to open ourselves to his life, we must struggle to be conformed to him, which means we must let Christ and his spirit take form within us. As Christians we have long known that salvation is not simply a matter of external obedience or of frenetic good works. No, salvation is a matter of life in and through Jesus Christ who frees us from the law, from sin and from everlasting death. Coming to life in Christ is, of course, more a welcoming of him and what he stands for into our lives and allowing the consequences to overflow into our actions, however surprising and costly this may prove to be. This is St. Paul's meaning in insisting that salvation lies in the "faith that expresses itself in love" (Ga 5:6). All the hope there is in Christians focuses here: that those who answer the Father's love with love will be raised up even as Christ has been, and they will be gifted with unending joy. If faith-inspired love, a personal, affirmative response to the 186 The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows / 1117 Father's invitation to enter into his life, is the dynamic of Christian living, so also is it the impetus behind life in religion, and so also is it the wellspring of Christ's living and acting among us. What I suggest in this essay is that if religious wish to live the virtues of the vows we must be people first of living faith, for such was Christ. It was his total commitment to the Father, his unique life of faith, which freed Christ to such preeminent love that it serves always and everywhere as the ideal and inspiration for Christian life. More specifically, Christ's faith allowed and persuaded him to give a particular shape to his love for the Father and to his involvement in the Father's work. In other words, Christ's faith overflowed into a love that took on the contours of voluntary poverty, celibacy and radical obedience. What do these contours reveal of the inner life of Christ, and to what do they challenge those in religion? Poverty As we attend to the issue of poverty a basic truth must be initially affirmed: much of the world's poverty is slavery, the result of external oppression, an unconscionable demand made by some of God's children upon their own brothers and sisters. This kind of poverty is a human contrivance, a stubborn trace of a resilient inhumanity in the face of our Father's unalterable generosity. -We are focusing on another kind of poverty, however--one which is a matter of godly conviction and choice. This is the poverty of God himself in Christ who was born poor and who made himself poor for the sake of his Father's kingdom. It is also the poverty of those who wish to be poor in Christ, and the poverty of men and women who voluntarily accede to Christ'.s admonition: "If you wish to be perfect, go and sell what you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me" (Mt 19:21). What is the meaning of this kind of poverty that Christ himself assumes so that he does not hesitate to link the desire for perfection with the abandonment of earthly riches? Why is the choice of poverty met with the assurance of an eternal treasure?1 For some people there is no need to question what voluntary poverty means, nor is it necessary to know why Christ commits himself to such a life. The important truths are only that Christ freely lived poorly and that he invites others to do likewise. This mentality finds virtue in the imitation of Christ and his style of life without attending sufficiently, in my opinion, to the charge we have inherited: that we are to put on the mind and heart of Jesus Christ. While there is no propriety in criticizing the desire to be '~poor with Christ poor," I do believe that such grace-inspired ambition, left unexplored, allows much of the richness of chosen poverty, both in ~These reflections on poverty are a slightly revised and expanded version of my earlier article, "Christian Poverty: Sign of Faith and Redemptive Force," The Way, Supplement 32, (Autumn, 1977), pp. 78-82. "11~1~ / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 Christ and in his followers, to remain unappreciated, and much of this poverty's challenge to stand unmet. What, then, might be the meaning of the poverty into which Christ freely entered? Let it be said at once that Christ's entrance into poverty is central to his message and crucial to his mission; Christ's poverty is of the very fabric of his being. Although divine, yet he "did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave, and became as men are" (Ph 2:6-7). Just as, in his incarnation, Christ truly divests himself of divine prerogatives, so, in his commitment to poverty, does he enter into a condition of worldly dispossession. In Christ, poverty is a continuation of the process of self-emptying and self-forgetfulness which began in his agreement to enflesh the word of his Father's promise to Israel. In entering into humanity among the poor of the earth, Christ prefigures and verifies a decision never to grasp after the things of the world. By embracing the poverty of Mary and Joseph, Christ gives flesh and human life to his faith in his heavenly Father, a faith which is so profound and so compelling that he comes to resist the temptation to establish and confirm his identity in anything but his Father's love. Having surrendered the privileges of divin-ity, Christ seeks no substitutes in the paraphernalia of wealth, power or social status. In his Father's love, Christ finds not only his strength to work, but also his freedom to forego the satisfaction of accumulating the products made available as a result of his labor. Christ's poverty, then, incarnates his personal openness to his Father's love and his trusting acceptance of his Father's plan of salvation. In choos-ing poverty, Christ in effect grounds and locates himself in the life of his Father, learning his love so that he can live and share it with others. Beyond this, Christ's entrance into poverty illuminates the inner disposition which must characterize all those who wish to be joined to the Father. Christ, freely poor, is the living sign to us of that faith which is necessary for salvation. He comes in poverty out of love so that we might know that salvation, precisely as the expression of the Father's love, is, like love, a gift that can never be earned but only earnestly desired, patiently sought and, in the end, gratefully received in handing self over to the Father in love and trust. Christ's decision for poverty is meant to deal the deathblow against the illusion that salvation is the reward of our labors, duly won; if self-righteousness reflects a deluded state of mind, no less does the attempt at self-sufficiency betray one's ignorance of life in the Father's love. The poverty of Christ is an inspir.ing challenge, for in anticipating a Messiah we would more likely have in mind a person of noble lineage or power, not a child so much, and certainly not a child of poor and unknown beginnings. Thus Christ's poverty tests us and encourages our response to a divine Father who uses his powerful love to surprise and confuse us, and to draw us to reliance more upon him than upon ourselves. The poor Christ calls us The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows / 189 to recast radically our thoughts and ways, for these are not the Father's. False gods and self-reliance are equally ineffectual for salvation. Only the Father's prodigal love which we accept and cherish in living faith finally explains our entrance into the joy of his kingdom. And so, around Christ's poverty and the attitude it embodies is centered much of the new and startling truth of Christianity. For this poverty seems to be connected to the introduction of a new law (of love), a new salvation (by grace through faith), and a new kingdom (offered as a gift to be freely and actively received). Just as the poor of the earth are essentially power-less in the economic order, so are all people without effective power in the order of salvation. Had Christ come in riches we might find this truth even harder to accept than we presently do. As it is, Christ's free acceptance of poverty proclaims that there is everlasting life in opening ourselves up completely to the rich hopes and love of the Father for us. The poverty of Christ shouts out salvation not through economic security, not through political processes, not through military might, but only through the kind of creative, serving and healing love which gives body to our faith in the Father of us all who has so generously blessed us. Only when poverty expresses concretely our acceptance of the Father's presence, power and saving action is it truly a value to be lived, for only then does it keep alive the virtue of poverty which the incarnate Christ lived and valued. So far we have looked at Christ's poverty as a chosen style of life illuminating an interior disposition of that faith which is essential for human salvation. But there is also a prophetic dimension to Jesus' poverty, by means of which his life proves provocative to poor and rich alike. In addition, then, to telling us something of the kind of personal relationship Jesus enjoyed with his Father, his poverty is meant to be a redemptive force for the lives of others. Christ's poverty must be viewed within the context of his life-mission; he walked the earth as servant of all people in need of the gospel of redemption; his desire is that everyone--poor and rich--will hear his good news, do p.enance and believe. I would suggest, therefore, that in the lives of those who choose today to be poor for the sake of the kingdom, poverty ideally expresses not only their own open abandonment to the Father's love, but also their earnest desire to extend the redemptive concern of Christ for all people. These people choose poverty for the sake of the poor and of the rich. They assist the poor in a practical way by using their talents on behalf of the poor, or by surrendering their wealth to them, or employing ~t for their benefit. The poor are served in still another way, however, on the level of the spirit, for those who undertake to live Christian lives of poverty signify their faith in the Father and his kingdom. Because they know that this world and its standards are not ultimate and will not prevail, those who are religiously mQtivated to live poorly die to the world's way of measuring success; in this way their lives are transformed into shouts of exhortation to the poor not 190 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 to be blinded into seeing and desiring nothing beyond the satisfaction of material needs. But the gospel is not for the poor alone. The rich also need its life-offering. Thus for the rich, no less than for the poor, the lives of those who choose poverty must carry redemptive significance, and they can in two ways: first, by the example of a simple life-style and by an informed exposition of the Christian principles of social justice, those who are poor in Christ poor may encourage the advantaged of the earth to human respon-sibility; secondly, those who enter into Christian poverty may humbly serve as signs of admonition to those who are well-off-~whether they be consciously oppressive, mindlessly ravenous, or simply incautious in their material accumulations and expenditures--that their lives must be tem-pered by God's perspectives lest they be charged with unjust stewardship and their laughter turn to tears because they will know only the happiness which they wrench from this earth, but not the happiness which is our Father's gift. Anyone who wants to enter into poverty with the spirit of Christ must know that the Father's desire is for universal salvation. The only important thing is that the conditions of possibility be provided by means of which all people--poor and rich--may be freed and encouraged to enter into the good life of God. All people need to be reminded that the deepest value of material welfare lies in its being a prelude to the welfare of the human spirit. Choosing poverty with Christ poor must involve, therefore, a concern not only for the material and spiritual welfare of the poor but also, and equally, for the spiritual welfare of the rich. There is always a danger that those who wish to be poor in Christ will become myopic and unchristian, that they will grow preoccupied with enhancing the material welfare of the poor, wresting wealth and power from their possessors, forcing indeed the hands of the rich, but all the while leaving their hearts untouched, unnoticed and even uncared for. The well-off, in short, might very well face the prospect of being left ill-disposed for receiving the Father's life. This, of course, is a most unsatisfactory situation, and one in which nO follower of Christ can be joyful. Although the point hardly needs emphasizing, let it be said simply that working for the material enrichment of the poor is not the sole or ultimate expression of the spirit of Christian poverty. Unarguably, any profession of love for the poor would be ungodly, senseless and deceitful were it to omit any effort to win release for the poor from the economic, political and social chains that keep them imprisoned both in body and in spirit. At the same time, however, it would misrepresent Christianity to suggest that, inqtself, liberating others from depriva.tion or oppression, with all their destructive implications for human living, either fully reveals or finally exhausts the riches promised by the Father. Christian love demands that the poor come to ~realize that their economic and human liberation is ultimately significant only in terms of that interior freedom by means of which they may be The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows / 191 fulfilled as their Father's children, gratefully receiving his love and heartful-ly returning it. When people choose poverty for the sake of the Father's kingdom, they choose it for the sake of the poor and of the rich--for all who need love's redemption. Being poor in and with Christ involves indeed a labor to relieve the burden of the poor, but it also essentially involves a commitment to communicate to all people a knowledge of, and a yearning for, the best and the most that our Father offers--his life and his love. If Christians must not betray the poor, neither must they abandon the rich; if the rich do not take the gospel to heart, we must wonder why and we must also increase our efforts and our pleadings that their hearts may be opened to the Father. If this occurs, not only will there be rejoicing in heaven but also on earth, for no one receives the Father except through the Spirit of the Son in whom all are brothers and sisters. Thus I suggest that the poor cannot help but be materially benefited by the entrance of the rich into the spirit of the gospel, because if any return is made to the Father it is made necessarily to those whose fullest dignity lies in being sons and daughters of our Father who gave the riches of the earth and wants them to be shared by all. If the gospel moves the rich to lose their hearts to the Father, it must also move their hands to refashion the earth, and to make room for the poor where they may come more easily to know the Father's goodness and more freely to taste his sweetness. - Our reflections suggest, then, that Christ's poverty illuminates his inner being; it speaks of his knowledge of his Father's goodness and it reveals the loving faith which frees him to seek first the Father's kingdom. But Christ's poverty is also a call to all people to enter into that spirit which allows them to acknowledge the Father as Father and to enjoy forever the best and the most that he offers. Today, people who profess voluntary poverty do so as a way of embodying an appreciation of the richness which is theirs by virtue of their calling as sons and daughters of God. These people struggle to translate the mind and heart of Christ into their actions so that they may live more fully as he did, forgetful of self, careful of all others, searching out especially those who are lost and hurt, striving to secure their rights and to ease their affliction. But the poor with Christ also have a hope: that their poverty will invite, challenge and free both the poor and the rich to join them in the cry of praise and love, "Abba, Father." Celibacy Having viewed Christ's poverty as a virtue which both gives us a glance into his spiritual life and illuminates the challenge facing those who desire to be poor even as he was, we may attend more briefly to Christ's celibacy and obedience. The issue of celibacy serves to focus a certain evolution which has occurred in the everyday perspectives of Christian living. One observer has expressed the change this way: in times gone by, religious 192 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 assured the laity that even though they married they could attain true sanctity and first-class citizenship within the Christian community; now, however, the laity seek to assure religious that even though they are unmar-ried they can achieve true personhood and first-class citizenship as human beings." If we in religion do in fact need this kind of reassurance it is an indication, at the very least, that we have fallen forgetful of the full human stature attained by Jesus Christ. He became a man and grew in wisdom, age and grace before God and men. And one of the ways in which this growth occurred was through his chosen life of celibacy. What, then, can be said of celibacy in Christ's life? First of all, Christ's celibacy, like his. poverty, is an outgrowth and expression of his profound relationship with his Father. It is, I suggest, by reason of his growing perception of himself as one inimitably loved by the Father and as one called to a singular loving response that Jesus makes the decision to remain celibate. Not only is he completely trusting in, and grateful for, his identity as only-begotten Son of his Father, but he is also keenly aware of his role as but the firstborn of a new nation, the head of a new creation. Both from his confidence in his presence to his Father as beloved Son and from his sense of responsibility to be at all times, in all places, and in every way available for the Father's work, Christ is impelled to forego the joys and obligations that invariably constitute the exclusive and permanent covenant of married love. His decision for celibacy is a decision for a complete commitment to the establishment and building up of the people of God who are being summoned to a new relationship with their Father in heaven. But there is, I think, something more implied in Christ's celibacy. It is the clarion cry that salvation is not a matter of being born "according to the flesh in any human family"; rather we must be reborn as children of the Father through the Spirit who has come from on high. Celibacy, then, appears as a challenge against any and every tendency to absolutize the values of human sexuality, familial ties, or national heritage? There are, then, these notes to Christ's celibacy: he makes himself utterly available for the far-ranging service of God and his people, he proclaims the universality of God's Fatherhood and he reminds all men and women that they are known and valued ultimately and most importantly by their being images of the Father who loves them and invites them to live forever. But, at root, Christ's celibacy speaks to us of the full and single-hearted love-relation-ship he enjoys with his Father. As we consider our calling to celibate love we must do so from within the context of realizing the magnificent vocation which is shared by everyone. God has issued a universal call to perfection; all people are to be as perfect and as compassionate as our Father in heaven. Given the bound-aries of human nature, however, each one of us can incarnate only certain facets of the infinite reality of God and of his love for humanity. For this 2Kilian McDonnell, "Religious Life in Low-Profile," America, (July l l, 1970), p. 16. nThomas E. Clarke, S.J., "Celibacy: Challenge to Tribalism," America, (April 19, 1969), p. 465. The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows / 193 reason, some people are called to witness to God and his love in the joy and tenderness of conjugal love and in the abandonment of self to meeting the immediate and constant needs of the precious people to whom they make a special response and for whom they bear a special responsibility. Other people are invited to testify to the expansiveness of the Father's love through their commitment of celibate love in which no a priori limitations or boundaries are drawn on their loving care for others. Regarding the invitation to perfection, however, one thing at least is certain: whether the call is to conjugal love or to celibate love, the noblest and best vocation for anyone is the one to which that individual is personally invited and directed by the Father. If Christ's celibacy is an expression of his deepest identity in and with his Father, so also must our celibacy express our identity in the Father through Christ if it is to be truly for and of the kingdom of God. And indeed our grounding in the Father is through the heart and Spirit of Christ in whom we come to appreciate, with confidence and joy, our singular presence to the Father. It is in and through our union with Christ that we are renewed in the fulfillment of our basic calling from the Father: that by virtue of our distinctive imaging of him each of us is invited and empowered to love him as he has never been loved before. Clearly, then, the celibacy which reflects the celibacy of Christ for the kingdom of God is a charism, a gift calling for our reception and response to God's initiative of love. It cannot be under-stood simply as a reality which we initiate; rather it is a grace-inspired expression of our desire to live single-heartedly for the Father and his people, even as Christ did and because he did. Celibacy, finally, proclaims our faith and hope in the powerful care which the Father shows us in his Son Jesus Christ to whom alone we look for the deepest and fullest giving and receiving of love, and who alone inspires us along the way of our return to the Father. Theological reflection reveals three levels of significance for Christian celibacy; they are the Christological meaning, the ecclesial and the eschato-logical. In terms of Christology, celibates for the kingdom of God find in this response of love a specific way of letting the spirit and action of Christ take form within them so that their mindg and hearts may be more fully respon-sive to the love of Christ and to his values and interests. In the context of ecclesiology, celibacy expres.ses the desire and willingness to retain sufficient flexibility so as to serve the Father wherever the needs of his people are greatest. Finally, in eschatological terms, the love of a celibate gives witness today to a quality of life which is properly characteristic of the final stage of God's kingdom, that end-time when there will be no marriage and when God ~vill be all in all, everything to everyone.4 Thus celibacy is a way of living and doing the future now. Celibates try to live as though the 4These ideas were developed by Pope Paul V1 in his encyclical letter, Sacerdotalis Coelibatus, June 23, 1967. 194 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 future of God were already fully present, but they also try to live in such a way so as to make that future present. Their hope is in fact to be of help in the building of God's future. In their loving, celibates find a way of saying that they hunger for our God and their hearts are restless until they rest in him. What celibates desire is that, through their loving, the reality of Christ may be further personalized in the lives of others who will be reminded that the holy joys of physical human love are only a glimmer of the delightful and filling love which awaits us in the house of our Father. Sometimes, of course, these desires are not realized. The testimony of celibacy is not heard. When this happens, we as celibates must look within for it is quite possible that the problem is our own. Chances are that our loving may have become more a matter of words than of deeds. It may be that we have become cold and unfeeling, withdrawn and unspirited; or it may be that we are attempting to love too much on our own terms or in keeping with our own timetable. If this is the case, then we have reneged on our commitment to celibacy and on our calling to Christianity, for at the core Of celibacy, as at the core of love, are the Christian ideals of other-centeredness and self-forgetfulness. If we take leave of these qualities, we surely take leave of the spirit of Christ ,and we depart from redemptive celibacy, for the deepest value of Christian celibacy is the specific form it gives to our love of God and his people. Out of love we are made for love, for self-giving for the sake of others. As Christ's celibacy testifies to his faith in the sustaining and enriching power of his Father's love for him and to his desire to be ever about his Father's business, so is.the life of Christian celibacy today a faith-event, a sign of our confidence and expectation that the love of God-in-Christ for us is bringing us to full life; out of the joy and strength of our "being loved" we are enabled to face the risks of living with others the good news of our Father who calls everyone to the fulness of life through love. Obedience If Christ's faith in his Father takes on the shape of voluntary poverty and celibacy, no less does it express itself in his radical obedience. Jesus' awareness of being on a mission, of being one sent by the Father, is pro-found. His profession of allegiance to the will and work of his Father runs like a refrain through his life and teaching. St. John's Gospel resounds with the protestations and reminders of Christ: ¯. what 1 was to say, what I had to speak, was commanded by the Father who sent me . . . (12:49). Yes, I have come from him; not that I came because I chose, no, Iwas sent, and by him (8:42). ¯. I have come from heaven, not to do my own will, but to do the will of the one who sent me (6:38). ¯ . . my aim is to do not my own will, but the will of the one who sent me (5:30). The Faith of Christ: Source of the Virtues of the Vows My food is to do the will of the one who sent me, and to complete his work (4:38). As long as the day lasts I must carry out the work of the one who sent me (9:4). As these words of Jesus make clear, the purposefulness of his life is explained by his adherence to the Father's will; it is from his Father that his life derives strength and takes on direction; here, too, in the Father's will Jesus finds joy and peace for he knows that whatever the Father asks, he asks only and always out of his great love for him. In the core of his being Christ listens to the word of his Father; he hears and he obeys; his mind and heart and will are shaped in and by the Father so that in the life and action of Christ the Father's Word becomes flesh. It is not without reason, then, that Jesus reminds us: "To have seen me is to have seen the Father . You must believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me" (Jn 14:9-11). Living in accordance with the Father's will is not, of course, without its difficulties, even for Jesus, as his temptations at the beginning of his public life reveal. For here Jesus is confronted with perhaps his greatest challenge: to be other than his Father wishes him to be, to let his messiahship be cast more according to the pleas and pleadings of Israel than according to the plans of his Father. The temptation for Christ is real and strong to follow the course of political expediency, to exercise power and might, to bedazzle with miracle and mystery and thus to win a following of people whose ambitions and fantasies are stirred, but whose hearts are still untouched by love and whose minds still do not know the secret and wonderful life to which the Father invites them. But this path Christ rejects; instead, he chooses the way of the Father: to reach out to others through the openness and vulnerability of love, to live and work for others rather than to grand-stand, to suffer and die so that others may know that, by the promise and gift of the Father and through his power, pain ends in happiness and death ends in life. It is hard, I think, to stress too much the significance for Christ himself of his faithful obedience to the Father. Having overcome the temptation to play up to men rather than to trust in the Father's knowledge, power and love, and being wise to the snares of Satan, Christ wishes to leave no doubt either about his own perception of himself or about the expectation upon those who would seek to join him. What explains his own life and what must characterize the lives of those who would be one with him is simply obedi-ence to the Father. For a relationship with Christ, obedience binds rather than blood: "Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven, he is my brother and sister and mother" (MT 12:50). That Jesus yields to the authority of another does not go unnoticed. It is a truth acknowledged at times by the most unlikely people. For example, when the centurion with the ill servant sends a message that he is not worthy to have Christ enter under his roof and suggests that Christ need only utter the word of healing from afar, he makes a strange admission. The "196 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 soldier of Rome proclaims: "For I am under authority myself, and have soldiers under me" (Lk 7:8). The implication is clear; the centurion sees Christ as being in a situation not unlike his own: as being under authority and as having authority over others. Even as he is commissioned, so he sees Christ as commissioned, as deriving authority from another. The centurion, it seems, has walked--silently, but nonetheless really--into the heart of faith. He recognizes that in Jesus the power of God is being expressed. He seems to know without saying it that Jesus is the Anointed One, the Christ, the one who is totally shaped to the Father so as to be his work of love. In the face of such faith Jesus is astonished and he could well say of this man what he said to Peter: "You are a happy man, because it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you but my Father in heaven" (Mt 16:17). For those who desire to be obedient in and with Christ it is not enough to know and appreciate that his faithful surrender brought him to death, even death on a cross. What we must also learn to cherish is the truth that obedience shaped his being and life. Christ's actions are the work of the Father because Christ thinks with the Father and wills with the father. In putting on the mind and heart of the Father Christ's only concern and his full joy are to do the Father's work. Being fully obedient in and with Christ is a challenge, then, to respond to our Father's love by offering him the service not only of our hands, but also of our hearts, minds and wills. Obedience to the Father is redemptive only because it expresses, reveals and encourages among others an acceptance of the truth that the father so loves us that he wants only what is for our good. Because of his love for us and because of his desire to render this love effective in our lives, the Father asks that we attend to him, even as Christ did, so that with Christ we may be lifted up. Conclusion The authenticity and vitality of our vowed lives express both the reality and presence of God to us and our trusting and grateful effort to direct our lives ever more clearly and singly toward rendering him a return of love. There is a way, moreover, for us to dispose ourselves for such a response. Jesus himself offers the advice: "If you make my word your home you will indeed be my disciples, you will learn the truth and the truth shall make you free" (Jn 8:31-2). To his word, as to our home, we must come for rest, for relaxation, and for re-creation. In his word, as in a home, we will find support, we will be nourished, accepted and encouraged to grow; we will, in short, be loved into fuller life. In his word we are valued for who we are and not for what we accomplish; in his word we come to understand our beginnings. There we dream, and thence we derive our hopes for the future. Making God's word our home, living, moving and having our being there, frees us to the surrender of faith in which we live out our vows as our pledge that we will allow our Father the freedom to keep us as free as possible for him, for his gospel and for his people. Wilderness and Marketplace Prayer and Action in Mark's Gospel Marian Madore, F.C.J. Sister Marian conducts adult-education classes in Scripture and prayer while she continues her studies. She resides at Mr. St. Joseph Convent; Ferry Rd.; Bristol, RI 02809. The Gospel of Mark moves at a breathless pace, its sentences frequently beginning with the Greek equivalent of words such as "immediately" and "straightway." Its action-packed narrative conveys the urgency of the mission of Jesus. Ft. Gerard S. Sloyan comments: lfthe Master relaxes, one does not learn it from Mark. To read this gospel at a single sitting is to feel hemmed in by crowds, wearied by their demands, besieged by the attacks of demons? We could, perhaps, take exception to the statement: "If the Master relaxes, one does not learn it from Mark." There are unobtrusive state-ments here and there in the gospel that seem to indicate a kind of cycle.in the days of Jesus' public ministry: a constant seeking after solitude only to be interrupted once more by the demands of the crowds; sometimes a sacrificing of quiet time to attend to their needs, only to be followed by another period of solitary prayer. As he moves back and forth from the wilderness to the market-place, Jesus shows us how to harmonize prayer and action in our living of the Christian life. It is significant that Mark's gospel begins in the wilderness. John the Baptist is presented in terms of Isaiah 40:3 which in the prophet's time ~Gerard S. Sloyan, The Gospel of Saint Mark, "New Testament Reading Guide" #2 (Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1960) p. 7. Used with permisssion from the publisher. 197 Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 announced a new Exodus, the return of the Israelites from Babylon. Now, John is proclaiming the ultimate deliverance through the Messiah: "A voice cries in the wilderness: Prepare a way for the Lord, make his paths straight" (Mk 1:3).z Mark adds: "And so it was that John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins" (1:4). It is helpful to keep in mind the Old Testament significance of "the wilderness." The desert experience of the Exodus was a time of testing, the great test being: Can we continue to trust that the Lord will guide us to the promised land? Later prophets such as Hosea and Jeremiah tended to look back on the sojourn in the desert with rose-colored glasses and to see it as a time of first fervor: "Yahweh says this: I remember the affection of your youth, the love of your bridal days; you followed me through the wilderness, through a land unsown" (Jr 2:2). A return to the desert orto first fervor was longed for by many of the prophets: "I am going to lure her and lead her out into the wilderness and speak to her heart" (Ho 2:14). Hence, the desert came to be symbolic of both temptation and change of heart, the gateway to new beginnings. In Mark's gospel, we find the wilderness presented as a battle-ground, and also as a place of refreshment and renewal. Mark, with his usual tendency to "get down to business," tells the story of Jesus' baptism very briefly, stressing the most important aspect of this event, the combined witness of the Father and the Spirit to Jestis, the Belo.ve~l Son. Then, he continues: "Immediately afterwards the Spirit drove him out into the wilderness and he remained there for forty days, and was tempted by Satan. He was with the wild beasts and the angels looked after him (Mk 1:12-13). Mark's language is particularly expressive; he says that "the Spirit drove him out into the wilderness." Matthew and Luke say that Jesus was "led by the Spirit" into the wilderness (Mt 4:1 ; Lk 4:1). Are we to understand here some human repugnance on the part of Jesus in facing this ordeal? William Barclay suggests that Matthew and Luke delib-erately softened the expression here.3 If we supplement Mark's brief sketch with the longer versions of Matthew and Luke, we shall find that for Jesus the desert experience was a time of testing, when in prayer and fasting, he resisted the temptation to conduct his ministry in a manner which would substitute worldly expediency and acclaim for his Father's will. "Forty days" is a Hebraism for "a long time" and suggests the similar ordeals undergone by Moses (Ex 34:28) and Elijah (I K 19:8). But the desert is not only a battleground. Paradoxically, it can also be a place of refreshment, light, and peace. Mark indicates that Jesus frequent-ly sought out lonely places for prayer and rest from the crowds. Very early in his gospel, Mark presents us with what Jim Bishop would call "A Day ~AII quotations from the Bible are taken from The Jerusalem Bible (Garden City: Doubleday, 1966). Used with permission from the publisher. 3See William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark, "The Daily Study Bible Series" (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1956), p. xix. Wilderness and Marketplace: Prayer and Action hl Mark / 199 in the Life of Jesus of Nazareth" (see Mk 1:21-34).4 It is a day of teaching and healing, packed with activity. Immediately after the account of this specimen day, we read: In the morning, long before dawn, he got up and left the house, and went offto a lonely place and prayed there. Simon and his companions set out in search of him, and when they found him they said: 'Everybody is looking for you." He answered, 'Let us go elsewhere, to the neighboring country towns, so that I can preach there too, because that is why I came' (Mk 1:35-39). We know that chronological order is not always important in the gos-pels, but this passage seems to be a notable exception. D. E. Nineham sees it as placed very deliberately after the specimen day and providing a significant commentary on it.5 The enthusiasm of the crowds on the preced-ing day was born of admiration for a wonder-worker--not the kind of reception that Jesus was really looking for. It could be that this was a time Of stress for Jesus when he needed to be alone with his Father and to reassess his ministry. Instead of leaving him in peace, Peter and the others "tracked him down" (Mark uses a Greek word which suggests a hostile pursuit) and here, the evangelist very pointedly omits calling them "disci-ples" since they are not really acting like disciples but are caught up in the excitement of Jesus' worldly success?~ They think they are the bearers of good news--"Everybody is looking for you." Jesus, seeing through the motives of "everybody," announces his intention to "go elsewhere," add-ing "so that I can preach there too, because that is why I came" (1:38). In other words, he did not come to bask in the adulation of the crowds at Capernaum. By the end of the first chapter of Mark's gospel, the wilderness theme is very much in evidence. After the leper fails to keep the "messianic secret" and talks freely about his cure, the result is that "Jesus could no longer go openly into any town, but had to stay outside in places where nobody lived. Even so, people from all around would come to him" (1:45). It is interesting to note that within the brief compass of Mark's first chapter, Jesus is shown making three excursions into the wilderness! The same Greek word--the equivalent of "desert"--is used in each case. There are instances in Mark's gospel where nothing short of an escape from the crowds is suggested. For instance, we read: "With the coming of evening that same day, he said to them, 'Let us cross over to the other side' And, leaving the crowd behind, they took him,just as he was, in the boat" (Mk 4:35-36). Here, we do not find the usual "dismissal" of the crowd (see Mk 6:45-46). The degree of Jesus's exhaustion is graphically highlighted by vivid descriptive details: "Then it began to blow a gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost swamped. But he was in the 4See D. E. Nineham, Saint Mark, "'The Pelican New Testament Commentaries" (Baltimore: Penguin Books, lnc., 1963), pp. 73ff. 5See op. cir., p. 83. 6Cf. Nineham, op. cit., p. 84. 200 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 stern, his head on the cushion, asleep" (4:37-38). When the apostles return from a missionary journey, Jesus encourages them to follow his example: "You must come away to some lonely place all by yourselves and rest for a while . So they went off in a boat to a lonely place where they could be by themselves" (Mk 6:31-32). Again the Greek word means "a desert place." On this occasion again, Jesus and the apostles sacrifice their solitude. The crowds follow them and Jesus takes pity on them, teaching, and later feeding them. But he has not forgotten his original plan! Mark tells us: "Directly after this he made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to Bethsaida, while he himself sent the crowd away. After saying good-bye to them he went off to the hills to pray" (Mk 6:45-46). Fr. Bruce Vawter suggests that both the apostles and the crowds were suffering from what he calls "messianic fever" and that it was necessary for both groups to be separated from Jesus and from each other for a time.r For both "the agony and the ecstasy" of his earthly life, Jesus chooses a place of solitude. Introducing the account of the transfiguration, Mark writes: "Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John and led them up a high mountain where they could be alone by themselves. There, in their presence, he was transfigured" (Mk 9-2). The last recorded instance where Jesus seeks a lonely place for prayer is before his Passion when he goes to the garden of Gethsemane to pray. Mark's Greek is simply "a piece of land." The name suggests the Hebrew word for "olive-press." John calls it "a garden" (see Jn 18:1), while Luke refers to it as "the Mount of Olives" (see Lk 22:39). Putting all this together, we could think of an olive-grove on a hilltop. Here, in his last "desert," Jesus faces his last temptation and surrenders to the will of his Father unto death. Owing to his gift for vivid descriptive narrative, Mark presents the most graphic pictures of Jesus hemmed in, suffocated, at times almost crushed by the crowds thronging to him for cures and instruction. The following sample passages speak for themselves: i :33: The whole town came crowding round the door . 2:2: So many people collected that there was no room left, even in front of the door. 3:9-10: And he asked his disciples to have a boat ready for him because of the crowd, to keep him from being crushed. For he had cured so many that all who were afflicted in any way were crowding forward to touch him. 3:20: He went home again, and once more such a crowd collected that they could not even have a meal. 5:31: His disciples said to him, "You see how thecrowd is pressing round you and yet you say, 'Who touched me?" "" 6:31:. for there were so many coming and going that the apostles had no time even to eat. 7See Bruce Vawter, C.M., The Four Gospels: An Introduction (Garden City: Doubleday and Co., Inc., 1967), p. 175. Wilderness and Marketplace: Prayer and Action in Mark / 201 Perhaps nowhere does the humanity of Jesus shine through so convinc-ingly as in this picture that Mark has left us of Jesus wearied and crushed by the crowds, exhausted in serving their needs, and going off to a desert place where he could be alone and pray. Mark's gospel shows us that the "time-pressure problem" in the apostolate as in other aspects of life, did not originate with the technological twentieth century. Jesus had to deal with it too. Most of us have made the discovery that too much emphasis on the quantity of our works and apostolic involvements can result in a deterioration in the quality of our presence to other people. In his book, The Human Adventure: Contemplation for Everyman, Fr. William McNamara reminds us: We need to become less crowded, less rushed, less dispersed, less victimized by the tyranny of diversion. We need to simplify our lives. We need to "collect" ourselves in periods of silence and places of solitude--not in order to withdraw or isolate ourselves from others, but in order to relate more thoughtfully and lovingly to at least some of the others, if not all.8 The same author makes a suggestion that might exasperate and even infuriate some of his readers, so impossible does it seem to be: I suggest that we stop doing half the work that presently consumes us. Then let us attend to the remaining half whole-heartedly, with contemplative vision and creative love. I stake the authenticity of our lives and the effectiveness of our work on this radical shift.9 When I first read this passage, I asked myself: "If I were to stop doing half of my present work, which half would it be?" Needless to say, the question was exceedingly difficult to answer. Even if we cannot take these words literally, there will be times when we will be wise to say that difficult little word, "No"--realizing that we are not expected to take on the salva-tion of the world single-handedly! True, prayer and discernment are needed to distinguish between lack of generosity and a genuine need to slow down. Jesus knew what it was like to work with human limitations of energy and opportunity. If he could unashamedly withdraw from the crowds, surely we need to do the same. Perhaps the outburst of activism we have witnessed in the Church during the pa~t few 3~ears is beginning to die down, thanks to the growing recognition that the person in a "mad rush" will never commu-nicate the healing touch and inner peace of Jesus. A large part of Mark's "Good News about Jesus Christ, the Son of God" (1: 1) is that he shared so completely in the weakness of our humanity. His methods must be ours. Mark's gospel tells us that we shall never be effective in the marketplaces of this world unless, like Jesus, we withdraw at times to the wilderness to be alone and pray. " 9William McNamara, O.C.D., The Human Adventure: Contemplation for Everyman (Garden City: Doubleday and Co., Inc., 1974), p. 165. Used with permission from the publisher. aMcNamara, op. cit., p. 171. Used with permission from the publisher. Trinity and Community Lewis S. Fiorelli, O.S.F.S. Father Fiorelli is superior of the community at De Sales Hall; 5001 Eastern Ave.; Hyattsville, MD 20782. The opening lines of the Book of Genesis have frequently served as a clue to an understanding of God and of man, and of the relationship between the two. Verses 26-27 of Chapter 1 express this relationship well: Then God said: "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.". God created man in his image; in the divine image he created him; male and female he created them. In Genesis, the origin of the universe in all its parts is attributed to God's creative activitythrough the agency of his Word. It suggests that the Word's highest work of creation was the imparting of the divine image (eikon) to man. It is well to understand the import of "image" so as to appreciate its significance for man, who is the ikon of God. Greek liturgical art can be helpful here, for in this art the ikon is not simply a picture which one observes objectively. Rather, for the Greek mind, the ikon makes the reality of the depicted mystery present to the observer. The ikon, then, serves as a medium of encounter between the observer and the mystery. If, for instance, the ikon depicts Jesus, the reality of Jesus is somehow made present to the observer through the ikon. In this way, Jesus and man encounter one another through the medium of the ikon. Such an encounter precludes neutrality; rather, it calls for a mutual response which is both personal and powerful. This understanding of ikon can powerfully deepen our appreciation of the biblical affirmation that man is the ikon of God. Man is created in such 202 Trinity and Community / 203 a way as to be able to make God present to his fellowman. In man, then, other men can encounter the reality represented by man: God himself. Only one man in history, of course, has made God fully present to his fellowman, because he was in fact the enfleshment or tangibility of God. That man is Jesus. However, something of his unique faculty as the true ikon Of the living God is also within the potential of all men and women, who also bear the divine image. But just what does man, the living ikon of God, make present to his fellowman? In the fulness of revelation, personally expressed in Jesus, we have learned that our God is community. Father, Son and Holy Spirit partake of the one same essence and yet are three persons. The oneness of the Godhead expresses itself in the plurality of persons, the community we call Trinity. As ikon of God, man makes community present to his fellow-man and enables him to participate in it. More emphatically, as ikon of the divine community, man finds himself, his meaning and his ultimate purpose in, from, and with others. In being God's ikon, man is oriented toward others: God and his fellowman. The man Jesus has been called "the man for others" because of his intermediary role, making God present in a saving way to man. Contempo-rary biblical ~cholarship is unanimous in assigning to Jesus a sensitive and sustained awareness of being sent on behalf of the God whom he knows as Father. Jesus finds his own meaning in the message which proclaims the arrival of the Father's kingdom among men. Again and again he assures those to whom he ministers: "My doctrine is not my own; it comes from him who sent me" (Jn 7:16). Jesus is sensitive to the reality that all he does and is derives from the Father, for "he who gives me glory is the Father" (Jn 8:54). He sums up this radical orientation when he responds to Philip: "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father . I am in the Father and the Father is in me . It is the Father who lives in me accomplishing his works" (Jn 14:9-10). It is precisely because Jesus, the divine ikon, was unswervingly oriented toward others that as man he was the visible mani-festation of God, and, as such, the saving presence of God to man. Schille-beeckx terms him "the primordial sacrament of man's encounter with God." Jesus, fully the ikon of God, makes the Community which is the Trinity present to man and to creation. In Jesus, man and all creation encounter the Community of God, and this encounter is the saving deed of God on behalf of both! Made to the image of divine community and redeemed by Jesus on behalf of the same community, each man is called to manifest this commu-nity by locating his meaning in others: in God and in his fellowman. St. Francis de Sales is deeply sensitive to the trinitarian nature of God, to man's creation in the image of this divine community, and to man's consequent challenge to find his meaning in and on behalf of community. He affirms in the Treatise oll the Love of God that though "God is sole he 904 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/2 is not thereby solitary" (AE IV: 204).1 And he insists that "we are created to the image and likeness of God. What does this mean if not that we have the utmost congruity with his divine majesty?" (AE IV: 74). Further, since each man possesses the image and is therefore the ikon of God, Francis preaches that "we are the image of one another, all of us representing only the one portrait who is God" (AE X: 270-271). It is the Salesian conviction that the community of man is the collective portrait of the Community which is God. In preaching on the Lord's high priestly prayer for unity (Jn 17), St. Francis de Sales asks: "Who else would have dared., to make such a comp~.rison and ask that we be united as the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit are joined together?" (AE X:267). Together men form the portrait of God and together they are intended to realize the community of which they are the image. For this reason, Francis de Sales preaches that "man has been created to the resemblance of God; therefore, love of the neighbor leads us to love in him the resemblance and image of God, that is to say [that we are to help] to render this resemblance more and more perfect" (AE VIII: 148). In all of this there is a profound simplicity. Community creates man; man is the image or ikon of community. The other-directedness of man is rooted in the other-directedness of his Trinitarian God. Therefore, man is radically community

Issue 38.4 of the Review for Religious, 1979. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS (ISSN 0034-639X), published bi-monthly (every two months), is edited in collaboration with faculty members of the Department of Theology of St. Louis University. The editorial offices are located at Robin 428; 3601 Lindell Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. © 1979 By REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A.: $8.00 a year; $15.00 for two years. Other countries: $9.00 a year, $17.00 for two years. For subscription orders or change of address, write REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS~ P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 5.5802. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Dolores Greeley, R.S.M. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Assistant Editor July, 1979 Volume 38 Number 4 Correspoudence with the editor and the associate editors, manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS; Room 4.28; 3601 LindeH Blvd.; St. Louis, MO 63108. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; Jesuit Community; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19131. "Out of print" issues and articles not re-issued as reprints are available from University Microfilms International; 300 North Zeeb Road; Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Journey Into Ancestral Fear Mary Grant, L.S.A. Sister Mary's work in strife-torn Belfast has influenced much of her writing. Last year, Our Sunday Visitor published "'Yes in Belfast" under the title, "Yes Lord," which has proven to be a popular source of meditations for many in the United States. She is also involved in Christian Life Communities. Our correspondence address is through Wilbert Forker; 2 Bristow Park; Upper Malone Rd.; Belfast 9; Ireland. Walking up The Falls, reaching out in my heart to the whole city . one with the countless people who have trod this ground through many centuries . Gathering perceptions: sounds, stir-rings of life, the signs ofdeeperlife. Opening up to the signs of death, decay: the burnt-out chimney, the gaping walls--another life, an-other force . The new trees planted: that they would represent Life--not just trees planted on the green of the dead . Gathering all into a unity, integrating all: "Listen to the cry of Your People, Lord! My heart cries their cry--the cry of a thousand years is gathered into Your Presence. When I came to live in this city first, my immediate reaction to hesitant queries was, "Of Course I'm not afraid!" Then one night I dropped a friend in East Belfast, a part of the city I' wasn't familiar with. I missed a turn and found myself lost. Every tiny street was blocked at the end; every time I turned, my headlights picked up "King Billy" on the walls--and slogans! It seemed.every door opened to see who was in the strange tar: I was seized With nameless terror. I could not get out and ask my way. I felt threatened, trapped, alone! 481 4B2 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 In that night I realized how the fears of our environment had entered into me, despite myself. I understood the fears of those who walked alone at night, defenseless. I understood the fear of many people who had not left their district for years, never entered the "unknown" behind the barriers. Some children have never seen behind the barriers that their parents have erected. How do we learn to break through these fears? How do we become revitalized from the paralysis which hampers us? It is easy to quote. "Per-fect love casts out fear" (IJn 4)! But the truth is that we are a covenant people who have been unfaithful to that spirit of love and community by which all men were supposed to recognize the disciples of the Lord. I believe we have first of all calmly to acknowledge that fact, without blame or judgment on either side. And, equally calmly, we have to go about creating bonds of community. In these last few years we have talked much of justice. Our chief work of justice, though, involves our relationship to this covenant---our relationship among ourselves. What Are the Causes of Oppression Around Us? Reflecting on that night, on the grotesque forms of the unknown, I came to see that fear wears many guises. If we ponder on the question, What are the real causes of oppression around us?, immediately there come the replies: "British domination," Loyalist selfishness," "Social apathy," "I.R.A. Terrorism," "Unemployment," "Subhuman housing," and so forth. These are the likely response of a great number of people, depending on which side of the barriers they stand. ' ~ I'm beginning to be more convinced that the~ real ~answer is our-selves--- our memories, our inability to forgive, to be Christlike; to know what to do and how to be as a Christian in the face of injusticei oppression. Our reaction to oppression has been very different fr6m that of the'early Christians. We look back on our Irish history as a people--checkered, erratic: like many anation. But as Christians; how have we fac(d~it? (I mean aH who call themselveS Christian.) We have retaliated with violence, crude-ness, injustice, in just as bitter a way. Some of us say: "We have not thrown bombs! We don't believe that vio-lence is the answer." But have our hearts changed from republicanism or loyalism to a truly Christian approach to life? These labels really stand for all those people who wish to maintain their status quo, even at the cost of the lives of thej.r brothers and sisters. The death of hope is a high cost to pay for a moment's security behind artificial barriers. You ~Will Find in People What You Expect to Find . ~ Why is the change so difficult to'accomplish? Why-are we still talking about it, rather than simply living in love? I wonder, have we really listened to what the violence is saying? I think it is only the dreadful symptom of Journey into Ancestral Fetir / what is happening to the heart of our people. I hear it as a'scream for help, the screaming of the voiceless. I see it not as someihing we can meet head-on, but amid a persistent reaching out in understanding love of peo-ple's' real needs. I'm convinced of the necessity to get at the cat]se. If not, we'll become submerged ifi the symptoms which will get wors~ and worse no matter how we cover them up. Such encounters with our ancestral depths make it ciear to me that one of the deep-seated causes is the colonizer/colonized mentalities from which springs the. dividing wall of fear, mistrust, suspicion. The ancestral wounds have not healed. A change of mentality.does not happen overnight. It is the growth of a long searching, a patient understanding and a persevering love. Unless we have the cpurage to risk the leap of faith'towards our brother, whoever he is, (and I'm not talking simply about Loyalist and Republican), we cannot hope to begin this change of mentality. And we all need it. ! need first of all to learn to live with myself. I have to' learn to live with my brothers,~my neighbors. Then I can open out to.the wider ~zommunity! The reasons which move people to suc.h positioris are mainly historical. But to grow as a people, to be Christian, we have to reach out across these historical, cultural, spiritual barriers and create a climate of acceptance and understanding of each other. And it musi. be two-way: I must address tile barriers of fear. mistrust, hatred, pride, prejudice within me--overcome them in myself first, and then move outwards. But how many of us have learned to live with ourselves? How many of us have integrated within ourselves the various strands of our ancestry? If I take even the first tentative steps in this process of integration, of growth, I discover that there are no ready-made answers in the movement outwards again towards my brothers. I can only share what I have dis-covered in my attempt to follow Christ. ! discover that I learn all the time, from the people I move among. Yes, God is still speaking today. We need to let him change us! ; His peace will not be found in mass meetings for peace, but in changed lives. While that is true, it is also true that many of the mass meetings for peace do spring from the changed lives of thousands of people, a change which has been taking place ~quietly over the last few years. It seems a change of climate has been growing--a springtime. However, unless it springs from areal change of heart it will die do~wn and get nowhere. I'd fear to think of peace as simply the absence of violence among us. When we experience a comparative lull, as recently we did, how do we read it? Is the lull a nursing of our wounds, a hardening of attitudes? Or is it a time of healing? We have had many violent episodes in the past which eventually died down. But our hearts didn't change. Unless this change of attitude prompts'us to really seek out our brother, to understand him, as he is and not to try to change him, then it is but a caricature of Christianity--you will find in your brother only what you bring, what you are. 41~4 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 /4 Becoming iMore Fully Human The trouble with most of us is that we haven't fully explored who we are. We transfer to our brother a whole lot of that deep subconscious which we haven't faced in ourselves. What is growth, integration, but a process of becoming more truly the person I am not some dream, or ideal, but truly myself. It is not easy to live with a known self, no matter how many angles, or how many depths of light and darkness that self holds. Within the context of what it means to be Christian, I see this growth as a process of Incarnation. Very often we are so close to all that is happening in this .process that we cannot see clearly at all what is .happening while it is happ6ning. Occa-sionally we have to stand back and look from a different viewpoint. Then whole new worlds of meaning light up our horizon. Through a brief en-counter w, ith the East, I myself had some such ~experience. When our separate worlds met (first, second, third), in my being lifted out of my own life experience of p.overty, need, struggle, into a totally "different" world, I experienced "living through Incarnation," not simply looking to it for meaning. I went carrying the burden of this seemingly impossible situation in our country. Would anything the East could teach thl:ow light on that? The situation of other nations was just as appalling. Where might hope be found? I felt saddened by the many who know only a hopeless resignation, and more saddened by those who channel their despair into reckless violence. The presence of Christ assured me that this was only part of the picture, but I had not had the reference ofmy o~vn experience to work on. I had not seen, touched, tasted, so I did not know--I hung on 'to belief. I felt stifled by the polarization of parts of my home-city into ghetto areas which prevents the natural giving and taking in which reaching oi)t and sharing would promote reconciliation. I felt frustrated by the third force which goads each side against the other rather thanwork for peace; The "ancestral fears" of our environment had eaten into us so deeply that I did not recognize them in myself. Yet, in the midst of this atmosphere of defeat, His hope rose up and beckoned more gtrongly, buoying me up. In our sheer need I saw Him at work in broken lives--healing, restoring. But there were so many ques-tions. So much I needed to'learn. In my being lifted out of my own life-exp+ rience of poverty, need, struggle, into a totally "different" world, I felt I lived through this "God becoming man" again. I was not outside, looking on. I became man--human. If I might look for a key word to describe this experience of Incarnation, it might be sharing. Too many have gone from the West to the East to give--to satisfy a nagging sense that "we must do something." We, though, in approaching our hosts with empty, open hearts, found ourselves en-riched beyond measure: reverence for the other; stillness, waiting. Entering into another's reality means going outside the self. Journey into Ancestral Fear Sharing, Not Distributing If we have not gone outside of self, outside "our" great world, we will remain on the level of doing. We will distribute from our bag of tricks and wonder.why, one day, it runs empty and we haven't that -powerful" feeling any more. No, to share speaks of equality. Sharing never makes others dependent, never prevents growth, never closes the door to a return. What else is sharing, but the life of the Trinity of love? Christ prayed that we may be one as They are one. Life is not life at all unless it is shared. To share the ordinary things of life gives me an idea of what it will be like to share the life of God. Have we learned to live a little like our God of Love? Could I truthfully say: "All I have is yours"? (see Jn 17:10). In my eagerness to live for the good of my own people, I learned that I had been affected by the Western sickness of wanting to give all the time. In being thrown back on my personal poverty and powerlessness, I have learned better how to receive--graciously, lovingly. It has opened up a beautiful new perspective in regard to all those whose lives touch mine, whether that might be family, work, community, friends, strangers. To all people, I have learned from the East the meaning of the simple, demanding statement: "I am for you.", Simple realities we take so much for granted have assumed a deeper significance: the really deprived among us are those without hope, those who have not discovered the immense riches of their true selves, those who hide behind barriers of fear, mistrust, hatred; those of us who dare not celebrate a life we feel too fragile; those ofus who have lost the festivity and joy of living. "What does it matter if you gain the whole world and lose your true self?." (Mk 8:36). In being evangelized by those people considered "poor" in the eyes of the world, I have become more deeply human--just as I have received my reality as a person also from those to whom I have been sent here at home. There Are No "Them" and "Us" As He turned to his people he felt great compassion: he wanted to reach out. His very desire for their good healed them--he truly "lived with" their need. There are no "them" and "us"--it is always "we together." He wants to free each one of us from our fears, doubts, hesitations, inabilities, limitations. He wants to launch us on his mission, before his healing power can effectively flow through us. 1 think ! lost any trace of the "Messiah complex," of "giving Christ to the world" rather than discovering him present inall peoples, during that time in the East. This true sharing leads to a deep communion. The bonds of community grow in the measure that we share who we are with all men. How do I approach those on the other side of the barriers in our own environment? Is it from a position of strength toward weakness? Is it from a position of "having it all" and needing to satisfy a nagging sense that "we must do something"? Or do those of us who genuinely want to reach out to others, 4~16 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 do so from the reality of being grasped by Christ,freed by him, impelled by his love to proclaim that he is alive today--among us? There is something deep within each of us as human beings that makes us want to live in communion with others. I don't want to approach anyone, or want to break through barriers, with the attitude of "them out there," of "isn't it awful?," of "what can we do about it?" I would rather like to receive all with an empty, open heart, in reverence, in stillness--in waiting, if need be. Entering into another's reality means entering into the "why" of the fears, barriers, defenses. Do I live with a sense of equality among all? When we talk of neighborliness, of friendship across the barriers, could I truthfully say to you, "All I have is yours!"? Only then can we return to each other the festivity and joy of living. How One Man Became Free In the slums of Manila, where 80% of the people live below the poverty line, they spoke with us about the climate of fear and oppression around them. There was no hint of hopelessness--though one often met with a feeling of powerlessness. This was brought home to us as one group told us how they had come across the wife and family of a well-known political prisoner. ~ This manhad been in a position equivalent to the opposition. Since the introduction of martial law he had been in prison, and denied the right to ordinary legal proceedings for a trial. A military tribunal hearing was to begin the following day. His wife pleaded with us visitors to. come with her. With some apprehension as to possible consequences, we did, and' were amazed to find the courtroom nearly filled with priests and sisters morally upholding the prisoner~ The hearings of his challenge to the tribunal was an outstanding example of real strength against injustice. A remark he made during the trial has echoed in my mind through all the weeks and months which followed: My cell door, ironically, has been my door to freedom. Having walked through it, I have lost my fears. It became my door to freedom when I finally acknowledged its threats as the promise of liberation and truth . I cannot yield to you my spirit and my conscience. I am yielding to might but not to right . After four years in confinement, 1 have finally realized that man must fear most the prison of his own making--the prison of fear itself. Freedom From Fear I returned with renewed'faith--God, who has begun this great thing, humanity, and Christianity; will see it through. Sharing in his love for all those whose lives touch mine, I dare to believe that he can use even me to bring life to a world without hope. And, when I am united with you., and you., who believe, the kingdom of God has come among us. "There are no experts, only disciples who learn by doing." ~An'd, when we are given the courage to launch out into (he deep, we don't know where Journey into Ancestral Fear that "doing" will end! When Christ raised Lazarus from the dead, he gave him ~over to the people wh6 surrounded them to be unbound. So, as he raises us, he gives us to each other to continue the unbinding--receiving our reality from each other, giving each other our freedom--in dignity, simplic-ity, beauty, hospitality. "Yes, we are a happy, carefree people, but something is happening to our hearts which we do not understand." The worst form of poverty is to be alive without hope. To be without hope is to be without Him---our Savior. But where He is, there is no fear: "Perfect love casts out fear" (1 Jn 18). I came away from the East free of a fear which had paralyzed and prevented all aspects of my life. And so I understood the fear in our environment here at home. The historic wounds are so deep, part of the very fabric of our lives--so deep we might not recognize ourselves without them. As God touches our beings personally, gradually, gently., leading us toward personal wholeness in him, so he touches us as a people. He, as it were, goes back into history and heals the wounds history has left behind. This is the healing we need as a nation. ~ This freedom from fear enables us to proclaim by our lives: "Serenity--knowing we are loved, assured, at peace with him and our-selves; Stability--God is God, let Him be God. He holds all, hand it over to him. Tranquillity---overflowing from an abiding sense of his presence among US. Capability--his power in our lives, his power overflowing to others. This is our service--to be open to all: the fruit of the Spirit of peace among us. We need to speak for God in these our troubled times as reso-lutely as the prophets of old. We need to proclaim joy, hope, peace in the midst of the many disasters round about. Real hope dawns when there is no other possibility than absolute dependence on God---our foot constantly wearing out his doorstep! The Brotherhood of Man is Possible! Already, as I was learning these truths more deeply, thousands of peo-ple were rising up at home and speaking fearlessly for peace, forging stronger ties towards reconciliation. Since then, freedom has been pro-claimed again and again, echo6d by a thousand voices. In the past, gather-ings in war left bitterness, hatred, division festering in age-old wounds. And then enough people said, "We have been governed by fear" to enable gatherings in peace, and joy, forging links of reconciliation. Yes, I learned how to face our fears, turn my back on them, and reso-lutely turn towards all that builds up a climate of reconciliation, strength-ened not by any ability but by my weakness and dependence on His strength. It was worth going to the other end of the world to learn that alone ! 488 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 I have felt great sadness at these gatherings too. How effective they will ultimately be depends on how many present have risen out of their fear, how deeply and how realistically each one becomes peace. Too many are carried along on waves of emotion! Yet the brotherhood of man is possible---even here! The answer to the divisions, exploi/ations, war, hatred, rejection, hunger, fear-in-the-world is our Christ of the Beatitudes, with his call to share. There is only one human family. But if we have never experienced human love, can we offer love, or understand what struggle for another involves, or live a life of communion with God? And how can anyone know love--unless you and I love? In the past I have been constantly strengthened by the beautiful expressions of love and hospitality, of generosity, of sharing that I have known among our people here, daily witnessing to the fact that even in our shattered lives the spirit of love is at work among us. Iam filled with more hope than ever. And I am very, very, grateful at being placed near people in .need--at the heart of my people's search for him; at the point of their desire for him. Life has always been beautiful and full of the surprises of God: that beauty has been increased a thousandfold for me. I feel hope rising in leaps 6f Joy: Expect the impossible! Believe the unbelievable! Proclaim the truth !--For God is with us! Each, returned to his own Galile~i, can proclaim fearlessly that which we have seen, touched, tasted (1 Jn 1:1). He is here. He is with us. Hope makes us live. ForHe is our peace. Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition Mary Catherine Barron, C.S.J. Sister Mary Catherine is a frequent contributor to these pages. Her last article appeared in September, 1978. She resides at 91 Overlook Ave.; Latham, NY 12110. For a long time now, he had haunted me, this acerbic little man-- haunted me and annoyed me. He seemed so utterly sore: ulcerous wounds on the outside, bleeding heart on the inside. Who needed it? Who also needed his words--thunderous, vehement complaints~de-nouncing life, God, man. Quite honestly, who wanted to tangle with all this writhing agony? It might underscore the already too familiar. So determinedly, I put him aside and concentrated on other things: the joy of Joseph, the fidelity of Ruth, the.trusting surrender of Esther. But they occupied my time, not my mind. For behind them all, there he sat, that angry, implacable figuremstinking, screaming, wildly gesticulating. Ulti-mately, against my will and better judgment, he antagonized me to his side--flies and all. To be candid, I hate flies. And odors like disease and manure, And unmitigated complaining. And pseudo-sympathy. It all talks and walks like death. So I didn't really like Job in his utter humanity. It was too graphically prophetic. That was the haunting part. The annoying part is that, in spite of all of it, I stayed. So now there are two of us si~ting in the noonday sun--hot and stubborn and mad. Eventually, someone will have to speak. In the end it was Job who broke the silence and cursed the day of his birth (Jb 3:1). 489 490 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 Just like that--for twenty-six verses--spewing out anger. Why was he born? Why couldn't he die? Words filled with dread of the future, sleepless-ness, lament. Grief has a way of doing that, you know. Utter stone., then the crack across the surface. A few heaves--abruptly a mountain becomes a volcano, lava of words and emotion searing out everywhere. Shock on the faces of onlookers st.ampeding to take cover: "Spare us your painful fire, please. Please.'~ While the volcano rages on. And then., the deathlike stillness ¯ . . followed by meaningless words trying to make meaning. A survivor gasps: "Then Eliphaz of Teman spoke: 'If I were as you are, Job . . .' " If ¯ . . if. Through all the wreckage and debris. "If I were as you." if. The irony of those words: Who can be like Job, when one is sound and whole and safe, free from loss, darkness, despair? Speaking out of loved ones alive and farm lands intact, what can such a one as Eliphaz know of unanswered questions, heartrending supplications? For him, do they even exist? Silence. Then, imperceptibly, a stirring from the ashpit, a flicker of the eyelash. Job speaks: If only my misery could be weighed . What wonder then if my words are wild? The arrows of Shaddai stick fast in me . My spirit absorbs their poison (6: I-4). Ah yes--those poisonous arrows of Shaddai; those intimations of doom from Sheol that stick deep. into the soul; the-certain knowledge- that never again will there be innocence and joy. And always there ~are the bitter questions asked over and over of self: Will I be able to go on? Why go on anyway? Where are my friends? Why can't they understand? Fear and loneliness. The Underworld. Someone creeps near to draw out the stir~g, to touch the cracked skin. It is Bildad. He urges humility: You too, if so pure and honest must now seek God, plead with Shaddai (8:4-5). These are soothing words indeed: "ff you are honest." This is an answer with insight!?'Seek God; plead with Shaddai." How is Job to do this when Shaddai has disappeared? Where is God to be found for Job, the sufferer? A lull ensues. The hot breeze blows. Flies buzz. Then a voice. And Job said: Your own hands shaped me, modeled me: And would you now have second thoughts and destroy me? (10:8). The appeal and bargaining begin. Who hasn't done it? Bargaining with self; Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition / 49"1 bargaining with God. And the panic: how dare oppose the Almighty's will? How dare question Yahweh God Omnipotent? Suppose I am right? Wha.t difference would it make? Suppose I am wrong? What then? Yet, what is there to lose when one has already lost everything? "Yahweh, give a little happiness before death." Is this too much to ask? Appeal and bargain-ingwwho hasn't done it? .Zophar apparently. For he queries pontifically: Can you claim to grasp the mystery of God, To understand the perfection of Shaddai? It is higher than the heavens; what can you do? It is deeper than Sheol; what can you know? (11:7-8) Truth--unadorned and stark. What can you do? Nothing. What can you know? Nothingwabsolutely nothing. That is the darkness, the pain. Help-lessness in the face of the abyss--the human condition. What can you know? What can you do? Nothing--nothing except to confront Yahweh. Despair--the human condition. Then, convoluting tortuously, comes the rush of Job's words, ejaculated with the vehemence of despair, discharged with the agony of futility, resolute like one,maddened: I mean to remonstrate with God; I will do the talking, whatever may befall me. I put my flesh between my teeth, I take my life in my hands. Let him kill me if he will (13:3-15). The pathos of those words, the frenzy! The "last-chance syndrome." Where have we heard it before? From what corner of the universe has'it n0t cried out? V~e havehea'rd it on the lips of the dying; in the hearts of survivors; from the tomb called old age and rejection; out of the spectral ¯ stare of disease and starvation. Who has not, at some point in life, taken one's flesh in one's hands, remonstrated with God? But Eiiphaz cannot understand. Not yet having plumbed the depths of misery, never having drunk suffering's cup to the dregs, he cannot fathom .the pain that would drive a man to contend with God. He only sees the obvious: anger and rebellion. And sohe says: ~'See how passion carries you away!" Passion--that double-edged sword of grief and joy, the ecstasy and bestiality of man, the most cherished and most despised of gifts. Passion. Who has not longed for its transforming unity? Who has not wept over its fragmenting discord? Passion. I watch him--Job~as he masticates Eliphaz's words. He chews them carefully as one chews a fish with bones. He moves his teeth cautiously around them and just as cautiously his t6ngue. But he will not swallow 492 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 them. He holds them in his mouth, in one corner of his cheek, and stares ahead at emptiness. "Swallow them," I plead silently, urgently, "or spit them out. Don't hold them lest they choke you." But there is nothing-- only that awful bulbous cheek and the empty stare. It is mid-afternoon, the height of heat and sun, reason's siesta time. Perspiration drips. Things swim before the eyes: mirages, desert visions, subconscious creatures from the soul. The universe crumples like a folded fan. The breeze pants hot across inert bodies, creating the sense of being played upon, fretted. And then, heartrendingly Job cries out: He has shattered me! He has pierced me! He has breached me! He has borne down on me! Every fibre of my heart is broken! I weep! I cry out! Still he shoots his arrows into me! I am overcome! (16:17) The Litany of Passion, divine passion. Good old platitudinous Eliphaz has finally hit the mark. Unerringly, unknowingly, Job has be'en ravished. In the nakedness of a cloudless day, we have seen him vanquished, embraced. He gasps and swallows. The lump travels to his throat and lodges. Is it possible that loss is no longer what he wails? Could it be that he and Yahweh are suddenly bartering for surrender? Without moving an inch, Job has traversed a terrain. I swallow too. Silence impregnates solitude. No one stirs. The sun moves impercep-tibly. A shade begins. Coolness trickles down my brow. 'I close my eyes and wipe the damp. I feel like sleep. Or death. I feel like dying, if dying is so much a pouring out. I feel like.sleep if sleep is like release. I feel . Mournfully into the dusk, Bildad speaks, musing: Driven from light into darkness man is an exile from the earth (18:18). "Driven from light into darkness." Like the sun's course. Like the ocean's tide. Like the season's change: Like life's pattern! Dawn, noon, night. High, ebb, low. Fertility, fall, winter. Birth, life, death. "Driven from light into darkness." Man. The mood is infectious. Night hedges in. Animal cries echo. And Job takes up the refrain: God, you must know, is my oppressor and his is the net that closes round me. He has covered my way with darkness. My kindred and my friends have all gone away. The hand of God has struck me (19:6-21). Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition / 493 "Driven from light into darkness." And suddenly, like a meteor across the sky, Hope flares briefly: But this 1 know, I, Job, that my Avenger lives, and he, the Last, will take his stand on earth. He will set me close to him, and from my flesh I shall look on God. He whom I shall see will take my part; These eyes will gaze on him and find him not aloof (19~25-27). It is the song of the prisoner, the condemned. It is the avowal of the sick man, dying. It is the prayer of the faithful soul, deserted. "I know that my Avenger lives." His words fall into the air dropping like snow on velvet, glistening and hushed. The moon rises and clouds over; the stars wink and disappear. It is the inky time of night. Absolute aloneness. Total isolation. Simple breath-ing is intrusion. And I think: "Enveloped by the darkness, shall we quietly slip away'?" The eternal temptation of friendship: to quietly slip away. Will he even know we're gone, so absorbed is he in pain? Will he even care, since, in fact, we cannot help? Is there any point to vigils when the heart lies already dead? Truly, how far does fidelity go? How deep does commitment bind? Ironically, Job gives the answer: fidelity is radical. Its presence is an absolute grace; its absence, an absolute sorrow not to be compared. Job has known the calamity of loss, the pain of bereavement, the suffering of illness. Yet, none of these hold the anguish of desertion and infidelity which is the dark night of the soul; the index tingler of Yahweh scraping across the heart; the Ruah, his breath, blowing in the memory, tantalizing, near, but indescribably far away. From this void of absolute emptiness, Job laments in prayer: That heavy hand of his drags groans from me. If only 1 knew how to reach him, or go travel to his dwelling! If I go eastward, he is not there; or westward--still I cannot see him. If I seek him in the north, he is not to be found; invisible still when I turn to the south . For darkness hides me from him and the gloom veils his Presence from me (23:2-17). This is Psalm 139 prayed backwards. Even in desolation, Job is a good Israelite. And how accurately he speaks. When human friends depart, the griefis great, but who can measure the torment which ensues when God withdraws? "Under cover of darkness, Yahweh, have You, too, slipped away?" So I sit and wait and rest. The night leaks out drop by drop. Minutes become ages, then cease. It is the hour of desolation, which is timeless. 4~14 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 Inevitable. "And Job continues his solemn discourse. He says:" Who will bring me back to the months that have gone, and the days when G~d was my guardian; When his lamp shone over my hi~ad~ and his light was my guide in the darkness? I cry out to you and you give me no answer (29:1-4; 30:20). How does one deal with that--the silence of~non-response, the answer of the void? Does one walk away dejectedly or does one catapult into the abyss? There is death either way. And thus, Job carefully considers, examines his days and his nights, probes his heartaches and ecstasies, fingers his hopes and his dreams. Is their memory worth silence or speech, retreat or confrontation? And then with a mighty leap, embodying faith and despairJob issues the challenge, directly, forcibly, to God: Who can get me a hearing from God?~ I have had my say from A to Z; now let Shaddai answer me~ When my Adversary has drafted his writ against me, I shall wear it on my shoulder, and bind it round my head like a royal turban. I will give him an account of every step Of my life, and go as boldly as a prince to.meet him (31:35-40). With this ringing declaration, argumentation ceases; lament is done. "End of the words of Job" (31:40). A tremulous pause. Terror grips. Awe invades. The e]arth turns over and I am sick, my senses reeling. Roaring thunder, thickening night. "My God! My God! We are strangling to death. Our words regurgitate." The desert sand flails. I cover my face; I grovel on the earth; I burrow into the dirt. "And then from the heart of the tempest, Yahweh gave Job his answer" (38:1). In fifty eight questions! And Job replied to Yahweh: My words have been frivolous; what can I reply? 1 had better lay my finger on my lips. (40:3-4) God has a way of doing that--giving questions for answers. He has shown himself divine Socratic: And Yahweh God called to the man: Where are you? (Gn 3:9). Yahweh asked Cain: Where is your brother Abel? (Gn 4:9). YahWeh asked Abraham: Why did Sarah laugh? (Gn 18:13). And the one who wrestled with Jacob said: Why do you ask my Name? (Gn 32:29). And Yahweh answered Moses: Who makes man deaf or dumb, gives him sight or leaves him blind?Is it not I, Yahweh? (Ex 4:12). In fact, all through Salvation History we have been closing our mouths Sitting It Out With Job: The Human Condition / 495 with our fi .ngers~too late. Job is in good company. I relax and come up for air,. And Job gave answer to Yahweh: I know that you are all powerful: what you conceive, you can perform. I am the man who obscured your designs with my empty-headed words. 1 have been holding forth on matters I cannot understand; on marvels beyond me and my knowledge (42:1-3). Humility. Man before the divine. Nature kneeling to Transcendence. The mystery of God. And Job replied: I retract all I have sa!d; In dust and ashes, I repent (42:!-3). The beauty of humanity. Its capacity for enlargement. Its yearning for completeness. Its ability to change. Because 1 knew you then by hearsay, but now I see you with my own eyes (42:5). Knowledge of the heart. Contemplation and surrender. Incarnation re-versed: man entering into God, Peace. My pulse resumes. My heart begins to beat. I can see that I am stained. I can see that I can see.t A mist of rose gathers in the east. A breeze sighs. Or is it Eliphaz? And Yahweh God said to Eliphaz of Teman: 'I burn with anger against you and your two friends for not speaking truthfully a~out:me as my servant Job has done. So now find seven bullocks and seven rams, and take them back with.you to my servant Job, and offer a holocaust for yourselves, while Job, my servant, offers prayers for you. I will listen to him with favor and excuse your folly in not speaking of me properly as my servant Job has done.' Eliphaz of Teman, Bildad of Shuah and Zophar of Naamath went away to do as Yahweh had ordered, and Yahweh listened to Job with favor (42:7-9). So now there are two of us sitting in the morning's dawn, tired, and joyful, and reborn. Someone will have to speakmbut no one does. There is only the echo of a deeper silencemthe silence of refrain: Where were you when I laid the earth's foundations? Who decided the dimensions of:it; do you know? Have you ever gi~,en orders to the morning? Have you journeyed to the sources of the sea? Which is the way to the home of light? Where does darkness live? Has the rain a father? What womb brings forth the ice? (38; 39) Riddles. Unsolved riddles. Man, and mystery, and wonder. Pain, and suffering, and death. The human condition. Riddles. Unsolved riddles. And 496 / Review for Religious, Volume38, 1979/4 always the eternal unyielding question: "Do you really want {o reverse My judgment and put Me in the wrong to put yourself in the right?" (40:3) I stretch and rise to go. Job never notices. He is wrapt in prayer, I suppose, for Eliphaz, Bildad, and Teman. 1 shake out my robe, flex my toes inside my sandals. I start across the sand. The dusty road coils away and flows into the sky; the air trembles with the weight of birds; the grasses caress the soil. Love and infinity. Providence and care. The human condi-tion. I plod on down the road, humming as I go: Has the rain a father? What womb brings forth the ice? Now Available As A Reprint The "Active-Contemplative" Problem in.Religious Life by David M. Knight Price: $.75 per copy, plus postage. Address" Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I Robert M. Doran, S.J. Father Doran delivered three lectures at Creighton University last year as part of a Spiritual Enric.hment Program. This isthe first one in article form. He resides in the Jesuit Community; Creighton University; 2500 California Street; Omaha, NE 68178. Christian Spiritual Transformation: Self-Transcendence and Self-Appropriation This is the first of three articles on the subject of Jungian psychology and contemporary Christian spirituality. The present article will focus on the latter of these two items, on Christian spiritual transformation as this is understood at the present moment in the life of the Church. By concentrat-ing on two terms frequently employed in the works of Bernard Lonergan, self-transcendence and kelf-appropriation, I hope to provide a context for the next two articles, which will deal more extensively with Jung. This first article will treat, first, Christian spiritual tranformation as self-transcendence; second, Christian spiritual transformation as growth in self-knowledge orself-appropriation; third, the levels of consciousness that can be discovered when one enters on the way of self-appropriat!on; and fourth, the relation of feelings and symbols to these various levels or dimensions of consciousness. This fourth topic locates that element of our interior lives in regard to which Jung's insights become pertinent for our spiritual self-understanding. I have discovered that any such treatment of Jung as the present one eventually brings me into that form of discrimination which, in Ignatian 497 4911 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 spirituality, is called the discernment of spirits. Jung is a religiously contro-versial figure. Not only does my own treatment and evaluation of Jung tend to arouse rather than quell the arguments that surround his person and his work, but, more significantly, my critical response to Jung always ~arries me to the heart of the Christian exigence to differentiate the true call of God from the subtle attractions of the force~ of evil as these two contrary tendencies compete for the allegiance of men and women involved in the renewal of the contemporary Church. Why this is so will hopefully be-come clear in the subsequent articles, especially in the final one. But perhaps I can offer now some indication of the difficulty. First, then, Jung ih a religiously controversial figure. The religious significance of his psychological insights is variously interpreted. John A. Sanford and Morton Kelsey are two well-known authors who have drawn on Jung to promote and understand Christian self-discovery.~ On the other hand, James Hiilman has. maintained that Jung's guidelines to "soul-making" are of a completely different order from the well-known paths to spiritual transformation in Christ and from the insights of the other major religious traditions of the world,z Martin Buber entered into direct conflict with Jung, claiming that the psychology of individuation and Yahwistic faith are diametrically opposedorientations.of the human spirit.3 Jung him-self, as we shall see, gives some indications of his own that the process of individtiation will lead the cognoscentes to the position of being able to dispense with all forms of traditional religious involvement; but he also attempted to offer his psychology as an aid to the pastoral care of souls.4 What 'is one to make of these differences and ambiguities? Obviously, some framework must be found to enable us to enter on the kind of process that Lonergan calls dialectic and foundations: the process, namely, in which we not only assemble and review alternative interpretations, but also evalt~ate and compare them, reduce their affinities and oppositions to their underlyin~ roots,.determine which, if any, of.these roots stand in dialectical ~See, for example,~John A. Sanford, Dreams: God's Forgotten Language (Philadelphia and New York: Lippincott, 1968); Healing and Wholeness (New York: Paulist Press, 1977); Morton Kelsey, Dreams: The Dark Speech of the Spirit, A Christian Interpretation (New York: Doubleday, 1968); Encounter with God: A Theology of Christian Experience (Minneap61is: Bethany, 1972). 2See James Hillman, The Myth of Analysis: Three Essays in Archetypal Psychology (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1972). I quote from p. 21: "The spiritual-director models of guru, rabbi, oflgnatius or Fenelon, of Zen master, are only substitutions on which we lean for want of surety about the true model for psychology." 3See Edward C. Whitmont, "Prefatory Remarks to Jung~s 'Reply to Buber,' " in Spring: An Annual of Archetypal Psychology andJungian Thought (1973), pp. 188-195; and C; G. Jung, "Religion and Psychology: A Reply to Martin Buber," ibid., pp. 196-203. 4Compare C. G. Jung, "'Is Analytical Psychology a Religion?" (notes on a talk given by Jung, in Sprihg, 1972, pp. 144-148) with Jung's "Psychotherapists or the Clergy," in C. G. Jung, Modern Man in Search of a Soul (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1933), pp. 221-244. Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I / 499 opposition to one another in such wise that only a radical transformation of the basic horizon can achieve reconciliation, and, finally, choose that basic horizon and those resultant positions and interpretations which we will make our own.5 Such a framework is what I hope to offer in theopresent article. Secondly,- my own judgments and decisions regarding the potential spiritual fruitfulness of Jung's work are themselves controversial, at least in the sense that they will please neither Jung's detractors nor his enthusias-tic followers. For I will sharply differentiate the process of Christian self-transformation from the way to individuation that .lung maps out for us. But I will also insist with equal force that there is much that we not only can, but indeed must, learn from him in developing both a theology and an ascesis of" spiritual transformation in the context of the contemporary world. Thirdly, the only final arbiter of the kind of discrimination that I find necessary is what we have come to call the'discernment of spirits.lung's theological A.mbiguities, and thealternative interpretations and evaluations that are offered of his work, are symptomatic of an underlying spiritual conflict that can be mediated only in the context of the dialectic ofgrace and of sin, of the Standards of Christ and of Satan. David Burrell has indicated correctly that one cannot fail to meet God if one goes on the inner journey to individuation.6 But one will also meet much.that is not God, and that is even opposed to God. Not only does Jung not help one to discriminate these forces as they operate in one's psyche, but he also contributes to and even encourages the confusion'that can be experienced in such moments that call for discernment, and thus mires one in the conflictual forces that wage an ultimate battle in the depths of one's psyche. Jung's work, if left uncriti-cized, leads one into a psychological cul-de-sac that can assume demonic pi'oportions. Christian Spiritual Transformation As Self-Transcendence ~ ' There are many diverse and quite useful approaches to the understand-ifig'of spiritual transformation. I have chosen to focus on two terms that have been developed by Bernard Lonergan. Lonergan's thought has achieved a great deal of notoriety due principally, it would seem, to its difficulty. I have no intention here of repeating the subtle intricacies of his full argumentation. I will rather present in what I hope are quite under-standable tdrms (he results of that argumentation, and will deal with more 5Bernard Lonergan, Method in Theology (New York: Herder and Herder, 1972), Chapters Ten and Eleven. 6David Burrell, Exercises in Religious Understanding (South Bend: University of Notre Dame Press, 1974), p. 221. 500 /ReviewforReligious, Volume 38, 1979/4 subtle points only to the extent that they are necessary to clarify my basic position.7 I choose Lonergan's approach to the issue of Christian spiritual trans-formation for several reasons. First, it is the approach with which I am most familiar and the one that 1 personally have found most helpful. Secondly, Lonergan explicitly takes his stand in human interiority. And, when we are talking about either spiritual transformation or Jungian psychology, we are talking about the realm of interior experience, about the data of conscious-ness, about such events as insights, judgments, decisions, and, as we will see, dreams. All of these happenings are items that we experience. But we experience them interiorly. None of us has ever seen an insight or a feeling. But I trust, too, that none of us would claim that he or she had never experienced a feeling or an insight, never judged that some proposition was true or false, never made a decision. Moreover, I hope that we all know the experience of wanting to understand, wanting to be reasonable in our judgments, wanting to be responsible in our decisions. For it is in the realm of that desire, and in being faithful to that desire, that Lonergan locates what it is to be an authentic human person. But our experience of these events and of this desire occurs, not in the realm of outer sense, but in the domain of human interiority. It is in interiority that, through these events of understanding, judging, and deciding, we "process" reality. Sensations come in; language goes out; but between sensations and language there is, as Lonergan has formulated it in some recent lectures, the mysterious "little black box" of our interiority. The workings of that little black box are the domain that we concentrate upon in Christian spiritual theology, in Jungian p§ychoiogy, and in any attempt such as the present one that would relate spirituality to psychology. I should mention, in addition, two other advantages that accrue from employing Lonergan's framework for understanding interiority? First, his stress, as I have already indicated, is on human desire, and desire is the area of our being that is illuminated by the explorations also of the great depth ps~ychologists, including Jung, Secondly, and most importantly, Lonergan emphasizes that spiritual development is not something that oc-curs in some realm that is isolated from the insights that we have into the events of our everyday life, from the judgments that we make as to the truth or falsity of the most mundane propositions, from the anxieties we feel and the decisions that we make regarding our orientation and actions as beings-in- the-world. God's saving purpose is a will to save the world itself, to redeem the time of our lives, as Eliot would put it. It is not a dimension of 7There are, of course, dangers in such a procedure, for the reader can easily take the results of Lonergan's explorations as a series of concepts that could dispense one from the task of insight into oneself. There are no short-cuts to the self-appropriation to which Lonergan invites one. But precisely because there are no short-cuts, I can only ask the reader interested in pursuing the process to go to Lonergan's works themselves. Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: reality that is totally extrinsic from the events of understanding, judging, and deciding, that we experience every day. On the other hand, our relation to God is not to be collapsed into a secularistic denial of the supernatural character of grace. Rather, grace is offered in its supernatural character within the events of our everyday lives. So the perspective offered by Lonergan is neither a fundamentalism or extrinsicism that denies the this-worldly character of our lives, nor a secularism or immanentism that ne-glects the absolutely transcendent origin and finality of the relationship to the divine in which we stand at every moment of our lives. What, then, is Christian spiritual development? Lonergan's treatment of this question is provided at the end of a lengthy analysis of human cognitional and moral development that concludes with the realization that the flowering of human potential, the sustained development of the human person, the solution of such social ills as injustice, alienation, and the dominance of totalitarian aspirations in both~the West and East today, are impossible on the basis of human resources alone. We are confronted with a problem of evil in our development as human persons and in the social organization of human affairs. This problem is rooted in our very constitu-tion as human subjects, in our finitude, in the tension between our always limited possibilities and our aspirations to transcend these limitations. I will not go into the intricacies of Lonergan's analysis of the roots of moral impotence. Suffice it to say that he argues persuasively that we are faced with a problem of evil that we are powerless to resolve. If there is going to be a solution to the problem of evil, it must come in the form of redemption. Either there is a divinely originated solution to the problem of evil, or there is no solution at all. If God exists, if God knows of our plight, and if God is good, then there is a divinely originated solution that is offered to our freedom, one that we can accept or reject, and that, if we accept it, will involve us in a whole new area of growth and transformation, an area which we would not even know in any explicit way if God had not come to meet us. This distinct area of development is related to our cognitional and moral development. It is not the product of our knowing and our choosing. It is not something that we vainly imagine, or that we produce by wishful thinking. Rather, it is offered to our knowledge and our freedom as agift. And, if we accept it, it transvalues our values, and provides a new context for Our knowing~ a new atmosphere or environment that enables us to be truly intelligent in our questioning and genuinely reasonable in our judg-ments. This new context is faith, which Lonergan defines as "the eye of love," the eye of the love that is ours, that is the atmosphere in which we live, when we know ourselves as unconditionally loved by, and rooted in, the love that is God's alone.8 8See Lonergan, Insight: A Study of Human Understanding (paperback edition, New York: Harper and Row, 1978), Chapters Eighteen and Twenty; Method in Theology, Chapter Four. 51~2 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 The divine solution to the problem of evil, then, is God's gift of his love that is poured forth into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.~ Our desire for this love is a natural desire: with Thomas Aquinas, Lonergan insists that we have a natural desire for the vision and love of God.t0 He insists, too, that our subjectivity is mutilated or abolished, unless we are stretching forth towards God: There lies within [our] horizon a region for the divine, a shrine for ultimate holiness. It cannot be ignored. The atheist may pronounce it empty. The agnostic may urge that he finds his investigation has been inconclusive. The contemporary humanist will refuse to allow the question [of God] to arise. But their negations presuppose the spark in our clod, our native orientation to the divine." , Being in love with God, then, is for Lonergan the basic fulfilment of the deepest human desire, that desire that he calls "conscious intentionality." That fulfillment brings a deep-set joy that can remain despite humiliation, failure, privation, pain, betrayal, desertion. That fulfillment brings a radical peace, the peace that the world cannot give. That fulfillment bears fruit in a love of one's neighbor that strives mightily to bring about the kingdom of God on this earth. On the other hand, the absence of that fulfillment opens the way to the trivialization of human life in the pur.suit of fun. to the harshness of human life arising from the ruthless exercise of o, power, to despair about human welfare spnnging from the conviction that the universe is absurd.~ God's love is offered to all men and women at every time and place. This universality of God's self-communication (a notion that he has in common with Karl Rahner) Lonergan speaks of in terms of God's inner word, the word that God speaks in the solitude of our hearts, drawing us to himself. But this love is also embodied, incarnate, revealed for all to see, in the outer word of the life, preaching, death, and resurrection of Jesus.~.'~ "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, shall draw all men to myself.''~4 The disciples of Jesus through the centuries constitute that community whose task it will.~ be until the end of time to give explicit witness in external words and deeds to the offer of divine love as the only resolution oLthe otherwise hopeless human dilemma of personal incapacity to grow, of social injustice and alienation. As another superb contemporary thinker. Eric Voegelin, has labored for thirty years to argue, no social order that is not permeated with the love of the unseen measure that Christians call God can be just or humanly fulfilling.~5 In language current among those who have followed 9Rm 5:5. ~°See Lonergan. "The Natural Desire to See God." in Collection: Papers by Bernard Loner-gan (New York: Herder and Herder. 1967), pp. 84-95. t~Lonergan. Method in Theology, p. 103. ~21bid. p. 105. talbid., pp. 112-115. t4jn 12:32. ~sSee Eric Voegelin, Order and History, four volumes to date (Louisiana State University Press, 1956-1974). Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: l / 503 recent deliberations Within the Church, faith and justice are inextricably linked in the mission of the disciples of Jesus in the world.16 Christian spiritual transformation, in this context, is thus a matter, first~ of a process of conversion that involves a growing intimacy with the source and fountain of redemptive love, an intimacy that takes the form of being evermore patterned after the example of Christ; and, second, of a growing commitment and ability to participate in the mission of Christ, which is also the mission of that community.whose task it is tb render explicit to the whole world the fact that,.in Jesus the Christ, God has definitively revealed the saving action that he is always working in the world. To be in love with God is also to be sent by God. To grow in the love of God is also to grow in participation in the mission--the saving and revealing mission---of Jesus. Christian spiritual growth thus involves a number of elements: a) One comes to a developing familiarity with God, so that one is able ever more readily and ever more easily to find him and to participate with him in his redemptive work after the pattern of Christ, the suffering servant of God. b) One grows in the ability to discern precisely what it is that God wants of oneself and of one's community, and in the willingness to do what it is that God asks, confident that what one is doing is not one's own work but God's. c) Summing up all of what this development involves, one grows~in self-transcendence. This is the first key term that I take from Lonergan. One grows in self-transcendence, until, in the saint, there is reached a point of the union of one's own understanding, reason, and desire with the knowl-edge and love of God, a union that can only be broadened and heightened, deepened and enriched, but not gone beyond; and a point of self-abnegation and humility that rejoices in sharing the lot of the poor, despised, and humiliated Son of God himself, in his mission of establishing the kingdom of God on earth. Christian spiritual transformation is a matter of continual conversion to self-transcendence, within the community of the disciples of the Lord that is the Church, until there is reached the point where one's understanding, one's judgments of fact and of value, one's desires, and one's choices, while not ceasing to be one's own, are a participation in the understanding, the judgments, the desires, the choices of God himself, working in and through oneself and one's community, to continue and to spread the redemption of the world that only God can effect. If, then, we are talking about Christian spiritual development as a trans-formation of our insights, our judgments, our desires, and our choices, we ~6See the document of the 1971 Synod of Bishops, Justice in the World. See also the Docu~- merits of the 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus, and especially Decree 4, "Our Mission Today." 504 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 /4 are speaking of it as fundamentally a transformation of our interiority, of our basic horizon. The difference that God's solution to the problem of evil makes in the social world, in the world of economics and politics, in the world of institutions and organizations, is a function of the difference it makes in persons, in the unity of personal consciousness, in people's vision and choices. Christian spiritual development, considered most radically; is a transformation of one's understanding and of ~)ne's willingness, so that these two are brought into harmony and cooperation with God's redemp-tive purpose in Christ Jesus and through the community of his disciples. The transformation, once again, is in the direction of self-transcendence, so that, by accepting God'.s offer of both salvation and vocation, one becomes ever more God-centered and Christ-centered in one's apprehensions of value and in one's decisions, in one's pursuit of meaning and truth, and in one's affective engagement with other persons in the dramatic situations that constitute the stuff, the setting, the stage, of one's own personal story and of history itself. Christian Spiritual Transformation as Self-Appropriation Now, besides serf-transcendence, there is another term that Lonergan uses when he speaks of development. That term is self-appropriation. Self-appropriation is a matter of self-knowledge, of self-discovery, of self-understanding. One can bE quite self-transcendent, quite loving and generous, quite genuine in one's relations with others, quite sincere about wanting to understand things correctly, without being very adept at intri-cate and precise self-knowledge.~ One can be, in Lonergan's terms, quite religiously and morally converted without being intellectually converted. 18 Intellectual conversion is a matter of knowing precisely what one is doing when one is pursuing understanding, reaching for truth, trying to decide in responsible fashion. Many people genuinely try to understand, and succeed in doing so, without being able to say precisely what they are doing when they understand, .how their insights are related to their sensations, their questions, their beliefs, their .images, their concepts, their feelings. One can also be quite religiously and morally converted without being what I have called "psychically converted.''~ Psychic conversion is a matter of know-ing what one is feeling, of being able to tell one's story, and to tell it as it is. One,can have a quite genuine and even beautiful life of feeling without being able to tell what he or she is feeling, how this feeling is related .to that, how both feelings are related to the objects they intend, how one's feelings 17See Lonergan, Insight, p. 475. 18On intellectual conversion as self-appropriation, see Lonergan, Method in Theo!ogy, pp. 238-240. ~gSee Robert Doran, Subject and Psyche: Ricoeur, Jung, and the Search for Foundations (Washington, D. C.: University Press of Ainerica. 1977), especially pp. 240-246~ Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I / 51)5 are related to one's images and symbols, to one's questions and insights, to one's beliefs and ideas. In other words, one can have a quite profound and genuinely self-transcendent interiority without being able to articulate one's inner life with any notable clarity and precision. We all know wonderful and holy people who are quite unsophisticated when it comes to self-knowl-edge, or who will put their self-knowledge in very common sense terms-- people who make at times heroic decisions, but who, when asked why they made this or that decision, or what went on in their minds and hearts which led them so to decide, can answer only, "I don't know; it just seemed to be the right thing to do." Such genuine self-transcendence without self-appropriation is by no means to be disparaged. It is the condition of most good and holy men and women down through the ages, the source of most that is good in human history. But there are factors at work, especially in our age, that seem to indicate that self-appropriatiot~, in addition to self-transcendence, is becom-ing ever more necessary if one wishes to choose responsibly, to judge reasonably, to inquire intelligently, or just if one wishes to know what God wants and does not want. Perhaps there was a time when common sense wisdom and homespun practicality were enough for most people. Perhaps, too, there was a time when the only addition to common sense that some people needed was a good dose of theoretical understanding that was basically in harmony with the Gospel. But there are a number of indications that would seem to argue persuasively that we are now living in a world where self-transcendence, backed up by a common sense framework, or even by a cogent and brilliant theory, is simpl~, not enough; where religious and moral conversion must be complemented by intellectual and psychic conversion; where self-transcendence must be aided and helped, complemented and augmented, by self-appropriation, by precise and even technical self-knowledge, by an ability to articulate just what is going on in one's "little black box." If this be the case, then spiritual transformation today is a matter not only of growing self-transcendence, but also of ever more precise and technical self-knowledge. What are some of the indications that would back up this conviction that I share with Lonergan? Let me talk first about the insufficiency of common sense, and then about the ambiguity of theory. And let me do so within the context of the Church's recent pronounced recognition that the promotion of justice is a constitutive element in the preaching of the Gospel. The paper that issued from the 1971 Synod of Bishops, "Justice in the World," and the statement of Pope Paul VI, Octagesima Adveniens, mark the beginnings, I believe, of a substantial leap forward in the Church's social, political, and economic insight and praxis. One of the few public statements that Pope John Paul I had a chance to make was to the effect that we need a new and worldwide economic order. The achievement of that 506 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 order, I believe, is going to demand that we take our stand, and that we enable others to take their stand, not on practical common sense, and not on theory, but on the self-appropriation of our interiority and especially of our orientation to value. Why do I say this? Well, let us treat common sense first, however briefly. One of the cha~'acteristics of practica.I common se.nse is that it not only is incapable of.treating complex, long-range, and ultimate issues and results, but also that it resentfully brushes aside and ignores any attempts to raise questions that are concerned with such issues. It has the world's work to do. and it cannot be bothered by questions that would take time away from doing that work.z° The person exclusively operating from prac-tical common sense is concerned only with "getting the job don~i." Every-thing else mo.tivation, rationale, social organization, interpersonal communication--is oriented to that end. The question of whether the jo.b is worth doing at all. or whether the most expedient way of. doing it is also the most authentic way, is,a bother, yes, but more than that: it is a threat, a subversive question t, hat could overturn the ~ntire project. Rejection pre-cisely of such kinds of questions is what is responsible for the fact that our objective world-situation today can be characterized in terms of opposed totalitarianisms: the totalitarianism of the multinational corporation, pred-icated on the assumption of the need of automatic progress and expansion; and the totalitarianism of the communist state, rooted in the assumption that class conflict can bring the social o, rder into harmony with what is right.2~ Both myths neglect the fact that there are religious, personal, and cultural values that must be pursued in an integral fashion if there is to be a just social order that really provides for the basic needs of all the mem-bers of a society. In both systems, however much theory may. be involved in their establishment, we see operative the bias of practical common sense against the kinds of questions that must be asked if the job is to be done, not only expediently, but also humanely, genuinely, authetically. The ques-tion of integrity is. not just overlooked, but actively repudiated and re-pressed. _ Nor is theory sufficient to reestablish the significance of that question. For there are theories that support the question, but there are other theories that discredit it. The theories of B. F. Skinner or of orthdox Freudian psychoanalysis are just as coherent, just as thorough, just as all-encom-passing, and, for many,just as convincing, as are the theories of a Christian philosophy and theology. The Church's reliance on theory as the ground of praxis arose in the Middle Ages, more specifically with scholastic philosophy. One of the interesting things about that period, though, is that there were not many ~°See Lonergan, Insight, pp. 225-242. ~lbid. Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: theories from.which to choose, and there was not all that much to be learned in order to piece together a convincing theory. Even the disputes in the world of.theory did not touch, as they do today, on the really basic issues, such as the existence of God, the fact of revelation, the ethical end of the human person, the value of a virtuous life, and so on. Right down into the Renaissance, there was so little to be learned that it was possible for one person to be at once an artist, a natural scientist, and a man of practical affairs and we have Leonardo da Vinci to prove it. The need for specialization to master one tiny dimension of reality is a distinctly modern phenomenon. And while one is spending most of one's time specializing in one's own area, one's contemporaries are adding theory upon theory in their specialized domains. And these theories sometimes contradict one another on the most fundamental issues, on issues that every developing adult must confront. But how is one to take a stand, if one has to devote all of one's energies to his specialization? There are issues on which we must judge and on which we must decide if we are to live a human life. Yet there is simply too much to be learned before we can judge and decide.22 Unless we find a ground beyond theory--for it will not do just to fall back on common sense--our situation becomes one of hopeless relativism. It is my contention that this ground-beyond-theorydies in the self-appropriation of human interiority. This point about the need for,a quite technical self-appropriation can be developed at great length; we do not have space to do that here. The point I wish to make in the present context ,is that only through such self-appropriation can one discover the precise relation that obtains between re,!igio~us, personal, and cultural values on the one hand, and the social value of a just economic and political order on the other hand. And one needs to discover these relations, not simply in the abstract, as through some theory of value ,"but in the concrete order in which one is called upon to judge, to decide, and to act. And so I return to my general statement: Christian spiritual transformation is a matter of self-transcendence that, at a certain point, calls fo'r a movement to self-appropriation. Christian spiritual development is a matter of ongoing cbnversion, and ongoing con-version means today not only religious and moral, but also intellectual and p~sychic conversion. The Levels of Consciousness There are five levels of operations that one discovers when one enters upon the project of the self-appropriation of interiority.2"~ Inner and outer sensations, memories, andimages constitute the level of empirical presen- 22Lonergan, "Dimensions of Meaning," in Collection, pp. 252-267. 23On the levels of consciousness, see Lonergan, Method in Theology, Chapters One and Four. Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 tations. These empirical presentations are organized by understanding, which is a second level of consciousness. For example, if you are reading without any understanding of what I am saying, you are operating at the first, empirical level of operations. If you are reading and understanding what I am saying, your understanding is organizing the empirical presenta-tions into some kind of intelligible whole. You are processing what you hear by the operations that go on in your "little black box." You are operating not only at the first, but also at the second level of o~perations. If, moreover, you not only understand what I am saying but are also trying to judge whether it is correct or not, you have added a third level of operations, where we either assent to, or disagree with, something we have understood. These three levels of operations are what make us to be human knowers. Lonergan calls these levels experience, understanding, and judgment. But we are not just'knowers. There are times in our lives when, after we have made a judgment, "This is t~rue," a further question arises, "What am I going to do about it?" Then we have to decide. And decision constitutes a fourth level of operations. Finally, there is another whole dimension of interior reality that is not dealt with by speaking of the empirical, intelligent, rational, and decisional levels of consciousness. There is a fifth level of consciousness that is a matter of being addressed by and in relation to God. There is the experience of mystery. There is the reality of falling in love with God. There is prayer, worship, mystical experience, the dark night of the soul, the living flame of love, the search for and discovery of the holy, the gift of the divinely originated solution to the problem of evil. Religious self-appropriation, obviously, is a matter of articulating what is going on at that fifth level of consciousness. The means of discovering oneself in one's relation to God are many: there are spiritual direction, retreats, various methods of keeping a journal, and so on. But what is important for us also to appr6priate is the manner in which experience at that fifth level of consciousness has an effect on other levels. The influence of God's grace moves downward in our consciousness. It changes our values (fourth level), so that it provides us with entirely new orientations for our decisions, and enables them to be more self-transcendent. It changes our view of the world, our vision, the way we understand and judge things (second and third levels), and provides us with a determination to under-stand thoroughly and to judge reasonably; and it brings about a harmony and peace at the level of inner sensation, a peace that "the world cannot give," so that our inner being and our bodies rest securely in the love of God. Symbols, Feelings, and Drama Such is the pattern of interiority that is discovered when one enters upon the way of self-appropriation: five levels of consciousness, each related to Jungian Psychology and Christian Spirituality: I / 509 the other, whether we move from~below upwards, or from above down-wards. And now, finally, we are able to locate with precision the region where Jung's discoveries become significant for spiritual development, especially for self-appropriation. For all of the operations that we are talking about--sensing, imaging, remembering (first level), inquiring, understand-ing, putting our understanding into words (second level), reflecting, weigh-ing the evidence, judging (third level), deliberating, deciding, acting (fourth level), praying, worshiping (fifthlevel)--all of these operations are per-meated by feelings. We have feelings about the objects of all of these operations. The operations themselves are always dramatic. When you try to understand, it is because you are confused. When you succeed in un-derstanding, the confusion ceases and you experience satisfaction, maybe even excitement. When you want to know whether you understand cor-rectly, it is because you are not satisfied with just a set of bright ideas; you want to get things right and not just go about spouting opinions. When you have to make a decision, the drama of the situation stands out clearly. Some decisions can be agonizing. All decisions have a great deal of affectivity accompanying them, for we are dealing in decisions with questions of value. And value is something we feel before ever we judge about it or act on it.z4 Finally, fifth-level religious experience has those peculiar sets of feelings that we call "consolations" and "desolations." In sum, we are not just structured conscious operators. We are~also the subjects of a drama, pre-cisely in and through these operations. There is a story to our operating, because there are feelings that permeate all of those operations. Let us focus a bit more on this drama, because it is more complicated than I have so far indicated. In addition to the desire to understand, there is also aflight from understanding (second level). I can flee insight just as passionately as I can pursue it. Moreover, I can resist the truth just as strongly as I can intend it (third level). I can try to escape responsible decision and live a life of ease or of drifting or of hiding my talents, just as persistently as I can conscientiously examine every situation to find the best course of action (fourth level). I can flee contact with God just as passion-ately as I can seek to find him and do his will (fifth level). ~ There are feelings that permeate not only genuine performance at each of the five levels, but also inauthentic actions at each step of the way. The ultimate drama of my life, in fact, is this drama of authenticity and inau-thenticity. The authentic person is the person who pursues understanding, who seeks truth, who responds to what is. really worthwhile, and who searches for God and his will. The inauthentic person is the person who flees understanding, who runs fi:om the truth, who resists further questions 241bid., pp. 31-33. 510 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 /4 about his or her decisions, and who tries to escape God. And those feelings never go away. They are present in the entire drama. They are precisely what make it so dramatic. What. then. are feelings? Feelings are energy-become-conscious. Feel-ings are a~matter of psychic energy. Feelings are the basic sensitive compo-nent of every human operation. Feelings make of spirituality a story. To know one's feeling is to begin to tell one's own story. Feelings are the drive and momentum of the life of the human spirit. Feelings join the spirit to the body in a conscious unity. There is one further aspect to this matter. Feelings always enter con-sciousness through being connected with some representation. Now, the, most basic form of representation lies in symbols. A symbol, Lonergan says, is an image of a real or imaginary object that evokes a feeling or is evoked by a feelingZS; what this means is that there is never a feeling without a symbolic meaning; never a symbol without a feeling. To name one's feelings is to discover the dynamic images, the symbols, that are associated with them. To have insight into one's feelings is to understand the symbolic association. To tell one's story is tomarrate the course of one's elemental symbolizing. And where does one's elemental symbolizing occur in its purest form, untainted by the biases that. in waking life, can lead us to distort our story? The place of elemental symbolizing is in our dreams. It is in the dream that we first are conscious, and it is in the dream that we find a "story" going forward that we cannot distort without being aware that we are doing so.z6 If we want to know our -story" the story of insight, the story of judgment, the story of decision, and the story of prayer--we can find it in our dreams. There is a psychic conversion that puts us into contact with that story. It affects us deeply once it has occurred. For it enables us to judge ourselves in our waking life as authentic or inauthentic in our pursuit of understanding, in our.seeking of truth, in our decisions, and in our search for God. In the next article I will situate Jung's psychology of individuation within this context of the discussion of self-transcendence, and, especially, of self-appropriation. In the third article, though, I will use this same frame-work to criticize .lung's psychology. For Jung did not have an accurate understanding of the structure of our operations as human subjects~ur understanding, our judgments, our decisions, and our search for God. His basic philosophical and theological standpoint did not take its stand on a notion of authenticity as self-transcendence. And this basic flaw renders his contributions to Christian spiritual .development very ambiguous until these contributions are transposed into some such context as I have tried to indicate in the present article. 251bid., p. 64. 26See Doran, "Dramatic Artistry in the Third Stage of Meaning," forthcoming in Lonergan Workshop 11, edited by Frederick Lawrence (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1979). "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond"-- Reflections on Death and Resurrection John Renard, S.J. Father Renard is on the faculty of St. Louis,University. A previous article of Father Renard was entitled "Islamic Spirituality" which appeared in the November, 1978 issue. With:the bitter:sweet clarity that came to him in his illness, ~ohn Donne wrote, "Therefore that He may raise, the Lord throws down.''~ The poet expresse_s a wisidom most of us would rather flee than surrender to; bui our flight from mortality is not always and necessarily a flight toward immortal-ity. Ernest Becket explains the dynamic of the "Jonah Syndrome" by saying that the fear of life often menaces human beings as relentlessly as the fear of death. The "Jonah Syndrome" involves escape from both the apex and the nadir of human potential. It issues in a frantic sear.ch for control of one's destiny to the smallest detail; it deems abstinence from the heights of ecstasy a fair price to pay 'for a shorter fall; it shuns the awesome lest it happen upon the terrible,z Both extremes of the fear ~eem to be rooted in a dread of extinction, whether as annihilation wrought by weakness confronting the ultimate ~This and all other selections of poetry quoted in this paper may be found in the.Norton Anthology of Poetry ('Revised, New York, 1975). "Hymn to God My God, in My Sickness," p. 251. 2Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death (New York, 1973). Term coined by Abraham Maslow; pp. 48 ft. 511 512 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 power, or as humiliation wrought by shame in the face of the ultimate glory. I would like to explore both of these aspects of the "Jonah Syndrome." First we will look at the extreme that presents itself more immediately, and which is a more readily recognizable feature of human experience. In that context we will talk of two preeminent characteristics of the experience of Weakness, Shame, and Mortality. Then we will turn to the experience of power, glory, and immortality. In both instances our guideg will be the struggle of great poets to comprehend, the insight of Paul into the incompre-hensible, and the example of Jesus' surrender to the "impossibility" of a life lived across the full spectrum, from being to nothingness and back. Weakness, Shame, and Mortality At the beginning of his chapter on "The Terror of Death," Ernest Becket quotes Sigmund Freud: Is it not for us to confess that in our civilized attitude towards death we are once more living psychologically beyond your means, and must reform and give truth its due? Would it not be better to give death the place in actuality and in our thoughts which properly belongs to it, and to yield a little more prominence to that unconscious attitude towards death which we have hitherto so carefully suppressed? This hardly seems indeed a greater achievement, but rather a backward step., but it has the merit of taking somewhat more into accou.nt the true state of affairs,a Two factors seem most to contribute to a sense of impotence and of the inability to achieve quite enough in one lifespan--and hence to the half-wish for immortality. They are, first, the feeling of time's inexorability, and, second, the conviction that to make a lasting name for myself I must make it for me alone, me the autonomous, me the independent. These twin cliffs of mortality both spell weakness and shame, for the sheer faces of time and of di~sire for self-fulfilment cannot b~ scaled head-on. Nevertheless, the summit is not entirely unattainable. It merely requires the acceptance of "time" and the rejection of encapsulation in oneself. John Donne writes in his "S.atire on Religion:" He's not of none, nor worst, that seeks the best, To 'adore, or scorn an image, or protest, May be all bad; doubt wisely; in strange way To stand inquiring right, is not to stray; To sleep, or run wrong, is. On a huge hill, Craggrd and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, about must, and about must go, Ahd what th' hill's suddenness resists win so; Yet strive so, that before age, death's twilight, thy soul rest, for none can work in that night. Hard deeds, the body's pains; hard knowledge, too "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond" / 513 The mind's endeavors reach, and mysteries Are like the sun, dazzling, yet plain to all eyes.4 The poet does not advocate pretending the mountain does not exist, nor does he counsel over-confidence as to its vincibility. He does suggest that the most important of attainments are precisely not those which can be attained, but rather those which are allowed to be apparent. It is a question of not denying the obvious, but' also of not taking the obvious for granted. Donne suggests further that mysteries are the very stuff of this life: one had best confront them now, for they set at death's twilight. Time itself is not the poet's nemesis here; the prospect of an untimely death is. As we shall see in the second section of this paper, John Donne found a solution to the problem of time's "unperturbed pace," in his hope of resurrection. As other poets attest, however, not everyone escapes the conviction that time is a vacuum. ,' The Emptiness of Time Many a great poet has written of the vain struggle to deny the marauding burglar of time access to his house. Scarcely a Shakespearean sonne~ but talks of Time's "fell hand," and his "bending sickle's compass," and of the "best jewel from Time's chest., hid." Time is "sluttish,'~ "wasted," "balmy.''5 The young John Milton reflected, "How soon. hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!" Time was for him, along with the will of heaven, his guide toward his mortal end.6 John Keats, also twenty-three, wrote in a similar vein of his fears that he might "cease to be before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain." His fearful reflections led him to stand alone on the shore of the wide world till Love and Fame sank to nothingness in the face of Time's inevitability.~ At twenty-seven, W. B. Yeats wrote "The Lamentation of the Old Pen-sioner." The aged and discarded man sits sheltered from the rain under a tree and reminisces about how he had once held the center ~f attention in fireside chats "Of love or politics, ere time transfigured me." Though young men once more prepare for combat, the pensioner's "contemplations are of Time thht has transfigured me." Though no woman now turns to look upon him, 'he summons up remembrances of loves past and concludes, "I spit in the face of Time that has transfigured me.''s In his magnificent "Fern Hill," the thirty-two year old Dylan Thomas wrote of his heedless youth when: Nothing i cared, in the lamb-wfiite days, that time would take me Up to the swallow throng.ed loft by the shadow of my hand, 'tNAP p. 246. 5Sonnets 64, 116, 65, 55, 106, 107, NAP pp. 212 ft. SNAP p. 323 rNAP p. 700 SNAP p. 918 514 / Review for Religious, Volume38, 1979 / 4 In the moon that is always rising, Nor that riding to sleep I should hear him (Time) fly with the high fie!ds And Wake to the farm forever fled from the childless 'land~ Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though 1 sang in my chains like the sea) ,~ Thomas compressed an entire lifetime into the image of a day, born with the birth of the sun and dying forever under an ever-rising moon. Time was his master: the poet both knew it too,well and, denied it. He was green, but dying; fettered, but singing as though free as the sea. ~ The Fullness of Time Jesus, too/was keenly aware_through his life of the. imminence of an auspicious, even ominous, hour. John's Gospel portrays Jesus early in his public ministry as conscious that hishour would come soon, but had not yet (Jn 7:6 and 30). His later recognition that "the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified" occurs at.the theological, literary, and even geo-graphical center of John's Gospel (Jn 12:23). It is preceded immediately by. the raising of Lazarus and Mary's anointing of Jesus for burial, .and it is followed immediately by the analogy of the grain of wheat that ~must die. in order to give life. In the Synoptics, too, this crucial hour's striking marks the turning point in Jesus~ life, the fullness of his time. In the Synoptics, however, the theological, literary, and geographical pivot is signalled by Peter',s confession.of Jesus as the Christ and Jesus' decisive reorientation for the journey to Jerusalem (Mr 16:13if; Mk 8:27ff;, Lk 9:18ff). Mark, Matthew, and Luke indicate that it is Peter who is troubled, most of all, by Jesus' prediction of his death, and who tries to dissuade Jesus from his intended course. John, on the other hand, more insistent than the SynOptics on Jesus' awareness of his "tim~ and hour," emphasizes Jesus' own anguish that his time has now come: "Now is-my soul troubled. And what shall Isay? 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, for this purpose I have come.to this hour's' (Jn .12:27). It is an hour of glor.y, but not for Jesus "personally." It is the hour in which his Father's name will be glorifie~l again (Jn 12:28), At this juncture we turn to the second factor that .makes human mortality seem so impotent and dishon6rable--the forever frus-trated yet die-hard desire to make a name for oneself alone. Making a Name: The Delusion of Self-Proclaimed Glory Several years ago a cartoon in a national magazine depicted a handsome young couple in togas seated in an idyllic lakeside glen. The young man gazes into the mirror-smooth lake, and the lady asks, "Is there., someone else, Narcissus? . Everyone," notes Ernest Becket, "enjoys a working aNAP pp. 1166-7 "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond" / 515 amount of basic narcissism,"~° which amounts to a drive for self-protection and self-creation. The more that drive becomes the central life project, however, the moreoenslaving and suicidal it becomes. Chapter two of the Letter to the Philippians is the New Testament's most remarkable.state-ment of Jesus' surrender of his own name for the glorification of his Father's name.~::'He did not count equality with God a'thing to be grasped., but emptied~ ~himself, taking the form of a slave being born in human likeness. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, death on a cross': (Ph 2:6-8). By "becoming sin who kflew no sin" (2 Co 5:21), Jesus engaged in the ultimate ec-stasy. He rejected the Godly power which alone is immune to the need for striving, in favor of human weakness with its constant struggle for freedom. He rejected the Godly glory which alone is~truly autonomous and peerless, in favor of the shame of common slavery. Power and glory in God are Godly; in human~beings they are merely the produc't of self-aggrandizing,, narcissistic wishfulness. Power and glory in God are His awesomeness and attractiveness; in human beings~they are a pathetic grasp-ing after invulnerability and control, needlessness and Unrelatedness, free-dom from risk.~ That, in the. words of Shakespeare, amounts to "Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame. . lust in action. In his choice of slavery and emptiness Jesus had even to divest himself of the faintest hope that it would all' have world-redeeming consequences. He had to abandon himself unreservedly to the powerlessness and anonym-ity of the human condition. The colossal irony of his surrender is that, because Jesus forsook his, own name and status, "God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that atthe name of Jesus,every knee should bend., and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (Ph 2:9-11). A classic of Chinese tradition called the Tao te Ching spe.aks simply and insightfully of the nature of this paradox: Reality is all-embracing. To be all-embracing is to be self-less. To be self-less is to be all-pervading. To be all-pervading is to be transcendent.~3 Paul elucidates further~ the'implications ~of Christ's self-lessness ~or us. Thb',~ib~e~'ness of self-~areservation must "yield to the folly' of the Cross, "For~tlie. fo61ishness~ of God is wiser than humankind, and the Weakness of l°op. cit., p. 22 ~For further excellent discussion of power and autonomy, see John Dunne's The Way'of All the Earth (New York, 1972), pp. 4-26. ~aSonnet 129, NAP 216 ~aChang Chung-yuan, Tao: A New Way of Thinking (New York, 1975), p. 42. 51!5 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 God is stronger than humankind." Self-proclaimed power and glory must yield to a confession of "shame and confession," as in the meditations on sin in St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises, for "God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are" (1 Co .1 and 2, quoting 1:25, 27). Jesus' own acquiescence in the arrival of his "hour" and his preference for namelessness led him to the folly of the Cross, that our "faith might rest not in human wisdom, but in the power of God" (1 Co 2:5). And all the heavenly host shouted: "Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and giory.~. And the four living creatures said, 'Amen'" (Rv 5:12, 14). Power, Glory and Immortality If reflection on the ravages of time and change is a common theme in the great poets, musing on what may lie beyond death are no less prominent. "Death once dead," says the Bard, there's no more dying then.''14 Shake-spearc's is a rather cold resignation in that poem. A more hopeful note is heard in Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality": 0 Joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive.15 Another facet of "nature's memory" is the subject of "The Root Cellar'" by the twentieth-century poet Theodore Roethke. Observing nature's stubborn refusal to become extinct, he tells of how in a lowly earthen dungeon all things strain after survival. In that cellar "Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath."16 In "The Far Field," Roethke writes of how "All finite things reveal infinitude." I am renewed by death, thought of my death, The dry scent of a.dying garden in September, The wind fanning the ash of a low fire. What I love is near at hand, Always, in earth and air.1~ The same W. B. Yeats who had written about the Pensioner who spat in the face of Time, later wrote a play called The Resurrection. The p~lay climaxes with a song about the demise of the ancient rites at~the appearance of the Risen Christ who now stands on the stage. The song is a different kind of reflection on how the passing of time exhausts human power and glory to make way for Christ's power and glory: t4Sonnet 146, NAP :p. 217 ~SNAP p. 603 ~6NAP p. 1131 ~TNAP p. 1138-9 "Matchwood, Immortal Diamond" / 517 Everything that man esteems Endures a moment or a day.: Love's pleasure drives his love away. The painter's brush consumes his dreams; The herald's cry, the soldier's tread Exhaust his glory and his might: Whatever flames upon the night Man's own resinous heart has fed.Is Few poets have prayed in our tongue more fervently than John Donne. In the"Holy Sonnets" Donne vacillates between terror in the face of death and the hope that death will lose its sting and concede victory to the Resurrection. "Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?" he asks his Lord.~° Ever awareof his need to ask forgiveness, the poet exhorts the angels to trumpet into resurrection all mortal humanity "At the round earth's imagined corners.''2° Donne then becomes a seventeenth century Paul in one of his best known sonnets: Death, be not proud, though some have call6d thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so; For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee dO go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou 'art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy' or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swellst thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally ' And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.2~ For the original Paul, all that the poe.ts have hinted at, pined for, groped after, and, perhaps, found, is embodied in Christ as image of the invisible God. Christ "reflects the glory of God" and "sustains the universe by his word of power" (Heb 1:3). By that word we are "strengthened with all power, according to the glory of his might" (Col l:l l). The "small breath" of the earth in Roethke's "Root Cellar" is the treasure we carry "in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us." We carry in our bodies "the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in oOr bodies" (2 Co 4:7, 10-11). Our universal experience of being "thrown down" in the wasting of our outer nature can-not quench'Wordsworth's "embers" of renewal in our inner nature (2 Co 4:16). It is merely a thorn in the flesh, a reminder that God's "power.is made ~SNAP pp. 927-8 19Sonnet I, NAP p. 248 2°Sonnet 7, NAP p. 249 ~Sonnet 10, NAP p. 250 51~1 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 perfect in weakness." For that reason Paul could happily boast of his weakness so that the power of Christ might rest on him (2 Co 12:9). The exultant herald's cry and the victorious soldier's tread exhaust their power and glory. Christ's defeat on the cross manifests his all the more, "For he was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God." As a result, Christ now deals with us not in weakness, butin power (2 Co 13:3-4). Paul therefore prays that he be able~ to accept his humanity and its impo-tence, in order to~ know Christ and the, power of his resurrection, which will "change our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by,the power which enables him even to subject all things to himself" (Ph 3:8-H, 21). The Apostle prays for,us, too, that we might share in that power and glory and life. Speaking of his own suffering as the glory of the Ephesian Christians, Paul prays That acc6rding to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power interiorly through his Spirit. ; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have power to comprehend., the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, to him be glory . (Ep 3:13-21). Paul further clarifies the nature of the revivifying power of Christ's love as he describes the different degrees of glory proper to the various earthly and heavenly bodies. Using the same metaphor of sowing and growth suggested in Ephesians in the words "rooted in love," the author writes in 1 Co 15:42-3: "What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in shame, but raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, but raised in power." The full mystery and many-sided paradox of how weakness becomes power; shame glory, and mortality immortality is beautifully summed up in John Heni'y Newman's Parochial and Plain Sermon entitled "The Cross of Christ, the Measure of the World." Newman says that the Cross has brought together and made consistent all that seemed discordant and aimless. It has taught'us how to live, how to use this world, what to expect, what t~ desire, what to hope. It is the tone into which all the ~trains of this world's music are ultimately to be resolved.22 To resolve th~se discordant strains, Chris~ endu,red,every paradox. To teach us how to live with ambiguity and in~.security, Christ put mystery in place Qf what we would otherwise try to solve as a mind-teasing puzzle. To unburden us of the curse of the Law, Christ became accursed o~n the Tree. To obtain for us that which we most grasp at, Christ unhanded ~l~i. To transform our folly into wisdom, Christ became foolishness. To free us from sin, Christ became sin. To loose the bonds of our servitude, Christ became 22Parochial and Plain Sermons, London, 1875, Vol. 6, p. 85. ° ~ "Matchwood, Immortal.Diamond" / 519 a slave. To empower our impotence, Christ became weakness itself. To ransom us from bankruptcy, Christ became poverty. To glorify our dis-honor, Christ became shame. To fill our vacuum, Christ emptied himself. All of which prompted G. M. Hopkins to write in his poem, "That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection": "In a flash, at a trumpet crash, ! am at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and this Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, is immortal diamond.''23 23NAP p. 905 Now Available As Reprint An Apostolic Spirituality~for the Ministry of Social Justice by Max Oliva, S.J. Price: $.50 per copy, plus postage. Address: Review for Religious Rm 428 3601 Lindell Blvd. St. Louis, Missouri 63108 St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image Frank X. Reitzel, C.R. Father Reitzel is a member of the Congregation of the Resurrection who has spent most of his active years in his priesthood teaching English literature at the high school, university and seminary levels. He has also done considerable work in counseling, spiritual direction and retreat work. Presently he is on a sabbatical leave doing research study at the Gregorian University in Rome. His address on leaving Rome will be: Resurrection College; Westmount Road North, Waterloo; Ontario, Canada N2L 3G7. Father Reitzel hopes that the present article will form the chapter of a projected book on the concept and image of the Temple as a means of prayer. Part I he Odyssey is most often mentioned as the classic example in literature of the use of thenliterary device or symbol of a journey within which to frame a story. It is important, however, to remember, that every journey has a goal or end to be attained. For Ulysses it was to return to his homeland and there to lay rightful claim to his kingdom, his queen and his home. The traditional name for such a story is epic. St. Luke's Greek cultural back-ground is sufficient evidence on which to base a presupposition that he was familiar with this story form of a journey ending in a kingdom reclaimed. Both his Gospel account and The Acts of the Apostles have epic qualities built on the basic image of a journey. The intention of this paper, however, is to focus attention on the goal of that journey, the Temple at Jerusalem, as Luke uses it in his Gospel in order to show that an awareness of this image can aid a reflective and prayerful reading of the text of the third gospel. The journey theme and the Temple image are equally evident in Acts; but I shall refer to these only in passing. 520 St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image / 521 The Journey It is now generally accepted that the journey theme is an important factor, in the literary structure of Luke's version of the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. In every epic the arena of the journey is vast, sweeping from one end of the known world to the other; for Jesus it really begins in heaven and ends there. The action that takes place on earth within the limits of time and space tells of his journey from Nazareth to Jerusalem. At Jerusalem is the focal point and goal of the journey, the Temple. By using principles of literary criticism we can discover that Luke has artistically placed his references to the Temple at significant places in his narrative. I suggest that the position of these references clearly and deliber-ately divides the text of the Gospel, for artistic and meditative purposes, into a five-part structure that is similar to that of classical epics and dramas. Paradise Lost, for example, is constructed in twelve books or movements in which the poet John Milton retells the tragic story of the loss of paradise by Adam and Eve. The number twelve, referring to the twelve months of the year, symbolizes a full-life span or a life's journey. In his second epic, Paradise Regained, Milton uses the more compressed five-movement structure to tell the story of.Christ's cosmic struggle with Satan. In every case the artist freely chooses what he considers to be the proper and fitting frame for his work or story. In order to enhance his retelling of the inspiring story of Jesus that had been-handed on to him Luke employs a similar five-part structure. Later, in his account of the beginnings of the Church, he describes the missionary journeys of Peter and Paul in a two-part structure similar to that of many modern dramas. Moreover, in both works Luke uses carefully placed refer-ences to the Temple at Jerusalem as a central image which unifies the structure and the story of the Gospel as Luke presents it to us. An aware-ness of this image and its function can aid us in using Luke's Gospel as a guide to prayer and a means of personal growth. Reliable Scripture scholarship has shown that the author of the third Gospel was a man of Greek birth and culture who wrote for a Greek Christian audience. Like Paul (arid like ourselves) Luke had not been a contemporary eye-witness of Jesus. He had learned and been inspired by the story of Jesus as he had received it from the apostolic eye-witnesses such as Peter. He wrote to Theophilus, to persons of similar culture and background, that is, to all those like Theophilus in the world. But if we are his audience why does he use the center of Jewish worship as one of his main images? The Temple Image Temples have played a pa.rt in almost every culture; but they differ in one significant feature from the Temple at Jerusalem. A temple for all 522 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 pagans (gentiles) was a holy place; it was the house of the gods. But for the Israelites, Yahweh, the One True God, actually manifested his presence in his chosen dwelling place on Mount Zion. The Israelites were prepared and they were often called upon to protest that belief with their lives. They did not just casually believe this--they knew that God dwelt in their midst. No matter where he might be, the devout Israelite could face east to the Temple and enter into prayerful communion.with his God; he could experience an immediate and personal realization of the presence of Yahweh. The ideal, of course, was to make the journey to Jerusalem and there actually present oneself to God, as he had. commanded: "Three times a year all your men-folk must present,themselves before the Lord Yahweh" (Ex 23:17)? Similar references to. this belief and practice in the Old Testament are numerous. The visions of many of the prophets took place in the Temple. It was there that Isaiah (Is 6) and Jeremiah. (Jr 1) w.ere commissioned by God to go forth on their prophetic journeys to .his people. The prophet Amos had condemned the unjust and unprayerful uses that some people made of the place of worship, emphasizing, thereby, that God',s presence, not the bricks and mortar, was of importance. Whenever his people turned to false gods and rejected him, Yahweh abandoned them and their Temple. Each time in history that the bricks-and-mortar temple was destroyed it graphically symbolized Yahweh's displeasure with his ~.people and his ab-sence from them. Through the psalmist as through the prophets, Yahweh insisted that the Temple was sacred because he chose to dwell there. He promised to be with his p.eople as long as they were faithi'ul to him; if they betrayed him, he would withdraw his presence and the Temple, no longer sanctified, would be destroyed. That history and thai faith, were a part of the Judaeo-Christian heritage handed on to Luke. That is evidenced by the fact that his Gospel ends,with the statement that praying and worshipping in the Temple at Jerusalem continued to be a normal practice of Christ's followers after the ascension. And at the beginning of Acts Luke indicates that the same mentality and practices continued to prevail. The disciples, he tells us, went up to the Temple each day at the prescribed liturgical hours to pray (Ac 2:46; 3:1). A shift was beginning to evolve, however; Luke says that for "'the breaking of the bread" they met in private homes. They were Christian-Jews; though a gradual change was "taking place in their worship, they had n6t broken away from their Hebrew. Temple-centered roots. That break would Occur later. But at the time of Luke's writing the Temple was still regarded as the House of Prayer, the place where God made himself manifest among his l~eople. ~Biblical quotations in this article have been made from The Jerusalem Bible (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1966); and from The R. S. 'V. Interlinear Greek-English New Testament, by Rev. Alfred Marshall (London: Samuel Bagster and Sons Ltd. 1978). St. Luke's 'Use of the Temple Image / 523 The Literary Structure It is perfectly acceptable in literature to use poetic devices to emphasize certain features of the text. Luke artistically uses repeated references to the Temple.in order to draw the listener or reader to a more reflective and prayerful attention,to the words and the story action o,f his Gospel. Luke's story of Jesus of Nazareth, which has as one of its themes the struggle between good and evil, is based on a five-part.division. An aware-ness~ of this structure and its main themes can assist us in a reflective and prayerful reading of this account of the gospel. It is important to note that this dramatic and reflective outline (given below) does not run counter to nor violate the exacting topical outline that exegetes suggest for study of the text. This literar~y and meditative approach emph~asizes the dramatic quali-ties of the cosmic struggle between Christ and Satan and recognizes the artistic unity in Luke's use 9f the Temple as a focal image. An Outline For Meditation For careful study of the text, commentaries generally outline Luke's Gospel in the following way:2 ~ (1) The Prologue 1:1-4 (2) The Infancy Narrative 1:5--2:52 (3) The Preparation for Ministry 3:1--4:13 (4) The Galilean Minis~try 4:14---9:50 (5) The Journey Na~ative .~ 9:51--19:28 (6) The Jerusalem Ministry 19:29--21:38 (7) The Passion and Glorification 22:1--24:53 ¯ This can be a valugble g~u.ide to discover what Luke tells us about Jesus, his teaching and 'his ministry. It acknowledges the importance of the jour-ney, but only as a pan,of the outli.ne rather than as a theme throughout the entire gospel. According to his introduction, however,. Luke wrote for a prayerful and reflective audience in an artistic way so as to spark the imagination, the feelings,jthe.heart of his readers and to focus attention on the Person of Jesus in order to open their ears and eyes to respond as fully as possible to the message of the Lord as Luke presents it to them. Jesus taught his disciples that his 'message is best heard in prayer and the graces to respond to it best received in prayer. For such a prayerful consideration and use of Luke's text of the gospel I suggest the following outline. PROLOGUE: 1:1-25 ' (a) Introduction: why and to whom he writes. (b) Milieu: time and pl~ce. 2James A. Michener, The Source (Greenwich, CT: Fawcett Publications, 1967), p. 266. 524 /Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979/4 Zachariah; the Temple scene, in the sanctuary. ACT I: Infancy: Prepare for life. Begins in the Temple: Pre-sentation. Introduces John the Baptist; then Jesus. Closes with the Temple scene. ACT II: Preparation For Mission: ~ Mission, decision, conflict. Career of John the Baptist; genealogy of Jesus. The temp-tations, ending with the Temple image. A hint that Jesus and Satan will meet again. ACT III: Journey and Ministry: Jesus, led by the Spirit, begins his journey toward Jerusalem; He commences his public teaching. A special mention of the Temple (18:10). The section closes with Jesus taking possession of the Temple. ACT IV: Temple and Contest: Jesus teaches daily in the Temple. His enemies plot to kill him. Example of the widow's offering. At night Jesus withdraws from the Temple to the Mount of Olives. 1:26-2:52 3:1-4:13 4:14-19:48 20:1-21:38 ¯ Act V: Conflict: 22:1-24:52a Passion, death and resurrection of Jesus. Signal phrase: "Satan enteri~d." Judas goes to the priests. Trial; condemnation; death. Veil of the Temple is torn. Resurrection and ascension. EPILOGUE: ~ 24:52b-53 The apostles begin their journey in the Tem-ple. The Good News for Prayer In my outline of Luke's gospel, I have indicated that each of the major divisions end witha'specific use of the image of the Temple. In every case of these references the use flows smoothly and naturally out of the thought and action of the story. Artistically, the Temple image serves the same purpose as a major refrain in a symphony or opera; the audience hears it in the background and is reminded~of a principal character or of the primary theme of the work. Like an organist, Luke is able to play on three manuals at once. He uses the image of the Temple, repeated at significant moments in his text, to weave into a unity the principal themes of the life story of Jesus of Nazareth. St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image / 595 The Temple image establishes the goal of the journey theme and gives it a continuity throughout the whole of the gospel as Luke presents it. Moreover, this image repeated at important instances in the narrative emphasizes and gives a continuity to the main theme of the story of Jesus: his life, death and resurrection. In the course of his journey to Jerusalem, Jesus makes allusions to and direct prophecies, of his death, and resurrec-tion, such as: "The. Son of Man" he said "is destined to suffer grievously, to be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be put to death, and to be raised up on the , third day" (Lk 9:22). But it is the carefully placed references to the Temple that hold this theme of death and resurrection before our eyes throughout the text of this gospel. For at the end of each major section, designated in the outline above, when reference is made to the Temple something ends and something new begins; death and resurrection are symbolized. In the end the Temple of brick and mortar would be destroyed, as Jesus prophesied, to be replaced forever by the eternal Temple of the Risen Christ. Evidence in Greek Terms The literary prologue (1:9-25) ends with the priestly action of Zachariah in that sacred area of the Temple, the sanctuary, while the people wait outside praying. The events recorded in this episode are interpreted as a signal of the end of the Old Testament and the beginning of the New. It is significant that in the Greek text Luke uses the specific term "sanctuary" or "holy place" (naos) three times in this prologue as his reference to the Temple: (1:9;22). He does not use this term again until after Christ,s death on the cross when he, tells us dramatically, with the tearing of the veil of the "Temple" (naos), that the old has ended and the new has begun~(23:45). There are, however, some instances in the course of his narrative in which Luke makes reference to the Temple or to the sanctuary :with a more general Greek term "the house of God" (oikos theou), because the refer-ence at such times is not essential to the narrative structure. When, for example, Jesus speaks o.f. the prophet "who was murdered between the altar and the sanctuary" (Lk I1:5 l), Luke uses the Greek term, "the house of God" (oikos theos). When, however, the reference is made to the Temple proper and is essential to the narrative structure, he uses the precise Greek term the Temple (hieros). This is the word which he uses at the end of each of the major sections that I have designated as acts in the above outline, as well as in the last verse, the literary epilogue, of his gospel account. Accord, ing to scholars3 Luke.was following a reliable tradition in his use of these 3The Jerome Biblical Commentary, ed. Raymond E. Brown, Joseph A. Fitzmeyer, Roland E. Murphy (New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1968), p. 119, 44:19. (For subsequent notes this will be referred to as JBC.)--There is a°good outline of Luke's Gospel for meditative reading in The Gospel According to St. Luke. ed. Alois St6ger (London: Burns & Oates, 1969), two volumes. 526 / Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 Greek terms,, and should not be accused of inconsistency. Of importance in the present consideration,~ however, is Luke's use of the term "the Tem-ple" (hieros), with all its sacred and imaginative connotations from the Old Testament as well as its Christian ,associations with the life of Jesus. This is the" term which Luke uses when he refers to the Temple scene (2:46) with which he completes his narrative o'f~the infancy of Jesus. Simi-larly, he ends with this same Temple image what | have designated as Act II, which describes Jesus' preparation for his mission:" Jesus rejects the third temptation 6f Satan who had led him "to the pinnacle of the Temple" (4:9) and begins his public ministry. With one special excepiion (18:9-14), Luke does not use this precise term for the Temple again until the ehd of the third'section of his narrative (indicated as Act III)when Jesus enters the Temple and forcefully takes possession of it as his Father's house (19:45-46). In e~,ery case when Luke uses this term; we notice that there is an end and a beginning; the life-death-resurrection theme is symbolized in the Temple. At this part of the narrative (19:48) the actual suffering and death of Jesus are imminent, for the growing opposition of his enemies has become a calculated decision to destroy him. Throughout Act IV Jesus teaches daily in the Temple area (hieros); but at night for his own safety he withdraws to the Mount of Olives. He continueS to use the Temple for his mission, but he has begun to abandon it; it is no longer a place of safety for him. In Act V, his rejection of the Temple of bricks and mortar is completed in ~he violent tearing of the veil of the Temple (23:45) to signal the beginning of the reign of Christ. In the epilogue, Luke tells us that the apostles went to the Temple after the ascension of Jesus to await, in, prayer, their call to journey and mission. Each dramatic section of this outline of'the action 0f Luke's gospel closes with a precise use of the image of the Temple which, I ~uggest, holds up before the reflective reader the main theme 'of the life, death and resurrection of the story of Jesus. A reflective and careful exami-nation of even a few' of these sections will bear this out. The Prologue As Prayer ' Luke says that although his readers are familiar with the story of the life bf Jesus, he intends "to write an ordered account." I Shggest that his purpose is to write :an artistic and' meditative account of the Gospel in order to lead his refiders to prayer and a deeper consideration of the events o~ that story. The prologue (as I have designated it, verses ! to 25) can be used as a unit for prayer which inv~olves the whole person of th6 reader. For study purposes exegetes rightly identify as prologue 6nly the first ~our°verses~, because theseare writtenin very stylized and formal-Greek. That is proper to a formal introduction; but a literary prologue, besides'addressing the work to the~hudience, also links it to the past and gives.th'e~ audience some hints of the principal themes in the action that is to follow, The formal introduction, that is the first four verses, appropriately ,addresses the St. Luke's Use of the Temple Image / 597 Gospel to Theophilus anti to everyone who professes a love of God. Verses 5 to .7 make the link: this is not going to be. a Gr~eek story, but one set in Israel. The first personages to whom we are introduced are two of the finest people that culture and religion produced: "Both were just in the sight of God and scrupulously observed all the commandments and observances of the Lord" :(1:6). Every word of this quotation is rich in history, meaning and imagery. The word "just," often translated as "righteous," "worthy," -"virtuous," is a summary of the history of God's dealings with the Hebrew people. We should also be aware of the suggestive power of names such as Zachariah: "His name means 'Yahweh has remembered'.TM A note of tragedy is sounded with the words that Elizabeth was barren; but the author hastens to set his scene for the main action and to suggest his main themes. It is the solemn hour of, w9rship in the sacred dwelling place of the True God. It is one of the great moments of Zachariah's priestly career; he has been chosen by lot to offer the incense in the sanctuary. While the faithful outside continue in prayer, Zachariah is plunged into a deep mystical ex-perience. Luke's mention of the angel Gabriel (1:19) is regarded as a signal that the new age is about to begin? The same angel had commanded the prophet Daniel to tell his people that their exile and oppression were at an end and that a messenger would come to herald the advent of a new era (Book of Daniel, chapters 9 and 10). By drawing attention to several pa~al-lels between Zachariah's experience and that of Daniel (such as the evening hour of prayer and their being left speechless6) Luke implies that God is about to fulfill his promise and begin that new era. With this incident in the Temple Luke also symbolizes the coming to an end of the Old Covenant and the beginning of the New. This. of course, will be developed and made increasingly more clear as the narrative unfolds. For the moment, this is the hour for which the whole world has been waiting. God is about to enter into the history of man. By closing the prologue with a reference to the Temple (l:.22).Luke esta~blishes a pattern for his symbolizatio.n of a life-death-resurrection t.heme which will be repeated throughout the gospel-story at the end of each significant dramatic section. Use of Imagination in Prayer A studious reading of the Gospel is important to avoid mere flights of 4Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. ed. Gerhard Kittel; trans. G. W. Bromiley (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. E~rdmans Publishing Co. 1965). For "hieros" see 111. pp. 221-247. For "naos". IV, pp. 880-890. (Subsequent references m these notes will be to Kittel.)~Klaus Baltzer, in "The Meaning of the Temple in the Lukan Writings.'" Harvard Theolog!cal Review (Misso~ula. Montana: Scholars' Press) 58 (1965), pp. 263-277. regards Luke's use of terms for the Temple as "inconsistent." 5JBC, p. 121, #44:27. 6JBC, p. 121, 4#44:28. Review for Religious, Volume 38, 1979 / 4 fancy, and the use of a good commentary can be of invaluable help. But,a prayerful approach through the use of imagination and other faculties will prevent the opposite errbr of regarding the Gospel as a mere intellectual exercise book. St. Luke's Gospel is a prayer book of the highest merit. But we must bring to it our whole selves as human beings; all our senses and faculties must be employed in our praying. The passage designated as the. end of Act II (2:41-52) is an exemplary unit of action and dialogue which can be momentarily lifted out of the context and used for meditation which involves our whole person in it. ThE opening sentences immediately direct our thought and imagination to Jerusalem and draw us into the journey of Jesus. "Every year" and "Passover" should be equally significant words to us as they were for the people of Jesus' own day. The first activity"is in the world of human, every-day affairs and should alert us to the fact that prayer begins and take~ place in the world of events, circumstances, and persons in the course of our daily lives. Hence, we take our place among friends and acquaintances, with Jesus and Mary. We, too, are going up to Jerusalem, to the Temple, for a joyful celebration. The text, of course, leaves the details of the visit to our imagination. Our prayer at this level might valuably draw us to dwell upon 'what happened at the Temple when Jesus celebrated his entry into adulthood. However,~that can only be surmised; we should not allow our-selves to be sidetracked by it. The text urges us to follow more closely; it puts the emphasis on what occurs after the ceremony of Jesus' Bar Mitz-vah, The return trip to Nazareth is usual and all that might be expected after aj0yful visit to the Temple. Again, it is the world of everyday experience. Jesus was not with his parents, but "they assumed he was with the cara-van." They were conscientious parents and looked for him. No panic is suggested in their action: "They sought him among acquaintances and relations." Where else would one look for a normal twelve-year-old boy who had just experienced the excitement of receptiofi into adulthood? However, "when they failed to find him," anxieties

Issue 35.3 of the Review for Religious, 1976. ; REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS is edited by faculty members of St. Louis University, the editorial offices being located at 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-yard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. It is owned by the Missouri Province Educational Institute; St. Louis, Missouri. Published bimonthly and copyright (~ 1976 by REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Composed, printed, and manufactured in U.S.A. Second class postage paid at St. Louis, Missouri. Single copies: $2.00. Subscription U.S.A. and Canada: $7.00 a year; $13.00 for two years; other countries, $8.00 a year, $15.00 for two years. Orders should indicate whether they are for new or renewal subscriptions and should be accompanied by check or money order payable to REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS in U.S.A. currency only. Pay no money to persons claiming to represent REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS. Change of address requests should include former address. Daniel F. X. Meenan, S.J. Everett A. Diederich, S.J. Joseph F. Gallen, S.J. Robert Williams, S.J. Jean Read Editor Associate Editor Questions and Answers Editor Book Editor Assistant Editor May 1976 Volume 35 Number 3 Renewals, new subscriptions, and changes of address should be sent to REVIEW FOR RELICIOUS; P.O. BOX 6070; Duluth, Minnesota 55802. Correspondence with the editor and the associate editor together with manuscripts and books for review should be sent to REVIEW FOrt RELIGIOUS; 612 Humboldt Building; 539 North Grand Boule-vard; St. Louis, Missouri 63103. Questions for answering should be sent to Joseph F. Gallen, S.J.; St. Joseph's College; City Avenue at 54th Street; Philadelphia, Pennsyl-vania 19131. Obedience to MiSsion Sister Barbara Hendricks, M.M. Sister Barbara :Hendricks .,is a Maryknoll Sister who was missioned to Peru from 1953 until 1970. Sinc_e. then, she has been President of. the Congr.e, gation. She resides at /;he Sisters ~enter; Maryknoll, NY 10545, when not vi~siting her sisters missioned throughout t,he world. Th~s arhcle is from a talk that was given "at a Renewal. 'Week-end held ~t the,Provincial House 0f the Notre Dame. de Namur Sisters in Maryland on Janti~ary 24~26~ 1976. Introduction ~ - We live~ at°a momerit when the Church is appr6achin~g a fuller interpreta-tion of ~ts mission. We are_ beginning to understand that the Good News of Salvation in Jesus is neither dee~lless worff nor woi'dless deed; it is rather an ini~gral r(spo~se to th.e many critnic naele hdsu Imt ias s a l.v a"t iio!n " w oh i"ch can 'iServade and heal the phys, i~al, ps~cliological and spiritual wounds Of the world.We are conwnced that salvation begins now and that somehow we hav6 to have an experience of it in b~urlives ~is persons an~ as com-munities. Salvation is not ~omething ihat will only~ happen in eternity, but there must be a beglnmng of the~Klngdom here on earth. If this is true, then, holiness is not only,. ,apersonal transformation but it is meant to flow ~ut~vard infb human relationshipsi~both inte.r,-personal anal S~ructural.~ In the early sixties 'in South America we began to hear .the word "evan~gelizati~n,' beiqg used to 'dbscribe ihe essential task oof the Church. It was not a new w~d for those bf us who used to call ourselves "foreign mi~siona~ries.'' It was s~rt of our ;~thi~g." It meant going out there beyond the Church community to. preach the 'Gospel and plant the Church¯ Our articulated theology of mission put heavy emphasis on our "spiritual mis-sion" but in actual fact, we spent a good deal of our time engaged in the 322 / Review /or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 corporal works of mercy. A lot of debate started then" about what this Mission of Evangelization really means. It has been hot and heavy. The 1974 Synod on Evangelization and the latest Apostolic Exhortation, Evangelii Nuntiandi, are signs that the Church is indeed deeply concerned with Mission. For some Christians "evangelization" has meant recruiting new mem-bers, religious instruction of converts, teaching catechism, cultivating an inner spirituality or preaching missions in parishes and dioceses. For others, especially in the 1960's, it began to mean serious social action: promoting civil rights and concern for human dignity, witnessing to justice and peace or liberation from all forms of economic and political oppression. In more recent years, for certain groups in the Church it has come to mean a closely-knit, mutually supportive inter-personal community of shared wit-ness and prayer, highly alert to the presence of the Spirit, healing and reconciling. Our choice of definition depended a great deal on our own personal history, and the needs we experienced in ourselves ~and in the milieu around us. I think that the Holy Spirit has something to do with the recognition of 6ach of these dimensions of the evangelizing mission of the Church, and although we engaged in heated debates during these last ten years as we struggled to live out and espress an authentic con-temporary theology of mission, most of us knew that somehow we had to bring it all together, that our mission had to reflect the mission of Jesus in its entirety. The era of debate is subsiding as we move into the latter.half, of the 1970's. We Christians are beginning to listen to each other and tq the Word of God spoken and still speaking in our midst. We are now more concerned with the message itself, realizing that method is only the sec-ondary problem. Mission is .both message and method; btit with6ut a clear understanding of the.message, the method b6comes a lifeless, mean-ingless exercise of communication skills. So our main concern, then," is what is the "Message of Salvation" and how are we as religious, as apostolic people,~ to proclairh it in life, in work and in~word. More than. ten years ago, at the close of Vatican II, we were left with three docu-ments on the natui"e of the Church and its mission in the world; Lumen Gentium, Gaudium et Spes and Ad G~ntes. I have a feeling iha~°today we should put them together in a coordinated and harmonious integration. It was typical of the 1960'siha~ three distinct documents were needed to describe the same subject--t.he Church. It will be typical of these next ten years that theology of mission will c6nstruci a ~ynthesis of the many aspe~cts of evangelization to be lived and articulated. The Obedience o[ ~lesus In Saint Matthew's Gospel (3:13-17), we read: "As soon as Jesus was baptized, he came up from the water, and suddenly the heavens Obedience to Mission / 323 opened and he saw.,the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming down on him. And a voice spoke from heaven,' 'This is my Son, the Be-loved.; my favor rests on him.'" Jesus' missior~ comes,~from the Father, who, confirms~ in i~im Lh)s missibn of salvation for hum'anity. All. mission is initiat6~ by the Father~ who consecrates and sends. This is the beginning of Jesus" public ministry ' "he is 'sent by the Father." ~ 'Immediately after his 'ba~p,t!sm, Jesus is led by the Spirit into the wilder-ness, where he is confronted by the demonic power. He is° tempted three times and in his responses we have presented to. us wh~t I would call "guidelines for our mission." We can apply them to ourselves personally, to our rehg~ous °communities and to the broader Church. They have to do with the means we take.~t~pro~iaim the Good N~ws: -First. Jesus is tempted to turn stones into l~read. He responds, "man does n~'t qive on bread alone but on every word that ~omes from the mouth of G0'd." To satisfy physica~ hunger 'without at the same time" providing the Word of God, the Bread of Life, is. to otier°a partial salvation. Mission conceived of as promoung matei'i]~l well-being' without the dialogue of faith arid th~' sharing of the W6rd i~ not authentic Christian mission. ° " "Second. Jesus is tempted to display his power grid at{ract by the forc~ bf ~livine intervention.'H replies; "You must not put the Lord, your God to the test." Jesus' mission is not to perform prodigies and thus draw to him-self thos+o~vho admire power and prestige, but rather it is to transform hearts 'and relationships, i His miracles are reserved for those who are disposed to ~effr his Word'and'humbly ask his h'ealing. Third. Jesus is te.mpted to bow down before Satan~to lift up idols in place"of~'the true GOd. He ,is told that worldl~ kingdoms will be thus at ,his disigosal ~'He reslb6n~s, "You must worship the Lord your God and serve him alone." chfisti~anm :i"s s"i"on can never set up alliances with earthly po~vers or make arrangements for sycurity'at the cost of serving false g6ds. To accept the~ statu~ quo and not to struggle for th~ realization of the Kingdom of justice and holiness is to bow down before false gods. These are. the three temptations which persons, communities and the Church itself must confront and overcome both. internally and in the world: --seeking material well-being to the~detriment of the spiritual di-mension of life; using p6wer by secret, allianizes, manipulation and oppression; --setting up idols before the true God. ~ The disciple of Jesus consecrated for his mission fis continually involved in an interior struggle ,against private demons while at the same time con-testing the very same manifestations of evil in the 'institutional structures. .Jesus comes out of the wilderness and begins his mission with these words: '~Rep~nt, the kingdom of heaven is close at hand." His message is a two-edged sword; it names the evi!, inviting'closed hearts to open to love 324 / Review tor Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 :and it points~to the signs of hope that salvation has penetrated the human reality: He went aroundthe ~vhole ~f Galilee teachinff in their Synagogues proclaim-ing the Good' News of the Kingdom and curing all kinds of diseases and sickness °among the people. His fam~ spread, throughout Syria;~, an.d those who were suffering from. dise~ises and painful complaint.s of on6 kind or another, the possessed, epilept.ics, the pa~ralyzed~. ,-were~all broughLto~h, im and he cured thi~m. Large crowds followed him . . IMt 4:23-25). Jesus Sends Hi~ Disciples ~ ¯ Jesus immediately calls ~and gathers disciples into t~h~.fi.r~t~c°m~aunity¯ ¯ of apostolic followers. Hi~ re~orded words are, brief but they cohtain the essenaal relationship of "call" to "mi,ssion~'~:,"Follow me and I wdl make you fishers.6f m~en." They are called to be sent. He gathers them in his com-pany so that they in turn will gather others~ i'n tl~e comp~ny of mission. As he has been ~erlt by the Father, Jesus w'ill send ~hem. His mission is to ,;all human hearis and huma~ communiti,es_to, .repentance of sin and to give them an experi_ence of~the nearness of the Kingdom ~f.God. Th'~y leav~ their concerns their .nets and follow him. This is. the first-recorded re-spoose of disciples in obedience to ~,the ~,ord JesuS' call~ to mission ,(Mt 4:12-17). _ Having~gather~d his t ~welve disciples, he sends them:in his name to,the House of Israel: "And as you go, proclaim that ih~ ~ngdo~i of l~eaven is close at hand, cure the sick, raise th~ de.a.~l, clean.s~e the lepers, .ca~st°~out devils." (Mt 10:7-8). And after his de~ath and resurrec~tion, his la'stwords to'his disciples are ~iearly the Universal-mandate to mission: "Go, Ihe, refore, :,mal~ disciples 6f all ~.natibns; baptize them in the name~of the, Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to, observe all?ibe comm~.nds' I ~gave you. And know that l-am with you al~vays, yes, toi.[.h.e~ .end of t'ime (Mt ~28i 19- 20) . Repentance for the forgiveness of sins should be preached to all nations (Lk 24.:47). Go out to the whole world: proclaim the Good News to all creation (Mk 16:16). As the 15~ther sent me, so am I s~r~ding you (Jn 20:3). What, then, do we perceive t~ be Jesus" obedience to mission?, ". ~He-is sent by the Father and he is obedient t6.the mission given . him, even unto death. --~As he begins his public ministry, he confronts the demonic power of evil . - 7--He calls people to repentance,~-and announces~ the nearness of the.,,Kingd0m of God. He explains God's plan for~,.creation; the',, central figure Of his concern is the human person for~whom God Obedience to Mission / 325 Wills. the,perfection of love. With his teachin~g, he completes the sacred history of the.people. --He gathers those:.who_ believe in him, calling each by name, and -~ sends them as he, himself, has been sent by the Father: He travels thrbugh the" land, proclaiming the Good News of Salvation for all. His powerful word is heard and seen and felt because it is enfleshed in deeds of love and healing. --He forms a community of faith, of service and of love in .which he will continue his presence and prolong his mission ~until the time when he will return. The mission of Jesus is both physical healing and spiritual reconcilia-tion, liberation and fulfillment; the Lord's favor rests on the poor, the oppressed, and the alienated. We have an image set before us.of Jesus whose mission i~ lived out in absolute fidelity, to his Father and in faithfulness to human persons and ~their critical needs. There seems to be no conflict-of interest between building the earthly city and praising and glorifying God~ This 6oncern for 'the whole person--physical, and spiritual dimensions-- is the ~ mission . mandate, and it is also the criteria on which we will be judged at the end:."I was hungry and you gave ~me,to eat, thirsty and you gave me to drink . " The Evangelizing Mission in the Acts o[ the Apostles In the book of Acts there is a 'recurrent sequence of events which illustrate the ~continuous movement of Christian mission in the,~ early Chu'i'ch: We~ recognize there, the essential elements of apostolic life. There is a constant ~flow of gathering and sending, healing and proclaiming, con-fronting and suffering, .reflecting and celebrating. The first few chapters concerned with the primitive Christian com-munity in Jerusalem provide us with an outline of integral-evangelization: 'Gathering and,sending." the disciples of Jesus having encountered~the risen Lord° and experienced his healing and saving love, come together to build a faith cbmmunion of love and sharing nourished by the Spirit. The community is bound ~tbgether by prayer, by mutual service, by ,shared possessions, by the instructions of the apostles, and'by the celebration of the eucharistic meal. The Spirit urges them to go outside the faith com-munity and boldly preach the Good News of Salvation, challenging-men and women to repent and to be~converted. Healing and proclaiming: the evangelizing mission thrusts outward be-yond the community'with a deed of mercy. "When Peter and John were going up to the.temple for the prayers at the ninth hour, it~happen~d that there was a man being carrie.d past. He was a cripple from birth and they used ,,to put .him.down every day near the temple entrance called the Beautiful Gate so, he could beg from the people going in" (Acts 3:1-3). The evangelizers are led by the Spirit into the market place, outside the 326 / Review for Religious,. Volume 35, 1976/3 temple gate, and the Word, not yet~slSoken, is revealed by an act of mercy which responds to wor!dly agony and bodily need. In the name of Jesus, the man walks. In the midst of the deed, Peter"speaks the~ Word: ."Why are you so surprised at ~'th~is? . . . it is the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of our ancestors, who has glorified' his servant, Jesus . " He pre~iches the .salvation of Jesus, incarnated, despised, suffering, re-jected, yet resurrected and triumphant, active in the midst of the world. Humans need to hear the Word of God spoken in faith and hope and addressed to their personal center, as well'as see and feel the impact of the healing act of love. Christian mission never isolates'the ministry of service from the ~ministry of the spoken Word. The evangelizing act is seen, felt and h~ard. , " Con]ronting and suffering: there is the inevitable confrontation with the principalities and powers (Acts 4:3). The priests and the officers of the ,.temple apprehend Peter and John. They are interrogated and harassed, told to ,be quiet, not to speak of Jesus and his message. The moment of :confrontation with all the suffe.ring it involves, provides the occasion for kerygma. Peter again proclaims the Ggod News even when it means resisting oppression.~_."You, yourselves, judge what is right in God's sight, to obey you or to obey God" (Acts 4: 19). Reflecting and celebrating: the d, isciples return to the community recounting their ex'~eriences, the healing act, the su~ering°-'they endured and ~there is rejoicing of all the members. They praise God, reflect together on Scripture; trying, to interpret the events in order to discover God's plan and purpose in them. "As they prayed . . . they,were filled With the Holy Spirit and began to pro.claim the Word of God boldly" (Acts,.4:3~L). The community of faith sharing and discerning together grows in creativity and valor. ~ A reflective reading of Acts steers us out of ourselves away from a one,dimensional acting out of Christian lif~ and mission. The continuous movement of evangelization in the Book of Acts links diakonia, kerygma and koihomla-~deed, word and community are not three distinct ways of carrying on the mission of Jesus; they are three dimensions of one Christie process in which we are all called to participate. Cohsecration tor Mission in Religious Community The invitation to follow the Lord Jesus is addressed" to the personal center of the one who, in some mysterious way, has been chosen to announce the Good News of Salvation. The person thus "called" perceives th6 Wbrd of God as an 'internal light or truth or warmth which presents an i~perative to stop what one is presently concerned~ about, to .turn to something new, to attend to a persistent urging and pursue a new direction. The person who listens and responds to the invitation to follow this new inner direction finds herself (himself) caught up in a new relation- Obedience to Mission / 327 ship ~with God--a relationship which requires a commitment to his plan for the transformation of human hearts and human relationships. It is 'ba, sically.the 'sanie .invitation addressed to the first disciples and many others in the history, of the Christian Church: "Follow me' and I will make you fishers of men.".The call is for mission. In the instance of a person called to apostolic religious life, there is an experience of deep significance, of the total engagement of one's being. It involves both a feeling of truth about oneself in relation to~ other~human persons and a sense of well-being even when the, commitment will require a difficult decision. A deep conviction arises'from within the person that -God is t:alling her (.him) to a celibate life in community. What is impor, tant to note here is that th~ person called has indeed~been "touched'? .by the Gospel and is motivated by that ,power from within. It .should not b~ simply a matter of having hem;d about the power of the Gospel and ~being deeply impressed by what it has done for~others. It has to be one's own experience of God beckoning. ~' Each of us at one point in our lives, be.fore we entered our particular community, had a dream or a vision. This dream was the way in which we were able to express to ourselves the significance of our inner experi. ence ~oL call. It was about what we wanted to be and what we wanted to do with our lives. ~I believe that "call" and ,mission" (the being and doing) are not two separate realities, but different aspects of the divine.~outward thrust .of love; God breaking through to us and inviting us to participate in his mission, the mission of~his Son, Jesus. God's desire to lib'erate and reconcile ,and, ultimately,, transform all that he. has;created manifests itself in a .special form of outreach to some chosen persons. He gathers these persons into commtiniiies '.for his' special pUrposes :in the historic process with its dire needs. None of us knows why his choice falls where it does, but we expe.rience it and therefore, we believe it. No_one is "called''~ to be simply for herself (or himself) alone. We are invited by God to take part in a transfoi'ming-mission which is the~:sharing of the Good News of Salvation in'4esus. We. are called to proclaim the Word to our brothers and sisters who have not heard nor experienced God's powerful healing and reconciling Word'. ' Obedience: Listening to (~od's Word and ReSponding with "Yes" Obedience is openness t~ God's deSigns and plans for the world. We do not have a blue print of his will and, therefore, obedience canhot ~imply be freedom to conform to what is already decided. It is not'a passive ac-ceptance of the way things are, but an enthusiastic search to discover the direction of the Spirit at .work in hearts, in relatiOnships and 'in institu-tional structures. Obedience, then, means openness and attentiveness to the Word of God spoken and speaking in our midst. It means listening, consultation, 328~/ Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 study, . dialogue and reflective prayer. Above all.it, means listening to one another in the local community, in our larger congregation, and to the different levels of Church in which we participate,° especially our local Church, but also our universal Church, as-~t struggles to articulate its experience, its insights and its consensus. It means trying to ,read the signs of our times; listening and discerning° the needs and aspirations of the society in which we are inserted, our neighborhood, our city, our nation and the .new global world in which we live today. As we listen, we need to analyze, consult and experience, the pain and violence of our times, as well as its joys and ~aspirations. We need to~name evil without despair and to point to the signs of hope with realism and ho.nesty but with Christian faith in the resurrection and promiseoof the Lord. The Spirit is working in the events of history both within the hearts of all of us, within our communities and in the world itself. In the light of the Gospel message our task is to discover the purpose and plan of God taking place in our times and to discern Our particular way of par-ticipating in the mission of Jesus. We have to listen to the Word of God in Scripture and in our own hearts in prayer and reflection. We have to listen to his Word in our own local,:communities and articulate to each other .the fruit of our reflection and prayer, so: that spontaneously together we can share :his Word and grow as a community of faith. The main problem seems to be that we lack very often, the right struc-tures and processes within our local communities and broade~ congrega-tions .which would enable a rhore enlightened obedience, to mission today. Both personally and as communities we need an asceticism of consistent, well organized"and faith-oriented "~omingtogether" for dialogue, discern-ment and. decision-making regarding our apostolic activities as well as for evaluation and growth in being communities of reflective faith-sharing. Our coming together should be characterized by, th~ same belongingness which was typical of the early Church communities. They came,,back to-gether. ,after healing and preaching, confronting.and suffering, and they shared their sufferings and joys, they reflected together to understand better God's plan for them, they offered common prayer-, and Eucharist. And, thus, they went out again with an even bolder enthusiasm to preach God's Word. Obedience, then, consists in listening to God's Woi-d, and growing in our abili.ty to understand its deepest meaning for our life and our mission: 1, Growth in taking respons.ibility for community'.s life and direc-tion, ~ 2. Growth in d~veloping meaningful ministries which tr,y ~to meet the critical needs of today's world. 3. Growth in .sharing the Word among ourselves and in the market-pla~ e. Obedience to Mission / 329 It seems to me that what we have tradition.ally called the "Vow of Obedience" is precisely the way in which each community agrees to li~,e and work and share its faith together. It is the covenant we make with God and with each other in order to grow and deepen our consecration to the mission of Jesus. Conclusion It is imperative for our apostolic religious communities to intensify and deepen our humanization commitments of the 1960's and at the same time, to pursue our hungering spiritual quests of the 1-970's. The Christian in mission to the contemporary, world is called to struggle for both personal and social transformation in Jesus Christ. The realization of the kingdom which Jesus proclaimed is, in fact, the building of an ever widening net-work of relationships of justice, peace and friendship. The personal trans-formation each of us longs for is the holiness of the Gospel, and the social transformation which our world cries out for is our challenge'to partici-pate in the mission of~the Gospel. The cries of our contemporary global society are many-~--for bread, for freedom and jusffce, ~or truth and understanding, for peace and reconcilia-tion, for independence and inter-dependence, for acceptance and friendship and for ultimate transcendent meaning. Somehow, some way, the apostolic relig~ious community must lift. up a ~lear sign for all 1o see that the kingdom of h~)liness and justic~e which Jesus preached is pos's~ible in our world today and at the very same time we must effectively minister, to the most (ritical social wounds in our milieu. ' Our problem today iia the Church and in our communities is not so much one of how to communicate the Good News of Salvation" in Jesu~s bu,,t ,prima~i'ily how to live it. Penance and Brotherly Love Michel Rondet, S.J. Readers of our pages will be familiar with Father Rondet~from his article publisrhed last July: '~Choices of Religious.Life in a SeCularized World." The present article was translated by Sister Mary Dempsey,CDP, an AmeriCan sister presently stationed in France. ~ . The"., sacrament of penance is certainly one of the Christian gestures least appreciated'in our time2 Father Maranache says that we have made of it "~the~ d~poshory .for our obsession~s or the sim~ple door-mat for the ~Eucharist . "~ It is a' gesture ihat is less and less understood today. That is something that should wo0y us, for it could be telling us that we are no longer a sin[id people.or that we no longer think: of ourselves as a sinful people. But. in that case we are necessarily going to be either a guilty peo~ ple or a pharisaical people. Guilty, that is, shut up in our guilt, in a .sense of failure, and therefore living in resentment, isolation hopelessfiess, with our fault; or else we are pharisees closed in on a feeling of our own righteousness. There are many ways of being pharisaical; it can be in the style of the pharisee in the gospel, but it can also be in more modern styles; for example, when a person thinks he is thee .only Christian, or the only type of Christian, who is committed, conscientiou.s;-adult, responsible, as opposed to the others who are only sociological Christians, vestiges the past. In both cases we are'up against a people without hope, who will not bring hope to mankind, for we are concerned with people who are travel-ing a different road friam the God who came for the sake of sinners and to 1A. Manaranche: Un chemin de liberti (Ed. du Scull), p. 91. 330 Penance and~'Brotherly Love / 331 save sinners. Historians of religions have bi~en able to show thht, in most non-Christian religions, it is the,'sinners who go to God to be pardoned. But~ in the Gospel it is always Christ who goes toward the sinners, it is God who goes to them. If we wish to be a holy pe'ople ~we must become again a sinful people, for the holiness to which we are called is not a holiness of perfection; it is a holiness of conversion. The holy people of God'are not a people of perfect beings; they are a race ,of sinners who'have been converted. ~, ~. But let us be careful! Sin is ~ religious reality. It is an attitude that has no meaning except in the context of the Covenant and in face of the love of God. Outside the Covenant there is no Sin, there are faults; there are no sinners, there are the guilty. Sin is a discovery that is made'in the context of the love of God and face" to face with that love. It is the faithful love of-. God that reveals to Israel its infidelity (cL, Ho'll). It is through the love of God that Israel is made aware'that.it is a spouse; unfaithful and at the same time loved over and above all infidelity. There isin th~ Gospel of Saint Luke a.passage that is very significant from this point of view. At the time of: the first miraculous draught of fishes and the call of the first disciples, Simon Peter says: "Leave me, Lord. 1 am a sinful man." At first sight ,this attitude is surprising: Peter did nothing reprehensible that day; on the contrary. It is not, then, the awareness of a fault that lets him~ know he, is a sinner, but the revelation of the fullness of the gift of God through what has just been accomplished before his eyes. Only in the light of the love of God is sin discovered as a religious reality. ~ If, instead of. oscillating between guilt~ and pharisaism, we would be a people made up .of sinners, we would accept-ourselves as such, we could be a hope for the world, because we would be sinners*saved and pardoned in Jesu~ Christ. And so we could make this sign of ,reconciliation which is the sacrament of penance come alive in the world. "-Guilt attd sin: The experiencing of our limitations, of our misery,of our defeat, of our infidelity, can develop in us a feeling of kuilt (~whi~h is found at that time in the°consciousness of the sinner), but there is a great difference between: -:-feeling guilty before a law, an ideal fabricated by others or that we ourselves conjure, up . The only thing to do then is to reproach ourselves or be discour-aged by our mediocrity, and the higher the ideal the more the .guilt-feeling risks being stronger and paralyzin~g., --and feeling unfaithful, guilty in the face of a person by whom we know we are loved and pardoned, abok, e all if that pardon has the absolute quality of divine love. The repentance that can then rise up in us is a strong and vigorous sentiment of gratitude, thanksgiving, hope. He who knows that much has been forgiven him becomes capable of loving much (Lk 10, 47, and 15~ 32). ~ The sense of sin in Scripture is this second attitude, and it is in this interpretation that we make the distinction here, pointing out the opposition between these often-confused ideas, a guilt,feeling and a sense of sin. 332 / Review [or Religious, Volume'35, 1976/3 The Sacrament of Reconciliation What is this sign that we are called :to live out in the Church? 1 ) It is a Memorial of the. Paschal Mystery. The sacrament.of penance is the memorial of Jesus inhis Passion forgiving his executioners and those who are responsible for his death: the leaders of his people, Pilate, the silent majority who have said nothing during the, trial of Jesus and who let himbe condemned. It is to .all those that the pardon of God is addressed in Jesus. The sacrament of penance is above all the memorial of this aspect of the Paschall Mystery, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." ~, It is a memorial of the revelation of' God as the one who forgiv(s; that is, he whose love welcomes us and creates us anew. To forgive is not tO forget,, but ~o refuse to identify the person with his fault, to shut him: up in his, past or his guilty present. Pardon' iS the attitude of hope that we continue to have toward a person, beyond what he has. been or wha't he is. To forgive is to say to someone: "To me you are not eternally, definitively, wholly, the one who has done .this or .that. I expect something else.of you." That is what Jesus did with Peter. It is in this sense that pardon is creative, re-creating hope. In the attitude of someone I can discover that I am other than what I am in this fault and in this sin. We are all sinners, but we are also hll saints in the eyes of God. .2) The'sacrament of penance, is ~the transfiguration of our sinful being into a being saved by Christ. It is the .passover from the table of sinn6rs to the table of sons through the forgiveness of God. We find a very beau-tiful representation of this in the window of the Prodigal Son in the Cathedral of Bourges. The prodigal in exile wears the short tunic'of slaves; welcomed by his father, he wears the long robe of the sons. The eider son, who had ,the long robe in the beginning, is wearing the short tuni+ in the last scene. He has the mentality of a slave. 3) The sacrament of penance is also the germ o[ a definitive and uni-versal reconciliation. Created anew through the pardon .of Christ, we be-come capable of pardoning, of looking upon one another with hope. Henceforth a new world is possible, for only love ge~erates"love. To ac-cept others, to forgive then~, the.person himself must be able to depend on the love and the forgiveness of him who is greater than our heart. And so the sacrament of penance is the gesture that creates the Church as a people of reconciliation; the Christian gesture that '-makes us "peace-makers," men who are capable of being in the world a~rtisans of peace and of reconciliation because we ourselves are reconciled through the for-giveness of God. , How Celebrate This Reconciliation? ' For the Church, the sacrhment of penance is the gesture of Christ that re-creates us. it is also the gesture by which we accept and celebrate this Penance and,Brotherly Love / 333 reconciliation. This is another way¯ of saying ,tha!, qike all the sacraments, Penance~is a Paschal celebration, penitential but joyous. In an old Bene-dictine text of the Middle Ages, this is what,is said about Ash Wednesday: "The monks Cntered with joyful hope into the sacred penance of Lent." The"stages of this celebration: ',, 1) Let the Word of God lead us to the table of.sinners, for. it is only there that we will meet Christ. The saints had a ~reat and profound insight into this truth. We must let the Word of God denounce our false righteousz ness. The table,0f sinners is not a sad table, because it is the table of en-counters. with God. What is sad is the table of the pharisees who trust in their own righteousness. Christ~will never come and sit down-at-that table. I have not said thht the first step is to examine our conscience because it ,is~ not for ,us to discdver our false justice.and injustice. This would be an illusion; it would turn us back on ourselves to excuse or justify ourselves or to be discouraged. It is necessary to let the Word of God denounce our sin ~ind bring it to light. ' ¯ There should be a celebration of the Word. You could prepare for your~ confessions by opening the gospel. ~That would be perhaps the best way to enter into the sacrament: .~ ' '2) Publicly to "confess° our s'infulness and salvation throug.h Jesus Christ, to confess through"a gesture that Christ 'alone is the Savior. It is true that contrition is a requirement for salvation in Jesus Christ. But that is '.not because contrition° saves- us," but because for us that ~contrition is a way'of uniting us to Christ the Savior. Confession is the gesture by which. we publicly repudiate,~the illusion that persists in ms, that it is our re- ,pentance, our good will,othat saves us. No, it is Christ and he alone that saves us. It is'in this sense, to, signify this, that the sacramental action is necessary. In any other perspective it is not justified~ or ii is only. the exterior sign of what our repentance :brings about. Alas, there are a'. certain number of Christians who still have this idea. They, therefore see very little impor-tance in the~sacramei~t, since all the weight of the gesture is centered on their repentance instead of being centered on the Christ who saves: .From this point of view, the monotony bf our ~accusations can be very good., I am. always~th~e same sinner, I.have not changed fundamentally,¯ but JeSus Christ saves me. The accusation is a oprofession of faith before it is an accusation. I proclaim that,Jesus Christ is Savior by confessing my sins. That is the sense that St. Augustine gives to his work Con[essions." the confession that he is~ weak and a.sinner and the profession of faith in God the Savior. 3) With .the Christ of the Passion, we must live our Christian priest-hood. This is perhaps one 6f the most profound opportunities we have to live it. Today, when we honor the priesthood of all the baptized, le't us not at the same time relegate to the shade one of the gestures by which this ,priesthood is. expressed ,with. perhaps the greatest intensity. In the 334 / Review forReli~ious~ Volume 35, 1976/3 sacrament of penance, with the Christ of the Passion, we are the Church which offers to;the Father the sinful world of which we are acknowledged . members. We present ourselves before theFather, selfish, proud, harsh, with the same selfishness, the same harshness, the same self-sufficiency as those who appear everywhere in the world and who sometimes produce bitter fruits of death and of suffering. If selfishness and pride have not pro-duced the same fruits in tis, it is because the circumstances have not been favorable. We are also the Church which accepts the pardon of the Father in the nameoof all and for,~all. It is not our own little pardon that we come to receive as a privilege that is going to set us apart fro~ others-apd justify us in our own eyes; it is the pardon of the Fathei" who welcomes .us in the name of the,sinful world of which, by the grace of God, we are conscious representatives. This is a priestly attitude." Since we are united through baptism to the pries(hood of Christ, we can, in this penitential gesture, live this priest-hood inooffering the sinful world and accepting in its name the forgiveness in 'the Father. 4) To witness through pardon "to our reconciliation in. Jesus Christ." Having tasted the love of God, proved his ur~failing°fidelity, we become capable, in our turn, of forgiveness. There is the true contrition, the true firm purpose: to enter into .,pardon, to enter into the Passover of Christ so as to become in him the people of reconciliation, example and witness of reconciliation in the world. The sacrament, then, opens us out to a -creative attitude that is very important in our time. In the world of conflict in which we.live~ where every society tends to become a closed society, pardon is a creative attitude. It cuts off the inexorable unfolding of our sin-ful history, it introduces an element of radical novelty, introduces an un-looked- for idea that causes hope to flower where it seemed impossible. That is the happy ending to which the sacrament leads us: to be, in the midst of the conflicts of this world, the artisans and the witnesses of a possible recon-ciliation. To let Christ lead us to the table of sinners, t6,profess our faith in Jesus Christ the Savior by the confession of our sins, to'live our baptis~mal~ priesthood by offering the sinful world and accepting the forgiveness of the Father, to enter in our turn into the love which,, forgives because it has been created anew'by the Father this is what it means to live and cele-brate the sacrament of penance. It is quite a different thing from ihat gloomy examination of conscience in which we look at ourselves and our failures, developing vexation and discouragement in ourselves before we pass to a nondescript legalistic action by which we make things right with~ God: To live the sacrament of penance is to celebrate an egsential and hope-filled dimension of' the Christian life. See Luke, regarding the pardoned Penance and Brotherly Love / 335 sinker: he who thinks he has been forgiven little or thinks he does not need forgiveness loves little ~gnd displays little love; but the one who has been forgiven much and' who knows he needs forgiveness can show much love; It is an essential dimension of every Christian lile. We must go beyond a calculated~_concept of the sacrament. It is expressed in 'a gesture and in a sign, but it ought not to be an isolated moment, cut off from life; if it were it would become a gesture of magic purification. Penance can be a_Sacra-ment, a sign which expresses our self and transforms us, only if faith causes us to live continually as, pardoned sinners. The sacramental gesture makes sense only if it permeates.a whole existence and a total attitude which shines forth in our prayer, our,~life, our relations with others. The sacramental gesture is the high point.of a whole life of a pardoned sinner, and that i's what gives its meaning, tO this penitential dimension of the Christian life. This summit cannot be separated from the rest without losing its signifi-cance. The sacrament of penance is, then, a gesture which sums up our whole life, from the acts of contrition that we make, the penitential rite of the Eucharist, rites of. reconciliation, the recitation of the Our Father, times of penan.ce (-Lent, Advent . ), the revisions of life that we make to-ge. ther. It is,all these_ moments that we live the sacrament of penance. All this is part of the sign and~ all ihis finds its true, fully-lived meaning at the time of the reception of ~the sacrament. Also, far from making the sacra-ment useless, all that we have just mentioned calls for it and gives it mean-ing. It is certainly necessary for tile Church of our time to rediscover-forms of celebration of the sacrament of penance which best express the signifi-cance of. this gesture. The Church has known ~any forms in the course of history (public penance in the 0rst centuries, individual confession since the end of the Middle Ages). It is precisely for this reason that the new rite of the sacrament is so important for us today. Penance and Brotherly Love 1 ) In its beginnings; religious life in the Church did not appear as an association of perfect Christians, better than others, like a little "Church of, the Just" in the midst of the larger, heterogeneous Church; but the first communities presented themselves as communities ojf repentant sinners, Christians who proclaimed their need of conversion. We are assembled ,sinners,. communities of sinners who try to love much because much has been forgiven us. This is a constant "of the spiritual tradition of the rel.igious life: a state of conversion, of penzance. 2) A religious community is not a group without tensions and prob-lems, but it is a community that endeavors to make,pardon ever possible, where this pardon can always be asked because each one knows that it will always be given. It is a community where-each one lives amid proffered 336 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 forgiveness, where each can be himself without grudgessor complexe~,,~a ,dommunity where hope is possible because the others look upon,you with hope and forg(veness. A person can become a new,creature in the forgive-ness of others. Par~on always possible makes .hope al~,ays present. 3) "In this sense a religious community can ,be a "vision of. peace,~' as the Church ought tO be and tries to be, not because it is an .idyllic,witness to 'understanding and friendship, but because it is a place of~ pardon ,and of reconciliation. ~ '~ . ~ , Reconciled with my fellowmen, living in theoview, of my brothers and sisters who pardon me in the strength of thd.,pardgn o1' Christ, I can, in my turn he,in the world an artisan of peace, a witness to'reyonciliation. This is .an essential dimension of our life of profound charity, ,not easy to live day by day. Let us'try to live it, and many difficulties will .recede to the background and it will be possible to shoulder them in' hope: Celebrating Reconciliation in. Brotherly Love o ~ I ) We mugt r'ediscover in our lives gestures that celebrate hnd express the penitential dimensioh of our lives. Formerly thei'e~were in the congre-gations traditions of penance on certain days and for certain feasts. They had become formalistic and have'~been suppressed. P¢0bably°it was neces-sary to do this and t6 pas~ .throuffh thig healing step~of purification. But now we must rediscover and re-create something else; otherwise, it~i~; a dimension of life that will not be celebrated. 2) We must rediscover times and intervals of mutual forgiveness. We mu~t find thefia again at the heart of a liturgical act. You have certainly had the experience already: there is sharing that c'an take place only in a liturgical set~ing~ for at that moment we are entirely centered on the Lord. There are things that can be said then arid will be accepted as they would not be in another context, because there wo'uld'not be the 'same climate, the same charity, the same grace, the same presence of Christ; There are times and places of pardon to be rediscovered, during the eucharistic cele-bration, liturgies of the Word, Compline . 3) We must also integrate into the sacrament more'consciously atti-tudes which in. fact already form a part of. it. For example,, certain revi-sions of life,./~ certain search ['or spiritual discernment'made in community in which we are helped t~ become aware of'our deficiencies, our infidelities. . . . We.could make the connection and end a revision of.life, ['or instance, by an aci.of contrition, an imploring of God's' pardon that would 'recall the sacrament bf penance and woiald be ['or each one a preparation for it. In this presentation, 1 have not stressed much the role of the priestly minister in the Celebration of penance. This role is precisely to signify, the 'necessary bond with Christ and this. necessary presence of Christ without which no Passover is realized and actualized. In the sacrament of penance Penance and Brother~ly Love'/,. ,337 the priest; who acts in the name of the Church, is the necessary witness of what reconciliation, forgiveness, salvation, are given to us.in ]esus Christ and through him. We cannot attain to it of ourselves. On the other hand, a celebration always presupposes a people. It is important that the community, whether small or' large, recognize itself always, when celebrating the sacrament of penance, as the Church of Christ. Faith and Justice Francisco Ivern, S.J. Father Ivern, until the Jesuits' recent congregation, had been Father Arrupe's special advisor on the social apostolate and the chairman of his special commission for the same: Since the congregation, he has been named General Counselor as well. A Spaniard by birth, he studied in the United States and worked for some years in Bombay. His present addi'ess: Borgo S. Spirito, 5; C.P. 9048; 00100 Roma, Italy. Introduction In one of its decrees, the 32nd General Congregation of the Society of Jesus (Dec. 2, 1974--March 7, 1975) has defined the,mission of Jesuits in the world of today as the service of faith and the promotion of justice. It was the most import,ant and specific contribution of that congregation for the future of the Society of Jesus as an apostolic order at the service of the universal Church. Some might argue that, as far as priorities are con~cerned, the decree on "The Union of Minds and Hearts" issued by that same congregation,1 deals with an aspect even more basic for the survival and maintenance of the Society of Jesus: i.e. the spiritual and commianity life of its members. Others might stress the importance of the decree on poverty and the radical changes it introduces into the practice of that vow by communities and apostolic works.~ Finall3}, others might rightly emphasize that the future of the Society will depend on the religious and apostolic formation of its members, and hence the decree treating that topic deserves top priority) All this is in a way true. But the decrees on spiritual and community life, 1This decree will be the subject of a future article in this series. -~See REVIEW FOR RELIGIOUS, March, 1976, pp. 191, ft. :*This decree will not be treated in this series as being of too narrowly Jesuit interest. 338 Faith and ,Justice / .339 on formation and even_on pov.erty represent the natural and expected evo-lution of a process already on the way since the 31st General Congrega-tion ~(1965). To a great extent; they simply develop and complement what was already expressed in that congregation. On the. other har~d, the decree on "Our Mission Today: the Service of Faith and ~he Promotion of Justice" marks a relatively new development and poses~.a new.challenge. Its influence is felt in all the,bther major documents of the~32nd~General Congregation; it gives them their apostolic motivation and orientation and thus conditions their fruitful interiorization and effective implementation. ~The decree on faith and justice, how6ver, has also becon]e-6ne of~ the most controversial pronouncements Of the last Jesuit congregation find it will ~,probably be one of the most difficult to implement. On the,one side, it is true that, in spite of its long ,and laborious genesis and° its obvious defects of form, the~decree was finally approved by an overwhelming majority. It can also be said, one year after its promulgation; that the decree has been gen.erally well accepted by most Jesuits. On the other side, how.ever, it~:is also true that not a few have received it with mixed fe~lings and reservations. Some ffonder about the scope and universal applicability of" the.decree for the ,Jesuit apostolate. Doubts have.also arisen about the precise meaning of justice ,an~l of the inter-relationship b~tween faith and justice in the ,context of the decree: Others feel that, the "specific contribu-tion of priests and religious to the promotion of justice should be further clarified. _ It is also a ~fact that the longest and most "substantial" remarks of the Holy, See concerning the congregation's documents, were aimed at this decree in particular.-A few have'even said that the Holy See's observa-tions have greatly.~ weakened the decree's thrust, if not crippled it al-together. . . It is myoview that, in spit6 of all these difficulties, the d6cree keeps all its basic strength and importance. It presents today for the Society of Jesus a big challenge and a unique apostolic opportunity. Perhaps like none Other, the decree on "Our Missiofi Today" can help Jesuits td'rediscover again, in:a new light,,what it means to be an apostle, a religious and a priest ifi the, modern world: It can help infuse~ new" vitality and dynamism into an aging and shrinking international organism. It can strengthen the union of all-Jesuits around a common apostolic ideal whbse"relevance and actuality appe.ar today with renewed clarity~ ° The criticism, reservations 'and evefi fears that the decree has aroused can be explained partly becau~se of its all embracing nature, partly because of some obscurities and difficulties of interpretation to which the text some-times lends itself. In this context, the remarks'made by the Holy See, though perhaps not absolutely ~necessary, can ~ greatly h61p to dispel some of~these fea'rs, and reservations. They can help i-eveal better ttie basis on which the potential of the decree for a profound religious and apostolic re-newal~ ultimately rests. However, we have also to admit that a decree that 340 / Review .]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 demands from every individual Jesuit and from every Jesuit community and apos.tolic work .a reassessm(nt in depth of their own, basic orientation in the light of the service of faith .and the ,promo.tion of justice~ was bound,to cause some uneasiness, set in motion defense mechanisms and even pro-voke negative reactions. The earlier 31st General Congregation recognized that, in order totface ,new needs and-conditions, the entire,.Jesuit,~tpost01ate had to be thoroughly :rethought and r~vised:~But while some channels and structures were prd-posed for. that revision, there was no clear ~ttempt at providing the overall criteria ands.objectives that should inspireoand guide it. ,A general sociological survey of the Society of Jesus that was launched by Fr. Arrupe towards the end of.1965, shortly after the 31st General°Con-gregation, provided.some apostolic guidelines and objectives and also con-tributed to develop some mechanisms of response to new needs. But itS; out-come was very, uneven and its best achievements-remained at the level of some provinces or regtons. There was no serious attempt, therefore, to ap-ply its conclusions, in terms.of some general policy guidelines¢.to the whole Society. This explains why, except for those .provinces or regions in which a considerable effort owas made to" determine general ~ind corporate apos-tolic objectives in the light of the survey findings,'the ov~erall pattern~"of apostolic worl(s and ministries in the Society of Jesus underwent relatively few changes from 1965 to. 1975. - o During;the.se years, however, under the ,leadership of Fr. Arrupe, .a good deal was done to give some new direction and contents to,the J~suit apostolate and to,emphasize some of the dimensions that~ should distinguish it as a whole, independently from the particular works or meahs through which it was to be carried out. This was specially true of the comriiitment to bring about a more human and just society,,which'was more"and .more presented not so much as a separate sector of activity, but rather as a dir~eri~ sion that should mark all Jesuit life and apostolic work. This led to a more interdisciplinary, "intersectorial" and integrated apostolic approach. It also contributed to give to the Jesuit apostolate a new sensb,oof direction, an '~identity" that had been somewhat, obscured and weakened~'during a period of rapid change. It also prepared the ground for the decree of the 32nd General Congregation on."Our Mission Today." ~ Unlike previous congregations, the 32nd did not issue b~ief and separate decrees restating the importance of the major~apostolates;,old or new, in which Jesuit.s are or should be engaged: missionary activity,.education, ecu-menism, pastoral action, scientific apostolate, artistic endeavors, social in-volvement, mass. media, and so forth. The brief references in the decree on "'Our Mission Today" to theological reflection, "conscientization" according to the Gospel, education and modern media of social communication, were to emphasize the level at which Jesuits should work, their main role as "educators" and the instruments that they should use in their apostolate iri Faith and Justice / 341 order to have thewidest possible, influence, rather than to single out spe-cific works, institutions or sectors of activity in'which they should engage: The main apostolic concern of the last Jesuit congregation was to define what should be the.~corporate mission of Jesuits today, whether they work in Jesuit controlled institutions or not, alone or in collaboration with others. Not only should whatever Jesuits are already doing contribute, more~or less directly or explicitly, to reconcile men with God and with each other, to serve the faith and to promote justice; but today Jesuits should preferably do what is more conducive to th~ attainment of,,those objectives. The Service:' of' Faith" " The mission we are called to share is the mission of the Church herself: to make known.to men the love of God our Father, to bring to our fellow-~ men the omessage of-salvation, to work that they may have life, and have it to the full.~ The decree does not hesitate to reaffirm, with different words and. expressions, the basic religious and supernatural nature of the Society's mission: the service of faith, the task of evangelization.'~ It is because we are commit~ted to the service of faith, that we are also called, always, but par-ticularly today, to promote love and justice among men, as one of. faith's main and more basic requirements: "The mission 'of the Society of Jesus today is the service of, faith,, of which the promotion of iustice is an abso-lute requirement. This is so because the reconciliation of men among them-selves, which their reconciliation with God demands, must be based on ius-tice."~, For many,- however, the specific contributioh of the decree on "Our Mission Today" still remains in having officially proposed the promotion of justice as the main apostolic objective for the Society of Jesus today3 though, it is true, side by side with the service ~of. faith and inseparably connected with it. The service, of faith would be affirmed simply as a pre-condition for that promotion. The fact that the very text of the decreetalks more 6ften of justice than of faith and that,what is said of faith is rather incomplete and far from being an exhaustiv~ presentation of all the demands of faith for religious life and apostolate, would seem to confirm this view. This explains why .in some regions and for some Jesuits the decree has become known as "the decree on the promotion of justice" or simply "the justice document." Its title has gradually undergone small but important modifica-tions. The mission of the Society of Jesus today would be defined no longer as "the service of faith and the,' promotion of justice," but ~rather as "the service of faith in or through the promotion of justice," or "the service of faith ]or the promotion of justice." It should be recalled that the promotion of justice was not the top prior- 4"Our Mission Today," n. 13. ~lbid., nn. I1, 13, 14, 18, 24-26, 51, 52, 55. 61bid., n. 2. 342 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 ity chosen by the General Congregation for its work and that the document was ttie~outcome of the combined effort of three different commissions, only one of which dealt with the justice question. The others were con-cerned with the apostolic mission of the Society in general and with the criteria that should guide Jesuits in their apostolate: questions to which the congregation had assigned a higher priority than to that of the promotion of justice. The call of the 32nd General.Congregation to the serx~ice of faith is not Simply a reminder of the primary and fundamental Jesuit.apostolic mission, nor the mere statement of a premise from which to draw later the concl~u-sion that the promotion of justice is a necessary dimension of the Jesuit apostolate 'today. The congregation wants to emphasize that in the light of today's conditions, of the needs and aspirations of the men of our time, the service of faith not only keeps its primary importance~ but that its .absolute need is today even more strongly felt. The diagnosis that "the congregation makes of the apostolic needs of the contemporary world is not formulated only ,or primarily in terms of justice: The fact that today "more than two billion human beings have no knowledge of God the Father and JeSus Christ whom He has sent''T and that "many of our contemporaries, dazzled and even dominated .by the achieve-ments of the~human mind, have either forgotten or rejected the mystery of man's ultimate meaning, and thus have lost the sense of God''s constitute for the' congregation, new challenges to the Society's apostolic mission. These challenges not only condition our efforts for more human and just relations amo.ng men,~' but have for us a value of~their own, 'because "people today are, somehow aware ~that their problems are not just social and technological~ but personal and spiritual. They have a feeling that what is at stake here~is the very meaning of man,: his destiny and future. Men are hungry: but hungry not.just for bread, ~but'for the word of God~TM The fact that today the.~service of faith has to face new demands, new situations, new cultural contexts, which will put to the test not only our religious dedication, but all our resources and creativity11 does not diminish in any way the need for that service, but ,on the contrary emphasizes it: ". the goSpel,.should be preached with a fresh yigour, for it is in a posi-tion once again ,to make itself heard. At first sight, God seems to have no place,today ih public life, nor even in private awareness. Yet everywhere, if we only knew.how to look at it, we can see that menare searching for an experienCe of Christ and of his kingdom of justice, love and peace.''~-~ rlbid., n. 4. Slbid., n. 5. °lbid., n. 27. aOlbid., n. 21. lalbid., nn. 24-26. r'lbid., n. 21. Faith and Justice / 343 The realization that today there is a L"new need" for the service of faith, by itself and also because of the ethical and religious roots of many of today's problems, is expressed in the decree with,an insistence, which some might° find even. exaggerated, on the need to "evangelize," to lead.men gradually to the acceptance of God and:of his salvation in C.hrist, wherever° we may be and through whatever apostolates, or ministries we might-be, called to exercise_, including social ministries and the promotion of justice itself.13 ¯ It is evident that the conviction about the need for a renewed service of the faith in contemporary society; if it has to inspire and guide effectively all our apostolic efforts, cannot be the o.utcome of a mere sociological sur-vey or scientific analysis of today's needs and aspirations. It has to grow out of a personal and-lived experience of the enriching and liberating role that faith plays in our own lives, in the lives of the groups and communities in which we !iv.e. To think that we can commit~ourselves to the service-of faith, without first realizing that we ourselves stand in need of being evan-gelized and of knowing how to meet Christ as he works in the world through the power of His Spirit,'" is an illusion. The Promotion of Justice Those acquainted with the text of the Synod of Bishops of 1971, "Jus-tice in the World," w0u_ld ,recognize some of the arguments that led the Jesuit General Congregation to propose the promotion of justice as one of the primary apostolic objectives for the Society of Jesus today. In some re-spects, however, the treatment of, jus._tice in the decree is less qomplete than that found in4he synodal text. The decree attempted to bring together into one single document the two basic dimensions of the Society's.mission to-day, while trying at the same time .to draw some conclusions and provide some directives for. Jesuit religious life and apostolic activities. The far reaching implications and consequences, both for the service of faith and the promotion of justice, of integrating into a unified and coherent whole dimensions that often had developed too much along parallel lines, are evident. The synthesis, however, reflects the vicissitudes of its long elabora-tion and is still far from being perfect and complete. It is in the light of the gospel, of the Church's magisterium, and 6f the Ignatian charism and vocation, thatthe General Congregation, faced with a ' world marked by deep and widespyead inequalities and injustices, at the na-tional and international level, commits the Society of Jesus to the promotion of justice. . This commitment, as previously statdd, flows from the very nature of the Society's apostolic mission, of a service of a faith that works through lalbid., nn. 11, 27, 33, 50-55. 141bid., n. 23. 344,/ Review [or, Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 love: a'love that cannot become reality without justice.,~ "The injustice that racks our World in so many forms is, in fact, a denial of God in practice, for it denies the ttignity of man" man, the image of God; man the brother of Christ.''''; The establishment of God's kingdom kingdom of love, justice and peace--begins already now, ~in this world. Christian hope and,salva-lion are a gratuitous gift from God, but also an invitation to work effec-tively for the transformation of the world, to make it more human and just.~r It is the wish to be faithful to the essential Jesuit mission, "as expressed in the Formula of the Institute, approved by.Paul Ili' and Julius II!, that prompted the congregation to propose the promotion of .justice as one of the prtmary a~ms of the Jesmt apostolate.'" For Ignatius~the service of faith had to be exercised both through the preaching of the Word and by works of charity andof reconcili~ition, by the assistance to those in greater need, like "those qvho are found in prisons and hospitals." Ignatius himself vited-Jesuits to interpret this in the. light of "what will seem expedient for the glory of God and the common good." This the decree has done and, following the lead of Paul VI in his inaugural address to the 32rid General Congregation, has seen in the sick and in the prisoners of Ignatius' time, tho. se living "on the margins of society" today: the poor and the de- ~ prtved, the victims of injustice and oppression. To the many encyclical letters and other documents of the magisterium Which support the congregation's stand on~ the question of justice anti with which the' readers of these pages are. undoubtedly Well acquainted--we should add the recent apostolic exhortation, Evangelii Nuntiandi, in which Paul VI repeatedly reasserts the intimate relationship between e'vangeliza-tion and the promotion of justice. In one passage of 'this most important document, the Holy Father gives us, in a remarkable synthesis, qhe main reasons which link together these two dimensions of our apostolic mission: Between evangelization and human advancem~nt--d~ve!opme~t .and libera-tion- there are in fact profound links. These include lihks of an finthro-po~ ogical order, because the man who is to be evangelize'd is ndt an abstract being but,is subject to social and economic questions. They also include links to the theological order, since one cannot dissociate the pla6 of creation from the plan of Redemption. The latter plan touches the very concrete situations of injustice to be combated and of justice to be restored. They.in-clude links of the eminently evangelical order, which is that of charity: how in fact can one proclaim the new commandment without promoting in justice and in peace the true~ authentic advancement of man? We our, selves have taken care to point this out, by recalling that it is impossible to accept "that in evangelization one could, or should ignore the importance of the problems ~r'lbid., nn. 2, 18, 2.7, 2,8. ~C'Ibid., n. 29. arlbid., nn. 30, 31, 40, 41. ~Slbid., n. 17. Faith and Justice ~/ 345 so much discussed today, concerning justice, liberation, development and peace in this world. This would be to forget the lesson which comes to us from the gospel concerning love of our neighbor who is suffering and in need."r~ Confronted with all these arguments of an evangelical, theological and doctrinal order, it is.hard to understand the difficulties some have expressed regarding the relationships between faith .and justice and the .very notion of justice as found in thedecree. There is need, as we shall see, for placing the promotion of justice in the proper theological and pastoral context and for defining clearly what is the specific contribution of priests and religious to that promotion. But that in the world of today the promotion of justice constitutes a primary apostolic c~bjective and conditions greatly the ~redibil-ity and apostolic effectiveness of the Church's mission, seems a fact beyond all question. Some have remarked that, justice, which is so often mentioned, is never clearly defined in the text. What does the decree mean by justice, they ask? This question sounds a bit like the "quid est veritas" of the gospel." Lik'd the Synod of 1971, the Jesuit General Congregation did not want to enter into a scholastic definition of justice, with all its divisions and subdivisions. But to concltide from ,~this that the General Congregation, or for that matter the Synod of Bishops. and so many other documents of .the magisterium, dd not know what they are talking about when they propose the promotion of justice as a necessary requirement of our apostolic mis-sion, would border on cynicism. ~ This being said, we have to admit that the document sometimes gives the,!mpression of talking mainly~ about inequalities and injustices of a socio, economic order, as though justice were merely a problem of a more equal distribution of the world's material., wealth and resources. On the other. hand, .it is hard to ignore the fact that the very unequal distribution not onlyof material goods, but als~ of~the power a.nd responsibility for ad-ministering them, constitutes today one of the major felt injustices of our s~ciety and deeply affects the lives the,freedom and dignity---of a large majority of mankind. But the congregation speaks also of other injustices: racial, social, political. Religious oppression, however, does not seem to-evoke any, clear echo in the document. The presence in the congregation of Jesuits working in regions where religious rights are openly violated and the fear of possible retaliatory measures, might explain this silence and reserve, which, 9therwise, would be difficult to understand. Rather than defining justice, the decree describes it. It also enumerates the gospel demands in the justice field: "The gospel demands a life free from egoism and self-Seeking and from all attempt to exploit one's fellow-men. It demands a life in which the justice of the gospel shines out in a willing-laEvangelii Nuntiandi, n. 31. 346 / Review [or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 hess not only to recognize and respect the rights of all, especially the poor and the powerless, but also to work aciively to secure those rights. It de-mands an openness and generosity to one's neighbor v~henever he is in need, even if he is alienated or hostile, in a spirit of forgiveness that over-comes all enmity.'''-'° Since th6 concept of-justice in the decree is more evangelical than legal or philosophical, one can understand why justice and poverty appear so closely inter-related in the text and why, also in the name Of justice, the poor and the deprived should become the main objects of our attention, the privileged beneficiaries of our apostolic efforts. Independently from any law or human contract, the poor have a right to a fair share of God's gifts, of' the world's riches, and to have a say in all decisions concerning their individual and'collective existence. Those individuals and structures that ignore their plight and keep them in their situation of poverty and depriva-tion are simply unjust. This is very much in the gospel and patristic tradi-tion: charity is,,the source of justice, its necessary complement and fulfill-ment; the goods of the earth belong to all, particularl3~ to the poor, and those'who happen to possess them are merely their'administrators. It is in this context that we have to interpret Augu'stine's definition of justice: "Iustitia est in subveniendis miseris." To give to the poor, to be with them in their difficulties, may be an act of charity, but it is also an act of justice, the payment of a debt. Faith and Sustice - "There can be nb promotion of justice in the full and Christian sense unless we also preach~ Jesus Christ and the mystery of reconciliation he brings. For us, it is Christ who, in the last analysis, opens the way to the complete and definitive liberation of men.'''-'1 Similarly, there is no true preaching of Christ, no effective proclama-tion of his gospel, unless a firm decision is taken to promote love of neigh-bor and justice, which are the necessary consequences of a true love of God, of a faith that works through the love of men.2-° The decree not only points to a complementarity between the service of faith and the promotion of justice, but also to the fact tl~at ~many of the root-causes of contemporary unbelief and atheism are the same as those of tc~day,'s widespread injustice. The barriers, the "idols," that block man's access to God greed, ambition, selfishness and pride are also those that "close" him to the needs and to the rights of his fellow-m.en. The liberating message of Christ--which, for those who want to excel in his service, is described by'St. Ignatius in his m6ditation 6f "The Two Standards"--attacks 20"Our Mission Today," n. 18. 211bid., n. 27. 221bid., nn. 27-28. Faith and Justice / 347 at its deepest roots not only atheism, but also injustice in all its manifesta-tions: it opens,man's heart to God and' also t.o others. ~ In the ligh~ of this decree, the mission to combat the many forms of con-" temporary unbelief and atheism--a mission entrusted to the Society of Jesus by the Holy Father.on the occasion of the 31st General Congregation appears in all its individual and collective, religious and social ,dimensions, and presents itself, under the aspects of the service of faith and the promo-tion of justice, as an eminently positive and liberating task that can give unity and coherence to the Society's apostolate.::~;, However--and the decree acknowledges it faith implies much more than human justice alone and the deep causes and consequence.s of unbe-lief cannot always be reduced to the social level. ,The liberation that,faith brings "cannot be contained in the simple and restricted dimension of eco~ nomics, politics, social and cultural life; it must envtsage the whole man . . . right up to and including openness to the absolute, even the divine Abso-lute; itjs therefore attached to a certain concept of man, to a view of man which it. can never sacrifice to the needs of any strategy, ~practice or short-term efficiency.'"-'" Not all service of faith should always arid necessarily lead to.,the pro-motion- of justice as its explicit and immediate objective. But it shohld at least remain open to that social dimension. It should be exercised in such a .way and in such a context that justice is in no way compromised. If it does not contribute directly to the promotion of brotherly love and of jus-tice, it should .at least prepare the ground for it. From the point of view of justice and taking into account the concrete context ofoone's own ~life and apostolate; there are very few activities that can be. called "neutral" today. In its observations about the decree "Our Mission Today," the Holy See had this to say: "The promotion of justice is unquestionably ,connected with evangel!zation, but as the Holy Father said in his closing remarks to the last Synod 9f Bishops in October of 1974--~'Human development'and social progress in~.the temporal ., order should not be extolled qn such ex-aggerated terms as to obscure the essential significance which the Church attributes to evangelization and the proclamation of the full gospel.'"~n Though, in our opinion, the decree clearly avoids this danger, granted some of the interpretations given to it, it is nol superfluous to emphasize that faith can never,be reduced to ~the promotion of justice alone. Christian liberation is incomplete if it neglects to proclaim salvation in,Jesus Christ.~'~ Does human liberation or the promotion of justice, in the economic, so-cial, political and cultural fields, constitute always a service of faith? The "albid., n. 19." °-4Evangelii Nuntiandi, n. 33; cf. also "Our Miss~ion Today," nn. 27-28. ":'Letter of Card. Villot to Fr. Arrupe of May 2, 1975. See REviEw FOa REL~OtrS. 35 [1976] pp. 33-45. "-'~Evangelii Nuntiandi, n. 34. 348 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3" decree is not so clear and explicit about this, because when it refers to liber-ation and justice, it is usually o"in' the full'and Christian sense" of these ¯ terms. But by placing .the promotion of justice in a ]aith context, the Gen-era[ Congregation ~of the Society of, Jesus has reminded Jesuits that for a Christian the promotion of justice is a much more demanding task than for an atheist or for a non-Christian. It is evident that "not every notion of' liberation is necessarily consistent and compatible with an evangelical vision of man, of things and of events.''-'~ If the promotion of justice is to be ,a service of faith, it should.fulfill cer-tain~ conditions regarding the motives and the inspiration that impel us to seek that.promotion, regarding the way in which the promotion is carried out, and also regarding the objectives that we want to achieve: these should never exclude, and should always remain open to,,the transcendent dimen-sion that faith implies: ". the Church has the firm conviction that all temporal liberation, all political liberation-~even if it endeavors to find its justification in such or such page of the Old or New Testament, even if it claims for itsideological postulates and its norms of action theological data and conclusions, even if it pretends to be today's theology--carries within itself the germ of its own negation and fails to reach the ideal that it proposes for itself, when-ever its profound motives are not those of justice in charity, whenever its zeal lacks a truly spiritual dimension and whenever its final goal is not salvation and happiness in.God.''~s In various passages of the decree it is emphasized that'even ,if we fight for the.rights of men in the name of justice, love should always be our driv-ing andosustaining force. Besides: ". if the promotion of justice is to obtain its ultimate end, it should be carried out in such'a way as to bring man to desire and welcome the eschatological freedom and salvation' offered to us by God ,in Christ. The methods we employ, the actigities we under-take, should express, the spirit of the Beatitudes, and bring man to areal reconciliation. In this way the promotion of justice will show forth the Spirit and. the power of God. It will respond to man's deepest heeds: not just for bread, not just for freedom, but for God who is love, and who loves all men as sons.'''-'~' In the decree, to promote justice, to proclaim, the faith and to lead men to a personal encounter with Christ, these'are not three separate realities to which correspond three .separate apostolates, but rather three dimensions that should characterize the entire apostolic effort of the Society of Jesus today.:"' We should add that, in order to promote justice in a context of faith, it is not enough that faith and justice should be well integrated at the "-'Zlbid., n. 35. z:~"Our Mission Today," n. 33. , .~Olbid., n. 51. Faith and Justice / 349 theological and pastoral levbl, but also and mainly in the lives of those who [gromote it. " ° The Role. of Religious - What has been-shid so far provides a basis for what should be the spe-cific, Christian'contribution to the promotion of justice. Most of the prin-" ci[~les that~ have been enunciated apply not only to priests and to religious, but to all Christians. They represent the ethos that should~'inspire man's efforts towards a more'0human and just society, but they'do not tell" us what~those efforts should~ be. From that ethos to the °just communities, in.- stitutions and structures .that make up a just society; there is a long way to go. Christian inspired principl.es and values have to be incarnated into '~'a way of life," at~the individual and at the collective level. They have to b~ translhted into overall policies and concreteprogralns of action. Thisqs a task for which, besides Christiaia dedication, direct involvement in the eco-nomic, social, political~anff cultural fi61ds, technical knowledge and exper: tise are absolutely required. It is the primary, and specific task of lay peo-ple' whd~e particular v.ocation: places them in the midst of~the;world~and calls them to.renew, in faith and iffjustice, the temporal order ~The role o~f- the Church is rriainly one of inspiring, forming, supporting and ~guid~ng men~qn their struggle to build a ~world at,,once more human arid divine2: Th~ Holy See reminds Jesuits that this is even more true in their casi~, since,~they belong to '~ano institute "which is religious, not secular, and "' ~Besides th~ proclamation of the gospel message of justice, and the proph~etic'deffunciation of injustices tasks which°religious, like other Chris-tihns, hre~also, called to exercise there are functions that re~ligi6us seem to be"~ particularly equipped to carry out. The General Congregation of. the Society of Jesus mentions some of these: e.g., t~heologic.al reflection, "con-s¢ ientization" and education for justice, and the service of,the poor and e, Theological and doctrinal reflection on the main, problems of our day is~ a necessary prerequisite for any effectiqe-and" lasting pastoral action in the justice field¯'This reflection, conducted in the light of faith and "in a context ~which is both interdisciplinary and genUinely integrated with 'the culture iia" which it is done," ,will help to give greater' meaning and depth to whi~t we say or do in.favor Of justice; it will" also guide men in their search 'for, just'sol6tions to the vast and difficult problem~ that. confront them today. Thanks to this 'reflection we shall be able to exercise a critical and. liberating function regarding, the all-embracing ideologies and political systems which often tend to divide and enslave our contemporary world¯ :~Letter of Card. Viliot to Father Arrupe. :~""Our Mission TQday," n. 60. 350 / Review Jor Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 ~o This reflection should also inspire all our efforts to educate men in faith and for justice: "men for others. , . persons whose lively faith impels them to seek and find Christ in the service of their fellow-men." Besides, in a world where the power of economic, social and p61itical structures and their vfist and deep impact on,the life of individuals and groups is recognized by all, "greater emphasis should be placed in our apQstolate on the con-scientization according to the gospel of those~,who have the power to bring about social chan~e?''~:' ','A commitment to the men and women who live.~,a life of hardship and who are the victims of oppression cannot be that of a few Jesuits only. It should be a characteristic of the life of all of us as individuals, and a char-acteristic of.our communiti'es and institutions as.well,v:'' Though not all re-ligious can share closely tlie lot of the poor and~of the oppressed,-the num-ber of ,those that experience more directly what it means to be poor, should certainly increase. Even if the poor are not always the immediate benefici-aries of our apostolic efforts, it should be clear to everybody~ that they con-stitute one of'our primary concerns. ~But "above all the gospel must.be proclaimed by witness.'':'~ "The first means of evangelization is the witness of an authentically Christian life. . It .is . . . primarily by her conduct.and, by her life that the Church will evangelize the world, in other words, by her living witness of fidelity to the Lord Jesus--the witness of poverty and detachment, of freedom in the_ face of the powers of this world, in short, the witness of san.ctity.":" If this is true of the whole Church, how much more of religious. Their most spe? cific contribution still remains that of bearing witness to faith'and to justic~ through the example of their,own lives.~They should embo~dy the radical demand~ of the~Beatitudes. They should be a sign, for the,world and for,the Church, of the total openness and. availability to God and to men that faith and justice demandY. It is through their tireless apostolic dediqation, but also by their faith-" fulness to the demands of their religious vows and consecrated life that this is mainly achieved. In a world in which the attachment to wealth and ma-terial comforts, man's selfishness and ambition appear as the'main roots of unbelief andfinjustice, the meaning and liberating pgwer of the religiou~ life appears in a. new light. The women and the men who, have chosen to, fol-low Christ i,n~his,great, renunciations, perpetuate his redeeming and liberat-ing work through the ages by preaching the gospel not by words alone; but by the witness :of their own lives: "It is in this.olight, that we.are asked to renew our dedication to the properly apostolic dimension, of.our .religious :~Zlbid.; n. 60. .~41bid., n. 48. "~Evangelii Nuntiandi, n. 21. at'Ibid., n. 41. Z7lbid., n. 69. Eaith and Justice~/ life. Ou~ consecration t6 God is really a rejection of those idols which the world is always tempted to adore: wealth, pleasure, prestige, power. Our chastity, poverty and obedience must bear witness to this visibly, Despite the inadequacy of our attempts to anticipate the kingdom which is to come, our vows ought to show how it is possible in practice, through the gospel and by God's grace, to have a community of men which is based on sharing rather than greed; on a willing openness to all men rather than a seeking after the privileges of caste or class or race; on service rather than domina-tion and exploitation. The men and women of our time fleed a hope which is eschatological; but they also need to have the beginnings of its realization presented to them here and now in a way that is meaningful to {hem.'':~s 3s"Our .Mission Today," n. 16. Faith and Justice: Reflection C~trl F. ~tarkloff, 'S.J. A Socio-Pastoral Father Starkloff's studies concentrated in the areas of missi~logy and pastoral theology (Ph.D., S.T.D., Ottawa), while his interest has focused on the American Indian. After six years of teaching theology at Rockhurst College, Fr. Starkloff, author of People o] the Center (Seabury, 1974) and of various articles on American Indian .religion and religious anthropology, is presently director of St. Stephens Indian Mission; P.O. Box 294; St. Stephens, WY 82524. The most pronounced thrust of Christian theology in the seventies has been a Ioiag overdue attempt to respond tO the Marxist thesis that, while the philosophers are trying to explain the world, the real task is to change it. In this famous dictum are stated the two poles that bound the work of theological reflection--theoria and praxis. From the highly speculative and' cloistered theology of the middle ages to the nineteenth century social gos-pelt theologians have tended to gravitate to the two poles separately rather than to embrace them together. It is to the great credit of the various "hope," "political" and "liberation" theologies that they are making this attempt at synthesis. When the recent Thirty-Second General Congregation of the Society of Jesus cast its mission statement in the mold of "the service of faith and the promotion of justice," this was not merely a re-focusing of the Jesuit voca-tion upon a unified spiritual world view touching both intellectual and prac-tical issues. More important, the statement sent Jesuits the world over into varying states of agony as they seriously set about confronting such very real and threatening documents. As may be expected, along with the con-frontation came many kinds of affective and speculative responses,-from 352 Faith and Justice." A Socio.Pastoral¯ Re[tection / 353 angry rejection to a perhaps naive embracing of the letter of the new law: The most~spirited discussion has taken place, at least in North America, in the academic milieu, while many of the mission apostolates--for example those branching out from the United States into Central and South Amer-ica are already caught ,up in efforts to live the gospel within the social and political struggles of the people. The academic debate (radical, activists to the contrary notwithst~anding) is essential to, prevent our ministry of justice from being a mindless lashing out at "evil in general." But the debate alone will remain barren ~--even for the academic .world. , What liberation theologians remind us is that there must be a social-pastoral "doing" in a context of thebretical inquir.y, .if theology is to be reflection on the lived faith of the community. In the academic community 4 found that the confrontation with the "single focus" approach to faith and justice led to a great deal of con-fusion, ranging Yrom highly theoretical arguments about definitions to de-bates about the morality of multi-national corporations. All of us must ob-viously share 'this confusion in wrestling with the problems of faith and justice, but it seems evident that we must transcend.the academic world if we are to advance the study creatively, because theology° is now finding it-self face to face with radically practical demands. What. we see here. is per-haps a new version of the old reminder,to theol.ogians to spend, less time at the desk (theory) and more time at the prie-dieu o(practice), only now with the contemplation of social evils being integral toJ our meditations. -Since returning to the radically pastoral ministry to. Native Americans, have realized how intense must be the struggle to synthesize our reflection., our prayer and our pastoral activity. It is out of this experience that I offer the following brief reflections, touching upon the need to understand "faith" as it is culturally expressed, and "justice" (a stumbling block to philosophers, legists and Scripture scholars alike) as the great longing of'~the deprived. In this article I shall offer one example of how the pastoral scene chal-lengers its workers to enrich the world of theology through their closeness .to the problems that.cry for solution. In taking this rather pragmatic ap-p. roach, I shah simply bypass much of the termino!ogica[ argum'6nt and sqt~tle provisionally for rather simple definitions of faith-evangelization and of iustice. By "faith" and ~'evangelization" let us understand'the real assent to being grasped and freed by Jesus Christ and proclaiming this event to our fellows.' By "justice" 1,intend the building of a more humane existence for men and women as we await the Kingdom of God. That Christ,~has come is shown in the Church's givi0g of social signs of the messianic presence. That he has not come definitively is painfully evident from the dismaying ex-perience of injustice all around us. Failh In our ministry among the Arapaho and Shoshone Indians, we have 354 / Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 found ourselves a testing-ground for our commitment to faith and justice. The constantly pressing demands force us to Work with. "inadequate" con-cepts as ,models, as we move toward the definition of mission goals and objectives. The narrative of our efforts may' perhaps serve others as a model, not of solutions, which are far distant for us, but of the kinds of analysis and activity that must be part of a socio-pastoral situation~ It should be added that, in Native American societies, as in all groups still close to their primal origins, the social-and the pastoral, religion and society, faith and culture are so intimately interwoven that in many cases the struggle for justice is an essential part of the upbuilding of faith, and the nourishing of authentic religious expression is one of the basic problems of justice. In order not to give way to frustration, the worker in many an Indian harvest field must admit that his labor of evangelization is still in its child-hood and that the signs of faith are ,going to be fragmentary. Much of this is due to the centuries of evangelization without inculturation practiced throughout North America. Much of it may also be attributed to the terrible social shocks of the conquest of the frontier, to the perfidy of whites in their dealings °with Indians, and to the frequent ridicule heaped upon the many authentic sign~ of God's presence in Native American culture, even by missionaries. A case in point might be the example of many of the Aymara people of Peru, whose religious life has been described by a de-voted and sympathetic missionary as retaining many elements that work counter to the basic gospel message, even though they have adopted Catholic rites and symbols quite extensively over the four-hundred-year period of the conquest.' If Monast's claims are true (and there are no doubt other missionaries who will disagree with him), they would be a case in point for painstaking examination, of both the cultural presupposi-tions of church ~vorkers among Indian peoples, and for the effectiveness of the means of communicating the gospel. The failure of early missionaries to communicate with the local culture, coupled with forced conversion, created this resigned acceptance by Indians of foreign signs and rituals, without rendering these signs effective symbols of the merciful and loving God. To varying degrees, on most Indian reservations in North America, one can find less extreme examples of' the Aymara experience, alongside many beautiful manifestations of Christian and Native American devotion. It is evident how complicated the problem of Christianity and culture really is, especially in cultures that must be described as living o{~ the mar-gin between' the ancient and the modern. Among Native Americans, the process calls for careful reflection and careful praxis; To be avoided at all costs is any naive movement to "adapt" Christian rites to' Indian culture, where the result would be a shallow syncretism whose components~ would 1See J. E. Monast; O.M.I., On les croyait chretiennes, Paris~ Editions du Cerf, 1969. Faith and Justice." A Socio-Pastoral Reflection / 355, be understood as' neither truly Indian nor truly Christian. Indian people sustained devastating culture shocks .as their religious expression underwent suppression by church and government leaders. An almost equally profound shock has come to many devout Christian Indians as missionaries sud-denly show themselves receptive to long-interdicted rites like the Sun Dance, Sweat Lodge, Peyote Tipi, Medicine Lodges, Harvest Festivals, and the like. The rapid about-face of so many church leaders vis-a-vis Indian religion, ~is well as of educators in relation to Indian language, is a source of some-what grim amusement to the old Indians who remember their boarding school days. Clearly, what is needed is a contemporary Indian Christianity. A return to the past is impossible, and yet the many beautiful traditions of the past are still available to nourish a genuine Indian faith life. Reflection and pastoral practice will have to concentrate both on the negative an~ positive aspects of Christian proclamation, as well as on the signs and countersigns present in Indian tradition. On the side of white missionaries there must be discernment of their preaching: where is it truly of Christ and his Church, and where is it merely of their European-American 6ul-tural impedimenta? A glib statement, this, because by this time the cultures have become so intermingled that clear separation is out of the question. I have .experienced a number of pastoral situations in which what I have tried to convince a Catholic.Indian is merely the "white American cultural symbol" is now truly part and parcel'of his or her worship. In our liturgies and homilies too, we find it necessary to use caution in "adaptation." For example, a facile attempt to pray with the Sacred Pipe or one of its derivatives, or to pray in the name of the Four Sacred Direc-tions, or too readily to equate "power" with "grace," will lead not only to a misuse of Indian rites and language, and thus to'contempt, but may also distort the Christian message by a too easy comparison. New chapters in the phenomenology and history of religion, added to the great work of scholars like Eliade and van der Leeuw, will have to'be written to enable pastors to employ with confidence the many native symbols that may seem fitted to Christian liturgy and catechesis. Such development (zalls for long and patient listening to the old i'eligious leaders, to whom imparting in-formation to outsiders does not come easily. In our desire to "inculturate" the gospel, further, we must also realize that contemporary0Indian culture, as mentioned.earlier, is a "wounded" culture more wounded even than many of the cultures with which the Church's pastoral ministry must deal. Even more than in its primal form, Indian life now needs the healing power of the gospel. For example, while many native 'rituals are truly profound signs of faith, they often seem to have no more permanent effect on life than do many of our Christian rituals. In the~missionary-social ministry, the word "interiorization" o[ the Good, News is as important as "inculturation." 356,/ Re.view for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 Thus we come to the most basic requirement of a pastoral ministry the spiritual life of the apostolic community. Into the damaged culture of the Indian people the Christian .ministers have chosen to insert their own wounded lives, and here it is that we cross over into the matter of justice as the necessary component of faith and proclamation, of the sign of a living community of teaching, fellowship and service. We find that we must live with these people the struggles of material and psychological uncer-tainty, an.d experience the pain involved in bringing a people into~com-munity. This insecurity is intensified as we find t.hat f_or so many Indians, especially youth, there is little intense concern for religion--Indian or Christianwor'for moral rudders to guide by. But we likewise feel that it is the vocation of the Church to aid in restoring the vital~ elements of Indian religion to their rightful place, if not within Christian liturgical settings,, then in events occurring alongside tra-ditional Christian practices, confidently, experienced by Indians who are also. Christians. With~ the grad.ual opening up of the tribal holy men so long driven into a nearly underground .religious activity, we find that we can be6ome instructed by attendance.at Indian rites and by judicious participa-tion in.them. Thus the pastor may find it possible to aid an Indian in religious and moral growth by encouraging him or her to more devout involvement ,.in traditional native rituals, often intermingled with sound Christian teaching, or paralleling it. Employment of Indian music, language and religious leaders at Christian sacramental events, especially funerals, has enriched the exp.erienc~s of Indians and pastors and educators. Homi-letic usage of Indian mythology often renders a basic Christian truth more comprehensible for an Indian congregation not to say for whites present as well. In considering an authentic form of Indian Christian ministry, we have begun to question,., the advisability of an Indian diaconate for Arapaho Catholics. We are discovering in the loosely defined but immensely impor-tant role of tribal elder a possible indigenous mimstry of instruction and sacramental worship that might more effectively speak to the culture with-out creating rthe tensions involved in calling Indians to become leaders under an imported rubric. A recent example of this was a, day of recollec-tion given to confirmands by two respected elders using much Arapaho language a.nd prayer forms. Another case in,point is the moving eulogy given by the elder at a funeral, touching the people in a manner that sup-plements if not supercedes the homily of the priest. Alo~ng the way, mistakes have.beenomade and will occur again. But I would submit that this careful mode of pastoral praxis will be the "labora-tory" out of which new theological understanding will grow. And in turn the critical work of theology will enrich and confirm and challenge pastoral practice. The demands placed on both pastoral and speculativ~e ministries are intimidating, but they are also an exciting call to creativity. Faith and JuStice: A Socio-Pastoral Reflection / 357 Justice The pastoral worker is in a position to avoid many theoretical traps in the struggle to come to terms with the meaning of justice, as well as to show that the great, stress given to it is not misplaced. While admittedly there is the danger of a simplistic approach to social problems, a discern-ing study of the milieu of pastoral work soon"reveals many of the immedi-ate and long-range problems of creating a more humane existence.' In studying the problems of Wind River Indian people, andin listening to the people themselves, we have been able to assemble a list of social problems ttiat as missionaries we are in a position to confront, or which we must consider for our future apostolate. In the larger picture, there is the already much-discussed problem of our materialistic American society, its wastefulness, its exploitiveness, its, political corruption. This has of course been the object of attack by militant organizations, and receives the bulk of attention given by, Catholic jour-nals. But, as wise Indian leaders assert, only so much can be obtained by protest against these evils. What is more urgent is the status of Indian peo-ple now, the positive growth by which they learn to confront, under their own power, the evils of a larger social environment. Impeding this growth, we have found, ~ire several outstanding inhumane situations, conditions of injustice intruding themselves into our meditations. The worst form of slavery :for Indian people today is ignorance, an ignorance that can be overthrown only by massive cariapaigns of quality education. This education must eventually be conducted and administered by their own people, if young Indians .are to become "conscientized~' to their own condition 'and rendered capable of changing it. Only a self-governed process of education is likely to capture the imaginations of Indian ctiildren and youth,~whose indifference to learning is lai'gely due to the fact that it is presented to them asia foreign import and thus another form of bondage., to white America: Thus, many mission schools, whether forced'~to it by lack of funds, or on the initiative of far-seeing administra-tors,"~ are now sharing the Indian political struggle to obt'ain government support for contracts under which Indian school boards will run schools and dictate policies. In the last year of our own efforts to support such a drive for Indian self-determination, in cooperation with Indian leaders, we have already observed a new sense of confidence in people tasting the hope of control of their own destiny. The pain in such growth to self-determina-tion will be considerable, but the Church should see here an opportunity to enter into a non-violent struggle for political liberation and the changing of oppressive structures. A problem closely connected to this move toward self-determination is the sudden unleashing by the United States government of vast sums of money upon people long accustomed to destitution and often not prepared to handle such funds. The worl( of Christian missionaries here is at least Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 twofold. Firstly, we must assist the people to acquire financial and admin-istrative skills. Secondly, in the face of the all-too-human temptation to graft and pocket-lining, the Christian must be an example of detachment from self-interest aud proclaim by his deeds that he is here to serve. Tra-ditionally, Indian people have valued communal endeavor, and have of necessity been concerned with frugality. But greed and a type of self-serving individualism, whether stemming from tribal origins or from the white society, threaten to .mar the whole process of financial self-deter-mination with the ugliest scars of personal or factional opportunism. The gospel message here is clear, and it is up to the Christian to exemplify it. Thirdly, Indian tribes, partly because of the social disorders brought on by invasion and partly by natural tribal jealousies, are subject to family feuds and long-standing animosities. Tribal pressure can be the most en-slaving form of manipulation experienced anywhere. Merely preaching against this is ineffectual, but the Church has the opportunity to build re-sistance to such pressure through its practice of Christian reconciliation. First of all, we must attend to our own house: if Catholic and Protestant churches do not begin to show forth reconciliation, the preaching of unity and cohesion is countersigned by actual fact. Second, by various liturgical and social events, the Church is in a position to be a reconciler of families long at enmity, and within families themselves. The sponsoring of groups in which married couples can learn to communicate (the old forms of con-trol and relationship having been lost), is a high priority in mission plan-ning. Along with this, the providing and encouragement of simple good times is of vital necessity in the often gloomy life of a reservation. Finally, the most devastating plague visited by the invading culture upon Indian society is alcohol. Causes for Native American addiction have been argued ever since the importation of fermented liquor into North America. There are theories about Indian alcoholics that argue both physi-ological and social causes. But whatever the basic problem, the one fact cited by Indian leaders ever since the seventeenth century is that this foreign introduction is not for Indians. Once again, it is a problem of in: justice that in theory seems to defy every solution that has been offered. The churches have always struggled with the problem, most commonly through total abstinence pledges, which are weak but at least partially effective ammunition against the scourge. But again mission ~planning is called directly to the point of pastoral praxis rather than to theory. It is now, taking means to combat spiritual problems as idle and meaningless existence, loss of identity due to cultural vacuum, and inability to handle and articulate frustration, again due to loss of cultural expression. Here too missionaries have come to realize how closely related are the solution to these-problems and a strong praying community that can provide spiritual and emotional strength; the spiritual order and the social order are brought together in the prayer-life of the community. It has fallen to Faith and Justice: A Socior~astorbl Reflection / 359 the churches to nourish that kind of communal life of worship once in-spired by the great Indian prophets who arose in times of suffering and persecution. The above are examples of how a given pastoral ministry finds itself challenged by the demands of faith and justice. I present this brief essay with the hope that other ministries will continue to provide input into the discussion about faith and justice in our ministry of the Gospel. There is no doubt both need for and profit in challenging the cosmic problems of world hunger, exploitive corporations, military-industrial complexes and .the like. But there are also grave situations of unbelief and injustice right. on our present ministerial doorsteps. "Doing theology" around these prob-lems may enable us to develop a better theology and spirituality of min-istry that draws not only from exegesis and systematics, but from culture and from society as well. As this article is being written, the liturgical readings for weekdays include the Letter of James. With its roots in the rabbinic wisdom tradi-tion and inspired by that "faith in our Lord Jesus Christ" with which no "personal prejudice is to be involved" (Jm 2.'1), th~s epistle proclaims with great power thai "faith by itself without works is dead" (2:18). When the author asserts that "one is justified by works and not by. faith alone" (2:24), he is not attacking the cardinal Pauline teaching that works of the la~w cannot justify man before God. From context it is clear that James is eulogizi,ng~ a faith-filled Abraham whose obedience inspired him to .ful-fill all justice as he saw it. ' There is in the Letter of ~l~mes a spiritualit3i~that contemplates the faith-life as a life permeated by the wisdom given by God to all who stand firm, and intuits in that life ihe duties of a justified Christian. Chapter two of the epistle sets before us what is perhaps the New~Testament's most un-equivocal statement about the inseparability of faith and justice. St, Paul' is the great apostle of ,spiritual freedom based on~ the humble acceptance of our utter dependence on God'and ,On the belief that~ "ou.r" justice is God's justice, granted us 0nly as believers. But what James' message .tells us-- 6choing with greater severity thee teaching of Romans cc. 12-15, is what Alfri~d Delp Wrote to the people of.Nazi Qermany in 1945--that the most pious praye¢ becomes a blasptiemy on the lips 9f one who tolerates condi-tions fatal to mankind. As I once heard a Native American tribal leader tell an hssembly of sociologists and social workers, "Wi/h~us Indians there is no separation of Church and State!" This was no defense of an established church, but simply a statement of the Indian belief, phrased in white man's jargon, professing that wha~ is truly religious bfiilds the human community, and that what is truly just partakes of the wholeness of spiritual reality. The missionary must draw upon the spiritual-social wisdom of James and upon"the contemplative Indian integration of religion, and justice, if his theology of faith and justice is to progr.ess beyond the abstract. Biblical Guidelines to Marian Devotion J. Massyngberde Ford o Professor Ford is on the faculty of the Department of Theology at Notre Dame University. Well known for her scriptural studies and her other wri.tings, she is also involved 'in the women's movement within the Church and with the charismatic movement. Her mailing address: Department of Theology; University of Notre Dame; Notre Dame, IN 46556. 'In this essay I wish' to endeavor, as far as it is possible, t.o place l~Ia{~,, the Mother of Jesus, within her own milieu, against the historical, ~conomic.al, social and religious background of her tirde. I should like to dethrone her from any pedestal upon which we have placed her and see her as a vital historical figui'e in the vivid dram]a of heilsgeschichte as we find it in first century A.D. Palestine. The World into which Mary was Born Hengel remarks that by the time of'Jesus Palestine had been under Hellenistic rule and its resultant cultural influence and political unrest for some 360 years? Mai'y was born into a war-torn country. Her people had been under the foreign domination of the Romans since 63 B.C. when Pompey, the Roman general, not only conquered Palestine but audaciously entered the H01Y of Holies (Josephus B.J. l :152). In the eyes of Mary's co-religionists this was a sacrilege crying to heaven for vengeance. Under the Romans King Herod was permitted to rule Palestine but he was hated by the vast majority of his people. He was of despicable birth, an Idu-maean, and therefore only half Jewish: Jesus called his successor "that fox" 1Martin Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism, Fortress Press, Philadelphia, E. T. John 'Bowden, 2nd revised edition, 1973, vol. I, p. 1. 360 Biblical Guidelines to Marian Devotion (.Lk 13:32). Herod indulged extravagantly in Hellenistic customs, large building programs, games, shrines to the Caesars, and he had ten wives. He burdened the.people with heavy taxation and was unscrupulous and cruel in exactihg it. Economically the country was in poor condition especially because of the large lati[undia (large country estates) often owned by absentee landlords, many of whom were non-Jewish (cf. the Parable of the Wicked Tenants Mk 12:1-12 and par.). However, more intensified domestic or political resistance arose from the time of the death of Herod the Great in 4 B.C. It is from this period that scholars would date the rise or organization of the Jewish national-ists, the Zealots. They were a prophetic movement.~ They espoused only one master, namely, God; they refused to pay the Roman taxes and, while showing incredible witness in the face of suffering and even death, they were fanatical and violent in their opposition to Rome or those who sided with her, even their kinsfolk. They would neither look at a coin with an image inscribed on it or walk beneath the shadow of an idol. Their leaders, Judah the Galilean, his two sons and other~relatives formed a kind of dynasty which added solidity to the movement. Galilee was a hotbed of the Zealots and, indeed, sometimes the designa~tion "Galil~ans" seems to have been used for them.:' The city of Sepphoris in Galilee became one of the five Sanhedrins during the Roman rule and at one point was captured by the Jewish nationalists. The rebellion was quelled by Varus who burned it and sent its inhabitants into slavery (Josephus Ant. 17:286-298, B.J. 2:66-71). Herod Antipas rebuilt the city. Sepphoris was northwest of Nazareth. This party of the Zealots attracted both the educated and the poorer rural people and also some of the more violent school of Pharisees, the Shammaites. This is but a brief reference to the political and economic status of Mary's country but it is of immense importance for understanding both the psycholog3( and spirituality of Mary (and Joseph) and their peculiar circumstances. It is hardly credible that they should remain untouched by tile stirring events which occurred during their life-time and especially within their own district. When we ~turn to the religious scene again we witness "fightings out-side and fears within (cf 2 Co 7:5). The Sadducees were largely fromthe aristocracy, wealthy, priestly figures who took a fundamentalist interpreta-tion of the Scripture, e.g. they upheld the lex talionis, an eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth. They repudiated the afterlife, especially the resurrection of the dead, providence, and angels. They held the majority of seats on the '-'For material on the Zealots see S. G~ F. Brandon, Jesus and the Zealots, Manchester University Press, Manchester, 1967; W. R. Farmer. Maccabees, Zealots attd Josephus, Columbia University Press, New York, 1957; Martin Hengel, Die Zeloten~ E. J. Brill, . Leiden, 1961. :~Brandon op. cit. pp. 54 cf. 78, 226 note 4 and 339 note 4. 36:2 / Review for Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 Sanhedrin, the Jewish council. Then there were~the two Pharisaic. parties. The school of Hillel, the gentle, humble Hillel who strove to mitigate the Jewish law to help the poor and who was nearly lynched by some of~ the other Pharisees when he went to offer sacrifice in the Temple. His teach-ing was close to Jesus'. Consider, for example: My homiliation is my exaltation: My exaltation is my humiliation. Do not appear naked (among the dressed) neither dressed (among the naked): do not appear standing (among those who sit) neither sitting (among those who stand) do not appear laughing (among those who weep) neither weeping (among those who laugh). The rule is: Do not deviate from the usage of men? However, opposed to the school of Hillel stood the school of Shammai. They were ultrastrict observers of the law, perhaps allies with the Zealots, and once placed a sword in their academY to symbolize suffering and death for those who dissented from their views. In the forties A.D. they passed the eighteen Halakolh (precepts) which were designed to minimi~ze contact between Jew, Samaritan and Gentile? Five of the precepts in'volved the dietary laws (contrast Jesus' attitude towards the latter Mk 7:14-23). Further one must glance at the status of the priesthood at the time of Jesus. Priesthood was, of course, hereditary but Herod and the Roman procurator had enormous influence upon the choice of the high priest. In fact the Romans even kept the high priestly vestments in custody and only allowed the Jews to use them on the greater liturgical feasts (Josephus Ant. 18:90-95 cf 15:403-5; 20:6-15). J. Jeremias'; estimates that there were about 7,200 priests, and, if one adds the Levites, 18,000 clergy in Jerusalem. However, there was a serious rift between the country priests, such is th~ father bf John the Baptist, and the permanent Jerusalem priests. The former were usually of moderate means, sometimes poor. The latter carried on brisk trade especially with animals and qther items needed for the sacrifices. Man3~ of the priests had large incomes5 Some indulged in simony. Some had good relations with the Roman governors. Many of the priests also plied a trade such as car.pentry and stone masonry. Prodi-gious wealth was found among the priests." Finally, one must take into consideration the community which lived 'ICited from Nahum Glatzer, Hillel the Elder,, Schocken Books, New Yoi'k, 1956, p. 38. .- ~'Hengel, Die Zeloten op, tit. pp. 204~208. ~,Joachim Jeremias, !erusalem in the Time o[ Jesus, E.T.F. H. and C. H. Cave, 3rd ed. S.C.M. Press, l_ondon, 1969, p.200. Zlbid., p. 105f. '~lbid., p. 96f. ' Biblical Guidelines to Marian Devotion / 363 near the Dead Sea, the Qumran covenanters. They became~eventually like a sect, withdrawn into the desert, keeping the law ~Vith a strictness not even found among the Pharisees and living in expectation of two Messiahs, one political and one priestly. They believed in the Holy War. I have taken some time. in briefly reviewing the state of Palestine for it is only"hgainst this background that we can~gauge the enormous appre-hensioh, perhaps even fear, which would seize a mother's heart when she realized that her son 'would find himself unacceptable 'to most. of these parties because of his teaching and practice. The History of Mary We may turn now to the history of Mary herself. She may have come from priestly stock as her kinsfolk were Zachary and Elizabeth (Lk 1:36). The Proto-evangelium of James (written not before 150 A~D:) describes Mary's parents and their anxiety for a child. It tells how an angel came to Anna and said "Anna, Anna, the Lord htis heard your prayer. You shall c6nceive and bear, and your offspring shall be spoken of in the whole world." And Anna said: "As the Lord my Gd~l lives, if I bear a child, whether male or female, I will bring it a~ a gilt to the Lord my' God, and it shall serve him all the days o[ its lije" (4:1 ). In this gospel Mary is offered to the Temple at the age of three. When she was twelve the council of priests decided that she would marry "that she may not pollute the temple of the Lord" (6:2). It is also reported that she helped to make a veil for the~ temple of~ the ~.L.,ord (10:1).~' It is commonly supposed that this wor.k is pious fiction.'H0wever, it is not neces~ sary, either to accept or reject every detail in an apocryphal gospel: 'The Gospel of Thomas is a good example of this. Indeed some features of the Proto-evangdlium ~of James have' close affinity to Luke?° ,Concerning Mary's residence in the Temple and her making curtains it is~worth remarking that Jereoias" reports that the Temple ct~'rtains were a constant occupation. Shek, 5:1 describes Eleazar who took care of these and was obliged to find "skilled weavers and knitters to produce annually two of the Temple curtains, 20 cubits wide and 40 cubits long: these were hung in 13 places in the Temple" (Yoma 54a; Ket. 106a). Each curtain had to be woven in ~six colors on 72 strands, each with 24 threads (Shek. 8:5; Yom. 7lb. Tos. Shek. 13, 178). According to Shek. 8:5 (the variant readings differ: of. Ket. 106a; Jer Shek. viii.4, 51b. 13). Eighty-two maidens had tq produce two curtains each year. The curtains were made of blue, scarlet and purple stuffs, and byssus (fine white linen). 9E. Hennecke, New Testament Apocrypha, E.T.R. Mcl. Wilson, Lutterworth Press, London, vQI. 1, pp. 370-388. ~°lbid., pp. 380, 381-2386. X~Jeremias op. cit. p. 25. 364 /~Review ]or Religious, Volume 35, 1:976/3 I tentatively suggest.that it is possible-that Mary was given ~,to the Temple until she was 12 ~years old. In the Proto-evangelium of James the curtains which Mary helps to weave are made of gold, amianthus, linen, silk, hyacinth-blue, scarlet and purple.1~ The colors are similar to those mentioned in the Mishnaic and Talmudic texts. Children associated with the Temple were also required for the ~eremony of the red heifer:but the text does not intimate the gender of the children (Parah 3:2-4). But im-portantly, if Mary were in the Temple for some time, she must have been apprised of matters both good and bad which revolved round the Temple. She might realize, for example, the greed and wealth of many of the high priests and the money involved inthe sacrificial victims trade. Thus she would understand,fully when Jesus cleansed the Temple but she would be apprehensive, for the Temple had special police among its personnel. Mary was betrothed and espoused to Joseph. He was probably a land owner as he was obliged to register his property during the Roman census. "Josephus mentions property explicitly when he refers to the census under Quirinius, if this is the one to which Lk 2:1-3 refers (Ant. 18:1). We might also add the possibility of Joseph's property being confiscated either by the Romans or by Herod or the tax collectors during the family's sojourn as political refugees in Egypt. Ownerless property could be con-fiscatedY~ This author should concur with Buchanan who, commenting on 2 Co 8: 9, writes: The likelihood'thatJesus was originally from a wealthy family and that he gave up his wealth for the movement he led seems greater ~hen his rela-tionship to wealthy tax collectors "and rulers is considered. Most of his parables and teachings seem to have bee~ directed to an upper class of people who had money to lend, give, and use for hiring servants. His willingness to surrender this for the Kingdom of God would have given him more authority to ask others to give up all they had than he would have had if he had been reared in poverty. It would have been difficult in the Near East for a poor man to gain a hearing with the rich as Jesus evidently did.14 She also agrees with David Flusser1~ who states: Viewing Jesus' sayings against the background of contemporary Jewish learn-ing, . . . it is easy to observe that Jesus was far from uneducated. He was 12In an article published by the Marian Library, Dayton, Ohio, I hive tentatively put forward the thesis, that Mary was responsible for the Hebrew original of the Epistle to the Hebrews. Mary had known her son much longer than any of the~ disciples and would be an extremely prolific source of knowledge. l:~j. Duncan M. Derrett, Law in the New Testament, Darton, Longman and Todd, London, 1970, pp. 300-306. ~aGeorge W. Buchanan, To the Hebrews. the Anchor Bible, Doubleday, New York, 1972. pp. 208-209. ~David Flusser, Jesus, E.T. Ronald Walls, Herder and Herder, New York, 1969, p. 18. Biblical Guidelines to Marian Devotion / 365 perfectly at home both in Holy Scripture, and in oral tradition, and knew how to app!y.this scholarly heritage. Jesus' Jewish education ~.was incompa-rably superior to that of St. Paul. In the light of the tenets of these two scholars one is persuaded to see~the Holy Family,° not as poor, uneducated, politically uninformed peasants, but people who were fully conscious of the important .factors of the state of Palestine, people who were politically, economically, socially and religiously alert. Neither do they appear to have been bystanders to the situation. Mt 2:21ff seems to ,suggest that Joseph intended to reside permanently in Bethlehem after the, flight to Egypt but returned to Mary's village of Nazareth because of the political situation. Mary was probably betrothed at the age of twelve rand a half.TM David Daubelr has found an affinity between the book of Ruth and the Annunci-ation pericope. He gives special attention to the word "overshadow" (epischiazO) and its Semitic equivalents salalo(Hebrew) and tallel (Ara-" maic).~ These are frequently used of the overshadowing of the divine pre~sence. All three words can refer to the descent of.the Spirit of, God and also,to the spirit of prophecy; both meani'ngs are applicable in the case of Mary. However, a further usage is available. Associated with tallel is the noun tallith which designates "the cloak of a pious or scholarly man." This was distinguished by '.'wings." The rabbis used the expression "to spread the tallith (or wi, ng) over a woman" to denote marital relations. Thus Ruth can say "I am Ruth thine ha, ndmaid; spread therefore thy wing over thine handmaid, for thou art a redeemer'''~' (cf Rt 3:9). A similar phrase, in a spiritual sense, occurs in Ezk 16:8 where God says to Jeru-salem, "Thy time was the time of love, and I spread my wing over thee." Moreover, the rabbis had another.euphemism for "cohabitation," namely, ','to lay one's power (reshuth) over a woman." In the Lucan narrative of the Annunciation the a.ngel uses both the words "power" (-reshuth) and "overshadow" (-tqllel) and Luke clear!y, indicates that God will be the agent~.who im~plements this. Mary gives her consent inswords very similar to those of Ruth:: "Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according.to your word" (Lk 1:38). The.us the narrative of the annunciation is presented in terms of a be-trothal or marriage.yontract or .marital consummation, the proposal by God and the acceptance express.ed by ~Mary:. The event had been fore-shadowed in the Book of Ruth. In pondering the words of the angel, perhaps lreported by,~ Mary to him, Joseph might well say "God has laid his power over her" and "He has spread his wing over her." Tl~en, if l~;Jeremias op. cit. ~ . lZDavid Daube, The New Testament attd Rabbinic Judaist~t, Athlone Press, Londoh, 1956, pp. 27-51. ~Slbid., p. 33. ~ X'qlbid., p. 33. ~' " : 366 / Review [or Religious, Volume 35, 1976/3 used the principie of rabbinic biblical interpretation known as kal wa homer (inference frofa the minor premise to the major), he would argue that, if a woman were forbidden to her husband because she had been impreg-nated by another man, how much more would Mary be forbidden to her husband if God had laid his power over her. Thus Joseph might conclude that through her voluntary consent Mary had become the property of God for all time. She ffould be "forbidden to: the whole world" for God had chosen her like a consecrated vessel--or the ark in the sanctuary. This was an analogy used by Jews contemporary with Jesus, namely, a woman is set apart for one man as a vessel is for the Temple (Kid 2b). Joseph might also have felt that Is 54:4 was fully realized:: For your mak